Enduring Love

“Doddabetta is the highest peak in the Nilgiris” informed the jovial guide, who was sitting in the front seat of the SUV. The SUV curved through the bumpy roads, lined up with huge Eucalyptus trees on the both sides. Although trees blocked the view of the valley but whenever the vehicle approached the curves, on the edges, one could get a glimpse of the distant mountains. A blue mist settled over the thick green cover. True to their name, these are the Blue Mountains of India.

I and my wife took this half-yearly trip to one famous tourist spot in India. It had become a ritual. Both of us were crazy about travelling. Meeting new people had become an obsession. Ooty had been on your radar for quite some time but things never materialized until I got relocated to Bangalore. Within a month of coming down to Bangalore, we planned this trip and went for it. Arriving at the resort on the golf club road, we could not wait to hit the hills. It was already afternoon when we reached the top at Doddabetta. A manicured garden surrounding a tower was situated at the top. The tower housed a telescope which provided a beautiful view of the city. But much to our dismay, it was July and the only things visible with or without the telescope were clouds. Endless, Infinite Ocean of clouds. Most of them were dark which reflected the potential in them to drench any hill, any mountain coming in their way. Some were lighter, humbler siblings of the former. The wind was strong at the top. As we got out of the car and walked towards the tower, we could see groups of tourists clicking pictures. The older ones were shivering due to the damp, cold atmosphere created by the mating of strong winds with wet showers. Few young couples sat over the benches, indulging in the quintessential activities that happen between young couple. And the younger lot ran hither-thither to burn out extra energy that you have at that age.

“There is nothing much to see here” Commented Mithila.

“Right madam, but have you been here on a clear day, the view of Ooty is mesmerizing.” Endorsed the guide. His full name was something which I could hardly gather but it was a relief to know that one could refer to him as ‘Mani’.

It seemed Mani had been in Ooty since eternity. He knew everything and everybody. According to him, we were there in the wrong season, but we were there. He suggested taking the train ride from Ooty to Connor. It was a famous mountain train route; its claim to fame was the famous song ‘Chaiya Chaiya’ which was filmed on the same route. Ooty was sprinkled with various places which featured regularly in movies. But first we were to visit the Rose garden and the Tea museum, on our way back to the Resort. The train ride was due next morning.

The tea museum, named as ‘The Tea Factory’(written in Capital Red letters) was a functional tea factory producing the Nilgiri Tea, grown in the tea estates in and around Ooty. These museum-cum-factory hosts a tour for the visitors to let them explore the process of conversion of the green leaves from the waist high plant to that black powdery thing which each of us had in his kitchen. Visitors can also buy, various flavored teas at the end of the tour. As we completed our tour, the rain started to pour down heavily; still the better half of the day was left.

Mithila and I sat on one of the bench, which was comfortably placed behind the glass panels which sheltered us from the downpour. The view was breathtaking. The Tea Factory was situated on an elevated platform on the lower edge of a mountain. It overlooked the town of Ooty and unlike Doddabetta, it was at a lower elevation which spared us from the cover of clouds we encountered there. The droplets of water dripped down the glass, and the winds blew them in various directions. Some drops flowed straight down the glass; others bent their course due to powerful wind to reach the ground through a different route.

The town of Ooty appeared to be frozen in time from that distance. Like a masterpiece from a great painter, curtained from us by the rain-drop-tainted glass. We sat there savoring the view and absorbing the spirit. We liked our individual privacy and had a respect for that. There had been moments in relationships when we had just sat for hours without saying anything, and letting each other do his/her bit of introspection. Often those moments happened to be on a holiday, at places like these.

I cannot recall where the train of my thoughts was headed when I heard a voice familiar enough to attract my attention instinctively towards it. It was not Mithila who was speaking. Kalpana, I couldn’t have guessed to find her here.

It had been 7 year since I last met her. The last thing I remember about her was from the day our results were out and we exchanged the usual lines on each other’s result. What remained lingering from that day was the feeling in my heart which comes when you have known someone so well that you do not need to talk to understand the other’s mind, but you act like you are just acquaintances, and indulge in foolish conversation. Every time I looked back on that day I found myself more and more stupid in doing so. But we had decided to part our ways, and that too consciously.  Having been in relationship for a good length of time, there was hardly anyone in the college who did not think that the two of us are going to marry. But we knew each other way too well, to go into the bond of marriage. We were awesome together but could not have settled for a marriage with each other. Hence, towards the end of the college we decided to end it, formally. And end we did, on the night of the Farewell bash. The metallic taste of our last kiss still thrills me, as we hadn’t slept the whole night, roaming around the city on our bikes. She was a live wire then. I enjoyed every bit of time spent with her.

Her face still bore the same radiance, which I think was due to the overwhelming enthusiasm she had inside her. I could see a man following her, they were walking towards us. Mithila was still looking into the vast enormity of the Nilgiris. Before I could utter a word, Kalpana’s eyes met mine and I read the same astonishment in her eyes which I felt in my heart. I rose from the bench and my name came out of her mouth in the same way I recognized her voice.

“How are you?” was the first question she asked, it almost is every time you meet someone. But this was with a different meaning. I just nodded and smiled, with restraint. Mithila had caught the notice of our small conversation; I felt the obligation of introducing my wife to her.

“Kalpana, she is Mithila, my wife. And she is Kalpana, my friend from college.” I did the formality.

“I think I have seen you in his college pictures” chirped Mithila. She probably had an idea of our relationship but never really enquired about it. The pictures she was referring to were quite explanatory about what existed between me and Kalpana.

“Oh really, I look so bad in those pictures. I am sure he wouldn’t have told you anything about me.” Kalpana half blushed and half smiled as she said that.

Meanwhile the other guy who followed her was standing patiently, waiting for someone to notice him. I looked in Kalpana’s eyes and then towards him. She knew what I was telling her.

“Oh I forgot, he is Omang. We got married last month.” She said flaunting the Heena patterns on her hand. We exchanged pleasantries and discovered that they were staying at the same place as we did. They had arrived two days ago but didn’t go out before today. It was their honeymoon. Eventually it was finalized that we will be sticking together for rest of the day, as tomorrow they will be leaving for Chennai. A lunch was quickly planned.

Lunch was marked with several discussions about our college days and surprisingly Mithila was more interested and active in that. Both Kalpana and Mithila shared this common attribute of getting comfortable with anybody very easily, I liked that. Maybe that was one of the reasons for me to choose Mithila as my life partner. But the similarity ends there; Mithila had this quality of giving ample space to you which Kalpana couldn’t. She had to know everything about you and everything you did. Perhaps that was the reason why I thought I decided not to go ahead with my relationship with her.

“You know Mithila, once Rupak and I planned these serial blasts in the college…” Kalpana was boasting about our not so praise worthy achievements. The blasts mentioned were not actually bomb blasts but fire crackers planted in college toilets. We had planned that along with few of the friends, it was figment of Kalpana’s wicked imagination.

“… And the catch was that boys had to plant the bomb in girl’s toilet and girls had to plant it in boy’s toilet.” Continued Kalpana with naughty giggles. Mithila was enjoying every bit of it, as her arsenal was getting strengthened with information that she could use to embarrass me. It was her special weapon. Omang was just a silent listener and came across as a shy person. I wondered how the two would have got to this point.

“Oh, and why don’t you tell us your misadventures with Ms. Thakur?” I said, teasing Kalpana. We exchanged glares and she still had the naughtiness alive in her eyes. I grinned and chewed on my lunch. Ms. Thakur was fresh faculty who taught us Microwave engineering. She was single and Kalpana fooled her by sending SMSs in name of a boy from our class, for a whole semester. Later when the truth was discovered consequences were not worth mentioning.

Kalpana moved her lips to say something, without a sound. I knew what she said. ‘Jerk’ was her favorite swear word and when you really irritated her, she would turn to you mumble it. I couldn’t help but smile in wonder. As I turned I found Mithila looking at us in amazement, while Omang just smiled.

We then moved to Rose garden, which was not much exciting, at least for me. It was not something which I looked forward to; the only consolation was the scenery around that place. Omang did not enjoy it either.

“I think I will smoke a joint and come back” He said and left. Kalpana looked at me with a question in her eyes. I knew what her question was. I nodded in disagreement, with a faint smile. She smiled back. We strolled through the garden with a lazy ease as the two ladies admired beauty of the flowers.

After being done with the garden we came out to the parking where Omang stood smoking probably third or fourth cigarette.

“How many?” Asked Kalpana, with a hint of anger in her voice.

“Only second, darling.” Replied Omang with a cajoling tone to pacify Kalpana.

I used to smoke during my college days, and Kalpana didn’t like it at all. Every time she saw me smoking she would snatch the cigarette from my lips and throw it away, and would mumble ‘Jerk’ in her trademark style. I just loved that.

It was already afternoon and we went back to the cottage resort. The cloud cover was still very thick over the sky. And the winds started getting colder. After a cup of tea(Nilgiri tea, obviously!) and snacks we retired to our rooms. Although Mithila usually did not ask too many questions, I expected a few about Kalpana.

“It seems you had too much fun together in your college days?” Asked Mithila as she did her thing infront of the large mirror. I agreed with a ‘Hmm’.  She didn’t ask a question more. And soon it was dinner time. The resort was an old English villa turned into a resort. The majestic dining room was place for dinner and all the guests gathered there. We were to meet Kalpana and Omang there.

I tried not to dress too formally, and stuck to the usual cargo and T-shirt. Mithila considered Salwar kameez to be apt. When we reached the dining hall, Omang and Kalpana were already there. Kalpana wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Omang was in similar casuals. We chatted over the dinner, much to irritation of other guests, most of whom were Europeans. But nobody from us cared about it. After finishing the dinner we decided to take a walk in the lawn outside the villa.

Omang went away for smoking yet again. I was left to accompany the two ladies who were busy talking about thing varying from Movies to religious practices and what not. This conversation was broken by the ringing of Mithila’s phone. She excused herself to a more private area of the lawn. I found myself in the position that I wanted to avoid since morning, because when Kalpana is around with other people it is easy to act the way we were acting. But with just me and her, I just couldn’t be what I was supposed to be and at the same time I couldn’t act the way I would’ve. It was so awkward that I kept looking at the night sky, which was full of dark clouds. The moon registered its presence as a circle of white light behind the clouds.

“So, when did you quit smoking?” Kalpana asked breaking the silence. I knew that was the question she wanted to ask in the Rose garden but did not ask. The answer to that question was something which I wanted to avoid, as it would call for more questions.

“After college.” I did answer her. She turned her head towards me in a sudden jolt as if surprised by my response.

“I almost died asking you to quit, but you never did. And after college you quit. Why?” She was angry in asking for the explanation.

I wanted to tell her why I quit. I quit because, there was no one who would pull out the joint from my mouth and mumble ‘Jerk’. I quit because she was not there. The very reason I used to light a cigarette was not there. The day when we last met, someone lit up a cigarette and passed it. She was standing there watching me, but just overlooked it. We had promised to move out of each other’s life, she was keeping the promise. That was the last one, which I ever smoked.

I looked back at her, into her eyes. I didn’t know what was going through her mind. But I felt like she got the answer. She withdrew the eye contact, blinked her eyes in quick succession as if she was avoiding something from entering into her eyes. Mithila walked back smiling; it was her mother’s call. Soon Omang came back and we were back to our rooms.

The next morning Kalpana and Omang were to leave. Mithila decided to wake up early in order to see them off. We went down where Kalpana and Omang stood with their bags packed and loaded. After numerous good-byes and promises to catch up in either Chennai or Bangalore, they boarded the SUV. We waved as the vehicles started to move, Kalpana turned towards me and mumbled. ‘Jerk’

I could do nothing but smile.

Cities

Serving as a software professional, has given me the chance to travel to some of the biggest cities in India. Each city leaves a distinct mark; you develop a connection with the place. Cities for me are like individuals, I like them, hate them, and miss them (I am sure many of you would also feel the same). This distinct connection brings about a personality, a distinct one for each city. Knowing a city is like knowing a person, a friend. When someone asks you about a friend you start describing him or her, similarly you can do for a city. So, I thought would it not be good idea to share with people I know what I feel about each city I have lived in. I think of them as females (don’t ask me why).
I will start with the hippest city in India, Bangalore. Bangalore is like the most desirable babe in the town. She is hot and sexy. Well educated and cultured. Everyone wants to be with her. But it not easy for everyone to handle her tantrums. She loves expensive gifts. Gifts not all can afford. She will always keep you waiting, while she is busy pampering herself. But when you get to know her closely, only then you realize she has her own problems. Her problems are not visible from the outside, but those really bother her. People looking at her from a distance are always attracted to her, without knowing who she is. She is fed up of being an object of desire, and hates people falling for her just because she is attractive, and not for what she actually is.
Hyderabad, on the other hand is much amiable, friendly and a bit tom boy. She is the one friend you would always want to have. She is a friend you would go out with for having random fun. She is very accommodating, but can play pranks at you which you would not like. She is a true friend and expects nothing much in return. When you will be down and out, she will be there by your side. She will be there to cheer you up and bring smile back on your face. With her be assured that entertainment will never end. You will want going back to her, once you have known her. Her name will always bring joy to your heart.
The city of my current residence, Pune. She is like a girl who is opening up to the brave new world. Coming from a conservative family and stepping into the modern society is a bit of trouble for her. Her confidence is what makes her stand out, but there are acclimatization issues. She has a rich legacy, of which she is very proud. She is like the girls who would wear a short skirt but will never forget to touch the feet of their elders. She is beautiful, but also outspoken. Fearless. She will hang out with you until she feels you are not maroing chance on her or until her father is fine with her hanging out with you. Much like Bangalore she is demanding. It takes time for her to be a real good friend with you, but once you develop that bond, it will stay forever.
Next is the city which is the southernmost state capital in India, Trivandrum. She is a reserved girl, not many people know her. But she is beautiful, very beautiful. Her beauty is pristine. She is a natural charmer. She loves cleanliness and is a bit lazy. She hates hurry, and takes thing at her own pace. Not all are interested in knowing her, and even she hesitates in opening up to any stranger. But once you are smitten with her beauty, you will never complain about her laziness or obsession for cleanliness.
Ahmedabad is like the girl next door. She lives in the neighborhood, but is hardly noticed. She is good looking, but is overlooked in presence of Bangalores and Punes. You know she is there, but don’t really care. She is the one who will lend you her notes or will take the risk of putting a proxy attendance for you. But you will hardly thank her. She will always be around. Not all do justice to her and she does not complain about that. She is vibrant and wants to have fun all the time. She loves the festivals and the festivities.
Most people would have been wondering whether I have written this or not as the name which should’ve been there is not mentioned till now, Indore. Indore for me is like my childhood lover. She and I have grown up together. I know her and she knows me the way we know ourselves. No matter how far she is from me, she will always be with me. Nobody can come close to where she is. Even if I know she has her shortcomings, she is not that beautiful, not a big name, I wouldn’t love her less. She is sweet and knows how to treat people. She is the one with heart of gold. She cooks awesome food and knows how to party. I have spent the best moments of my life with her. She asks for nothing in return and is happy even if I am away from her. Hers is a selfless love. What comes to my mind for her is
Oh what do I tell you of my beloved City,
I used to live there, but now she lives in me
It is not only me who has such a connection with the cities I have been in. I am sure there would be many among you who feel the same. The world is not void of cities and I have covered only a handful. There still are cities waiting to be personified, waiting for someone to describe them as a personality. Go forth and share your connections with the cities you have lived in.
P.S. Whatever I written, is my perspective and everybody can have his/her own perspective. I request you not to take any offence in what I have mentions as those are my personal views.

आज

आज अरसे बाद फिर रोने को जी चाहता है,
खुद की खोज में खुद ही को खोने का जी चाहता है|

बस आगे दौड़ रहा हूँ, इस दौड़ में कितना खोया, और कितना पाया,
इसका क्या कभी कोई हिसाब कर पाया
मिलते-बिछड़ते हर किसी से एक अलग रिश्ता बनाया|

साथ मेरे अब भी उन सबों की खुशबू है,
बस अब फर्क नहीं कर सकता, कौन मैं और कौन तू है|

मुड़ कर देखा तो पाया कुछ कदमों पहले कितने बावले, कितने पागल थे हम,
आज फिर उसी तरह पागल होने को जी चाहता है,
आज अरसे बाद फिर रोने का जी चाहता है|

एक ही आगाज़, एक ही राह और अनजानी मंजिल को बाँटा था साथ जिनके,
अब अलग मंजिल, अलग इरादे, अलग रस्ते है उनके|

कभी-कभी किसी दोराहे, चौराहे पर सुस्ताते हुए मिल जाते है,
कुछ पल साथ बैठ, यादें गर्म कर अपनी-अपनी  राह पर निकल जाते है|

उन सबके साथ एक बार फिर से हो लेने को जी चाहता है,
आज अरसे बाद फिर रोने को जी चाहता है|

कुछ अधुरा छुट गया है, लगता है यूँ ही हर बार,
मन का लालच है या दिल का प्यार|

क्या कभी यह लालच कम होगा,
यह जो मोह है क्या कभी ख़त्म होगा|

रह गए है जो अधूरे पल उनको फिर एक धागे में पिरोने को जी चाहता है,
आज अरसे बाद फिर रोने को जी चाहता है|

(No) Smoking is injurious to health!

What I am going to tell you is a true story. So, every time you read something (in this post) that excites, enthralls, amazes, shocks or disgusts you keep in mind that has happened with real people. It is all real. I have withheld the original names (of places, people and products) for obvious reasons. And please do not ask me how I know all this. Vikrant was moderately successful neo urbanite. Being moderately successful was something that he dreaded, for him either there was complete success or total failure, nothing in between. He was avid fan of Black and white cinema, and worshiped Gurudutt. Somewhere, when in high school he had read Gurudutt had once said in an interview that “What is there in life, friend? There are only two things – success and failure. There is nothing in between.” This had profound impact on his teenage mind. He related to this immediately. It happened on a chilly December night. Vikrant with his Fiancé, Nikita was watching a movie at a theatre, which I refrain from naming. The movie was a story about a troubled musician who has tough time balancing his life and his passion. The protagonist was a charming personality. There was no scene when he didn’t have a cigarette between his lips. The cigarette stuck to his lips gently at the edge as he played the guitar. Every time he would close his eyes and inhale the dense smoke, to play the high notes. Seeing these images Vikrant started feeling an upsurge in the urge to smoke a cigarette. He waited till the cup was full, he wanted to smoke and smoke then. He got up. “Where are you going?” asked Nikita. “Washroom” He answered. “Don’t smoke” Instructed Nikita. She knew him well enough to guess what was in his mind. He gave an angry stare to her and quickly moved out of the hall. In the lobby there were signs everywhere saying ‘No Smoking’. He went inside the washroom to find smoke detectors everywhere on the ceiling. His restlessness grew, he had to smoke. He went out in the lobby again and moved to a secluded corner, there were no one and no smoke detectors. He fetched the packet of his favorite brand, McKnight. McKnight came in a White box with beautiful blue stripe running in the middle, with the trademark crest in the center. Just one remained in the pack of 15. Each carried the distinct aroma of slightly wet tobacco. Vikrant ignited the lighter, lit up the cigarette and inhaled the rich tobacco smoke. He felt a relief; he closed his eyes and felt the hot smoke go down his throat. “Sir” A coarse voice interrupted his trance. He turned back to find out a man dressed in the quintessential security guard uniform stood behind him. “Sir, this is strictly a non-smoking area. Please put off your cigarette.” He said. Vikrant liked no interruption while he was doing something for himself. But the obligations imposed by the civilized society forced him to put-off his cigarette. He smashed the burning end of the cigarette against the inner side of the packet, put the half spent cigarette in the packet and threw the packet in the steel dustbin kept at the corner. It was against his liking but the one puff had made him feel better. “You smoked?” Asked Nikita as he took his seat. “Yes, but only one puff” Vikrant clarified. “You know, doc has asked you to stop, your acidity will aggravate.” Nikita was agitated. Vikrant didn’t find her words worthy of a reply. He kept staring on the screen, again the cigarette in the actor’s lips attracted him, allured him. He barely sat through the climax. As soon as the show was over he rushed to his SUV in the parking. He always kept a backup packet in the glove compartment. He went so fast that Nikita could hardly follow, he didn’t care. Like a leopard leaping onto its prey he leapt on the glove compartment before he got into the car. There was no packet there. He felt enraged, disturbed. How could this happen? There has to be a packet here, where did it go? “Did you see my McKnight?” He asked Nikita, who was clueless about why Vikrant was so restless. She was bit annoyed by his indifference to her that he showed at the theatre. She reciprocated it, without answering him. “Answer me” Growled Vikrant. “Well I smoked it.” She screamed sarcastically. This irritated Vikrant. There had been moments in their relationship that had provoked Vikrant to almost hit Nikita but his self control always triumphed over the rage. This time too he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hand. His fingers still smelled of McKnight. He craved for it more. It was quarter past fifteen, Chandu would still be open. Chandu was his reliable cigarette vendor who kept ample supplies of McKnight for Vikrant. His car scorched the roads, which were empty, bit unusual for this city. General elections were 3 days away and due to some political unrest a stronger code of conduct was being enforced. This created apprehensions in his mind whether Chandu would be open or not. He pressed the throttle. “Would you mind slowing down? It is scary.” Asked Nikita with the anger evident in her voice. This time Vikrant mellowed to her plea and dropped a few Kilometers. He knew that even if Chandu would have closed the shop he can call Chandu to get the cigarettes. To his evident dismay, Chandu had closed the shop, probably due to the strict code of conduct. Vikrant was frustrated, for few seconds he couldn’t think. Then he picked up the phone and called Chandu. “Chandu, McKnight.” He asked. “Sir, Manny sir took the last carton, I will order for more tomorrow.” Chandu replied. Manoj or Manny as his friends called him, was an aquintance of Vikrant. They first came to know each other because of McKnight only. Both were lovers of the brand. Vikrant’s irritation grew. He closed his eyes and talked to himself for few minutes; it was only the matter of this night. The next day was a Saturday and he would get up only after 11 in the morning, by that time Chandu would’ve got his McKnights. Bit calmer Vikrant drove back to his flat, which was two apartments away from Chandu’s shop. Nikita was to stay at his place that night, but now she was revaluating her stay. Vikrant switched on the lights and went straight into the bathroom for a shower. The smell of McKnight in his fingers was driving him crazy. He needed to get rid of it, if he couldn’t have the cigarette itself. He stood under the shower for few minutes letting the warm water drench his body that was experiencing palpitations at various places. It settled him; he took a few deep breaths. Before going out he brushed his teeth, it was his childhood habit to brush before sleeping. He wanted to get away from consciousness until he had his McKnight. He came out of the Bathroom to find Nikita sitting on his bed, wearing blue lingerie that he brought her on her birthday. She had taken a shower in the other bathroom. He was in no mood of any adventure, but she seemed undeterred by his cold looks. Nikita got up and placed her hand around Vikrant’s waist. He turned his face away from her; she placed her lips on his. He got drawn into the trap, and it was a good distraction from the craving of cigarette, which was exploding his mind. They made love for next few hours, and soon Nikita fell asleep. Vikrant was exhausted, but he still couldn’t sleep. He had to get the cigarette. To distract himself he switched on his computer and logged onto a social networking site. He was checking through the status messages of friends when he found something that destroyed him. One of his friends in UK has written: “McKnight files for bankruptcy; production stopped; will have to switch to other brand” Vikrant couldn’t believe what he was reading, he read and reread. It was not long before the dark clouds of disappointment and hopelessness engulfed him. How will he make though the day without his favorite brand. No other brand came closer to McKnight, the quality of filter, the fresh tobacco and the smooth taste. He couldn’t think of anything, for once he thought to try and get all the packs of McKnight in the market. That would be the first thing he will do in the morning, he thought. But then the unfortunate afterthought struck him “What if there is none in the market? Chandu was never out of stock, this was the first time he said McKnight was exhausted. Maybe they had stopped production weeks before filing for bankruptcy. Maybe Manoj knew this, and that is why he brought the carton from Chandu.” He again felt the sudden urge to smoke one McKnight, but stronger this time. “Manoj, he bought the carton from Chandu, atleast he can spare me one pack.” He thought. He picked his phone and called Manoj. There was no answer, Vikrant had no hesitation in calling him again. After 5 tries Manoj answered. “It is 1:30 Vicky, what is it?” Asked an irritated voice from the other side. “I want one pack of McKnight.” Stated Vikrant. “What!” Manoj was astonished. “You called me at 1:30 in night for a pack of cigarette. Are you out of your mind?” He was almost shouting. “Look, just one pack.” Vikrant pleaded. “First of all, I am travelling to Mumbai. So you can’t have it. And even if I were there, I would not have given that to you.” Told Manoj. He disconnected Vikrant was enraged. If Manoj would have been in front of him, he would have knocked Manoj out. Vikrant felt convulsions in his muscles and twitching in his brain. He knew he needed a cigarette, but not any cigarette, he needed McKnight. He made a mental note to take care of Manoj when he returns, as getting a cigarette was more important at that time. Vikrant got up from the chair. He longed for a McKnight, and it beckoned him like an old girlfriend. An old girlfriend who was always near to the heart but you could not reach for her. At this thought he recalled something that electrified him. Devyani, she was the one who always keeps McKnight in spare. He called her, but her phone was switched off. He picked up the car keys and rushed down the stairs. Driving as fast as he can, he was at Devyani’s place in minutes. Devyani was his first girlfriend, they were together in college. She was the one who first introduced him to McKnight. At that time he could not afford the expensive imported cigarette. She was rich and they were in love, with each other and with McKnight. He cherished each cigarette shared with Devyani. He pressed the elevator’s button which was at 12th floor. The descent of the elevator was painfully slow. He took the stairs instead. His heart was thumping the hardest when he reached at the door of her flat. He turned up the doormat and took the keys. It was his second nature to do so. He had never knocked the door to enter Devyani’s flat. He opened the door and entered the living room clad with darkness. Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, he was in the kitchen. Devyani kept her cigarettes in the kitchen racks, Vikrant knew it. He flipped the light switch and started searching. He was disappointed and frustrated that there were no cigarettes. “Has she started keeping them somewhere else? Should I look in the bedroom? There would be a pack certainly by her bed.” He thought to himself. He turned towards the bedroom to find Devyani standing there. She looked at him in amazement and was holding up a bed sheet to cover up her naked body. “Vikrant…what is this?” She asked widening her eyes. Vikrant didn’t expect her to be there, this shocked him and already he was feeling nauseated in his yearning for McKnight. He jerked to his side as a natural reaction and tumbled the set of crystal glasses kept on the platform. He stepped back and a piece of broken glass pierced his foot. He had forgotten to put his shoes on before leaving. He also realized that he was wearing just his boxer shorts and nothing else. “What has happened?” Asked Devyani, she was clueless. Her bed sheet now lied on the floor and she moved forward to pick up the glass pieces from the floor. “Don’t move or you will hurt yourself.” She instructed. Vikrant stood still but the chill started to get him. It was cold and really cold. But only after he realized that he was almost naked he felt the chill. Soon another silhouette walked from the bedroom to the kitchen. Vikrant recognized him, it was Tony, Devyani’s boyfriend. He had the same look on his face that Devyani had a few minutes ago. “Would you tell us what has happened?” Asked Devyani mopping the glass pieces from the floor. “I want a cigarette.” Answered Vikrant looking into infinity through the floor. He was blank and numb. Devyani held him and helped him limp out of kitchen. “Get that glass piece out of his foot and give him something to wear” She told Tony who was still trying to understand the happenings. “Look at you, you are naked, bloody hell, in front of him” Tony said to Devyani pointing to Vikrant. He didn’t like it. “For God’s sake, Tony. He was my boyfriend for 5 years. He has seen it all.” she almost shouted as Tony took Vikrant to the living room. Few minutes later all three of them were sitting in the living room. Devyani poured a glass of brandy to Vikrant who was wearing a Kurta-Payjama. Devyani was dressed in her bathroom robe, a bit more conservative then her earlier appearance. “You have brandy in the house? How many times have I told you to get rid of this stuff.” Asked infuriated Tony. “Come on. I don’t drink this anymore. It is for the guests.” She placed the glass infront of Vikrant. Tony was red with anger; his male ego was severely hurt at several places. He wanted Vikrant out as soon as possible. But then for ladies he was like the ideal chocolate boy who was a perfect gentleman. He was someone whom a girl would want to keep as a trophy on her mantle. He contained the fury. “You came all this way, for a pack of cigarette?” Asked Tony. “Yes…” Answered Vikrant and turned to Devyani “Devyani, please give me one, just one pack of McKnight.” He asked. “Sorry Vikrant, but I do not smoke anymore. I thought you knew that” She said placing herself on the sofa. This unsettled Vikrant. He had his hopes on her. “I know it would be here somewhere.” He said getting up from the sofa. “Please let me have…just one cigarette will do” he moved towards the bedroom. Puzzled Tony looked at Devyani in amazement. He wanted her to stop Vikrant, he would have done that himself, but then he had to be the matured man, who stays out until absolutely necessary. He had to give Devyani a chance to set things straight. “Vikrant, I told you, I had stopped smoking. There are no cigarettes in my house.” She screamed as she held Vikrant’s hand to stop him from going further. His temper was already on rise. This was second time that night, that he was about to hit a women. Tony thought it was enough and he must step in. “Vicky, she smokes no cigarette, so chuck it and get lost” Tony dictated. “But, why did you quit.” Vikrant was almost bursting with the mixture of emotions. “It is because of Tony, he wants me to get rid of all this stuff. And actually it is good, for a healthy lifestyle.” She released Vikrant’s hand. He was now looking down at the floor which had few drops of blood on it. His foot was still bleeding. “You quit because of Tony?” Vikrant could not believe what he just heard. His longing for a cigarette increased with every blow to his hope of getting one. And then, like lava bursting out of volcano, his emotion burst through him. He picked up the metal rhino on the table next him and hurled that to Tony. The rhino missed Tony, who had already started charging towards Vikrant. Tony took Vikrant head on and both crashed, first against the wall and then against the floor. “Tony!!!” Screamed Devyani. Tony grabbed Vikrant’s neck with his strong fist. Vikrant moved his knee to hit Tony on his genitals. This undid Tony and he rolled to the other side. Enraged Vikrant stood up, Devyani tried to contain him but he easily pushed her over the sofa and onto the floor. While Tony rolled on the floor in pain, Vikrant lifted the glass and metal table and smashed that on Tony’s head. Although Tony was fitter and stronger than Vikrant, but now he lied at Vikrant’s feet. Vikrant picked up large piece of broken glass from shattered table and slashed Tony’s throat. Devyani sulked sitting in the corner, she was also bleeding. She had got her phone and was trying to dial a number. But she was trembling too much to hit the correct key. Vikrant leaped in front of her and held her by her hair. Phone fell from her hand. He banged her head several times against the wall, before he realized she is dead. The flat was soundproof so nobody heard her shrill screams. Vikrant searched the house and turned every single article but did not find a cigarette. The clothes he was wearing were stained with the blood gushing out of Tony’s throat and Devyani’s head. And then the revelation struck him, he had killed them. He went blank once again. He cried and cried hard. Images of him with Devyani flashed in his mind. When they were in college they used to go for long drives in Devyani’s car, made love, drank and smoked. He was free at that time, away from his family. His family always doubted his ability, because he was the youngest. He remembered how he smoked his first cigarette. It was a challenge thrown to him; he smoked the whole cigarette in less than a minute. It liberated him, he felt like he could do anything. It lifted him to newer heights. He felt more respectable among the average college students. It got him his first girlfriend, who was also the hottest girl in the campus. Now she was dead and his tears flowed down his cheeks to blend with her blood on his body. He couldn’t come to terms with what has happened. Fear clouded his remorse. He understood the need to leave that place as soon as possible. But even if he left, he couldn’t escape the law. His prints on the two corpses were enough to convict him. He opened all the windows, switched off the AC, poured the brandy over the living room carpet. He went into the kitchen, opened the valve of cooking gas regulator. Removed the clothes he was wearing and drenched them in brandy also, and changed to Tony’s suit after a shower. Before leaving he lit up his brandy drenched kurta with his favorite Lamington lighter and threw it on the carpet, closed the door and wiped the door knob. He felt a relief when he turned the keys and the car started. Pushing the throttle paddle hard he drove away from the crime site. Soon the craving for a cigarette got back to him; it was still there while he was weeping at Devyani’s place. He felt his hands were trembling. The blood slowed down in his veins. His finger started getting numb. It became hard for him to turn the steering. The street lights blurred in his eyes. He was convinced he needed a cigarette or he will die. And moreover soon McKnight was out of market, he could not imagine himself smoking anything else. His heart ached with this thought. It was like his beloved was parting forever and he was denied her last sight. He wanted his last McKnight. Driving the car became harder with every tumbling thought, he passed the theatre where he was few hours ago. It was this cursed theatre where he was about to smoke his last McKnight, and the damn security guard spoilt the union. He had to put that off. And suddenly his car braked the hardest since it was built. He recalled that he hadn’t smoked the complete cigarette and it would still be in the dustbin. Running, no panting he reached the dustbin. It was a steel dustbin with a usual black plastic bag. His desperation grew as he found the dustbin was empty. They had cleaned it up after the last show. He broke down, and then the same sound fell on his ears which had asked him not to smoke. It was the same guard. Vikrant was squatting on the floor infront of dustbin. Guard was not habitual of visitors so late and in this situation. “Any problem sir?” Guard asked. “Where is the trash?” Asked Vikrant in reply “Housekeeping took it out.” Explained the guard. “Where do they take it?” Vikrant was growing desperate with each answer. “I am not sure, a truck comes every night to collect the trash, but what are you looking for?” He was really puzzled now. “You are saying, you do not know where they take it.” Confirmed Vikrant. His desperation started giving way to anger. With guard’s each word the memories of that dismal moment came to Vikrant’s mind. He picked up the steel dustbin and banged that on the Guard’s head. Blood started dripping from guard’s mouth. “You said no smoking here” Shouted Vikrant “I will show you what is smoking” He claimed. Vikrant dragged the guard to the parking and along the way kept hitting him with his leg. He inserted the chubby exhaust pipe in the guard’s bleeding mouth. The pipe was so big in diameter that it almost tore the guard’s cheeks. Vikrant turned the engine on. Pressed the throttle hard, guard’s body jerked in convulsions as the black diesel smoke filled his lunges. After pumping enough smoke into the guard’s lunges to suffocate a room, Vikrant drove away. He didn’t even care to wait to see whether the guard was dead or alive. He was on the roads again; he decided to break into the dealer’s shop in the central town. This was the dealer who supplied McKnight to all the vendors across the city. And then it happened, something which was bound to happen and he knew it would. He ran into a police check post. Considering the present circumstances, it was a miracle that till now he hasn’t came across one. He stepped onto the breaks and rolled down the windows, just enough to reveal his face. “Can I have your Driving license and vehicle registration?” Asked the officer who was much polite, maybe due to the machine Vikrant was driving. It underlined where Vikrant belonged in the social pyramid. Vikrant handed over the papers and waited patiently. But this patience was only superficial; inside he was becoming more and more desperate to get his McKnight, probably the last few. While the officer checked the papers a constable as part of the routine check circled the car to look for any suspicious signs. “Sir” called the constable from the rear of the vehicle; he had spotted the blood on car’s exhaust pipe. The officer went towards the rear to see what the matter was. Vikrant considered this the perfect opportunity to escape, but his papers were with the cop. He could’ve escaped but rather tried to maintain his calm and waited for the officer to come back. “Can you explain the blood on the exhaust?” asked the officer now with a harsher tone. Vikrant looked towards his foot for a second and then opened the door so quickly that when the officer realized that he has been hit by the gate, his stomach and ribs ached like a bullet has pierced him. His grip on the papers loosened, Vikrant grabbed those with his right hand, while his left hand turned the key to start the car. Before the cop or the constable could understand anything, Vikrant was at the far end of their visible horizon. He knew that he would be chased for sure; he turned the vehicle in the maze like alleys of the old town. With a lot of twists and turns he reached the dealer’s shop. He knew this was his last chance to get a McKnight; if it is not here then there is no way he could lay hands on one. His hands trembled with the urge and he felt blood withdrawing from his finger tips. His vision had started blurring much earlier. Every breath that he took, took him closer to suffocating. He believed for sure that he would choke if he doesn’t get any McKnight soon. Without waiting he rammed his 2 ton SUV into the shutter gates of the shop. The first blow sent back recoils and the air bag opened against Vikrant’s chest, the shutter gate still held good. Vikrant punctured the air bag with his Swiss army knife as it blocked his vision. He reversed the car and smashed the shutter with a harder blow. This time the steering wheel went deep inside Vikrant’s chest and he heard some kind of cracking. But what he saw drew a veil over all his pains. The shutter gate was ripped from the ceiling and there were cartons of McKnight inside the shop. Vikrant opened the car gate. He wanted to run to the cigarette but was not able to do so. He almost crept towards the cigarettes. His trembling hands opened one of the packets. He pulled out one McKnight out of the packet. It carried the same grace and beauty, which drove Vikrant crazy when he first held it years ago. It was also the same cigarette which Vikrant had thrown away a few hours ago without even smoking a complete puff, without any care. He pulled out his Lamington lighter, placed the cigarette between his lips which parted with much effort. His joy had no bounds, he wanted and he got his last one. He ignited the lighter and brought it to the tip of the cigarette. He tried to inhale the smoke, to get the joint going, but he couldn’t. He tried again, and again. His vision blurred even more, but he could see the cigarette burning like a piece of paper in his hand. He could not part his fingers to let go off the burning cigarette. Soon everything turned black; he heard few sounds which were like sirens. Police had chased him down. It was the last thing he heard. His ribs had cracked and punctured his lung. That night he killed 5 people, including 2 innocent kids who were sleeping in Devyani’s neighboring flat. They got killed by the LPG cylinder blast. The sixth person to be killed was he himself. He died because he was a smoker and the reason was also a cigarette, but he died because he could not get one to smoke, contrary to what happens usually. And yes, as I told you this is all real, it has happened to real people. P.S. – While all this happened Nikita slept and was informed only in the morning.

महिला मित्र

कक्षा में सभी ने बना ली थी अपनी-अपनी महिला मित्र

हमने जब उनसे पुछा तो बोली पहले देखो अपना चरित्र|

रोज़ कॉलेज के सामने वाली गुमटी पर कई बार जाते हो,

और दो-चार सिगरेट तो एक ही दम में पी जाते हो|

रही सही कसर पास का कथित फॅमिली ढाबा पूरी कर देता है,

और कॉलेज छुटते ही waiter तुम्हारा प्याला भर देता है|

इस सबके बाद बावजूद तुम चाहते हो की हम तुम्हारी महिला मित्र बने,

और तुम्हारा जीवन शाहरुख़ का चलचित्र बने|

अरे शर्म करो, किस मुंह से हमसे यह पूछते हो?

क्या हमे अनजान भोली और नासमझ बूझते हो|

हमने बात को संभाला कहा जिसे तुमने देखा वो कोई और था,

शायद I C Branch का कोई काला चोर था|

वो बोली अरे shut up हमारा vision perfect है,

और तुम्हारा identification exact है|

रोज़ गुमटी के पीछे आम के पेड़ के नीचे धूम्र दंडिका सुलगते हो,

और ढाबे से निकल कर हमारी ही बस के आगे पगलाते हो|

हम समझे कि आज तो फंसे गए भाई! हमने बात को कुछ यूं घुमाया|

अरे सिगरेट तो हम प्राणायाम करने के लिए पीते है,

रामदेव कहते है जो साँसों को साध लेते है वो ज्यादा जीते है|

और रही बात हमारी ढाबे पर पीने कि हाला का प्याला

तो बच्चन जी भी कह गए है कि मंदिर मज़्जिद बैर करते और मेल कराती मधुशाला|

तो सुंदरी देर न करो, आओ हमारा आलिंगन करो,

वो बोली फ़िलहाल तो हमारे सेंडल का चुम्बन करो|

जड़ के सबके सामने अपनी पादुकाएं वो जाते रहे,

और दर्द से हम वहीँ करहाते रहे|

I, me and myself

“When we are young we look forward to future, but as we grow old we start looking back” – J. Krishnamurthy

Just back from a Euphoria gig at Shaniwarwada fort in Pune. Palash Sen said “Euphoria completes 12 years in 2011. We debuted with a strange sounding song ‘Dhoom Pichak’…” This statement brought back a sudden flash of memory. There are some memories imbibed in your mind which are sharp as a Kitana, clear as a Crystal and crisp as a Papad. No matter how old you grow it stay the same way.

I remember discussing about this song with a senior school mate of mine. She belonged to a bunch of kids who shared the same auto-rickshaw to go to and come back from school. (I was also a part of that bunch). I remember there were 10 of us and we used to fit in a single auto-rickshaw. (Nothing unusual for us Indians ).

“It starts off well but gets boring in the middle.” She commented when I curiously asked about the song. The song had started airing on TV in a few seconds promo and she had bought the cassette(Yes! Cassette. No CD/MP3 download). Her cold review didn’t dull my enthusiasm for the song and I waited till I had saved enough amount from my Pocket Money to buy the cassette. I instantly fell in love  with the song.

“…we surely have come a long way” Palash Sen had said. “And so have I” I thought. Contemplating, what you were at some point in time and what you are now can be dangerous. It is like sticking hand into a bee hive. You put your hand to fetch sweet honey and what you might get is an angry swarm of bees. I kind of refrain from going down that path. But as Yudhishthir said in his answer to Yaksha that the fastest thing in this universe is the mind(Not Light, you dumbass western meat bags). My mind was already onto it.

The first thing I remember from those days is how painful was it for me to go to school. I hated that. Sometimes when my cousins came over to my place we used to devise plans to avoid school.(It worked a lot of times). I remember once a guy from the other section asked me that whether I am the same guy who came to school only once a week. I was annoyed by the very idea of wearing knickers (half-pants ). I was so uncomfortable with girls (especially the pretty ones) that I took every opportunity to avoid them. I was shy, timid and hardly spoke a word in public (I know many won’t believe this). I remember during the science class even I knew answer to any question I would not stand up to speak, instead I used to tell that to my partner(as in w shared the same bench) who used to answer the question.(and obviously got the credit) Once I was to do a role in a class activity where I had to play the Weather man in a mock News Bulletin. I had my line written on a piece of paper. When I stood up infront of audience of 40 people, I chickened out without saying a word. The teacher yelled “Kanungo you have your lines written. Read that.” I didn’t. I was a school bully’s favorite. Even guys who were my friends didn’t spare me (Now I know how much they would’ve enjoyed. Bastards).

Going by my parents word I was a dream kid. Why? Because I never nagged for anything. If they told me to keep quite I did that. If they told me to eat I did that.

(I don’t know why I am writing all this??….NO I am not drunk)

Now my mind is overloaded. This is not the first time that such thoughts came to me. Few weeks ago I was travelling on a bus to Indore and person sitting next to me was puking like a hydrant. At that I remembered how sick I used to get while travelling by a bus. (it still haunts me)

If I look at myself now the motion sickness is gone, but I have started nagging for things that I know are senseless. I am amazed to find how I have changed (not saying it as good or bad) or probably I haven’t. It is just the morphosis of my self-image. (Sorry. Have been reading psychology off late). I leave it to people who know me(read YOU) to decide this. This is not just about me, I wrote this from my perspective, but each one of us will surely find interesting things that have happened to them and their personality during the journey of his/her life which have shaped the way they are now. It is just that we never reflect on this. And also that person, who you think once you were, still remains somewhere inside you, under the hood of your ‘now’.

As Euphoria’s song goes “…तेरे होठों की छिपी हंसी में, मैं महफूज़ हूँ”

I ride to my place and Harivanshrai Bachchan’s famous poem lingers in my mind.

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक़्त मिला
कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूँ
जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें क्या बुरा भला।

जिस दिन मेरी चेतना जगी मैंने देखा
मैं खड़ा हुआ हूँ इस दुनिया के मेले में,
हर एक यहाँ पर एक भुलाने में भूला
हर एक लगा है अपनी अपनी दे-ले में
कुछ देर रहा हक्का-बक्का, भौचक्का-सा,
आ गया कहाँ, क्या करूँ यहाँ, जाऊँ किस जा?
फिर एक तरफ से आया ही तो धक्का-सा
मैंने भी बहना शुरू किया उस रेले में,
क्या बाहर की ठेला-पेली ही कुछ कम थी,
जो भीतर भी भावों का ऊहापोह मचा,
जो किया, उसी को करने की मजबूरी थी,
जो कहा, वही मन के अंदर से उबल चला,
जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक़्त मिला
कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूँ
जो किया, कहा, माना उसमें क्या बुरा भला

Weekend Engagement

Weekend, what can you do in a weekend? There can be a million answers for this question. Lots of people would have done lots of prolific things during the span of the two days that we call a weekend. I am going to tell you a story of one such weekend.

Friday, 23rd April 2010 6:15 PM

I am sitting in the office cafeteria at my office in Pune with two of my colleagues, Sakshi and Poulome. We are having snacks and I tell them I have to catch a bus at 7:30.

Sakshi : How are you supposed to reach ruby hall by 7:30? (She asked this because of the distance I had to go to catch the bus from Ruby Hall)

Me: By auto… (Gesturing the handle of an autorikshaw). I have done that in past, last time I started at 5:30 to catch a bus at 6:30.

Sakshi : You see, there is a difference between 5:30 and 6:30. You will see.

Me : I am done with the sandwich.

Sakshi : I think you should leave.

Me : Bye… (half walking half running)

I get out of the office, catch the first shared auto to reach the Hinjewadi chowk. It takes me 10 mins and 10,000 words to convince a rickshaw driver to drop me at the bus stop for mere (!) price of Rs. 280. This comes with an added condition; he will also take up fares all along the way.

During the whole journey he keeps screaming ‘Teshon’ (‘Station’ in local lingo). Thanks to him we stop at atleast 5 palces on the way and I get accompanied by a fat and stout Girl going to meet her boyfriend, a cool and sexy girl who is going for a movie and an insurance agent going for a call. Now don’t ask how I came to know about what they were going for.

I reach the bus stop and manage to catch the last bus leaving for Indore. As I am so late to get the ticket the only seat left was the upper berth at the end of the bus. Those who are not familiar with the sleeper busses that ply in all parts of India don’t get surprised by the mention of the word ‘berth’. The sleeper busses are an amalgamation of the Chassis of a bus and the layout of a train. Search Google for picture of these busses, which will give you a visual feel of the interior.

Travelling with your berth at the rear end of bus is what you call pain in ass, head, back …actually each and every part of your body. The ride is so bumpy that during the sleep (whatever I was able to get) I dream of travelling on moon. I bang my head atleast twelve times after which I stopp counting.  At an early hour of morning my cellular communication device informs me of a text message. It says

‘Dear Customer, your outgoing facility has been barred due to negative verification of your documents. Please submit correct documents to continue uninterrupted service.’

Now that’s what you call an insult to injury.

Saturday, 24^th  April 2010 9:00 AM

With very little sleep and lots of body ache I manage to reach Indore. As usual the city that I love the most welcomes me with a shower of dust and blow of hot air. I see development work going on all along the way to my place. As I reach home, Mommy – Papa and Anand Mama (Chunnu Mama) are waiting anxiously for me. They think my phone died due to low battery.  A plate of Poha is served in front of me along with a glass of Pana (Green mango squash). Man! I love Indore. As always a plate of Poha is never enough for an Indori.

Chunnu Mama is in Indore as he had to leave for some remote place near Mandla for a training camp for 15 days. The place is so far flanged that he has to walk 1.5 kms and climb a hillock to make a phone call.  (He is still there as I write this).

All during the day I complete various important jobs pending to be done. I present you the list

–        Visit to doctor, as a part of my monthly check up.

–        Get my glasses repaired, which got damaged in my back-of-the-bus journey.

–        Catch up on lost sleep.

–        Lunch

–        Visit to a friend’s place to collect a parcel which I was supposed to deliver to him in Pune

–        Visit to Bhua’s place

–        Then paid a visit to one of my cousin who had recently run into a 75 yr old man. The old guy was now in coma, had broken both his knees and my cousin was held responsible for this. (I never felt so as the old guy was driving a Royal Enfield Bullet and my cousin a TVS Scooty. How can a boy on scooty injure a man on Bullet so lethally).

–        Book a ticket for return journey to Pune.

Meanwhile these things are happening I am constantly planning with my friends for the next day. Sunday is going to be the biggest day in life of one of my friend, Ashish Sharma aka Mathura aka Bhata aka Haapshish aka …..(Sorry cannot produce the whole list; it is bigger than the bible).

He is getting engaged after all.

Sunday, 25^th April 2010 5:30 AM

I wake up listening to the alarm. I had to get ready by 6:00 AM as Nilesh sir is going to arrive and we would start for our journey.

Nilesh Sir

Nilesh Singh Chandel, he was our senior in engineering college. ‘Berang’ , ‘Bindass’ and ‘Berang Bindass’ are his word whiskers, but with some meaning attached to them. I have provided the possible meaning for them.

Word	Meaning
Berang	Literal meaning – Without any colour. He uses it when he intends to say that a particular job was done without any fear. It is more like the just-do-it.
Bindass	Literal meaning – Without any inhibitions He uses it to denote the carefree nature of things
Berang Bindass	He uses it to denote the combination of above two characteristics.

 

Although a senior of ours he became quite a close friend in the later part of our college years. The bond was strengthened by the mutual exchange of favours among us, especially with Ashish. On Saturday we had decided to go to Sihore for Ashish’s engagement on his bike as I had come back to catch a bus at 7:00 PM for Pune.

While I am bathing, I could hear that Nilesh sir has arrived and is talking to my Mom. I quickly come out and get dressed up. It was 6:30 by the time we leave. We refuel the bike at a petrol station just near the city limits before hitting the highway.

The road from Indore to Bhopal (On which falls the town of Sihore, at a distance of 160 Kms from Indore) is named State Highway 18. Now in the part of world where I live, even national highways are not expected to be in a very good condition, leave alone the state highway. But what we come across was much more than a surprise. The road is unexpectedly smooth and broad. The median is as wide as the roads and there are trees all along the way. We are so taken aback by the quality of the road present in front of us that we go almost a kilometer before we realized we are on the wrong way, near Dewas. At this point we check our phones for the time elapsed (as none of us had watches), it is already 7:45 and we are supposed to reach Sihore at 9 o’clock. We have to travel  116 kms in less than 90 mins. Now that is impossible we both know.

None of us spoke a word for the next one hour which we took to reach Astha, a town 40 kms from Sihore. We had to have a stop here because our bums are so hurting that I start believing that I would not be able to return by same means. A refreshing cup of tea and a plate of Poha brings back life into us. It is still cool and sun is not up to its full glory. We gear up for the last leg of our travel.  All through the journey it never happens that due to the quality of the road we had to shift to a lower gear.

Sunday, 25^th April 2010 9:30 AM

At 9:30 we reach the venue, as soon as we entered the marriage garden where the engagement is supposed to happen, an SUV also enters with us. Out come four boys, Aanil Pandey, Davendra Raikwar, Vaibhav Gupta, Vipul Gupta.

Aanil Pandey

Anil Pandey, he is Ashish’s school  friend. His voice is so heavy that a you could crush a can of cola under it. Presently in Delhi he is famous among the friends as ‘the confiscator’. He gets hold of whatever belonging he likes of his friends and is reluctant to return that. He is also famous for his love for black coloured clothing.  Ashish attributes his mischievous nature most to Aanil, who influced Ashish a lot in their school days. Pandey now seems to be grown old as considerable amount of his hair is grey and he has grown thin.  

Davendra Raikwar

Davendra Raikwar, He is among the people on whom I can go about writing a book. But will wind it up in short. Anna, is how we address him. He has absolutely unpredictable temper. He can make anybody go mad with his annoyance if he wills. One of my favorite partner when it comes to nag somebody. Both of us combined have produced many disastrous incidents where people got very hurt, which can be recalled by lots of our friends (angry friends, rather). He is very parsimonious when it comes to talking and keeps most of things to himself.  Presently working for Delhi Metro, he holds the most prestigious job among us, as majority of us are software engineers. You need to be his friend for a long time before you understand what he really means when he remains quite. During our college times he used to hate the silly text messages on friendship, love and etc. But now he is the one who sends all such messages and the one who sends them the most.

Vaibhav Gupta

Vaibhav Gupta, again a figure who can be a subject of a book. He is the favorite prey for Davendra and me and he also very well appreciates this. Kaka is how somebody from us will address him. The reason behind this is that he used to play the role of famous ‘Ramu kaka’ from Sholay in the skits we staged during our college. He is also known as ‘the altruist’ due to his helping nature. Very few people know that he lives a dual life. For those who see him from a distance don’t know this. And even no one from us know exactly what his other life is like but all of us know discrete bits and pieces. Below is the list of certain things that define him.

1. Loves listening to songs.
2. You will find him always chewing cinnamons.
3. When it rains it is out of his control to not get drenched.
4. He cannot help helping others, especially if the other is a girl.
5. Needs Dal-baati at least once a week.
6. Loves philosophies of Osho, Sri Sri Ravishankar and anybody who can profess.
7. Visit places with only some of his selected friends, especially by bunking classes.
8. Occasionally sleeps at night.

Presently at IIT Roorke, I hear that he had created a fan base there with his altruism and stories he narrates to everybody. I think that is enough to give an idea about him.

Vipul Gupta

Vipul Gupta, Vaibhav’s younger brother. If I consider all the siblings of my friends he is the one we are friendliest with. Our relationships with him have reached such a level that Vaibhav doesn’t matter when it comes to rapport between any of us and Vipul. Monu, as he is fondly called, is a humble and happy-go-lucky creature. Although I have heard incidents of his stubbornness from his mother but I have just heard them. He always comes across smiling. He is always ready on his toes to respond to orders of his elder brother. A Charted Accountant in making he is a dream of an older brother.

Before me and Nilesh sir finish catching up with these four guys, Ashish, Pavan, Deepak and Anil Upadhyay along with some other friends of Ashish come to us.

Ashish Sharma

Ashish Sharma, already you all are aware of his various names. The most popular and catchy one is Mathura. Now I am not going to tell you about the story behind this name. Mathura, as everybody calls him is a weird character. An ardent gym devotee, he always believes in doing what he wills. He can talk to a stranger for a whole day, till the stranger is no more a stranger. He loves photography but only if the one who is posing is he. He can sleep for days and remain awake for more days. When we were in college he was a terror among the juniors and was the most dedicated junior to all the seniors. Pavan Rungrecha holds the key to Ashish. Nobody save Pavan came make Ashish agree to certain point. One more striking aspect about Ashish is his Bike. A black Yahama Libero is the one possessed by him. He is famous (or rather infamous) for his trademark U-Turns on a busy road. He has achieved various accomplishments with his bike, the latest and the most daring one is a bike ride from Ujjain to Mumbai (nearly 700 Kms) in 16 hours. Now I won’t go boasting about him. He is the one getting engaged and we all have travelled from different parts of the country for him. As I have mentioned earlier about some of my friends on whom I can go about writing a book, the book on Ashish would be the most massive one. Presently, he works for a software company in Mumbai.

Pavan Rungrecha

Pavan Rungrecha, a plump shaped, preoccupied, self conscious guy who wants to look fit without any effort. Genda aka mama aka pakoda … he too, just like Ashish has wide variety of names. He is always bothered about his appearance. During the college time he used to get smitten by every passing girl. He very skillfully pretends to be the most responsible, the most mature and the most thoughtful guy among us, and is very successful in doing so (although we know the truth). If you tell him the symptoms of a disease he is sure to catch that within few hours. He thinks he is the leader of all the mankind and is the one who should speak on everybody’s behalf. Now I should refrain from writing much about him as it will be harmful for him as well as me. Presntly, just like me he is working for a Software company in Mumbai

Deepak Sisodiya

Deepak Sisodiya, a smart looking guy (he just looks smart) from Mandsaur (along with Pavan and Davendra). Pavan calls him Lala and so do some of us. He always keeps smiling and laughs out loud at every joke. You never know when he actually understands the joke and when it’s a dumb laugh. He is one of the few people who actually enjoy listening to incidents narrated by me(this is what he tells).  Apart from Davendra he is the one who sends a message per day. But his are more comic rather than dull sentimental messages. Presently he handles his family run business and manages a sari shop.

Anil Upadhyay

Anil Upadhyay, another character who hails from Ujjain and is Ashish’s childhood friend. He is one of the most astonishing characters I have ever seen. Some of his deeds are so prolific that if I cannot think of doing those. His friends fondly recall his famous suicide attempt. During the college time he seldom prepared for the exams but often passed the exams. Sometimes we knew how he did that and sometimes not. He was managing all the activities for Ashish’s engagement.   Presently he teaches in an Engineering college.

Ashish: BAWA, BAWA, BAWA, BAWA, BAWA, BAWA, BAWA!!! (That’s our trademark greeting. Bawa pronounced loudly 7 times in a rhythm, with your hands up like you are held by a cop. We even have a community for that on Okut!) Abe to bike se kaise aa gaya? (He asks to me).

Me: Kyun, main bike se nahi aa sakta? Koi problem hai kya bikes ko?

Ashish: Nahi be, main is liye aisa pooch raha hoon ki tu itni der bike pe baitha kaise?

Me: Ab teri sagai me aana tha to tere tarike se hi aa gaya….

Soon Naushad, Amit, Pravin and Ritu (Sharma) arrive. Everybody is talking to each other. 

Naushad Ghori

Naushad Ghori, tall, fair and handsome (argh…) male (?). I don’t know it is his habit or he does that intentionally but he can never be serious. Back in college he was an integral part of our team that staged skits in which we spoofed the Hindi film industry. And it was during the times of cultural activities that the two of us interacted the most. He used to play Sanjeev Kumar aka Thakur Baldev Singh from Sholay and Vaibhav Gupta was Ramu kaka (Hence he came to be known as kaka). He is one of the most irritating creature I have come across, there were times when during the rehearsals I used to shout like anything at him and Shikar (I won’t describe this creature here). He always tries to impress girls with his greasy talks. Every time you will find him loitering around girls. During our training days in Kerala he still remained the femalephillic organism. We both were put in the same group for preparing a mock project.  There were instances where he did something which could be called as productive for the mock project, but those are very few. I feel I have wasted enough space on this good-for-nothing rascal.

Amit Hasija

Amit Hasija, slim, tall, fair brown-eyed guy. Amongst all these people he is the one whom I had known for the longest. Both of us went to the same coaching class in high school. He and Naushad are schoolmates. Ashish, Amit and Naushad are flatmates. Ashish, Naushad and me are classmates from college. It is interesting to see how the net of friends interconnects two nodes through different paths. So coming back to Amit. To be honest, during our college times I had minimal interaction with Amit. It was only during our training days in Kerala that we got to spend some time together. He used to come and stay at the hotel in which we were staying, even though he was allotted a different accommodation (God knows why).  Presently he is working for the same IT firm as I am and lives in Mumbai.

Praveen Kaushal

Praveen Kaushale aka chupchap, a dark, reserved guy. He also is one of the flatmates of Ashish. He and I used to travel in the same bus during our college times. There is an interesting story about how he came to be known as Chupchap. Once when we were in second year of college there was an event organized by a local newspaper in our college. Somebody from Praveen’s branch knew one of the reporters. They decided to do one piece for the local supplement of the paper where senseless bits of information and meaningless college news are published (Usually the last page on the city supplement). In that article a picture of group of friends was published (Praveen was also a part of it) and there was a small description of every member in it. Praveen was named as chupchap by his other friends and it was written ‘ab mileye Praveen se jinko inke dost pyaar se chupchap bulate hai….’  And some other shit. Next morning he came out in the bus flaunting that his picture has been published in the paper. When Abhishek (another of my friend) and I read out the matter we couldn’t help needling Praveen. It was so hackneyed and so chutiyatic (sorry for the slang). Even Praveen was embarrassed with that, he never mentioned that article again. Presently he is chupchaply living in Mumbai and exploring new boundaries.

Ritu Sharma

Ritu Sharma, a cute, lovable and what-is-happening sort of girl. Hers was roll number 48 just before mine. She has been the victim of my wrath during the practical session in the college. I was always concerned with finishing the experiment as early as possible and she and Ritu Kapse were the two other member in our practical group. I used to tell them to sit quietly and not utter a word till I have done the practical. It was only after I had finished that they touched the apparatus. Presently she is teaching at an engineering college. When I asked her what subjects are you teaching she replied that, who actually teaches at an engineering college, with a chirp.  

And our talks continue till we go into bath. The bathroom doors has slits on the top. Somebody starts taking pictures of the ones bathing inside and that turns into rage with each one bullying another. Now I am not going to describe the intricate details of it. After getting ready we sit below a tree which is very soothing as heat starts mounting. While we were bathing Sandhya(Ashish’s fiancé) had  arrived.  Soon two other creatures had arrived namely Kapil Saluja and Banakdeep Singh Saluja

Kapil Saluja

Kapil Saluja, a smart, young and stubborn guy. He is the younger brother of our dear friend Rishi. As Rishi is in Chandigarh and could not come to attend Ashish’s engagement Kapil came. He would’ve come even if Rishi was there. Kapil considers Ashish as his guru. Both share traits as far as thinking goes. He is also famous for his stubborn nature. I had heard incidents of his beating up a policeman even before I first met him. Presently he is studying in Indore.

Banakdeep Singh Saluja

Banakdeep Singh Saluja, a slim, fair Sikh with genuine turban. He is Kapil’s friend and flatmate. I have met him only on certain instances but the impression I got about his is he is an amiable and cool tempered person. It was during Ashish’s engagement that I came to know about the meaning of his name, Banak means Honey. Although we had a very less interaction there have memorable incidents one of them being his bike being taken away by traffic police. At that time he had even lost all the papers for the bike and his license too. He is also presently studying along with Kapil.

The ritual requires the presence of the girl for most of the time. Hence we are with Ashish in a room where he was getting ready while the rituals are being performed. He will only have to make a presence for exchanging the rings and some trivial rituals. But that is also delayed as he had forgotten a special tika that is worn by the Boy at the time of engagement (Anil Upadhyay is held responsible for this). Two of his friends are dispatched to bring that from the local market. As they aren’t aware of where to get it from, it takes them time to find it out. Meanwhile, everybody starts thinking that we have held up Ashish as a sign of the groom’s ego. People from family keep saying that it is not a marriage let him go, and we have to explain them the real problem.

Just before the auspicious time is about to pass, they arrive with the tika and out comes Ashish dressed in Purplish blue Kurta payjama.  He goes straight to where Sandhya was sitting and also the priest. All through this time, Pavan is taking snaps of the happenings. He thinks he is some world class photographer and expects us to feel privileged to get his services.

 It is very crowded as everyone wanted to see the exchange of rings. Davendra, Deepak and me slip back and as soon as ceremony is over we signaled the Dholi(Drummer) to start his act(actually he was already into it) and then we start dancing. For next 10 minutes what happens I don’t know. It is so hot and the dancing resulted in sweating and perspiration. I am dehydrated; I go and drink from whiSchever water body comes to me at first. Despite of doctor’s warnings of drinking only distilled water I gulp 4 glasses of water from a drum kept just outside the hall where we were dancing.

After all this we take time to calm ourselves and retire to the same tree. As many of us meet each other after a long, long time we couldn’t get enough of catching up. Naushad, has a bleeding nose due to the heat. Poor guy couldn’t enjoy the whole function. Soon the lunch is served and we the groom’s friends with the entire attitude enjoy the first serving.

Sunday, 25^th April 2010 2:30 PM

After lunch we go back to our temporary lounge(The tree shade) and keep chatting. Nilesh Sir points out that it was nearing 2:30 the time we had decided to leave SIhore. We start bidding goodbye to all and it is not before 3:15 that we could actually leave.

This time the heat is on. We cover ourselves with white cotton cloths one of which I had brought with me and one each was given from Sandhya’s family as an acknowledgement of appearance in the function to us. We are now aware of the route and the time we would take to get back hence we are more confident. But certainly the conditions are different, it is almost 41^o C and the highway is going to be hotter than this.

Nilesh sir rides the bike for the first leg of 60 Kms till the MP Tourism highway retreat. Then I take over and it is never a time in the journey that we have to pull down the speed due to the poor quality of the road. It takes us just within 3 hours to reach my place. We cover more than 160 Kms in 3 hours.

Sunday, 25^th April 2010 6:15 PM

I reach home, took a bath while mommy prepares a cup of tea. I realize that I am having a headache. Papa gives me a painkiller. I quickly pack my bags and leave for the bus stop. When I reach the bus stop, the bus is already there.

Before I could arrange my belongings the bus has left the limits of the city. And here I am wondering about this adventurous weekend that I had. If I see it in retrospect I could’ve never agreed to the idea of riding a bike all the way to Sihore and coming back in one day. But sometimes you do most unusual things for the people whom you love. At no cost I could’ve missed Ashish’s engagement. At no cost I could’ve missed meeting so many friends at one place. Soon I fall asleep.

Monday, 26^th April 2010 12:00 PM

I am sitting in my office and it seems as if nothing has happened. Although I have travelled more than 1700 kms by road in just a span of 2 days including 320 kms on bike in one day it makes no difference. I have loads of calls and issues. The usual life has resumed……

बेतरतीब ख्याल-ख़ुशी?

‘मुझमे ही वो खुशबू थी जिससे तुने मिलवाया था|’

कभी आपके साथ जीवन में ऐसा हुआ है कि आपने किसी चीज़ को पाने के लिए जी तोड़ कोशिश की हो और आपको वो न मिली हो (यहाँ मैं सिर्फ आपके प्रेमी/प्रेमिका को पा  लेने की बात नहीं कर रहा हूँ)? अगर हाँ तो ज़रा याद कीजिये कैसा लगा था उस वक़्त| ऐसा लगता है मनो उससे ज्यादा महत्वपूर्ण जीवन में कुछ भी नहीं| उस वक़्त हमे कई लोगो से यह सुनने को मिलता है कि तो क्या हुआ कि तुम्हे यह नहीं मिला, ज़िन्दगी आगे बढ़ने का नाम है| हम यह जानते है, मगर क्यों हमारा दिल यह मानने को तैयार नहीं होता?

कहा जाता है कि हम अपने जीवनके कुछ खूबसूरत पल सिर्फ इस लिए गवाँ देते है क्यूंकि उस वक़्त हम जो ना मिल सका उसके लिए तड़प रहे होते हैं|  परेशान होते हैं, खुद से ही एक विद्रोह कर रहे होते हैं| असली ख़ुशी किसी चीज़ को पा लेने में नहीं, असली ख़ुशी मनुष्य के अन्दर ही कहीं छुपी होती है| और यह ख़ुशी असीमित है, अनंत है,  अपार है| हम यह समझते है पर क्यों इसे अपने जीवन में नहीं उतार पाते है? क्यों जी करता है कि किसी भी तरह, किसी भी तरह हम वो पा ले जो न मिल सका?

हम जिन चीज़ों कि पीछे भागते हैं वो कहीं न कहीं हमारे मस्तिष्क में छिपी यादों का अविर्भाव होता है| और इन चीज़ों का पा लेना हमारे अंदर छिपी ख़ुशी के उत्सर्जन का एक बहाना होता है| फिर भी क्यों मन में कहीं एक टीस रह जाती है, जो रह रह के किसी चीज़ के ना होने का एहसास कराती रहती है? हमारे अन्दर जो ख़ुशी छिपी है उसे बाहर लेन के लिए हमे संसारिकता का दास क्यों बनना पड़ता है? क्या उस ख़ुशी को बाहर लाना इतना कठिन है कि हम खुद चाह के भी उसे बाहर नहीं ला सकते?

हमारे अन्दर हमेशा इस सच को अपनाने के प्रति हमेशा एक विद्रोह होता है| एक ऐसा विद्रोह जो हमेशा इस बात पे अटल रहता है कि अगर तुम्हे ख़ुशी मिल सकती है तो फलां वास्तु कि प्रप्ति से बस| इसके अलावा तुम्हे कुछ खुश नहीं कर सकता|  जरूरी नहीं कि यह वास्तु कोई मूल्यवान वास्तु हो|  यह कुछ भी हो सकती है| और कभी कभी तो यह वास्तु कोई वास्तु ना होकर सिर्फ कोई एक घटना या एक बात या कुछ भी हो सकती है|  ऐसा क्यों होता है? और फिर अंत में ऐसा क्यों लगने लगता है कि ऐसा मेरे साथ ही क्यों होता है? और बाद में यह भावना इस में क्यों बदल जाती है है कि मेरे साथ तो ऐसा ही होता है?

क्या जीवन में खुश रहना इतना कठिन है? क्या मनुष्य कभी सच-मुच में खुश होता है? क्या खुश होना इतना कठिन है?

Untitled story

She was there again. Every now and then she will come up to this manager sitting next to me and talk about senseless things. She was about middle age 35 or something. The manager was a bit younger, I don’t know what exactly was his job but most of the time he would be free to entertain this regular guest of his. She was talking about some problem in her newly bought i-phone. I was trying to concentrate on reading the project document but her voice was a distraction. Since I have got into IT industry I have developed this strange ability to read without understanding a word. I wonder how this happens in the brain, but I was doing the same thing. I had read the same page three times but not even understood a single sentence. I felt like getting up and slapping her, she talked about the silliest and the most senseless things. It was very frustrating. I finally decided to give up. I locked my desktop and got up to go to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee or tea or whatever. I was standing in the lift lobby, I was on 8th floor. In the IT industry the architecture and the scale of the building presented the reputation of your company, ours was a 13 floor building. It had a capacity of 8,000 employees; this was what we were told. Nobody would bother to verify the correctness of the figure. In the industry you are told one thing from the management, the other from your boss and what you experience is completely different. Sometimes I thought even the number of floors can differ from what we are being told because no body actually goes from one floor to another using stairs. We all work a part of a large machine. We have our fixed coordinates of time and space; we fit in at the correct coordinates to keep the machine working properly. The only places we go apart from our workstation are restrooms and cafeteria. Waiting for the lift is an irritating experience and it aggravates when one after the other lifts pass in front of you without a place to squeeze in, and even if there is space the ones inside would never accommodate. Finally giving up on lift I took the stairs to the 13th floor. Thankfully the floors I had to climb were 5, which verified the number of floors, at least between 8 and 13. It was rush hour; 5 o’clock was the time that saw the peek crowd at the beverages counter. There was a queue. I hate queues, but either you take it or you don’t. It took me 10 minutes to just take a cup of the hot beverage. I didn’t know whether it was tea or coffee. I didn’t care; I took the first cup handed to me by the vendor. As I took the first sip in I felt that sugar was less in the drink, but I would have to go back to the crowded counter to put sugar in so I drank it like that only. Wind was blowing hard and I could see stretches of the industrial area of Bangalore. As far as I could see there were offices. Lakhs of professionals daily went to these offices and get absorbed. They get absorbed like they don’t exist only thing that exist is the building, what works inside it, you may never know. The ones which were under construction exposed what exactly were these structures. They were just a set of pillars, a floor that serves as a ceiling for floors below and a ceiling that serves as floors for floors above. This structure concealed in a cage of reflective glasses made an office, some companies need a departure from this so they change the shape in which the floors are made but the basic floor, pillar and ceiling pattern is always there. Most of the building sported a set of antennas of different shape. They connect the things that are inside to the outer world. The outer world comprised of clients and their networks, company portals, mailboxes, online forums, teleconferencing and what not, not forgetting the quintessential Google. These buildings were like teleporting terminals. The time you get in you will be teleported to a different world, a world which is not present exactly as you perceive it. Its all like a big illusion and nobody questions its existence. My drink was over sooner than I had expected. I wanted to spend more time here but work was calling. I went back to my workstation, to my right coordinate – 8th floor 6th ODC 55th cubicle 9 AM to 6 PM. Thankfully she was gone. It was already 5:32. Soon I will leave to get back to my temporary abode. It was a painful job to travel from point A to point B in a city like Bangalore. The problem here was intensified by the complete dependency on the road transport system. There was no other option. Although the city authorities are coming up with metro rail, but it addresses the needs of the areas which are central to the city, not these areas which are situated on the outskirts. Here daily a mob of software professionals raged the streets in their daily quest to get back to their dwelling places. I was no exception. But I had to sit at my office till 6 o’clock. I sat there without any real work to do. Last week the traceability matrix was sent to review to the customer and I am waiting for the approval. My manager (not the one who sits besides me) is demanding some kind of productive work from my side till the matrix is approved. “You can’t sit like that for whole day” he said. I sat on my chair watching at the coconut trees. My cubicle was just next to the large cavity in which glasses were fitted. This glass window marked the periphery of the floor. Glass is such an amazing substance. You can see everything on the other side, but can’t hear or say. Sometimes I wonder why they have put glass in building. As I was watching at the trees, without thinking anything just then an eagle flew in front of me. The eagle was a regular visitor; it came daily in search of its prey in the coconut grooves. Sometimes it would come early in the morning but mostly mid noon was the hunting time. It would keep flying till the last ray of sun shined. It would soar high then suddenly dive down as it has spotted a prey but came back empty-handed. I had never seen it with a prey. I was watching it flying there from the other side of glass. I think it was making some kind of noise but glass prevented any transmission of sound waves between the sides. But I could imagine the sound made by the eagle. I had heard it before, when I was young there used to be an eagle that came near our house to hunt. I still remember the shrill sound it made. The coconut groves were swinging, it was clear indication that wind was blowing out side but inside nobody could feel it. The air conditioning cleverly eliminated any disturbances produced due to change in the weather. The people working inside were least bothered about the outside weather. The things that mattered the most were client, deadlines, man hours and billability. As long as they were inside, hell may break on the outside they don’t care. They were departed for the time being. But as soon as they came out of the offices, they would start getting affected by the outside world. Some would comment about the traffic, some would get irritated by the weather and some by the distances they have to travel. The roads at rush hour looked like a marching line of ants. It’s like the ants are vacating their one colony and migrating to the other. A long never ending trail of vehicles was formed on the roads; Busses, cars, cabs, bikes and what not. This time was soon approaching. As I looked around I noticed that most of the people had left the office and there was only this HR guy sitting in the far corner of the ODC. I collected my things and started putting them into the bag. I was in no hurry, I my motions were sedated. I knew even if I hurried through this the traffic would get the better of me. It was a long walk till the gate of the IT Park. It consisted of 5 humongous structures which hosted several company offices. There were lots of ways to go out but the management had defined a specific path which was to be followed while exiting the IT Park. As I got out the park I saw a swarm of professionals waiting for busses. Most of the people took city busses for coming to and going back from the park. I waited there for a suitable bus to come. An air conditioned bus stopped in front of me and the automated doors opened, a breeze of cool air brushed my face. I got into it; here in Bangalore there were categories of busses available. Majorly two categories existed. First ones were the simple busses with ordinary fare used by the common people. Second ones were the air conditioned busses targeted to the professional gentry. The fares of these could be as high as three times the ordinary ones. But at that cost they provided more comfort, better travel, air conditioning which would seal you off from the traffic, chaos and hostile weather of the outside. I had no reservations about any of the two. I just get into the one which comes first to me. It has been like this since a long time. The company which I am working for was the first to recruit me, I never tried for another job, and presently I was in no position of doing so. I had a legal bond of 2 years with this company before which if I left I will have to pay a huge sum of money. Out of the 2 years more than one year had passed away and I wasn’t bothered about the rest of the time. It would also pass as it had; the best thing about time is nothing can stop it. Good or bad it will pass. As I was settling inside the bus the weather started changing vigorously. The wind that was blowing had stopped and the evening sky was engulfed by the thick cover of clouds. It was going to rain. Sun still registered some of its presence through the horizon, from where the dying rays of light were coming out. I felt bit lucky as I boarded the bus well before it started to rain. It made me feel good for sometime. The bus was now going in a wild fashion with breaking, stopping and then accelerating every now and then. The traffic was mounting and it was not too far that the bus went before encountering the first of the jams. There would be many more, bigger and nastier than this one. Fridays and Mondays saw a larger number of jams and it was a Monday. I could see the other vehicles through the large glass windows of the bus. The seats were at a higher position which helped in a clear view. Some of the drivers would’ve turned the engines of their vehicles off but I was not able to make out as the no sounds from the outside reached me. I was thinking about what I will do when I get back to my flat. Lots of pending work was there to be done. Loads of clothes remained as this weekend I spent most of my time sleeping and watching movie. I had to finish the book which I had borrowed form the library its due date was nearing. I had lots of messages from friends on various social networking sites. The rain had already started. It was a heavy shower. The water trickled down the window glasses and the lights of the vehicles outside came sieved through the flowing water making abstract patterns inside the bus. In a cab, standing just next to the bus, there were three girls. They were also going back from work as I was. But they were happy, they were chatting about something and having fun. One of them turned towards me and saw me looking at them. I was too involved in thought to notice that and I kept looking at them. Perhaps I noticed it but I was too lazy to let my mind comprehend that. As she saw me looking at her, she told her mates and one of them smiled looking at me. This time I able to react and turned around. The person sitting next to me was listening to some songs. He had the earphones inserted and his i-pod in his hand. One characteristic of software professional is that you will always find them equipped with gadgets. May it be the latest phone or the latest music player Most of the people travelling in the bus were listening to music, all of them had earphones inserted in their ears. As I turned around to face the person sitting next to me he gave an annoyed look. He didn’t like me encroaching his personal space. It was better I looked out side the window. The girls were again busy talking. The driver driving their cab was dressed in white attire and was least worried about their talks, maybe be because he didn’t understood the language. In Bangalore there were enough numbers of people speaking almost all the languages spoken in India. Kannada, Hindi, English, Telegu, Malyalam, Tamil, Marathi, Bengali, Orriya were to name some of them. It was not necessary that you knew all of them so there was a healthy probability that the driver didn’t understand the language the girls were talking in. Perhaps he was not interested in it; he looked too annoyed from the traffic jam. The traffic jam was clearing up and vehicles started moving. My stop was nearing I had to get off the bus. The rain had stopped. Finally I got back after getting stuck up in more than 4 or 5 traffic jams. After getting home the biggest question is about the food. What do you eat? I had a cook previously but discontinued him. Off late I have developed this ability to go without having dinner. And now I was frequently practicing this. I had some of the bread slices left from last night’s meal. I also found a little butter so it was enough to satisfy my appetite. After I finished my meal I made a mental list of the works which were pending. I first soaked the 2 shirts and then took out the book which I had to finish before Saturday. It was a collection of short stories of Rabindranath Tagore. His stories are so simple, yet so intriguing. They are mostly set in old Bengal but are true even today. As I started reading the book I lost the sense of time, it was just before 11 o’clock that I realized that I have to wash the shirts and go to bed. My day started at 7:30 in the morning. Unwillingly I closed the book and got up to wash the shirts. The clothes were done. I brushed my teeth and lied down on the mattress. I tried to sleep but the pictures of the girls sitting in the cab kept coming back to me. They were friends, and they were together. I was a bit jealous. When I was in college I too, like them, used to have fun with my friends. But all that is an old story now. I was here in Bangalore with almost no friends. Initially when I came to Bangalore the loneliness haunted me. I was in a mental shock. I thought of running away from all this. I was in a breakdown. No friends, new place and first job all these things together took the better of me. But slowly I got used to all this. Now I was acclimatized with the things. But a slight desire to get back along with my friends and family still remained. I was trying hard to get over it and was largely successful as now I hardly had any friends here and caught up with my old friends very rarely. I didn’t visit my home since last 5 months and was not even feeling like going. I was completely molded into the person this city wanted me to be. But when I saw the girls having fun amongst them it brought back the feelings that I was trying to win over. I didn’t want to be overcome by them. I didn’t want to loose. But the memories of those times flooded my mind. I can remember the fun we had back in college and even in school. The happy life I had back home was enticing me to go back, the same feeling that I had when I came here was coming back to me. With this maelstrom going in my mind I didn’t realize when I feel asleep

The GHPS Chronicles

The Secret Cult

 

So, I am back with another funny incident to tell you from my school. It comes from the time when I was in class 10^th. There were six of us- Ankur (Gaur), Arvind, Gauraw, Pradumn, Me, Sandeep and Vishal (also called as Mama). We used to hang around together as we thought we were the sanest people in the class. Others consisted of characters such as, Some transport company owner’s sons who were least concerned about studies and the thing that mattered most for them were there looks, A mad guy who nobody knows why was always bullying students as well as teachers, Some guys who had an established business and were going to carry on with it after school and were just passing the time nowhere but in the school and Girls don’t need a mentioning (no offence intended).

During the time for lunch all the students were to go out on the ground; nobody should remain in the building. We all were forced out from the classes. Everybody ate their lunch on the ground and spent their time there only. But it’s not fun being everybody, so we always wanted a departure from the regular thing. We found a place that hardly anybody knew or visited. It was our secret place. The layout of our school is difficult to explain but what I can tell you is there are 4 halls made in front of the main building which can be used for different activities and the first of the halls and the main building both touched the boundary of the ground. From behind the first hall was a half built swimming pool, which was in that condition since time immemorial. The pool counted for length of one hall and after that, behind the hall there was an empty space which was not used. Mango trees grew there and there were stairs made on the backside of halls for entry on the stage in times of some function. These stairs served as our dining place and everyday we used to go there and have our lunch in peace and serenity away from all the chaos and ruckus that went on the ground.

In those days when you are young you are captivated by such things as a secret society or a thing that is just between you and your friends, especially in your adolescence. The secret lunch place proved to be the bonding for our undeclared secret society. Although nobody said it but it was there, all of us were a member of this group which had its headquarters behind the halls and met everyday at lunch. This was our place, I being the most enthusiastic about such things (thanks to my addiction for Hollywood movies and adventure novels), thought that there has to be one thing that unites us. One thing that differentiated our identities and would always be there to make us feel belonged.

 

This was achieved by a slogan which was coined after the brand of a water tank. Yes, a water tank. It was iconic because we also had a secret place to drink water after having our lunch, where a plastic water tank was placed with a water purifier attached to it. The school had a separate primary section for kids studying in classes of nursery, LKG and UKG. It was situated adjoining the halls, but no one from higher classes was permitted to go there. At the main entrance of the primary section a guard was always there to stop students of higher classes going there. But we found a back entry into the primary section which went through our dinning place (We also had a secret way to enter into the school building during the lunch time). After finishing the lunch we all went to the primary section through the secret way and there we drank water from the water tank in which water purifier was attached (we did this because apart from this one we trusted no other water purifier in the school which were broken most of the time). The brand of the plastic water tank was ‘Sarita’ nobody among us had ever heard that brand before. Because of the peculiarity of the brand name that place became to be known as ‘Sarita ki tanki’. It was another thing which was limited to our access only and symbolized us. So one day while drinking water from there I suddenly had an illumination.

“You know what, it is very unique” I said

“What is unique?” asked Ankur

“The name of the manufacturer. Sarita. Have you ever heard a water tank brand with that name?” I questioned them.

“Yeah we know that. What’s new in it? What is there that you find it that amazing?” asked Vishal.

“No we must do something with this, like make a ritual of some sort. What I propose every time before drinking water from here we will say Yo Sarita” I made my suggestion. I know it will sound weird and silly but it was a figment of my fantasy at that time. Initially the proposal was not received very well. Rest of them laughed and made fun but gradually it sank in. Sometime just for fun somebody would say Yo Sarita before drinking water and then everybody laughed, I was also making fun my silliness that brought about this slogan. Slowly but surely we started using it. Sarita ki tanki slowly became a regular spot.

During my school time, especially till class 10^th, I had a flare for being on leave. Hardly went a week when I came to the school on all 6 days. My average per week was 4 days of school and 2 days of leave. It was another day when I was on leave. My friends had finished their lunch and went to Sarita ki tanki. After quenching the thirst they were coming back. On the way back one of our seniors Manpreet Singh Sond was sitting there with his girlfriend in a corner of the passage between the halls. Vishal was shouting something and suddenly he cried out the slogan, the water ritual Yo Sarita, as they were passing by Sond. You may say it coincidence or you may say it a bad luck, the name of his girlfriend was also SARITA.

Manpreet Singh Sond had a reputation of a crack head. He was a prominent figure in the school and everybody was intimidated with him. He was the DADA of the school. As soon as he heard that he got up in fury (I wished I was there) and came up to Vishal.

“What? You think you are very smart? Haan?” he asked angrily. “You know with whom you are messing?” he was boiling. Vishal and rest of the guys were clueless what had happened. “Why were you shouting my girlfriend’s name like this? You think you will get away?” He asked Vishal. Now things started to clear up a bit, his girlfriend was also Sarita and so was the water tank. Somebody from the guys tried to clear up the confusion but he was not buying it. As I was not there, so I cannot surely tell, but what everybody else said that Vishal was beaten up by Sond. Although Vishal refused that he was beaten up and maintained the statement that he only held Vishal’s hand and twisted it. Anyways fortunately or unfortunately lunch was over and Sond left Vishal for the next day asking him to meet him on the ground.

Next day I came to school unaware of the happenings of the previous day. Vishal was not there. “Where is Vishal?” I asked. “He will not come” answered Arvind in a strange manner. “Why?” I inquired as it was only me who went on a leave without any reason. “Sarita” answered Pradumn “Sarita?” I was confused. “Yes, because of our Sarita ki tanki” added Ankur. They explained me the whole incident and we all were laughing for the whole day. That day during the lunch time Sond did come with his friends on the ground. We tried to explain him the whole situation and tried to clarify, this time he was bit calm and took in what we said. We had to take him to the spot to prove that there is a brand of water tank named Sarita. For next three days Vishal didn’t come to school and nobody ever mentioned the name Sarita, at least not when we had other guys around.