Words

Stairway to Heaven

2008-08-30T20:36:00.008+05:30

"The more I look at her pretty hair, the more I fall in love with her hair-stylist."

Nimish pointed to a girl on another table in the restaurant, and said this to his friends after having been distracted and dreamy for the last half an hour. His friends had noticed him looking at her before, but had turned their attention to discussing movie ratings instead. This statement of Nimish's silenced the table for a moment, and then four heads turned towards the girl, with the heads of the girls in the group turning the fastest. The pretty-haired girl noticed, pretended not to have noticed, and became more animated in her chat with the guy, perhaps her brother, sitting with her.

Back at the table, the four friends made low hooting sounds and one of them said - "This is weird, why her hair-stylist? What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing wrong with her, I just don't like her, but her hair, there's something about it, and it doesn't look like it's her, so the magic has to be in her hair-stylist."
"Wake up dude, maybe the hair-stylist is male."
"Oh shut up", said one of the girls in the group, "I know it, right? It's the parlour beside the Wawdafawn office. They're all girls there, and that is where all these weird hairstyles come from. Yak!"
"I am going to ask her", Nimish said, got up, and walked up to the girl's table. His friends rushed behind him, few of them to save him from the trouble he was getting into, others to enjoy it.
"Excuse me, but can I know who your hair-stylist is?"
At this, the guy sitting with her, perhaps her brother, got agitated and said, "Mr,. I know who your hair-stylist is about to be, and what's more, I can see what your hair-style is about to be in a few minutes."
Nimish realized the situation hadn't turned out too well. "Hehe, sir, just a little slip of tongue, as my father used to say, why so serious? Excuse me please."

Everyone settled down.

Nimish's friend spoke again - "I am telling you, it's that very parlour, the girls there are like, just so lousy. I mean I went there this one time, and god! what a mess they made out of my hair, I can't tell you, I had to stay home for, like, a whole month, god! I couldn't bear to be seen. But anyway, life goes on and I moved on to other hair-stylists."
"Ok, then" said Nimish, "I'll find out who she is. She is it."

....................................

The very next day Nimish went near the parlour and looked inside. It was big with glass walls and he saw two girls in two different corners dressing customers' hair. One of them had shoulder length hair and the other had her hair cut very short. He instantly liked the short-haired girl. She had a round face and a dark complexion. She wasn't too tall or too short, and moderately built. She wore a black T-shirt and a black skirt, perhaps a uniform. She was working intently on the woman's hair. Nimish told himself that she had to be the hair-stylist he was looking for. "That's why she has short hair. I mean, a hair-stylist like her, who styles hair so nicely, would she ever be satisfied by any other stylist's work on her own hair? That's why she keeps it short. She is it." It looked like she was done with it. The customer got up and after tweaking her appearance a little, came out. Nimish kept on looking at her hair all the time. She walked off fast. "This is it. This was as pretty a hair as I've ever seen. She is the one. I shouldn't call her a hair-stylist anymore. Boy, she is a hair-artist. She has taken hair-styling to the level of art." And he looked inside again. The girl was now walking around arranging things. Nimish decided he would sit on the steps a little away from the entrance of the parlour and see more of her and her work. As soon as he sat down, it felt a little silly. There was no reason for him to be sitting on a slab outside a ladies beauty parlour except the one which will be readily apparent to those with ordinary understanding of the matter. He got up at once, thought for a while, then waved his hand and said to himself, "Oh, I've done sillier stuff", and with this assurance he sat down again.

The second customer came out, the one who the other girl had been working on, and Nimish didn't find her hair as pretty, and it was confirmed that his guess was correct. After a while, both the girls sat on a sofa. Nimish kept on looking inside. They noticed. Meduim build, medium height guy sitting on a slab outside.

"Who's that guy sitting there?", asked the shoulder-length haired girl.

"I don't know. Maybe waiting for someone."

"He's been looking inside for a while. I guess at you."

"There's so many psychos, they just sit outside and watch, but that's for the customers."

"But they leave as soon as the ladies go, nobody's in here, he has to be looking at us. And I know it's you."

"Oh god I haven't even seen him before, I don't know him. It couldn't be."

"Ok, you get up, walk to that table and pick up a magazine and come back. Let's see who he's looking at.

See, I saw he's looking at you."

"Oh it has to be someone I owe money, only I don't remember anyone, or probably I look like someone he knows, only I don't think it could be so. Maybe he's just a psycho. Hey, why are we even talking about him?"

"He's been there for quite a while. And he doesn't look bad, I mean, looks decent and sensible."

"Sensible! Ok, then you go and talk to him. Marry him. Have kids with him."

"Oh shut up Prakrithi. You're so..."

"Ok, kidding. He must be watching TV. And then he found me more of a character."

"Hmm"

"Maybe he wondering if I am a boy and if we style for them."

"Alright!"

...

As this went on for a lot of days, Prakrithi's friend kept on getting more and more excited and Prakrithi herself got curious. The days when Nimish didn't come, she looked for him. And at times she went outside when he was sitting and walked past him to take a closer look. It was mysterious to her where this guy had dropped from suddenly.

"I don't know what to do about him. Sometimes it totally freaks me out. I mean, I feel like I am being watched."

"You are, Prakrithi."

"I guess I'll go and ask him what's the matter."

"He likes you, that's what the matter is."

"Is it? I am sure he doesn't even know my name. He appears one day outside the bench, sits like a statue and he likes me? Is he dumb or what? Why doesn't he say anything? I'll go and ask him what it is."

"Yes, go, but be nice."

"Why?"

"Because Prakrithi, people are nice to people when they meet for the first time."

"What do you mean? I am not nice to people?"

"I'm just saying be nice to him."

"You're so mean. Of course I'll be nice, I know basic etiquette."

"Hmm"

When Nimish appeared in the afternoon that day, Prakrithi picked up her stuff and walked out. She walked slow and reached the slab where Nimish had been sitting. He was sipping a soda-drink and pretended to look away. She sat down beside him on the bench. She could see he was startled. She smiled and said "Hi". He gulped down the drink and replied "Hi". They sat looking at each other for about two seconds and then Nimish as if involuntarily offered his drink to Prakrithi. She took it and had a sip.

"Wow, it's so sweet and cold.", she said.

Nimish smiled, then said, "It's almost finished, why don't I buy you another one".

"O no, I'm fine. But that's so nice of you."

"Can I see your book?" he said after a while.

Prakrithi had a scrapbook in her hand, she held it out to him and said, "Sure, but I don't know if there's anything interesting there. Just some new hair-styles I'm sketching. I'll show them to the customers and if they like one of these, they can have that kind of a cut. Normally I do standard stuff, that's what they all want. But I like to keep designing new things, just to try out."

"They're real good, very tasteful, elegant, too cool.", said Nimish flipping through the book.

"Thanks. You're so appreciative." Prakrithi smiled.

"Show me your book. What do you do?" she said.

"Oh, it's nothing good, just a folder of the project I'm working on. I write code. Nothing exciting at all."

Prakrithi took the folder and flipped through pages of printed-out code. Nimish looked at her. She had heavy eyelashes which appeared to weigh down her eyelids such that her eyes looked half-closed. This made her look dreamy or drunk, and surprisingly pretty.

"Wow, you're so object-oriented in your approach." she said.

"What? You know Java?"

"No, not really, but I was born and brought up here in Bangalore itself, so just picked it up a bit."

"Oh."

"Oh my god, I should be running already, got to meet a friend of mine. She must be waiting."

"Alright. Nice meeting you."

"Yea. Sure! You're nice. Tell you what, why not meet again?"

"Ok, here itself, tomorrow. Cool?"

"Cool. Bbye!"

"Bye!"

Prakrithi crossed the road, took an auto, and immediately called up her friend.

"Hey! guess what? I talked to that guy!"

"Yes, I know, I was looking, right? My god, you're so lost. Anyway, what's he like? Don't tell me he's just a psycho!"

"Oh shut up, he's all right. I don't know, he's working here, software, of course what else, but behavior-wise he looked the sensible types."

"Hmmm!"

"What hmmm? And know what? He offered me his drink also! Just like that!"

"Drink? I didn't see that, he actually had a drink with him?"

"Oh no stupid, not that drink, he was having banta, and he just offered it to me!"

"Did you take it?"

"Yes!"

"No, you didn't!"

"I did!"

"Oh my god! That's like, amazing! I am so happy for you Prakrithi!"

"Oh shut up, what happy? I mean, hello! I've talked to him for like, what, 3 minutes?"

"Prakrithi, I know you, if you take a drink from a guy, it's means something."

"Drink? Don't call it a drink, god's sake! It was banta, he so innocently offered it to me, could I have said no?."

"You are gone, Praki, trust me. Take care dear."

"Ok, see you when you're back in your senses."

"See you. Bye!"

"Bye!"

....................................

Over the next three weeks, they met almost daily. They used to have lunch together, and spent a few hours together in the evenings. And one day -

"I like those clouds above that crane. Somehow I always like to see half-constructed buildings. Huge buildings. I like them in the evenings, when the workers all go home and the building just lies by itself. I can't go near it though, there is just too much dust. But, I don't know, I like this scene with the clouds coming over the big vacant incomplete structure sort of a thing."

"Yes, it's nice Prakrithi."

Prakrithi looked at Nimish looking at the buildings in the distance. Hair fell all over his chubby face. He looked lovely.

"Ah...Nimish, I feel so relaxed today. Amazing. I feel so fine I could play boxing."

"O my god, don't hit me. My nose bleeds very fast."

"Oh shut up Nimish. I won't. Actually I feel rather calm, but energetic too. I feel like running around in circles. Only I don't want to get up."

"You really sound different today Prakrithi."

"Really? actually I am rather nervous."

"Nervous, why?"

"I don't know...

I thought about something last night."

"What?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Tell you what Nimish, let's have dinner together tonight."

"Ok."

"You feel a little weird Nimish?"

"No"

"I do. Let's roll on the ground. Let's chew our nails off."

"You are mad Prakrithi."

"I really am!"

....

About two hours later, for dinner -

Prakrithi: Wow, I am so so hungry, and I love this place, I've been here once before, three months back I guess..no..yes..anyway and I loved it! I'm going to have their Special Chicken Curry today.

Nimish: Oh. Ok..wow..

Prakrithi: What?

Nimish: Nothing, I like the place, I like the ambiance.

Prakrithi: What? You don't..oh my god! How could I not think of this, you're a vegetarian, oh I am so so sorry. Ok we'll just have their Special Green Salad, that also must be good.

Nimish: Oh no no, just have what you want, it's ok, I'll just take something else, it doesn't matter, go ahead with the chicken curry.

Prakrithi: No, how can I do that, we can't have different things, it's ok we'll have the green salad. We could have it with curd. It'll be good.

Nimish: Oho, it's ok. In fact, I've been thinking of trying out something myself. What say, I also have the curry today? Would one be enough for both?

Prakrithi: No no no Nimish, what about your religion and all? It's wrong for you, right? No no you don't.

Nimish: Oh, not really, I mean, I could have it. I mean, it's different these days. They are not so strict anymore.

Prakrithi: Who, your parents?

Nimish: No, I mean the religion guys. You know it right? The Hindu Swamis and everyone, they allow things these days. I mean come on, it's globalization and everything, secularism and stuff, India Shining. Let's have the Special Chicken Curry.

Prakrithi: Ok, I'll say, let's have the Full Special Chicken Piece then. I've heard it's good. We'll share it.

Nimish: The Full Special Chicken Piece?

Prakrithi: Yes, believe me, you'll love it, and now you've got permission and all, so just devour it!

Nimish: Uh...

Prakrithi: Oho, sorry! I forgot, it's the first time you're having it right? Hey Nimish, you sure you want to have it? It's ok, not a problem, I'll have the curry alone, doesn't matter, you look scared!

Nimish: Yes, I guess, I'll just have Special Green Salad. Anyway, I am sure they have other good veg dishes too. Let's look at the menu.

---Five minutes later.---

Prakrithi: (to the waiter) Ok, one special chicken curry and six tandoori rotis for me please.

Nimish: (to the waiter) One Special Green Salad please. And bring them together.

---Twenty minutes pass. Nimish and Prakrithi have been drifting closer every minute.---

Prakrithi: Uff, why don't they bring the thing?

Nimish: I guess the salad is taking time.

Prakrithi: Aw, you don't have to be so sweet bo..wait a sec, was that sarcastic? Nimish I tell you -

Nimish: Hey hey, that wasn't sarcastic, that was not at all sarcastic. I may be wrong at times, but I am never sarcastic. I love you sweet, I'll never be sarcastic with you I promise.

Prakrithi: Ok ok...I was just joking, I know my love can never be sarcastic with me. Never, ever.

---30 seconds. They keep looking into each other's eyes.---

Nimish: (Loud, to the waiter) Excuse me, what happened to the order?

Waiter: The Special Chicken Curry sir? Yes, it's under preparation.

Nimish: How much more time?

Waiter: I'll say sir, about twenty minutes.

Nimish: Twenty minutes? Ok, do something, make it a full chicken piece instead.

Waiter: That, I'm afraid sir, is no longer possible. You see, it's already in the cooking pot in pieces.

Nimish: Oh no, I meant -

Prakrithi: (interrupting) It's ok Nimish, let it be. You retain your religion. (to the waiter) It's ok, we'll wait. (to Nimish) You tell me, weren't you looking at that girl just now?

Nimish: No, I was just looking at her hair. It looked good, it looked like you had styled it.

Prakrithi: Oh, I see, now you've got that as an excuse to look at other girls!

Nimish: No Prakrithi, in fact, because of you I've learned to look at other women and admire them without desire.

Prakrithi: Oh la la, someone is getting so poetic!

They smiled at each other very wide with twinkling eyes. The smiles and looks just keep on getting more and more intimate.

After dinner -

Prakrithi: Holy god! Do I feel full! Nimish why did you let me eat so much. You're so stupid. I can barely walk.

Nimish: I am sorry.

Prakrithi: Ok, sure, be sarcastic now. You're so bad. Just now you said you'll never be sarcastic and look at you. You're very bad.

Nimish: What do I say?

Prakrithi: Oi yo, baby. I am kidding!

She laughs. Nimish joins in. Then they walk silently for a while.

Prakrithi: A happy day.

Nimish: Very happy.

Prakrithi: Then let's go to Stairway to Heaven.

Stairway to Heaven was a pub lying in the heart of the city, with entrance from four sides. The building had tall surrounding walls, and a ceiling which covered only part of the interior closer to the walls, and left the central part of the pub open to the sky. In this open area lay the Stairway. The Stairway was a huge and curvy structure, about three stories high, and in the form of an irregular loop. It had steps that ascended and descended and curved at places in such a way that if you kept walking on the steps you finally reached the point where you had started. Steps at the bottom were larger such that a larger group of people could sit there and were smaller as you went higher, with space for only two people at the topmost step and again became larger as you descended. People took their drinks from the bar which was adjacent to a wall and came and sat down on the steps of the Stairway to drink, leaning on the railings. Larger groups chatted and laughed on the lower steps and smaller groups sat higher.

"Wow! I love it every time I come here. Bombaat idea man, just look at it Nimish!"

"Yea, I know, it's good, too cool."

"Come on let's go around the stairway once. I always do this."

"Ok."

They started to climb the stairway. There were people sitting on almost all the steps with some walking space in the center. A climber was spread on the bottommost steps, and was lit by white light, making the step appear green all over. It felt like a garden as you sat on it. On climbing a few steps, the lighting turned fantastic with gentle red and yellow and light-green bulbs lighting the steps. Still higher, the steps were draped with white sheets lit with white lights which made them glow.

"Ok, so the top step is taken. We'll sit just below it and grab it soon as it's vacant, what say?"

"Cool idea Prakrithi!"

"Oh man, it's groovy, literally, I am losing sense of direction. This is so so disorienting! And the breeze, whoo! Love ya Bangalore, ok, now let's take something, and something hard today!

They bought a good volume of alcohol and settled down on the topmost step available. It was glowing white with space for four people, and there was already a couple sitting on one side of it. They sat on the other side, leaving walking space in the center. Prakrithi prepared their drinks and they started. The music slowly gained strength, and the other sounds became indistinct. Prakrithi quietened down and Nimish started talking more. After they had finishing two rounds, the top step became vacant and they quickly moved up to it. They were now at the highest point in the pub. Unlike the lower steps, the topmost step was bare iron. It felt cold and the wind was biting. Prakrithi shifted closer to Nimish and put her arm across his and leaned on him. They continued to sip their drinks. Prakrithi looked different and beautiful and Nimish let her be, saying only a few things now and then. After a while, both of them were quiet. The whole pub was filled with smoke and bright colored lights were turned on, which gave the whole place a dreamy look. Prakrithi looked at Nimish and quietly pointed towards the sky. Against the hazy smoke, they could see clouds in some parts of the sky, lit by the moon behind them, and stars were faintly visible at other places. Prakrithi sighed and closed her eyes and pressed her face against Nimish's shoulder, putting all her weight on him. Then she sat up and and just sat looking straight for a long time. Nimish felt uneasy, he thought he saw sadness on her face. He put his arm across her impulsively and she tucked in closer, but she kept on staring straight with the same expression on her face. Looking at her, Nimish felt as if she would disappear any minute leaving his arms empty, or as if she would turn out to be just a painting of Prakrithi, or as if she would travel time and disappear. He felt his head spinning, and he told himself it was alcohol doing this to him and he tightened his arms around Prakrithi. After a while, Prakrithi sat up again, and looked at Nimish and laughed out a little.

"Boy, am I weird! I am very very weird Nimish, you'll have a tough time with me. I am so weird!"

"No, you're alright. What happened to you anyway?"

"What happened?"

"I thought something happened."

"Oh boi, look at the sky, it's rotating, man! have you ever seen the sky rotating, it's rotating, I guess this'll be my last drink!"

"Yes, mine too. There isn't any left anyway."

"Cool."

They finished their drink and soon it was closing time. They descended the stairway and it appeared even more imposing to Nimish now. When they were at the exit he looked up again at the vacant top step where they'd been sitting. It looked strange and it was hard to believe they'd sat there for maybe the last one hour.

"It's a rotten country Nimish. I guess let's go to our places now."

"Yes, I guess. I'll see you off to your place."

"It's ok sweet, I'll go. You just be careful. You don't look fine. I'll not let you drink so much the next time. You sure you alright?"

"Yes."

"See you then, tomorrow itself! Thanks for the good time."

"Oh shut up."

...

Nimish woke up with a sick feeling in his stomach and ran to the wash-basin just in time to throw up. He washed it down and looked up at the mirror. His head hurt and rang, and he could barely stand up. It was the fourth time it was happening tonight, he had nothing left in his stomach to throw up, and still his bowels kept on contorting. The only thing that came out was hoarse cries. He felt as if he'll pass out and spend the rest of the night, whatever was left of it, on the floor of the bathroom. The loopy Stairway was revolving in his mind. It felt as if his internal organs would come out of his mouth into the basin. It felt as if he had no control left over his body. Tears came into his eyes, and he thought of Prakrithi. He wished she was there, and he decided he will ask her tomorrow to marry him. It was time to take things seriously now.

...

"My god Nimish, last night was so trippy. I can't believe it happened in this life. Feels like it happened way back. That Stairway is something. Takes you out of the world."

"Really."

"So, did you sleep well?"

"Yes. What about you?"

"What about me? Mister, you kept me awake the whole night. I missed you so much. Tell you what, let's get married, there is no other way."

"What? No other way? I mean, really? Are you really asking me to marry you?"

"Yes. Now don't make me say it again."

"I don't believe this."

"O don't act like a girl now. You were supposed to say it. I said it, alright, but no blushing please."

"I am not blushing. And anyway, I was about to say it too."

"Yea yea."

"No, really!"

"Nimish! Ok fine, you were. Now?"

"Now what? You've already said it."

"So? Yes or no?"

"Obviously yes. See if I was also going to ask you, it itself means it's a yes, doesn't it? Because then only I was..."

"Oh god! Ok, I get the logic you nerd. But just say a simple yes once."

"Yes."

They calmed down and then smiled and then laughed and then hugged.

.........................................................................

Nimish's apartment. The phone rings.

Nimish: (waking up) Hello?

Nimish's Mother: Beta, what is this you are about to do? What has Bangalore done to you? Have you no regard left for our tradition and for the members of our extended family? Haye ram, I should never have let you go there, I was telling him, but when does he listen to me? Now take it, talk to him.

Nimish's father: (to Nimish's Mother): No, you only talk to him, I don't think there's anything left to say or hear now.

Nimish's mother: (to Nimish's Father): Oh, do it na, he needs a crude voice to tell him a few things, and he'll be exorcised of her.

Nimish's father: What do you mean crude voice? Do I have a -

Nimish's mother: Offo, you na, ok, let me talk to him then. (to Nimish) Did you see beta? Your father is so tensed, I am not even able to look at him. See, how he appears! Haye bhagwaan! Beta, have you no regard left for us?

Nimish: (really waking up now and remembering that he had sent an email with Prakrithi's high-resolution picture to his parents last night.) Ma, didn't you like her? She's beautiful, she's cultured, and she knows how to handle everything at home, she's been living by herself for years now.

Nimish's mother: What? Living by herself? You mean, alone?

Nimish: I mean, yes, with roommates and all.

Nimish's mother: Haye bhagwan, Nimish, beta, what has happened to you? What happened to the twenty-three years of our upbringing, did you lose that within one year in Bangalore? Haye ram, the city, the weather, (to the father) I was telling you ji, such weather is not natural, it's bewitching, and look what's happened. Our child has gone romantic. God stop me from opening my mouth anymore. She doesn't even have hair. Prakrithi? Parkatee is more like it. What kind of a girl must she be to fall in love with a complete stranger? Beta, she'll do you in before you can learn to correctly pronounce femme fatale. I know such girls. And she isn't even pretty!

Nimish: Ma, what's wrong? Why are you talking like this? You haven't seen her for real. She perfectly cultured, perfectly built, and...with perfect adaas, she's the definitive South-Indian beauty.

Nimish's mother: (to the father) Haye raam, may god seal my mouth and ears off right now. He's talking of adaas ji, just think, talking of that girly's adaas to his mother. It's the city, I told you before, but when do you listen to me? Even you've never talked of adaas ever, and we're married.

Nimish's father: What do you mean? You want me to talk of adaas now?

Nimish's mother: (lowering the voice a little) No, I mean, when you notice something, it's not bad to say it, say, once in a while.

Nimish's father: God's sake Nimish's mother! Look at your age!

Nimish's mother: Don't you talk about my age now, you aren't getting any younger either. Anyway, you didn't say anything even when we were young.

Nimish's father: Nimish's mother, is this the time to talk about these things? Is the Bangalore weather bewitching you through the telephone now? By god, it's bad. Talk to him, tell him we're coming. Tell him to check and tell us the ticket prices.

Nimish's mother: (to Nimish) Ok, beta, enough of everything. Find out the ticket prices and call and tell us. Only one way tickets. No idea how long we'll have to stay. That girly, she's something!

Nimish: (really getting up now) What? You're coming? Oh, ok, well, I'll check the price and tell you within five minutes.

...

Phone rings. Swamiji picks it up.

Swamiji: Hare raam, hello?

Nimish: Swamiji pranam! Nimish here.

Swamiji: Arre Nimish beta!

Nimish: Swamiji, ma and papa are coming here. Please can you do something? Long story short, I don't want them here!

Swamiji: Beta, can't do it. Gods also get angry, can't take too many liberties with them.

Nimish: Swamiji, please, for old time's sake!

Swamiji: Long story short, gods need offerings.

Nimish: Not a problem Swamiji, tell me how much and god will get it.

Swamiji: 10,000.

Nimish: Holy -

Swamiji: That's enough, not another word. Soon as I receive the money, your parents will be called and stalled. Hare Raam.

...

Phone rings. Nimish's mother picks it up.

Nimish's mother: Yes, beta, how much is it?

Nimish: Ma, 15,000.

Nimish's mother: (the the father) It's 15,000, send it.

Nimish's father: Hmm, ok, for son's sake. Tell him I'm transferring it.

---2 minutes---

Nimish: Got it ma, thanks, I'll book the tickets.

---5 minutes later---

Phone rings. Nimish's mother picks it up.

Nimish's mother: Hello?

Swamiji: Hare raam. Namaste deviji, Swamiji is speaking.

Nimish's mother: Oh, Pranam swamiji.

Swamiji: Deviji, things have taken a bad shape. Ravana has moved up and his shadow has reached South India from Lanka. The four southern states are suffering his dark breath. Please to refrain from making any trips towards that side.

Nimish's mother: Oh no, Swamiji we were about to visit our son. He's in Bangalore, now what to do?

Swamiji: God is great! Jai Ho! Jai Ho! Now you see, He made me call you just in time. Good people, you're saved!

Nimish's mother: Ok...thanks Swamiji, we'll pay you a visit to thank you personally very soon. God is great!

---1 minute later---

Phone rings. Nimish picks it up.

Nimish: Yes ma, I booked the tickets. You can come day after tomorrow, wow, it'll be great to see you after this long time.

Nimish's mother: Beta, we can't come. Swamiji told us Ravana is looking over Bangalore. I knew it. I knew it was the work of dark powers. Beta, just take care of yourself. What can I say. And yes, cancel the tickets.

Nimish: Ma, can't cancel them now, they won't give back the whole money.

Nimish's mother: Ok, just transfer back what they'll refund.

Nimish: Let me check. Um...they're refunding 5,000 only.

Nimish's mother: What? 10,000 gone! No surprise. It's all Ravana's doing. Just keep it. And don't spend it on that girly. Get some sweets for yourself. Ok?

...................................................................

"Prakrithi, my parents don't approve of you."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, they called me yesterday, and they were just, like, not approving."

"Are you saying all this as some sort of a final statement?"

"No no, not at all yaar, I didn't mean to sound like that, I was just telling you there's a problem."

"And what's the reason?"

"They'd prefer someone who belongs to our community and, like, I don't know, someone a little, sort of, homely. I mean, not like a house-wife or anything, she could be working and everything, but still homely."

"And how to be homely while working?"

"I don't know, it's just that, you know, there's this feel you get when you see a woman, that she's homely, even in a most formal business attire."

"And you don't get this feel with me. Exactly what do you need Nimish, I don't understand, what gives you that feel?"

"I don't know, ok, that's not a big thing. Doesn't matter."

"No. I want to know!"

"Can't really say yaar, it's just that when you see a woman, you know if she could be in a home or not."

"What do you mean really, Nimish? I could be in a home better than you could be. Is that look and feel so important to you?"

"I mean, my parents would want that, and it's like, you know, I mean it's true, there has to be that...and you could easily be like that."

"Unbelievable. I just don't believe this. You're making me mad Nimish."

"Hey relax, I am talking about something important. Anyway that's not the main point. Tell me, what's your surname?"

"What's my surname?"

"Yes, surname, caste, whatever, tell me everything."

"That never mattered to you till now."

"Prakrithi, please try to understand. These things are hardly important. Only that they'll matter for a while, then it's all settled and fine. When we want to get serious about things, like if we want to marry, these things are important. Come on, my parents need to know."

"How does it matter? My god, this is so suffocating, why is this suddenly becoming so important?"

"Prakrithi, we believe in these things. We are brahmins."

"Big fucking deal."

"Why are you being so disrespectful?"

"Disrespectful? I am being disrespectful? What do you mean by asking all these questions? Either you want us to marry, or you don't. Just tell me what you want. And if all this is important, then I won't tell you at all. I can't bear to have these as deciding factors. Maybe I was born a brahmin too, maybe I wasn't. Now, just tell you parents, Prakrithi has no caste, Prakrithi has no religion and Prakrithi is not bound by any culture. And while you're at it, tell them she isn't homely at all, in fact, she's very streetly. And this is the person that their son chose to love."

"Calm down yaar, why do you say such things? My parents believe in these things, and I love them, and they brought me up to believe in these things. And it's very reasonable, if you think about it."

"Very reasonable. Maybe they brought you up to ogle at girls and then fall in love with their hair-stylists too? What a cool love story, isn't it? Wow! What a bombaat start! And then very reasonable to want a fair, good-looking, slim brahmin girl, professionally qualified, traditional values, modern outlook, for their keyboard-tapping 6 figure earning handsome son. Should be working but should look homely even in a formal business attire, should accompany him to bars in a very homely manner, should fuck him in a very homely manner, and then should make food when the relatives come in a very very homely manner. Boy, could I puke! Nimish let's keep this for another day. I am sick. I have a terrible headache in fact."

"Really you have no respect for my parents. Nor for me. I don't care what you think or what your ideas are about all this. But can't just you show a little respect? That has nothing to do with castes and cultures. I am just asking you to respect my family. And that is reasonable."

"I am sorry. Didn't mean to be so blunt. Nimish, what is all this? So many things all of a sudden? Now I am honestly starting to get a headache. Do something yaar, handle it. I don't think I can help anything. Just tell you parents you want to marry. And I can live perfectly well in a home dear. I can bring up kids, I love the little devils!"

"I know yaar, even I am sorry. We'll work something out. And you don't be so stubborn please. You're perfectly alright for me. I love you. But my parents care about some things and whether I or you like it or not, I can't just disobey them. But I am sure we can do something if we try. We'll try yaar, we'll work it out."

"Yes."

"So smile."

"No"

"Come on, please.."

"No"

"Hey Prakrithi hans de hans de hans de hans de
hans de tu zara,
nahi to bas thoda thoda thoda thoda
thoda muskura.."

"Alright! Muskura is right", she smiled, "and thanks for the song. I like it."

..............................................

Nimish's friend: Dude, it's unreal, it's freaking fantastic. Undone. You see a random girl in a cafe, you don't know where she comes from, don't know where she goes, and you like her hair, and, no, you don't fall in love with her, you fall in love with her hair-stylist. That sounds reasonable behavior to you?

Nimish: The way you put it is extreme. I met her later, right? I know her now. However it started, now it's pretty calm and settled and strong.

Nimish's friend: You're getting too serious with it. If it were normal, I'd be happy for you. Let me tell you, she's not the right person for you.

Nimish: What's wrong with her?

Nimish's friend: Nothing wrong with her, nothing wrong with you. I just feel you two don't go together.

Nimish: You're talking just like my parents. And I came to you for help with this fix I am in.

Nimish's friend: Look my friend, seriously, practically it doesn't matter to me at all. Only reason I'm talking to you is you're my friend. If I see something going wrong, I feel like telling you. Your parents have their reasons. Their own thing going on. Me, I don't care. I'm just looking at the two of you. You, I know well. Her, I know somewhat. You guys are different, you want different things out of life. And you know it, so accept it.

Nimish: How do you know what we want? And we'll change once we're in together. All we want is to be with each other. We'll shape the rest of our lives around it. We can do it. We want it. I know we're different. Ok, you're right. Maybe we want different things. But there's nothing called perfect. You'll never find anyone just right. You need to shape it as you go along. That's what's life is all about. We are ready to do this.

Nimish's friend: Sometimes the shaping is too difficult dost. And when you know it, why do you want to get into it. Why are you lying to yourself? All the big words that you're using will come to nothing. You won't know what the fuck happened. And it'll be done. Words will remain where they are. Things move too fast in life for words to help. Your problem is, you're getting too serious. You're stuck. You're looking at it too closely. Step back and take a look at it. Granted, you two have something good going on. I respect it. But it's like a beautiful wave, it'll soon be lost. It's transient and shit. Don't you realize?

Nimish: You're are a pessimist. Nobody said it was going to be easy. We're serious and we'll work it out.

Nimish's friend: That's my point, why are you so serious? When you know the problems, why do you pretend it's going to work? The future does not exist. And you're talking about a lifetime! Take it easy. It's amazing how you guys came together. Just don't stretch the little pretty canvas to cover the whole area of your life. It'll fade, it'll tear off. It'll leave a bad taste in your mouth for life. Don't get so serious. It'll spoil your life. Tell you what, in life, whenever you're down, or when you find your mind fucking with you, do this - remember a good moment of your life, an honest good moment, and ask yourself, is what I am doing right now going to give me any more such moments? Does it really have that thing? Is it worth spending the precious moments of my life for? In other words, will it add something meaningful to the millions of moments of life yet to come? You'll find your answer my friend.

Nimish: While we're being honest, let me tell you a few things. Yours are also are just words. Big words, they stir you, but they're just words. What matters is the real thing. What I have with Prakrithi is real. And you, my friend, to be honest for your own good, have nothing. You keep to yourself, you talk big, but all this philosophy and shit means nothing. You don't believe in it. It's just a way for you to turn the problems of your life into pretty shapes and admire them. In reality, they are poison. Why don't you go and get a few good moments for yourself?

Nimish's friend: I've tried talking to you, and I'm done with it. It was for your own benefit. I don't need to answer you. As it is, I am a man of few words.

Nimish: I see.

.........................................................................

Prakrithi's flatmate had gone out of city for a week. She didn't feel like doing anything. She went out and stood in the balcony. It was dark and she could see lights behind closed windows in the buildings, and now and then a person would quietly walk down the street. The atmosphere felt heavy. She could see three people standing in their balconies, all talking on the phone. She started looking through the contacts on her own phone, looking for people she could call to feel better. She realized she hadn't talked to many people for long, and she had to make an effort to remember who some of the names belonged to. She came across her own landline number among her contacts and laughed imagining what it'll be like to call herself up. She came across Nimish's name, and it made her skip a beat, but she passed it by. She had gone from A to Z and it felt like she went through a thousand numbers, but she didn't feel like calling any of them. After looking through all the numbers, she searched for her landline number again and called it. It rang too loud. She quickly came inside the house and picked it up, putting the receiver on one ear and her cellphone on the other. She softly said "hello", and laughed out a little at hearing her own voice coming from both the phones.

"Hi Prakrithi"
"Hi"
"Hi"
"Hi"

She played around a little with the phones. She would hear her own voice when she spoke and immediately she would hear her voice in both the phones. It was confusing to understand how it was working. She stopped thinking about it. She spoke slowly and low, with a lot of pauses.

"How are you Prakrithi?"

"Not fine. Not fine at all."

"I know."

"I feel lonely. There's no one."

"Same here."

It was embarrassing, but comforting at the same time to hear her own voice talking to her. Tears came into her eyes.

"I guess it's just I, me and myself. I guess that's the way it has to be. I bet there isn't one person in that whole list I could have called and when they asked me how I am, told them that I am lonely. They'd all be freaked out those fucking freaks, stupid fucks. But I don't care, I am here, and I'm alright."

It felt stupid. But it was soothing. She felt sad. She started crying and slumped down on the floor. She could barely hold the phones. She sat quiet for a long time.

"I'm alright. I should be. I'm not a kid anymore. I've got things I can do. I don't need anyone and they don't need me. I'm alright, it'll be alright. Prakrithi, are you stupid? You'll be alright, why don't you understand. God! why don't I see it, why don't I understand, it's nothing. It just some ghosts that have taken over me. I'm totally totally fine. Life is good Prakrithi, or whatever it is, it's alright, believe me, it'll be fine."

"They're no one. They don't mean anything. God! Even Nimish doesn't come close to it. He just keeps on knocking at the door. It's fucking open, but he won't see it. He's just too fucking scared to enter the dark room. He can't do anything about it. I'm messed up. I am messed up. It's me, yes, so what, that's what I am, and you're alright Prakrithi, you're alright, haven't you seen other people? Aren't they just so messed up? They're the real filth. I'm alright with myself. Don't want to mix up with them. I shouldn't let them tell me how to feel. They can't tell me to feel lonely. Fuck them."

She thought of her phone's balance.

"I don't care, I make so many useless calls. This is the best call I ever made. Guess I'll make more such calls from now on."

"Just remember Prakrithi, remember this call, and the way to live is, if you find yourself in shit, just fucking come out of it. Now questions, no doubts, leave whatever you need to leave behind, but just fuck's sake come out of it.

Talk to you later."

"Love."

She hung up and sat quiet for a while. Then she smiled and stood up, and kept standing there. After a while, she made an expression as if she thought how silly the whole thing had been and shook her head and went to the kitchen to have something.

................................................................................

"Why don't you do something else? Are you going to cut hair all your life?"

"Look at you, and that's what you said you liked about me. I knew it was freaky. And what about you? Are you going to tap-tappy-tap on the keyboard all your life? You nerd! Sitting in front of a machine nine hours in a day! My, what a life!"

"It is useful, it helps people, not just a cosmetic thing."

"Shut up. Just shut up, nobody will ever like you for writing code, and people have fallen in love with me because of my hair-styling."

They became quiet, then smiles slowly broke and they shared a hearty laugh for a while, remembering things.

"Prakrithi, yaar, what do we do? I really sincerely want us to be together."

"I know, me too. Tell you what, why don't we just do it. Let's see what happens."

"You mean, run away?"

"Oh stupid, where will we run away, we already live away from our parents. What say we go to a temple and get married, like in the movies, let's give them a chance, maybe they're not as silly as we thought they were."

"Are you mad? Of all the people, you talking of such things! I thought we were being sensible about it all."

"Ok, don't sweat, I was just kidding. But why can't we do it? We won't do it, but why can't we? I want to know this Nimish. Don't you love me now?"

"Are you out of your mind? Prakrithi I just don't get you, you're so impulsive."

"Impulsive! well I don't fall in love with a coder when I use a software. At least I am not that impulsive."

"You keep bringing that up. It was just how it started, it doesn't matter. I loved you only when I got to know you more. It's easy for you to say all this. I am in a fix, so make fun of me. You think you're the more loving one or what?"

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. In fact, I am sorry."

Prakrithi took Nimish's hand. "No big deal. You just relax. Don't let anyone spoil your life. Ever. Even me." She kissed his cheek.

For a moment it seemed as if they were just imagining all the problems they had been talking about.

"I don't know any way out. Even surname doesn't matter. There are a lot of problems yaar."

"Like?"

"I don't know. Many. No use talking about them. Can't do anything."

"Ok."

"Listen. Just make up a surname. I'll tell you which is best."

"How silly is that Nimish? I have a family name, I just never use it. And is it really that important? Will that solve everything? Just now you said it didn't matter."

"I don't know. We just need to try things. Also, I need to tell you, if you grow your hair, it'll help."

"Nimish, what's wrong? I don't believe it. You've gone mad. All this is getting really really...I don't know what."

"I know. I'm bad. I don't know what to do."

"You're not bad. Don't say that. But you're strange today. Guess I am stranger. Ok, enough for today I guess. We'll do something tomorrow. Relax, god! look at you. Hey, why so serious?"

"I don't know how to be anymore."

"Oi yo, boy! Somebody is so serious. So so serious. This ain't exactly the kind of poetry conventionally quoted to one's girlfriend, mister. Ok, bad one. But hey, cheer up. Whatever. Live in the moment and all. Let's have a banta, what say?"

They bought one banta each, and sat sipping it, feeling strong and carefree now. This was one of those moments when sitting together, they believed each one of them was feeling the same thing, and it felt real good.

"We'll think of something. You know Nimish, I have a feeling the solution to all this is just around the corner somewhere and we just don't know it's there, or we don't want to see it."

"I hope there is a solution."

"Whatever happens, it'll get better. It doesn't have to be so difficult as we're making it."

"I hope."

"Just stay happy Nimish, whatever happens."

.........................................................

Nimish's mother: I've been thinking, I think we made a mistake. Now we can't go there and they both are there. I don't trust that girly, I'm sure she'll try something funny.

Nimish's father: Yes, I also realized this later. I keep dreading the phone would ring any moment and we'll come to know that our son is gone to her. You can't trust children these days. We'll have no answer if something like that happens.

Nimish's mother: I can hardly think.

Nimish's father: Listen, you call him and tell him it's ok, we're fine with it. Ask him to just wait till we can come there, and we'll arrange everything. Once he knows we've accepted it, he'll wait. We'll manage things later on.

Nimish's mother: Are you sure? I have a very bad feeling about this. This is not right.

Nimish's father: Just do it. For the sake of our son. Our intentions are good, a little lie doesn't matter.

Nimish's mother: Ok, if you say so.

Nimish's mother: Hello, Nimish beta, how are you?

Nimish: Fine ma, how's everything there?

Nimish's mother: Good. Ok, listen, we're ok with it. With you and the girl. So as soon as we can come there, we'll make the arrangements. It won't be long we hope.

Nimish: What? You ok with Prakrithi?

Nimish's mother: Yes.

Nimish: I don't believe this. How did this happen?

Nimish's mother: She's ok.

Nimish: Ok.

Ma, doesn't seem like you're happy. You're just giving in.

Nimish's mother: No, we're ok. We'll come there soon.

Nimish: Thanks ma, I hope you're happy.

Nimish's mother: We are. Ok, take care.

(They hung up)

Nimish: I feel strange.

Nimish's mother: I feel sick.

Nimish looked at his phone and wondered why he wasn't calling Prakrithi to tell her about it. He felt sad somehow. After some time, he called her.

"Hi, Prakrithi."

"Hi."

"My parents have agreed."

"Agreed?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Let's meet in the evening."

"Ok."

.............................................................

"Hi"

"Hi"

"How's your day been?"

"Nothing much. Very few customers. All regular styles. Yours?"

"Same old. Finished the necessary hours."

"Hmm. Good.

So your parents agreed?"

"Yes."

"Nice.

How come? All of a sudden?"

"No idea.

You alright?"

"Yes. You?"

"I'm fine.

Prakrithi..."

"Nimish...

I've been thinking. I think...

let's not see each other anymore."

"Yes, I think."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"Cool?"

"Cool."

"Bbye."

"Goodbye"

But they kept sitting there for a long time.

Friday morning blues

2008-08-29T07:36:00.003+05:30

"Doctor, help me! I am ill, my whole body hurts!"

"Here, please lie down, let me check."

...

"Does it hurt?"

"No"

"Does it hurt?"

"No"

"Does it hurt?"

"No"

"Does it hurt?"

"No"

"Now sit up please. Touch this table. Does it hurt?"

"Yes! yelps!"

"Touch that machine there."

"Hurts"

"Now sir, when I touched your head, stomach, arms, legs, they didn't hurt. And when you touched even things which are non-living, and in any case not parts of your body, and as such, couldn't possibly hurt, they hurt you. Everything in the world is completely fine I assure you - tables, chairs, machines. Even you are almost fine sir. The only problem is, you've broken your finger. Now with this narrowed-down diagnosis, let's try to treat your finger first. It should not be too difficult."

:)

2008-07-31T18:24:00.001+05:30

In tongues and tunes and words and songs

2008-07-29T12:50:00.000+05:30

She spoke sonorous Hindi
and sibilant English,
often, in a slaphappy Punjabi accent
and would've tried, Kannada stuttering
I fantasize...

When sleepy her voice
was like a gargling guitar,
and when she flowed
it was a stirring sitar...

Her words of love,
when happy, were perfect as a nursery rhyme,
and when sad, hollowing, like a sonic boom...

When angry she was a cloudburst
splattering and slapping me on and on
with scary little drops of rain...

She smelled like teen spirit in her stubborn insistence
Bought stairways to heaven in her fantasies
and often made love at whim out of nothing at all...

In tongues and tunes and words and songs,
as the memory of her voice fades, it echoes....

The lady who's sure

2008-07-20T00:11:00.002+05:30

It exists, without telling me,
and as the music gains strength
and every other voice drowns
it comes up.
And they fight
for my attention.

My hands are wrapped around her
and as my mouth meets her
she unravels me
like no one does
no one wants to
they're all just interested in my interest in them

And she unravels me
and I want her to
though I know she's killsome
but I want her to
and she does.

She reaches
and she touches
and she doesn't chick-chick
and takes me as I am.

A lady

2008-07-18T07:07:00.005+05:30

She's beautiful and she's strange
and I've avoided her for long
and now somehow
I find myself sitting with her
unable to take my eyes off
of her freshness, her gentleness
her calming presence.

I don't know what to talk to her
now that I'm with her again
I used to dislike her as a child
but now she looks different.

She's Early Morning
and she'll please accept
these really really broken lines
which are all I can write right now
Because I'm short on time
as I always am whenever she's around.

Just want to say
I've seen now
that she's no less of a princess
than her sister Late Night
and I no longer dislike her
and from now I plan to start my days
from where I used to end them some time back.

(Aside, best thing about these princesses is -
they never, never mind)

But not quite

2008-07-15T00:48:00.000+05:30

A fine day's night
but not quite.
Things feel right
but not quite.
Hours stack evenly together,
days wrap properly around.
Feels a lot like life
but not quite.

Claim the day!

2008-07-04T00:38:00.002+05:30

In the midst of my work-hours,
which have lately been replacing my word-hours,
I've found this little time,

in which I claim:

A day to refresh my spirits, the day comprising,

a fresh morning,
the morning starting pleasantly in a melody,
the melody coming from a happy bird,
the bird delighted by a cool breeze,
the breeze smelling of a rain,
the rain - the rain's always imminent here in Bangalore;

a quiet afternoon,
the afternoon putting me to a soothing sleep,
the sleep bringing me a pleasant dream,
the dream waking up to a warm peace,
the peace brought on by a gentle sun,
the sun - the sun's always gentle here in Bangalore; and

a lovely evening,
the evening bringing me a pleasant thought,
the thought calling me to write a poem,
the poem present here before your eyes,
the eyes needing a rest and a treat,
the rest and the treat present right outside!

So get up and enjoy the evening -
Evenings are always meant to be enjoyed here in Bangalore!

One

2008-06-15T23:44:00.000+05:30

Only you
understand
the poem
in these lines

A medical history of the recent past

2008-06-07T00:19:00.002+05:30

15 weak minutes then - the start,
and then the strong years,
and then the filth,
and the sickness,
and these recurring weak minutes again.

Quicklets

2008-05-27T01:27:00.000+05:30

What's gray
but black and white
seen with a blurred vision;
and what are black and white
but gray
seen with a blurred mind.

...

There are situations
where you can't
but believe
in god
and those
where you can't
but not believe.

...

Tears bring happiness
to a world
gone numb.

...

I have uncountable laughs
and uncountable weepings
in me.
What I don't have is
opportunities, to let them out.

Trying to connect...

2008-05-24T03:14:00.002+05:30

We so often talk to ourselves. I'm trying to make a connection with some people tonight by trying to imagine what is it that they're saying to themselves.

Photo by MikeWebkist

We will open my umirella
and then rain will fall
and we will walk under my umirella
so we won't get wet
when we get 'ome
we will keep my umirella
and mommy will say come 'ave a bath
and we will bath
and we will say mommy my 'ot chokate
and we will have my 'ot chokate
and it is very good :)

Photo by una cierta mirada

Sigh...It's been a long time,
wish those days had never gone,
wish I could go back for just one day,
but I know I can't.
I must look forward
life goes on,
harsh, I know,
but that's the way it is,
I can make it good yet,
I should look forward,
God! why?
It was just one simple thing,
and I wouldn't be standing alone here today.
But it happened.
Anyway, life's still good. It's beautiful.
I still have my days and nights.

Photo by abmiller99

hmm...sittin' in the morning sun,
I'll be sittin' when the evening comes,
watching the ships roll in,
And I'll watch them roll away again..hmmm
What fascination I wonder
people have for the sea
I'd love a life on the land,
secure and firm,
I guess everyone wants something different
than what he already has.
But to think of it,
I couldn't leave the sea permanently,
I'd keep coming back.
I guess everyone wants something different
to fulfill fantasies,
home can't be changed.

Photo by kopb

Yeah baby, come on...
Oh man! stretching till the horizon
and this is all you can collect?
come on send me a bigger wave
Am I standing here getting my butt photographed
for this teeny-weeny sprinkling?
Send me all you got next time!

Photo by atsushi.nishio

What's coming over me?
I've got to go
I always knew I will have to
I knew it from day one
what is this stuffy feeling
and I was happy about it
till yesterday night.
Is that it then?
Will I really never be here again
Can I really live elsewhere
God! what stupidity,
what's happening,
think ahead..think ahead
It's gone...I'm happy.

Photo by freefotouk

I'm your beach at sunset,
the sand the sky the water the setting-sun
beautiful
but dead.
In fact, I never was alive.
I've never known how
the little girl with the umbrella
sprinkles her hours with little expectations
every moment.
I've never had the evening clouds
bring me memories
like the man
and I never grappled with myself
to retain the present.
I've never sat idle with my feet hanging
like the boatman
never hummed songs
never had any epiphanies
in my free time.
I've never contested with the boy
though he seems to think I do
or maybe not
but seems to enjoys it
I've never known how
I've never left anywhere like the young man
nor arrived anywhere
never had pangs of nostalgia
or an overwhelming homecoming
anyone who speaks of me
or to me
has to imagine what it is
because I never speak
just like now.
you might be able to imagine my lifelessness
but I'll never imagine your life
because I don't know such a thing exists
and I can't know.
Yet if I were to know it for a while
I'd give up all I have
for one lifespan.

Trenches

2008-05-23T01:50:00.000+05:30

My mind is ever under the siege of alien thoughts,
their raging bullets rush, their fiery missiles fly.
And terrified, I dig dark trenches, wherein,
my mummified beliefs ever protected lie.

Hum Ek Doosre ke Padosi Thay

2008-05-21T00:17:00.007+05:30

...because he/she may just be the boy/girl next door!

Prakriti was cooking potatoes when through the window she saw somebody fall. She went to look and in the dark she could make out a man lying prostrate on the ground before what looked like a child, and shouting "Jai Ho! Jai Ho!” It was only when the thing barked and ran away did she realize it was a dog. And only when the man got up and walked did she realize it was the neighbour Devakar. Staggering and still shouting "Jai ho! Jai ho!” he managed to reach the door of his house where he collapsed and was pulled inside. And now she smelled something burning and ran back to jet-black potatoes smoking furiously with the shouts of "Parkirtee! Aaloo! Parkirtee! Aaloo!" coming from one of the rooms. She yelled back - "Can nobody in the whole damned world pronounce my name properly!"

---Ten-tenennn---

Starring:

Gulab Janum,
Kamal Parinda,
Navel Nanda, and
Phool Sikudi

in

Hum Ek Doosre ke Padosi Thay
...because he/she may just be the boy/girl next door!

Camera: Vauyar Saila

Screenplay: Kanikarini Khwaba

Background Music: Dhunivar Taana

Art Director: Nazuk Kamarwala

Director: (ahem ahem) Vibhav Singh Chauhan, Draam-e-baaz.

----------

A dulhan had arrived in the neighbourhood and Prakriti had to go for the mu-dikhai as a result of which her brother Jograj was supposed to milk their buffalo today. "Please bhaiya be gentle with it and use my purple dupatta if you need to", she said to him. "Yeah yeah...don't worry" was the reply. When she left, Jograj walked to the buffalo-shed. He stood there for a while, then came back inside the house muttering. Then he ran back to the shed, his head and torso covered with his sister's purple dupatta. Once inside the shed he looked outside, of himself only the face visible, and making sure nobody had seen him, settled down to milk the buffalo. "Damn animal. Wouldn't respond to anyone but her. So here I am. Here's your own Parkirtee, O bhains-mata, in her own purple dupatta. Looking pretty and familiar, am I not? Now please, pour down your five litres for me", he said under his breath, not speaking loud, cautious should the animal see through the guise and refuse to be milked. It is traditional wisdom in the villages of India that an animal who'll allow only a regular to milk it can sometimes be fooled by a simple clothing disguise and Prakriti and Jograj used this method pretty often, causing in Jograj a permanent dread of impending embarrassment.

And it would seem the day for that embarrassment was today, but with intensity more severe than he could have imagined. He had milked about three good litres and could feel at least two more in the buffalo when he heard Devakar clearing his throat behind him. He had an impulse to run away, but froze, and waited. Devakar said after a while, in such a gentle voice Jograj would never have thought him capable of - "Parkirtee?" Jograj didn't reply, now thinking of how to get out of this situation with the least embarrassment. The result was that both of them were still for a while, because Devakar was now lost in his own memories, while the buffalo stood troubled by the two-litres left unmilked in her, after she had resigned the whole of her full-cream for yet another day.

Devakar was remembering that playful day of 15th August when he had seen Prakriti on her terrace, flying a kite. Her silver nose-ring had shone bright on her dark face tilted up towards the sky, looking like an early crescent moon casually hanging about the evening sky. The setting sun's rays had fell on it for a moment and reflected directly into his eyes, reaching his heart through them, and filling it with a longing for her as pungent as the glare. That day, he had realized for the first time that life could be as complete and smooth as a circle, and known at the same time that his life won't be so unless a part of that circle bound, and became inextricably linked to hers, just as her nose-ring was to her nose.

He had decided he would marry her and had already thought as his next thought about how odd it would be for his baaraat to travel only till the next house.

He returned to the present, and said to a sweating Jograj in a voice that had suddenly acquired an almost royal nature while retaining its gentleness - "Parkirtee, I have wanted to tell you something for a long, long time now. I believe the day has come, and I can no longer stay quiet. Even fate is on our side today, that I have found you alone here. And yet, I do not find it an appropriate situation to tell you a truth that has the potential to change both of our lives, not with you in the midst of milking a buffalo. But if you could kindly sneak out of your house tonight, and meet me behind the old temple, I should be, and I have reason to believe, you yourself would be extremely grateful later in life. You can be sure of the purity of my intentions since I have called you to meet me right behind God's house, instead of Thakur Jor Pratap's, the old haveli, which was also one of the possible options."

Jograj had never been more confused about the state of his mind, as he was now after Devakar left. He told himself he ought to be relieved to not have been discovered, and yet it was good that it was he and not his sister who was present here today. He also ought to be outraged, he thought, for somebody to have made such a proposition to his sister! But he could not have refused the purity argument given by Devakar in the end, which, admittedly Jograj had also once used with Sitara of Noorpur last year. This argument was also an old tradition passed on from one male generation to another and was sincerely believed in, and Jograj couldn't refuse that he did feel a certain bonhomie towards Devakar for having understood it better than had all the girls across generations who ever heard it. And then (for it couldn't be about anything else), marriage to Devakar wouldn't be such a bad thing for his sister, who was already seventeen. What a lucky girl, he thought, just getting out of school, and comes a groom to her home, ready to take her away. He laughed at his initial confusion, and now waited for his sister to return. He was eager to break the happiest news of her life to her.

...

"But they are good people Parkirtee, you'll be very happy in that family", a somewhat surprised Jograj said to his sister when she was appalled at the idea of marrying Devakar.
"They are big carpenters, it is heard that their grandfathers made furniture for English collectors", he pressed on.
"Well that's nothing to be proud of", she replied.
"Well what do you know of class. What does it matter if he prefers a drink in the evening?"
"He is a drunkard. And a bloody dog-worshipper if you don't know."
"A dog-worshipper?"
"Yes I've seen him many times hailing a street-dog at night. Jai-Ho! Jai-Ho!"
"It isn't decent of you to talk like that for your future husband. Talk to me next when you get back your mind."
"Future husband!"
"Yes, he is."
"No! he isn't!"

Jograj didn't say anything more to his sister but narrated the whole incident to their mother when she returned from a distant-cousin visit the next day.

...

"But Ma, I'm still in school."

"Yes, and much good it's doing you, every passing year it's making you less and less suitable a match."

"Ma! You know, our principal is ready to pay my whole fees if I go to college in the city. He says I am more intelligent than even the boys."

"Oh-ho! Smart you are indeed. Smart you are. And you'll stay smart and unmarried. So it's your principal who's been filling your head with all the rubbish in the world."

"But Ma, this is exactly what Papa would've wanted. He would have been very happy if he'd heard I could get a scholarship."

The mother didn't seem softened by the reference to the deceased father, but was certainly quietened for a while. And then -

"Beta, your father is in a different world now. And he wasn't much in this one ever. He always had ideas from I don't know where. Sending you to school was his idea, and see what it has made of you. You don't know, but I've been trying to get a good match for about two years now. And the mention of your being in school in such an obscenely high class always breaks it. I never asked you to leave only because of your father's wishes. But if that means I'm going to have to give up a groom who has come walking right to our door, I'm taking it no more."

"But Ma, I could get somebody educated, like Papa. There are enough well-educated men in this world."

The mother sighed and after the quiet of a few minutes -

"To tell you the truth, your father wasn't much of a husband."

"Ma! For you to be saying this after he's in heaven!"

"What else can I say? At the fields working among the women I had no stories of his manliness to tell them. He never beat anybody, was always gentle everywhere, and he didn't beat even me! And what all I did to invite him! I hadn't even one story to tell them."

"But Ma, he was a different kind of a person. Think of the things he did, the things he gave us."

"What did he give us? What did he give you? A name from I don't know what old language that nobody understands? And if he were alive he would have brought you up to be just as impossible and nobody would have understood anything about you. Already I can't understand your interest in college. Haven't your read enough books already? And to think of you talking about your own marriage! And arguing about it! Aren't you ashamed to even think of it? When I first heard of my marriage I couldn't speak for days I was so embarrassed.

Beta, try to understand, what a girl needs is a husband. And you're getting one in your neighborhood. Think of all the savings! It's not easy for me to arrange everything on my own. A groom in neighborhood is just what your mother needs. Think of it, after college, you still have to marry. Why lose so many years? And who will marry you then? Once a girl crosses twenty, she as good as an old maid. I've lived my life practically without a husband, whether he was dead or alive, and I know how it feels. Is it only your father that's important to you? Doesn't your mother think of your good. I am telling you all this with a woman's experience. Your father wanted to make you a boy. He didn't understand the way a woman has to be. Do you understand?"

"Ma, but not Devakar at least! He's not what I would...and then he's a drunkard!"

"Now it's time you stopped calling him by name. And these little things are there in every man. Where will you find a perfect man? At least the habit is manly. Once you get married to him, you can change him. He's not a stone like your father I can tell you."

"Ma, he goes mad when he's drunk, I've seen him worship a dog!"

"Now I'll not have anything more from you, be glad I've tried to make you understand, girls with proper fathers never get to say a word!"

...

"Parkirtee..."

Prakriti was stopped one afternoon as someone called her name while she was returning from school.

"Parkirtee, you never came to meet me that night, perhaps you weren't convinced by my purity argument, but what you did was right for a girl, and I find myself even more in love with you. I only want to tell you that I have never dreamed of being with any girl but you and I love you from the bottom of my heart. When you become my wife, you'll be the happiest woman in the whole wide world. I'll see you when our families meet tomorrow, and after that when I come to your home with my baaraat to make you forever, forever mine."

Nobody had even spoken anything like that to Prakriti. With everything that everyone had been saying all these days, she had relented a little even in her mind and now hearing such romantic things from Devakar she thought that it might after all be only good for her, something her father, being a man, had not perhaps understood.

...

"Arre beta, have some more laddoo, don't be shy, consider this your own home now", Prakriti's mother said to Devakar in an excessively sweet voice when his family visited them the next afternoon. Prakriti found it absurd to dress up so gaudily when they had already seen her a thousand times; and when she came to know that they had come to her house from the next house in Devakar's city-uncle's car, she had such a nauseating feeling that she wanted to put this all off for another day. But she held herself. Now decked up, she entered the room holding a tray with cups of tea, walking slow with her head down as she had been instructed by her mother, never matching anyone's eye. She just wanted all these ceremonies to be over, and get to the days of marital bliss that everyone had promised lay ahead for her, and which she now had herself started looking forward to.

But one doubt remained in her mind, and she asked her mother to stealthily inquire somebody if there was more to the dog-worship than drunkenness. Now that she had made up her mind to marry Devakar, the only worry she had was if the family was involved with some sort of black-magic. Just as she was saying this to her mother, Devakar's father overheard it. He too had seen Devakar worship a dog many a time when drunk. The black-magic thing, he knew was perhaps the only thing that could break this marriage. For a moment he thought he should just attribute it to Devakar's drunkenness, but finding it inappropriate for the ocassion, he raced his mind around far in space and time and said -

"Arre beta...hahaha! You totally misunderstood it..hohooho...I'll tell you. We are a family of carpenters as you know, and big carpenters, our grandfathers made furniture for English collectors and Zamindars alike. Now have you ever seen a carpenter work? In olden days without machines, it was very difficult to cut and tear a piece of wood. One day as my great-great grandfather was walking around just outside the village, he saw a dog digging the ground. He stood looking and after a while the dog brought out a bone from inside the hole. When it started tearing at the bone, my grandfather was stuck by a great idea. He sat down where he was, mimicking the pose of the dog, and picked up a log of wood that lay nearby and worked on it in the exact way the dog's limbs worked on the bone, and learned that it became very convenient to tear wood this way. This gave us a tremendous competitive advantage and made us the best carpenters in the village. Now of course it's traditional knowledge but since then, Parkirtee beta, we have been worshipping dogs in our family. And a teacher is never small or big. Anyone who teaches you anything is worshippable across generations. What you have seen is Devakar's devotion to tradition."

Prakriti and everyone present in the room felt extreme satisfaction on hearing this account and Devakar, on realizing that this notion had been present in his blood so much that without his knowledge he had been worshipping dogs all along, felt such a joy come over him that he wanted to marry Prakriti right there and then.

...

Prakriti is sitting on her wedding bed waiting for Devakar with an unrest she has never felt before. Although somewhere inside she knows what's best for her now is a long, long sleep, but that would be very inappropriate if anybody ever heard of it, and then perhaps this is the greatest night of her life. Devakar enters, gently closes the door, walks over, sits on the bed and says - "Parkirtee, from today we are each other's forever." And as they draw closer to each other, a shrubbery of red flowers covers them.

THE END

A Bollywood101 (Creative) Studios Production.

Waking in a dream

2008-05-19T00:30:00.002+05:30

I wake up startled and dry-mouthed,
feel around for a bottle of water,
and am putting it to my mouth,
when I wake up again,

sit up and once more reach for the bottle,
and just as I feel it in my hands,
I wake up yet again,
startled, and dry-mouthed.

I sit coughing a few seconds,
having water, coming back, wondering
Was I stuck in a dream loop,
dreaming within a dream,
within a dream?
or am I imagining it?

Or did I imagine in a dream,
that I had another dream?

I saw sadness on her face

2008-05-16T11:51:00.000+05:30

I saw sadness on her face
a shadow the dark could not hide,
and the sunlight that her lips and teeth feigned,
too could not pierce her cloudy eyes.

Her body seemed tucked safe in space,
but her eyes looked far away.
It seemed she could disappear,
as if she were painted on air,
or were a time traveler.

I've known she speaks to the night,
with words gentle as water drops,
which seethe as violently,
when they fall on the heated sphere of silence,
enveloping and insulating her,
from love.

And in my own nights,
I am drawn into her eyes,
where floating I lie,
fearing, if they're sad because she's beautiful,
wondering, if she's beautiful because they're sad.

Goodbye IITD

2008-05-14T00:01:00.005+05:30

I want to write about my four years in college, just gone behind; only, I haven't yet been able to write about my years of schooling. These are difficult experiences to write about for a single person, they form collective memories, the kind you will talk about if a group of friends meets after many years. By myself, it is too overwhelming to write about the whole time. But since time never stops, and some things will fade, I will write down whatever I can.

Four years, eight semesters is a deceptive time scale. When I look back at it, I don't see time neatly divided into days, weeks, semesters or years. It appears instead that I am looking through a distorting lens, which makes time appear to have followed a large number of different scales. Some days appear distant and blurred while some are magically brought near into clear vision, regardless of their chronological order. It makes me feel at times that the whole period has been too short, and at times that it's been too long. Time has passed too slow on the scale of academics, and I have to make an effort to recall my first-year courses and teachers. I know I used to be more serious about them, but I've forgotten why or how. Then there is a time-scale of friendship, on which time has passed fast. I feel I haven't known my friends enough to say goodbye already. I want more time with them, but can't get it. And then there is an opposing desire to move on.

Some inactive days, weeks are totally wiped out, but of some I have retained a video memory. In a brief break during the first MEL120 workshop, we came out and stood in front of the workshop's entrance. From there, the roof of Convo-hall soaring up towards the sky against MS standing huge behind it is a breathtaking sight when you see it for the first time. Later on unfortunately, the knowledge of the machinery operating inside the buildings made it less pleasing to look at. The "relationship" hasn't been without ample hatred and resentment at times. But whether it was good or bad, whether you loved it or hated it, when you spend four years of your life at some place, specially the time when you are 17, 18, 19, 20 and 21, in a way, the place becomes "yours" and it is difficult to ignore it, or to have unmixed feelings for it.

People have been the best part of the experience. After knowing them for a while, it was surprising how similar we are, and again how different each one of us is. Most people outside IIT can't help stereotyping us, but I have found that IITians are at their best and most interesting when they fail those stereotypes than when they are able to successfully follow them. I've also found that it's not IITians who find it difficult to mingle outside, as the common belief is, but it's mostly the outsiders who find it difficult to mingle with us. It's too difficult mostly to talk to an outsider if he knows you're an IITian, since it'll be brought up in every bit of the conversation. Most people will either hail IITians or damn them, they won't treat us as normal. Anyway, it makes us more close-knit. We have our own lingo, our own intra-stereotyping, our own stories, our own set of moral-codes to pass on and our own survival fundas. We therefore have all the elements of a mini-culture, and being a part of that culture turns out to be more important than being a part of the institute. The culture includes some controversial elements too - poltu, inertia, fraud, and on the side of the administration, the primitive attendance superstition, leading to one of the biggest problems called attendance-fight. It has in fact messed things up in the last few days for many of us; it was arbitrary in most cases and that made it worse.

But thankfully, after a long disappointment with teachers, I did find one I'll miss. I took a course by Rukmini Bhaya Nair in the 7th semester, initially, admittedly, due to slot-convenience. But the next semester, I barely read the name of her course before registering for it. Her classes are full of discussion, insights, ideas, and fun. She hardly keeps an attendance record and yet I don't remember missing any of her classes this semester. 100% attendance - unFbelievable. It's surprising how a good teacher by herself makes one a good student. We all probably have our examples of teachers we admire and wish for all teachers to be that kind, of teachers who allow us to stand on their shoulders and see far depending on our own height, as opposed to the ones who stand instead on our shoulders with all their academic bulk and wonder why we can't see what they can see so easily. I once went with a friend to show her a draft of a presentation, feeling a little guilty to take her time for our minor concerns and expecting to take just about fifteen minutes. But she herself gave us one hour, tried to understand all points of our presentation, pulled out books from her shelf and read out related portions, opened her own presentations on her computer and copied related slides for us. Seeing the way she treated our work, by the end I felt that it was important as a "work" we were doing and not just as a course requirement to be met. It was quite a refreshing thing for me to have felt this way for my work, I never felt like this even for my BTP which I was involved with for a whole year. She elegantly negates the notion that good researchers aren't good teachers.

Among places, there's Sip 'n' Byte, Nescafe, Holistic, CSC, Library, places where an attaché inevitably finds himself spending a lot of time. I spent enough time in hostels to get to know about that life and to wish I were a hosteler too, but not quite enough to actually know that life inside out. And I feel a little bad about that. There are many other moments, I don't know what I can write about them, sometimes it was just a shared mood which made us celebrate nothing in particular, sometimes it was a running joke that climaxed, sometimes a treat for something happy that found its way into our lives after all!

Now it appears that all of a sudden I am by myself, and there is a need to think about my own life. There used to be a few minutes daily when I was rushing for the morning class, already late, and the road leading to MS looked good with trees on both sides and occasional flowers, the kind of surrounding you'd love to take a slow walk in. But I always had to rush and it made me think every day about the important question - whether to stop and rest in the lovely, dark and deep woods, or to go the miles for the promises I need to keep. This question and others like this will come up at every stage in life, and I don't know the answers yet but I think they lie embedded somewhere in the experiences I've had and the changes I've undergone in the last four years of my life.