How can Mumbai be described in a word? Will ‘pandemonium’ work? How about ‘dreamland’? Commotion? Extravagant? It would be a very difficult question to answer. Nonetheless, the answers that would pour in would be far too many for a normal 320 GB computer to store and still insatiable. This city has the same gift for all, that is, a dream.
It is said Mumbai has a place for everyone. Sea-facing villas, flats, shanties, streets, pavements, all are housed in Mumbai. There is not a vacant spot left in this bewitching city but still it never complains. It accepts one and all with open-arms. Thus, not surprisingly, the count of people, dwelling here, is not something to be given a thought to. The number is not worth remembering since every passing day will have yet another train, reaching the Mumbai railway station and delivering a new package of dreamers.
So is it possible to be alone in Mumbai? In fact, a better question would be “Is it possible that a person becomes a loner here?” The chances seem quite low, if one stands near the window overlooking the traffic on Peddar road, in Bandra, Worli, Dadar or any place which has a Mumbai pin code. This would be an optimistic thought. But, how about someone who has a sunken heart and watches outside the same window, looking at nothing? Does this city have something for such people?
Months passed by. Neeti counted days, followed by weeks and then months, since she last spoke to Aman. Aman did call her a few times. Once after 2 months, then after 3 months and then yet again after 3 more months. She had made a mental note of all these calls, the dates and always thought that every call she received would be the last someday. He was drunk whenever he called. He said that he loved her and would die without her. Each call of this kind made a nerve so sensitive within her, to the extent that she cried with pain and agony. She wondered if the man ever thought of what she went through when she heard all that stuff. Is this how she was supposed to be treated after a yearlong relation? Is this how a woman is treated? Do her tears have any value? Neeti had developed a very low esteem.
She tried to distract herself with various things around her. She had begun interacting with her Parsi neighbour, Mrs. Cowasjee, an elderly lady, living with her retired army-official, cricket maniac husband. Mr. Cowasjee loved his newspapers. He had himself delivered 3 newspapers every day. One in Parsi, the other in Marathi and one in English. Neeti found it funny, but dared not to question the short-tempered, white moustached ex-army man.
Neeti had made a few new friends through her colleague, O’deth. They met quite often and went clubbing on Saturdays. Neeti did not like clubs but went there only for the deafening music. O’deth made sure that Neeti was never left alone on Saturdays and Sundays. Especially since she had seen Neeti crying once in the office washroom and had eventually got to know about Aman from her. After listening to Neeti’s sad story, O’deth had managed to say just one line, “Neeti, he’s digging a grave for himself.” Neeti was too agitated then and ignored the comment considering it trivial.
It was the third Saturday of the month. 3 months had already passed by since Aman’s last call. Neeti was expecting a call anytime now. She woke up around 9 am and sat on her soft white bed looking at the heap of clothes on the chair. The clothes had over-piled up and a washing spree was long due. She thought to herself about the washing and imagined her hands soaked in white foam and wrinkled because of the over-exposure to water and alkalis. A world war awaited her today, at that thought she smiled and with a quick jump she stood up to get ready for office.
An hour later, while she was applying jam to the slice of bread, there was a knock on the door. She took a big bite, enough to suffice for the 5 steps from the table to the door.
“Good morning Aunty.” Neeti smiled. It was Mrs.Cowasjee in very pretty blue A-line dress.
“Good morning Dikra. Chaloo Ni. Come to my place right now. I have something for you.” Neeti smiled again noticing the polished English accent the lady had. Mrs. Cowasjee was always well dressed and had an enchanting, refined English accent that could make even a British conscious.
“Stop smiling. I know you like my English accent and that is why I flaunt it.” The lady put out a small teasing laughter.
“Aunty, my English is also good. You know yesterday Uncle was saying that I speak better than you.” Neeti laughed loudly and patted the lady on her shoulder.
“Really! Since when did you stop being afraid of my handsome Ronnie?” Mrs. Cowasjee had hit an ace this time and Neeti understood she had lost the case now. Neeti smirked and Mrs. Cowasjee winked.
Dumping her stuff in the bag, Neeti quickly locked the door and went along with Mrs. Cowasjee. On entering the Cowasjee residence, Neeti saw the table, set for three. Mr. Cowasjee stood up and greeted Neeti cordially. He quickly fetched two glasses of water for the ladies.
“Thank you Uncle.”
“Welcome Neeti. I hope you are doing well.” Mr. Cowasjee was a man of little words. He only passed statements and hardly questioned.
Neeti realised it was no question and hence only smiled back.
“Dikra, sit here. I have made Akuri. Ronnie darling read those newspapers later. Come for breakfast baba.”
Mr. Cowasjee dutifully put aside the newspapers and sat in his usual place at the breakfast table. Mrs. Cowasjee and Neeti were engrossed in their conversations. Mr. Cowasjee hardly looked up from his plate. When he was done, he stood up and excused himself.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s very silent. Manufacturing defect che. It doesn’t mean he does not like you. ” Mrs. Cowasjee could feel the discomfort Neeti had in the presence of Mr. Cowasjee.
Neeti smiled and said “Not at all Aunty.” She later added, “I must say he is very handsome and so stylish.”
“Hey! He’s mine.” Mrs. Cowasjee laughed loudly. Neeti blushed and laughed too.
“But Aunty, why 3 newspapers?”
“Parsi because of community related news. Marathi because he studied Marathi on his own and likes the language. English because he is a high-nosed army man. Pagal che!” Mrs. Cowasjee stood up and took her plate to the kitchen. Neeti offered to carry her own plate to the sink.
They had a good, huge mug of hot, brewing coffee. Suddenly, Mr. Cowasjee said to Neeti, “I’ll drop you to office today. I have to meet a person that side.”
Neeti gulped hard and before she could refuse the offer, Mrs. Cowasjee said “Neeti that is great! I’ll give you a list of vegetables. Please buy and give them to Ronnie. Ronnie never bargains. Thanks to him, I have even eaten potatoes worth dollars.”
Mr. Cowasjee drove his car from the parking lot to the main gate, where Neeti was waiting for him. Before Neeti could open the passenger seat door, he stepped out of the car, opened the door to the passenger seat and seated Neeti.
Was this how a man makes a woman feel like a lady? If yes, it is rightly said that it takes a man to treat a woman like a lady. Else a woman will never rise to be a lady, however big an achiever she may be. Neeti felt so special.
After purchasing the vegetables and giving them to Mr. Cowasjee, she was dropped to her office. Neeti did not attempt to open the door this time. She understood the protocol and waited until he opened the door for her and he did exactly that. Neeti smiled ear to ear.
“Thank you so much Uncle. Not for the lift, but for making me feel like a lady today. I haven’t been treated like this.” Without thinking, she pecked a small kiss on his cheek.
For the first time, Mr. Cowasjee smiled at her and placed a hand on her head, as if he understood she needed blessings.
“Bye Neeti. Have a good day.”
Neeti smiled even brighter and waved till his car was out of sight. What is it about Army men? What do they have different about them? Personality? Flawless English accent? Eye-to-eye contact while speaking? Manners and breeding? How would a woman not feel conscious in such a man’s presence? These questions kept bothering Neeti.
Office work was less since the weekend was approaching. By 3pm, after a small bite, Neeti left the office to click pictures for the weekend supplement. She thought of a theme and wondered what part of Mumbai would fetch her, the kind of scenes she imagined. O’deth offered her bike services since she was bored and had completed a write up for the weekend edition long time back.
The two girls roamed the city for effective pictures. Situational, natural, colourful. Within an hour Neeti had clicked more than 45 pictures but still wasn’t satisfied. The things she imagined were yet to be brought to light.
They reached Mahim and decided to take a break. O’deth pointed to a small, dingy restaurant and within no time the girls were inside having a nice cup of “Cutting chai”. Across the road there was a lot of commotion. Suddenly O’deth was pumped up and sprang from her seat.
“Lets’ go there. New scoop!” O’deth beamed and literally pulled Neeti by her hand. They crossed the road and stood at a safe distance to watch what was going on.
“What is going on there? Did you see anything?” O’deth asked a boy who had just passed by that commotion.
“I just saw three men shouting violently at someone.”
O’deth wasn’t getting any breaking news so she went closer and closer. Neeti followed her.
Seven men had circled a man, sitting on the road. There was another man in that circle too. But his role there couldn’t be judged from that distance. Neeti went two steps closer.
“Kashif!”
“Oh my God! You saw that don?
“Which don?”
“Kashif! Obviously! Lets click some pictures. Come on quick.”
Neeti stopped blinking and made no attempt to switch on the camera. O’deth looked at the girl quizzically and snatched the camera. She pulled Neeti behind a paan-stall. They hid there and O’deth unruly clicked pictures. When she turned behind to check on Neeti, she saw that Neeti was gone. O’deth looked around and frantically asked the paan-maker if he had seen Neeti move out of there. He pointed out in a direction. O’deth looked in the direction of the pointing finger. Neeti was moving towards the commotion.
The seven boys looked at Neeti walking in their direction. One of them snapped is fingers and yelled at Neeti. Neeti showed no reaction and kept moving towards them till she saw a bleeding man, sitting on the road and Kashif, bent over and slapping the man.
“Kashif!” she said. She did not yell, scream or shout. She said it loud enough for him to hear.
Kashif stood straight and looked at the woman who called out his name. His throat went dry. “Neeti aap idhar? Main yeh...”
Neeti showed her right palm signalling him to stop the explanation. “Forget it.”
Neeti turned back and walked away quickly. O’deth waited for her to cross the road and then followed her. She ran a little and caught pace with Neeti.
“Silly! Where do you think you are going?”
“I want to get out of here.”
“Scooty is parked near that shop. Lets’ get there quickly.”
Neeti appreciated O’deth's gesture to help and of not asking questions about what was going on. Two minutes and the girls were already on their way towards office.
“Ody drop me home. Take my camera and give all those pictures to Sushant. He’ll choose the one which will run on the weekend supplement. Keep my camera in your locker.” O’deth did as she was told.
Kashif kept calling Neeti. She placed her mobile for charging and let it ring incessantly. Not once did she receive Kashif’s calls. Sushant and O’deth called in between whenever they got the bandwidth. She received their calls and Kashif’s calls were then on hold.
Around 7pm, Neeti checked her phone and saw “86 missed calls” on the screen. She called up O’deth.
“What plans for today? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Honey, I thought you wanted some space. So...”
“I don’t want to be alone today. Please Ody. You understand me?”
“Get dressed. 20 minutes”
“OK.”
Neeti cut the line and quickly got dressed. For the first time in her life, she was over dressed. She had streaked out heavy Kohl lines around her eyes. Her hair was let loose. Her ears carried big danglers. Neeti saw herself in the mirror and immediately looked away. She was hell-bent on freaking out tonight. She put on a dark coloured nail-polish and wore a shiny blue dress. Everything was out of place. She thought over-doing could give her some solace.
In 10 minutes, there was a knock on the door. Neeti wore her high-heeled sandals, fetched her bag and rushed to open the door. On opening it, she saw Kashif standing there, fuming from head to toe, with red eyes and an inflated nose.
“Main bahar ja rahi hun.” Neeti said, looking away.
“Mujhe idhar tamasha nahin karna hain. Chup chap chalo mere saath.”
“Sorry. Main nahin aaungi.”
“Neeti... please. Mujhe baat karni hain. Abhi. Isi waqt.”
“Maine kaha main bahar ja rahi hun.” Neeti said very coolly.
“Yeh ghatiya kapde pehenke, kaha ja rahi ho aap? Aur yeh kya chehere pe lagaya hain. Apne aap ko dekho zara.”
“Hmmm. Baad mein baat karenge.”
“Neeti... jo hua...” Kashif spoke no more when he saw the coldness in Neeti’s eyes. He hit his fist hard on the wall and walked away.
Neeti closed the door.
The next morning, when she opened the door to pick the newspaper and daily packet of milk, she saw Kashif sitting on the steps watching the door with begging eyes.
“Andar aa jao.” She said. The same coldness in her voice.
“Kahan gayi thi aap raat ko?”
“Club. Coffee?”
“Ji.”
Neeti prepared some coffee and placed a mug in front of Kashif.
“Neeti kal aap ne jo bhi dekha woh sab...”
“Aap underworld mein ho?” She looked at him, eye-to-eye.
“Neeti aap jaisa soch rahe ho woh...”
“Yes or no?”
“Neeti meri baat tho suno... ”
“Kashif kya aap underworld mein ho?”
Kashif took a deep breath. He recognised the tone and said “Haan. Lekin aap agar...”
“Finish your coffee and get out!” Neeti was still cool. No wrinkle on her forehead. No raised eye brows. No alarming eyes.
The truth was out and she decided not to react or respond.
How does it feel when a trusted someone lies? Will any explanation give respite? Will the same trust be ever resurrected? These questions have no answers. At least, no verbally explicable answers. The answers are all too deep rooted and have direct connections to the heart. Breaking trust is like passing AC type current to a gadget which accepts only DC type. The circuitry is rendered irreparable.
Neeti watched Kashif leave her small apartment. He closed the door behind him, promising himself to find a right time and explain things to Neeti.
Tuesday 8 December 2009
Monday 16 November 2009
The wait for the end... Part 7
To see a Gulmohar tree is a very rare thing in Mumbai. And then, to see it bloom, despite the pollution, is rarer. But unfortunately, Mumbaikars are so immersed in their daily bedlam, that even a magical speaking tree won't elicit any response. On the contrary, the bullish or bearish share market has the potential to wake the dead from the graves and spellbind them to follow the market trend. Nobody can blame the Mumbaikars for the type of attitude they have. They are just a different breed, although very attractive, one must admit. And their I-don't-care orientation is the biggest plus point they have, which on rare occasions works against them.
Neeti was yet to get the hang of the typical Mumbaikar attitude. She was very professional at work. Ignorant of emotions, feelings. But when at home, in solitude, she turned very vulnerable. It was like living dual personalities in one day. The point noteworthy is that she played both roles really well.
Speaking to Kashif, once a day at least, had become a ritual now. Neeti mostly spoke about Aman, while Kashif only listened and gave his opinion only when asked for. He knew that when she spoke to him, in reality she was talking to herself. She was fighting a lost battle. Sometimes, Neeti went on for hours in English and Kashif understood nothing but got the gist. He noticed the gradual change in the conversations. Neeti had begun blaming herself for all that went wrong. For more than 2 months she went on like that. Then she was slowly opening up. She had started telling him about particular incidents. Some good and some bad. Now, she had slowly started blaming Aman. She pointed out to the small mistakes he made and she noticed but never told him.
On one such occasion, when Neeti and Kashif were in a deep conversation around late night, Neeti's phone suddenly beeped. She looked into the screen of her handset. What she saw made her stop her breathing. "Kashif, woh call kar raha hain.""Kaun?" Kashif didn't have clue.Neeti couldn’t even take Aman's name. Something within her made her nervous. "Wahi! Aur kaun!""Baat kar lo. Baad mein baat karte hain."
Before she could say anything further, Kashif's line went dead. The other line had become active. Her smart phone, which she adored the most, among all the gizmos she owned, had become a piece of abhorrence. It kept flashing "Aman calling...”. She took in a deep breath; to get rid of the empty feeling coupled with an icy sensation, and received the call.
"Aman!" She only whispered.
"Neeti".
Gosh, she had heard that voice after 3 months. She didn't know what to feel and what not to. She was too dumbstruck to respond. The kind of feeling one gets after having a huge blob of ice-cream in the mouth, like a greedy child. The same numbness. The brain-freeze. The dilemma of choosing between spitting out the ice-cream or gulping it down in one shot.
"I didn't call to bother you. Just wanted to talk to you and see if everything is okay. We didn't speak for a long time."
"Aman. How are you?"
"I'm good. Are you really bothered about how I am?" Sarcasm, she made a mental note.
"Yes, Aman. I'm not into formalities and you know that well." The tone wasn't firm but Neeti tried.
"Then what happened for three months? Why didn't you ask me then?"
"Aman you know why." Neeti realised she was still making herself believe she was talking to Aman, by saying his name before every response.
"No, I dont. Please tell me why."
"Aman you broke up with me. You didn't want to be with me anymore. The last time you came you gave me all the reasons as to why we're not meant to be together. And here you are asking me why I haven't called you." Neeti broke down.
"Oh baby! Please don't cry. I was a jerk. I'm sorry. But I can't just commit. I still love you. I really do."
Neeti's mind was spinning by now. She heard the words and was gasping for air.
"Aman..." She cried. Only her sobs could be heard. Her mouth went dry and she couldn't stop the tears. Her breath was deep. That 1BHK where she lived suddenly seemed too small making her claustrophobic. She ran to the refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle and drank huge sips of water.Aman was surprisingly patient; he heard her cry and said not a word.
"Aman I have died everyday without you. I have craved for these words. Aman! What do I say!"
"Well there is only one way you could reply to these words."
"Of course, you idiot. I love you more than anything. More than anyone."
They spoke till 6 a.m. She was still not sleepy and could go on for another couple of hours without a blink. But Aman had started dragging words and yawning loudly.
"You're sleepy. Should we sleep off now?"
"Thank God you asked. Yes, my bachu. We should sleep off. And I'll call you in the morning."
"Okay." Said Neeti, half-heartedly.
"Yeah. Goodnight."
The line went dead. Neeti kept looking at her cellphone. Suddenly that piece of embedded-technology seemed the world to her. She jumped on her bed and gave out a small scream in her pillow. Her happiness couldn't be contained. For a moment she thought she would call the Nokia guys and tell them their masterpiece, which she owned, had given her the biggest happiness of her life.
People say its' tough when you don't have people around to share sadness and sorrow. But the truth is deeper. Its' tougher when you have happiness and don't have anyone to talk to. Sorrow can come out as tears; or as a write-up in your diary; or a blog or sometimes even a poetry. But happiness gives you such a high that only talking can help dilute. May be because happiness brings along with it some kind of loneliness too with it.
Neeti tried to get some sleep. She dreamt of Aman and smiled in her sleep.
It was 10 a.m. The Gulmohar in the neighbouring compound looked brighter. The birds had become chirpy. Neeti felt even the soap she used every day, smelled better, lemony and tangy. She felt fresh as a peppermint. The lack of sleep didn't affect her in anyway. In fact, her face glowed. She quickly got dressed. For a change, to commemorate the special event, she wore her new Prussian blue satin top and paired it with a pair of fine blue Levi's jeans. She picked her bag and hopped down the stairs and then to the street. The dainty dressed woman caught attention where ever she went. She looked not beautiful but attractive.
"Wow! Pretty haan!" Sushant, the frosty boss managed to say to her. He peered her and noticed the change.
"You look so..." Ramaswamy was still thinking. He thought he’d just leave it at that; no word, however beautiful, could express what he felt.
Neeti had a certain bounce about her today. She jumped about the office like a small girl would, when gifted a complete Barbie set. She called Kashif sometime after noon and told him everything about the conversation. This time also, like all the previous times, Kashif only listened.
"Yeh bohot bohot achi baat hain. Chalo abh mujhe thoda kaam hain. Main thodi der mein call karta hun aap ko."
"Okay KA-FISH! Babyeeee!"
It was 3 p.m. No call yet from Aman. Neeti grew restless. She was wondering about his well-being. She decided she would call him around 6 p.m. He could have been caught up with some work after all.
It was 7 p.m. and still no call. Kashif had called her a while ago and asked her to meet him at a bistro near Linking road. She could wait no longer and dialled Aman’s number. She waited for Aman to receive but the call went unanswered. In another 15 minutes, she re-dialled his number. And still no response. She turned panicky and again dialled after 2 minutes.
"Yes!" Rude tone.
"Aman darling! Are you all right?"
"Yes yaar. Why on earth are you calling continuously?" Irritate.
"Aman I was worried. I thought..."
"I don't care about what you thought. Just tell me why you've called."
"Aman, why are you yelling like this? I was worried and that is why I called. And you could have..."
"Listen! I am not interested in your speech. Please get to the point. And quick!"
Neeti took a deep breath; her fears were rising. "Aman you said last night you would call and then you ..."
"Neeti I didn't remember."
"But Aman we spoke till 6 a.m! And you said..."
"Yes! 6 a.m and you still have things to talk about?"
"Aman, how are you talking to me? Look at your tone. Do you remember what you said last night?"
"Last night... Neeti... I was drunk... Some shots of tequila, I forgot the count after some time and ..."
Neeti felt like she heard a bat screech in her ear. Her heart pounded within her chest, like seeking an opportunity to tear and come out. Her eyes were too shocked to break into tears.
"Aman do you remember you said you loved me? Do you remember your commitment?"
"Neeti all I can say is that I was drunk. What do you expect? I won't say anything more."
"You don't have to Aman. You just don't have to."
Kashif was waiting in the bistro. The 3 ear-to-ear smiling waiters stood up; one with flowers, another with a cake and the third with a gift. Neeti walked in like zombie and stood next to Kashif. He noticed she looked good in her attire but walked strangely, as if she had just seen a ghost. Her face was drained out of colour. Work stress?
Kashif signalled the waiters and the young chaps placed the things one by one, very cordially on the table specially decorated.
"Neeti! Hello ji. Dekho maine pura cafe book kiya. Aaj ka din jashn ka hain. Meri party aap ki khushi ke liye. Aajo ji and cake cut karo."
No response.
"Neeti... Neeti... Kya hua?"
Neeti looked at the cake and read "Mubarak ho Neeti aur Aman. Khush raho."
"Woh piya hua tha Kashif." She looked into his eyes, stone-cold.
Her breathing was heavy and slowly her eyes watered. Kashif was too stunned and only kept staring at the familiar woman in front of him.
Birth and death are extreme situations when a person falls short of words. But this is one situation, which is neither of the two, and yet feels the same. Nothing said can make you feel good. Nothing done can lighten your shoulders. They are just burdensome. Sometimes loaded with happiness and sometimes with sadness. They have to be borne with. Whether alone or in company, the outcome and the emotions are the same.
Kashif felt she was going to faint that moment and hugged her. She hugged back and bore her mouth into his shoulder not to let her cries be heard.
"Usse kuch yaad nahin hain Kashif... usse kuch bhi yaad nahin." She cried and repeated the words over and over again.
Something was dying and nobody could help.
Neeti was yet to get the hang of the typical Mumbaikar attitude. She was very professional at work. Ignorant of emotions, feelings. But when at home, in solitude, she turned very vulnerable. It was like living dual personalities in one day. The point noteworthy is that she played both roles really well.
Speaking to Kashif, once a day at least, had become a ritual now. Neeti mostly spoke about Aman, while Kashif only listened and gave his opinion only when asked for. He knew that when she spoke to him, in reality she was talking to herself. She was fighting a lost battle. Sometimes, Neeti went on for hours in English and Kashif understood nothing but got the gist. He noticed the gradual change in the conversations. Neeti had begun blaming herself for all that went wrong. For more than 2 months she went on like that. Then she was slowly opening up. She had started telling him about particular incidents. Some good and some bad. Now, she had slowly started blaming Aman. She pointed out to the small mistakes he made and she noticed but never told him.
On one such occasion, when Neeti and Kashif were in a deep conversation around late night, Neeti's phone suddenly beeped. She looked into the screen of her handset. What she saw made her stop her breathing. "Kashif, woh call kar raha hain.""Kaun?" Kashif didn't have clue.Neeti couldn’t even take Aman's name. Something within her made her nervous. "Wahi! Aur kaun!""Baat kar lo. Baad mein baat karte hain."
Before she could say anything further, Kashif's line went dead. The other line had become active. Her smart phone, which she adored the most, among all the gizmos she owned, had become a piece of abhorrence. It kept flashing "Aman calling...”. She took in a deep breath; to get rid of the empty feeling coupled with an icy sensation, and received the call.
"Aman!" She only whispered.
"Neeti".
Gosh, she had heard that voice after 3 months. She didn't know what to feel and what not to. She was too dumbstruck to respond. The kind of feeling one gets after having a huge blob of ice-cream in the mouth, like a greedy child. The same numbness. The brain-freeze. The dilemma of choosing between spitting out the ice-cream or gulping it down in one shot.
"I didn't call to bother you. Just wanted to talk to you and see if everything is okay. We didn't speak for a long time."
"Aman. How are you?"
"I'm good. Are you really bothered about how I am?" Sarcasm, she made a mental note.
"Yes, Aman. I'm not into formalities and you know that well." The tone wasn't firm but Neeti tried.
"Then what happened for three months? Why didn't you ask me then?"
"Aman you know why." Neeti realised she was still making herself believe she was talking to Aman, by saying his name before every response.
"No, I dont. Please tell me why."
"Aman you broke up with me. You didn't want to be with me anymore. The last time you came you gave me all the reasons as to why we're not meant to be together. And here you are asking me why I haven't called you." Neeti broke down.
"Oh baby! Please don't cry. I was a jerk. I'm sorry. But I can't just commit. I still love you. I really do."
Neeti's mind was spinning by now. She heard the words and was gasping for air.
"Aman..." She cried. Only her sobs could be heard. Her mouth went dry and she couldn't stop the tears. Her breath was deep. That 1BHK where she lived suddenly seemed too small making her claustrophobic. She ran to the refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle and drank huge sips of water.Aman was surprisingly patient; he heard her cry and said not a word.
"Aman I have died everyday without you. I have craved for these words. Aman! What do I say!"
"Well there is only one way you could reply to these words."
"Of course, you idiot. I love you more than anything. More than anyone."
They spoke till 6 a.m. She was still not sleepy and could go on for another couple of hours without a blink. But Aman had started dragging words and yawning loudly.
"You're sleepy. Should we sleep off now?"
"Thank God you asked. Yes, my bachu. We should sleep off. And I'll call you in the morning."
"Okay." Said Neeti, half-heartedly.
"Yeah. Goodnight."
The line went dead. Neeti kept looking at her cellphone. Suddenly that piece of embedded-technology seemed the world to her. She jumped on her bed and gave out a small scream in her pillow. Her happiness couldn't be contained. For a moment she thought she would call the Nokia guys and tell them their masterpiece, which she owned, had given her the biggest happiness of her life.
People say its' tough when you don't have people around to share sadness and sorrow. But the truth is deeper. Its' tougher when you have happiness and don't have anyone to talk to. Sorrow can come out as tears; or as a write-up in your diary; or a blog or sometimes even a poetry. But happiness gives you such a high that only talking can help dilute. May be because happiness brings along with it some kind of loneliness too with it.
Neeti tried to get some sleep. She dreamt of Aman and smiled in her sleep.
It was 10 a.m. The Gulmohar in the neighbouring compound looked brighter. The birds had become chirpy. Neeti felt even the soap she used every day, smelled better, lemony and tangy. She felt fresh as a peppermint. The lack of sleep didn't affect her in anyway. In fact, her face glowed. She quickly got dressed. For a change, to commemorate the special event, she wore her new Prussian blue satin top and paired it with a pair of fine blue Levi's jeans. She picked her bag and hopped down the stairs and then to the street. The dainty dressed woman caught attention where ever she went. She looked not beautiful but attractive.
"Wow! Pretty haan!" Sushant, the frosty boss managed to say to her. He peered her and noticed the change.
"You look so..." Ramaswamy was still thinking. He thought he’d just leave it at that; no word, however beautiful, could express what he felt.
Neeti had a certain bounce about her today. She jumped about the office like a small girl would, when gifted a complete Barbie set. She called Kashif sometime after noon and told him everything about the conversation. This time also, like all the previous times, Kashif only listened.
"Yeh bohot bohot achi baat hain. Chalo abh mujhe thoda kaam hain. Main thodi der mein call karta hun aap ko."
"Okay KA-FISH! Babyeeee!"
It was 3 p.m. No call yet from Aman. Neeti grew restless. She was wondering about his well-being. She decided she would call him around 6 p.m. He could have been caught up with some work after all.
It was 7 p.m. and still no call. Kashif had called her a while ago and asked her to meet him at a bistro near Linking road. She could wait no longer and dialled Aman’s number. She waited for Aman to receive but the call went unanswered. In another 15 minutes, she re-dialled his number. And still no response. She turned panicky and again dialled after 2 minutes.
"Yes!" Rude tone.
"Aman darling! Are you all right?"
"Yes yaar. Why on earth are you calling continuously?" Irritate.
"Aman I was worried. I thought..."
"I don't care about what you thought. Just tell me why you've called."
"Aman, why are you yelling like this? I was worried and that is why I called. And you could have..."
"Listen! I am not interested in your speech. Please get to the point. And quick!"
Neeti took a deep breath; her fears were rising. "Aman you said last night you would call and then you ..."
"Neeti I didn't remember."
"But Aman we spoke till 6 a.m! And you said..."
"Yes! 6 a.m and you still have things to talk about?"
"Aman, how are you talking to me? Look at your tone. Do you remember what you said last night?"
"Last night... Neeti... I was drunk... Some shots of tequila, I forgot the count after some time and ..."
Neeti felt like she heard a bat screech in her ear. Her heart pounded within her chest, like seeking an opportunity to tear and come out. Her eyes were too shocked to break into tears.
"Aman do you remember you said you loved me? Do you remember your commitment?"
"Neeti all I can say is that I was drunk. What do you expect? I won't say anything more."
"You don't have to Aman. You just don't have to."
Kashif was waiting in the bistro. The 3 ear-to-ear smiling waiters stood up; one with flowers, another with a cake and the third with a gift. Neeti walked in like zombie and stood next to Kashif. He noticed she looked good in her attire but walked strangely, as if she had just seen a ghost. Her face was drained out of colour. Work stress?
Kashif signalled the waiters and the young chaps placed the things one by one, very cordially on the table specially decorated.
"Neeti! Hello ji. Dekho maine pura cafe book kiya. Aaj ka din jashn ka hain. Meri party aap ki khushi ke liye. Aajo ji and cake cut karo."
No response.
"Neeti... Neeti... Kya hua?"
Neeti looked at the cake and read "Mubarak ho Neeti aur Aman. Khush raho."
"Woh piya hua tha Kashif." She looked into his eyes, stone-cold.
Her breathing was heavy and slowly her eyes watered. Kashif was too stunned and only kept staring at the familiar woman in front of him.
Birth and death are extreme situations when a person falls short of words. But this is one situation, which is neither of the two, and yet feels the same. Nothing said can make you feel good. Nothing done can lighten your shoulders. They are just burdensome. Sometimes loaded with happiness and sometimes with sadness. They have to be borne with. Whether alone or in company, the outcome and the emotions are the same.
Kashif felt she was going to faint that moment and hugged her. She hugged back and bore her mouth into his shoulder not to let her cries be heard.
"Usse kuch yaad nahin hain Kashif... usse kuch bhi yaad nahin." She cried and repeated the words over and over again.
Something was dying and nobody could help.
Friday 6 November 2009
The wait for the end... Part 6
They were the late summer days, sometime in June. The spicy humidity made way for the heavy monsoon showers that would pour down, not until July. The initial budding showers, popularly known as the ‘mango showers’, were a divine respite from the blistering heat. Their sudden and slight teeming made the Earth smell so beautifully that even les parfums de Davidoff couldn’t incite.
Neeti and her very close cousin, Nitya had decided to shop till they dropped. Well to be precise, it was Nitya’s plan and Neeti could never win an argument with this girl. Nitya had a certain charm about her which only some women could carry off well. She was a complete woman with not even a 0.5 percent of Tom-boy characteristic. She liked big, dangling ear-rings, perfectly matching necklaces, floral prints, heeled-sandals with the flawless click-clack sound. She was a woman so womanly and was so proud about it that even the most handsome/manly men found it daunting sometimes in her presence. But her absence made a bigger dent and she was the heart of all the parties her friends threw.
Neeti and Nitya began the shopping spree in Camp, Pune, only because Nitya knew Neeti was quite low and it was only the class and sophistication of Camp that could ameliorate things, since nothing else had worked. Nitya shopped and shopped. They didn’t spare a single showroom, small or big, without paying their due respects.
By evening, Nitya was tired and her sandals hurt her feet. She needed a good pedicure, she thought to herself. She noticed that Neeti, after all this while when it was time to go home, was turning out to be a zealot, the real her. Nitya tried to persuade her so they could go home but Neeti was ready for a party.
“Nee we have to be home by 9pm else you know what happens” proclaimed Nitya.
“Nutty come on! We have to go on a ride. Zooming speed! I’ll ride the Activa. Lets’ do something... something like... Got it! Lets’ cover our faces with the scarves and do some Adam-teasing... On the ride!”
“Nee u nuts! Hahahaha... Girl! What if they follow us and you know... trouble us etc etc.”
“Come on Grandma!” Neeti had that mischievous look and a smirk and Nitya knew exactly what it meant
“Nee you are... hahahahaha... Lets’ do it baby!”
“Yuhuuuuu!!!” And they both screamed in unison, unaware about the fact that at least a dozen people were gaping at them already.
Just then Nitya’s cell phone buzzed.
All Neeti could hear was “Oh Hi” then “Oh No!” and “How come” followed by “Where are you right now?” and lastly “We’ll be there in 30 minutes”.
“Meeth has met with an accident and we have to go and visit him.”
“No comments!” Neeti scowled.
In 20 minutes, the girls reached Kowhai, a lounge in a chic part of the city. The bouncer outside asked them for their passes, which they obviously didn’t have. So he instead coaxed them to pay cover charges. Nitya, smart that she was, said to him very curtly,
“Sir my friend is inside and he met with an accident right here, in YOUR lounge. He called me only so I could quickly help him with some bandages and money. So now if you don’t let me go, I may have to seek legal help.” Nitya then turned to Neeti and said “Neeti you are doing your third year in law and I think you may want to intervene.”
Neeti was too flabbergasted to understand what was going on. After a small tap on her hand from Nitya, she realised she had to respond. She made a faint attempt at giving a professional smile. She then heard herself say “Sir, we’ll be out in 15 minutes flat. Else you can sue us.”
The bouncer, a very tall and hefty guy, saw the truth in Neeti’s eyes and said “Okay ladies, here you go. But 15 minutes only. Else my job will be at stake.”
“That won’t happen. I won’t let it.” Neeti said with poise as if she owned the lounge.
The bouncer liked that confident remark and opened the door for the ladies. Nitya called Meeth and asked him where his table was. Meeth raised his hand and asked her to walk down 10 steps and look up.
The girls finally managed to find the table. There were three young men at a small low lying table and two vacant seats, one was next to Meeth, the other was alongside another guy who wasn’t acquainted, at least not to Neeti. It was by protocol, that Nitya sat next to her friend Meeth and it was by default that Neeti sat next to that unknown guy. Meeth and Nitya exchanged their Hellos and ‘Long time no see’. Meeth introduced his other to friends to the girls.
“Nitya you know Tejas. And Tejas, this is my Nitya. Her sister Neeti” Tejas and Nitya had seen each other before and knew very vaguely about the other. Neeti gave a plastic smile, but looked good with that too.“And this is Aman. Aman we’ve met Nitya before, so many times, right? This is her sister Neeti.”
“Neeti, you look great. I wonder how a girl can look so good in a simple Adidas white tee and smart blue jeans.” said Meeth.
“Just like a guy can look good enough in a plastered leg and a beer mug in his hand.” Aman immediately shot Neeti a look. He liked the presence of mind the girl flaunted. Neeti looked at him and smiled, not a genuine one though.
Nitya and Meeth were gradually absorbed in their conversation which was a good and enjoyable mix of gossip and old memories.
“So, Neeti, right?”
“The music here is loud but I guess we’re sitting close enough to hear each other.” This time Neeti smiled. A big one. Probably, even a few tones mocking.
Aman enjoyed that stint.
“So what do you do?”
“I’m a photographer, well an aspiring one.”
She didn’t ask Aman what he did and so Aman offered it himself.
“I’m into Insurance. I am a manager in an MNC. I have normally, a lot of targets to achieve and many places to travel.”
“Travelling. Wow! I like that. I have travelled to very few places though but have enjoyed every bit of it. Last time...” Neeti was unstoppable. She went on and on. Aman gave a few inputs here and there but preferred listening to her. Then after a while, Aman made a small joke, on which Neeti burst out laughing. Her laughter was a thundering. She laughed her heart out. Aman was so surprised at the reaction that his laughter was stopped even before it started.
It was right there that Aman gave a meticulous look to the girl next to him. He saw she had a clear complexion with a nose little crooked, big mesmerising eyes that could swallow a whale. He noticed that the compliment Meeth gave her was a complete understatement of what she really looked like. She was gorgeous in that simple white tee and blue jeans. The dull lights of the lounge couldn’t hide her small ears that looked innocent, as if they heard nothing bad. Her eye-brows were thick and the lashes beneath them, hid her eye lids just enough.
Neeti was still jabbering with Aman. After a few moments, they both looked around and realised three pairs of eyes staring. Nitya’s, Meeth’s and Tejas’s. To them it looked like, Neeti and Aman met each other way before, in the history of time. Neeti looked at Nitya and felt a bit embarrassed.
“Nutty we should be leaving now. Else the bouncer will have us for dinner!”
“Nee I think you are right. We have a lot to talk.” Nitya had a naughty look.
Just then Aman interjected.
“Hey you can sit for some more time. I’ll go and talk to the bouncer. No problems then. Don’t go... I mean no need to go.”
Tejas noticed the desperation and exchanged a quick look with Meeth.
“Aman, I’m sorry but I have to leave. I had a nice time. See you guys. Bye. Nutty come on.”
Nitya bid her byes to all and the girls got out from there. They went to the two-wheeler in the parking lot just when Neeti realised there was something she had forgoten. She walked back near the lounge and to the bouncer.
“Sir you are a kind man. Thank you so much.”
The bouncer was speechless; he just managed to smile and saw the girls zoom off on their blue two-wheeler.
On the way Nitya pestered Neeti with all sorts of questions about Aman. Nitya said that she found Aman cute. Neeti didn’t think so but she kept mum. After they reached home Nitya made a last attempt to tease Neeti and get something out of it.
“You dumbo! Aman was drooling over you. I could see it. Me and Meeth stopped talking and looked at you guys for more than 10 minutes and you didn’t even realise. Aman had ‘that’ look, honey! He has your number too.” Nitya winked.
“What? I didn’t give him my number.”
“Well, I did. A long time back when you were finding a job, Meeth asked me to contact Aman . That is when I gave him your number. If you remember you have even spoken to this guy. Just two lines because he said that he was in a meeting and would get back to you, which he didn’t. But now I guess, he must be repenting and I’m sure will want to get back to you under any pretext. Hahahaha”
“Nutty its’ not like the way you think. I was all upbeat and wanted to have fun. Just when Meeth calls and you quickly chuck our plan and zoom me off to meet him. I still had that bubbling energy stored in me and given the first opportunity I used it in talking to Aman and that’s about it.”
“Nee you are boring. Lets’ get into the house now, else you know what music will play.”
The next day Nitya received a call from Meeth around brunch time. He wanted all the five of them to meet, again. Nitya sensed what it meant and told Neeti about the call.
Neeti decided this was a good opportunity to rectify the wrong signals she unintentionally sent out to Aman. The girls after a lot of discussion agreed to meet them. Same place.
“Hi, Neeti.” Aman gave her a heart warming smile.
“Hi.” Neeti didn’t return his smile. She made sure she didn’t sit next to him. For a long time she spoke to Tejas. They sounded like some huge business deal would be signed and ultimately a conglomeration of two huge business empires would be on cards.
Aman found it a little funny. So he quietly asked Neeti “Are you okay? You don’t sound enthu. Today.”
“I’m good, never felt better!” Neeti didn’t even look at him.
The evening passed quite awkwardly, for all. But at the end of it, Neeti was happy that she had put in efforts to clean the mess and though not completely, had succeeded.
Suddenly a huge wave hit the platform and Neeti jolted. She realised she was still sitting next to Kashif on Marines Lines, with his hand on her head. She looked around just to make sure the second time. All the memories she had so far seemed so of-this-moment even with her eyes wide open. It seemed like yesterday.
Kashif looked at her as if he had read all her thoughts all the while and had hoped he’d feature in somewhere. But that meant too much to ask for. It was hoping against hope.
Neeti looked at her watch and saw that the watch had struck 11pm. The night had prevailed. She moved and very slowly stood up. Her eyes hurt but her lips managed to smile. Kashif got the hint and stood up. They walked to his car, sat inside and turned on the radio. It was the Ghazal show being played and every song suited the circumstance. Kashif keyed the sedan to start and drove, while Neeti opened the window and let the wind blow on her face and mess her long untied hair.
Tuesday 3 November 2009
The wait for the end... Part 5
After a controllable flood, damage worth a few million rupees and despoliation of a few suburbs, the monsoon showers of Mumbai seemed gratified. The city’s commotion was upbeat. The schools and colleges were buoyant. The taxi drivers, rickshaw riders, fruit vendors, pedlars floated about the city. Not a chance of making a few bucks was missed. The “Spirit of Mumbai” was restored. The rains did manage to do considerable damage but even after determined efforts, it could not subordinate the Mumbaikars.
Neeti had taken an off from office for more than a fortnight now. Her boss was vexed. Her colleagues were worried and Ramu was perturbed. She had switched off her cell phone for long durations for most days. When the cell was switched on, the calls went unattended. Reaching Neeti had become a major concern in the office and a catastrophe for the handful of friends Neeti had. Sushant, her suspicious boss, even offered her an unbelievable hike and a tempting promotion in the near future. But Neeti, instead of jumping up with joy, turned down the offers and reassured Sushant that she had no intention of switching companies. Ramu made a short trip to her flat, while on an errand and returned disturbed himself.
On a certain Wednesday, Ramu noticed that Neeti’s cubicle phone had been ringing incessantly. He decided to receive the call the next time the phone rang. In a matter of few minutes, the phone did ring and Ramu, without wasting any time, picked the receiver and pulled the cradle nearer.
“Hello! Neeti’s desk.”
“Ji hume Neeti se baat karni hain.” There came a polite reply.
“Aiyo Sir Neeti nahin aaya office. Woh nahin aayega kuch dino ke liye”
“Acha? Aisa kyun?”
“Sir details nahin malum. Aap kaun bolta ji?”
“Ji main... Main unka ek dost hun. Kashif. Woh mobile bandh rakhtin hain tho maine yahan call karna munasib samjha.”
“Kya samjha Sir?”
“Huh?? Woh... tik samjha”
“Oh wokay wokay. Sir woh cell phone bandh karta hain. Disturb nahin hone ka thoda time.”
“Ji acha. Shukriya! Khuda-hafiz.”
The conversation left Kashif in a tizzy. Ramaswamy’s words played over and over again. What could have gone wrong with Neeti, after all? He imagined the worst. Every second seemed more and more difficult to pass. He looked up at the ceiling, stopped his breath for a few seconds and shut his eyes. The sound of his silent breath also seemed disturbing. He took off the Rolex watch from his left wrist and placed it on the table. He felt the urgent need for silence. Vanilla-plain silence. In a few minutes he opened his eyes, replayed the recent telephonic conversation for the umpteenth time and gauged the options he had. He could choose to sit and wait, till Neeti took her time and then approached him. Or he could go to her place, uninvited and even feeling unwanted. He knew himself too well.
The drive from his Worli apartment to Bandra seemed never ending. The minute Kashif reached Neeti’s society premises; he shoved the car in some corner on the road, without even glancing if it was a ‘No Parking’. He took huge steps and reached the floor where Neeti lived. He was about to knock the door when suddenly he felt a receding force within. Thoughts of what Neeti would think came gushing down. She could think he was prying. Or maybe even acting like an opportunist. He sat on the first step and looked down at his slippers. It now occurred to him that he had rushed in his ordinary slippers, he had carried no wallet and to top it all, he had worn lemon yellow pyjamas. Here he was just a knock away, from the love of his life, dressed perfectly for a slumber party.
Some self-reprimanding and gritting of teeth gave Kashif the courage to knock the door. He knocked it lightly the first time, as if to make sure he had the courage to do it again. Then the second time he hit the door a bit harder. There was no response. He knocked even harder. This time, a petit voice called out “Who’s there?”
Kashif realised he had to act cheeky now. If he mentioned his name, the door wouldn’t open, obviously because none of his calls were answered or returned. “Bill madam”
Neeti didn’t bother to look through the peep hole. The reply convinced her to open the door. When she did open the door wide enough, she saw Kashif stand in front of her. She looked him in the eye, turned back and went into the kitchen. Kashif came in, closed the door behind him and sat in the corner of a sofa, scared and alarmed.
Neeti had grown pale. She looked different. Her complexion had grown a few tones lighter but didn’t glow. Her nose was red and the skin was worn out. She had developed a cognisable amount of dark circles and looked ill. Kashif heard a few harsh coughs from the kitchen. Neeti walked out with a tray of two steaming mugs and placed it on the side table. She handed Kashif, tea and had prepared coffee for her herself.
“Mujhe pata hain aap chai peete ho, coffee nahin.”
Kashif looked at the small girl sitting in front of him, who had grown even smaller in size now. He didn’t know what to reply to the meticulous observatory remark Neeti just made.
A long pause of silence prevailed. Neeti sipped endlessly till she finished her cuppa.
“Yuhu! I finished first... Main race jeet gayi.” The feeble attempt to make merry was dismissed by both. Yet Neeti smiled. Kashif opened his mouth to say something just when the door bell rang; a furious ring this time. Neeti hurriedly opened the door and saw her neighbour standing.
“Oh! Hello Uncle!”
“Neeti your guest has parked his car on my lot. Please ask him to move it.” The reply was curt.
“Sorry Uncle. He may not have realised.”
“Where should a man in his late seventies find new place to park his old Bug? I have been parking there since 30 years now.”
“Sorry Uncle.” Neeti didn’t need all that talk at this time.
Neeti quickly informed Kashif about the problem. He, without wasting a minute, picked his keys and went to the door. Suddenly he turned back and said to her “Neeti chalo!”. There was no asking or pleading or requesting. It was an order. Neeti didn’t attempt to disobey. She instead obliged him.
A few quick steps and they reached his brand new Chevrolet sedan. Neeti didn’t notice the change in vehicle and stood next to the car. Kashif unlocked the car remotely and sat behind the wheel; then told Neeti to get in. Neeti numbly sat next to him and uttered no word of reluctance. Kashif drove smoothly and seemed disinterested in the new car or its features. This car, for now, seemed nothing more than a utility.
After a whole hour of driving and utter silence, with the exception of a few horns of other vehicles, Neeti spoke.
“Woh aaya tha. Kuch din pehle. Mere ghar pe.” Neeti kept looking ahead, into a huge zero.
Kashif gave her a quick look, just to make sure she was comfortable talking about this.
“Hamari kaafi behes hui. Woh ek hafte pehlese hi Mumbai mein tha par usne call karna jaayaz nahin samjha. Aane se pehle bhi usne call nahin kiya.”
Again a hurtful silence prevailed. But this time, not for long.
“Maine usse pucha hamare future ke baare mein. Pehele tho usne kaha woh tayar nahin hain.”
Neeti choked. There was nothing that could hold her tears back. She wept.
“Maine fir zor diya. Aur usne saaf mana kar diya. Woh apna career banana chahta hain. Main uske aade aa rahi hun.”
The words she uttered killed her from within. She grasped how difficult it was for her to say this; whereas for Aman, the same words spurted like a casual ‘Hi’ or a ‘Hello’.
Kashif stopped the car near the Marine Lines. He knew this was the only place she would want to be. For that matter, any person who lives in Mumbai knows that Marine Lines is the place where you can be yourself without any glitch. Happiness, sorrow, joy, anxiousness, remorse; you could share all of it with the Arabian Sea. The sea takes in all that you give it. It listens like a loving and patient grandmother. Occasionally, it does reply with a gush of water.
Neeti sat on the famous Marine Lines platform. She didn’t face the wide ocean today. She rather faced her back to it and sat looking at a tall building housing a plush seven star hotel. Kashif stood with hands folded-crossed in front of him.
“I love him. I want to be with him.”
Kashif needed no translation. He knew what it meant and that hurt.
“Neeti usse firse ek baar baat karlo.”
“Kashif woh nahin chahta mujhe abh. Woh mujhse duur jana chahta hain.”
“Neeti kya main usse baat...”
Neeti looked up at him immediately and promptly replied “Nahin. Kabhi nahin.”
Neeti began wallowing. The situation seemed to grow worse with her cries. Kashif sat next to her and kept a hand on her head. He let her cry. He placed her head on his shoulder, took out a white, neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. Neeti wept harder. Kashif’s T-shirt was partly soaked at the right arm corner. He didn’t flinch for a second. He sat still, still keeping his hand on her forehead. He felt helpless. He knew this period was there to stay for a while. And it was painful and would grow even more in a few days; not only for Neeti but for him as well. After all, love is like a crescendo. For the fortunate ones, its’ like the periwinkles which never cease to bloom; but for the unfortunate or unlucky ones, its’ like an incurable cancer growing within, quietly and secretly, deceiving and making illusory promises.
Neeti’s soft weeping continued and Kashif knew the wait for the end had begun.
Neeti had taken an off from office for more than a fortnight now. Her boss was vexed. Her colleagues were worried and Ramu was perturbed. She had switched off her cell phone for long durations for most days. When the cell was switched on, the calls went unattended. Reaching Neeti had become a major concern in the office and a catastrophe for the handful of friends Neeti had. Sushant, her suspicious boss, even offered her an unbelievable hike and a tempting promotion in the near future. But Neeti, instead of jumping up with joy, turned down the offers and reassured Sushant that she had no intention of switching companies. Ramu made a short trip to her flat, while on an errand and returned disturbed himself.
On a certain Wednesday, Ramu noticed that Neeti’s cubicle phone had been ringing incessantly. He decided to receive the call the next time the phone rang. In a matter of few minutes, the phone did ring and Ramu, without wasting any time, picked the receiver and pulled the cradle nearer.
“Hello! Neeti’s desk.”
“Ji hume Neeti se baat karni hain.” There came a polite reply.
“Aiyo Sir Neeti nahin aaya office. Woh nahin aayega kuch dino ke liye”
“Acha? Aisa kyun?”
“Sir details nahin malum. Aap kaun bolta ji?”
“Ji main... Main unka ek dost hun. Kashif. Woh mobile bandh rakhtin hain tho maine yahan call karna munasib samjha.”
“Kya samjha Sir?”
“Huh?? Woh... tik samjha”
“Oh wokay wokay. Sir woh cell phone bandh karta hain. Disturb nahin hone ka thoda time.”
“Ji acha. Shukriya! Khuda-hafiz.”
The conversation left Kashif in a tizzy. Ramaswamy’s words played over and over again. What could have gone wrong with Neeti, after all? He imagined the worst. Every second seemed more and more difficult to pass. He looked up at the ceiling, stopped his breath for a few seconds and shut his eyes. The sound of his silent breath also seemed disturbing. He took off the Rolex watch from his left wrist and placed it on the table. He felt the urgent need for silence. Vanilla-plain silence. In a few minutes he opened his eyes, replayed the recent telephonic conversation for the umpteenth time and gauged the options he had. He could choose to sit and wait, till Neeti took her time and then approached him. Or he could go to her place, uninvited and even feeling unwanted. He knew himself too well.
The drive from his Worli apartment to Bandra seemed never ending. The minute Kashif reached Neeti’s society premises; he shoved the car in some corner on the road, without even glancing if it was a ‘No Parking’. He took huge steps and reached the floor where Neeti lived. He was about to knock the door when suddenly he felt a receding force within. Thoughts of what Neeti would think came gushing down. She could think he was prying. Or maybe even acting like an opportunist. He sat on the first step and looked down at his slippers. It now occurred to him that he had rushed in his ordinary slippers, he had carried no wallet and to top it all, he had worn lemon yellow pyjamas. Here he was just a knock away, from the love of his life, dressed perfectly for a slumber party.
Some self-reprimanding and gritting of teeth gave Kashif the courage to knock the door. He knocked it lightly the first time, as if to make sure he had the courage to do it again. Then the second time he hit the door a bit harder. There was no response. He knocked even harder. This time, a petit voice called out “Who’s there?”
Kashif realised he had to act cheeky now. If he mentioned his name, the door wouldn’t open, obviously because none of his calls were answered or returned. “Bill madam”
Neeti didn’t bother to look through the peep hole. The reply convinced her to open the door. When she did open the door wide enough, she saw Kashif stand in front of her. She looked him in the eye, turned back and went into the kitchen. Kashif came in, closed the door behind him and sat in the corner of a sofa, scared and alarmed.
Neeti had grown pale. She looked different. Her complexion had grown a few tones lighter but didn’t glow. Her nose was red and the skin was worn out. She had developed a cognisable amount of dark circles and looked ill. Kashif heard a few harsh coughs from the kitchen. Neeti walked out with a tray of two steaming mugs and placed it on the side table. She handed Kashif, tea and had prepared coffee for her herself.
“Mujhe pata hain aap chai peete ho, coffee nahin.”
Kashif looked at the small girl sitting in front of him, who had grown even smaller in size now. He didn’t know what to reply to the meticulous observatory remark Neeti just made.
A long pause of silence prevailed. Neeti sipped endlessly till she finished her cuppa.
“Yuhu! I finished first... Main race jeet gayi.” The feeble attempt to make merry was dismissed by both. Yet Neeti smiled. Kashif opened his mouth to say something just when the door bell rang; a furious ring this time. Neeti hurriedly opened the door and saw her neighbour standing.
“Oh! Hello Uncle!”
“Neeti your guest has parked his car on my lot. Please ask him to move it.” The reply was curt.
“Sorry Uncle. He may not have realised.”
“Where should a man in his late seventies find new place to park his old Bug? I have been parking there since 30 years now.”
“Sorry Uncle.” Neeti didn’t need all that talk at this time.
Neeti quickly informed Kashif about the problem. He, without wasting a minute, picked his keys and went to the door. Suddenly he turned back and said to her “Neeti chalo!”. There was no asking or pleading or requesting. It was an order. Neeti didn’t attempt to disobey. She instead obliged him.
A few quick steps and they reached his brand new Chevrolet sedan. Neeti didn’t notice the change in vehicle and stood next to the car. Kashif unlocked the car remotely and sat behind the wheel; then told Neeti to get in. Neeti numbly sat next to him and uttered no word of reluctance. Kashif drove smoothly and seemed disinterested in the new car or its features. This car, for now, seemed nothing more than a utility.
After a whole hour of driving and utter silence, with the exception of a few horns of other vehicles, Neeti spoke.
“Woh aaya tha. Kuch din pehle. Mere ghar pe.” Neeti kept looking ahead, into a huge zero.
Kashif gave her a quick look, just to make sure she was comfortable talking about this.
“Hamari kaafi behes hui. Woh ek hafte pehlese hi Mumbai mein tha par usne call karna jaayaz nahin samjha. Aane se pehle bhi usne call nahin kiya.”
Again a hurtful silence prevailed. But this time, not for long.
“Maine usse pucha hamare future ke baare mein. Pehele tho usne kaha woh tayar nahin hain.”
Neeti choked. There was nothing that could hold her tears back. She wept.
“Maine fir zor diya. Aur usne saaf mana kar diya. Woh apna career banana chahta hain. Main uske aade aa rahi hun.”
The words she uttered killed her from within. She grasped how difficult it was for her to say this; whereas for Aman, the same words spurted like a casual ‘Hi’ or a ‘Hello’.
Kashif stopped the car near the Marine Lines. He knew this was the only place she would want to be. For that matter, any person who lives in Mumbai knows that Marine Lines is the place where you can be yourself without any glitch. Happiness, sorrow, joy, anxiousness, remorse; you could share all of it with the Arabian Sea. The sea takes in all that you give it. It listens like a loving and patient grandmother. Occasionally, it does reply with a gush of water.
Neeti sat on the famous Marine Lines platform. She didn’t face the wide ocean today. She rather faced her back to it and sat looking at a tall building housing a plush seven star hotel. Kashif stood with hands folded-crossed in front of him.
“I love him. I want to be with him.”
Kashif needed no translation. He knew what it meant and that hurt.
“Neeti usse firse ek baar baat karlo.”
“Kashif woh nahin chahta mujhe abh. Woh mujhse duur jana chahta hain.”
“Neeti kya main usse baat...”
Neeti looked up at him immediately and promptly replied “Nahin. Kabhi nahin.”
Neeti began wallowing. The situation seemed to grow worse with her cries. Kashif sat next to her and kept a hand on her head. He let her cry. He placed her head on his shoulder, took out a white, neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. Neeti wept harder. Kashif’s T-shirt was partly soaked at the right arm corner. He didn’t flinch for a second. He sat still, still keeping his hand on her forehead. He felt helpless. He knew this period was there to stay for a while. And it was painful and would grow even more in a few days; not only for Neeti but for him as well. After all, love is like a crescendo. For the fortunate ones, its’ like the periwinkles which never cease to bloom; but for the unfortunate or unlucky ones, its’ like an incurable cancer growing within, quietly and secretly, deceiving and making illusory promises.
Neeti’s soft weeping continued and Kashif knew the wait for the end had begun.
Monday 2 November 2009
The wait for the end... Part 4
The monsoons in Mumbai seemed eternal. There was no stopping. The government officials had already sent out a flood alert and advised people not to go out of home for a few days unless inevitable. But the seasoned Mumbaikars have a unique way of tackling rains. Their policy is simple, “When you can’t beat it, join it.” That is exactly what they do. This rubs on the new-comers as well and within no time are they ready to tackle the next rains.
But as the saying goes, “There are exceptions to every rule”, this one has one too. Neeti! She tried every possible thing on earth, even Yoga, but nothing could calm her when it rained. One day it dawned on her and she gave up trying. But it was too late and she had caught the flu already. Cold, cough, stuffy nose and red eyes, Neeti was full of it. She grew paler by the day and her voice had cracked. She sounded funny. Some of her colleagues called her “Local SRK”.
It was a dull afternoon and the Sun had conveniently hid behind the clouds. Neeti was loading the pictures from her camera onto her desktop machine. She was browsing through the pictures she had clicked. Just then a voice said “This one is very good”. Neeti turned to the familiar voice and smiled at Ramu. He was always in awe of Neeti’s sense of originality, creativity and excellence. “But Ramu they aren’t enough. Our boss thinks otherwise.” Neeti looked at her boss’s cabin and frowned.
“Don’t consider his opinion... He’s a sadist.”
“Unfortunately for me, that sadist decides my promotion and hikes.”
“Hmmm. Why are you loading them on the desktop? You never do that. ”
Neeti giggled. “Ramu my camera is becoming heavier, every passing day and I can’t bear to carry its weight”. There was a laugh in the adjoining cube, which meant an acknowledgement of her small joke.
Ramu grinned. “Neeti I got to go. See you later.”
“Yup! Bye Ramu.”
After four consecutive sneezes, her colleagues requested her to call it a day. Neeti agreed and packed her bag. She slipped in her camera, a pen drive, two books and her cell phone. Within 10 minutes, she was downstairs looking for a rickshaw.
“Auto!!!” she yelled in her cracked voice.
The rickshaw took a turn and came to where she was. She asked him if he would drop her to Bandra. The rider signalled her to sit. She quickly got in and told him exactly where she wanted to go. The rickshaw rider rode like he was on a horseback in a battle. Neeti shut her eyes, sneezing every five minutes.
In thirty minutes Neeti was home. She took in a deep breath and placed her keys on the table and flung her bag on the chair. She threw herself on the bed, bouncing once. She had a lot of time in hand and didn’t know what to do with it. She made a few calls and asked for some medicines and food to be delivered. Within no time she was asleep.
The door bell rang miserably. Neeti jolted and realised she had to get the door. She dragged her feet and opened the door. The delivery boy handed her the parcel, tendered the change and left.
Neeti quickly had the food and drank a lot of hot water to give her sore throat some solace. She looked at the medicine bottles and tablet strips and frowned. After a lot of convincing she tore open the strip to reveal a white tablet. She was all set to have it just when someone banged on the door.
Neeti’s eyes opened wide. She wasn’t expecting anyone. And it wasn’t a bell ring; instead it was a bang on the door. This was reason enough to be suspicious. In Mumbai life is so planned that there is not a minute to let in an unexpected guest. Every minute has a task to be done. Time flies off here like an eye blink.
“Who is it?”
“Open up Neeti.”
Neeti went cold. The blood was drained out of her face. She recognised the voice and opened the door like a robot.
“Aman!” she exclaimed.
“Who else were you expecting?”
“Well, you could have called up before coming.”
“Its’ ok Neeti. I just came to see you. I felt like SEEING you, its’ been long.”
“When did you come to Mumbai?”
“A week back.” The reply was very casual. And it cut through Neeti’s heart in a way that she felt a lump grow in her throat.
Aman pushed his way inside. He sat on the sofa and sighed relief.
“The rains are horrible. I don’t know how people manage all this.”
“Well it depends on person to person. For me, after such a long time, I still haven’t learnt to.” Neeti sounded acrimonious. The words had a pun. And Aman didn’t miss on the hidden meaning. He pursed his lips.
“Neeti I have been missing you crazily. But I have been so tied up with work lately. I don’t have time for anything.”
“But somehow you do have time to spend with your friends.”
“Neeti that is the only thing I do other than work. Come on yaar. Can’t you see me happy for some time?”
“Why have you come here Aman?”
“I thought I told you already Neeti. Let me repeat it for you. I came here to see you.”
“Well, in that case you should leave. You’ve seen me enough now.”
“I fail to understand you.” Aman almost shouted. “When I call you, you are rude. When I don’t call you are hurt. I’ve come here to see you and you are asking me to leave. What do you want me to do?”
“Aman, you know what I want.”
“God! You are impossible. I told you I need time Neeti. I am not sure about anything now.”
“Aman its’ been 2 years now. How much more time do you need?”
“Neeti I need a glass of water now. Nothing else would do. Please fetch me one if you can.”
Neeti paced her steps towards her small kitchen and fetched a glass of water. She was all worked up. There are some situations where God helps you. And there are some where God tests you. But this situation seemed none of the two types. There had to be a new category for this one.
These are like one of those times, where you have been forced to play tennis and you haven’t even held a racket in your hand ever before. The one at other end by default is an ace player and smashes the ball towards you with full vengeance. The ball passes by you leaving you gaping with agony and shame, rocket zooming and questioning your very existence.
Aman called out to Neeti loudly. Her chain of thoughts was suddenly broken and she quickened her steps outside and handed him the glass of water. She knew what she should say and what she would say. The difference in both made her stomach twist and turn.
“Aman we need to talk.” Neeti looked Aman in the eye and said it firmly.
Aman understood the seriousness of her tone and realised that it was no time to beat around the bush. He had to answer her.
But as the saying goes, “There are exceptions to every rule”, this one has one too. Neeti! She tried every possible thing on earth, even Yoga, but nothing could calm her when it rained. One day it dawned on her and she gave up trying. But it was too late and she had caught the flu already. Cold, cough, stuffy nose and red eyes, Neeti was full of it. She grew paler by the day and her voice had cracked. She sounded funny. Some of her colleagues called her “Local SRK”.
It was a dull afternoon and the Sun had conveniently hid behind the clouds. Neeti was loading the pictures from her camera onto her desktop machine. She was browsing through the pictures she had clicked. Just then a voice said “This one is very good”. Neeti turned to the familiar voice and smiled at Ramu. He was always in awe of Neeti’s sense of originality, creativity and excellence. “But Ramu they aren’t enough. Our boss thinks otherwise.” Neeti looked at her boss’s cabin and frowned.
“Don’t consider his opinion... He’s a sadist.”
“Unfortunately for me, that sadist decides my promotion and hikes.”
“Hmmm. Why are you loading them on the desktop? You never do that. ”
Neeti giggled. “Ramu my camera is becoming heavier, every passing day and I can’t bear to carry its weight”. There was a laugh in the adjoining cube, which meant an acknowledgement of her small joke.
Ramu grinned. “Neeti I got to go. See you later.”
“Yup! Bye Ramu.”
After four consecutive sneezes, her colleagues requested her to call it a day. Neeti agreed and packed her bag. She slipped in her camera, a pen drive, two books and her cell phone. Within 10 minutes, she was downstairs looking for a rickshaw.
“Auto!!!” she yelled in her cracked voice.
The rickshaw took a turn and came to where she was. She asked him if he would drop her to Bandra. The rider signalled her to sit. She quickly got in and told him exactly where she wanted to go. The rickshaw rider rode like he was on a horseback in a battle. Neeti shut her eyes, sneezing every five minutes.
In thirty minutes Neeti was home. She took in a deep breath and placed her keys on the table and flung her bag on the chair. She threw herself on the bed, bouncing once. She had a lot of time in hand and didn’t know what to do with it. She made a few calls and asked for some medicines and food to be delivered. Within no time she was asleep.
The door bell rang miserably. Neeti jolted and realised she had to get the door. She dragged her feet and opened the door. The delivery boy handed her the parcel, tendered the change and left.
Neeti quickly had the food and drank a lot of hot water to give her sore throat some solace. She looked at the medicine bottles and tablet strips and frowned. After a lot of convincing she tore open the strip to reveal a white tablet. She was all set to have it just when someone banged on the door.
Neeti’s eyes opened wide. She wasn’t expecting anyone. And it wasn’t a bell ring; instead it was a bang on the door. This was reason enough to be suspicious. In Mumbai life is so planned that there is not a minute to let in an unexpected guest. Every minute has a task to be done. Time flies off here like an eye blink.
“Who is it?”
“Open up Neeti.”
Neeti went cold. The blood was drained out of her face. She recognised the voice and opened the door like a robot.
“Aman!” she exclaimed.
“Who else were you expecting?”
“Well, you could have called up before coming.”
“Its’ ok Neeti. I just came to see you. I felt like SEEING you, its’ been long.”
“When did you come to Mumbai?”
“A week back.” The reply was very casual. And it cut through Neeti’s heart in a way that she felt a lump grow in her throat.
Aman pushed his way inside. He sat on the sofa and sighed relief.
“The rains are horrible. I don’t know how people manage all this.”
“Well it depends on person to person. For me, after such a long time, I still haven’t learnt to.” Neeti sounded acrimonious. The words had a pun. And Aman didn’t miss on the hidden meaning. He pursed his lips.
“Neeti I have been missing you crazily. But I have been so tied up with work lately. I don’t have time for anything.”
“But somehow you do have time to spend with your friends.”
“Neeti that is the only thing I do other than work. Come on yaar. Can’t you see me happy for some time?”
“Why have you come here Aman?”
“I thought I told you already Neeti. Let me repeat it for you. I came here to see you.”
“Well, in that case you should leave. You’ve seen me enough now.”
“I fail to understand you.” Aman almost shouted. “When I call you, you are rude. When I don’t call you are hurt. I’ve come here to see you and you are asking me to leave. What do you want me to do?”
“Aman, you know what I want.”
“God! You are impossible. I told you I need time Neeti. I am not sure about anything now.”
“Aman its’ been 2 years now. How much more time do you need?”
“Neeti I need a glass of water now. Nothing else would do. Please fetch me one if you can.”
Neeti paced her steps towards her small kitchen and fetched a glass of water. She was all worked up. There are some situations where God helps you. And there are some where God tests you. But this situation seemed none of the two types. There had to be a new category for this one.
These are like one of those times, where you have been forced to play tennis and you haven’t even held a racket in your hand ever before. The one at other end by default is an ace player and smashes the ball towards you with full vengeance. The ball passes by you leaving you gaping with agony and shame, rocket zooming and questioning your very existence.
Aman called out to Neeti loudly. Her chain of thoughts was suddenly broken and she quickened her steps outside and handed him the glass of water. She knew what she should say and what she would say. The difference in both made her stomach twist and turn.
“Aman we need to talk.” Neeti looked Aman in the eye and said it firmly.
Aman understood the seriousness of her tone and realised that it was no time to beat around the bush. He had to answer her.
Monday 21 September 2009
The wait for the end... Part 3
The pre-monsoon showers had just begun in Mumbai. The city was bustling with even more energy. Men went to work early to avoid the rains and the subsequent traffic commotion. House wives made desperate attempts to dry off clothes. Children didn't spare a single puddle; they jumped into them and brought them to life. Life seemed to be faster to anyone who looked at the city from outside.
But the rains didn't seem to agree with Neeti. She made all possible attempts to avoid getting wet. Unfortunately, all the tactics she used went in vain. The rain poured down when she left for office and back for home. She had no respite. She despised travelling to her office, especially during this season.
"Ramu I hate rains" One day, she suddenly proclaimed. The lull in the office was broken and people gazed at her like she had declared that she was going to change her citizenship.
"Aiyo Neeti Amma, rains are good. They help the environment, clean the city. They are our farmers' best friends." Ramaswamy made a futile attempt to convince her. He wanted to cheer her up. After all, he had noticed that since past 15-20 days Neeti received a phone call and ultimately landed up crying. The rains only added to her misery. He sometimes let her mock his accent. In fact, on rare occasions, he even mocked himself. Neeti laughed but he knew it was ineffectual.
"OK Ramu, I'm leaving. Have to cover the Mumbaikar's shopping spree during monsoon. I wish they wouldn't shop, at least during heavy downpours. Like that I wouldn't have to cover them." And she laughed, really loud. She bid a bye to Ramaswamy and hopped her way down the stairs.
She helped her camera catch glimpses of people in Bandra, Dadar, Churchgate shopping away to glory. The rain never seemed to exist to them. A group of young women in saris, presumably newly married , came out of the BSNL office. They bobbed about the stairways, chattering and laughing, unaware of the fact that Neeti was stealthily clicking their pictures.
Around 6 pm, Neeti reached the Marine Lines. There was no rain now. And the sky had turned slightly red. She clicked a few pictures of the setting sun and the sky. She was very tired and decided to spend some time alone there, watching the waves hit the shore. Within no time, her cell rang. She saw the number and recognised it.
"Hmmm. Hi, how are you?" said Neeti without even listening to the caller.
"Neeti, my love. Yaar I'm very busy. You should understand. There is no need to be irritated. Whenever possible I call you. What else do you expect?"
"I don't know what to say to you. I fail in the every attempt I make you know. I am fed up."
"Why are you always cribbing like this? Is there nothing better you can do? Yaar my job is not as simple as yours. All you do is click pictures here and there. You have your freedom. As for me, I have to meet targets. Set examples to my sub-ordinates. Make reports. Present quarterly reports. It gets on my nerves sometimes"
"Hmmm. Anyways. Have you called for anything in specific?"
"Well yes! I need a favor yaar. I won't be able to meet you tomorrow and all I want you to do is understand. Please Neetu bacha."
By now, Neeti choked. She was swallowing her tears. All she could utter was "OK".
"Oh you know you're my darling. Thanks girl. You're an angel!" The line cut without any goodbyes.
Neeti remained still. Her face did not twitch. But her tears gushed down. She didn't put an effort to wipe her face. She was still motionless.
From no where, she found a hand on her shoulder. She turned back to see an elderly woman.
The woman smiled and sat next to Neeti. Neeti suddenly felt quite awkward and hurriedly wiped her face. The woman didn't speak a word. Neeti made a feeble try to convince her that everything was alright.
"Aunty its’ all ok. Situation under control!" Neeti laughed.
The two of them saw the Arabian Sea engulf the Sun. After a few minutes, Neeti stood up to go back home. She picked her things, put her camera back and began to walk.
After two steps, she turned back and said, "Thank you Aunty. I felt nice. Goodnight."
The woman smiled brightly and said "God bless you. Goodnight."
By the time Neeti reached home, she was drenched. Her shoes were soiled. She quickly cleaned up and prepared a soup. The cell phone rang.
"Hello Madam I'm calling from TTFC bank. We're offering you a loan for ..." The female voice was a typical one. She spoke endlessly.
"Well my dear, I'm ready to take your loan but you will have to come and cook for me. Chalega?" Bang! Neeti laughed. The phone rang again.
"Neeti! Kaise ho aap? Lagta hain hume koi bhool gaya."
"Kashif! Oh my God! Its' you. Wow. Pata hain main aaj kaafi akela feel kar rahi thi. Aaj ka din acha nahin tha. Matlab acha tha but acha nahin bhi tha."
"Neeti aap ko coffee ki sakt zarurath hain." Kashif spared no moment. He laughed.
"Chance pe dance." Neeti laughed. "Chalo aa jao Bandra."
"Main wahin hun. Aap ke ghar ke neeche. Aao jao aap jaldi se."
"Yaar you are tho too good... Ek dum TGV ki tarah."
"TGV? Acha woh!!! Haan haan. Sahi. Abh please neeche aa jao."
"Pehle admit karo ki aap ko TGV nahin samjha."
"Ji?"
"Haan meko pata hain. Chalo bolo."
"Aree magar... OK tik hain... Nahin samjha."
"Coming!"
Neeti quickly rushed down. Kashif saw her and his mouth opened doors to at least a million flies. Neeti was uber casually dressed in blue pyjamas and an over-sized T-shirt. She looked stunning. No kohl. No lip balm. Nothing. She was in her natural form. Kashif saw that she had a few dark-circles. But that only added to her light skin tone. Her hair was left untied, probably even uncombed, and blew with the wind as she hopped towards his car.
"Sorry Kashif, meko firse change karne ka mann nahin kiya so..."
"Ya Khuda! Itni khoobsurati kaise sochi tune... Tayar ho ke aaye tho janab hum katle-aam ho jaate."
Neeti smiled. She sat in the car and again smiled at Kashif.
Kashif wished to run away from the female at once. He wished he would have never called her in the first place. He drove like he was in a trance. The woman next to him was the most beautiful creation, he felt, of the Almighty. Every single opportunity he got, he tried looking at her from the corner of his eye.
After a long drive, they pulled over at a coffee shop. Neeti ordered for a cappuccino and Kashif decided to sip on tea. They spoke very little. He noticed that Neeti was not jabbering today. They spoke mostly about platonic stuff. Kashif found it difficult to catch up with her. He listened more.
And then suddenly.
"Meko koi acha lagta hain. But shayad usse main abh pasand nahin. Hum dono 3 saal pehle mile." Neeti looked down. Her lips couldn't decide whether to smile or not.
"Mujhe aise laga tha."
"Fir bhi?"
"Aap mujhe achi lagti hain."
That justification seemed enough, although it was very contradictory.
"Magar..." They both fell silent.
Neeti looked outside the window and saw the distant sea. The waves hit the bottom harshly. The sea was rough.
"Neeti aap dono ke beech kya problem hua"
"Uske paas mere liye time nahin hain. Woh todna chahta hain. Main jodne ki koshish kar rahi hun. But nothing seems to work. Hum dikhava karte hain. Woh mujhe phone kare tho ehsaan jatata hain. Main baat karun tho woh phone rakhne ki jaldi mein rehta hain."
"Neeti kuch cheezein Khuda pe chod deni chahiye. Woh jo sab se acha hain, wahi karega."
"Hmmm. But fir bhi main koshish karungi..."
"Kab tak?"
Neeti looked at him with wide eyes and realised she had no answer. There was silence. Only the sound of the distant waves.
She turned to look back at the sea. The waves seemed to be whispering something.
Kashif kept looking at her. He didn't know what next was in store. All he knew was that he was head over heels.
He was in love...
But the rains didn't seem to agree with Neeti. She made all possible attempts to avoid getting wet. Unfortunately, all the tactics she used went in vain. The rain poured down when she left for office and back for home. She had no respite. She despised travelling to her office, especially during this season.
"Ramu I hate rains" One day, she suddenly proclaimed. The lull in the office was broken and people gazed at her like she had declared that she was going to change her citizenship.
"Aiyo Neeti Amma, rains are good. They help the environment, clean the city. They are our farmers' best friends." Ramaswamy made a futile attempt to convince her. He wanted to cheer her up. After all, he had noticed that since past 15-20 days Neeti received a phone call and ultimately landed up crying. The rains only added to her misery. He sometimes let her mock his accent. In fact, on rare occasions, he even mocked himself. Neeti laughed but he knew it was ineffectual.
"OK Ramu, I'm leaving. Have to cover the Mumbaikar's shopping spree during monsoon. I wish they wouldn't shop, at least during heavy downpours. Like that I wouldn't have to cover them." And she laughed, really loud. She bid a bye to Ramaswamy and hopped her way down the stairs.
She helped her camera catch glimpses of people in Bandra, Dadar, Churchgate shopping away to glory. The rain never seemed to exist to them. A group of young women in saris, presumably newly married , came out of the BSNL office. They bobbed about the stairways, chattering and laughing, unaware of the fact that Neeti was stealthily clicking their pictures.
Around 6 pm, Neeti reached the Marine Lines. There was no rain now. And the sky had turned slightly red. She clicked a few pictures of the setting sun and the sky. She was very tired and decided to spend some time alone there, watching the waves hit the shore. Within no time, her cell rang. She saw the number and recognised it.
"Hmmm. Hi, how are you?" said Neeti without even listening to the caller.
"Neeti, my love. Yaar I'm very busy. You should understand. There is no need to be irritated. Whenever possible I call you. What else do you expect?"
"I don't know what to say to you. I fail in the every attempt I make you know. I am fed up."
"Why are you always cribbing like this? Is there nothing better you can do? Yaar my job is not as simple as yours. All you do is click pictures here and there. You have your freedom. As for me, I have to meet targets. Set examples to my sub-ordinates. Make reports. Present quarterly reports. It gets on my nerves sometimes"
"Hmmm. Anyways. Have you called for anything in specific?"
"Well yes! I need a favor yaar. I won't be able to meet you tomorrow and all I want you to do is understand. Please Neetu bacha."
By now, Neeti choked. She was swallowing her tears. All she could utter was "OK".
"Oh you know you're my darling. Thanks girl. You're an angel!" The line cut without any goodbyes.
Neeti remained still. Her face did not twitch. But her tears gushed down. She didn't put an effort to wipe her face. She was still motionless.
From no where, she found a hand on her shoulder. She turned back to see an elderly woman.
The woman smiled and sat next to Neeti. Neeti suddenly felt quite awkward and hurriedly wiped her face. The woman didn't speak a word. Neeti made a feeble try to convince her that everything was alright.
"Aunty its’ all ok. Situation under control!" Neeti laughed.
The two of them saw the Arabian Sea engulf the Sun. After a few minutes, Neeti stood up to go back home. She picked her things, put her camera back and began to walk.
After two steps, she turned back and said, "Thank you Aunty. I felt nice. Goodnight."
The woman smiled brightly and said "God bless you. Goodnight."
By the time Neeti reached home, she was drenched. Her shoes were soiled. She quickly cleaned up and prepared a soup. The cell phone rang.
"Hello Madam I'm calling from TTFC bank. We're offering you a loan for ..." The female voice was a typical one. She spoke endlessly.
"Well my dear, I'm ready to take your loan but you will have to come and cook for me. Chalega?" Bang! Neeti laughed. The phone rang again.
"Neeti! Kaise ho aap? Lagta hain hume koi bhool gaya."
"Kashif! Oh my God! Its' you. Wow. Pata hain main aaj kaafi akela feel kar rahi thi. Aaj ka din acha nahin tha. Matlab acha tha but acha nahin bhi tha."
"Neeti aap ko coffee ki sakt zarurath hain." Kashif spared no moment. He laughed.
"Chance pe dance." Neeti laughed. "Chalo aa jao Bandra."
"Main wahin hun. Aap ke ghar ke neeche. Aao jao aap jaldi se."
"Yaar you are tho too good... Ek dum TGV ki tarah."
"TGV? Acha woh!!! Haan haan. Sahi. Abh please neeche aa jao."
"Pehle admit karo ki aap ko TGV nahin samjha."
"Ji?"
"Haan meko pata hain. Chalo bolo."
"Aree magar... OK tik hain... Nahin samjha."
"Coming!"
Neeti quickly rushed down. Kashif saw her and his mouth opened doors to at least a million flies. Neeti was uber casually dressed in blue pyjamas and an over-sized T-shirt. She looked stunning. No kohl. No lip balm. Nothing. She was in her natural form. Kashif saw that she had a few dark-circles. But that only added to her light skin tone. Her hair was left untied, probably even uncombed, and blew with the wind as she hopped towards his car.
"Sorry Kashif, meko firse change karne ka mann nahin kiya so..."
"Ya Khuda! Itni khoobsurati kaise sochi tune... Tayar ho ke aaye tho janab hum katle-aam ho jaate."
Neeti smiled. She sat in the car and again smiled at Kashif.
Kashif wished to run away from the female at once. He wished he would have never called her in the first place. He drove like he was in a trance. The woman next to him was the most beautiful creation, he felt, of the Almighty. Every single opportunity he got, he tried looking at her from the corner of his eye.
After a long drive, they pulled over at a coffee shop. Neeti ordered for a cappuccino and Kashif decided to sip on tea. They spoke very little. He noticed that Neeti was not jabbering today. They spoke mostly about platonic stuff. Kashif found it difficult to catch up with her. He listened more.
And then suddenly.
"Meko koi acha lagta hain. But shayad usse main abh pasand nahin. Hum dono 3 saal pehle mile." Neeti looked down. Her lips couldn't decide whether to smile or not.
"Mujhe aise laga tha."
"Fir bhi?"
"Aap mujhe achi lagti hain."
That justification seemed enough, although it was very contradictory.
"Magar..." They both fell silent.
Neeti looked outside the window and saw the distant sea. The waves hit the bottom harshly. The sea was rough.
"Neeti aap dono ke beech kya problem hua"
"Uske paas mere liye time nahin hain. Woh todna chahta hain. Main jodne ki koshish kar rahi hun. But nothing seems to work. Hum dikhava karte hain. Woh mujhe phone kare tho ehsaan jatata hain. Main baat karun tho woh phone rakhne ki jaldi mein rehta hain."
"Neeti kuch cheezein Khuda pe chod deni chahiye. Woh jo sab se acha hain, wahi karega."
"Hmmm. But fir bhi main koshish karungi..."
"Kab tak?"
Neeti looked at him with wide eyes and realised she had no answer. There was silence. Only the sound of the distant waves.
She turned to look back at the sea. The waves seemed to be whispering something.
Kashif kept looking at her. He didn't know what next was in store. All he knew was that he was head over heels.
He was in love...
Thursday 10 September 2009
Tester’s day – 9th September 2009
The sale of the much-awaited CAT vouchers began yesterday. Scores of CAT-aspirants rushed to various branches of the Axis bank. I received several ‘pings’ on my chat box enquiring if I had got my copy. Some of my friends have even completed filling in the forms. So much of discussion about the time-slot! The way people reacted was too-much-to-handle. Finally to save myself from the agony, I had to log off from all the chat sessions I was online on.
Yes! I have still not bought my CAT voucher. And I don’t intend buying one till the end of this week. Its’ not a superstition I am nurturing. Neither is it my laid back attitude. This exam is as important to me, since I have a lot at stake this time. It’s a big risk I have taken. I am happy about it but nervous at the same time.
For 3 years now, I have been working in a QA (Quality assurance) and QC (Quality Control) domain. I loved my work, and I don’t mean job. I mean my work. The kind of tasks I took up and the way I delivered results. To be true, I was a passionate workaholic. And that is how I like things to be! I can shamelessly admit this. I worked so much that I didn’t even realize when my personal life went numb.
But recently, about 2 months back, I gave a microscopic look to my life. I realized that I had really lost on my tact to converse with people from the non IT-fraternity. Not that I bored them with any geeky stuff. But I didn’t have anything ELSE to talk about. All I could keep bragging was about work, work and more work. Also, I realized that I had turned a deaf ear to the company’s policies, salary concerns etc.
Finally enlightenment struck and I decided to quit. My curricula vitae, even after 3 years of experience, were a modest one. I had gained a lot of knowledge over the years but that which could not be used outside my company’s bounds. In short, NO SKILL SET/ EXPERTISE. No Java, Perl, UNIX, etc. Those technologies, that other companies bid for.
If put in the words of ‘Pursuit of Happyness’, “This part of my life is called Pitying”. All I did was brood and brood. I sulked about everything. I even had those bouts of crying. I wallowed for long periods especially during the weekends.
Then one day I rushed to my manager and told him that I wanted to quit my job. He asked me the reasons. I told him the truth. About all that I felt which includes company policies, peanut-salary. He in turn, spoke to his manager. A meeting was scheduled. Both, my manager and my super manager, yet another manager and me were in a conference room. The meet went on for an hour. I came out with a decision to re-consider my resignation. I went home that day and felt quite agitated. I spoke to my parents. My sister. My friends. No respite still.
One week later I finally put down my papers. I decided to answer CAT 2009. The spice here is that CAT was declared to go paper free, that is, online. COMPUTERIZATION! This would be my 4th attempt. By this time, I was convinced that my work, the kind of testing I did, wasn’t viable.
I started following CAT and related news. Yesterday after CAT forms sale began people posted several issues about the user-friendliness or should I say non-user friendliness of the UI (User Interface). Lack of error-checking, ambiguous language and above all, no editing post-submission. The servers seem slow too. After a person enters his voucher number and submits, there is a long wait for dawn to come. Two hours is minimum that was reported so far. The sole aim of Computerization was meant to make life easy. But this has caused people a lot of loss, financially and emotionally. People had to purchase new forms only because some had not put their father’s name, some had not entered their SSC marks. Thankfully, the issue has been taken up seriously by the IIM administration and a solution is expected soon.
But what has caused all this? Its’ because either the TESTERS didn’t do their job well or the company which made the UI didn’t think rigorous testing was required. Enlightenment strikes again. My job, my work was after all not something tending to null. It meant something! In fact more than that. Put in the ‘Pursuit of Happyness’ style, “This part of my life, this part here, is called Acknowledging”.
Yes! Testers play a major role in the product’s life cycle. A good tester is one who is not only good technically, but also the one who has a good insight. Testing the traditional way is expected but ad-hoc testing is the one that gives value-add. There are several testing tools now available in the market. But again, they are clichéd. The thoughts that pop while observing the product are the keys to actual testing. They are the ones, if worked on them, which make the product better in a true sense.
If testing is treated as a part of daily chores, a sense of donkey-work is bound to creep in. A good tester is definitely, the one who understands the product. Proactively learns about its aspects. Finds on the search engines about similar products and issues faced. To put it in simple words, a tester has to be, necessarily, a good researcher too.
From here on, we could easily conclude that testers are as important as the developers as long as they understand their role, value and their responsibility well. The tester’s road is, no doubt tough, but its’ worth the drive.
Yes! I have still not bought my CAT voucher. And I don’t intend buying one till the end of this week. Its’ not a superstition I am nurturing. Neither is it my laid back attitude. This exam is as important to me, since I have a lot at stake this time. It’s a big risk I have taken. I am happy about it but nervous at the same time.
For 3 years now, I have been working in a QA (Quality assurance) and QC (Quality Control) domain. I loved my work, and I don’t mean job. I mean my work. The kind of tasks I took up and the way I delivered results. To be true, I was a passionate workaholic. And that is how I like things to be! I can shamelessly admit this. I worked so much that I didn’t even realize when my personal life went numb.
But recently, about 2 months back, I gave a microscopic look to my life. I realized that I had really lost on my tact to converse with people from the non IT-fraternity. Not that I bored them with any geeky stuff. But I didn’t have anything ELSE to talk about. All I could keep bragging was about work, work and more work. Also, I realized that I had turned a deaf ear to the company’s policies, salary concerns etc.
Finally enlightenment struck and I decided to quit. My curricula vitae, even after 3 years of experience, were a modest one. I had gained a lot of knowledge over the years but that which could not be used outside my company’s bounds. In short, NO SKILL SET/ EXPERTISE. No Java, Perl, UNIX, etc. Those technologies, that other companies bid for.
If put in the words of ‘Pursuit of Happyness’, “This part of my life is called Pitying”. All I did was brood and brood. I sulked about everything. I even had those bouts of crying. I wallowed for long periods especially during the weekends.
Then one day I rushed to my manager and told him that I wanted to quit my job. He asked me the reasons. I told him the truth. About all that I felt which includes company policies, peanut-salary. He in turn, spoke to his manager. A meeting was scheduled. Both, my manager and my super manager, yet another manager and me were in a conference room. The meet went on for an hour. I came out with a decision to re-consider my resignation. I went home that day and felt quite agitated. I spoke to my parents. My sister. My friends. No respite still.
One week later I finally put down my papers. I decided to answer CAT 2009. The spice here is that CAT was declared to go paper free, that is, online. COMPUTERIZATION! This would be my 4th attempt. By this time, I was convinced that my work, the kind of testing I did, wasn’t viable.
I started following CAT and related news. Yesterday after CAT forms sale began people posted several issues about the user-friendliness or should I say non-user friendliness of the UI (User Interface). Lack of error-checking, ambiguous language and above all, no editing post-submission. The servers seem slow too. After a person enters his voucher number and submits, there is a long wait for dawn to come. Two hours is minimum that was reported so far. The sole aim of Computerization was meant to make life easy. But this has caused people a lot of loss, financially and emotionally. People had to purchase new forms only because some had not put their father’s name, some had not entered their SSC marks. Thankfully, the issue has been taken up seriously by the IIM administration and a solution is expected soon.
But what has caused all this? Its’ because either the TESTERS didn’t do their job well or the company which made the UI didn’t think rigorous testing was required. Enlightenment strikes again. My job, my work was after all not something tending to null. It meant something! In fact more than that. Put in the ‘Pursuit of Happyness’ style, “This part of my life, this part here, is called Acknowledging”.
Yes! Testers play a major role in the product’s life cycle. A good tester is one who is not only good technically, but also the one who has a good insight. Testing the traditional way is expected but ad-hoc testing is the one that gives value-add. There are several testing tools now available in the market. But again, they are clichéd. The thoughts that pop while observing the product are the keys to actual testing. They are the ones, if worked on them, which make the product better in a true sense.
If testing is treated as a part of daily chores, a sense of donkey-work is bound to creep in. A good tester is definitely, the one who understands the product. Proactively learns about its aspects. Finds on the search engines about similar products and issues faced. To put it in simple words, a tester has to be, necessarily, a good researcher too.
From here on, we could easily conclude that testers are as important as the developers as long as they understand their role, value and their responsibility well. The tester’s road is, no doubt tough, but its’ worth the drive.
Monday 31 August 2009
Life is in Moments!
Just a small true episode! All real-life episodes will be posted under this title. I hope I find more!
"Hi darling!" As usual, he calls her around 1.30 pm.
"Hey there... wassup dude... hahahaha". She's bubbling because she has not much work in office.
"I just called to say 'I love you'" He sings. "Done with lunch?"
"Yes, I'm done... what about you?"
"Hmmm just had a quick bite. Nothing great!"
"That means you didn't have a proper lunch again today." She sighed sadly.
"Its ok... Anyways I wanted to tell you about a new scheme in my office. Our employees can purchase any book for Re.1. The offer has been brought to us by Crosswords,
exclusively for our Company folks. I know how much you like to read so I thought I should tell you this..."
"Oh my God!!! Are you serious? How many titles are there? Which books are there as a part of the scheme? Do they have Jane Austen? What about Sidney Sheldon?"
"Hahaha... Hold on! Well, I'm not sure about the titles, but there should be a good collection!"
"Hmmm! Oh well, take all of them... Any title, any author! Please please please!" She's completely exuberant.
"Yes Shona, I'll take all of them".
Two weeks later.
"Hey what happened about those books?"
"Hmm... Oh... Ahan...Yes darling! I have told them, they'll get them soon."
One month later.
"Those books still haven't come... that is so sad ya!"
"Oh... yeah... they should come by next month dear"
Two months passed by.
"Hey kiddo, come inside the car and see whats there on the backseat!"
"Mammaaaaaaaaaaaaa... Are you kidding me? They're all mine??? Oh my God! Jane Austen! I love you darling!" She gives the books a tight hug.
"Yes Shona, they're all yours!" He smiles.
Four weeks later.
"Did you get the tickets for the movie?"
"No, I didn't. I'm sorry."
"What sorry! You should have booked them in advance. I had warned you, this is so bad!" She's completely disappointed.
"Yeah... I'm sorry, where do we go next?" He's at fault and is trying to make up for it.
"I dont know and I don't care" Angrily.
"Ok do me a favor, please take my wallet and pay the parking fellow, while I drive the car."
"Hmm" Still angry. "How much?"
"30"
"Done" She does not want to spoil the Friday mood so she smiles again, not a complete smile though. "You seem to be a rich guy! Lots of credit cards and cash...
Hahahahahahaha" She's being a little sarcastic, attempting to pull his leg.
"Hmmm". He smirks!
"Can I look into your wallet?"
"Its all yours". He gives a heart-warming smile.
"Parking tickets, bills... God! Your wallet is messy."
"Hmmm... See and throw the unwanted please... Shona" He looks at her and again gives an apologetic smile.
"Shoe bill, parking ticket, parking ticket, parking ticket, Provogue, petrol bill...You need all this?"
"Only petrol bills". Smiles again.
"This is ... Crosswords bill????"
s"Give that to me!!!" He Snatches the bill and tears the paper into 3 bits.
"Stop it!!!! What is it??? Show it! Right now! Else I'll get down from the car right in the middle of the street." She yells.
"Dammit!!! It's nothing!" He yells back.
He gives the 3 bits to her unhappily. The paper is totally crumpled. She re-assembles them and is completely flabbergasted.
"You lied to me!!! You bought all those books from Crosswords... For their original prices!!! Why????? I hate you! I hate you! You liar! Scoundrel!"
"Shona please please understand me! I beg of you. I'm sorry. I lied but I had to."
"Why????????" She screams on top of her voice. The people in the neighbouring cars are all looking at them. She is vexed.
"Shona... Shona... I forgot when you asked me to order the books, I didn't place the order on time and then... I knew how much those books meant... to you... I just
... I just wanted you to have them. Please I beg, I'm sorry"
"You spent Rs.3000 on books. These books! I could have read them anytime and bought them one at a time. You could have just told me."
"Shona I... Please forget it! They're a gift... From me to my Shona. I love you baby, I'm sorry. I never meant to..."
"Gosh... Honey... I don't know what to...!" She chokes. Tears gushing.
Life lies in all these small moments.
"Hi darling!" As usual, he calls her around 1.30 pm.
"Hey there... wassup dude... hahahaha". She's bubbling because she has not much work in office.
"I just called to say 'I love you'" He sings. "Done with lunch?"
"Yes, I'm done... what about you?"
"Hmmm just had a quick bite. Nothing great!"
"That means you didn't have a proper lunch again today." She sighed sadly.
"Its ok... Anyways I wanted to tell you about a new scheme in my office. Our employees can purchase any book for Re.1. The offer has been brought to us by Crosswords,
exclusively for our Company folks. I know how much you like to read so I thought I should tell you this..."
"Oh my God!!! Are you serious? How many titles are there? Which books are there as a part of the scheme? Do they have Jane Austen? What about Sidney Sheldon?"
"Hahaha... Hold on! Well, I'm not sure about the titles, but there should be a good collection!"
"Hmmm! Oh well, take all of them... Any title, any author! Please please please!" She's completely exuberant.
"Yes Shona, I'll take all of them".
Two weeks later.
"Hey what happened about those books?"
"Hmm... Oh... Ahan...Yes darling! I have told them, they'll get them soon."
One month later.
"Those books still haven't come... that is so sad ya!"
"Oh... yeah... they should come by next month dear"
Two months passed by.
"Hey kiddo, come inside the car and see whats there on the backseat!"
"Mammaaaaaaaaaaaaa... Are you kidding me? They're all mine??? Oh my God! Jane Austen! I love you darling!" She gives the books a tight hug.
"Yes Shona, they're all yours!" He smiles.
Four weeks later.
"Did you get the tickets for the movie?"
"No, I didn't. I'm sorry."
"What sorry! You should have booked them in advance. I had warned you, this is so bad!" She's completely disappointed.
"Yeah... I'm sorry, where do we go next?" He's at fault and is trying to make up for it.
"I dont know and I don't care" Angrily.
"Ok do me a favor, please take my wallet and pay the parking fellow, while I drive the car."
"Hmm" Still angry. "How much?"
"30"
"Done" She does not want to spoil the Friday mood so she smiles again, not a complete smile though. "You seem to be a rich guy! Lots of credit cards and cash...
Hahahahahahaha" She's being a little sarcastic, attempting to pull his leg.
"Hmmm". He smirks!
"Can I look into your wallet?"
"Its all yours". He gives a heart-warming smile.
"Parking tickets, bills... God! Your wallet is messy."
"Hmmm... See and throw the unwanted please... Shona" He looks at her and again gives an apologetic smile.
"Shoe bill, parking ticket, parking ticket, parking ticket, Provogue, petrol bill...You need all this?"
"Only petrol bills". Smiles again.
"This is ... Crosswords bill????"
s"Give that to me!!!" He Snatches the bill and tears the paper into 3 bits.
"Stop it!!!! What is it??? Show it! Right now! Else I'll get down from the car right in the middle of the street." She yells.
"Dammit!!! It's nothing!" He yells back.
He gives the 3 bits to her unhappily. The paper is totally crumpled. She re-assembles them and is completely flabbergasted.
"You lied to me!!! You bought all those books from Crosswords... For their original prices!!! Why????? I hate you! I hate you! You liar! Scoundrel!"
"Shona please please understand me! I beg of you. I'm sorry. I lied but I had to."
"Why????????" She screams on top of her voice. The people in the neighbouring cars are all looking at them. She is vexed.
"Shona... Shona... I forgot when you asked me to order the books, I didn't place the order on time and then... I knew how much those books meant... to you... I just
... I just wanted you to have them. Please I beg, I'm sorry"
"You spent Rs.3000 on books. These books! I could have read them anytime and bought them one at a time. You could have just told me."
"Shona I... Please forget it! They're a gift... From me to my Shona. I love you baby, I'm sorry. I never meant to..."
"Gosh... Honey... I don't know what to...!" She chokes. Tears gushing.
Life lies in all these small moments.
The wait for the end... Part 2
"What on earth were you thinking Neeti?"
"Boss, but these pics capture..."
"They capture NONSENSE! What! You want me to teach you to click pics now??? 2 more minutes in this office and I'll turn mad"
"Will turn? You have already!", Neeti said to herself softly.
"Neeti! I heard that!"
"Boss I should get back to work", Neeti couldn't hide her smirk.
"Yeah!" came the reply in a gruff tone.
Neeti's boss, Sushant, was a short tempered chap, exactly the opposite of his name. He cared for none and spoke his mind at times even when his opionion wasn't asked or didn't count. He was a hard-working fellow but not a good team player. Besides, he had had two divorces already and had now stopped believing in the institution of marriage. Although, deep down, he knew it was the otherwise.
Neeti was very jittery and fidgety today. She kept looking at her mobile. It did ring a couple of times, but not for the reasons she wanted.
It was lunch time. Her mobile rang suddenly breaking the lull in the office. A colleague, named Ramaswamy, who sits next to her cubicle woke up with a jerk from his sleep. Neeti saw his shocked face and declared "Subah ho gayi Ramu! Re Ramu!". Ramaswamy gave a sly smile.
"Hmmm Hey!"
"Where the hell are you? Do you realise you have called me after 48 hours?" Neeti couldn't control her decibles by now.
"Chill yaar! I am not jobless nor do I have time to go to parties and click snaps away to glory!"
"Gosh! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you..."
"Enough yaar! Listen! I got to go now... Important meeting yeah! Catch you later! See ya!"
"But you said we were supposed to ... Hello! Hello!" The line was already disconnected, even before Neeti realised. She jumped from her seat and ran into the ladies room. This was just another of those numerous times that she had wallowed in the office washroom. She took a complete 30 mins in there and came out, not until she washed her face and dried her eyes.
She reached her desk and sat looking at her computer screen like it was a television showing her the transcripts of the last mobile conversation. Just as she unlocked the screen, Ramaswamy said to her "Aiyo Neeti Amma, there was a call for you...Some Kafish I say"
Neeti burst out laughing and the whole cubicle was vibrating. "Aiyo Ramu Anna, its Kashif not Kafish I say" .
Ramaswamy laughed along. He always liked Neeti but realised long back that there could be nothing possible between them.
Neeti picked her mobile and redialled the number from the "Received list".
"Namaste Sirji" .
"Neeti ji! Kaise ho aap?"
"Badiyan... Waise aap ko mera number kahan se mila? Mere piche koi spy tho nahin lagaya na? Hahahaha" .
"Spy?"
"Detective?"
"Haan..." Kashif gave a quizzical reply.
"Oye Ramu, what is a spy called in Hindi?"
"Aiyo spy... wait Neeti, I'll search it on the internet" Ramaswamy swung into action.
"Jasoos!!!" Neeti almost screeched.
"Oh nahin nahin... jasoos nahin hain... maine thoda dundha and mil gaya aap ka number" .
"Acha... chalo chodo. Farmaiye... aap ne aise hi call kiya?"
"Woh main keh raha tha ki, main Worli mein hi tha tho kyun na lunch karen... Matlab hum dono... ek saath... alag alag nahin" Kashif sounded really nervous.
Neeti was caught off-guard. She didn't know what to say and she blurted out "OK"
"Main aap ko lene aata hun... White Honda city" Kashif was completely overwhelmed. He cut the line and told his driver that he would drive the car.
Neeti realised that she had said "Yes" for lunch. She wondered whether to call Kashif again and cancel the plan and apologize. After a lot of thought, she convinced herself to go for the luncheon.
As committed, Kashif was waiting in his white Honda City right in front of the entrance.
"Hi KAFISH"
"Neeti!" Kashif's throat went dry. He just kept looking a her as she walked near, sat next to him and again said "Hi". She had again worn a pair of simple straight fit demins with a well fitted V-neck black top. She looked very pretty. Kashif opened his mouth to say something and she cunningly said "Yes I know, main bohot achi lag rahi hun and kala rang meko suit karta hain."
Kashif blushed. He didn't protest. Quitely started driving the car. Neeti kept jabbering about work. Her boss. Her camera. On and off, she did ask him a few questions, but they seemed merely a formality. She didn't even spare him a second to answer any of them. Kashif couldn't help blushing and smiling, both at the same time. She spoke of the new fly-over from Bandra to Worli, about Linking road, her neighbour's dog, clothes. And out-of-the-blue, she said "Aap ka blazer acha hain! Waise aaj aap kaafi ache lag rahe ho KAFISH!"
Kashif suddenly seemed conscious and moved a bit in his seat. He smiled again. He didn't even realise that she had called him KAFISH.
"Abh main bilkul nahin bolungi KAFISH... Aap bolo KAFISHHHH" .
He laughed. "Mera naam Kashif hain".
"Nahin aaj se aap ka naam KAFISH... hahahahahaha". She laughed so loudly.
"Aree check tho kijiye Neeti ji ki peeche ka type kahin puncture tho nahin hua". His face was suddenly serious.
Neeti immediately looked from her window. The tyre was fine.
"Tik hain tyre".
"Hahahahaha meko laga shayad puncture hua ho"
"Kyun?"
"Aree aap aise hansi... ek tho tyre puncture hona jayaz hain" .
"Very mean". Neeti laughed again.
"Chaliye... hotel aa gaya."
"Boss, but these pics capture..."
"They capture NONSENSE! What! You want me to teach you to click pics now??? 2 more minutes in this office and I'll turn mad"
"Will turn? You have already!", Neeti said to herself softly.
"Neeti! I heard that!"
"Boss I should get back to work", Neeti couldn't hide her smirk.
"Yeah!" came the reply in a gruff tone.
Neeti's boss, Sushant, was a short tempered chap, exactly the opposite of his name. He cared for none and spoke his mind at times even when his opionion wasn't asked or didn't count. He was a hard-working fellow but not a good team player. Besides, he had had two divorces already and had now stopped believing in the institution of marriage. Although, deep down, he knew it was the otherwise.
Neeti was very jittery and fidgety today. She kept looking at her mobile. It did ring a couple of times, but not for the reasons she wanted.
It was lunch time. Her mobile rang suddenly breaking the lull in the office. A colleague, named Ramaswamy, who sits next to her cubicle woke up with a jerk from his sleep. Neeti saw his shocked face and declared "Subah ho gayi Ramu! Re Ramu!". Ramaswamy gave a sly smile.
"Hmmm Hey!"
"Where the hell are you? Do you realise you have called me after 48 hours?" Neeti couldn't control her decibles by now.
"Chill yaar! I am not jobless nor do I have time to go to parties and click snaps away to glory!"
"Gosh! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you..."
"Enough yaar! Listen! I got to go now... Important meeting yeah! Catch you later! See ya!"
"But you said we were supposed to ... Hello! Hello!" The line was already disconnected, even before Neeti realised. She jumped from her seat and ran into the ladies room. This was just another of those numerous times that she had wallowed in the office washroom. She took a complete 30 mins in there and came out, not until she washed her face and dried her eyes.
She reached her desk and sat looking at her computer screen like it was a television showing her the transcripts of the last mobile conversation. Just as she unlocked the screen, Ramaswamy said to her "Aiyo Neeti Amma, there was a call for you...Some Kafish I say"
Neeti burst out laughing and the whole cubicle was vibrating. "Aiyo Ramu Anna, its Kashif not Kafish I say" .
Ramaswamy laughed along. He always liked Neeti but realised long back that there could be nothing possible between them.
Neeti picked her mobile and redialled the number from the "Received list".
"Namaste Sirji" .
"Neeti ji! Kaise ho aap?"
"Badiyan... Waise aap ko mera number kahan se mila? Mere piche koi spy tho nahin lagaya na? Hahahaha" .
"Spy?"
"Detective?"
"Haan..." Kashif gave a quizzical reply.
"Oye Ramu, what is a spy called in Hindi?"
"Aiyo spy... wait Neeti, I'll search it on the internet" Ramaswamy swung into action.
"Jasoos!!!" Neeti almost screeched.
"Oh nahin nahin... jasoos nahin hain... maine thoda dundha and mil gaya aap ka number" .
"Acha... chalo chodo. Farmaiye... aap ne aise hi call kiya?"
"Woh main keh raha tha ki, main Worli mein hi tha tho kyun na lunch karen... Matlab hum dono... ek saath... alag alag nahin" Kashif sounded really nervous.
Neeti was caught off-guard. She didn't know what to say and she blurted out "OK"
"Main aap ko lene aata hun... White Honda city" Kashif was completely overwhelmed. He cut the line and told his driver that he would drive the car.
Neeti realised that she had said "Yes" for lunch. She wondered whether to call Kashif again and cancel the plan and apologize. After a lot of thought, she convinced herself to go for the luncheon.
As committed, Kashif was waiting in his white Honda City right in front of the entrance.
"Hi KAFISH"
"Neeti!" Kashif's throat went dry. He just kept looking a her as she walked near, sat next to him and again said "Hi". She had again worn a pair of simple straight fit demins with a well fitted V-neck black top. She looked very pretty. Kashif opened his mouth to say something and she cunningly said "Yes I know, main bohot achi lag rahi hun and kala rang meko suit karta hain."
Kashif blushed. He didn't protest. Quitely started driving the car. Neeti kept jabbering about work. Her boss. Her camera. On and off, she did ask him a few questions, but they seemed merely a formality. She didn't even spare him a second to answer any of them. Kashif couldn't help blushing and smiling, both at the same time. She spoke of the new fly-over from Bandra to Worli, about Linking road, her neighbour's dog, clothes. And out-of-the-blue, she said "Aap ka blazer acha hain! Waise aaj aap kaafi ache lag rahe ho KAFISH!"
Kashif suddenly seemed conscious and moved a bit in his seat. He smiled again. He didn't even realise that she had called him KAFISH.
"Abh main bilkul nahin bolungi KAFISH... Aap bolo KAFISHHHH" .
He laughed. "Mera naam Kashif hain".
"Nahin aaj se aap ka naam KAFISH... hahahahahaha". She laughed so loudly.
"Aree check tho kijiye Neeti ji ki peeche ka type kahin puncture tho nahin hua". His face was suddenly serious.
Neeti immediately looked from her window. The tyre was fine.
"Tik hain tyre".
"Hahahahaha meko laga shayad puncture hua ho"
"Kyun?"
"Aree aap aise hansi... ek tho tyre puncture hona jayaz hain" .
"Very mean". Neeti laughed again.
"Chaliye... hotel aa gaya."
... TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday 12 July 2009
The wait for the end... Part 1
This is one of my innumerable attempts towards writing a short story. I hope at least this time I keep it short.
This is the story of a goon. Yes, a criminal. His name is Kashif. Kashif was a henchman, an extortionist, a kidnapper. He could be whatever you wanted, as long as you paid him hefty sums of money. He had a small one-room shanty in Dharavi. He lived there and operated his business also from there itself.
Kashif began his 'career' at the age of 10. His first consignment was given by a well established don of Mumbai. He was assigned to kill an upcoming builder who had refused to pay 'protection money'. Kashif's mother was admitted in the hospital and was fighting against death. The doctor refused to treat her until the previous dues were cleared. Kashif found no other option and took up the consignment and killed the builder. The don paid Kashif much more than promised and even offered to treat his mother in a plush hospital. But as fate would have it, by the time Kashif took the money and reached to rescue his mother, she was already declared dead. Kashif shed not a single tear. In fact like a good son, he performed all the last rites well. The next day, the hospital doctor who had refused to treat Kashif's mother was found dead in his 3 BHK appartment in townside Mumbai.
Kashif slowly and gradually progressed from a small-time henchman to a serial killer, then a kidnapper. From here on, there was no looking back for him. He was on a money making spree. By the age of 25, his name was counted among the big dons of Mumbai. He was very pleased with the kind of hold he had, but somehow was never satisfied. In a fews years, he began loan-sharking. Biggies from all over India came to him. He did their work and they paid him any random amount that he quoted. But unlike the other dons, he was never into human trafficking or drugs. He was a misogynist and kept away from women.
Come May 1998, there was a big event in the city. Some sort of an International Summit. All the Bollywood actors, company CEOs etc had gather at the 7 star hotel's banquet hall. Kashif was invited by one of the top builder's to threaten a certain government official. Kashif readily came. He met most known faces and some unknown. A waiter came to serve Kashif some drinks. Kashif turned back to pick a wine glass and that is when he saw her. She was dressed in blue denim and a white top, hair tussled in a black clip. Nothing eye catching about her. She kept clicking pictures, moving about the hall like she knew it so well. All the while she kept smiling.
Kashif noticed that his eyes kept following her. He tried to engage himself in talks but all his attempts were futile. He knew there was something about her that made him gaze shamelessly.
11.00 pm and the hall was getting empty. People started leaving for their rooms. Some were sloshed and had to be accompanied. Kashif called his driver and ordered him to get the car. The driver promptly drove the car to the porch. Kashif was all set to take the lift when he saw her walk down the flight of stairs. Unaware of his action, he followed her down the stairs. She was trying to miserably fit her camera into the hold-all and tie her hair, all at the same time. And then something from her bag fell off. Kashif quickened his steps and picked it up. He gave it to her, without even giving a glance towards what it was. He kept looking at her. She said "Thank you Sir". Kashif fumbled for words and somehow managed to say, "Koi baat nahin... tik hai". She bobbed about the stairs like a small kid, unaware of the mysterious pair of eyes staring at her.
Kashif saw her leave the main entrance of the plush hotel. He was about to follow her when his driver called out "Gaadi tayar hain Sahab". Kashif gave the driver a frosty nose look and angrily got into the back seat. The car left the premises and off onto the silent roads of Marine Drive. After covering about 50 feet, Kashif almost screeched "Rukooo". The driver hastily pulled the car. Kashif saw her walking down the streets alone. He stepped out and walked up to her. "Suniye! Kya main aap ko lift de sakta hun?". She jumped with fright. "Ji...Ji...Ji nahin". He again said "Suniye raat ka samay hai, aap ne yun akele nahi jana chaiye". She yelled back "Get lost you nerd. How dare you come and talk to me!". Kashif almost laughed. He said very calmly "Hanji, gaaliyan bhi de dijiye magar abh yahan se chaliye." She looked into his eyes for the first time and saw an assurance. "Well, I'm sorry dude! Can you give me a lift to Bandra?". Kashif only smiled and said "Haan haan Bandra Bandra".
They stepped into his car. She sat as far as possible. Kashif avoided looking at her. He had to put in a lot of effort. She kept looking at her mobile as if waiting for a call. He asked her "Hum call kar den? Aap ko thodi shaanti tho milegi warna aap iss phone ko dekhte rahengi aur hum aap ko." She smiled back. A big smile. And blushed. She put her hand forward and said "Hi I'm Neeti, photographer and reporter." He took her hand in his and held it like for eternity. "Kashif, hamara business hain." "Acha kis cheez ka business hain aap ka?". Kashif thought for a moment, saw her camera and said "Camera, TV, video". "Cameras... gosh I love cameras. This is given to me by my firm but I have one of my own. Its completely beautiful and the lenses are so ..." she went on and on and on. He only kept looking at her and nodding his head with the sound of any familiar word.
By the time they reached Bandra, she had explained the entire history of cameras. Not once did Kashif interrupt her. "Oh that's my home there. Thank you so much for the lift." "Ji koi baat nahin... good night". She looked at her mobile again and made a grimace. He spontaneously asked her "Coffee?". "Cafe Coffee Day Dadar" came her reply.
They reached Dadar. When Kashif entered CCD, the attending guys looked at him with fright in their eyes. One of them almost spilt coffee on a customer. Kashif smiled and raised an eyebrow. Neeti was too busy to notice any of this. She kept looking at her mobile. They were directed to a table. Neeti ordered two Cappuchinos. Kashif didn't attempt to order anything different. Neeti realised that Kashif could not converse in English. She didn't make it obvious and subtly changed her conversations to Hindi. Kashif seemed comfortable. They chatted about various things. About business, politics, Mumbai. Neeti looked at her mobile one last time and threw it in her hold all. He asked her "Kya aap ka koi boyfriend hain?". She shifted a little in her seat and said "Hmmm nahin". "Fir tik hain, kyunki main yeh kehna chahta tha ki mujhe aap bahut achi lagti ho". Neeti smiled, blushed and laughed. She paid closer attention to Kashif this time as he spoke about his Mumbai connections. She noticed that he was clean shaved, brown eyed and had a mole on his nose. He was not good looking but his smile lit his face like a shiny dew drop on a leaf.
The coffee was over and their conversations dimished with every passing moment. Neeti stood up and declared she would pay the bill. And without waiting for him to say anything, walked towards the counter and said to the cashier "Bill please!". The cashier promptly stood up and almost saluted her and said "No Ma'am today all drinks on the house". Neeti hardly believed her ears and jumped about the place. "Kashif aaj sab free hain idhar! Aree humne tho aur bhi lena chaiye tha. Hahahaha". Kashif murmured "Neeti, hamare saath rahoge tho sab free hoga." Neeti didn't hear clearly and asked "What?". He said "Kuch nahin ghar chalte hain!"
To be Continued...
This is the story of a goon. Yes, a criminal. His name is Kashif. Kashif was a henchman, an extortionist, a kidnapper. He could be whatever you wanted, as long as you paid him hefty sums of money. He had a small one-room shanty in Dharavi. He lived there and operated his business also from there itself.
Kashif began his 'career' at the age of 10. His first consignment was given by a well established don of Mumbai. He was assigned to kill an upcoming builder who had refused to pay 'protection money'. Kashif's mother was admitted in the hospital and was fighting against death. The doctor refused to treat her until the previous dues were cleared. Kashif found no other option and took up the consignment and killed the builder. The don paid Kashif much more than promised and even offered to treat his mother in a plush hospital. But as fate would have it, by the time Kashif took the money and reached to rescue his mother, she was already declared dead. Kashif shed not a single tear. In fact like a good son, he performed all the last rites well. The next day, the hospital doctor who had refused to treat Kashif's mother was found dead in his 3 BHK appartment in townside Mumbai.
Kashif slowly and gradually progressed from a small-time henchman to a serial killer, then a kidnapper. From here on, there was no looking back for him. He was on a money making spree. By the age of 25, his name was counted among the big dons of Mumbai. He was very pleased with the kind of hold he had, but somehow was never satisfied. In a fews years, he began loan-sharking. Biggies from all over India came to him. He did their work and they paid him any random amount that he quoted. But unlike the other dons, he was never into human trafficking or drugs. He was a misogynist and kept away from women.
Come May 1998, there was a big event in the city. Some sort of an International Summit. All the Bollywood actors, company CEOs etc had gather at the 7 star hotel's banquet hall. Kashif was invited by one of the top builder's to threaten a certain government official. Kashif readily came. He met most known faces and some unknown. A waiter came to serve Kashif some drinks. Kashif turned back to pick a wine glass and that is when he saw her. She was dressed in blue denim and a white top, hair tussled in a black clip. Nothing eye catching about her. She kept clicking pictures, moving about the hall like she knew it so well. All the while she kept smiling.
Kashif noticed that his eyes kept following her. He tried to engage himself in talks but all his attempts were futile. He knew there was something about her that made him gaze shamelessly.
11.00 pm and the hall was getting empty. People started leaving for their rooms. Some were sloshed and had to be accompanied. Kashif called his driver and ordered him to get the car. The driver promptly drove the car to the porch. Kashif was all set to take the lift when he saw her walk down the flight of stairs. Unaware of his action, he followed her down the stairs. She was trying to miserably fit her camera into the hold-all and tie her hair, all at the same time. And then something from her bag fell off. Kashif quickened his steps and picked it up. He gave it to her, without even giving a glance towards what it was. He kept looking at her. She said "Thank you Sir". Kashif fumbled for words and somehow managed to say, "Koi baat nahin... tik hai". She bobbed about the stairs like a small kid, unaware of the mysterious pair of eyes staring at her.
Kashif saw her leave the main entrance of the plush hotel. He was about to follow her when his driver called out "Gaadi tayar hain Sahab". Kashif gave the driver a frosty nose look and angrily got into the back seat. The car left the premises and off onto the silent roads of Marine Drive. After covering about 50 feet, Kashif almost screeched "Rukooo". The driver hastily pulled the car. Kashif saw her walking down the streets alone. He stepped out and walked up to her. "Suniye! Kya main aap ko lift de sakta hun?". She jumped with fright. "Ji...Ji...Ji nahin". He again said "Suniye raat ka samay hai, aap ne yun akele nahi jana chaiye". She yelled back "Get lost you nerd. How dare you come and talk to me!". Kashif almost laughed. He said very calmly "Hanji, gaaliyan bhi de dijiye magar abh yahan se chaliye." She looked into his eyes for the first time and saw an assurance. "Well, I'm sorry dude! Can you give me a lift to Bandra?". Kashif only smiled and said "Haan haan Bandra Bandra".
They stepped into his car. She sat as far as possible. Kashif avoided looking at her. He had to put in a lot of effort. She kept looking at her mobile as if waiting for a call. He asked her "Hum call kar den? Aap ko thodi shaanti tho milegi warna aap iss phone ko dekhte rahengi aur hum aap ko." She smiled back. A big smile. And blushed. She put her hand forward and said "Hi I'm Neeti, photographer and reporter." He took her hand in his and held it like for eternity. "Kashif, hamara business hain." "Acha kis cheez ka business hain aap ka?". Kashif thought for a moment, saw her camera and said "Camera, TV, video". "Cameras... gosh I love cameras. This is given to me by my firm but I have one of my own. Its completely beautiful and the lenses are so ..." she went on and on and on. He only kept looking at her and nodding his head with the sound of any familiar word.
By the time they reached Bandra, she had explained the entire history of cameras. Not once did Kashif interrupt her. "Oh that's my home there. Thank you so much for the lift." "Ji koi baat nahin... good night". She looked at her mobile again and made a grimace. He spontaneously asked her "Coffee?". "Cafe Coffee Day Dadar" came her reply.
They reached Dadar. When Kashif entered CCD, the attending guys looked at him with fright in their eyes. One of them almost spilt coffee on a customer. Kashif smiled and raised an eyebrow. Neeti was too busy to notice any of this. She kept looking at her mobile. They were directed to a table. Neeti ordered two Cappuchinos. Kashif didn't attempt to order anything different. Neeti realised that Kashif could not converse in English. She didn't make it obvious and subtly changed her conversations to Hindi. Kashif seemed comfortable. They chatted about various things. About business, politics, Mumbai. Neeti looked at her mobile one last time and threw it in her hold all. He asked her "Kya aap ka koi boyfriend hain?". She shifted a little in her seat and said "Hmmm nahin". "Fir tik hain, kyunki main yeh kehna chahta tha ki mujhe aap bahut achi lagti ho". Neeti smiled, blushed and laughed. She paid closer attention to Kashif this time as he spoke about his Mumbai connections. She noticed that he was clean shaved, brown eyed and had a mole on his nose. He was not good looking but his smile lit his face like a shiny dew drop on a leaf.
The coffee was over and their conversations dimished with every passing moment. Neeti stood up and declared she would pay the bill. And without waiting for him to say anything, walked towards the counter and said to the cashier "Bill please!". The cashier promptly stood up and almost saluted her and said "No Ma'am today all drinks on the house". Neeti hardly believed her ears and jumped about the place. "Kashif aaj sab free hain idhar! Aree humne tho aur bhi lena chaiye tha. Hahahaha". Kashif murmured "Neeti, hamare saath rahoge tho sab free hoga." Neeti didn't hear clearly and asked "What?". He said "Kuch nahin ghar chalte hain!"
To be Continued...
Tuesday 9 June 2009
Kya likhun?
Baithe hain likhne kuch lavz aise,
Ye dil ko mile kahin kuch sukuun jaise.
Zehen mein kuch baat tho aaye,
Padhne wale ko maza bhi laaye.
Baat hai bas itni si hi,
Ki likhne ki koshish humne bhi ki.
Saath diya na Urdu ne na Hindi ne,
Isthemal kar liya inhe angrezi mein.
"Aage bhi tho likh", kahe kalam
"Kuch acha pyara tez aur naram,
Ki padhne wale ko samajh bhi aaye,
Aur sunne wala na hosh gavaye".
Likhun bhi tho kya ye bata,
Har koi kuch naya hain chahta.
Pedh patta badal aur neer,
Kar gaye jhoota Galib aur Kabir.
Pyaar, mohabbat ki ummeed na rakh,
Likh likh ke sab gaye hain thak.
Kismath pe na likh paya main kabhi,
Aur uparwale ne uspne tho kitabein hain chapi.
Rahi bas ek cheez jis pe main likh paaun,
Aur yun hi din raat likhta chala jaun,
Woh soch ke jo uthaya kalam abhi,
Woh baat pe jo abhi bho zehen mein hain hi nahin.
---Arpita
19th April 2009
Ye dil ko mile kahin kuch sukuun jaise.
Zehen mein kuch baat tho aaye,
Padhne wale ko maza bhi laaye.
Baat hai bas itni si hi,
Ki likhne ki koshish humne bhi ki.
Saath diya na Urdu ne na Hindi ne,
Isthemal kar liya inhe angrezi mein.
"Aage bhi tho likh", kahe kalam
"Kuch acha pyara tez aur naram,
Ki padhne wale ko samajh bhi aaye,
Aur sunne wala na hosh gavaye".
Likhun bhi tho kya ye bata,
Har koi kuch naya hain chahta.
Pedh patta badal aur neer,
Kar gaye jhoota Galib aur Kabir.
Pyaar, mohabbat ki ummeed na rakh,
Likh likh ke sab gaye hain thak.
Kismath pe na likh paya main kabhi,
Aur uparwale ne uspne tho kitabein hain chapi.
Rahi bas ek cheez jis pe main likh paaun,
Aur yun hi din raat likhta chala jaun,
Woh soch ke jo uthaya kalam abhi,
Woh baat pe jo abhi bho zehen mein hain hi nahin.
---Arpita
19th April 2009
Wednesday 1 April 2009
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
थर थर पाउस आला
घन घन ढग बोलला
"आला मी नवीन जीवन घेउनी"
"नदीचा पोट ही चक्क भरुनी"
"काय पाहिजेस तुला माला संग"
"नाहीं पिलेला मी ते भंग"
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
हळू हळू पाउस गेला सोडून
सूर्य आला ढगा मागून
प्रकाशमय झाली येथे तेथे सगळी
पाने मजेत फुगडी खेळी
झाड़ खुशीत असा विचारे
सांग माला काय पाहिजे तुला रे
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
झाड़ जोर जोरानी हसला
आंबा घाबरूनी खाली पडला
लुड्कत लुड्कत माकड हाथी लागला
खुशीत माकडानी उडी मारला
पोट भरुनी तो बोलिला
संग देऊ काय मी तुला
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
नाचत नाचत माकड पावला शहरी
पकडीत आला तो एक नगरी
पण पकड़णारा ही होता भारी
प्रयत्न करुन झाला तो मदारी
पैसे ज़म्वू लागले किती तरी
सफल होउनी आता विचारी
"माग! आणि भरून देइन मी घाघरी"
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
मन विचार करू लागला
मागु काय त्याला न कळाला
सगळस तर आहे माझ्या कड़े देवा
माझ्या नमनाचा दिलास तू मेवा
तू संग काय अर्पू तुला
दान दक्षिणा की फुला
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
घन घन ढग बोलला
"आला मी नवीन जीवन घेउनी"
"नदीचा पोट ही चक्क भरुनी"
"काय पाहिजेस तुला माला संग"
"नाहीं पिलेला मी ते भंग"
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
हळू हळू पाउस गेला सोडून
सूर्य आला ढगा मागून
प्रकाशमय झाली येथे तेथे सगळी
पाने मजेत फुगडी खेळी
झाड़ खुशीत असा विचारे
सांग माला काय पाहिजे तुला रे
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
झाड़ जोर जोरानी हसला
आंबा घाबरूनी खाली पडला
लुड्कत लुड्कत माकड हाथी लागला
खुशीत माकडानी उडी मारला
पोट भरुनी तो बोलिला
संग देऊ काय मी तुला
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
नाचत नाचत माकड पावला शहरी
पकडीत आला तो एक नगरी
पण पकड़णारा ही होता भारी
प्रयत्न करुन झाला तो मदारी
पैसे ज़म्वू लागले किती तरी
सफल होउनी आता विचारी
"माग! आणि भरून देइन मी घाघरी"
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
मन विचार करू लागला
मागु काय त्याला न कळाला
सगळस तर आहे माझ्या कड़े देवा
माझ्या नमनाचा दिलास तू मेवा
तू संग काय अर्पू तुला
दान दक्षिणा की फुला
मन हसून बोलला स्वतःशी
आली ही रुतु कशी
वाटे चालली नवल दिशी
Friday 20 March 2009
You have a choice!
I could be the sun,
And blaze for everyone.
I could be the moon,
And be romantic for someone.
I can be the star,
And inspire anyone.
Or I could be the sky,
Which holds all these together as one.
I could fly away where ever I could,
I could sit in the water like a buffalo would,
I could be a butterfly to live for a day or two,
Or hide like a mouse so none have a clue.
I could pretend to be a singer,
A star in parties to long linger.
I could be a beautiful Gucci-clad actress,
Smile for some and dance to impress.
I could be a witty, nasty little leader,
Cheating people but a smart mind reader.
Or just be me, like the way I am now,
With nothing to lose like a sleepy cow.
"You have choice!", God said to me,
Showed me many doors but gave no key,
"You could be anything and that too for free.
Just imagine how beautiful this life could be".
---Arpita
20th March 2009
And blaze for everyone.
I could be the moon,
And be romantic for someone.
I can be the star,
And inspire anyone.
Or I could be the sky,
Which holds all these together as one.
I could fly away where ever I could,
I could sit in the water like a buffalo would,
I could be a butterfly to live for a day or two,
Or hide like a mouse so none have a clue.
I could pretend to be a singer,
A star in parties to long linger.
I could be a beautiful Gucci-clad actress,
Smile for some and dance to impress.
I could be a witty, nasty little leader,
Cheating people but a smart mind reader.
Or just be me, like the way I am now,
With nothing to lose like a sleepy cow.
"You have choice!", God said to me,
Showed me many doors but gave no key,
"You could be anything and that too for free.
Just imagine how beautiful this life could be".
---Arpita
20th March 2009
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