I was not too strong but the time had come to save my reputation and live up to my name “Sherdil”. The fight was to happen tomorrow in the scrap yard and almost everybody would be there to witness the mauling of “Sherdil” - I couldn’t get this thought out of my head.
That night, I didn’t eat my dinner. Everybody home was a little surprised; I never went to bed without finishing my meal. I looked fine and didn’t give out any signs of illness… they became more worried than surprised.
The night was cold and one could hear the wailing of the wolf in the nearby jungle. It was a full moon night and the moon washed the entire landscape in its milky rays. I had never seen a night so beautiful. I decided to sleep in the veranda. It was not usual for me sleep there; I was often found there when I couldn’t get in after having the night on town with my friends.
It might be my last day in this town - this thought pierced my heart and my eyes welled up. If I get the beating, I would have to leave this town. I had spent my childhood and my youth in the narrow lanes of this wonderful town. I fell asleep while planning for the next days fight.
I was to fight Ross. He was a ferocious Rottweiler and almost as big as me. He did not walk, he trotted - his trot was steady, full of energy with good stride. He seems to have come from a pure breed and was fed meat and special dog biscuits each day by Lala Chandu to ensure he maintains a shiny coat. Lala Chandu had got him home two years ago on his trip to Germany. Ross was reflection of Lala Chandu - intelligent, hardy and strong. From day one he had threatened my supremacy and I always wished that Lala Chandu kept him indoor but now and then on his daily walk Ross sprayed his scent to challenge my supremacy.
Ross’s stories of dare devilry had spread in the dog circles like wild fire. Every one touted him to be the next big things. The mongrels to gain his favour had been playing sycophants. They lost no opportunity to praise him and they even salute him and follow him around on his walks with their tail between their legs.
I never looked at him like an adversary but it had been build up by dog gangs who didn’t get along well with me. I was teased often about Ross being the next king of streets
The mongrels fed nonsense into Ross's head. Once Nip the scrawniest of the mongrel told Ross that I called him a jackass. On hearing this Ross went into fury and nearly flung his walker off the sidewalk. I confronted Nip and ripped his loins; he had to be carried away by the Municipal Corporation for administering first aid. Nip was never seen again. The mongrels were not stopping at this; they informed Ross that I ripped Nip as he was close to him. Ross couldn't take it anymore and wanted a face off to settle it for once and all. Scrap yard was fixed as the avenue for the big fight.
I was a gentle giant and played well with children and other dogs. I came from a long line of Saint Bernard. My parents were outgoing and sweet tempered. I inherited sweetness from my mother and even temper from my father. My father was looked up to and he managed to maintain harmony among the different dog gangs. After my father passed away the mantle was passed to me - I had been fair in my dealing with the dog matters and was well respected. This face off had a lot on stake for me.
That morning my master called me out for breakfast, I did hear him but my appetite was dead. My master was the kindest man; he had taken care of me after my parents were gone and he had never tied me down to a leash. I kept lying in the veranda. He walked up to me and first ruffled my head and then stroked by coat... I was full of emotions and cuddled up to him. He goaded me to come inside the house and treated me to my favourite biscuits.
Loud cheers greeted me at the scrap yard. My stomach was churning and my mouth was almost dry. I was a bit scared of Ross and feared that we might harm each other. He had a wild temper and the sharpest of the teeth.
I had prepared well and had rehearsed my moves. I knew when to dodge and pounce and when to dig my teeth. I had been in many fights but today’s fight was different – I was fighting for my honour.
Hundreds of dogs and dog gangs had come to the scrap yard to watch the greatest fight ever - that’s how it was promoted. The streets were unusually quite and deserted today.
Ross was already there with the mongrels. Ross seems to have given his walker a slip on the morning walk and Lala Chandu had been looking for Ross everywhere. Ross was beaming with confidence and gnashed his teeth when he saw me; I ignored him.
Without a warning Ross lunged at me. I ducked him and he fell flat on his stomach... swiftly he managed to be on his feet and turned around. He aimed for my leg, he almost had it before I gave a big push... it tore away my flesh. I was hurt and bleeding. I knew Ross came from a strong line of fighters and hunters and the only way to defeat him was to choke him. We growled at each other and he looked straight in my eyes... again he lunged at me but fell short by a foot. I hurled my whole heavy body on him and pressed his head to the ground with my big paws. Ross struggled for breath; I kept pushing down and only let him free when he was motionless. The mongrels made a quick escape when they realised Ross has been defeated and the entire scrap yard welcomed my victory.
Ross didn't move, I got concerned and used my paws to move his limp less body. Thank god he was breathing. I rushed home and pulled at my masters trouser. He knew something was not right... I led him to his car and we drove to the scrap yard. He was shocked to see a mêlée of dogs. I couldn't explain it to him. I guided him to the place where Ross was. He checked for pulse and hauled Ross into the back of his car and carried him to the vet. He also informed Lala Chandu about Ross.
I had been declared the King of streets.
Ross was back on his feet in couple of days. One fine day Ross happened to meet me on his mandatory evening walk led by his walker. Ross gave a friendly growl and thanked me for saving his life. He was a changed dog and so was I. I invited him over to the weekly meeting.
A bill was passed to maintain peace among the brothers and share the leadership and banned the usage of phrase dog eat dog.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Mr Toop
We (Pit, Josh and I) had been running for about 20 mins now. I looked back over my shoulder and couldn’t see the caretaker and even the barking of the black dog had died. We were out of breath and lost… we didn’t have an idea where we were and how to get back to the camp.
It was the 1st day of our 3 day educational camp. The class was to study the flora and fauna of this remote area, Katuna. It was believed to be the only place where there were some unique species of plants and animals which had survived the environmental changes of centuries.
“I am hungry and can’t walk any further,” announced Pit. He was the smallest and the noisiest of us all. Had it not been for his craving for the cherries we would had been noshing on some cakes with the afternoon tea. That evening we had strayed away from the camp on the pretext of a short survey of the neighbourhood.
Pit was resting against the crumbly rotting log, his sweaty and black long hair were clinging to his face and standing over him was the lover boy Josh, admiring his good looks in his pocket mirror and combing his wet hair slick a la reservoir dogs. He had more girlfriends than books he packed for school each day.
It was 6 pm, the sun had just slipped behind the Katuna mountains. “It would be dark soon… we need to find our way back. If we are not at the camp by 8 pm, Mr Toop would get panicky and the entire class would blame him for giving us a little too much leash”, Pit sounded concerned for the first time. Josh and I looked at him with incredulous expressions and we all busted into the laughter. The laughter came to an abrupt stop when we heard a shrill howl of a wolf. “Damn, it must be close. Lets find a place to hide… quick,” I shrieked. Josh pulled Pit off the log and we all rushed toward the open end of the jungle. It had a thick foliage and the tall trees… there was still some light for us to find a hiding place.
Back at the camp on learning that we are missing, Mr Toop almost dropped the book which he had brought to read on this yearly school educational camping trip. Mr Toop had been in trouble before because of us but this time if things were to go wrong Mr Toop might have to kiss his job goodbye – he remembered his last meeting with the principle.
A search party was formed. It consisted of the 5 big boys from the class, Mr Toop and the driver. The cook was made the incharge by Mr Toop and was left with a list of instructions. He unwillingly accepted the position feeling a bit proud and doled out extra custard to everybody that night.
While in the jungle we managed to find a small cave. It was almost dark by now and the howling of the wolf had stopped. “We would have to spend the night here and would have to be real quite… I have a sick feeling about this place… and these weird noises,” I said to my exhausted adventurers. Josh was ok with the decision but Pit wanted us to try to get back. We shot down his idea, it was too fraught with danger. Josh pulled out a cigarette and flicked the lighter; we all took deep drags and passed it around... I had a stub in my hand by the time it reached me on the third round - we all felt a bit better. No one spoke for the next hour. Josh removed his jacked and handed it to Pit so that he could use it for pillow. Pit was giving signs of fever and he soon dozed off.
Josh and I decided to take turn to watch out for any wild beast while others slept. I decided to guard first and asked Josh to sleep. I tried to be alert for a while but the days adventure was too much for me and didn’t knew when I slept off.
Mr Toop and the search party had a much better time… they had carried with them baskets of fruits and food for dinner and torches for better visibilities. They got to the cheery orchard and learnt from the caretaker that we had indeed been there and he chased us away before we could pluck some from his orchard. He pointed in the direction we had fled.
When I woke up, we three were in a small cage and were being carried off into the heart of the jungle by dangerously looking brown bodied scantily clad tough men with spears. They looked like the tribal’s of yore. I looked at Josh and then at Pit, they were pale with fear and Pit seemed to have cried his heart out. We were shocked and couldn’t believe how we have landed ourselves in this mess. They had tied us down to the cage and had smeared ash all over our faces. “ They are going to eat us”, Pit started sobbing.
We could hear the drums beat treacherously, the sound grew louder and louder. I had read many a stories where they carried the trespassers into the jungle, make the catch eat good food and later roast them and have a merry dinner of human brain and heart. On hearing this Josh and Pit nearly puked. I told them we need to maintain our wits and keep close and anytime there is an opportunity to escape we would flee.
The tribal’s were led by a leader. He was as broad as tall he was. His appearance was ghostly – the white painted face, a feather crown and tens of colourful beads around the neck and not to mention a menacing look. The tribal’s carried us towards the source of the noise. We could see the big fire from where we were – we started praying in unison, death was definite we thought.
There was a huge assemble of the tribal’s – men, women, children and animals. We were let loose near the big fire and were signalled to keep our head down and follow the leader. Everybody seemed to be shouting their lungs out… I could already visualize us on their plates, roasted and garnished. Suddenly the drums stopped and everybody was quite. We were confused… we looked around… the tribal’s were on their knees. From the canopy shaped shack emerged a beautiful girl followed by the tribal soldiers. We were motioned to bow our head by the leader who brought us here. The princess took up the high seat. We were pushed forward towards the princess… the leader announced something in the local lingo and pointed at us now and then. The princess looked at us intently and smiled… we looked at each other clueless if to smile back or not.
There on, it was a change of fortunes as I had read in the tribal stories. We were treated much better and fed lamb which had been skewered over the big fire with some pungent and sharp alcoholic drink. There was dance, music and noise; we eat and drank like hungry wolves enjoing our last meal.
When I woke up Mr Toop was standing over me. They had combed the entire forest all night to find us bissfully cuddled up in hay and looking rested. There was nothing around no princess, no leader, no tribal and no sign of anything. We narrated the entire episode to very annoyed Mr Toop on our way back to the camp but he found the story difficult to believe.
“We never came across the cherry farm on our way back Mr Toop,” I casually remarked.
Mr Toop stopped and looked ashen. It appeared as if someone had robbed him of his colour. He ordered everybody to pack up - we were leaving back for school.
It was the 1st day of our 3 day educational camp. The class was to study the flora and fauna of this remote area, Katuna. It was believed to be the only place where there were some unique species of plants and animals which had survived the environmental changes of centuries.
“I am hungry and can’t walk any further,” announced Pit. He was the smallest and the noisiest of us all. Had it not been for his craving for the cherries we would had been noshing on some cakes with the afternoon tea. That evening we had strayed away from the camp on the pretext of a short survey of the neighbourhood.
Pit was resting against the crumbly rotting log, his sweaty and black long hair were clinging to his face and standing over him was the lover boy Josh, admiring his good looks in his pocket mirror and combing his wet hair slick a la reservoir dogs. He had more girlfriends than books he packed for school each day.
It was 6 pm, the sun had just slipped behind the Katuna mountains. “It would be dark soon… we need to find our way back. If we are not at the camp by 8 pm, Mr Toop would get panicky and the entire class would blame him for giving us a little too much leash”, Pit sounded concerned for the first time. Josh and I looked at him with incredulous expressions and we all busted into the laughter. The laughter came to an abrupt stop when we heard a shrill howl of a wolf. “Damn, it must be close. Lets find a place to hide… quick,” I shrieked. Josh pulled Pit off the log and we all rushed toward the open end of the jungle. It had a thick foliage and the tall trees… there was still some light for us to find a hiding place.
Back at the camp on learning that we are missing, Mr Toop almost dropped the book which he had brought to read on this yearly school educational camping trip. Mr Toop had been in trouble before because of us but this time if things were to go wrong Mr Toop might have to kiss his job goodbye – he remembered his last meeting with the principle.
A search party was formed. It consisted of the 5 big boys from the class, Mr Toop and the driver. The cook was made the incharge by Mr Toop and was left with a list of instructions. He unwillingly accepted the position feeling a bit proud and doled out extra custard to everybody that night.
While in the jungle we managed to find a small cave. It was almost dark by now and the howling of the wolf had stopped. “We would have to spend the night here and would have to be real quite… I have a sick feeling about this place… and these weird noises,” I said to my exhausted adventurers. Josh was ok with the decision but Pit wanted us to try to get back. We shot down his idea, it was too fraught with danger. Josh pulled out a cigarette and flicked the lighter; we all took deep drags and passed it around... I had a stub in my hand by the time it reached me on the third round - we all felt a bit better. No one spoke for the next hour. Josh removed his jacked and handed it to Pit so that he could use it for pillow. Pit was giving signs of fever and he soon dozed off.
Josh and I decided to take turn to watch out for any wild beast while others slept. I decided to guard first and asked Josh to sleep. I tried to be alert for a while but the days adventure was too much for me and didn’t knew when I slept off.
Mr Toop and the search party had a much better time… they had carried with them baskets of fruits and food for dinner and torches for better visibilities. They got to the cheery orchard and learnt from the caretaker that we had indeed been there and he chased us away before we could pluck some from his orchard. He pointed in the direction we had fled.
When I woke up, we three were in a small cage and were being carried off into the heart of the jungle by dangerously looking brown bodied scantily clad tough men with spears. They looked like the tribal’s of yore. I looked at Josh and then at Pit, they were pale with fear and Pit seemed to have cried his heart out. We were shocked and couldn’t believe how we have landed ourselves in this mess. They had tied us down to the cage and had smeared ash all over our faces. “ They are going to eat us”, Pit started sobbing.
We could hear the drums beat treacherously, the sound grew louder and louder. I had read many a stories where they carried the trespassers into the jungle, make the catch eat good food and later roast them and have a merry dinner of human brain and heart. On hearing this Josh and Pit nearly puked. I told them we need to maintain our wits and keep close and anytime there is an opportunity to escape we would flee.
The tribal’s were led by a leader. He was as broad as tall he was. His appearance was ghostly – the white painted face, a feather crown and tens of colourful beads around the neck and not to mention a menacing look. The tribal’s carried us towards the source of the noise. We could see the big fire from where we were – we started praying in unison, death was definite we thought.
There was a huge assemble of the tribal’s – men, women, children and animals. We were let loose near the big fire and were signalled to keep our head down and follow the leader. Everybody seemed to be shouting their lungs out… I could already visualize us on their plates, roasted and garnished. Suddenly the drums stopped and everybody was quite. We were confused… we looked around… the tribal’s were on their knees. From the canopy shaped shack emerged a beautiful girl followed by the tribal soldiers. We were motioned to bow our head by the leader who brought us here. The princess took up the high seat. We were pushed forward towards the princess… the leader announced something in the local lingo and pointed at us now and then. The princess looked at us intently and smiled… we looked at each other clueless if to smile back or not.
There on, it was a change of fortunes as I had read in the tribal stories. We were treated much better and fed lamb which had been skewered over the big fire with some pungent and sharp alcoholic drink. There was dance, music and noise; we eat and drank like hungry wolves enjoing our last meal.
When I woke up Mr Toop was standing over me. They had combed the entire forest all night to find us bissfully cuddled up in hay and looking rested. There was nothing around no princess, no leader, no tribal and no sign of anything. We narrated the entire episode to very annoyed Mr Toop on our way back to the camp but he found the story difficult to believe.
“We never came across the cherry farm on our way back Mr Toop,” I casually remarked.
Mr Toop stopped and looked ashen. It appeared as if someone had robbed him of his colour. He ordered everybody to pack up - we were leaving back for school.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Jugnu
It was a special day for most including me in the village. One of my cousin brother was getting married to his love from the adjoining village. He had to wait five long years before he could convince the family; the girl did not belong to the same cast. He overcome odds and the mores of the society to marry her.
The house was beautifully lighted. Streamers of small blinking lights and shiny paper strips ran all around the house giving it an appearance of a well lit night sky. One could also smell the fresh coat of paint which added to brightness under the shimmering lights. The place was buzzing with excited chatter and laughter. The womenfolk had finally got a respite from the incessant housework and chores and the men were busy making arrangement to receive the bride - the 'barat' which was expected any moment. The kids were not to be left behind, they ran around chasing each other; the place provided an excellent playground for hide and seek.
This story is not about the wedding. It’s about Jugnu, the village drunkard. I happen to meet him when I was looking for a hot cup of tea to keep myself warm on that chilly October evening.
Jugnu looks out for these special occasions as he gets to drink as much as he can without any care. Everybody in the village felt that he has destroyed himself while Jugnu blames it on the time.
"Do not delay punditji, I want to get married in this life", Jugnu jokingly pleaded with the punditji. "I am busy today... don't worry we would sit someday soon and talk about it", said punditji trying to avoid Jugnu. Punditji gave him a slip and disappeared in the merrymaking wedding crowd.
Jugnu had withered with time but still towered over the gentle folks of the village; he was at least a foot taller than most. While I settled on a comfortable chair with my cuppa of tea, Jugnu was going on with his monologue after punditji had left the stage. He tried to hide that he had been drinking but his breath gave it away.
“You tell me sir, what should a man like me do when these girls pursue me to marry them? I have three chasing me but there is this one girl who is after my life. I have to get this done before I bid adieu to the world”. To be polite and save myself from offending him I nodded and smiled. Taking this as a cue Jugnu pulled a chair next to me and continued.
“I was one of the best volleyball player in the school. I could spike the ball just next to the net in the opposition’s court. I was lauded and touted as the volleyball prodigy. I won many a shields and trophies for my school. As the fate had it, I tasted this bloody alcohol.
My grandfather and father did well in education and were looked up to in this small part of the country but I dropped out of school. I couldn’t even get past the 10th standard. I wasn’t too bright a student and couldn’t differentiate geography from history. I didn’t apply myself and fancied myself to be the local hero; it was my choice or my fate. Once I had no association with the school my chances of making it big in the volleyball circuit were gone. I had no choice but to help the family in the fields. I failed again… I couldn’t set my mind on doing the field work and preferred the company of the villager loafers and today I lead them.
If I would had been married at the right time, I would had couple of kids today.
I want to get married and I can’t delay… I am 39 and have been drinking for past 21 years. I have met many beautiful girls and have had a good time with them. They strayed me but I do not blame them. I still remember this fair frail girl who I met when I had been to Calcutta looking for a good price for my farm produce. When away from home it was a secret ritual for us youngsters to look for a prostitute and have a good time before we come back to the villages and and went back to doing the same thing over and over again. It helped us to exploit our youth and taste freedom.
I fell for her and wanted to marry her. She was a Muslim, she was too beautiful - straight from heaven… I couldn’t take my eyes off her and was charmed. Without a thought I asked her to marry me. She though I was joking but when I proposed again she was taken aback... I feel I was the only man who had been kind enough to make this offer to her. She told me that she was a Muslim and it would be impossible for them to get acceptance. Moreover the pimp would not let her slip; if he finds about any plans to escape the city he would slaughter both. I even lied and tried to pass myself as a Muslim from Ghaziabad to counter her objection. She was amused by my feeble attempt and laughed her head off. I looked on while she had a hearty laugh - I had never seen such a beautiful laughter in my life.
She could see the love and desperation in my eyes to possess her for life. I wanted her to run off with me. I tried to argue and convince her that religion and caste are man made; to the almighty all are equal. She refused to run off with me... she feared for my life. She asked me to have a good time with her and when I was about to leave she handed me 1000 rupees for my journey back home. I was heart broken.
Each day I remember her and drink to her… I could have been somebody had it not for the bad times. No man is bad; it’s the time which is good or bad”.
I barely drank the tea while he told me his story… I was moved and tried to sympathize with him by mumbling some comfort words. I could no longer look into his moist eyes.
“The 'barat' is here… they have brought the bride… she is beautiful", someone shouted and broke my attention. Their was noise and commotion all around. Jugnu went on with his monologue while I left the place to watch the splendid 'barat'.
The house was beautifully lighted. Streamers of small blinking lights and shiny paper strips ran all around the house giving it an appearance of a well lit night sky. One could also smell the fresh coat of paint which added to brightness under the shimmering lights. The place was buzzing with excited chatter and laughter. The womenfolk had finally got a respite from the incessant housework and chores and the men were busy making arrangement to receive the bride - the 'barat' which was expected any moment. The kids were not to be left behind, they ran around chasing each other; the place provided an excellent playground for hide and seek.
This story is not about the wedding. It’s about Jugnu, the village drunkard. I happen to meet him when I was looking for a hot cup of tea to keep myself warm on that chilly October evening.
Jugnu looks out for these special occasions as he gets to drink as much as he can without any care. Everybody in the village felt that he has destroyed himself while Jugnu blames it on the time.
"Do not delay punditji, I want to get married in this life", Jugnu jokingly pleaded with the punditji. "I am busy today... don't worry we would sit someday soon and talk about it", said punditji trying to avoid Jugnu. Punditji gave him a slip and disappeared in the merrymaking wedding crowd.
Jugnu had withered with time but still towered over the gentle folks of the village; he was at least a foot taller than most. While I settled on a comfortable chair with my cuppa of tea, Jugnu was going on with his monologue after punditji had left the stage. He tried to hide that he had been drinking but his breath gave it away.
“You tell me sir, what should a man like me do when these girls pursue me to marry them? I have three chasing me but there is this one girl who is after my life. I have to get this done before I bid adieu to the world”. To be polite and save myself from offending him I nodded and smiled. Taking this as a cue Jugnu pulled a chair next to me and continued.
“I was one of the best volleyball player in the school. I could spike the ball just next to the net in the opposition’s court. I was lauded and touted as the volleyball prodigy. I won many a shields and trophies for my school. As the fate had it, I tasted this bloody alcohol.
My grandfather and father did well in education and were looked up to in this small part of the country but I dropped out of school. I couldn’t even get past the 10th standard. I wasn’t too bright a student and couldn’t differentiate geography from history. I didn’t apply myself and fancied myself to be the local hero; it was my choice or my fate. Once I had no association with the school my chances of making it big in the volleyball circuit were gone. I had no choice but to help the family in the fields. I failed again… I couldn’t set my mind on doing the field work and preferred the company of the villager loafers and today I lead them.
If I would had been married at the right time, I would had couple of kids today.
I want to get married and I can’t delay… I am 39 and have been drinking for past 21 years. I have met many beautiful girls and have had a good time with them. They strayed me but I do not blame them. I still remember this fair frail girl who I met when I had been to Calcutta looking for a good price for my farm produce. When away from home it was a secret ritual for us youngsters to look for a prostitute and have a good time before we come back to the villages and and went back to doing the same thing over and over again. It helped us to exploit our youth and taste freedom.
I fell for her and wanted to marry her. She was a Muslim, she was too beautiful - straight from heaven… I couldn’t take my eyes off her and was charmed. Without a thought I asked her to marry me. She though I was joking but when I proposed again she was taken aback... I feel I was the only man who had been kind enough to make this offer to her. She told me that she was a Muslim and it would be impossible for them to get acceptance. Moreover the pimp would not let her slip; if he finds about any plans to escape the city he would slaughter both. I even lied and tried to pass myself as a Muslim from Ghaziabad to counter her objection. She was amused by my feeble attempt and laughed her head off. I looked on while she had a hearty laugh - I had never seen such a beautiful laughter in my life.
She could see the love and desperation in my eyes to possess her for life. I wanted her to run off with me. I tried to argue and convince her that religion and caste are man made; to the almighty all are equal. She refused to run off with me... she feared for my life. She asked me to have a good time with her and when I was about to leave she handed me 1000 rupees for my journey back home. I was heart broken.
Each day I remember her and drink to her… I could have been somebody had it not for the bad times. No man is bad; it’s the time which is good or bad”.
I barely drank the tea while he told me his story… I was moved and tried to sympathize with him by mumbling some comfort words. I could no longer look into his moist eyes.
“The 'barat' is here… they have brought the bride… she is beautiful", someone shouted and broke my attention. Their was noise and commotion all around. Jugnu went on with his monologue while I left the place to watch the splendid 'barat'.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Red Roses
I resisted calling her. It was too early – she was a late riser. I hired a taxi and picked some red roses on the way home. She liked roses and the red were her favorite. I decided to catch her leaving for work; her carpoll used to come around 10 A.M.
Their was a spring in my step. I was excited about my decision... I felt free of the guilt that I had carried around - it was a redemption day. I had Elton John crooning 'can you feel the love tonight' on my music system; I hummed along. It was 9 A.M. I had an hour to shave, shower and eat. Then the phone rang - it was Vijay. "The case information has leaked to the media. They are all outside. I do not know what to do", he sounded nervous and scared.
The news of 'tiger killing' was over all. The media had found their breaking news and the opposition party a chance to get back at the ruling government. It besmirch the image of the ruling government, they ran for cover and in haste disassociated themselves from Sh. Lal Chand.
"Avoid saying anything. If you can't, tell them 'the crime' is under investigation and it’s too early to make any comment. Tell them as and when we would have more information they would be briefed", I offered him the simplest of the advice from my experience facing the media. I also asked him to stay calm and look good for the camera. "Oh! shup up", he snapped, he didn’t take the ‘look good for the camera’ advise kindly.
“And get out of there as soon as you can", I asked him changing my tone.
The 'tiger killing case' was played over and over again on almost all the news channels. Most of them presented it tastelessly; I felt pity for the poor viewers and the dead tiger.
I called up the Boss to apprise him of the situation. “What is Vijay doing there? Why did you let him stay?...” He was concerned and asked me more questions than I expected. I assured him that I have spoken to Vijay and briefed him and he would be out of Junna soon. Boss was more concerned about how he would handle the journalists. I got caught up in the whirlwind of the case. I lost sense of time.
It was 12 P.M. The roses had lost their shine and looked limp. Kavita would not have liked them - I flung the bunch in the trash can sitting next to my writing table. By that time the excitement to meet her had turned into anger and helplessness.
I tried her number and was greeted by the message, “The phone is out of coverage area…” I tried again and then again and again and felt frustrated. I had to tell her what she was to me. It felt heavy and I wanted to get it out of my chest. I rushed to her house only to find it locked. I turned home and slept off; I was exhausted by the day’s events.
Loud knocking on the door jolted me out of my deep sleep. I checked my watch, it was 8 P.M. I opened the door to find Vijay and Kavita. Vijay looked shaken and tired - he had a long day. He handed me the files said goodbye to Kavita and left. She walked in quietly.
We didn’t exchange a word for the next 30 minutes and then she broke the silence. "I had to rush to Junna to cover the story... Vijay told me everything”, I could feel the warmth and admiration in her words. She walked over to the trash can and picked up the bunch of limply dead roses. She looked at me and said,"they are beautiful". I looked into her eyes, she still loved me and was ready for a new start. I took her hand and pressed it tightly.
Their was a spring in my step. I was excited about my decision... I felt free of the guilt that I had carried around - it was a redemption day. I had Elton John crooning 'can you feel the love tonight' on my music system; I hummed along. It was 9 A.M. I had an hour to shave, shower and eat. Then the phone rang - it was Vijay. "The case information has leaked to the media. They are all outside. I do not know what to do", he sounded nervous and scared.
The news of 'tiger killing' was over all. The media had found their breaking news and the opposition party a chance to get back at the ruling government. It besmirch the image of the ruling government, they ran for cover and in haste disassociated themselves from Sh. Lal Chand.
"Avoid saying anything. If you can't, tell them 'the crime' is under investigation and it’s too early to make any comment. Tell them as and when we would have more information they would be briefed", I offered him the simplest of the advice from my experience facing the media. I also asked him to stay calm and look good for the camera. "Oh! shup up", he snapped, he didn’t take the ‘look good for the camera’ advise kindly.
“And get out of there as soon as you can", I asked him changing my tone.
The 'tiger killing case' was played over and over again on almost all the news channels. Most of them presented it tastelessly; I felt pity for the poor viewers and the dead tiger.
I called up the Boss to apprise him of the situation. “What is Vijay doing there? Why did you let him stay?...” He was concerned and asked me more questions than I expected. I assured him that I have spoken to Vijay and briefed him and he would be out of Junna soon. Boss was more concerned about how he would handle the journalists. I got caught up in the whirlwind of the case. I lost sense of time.
It was 12 P.M. The roses had lost their shine and looked limp. Kavita would not have liked them - I flung the bunch in the trash can sitting next to my writing table. By that time the excitement to meet her had turned into anger and helplessness.
I tried her number and was greeted by the message, “The phone is out of coverage area…” I tried again and then again and again and felt frustrated. I had to tell her what she was to me. It felt heavy and I wanted to get it out of my chest. I rushed to her house only to find it locked. I turned home and slept off; I was exhausted by the day’s events.
Loud knocking on the door jolted me out of my deep sleep. I checked my watch, it was 8 P.M. I opened the door to find Vijay and Kavita. Vijay looked shaken and tired - he had a long day. He handed me the files said goodbye to Kavita and left. She walked in quietly.
We didn’t exchange a word for the next 30 minutes and then she broke the silence. "I had to rush to Junna to cover the story... Vijay told me everything”, I could feel the warmth and admiration in her words. She walked over to the trash can and picked up the bunch of limply dead roses. She looked at me and said,"they are beautiful". I looked into her eyes, she still loved me and was ready for a new start. I took her hand and pressed it tightly.
Friday, October 2, 2009
2. The Dead Tiger
It was 6:30 AM when we reached the rest house. The 'chowkidar' at entrance was still huddled up with the blanket on the stool. He displayed amazing balance and managed to recover his fall each time he nodded off a little too much on one side.
“Chor, chor …” Vijay hollered and woke up the sleepy skinny 'chowkidar'. I was familiar with his silly pranks… it didn’t amuse me however it did upset the 'chowkidar' when he realized it was a joke played on him.
We were led in the rest house and then into the big twin room after we had signed up the visitors register. I flipped the pages to see who all have been here recently; most of the names were unfamiliar, however I did recognize Sh. Lal Chand who had been in the rest house about five days ago.
I slept off as soon as my tired body met the soft mattress. Vijay stayed up. He was hungry and asked the caretaker to rush some 'aloo paranth' and tea while he worked on the case. We had to be at the office of District Forest Office at 11 AM to dig deeper into the tiger killing case.
“Damn, do you want to sleep all your life? We have to be at the forest office in another 30 mins. Come on wake up…” I had heard it before. Vijay was arranging his shaving kit and looked quite dapper in his new blazer. I rushed into the bathroom and was out in 10 mins and still Vijay was busy, this time arranging things in his bag. I was out of the room much before Vijay. I beat him again.
D.F.O sahib had sent us his Jeep. We were in his office by 11:30. D.F.O sahib was barely 40 and looked quite sharp in his suite. I felt awkward in the company of two well dressed men. We were soon discussing business.
The forest guard had found a dead tiger near Sandhu yesterday morning. Sandhu was about 10 Km from Junna. After post-mortem it was found that the tiger was shot twice in the stomach and died a slow painful death.
The report said that it appeared the tiger was shot by a party of amateur hunters who didn’t chase the tiger after shooting. The tiger must have roamed around with his injuries for 3 days and died of hunger and thirst.
We were asked to inspect the dead tiger before it could be disposed off; it had starting putrefying. I couldn’t stand the stench however Vijay inspected the dead tiger like a true professional. He made observations in his little notepad. Next step was to summon the S.H.O of the area. He made a sheepish entry into the room and shared the details of his investigation and details of the people who own a licensed gun in the area. His observation was that the tiger could have been shot by the Billu gang of poachers… as they only possessed latest hunting rifles.
Vijay was diligently recording the details of the interviews. He interviewed anyone and everyone who was brought into the room. Some of them had seen the tiger, some had touched it and some had merely heard about it.
I was drifting between thought of Kavita and the dead tiger. The dead tiger had some kind of effect on me. It compelled me to a bit philosophical and takes a rational view of life’s choices and decisions before it was too late. I made up my mind to see Kavita’s as soon as I was back and ask her to marry me.
I looked at my watch, I was getting impatient. It was 4 PM. We were getting nowhere. S.H.O was definite that it was Billu gang but there was no proof to support it. D.F.O sahib shared all that he had seen and was told.
“Did you check if we have had any visitors in Junna lately?” I directed my question at the S.H.O. “We have had many since Sh. Lal Chand got the ministry. He is a true ‘junta ka sewak’. He has connected this sleepy town to the entire county by train and has spent crores on improving the roads and schools…” S.H.O seemed as impressed as me with Sh. Lal Chand’s achievements and work.
“I mean last week”.
S.H.O was taken aback. “Sh. Lal Chand was in rest house about 5 days ago. I would want you to check the purposed of his visit. Who were with him? When he checked in and when he left? And you can start with the caretaker of the rest house.” There was silence in the room.
We thanked the D.F.O sahib for his time and came back to the rest house followed by S.H.O.
On questioning, the caretaker informed that Sh. Lal Chand came late in the evening with a party of 5-6 men who talked among themselves in English. They had dinner and left in the night only to return early in the morning and left the rest house after having lunch. All of them appeared to be excited about something they had done in the night.
I directed the S.H.O to work on the lead.
Vijay wanted to stay the night there but I had Kavita on mind. I took the last train out of Junna and all along prepared myself to propose Kavita. I was back at the railway platform which I left a night ago. The mongrels and the hawkers were back and busy with their business. I looked at my expensive Swiss made wrist watch. It was 7 AM. A bright day awaited me.
“Chor, chor …” Vijay hollered and woke up the sleepy skinny 'chowkidar'. I was familiar with his silly pranks… it didn’t amuse me however it did upset the 'chowkidar' when he realized it was a joke played on him.
We were led in the rest house and then into the big twin room after we had signed up the visitors register. I flipped the pages to see who all have been here recently; most of the names were unfamiliar, however I did recognize Sh. Lal Chand who had been in the rest house about five days ago.
I slept off as soon as my tired body met the soft mattress. Vijay stayed up. He was hungry and asked the caretaker to rush some 'aloo paranth' and tea while he worked on the case. We had to be at the office of District Forest Office at 11 AM to dig deeper into the tiger killing case.
“Damn, do you want to sleep all your life? We have to be at the forest office in another 30 mins. Come on wake up…” I had heard it before. Vijay was arranging his shaving kit and looked quite dapper in his new blazer. I rushed into the bathroom and was out in 10 mins and still Vijay was busy, this time arranging things in his bag. I was out of the room much before Vijay. I beat him again.
D.F.O sahib had sent us his Jeep. We were in his office by 11:30. D.F.O sahib was barely 40 and looked quite sharp in his suite. I felt awkward in the company of two well dressed men. We were soon discussing business.
The forest guard had found a dead tiger near Sandhu yesterday morning. Sandhu was about 10 Km from Junna. After post-mortem it was found that the tiger was shot twice in the stomach and died a slow painful death.
The report said that it appeared the tiger was shot by a party of amateur hunters who didn’t chase the tiger after shooting. The tiger must have roamed around with his injuries for 3 days and died of hunger and thirst.
We were asked to inspect the dead tiger before it could be disposed off; it had starting putrefying. I couldn’t stand the stench however Vijay inspected the dead tiger like a true professional. He made observations in his little notepad. Next step was to summon the S.H.O of the area. He made a sheepish entry into the room and shared the details of his investigation and details of the people who own a licensed gun in the area. His observation was that the tiger could have been shot by the Billu gang of poachers… as they only possessed latest hunting rifles.
Vijay was diligently recording the details of the interviews. He interviewed anyone and everyone who was brought into the room. Some of them had seen the tiger, some had touched it and some had merely heard about it.
I was drifting between thought of Kavita and the dead tiger. The dead tiger had some kind of effect on me. It compelled me to a bit philosophical and takes a rational view of life’s choices and decisions before it was too late. I made up my mind to see Kavita’s as soon as I was back and ask her to marry me.
I looked at my watch, I was getting impatient. It was 4 PM. We were getting nowhere. S.H.O was definite that it was Billu gang but there was no proof to support it. D.F.O sahib shared all that he had seen and was told.
“Did you check if we have had any visitors in Junna lately?” I directed my question at the S.H.O. “We have had many since Sh. Lal Chand got the ministry. He is a true ‘junta ka sewak’. He has connected this sleepy town to the entire county by train and has spent crores on improving the roads and schools…” S.H.O seemed as impressed as me with Sh. Lal Chand’s achievements and work.
“I mean last week”.
S.H.O was taken aback. “Sh. Lal Chand was in rest house about 5 days ago. I would want you to check the purposed of his visit. Who were with him? When he checked in and when he left? And you can start with the caretaker of the rest house.” There was silence in the room.
We thanked the D.F.O sahib for his time and came back to the rest house followed by S.H.O.
On questioning, the caretaker informed that Sh. Lal Chand came late in the evening with a party of 5-6 men who talked among themselves in English. They had dinner and left in the night only to return early in the morning and left the rest house after having lunch. All of them appeared to be excited about something they had done in the night.
I directed the S.H.O to work on the lead.
Vijay wanted to stay the night there but I had Kavita on mind. I took the last train out of Junna and all along prepared myself to propose Kavita. I was back at the railway platform which I left a night ago. The mongrels and the hawkers were back and busy with their business. I looked at my expensive Swiss made wrist watch. It was 7 AM. A bright day awaited me.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
1. The Train Journey
It was quite dark. I looked at my expensive designer Swiss made wrist watch. I smiled and felt proud to own it. It was the only expensive thing that I owned apart from my huge collection of books.
It was already 9 PM and if I did not have the package in another 30 minutes - I would be dead by morning.
The railway platform was deserted and one could only see the mongrels rummaging for leftovers in the overflowing garbage cans and the hawkers in rush to close their shacks and rush home to the comforts of their wives and fluffy quilts. It was unusually cold for October night.
I digged into my bag and pulled out J. D. Salinger’s ‘Catcher In The Rye’ and pretended to read it. It was my favourite book; I had read it a hundred times… I adored Holden and his disdain for superficial and phony.
I had been to no better and phony a place then Pencey. Though Holden managed to escape it but I could not wriggle out even after repeating a couple of grades. I improved with time. My school seemed to love me and didn’t let me go – it stuck to me like a leech.
What I am today is not entirely to be blamed on my alma mater, even my parents need to share the blame for dragging me through the corridors of the best of best educational institutes.
I am a professional crime fighter. Don’t confuse me with the ‘men’ who have fancy prefixes and suffixes and bulging muscles, rather I have an ordinary name and almost no muscles to flaunt.
The government secret agency inducted me in their 22nd batch of the super stealth sleuth after umpteen tests and examinations. I was trained with a group of 25 youth; most of them didn’t survive the gruelling training and those who survived today brag about being the best in the profession. I am attached with the unit who has been chasing the gangs of poachers and smugglers since its inception on the suggestion of the fifth government of independent India.
“Sorry, I am late. I couldn’t get anybody to drop me here. I had to do a taxi… I hope I didn’t keep you waiting”, she interrupted my thoughts. She handed over the big packet to me. She looks as beautiful as ever. I wanted to kiss her on the cheeks but before I could say something she had disappeared.
The train was scheduled to arrive at 9:30 PM. I went back to reading the book on the cold bench. By 9:15 PM the hawkers had packed up and left and the few of the mongrels had huddled up and found a cozy corner. The train was to stop for 3 mins at the platform before it would speed to Junna. I had to look for my compartment; search for my seat and settle down in 3 minutes.
This was not my first travel by train but was my first to Junna. Junna was a sleepy town in the foot hills of Himalayas and its only claim to fame was Sh. Lal Chand, the sitting MP. A pot bellied middle agent seasoned politician who managed to snag an important position in the ministry. Had it not been for him I would have had to buy ticket till Tarapur and then look for a local transport to help me reach Junna. It’s an open secret that he threaten to defect to the opposition party in case his government was not read to connect Junna by rail to the rest of the country.
It’s not easy to travel in Indian trains. Firstly, the trains have no arrival and departure time; secondly one is not sure if he would sit on the seat he booked and reserved or would he just get to rest his half a moon on the Rexene seats and lastly one has to tie his belongings to oneself for obvious reasons. Now that I had the package in possession, I was assured I would be safe.
At 9:30 PM, I could hear the long whistle of the train signalling it was approaching the station. I picked up the bag and the packet. I shoved the book in the bag and secured it with a Velcro. The train came to halt after a lot of huffing and puffing. Not many were getting off… I rushed towards S7 bogey. I had seat 54 reserved for me. As I steeped on the footboard, I heard Vijay calling my name. I didn’t expect him to be there as he had been on a sick leave for a month – he kept his embarrassing illness secret from everyone but me.
In nick of time I pulled him in. He was out of breath. “Boss wanted me to join you. I have some important and classified papers in the bag for you”, I didn’t pay any attention to him and was annoyed as it was supposed to be a solo assignment. He knew that.
We made way towards seat 54. It was the side seat with a sleeper berth. I was travelling sleeper class as the unit only reimbursed for 2nd class. Vijay flashed his ID card and said something in the ear of the passenger on seat 53. He quietly picked up his cheap plastic suitcase and scurried. I didn’t see him after that and never asked Vijay what he whispered in the ears of the man.
“By five we should be their. We have a twin rooms booked in the rest house. I got some papers which you should look now… it would help plan the day”, Vijay tried to start a conversation. I was in no mood for chit chat. I had a long day and wanted to catch on my sleep. “You study them and make a list of things we need to do tomorrow, while a rest a bit”, I said and jumped on the upper berth.
It was awfully cold. I only had a sweater on... I was asked to rush to Junna while I was on my way back from Rampur. Rampur was comparatively warmer and pleasant. I phoned Kavita to meet me at the station. Kavita was my estranged girlfriend but was still kind to me and helped my once in a while.
Kavita was a journalist with the leading newspaper. I met her about a year ago when she had been chasing some facts on the poaching of the Tigers in the Kumaoo hills. I likely her exuberance and bully nature… she persisted and chased me all around for some sound bites. I could have avoided her but was attracted to her charm.
Our meeting frequency grew and we dated for about couple of months before she introduced me to her family. I made it a point to meet her and her parents when I was in town; my job involved a lot of travelling. We could have been married had it not been for my father who strictly opposed it citing economic divide and culture as the reason. My mother also sided him. My relations grew bitter with Kavita who felt insulted and we decided to move apart though I could never move on.
The jerky movement of the train and the cold seat made me squirm; I didn’t feel rested. I was using the package Kavita handed my as pillow. I pulled it from under my head and undid the thread that kept it together. There it was my tweed coat wrapped up nicely in a newspaper. I put it on.
“Damn, do u want to sleep all your life? We are at Janna. Come on wake up… hurry… I am hungry and cold… I need a warm cuppa tea…” Vijay appeared irritated and was talking to himself while he was arranging his stuff in the small bag he veritably carried on all his sojourns.
I jumped off the berth… picked up my bag and was out of the bogey much before Vijay. It was a cold morning. I walked to the nearest tea stall and asked for 2 cups of tea and some 'mathi'. I was on my 2nd 'mathi' when Vijay reached the stall. After dawdling for a while I paid the stallwala and walked out the station gate.
There was no transport in sight. It was too early. We were told the rest house is about two kilometres away. We could have either waited for the town to wake up or walk. We agreed to walk. We asked for directions and walked toward the rest house.
All along Vijay extolled about the virtues of walking in the morning. I nodded just to keep him talking with an occasional remark or two.
Junna was much better than I had imagined… It had the pukka roads and dustbins along the road to prevent littering and not to mention the 'Sauchalaya' which would put the Delhi administration to shame. Sh. Lal Chand peeked from here and there with the big broad grin to greet you in his constituency.
“There it is”, I shouted. I was glad to see the rest house. I was tired and hungry and not to mention sleepy. Had Kavita not given the packed to me I would had been dead. I missed her.
It was already 9 PM and if I did not have the package in another 30 minutes - I would be dead by morning.
The railway platform was deserted and one could only see the mongrels rummaging for leftovers in the overflowing garbage cans and the hawkers in rush to close their shacks and rush home to the comforts of their wives and fluffy quilts. It was unusually cold for October night.
I digged into my bag and pulled out J. D. Salinger’s ‘Catcher In The Rye’ and pretended to read it. It was my favourite book; I had read it a hundred times… I adored Holden and his disdain for superficial and phony.
I had been to no better and phony a place then Pencey. Though Holden managed to escape it but I could not wriggle out even after repeating a couple of grades. I improved with time. My school seemed to love me and didn’t let me go – it stuck to me like a leech.
What I am today is not entirely to be blamed on my alma mater, even my parents need to share the blame for dragging me through the corridors of the best of best educational institutes.
I am a professional crime fighter. Don’t confuse me with the ‘men’ who have fancy prefixes and suffixes and bulging muscles, rather I have an ordinary name and almost no muscles to flaunt.
The government secret agency inducted me in their 22nd batch of the super stealth sleuth after umpteen tests and examinations. I was trained with a group of 25 youth; most of them didn’t survive the gruelling training and those who survived today brag about being the best in the profession. I am attached with the unit who has been chasing the gangs of poachers and smugglers since its inception on the suggestion of the fifth government of independent India.
“Sorry, I am late. I couldn’t get anybody to drop me here. I had to do a taxi… I hope I didn’t keep you waiting”, she interrupted my thoughts. She handed over the big packet to me. She looks as beautiful as ever. I wanted to kiss her on the cheeks but before I could say something she had disappeared.
The train was scheduled to arrive at 9:30 PM. I went back to reading the book on the cold bench. By 9:15 PM the hawkers had packed up and left and the few of the mongrels had huddled up and found a cozy corner. The train was to stop for 3 mins at the platform before it would speed to Junna. I had to look for my compartment; search for my seat and settle down in 3 minutes.
This was not my first travel by train but was my first to Junna. Junna was a sleepy town in the foot hills of Himalayas and its only claim to fame was Sh. Lal Chand, the sitting MP. A pot bellied middle agent seasoned politician who managed to snag an important position in the ministry. Had it not been for him I would have had to buy ticket till Tarapur and then look for a local transport to help me reach Junna. It’s an open secret that he threaten to defect to the opposition party in case his government was not read to connect Junna by rail to the rest of the country.
It’s not easy to travel in Indian trains. Firstly, the trains have no arrival and departure time; secondly one is not sure if he would sit on the seat he booked and reserved or would he just get to rest his half a moon on the Rexene seats and lastly one has to tie his belongings to oneself for obvious reasons. Now that I had the package in possession, I was assured I would be safe.
At 9:30 PM, I could hear the long whistle of the train signalling it was approaching the station. I picked up the bag and the packet. I shoved the book in the bag and secured it with a Velcro. The train came to halt after a lot of huffing and puffing. Not many were getting off… I rushed towards S7 bogey. I had seat 54 reserved for me. As I steeped on the footboard, I heard Vijay calling my name. I didn’t expect him to be there as he had been on a sick leave for a month – he kept his embarrassing illness secret from everyone but me.
In nick of time I pulled him in. He was out of breath. “Boss wanted me to join you. I have some important and classified papers in the bag for you”, I didn’t pay any attention to him and was annoyed as it was supposed to be a solo assignment. He knew that.
We made way towards seat 54. It was the side seat with a sleeper berth. I was travelling sleeper class as the unit only reimbursed for 2nd class. Vijay flashed his ID card and said something in the ear of the passenger on seat 53. He quietly picked up his cheap plastic suitcase and scurried. I didn’t see him after that and never asked Vijay what he whispered in the ears of the man.
“By five we should be their. We have a twin rooms booked in the rest house. I got some papers which you should look now… it would help plan the day”, Vijay tried to start a conversation. I was in no mood for chit chat. I had a long day and wanted to catch on my sleep. “You study them and make a list of things we need to do tomorrow, while a rest a bit”, I said and jumped on the upper berth.
It was awfully cold. I only had a sweater on... I was asked to rush to Junna while I was on my way back from Rampur. Rampur was comparatively warmer and pleasant. I phoned Kavita to meet me at the station. Kavita was my estranged girlfriend but was still kind to me and helped my once in a while.
Kavita was a journalist with the leading newspaper. I met her about a year ago when she had been chasing some facts on the poaching of the Tigers in the Kumaoo hills. I likely her exuberance and bully nature… she persisted and chased me all around for some sound bites. I could have avoided her but was attracted to her charm.
Our meeting frequency grew and we dated for about couple of months before she introduced me to her family. I made it a point to meet her and her parents when I was in town; my job involved a lot of travelling. We could have been married had it not been for my father who strictly opposed it citing economic divide and culture as the reason. My mother also sided him. My relations grew bitter with Kavita who felt insulted and we decided to move apart though I could never move on.
The jerky movement of the train and the cold seat made me squirm; I didn’t feel rested. I was using the package Kavita handed my as pillow. I pulled it from under my head and undid the thread that kept it together. There it was my tweed coat wrapped up nicely in a newspaper. I put it on.
“Damn, do u want to sleep all your life? We are at Janna. Come on wake up… hurry… I am hungry and cold… I need a warm cuppa tea…” Vijay appeared irritated and was talking to himself while he was arranging his stuff in the small bag he veritably carried on all his sojourns.
I jumped off the berth… picked up my bag and was out of the bogey much before Vijay. It was a cold morning. I walked to the nearest tea stall and asked for 2 cups of tea and some 'mathi'. I was on my 2nd 'mathi' when Vijay reached the stall. After dawdling for a while I paid the stallwala and walked out the station gate.
There was no transport in sight. It was too early. We were told the rest house is about two kilometres away. We could have either waited for the town to wake up or walk. We agreed to walk. We asked for directions and walked toward the rest house.
All along Vijay extolled about the virtues of walking in the morning. I nodded just to keep him talking with an occasional remark or two.
Junna was much better than I had imagined… It had the pukka roads and dustbins along the road to prevent littering and not to mention the 'Sauchalaya' which would put the Delhi administration to shame. Sh. Lal Chand peeked from here and there with the big broad grin to greet you in his constituency.
“There it is”, I shouted. I was glad to see the rest house. I was tired and hungry and not to mention sleepy. Had Kavita not given the packed to me I would had been dead. I missed her.
Monday, September 28, 2009
THE LION
“I want to drive a big truck, just like Jugga”, I chimed to my friend Kutu.
Each day we used to spend hours on the highway which divided the village in uneven halves watching the lorry and trucks on their way to some place called Mandi. I had heard father talk about Mandi in reverence. It was some kind of a place where the farmers carried their produce and haggled with the brokers and dealers for a fair price.
Jagga was the tallest and the strongest of all the village youths. He was very popular with us kids. He used to get us candies from the town and regale us with his adventure stories which we all lapped up with awe and great admiration. He owned and drove this big truck which could be heard about a mile away. Occasionally, he would drive us around the village; I so used to wait for these rides. He was my hero.
On that fateful day, Jugga started early to pick wheat from the nearby village and dump it in the Mandi before the sun was up. Jugga never reached Mandi.
It is said that he got into an argument with another trucker over jumping the queue. They pounced on each other. The trucker couldn’t match Jugga’s strength and got a good thrashing. It didn’t end there… when Jugga turned around to get into his truck; the trucker stabbed him in the back repeatedly until Jugga was on the ground in pool of blood. The trucker is still at large.
The day Jugga died the entire village was enveloped in gloom. We lost our hero. It has been about a year since Jagga passed away but he is still remembered. His tales of adventure and bravely have been retold a thousand time.
On one such idle day while we gaped at the passing traffic a truck screeched to halt near us. The burly driver and the cleaner got off the truck. It was a rare site to see a truck stop on this busy highway. We rushed to side of the truck and watched them inspect the truck.
“Did you know Jugga”, I proudly asked the burly driver who was under the truck. “Who”, he shouted. “Jugga the lion”, I said. “Oh yes! I did. I was the one who carried him to the hospital. He caught his leg in the truck door and fell on his head. By the time we reached the hospital he had passed on”.
We looked at each other and quietly walked back home.
Each day we used to spend hours on the highway which divided the village in uneven halves watching the lorry and trucks on their way to some place called Mandi. I had heard father talk about Mandi in reverence. It was some kind of a place where the farmers carried their produce and haggled with the brokers and dealers for a fair price.
Jagga was the tallest and the strongest of all the village youths. He was very popular with us kids. He used to get us candies from the town and regale us with his adventure stories which we all lapped up with awe and great admiration. He owned and drove this big truck which could be heard about a mile away. Occasionally, he would drive us around the village; I so used to wait for these rides. He was my hero.
On that fateful day, Jugga started early to pick wheat from the nearby village and dump it in the Mandi before the sun was up. Jugga never reached Mandi.
It is said that he got into an argument with another trucker over jumping the queue. They pounced on each other. The trucker couldn’t match Jugga’s strength and got a good thrashing. It didn’t end there… when Jugga turned around to get into his truck; the trucker stabbed him in the back repeatedly until Jugga was on the ground in pool of blood. The trucker is still at large.
The day Jugga died the entire village was enveloped in gloom. We lost our hero. It has been about a year since Jagga passed away but he is still remembered. His tales of adventure and bravely have been retold a thousand time.
On one such idle day while we gaped at the passing traffic a truck screeched to halt near us. The burly driver and the cleaner got off the truck. It was a rare site to see a truck stop on this busy highway. We rushed to side of the truck and watched them inspect the truck.
“Did you know Jugga”, I proudly asked the burly driver who was under the truck. “Who”, he shouted. “Jugga the lion”, I said. “Oh yes! I did. I was the one who carried him to the hospital. He caught his leg in the truck door and fell on his head. By the time we reached the hospital he had passed on”.
We looked at each other and quietly walked back home.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
THE BOOK
It smelled musty and had layers and bundles of papers. On close inspection they appeared to be stories/poems/novels etc. My first thought was to junk the box but something stopped me. I spend the next couple of nights sorting and arranging the papers. They were in longhand and pretty neat.
Just for lark, I mailed one of the stories to the editor of the local weekly. I had him knocking on my door the very next day. He profusely praised the the story and compared the writing to the best in literary world. I had hit the 'JACK POT'. I never looked back and used the books and stories judiciously over the next 20 years.
Today, I have everything but no more book in the box.
Just for lark, I mailed one of the stories to the editor of the local weekly. I had him knocking on my door the very next day. He profusely praised the the story and compared the writing to the best in literary world. I had hit the 'JACK POT'. I never looked back and used the books and stories judiciously over the next 20 years.
Today, I have everything but no more book in the box.
THE LOCK
Mr. Brown was not the usual one - he walked with a limp and had layers and layers of clothes. He carried 2 identical boxes with him. I nearly sprained by back when I lifted them. I dragged both of the beat up boxes to room 222 on the 2nd floor facing the river. I wasn’t expecting him to tip… I was taken aback when he shoved a bill of 10 in my hand; I wished him good stay.
He stayed in the hotel for a week and made my run around a lot and never tipped me. He fondly started calling me 'BOY' and waved at me each time he left and entered the hotel. I was assigned to help Mr. Brown check out of the hotel. The 2 fat boxes gave me the chill. I dragged them to the elevator and followed him. He didn’t look his usual self that day.
While waiting for the taxi on the porch Mr. Brown whispered something in my ear. I couldn’t get it as he used to lisp. Before getting into the taxi he asked my to only put 1 box in the boot and keep the other one. He called the captain and told him that I was to keep his box and he would personally pick it up in a couple of months. I gave him my address.
It had a big fat lock on it. I used the box as a makeshift coffee table. I decorated it with a sequined table cloth and a small vase. KP stumbled over it a couple of times and cursed me for putting it the middle of the room.
I was expecting Mr. Brown to show up any day for his box. It had become a part of the room and our lives. Couple of years passed… KP moved to another city and I to a decent tenement and was no longer an apprentice. I had given up hope of Mr. Brown returning to collect the box. I no longer required it. So, one day I broke the lock open.
He stayed in the hotel for a week and made my run around a lot and never tipped me. He fondly started calling me 'BOY' and waved at me each time he left and entered the hotel. I was assigned to help Mr. Brown check out of the hotel. The 2 fat boxes gave me the chill. I dragged them to the elevator and followed him. He didn’t look his usual self that day.
While waiting for the taxi on the porch Mr. Brown whispered something in my ear. I couldn’t get it as he used to lisp. Before getting into the taxi he asked my to only put 1 box in the boot and keep the other one. He called the captain and told him that I was to keep his box and he would personally pick it up in a couple of months. I gave him my address.
It had a big fat lock on it. I used the box as a makeshift coffee table. I decorated it with a sequined table cloth and a small vase. KP stumbled over it a couple of times and cursed me for putting it the middle of the room.
I was expecting Mr. Brown to show up any day for his box. It had become a part of the room and our lives. Couple of years passed… KP moved to another city and I to a decent tenement and was no longer an apprentice. I had given up hope of Mr. Brown returning to collect the box. I no longer required it. So, one day I broke the lock open.
OLD GRUMPY MAN
I skipped college and hung with a gang of hoodlums and felt cool. Each gang member was ambitious and wanted to control the streets on that block. I lost interest when the gang members starting becoming less ambitious and were getting married. I drifted away.
By that time I was kicked out of the house and was sharing a cramped room with this skinny boy. He was a nice guy with good habits. He used to introduce himself as KP. I never asked what his name was; I met KP in a cafe where he overheard me talking that I was looking for a cheap place to stay for a couple of months. He walked over and offered to take me in as a room mate and split the rent. I agreed without a thought; it was one of the good decisions I had taken so far in my short life.
KP worked at a plush 5 star hotel. He was in accounts or something. After I ran out of money he fixed a job of apprentice for me in the hotel. I had to help the guests with their luggage and run errands for them - BELLHOP. My easy job was made difficult by my title "the apprentice". The oddest and the dirtiest of the job were shoved at me by the other bellhops. I was never allowed to help any of the fat tippers and only got to lug the stuff of the stingiest and the cheapskates.
The days slipped fast. I got busy with each passing day running errands for friendly, rude, curt, threatening, demanding, polite... guests. It was winter before I could ask myself to take a break. I had saved a bit by that time and KP had staring showing some signs of good health. Then one cold evening an old grumpy man checked in.
By that time I was kicked out of the house and was sharing a cramped room with this skinny boy. He was a nice guy with good habits. He used to introduce himself as KP. I never asked what his name was; I met KP in a cafe where he overheard me talking that I was looking for a cheap place to stay for a couple of months. He walked over and offered to take me in as a room mate and split the rent. I agreed without a thought; it was one of the good decisions I had taken so far in my short life.
KP worked at a plush 5 star hotel. He was in accounts or something. After I ran out of money he fixed a job of apprentice for me in the hotel. I had to help the guests with their luggage and run errands for them - BELLHOP. My easy job was made difficult by my title "the apprentice". The oddest and the dirtiest of the job were shoved at me by the other bellhops. I was never allowed to help any of the fat tippers and only got to lug the stuff of the stingiest and the cheapskates.
The days slipped fast. I got busy with each passing day running errands for friendly, rude, curt, threatening, demanding, polite... guests. It was winter before I could ask myself to take a break. I had saved a bit by that time and KP had staring showing some signs of good health. Then one cold evening an old grumpy man checked in.
THE LETTER
I have everything today. I am the most read writer of the last two decades. I have presidents and prime ministers for friends. I only stay in the best of the best hotels when I travel and if I can’t find one of my liking, I fly to my nearest luxurious apartment or villas which I have almost in every capital of the best world. Some I bought and a few I got as gift. I was married twice… but I am not Salman Rushdie.
I didn’t write my first book at eight or 12, I wrote my first one when I was 30. I was not great at almost anything and that is what worked for me; I didn’t have any pressure to study a particular subject and focus on a particular career. I was driftwood.
“You would be nothing one day”, that what my mom shouted at me when she couldn’t get me to take up a law course. She didn’t know that I would be nothing but a writer of the greatest stature one day.
My first attempt at writing was at 16. The hormones were at peak and there was pressure to be seen with the best girl. I had a one in a million chance to be seen with the best but I had a soft corner for the second best. She had the best smile and the top of the line attitude to top it up. I fell for her… it just happened. I wrote a love letter which was never posted and never read by her.
I didn’t write my first book at eight or 12, I wrote my first one when I was 30. I was not great at almost anything and that is what worked for me; I didn’t have any pressure to study a particular subject and focus on a particular career. I was driftwood.
“You would be nothing one day”, that what my mom shouted at me when she couldn’t get me to take up a law course. She didn’t know that I would be nothing but a writer of the greatest stature one day.
My first attempt at writing was at 16. The hormones were at peak and there was pressure to be seen with the best girl. I had a one in a million chance to be seen with the best but I had a soft corner for the second best. She had the best smile and the top of the line attitude to top it up. I fell for her… it just happened. I wrote a love letter which was never posted and never read by her.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
BROTHER
He was born when I was 10. He was my darling but my parents always had problems with him. The bigger he grew so did the complains. I always felt that my father had an axe to grind – he couldn't stand him. Each spring he sprang up and was growing bigger and stronger.
I kept an eye on my father; I feared for him. I once dreamt that father performed a war dance after hacking him. I saw he got me while I was sleeping and tied me to the bed post to avoid my resistance while mother watched with a broad grin. I begged and cried to spare him... I cried my eyes out but father seemed to be under some spell. Father performed a war dance immaculately and hacked him. He shamelessly continued his celebrations till the wee hours of the morning while the entire neighborhood watched.
I woke up in sweat and was shouting, "don't kill him, don't kill him", I had tears in my eyes. I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that it was a dream and rushed to the window. I felt peace.
He had not come from their seed.
I kept an eye on my father; I feared for him. I once dreamt that father performed a war dance after hacking him. I saw he got me while I was sleeping and tied me to the bed post to avoid my resistance while mother watched with a broad grin. I begged and cried to spare him... I cried my eyes out but father seemed to be under some spell. Father performed a war dance immaculately and hacked him. He shamelessly continued his celebrations till the wee hours of the morning while the entire neighborhood watched.
I woke up in sweat and was shouting, "don't kill him, don't kill him", I had tears in my eyes. I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that it was a dream and rushed to the window. I felt peace.
He had not come from their seed.
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