Dadu

 

Let me take you back to a time when, If you would ask an elderly gentleman who had lived in this city and grayed their hair over a few decades the address of "Rahman Radio walas Dukan"; the kind gentleman would escort you to my Dadu’s establishment!

My younger years have been witness to the joy and celebrations of life in and around Dada-jan’s shop. From Gafur Chacha’s khulad ki chai to Ghosh babus mishtis, Yadav ji’s samosas to Banke Lal’s kachoris; life's sweet and savory moments have been deeply engraved in the people and establishments of this chowrasta!

My fond memories of the city would take you into the alleys of the scantily lit evenings. This was my favorite and most joyous part of the day!

 My excitement and suspense grew bigger as the clock neared the 6 'o'clock mark at sun down. The anticipation of being rewarded with a chocolate or maybe some sweets or my favorite savories or some plaything would make me restless. And probably more than Dadu, I waited for his friends to arrive!

They would meet almost every sunset. It was a lifeline to their aging veins and no matter what hurdle life had to throw at them on that day, they would gather at our porch every evening as a ritual.

It was more than just tea and samosas, more than gossip or friendly banters and even more than just an unceasing habit; I can’t ever put into words what these gentlemen meant to each other but one thing I can say for certain is the fact, that this seemingly trivial assemblage was much closer to their heart than their worldly ties. The joy lit in their eyes and to the limits of my grasp, it was pure and it was true! 

I don't quite remember an evening where I haven't seen Dadu and his friends slouching on the low wooden benches spread on the porch of his shop.

 It still amazes me to learn how simpler life used to be in the time gone by!

Their “adda’s” would stretch leisurely based on the degree of the political drama of the day or the intensity of the football game of the week! 

Mr. Satyaranjan Mukherjee- a tall, fair, slim built, bald patched, spectacle totting gentleman was the most well dressed amongst them all. He would always bring along a black umbrella and be extremely careful to have his well ironed shirt and trousers stay away from dirt or creasing. A retired Govt. employee, he carried an elegance and a snobbish air with him. Either pinched on his side lips or squeezed lightly between his fingers, his Wills Cigarettes would forever mark the completion of his persona. His love and loyalty towards Mohan Bagan FC would usually turn this seemingly stern gentleman into an agrarian purist; ready to invalidate any opponent against his team. 

Mr. William Francis Smith- tanned,well built, and an enigmatic old young man. He was the live wire of the group, carrying a hypnotizing smile with the foulest of breath. Though he got me the most favorite of the evening gifts, the strong stench of a local brew and hand rolled cigarettes pushed me back from his tight embrace; which he always extended with the greeting! 

Mr. Hariprakash Seth, would only mark his presence on leisurely Sunday's or public holidays. A true Banya dressed in White Kurta and dhoti, with a gold chain sheathing his chin. I Dare to point out that the gentleman almost had no neck, and the belly that his kurta tried to cover was the most rounded object I had ever seen. I never understood the words he said. All I could make out were the sounds of chomping pan masala between his breathlessness. Though he would get the kachoris and jalebis, I could only have a tiny portion before he self devoured the lot!

Apart from his head swaying he did not contribute much to the conversations, but would never fail to hold the first opinion on inflation.

Undoubtedly Satya babu was my Dadu’s arch nemesis! And no matter how gentlemanly his demeanor be, had old age given them just a little more strength; I am quite certain they would happily be rejoicing in a pool of the other's blood! A part of the rivalry can be Pawned to Dadu's alliance to East Bengal FC. Even if they chose to be in the limits of civil beings over most of their ideological differences, yet they wouldn't fail at unsheathing their daggers over the discussion of the superiority of their clubs!   

So was the passion for football! Probably it wasn't just a game, but a way of life for many! And this city and its people; old and new have witnessed the roller coaster of emotions and passion when two of the oldest rivalries of football met on field.

I always wondered why these gentlemen would meet every evening; ever-ready to draw their swords at each other and yet never failing to be on each other's side at the hour of need!

I guess I still am too doltish to understand the complexities of their friendship! A pure bond that had stood the test of time and surely did not need mine or any societal accreditation to verify its continuance!

In an era gone by, “ Rahman & Son’s Radio Equipments” surely had seen its share of glory & pride. It wasn’t just a mere trading house of the masterpieces of audio technology of the time, but an abode of craftsmanship. People loved and revered Aftaab Mirza Rahman, for the magic he sold and the pride he repaired!

But, like all and every other thing that once existed; Dadu’s shop might only have been reduced to just a part of this continuance. A rather forgotten torn page in the book of this city. 

Though just a modest radio store, Dadu’s enterprise was quite a fable, and a prominent chapter in the story book of this city!

Of the displays of ‘His Masters Voice’ , ‘Janta radios’ , ‘NELCO’ , ‘Philips’’ ; he took ‘Murphy” as a trophy of his pride!

He would sing me the publicity song of the radio company, “Murphy Ghar Ghar ki raunak.. Tarah Tarah ke Murphy Radio laa date hain Ghar Mein Jaan..” a song sung by the famous singer of his time Late Md. Rafi, we would laugh and be mesmerized by the joy the song would inundate! 

I remember the late evenings, just before or at times after dinner; I would find myself sitting on the rug, next to “This Old Grandeur of Technological Masterpiece”. 

From the sea of things Dadu has chosen to let go, he somehow refused to let go off his love…his most treasured possession; the (TAO)0904(MKII) ! It wasn't just a model/number to the enterprise he once found his pride in, rather I perceived it as his last attachment to his fond memories. Memories that he carefully locked inside, through years that passed.

He had named his beloved possession "Madhu" in loving fondness of one of the most beautiful actresses of yester year- Madhubala!

Was it his madness or just a deranged obsession, I could never understand; His attachment to the knobs..the twisting of antennas ..the occasional slams to the side cabinet almost like a bickering of old lovers. A little scuffle here..a bit of anger there..and at the end a smile at the broadcast of Doordarshan's waves!

"Your young blood will never understand the value of this" , he would mostly reply to my idea of buying a new Radio. My adolescence couldn't comprehend this dawdle! 

As time moved on, the attendees gradually disappeared from the evening adda. Satya babu ( Mr. Satyaranjan Mukherjee) had quietly passed away in his sleep due to a heart failure.

Dadu had jokingly said that his heart failed to take in the losses on the ground! Though not a vocal person, his silent tears would often tell me how dearly he missed him.

Hari babu had migrated to his hometown to resolve family feuds, never to be heard of again!

Uncle Will did try and keep the evenings alive, but his liver gave up on him from years of abuse. A bachelor and a loner, it was one of the most difficult tasks for Dadu to shoulder the responsibility of his best friends' last rites. And with him the importance of the bulb on the porch had also gone.

The evenings were somber and dark. Dadu, was slowly caving behind the old door.

He had grown to be a quieter person. Yet there were a few moments when I could hear him; like his dismay against Yuva Vani,AIR's prestigious and revolutionary effort to be a hangout/training ground for the youth!

For him, it was just sacrilegious propaganda of Western Capitalism against the piousness of a socialist society. Though it aggravated his temper, it saddened him more with the thought that this could not be debated in the next days 'adda'!

Both of us had our ways to quietly remember the afternoons when the entire band of friends would sit to live the live football commentary and then there would be those hushed evenings when he would cautiously be smitten by the voice of Attia Hosain.

Ms. Attia Hosain, was a British-Indian novelist, author, writer, broadcaster,..and probably one of the most enigmatic voices I have ever heard from dadu's wooden pride. Her narrative translations of plays by various famous authors, engraved in my young heart a picture of a wilful revolt against the boundaries of societal norms!

It might not be incorrect to say, that both the lads had their secret fantasies surrounding Ms. Hosain!

Growing up to be a young man, my priorities in life had shifted, and the time spent with him had also reduced.I was working now as a junior accountant at Roy and Brothers Co. A tea trader, with years of recognition.

I had to frequent the hills of Darjeeling,to their tea gardens to account for records and finances, which meant Dadu was all alone.

I tried hard to make arrangements for his daily needs in my absence, but everytime I came back; his eyes would narrate the loneliness of being.

I wish I could do more, but I couldn't.

He would never switch ON the Beltek TV, rather with his shaky veined fingers try and listen to his beloved Madhu! 

Some evenings if we did share a moment over tea, there weren't many words that we could commune . 

 

Probably the last thread that held the two, was the voice of Mrs. Hosain and the occasional narration of her books!

We would smile for a while, and then fade away to the normalcy of our lives! I could never know how much Dadu would hear my narration; but what graced my heart was the fact that he would doze off with a peaceful smile.

Very many nights had passed!

And in the series of such sunsets, I came back from the hills to find the empty chair in the corner next to Dadu's radio.

The dust on the white curtain-like cover made me wish he was here. 

I wished he was here..to switch on the radio..to unwieldy turn the knobs..to tune into the frequency..to share with me the joy of listening to the voice of Mrs. Hosain..

The fiber of events might have fallen apart, yet the essence of the textile refused to wear off even today!

Silhouette of Smoke…

Sitting on the lonely steps of the grocer, it suddenly seemed that Life ploy-ed in a rather languid manner of mere time flow. The sheer naturalness of routine was hindered by an old known face in the crowd. It took away all that was unremarkable about the monotony of labor and replaced it with distant memories of the past. A phase that was lost in the years when life had progressed; now came back as a beautiful present. And though I tried to meet her, she just disappeared in the crowd; almost as if she were a mirage. I wasn’t day dreaming and I was certain. I knew I had to find her again.

When I came back to my master, this mere delay had galled his temper. I wasn’t to be spared for such laxness. There was his whip, and it reminded reminded me of my life in the face of reality. I was no apprentice of the day’s greatest and most powerful necromancer…but a mere slave of his…The Great Zafar!

The wound from the caning didn’t matter today. What mattered was the truth, that she was here…and all I knew was… that I had to meet her, again.

I gathered the fallen vegetables and headed to the kitchen. This was one place; I had my liberty to dream… And today, there was more to believe and think, than just dream. “Astera” was in this town of Persepolis.
She was the young girl; I had fell in love with…the one I have seen growing up in the arms of “Nazeer Chacha”… the one who fantasized my youth. Their old vast courtyard in the town of Susa;in which she spent her childhood, lay a many memories of mine. Astera Kazemi was the beautiful Zad of Nazeer Kazemi. Chacha, a soldier in the Sultan’s Imperial Army was tall and he stood strong, with his broad shoulders. He appeared powerful and fierce, yet I knew how compassionate and gentle this man was on the inside. It was no easy a task to nurture a motherless child; but this man raised her like no one else could! It was hard to believe; how a warrior, clad in his armor and Royal uniform could be this affable that his mere touch would put his child to sleep…almost instantly.

I was only a street urchin then, living life in perfidious manner. I didn’t have any parent to teach me the difference between right and wrong… the difference between good and dishonest; so I grew up learning one easy fact… if I needed it, I just took it! Our first encounter on the bazaar of Susa; I was young and unabashed. He caught me stealing, from a fruit vendor. I knew my fate…it couldn’t be different from a thief’s. I almost cried at the thought of a hundred whips or my hands being chopped off! But, he spared my act. I was surprised, when he gave me the fruits to eat and forced me to promise that I would never steal again. He was a good man, and he had touched my heart in more ways than I could imagine standing there and feeding on the fruits. Never till this day, had anyone been so kind to my existence. When he patted my head, I felt warm; feelings which were so unrealized filled me with an unreal urge to associate myself to this man. I followed him, in his unknown, to know where he lived.

In the darkness of the night; far away from his knowledge, I sheltered myself on a broken ledge of a nearby building. I watched him, doing his daily household chores. It appealed to me, the manner in which he fed his child, who would impatiently sit on his lap playing! He would tell her stories, till she fell asleep in his arms. Tender and with much care, he would tuck her in her cot. Assured, that she was deep in her sleep; he would fold his hands in prayer and beseech in clean clothes. After that he sat on the porch, with his hookah. It amazed me, why he gazed at the vastness of the sky for so long. From the distance I could make out he spoke to himself, but never knew what he said. I wanted to know; cause every time he finished his smoke, his hands would be cupped against his face for time longer than usual. It was only after a prolonged vigilance that I realized that he did it to wipe his tears. I felt helpless in these times, but the guilt I couldn’t do anything to comfort him; put me more to unrest. I was careful not to fall asleep on the ledge; that I couldn’t disappear into the night, but at times when I did fall asleep..i managed to evade any roving eye.

I didn’t have a home; just an arrangement, nestled in a deserted n broken down building far away from the city limits. It sheltered me from the harshness of the weather. Inside was an old carpet, I slept on…and this is with a small pile of clothes was all I had as my belonging. To sustain, I stole from people! The question of like or dislike didn’t make much relevance, cause this was the only thing I knew and the one thing I could do.

I have never been a person, who could defend his actions with a good reason; so maybe I never questioned the impulse for this inane yet spotless nocturnal vagary. It was more like a routine…or a spell; that pupated me to see them almost every night. For months, all of this followed a careless virtue until one night an unknown man saw me asleep on the ledge. I was deep in slumber.
The raised alarm of the gathered crowd woke me up… but I wasn’t in command of my instincts; and by the time I realized what was happening…I was surrounded by a mob armed with lanterns, sticks and domestically lethal tools. The circumstances would not allow any other notion. Yes, a thief was caught…and the only thing that went through my mind was death! There was no escape or defending, it was almost eminent that tonight would be my last night…I was scared!
Out of nowhere a powerful blow, knocked me off the ledge. I was on the streets now, surrounded and helpless; and before I could gain any control to stand up…came a volley of punches and kicks! The charge of the sticks pinned me to the ground. I was bleeding…things started to blur out and before I knew; all was dark!

It was the heat of the sun, hammering my senses when I opened my eyes. My hands were in shackles, tied to a post on the lonely end of a porch. There was an uncanny familiarity to this surrounding and to my surprise; in front of me, stood the man himself!

“Do you know who I am, boy?” He asked me in his heavy accentuated guttural and commanding voice.

I just stared blankly!

“ My name is Nazeer Kazemi! The most trusted and feared soldier of His Highness’ Imperial Army!”

I wasn’t afraid at the moment, just perplexed at his presence. I gaped at him with puzzled eyes. He was for real and he was right in front of me. His voice didn’t threaten my daze; I just sat there, dumbstruck..tied to the post. He was losing patience and it was evident.

He came closer, picked me up by the throat and spoke loud… “ Don’t try my patience boy! I know you… you are the bastard from the market; ain’t you? What were u doing here?”

Before I could speak; came a hard slap. This almost knocked me to the ground. My lips started bleeding again!

“Tell me, why were u stealing again?”

I didn’t have an answer, and it was evident that my silence wouldn’t be my savior for the moment…actually I doubted if anything would! His heavy breathing, made me understand… that he was losing patience faster than I could come up with words! In a diff. situation, at a diff. time, I might still might have tried to talk my way out, but I didn’t…rather, I just sat there.
Lines on his forehead were distinctively outlined at this point. He was bristling. A hammer like fist hit me again. My little nose was broken, and I could taste the blood trickling down to my already distorted lips. I closed my eyes, in anticipation of a similar series to follow. But to my surprise, it didn’t. Cause when I opened my eyes, he wasn’t there in front of me!

My blurry apperception saw him standing across the courtyard. In his arms was Astera, crying at the sight of such violence. He tried to calm her, soothe her; but the poor child wouldn’t just stop crying. When he wiped her tears, I wished if he could do the same to me. My body had endeared physical abuse a lot many times; but the tears that rolled down my cheeks wasn’t for the pain, it just ran…for reasons I couldn’t comprehend then! I wasn’t angry or filled with vengeance against him, which was very much in contrast to the poison that such encounter had previously infused in my senses; rather I carved for his gentle touch…even more!

“Damn!”  The knife missed the potato and slit my finger instead. It bled a little but annoyed me more for this sudden disrupt in thoughts. I washed off the blood and cleaned the wound; but to my surprise, my sub consciousness craved for Nazeer’s touch!
That day, I didn’t try to run away or escape; rather, just sat there watching him calm his daughter. May be I did have a remote hope…a hope, that he would look after me as well! Nazeer put his consoled child down and instructed her to go inside the house. His steps, now marched towards me. I wasn’t intimidated, just a little dizzy from the abuse and heat; but I was plagued by an absurd hope. I believed, he would wipe my tears and blood! He came closer and I looked at him in anticipation of the reality of my bizarre thoughts! His hands touched me, not to comfort…but to cause unbearable pain…again!

 I was almost unconscious again, and of what I could make out from his bunting…I realized that he was cursing me for making his child cry! I had no idea, how I did that; and at this moment, all I wanted was a drop of water and I collapsed again!

SPLASH! My eyes spread wide open; my parched body gasped for water to drink, but the droplets that trickled down my face just wasn’t enough to satisfy this thirst! I was wheezing; but Nazeer didn’t let me die of this aridity!

“Do I drag you to his Majesty’s court or chop your hands and burry you in the sands right now! Tell me boy, which one of these is your last wish?”

I didn’t have the energy to speak; but this insubordination would bring unthought-of suffering to me, that I was sure of. I had to speak if I were to expect to be alive!

“I didn’t come to steal!”

 My nebulous words did not surprise him. He wouldn’t believe anything that I said; how could he? It made no Cognizance to me as well! I wished I could make a story up, but there was none…the worst was the fact that my reality was just unreal!

“Liar! I will kill you myself.” The shine on his curved blade was baleful! This was the end of my miserable life, and I knew it…so all I did, was wait for it to come down!

“Don’t kill him Abba; please…he is not a bad man!”

Nazeer’s young girl, had burst into tears at such sight of violence! She wouldn’t let go off her father’s pajama, tightly clenched in her fingers, till he restrained from such act and promised to be merciful. This really wasn’t happening; it just did not make sense. How could a little girl overpower the ferocity of a warrior? How did she make him drop his sword? What was happening….and how did it just happen? I sat flummoxed at the incomprehensibility of the situation!

The hand which could kill now soothed a child; such gentleness and compassion was bemusing! Nazeer picked her up in his arms and tried to comfort her and it didn’t take a while to silent this weeping girl! What followed next can’t even be explained by the present maturity of today’s me!
Nazeer unshackled me and directed me to clean myself up.

“Take this and never show your face again. I see you anywhere in the neighborhood, and I swear by the name of Allah…I will make a feast for the vultures from your flesh!”

These were the last words I heard from him when he handed me a loaf of bread and some cooked vegetables! I vowed to myself, never again would I follow my bewilder thought to see him!
 By the time all this drama ended, the sun had set and I disappeared once again into the darkness. I cried after a very long time; as I rested on my carpet, thoughts of the day made sleep difficult to put my aching body to rest!

My master’s supper was ready; one thing I have learnt over the years of service is the fact that he could never tolerate delays in any nook of his schedule! I spread the table, and mentioned that food was being served!

“You have been wandering the past, boy! Understand the consequences of your act!”

Old age had made him a little frail; but every sense of his, worked better than even a man who was half his age! The deep thought lines of his forehead weren’t just signs of his age, but a clear indication of his understanding of this universe. He knew it all…everything that I was thinking…everything that I was being possessed by! But all of it, didn’t really seem important…so, maybe I did not pay much heed to this seemingly non threatening gesture of Zafar!

I didn’t choose this life; but over years of unabashed living and purposeless time spent, brought me to this state. As I ate the left over’s, my heart sank a tad… it wasn’t that I was sad, just…just not content. There was no honor…and my life had worth no more than the dog on the street. Zafar’s attic was the place I used to rest; I have a bed roll to sleep on, but more than anything else, it was the only place I found a small fragment of peace! I could see the stars from here. They looked beautiful, spread far across against the serenity of the night… they shimmered, far and wide…as far as eyes could see!

I could see the Haptōiringa (Pers. Haft-owrang).

The gypsy magician, Ebrahim, told me how it showed the seven marks.

“Let the seven marks be anything you want them to be; my boy! Let them be your source for better living.”

The seven marks, of his story kept changing its concept and context; so I never knew what those seven marks were. I gathered the marks as an innocent wish!
He showed me the ways to identify the Sênmurw (a legendary dog-headed bird) with a constellation such as Aquila (the Eagle) or its most prominent star Altair (the Bird) spread in the sky...and yes, they were all fascinating; the stars and his stories.

 A magician, in the touring group of gypsy entertainers; Ebrahim’s act and persona cast a spell on his audience. He would captivate men and women alike! Though Bohemian and immoral by nature and acts, yet his popularity surpassed all boundaries and kingdoms! Truth be told, I was possessed by his way of life. So convinced was I that this seemed the only meaning to my life...the only purpose to live!
My broken leg was a major disability in the act of thievery. A failed attempt to rob a fortune had spared my life but did cost me my limb. I joined his touring group; with a belief, that someday he would honor his promise to cure my disability! Years past, but never came the cure…all that was passed on, was his cynic attitude and addiction to intoxication! I never earned money in lieu of my services, just various items of elation! Age did not kill him; just the vile of his deeds took his last breath. He passed me on to his master…The Great Zafar; I remained a slave then…and even today. Being an apprentice would still be an honor, but my life had none! There are times I think and question myself the reason for my life; I could never come with a substantial reason. I deduced my inability to die or kill myself as the only reason for my living.
A fallen star, reminded me of her…. ‘Astera’, a star…that’s what her name meant! And maybe it was through the stars that I kept this furtive romance alive! She was a reason why I broke my vow and visited Nazeer Chacha! I had to, cause if I didn’t they couldn’t survive!

War had devastated our peaceful nation. It did not last very long but the after math cut through the lives of many. I was revisiting the town with my group of gypsies. I saw Nazeer Chacha in the market once again. This time; he did not stand tall, but bent down. He was weak and vulnerable. He was begging for a little food! Inside me was a strong urge to run to him and help him… but I stood back and just watched him.
 He had lost an arm. May be his job…and even his pride! I could never believe this fate for him. He was so vulnerable; I wanted to help him…wanted to know if Astera was ok! I had to; they were the only two people I ever imagined as family! I never existed for them, yet they meant a lot to me!!

Once again I found myself, walking the desolated streets to their house. I carried a basket of food; it wasn’t a lot, but enough to keep them alive for a day or two. I knocked on the door, but I was afraid to meet either of them. I had no answer, if they questioned me regarding my identity or intent. So I just kept the basket near the door and took cover on the old ledge. She opened the door, the light from the lantern, lit a face more beautiful than the splendid of a million stars and the moon! I gasped, at the sight. She was so grown up and looked so angelic. The desolation of the courtyard and the pain of her old man caused only a minor stir in me; I was just mesmerized by her beauty!

Once again I found myself repeating my nocturnal emprise; only this time, my worthless life and acts seemed a little more meaningful. I loved the way her delicate hands would feed the old man. She took care of him, the way he did when she was young. I wished I could tell them, it was me who kept the baskets every night; but I couldn’t! A few weeks passed, and I was on the road again. Through varied terrains and kingdoms, my caravan of nomadic gypsies journeyed in search of new places to entertain and earn. Every night, I wished I didn’t have to travel so far away from her. The memories of them, made me happy and sad at the same time. No hooch or afeem could make me forget her; rather the thoughts grew stronger…weaving quixotic inklings under the open sky. I had created my own world, and everything was just perfect in it! I tried to return back to her, but it was a herculean task.

I did run back once, only to find a deserted courtyard. The neighbors said,  Nazeer had passed away long back and his daughter stayed with her aunt in some distant state. No one quite knew, where she was or may be none wanted to let me know! I searched endlessly for her…and here she was. After years, I found her…in my own kingdom. I was tired from the day’s work, but my dozing senses vowed, that this time I wouldn’t just let her go!!

The next morning started with a more convivial spirit. I was surprisingly happy. I had found a new meaning and purpose. Though I worked the chores with revived pertinacity, my mind was occupied by her thoughts. The moment I realized that my master was resting, I would go about inquiring about her.
My efforts finally paid off one fine day. This time I didn’t shy away. I went up to her and introduced myself. She was buying vegetables; and I didn’t want to make all of this awkward, so I spoke in the most urbane manner I could. The detailed narrations of her past years, failed to seal any authority on the veritable existence of mine. I did not know what I would do next; I never contemplated the fact that she would fail to recognize me.

She politely, bid adieu saying I might have mistaken her for someone else. It wasn’t a mistake, may be even she knew it… but why would she deny everything! I spent days wondering and justifying the situation, yet there were no answers. I was growing restless.

Soon this restlessness was turning to madness. An obsession crippled me; to have her was the only intendment! My contriving mind devised ideas and the most reliable was a potion! A ‘love potion’, that would make her fall in love with me.
I have seen my master making such potions and I knew they worked! But he would never give me one; so in his unknowing, I searched his scrolls for the formulae. Days and nights, turned to months but I did not give up. I wasn’t ready to abjure, not this time! My travail succored to my satisfaction; I had finally made the potion. I had learnt her location, and my vigilance laid the path for my ultimate scheme.

I decided to execute my plan on the next ‘Shanbeh’ night.

On this destined date when the sun had set, I waited for the night to grow. In the darkness of the night, when the city lights had grown dim and the population was deep in slumber; my careful and laconic steps marched towards her home. It wasn’t difficult to climb up the wall and enter the house through the window. I carefully scouted my way to her bedroom.

She was deep in sleep, but she wasn’t alone! The sight of another man in such proximity of her fueled my rage. I wanted to slit her husband’s throat; but it would be too big a risk… and I couldn’t afford this, jeopardizing my endeavor. All I had to do was sprinkle a few drops on her and leave a belonging of mine next to her. In the most cautious manner, I followed every known and learnt procedure related to this snare!  I breathed a deep sigh at the efficacious commencement of the episode. She looked so beautiful in her sleep, I couldn’t hold myself back. I pressed my lips against her gently; this was the first time I felt being in heaven…being in peace…being in the right place!

I wanted to watch her all night long; but I knew that my presence might nullify months of toil. I couldn’t kill the hope of ‘our’ union! Tomorrow morning she would be mine.
Everything went according to plan, and the only thing left was to wait for the first rays of the sun to fall on her. I waited in the attic of my master, for the sun to shine.

I could see the sun now, carefully rising from the blanket of clouds. Yes!…my dream was finally shaping up to reality. I closed my eyes to embrace the first ray of a new life. The moment the sunlight touched me, I felt this unreal sensation of burning. I was feeling hot and suddenly my body had started to sweat profusely. I was in flames… I screamed ran, rolled but it didn’t go away. It burnt me more; my skin was melting away…and I was chocking breathlessly..i was in pain, tremendous pain. I wanted to escape, but there seemed none.

Things were becoming dark… I couldn’t believe what was happening…did the potion backfire or was it the fatality of my mistake. It wasn’t meant to be… I wasn’t to die! I was losing my vision…my surroundings were disappearing into darkness…Did I see Zafar laughing… I couldn’t tell!

The last that I saw of this wraith before darkness took over was……. Astera’s smile!  

PS: All characters and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to any person/ event/ place in the present, past or future is(or would be)  purely coincidental. 

I did love you...

“I loved you, and I still do…but, you would never understand this; you low down bastard! I’m sorry things had to end the way they did, but how stupid of you…you never understood! Just stuck to your infantile ways of thoughts, why…God damn it, tell me why the fuck are you so stupid? I hate you and I loathe your existence!

Who gave you the authority to destroy everything? …Temme!

 I loved you…but what did you give me in return? Nothing, just a series of failed promises! Answer me, you ever grief stricken moron…tell me now…do I  still keep waiting for you? No, I cannot.

I have moved on, and its because you failed me. You are the one who flopped in your implications. You just said, but never proved your point…so I moved on!

My parents hate you, and more than them; I hate your existence. Don’t lie down here, answer me…answer my questions, you retarded son of a bitch ( I slapped him hard!).

 Tell me, why did you do this to me, why …just why…just to prove that you are a man?

(I spat on his face.)

Yeah, its convenient…sure it is, only for  you…you moron!

I left you, I told you…I didn’t love you anymore. Why did you not understand, that it was over…it was over cause you didn’t deserve me. You never deserved me; not now… not ever.

Hear me out, loud and clear… you are no more than just a bloody coward; yes, you are. Hear me loud..you are a bloody coward!

You know what, good you shot yourself; cause a coward like you just has no reason to live.

Listen to me…I know, you can hear me…God damn it, listen to me when I’m talking to you…you piece of dead shit.

Talk to me…talk to me now. What; all of a sudden Is it so difficult for you to open your mouth, and speak to me? Some big lover you are,eh? Yeah, you got a big manhood to satisfy the whores, haaan? Come on, get it up, get your fucking cock up… bastard! Come on, lets do it right here. Do me right now, again! What? Now I’m suddenly not good enough for you?

 Get up, and face me you scoundrel…talk to me. All this while, you wanted to talk to me right? I’m here, in front of you…(slapped hard) why are you quite now? Talk… oh you can’t. How can you, rather why would you? Its best, to just lie down and pretend to be dead! You are a coward, heard me right…you are a coward!  

What? Now you don’t find me sexy enough? You don’t want to kiss me? I dare you, rip my clothes apart and make love to me. If you don’t wanna do anything, why did you bring me here? Tell me Oni, why are you lying on the floor, stained in blood…temme why? Don’t, just lie down there all motionless…answer me, for god’s sake tell me why did you do this to me?

You destroyed me! Now, do you realize why I broke off from your clutches? You were a tyrant Oni, a monster…that’s all you are & that’s what you could ever be! Temme, how can a monster love a person? He can’t..he can never! You prison-ed me to satisfy your needs and nothing else.

You don’t care about anyone, do you? Tell me something honestly; does your family even matter to you? Naah…they don’t. How could I expect you to respect me, leave my family; when the only person who’s important to you is yourself and none!

Now I realize how vacuum like were your claims of courtship! I have seen you reports, all the psychiatric analysis and fancy stuff, but you know what? I don’t even pity you. Why would I? All you are, is a bundle of self absorbed narcissist! No one matters, to you, but yourself! Yeah, you are a nut case and nothing more.

You wanted to know, why I broke up with you? I will tell you. But do you have the guts, to hear the truth? Yeah…good, then hear up…listen carefully to every word that I say!

I fell out of love for you. Why?... cause you were never here when I needed you. Yes, you heard me right…you were never there for me.

I sat in a coffee shop all alone, talking to you on the phone, but where you there? No, you weren’t! Just your words; spinning a web of imagination all around me, tying me into the treachery of your absence. Sure you knew if I wanted a cappuccino or mocha, but why wouldn’t you? We had spent years together. The sad part is, how long it took for me to actually realize the real monster that you are!

 Aaah! Now the word “we” causes a ripple deep inside is it?

When will you accept, that all you are is but a loser! Your dad’s business is of no concern to you. You are just hiding away from your failures! You spineless prick, be man enough once in your life. Stop pretending to be dead, cause I know you are not. I know you can hear me, every word that I say…its audible to you(Slap on the face). Get up, talk to me you filthy scum bag.

 Now you don’t want to get up is it? Fine, lay there…stay there as a piece of dead meat, cause that is all that you mean to me. Nothing more!

U think you are Super Man? Let me give u the ground reality…you are just a filthy and pathetic zero, rather let me rephrase… you are nothing more than just a negligible insect of no prevalence. Reality is a hard fact to bite, but face it you piece of shit…cause that is what your reality is!

Grow up Oni! U and me, we are very different people. What we shared was beautiful, but it’s over now !

Please get up, come to your senses. You can’t win me back with this drama. It’s over! I’m really tired of this nonsense. Why can’t you just understand, I am over you!

I have moved on and I’m happy with my guy!

Let it go Oni. Stop fighting the reality of facts. I have a new guy, and I am happy with him. You are just my past and nothing more! So please, for the love of God be happy…try finding someone for yourself and just leave me alone. Don’t be quite, say something!”

“Who are you guys? What are you doing here?”

“ Ok! Listen it’s ok! Me and him, we just had a little fight, all is good so let us be!”

I didn’t understand why the people in khaki and white’s wrapped me in a piece of cloth and took me away.

Oni was still in the room. He was bleeding. He lay there, on the floor…motionless. I didn’t wanna leave…but they forced me out of the perimeter.

“ I swear Oni, I didn’t wanna leave you, never then…never now! But somehow I was forced to!”

They cleaned my wounds and injected me with anesthetics. It was strange; inside the van they kept asking me if I was ok. I told them I was fine, but you needed help. I knew you were hurt, and I wanted to help you! I told them, that you were bleeding and lay on the floor motionless. I begged them to help you but they would just not listen, as if it were all absurd!

I was Ok, but you were hurt. I saw you bleeding. Your white shirt was tainted red with blood stains. You were dying Oni, and I knew it.

 You stay put my love, I promise you I won’t let you die.

I was losing my senses, and my vision had started to blur; I guess what you did and the effect of the medication was finally taking its toll on me!

The last thing I remember were their words, “you will be fine!” when they carried me away in the white van with a blue siren.

I opened my eyes in a very different surrounding. You weren’t there, but Ma, Papa and Bhai were present. Oni, they had pinned your baby with numerous no. of needles that were connected to drips.

It wasn’t your fault, but the expression on my family’s face was tensed! They were worried.

I asked them, where were you and if you were ok? But they just grew angrier, but never answered. I was feeling weak, what did you do to me Oni?

The look of distress on Dads face, turned into a somber anger. He couldn’t hold back, he ranted out loud, “That bastard did this to you, and all your concern is about that man?”

“He’s dead, rightfully in the morgue.”

He was disturbed and it was obvious. The doctors and officials left the room on dad’s request.

“You are in a trauma kid. And I don’t want to pile on to this situation. I promise you hun, I and Ma..all are with you.” He hugged me and kissed my forehead. Ma was too much in tears and a state of shock to say a word.

When the visiting hours were over, I was left alone to myself. As I rested my head on the pillow to gather the thoughts of events, which lead to all of this…I remembered you!

You didn’t rape me, but why did you violate me and my honor? I allowed you to be close, but you why did you cross the boundaries?

I shivered as the horrors of the night spent, flashed in my mind. The dinner, the drive, our kiss and everything that followed…I saw it all coming back to me. May be the world can never forgive him and his misdeed, but I did. Deep down I knew, what i made him go through.

I tried to close my eyes, when his last words echoed …” I love you”.

May be we could have had another chance, only if he hadn’t pulled the trigger!


PS: All characters and incidents in the plot are fictitious. Any resemblance to a any person or situation in the past, present or future is purely coincidental. 

Terminal 2B

I always wondered to myself, as to how difficult announcing a fact could be? Every time I heard a loud speaker blast to its heightened glory, it amazed me! Was it only me, who couldn’t contemplate the noise or if it was the announcer who had no clue of how to speak? I wanted to tell them that It was just an announcement meant to convey information and no speed test! A higher no. of words per min. does not translate into better understanding of the speaker’s blabber neither it was a requisite to win them a candy. Yet, the announcer would talk… unaware of the fact that their words were extremely difficult to comprehend; doing their routine job/ duty.

The announcement on the Public Addressing System was hard to understand. Failing to make any sense out of this noise, I suited myself to a clearer format of info. The Electronic Display Board!

It was time for my security Check.

Mom, Dad had come to drop me, and as a part of Indian Airport see-off’s a few relatives had to necessarily tag along. My dear old man, tried hard to hide his tears… his little girl was going away…travelling to foreign shores. Mom had an unfamiliar unease of what I can understand as a commotion of pride and concern. Uncle and aunt, would have been more in real skin had they dropped the mask of joy; but then I’m sure they wouldn’t want to show the green-ness of their real thoughts. It didn’t matter, cause I really didn’t care how the world perceived me or my success. What mattered to me, were my parents and the fact that I had made them proud was all that counted.

 A middle class income often clips feathers of innocent dreams, but they gave in their best to never cut my flight. I was their pride… I was reality of every dream left unrealized. I couldn’t let them down…couldn’t ever. It killed us to know that I was finally going…going far away. And though I wish I could tell them that I was merely a call away, I knew I would be lying! Sure there is the Internet, VOIP and discounted calling rates…but seeing me fly so far away, made all this pointless. I could see it in their eyes, feel it in their arms…the pain of letting me go…letting me away from them. 

Dad hugged me tight, his eyes were moist. With a heavy voice, which trembled out of loosened control on authority…. he warned me against any possibility of romantic hook-ups. “Remember the purpose of your travel and don’t do anything that will put your family name in shame!” I couldn’t control my smile and My old man smirked! We both knew, how lame and unconvincing he sounded at his effort to put across something serious. He hugged me tighter, and kissed my forehead.

“’I’m proud of you my child. Do well… just never let your family or your pride at stake…no matter what!”

Mom was already in a heightened state of bellowing. Had dad not been understanding enough, a rhetorical scene of ‘overwhelming motherly emotions’ straight from a bollywood classic could have been re-shot now! The only difference right now, is it was all real…real people with real emotions. May be I would have shared a hearty laugh seeing this scene on 35mm, but it sank my heart at this moment. This unremitting spat of tears would have lingered timelessly, had Ma not taken out a jar of her home-made pickle from her bag. It was my favorite; though I could comprehend the hassles that waited on the other side of those Hi-Tech and peering, incredulous eyes…I was adroit to take it head on!

       

The adieu from my Uncle and Aunt was brief. A careful wrap of concern overlaid their good tempered covetous.

It wasn’t just my country that I was leaving; I allowed myself to furlough my family…memories…my way of life and above all a part of my existence. An endless stream of memories flashed In my mind as I walked towards the queue at the check points. I was at unease with my tears… it was finally time to leave!

Beyond the security rails, my family still were waiting… strange, how they would not leave till the point they could see me no more! They waved at me, blowing kisses and palms stretched in manners of blessings. It was hard to leave, but I knew I had to! I asked a million times at this moment if it was ‘Ok’ , not to Go…but alas! From deep within the only thing I heard was silence. I convinced myself with reasons obvious enough not to do or think anything stupid! My feet limped towards the Security Check!

The queue at the immigrations was long. It took a while for my turn to face this grumpy security personnel. Suspicion and disinterest was deeply engraved in his expressions. His acknowledgement was just so non-felt. Visa, Passport and documents…he scanned ‘em all like a machine. I was relieved when he accepted the documents with the seal of approval.

All as well, till the security scanner buzzed out loud! Soon an army of security officials were on the case. My Cabin bag was isolated and I was asked to be open it for a thorough inspection! Their incredulous faces looked even more annoyed at the incident. To me, their act was more like an hurried effort to clear my bags content rather than a security frisk!

“ What does the jar contain?”

“It’s a jar of homemade pickle. Its food!”

“Sorry lady, but we can’t allow this on board”

My heart sank at that moment. A fit of rage my bellowing state of passiveness. I didn’t put a fight, rather stood a ground on my conviction. I wanted that pickle and I was adamant about it! I would not allow this jar to end up in a can of disposables!

There was a heated exchange of words…and I’m sure the argument would have continued longer, but surprisingly it didn’t! They finally were convinced to allow its carriage, but they had to act in accordance to preserving their ego’s. The bastards almost scooped out half of the contents to sample its non toxic/ non lethal/ non explosive nature.

It took a while for me to repack the bag and reinstate my mother’s spill proof packing.

In the crowd of unknown faces, I found myself lost. I looked at the sea of people…some looked curious, some calm! Few tensed…and few relaxed! To every emotion my eyes recognized, there was an opposite feeling on someone else’s face. I stared at them blankly; didn’t know what I was feeling. ‘Restless’ could be a remote effort to describe the emptiness inside; I was scared! Scared of the uncertainty that awaited. I wanted to run back into my father’s arm, but I knew I couldn’t.

Deep inside I felt clueless. I didn’t want to leave! I wished to tell dad what and how I exactly felt, but that would be so unfair. It would be unforgiving to their efforts and to mine. I had toiled sleeplessly to earn my scholarship. It was my dream…everything that I wanted…everything I had aspired for. And now I was in the vortex of these mixed and contrasting feelings. I wanted this inner turmoil to just end! I needed to escape!

Thoughts of my childhood…school lunch breaks..college hang outs; my room…toys…belongings and even my neighborhood leisurely took their part to make me realize…that all of this, would only be a memory!

I shuffled through the playlist on my music player much faster than it coveted OS, but that didn’t prove to be of much aid. I reached for my bag, in a vain hope that the novel could put this unrest to ease. But disaster was just about to strike…and I was completely ignorant of its arrival!

As my fingers meandered in the bag; a wet-sticky sensation caught my surprise. Mother’s love had found its way to slip out of the jar and spread its affection to things that were near. The security officials intervention coupled with my in expertise to repack the lid in its air tight configuration, translated into this unprecedented Recipe of Disaster.

“God damn it! This is F****** not done, not at all!”

I threw my hands in the air, with a hope that some divine intervention from the blue would save me from this inconvenience and disgrace. I scavenged to rescue whatever I could save of my belongings. To my surprise, this catastrophe was well within the limits of an ‘accident’. Call me a ‘Drama Queen’ if u may, but it’s only natural to get hyper; and bedsides how was I to know what exactly would be magnitude of the damages!

The tee looked recognizable, even though it was well blotted with pickle oil. Any other garment in this condition would probably end up in the bin…but this Tee, was not just another garment!

      

“Ory” that’s what I called him. His name was difficult to pronounce and, could be said was unusual! ORREL SAKALOWSKAS….he was from Russia, and if I can remember correctly his origin was from a place called AK-DOVURAK.

    He sat on the berth opposite to mine. He was a tall man. Visibly fair, with long hair and an unshaven face. He looked rugged and it was hard to say if this rustic look was result of his hardships or his worries. I was travelling to Delhi to meet my cousins, while he was destined for Haridwar! I thought he was every inch a hippie! The way his attire hung…his demeanor, just cried out loud of being care free! He kept the co-passengers entailed with stories and incidents of his travel.

I have a strict “do not talk to strangers ” policy during travelling. I mostly keep myself occupied in the pages of a book or my music playlist. But this young age, tends to be curious…so I tend to casually lend an ear to make myself aware of the surrounding.

His narrations were dramatic. Even With his strange, rather unfamiliar accent and unclear pronunciation; he managed to spin a web of vivid imagination. Stories which could make an excellent documentary film, left his audience spell bound. At times, a loosely structured statement in the local lingo threw in an unprecedented cheer and applause. I couldn’t argue that his stories weren’t arresting…my best efforts to read through the pages of this newly purchased thriller or even stuffing ear phones to listen to John Mayer’s hit singles proved undoubtedly tepid!

To be honest, I was enjoying his narrations. Though my idiosyncrasy portrayed minimal interest; I couldn’t help to find myself being drawn in. it was hugely captivating.

This entire or surreal raptness was broken by a very harmless question.

“What is your name, dear lady?”

All eyes were pinned at me. It wasn’t really embarrassing, just a tad staggering.

“I’m ORREL…ORREL SAKALOWSKAS! Would you like to tell us your name or may be share a story with us?”

I guess he referred to the other passengers with the word ‘us’. Everyone was expecting a reply, but their elating expressions were let down by my phlegm to contribute or associate.

“I’m sorry, I got nothing interesting.” I returned to the page wedged between my fingers.

Dinner was served hours back; the lights were gradually being switched off in the compartment, as people unhurriedly spread their bed rolls and letting themselves enjoy a good night sleep.

Time seemed to pass at leisurely pace during travel. The author’s lines were much over shadowed by the stories of people and facts that this stranger narrated. The silence in the compartment made my thoughts ran along phases of good and heartbroken episodes of life.  Questions to which answers could never be found or the ones I gave up searching bereaved me!

I wasn’t sleepy…just in satiated!

“Can I share your seat for a while?” A familiarly unfamiliar accent broke my moment of solitude. It was the story teller.

“Sure.” I folded my legs to make room for him to sit.

“You never said your name, may I ask why?”

“No reason, just found it a little awkward!”

“Ok! Lets start again… my name is ORREL SAKALOWSKAS and I belong to AK-DOVARAK, RUSSIA”

“I’m Anya. Sorry didn’t get your name again!” (It was honestly difficult to pronounce such an unusual name!)

“Call me Ory…its easier. Do you know what your name means?”

I nodded with a NO.

“In Russian it means Grace!”

Some say looks are deceptive, they were right! This man had nothing strikingly captivating by his presence, but he had the gift of the gab! From casual topics of interest and intents in life, the conversation took us to the desolate alley’s of broken dreams. With the trek of time, windows which were locked up for years opened to set free the pain of moments gone by!

Ory was a traveler and it all began with his story of Love lost in memories of time. He said India was a mystical country and was convinced that it had the true healing power to assuage his inner turmoil. At first it sounded crazy and immature! But he was here, sitting right in front of me; so I couldn’t say it was imposturous. His pain was real, so were his stories of people and their lives…whom he met during his travel.   

He said he would continue to be a nomad till he found the ultimate truth. There were times, when his words just didn’t make any sense or rather I never could understand or relate to them…but I couldn’t agree less; that this man, had made me think about life beyond the ordinary realms of credence. May be for just that moment… I could see a new dimension to the meaning of living!

He believed that life was a journey to find the truth, and that every moment was carefully etched to teach a path. Everyone walked, to find the purpose of their existence. People came and they left only cause on overlap of paths. To him Love, hatred, social norms, deceit etc. were just landscapes/places on this journey of life, how long one stayed just made them behave in that manner.

He had an explanation for everything and surprising enough it all sounded convincingly true.

There was honesty in his words and though he spoke like a savant, to me he was indubitable!

It was unusual for me to open up to a stranger on a train journey; but surprisingly It didn’t feel wrong. Irrespective of my continuous self-conscious inhibitions, we kept awake all night… sharing thoughts, experiences and moments of our lives.

As the journey closed to its end, this stranger had become a friend.

At the Nizammudin station, we parted after exchanging our email-id. Though unsure of it, I promised to be in touch!

For the following few months we stayed in touch through mails. My inbox was filled with pictures from his travel and stories about the locals. I waited for his mails…waited for his elusive stories, and he never disappointed.

After a long time I felt happy from deep inside. I was finally coming out of the cocoon, in which I laid dormant for years…breathless from the pain of betrayal. His travelogue rejuvenated me!

There were times. When I doubted, what we shared was just an appreciated affection/attraction or we were falling in love with each other. I was scared of the uncertainties of consequences, but prayed to know if ‘we’ could ever be…the way I wanted ‘us’ to be! Though I held back my emotions; but deep inside… I wanted him to know everything that my heart felt.

We were two people, separated by unknown miles…but that never was a hindrance in sharing our everyday lives. We were in constant touch through mails; from my career plans to his punctured bike falls during uncharted expeditions….we knew every little detail of each other’s daily life. I was happy, but then there was this void I knew only he could fill up…cause he was more than just a friend. He had become my guide and philosopher as well…my true companion!

But every story doesn’t have a fairy tale ending, and neither did mine. Things were changing…and changing at unannounced pace! What used to be a daily affair, gradually turned into several weeks of wait. Mails were few and gradually becoming less personal. He said everything was OK and at times he just got too busy, I knew that the sand castle was slowly being washed away.

Filling in forms and applications…running to the banks for educational loans kept me busy most of the time, but on the inside ran an unrest…unnerving questions, haunting an unending plot of unknown!

This absence of his had now become a habit, so it didn’t hurt much… I guess! Life moved at its pace, and uncertainty regarding ORY was brushed to the sidelines as I geared up for my masters in the State University of Michigan! Life from this point had more important goals than just dreaming and bellowing.

One fine morning I received a mail from a woman named Clara. It had a subject written “Urgent” in bold. I thought it would be from the University, but it wasn’t. The mail read:

“Dear Anya,

I am sorry to state that Mr. ORREL SAKALOWSKAS is no more with us. He passed away on 18^th May after his prolonged illness. I am sorry for your loss and my heartfelt condolences remain with you. May his soul Rest In Peace.

Please find, the attached letter he wrote to you.

Regards,

Clara Jones

Nurse, Moscow Institute Of Cancer Research”

I couldn’t believe what I just read. It seemed time had just stopped ticking! I didn’t want to believe it…I mean It could be a joke? I broke down crying.

The attachment to the mail was a scanned copy of his letter.

He apologized for not being able to be in touch. He spoke about his family and their worries regarding his illness. Wrote about life during the time we weren’t in touch. He wanted to live a few more years, to travel a little more and fulfill some of his aspirations…. The last line read about his dying desire to meet me one last time!

I couldn’t take it any more…I ran to the bed, covered my face in a pillow and cried like a little  girl. I felt so helpless. I wanted to undo everything…his illness…his death…his unfulfilled desires; why am I so powerless…I just can’t do anything. I could I forgive myself for hating him… how could I belittle myself by not believing his words! I wished to see him and tell him that he was mean and selfish…but I couldn’t! he was gone…gone forever and I had no choice but to live with this reality.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I washed the oil stains off the orange tee! It was delivered in a DHL box with a birthday card…and yes…it was my B’day gift from Ory! The big smiley on it still wears a huge smile and say’s…” I’M WITH U..Don’t ever stop smiling.”

Ory wasn’t lame neither is his tee! He made me smile and taught me to relive again. Through him, I truly believe that Life is all the reason to live for and I could never thank him enough to be part of my journey! It took time for me to accept that I would never receive his mails again, but I never stopped believing that he ever left…he was with me…always!

Boarding the aircraft through gate no. 5A on Terminal B I remembered one argument of his. He never liked the word ‘terminal’…he insisted that it be replaced by ‘howdy’, which essentially meant welcome! 

As i sat on my seat and buckled up my belt i Said 'howdy new life!' 

He was crazy beyond doubt, but then he was my best pal and I missed him! 

Note: All characters and incidents in the plot are fictional. Any resemblance to any person-living or dead or any situation-either in the past, present or future is purely co-incidental

A walk..back home!!

It wasn’t the prices of the drink that made me ponder; but the sheer ambience of the surrounding, that made me ask to myself… “What am I doing here?” Maybe I shouldn’t be here…or maybe I should… but the fact is, I am here. I looked like a fool, with the discomfort of being worried, I felt out of place! May be I liked this unfamiliarity; cause all this life, known familiarity had pained me enough to let me wander into the unknown.

I found a seat and put my bag on another chair. An indecisive blankness clouded my heart as I looked around. The place was a dingy little set up, with an haphazard arrangement of chairs and tables. The place was darkly lit and the no. of unbroken or partially working incandescent bulbs worked extra hard to make this place agreeably visible. The scheme of lighting was a tad suspicious. In the sense, only the cashier’s desk and a couple of walls to which an assortment of cheap movie posters were glued were distinctly visible. The semi clad women in the posters seemed to serve a purpose and I believe they were deliberately placed. May be the posters hid the defects in the wall, but that seemed a remotely unobvious reason. “Provocative” would be a major understatement to describe the images. There were women, either stand alone or with a partner…their attire casually revealing the enormous-ity of their bosom. The raw instincts of their expressions oozed more conjuring explicit sexual intent than any sense of remote pleasure. It all worked in favor of the F/L liquor joint; they surely fueled the in satiated sexual urges of this intoxicated male populace and kept their male ego well catered. Though it was a tad disgracing, they provided strange warmth in my groins.

    

This moment of several intermingled thoughts and inebriated stare was interrupted by the glean on the attendants face. My indecisive blankness annoyed him. He left the table with a stare! I wasn’t sure what I had to order, but then I had to. Whiskey seemed an obvious choice. but next time around when he returned to get my order; the question, “which one?” seemed not so obvious. To save an embarrassment, I ordered “the best!” my loss of choice, clearly my novice nature to act in coherence to this alien territory.

His coarse voice sounded threatening; “ Your money decides the best!”. His impatience was tuned higher than acceptable levels of tolerance as he narrated the ones available. Without extending this discomfort to any further level, I placed my order..he left!

As I sat alone, befuddled in the balance of moral correctness and inappropriateness, a slew of thoughts haunted me. My family, me my mother all knocked in my senses! I have never expended alcohol in my life…never… ever! But, I was tired today, lost…broken!

When my friends tomfooled me for not being man enough to join in their binge sessions, I overcame the probations with an inert pride. I was proud of warding off liquor. It had killed my father, ripped my family apart…orphaned me! Every time I saw a bottle of liquor, deep inside I had an urge to smash the bottle. His face reflected in it, the cries of my mother resounded in my ears. The dark corner of our house...her silent tears trickling down… endless unsuccessful attempts of escaping his monstrous torture and heinous maligns; all came alive…I froze for the moment.

This moment of abhorrence was interrupted by the 'THUD..' of the serving! A dirty looking glass, my whiskey and a bottle of water, which was previously a borrowed alcohol container… A small plate of shredded ginger and rock salt was served along my order.  Before I could fumble; this shabby, ill fitting clothed attendant asked me if a bowl of peanuts or chick pea would be required. I consented! He slipped me a paper on which was my bill amount.  But this hairy, dark skinned scar faced moron stood his ground, scratching his unshaven chin with crocked fingers and nails unclipped!! I paid my bill amount, but he refused to budge. He bent down, swung his towel on my table in a lousy attempt to wipe it clean. This piece of cloth was better off kept slap-happy on his shoulder. I’m sure the way it looked; it wouldn’t restrict its job to cleaning furniture’s or drying his hands, but extend its duties to cleaning of his unhygienic proceedings. This piqued me beyond consideration. I tipped him as quickly and as non eagerly as I could..he left, with a deterring smirk, which soon turned into a frown and a salute.

I was relieved to be left alone, left by myself… but in front of me was this bottle.

 I didn’t find myself asking what do I do next, how would I mix…in what proportion. I made my peg!

The first sip didn’t go down well. It felt bitter. I clinched a piece of salted ginger between my teeth. It eased the discomfort. But I did not come here for comfort! I picked up the glass again, this time…gulped down the entire content.

“Aargh…”, I coughed!  A little burning sensation in my throat unease-d my coy poise! I wasn’t deterred to stop, soon there was another and another till the bottle ran dry of alcohol. It wasn’t that bad, actually quite contrary to my known consequences of drinking. There was no abusive language, no violence, no unexpected emotional trauma of failures…nothing! Just a sense of relaxation. I was enjoying the trip. I rolled up my sleeves, eased myself onto my chair to order my next round, when my fingers touched a few scars.

In an instant my past, flashed in front of me. Every little detail; fast forwarding to make me realize…when n how my body was left this way, just a dried canvas of bruises and pain. With more pegs consumed, the images were becoming invigoratingly daunting. There was an anxiety, a distinct fear… very similar to everything I felt years ago. The kitchen utensils, leather belts, furniture or may be the blunt vegetable chopping knife…I did not know which will play its role, to be a tool to etch my body… forever! My young mind could never conjure reasons of this madness, but I learnt to bear the pain and be silent even if it was un bearable…cause my screams maddened him more! My tears just narrated a redundant story of his deranged mental state. He only stopped, when I collapsed, grew numb to everything that happened! May be it’s the same numbness, I carry till today! Numbness of my inability to protect my mother from her sufferings… my powerless strength to evade her consequence!

I drank more, this time to forget…but I couldn’t forget her promise! She had promised me that she would never leave me alone, but she lied. She left me… left me to burn in my living hell! I wish, I could accuse her of her incapability to protect me…but I cannot! I couldn’t blame her dead body…I was only 8, and my world had fallen apart! My neighbors comforted me at times, they had convinced me…the star that shone the brightest in a dark night was her. The only star the eyes say, in a cloudy night…it was my mother. She was gone, and I missed her every moment that I breathed! In the morning, in the quietness of my room I cried…cried cause I couldn’t see her in the sky. I was his prisoner, locked in the confinement of dark brick walls. But at night, when the caroused monster would snore in his lair…she would shine bright, take me under her serenity. She wiped my tears and me smile. I still believe she is there in the sky, looking at me…assuring me that she would always be there to love me and protect me. But, then I still wish she didn’t go away. I was young, so helpless…so powerless then. She could have run away with me, or just endeared till I grew a little older and stronger…to take her away to a less painful place. But she left..left me alone…left me be an orphan!

 I looked outside the window, but there was no sky… Just a flicker of neon lights! As more alcohol flew, I remembered my growing years.

 With age I didn’t become stronger, just more silent. I always prayed to the Lord…prayed, to make me stronger. But, he never did! The monster held me responsible for my mother’s death, and this gave him more excuses to lash out his venom. I was just his hunt whom he would never kill! There was no place to hide..no place to run, and he rejoiced at this prolonged agony of torment! Life moved on, and so did I. I forgot emotions, just a cold numb face said and unsaid my existence! The good Lord watched and did nothing Or maybe He did! He made my father grow older, weaker and above all more ill! The bashings grew less frequent and the pain much easier to bear. By the time I was 13, his liver had stopped regular functioning. I knew he would die soon, and I wanted him to. And then one night he didn’t come home. The next morning, my neighbors accompanied me to the local police station and then the morgue to identify his body. The govt. promised a compensation for the people who died in the “Illicit hooch consumption scandal!”. His death had funded my living till I learned to earn my own. Soon, I left his house , this locality, and the city. Life turned out agreeable…and I moved on!

Years turned, I grew… earned a livable amount…fell in love, married…raised a daughter and had a family. For the first time, I had a life…But it seemed so incomplete! The restlessness of an unfulfilled dream, the pain of an aborted promise woke me up at nights and I wondered if only I could!

An elevated chaos of a neighboring table put me back to this moment. A drunk guy and his vehement pleas for more liquor had agitated the bar administrators. I don’t know; maybe he was cashless or was a potential nuisance…a big blurry guy just picked him and threw him out. It was a little disturbing sight, but normalcy were to establish soon!

I must have had a little too much, if I could fig. out what or how much my limit was! My vision was blurry and I found it a little difficult to clench my empty glass. When the attendant came, I slurred a little to order again. Aaah! The alcohol had had got me, unnerved my senses a little…may be! I reached for my wallet to pay him the amount, when a piece of paper fell on the floor.

I fumbled a little to get it! I opened the folds… my heart sank instantly. There was this ineluctable heaviness pressing me down…a giddiness that put me to unease. It was a refund receipt!

A “refund”…no it wasn’t. It was a note of failure… A broken promise, that I lived to keep… a dream un realized, that I nurtured to fulfill…it was all gone now!

I wanted a drink and I wanted it bad. Before the attendant could place the bottle on the table, I took it from the tray and gulped a neat shot! It didn’t burn…

I eased into my chair, unfolding it carefully this time. No magical surprises to cheer!It was the booking amount minus the deductions. The cheque attached bore the same fig. I smiled! My life savings was not a huge sum, but it was enough to buy me my roof! Ever since I fled those memories, I have carefully replaced them with a dream…the dream of having my own house. My own walls where my name plate would be hung! An address, which wouldn’t have a “C/O” stuck in the second line. A door mat, which wouldn’t lead to rented shelter! May be, I had convinced myself that it was the only way I could repay the debts of my mother’s tears…by giving her a home!

My eyes were moist. I stuttered to myself…”is it too much to ask?”

Ha…! I scatted away such thoughts! Yes it was too much to ask…and yes, it was too much to dream!

I had made my choice; and it seemed as an obvious choice. But my stupid heart wondered, why does responsibility have to outweigh innocent desires? Why does one dream trample over another to realize its existence? Why do people have to grow so greedy? Why does this society, shoo away when it needs to take a stand?

I knew the obvious answers to my deficient, yet innocent questions…and yet I didn’t! The fig. wasn’t a huge no. just the right amount to save a dream. My daughter’s dream! Just the right amt. to stop the groom from returning without marrying my child!

To my daughter, I was a hero…a man strong enough; not to let her marriage be abrogated under the unacceptable demands of the groom’s family. To the society, I was a good father… worthy and dutiful of his commitments towards his family. To my wife, I was a respectable husband…but for me…?

I was just a failure!

The last sip, didn’t feel bitter at all…just a little saline! The place dimmed gradually, and people left to vacate it to emptiness. I was the last to leave… I wiped my face and stood up. I visualized the smile on my daughters face; I knew I did the right thing…it consoled me, stretched a latent smile across my lips.

The people outside the door were merry…singing, bragging and mostly drunk. They smoked, chewed ‘pan’ and littered the alley with spit and urine. Few walked and few were carried. Few lied senseless…and few just staggered back! Somehow In the crowd of unknown faces, I found myself…found myself again!

 My office bag and my uneaten lunch carrier seemed a little heavier today. My feet a little quivering… and my stride, though a little staggered…I walked with a shoulder held high. I thought of my wife and my daughter!

Tonight I didn’t wait for the bus, just walked on the side-walk to take a taxi back to my family. Though I was going to my house, I was returning back to my home!

Note: All characters in the plot are fictional. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead; or any circumstance and place in the past, present or future is purely co-incidental. 

Taashi…

There was something in his eyes. A rare innocence, a touch of purity. They were untainted by the vices of this world. They could narrate a story, if u wished to know. The silence of his lips had so much to tell, only if one had time to hear.

 I wondered if it was a boon or a curse, that people could know what u felt; …felt deep inside, just by looking into your eyes?

Then again, how many in the crowd had time to know? For most of us, Isn’t the pathos of this self righteous life so pronounced that the rest just lingers in the shadow? You may beg to differ, but justify the blindness of the human heart to the pain people bear. Explain why empathy turns a deaf ear to humane cries? I’m no saint or Mother Teresa, who had dedicated my life to the cause of social up liftmen. I’m just another girl, who was tired of running away from insanity!!

Hills have always fascinated me. The freshness of the morning dew… roads which disappeared in the clouds… the array of lights etched through its slopes... There’s no end to reasons, why hills mesmerized me so much. I had always dreamed of living my later years in the valleys… but strange as it may seem…the songs of the mt. birds do not cheer me up no more. The fragrance of the blossom, seemed just as unimportant as ‘usual’. The walk on the road is only tiring!

I had changed..and it was not unknown to me! They say time soothes everything…just that; none clarifies the fact that she only makes u her docile slave! All u do is ’know’, and that’s all! Never retaliate or question…just accept the fact that you are..what she has made you to be! I’m not negating the fact that I have made mistakes in my life, may be…a subtle effort to unburden the heavy load to another shoulder!

Negotiating my time with the pile of ‘to-be-corrected’ answer scripts, the aroma of tea always cheered me up. The slopes were famous for its tea, and somehow the local market did not disappoint to sell the decent blend. There were times when I envied foreigners, for the premium blend was only for exports and the locally badged “premium” felt distinctly unsatisfying, both to my taste and my mood. Time teaches you to adapt… I gave up the regular innocent whining, to adapt to a more reasonable disappointment!

I am a school teacher, and this is the period when kids rejoiced their vacations; and people like us scrutinized their annual progress. A never ending pile of carefully scripted words tried to summarize their knowledge…to which I wondered, if this was the best way to judge a child! But then, I don’t argue no more; just nod at the acceptance of the said pattern.

There are test sheets which make u feel proud at your efforts of educating kids, and then there are the ones which deserve their place only in the trash bin. And in my hand I held one of the later kinds. There’s an established grading pattern which I adhere to, when putting the marks on the scripts….but this bunch of papers annoyed me to the extent of pure disgust. There’s bluffing, and then there’s an effort to make sense…this particular sheet just failed to touch any logical explanation. It seemed just an arbitrary string of words… a rather haphazard arrangement of out of context thoughts.

The annoyance to such nonsense turned into a sudden unease and quietness, when I turned the pages to check the name. “ Aarshiya Bose” !!

She was my student; not the brightest or smartest of the lot..but the kinds who barely passed her grades. She was more on the rebel wild child side, and entire school authority failed to device a punishment that would deter her from following her ways. I had lost count… of the no. of times I had sent her to the Principals Office or the no. of times I had met her parents on grounds of her undisciplined ways and her disrespectful behavior. Every time I looked at her, I wondered why Corporal Punishment was barred from practice and why did I not have the authority to throw her out of this institution!

I guess, being born in a wealthy family always cushions a lot of your expulsion situations… esp. in an institution always in need of donations.

But; beyond all this intolerance, a part of me was attached to her. It was her name…”Aarshiya”. It was a name I had always wanted to adore my daughter with….”Aarshiya”!

My marriage wasn’t any dream wedding. To describe it honestly, would be referring to an epic play of eloping and consequent family drama. The beautiful ideas surrounding, “love forever” ..evolved from movies and novels and perfected by years of courtship; turned to ashes in the pit fire of reality…sooner than I could hold on to. While it all started with a financial commotion, the heavy burden of our unresolved sentiments drifted us further away as days went by. Society and its righteous members, in disguise of concerned relatives never missed an opportunity to add fuel to our volatile situation. Strange even if it may seem; they made one believe, that they were in possession of the knowledge of every consequence that could possibly result of our situation. Even ignorance gave up to their never failing resilience to educate us of corrective measures and then came a point when we believed in things they said. We grew weak…grew too tired to hold on to each other tight!

The time for ‘we’ was lost… It was only a ‘u’ or a ‘me’. Love was long forgotten..and the only thing that kept us talking, was a never ending game of, ’who is to blame’.

There were times, when we both missed the feeling of intimacy, but never understood why it became so difficult to even make an effort to come closer? From living under a roof as strangers…to living alone, life wasn’t yet done with its conspiring twist!

It was painful to see the apartment we furnished and painted in colors of love being packed and sent away, but it was a sheer mockery in front of the disloyalty he gifted me with. Yes, he had another woman in his life! Dreams were shattered, my heart was broken and I was left alone. The world never mentioned his adultery, just pointed at my inability to be a deserving wife.

He blamed me to be the reason for the marriage to fail; this incessant accuse made me believe in him. Now when I sit and think, I realize what a fool I had made out of myself. For months I had cried, silently tolerated the insults, all for what.. Love? I doubt it!! I had made a fool of myself, let myself be used… that’s a feeling that makes my soul drench in derogation.

Like my marital life, the divorce was equally an ugly experience. While Men in black and white darted questions, seeking answers beyond acceptable realms of marital boundaries; an audience witnessed the mockery of marital estrangement.

I promised to myself that in this life ‘love’ would be one thing I’d never feel for another man again!

Time had smoothened the pain to commodious level of ease, but the insanity of forlornness…craved for a Wight touch. There were times I was desperate, and then it all changed into a comfortable numb. At times I wondered if there were still any feelings left in me to emote, so I made myself bleed…to feel, something..that made me believe I was still alive!

My family and friends were distraught. I can’t blame them; there were moments when I believed living was just pointless!! There came a phase, when I wasn’t left alone even for a minute. A prodigal disquietude followed me, wherever I went. I was lost in a sea of a thousand peering eyes, watching every step that I took…it was hard to please anyone who became part of my life, either by their desire to add to my misery or my reluctance to ward them off!

The most surprising fact of life is, it will throw in a twist at the time when u prepare yourself to live and think otherwise!

What started with a coffee conversation, was brewing into a cogent bond lurking beyond the dominion of companionship. He was an old friend, settled on foreign shores. He was back and he made me happy. It was rough and edgy to begin with, but the feeling of being ‘cared’ seeped in imperceptibly. I was mirthful, chirpy as ever. The sun shone bright, the sky seemed ‘blue-r”, the clouds fluffier, the birds sang saliently…Everything made me exultant.

Our amorous escapades, was on an eminence. I was young again, happy and spirited…

But life had its own script to unfold.

Something had happened, and the precipitousness of the event was rather expansive than frightening. It was news I wanted to share with him before I meed-ed it with the world. I dialed his number numerous times… but my calls were left unanswered. He deserves to be the first to know this!

”In the meeting. Will call u back!”. “God damn it!”; stupid text.

 The news was much copious than his board meeting and ‘business tour’.

“Let him be busy with his boring board room strategies!”

I was jubilant, and demanded a snuby pampering for myself. The luxuriant hours in the spa rejuvenated me beyond mere gratification! But I was still restless! I wanted to share it with friends, who were still close to me; so we met up for lunch.   

I tried reaching him a couple of times via phone and text, but his non riposte put me to annoyance! In my heart, I believed that we were ready to take the next obvious step! There was no reason to doubt, his feelings. But, I couldn’t escape this growing fretful unease!!

Post lunch, the girls meandered back to their schedule. I decided to spend time at the nearby mall. I ambled across the shops, stopping at the expensive ones; reviewing the classiest the stores had to offer. I didn’t want to buy anything, still wanted to have the best today!

I was surprised to realize, how this afternoon wandering paused at the kids section. The section felt so different today, it felt so endemic…so heartwarming! The tiny socks, shoes and all the colorful little dresses…I wanted to buy them… buy all of them for my little girl.

“Aarshiya“ … I have cherished the name latently; for long.

My unbound joy suddenly hit a bump; I saw him at the distant aisle. He held a child in his arms. He was with another woman. It didn’t take much time to realize, who she was and the reason of her presence.  

I never believed on this twist of my tale. I... should have realized, that it was only my fatuity that I had credulous in his words. I was blind, and now I was reeling under it! A thousand thoughts crossed my mind… the ‘why’s ‘, ‘how could he’ and so on. I wanted to smash his head, tell his wife about the real ‘he’, scream…shout! But the child in his arms, triggered my dominion. I knew I couldn’t punish the kid, for his/her father’s mistakes.

“Your child is beautiful!” a simple text that was erased instantly conveyed so little, but the irony was…all it did was; shroud a lot!

I never forgave him...never spoke to him. I wasn’t surprised at the Gradual disappearance of his calls and texts.    

I remember the last words the Dr. said, ”Are you sure, this is what u want?”

I never wanted my Aarshiya to be a result of pure carnality. I could never allow that… how could I? 

No limits of self abuse and punishment helped to wash this pain away. I knew I had to run away from the city. Run hard…run fast…run to a place; where no one knew me and I knew no faces. The toxicity of the city poisoned my sanity, and I fled!

The solace of these mountains calmed me. It took a while, for life to return to normalcy! But I am glad that it did.

I felt a little heaviness on my chest, and the moistened eyes needed to be wiped to resume the grading. I firmed myself back.

“ Taplai chai” (your tea!)… a young voice stood near my desk with a cup of tea! I had never seen him.

”Nani timro naam k ho?( what’s your name son?)

“ Mero naam Taashi ho!” (My name is Taashi)

“ Timi yaha k gardaichau?” (what are u doing here?)

“ Taplai chya dinu ko lagi.” (I have come to give u tea.)

“ Hmmmm….Timi kasko chora ho?” (Hmmm…who’s kid are u?)

“ Sabai ley bhancha malai nail ma pako harey!” (People say I am from the sewer!)…His last words ripped my heart apart!

He was a young lad, barely in the fifth year of existence. Draped in a make shift cardigan, which failed its promise to be a savior from the harshness of this cold; he stood coy! His looks were pale, but his eyes shined bright…there was so much, they could tell!

A touch of rare warmth filled me as I embraced him in my arms…he stood still, unmoved by this act of desolate kindness. I refused to let him go..

 For I knew, for the first time…I held someone who would never leave me…I held someone, I could call my own!

Note: All characters and incidents in the story are fictional. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead; or incident is purely co-incidental.