We went out of stock at around 10 pm. I had made a mistake of assuming that this much alcohol would be enough for all when I was purchasing booze from a liquor shop in the evening. Now since I was the mood spoiler, I was sent again to get more stock for the entire night. The nearest liquor shop from our hotel was also atleast 15 kilometers away. Our hotel at the Jim Corbett National park was a beauty and hence even though it was quite far off from the nearest shops of daily needs, we agreed to put up there for the weekend trip. We were a group of 4 and except me all were extremely dynamic and talented in their own right.
Sohail is a terrific photographer; camera looked a part of his body now to us. Needless to say, this trip would be orgasmic to him. To capture wildlife was like Christmas to him, it meant a grand feast. His zoom lens was more precious to him than his girlfriend. He was so accustomed to using his camera that even he was not; he would close his right eye and look with his left at a thing as if focusing his camera for a crystal picture. Chinmoy is a typical Bengali. He would roam around everywhere in a kurta and jeans, with a khadi bag hanging from one of his shoulders, listening to hindustani classical music on his walkman and admiring it in a peculiar way which would be embarrassing for his friends at public places. He is the most non gutsy creature I have known, although he is extremely keen on travelling every now and then. And yes, he is the most avid drinker among all of us. His intestine had gone for a toss by now with liters of hard boiled tea from tea stalls in the mornings and old monk rum with water in the nights. Kartik, an aspiring model is the only lady killer we have in our group. There isn’t much in his grey matter, but who cares as long as he is the only source for us of any contact with a group of girls wherever we go. Apart from this, there’s not much about him to be mentioned. I am still jobless at 25, now on the verge of losing my cool and getting into perennial depression if things don’t work out. I was an English honors student in my graduation, but did not complete my degree. I had started working with a BPO which consumed most of my time, and since I was earning, I preferred this over studying literature. After a couple of years of stagnancy, I could not stand my job any more as there was no growth in my job profile and salary. This made me resign. Since then I’ve been trying to find out what I should be doing. I had stated writing a novel, but I haven’t developed it further after a stage due to lack of plot points.
Kartik, Sohail and Chinmoy were extremely pissed with me, and hence there was no choice for me apart from going back to purchase liquor again that late in the night. I took my motorcycle, kick started it began my way to the liquor shop. Since I had been there in the evening, it shouldn’t have been difficult to find my way, even though it was pitch dark now. The only source of light on the road was the headlight of my Royal Enfield, even the moon was missing. It was awkwardly breezy as the cool vector air found its way through the gaps of the shielding glass of my helmet in front of my eyes, drying and cracking my lips, making it itch irritatingly. I licked my lips repeatedly with my tongue to keep it wet, but the itch increased as soon as it dried again, almost burning now. I tried concentrating on the dark hilly road, and drove at a safe speed. I had covered more than half the distance, when I noticed a man standing around 300 meters away, with a white polythene bag in his left hand. He made a gesture with his right hand as I got nearer to him, and I understood that he was looking for a ride. I halted and asked him to sit at the back seat, while he informed that it would be great if I could drop him at a bus stand near the city. He kept his right hand on my right shoulder to balance, and kept holding the polythene bag with his left. There was no effort from either of us to start a conversation, and though the silence seemed natural, it was eerie. Riding my Enfield had never been so uncomfortable before, the cold got to me so much that I was shivering now continuously. The man behind me was……wait a second……..where was the man? I noticed there was no hand on my shoulder now, and then I turned back to see that the backseat was empty. I was still riding till then, and then I stopped and looked at the road behind. There was no trace of him. I wondered whether I was shivering so heavily that the man actually got unbalanced and fell of the bike. I turned my bike around and now started moving towards my hotel, searching for the man. For a long time I could not spot him, but now yes, I could, he was there, right there, from where I had picked him up at the first place. I went near him and stopped. He wasn’t looking at me. The polythene bag was still in his left hand. Asked him how was he here again? He turned his face towards me, the wind blew my helmet away, I could see his jaws right till his ears, his skin burnt as ash, and a hollow in place of his eyes. His smile creaked in my ears as he floated away in the jungle, disappearing within seconds. I could not get alcohol, and went straight to my hotel after this. By the time I reached my room, I was shouting with immense chest pain. My friends rushed towards me, took me to my bed and called for a doctor. I was hospitalized immediately after that, due to a heart stroke.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Love you Maa!
Dr. Biswas came in. We were frantically waiting for him for the past half an hour. My mother’s case needed special attention. It wasn’t a casual case anymore. But to our horror and surprise, none of the hospitals with famous psychiatrists could get hold of the case till now. Dr. Biswas was one of our last hopes in the city. His failure would mean shifting my mother to a hospital may be in Delhi or Bombay. We were asked to leave, once he entered, and only his two assistant nurses were allowed to stay back.
She has been one of the most affable humans you would see, all her life. She was married to the kitchen more than my father, and what she cooked was more beautiful than her kids, including me! The fulcrum of the family never got imbalanced because of her control and hold over herself. There were times when dad returned home late and drunk, and both me and my sister used to cry with the sight of him behaving so unusually and flaw fully with a slurring speech, but my mother somehow kept her cool and never reacted in a way that could end up being scarier for us. It was always the next morning my mother used to give him a hard time, to whatever little extent she could. Once on asking she explained that reacting on the same night would not help, as your father is not going to remember anything the next morning. I found it a very sensible answer, and I don’t expect it from a lot of women, sorry.
Dr. Biswas came out of his examining room and asked us to join him in his cabin. He said he could not find any real disorder in maa, and she was alright according to him. We told him about the unusual incidents that have taken place in the last couple of months, and all he had to reason them was that they were apparently stress related disorders and are very common in city life, so there was nothing to worry. We decided to take his word and went back to our place with contentment that maa would recover slowly if we give her mental peace and space.
Dad could not win the custody case of his children after divorce, and this had anguished him so much that he stopped all communications with his ex wife and children. Me and Nivedita, my sister, missed him periodically but were kind of comfortable with maa being the head of the family after her divorce. She was undoubtedly the better guardian, but perhaps the fact that now she had to work also simultaneously made things a little difficult for her. My dad wasn’t regular in paying his alimony amount he was supposed to every month to maa, and it made maa more tensed about how she’s going to manage growing up her two kids over a long period of time. He was supposed to pay 15 grand each month, which rarely happened. More often than not we would receive a cheque of 15,000 after 4-5 months, and the legal system had enough loopholes for my father to trick it and avoid paying every month. My mother was working as a handicraft artist with her friend who ran a local shop, and hence did not have a satisfactory salary. Yet we managed, and pretty well at that. I and nivu, both, became very strong willed and focused, unlike other kids of our age. We were great in our academics, and we knew from an early age that we had to do everything possible to make our mother happy from whatever we could, because otherwise there was no reason for her to smile. Both of us were toppers in our respective classes till we passed out of school, and we made maa proud.
Now again we faced the same situation. Nivu was married, so eventually she would go back to her husband’s place in Tollygunj. So maa was mostly my responsibility now. Even on my way back home from hospital, I had started thinking about what all duties of hers’ can be eliminated temporarily so that she does not worry about them and can rest. One of her major behavioral changes that cropped up around from 2 months back was that she could not eat anything else other than rice. It was mind boggling. She would be adamant that food items like paneer, chicken, mutton are costly and simple vegetables along with pulses and rice are healthier yet cheap. She had reduced her sleeping hours explaining that she would stitch more and earn more. This was not acceptable, because I was settled with a good job, earning a lot more than to be just comfortable for the both of us. Nivu’s wedding expenses were also covered by me and it went pretty fine. So basically there was no logic to what she was doing. I atleast understood, I don’t care if the doctors didn’t, that all this is a part of her mental sickness, her struggle to earn and give us a comfortable childhood in all her prime age was now taking a toll on her brain. Another of her many recent changes was that she would vomit anything she ate first up after waking up in the morning within 5 minutes of consuming it. And only after 3-4 hours of her being awake could she gulp down any solid food without throwing it up. This also according to the doctors was a stress syndrome.
I used to reach home around 8 in the evening from my office, and used to leave by 9 in the morning, so I had to keep a maid just for maa who would take care of her in my absence. In a matter of a few months, with serious efforts, her condition improved. She got friendly with the maid and enjoyed her company. She started eating a much varied diet which Asha, the maid, cooked for her. I returned home drunk one night, and raped Asha, in the kitchen.
Maa is fighting a case against me since then, trying to prove me guilty for the crime. I’m trying to prove that she’s mentally sick.
She has been one of the most affable humans you would see, all her life. She was married to the kitchen more than my father, and what she cooked was more beautiful than her kids, including me! The fulcrum of the family never got imbalanced because of her control and hold over herself. There were times when dad returned home late and drunk, and both me and my sister used to cry with the sight of him behaving so unusually and flaw fully with a slurring speech, but my mother somehow kept her cool and never reacted in a way that could end up being scarier for us. It was always the next morning my mother used to give him a hard time, to whatever little extent she could. Once on asking she explained that reacting on the same night would not help, as your father is not going to remember anything the next morning. I found it a very sensible answer, and I don’t expect it from a lot of women, sorry.
Dr. Biswas came out of his examining room and asked us to join him in his cabin. He said he could not find any real disorder in maa, and she was alright according to him. We told him about the unusual incidents that have taken place in the last couple of months, and all he had to reason them was that they were apparently stress related disorders and are very common in city life, so there was nothing to worry. We decided to take his word and went back to our place with contentment that maa would recover slowly if we give her mental peace and space.
Dad could not win the custody case of his children after divorce, and this had anguished him so much that he stopped all communications with his ex wife and children. Me and Nivedita, my sister, missed him periodically but were kind of comfortable with maa being the head of the family after her divorce. She was undoubtedly the better guardian, but perhaps the fact that now she had to work also simultaneously made things a little difficult for her. My dad wasn’t regular in paying his alimony amount he was supposed to every month to maa, and it made maa more tensed about how she’s going to manage growing up her two kids over a long period of time. He was supposed to pay 15 grand each month, which rarely happened. More often than not we would receive a cheque of 15,000 after 4-5 months, and the legal system had enough loopholes for my father to trick it and avoid paying every month. My mother was working as a handicraft artist with her friend who ran a local shop, and hence did not have a satisfactory salary. Yet we managed, and pretty well at that. I and nivu, both, became very strong willed and focused, unlike other kids of our age. We were great in our academics, and we knew from an early age that we had to do everything possible to make our mother happy from whatever we could, because otherwise there was no reason for her to smile. Both of us were toppers in our respective classes till we passed out of school, and we made maa proud.
Now again we faced the same situation. Nivu was married, so eventually she would go back to her husband’s place in Tollygunj. So maa was mostly my responsibility now. Even on my way back home from hospital, I had started thinking about what all duties of hers’ can be eliminated temporarily so that she does not worry about them and can rest. One of her major behavioral changes that cropped up around from 2 months back was that she could not eat anything else other than rice. It was mind boggling. She would be adamant that food items like paneer, chicken, mutton are costly and simple vegetables along with pulses and rice are healthier yet cheap. She had reduced her sleeping hours explaining that she would stitch more and earn more. This was not acceptable, because I was settled with a good job, earning a lot more than to be just comfortable for the both of us. Nivu’s wedding expenses were also covered by me and it went pretty fine. So basically there was no logic to what she was doing. I atleast understood, I don’t care if the doctors didn’t, that all this is a part of her mental sickness, her struggle to earn and give us a comfortable childhood in all her prime age was now taking a toll on her brain. Another of her many recent changes was that she would vomit anything she ate first up after waking up in the morning within 5 minutes of consuming it. And only after 3-4 hours of her being awake could she gulp down any solid food without throwing it up. This also according to the doctors was a stress syndrome.
I used to reach home around 8 in the evening from my office, and used to leave by 9 in the morning, so I had to keep a maid just for maa who would take care of her in my absence. In a matter of a few months, with serious efforts, her condition improved. She got friendly with the maid and enjoyed her company. She started eating a much varied diet which Asha, the maid, cooked for her. I returned home drunk one night, and raped Asha, in the kitchen.
Maa is fighting a case against me since then, trying to prove me guilty for the crime. I’m trying to prove that she’s mentally sick.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Dream come true
Ananya: Where are you taking me?
Shom: Shut up! Sit quietly. Let me drive.
Ananya: You are drunk Shom. Please drop me home and you go back to your place. We will be in trouble if you break traffic rules.
Shom: Don’t worry girlie. I can drive even when I’m sleeping, just like I play the violin best when I’m drunk. My senses are even more ‘sensible’ when I’m intoxicated.
Ananya: Shom, you are not going to remember this conversation tomorrow morning, and you think you are being ‘sensible’?
Shom: Can you just sit quietly for a while and let me drive? Please, I request you. Can you do that for me?
Ananya: Ok, but… just be careful.
Shom: Ya ya fine!
(After 20 minutes)
Ananya: If I’m not wrong, we are crossing the Delhi border right now, aren’t we? Shom, where the hell are we going?
Shom: Patience is a virtue darling. Keep patience. You know I can’t harm you in any way, I love you so much.
Ananya: Ya whatever! Only under alcohol’s influence you get romantic. I can never expect such a line from you when I call you in the nights and you are sane.
Shom: Baby, I’m sane.
I can see the lane.
Don’t take so much pain…
It’ll go in vain.
Ananya: Oh my God!
Shom: See, that’s why I’m telling you. Just sit calmly & enjoy the drive. We’ll reach in a while.
Ananya: Reach where?
(After 3 hours)
Shom: Annu, get up. We are almost there.
Ananya: Hmmm….ya? Hmmm? Where are we?
Shom: See for yourself, first open your eyes man!
Ananya: Looks like a city and a congested one on top of that. Umm… I need to see some shop hoarding!
Shom: Guess ma’am?
Ananya: F U C K! O F U C K! Shom, are we in Agra?
Shom: Bull’s eye!
Ananya: What the fuck?
Shom: Relax, the best is yet to come.
Ananya: Why Agra?
Shom: Where else can you have a Taj Mahal?
Ananya: Oh my God! Shomu….my sweetu…
Shom: Wait…wait…wait…I’m driving, don’t hug me man, or else we’ll crash into something.
Ananya: Oh ok….Hehe… sorry sweetu.
Shom: Hmmm… here we go. Let me park here. We’ll have to walk from here on.
Ananya: Alright.
Hey, what’s there in that bag pack? Are we going to stay here?
Shom: Ofcourse, how can we go back tonight itself? Idiot.
Ananya: Man you had planned all this? I’m amazed.
(After 5 minutes)
Shom: How does it feel now? Just look at it, the Taj Mahal in moonlight.
Ananya: I can’t explain. This is just awesome, the feeling has no parallel.
Shom: By the way, happy anniversary Annu, it is past midnight isn’t it? You remember?
Ananya: Oh shit!
Shom: Ya, shit! It is 10th February, it has been an year now since we are going around.
Ananya: And I did not even remember this? I should be killed right now.
I love you so much baby! Give me a hug…
Shom: Wait wait, I’ve got something more…. Ya, here we go!
Ananya: Wow! You fucking carried your violin in the bag pack?
Shom: Yes, and now I’m going to perform a small piece, based in Raag Darbari.
Ananya: You have composed?
Shom: Ya, kind of. Now listen.
Ananya: Oh, please play…can’t wait.
(After 10 minutes)
Ananya: UFF! Fantastic…Shom, I’m blessed with you. Can I please hug you now?
Shom: Sure…
(After 3 minutes)
Ananya: Can we please make out?
Shom: Here? Let us go to the hotel first where we are going to stay.
Ananya: No, I want to do it now, here, in front of the Taj Mahal.
Shom: But what if…
Ananya: Sssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh…….
Shom: Shut up! Sit quietly. Let me drive.
Ananya: You are drunk Shom. Please drop me home and you go back to your place. We will be in trouble if you break traffic rules.
Shom: Don’t worry girlie. I can drive even when I’m sleeping, just like I play the violin best when I’m drunk. My senses are even more ‘sensible’ when I’m intoxicated.
Ananya: Shom, you are not going to remember this conversation tomorrow morning, and you think you are being ‘sensible’?
Shom: Can you just sit quietly for a while and let me drive? Please, I request you. Can you do that for me?
Ananya: Ok, but… just be careful.
Shom: Ya ya fine!
(After 20 minutes)
Ananya: If I’m not wrong, we are crossing the Delhi border right now, aren’t we? Shom, where the hell are we going?
Shom: Patience is a virtue darling. Keep patience. You know I can’t harm you in any way, I love you so much.
Ananya: Ya whatever! Only under alcohol’s influence you get romantic. I can never expect such a line from you when I call you in the nights and you are sane.
Shom: Baby, I’m sane.
I can see the lane.
Don’t take so much pain…
It’ll go in vain.
Ananya: Oh my God!
Shom: See, that’s why I’m telling you. Just sit calmly & enjoy the drive. We’ll reach in a while.
Ananya: Reach where?
(After 3 hours)
Shom: Annu, get up. We are almost there.
Ananya: Hmmm….ya? Hmmm? Where are we?
Shom: See for yourself, first open your eyes man!
Ananya: Looks like a city and a congested one on top of that. Umm… I need to see some shop hoarding!
Shom: Guess ma’am?
Ananya: F U C K! O F U C K! Shom, are we in Agra?
Shom: Bull’s eye!
Ananya: What the fuck?
Shom: Relax, the best is yet to come.
Ananya: Why Agra?
Shom: Where else can you have a Taj Mahal?
Ananya: Oh my God! Shomu….my sweetu…
Shom: Wait…wait…wait…I’m driving, don’t hug me man, or else we’ll crash into something.
Ananya: Oh ok….Hehe… sorry sweetu.
Shom: Hmmm… here we go. Let me park here. We’ll have to walk from here on.
Ananya: Alright.
Hey, what’s there in that bag pack? Are we going to stay here?
Shom: Ofcourse, how can we go back tonight itself? Idiot.
Ananya: Man you had planned all this? I’m amazed.
(After 5 minutes)
Shom: How does it feel now? Just look at it, the Taj Mahal in moonlight.
Ananya: I can’t explain. This is just awesome, the feeling has no parallel.
Shom: By the way, happy anniversary Annu, it is past midnight isn’t it? You remember?
Ananya: Oh shit!
Shom: Ya, shit! It is 10th February, it has been an year now since we are going around.
Ananya: And I did not even remember this? I should be killed right now.
I love you so much baby! Give me a hug…
Shom: Wait wait, I’ve got something more…. Ya, here we go!
Ananya: Wow! You fucking carried your violin in the bag pack?
Shom: Yes, and now I’m going to perform a small piece, based in Raag Darbari.
Ananya: You have composed?
Shom: Ya, kind of. Now listen.
Ananya: Oh, please play…can’t wait.
(After 10 minutes)
Ananya: UFF! Fantastic…Shom, I’m blessed with you. Can I please hug you now?
Shom: Sure…
(After 3 minutes)
Ananya: Can we please make out?
Shom: Here? Let us go to the hotel first where we are going to stay.
Ananya: No, I want to do it now, here, in front of the Taj Mahal.
Shom: But what if…
Ananya: Sssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh…….
Thursday, January 21, 2010
We Are Sorry
Baba came home from office really late that night. We, my mother, I and my elder brother, were already on the dinner table. I and Shantu da had school the next day so we were in our final minutes of ‘waking hours’ for the day! But then baba spoke, and we were informed that one of his best friends, also a very close family friend, has been admitted to a hospital due to brain hemorrhage.
Baba’s friend, Malay uncle, had gone to Kolkata during the Puja season with his family, and there on a certain day after sudden unconsciousness, he was admitted. We had a very enjoyable Puja here in Delhi. But Malay uncle was missed; he was this effervescent and highly affable person hanging around all the time, with no shortage of enthusiasm and passion. He had curly hair, dark skin color, small pox spots on his face distributed evenly, and round ‘Gandhi-an’ spectacles just about fitting in the nose hook. Even though he was Baba’s friend, he acted more of a guardian to me than my Baba. His fondness for children and especially bright ones was something everybody knew and respected. He was an artist by profession and took keen interest in sports and politics, with equally good knowledge about Hindustani classical music. All these made it a pleasure to have him around in any circle or gathering. A Puja without him was so different.
Baba said he got to know about Malay uncle around lunch time in his office, and then after office he went to meet the 3-4 friends who along with my father were the closest to Malay uncle. They discussed about what can be done and whether they should ask Malay uncle’s wife and mother to bring him back to Delhi to get him treated in a finer way. There is this general belief that medical options are far more advanced & professional in the capital than the ‘city of joy’! They had called Malay uncle’s wife after their discussion and given her this option, to which she replied she would consult the doctors about it there and then take a decision the next day. On the next day, uncle’s wife called and said that the doctors are not willing to take the risk of discharging him and letting him go to another city, so it was better if he continues to be there itself. To this reply, it was not possible to coax her and Baba & friends started thinking of an alternative solution.
It was a Sunday, and hence all working men had an off. Our drawing room was selected as the meeting point of all friends, and there the discussion began. It was suggested by someone finally that some of them should may be go to Kolkata to help, as it would be more than an assistance on the manpower front, and also may be financially for the time being. To this idea, there were multiple debates, almost everyone said it was not possible for them to take a leave and go to Kolkata. The meeting again ended in a non conclusive point, and all went to their homes. Baba sat there silently, smoking, and thoughtful. In the evening something struck me, and I went to Baba and said:
“Baba, lets both of us go! I can take 3-4 days off from school, my half yearly exams are still 2 months away. Why should we think so much when it is about Malay uncle, baba? He has taught me how to sketch; he has taught you how to enjoy a drink with music; he has taught dada how to play a cover drive! He has taught all of us how to live, and today when his life is in danger, what nonsense are all of us thinking? Shouldn’t we be there with him, no matter what?”
Baba had a smile on his face and a tear in his right eye, and shouted to my mother that our 15 year old son has thought and spoken the way a lot of 50 year olds couldn’t! He booked tickets the next morning from his office for the 2 of us, as we would depart the next day. I gave a leave application to my Principal in school that I will be unavailable from Tuesday to Saturday due to family reasons.
Baba came home from office around quarter to nine in the night. He saw me sitting in the drawing room, and this did not please him at all. He shouted on me “Are you such an idiot, that tomorrow you are leaving and still you do not have the sense that you should study a little tonight atleast?” I covered my face with my hand and broke down into tears! My mother came from kitchen and told my father that Malay uncle is not anymore with us, and his wife had called us in the evening to tell us the news. My father went to his room and cried in silence, his eyes remained red all day on the train to Kolkata the next day. We met Malay uncle’s family in guilt of not reaching on time, and made our way back to Delhi in a couple of days.
Baba’s friend, Malay uncle, had gone to Kolkata during the Puja season with his family, and there on a certain day after sudden unconsciousness, he was admitted. We had a very enjoyable Puja here in Delhi. But Malay uncle was missed; he was this effervescent and highly affable person hanging around all the time, with no shortage of enthusiasm and passion. He had curly hair, dark skin color, small pox spots on his face distributed evenly, and round ‘Gandhi-an’ spectacles just about fitting in the nose hook. Even though he was Baba’s friend, he acted more of a guardian to me than my Baba. His fondness for children and especially bright ones was something everybody knew and respected. He was an artist by profession and took keen interest in sports and politics, with equally good knowledge about Hindustani classical music. All these made it a pleasure to have him around in any circle or gathering. A Puja without him was so different.
Baba said he got to know about Malay uncle around lunch time in his office, and then after office he went to meet the 3-4 friends who along with my father were the closest to Malay uncle. They discussed about what can be done and whether they should ask Malay uncle’s wife and mother to bring him back to Delhi to get him treated in a finer way. There is this general belief that medical options are far more advanced & professional in the capital than the ‘city of joy’! They had called Malay uncle’s wife after their discussion and given her this option, to which she replied she would consult the doctors about it there and then take a decision the next day. On the next day, uncle’s wife called and said that the doctors are not willing to take the risk of discharging him and letting him go to another city, so it was better if he continues to be there itself. To this reply, it was not possible to coax her and Baba & friends started thinking of an alternative solution.
It was a Sunday, and hence all working men had an off. Our drawing room was selected as the meeting point of all friends, and there the discussion began. It was suggested by someone finally that some of them should may be go to Kolkata to help, as it would be more than an assistance on the manpower front, and also may be financially for the time being. To this idea, there were multiple debates, almost everyone said it was not possible for them to take a leave and go to Kolkata. The meeting again ended in a non conclusive point, and all went to their homes. Baba sat there silently, smoking, and thoughtful. In the evening something struck me, and I went to Baba and said:
“Baba, lets both of us go! I can take 3-4 days off from school, my half yearly exams are still 2 months away. Why should we think so much when it is about Malay uncle, baba? He has taught me how to sketch; he has taught you how to enjoy a drink with music; he has taught dada how to play a cover drive! He has taught all of us how to live, and today when his life is in danger, what nonsense are all of us thinking? Shouldn’t we be there with him, no matter what?”
Baba had a smile on his face and a tear in his right eye, and shouted to my mother that our 15 year old son has thought and spoken the way a lot of 50 year olds couldn’t! He booked tickets the next morning from his office for the 2 of us, as we would depart the next day. I gave a leave application to my Principal in school that I will be unavailable from Tuesday to Saturday due to family reasons.
Baba came home from office around quarter to nine in the night. He saw me sitting in the drawing room, and this did not please him at all. He shouted on me “Are you such an idiot, that tomorrow you are leaving and still you do not have the sense that you should study a little tonight atleast?” I covered my face with my hand and broke down into tears! My mother came from kitchen and told my father that Malay uncle is not anymore with us, and his wife had called us in the evening to tell us the news. My father went to his room and cried in silence, his eyes remained red all day on the train to Kolkata the next day. We met Malay uncle’s family in guilt of not reaching on time, and made our way back to Delhi in a couple of days.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Wait!!
I had 3 huge bags with me. And all of that was mine. Manish was yet to reach the station, while i had already spent around half an hour on the platform observing funny looking passengers. In fact all passengers looked funny to me, dressed up in weird costumes for the night journey, with inhumane amount of luggage carried by human coolies. At least i picked up my own stuff from the taxi stand till the platform, i hated hiring a coolie no matter how much stuff i carried.
It was 5:20 in the evening already, 5:35 the train was scheduled to depart. Manish's phone was unreachable. Sweat dropped off my forehead without shyness. I just wasn't ready to forgive him this time. It was not the first time that he was late, getting late has almost been his hobby for years. Once i waited for him for six hours at the V.T. station, can you beat that? Six hours? And his biggest asset, he always sounded jolly, even when he was running four hours late, he was in a great mood, assuring me that he will be there in the next five minutes, it took him another two hours to reach! And yet when he reached, he smiled and joked around with such elan, that i couldn't even shout at him! we have been friends since we were 5, anyway, now it was 5:25. i was trying his phone continuously, without bringing down the machine, just assuming the redial button's position and pressing it again and again. His phone finally rang. he picked up and said " i'll be there in 15 minutes"
i was furious, and perhaps for the first time i shouted at him " how can you be here in 15 minutes, the train leaves in 10 minutes, in fact less than that now "
"Don't worry, i'll be there, you are getting me late" he hung up, sounding in 'just a bit' of hurry! but did i hear him right? he said "you are getting me late" ? i was getting him late? for heaven's sake, this was far beyond my tolerance level!
i decided to sit on my berth, irrespective of his arrival, thinking at least i will be on my way to delhi, even if he misses. i saw my watch again, it was 5:30. Manish was calling me,i picked up and even before i could say hello, he spoke with tremendous hurry, " come down to the food court, near the entrance of the station,i'm eating there." i again blasted out "what are you doing there, the train is about to leave, i'm already at my berth". But then Manish said something which made me feel like a fool, " the tickets are with me" . I ran with my luggage to the food court, almost with no time remaining for the train to depart, i saw him checking out the menu. as i reached, he asked me to sit calmly, as he had inquired and the train was 10 minutes late. This made me slightly relaxed, but within a few moments i was back to my anxious best. Manish held a huge plate and came towards me to sit & have his 'lunch'. the plate would take atleast 15 minutes to finish, even if i try my hand at "fast food"! How would manish finish all that in 7-8 minutes was mind boggling. so i did not trust him, and i decided to interfere. " eat this, the chapatis, ya, now take that dal, ya, now eat the sweet, lets finish it up, ya ok take that last bite"... manish ate silently & obediently the things i told him . others in the restaurant found all this pretty amusing. but alas, when he finished, train was yet to leave. We ran back, reached our compartment, then our berths, and sat, as the train slowly but surely started to move on. it seemed as if manish had bribed the train authorities to wait for him.
Our journey till delhi was enjoyable! although i made it a point to mention this to him that i'm extremely pissed with the way he goes about his time commitments! we went back to our own places, his parents stayed in hari nagar, and mine in katwaria sarai. We were supposed to meet again the next day, on the reception party of our professor's wedding. Our professor, Mr. Varun Negi, was just 28 when he taught us genomics in Delhi University. Now 34, he finally agreed to get married after much coaxing from his parents, to a girl from Bareily! Arranged marriage.
That night my father and i sat through till 3 in the morning with a chivas regal whiskey bottle accompanying our varied subjects of discussions! My father had waited for me to come back home for a long time, to enjoy such long hours of talks with his son. After a certain age, a son can become his father's best friend!
By the time we finished, both of us were drunk. my father decided to sleep there and then itself in the drawing room. i behaved as the one with more control and went to my bedroom to sleep. i woke up next morning with my cellphone ringing and vibrating under my pillow. i picked it up and without my saying hello, he spoke " where the hell are you, i'm waiting for half an hour! where have you reached?"
I saw the watch, it was 12:30 in the afternoon, i had asked Manish to reach at 12 near PVR plaza in connaught place as i would pick him up by my car from there.
I answered " driving, i'll be there in 10 minutes"
It was 5:20 in the evening already, 5:35 the train was scheduled to depart. Manish's phone was unreachable. Sweat dropped off my forehead without shyness. I just wasn't ready to forgive him this time. It was not the first time that he was late, getting late has almost been his hobby for years. Once i waited for him for six hours at the V.T. station, can you beat that? Six hours? And his biggest asset, he always sounded jolly, even when he was running four hours late, he was in a great mood, assuring me that he will be there in the next five minutes, it took him another two hours to reach! And yet when he reached, he smiled and joked around with such elan, that i couldn't even shout at him! we have been friends since we were 5, anyway, now it was 5:25. i was trying his phone continuously, without bringing down the machine, just assuming the redial button's position and pressing it again and again. His phone finally rang. he picked up and said " i'll be there in 15 minutes"
i was furious, and perhaps for the first time i shouted at him " how can you be here in 15 minutes, the train leaves in 10 minutes, in fact less than that now "
"Don't worry, i'll be there, you are getting me late" he hung up, sounding in 'just a bit' of hurry! but did i hear him right? he said "you are getting me late" ? i was getting him late? for heaven's sake, this was far beyond my tolerance level!
i decided to sit on my berth, irrespective of his arrival, thinking at least i will be on my way to delhi, even if he misses. i saw my watch again, it was 5:30. Manish was calling me,i picked up and even before i could say hello, he spoke with tremendous hurry, " come down to the food court, near the entrance of the station,i'm eating there." i again blasted out "what are you doing there, the train is about to leave, i'm already at my berth". But then Manish said something which made me feel like a fool, " the tickets are with me" . I ran with my luggage to the food court, almost with no time remaining for the train to depart, i saw him checking out the menu. as i reached, he asked me to sit calmly, as he had inquired and the train was 10 minutes late. This made me slightly relaxed, but within a few moments i was back to my anxious best. Manish held a huge plate and came towards me to sit & have his 'lunch'. the plate would take atleast 15 minutes to finish, even if i try my hand at "fast food"! How would manish finish all that in 7-8 minutes was mind boggling. so i did not trust him, and i decided to interfere. " eat this, the chapatis, ya, now take that dal, ya, now eat the sweet, lets finish it up, ya ok take that last bite"... manish ate silently & obediently the things i told him . others in the restaurant found all this pretty amusing. but alas, when he finished, train was yet to leave. We ran back, reached our compartment, then our berths, and sat, as the train slowly but surely started to move on. it seemed as if manish had bribed the train authorities to wait for him.
Our journey till delhi was enjoyable! although i made it a point to mention this to him that i'm extremely pissed with the way he goes about his time commitments! we went back to our own places, his parents stayed in hari nagar, and mine in katwaria sarai. We were supposed to meet again the next day, on the reception party of our professor's wedding. Our professor, Mr. Varun Negi, was just 28 when he taught us genomics in Delhi University. Now 34, he finally agreed to get married after much coaxing from his parents, to a girl from Bareily! Arranged marriage.
That night my father and i sat through till 3 in the morning with a chivas regal whiskey bottle accompanying our varied subjects of discussions! My father had waited for me to come back home for a long time, to enjoy such long hours of talks with his son. After a certain age, a son can become his father's best friend!
By the time we finished, both of us were drunk. my father decided to sleep there and then itself in the drawing room. i behaved as the one with more control and went to my bedroom to sleep. i woke up next morning with my cellphone ringing and vibrating under my pillow. i picked it up and without my saying hello, he spoke " where the hell are you, i'm waiting for half an hour! where have you reached?"
I saw the watch, it was 12:30 in the afternoon, i had asked Manish to reach at 12 near PVR plaza in connaught place as i would pick him up by my car from there.
I answered " driving, i'll be there in 10 minutes"
Monday, October 26, 2009
Cloudy 'State' of Affairs
The elections were too close; you could almost smell the red flags around. This time, the city was vastly peaceful. But one can never predict anything in Calcutta, any moment the riots would break out. The communist party members were the noisiest, as usual, with their marches and slogans. For years they have been ruling, very much like dictators! The people almost had no choice, but to vote for them. For some, it was to survive, or else they’ll be slaughtered to death. Yes, it was like that, not without reason did I use the word ‘dictators’.
My stint with the communist party was pretty small, yet people had managed to remember me after almost a decade now of my leaving the party. Though it’s not very tough to see the reason why. Perhaps I was the only one they thought who was not pushing the lines of violence in order to maintain our Marxist ideals! I remained active in my tenure of two years with my mind boggling speeches, although out of a million new ideas I had suggested, only a handful were implemented, and that too not with complete success. Yet I managed to remain the poster boy of Bengal’s politics in the early 90’s. Now after a long time, I’m back into mainstream politics with Trinamool, standing up from arguably the most controversial district at this moment in Bengal, that being of Singur. Mamati di has been very strong and vehement about not allowing Singur to get into Tata’s hands. The farmers here could have been in deep soup, without home and land, if mamata di hadn’t stepped in and ridiculed Buddhadeb’s plans! The people here were happy with us. The rumour was that I was undoubtedly going to win, with a huge margin! Even to just hear this was extremely comforting. It meant healing up of a lot of old wounds!
People were lining up outside booths in massive numbers on the Election Day. So many people together and each having so much power with a vote each, the power of democracy was beginning to scare me now! In my years of graduation in Vardhaman, during which I studied political science, I had read about the initialization of the democratic system, which required mass scale literacy. That being missing from our system, democratic liberty was certainly getting misused. This is what perhaps was scaring me. But the elections were held rather finely, without any ‘major’ chaos in the state. The speculations had now taken the form of betting, people had put money on parties and leaders. Huge money was on stake, from people involved. Days went by, as the temperature of the political environment and my blood pressure increased by leaps. The result day was here, I decided to stay at my home and wait for the news to reach me through television and phone calls.
My victory meant a lot to me personally, not just my party. Even though Trinamool swept around 75-80% of the seats, the one from my district tasted the sweetest, arguably. I planned a weekend trip with my wife and son to Ghoom, a beautiful place, almost heavenly, which comes on the way to Darjeeling from Bagdogra. My wife had always wished to visit the Ghoom monastery, and I could not have found a better time to go there and relax for a couple of days. The mist and the clouds floating in front of our eyes made it difficult for my camera to make crystal clear pictures, but the hard disc in my brain will never have the visuals foggy. I had never seen a place so intimate, and so divine. ‘Ghoom’ in bengali means sleep, and so true to its name. The place ensures one’s relaxation, almost as if you’re sound asleep. We went in the evening to the monastery after a short nap in the afternoon as soon as we arrived. The clouds accompanied us at our eye level, as if touching and speaking to us. But I did not know that they would turn out to be the monsters.
My wife and son have not been found yet, dead or alive since then. I frantically tried but I just couldn’t locate them, the clouds had helped the kidnappers!
My stint with the communist party was pretty small, yet people had managed to remember me after almost a decade now of my leaving the party. Though it’s not very tough to see the reason why. Perhaps I was the only one they thought who was not pushing the lines of violence in order to maintain our Marxist ideals! I remained active in my tenure of two years with my mind boggling speeches, although out of a million new ideas I had suggested, only a handful were implemented, and that too not with complete success. Yet I managed to remain the poster boy of Bengal’s politics in the early 90’s. Now after a long time, I’m back into mainstream politics with Trinamool, standing up from arguably the most controversial district at this moment in Bengal, that being of Singur. Mamati di has been very strong and vehement about not allowing Singur to get into Tata’s hands. The farmers here could have been in deep soup, without home and land, if mamata di hadn’t stepped in and ridiculed Buddhadeb’s plans! The people here were happy with us. The rumour was that I was undoubtedly going to win, with a huge margin! Even to just hear this was extremely comforting. It meant healing up of a lot of old wounds!
People were lining up outside booths in massive numbers on the Election Day. So many people together and each having so much power with a vote each, the power of democracy was beginning to scare me now! In my years of graduation in Vardhaman, during which I studied political science, I had read about the initialization of the democratic system, which required mass scale literacy. That being missing from our system, democratic liberty was certainly getting misused. This is what perhaps was scaring me. But the elections were held rather finely, without any ‘major’ chaos in the state. The speculations had now taken the form of betting, people had put money on parties and leaders. Huge money was on stake, from people involved. Days went by, as the temperature of the political environment and my blood pressure increased by leaps. The result day was here, I decided to stay at my home and wait for the news to reach me through television and phone calls.
My victory meant a lot to me personally, not just my party. Even though Trinamool swept around 75-80% of the seats, the one from my district tasted the sweetest, arguably. I planned a weekend trip with my wife and son to Ghoom, a beautiful place, almost heavenly, which comes on the way to Darjeeling from Bagdogra. My wife had always wished to visit the Ghoom monastery, and I could not have found a better time to go there and relax for a couple of days. The mist and the clouds floating in front of our eyes made it difficult for my camera to make crystal clear pictures, but the hard disc in my brain will never have the visuals foggy. I had never seen a place so intimate, and so divine. ‘Ghoom’ in bengali means sleep, and so true to its name. The place ensures one’s relaxation, almost as if you’re sound asleep. We went in the evening to the monastery after a short nap in the afternoon as soon as we arrived. The clouds accompanied us at our eye level, as if touching and speaking to us. But I did not know that they would turn out to be the monsters.
My wife and son have not been found yet, dead or alive since then. I frantically tried but I just couldn’t locate them, the clouds had helped the kidnappers!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
One Seven
There were more than a hundred well dressed young people waiting for their turn. When I had started from my home, I had thought this would be a cake walk. And here I was, once again trapped between complacence and destiny! I took a corner seat, trying to avoid as many close sitting candidates as possible. I tried to ignore stares from quite a few of them, and innocently sat with my bio-data file on my lap. In these kind of situations, my behavioral patterns always tended to go a bit feminine, my voice turning softer, tone a lot sweeter, and ass trying to occupy as much little space possible wherever I was sitting. Although after a few minutes, things started becoming more masculine. I felt a part of the group now, and my body language was improving every second. And just then, a girl sitting next to me spoke
“Are you applying for journalism?”
“No, I’m for advertising. Why?
“Oh, just like that! I get very nervous when I see so many people appearing for the same thing as me. So was just checking how many am I really competing with!”
“I see”
“By the way, I’m kaushiki”
“Hi, I’m Norton”
“Antivirus??”
“Oh common, Norton Desouza! I’ve heard that antivirus thing a thousand times. Its not even funny anymore”
“So you are a Catholic?”
“Yes”
“You don’t look like one!”
“Then how do Catholics look like?”
She couldn’t answer as the invigilator called out her name aloud – “ Kaushiki Dasgupta….Room number 4”
She got up from her chair in a bit of disarray, and almost pushed me while asking-
“Wish me luck!!”
“All the best, you’ll be great!”
“Thanks so much man”
She left as I saw her get into Room number 4. She looked confident while entering the room though. “Kaushiki Dasgupta” I thought. “Bengali….hmm…..doesn’t look like one”, I spoke to myself. She had typically north Indian features, and then the complexion to go with it. If it wouldn’t have been my nervousness for my interview, I would have had a crush on her by now. And also she didn’t carry that irritating Bengali accent with an ‘o’ instead of an ‘a’ wherever ‘a’ exists. The way she introduced herself, was very non Bengali, or else she would have pronounced it like “Kowsheeki”, but she didn’t
Anyway, I needed to get back to my advertising frame of mind. My turn would be very soon. In a couple of minutes, kaushiki came out of room number 4, stood next to my chair and said
“It was good, I think I’ll make it. Chal, I’ll be going now, my boyfriend is waiting downstairs!”
“Ok great, goodluck, bye!”
“Goodluck to you antivirus, bye!”
We had both made it to the institute that year, and were in our respective courses for the next 2 years. We kept meeting each other every now and then in college, even though we had different set of friends. We remembered each other’s birthdays & wished right at the stroke of midnight, a new age trend of wishing birthdays that had cropped up recently that time. We passed out, she got placed with CNBC, I was free lancing initially. But then for a lot of years, there was no correspondence from either side. Both our cell numbers had changed, hence it was even more difficult to now find out about each other.
But then yesterday, after 17 years, we crashed into each other at an awards function. My ad-film was nominated for the best ad-film of the year. Although I didn’t win, I got rave responses, including kaushiki’s! She said
“Wow! You’ve become a big shot, antivirus. Fabulous film!”
“Oh my God, Kaushiki? Where have you been?”
“All around the world! But hey, nice meeting you after almost 2 decades!”
“Same here, are you back in Mumbai?”
“Yes yes! Listen..i need to leave right now, my husband’s waiting, can I have your number, I’ll give you a call soon!”
“Sure man, 9728093611. Give me a miss call, I’ll save yours!”
“I’ll in a while. Sorry I need to rush, bye!”
I waited the whole night, and it’s almost 17 hours now, but she hasn’t given me a missed call.
Brrrrrrrrrrrr Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
My cell phone valiantly vibrated till I picked it up.
“Hello…”
“Antivirus, kaushiki here. How long will it take you to reach Infinity mall? I’m getting bored, let’s catch up!
“Alright, I’ll be there in a while, wait!”
“In how much time?”
“Around half an hour”
I reached in 17 minutes.
“Are you applying for journalism?”
“No, I’m for advertising. Why?
“Oh, just like that! I get very nervous when I see so many people appearing for the same thing as me. So was just checking how many am I really competing with!”
“I see”
“By the way, I’m kaushiki”
“Hi, I’m Norton”
“Antivirus??”
“Oh common, Norton Desouza! I’ve heard that antivirus thing a thousand times. Its not even funny anymore”
“So you are a Catholic?”
“Yes”
“You don’t look like one!”
“Then how do Catholics look like?”
She couldn’t answer as the invigilator called out her name aloud – “ Kaushiki Dasgupta….Room number 4”
She got up from her chair in a bit of disarray, and almost pushed me while asking-
“Wish me luck!!”
“All the best, you’ll be great!”
“Thanks so much man”
She left as I saw her get into Room number 4. She looked confident while entering the room though. “Kaushiki Dasgupta” I thought. “Bengali….hmm…..doesn’t look like one”, I spoke to myself. She had typically north Indian features, and then the complexion to go with it. If it wouldn’t have been my nervousness for my interview, I would have had a crush on her by now. And also she didn’t carry that irritating Bengali accent with an ‘o’ instead of an ‘a’ wherever ‘a’ exists. The way she introduced herself, was very non Bengali, or else she would have pronounced it like “Kowsheeki”, but she didn’t
Anyway, I needed to get back to my advertising frame of mind. My turn would be very soon. In a couple of minutes, kaushiki came out of room number 4, stood next to my chair and said
“It was good, I think I’ll make it. Chal, I’ll be going now, my boyfriend is waiting downstairs!”
“Ok great, goodluck, bye!”
“Goodluck to you antivirus, bye!”
We had both made it to the institute that year, and were in our respective courses for the next 2 years. We kept meeting each other every now and then in college, even though we had different set of friends. We remembered each other’s birthdays & wished right at the stroke of midnight, a new age trend of wishing birthdays that had cropped up recently that time. We passed out, she got placed with CNBC, I was free lancing initially. But then for a lot of years, there was no correspondence from either side. Both our cell numbers had changed, hence it was even more difficult to now find out about each other.
But then yesterday, after 17 years, we crashed into each other at an awards function. My ad-film was nominated for the best ad-film of the year. Although I didn’t win, I got rave responses, including kaushiki’s! She said
“Wow! You’ve become a big shot, antivirus. Fabulous film!”
“Oh my God, Kaushiki? Where have you been?”
“All around the world! But hey, nice meeting you after almost 2 decades!”
“Same here, are you back in Mumbai?”
“Yes yes! Listen..i need to leave right now, my husband’s waiting, can I have your number, I’ll give you a call soon!”
“Sure man, 9728093611. Give me a miss call, I’ll save yours!”
“I’ll in a while. Sorry I need to rush, bye!”
I waited the whole night, and it’s almost 17 hours now, but she hasn’t given me a missed call.
Brrrrrrrrrrrr Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
My cell phone valiantly vibrated till I picked it up.
“Hello…”
“Antivirus, kaushiki here. How long will it take you to reach Infinity mall? I’m getting bored, let’s catch up!
“Alright, I’ll be there in a while, wait!”
“In how much time?”
“Around half an hour”
I reached in 17 minutes.
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