CHAPTER-I
Blank leaf, Orphan love & deserted river of life
I was born in a small village Molalla near the holy town Shree Nathdwara. Molalla is famous for it’s Terracotta artwork. Molalla is situated near the bank of Banas River; Haldi ghati is also very near Molalla. In Molalla a large number of persons work for Terracotta. The farmers work in the fields, roses are cultivated in this village, rose water is also produced in this village. My great grandfather expired only a day before I was born, so in my family no celebrations were made even I was first male child after two sisters. Since then my life never went smoothly. After my birth four more brothers were born. We were seven in all residing in a house of great grandfather. He was religious man of high repute in the town. My grandfather was a businessman but my father preferred to join a government job, he served in Indian railways for a couple of years, thereafter he joined the family business during Second World War, but this business could not last long.
Later on, my father ran a small flourmill (atta chakki) in the village. After the death of grandfather and separation of uncle the financial status of the family became miserable and went down continuously. Fortunately grandfather married off the two sisters at proper times.
I started studying in a small private school and then joined the government school unto eleventh standard. While studying the textbooks I used to read other books also. Those were the days of Premchand, Tagore, Shakespeare Words Worth and many others.
My mother was a simple lady, doing all the housework on her own including bringing water from well to cook food, clean the whole house. My father’s earning was not sufficient for two ends meals, but we continued to study in government schools. My younger brothers also started getting education in the same environment.
Some times I used to go school without shoes, I remember one instance when I had to go to school but my half-pant was missing. I took a pyzama of Mohammad Sarif (one of my friends) and gave the examination. After a few years when I enquired about Mohammad Sarif, he had left for heavenly abode alas.
As time went by, I came in college of the town. It was a government college of the town, though a co-educational college, but girls were very few and shy in nature.
Our zoology professor was very kind to me and has helped me a lot. He used to loan me books from library, notes and other study material, due to these things I got good marks and passed B.Sc with first division.
During these days I come in contact with Hindi and English literature and read many books borrowed from the district library and also from the Sahitya-Mandal of the town. College life was not so fantastic in those days, as it is now. Cycle was the only vehicle available to all. Even Professors used to come on cycles. I had an old cycle. I my self used to repair it as and when required.
We had five girls in the class, one of them was principal’s daughter and other four of the town. Science was the field of interest. During the annual function I took part in many competitions and carried off prizes but the concept of girls friend was not there at that time. It was difficult to talk to girl on the road or in veranda of the college, but one can transfer the notes etc.
In Shree Nathdwara Lord Shree Nathji, a child swaroop of lord Krishna is worshiped by all persons, so town has a holy look, but now the holy atmosphere is being reduced and marble industry has come up. The art and culture of Shree Nathdwara has tremendous effect on the life of the town. A large number of families thrive on the earning of the temple of Shree Nathji. But unfortunately our family could not earn sufficient so we had to struggle time and again. So far those days are concerned it was more or less a story of poverty, darkness and problems ranging from family to the caste and many more.
My father was a strict man and used to abuse all of us as and when he gets any such opportunity, my grand father used to save all of us but several times such things ended in big family quarrel. My mother though a patience woman of that time, used to suffer a lot. Later on she paid all her attention towards Dharma and tapasya (to practice asceticism). My sisters were all right at their houses. We brothers were busy in studies with minimum facilities.
Those were the days of late sixties, the political sphere was full of nationalism. Our town had so many freedom fighters. Corruption, mal and low level dirty politics had not grabbed the country and the system was fairly good. Pandit Nehru’s Era was over and Mrs. Indira Gandhi came with a light to the poor nation. The Nation was getting confidence slowly. I moved to Jaipur for further studies. Fortunately I was admitted without any written test or interview to the Chemistry Department of University of Rajasthan, here I got experiences to the real life and angles and triangles of the world.
Jaipur- the Paris of east, the pink city and the capital of the province is a wonderful city of joy for me as I completed my studies I got my first job here and started the career as a writer and as a vagabond person in the field of literature.
When I dropped at the railway station, it was very hot. The summer has half passed, air was full of humidity and sultriness prevailed. I had no idea about the city except a letter written by my teacher for a faculty member of the University, I decided to go to him.
CycleRikshawala was very kind man, he took me to the University, and it was a huge campus, lash-green, tall and beautiful trees and above all a wonderful academic atmosphere of sixties. I reached at professor Saxena’s residence without any problem, after reading the letter of his friend and asking about where I am putting on, I said plainly
“ yet to decide Sir---.”
“well okay. I am alone in this house, till you get some other alternative you can share with me---.”
“Thank you Sir, was only word I could utter.
Professor Saxena managed it gracefully. Second day I went to the department of Chemistry and completed the formalities of admission. Same day I got allotted a room in the hostel and I shifted to the hostel.
Mean while my maternal uncle was also transferred to Jaipur. I used to visit him occasionally and stayed there for some time. The university has a big library called the central library but student used to call it centre of love because love-birds always occupy it and all the youngsters used to go C.L as and when they get time or classes are off or for some academic purpose.
Our class has thirty students out of which six were girls from different parts of the state. Slowly I started getting introduction with other fellow colleagues and they were happy to know that I was a merit holder in graduation.
Rainy season has started. Some times it rained through out the day and no work could be done. Though Jaipur is a desert area but this year mansoon has came with full power. The nearest Ramgarh Bandh become full and over flowed. All the classmates decided to go for a picnic on the dam. We were twenty in numbers. Anil was asked to manage picnic on the contributory basis, a bus was hired and we reached Ramgarh Dam. It was a wonderful scene, full of greenery, mountain and water. Water flowing all the sides, the door of the dam was opened. We took a bath in a shallow river and enjoyed a lot. Now every body has known each other. I became familiar with culture and customs of other part of the state through my new classmates.
Days were passing slowly. Winter came Deepawali, the biggest festival of India is celebrated in seven colors in Jaipur, and similarly Teej and Gangaur are also very famous. Hathi polo is wonderful game played in Jaipur. Jaipur shines in monsoon. People enjoy festivals with full lustfulness including men and women. Jaipur is colorful.
One of my classmates Miss Raghwan, one day asked me for some notes. I handed over the same to her, but when received back, there was a smell of flower. I could not forget that smell till today though much water had flown since then. I even do not know where she is and what is she doing but my first monsoon conversation without voice is still alive in my mind, heart and soul. The classes were on, practical kept us busy. Winter flowers of Bogenvalia, poppy surrounded the University premises. Large and tall trees witness the winter. I went to shree Nathdwara once again but came back soon due to the early date of next final examination, which would decide my future life. I got a scholarship of rupees hundred per month. I gave a treat to my friends by offering them samosa and tea. We enjoyed a lot.
Man reached on Moon through Apollo-11. It was definitely a historical event and I informed the class about it and all became happy and professor talked the major event of science. He said computers would over take the world in next twenty years. By this time we knew nothing about computers. The next century will be of computer sciences, T.V, mobile phones would also come and above all knowledge will be delivered through Internet and intranet but a long way to go. He added.
We started studies, as examinations were due in May and practical in March. Winter was passing away and spring is knocking at the door, the air has become romantic and so the University campus. Autumn started but love continues.
My friend said
“Make love but not children
no war only love and love”
but I remember the Bhagvat Gita
“yada yada hi dharmasya
glanir bhavati bharatha
abhutdhanam adharmasya
tadatmanm shrjamyaham”
i.e. whenever there is a decline of righteousness and rise of unrighteousness O Bharata then I send forth my self for survival of this land.
My examinations were over. I passed and got temporary lectureship in a small town of western Rajasthan. The college was a big one, built by a rich man of the area and there were quarters for teachers. Since I was a bachelor, I shared a quarter with a colleague. Here I came across with various dimensions of life, love and society.
We had a few lady lecturers also, one of them Mrs. Geeta was in my department being senior. She acted as head. I was her only sub-ordinate. We both used to take classes but the timetable was not according to me. Her husband was a businessman in the town and she used to come late, so early classes were entrusted to me.
As I came to know through the peons and laboratory assistants that no one can say any thing to Mrs. Geeta as her husband is a powerful man of the town and the M.P. of the area rests at her residence regularly.
It was mid November and the political atmosphere of the country was getting heat. A large number of infiltrators have
came to west Bengal and government could not know what to do with them. These poor persons had lots of children and having nothing. The government wanted a solution, the Prime Minister tried to solve the Problem with the help of state government but solution was far away. Looking to these conditions, the government sought the help of western countries. But no fruitful results could be achieved.
Ultimately military operation was the only way left behind, so the centre moved to military operations in Bengal and East Pakistan was converted into a new nation called Bangladesh and Pakistan reduced to half.
The military operations also took part in western Rajasthan and we in western Rajasthan witnessed the movement of troops, tanks, arms and ammunition. In night there used to be no light. A perfect blackout so that the planes of the enemy could not locate the civil area, but various kinds of rumors prevailed in the town. BBC radio was the only authentic news giver. However, the war ended in eighteen days only. The opposition leader called Mrs. Indira Gandhi as Ma Durga.
When military troops moved back from western Rajasthan to their other destinations, we usually go to Railway station, we offer them tea, coffee, woolen, garments and try to have some dialogue with them. On one such occasion, I asked a military soldier
“How do you feel?”
“I am happy to be in Indian army the day war was announced I was with my wife and I was married only two days before. I left my wife and went to the front.”
“Oh! Very sad---”
“No, there is no sadness, country first and family later.”
Another young man told me about the death of his colleague at the front, his body was sent with full respect to his village. Our team was near the western command, so daily planes used to fly over in skies, night were without light. Troops and tanks passed daily without any problem.
War was inevitable but the country has become a hero in the world history. In the evening we were wondering near the bus stand when I saw a military man coming towards us. I wished him and tried to have some dialogue. He was a retired person.
“He said I fought many wars like1962, china. War, 1965 Pakistan war and earlier my father fought the Second World War also, war is a bad thing but what one can do. We have to fight till commander orders. I am not a commander.” He laughed.
I could not give any reply. He continued.
“Do you know when I was on front, my wife was in labor room. She could not deliver a child due to blackout and died. She and the infant both died.”
“How horrible.”
He started weeping; I consoled him, gave him a glass of water and asked him for some edibles. He refused and went with the help of the stick.
No war. But war continues some time inside and some times outside. One can fight with one self but can’t win.
Geeta madam started playing politics with me in the college, but nothing could be achieved as I was a temporary person and could be transferred any- where for which I was ready.
Weather was changing now, I started to read poetry for the time being, and one of the colleagues bought some new books also. With the help of which we passed our time. In the evening we used to play Tennis or badminton in the courtyard. Miss Maya was my permanent partner and we often loose the game after blaming each other for wrong and right things. Life continued.
The war was over. The prices of essential commodities went up. Corruption has come in public distribution system. The state was helpless, Geeta madam’s husband and hundred, thousand of such businessmen earned, became multi millionaires but the poor could not get ration, kerosene and even water.
The area M.P. did nothing for improving the situation. He went to the capital but for the benefits of the local businessmen and came back with some special quota, which was released to the public on paper and in reality it went to Mrs.Geeta’s husband. The M.P. took rest at her residence the price was paid by the poor, kacchibasti wala of the town.
Slowly the system was getting changed. Poor was becoming more poor and rich richer, even a small grocery business man used to become a big business man in a few years and in next few years he would be an industrialist with the help of loan facilities. The condition of the great Indian middle class was deteriorating continuously. Under such circumstances Mrs. Indira Gandhi declared new election for the parliament. The nation was grateful to her for the victory of the war of Bangla-desh and therefore she got a landslide victory in the parliament elections but this absolute majority could not last longer.
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CHAPTER-II
Poetry, empty pocket & full mind
It was a fine evening in late December. Air was cool in the town. But loneliness is probably the biggest punishment in such atmosphere. One of my colleagues Sharmaji an orphan but intellectual of high repute came to my quarter. We both went towards the station road. He talked of romanticism and poetry; he likes English and Hindi poetry some time he recites also.
I used to listen him carefully, but that day my mood was not good. I was sad due to some problem of my own but Sharmaji got me back me on the track of life, jokes, humor and satire.
He told me about his experiences of college life. He had one or two girl friends also. He said.
“It is easy to have girl friends in bigger organizations but difficult to maintain long-term relationships. However, he was ready to tell me his love story.
“It was a Sunday, I went to the college library to get some books, there I saw one of my class fellow sitting on chair. I requested her to share a cup of coffee. She agreed. Both us went to the university coffee house. She was wearing a yellow Salwar Kameej and was looking beautiful. Her hairs were long and black but her accent of speaking was like a village-girl. So I requested her to speak in English.” Sharmaji continued.
After a short while she became free and frank, and started telling about her self. Sharmaji was very keen in telling me all these things to me. But I was an innocent in this field. My bookish knowledge was of no use in such a situation.
Sharmaji further told me that after the coffee, we went to the university garden. Walked there till it was late in the evening, I took her hand in my hands and we departed after a kiss.
All these things were quite new for me and I wondered on the whole instance. Next day Sharmaji and I went to Kaushalji, who was also teacher in our college, both Mrs. and Mr. Kaushal were in botany and were very kind to me. Specially, on Sunday they used to call me for breakfast or lunch. Sharmaji repeated the same story before Mr. Kaushal, Mrs. and Mr. Kaushal agreed to his story. I also agreed because, it was a normal feature in the modern society. Sharmaji could not enjoy the relationship for a long time, as he got a job and now he does not know where is she.
Sharmaji though orphan has wonderful knowledge of society. Life has taught him many lessons. One day Sharmaji told us that one family has agreed to give their only daughter to him. Sharmaji’s marriage was a simple one. Only college teachers attended, from the bride side there were only ten persons. I managed whole things on be half of Sharmaji. We gave a gift to the newly wedded couple.
They Went for Honeymoon. We became busy in our normal life.
Shrmaji came back from Honeymoon. His wife was a thorough
gentle lady and used to care for him. We often used to go to their residence for a cup of tea. Mrs. Sharma was also highly educated woman and she used to discuss with us. Generally we had academic discussions only. Once she told--
“ Why the society is changing so fast.”
“Because change is the normal course of life. One who does not change is vanished and some times he is cut off from the society”. I said.
“But the changes should be for the betterment.” Sharmaji announced.
“Definitely but who will decide the good or bad of the change.”
I again countered.
“The society it self should decide it. You see now a days obscene literature, pornography and blue films have came in the society.” She said.
“True but a section of the society not only like it but love it.” I said.
“But whether the direction of the change is correct!”. Mrs. Sharma questioned.
“Well time only can decide it and we shall leave it for the time being.” I said.
It was late night I came back in my quarter but before I could sleep my buddy told me that we may have to vacate this quarter due to some political reasons. I could not sleep the whole night.
Next day the problem was resolved with the help of a local influential person, who in turn asked me not to indulge with Geeta Madam.
The student went on strike to remove the hostel warden. The reason behind it was not very difficult to understand, a group of powerful students of a particular caste was behind it. One of them brought a girl in the hostel premises, kept her there whole night, the girl went to principal and reported rape incidence, but the group of boys refused the charges. The college was divided into two groups one with the boys and the other with the innocent girl, who was weeping out side the premises. The matter was not reported to police. The boy was rusticated from the hostel and it was the reason of strike. Principal was helpless as he himself belonged to other caste.
Strike continued for two days, the local leaders and M.P came, the warden was removed and the collector gave the girl compensation, the matter ended leaving behind a lot of questions.
Early summer has come; my job was to be terminated soon. Once again I would be on road, jobless without money. Whatever saving I had, was forwarded to my parents for family uses. The day soon came; I was relieved.
Loneliness persisted. Sadness came and depression thrived on me. I came on the road and decided to take a round of this old town before I leave it forever.
I took some maize grains and threw them to the pigeons on the ground. The pigeons ate them in a short while and flew back to sky. I thought why couldn’t I be a bird, no job, simply flying in the sky. I also thought bird do not tell lie. They are also not dishonest and above all they live the life as they wish. While wandering in the town, I went to the nearest pond. A few women were there with Matkas for water. They used to have two to three Matkas on their heads. A common scene in western Rajasthan but news for rest of the world.
Suddenly I listened the voice of peacock. It was dancing on the side of pond in full swing.
I thought whether it is money, which is a must or some thing else.
Yaksha had once asked Yudhister
“Who is the most sufferer in the world?”
Yudhister had replied that poor is the most afflicted person.
In Upnishad also it had been said that the manhood is nothing but the money you have, the wealth and property you have. Similarly one who has wealth is educated, handsome, intellectual, and honest and respect-full person of the society. Education is not the necessary ornament for him. But I had no money only education. Bird like wishes with empty pocket.
If the poetry cannot feed a person, what is the use of it, but the social utility of poetry should not be evaluated at the cost of money, which can tell us the utility of peacock’s dance or the shining of the moon or the dear voice of cuckoo. All these have important aspect than money, but wealth, physical assets and allied achievements but who bothers. I said to my self.
The woman went to their houses with water. The pond was silent only my inner core of heart was upset and beating.
Soon I wanted to move back but I heard the voice of Maya, who has come for a walk. I wished Maya-
“Hi!”
“Hi!”
“What are you doing here?”
“I went to your quarter and came to know that your services have been terminated. I thought you must be here. So I came.”
-“Oh! you are right, I will leave this town in a couple of days with very sweet memories of the people of this area.”
“Where will you go?”
“Any where, where the destiny takes me”.
“Why destiny alone. One can change the destiny with the help of hard work and honesty. Destiny’s role is only thirty three percent in the development of life. Hard work and honesty make another sixty seven percent.” She said.
“But life is not a simple arithmetic.”
“True but life is for living. It is full of anxiety and vegetation.”
“You are right but the end of life is death which is calm, cold and silent.”
“Why are you so sad and depressed. Why you think of death. Death is inevitable and its time is fixed by the God.”
“I do not believe in God.”
“ You are impossible.”
But she came near to me. I can listen her heartbeats. Now I saw in her eyes. The eyes were full of life and excitement. She was looking beautiful. Her hairs were flying in the air along with her duptta. I could not stop my self. I took her hand in my hand and pet it slowly. She said nothing. Sun has come down to west. Moon was rising in the east and both of us went near the pond. We sat by the side of the pond silently. She kissed my hand gently. All this happened so suddenly without any strategy that I could not understand what is happening, but I was happy and so was Maya.
Slowly I threw a stone in pond, waves created and such waves were also in my mind. She went back and I also came to my quarter.
Next day morning I took my baggage and came to Jaipur in search of another job. Jaipur once again gave me shelter. I went to my department and met professor for research assistant ship, but all the seats were full, however he agreed me to allow work but without a fellowship. It was not possible for me. I came out of the department hopelessly, but God has probably done some thing for me. I joined a newspaper as a trainee journalist at a modest rate. It was a new kind of job for me. My first news story was about the rape in the town, the police, the administration; the government took a notice of it. My news editor was an old man but always ready to accept new things. Later on I shifted my self to art and culture column, which was a work of my choice. My dispatches of culture of Jaipur town drew attention of the common readers and intellectuals both.
The world of news, newspaper and related field has immense potentialities. A number of my colleague took this job as a steppingstone and went to various other fields. But slowly I understood the shortcomings of this salt-mine. The taste was bitter. I wrote regularly but at times the news story written by me appeared in altogether a different way. I could not ask what happened to the original story. I was also preparing for some teaching job so that I can have some time for my writing affair. Soon I got a job as a lecturer in a college in Udaipur. This time it was a regular selection through selection board.
I came to Udaipur with a couple of baggage, bedding and a trunk of books. Udaipur is well known city of lakes, mountains, fountains and retired teachers. I was happy to be in Udaipur as its climate was very good. The morning walk is an excellent experience in Udaipur. I wanted to stay in hostel but due to high rent I went nearby motel. After the joining formalities in the college, I came to motel and asked the in charge can I get a room on rent in nearby colony. Incharge was thorough gentleman and helped a lot in this unknown town. He asked his peon to help me. The peon and I took a round of the colonies for a rented room. Some were costly other were not good. However, I got a place of my choice. I shifted to the newly taken one room apartment. The landlady an old Thakurain, was very kind to me. She offered me a cup of tea and asked
“What is your job?”
“ I m a teacher in the college.”
“ What do you teach?”
“ Chemistry.”
“ What!”
“ Vigyan.”
She did not ask me any further questions. She was happy. I could not understand why!
With in a few days college become normal. I used to go to college and come back after taking classes. The college was near Fatehsagar Lake, so usually I passed my evenings there. Boats with passenger sail in the lake. Near by was Pichola Lake, where a five star Hotel Lake Palace was situated. I thought one day I would have dinner there, but right now I have to wait. Rays of Shining Sun look beautiful in FatehSagar and I watched it until Sun came down and went onto the sagar, darkness started. I started to move on the roadside without any object. I came to know through BBC radio that racial riots in London had claimed three lives including one Indian also. I wrote a poem for my self and slept.
No body wins in war.
War is not won.
Winner and looser
Both are at loss
Victory is a defeat also
From the inner core.
So no war, no terrorism and
No more untimely
Deaths.
Only one death- timely death.
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CHAPTER-III
Rana tigrina and others
Our family at Shree Nathdwara was a combined family; with the death of grandfather we became a nuclear family with parents, brothers and sisters. The younger brother completed his studies while living with me at Udaipur and he got a good job in Banglore.
Father went to Banglore to settle him. The family though improved but the hard, strict and rude behavior of father remained as it was towards all of us.
I used to call my younger brother with nicknames. Rana tigrina and he used to call me periplanata americana. We used to laugh on each other for such a name, but our life was going with better future. My second younger brother topped the school and went to become engineer. Later on he migrated to U.S.A and then to U.K. and settled in France. My third brother went to join the Indian air force and got a posting on the front for a couple of years.
Shree Nathdwara is being developed into a new model town now, but earlier it was mainly a holy tourist place for worshipping only. Banas river flows from one side of the town to the other side, a dam was also constructed on it, which spoiled the local environment and the river could not get sufficient water since then.
The local residents of the town were happy and were dependent on the Temple of Shree Nathji, which was also known as Haweli. Haweli music was recited in the temple daily with Dhruvpad and Asthachap poems of many saints and poets.
Father used to quarrel with mother. Some time he abused her also and once I objected and got the punishment. Slowly mother moved towards religious Tapasya (asceticism) and always helped we youngsters to go ahead. With all shortcomings, problems and above all fear of father, we all grew and reached to a stage from where we could forget our bad past.
Those were days of early childhood. With or with out any thing the heart used to fly like a bird.
After taking job at Udaipur I came to Shree Nathdwara. We were four friends and usually we wander in the town from one side to other. Shree Nathdwara was a place of our choice. We walk on the sidetrack of the pond and used to discuss the things. One of my friends who have some political ambitions used to guide us. He told me
“Ours is the greatest, oldest and biggest democracy of the world.”
“True but it has evils.”
“They are the essential evils of democracy and with out which the democracy could not survive.”
“May be but we are paying a big price for democracy.”
“No matter USSR has disintegrated.”
“U.S.A is the only leader of the world.”
“May be right but terrorism is the basic problem of the world.”
“And corruption.”
“Both are global phenomenon and one country could not be blamed for such things.”
The other friend who wanted to become a modern artist said.
“Art in contemporary world can give us peace.”
“Peace is no where.”
“It is inner corner of our heart which wants peace.” I said.
“But peace is not a product you go to the market and purchase it.”
“Oh! We all know that.”
The discussion usually ended with a cup of tea in the nearby kiosk, where the tea was excellent but sitting arrangement was the poorest. We used to call it HOTEL TAJ international with out branches in the world.
One of the friends got a job in Mumbai and went there for struggling. Some days later we came to know that he married a lady artist and went to France. After some times we saw his paintings also with impressions of picaso and M.F Husain. He became an artist with the help of his in-laws.
The political aspirant went to the politics and got godfather, the godfather showed him the path of dirty politics. Where, one could enter but could not come back. He used to say in politics you should have your own newspaper and own girl and above all do not trust even on your father if he is also in politics.
I usually pass my time by calling on my relatives, who lived in nearby places like Chittore, Haldighati and Rajsamand. Haldighati and Chittore were the historical places and Rajsamand had a dam with full of water. It was rainy season. I remembered Maya but did not know where she was and what she was doing.
After the holidays I come back to Udaipur and joined my duty. College was a dull one, except taking two theory classes I had no work, since it was a big college, every body busy. The Ayurveda persons were busy with their practice, commission out door, indoors and above all in their personal clinics at home or in the market. They take cuts for tests, for medicines, for medical certificates, for admitting the patients and also for other minor works. The village patients had to suffer most because they had little money and much more diseases. Illiteracy was misfortune for them.
One of colleagues with whom I used to take morning walk, one day asked me to accompany to an ashram. The ashram was some twenty kilometers away and we went there on bike. It was a huge campus with ashram persons doing several kinds of works. The chief saint was to give Darshan and there was a huge crowd.
He came in a long choga (gown) with folded hands, all the audiences stood up but I remained seated. The persons were worshiping him like a God. A large number of persons were asking solutions of their problems. I could not understand how it is possible.
I took a round of the ashram. There were so many girls and boys working for sell. Books, Cassette, C.D, Video, Audio, VCD, and DVD were being sold. Some persons were taking Yoga lessons. Others were preparing medicines. A person involved in Transdental meditation, told me.
“You can Darshan the God if you come regularly.” But the darshan of God was not in my fate. Since I could not go regularly.
I along with colleague can back. After some days I read in newspapers that the ashram was raided for illegal works and one of the lady charged the ashram people for her sexual harassment. The case was filed and the reputation of the ashram vanished. The chief saint ran away to other country and never came back.
The holy path of spiritualism is a path to be followed individually not with the help of ashram or Gurus or saints. One can read the literature, listen the lectures but the divine path is not through these physical things, it is a meta-physical aspect.
The spiritual consciousness presupposes a subject and an object only, which is different for different people. The reality of supreme super power cannot be solved by a person or by a guru, saint, sadhu or sanyassi. The number of such persons are increasing day-by-day, but the unrest, anarchism, violence, terrorism, corruption of all kind i.e. physical, mental, economical is increasing, why so? No body knows.
Shri bhagvan said in Bhagvatgeeta- hear to my supreme word. From a “desire to do thee God. I will declare it to thee, now that thou art taking delight. Neither the hosts of God nor the great sagas know any origin of me for I am the source of the gods and the great sagas in every way. I am supreme and unborn eternal and I am the lord of world. I am all mighty, unchallengeable.”
Mrs. Gandhi declared internal emergency in the country after loosing an election writ petition for her parliament seat. Those were the days of press censorship and an era of darkness in Indian democracy.
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CHAPTER-IV
Seminar, capital & punishment
What is a city life? My mother used to say ‘paisa hai to shahar nahi to jahar.’(If you have money then city otherwise poison) Really city is jungle of cement, concrete, steel and crowd. Half of the population in the local trains or in buses and half waiting out side for their turn to get in. kachhibasti, pollution, poor infrastructure, corruption, crowd, dirtiness, loneliness, bar girls, discotheque, shopping malls, multiplexes, neon sign lights, call girls of all kinds all make a modern city.
A village has a different look, dull life unemployment, drugs, wine, fields, local dirty politics, women not coming out of their houses and above all no work for all. A chaupal or peepal tree or a Bad tree or a Neem tree is the best place for passing the time.
Combined life of city and village gives the idea of a town and Udaipur is a town. I have some cultural and literary friends, who read local newspaper and their biggest wish was to publish their poems in local papers. Some times they go to Akashvani for a contract. The contract was given to them with certain conditions and the aspirants fulfilled the conditions.
Since I had plenty of time after doing my regular job in the college. I requested my principal to allow me to do research in the local university department.
The principal was a gentleman but his advises were complex. He asked me “why you want to go for research. Your qualifications are sufficient for our work. If you will achieve higher qualifications I will lose you.”
“Not at all Sir, I will continue to serve this organization even after higher education. I will not go any where since it is my home town also.”
After some assurances, he agreed to my proposal.
Now again I was a free bird. I joined the local University for part time research work. My guide was nice man but fond of academic politics. I started working on a topic, which needed lesser practical work and more literary work.
The theory and practice of the research topic were all right, but department politics was a big headache. Some times you get the things easily and some times even very minor things can’t be achieved. So long my guide was head of the department things were good for me, but under the rotation of headship scheme he had to step down. It was a problem for me also. Now it was difficult to continue. I decided to publish the work done in a journal. The papers were forwarded. I got a chance to present a paper in abroad but my application was rejected at the departmental level due to local politics. I wrote another paper and got it published without any permission. After the publication, the news broke like a nuclear fission and the paper proved havoc in the department. I was asked for an explanation, which I never submitted. I left the University with out a degree of Ph.D.
But one achievement I could not forget i.e. I got Maya there in the University. She also came to join the University for a higher postdoctoral work. Her topic was also quite interesting socio-sexual behavior of the teenagers. The teenagers were everywhere, social life everywhere and sexual behavior was also everywhere in the town.
What is love? Love is Devine, love is worship, love is platonic, love is spiritual, love is physical, love is metaphysical, love is the fragrance of life, love is blind, love is the murderer, love is alcohol. Now isk kamina hai. Nikkama hai; isk ibadat bhi hai and so on.
Love is like a sensation for body to mind to soul and hits directly to the heart. Even the remembrance of the beloved one gives us pleasure, enthusiasm, zest and delight. Love is Maharaas of lord Krishna. Love is a smile of an infant. Love has many angles. Love is for others. Love is for the counterpart. Love for sex, Love for romance. Fundamental aspects of love when get directions of mind, heart, wisdom and thoughtfulness a perfect love is born.
Love always gives and never asks for a return, if return is asked it is an exchange, a business not a love. Love for all and all for love. The word Love is used maximum in all part of the world and in all languages. Love is wonderful phenomenon. Love is like a spider man. Love is a puzzle, which is rarely solved some times it remains unsolved like a web.
Pure love is beyond any reward. But love has initiation, propagation and finally termination also. It is a complex chain reaction. The chemistry of love is much more complicated than any human life itself. Love may have triangles but a diagonal relationship is the hatred one. Love-hate relationship continues forever.
Intensity of love is the fire inside the lover and to be loved, this fire lights equally on both the sides. Wars of Rama-Ravana, Mahabharata were fought for the love and love only. War is some times ultimate result of love, hates and lust. Lust is love or love is lust both combine to make a perfect love.
Maya and I took a cup of coffee in the University canteen to finalize the synopsis of her topic. It was late evening, the shadows of tree have become large, Sunrays were falling on floor through the window and we moved apart.
My one room flat had a pale dull color. The walls were without plaster. Window glasses were broken by the street cricketers both rooms were dirty and full of insects, cockroaches and aunts. But there was an open verandah outside, while sitting on the chair I can have a look of the road, of the near by mountain called Moti magari and from the roof I can watch the lake, sailors and tourists also.
“Kesariya Balam avoni padharo mahre desh” was first sung by Allah Jilai Bai in the form of Mand music and later on was taken as a logo by the local tourist department to attract the tourists. Tourists come tourists go but the culture remained as it was. I crossed the room come to the window. Slow and cool wind was blowing; it was nearly half past twelve when I went to sleep. On the khat (bed), which was of the landlady.
Early Sunrays have entered the room through the window. I woke up late, prepared my self for the college and came down. I was moving slowly on the roadside when I saw a group of girls going to school. They were talking like birds, laughing like fresh flowers and looking like unripe fruits. The group of girls passed by without any notice of mine. They were busy with them selves.
I crossed the road took an autoriksha and reached to the college. The students have gone to enjoy the rainy season so there were no classes. I decided to go to the library in search of some pulp fiction book. I got one.
The synopsis of Maya was to be prepared with the help of earlier works done in the field and her guide, a lady of good nature, has asked her to do the need full at an early date so that her name may be recommended for the fellowship. Maya took it as a challenge, prepared the synopsis and references in two days and got it typed on a computer and showed it to the guide. With a few corrections the synopsis was sent to the University. Maya was selected for the fellowship also and it was a day of pleasure for both of us.
“So now your name will be Dr.Maya mem Sahib” I said to her.
“Naughty boy” She said.
I accepted her adjective without any objection.
Both of us were very happy and to celebrate it we went to her room. The room was a simple one without white washed, only some utensils and large numbers of books. She prepared coffee for both of us. We set down on a simple carpet (dari) on the floor and sipped the coffee silently. The silence has it’s own voice. Some times the loud ness of silence is much more than the voice it self, words are not able to say which is said by the silence.
Maya took the cups went to the kitchen and came back in a yellow- orange sari with a backless blouse. She was looking beautiful her curly black hairs were wandering on her face. She had a blush on her face. A sign of womanhood was on the face, mind and heart. We went for a walk near Fatheh Sagar Lake and took a boat, sailed in the lake for a couple of hours till moonlight came to rise.
I took her hand in mine and patted it. She sung a romantic song; moon had come over the head. It was mid night. We left each other. I came to my flat and slept.
The other day I was told that Maya would have to attend a seminar on child abuse in the capital, NGO would finance the tour, so she decided to go to the capital and requested me to accompany her, I accepted the proposal.
Delhi, new and old, is the capital of India. Capital of politicians, industrialists, rich, capital of bada babus, editors, news channels, juggi-jhopadi, journalists, writers and capital of dirty polluted Yamuna, heritage buildings, all part of women abuses, even a lady was burnt and cut to pieces before a five star hotel and later on fried in the near by restaurant. So such is the capital. With all odds, the capital attracts all.
All want to go to capital, but the capital enjoys all and leaves them like a waste product.
We wanted to drop at Dholakuan but the conductor told us that Kashmiri gate bus adda would be the best for further route.
We dropped at kashmiri gate bus adda, what a bus stand it was! All sorts of people and all sorts of buses were there. All are in hurry and going or coming from somewhere. On a side bench a lady was sitting with her baby and was feeding the baby openly. Near by to her a dog was sitting. The person accompanying her was busy with his edibles.
Suddenly on other side I saw a policeman and a body was brought from the bus. The policeman said to the attendant.
“What happened.”
The attendant told him with grievance that his old grandfather died in the midway in the bus.
The police took charge of the body, asked the attendant to follow him to the chawki and said with anger.
“He died or you murdered him.” The attendant again started weeping, the policeman took the body to the postmortem. A beggar came to me and asked for help. I had nothing to give but we offered him a cup of tea. The tea was good.
The seminar people were searching for Maya on railway platform now one of them reached to the bus adda. They took us in a van to the nearby place of stay. The seminar spot was a big one. Maya took a lot of pain to present her paper. Participants from allover the country was present there. Vigyan Bhawan was looking like a marriage place. Such a huge building with such a decoration, we were impressed. A large number of camerapersons, media people, journalists and V.I.P of the town were present in the opening session of the seminar on child abuse. The address of the chief guest was excellent probably written by a professional writer. The coverage of the same was also wonderful. The astonishing fact was that near to VigyanBhawan poor children of juggi’s were collecting waste plastics, newspapers and bread pieces. After inauguration excellent lunch was served to us.
Maya’s paper presentation was on second day so we were free in the evening. We decided to go to the Samadhi of Mahatma Gandhi and Jawharlal Nehru; from there we went to Birla Mandir. Birla Mandir was historic as it witnessed the Mahatma Gandhi last prayer in 1948.
Maya was interested in going to the Mazer of Amir khusro a saint poet of Urdu. We went to the point. Stayed there for two hours without speaking any thing. The silence has it’s own words.
New Delhi is altogether different from old Delhi. New Delhi was full of enthusiasm, money and enjoyment. Old Delhi is full of crowd, small and dirty streets, poor and old people with typical bad smell, cycle Riksha and footpaths, but its residents love Old Delhi.
We went to Chandni Chawk, gurudwara, worshiped there, took round of Red fort. We were tired, evening was over sun was to set in the dirty water of Yamuna with pale rays.
I woke up early in the morning, came out for a morning scenario of the capital. Daryaganj was probably the first to awaken. Jamma masjid was fully lighted; sabji wala, tea wala and newspaper wala have come to the footpath of Daryaganj and opposite to Golcha cinema. I was standing for the newspaper. Behind Golcha cinema was Old Township. The newspaper vendor asked to wait as his son was yet to bring the papers from the near by circulation agent. Meanwhile I took a cup of tea on the kiosk it self. It was of old milk but with lot of tea leaves.
The newspaper boy came, his father cried, “why you wasted your much time.”
“It was a must. Today’s paper has 76 pages and you have to collect them separately.”
“Oh!”
So it took so much time.
“The readers will get a kilo of news. The owner of the paper will get lots of ads and money but what will we get?”
Asked the vendor to himself.
I took two newspapers and came back to the place. Maya was sitting in the lounge of the hotel and sipping the tea. She was looking very fresh after morning bath.
Her face was glowing and she was thinking about her Today’s paper presentation.
I said.
“Hi!”
“Hi!” she replied.
“Where have you gone? I was worried.”
“I took a round of the morning business of the old town.”
“Did you like it.”
“It is almost the same everywhere.”
“See, the news of the seminar has been given good space.”
“If you are in capital and that too in VigyanBhawan your coverage is bound to be excellent.”
“Yesterday evening news channel have also given good coverage.”
“Actually they are selling abuses rather than amusement.”
“Well you go and be ready by 10.30 I will present my paper.”
I came to the room and went to the toilet.
After getting ready, Maya and I drove to Vigyan Bhawan for the presentation of the paper before an auspicious audience. With the help of slides, overhead projectors and LCD projectors, the participants were putting the views in the seminar.
Maya in her turn spoke on the girl child. Abuses, violence and harassment the girl child suffer from the beginning to the end. She said before the girl child is born, the harassment starts. Sometimes the family members ask to drop the pregnancy. The mother of the child is forced to abortion. Even the zygote is removed; the mother of the girl child never got the relief. Even if born the girl child suffers through out the life and death only saves them. There was pin drop silence when she finished followed by a thumping of desks and clapping. I congratulated her for excellent presentation.
The evening was hot but after some times cold wind started blowing. We went to Janpath and palika bazaar. Connaught place and Bengali market but the words of Maya were haunting me continuously. Mentally I was still in VigyanBhawan seminar room. We came back to our place of stay and by mid night discussed the matter with fellow colleagues. The morning paper gave a good coverage of Maya’s attitude towards the girl child.
Next day Maya was to attend a lunch with the participants given by the local NGO. I decided to use this time for my literary works. I took my manuscript, went to a publisher in Daryaganj, but no fruitful results were there. Later on I went to the office of a big newspaper. I asked the receptionist to see the editor. She was quite cooperative and requested me to sit. In a few minutes, she arranged a meeting with editor. It was first time for me to see an editor of such a big newspaper. I was nervous, but went up stares slowly. I entered the chamber of the editor and said.
“Sir, I am a new writer and have written some literary pieces. Will you be kind enough to publish them or go through them?”
“Well young man this is the time of specialized writings, we need experts of writing on various current topics, poetry, short stories. Novels, Drama, satire and humor we do not need.
“But Sir they have a lasting effect on the society.”
“But society want fresh and new news. Who has time to read literature.” The old man said without looking at me.
“But some day literature will be read.”
“Of course, young men go ahead. Write and publish the things. If you become a great writer, we will publish a news story on page three as a celebrity, meanwhile wish you good luck.” and he started viewing on the computers.
I came back without any hope, but I could not resist my self. I thought even if I bring a piece of great writer then too would be rejected. I started moving on the roadside of Bahadur Shah Jafar Marg without any motto. A large number of huge buildings were there in the service of the nation, in the service of the common man, but the common man getting nothing out of these buildings.
I recalled Tagore’s version as a fresh air
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high.
Where knowledge is free,
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Where the mind is led fowarded by thee into
Ever widening thought and action.
Into that heaven of freedom, my father, let my country awake.
It was sixth August both of us went to Japanese Embassy in ChanakyaPuri to pay our tribute to the Hiroshima-Nagasaki victims with flowers. The ground was full of flowers, only a complete silence but with a load voice.
Before leaving for our town, we went to Pragti Maidan to see the exhibition of handi-craft, terracotta art of Rajasthan, Fulkari of Bihar, South Indian silk work, Northeastern shawls and Gujrati-kuch clothes. All these things make us feel proud. The unity in the diversity is really to be worshipped. Maya was full of shopping, I took nothing but my mind was full with the Indian wonders of art, craft and culture.
This time we decided to travel by train. The railway station was full of crowd, every body rushing to the trains, the voice of coulees, chaywala, venders were high in the air. Though we had our reservations but we had to cross two bridges the condition of the wooden bridges were very poor.
Beggars were also wandering on the platform. T.T.I, engine persons, luggage employees were doing their jobs. The train was yet to come from the yard.
We went near a broken bench, which was already over crowed, but being a woman Maya got a seat. I kept standing. A young woman with her baby was asking for some edibles. Maya gave her some biscuits; she went away in search of other donor.
The platform was dirty, polluted and a typical railway smell of coal, petrol, diesel and sanitation prevailed in air. The train arrived, we took our luggage and set on our seats, within a couple of minutes the compartment was full. The voices of the crowd were of very high decibels, but slowly the train started moving and we settled into the seats for coming twenty-four hours since our destination had to come after so much time.
In the train I asked Maya to tell some thing about her past. For a while she saw in the space without any reaction. The trees, telephones and electricity poles, ponds, small villages were passing without any significance. After some times probably she decided her self and started.
“I was not born in Rajasthan. My grand father went to Madras (chennai) for earning at an early age. My father married a local Christian lady near Kodai cannal. We had restaurant there, which was run by my mother, father and we two sisters. During the season day’s large number of tourists used to come Kodai Cannal road to go to the upper hill station. We used to serve them rice, rasam, idli, bada, sambhar etc. Our earning was sufficient for all of us. There were so many fruit merchants near our restaurant. A few texi drivers were also there. All of us used to live together and enjoy when there were no tourist or they were very less in numbers. My elder sister Ratnama was very beautiful. My father used to drink daily and due to this my mother some times quarreled with him. Father one day got married with another local woman.
Now the problem was grave, father lived in a separate house with his new wife. I, my mother along with my sister lived in the restaurant it self. The financial conditions slowly became poor. One day we came to know that father with his new wife left for some other town. Since then I heard nothing about them.
I was interested in studies. I requested my mother to continue the studies in doing so my elder sister also helped me and encouraged me. The restaurant was all right but we three women without a male some times used to face certain awkward conditions. Local leaders, anti social elements, drivers and some times tourist group of college boys come to the restaurant and make nuisance, abuse us. But taking it as a part of game we continued. My mother though a lady, could not cope up the thing, but my elder sister faced the situations and things were in our control.
One day late in night somebody knocked the door and cried under alcohol to open the door. We cried for help but nobody came forward. Suddenly the door was opened and a group of anti social elements entered. They dragged my sister out and ran away in the night on a jeep. I could never know about my sister then. We went to police, the leaders, the Panchayat but no cognizance was taken only because we were helpless, ladies had no money and no power. Nothing had happened to the society. Our small temporary restaurant was destroyed. We had no money to get it reconstructed. My mother and I decided to go chennai in search of job. Chennai is a metro and we thought some sort of job would be available for us else we would beg.
We took a shelter in a Juggi-Basti. My mother went to the near by colony for the job of jadhu-Pochha. She became a maidservant. She also wiped up some utensils for that the landlady gave her some food.
One day my mother asked me to accompany her to one colony flat. There I saw only two persons were living in a three bedroom flat. The flat was well decorated and the landlady was quite gentle. Her husband a retired teacher used to read books only. You know I wanted to read more so my mother requested the old man to make it possible. The old man watched me, read me like a book and said.
“Oh! Why not, if she wishes, she can read. We will pay her fee and for books also.”
My mother as an innocent lady made this innocent crime of leaving me to the flat for whole day. I went to school, came back and do all the household works. Then I used to study off my own, sometimes the old man watched me silently. I besmeared the lady with oil.
The lady one day asked me to comb her hairs, while doing she kissed me and embraced me. I could not understand what actually she wanted. In the evening I told my mother the whole story, mother said nothing. But since I wanted to study, I continued to work with Rani Ma as I used to call the landlady. Rani Ma asked me to help her in bathing, since she was an old lady; I took her to the tub, opened the tap and slowly rubbed her back, elbow, breasts and hairs. Her hairs were gray but beautiful. She invited me also in the tub. After a initial hitch I joined her and asked her for my fee of the next session. She agreed to pay but warned me silently not to tell these facts to the landlord Rajaji or to your mother. I swore and promised.
Rani Ma became happy. I again rubbed her breasts slowly and she probably enjoyed it. There after this has become a routine because during the day hours Rajaji used to go his friends for playing chess. He was so fond of chess that several times he even did not come for lunch. On such occasion our game last for some more hours. After a few days I also started enjoying this game, but I could not understand the need of an old woman.
She gave me money, cloths, good food and above all love. I realized these things. My breasts become beautiful and eyes bold and bright. I came to understand that womanhood has come to me. The old lady one day said to my mother
“Look Maya has grown up. Search a groom for her and get her married.”
My mother said in a sad voice.
“It is very difficult, her father has gone away with an another lady, her sister was rapped in a town, how can I get her married without money. And further she wants to study more. I do not want that her study should be interrupted. ”
The lady said nothing except that she asked my mother to take care of her.
It was a sunny day the lady had gone to the temple for worshiping the goddess. I was alone in the flat. I cleared the floor, beds and was preparing for the lunch. Suddenly Rajaji came to me and smiled. His smile was full of lust. I gave no cognizance to it but he continuously watched me, probably his inside animal wanted to come out. I feared but continued my work as if nothing has happened.
Rajaji came near to me and pressed my hairs, he touched my breasts. He tried to drag me on the bed and after a couple of attempts he was successful. I thought all this would be vanished like a bad dream and nothing would happen to me and to my sacred space. I could not cry because of shame. Before landlady came after worshipping the goddess, her husband had worshiped the new goddess. I wept and ran away to my mother. I wanted to tell her the story but she was not at home.
I came into the room of my Juggi, worried and cleaned my self and slept while weeping on that day, I became a big woman and started to behave like a woman. My mother listened the whole story with a silence and told
“It so happened to all women one day, the poor can do nothing except to accept it. Since you want to study one day you will be able to take the revenge.” She blessed.
Since that day I started hating that old man, but continued my studies. I came to the University. My mother remained there in chennai and one day I came to know that she died. I could not see her face on death also. If possible I would like to see the face of my father and his second wife, but I do not know where they are. I even do not know about my elder sister. One day I will go back Kodai Canal road in search of my relationship. Rajaji and Rani Ma died leaving lot of money. A part of the same reached to me through advocate and I completed my studies and now doing work on socio sexual abusing of the girl child. Maya’s eyes were full of tears. The train was going fast towards destination. I asked Maya to take meals. She refused. I also could not eat anything and went to sleep.
Train stopped in a jungle. Somebody had pulled the chain; it was early morning. Our destination was six hour away. Maya was sleeping. Her face looked to me like a fresh Rose. Suddenly she woke up. I asked the station vendor to give two cups of tea. We sipped silently. She went to bathroom and came back as a fresh morning Lotus. The sunrays were coming through the window and were giving her face a yellow luster.
Suddenly she asked
“What about you Rakeshji.” I said in a normal voice.
“It is the story of poverty, darkness and above all unemployment of a combined family. We had a small family business, which was not sufficient for all our daily needs. Gradually it vanished. Brothers and I continued to study and have good careers; my younger brothers are better than me. One is in foreign, others in good jobs and happy with their lives. I wanted to become a writer but it seems to be very difficult. I worked as a journalist also but preferred a teaching job. I do not know how long I will continue this job because I do not relish this parasitic life. One thing I want to tell women are always holy and like goddess. She spoke nothing. But her eyes said a lot to me. I as a colleague could not do more than that.
The train reached to the destination slowly. We moved out of the compartment. The color of success was on her face.
I came to my room, prepared myself and went to college but the principal was unhappy since I had not informed him and left. He spoke
“This is no way to the job. You are supposed to be sincere and regular.”
“Sir I had some emergency work.”
“So what? You should inform me. It is against conduct rules and I could not tolerate it.”
I could not reply and felt it. I became sad, depressed and resigned for the post to become a writer. It would be correct decision for my future I said to myself. I came to home and slept for a long.
In Udaipur evenings are beautiful and places of walking are enormous. I decided to go to Udai Sagar- a lonely place near the grand factory of Zinc Company. I was all alone and the Sagar was full of water. Water was flowing in small-river. Near by temple was full of pilgrims. I asked one man.
“Where this water comes from?”
He said
“When Pichola Lake is full, Fateh sagar is filled. When Fateh Sagar is full, Udai Sagar is filled and when Udai Sagar is also full then water goes to Jai Samand and you know Jai samand is the biggest lake of the area and has twelve villages situated in it. These small villages has complete life, cattle, fields, shops and population are there inside of lake. There is a big Mahal also known as Ruhi Rani ka Mahal on the side of Jai Samand. This information was quite interesting and new for me.
Sun set, the voice of flowing water increased due to silence. I heard it for some time and came back with a stir in my mind. A dog was barking outside my building I took no cognizance and went up.
The political scenario changed again. Mrs. Gandhi lifted emergency declared elections, lost to Janta party and people called it as a second independence but due to personal magnitude of the leaders the dusari Azadi could last for two years only and Mrs. Gandhi was voted back to power. The socialistic model of the society was being disintegrated. The problem of the common men increased day by day. Globalization and free economy may be an alternative.
I thought. I do not know when I was slept. It was a sound sleep with dreams of future. The blanket was black.
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CHAPTER-V
Yeh hai Mumbai meri Jan
Morning was fine, but I thought what next. What to do?
S...S.......struggle. The youngsters are known as strugglers in Mumbai and Mumbai is the best place for struggle. I decided to move to Mumbai. Mumbai is commercial and filmy capital of the country.
Mumbai means local trains, biggest jhopad patti Dharovi, Sea, Elephanta caves, bollywood glamour, shiv sena workers, bar discotheque, bar girls, call girls, multi storied huge buildings, cement, concrete jungle and above all no space for living but even then daily thousands of people are coming to Mumnbai insearch of job, food, shelter, love and to struggle in the fields of films, T.V, media, business, industries, serials, news, channels and many more fields.
Mumbai never sleeps; it can be compared with Newyork only. It is like a melting pot where every thing melts. It is always flooded with people. Mumbai has Marine drive, Juhu beach, Irani restra, Dibbewalas, Underworld Don, Mafia groups, Gang wars, bomb blasts, waves of Tsunami and great Bolly wood glamour. Mumbai has mansoon for seven to eight months. Mumbai is like a phoenix, which never dies, and always flying.
It is Mumbai which gives bread to thousands coming daily, the life line of mumbai local trains take them to various places and brought back to home. Every body is busy, there is a work culture of Mumbai and if one works no body can stop him to come up. I thought again. I informed Maya about my decision and came to Mumbai central. When I left Udaipur she came to station and while departing she handed over a few currency notes to me while departing.
Mumbai central is a huge station. It is difficult to locate the things. The only thing, which I had, was patience and time. Rather than coming out of the station, I waited there for some time and there I took a batato-bada, drunk a glass of water and come out of the station. I decided to move towards the film-city. I was told that you should go to Goregaon east. For it I took a bus and reached film-city. Before film-city there was a Sai-baba complex and a big shiv temple. I worshiped the Shivji and moved towards the film-city. The film-city is famous for various studios but it is not easy to get in.
With the help of a local chawkidar I was able to get into an office of T.V producer. Though he was busy, but he listened me carefully. He asked to me to leave the address in the office and whenever there will be any need, he will call me, but unfortunately I had no address in Mumbai.
I said to him
“Sir, give me an opportunity to write any one episode of your serial.”
“It is not like this. In Mumbai, young man, we have our own writers and above all I may tell you very frankly every body is a writer in industry except the writer himself, the Hero, director, producer, Heroin, and their near by relatives all are writers. Are you ready to work in these conditions?”
I was in an urgent need of job. I agreed on his proposal. He handed over me to his writing team. The day passed silently, my job was to rewrite the dialogues written by boss. He had a poor knowledge of Hindi and I did it easily. That day I got a free lunch and slept in the studio itself when shooting had over in the late night.
Next day was Sunday, heavy rains were expected and the shooting schedule was cancelled, but it did not rain. I went to Juhu chawpati till late night. I walked there, saw sea continuously and came back.
Days passed. The boss selected one of my stories for a serial and work started on it. I became busy. I got a small kholi in a small colony near film-city and started writing. There was no typewriter, but near to my kholi a person had a computer. He typed the matter for me. Daily I had to give a script to the boss. He corrects it and then shooting schedule was finalized. Here I came to know many new things.
A large number of girls, boys, and technicians came to the film-city for a job. They have their beautiful port folio, Photographs and ready to do any thing for a chance.
Even the people of good and wealthy families came to film-city. They were ready to spent money off their own for a chance. Directors of C grade films, producers of ad films, pimps and allied peoples exploit them as and when they get a chance.
There are so many would be Heroines wandering from one studio to another in search of a chance. These strugglers and youngsters were ready to be exposed to any extent. Some of them after some time become bar girls, some went back to their native places and some moved to red light area of Faras road, Colaba, Kamatipura etc. Mumbai is a heart less city in this manner no cognizance of any body, simply money-wise. If you are earning you are well if not you will be shunted off. Be in limelight; be in news.
During the course of my writing serials I came across a lady writer, who used to write for a newspaper regularly. I asked her is it possible to get a column in her paper. She said
“It is difficult but if you have some gossips about film and serials, it could be possible.”
“I can do it but gossips can be wrong also.”
“It is bound to be wrong. If it is not wrong then it will be a news and news is not gossips, so do you agree?”
“Yes.”
I agreed to write a Page three gossips for the celebrities of the industry. It was a new experience for me.
Now my earning was sufficient. I purchased few dresses, a Maruti 800 and a computer also, all on easy installment basis of EMI nature. My serial was running successfully on a channel but I was not satisfied with the kind of job, I was doing. The gossips column some times put me in trouble also. Once I wrote about a producer that he is fond of Gays, it was true but it costed me the column. He asked the editor to kick me out of the column. The editor did so, as the producer was near to the owner of the paper.
The serial was about to finish. I was almost free. I got a one-bed room flat in Andhari East and moved from the Kholi to this flat. In the same building my artist friend was also residing, ours were very small flats of four fifty square feet area, but we were happy. The struggle has brought us something.
One day I went to Jahangeer Art Gallery with my artist friend, there were lot of art and artists, beard, high lenses, costlier shoes, kurta and jeans, even girls and ladies all fond of art work. It was a good experience for me. Drama festival was also about to start in Mumbai, ‘Ganpati Bappa morya’ voice was high in the air.
In Mumbai mansoon was highly irregular this year, but the festival of Lord Ganesha was celebrated like a Dipawali festival, Janmastmi follows this festival and then Dashera-Dipawali are celebrated. With this the mansoon begs a departure from Mumbai. I received e-mail on my computer from Maya; she was to come to Mumbai to attend a conference on decreasing number of girl child in the society. It was good news for me. I wanted to chat with her on Internet, but she was not there on computer.
I went to receive her on the station. She had small baby with her I could not understand the mystery. The seminar was of two days in which she presented her paper on ratio of girls and boys in the country with special reference to Rajasthan and neighbouring states. It was ironic to note that for every one thousand boys the number of girls was nine hundred or even less in certain districts.
It will cause a imbalance in the society, which may create a havoc in the near future. Her analysis, facts and figures were eye openers for the audiences. The LCD projector was full of data and graphs. After the seminar was over I requested her to come to my one room flat. She agreed upon. There I asked about the baby. She told in a sad voice
“Last year I went to Pondycheri to visit Arbindo ashram. You know it is beautiful city constructed by French. I went to the temple where an elephant blessed me with its trunk. After the darshan I came back and saw a woman begging out side the temple. The face was familiar to me, I went near by to her, and she was none other than my elder sister, who was forcibly departed from us in Kodai Kanal road by a group of anti social persons in the darkness of night. Both of us met, embraced each other she said to me this child was born due to that incident I do not know who is her father. I moved to this place so that nobody can recognize me. I have nothing to give to this child, but can you do a favour to me. Take this child with you. She is more or less orphan teach her and make her a good citizen of the country. I will live without her. I could not stop my tears we both embraced to each other, my elder sister then left the baby to me, I accepted this challenge and brought her with me. I did not know much about my sister there after. Maya spoke in a plane voice.
“What about you? What are you doing?”-I asked.
“After completion of my research work I joined an NGO in a small village near Ajmer. The name of the village is Shri nagar. We collected the poor villagers, laborers and dalit people and helped them for their official works. We had a big success when the government granted the right of information to us. We were happy to have it, now corruption at the lower level can be checked. Now we can see the documents and can get copies. I have seen your serials and articles but you are not made for such works. I request you to come back to the old profession of teaching and writing.”
I could not reply. The story of her sister and of her baby was a tragic but true and haunted me.
Maya lived for a couple of days and went back to her small village, where there was a piece of mind and work satisfaction, but I remained in Mumbai. The Petro dollar stream from Gulf was over, but the computer revolution was on the way.
Computers, data, information technology, internet, intranet, WAN, LAN, e-mail, voice mail, web camera, soft wares, hard wares, computer literacy, out sourcing, offshore projects, BPO, MMS, SMS and many new words were coming to the great Indian middle class. The new generation was called computer boys with excellence in computers. I tried to become well versed in computers but could not do much in the field except typing and e-mail work but computer became a great asset to the new generation. The generation gap increased. Communication gap also increased, the thought of the society became financial and every body running after money. Society lost the sensitivity and the gap of poor and rich became even wider.
I was sleeping when the phone bell rang I took the call; it was from my native place. The voice was of my father. He said
“Your mother suffered a heart attack, she is in ICU please try to reach.”
I tried my level best but could not reach in time. Mother expired much before we brothers could reach there. The funeral was over we could not attend it. We completed the rest of KRIYA KARMA as required. Father was sad when I departed for Mumbai. He said only one sentence “keep in touch.”
But I could not keep in touch. Some time a phone call or simply Hi or hello. After a few days I got an assignment to prepare a feature Tele-film on the bar girls of Mumbai, but I refused due to my personal problems. One day my artist friend asked me to accompany to a cabre dance programme it was new experience for me. Wine, beauty and dance all in one. My friend was a regular visitor; he used to take the dancers as models to his one room flat for artwork. He was fond of women artwork and has prepared a lot of women paintings in different moods. His paintings brought him fame also. He was now trying for one-man exhibition of his paintings abroad. The cabre dancers have their own life. Mumbai has bar girls also and I wanted to have an inside story of this world. I requested my artist friend to arrange a few interviews with bar and cabre girls he promised to do so.
Next day evening my artist friend Abhimanu took me to a bar in Andheri West, it was one of the biggest bars of Mumbai, there we went in and after half night he managed an interview of a bar-bala for me.
The girl was hardly twenty-five years old but fully matured. She had changed her dress of dancing and now was looking more beautiful in formal black suit with some embroidery work on it. Her eyes were color full and now she was have a batter look than on the stage. Abhimanu introduced me to her.
“Hi! Vipasha, he is my friend Rakesh, a writer and he wants to interview you for his work.”
“Oh. Hi”. Said Vipasha.
“How are you?” I asked her.
“Fine Thank you. What exactly you want to know about me?”
“All most every thing from your child hood to this stage.”
“Oh, so it will take much time. You see today I am tired, if you agree, we can have exchange of views next day evening at 4 P.M. here, since my duty starts at 6 P.M.”
I agreed. My artist friend thanked her for her cooperation and we can out of the green room of the bar. Abhimanu took a drink and we came back to our residence.
Next day I went alone to the bar. Abhimanu could not come due to some art work. Vipasha was waiting for me. She welcomed me and said.
“Hi!”
“Hi Vipasha!” Why you choose the name Vipasha”
“Well sir, what is there in a name, said Shakespeare.”
“Oh, so you have read Shakespeare too.”
“Yes I am M.A. in English literature.”
“From where?”
“From Allahbad university.”
“Are you from U.P.?”
“No, I belong to Bihar, but took my degree from Allhabad university by correspondence course.”
“What about your child hood?”
“It is a well known story of poverty, darkness and above all humiliation and domestic violence. My mother was an illiterate woman. Father a small laborer in the village, we were three sisters, my mother and father could not earn sufficient for our family. I was eldest daughter so one day the Jamidar of the village asked my mother to send me to the Haveli, I was sent their without any objection, I was his property now. I requested him to allow me to read, the old man agreed so I continued the study, and became a postgraduate. After some years I ran away to Mumbai for some thing batter.”
“To become a Heroin in film.”
“Exactly but here I came to know the hardness of life but since I was educated and fluent in English I was offered this job which I accepted. Now I earn twenty to thirty thousand rupees per month. I own a flat, car and live the life the way I like.”
“Do not you think to get rid of this life?”
“Never.”
“Why?”
“Because every where the things and work remain same, only the outer cover is changed. One of my friends left this job and went to a M.N.C. there also the work was more or less same.”
“Oh well Vipasha what do you think about the society?”
“I have no time to think so long I am young and beautiful I will earn as much as I can and then will retire from this life as every other person does.”
“But will you be satisfied?”
“Who is satisfied in this world?” She counter attacked on me. I had no reply.
“But who will look after you in old age?”
“Not to worry for old age is far-far away.” She said smilingly.
She asked me for a cup of coffee, we took the coffee and then she went for her duty on the floor of bar. I requested her to manage one more interview of her friend, she asked me to come next day, same time, same place and same motto.
Next day I went to Vipasha, Vipasha introduced me with a girl who was looking like a teenager. She was not only beautiful but was a very good singer and dancer also, Vipasha further told me that she has her own problems and there fore she has come to this profession. I thanked Vipasha and started the interview.
“Hi, what is your name?”
“My name is changed with the bar and nature of work I do, some where I am Hindu, else where Muslim name and some times I wear a Christian name.”
“why so?”
“Just to satisfy the customers, client, bar and the pimp who manages the things for me.”
“What are the charges of the pimp?”
“Nearly Twenty to thirty percent.”
“How much you earn in a month?”
“Nearly Fifteen to twenty thousand after cut.”
“Is it sufficient for you?”
“Naturally.”
“What are your liabilities?”
“An old sick father and brother who is studying.”
“Do the know, what are you doing?”
“It makes no difference.”
“Why?”
“Because the need of the hour is money. I have to pay nearly five thousand rupees a month as hospital charges for my father. There is no way out except this.”
“Are you happy with this life?”
“Happiness is internal, eternally I am happy.”
“What is your qualification?”
“I am B.Sc.”
“You could get some other job.”
“May be, but the salaries are very less and I cannot treat my father with that.”
“What about your mother?”
“I do not remember much about my mother, she left us and went with some other person in the village.”
“When you came to Mumbai?”
“Five years ago.”
“From where?”
“From our town through a pimp.”
“Who is he?”
“I do not know much about him. One day he took my father, brother and me to Mumbai, we had some money with witch we lived for some days and mean while he arranged clients for me, it was the only way to live in metro. I accepted as my destiny. Since I was beautiful and young I joined the bar, disco and now I am in a good position. My father is getting treatment and brother is busy in studies, what else I need!”
“What about your personal needs, marriage etc?”
“No personal needs.”
“Why?”
“Here every day is a marriage day and every morning is divorce.”
“Have you ever loved?”
“No, no time for such sentiments. Only profession.”
“But in the late years of life?”
“No need to think, if I have money I will enjoy my retired life also. By saying this she went on her duty.”
The interviews were published and widely acclaimed. But the problem remained where it was. The oldest tradition of the world is going on. Nothing has changed and no one can change.
The terrorism was spreading all over the world, Mumbai had it’s bomb blasts, Punjab was ignited operation Blue-star was done by the government, but the operation blue-star took the life of Mrs. Indira Gandhi, she shot dead by her body guards. The whole country was inflames, riots started through out Delhi and other places. The physical journey of Mrs. Gandhi ended but the journey of the nation continued. It was under such circumstances that Rajiv Gandhi sworn in as new prime minister. He won the next general election with a wonderful majority.
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CHAPTER-VI
SMALL IS BEAUTIFUL
Maya dropped at Jaipur, she had some official business of her N.G.O in the secretariat. She also wanted to see her old University friend Jarina, who lived within old city wall of the Pink city. She went straight to the residence of Jarina. Jarina welcome with enthusiasm and said.
“Hi!” and gladly she embraced Maya and make a sign of love on her chicks.
“Yes. I have a piece of work in secretariat so I dropped here while coming from Mumbai, after attending a seminar on girl child.” Maya told.
Jarina saw the baby and asked
“Oh! How sweet, a baby also.”
Then Maya replied
“She is the only daughter of my elder sister who’s past is known to you. What about your Abba?”
“Abba was stabbed to death in last racial riots.” She said in a sad and depressed voice.
“Oh! Very sorry.”
Both the friends came in the drawing room. It was a big room with two sofas and a big carpet. The room was well decorated with various paintings and family photographs. Window was big. They set on the sofa; the baby started playing with toys, which were given to her by Jarina.
“Aur sunao yar” Jarina asked
“Every thing is normal. What about you? You wanted to be an officer after giving competitions.”
“Yes, you are right I wanted to be an officer but probably Allah did not want it. After the death of Abba I got married to Salim and started my married life. I am happy and satisfied. He is a loving and caring husband.”
“How lucky you are!”
“Oh! It is a normal course of life. How is your N.G.O going on?”
“We are happy with our achievements and I am getting good results and responses from the public, though neither officers are happy nor the local leaders.” She informed.
After lunch Maya went to secretariat got her work done, meanwhile Jarina kept baby. Jarina herself was expected so she loved the baby very much. She said to her self, children are like God they are small and beautiful, why God gives punishment to such children, who know nothing about their future and past. She kissed the baby. Now the baby was in a sleep. Maya came back to her, she asked about the baby and when saw her sleeping she asked “Where is Salim Bhai?”
“He has gone to Delhi for some business work and will come back in a day or two.”
“So we are alone in the house.”
“Yes.”
Maya and Jarina came to bedroom after dining; they started talking of the University days. Who is where, who got married and who went abroad, who is still studying and who has left for heavenly abode. Maya said
“You remember the black body radiation professor?”
“Oh! That fellow. Where he is?”
“He has gone to Seattle as a computer boy.”
“What about the simple harmonic motion lady professor?”
“Oh! She, she is still in the university waiting for her dreamed rajkumar.”
“And what that nucleus with out electrons?”
“That atom has fused with another atom and liberated energy.”
Both of them laughed. The baby was disturbed. Jarina brought milk for her and after taking milk the baby slept again. After a while Maya asked in a serious tone
“How your father was stabbed?”
Jarina could not reply, but slowly she told with tears in her eyes
“It was a Sunday, the city was burning with racial riots, curfew was imposed, but suddenly a group of persons knocked our door in search of some other person, he was not in our house, Abba opened the door and before he could utter a word the mob stabbed him into pieces. We could do nothing for him. May Allah rest his soul in peace.”
Maya was stunned to know all this. She said
“Terrorism is not the answer of any problem.”
“True, but how to teach it to them?”
“They are strayed from the real path and they need to be brought back to main stream. They are our strayed youth.”
“They say our voice was not heard by the authorities. We are the sufferers.”
“Of course to some extent they are right but extremism is not the solution. The whole world is in trouble, conversation, debate on table is the answer but who listens. They are also suffering, we are also suffering, most of the youth is unemployed, frustrated, depressed, their marriages either broken or not happened.”
“Ya, terrorism should be condemned” she said in a firm voice.
Jarina changed the topic and asked Maya
“Why you did not marry?”
Maya told her about Rani ma and Rajaji. Jarina could not believe that such incidence could happen in a house. Maya said in a ice-cold voice.
“When ever I remember the incidence, it seems to me that hundreds of snacks and scorpions are crawling on my body. I threw one and other comes in then a third one and so on. It was an ugly incidence of my life. I want to forget it, but probably I will never forget it.”
She started weeping. Jarina consoled her both slept on the same bed.
Next morning Maya got up earlier, the baby was also awakened. She became fresh. Jarina and she took break fast and Maya started for her town shreenagar.
Her N.G.O people were working properly. She was happy to learn that during her absence the right of information has given good results to the natives of the village. The poor villagers were getting ration, water and even electricity for their crops. The villagers were happy. Maya asked the tehsildar for rain water harvesting program, as usual the tehsildar was not interested but when the villagers with local leaders forced the tehsildar, a project for rain water harvesting was sent to the government and government approved it for ecological balance. It was a big success for a small village.
Two days after Maya went, Jarina’s husband Salim came from Delhi. His business deal has been successful and he was happy. Jarina told him about Maya’s stay. Jarina also told him about the sad story of Maya. After listening her Salim said
“It is definitely a tragic story and a matter of shame. Violence with women in side the home and out side is a common malpractice.”
“But where lies the solution?”
“The solution has to come from the inner side or from the inner core of heart.”
“But no one listens the voice of heart.”
“That is the problem. No one wants to listen. Ant way let us sleep.”
Jarina said I want to say something to you.
“Oh! Sure.”
“Let us go to the village to see the work of Maya. We will see the Baby also.”
“Oh! Why not.” Said Salim.
Next day Jarina informed Maya that she along with her husband will come to visit her N.G.O. Maya was happy to learn it.
Shrinagar is only a hundred kilometer drive from jaipur, so it was like a long drive for Salim. The road was quite good. There were trees, mountains and fields on the sides. Tube-well revolution has brought prosperity in the villages. The to day’s villages were far better than of thirty or forty years back villages. Physical prosperity, T.V, electricity, tractors have changed the social and economical life o the villages. Jarina thought but prosperity has brought certain problems also, liquor, wine, rap, pre and post marital relations and violence were growing in the villages also and here comes the role of N.G.O she thought. In shreenagar Jarina and salim were welcome by Maya. Maya embraced jarina and said salam to Salim Sahib. Salim loved the baby and asked
“What is her name?”
“Aporva.” Said Maya.
“Aporva. Very sweet and beautiful name.”
He took Aporva and blessed her. Maya took them to a near by dhani, where her persons were working for water harvesting. Salim and Jarina watched the work carefully. A few persons of the team went to the people and were giving the adult education to the villagers. They also taught them about health hazards. Some people were suffering from communicable diseases and Maya was helping them to get rid of the diseases. There was a boy, who was HIV positive his parents have died, but the boy recovered after a long treatment. It was good news for all of them. After visiting the work Maya asked them for lunch. On a roadside dhaba they took lunch of tanduri roti, sabji, curd and salad. A very simple and testy food it was. Suddenly one of the workers came and asked Maya to listen the telephone. Maya after hearing the phone became highly disturbed when asked she told
“My elder sister............”
“What... what has happened to her?”
“She ................she is no more.” Maya said in a sad voice and started weeping.
“Oh! Very sad. Do you want to go Pondycheri.?” Jarina asked her.
After some time Maya recovered and decided not to go to pondycheri. She thought what is left there. She took a holy bath, bathed Aporva and worshiped the God to rest the soul of her elder sister in peace. Aporva could understand nothing, but Maya gave a hug to her with a heavy heart. Salim and Jarina consoled Maya and Aporva. They stayed there for the night and returned to Jaipur next day with a sad mood.
Aporva became of three years; her childish behaviour was attractive and frolicsome. Maya was enjoying motherhood; some times Aporva hides her self somewhere in the house and Maya had to seek her. Several times Aporva did not take meal and milk. Maya had to request her, Aporva some times got offended as a child. Maya had to fulfill her childish wishes. She took her to the bath, prepared her, combed her hairs and while doing all these things Maya had tears in her eyes. Aporva could not know the reason but some times she also became sad.
It was a fine morning when Maya took Aporva for a walk in the near by garden. Chilly wind was blowing, sky was clear and Sun had yet to come. Aporva went to the other side of the garden and Maya ran after her. She could not catch Aporva. She breathed heavily. Aporva came to her both of them set in the green grass, Aporva plucked a flower and asked Maya to have it in her long hairs, but she did not. Aporva took the flower back and placed in her own hairs. They came back to home Aporva took her toys and started playing. Dolls marriage was her favorite game. She enjoyed it very much. Aporva’s inner child was small and beautiful. Maya slowly started to teach her some numbers and alphabets. After some time Maya tried for her admission in a public school. The principal asked her
“What is her father’s name?”
“...”
Maya could not reply.
Wherever she went for admission this question was asked. Maya had no answer; even her late elder sister had no answer to this question. What to do. Maya took advice of her colleagues and one of them after making a discussion with a lawyer said
“If you adopt Aporva as your daughter then by the name of mother, Aporva will be admitted to some school.”
Maya thought for some days, and finally she decided to adopt the child. Various formalities were completed and Aporva became her adopted daughter. Maya now a middle-aged woman could justify it. Aporva was admitted in Missionary school with out much problem. The principal admitted her after seeing papers of adoption. Aporva started going to school, playing with her classmates and enjoying her childhood. Whenever Maya saw her in happy and healthy mood she also became happy, but the inner core of her heart had a sad voice for Aporva. Maya had a computer and one day she started chatting with Rakesh in Mumbai. Rakesh was going to Goa with his artist friend so he could not talk much. Maya and Aporva slept.
Corruption and corruption was everywhere. The next general election was fought and congress lost it. The new government also could not last longer due to minor majority and collapsed and once again general elections were announced. It was in these circumstances that terrorism was at the height. Rajiv Gandhi assassinated by a suicidal human-bomb in a small town. The elections were postponed; finally congress came back to power, but without Neharu-Gandhi family. The new government decided to leave the socialistic model and adopted the free-economy, globalization, world as global village like ideology and economic reformations with a human face, but the human face was covered by the corporate culture. Next few years were very crucial. Babri-Masjid was demolished. Leaving behind a Himalaya of questions and racism. Communal riots once again gripped the country. No body was safe but the country remained united and this was the achievement of this great country.
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CHAPTER-VII
MODERN ART AND OLD WORLD
The flat in Andheri, where I was living was on first floor of the building, there were three more flats on my floor, my artist friend lived on the ground floor and he had his studio there. The other three flats of my floor were also occupied. In one flat an IITian soft ware engineer was living, in the second flat a lady teacher with her two kids were living and in the third flat a young struggler of film had just come to become an actor in the film industry. Bollywood, Hollywood, Callywood, Jollywood and allied names are very common in Mumbai.
I being alone in my flat, had little interaction with the fellow residences, Mumbai culture does not allow any body to ogling in others life. But my artist friend was fond of reading people and used to tell me that it is more difficult to read a woman than a man and further it is easier to read the book but very difficult to read a person honestly. One day he told me the story of the lady teacher, which he collected from the security persons and from his next-door neighbor. The lady teacher is a widow and has been residing with her in-laws but due to some differences she left the in-laws house and living here with her two kids. She used to go to teach at about ten in the morning and came back with her kids by five P.M, after that she does not go anywhere. The artist friend also told me that one day he tried to ask her about her past life but the lady did not spoke and went away.
It was really shocking news for me that a woman living near to me with her two kids and I could not help her. One day we had a cross on the stairs. I wished her she smiled. I asked her
“How are you?”
“I m fine. Thank you.” This was the reply.
Her younger daughter was with her. I blessed her she smiled and said
“Uncle I am going to school.”
“Oh! Good. In which class do you study?”
“She is in first standard.” The lady replied.
“What do you do?” she asked me.
“I am struggler in Bollywood and used to write.”
“Oh! You are a writer. You must be having good stories in your mind.”
“Everybody has a story. The life of every person is full of stories.”
“But there are only a few stories which are of interest.” She said.
“Fiction can made every thing interesting.” I said to her.
While my eyes were reading her, though a woman in late thirties she was quite beautiful and attractive, fair color, black hairs, big eyes and a decent sense of dressing were giving her a different look. I told her that previously I was also a lecturer in chemistry. She became happy to know it. She was in English literature. She went to school with her daughter. I had no dialogue for quite some time. I was busy with my routine work.
Maya used to chat on computer. She informed me about Aporva, her activities and the workings of her N.G.O. some time she also let me know the problems of schooling of Aporva and how she over come. I used to tell her about my workings and life in Mumbai.
One day it rained heavily and the rain did not stop for more than forty hours. Whole Mumbai was stand still, the roads became rivers, and boats came to rescue the persons. There was water in our flat also, even posh colonies were flooded with water. No milk, no tea, no ration, no local trains, no buses only water and water everywhere. I asked the lady teacher Sulochana for any need. She said
“There is no milk for the kids.”
I wanted to go out but all markets were closed. Suddenly I remembered that I had a tin of milk powder I gave it to her. The lady fed the babies and came back with two cups of black tea. She handed over a cup to me and set on the chair. I sipped tea silently, water was now going down and if no further rains are there we will get some ration through some volunteers to day.
While taking the tea she said
“Why you left the job of teaching?”
I had no answer except to say that I wanted to come to Mumbai for more money.
“Did you get more money?” she inquired.
“No. But my job as a lecturer was not giving me satisfaction. There was nothing to do much except to take two or three classes. I wanted to become something in the life and moved to Mumbai after a small wrangling and altercation with the principal of the college.”
“But it is a routine matter.”
“Certainly but I was in search of a reasonable excuse.”
“So you left the job.” She said.
“Yes.”
“How lucky you are!”
“May I know something about your job madam?”
“It is the same story of domestic violence towards woman, written several times in several languages but never ended. My husband was a handsome businessman. We have done love marriage. My father expired much before and the mother resides in a remote village of Maharastra. After a few years of marriage husband suffered from blood cancer, we did all which was possible but I could not save him.” She said in a sad voice.
“Then.”
After a while she cleared her throat went near the window, saw out side sky and started again.
“There after my in-laws and my brother in-law were not ready to give me my share in the business. They continuously tortured me in the home. Even my kids had to suffer for meals. One day my brother in-law asked me to leave the house or rest I may become his kept. I preferred to leave, left everything there. Thanks to my education, I got a job and now I am living my life peacefully. This flat is on rent and I earn sufficient for my babies.”
I was shocked with the sad story of Sulochana. I asked
“Why did not you go for legal proceedings or to some woman N.G.O they would have helped you.”
“True but everybody wants the cost of the help extended. When I lost my husband, what remains! So I decided to live the life of my own.”
She took the empty cups of tea and went to her flat leaving me in a sad mood. The rain had stopped water went down.
Next day was a holyday, the building people including my artist friend, IITian engineer, struggler actor and I decided to go for a picnic along with other members of the building. The children of the building refused to go to Elephanta caves. They said Khandala is the best place in the rainy season. Their mothers supported the children. Finally Sulochana announced that Khandala is the spot to be visited. All accepted the decision. A deluxe bus was hired; the artist friend brought a lot of snakes, cold drinks, fruits, water and sweets. The bus started from Mumbai to Khandala on a world-class national highway. It was really wonderful to see the scenes. Lush green mountains, dazzling rains, songs of children, springs in the mountains and water was percolating like music. Everybody was enjoying the drive to khandala. There in Khandala it was full of joy, enthusiasm and above all crowd of all kinds. The local persons were happy as they were getting good return of their edibles, water etc. Our group set on the green grass and started talking, playing. There became two groups of gents and ladies with kids and it started a filmy song quiz. It lasted for about an hour and the kids won. They became happier and were awarded sweets and fruits. The artist friend requested Sulochana to sing a song; none of us knew this fact that she is a singer. But when she started the struggler actor danced and it was a wonderful event for all of us. All came closer to each other. On our return the IITian software engineer announced that soon he would be leaving for U.S. for his M.S degree. I said
“So now you have become typical IITian.”
“Right uncle. Every IITian wants to go to U.S only because there is future and money both.”
“But what about this country. Who has given birth and education to you?” asked Sulochana.
“One should not be so sentimental.” Said the IITian boy.
“My colleagues are getting lot of money in Seattle and I am working for much a small money.” He said in harsh voice.
We had no answer but Sulochana’s questions haunted me through out the route. When we reached Mumbai, we were tired and went to our flats for a sound sleep.
Next morning I got up a bit late. It was a clear sky. Sea was still roaring, the waves were coming to the shore and going back, small water drops has made the climate humid, but it was not a bad weather. I prepared a cup to tea and set in the balcony. Suddenly the bell rang. I opened the door. The younger daughter of Sulochana was there. I asked
“What is the matter?”
“Uncle we are going to school, we have a function today.”
“Oh! Good. So you have prepared yourself.”
“Yes uncle.”
And she ran away with her mother and elder sister. I watched them peacefully. The new struggler actor was to come with me for some works. I asked him to be ready by ten. Both of us went to a T.V producer in film city. I had my own work, where as the struggler had his bio-data and photo profile. The producer asked me to go to the story department and the struggler was handed over to a cameraman for screen test. The screen test was found to be good and the boy got a small role in the serial. He thanked me. Both of us came back in the evening after finishing the work. The IITian was to leave tomorrow; his passport, visa, ticket etc. were ready. He met all of us one by one in the whole evening and flied to US early in the morning. I blessed him to return with a Dollar wife from USA.
My artist friend, whose studio was full of water for one complete day, was now preparing a series of new paintings. One day he invited Sulochana and me to look at the paintings. Both of us went to his studio, the studio was full of half paintings, complete paintings, everywhere paint, canvas, sketches, pencils, color, pots etc. were lying and a typical smell of turpentine oil was coming. The artist friend explained us what he meant by his paintings. He said
“It is the market which decides the quality and standard of the paintings.”
“But if the artist is famous his name is sold at a very high cost.” I said.
“You are right but it is difficult to be famous.”
“True. Literature is also a work of fine art.” Sulochana said.
We all took a cup pf coffee, on our way back Sulochana said to me
“Your artist friend is fond of nude paintings.”
“Yes it is easy to sale. He said to me.” I replied. She spoke nothing. I went to my flat.
The struggler actor got some money for his work in the serial. He wanted to celebrate it, so artist struggler and I, went to a bar, there we enjoyed the drinks and dances up to mid night. The actor and the artist took some hard drinks also. It was nearly half past in the morning when we came back to our building. Artist friend was tired also. We took him to the bed. There he vomited and then slept. The lights of the flat of Sulochana were on. In the morning I came to know her younger daughter was suffering from fever. I cancelled my programme and went to hospital for medicines. I gave the drugs to the baby and took care of the baby. I requested Sulochana to take rest but she insisted to be with the baby. Then I once again requested to her and this time she went for rest. I looked after the baby. Next day she was all right and went to school with her mother and sister.
“Both the daughters are very good in studies and get good marks.” Sulochana said to me.
I asked the girls to learn computer also, whenever they are free they may come to my flat for computer learning. It is a must. The girls started learning computers and became familiar to me.
Artist and I were wandering on the colony road purposelessly. He was saying me
“You know Rakesh ambitious woman tie her knot with another highly ambitious man as if she is the rider and man a horse. As and when she gets opportunities she whips the horse to fulfill her ambitions. During this procedure the woman thinks that she is using the man and man thinks that he is using her for his interest. It is unique condition in the society. Body shopping has become a big game in the modern world. Use of man and woman has become a common practice. I tell you one instance. During my struggle days I was in Bhopal. One of friends took me to the minister, outside the minister bungalow a lady came out with tears in her eyes. She said to us that she has got transferred to the place of her choice at a very high cost. Suddenly we saw the car of chief minister coming to the minister bungalow and from that car stepped down the minister’s wife in a sad mood and went inside slowly. It was an answer to the lady teacher and her tears were stopped.”
“But in politics it is routine feature. The success either comes from the people’s vote or through the bed room.” I said.
“I agree but ambitious women are in the society and they are in search of ambitious men for riding and getting success in the life.” Said the artist.
Artist was probably right. He told me another story of a model. The model girl of yester year is a heroin today with the help of a producer and leading casting couch. It was half night we came to our building, there was no sleep in our eyes. Artist friend prepared two cups of coffee and we set in his studio. We sipped the coffee silently. He said
“Nude paintings are sold so easily and above all they are liked.”
“Such paintings are in the great demand in the market. I am planning to have an exhibition in foreign country and expect to earn good money.”
I remembered Maya, RaniMa, Rajaji, Sulochana, bar girls, Models and many more, are these persons so much ambitious to allow themselves to be used. I had no answer. Some times we are tools and some times users.
In a week’s times artist friend went to Japan for his exhibition. From Japan he went to Paris the home of modern art. He lived there for six months and came back. This time he had an assignment of a multinational company in Banglore for interior decoration. He was happy and wanted to go to Banglore as soon as possible.
In my e-mail box there was mail of Maya. She wrote about Aporva, who is now in fifth standard and often asks about her Papa. But I have no answer. Once in anger I said to her just shut up. She wept for a very long time, Rakesh I could not understand what to do. I am helpless and above all I feel myself guilty. I wrote back to her that now Aporva is not a small baby. Tell her that her mother had expired and you have adopted her. But I my self was not satisfied with this reply. Maya did not write back. One day she called on my mobile, she told me that she is tired from this life particularly due to Aporva’s behaviour. I tried to console her but she was upset. I requested her to keep herself busy in N.G.O work and Aporva may also help her in this work. But Aporva’s problem was not solved. I decided to take the advice of Sulochana in this matter, after hearing the story of Maya & Aporva, she suggested one solution. Inform the child the facts slowly so that she could digest them. I informed Maya on mobile slowly tell her the whole story of your elder sister & with the passes of time Aporva will digest it. Maya did the same but Aporva remain a problem child. Maya took her to a psychiatrist. After a visit Aporva improved and became busy with her studies.
A day later Sulochana’s father-in-law came to her residence and started hot talks, he along with his son abused Sulochana and to her kids. It was a bad scene created by them. But Sulochana could do nothing. I tried to oppose the behaviour of Sulochana’s father-in-law but result was very ugly. They formulated a relationship between Sulochana and me; this was sufficient for Sulochana and me. I said to them in a strict voice
“Now either you go out else I will call police.”
Both went back Sulochana wept for long her babies were also weeping. I consoled her for some time. Sulochana said
“It was a common practice in their house but they will come over here I never knew.”
“Do not worry things will set right.” I said.
“But how and when? Why they do not allow me to live peacefully. I do not want any thing from them.”
“True. But they must be wanting some thing from you.”
Sulochana kept her head on my shoulder and lamented in cold voice. I combed her hairs with my fingers slowly and she calm down.
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CHAPTER-VIII
SEA FOAM, WAVES & CAVES
It was early in the morning when the security man of the building cried.
“Sir very sad news, Sulochana madam has met with an accident on road side.”
I rushed out immediately with the Chowkidar to the spot. There the scene was eye opening; Sulochana was lying unconscious on one side of the road. A few morning walkers and roadside persons were making the crowd. But no body was ready to help us, somebody asked to call the police. The Auto-riksha, which collided with Sulochana had ran away. I was stunned. I took Sulochana to near by government dispensary with the help of security man in a taxi. But there was nobody in the dispensary, even ward boy was not available, doctor will come at nine, a Safai Karmchari told me. We rushed back to a near by private nursing home, meanwhile police also got information and an inspector followed us. I told him plainly that she is my next-door neighbor and in the early morning she met with an accident. The inspector insisted me to take her to government hospital, since it was an accident case. But I knew there it would take much time to get her treated and meanwhile anything could happen. Looking no other alternative, I greased his palm and he went away. The private nursing home doctor was very gentle. He immediately gave in injection to her. Sulochana opened her eyes, for a while she could not understand where has she come, but slowly she recovered and asked about her children. The Chwkidar brought her babies to the hospital. Sulochana embraced the babies. Snuggled, kissed them with tears in her eyes and then she told to me.
“I was going to bring milk in the early morning. It is my routine work. Suddenly an auto-riksha came in a fast speed, before I could understand it collided with me and thereafter I lost my senses.”
“Oh! Very sad.” I said.
The doctor said that there is nothing to worry only a minor fracture is there in the leg, so after two days Sulochana was relieved from the hospital. We brought her to her flat, her daughters started going to school back. Sulochana had a plaster on her lower left leg and doctor asked her to take rest for three weeks. She informed her school regarding the leave and the incidence. Time passed slowly. Sulochana recovered soon. The plaster was opened and she started moving in the flat with the help of a stick. Now she was able to do some housework also. Her elder daughter used to help her. I also looked after them. Slowly Sulochana developed regard in her eyes for me. Some times her eyes spoke much more than her self.
After four weeks rest Sulochana joined the school, her daughter used to come to me for learning computers, the artist friend went to Banglore on his new assignment. The struggler actor went to south for trying his fate there. I have not much work these days. One day I asked Sulochana and her Babies to visit Elephanta caves.
It was a holiday. We took the local train from Andhari to Church gate. We dropped at Church gate station came to fort, there I took some maize-grains and asked babies to throw to pigeons near fort and before hotel Taj. A large number of pigeons came they ate the maize and flew back. It was a lovely scene to watch the babies. They became happy and enjoyed the flying birds for some time. By sea boat we went to see the Elephata caves. The caves with old carving were very nice. The sculpture, mural and paintings of these caves can be compared with Ajanta&Alora of Andhrapradesh. Sulochana watched the art very silently and carefully. The babies were busy with the water reservoirs. The temples of lord Shiva & lord Ganesha were very attractive. The mountains, water springs and sea atmosphere was attractive and romantic. A large number of tourists and local couples were there to visit the caves. One can see the sea also. The babies asked for some food. I went to near by kiosk and brought some edibles. We took a cup of coffee and came back to church gate. Before coming back we took a round of the seashore and ate some Bada-paw on the roadside. Huge building, busy roads and sea waves were making noise. Every wave came to sea beach and went back after a bluster leaving behind sea-foam on the beach side. We came back in a taxi to our building. The babies were tired and slept. Sulochana brought two cups of coffee in my balcony, moon lit night was passing; the rays of moon were giving glow to Sulochana’s face. I took another sip of coffee and tried to read her face. I took her hand in mine and patted it. She had a blush face. Moon was going to west and set in the sea. It was perfect silence; suddenly a sea sailor sung a sad song. The voice was coming from very far & the song was for his fiancée. Slowly Sulochana took her hand out of mine and said
“I will come back in a minute.”
She came back in a beautiful pink color gown with singing her-self; her song was giving a kind of peace to my mind. We came to the inner room, Only a night lamp of light green color was on, and Sulochana was looking much more beautiful in this light and gown. She took my hand in her hand and petted it, I could not resist my self and kissed her chicks, and started combing her black, long and shining hairs, and her body was a perfect one. Her eyes were giving invitation.
“Come Rakesh come, I am waiting and wetting for you.”
I could not resist, my head became hot and hotter, it was a new experience for me. She allowed me to play on her body and guided me again and again. She said
“What are you afraid off Rakesh, I am with you, no need of any shyness, I am waiting for you; I like you.”
It was a perfect jugalbandi between both of us. She made sounds of cooling, groaning, quacking and bellowing in the bed. She was a perfect cooperative woman on the bed.
I loved her from top to the bottom; I kissed her eyes, her forehead; her breasts and said
“These are two mountains on your body and a river of love is flowing in between the two. Your thigh are like banana stem, soft and hot.”
She gave no reply but her silence was a reply. I continued. I wanted to off the light but she refused . She allowed me to love on the bed, near window and in the balcony, from every corner and angle of her body.
I was thinking in one direction only. I thought as if she is a sea wave and I am sea foam. The foam is coming on sea waves and caves.
Sulochana said to me
“Oh Rakesh come into me.”
For me the whole body of Sulochana has be come a big breast I kissed it, Sulochana hummed, hissed, roared and now I entered. The whole world melted for me. I thought I am playing a sitar or a tabla or a jugalbandi of both. It gave me immense enjoyment.
It was dawn time, Sulochana went to her flat. Out side was still dark but it was my first introduction to a new angle of life.
Next day I could not wake up early, Sulochana after sending her kids to school, came with a cup of tea. She asked me to come out of bed, and became fresh than she started talking.
“Was it your first encounter?”
“Yes it was an innocent crime.”
She laughed and said.
“Mine was too first after the death of my husband.”
“What kind of relationship is this?”
“It is a kind of hunger from both the sides.”
“But is it correct?”
“If we are not deceiving any body there is nothing wrong.” She said.
I could not reply. She further said.
“You read books and write books can you read a woman also.”
“It is not easy to read the leaves of a woman, much remains unread there is a lot in between the lines.” I said.
“You are right, similarly a woman reads the man and much remains unread.”
“You know Rakesh what I felt is that I am not guilty conscious.”
“Good, but one cannot continue such things for long.”
Now I saw Sulochana with a different angle. She was looking fresh after morning bath. Her eyes were lighting and were full of life. She tickled me, and went away.
I tried to think the nature of relationships and their emotions, prowess and spiritualism and the world of ideas.
Vatsyayan informs us about thirty four types of kisses and eighty four types of postures and a number of vocal sounds, I remembered the vocal sounds made by Sulochana and convinced my self, neighing of a horse, snore and sobbing, She did all, Without a hitch.
I could not go any were. I rested in the flat and thought on the relationships. The relationship is wonderful, astonishing, questionable, erotic; platonic and super human like, what is the dynamics of the relationships. Whether it is kinetic energy or the static energy inside the body, which comes out. The libido energy is said to be responsible but to what extent. What is the moment of inertia of this process and what is acceleration?
We all know that static energy can be converted into kinetic energy and vice-versa, but physically the value of both the energies is same but life is not so simple. And physical laws cannot explain the life. It is much more chemistry and sentimental. The body language has also a role. I said to my self.
There is no thermometer to measure the temperature of the relationship. No psychologist, philosopher can explain it fully. It is the inside barometer of the person which can measure the pressure. Only true passion gives satisfaction, while thinking all these I slept.
When I woke up it was late evening, I prepared, dressed up and went out for a walk. I wandered on the roads like a vagabond for a few hours and came back to my flat. I undressed my self and went to sleep, but slowly Sulochana came to my bed and said
“Well man, hurry up! My kids will awake. I have to take care of them also.”
I could not say no. She was waiting for me and was ready to accept me. I entered unto her, she made horse like voice, mewed, and kissed me, I also loved her from every corner. She said.
“It is like a musician playing on me.”
“It is a good and perfect jugalbandi.”
We played. She left after some time as her daughters were to awake.
I slept a sound sleep.
Morning was fine. I was happy, I was humming an old song of my choice, I went out for work, on the stairs there was Sulochana with a smiling face and lustrous smile I smiled and went out.
In the evening I came earlier, Sulochana was teaching her kids, now the kids were ready to go for play. I prepared two cups of tea and asked her to join me. She came, we sipped the tea silently. She said
“Young man how do you feel! Any guilty consciousness.”
“No, nothing like that, but--------.”
“What but---------? Remember Rakesh I am a free bird and I do not allow any body to love me unless I want love, so in this case also I have allowed you, I can refuse at any moment, It is entirely my choice, not yours.”
I listened her silently. She further said.
“To love and to be loved is human instincts. Mythologies agree to it, love is a fire also and love cool water also.”
“Well Sulochana in ancient India and in ancient philosophy love is a Devine thought.”
“True.”
“A large number of treatises are written on this single word Love. You know books like ‘Nagarservasvam, Anangrang, Kuttanimatam, Apsara and many more works have been written. In western world also Sigmund Freud, Young, Havelock Ellis, Simone De Beauvoir, Marie Stopes have written a lot on this topic.”
“True but the best work is of Simone De Beauvoir’s, second sex. It is yet to be over come.”
“You may be right but in eastern world Vatsyayn, Kalidasa, Bhavbhuti, Bhrathahari have written a lot. Vatsyayn has mentioned all kinds of love and the nature of relationship, it makes him a great writer. He deals with every small point in detail and he has a thorough knowledge.” I said.
“Knowledge! Ho! You must remember that wife of Vatsyayn left him and ran away with some one. What type of knowledge?”
I could not reply. But she further said.
“Women like flowers, Poetry and romance rather than physical intimacy, it is a secondary choice for her.”
I had no answer. The air was cold out side I shut the window.
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CHAPTER-IX
BOOKS, COFFEE-SHOPE
I was not having much work these days. Maya informed me that she has been awarded a national prize for her contributions in the field of social services of the poor persons of a remote place. It was really a good new for me. I congratulated Maya on mobile and by e-mail also, she also informed me that one Miss Rosi is coming to India from Germany to research on rural woman status. Maya asked me to visit in near future but I could not promise. I asked to take care of Aporva, who was now studying in Commerce, Maya told me that Aporva wanted to do M.B.A from a foreign University so she was working hard.
Sulochana also became very happy to note that Maya has received a national prize. Suddenly the ring tone of my mobile rang again. I took the call, my Artist friend Abhimanyu was on the other side from Banglore.
“Hi. What hell are you doing there?”
“Nothing yar. I am just copying a serial from Roman to Hindi and some dubbing work.”
“Well man I am in urgent need of you in Banglore. You know my project is going fine. The architect is very happy with my work. Can you come to Banglore for some help and some ideas to me.”
“What will I do there?”
“You must come to help me in the name of our old friendship. We were Hum Piyala Hum Niwala.”
I consulted to Sulochana and said to Abhimanyu.
“Well I am ready to come to Banglore but give me some time to wind up my Mumbai work.”
“How much time will you take?”
“I will do it in two weeks time.”
“Ok then I am sending you flight tickets of two weeks after.”
“Ok, bye.”
Sulochana was sad on my departure from Mumbai but I had to leave for Banglore since there was not much work in Mumbai.
Banglore is Silicon-valley of India, as it is now commonly known. It is mixture of old traditional Karnataka peoples, who are very orthodox and modern high tech people who are coming to Banglore for a future in information and technology. Banglore has Lal-Bagh, chickpet, kormangle, bennergatta National park, M.G road, big I.T czars, but very poor infrastructure. When my plane touched the land of Banglore, it was late evening the city was looking very beautiful from the sky. I came out from the aero drum, I had only one bag with me and so it was easy for me to come from the security. Abhimanyu was waiting out side in the lounge he welcomed me and embraced me. We both came out. He has brought his new luxury A.C car. I said.
“Oh, wow! A new car.”
“Yes man. Now we are not poor residents of Andheri one room flat, here I have taken three bedrooms flat, and I run my studio and office from there. You have to work with me.”
“What is the nature of the work?” I asked while sitting in an A.C car. He drove slowly. He said to me.
“As you know a multinational company has recently opened his office here and is constructing a township of crores of rupees. There in the office and campus I am doing some interior painting and sculpture work.”
“But you were an academic artist!”
“So what if I get money I can paint interior also, it is all business if you want to make money you have to make compromises, only compromise can keep the promises.”
“But are you happy with the type of work?”
He spoke nothing, we have reached to posh colony of Sadashiv Nagar, where Abhimanyu had flat on third floor. We reached to the flat by lift. It was really a very good luxurious flat, one room was a studio, and the front room was drawing cum dining space and two bedrooms. The attached small flat was his office. He said to me.
“You can occupy the second bed room, which is on the left side, become fresh and then we will have coffee.”
I went to the room put my bag there, became fresh and came back. A servant brought two coffee and some snacks. We sipped the coffee. Abhimanyu said.
“The M.N.C is a very big one, the Indian owner has some interest in Indian paintings and has asked me to prepare murals, sculptures and paintings for his office and township. The contract is of very high value but I will work only till my soul permits me.”
“What have I to do?”
“Your work is very simple, you suggest me the places, type of work to be done and finally you are to review & criticize my work and let m know the improvements and shortcomings.”
“But I do not know anything in art.”
“I know you have an intellectual brain, a very fine eye of reading and understanding the things. You can even evaluate the art so I requested you to come here and above all we are old friends, I hope you will help me.”
I was in need of work so I accepted the offer of Abhimnayu. My problem of residence was solved so I was not worried. After coffee we took the dinner prepared by the south Indian maidservant, it comprised of idly-bada, sambhar, chatni and some fruits. Abhimanyu and I slept early, as we had to go to the company’s office early in the morning, which was twenty kilometers from our residence.
The township and the office of multinational company was under rapid construction, a part of the office was complete and work in the office has started. Abhimanyu took me to the lounge of the company; on the ground floor he has constructed a huge mural of terracotta very much similar to the folk art. This is a craftwork I told him. He agreed further he said that it has been prepared in cement and steel and the size is very large three meters by five meters and gives a very good impression also.
“But the color combination is not very attractive.” I said.
“Definitely. It needs improvisation you suggest.”
“Bright colors of Rajasthan origin may give good results such as red, dark blue, yellow and green colors will suit.”
“I am also thinking on the same line.” Said Abhimanyu.
We went to the office of the architect. There Abhimanyu introduced me as a friend, the architect said that our dead line of hading over this part of the building is coming closer, so you please hurry up. We came out of the office. Abhimanyu and I took a cup of coffee in the canteen. It was lunchtime also. It was a good lunch served, but with a foreign taste since company was an M.N.C. Abhimanyu and I took a round of the campus and the township, we finalized the spots and nature of the works to be done there. The second part of the building was to be completed by next September, so we concentrated on work. A mural was prepared with the help of some local artists and was mounted on the top of the main building, it was embossed with the name of the company and from a distance it looked very nice. The wife of M.D of the company was fond of artwork. She liked the mural very much. Abhimanyu used to discuss the plans with me in the office after morning breakfast, and then we used to go to site. The total project was of lacks of rupees. When money comes problems also come.
The company had many workers nearly fifty percent employees were girls, living lonely in the city but with full of confidence. They come to company, work there up to late night and go back to their flats all alone. They were fearless and enthusiastic. Almost all the employees of the company were below forty years of age and a large number of them were unmarried. The company launched a matrimonial site also for the benefit of the company employees. It was five days week work culture full of work five days and full of joy, rest and entertainment for two days. On holidays shopping-malls, market, streets, coffee shops all full of these soft ware boys and girls, all are busy, dating and enjoying but on working days they have an identity card in their necks and are busy on their computers.
Suddenly I saw our old IITian friend there in the company.
“Hi”. I said.
“Oh! Sir you are here. I am happy to see you.”
“Not only I but our artist friend Abhimanyu is also here. He is working in the company for some art work and I am assisting him.”
“Good very good. I have recently joined the company as a project manager after doing my M.S from U.S.” he said.
“Oh! Congratulations young man and what about my blessing of dollar wife.”
“Yes sir. She is in other company but in Banglore.”
“So you are a happy married couple with DINC principle.”
The boy said nothing. I told him to see me in the lunch.
We three Abhimanyu, IITian boy Naresh and I decided to go to a mall on Friday evening. It was probably the biggest shopping mall of the city with many multiplexes, showrooms, bookshops, coffee shops, escalators, lifts, capsule lifts and above all highly crowded. Every body busy with shopping, branded shopping on M.R.P rates and if needed by E.M.I system or by credit cards.
We went to a bookshop, there a large number of books were displayed but all the books were sold on M.R.P only, the same book was available outside on a cheaper rate. Abhimanyu took few books on art, Naresh purchased a latest software book and I took some fiction work. Abhimanyu made payment for all these books through his credit card. We came out of the mall. It was a posh locality.
It was a bit late in the night. We went to nearby coffee shop; there only coffee is served through out the night. We sat there in the coffee house. A vet tress came and put glasses of water. Naresh ordered
“Three coffee please.”
The vet tress went. After some time she brought three big mug of espresso coffee. We sipped the coffee and started talking about Banglore city life, the poor infrastructure local people’s unhappiness for I.T persons and high cost of living. When we came out of the coffee house, the coffee shop woman handed over a pamphlet to us. The pamphlet informed us that five women saved from tsunami run this coffee shop and you are welcome to come again. Naresh went to his flat and we came to our flat and took the dinner. While taking the dinner I asked the maidservant
“ Are you a Brahmin?”
She kept silence for a minute, but when Abhimanyu repeated she said.
“My mother was a Devdasi in a temple in Tamilnadu. When she became old, she was removed from the services of the temple and we came to this place for some job so I can say nothing about my cast.”
We both could not speak any thing. We took the meal silently. Maidservant cleared the kitchen and went to home.
The morning papers flashed news that Banglore is on the hit list of terrorists. It worried all of us but nothing happened for so many days and life was normal in the city.
Next to our flat were residing two girls. They were working in the call centers. The girls were of twenty two to twenty five years of age, but were very smart, intelligent and happy with their life. They were living all alone in this mega-city without any problem. Their duties were in shifts; some times they used to come late in the night by the company cars. Some times they go early in the morning to their work places. Abhimanyu and I usually talk about them, one day Abhimanyu said
“You see Rakesh these girls are highly qualified, their parents are residing in other cities and they are working here.”
“It is a normal course now a days, confident girls can work any where.”
“But what about their family life.”
“They are all alone earning good money. They will marry as and when they like.”
“But if the time goes away it is difficult to get good match.”
“In that case they may remain as unmarried middle aged woman.”
“But their life will be miserable.”
“Not necessary. Now a day a funda has been evolved this is the funda of living together without marriage. In such cases both live together for so many years and without any problem.”
“What about their parents? How do they react?”
“They may not be happy by this arrangement but they are helpless. Some times if things go well the living together culture is changed into arranged marriage.”
“If so it is good, because marriage arranged or love is a must in our society.”
“But some times such marriages are unsuccessful also.” Abhimanyu said.
I could not say any thing. We took our breakfast and went to work. Our work needed some folk touch of south also so I requested Abhimanyu to tour the areas, he agreed and we decided to make a tour of Tamilnadu and Kerla by road. We went to Ooti, Kodaikanal, Pondycheri, Covalam beach, Thiruananthpuram and Kanya kumari. We collected sample of various folk arts of these areas and used them for the interior decoration of the project. The artwork was about to finish and our contract was to be terminated.
We mat Naresh before departing for Mumbai where Sulochana was waiting.
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CHAPTER-X
Music of sand dunes and shrieks
When I landed at Mumbai airport Sulochana along with her two daughters was there to receive me. We came to our building by taxi. I had so many letters and magazines waiting for me. One of these posts was very good. My publisher had accepted my book and as an advance had sent some money. I became very happy. I informed Sulochana and we decided to celebrate it in a five star hotel, which was my long unfilled ambition. Sulochana came early from her school and in the evening we went to a five star hotel. It was really luxurious five star hotel and we were happy to be there. We took our dinner there, some cold drinks and finally ice creams. I gave tip to the Vetter also. After the dinner we went to seashore and watched the sea silently. Sea waves were coming to beach and going back. The sea was silent there were some small ships also in the sea. I informed Sulochana about the work of Banglore.
“Banglore is a nice city. It is the base camp for south India and now it has become a high-tech software city. There are hundred of companys and so many software mugals are exporting the softwares to all parts of the world. It is really the silicon valley of India. Further you see a large number of young boys and girls are working there, but the old local residents are not very happy and the city has become costlier also.”
“We have to pay the cost of development.” Sulochana said in a plane voice.
“Our work was also quite interesting. We prepared a large number of art and craft works in a company. Abhimanyu earned sufficient money and I also got my share.”
“It is alright.” Sulochana said.
My mobile rang. Maya was there.
“Hi. Doctor Maya how are you?”
“Hello Rakesh. I wrote you e-mails but you did not reply are you o.k.?”
“Yes Maya. I had gone to Banglore for some work and now I am back to Mumbai on my original track.”
“Oh! It is good.” Maya said.
“Maya there is a good news also, my book has been accepted for publication.”
“Oh! Congratulations, may I request you for a treat.”
“Definitely but you have to come to Mumbai.”
“No this time you come to shrinagar, Rajasthan. We will take a round of Rajasthan also.”
“Oh! Sure. I will decide and let you know. Bye.”
“O.K.”
Sulochana said
“So you are going to Maya.”
“Not now. What I plan is that in the next winter break you, kids and I will go to Shrinagar. Are you ready? Aporva will be good company for your daughters.”
“Give me some time and I will decide.”
We came back to Andheri. The babies were tired and slept. We took a cup of coffee and watched the moon and noise of sea waves. Sulochana agreed to tour Rajasthan with her daughter.
We came to Jaipur by super-fast train and went to shrinagar by Taxi. Maya and Aporva welcomed us Aporva was happy to see the daughters of Sulochana. Maya had informed Jarina and Salim also they were also expected to come at any time. After their arrival we decided to visit Jaisalmer area. Maya told us about her achievements and the progress of the village. She also introduced us with Miss. Rosi, who has come right form Germany to do some research work on women of rural area of India. I asked her
“How are you?”
“Alright. Thank you.”
Rosi are you married?” Sulochana asked.
“Yes but I am a divorcee.” She said plainly.
“Tell me about you.” Sulochana said.
“My mother was German but my father was from France. I was born and brought up in Germany. I was the only sibling of my parents. My father went back to France at an early date and the mother is in Germany. I joined the university and now came to India for research work.” Rosi told.
“Oh! Good. I know a few words of German also. Trinken-zee tee bitte. Ish habe kine gelt.” I said smilingly.
All laughed and went for a cup of tea in the office. The work of Maya’s N.G.O was going all right, but now local antisocial elements and some times some youth disturb the work. Maya has opened a few more branches in remote places of tribal areas. The tribes were not much interested but slowly when they came to know about the benefits of the work they assembled and became the members of the society. This year mansoon was quite good in these areas and farmers were happy. Bumper crops were there and sufficient water in the village ponds. Maya took us to the village panchayat also where a local lady was sarpach and she conducted the meeting very successfully. The meeting gave good results, the local problems were solved at panchayat level it self.
Aporva now sixteen was quite beautiful and now studying in final of senior secondary class. She wanted to go abroad for further studies. Maya has found out that she could be admitted to a four year integrated, course of M.B.A in a foreign university. I said
“If so she should not miss this opportunity.”
Aporva showed me her poems also one them were as under
LIFE
I was all-alone
Every thing was sad & lone.
Sun was going to rest,
Night came with the best.
But all were helpless,
My mood, remains mean less.
But, suddenly,
An eastern blow of wind,
Brought lots of joys for me,
From where,
I cannot tell you.
How,
I do not know,
But the whole
Sadness was melted,
Evening was cented,
All round it was
Full of joys
Full of anxiety & vegetation, as the
Life is.
I appreciated the poem, Aporva became happy. Aporva and Sulochana’s daughters went to play on the side of pond of the village. We also went there, the pond was full of lotus flowers with big leaves swimming on the surface. It looked very beautiful. Maya told
“This is our achievement of rain-water harvesting system. We did it, now we have sufficient water for the whole year, and above all we are cultivating various crops by the pond water, fish cultivation is also under process. We also prepare organic manure for the crops.”
My eyes praised Maya’s work silently. She has done a good job for the society. We came back to Maya’s residence, took simple meal of chapatti, dal, curry and rice. The food was full of good taste and we relished it very much. Maya, Sulochana and I were quite tired; suddenly Maya’s mobile rang
“Jarina and Salim will reach in the morning.” She informed us.
“Oh! Good.” I said.
Maya and Sulochana started talking about morning breakfast and meals. I interfered and said
“Dalia (porridge), is the best recipe I can cook.”
Both agreed to the proposal. I told them that Dalia can be prepared in a variety of manner and is highly nutritive, digestive, cheap and probably the best of all the food. Dalia of wheat, maze, bajara etc. can be prepared easily. It may be namkeen or sweet in taste. The sweet dalia can be prepared by Jaggery or from sugar. Wheat dalia with jaggery is common food in villages and is known as Lapsi. As you know curry is known through out the world and can be prepared in so many ways. Similarly Porridge will also become a great dish some day. Dalia with vegetable is a perfect dish”. I concluded.
Both of them smiled and said to me that I would prepare tomorrow morning breakfast. I accepted the challenge and went to sleep.
Jarina, Salim and their small beautiful son of one and a half year arrived at the time of breakfast. Jarina has put on some weight and was looking more beautiful after delivery. Salim was also handsome their kid, fair colored with black hairs was highly active and tried to speak a few words, but mostly he simply indicated what actually he wanted. When he was given some toys he became happier. Maya took him and blessed him. The kid was highly intelligent also, when Maya gave him a new shirt, he showed it with a grace to others. The morning breakfast consisted of wheat dalia with milk, some bread kofta in potato prepared by me. All liked the breakfast. After the breakfast we sat on the sofa and tried to check out the programme of tour. It was decided that the car of Salim would be used and another car would be hired from the market. We had to go to Jaisalmer, Barmer and other remote area of desert. Maya and Sulochana took the job of snacks cold-drink etc. Salim and I finalized the route. In one car were Salim, Jarina and Sulochana and in other car I along with driver, Rosi and kids seated and started for Jodhpur via Pushkar. Pushkar is well known holy city and is the only place in the world with a temple of lord Brahma, it has a holy pond also; we took bath in the Pushkar sarovar and went of temple for Darshan. A large number of foreign tourist were also there. Pushkar is the entry gate of desert area. We reached to Jodhpur and stayed in a hotel. The route was full of sand dunes, small villages and Dhanies. The ladies wearing veils and bringing water on the heads were everywhere. When they unveiled their beautiful faces with ornaments were very attractive. The men wear turbans and have big moustaches. The picture of rural area of the country is more or less same. We proceeded to our destination. On the route we visited the Pokharan area, where India did it first nuclear test in May 1974. We also went to a small village named Pungal, known for beautiful woman Padmini, we stayed there for some time, took a cup of tea on the Dhaba. Pungal is still known for its beauty. When we reached to the Sonar Kella or the fort of gold, the golden city was about to sleep. It was late night. We went to a hotel and took rest.
Next day morning we all went to the fort, visited the fort, constructed by Bhati-Rajput rulers some eight fifty years ago. The fort was beautiful, well constructed but was not in good condition. The heritage was vanishing. A film party was also there and was busy in shooting the children and ladies of our party also took part in one of the scene of the film and enjoyed it. We also visited Moti-Mahal and other important places of Jaisalmer.
It was evening when we came out of the hotel to see the beautiful night scene of the desert area. We went deep in the sandy areas. Everywhere sand and only sand. A sea of sand surrounded us, as the evening passed and night matured wind became cold but not chilly. Sand dunes moved from one place to other with wind and left impressions. The music of sand was easily understandable and was touching our hearts and souls. We sat in the sand the moon lit night was wonderful on sandy soil. A musical voice suddenly came to our ears. It was a local instrument being played by a local resident. The voice was full of love, honesty and deep sense of sorrow. Sulochana broke the ice
“What a beautiful voice.”
“Yes, a local person is calling his wife who has gone to her parental house.”
“Really these people live their lives with full of joys.” Maya said.
“True.” Salim said.
“We in city have much less to enjoy as compared to these persons.” Jarina said.
“Definitely we have our problems, but they are free from such things.” Maya said.
Maya further told us
“I intend to open a center for the welfare of post delivery women of this area. You know here the mortality rate of mother and infant is very high.”
“True. But if you open a center here, we will also help.” I said
Rosi, who by now silent was looking very much impressed by the town and the surroundings, said
“I will raise some funds for the welfare of this area and will try to send it to you, Maya.”
Maya became happy to note it. It was nearly half night. We all came back to our hotel but Jarina and Salim remained there for some time. They loved and played in the sea of sand. They came to hotel very late. The couple dynamics is difficult to under stand. Salim became the Protagonist of the sandy music.
The music of sand and sand waves was in our mind soul and heart. Next day we went to Barmer, the boarder area, where Pakistan and Indian boundaries meet. We were not allowed to go there due to security reasons, but we were told that soon some railway traffic would start between the two countries. We came back to Jodhapur and went to Udaipur. Sulochana insisted to visit the holy ShriNathji temple so we all dropped at ShriNathdwara and went for Darshan of Lord ShriNathji. Maya wanted to see one of her centers in the tribal area of south Rajasthan. Here it was
all-together a different kind of language and life. Tribes, bheels, meenas and other poor people reside in this area. The centre was in a small village but it was good place. Rosi took some photographs of the area for her research work. Maya and Rosi discussed the problems of local women with the ladies of village.
We were on road for more than fifteen days and were tired also by taking notes, data, photos etc. so all came back to shrinagar.
Early in the morning Maya’s maidservant informed us that there was a big problem in the village last night. Some persons burned the small Juggi of Nathi, a village widow woman, to ashes. Further some powerful persons rapped her. It was serous case. In a short while we all reached at the chaupal of the village. There was a crowd and Nathi was weeping continuously. She was lying on one side. While weeping she told the incident to Maya. Maya immediately informed the police, police came but did not register the case for a long time. But when pressure was imposed the police registered the case and took Nathi to district hospital for medical examination. Maya sent a woman worker with her. She came in the evening and informed that case has been registered and culprits would soon be behind the bars. Maya’s N.G.O decided to fight the case. Since Nathi was a very poor lady and had no earnings. Further she was asked to work in the N.G.O for her lively hood. After some time Nathi told that the main reason of the incident was a small piece of land occupied by her and her relatives wanted to encroach it. Her elder brother in-law was the brain behind all this. The police investigation continued but justice did not cane to Nathi soon.
We were also sad and depressed after this incident. Media persons were also covering it since such news is sold very easily. At the same time the case is investigated at a faster speed due to pressure of media. Salim Jareena Sulochana and I were consoling Nathi continuously. In the evening I said to Salim
“Why rapes have become so popular?”
“Actually it is not the need of the person.”
“Then?”
“It is much more insulting the women. The man wants to insult the woman, her relatives, her husband and even her cast. Rape is the most common way to insult any one.”
“But is should be condemned and stopped.”
“Nobody bothers.” Salim said.
Maya also came and joined the discussion. She said
“Basic instinct of rapist is uncontrollable behaviour and he thinks that woman can be exploited to any extent and may be used as a tool. The whole society is responsible for such acts.”
Sulochana brought tea and joined us.
“The basic problem is woman to woman. Woman is the enemy of other woman. It is the woman who destroys other women’s home and relationship and what is the psychology of rape.” Sulochana said.
“It is the illness of the mind, a psychic problem in most of the cases.” I said.
“May be true but such psychic persons should not be allowed to move freely in the society.” Maya said.
“Rape is not a normal feature in the society. The inner animal of the men when comes out it happens.” Salim said.
“But planed rapes are to insult some body and to show one’s man hood to the society, to the public and if the rapist is powerful nothing happens, the culprit comes out of the case with out any problem. It has happened so many times” Jarina said.
“True Jarina you are right, but we have to go by the ruling of the court of law.” I said.
“Further you see the sufferer woman is tortured mentally, physically and even economically in the villages. The colleagues in the schools hate her kids. She is not given jobs and above all when case goes to court she has to undergo long and harassing discussion before the judge.” Maya said in harsh voice.
“You are right but if we want that the culprits should get punishment then law is the only answer.” I said.
“There are certain other ways too. The culprits may be asked to leave the village or may be socially boycotted.” Sulochana said.
“But if he is powerful all such things could not take place.” Salim said.
“But he may repent.” I said.
“So finally it is the game of power money and politics, but we have a hope that Nathi will get justice. God bless her.” I added.
We departed with so many questions in our mind.
Rosi remained there for her work and to finalize the reports. Maya asked me to chat on computer and keep in touch on mobile, I promised to do so before leaving for Mumbai.
Jarina and Salim left for jaipur.
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Chapter XI
Psyche, Chat & Chat
We reached to Mumbai, our artist friend Abhimanu has also came back from Banglore his work was over there. Now he was free for his painting and artwork. He has started the work in his studio. Our struggler actor friend Rangaswami who has gone to south to try his luck in south Indian films has also come back. We all were sitting in the studio of Abhimanu and were talking.
“I have done sufficient work in past one year and even if I do not work for some time I can live.” Said Rangaswami.
“What have you actually done there.” I asked.
“I took some work of south Indian films and one of the films was successful, but next films were super flop. You know south Indian films are full of violence and action. I had an accident also.”
“Oh” Said Abhimanu.
“And what you did these days.” He asked me.
“I toured a number of places and now planning to write a new serial for a channel.” I said.
“You are still planning to write serials only, you should do some concrete work in literature.” Said Sulochana.
But I could not reply.
Rangaswamy further told us about the life and working of south Indian films, there the actors are very popular and their films are seen again and again particularly by women.
“In Chennai film city where I lived for a year or so, I had friendships with so many persons and most of them were local young peoples. The film industry there; is more glamorous but less paying.” he concluded.
Sulochana went to sleep. Now we three started gossiping. I said.
“You must have many new relations there.”
“Of course but none of them was long lasting. A new concept is being evolved, no sentimental approach, Nothing doing only a relationship for some time being only or for a night only.”
“Have you earned sufficient?” I asked.
“Yes but not so much, I will purchase this flat, that’s all.” He said.
Abhimanu, brought some coffee, we took it.
Rangaswami further told us about the nightlife of south. Which was more or less similar to that of Mumbai. We also informed Rangaswami about our contract in Banglore and the nature of work we did there. Suddenly we saw that Rangaswami became sad and depressed, Abhimanu asked the reason, Rangaswami broke up and told us the story.
When he was in south Indian film industry he came across a lady producer who used him as a tool for so many works, some times she asked him to manage funding, he gave all what he earned there, but the film flopped. The money never came back. When tried the lady producer asked to leave the area through some local antisocial elements. We were shocked to know it. Rangaswami was highly upset, we consoled him. He slept there in the studio it self. I went to my flat; Abhimanu also went to his flat.
In the next morning when Rangaswami was normal we further asked him about his future planning, but he was depressed and did not talk to us, it was a new thing for all of us. In the evening also he was upset and went out for a long time, we were worried for him but he came by late night with heavy drink. I again tried to talk to him but he was not in a position to talk.
Abhimanu and I decided to take him to a doctor, the doctor suggested us to consult a psychiatrist. He is probably upset due to some personal set backs, which he is not telling us said the doctor.
Rangaswami was not ready to go to any psychiatrist but when forced by us he agreed.
The psychiatrist doctor was a renowned personality in the field of psychotherapy. First he listened us carefully and then asked Abhimanu and I to stay out then he talked to Rangaswami in his chamber lonely for about an hour. Rangaswami came out with some relief. Then we went to doctor he said to us.
“Well he is under high depression, he has been under constant stress and need psychotherapy sessions.”
“Doctor what has actually happened?” I asked.
“Not clearly known, he is not telling the facts, but slowly he will tell us I have asked him to come again.” Said the doctor.
“That’s fine doctor, but can we do some help.”
“Definitely try to keep him happy and if possible call his relatives.”
“But he is all alone and has no relatives.”
“Any body to whom he can say his feelings” said the doctor.
We thanked the doctor and came out. Rangaswami and we came to our building silently. I gave all the information to Sulochana.
Mean while my mobile rang. Maya was on the other side and informed me that Aprova has gone to abroad for her MBA, it was a good news for us, she told me about her loneliness.
Next day Rangaswami was taken to the psychiatrist again. I remained out side and doctor examined him, talked to him and probably Rangaswami gave some response, the doctor than called me in side and in my presence Rangaswami told the untold story so far.
“Sir I was happy in Bollywood and doing my job, but when I went to south the trouble started. I could not earn sufficient from the films but I was told that if I work as a jiggello than some money could be given. I refused but since I was young, handsome and new to them, the group of producers who were in jollification compelled me to do what they wanted. During this process I came in touch with so many women artistes. This was horrible for me my soul did not permit me for long. But it was difficult to come out of the game. The players were much more shroud and powerful.”
“So how you come out?” Asked the doctor. I was listening the story carefully.
“That’s what I wanted to tell you sir, one night a young girl hired me. There her two friends were also present, all the three were under heavy alcohol. I could not make them happy so the girl who has hired me kicked me out and I ran away from there.”
“Are you suffering from any communicable diseases?” Asked the doctor.
“Probably not, every body is quite conscious in such matters” Rangaswami told.
The doctor said to him in a serious voice.
“First of all you should get rid off the guilty consciousness. Make up your mind and soul that you have done nothing wrong. Your opponents have done the wrongs. You have been a sufferer. You try to come out of the situation and be safe, happy and enthusiastic. I am giving some medicines also take them regularly. They will help you in coming out of the depression, but above all, you have to get inner self-confidence. Only confidence will help you. You can also do some spiritual and yoga practices.”
Doctor further said to us to come next week. We came out of doctor’s clinic. Rangaswami was feeling better.
Next week Rangaswami went alone to the doctor, and now he was getting some confidence also. He also took the medicines regularly. Slowly Rangaswami improved and started to go to film studio, he got some work also. But in the evening he used to become sad and depressed at such times we helped him to come out. He was improving continuously.
After three months treatment Rangaswami was almost okay. In the last visit to the doctor, doctor called Abhimanu and me also. There he told us.
“Well gentlemen, your friend is now completely all right, but you should take care of him. Particularly if possible get him married. Marriage will help him to settle in life and will give some more confidence. His family life will improve him. Marriage will remove his sorrow, depression and sad ness etc.”
We listened the doctor carefully, but it was not in our hands to get him married, we came out. I asked Abhimanu.
“What to do?”
“One thing is possible, if Rangaswami goes back to his village, he can get fully cured.” Abhimanu said.
We requested Rangaswami to go to his village where some far relatives live. Rangaswami agreed and left for his village, for a long time we did not heard about him. But one day he came back to our building with a bride. We all became happy and a party was organized in the building. Mrs. Rangaswami was a beautiful girl in her twenties and she looked after him. Sulochana guided her for some time. Rangaswami now got some good contracts also and was happy. His confidence increased and in due course
Rangaswami became father of a child.
It was early winter. The monsoon has gone but its after effects in the form of malaria were there, I was busy in preparing the new version of my book and was also writing the episodes. Malarial fever caught me. The body temperature rose. I was not able to move. Sulochana did a lot for me. Slowly I recovered but weakness persisted and my work was also left, but slowly I became all right. Sulochana’s daughters were now in higher classes and were busy in their studies.
After some days I called on mobile to Maya.
“Hi! Maya how are you?”
“I am all right. What about you.”
“I suffered from malarial fever but now I am ok.”
“Oh, please take care.”
“Yes what about the work of Rosi.”
“She is doing fine as a scholar, her initial report has been accepted by her guide in Germany and her period of stay has been extended.”
“It is a good news.”
“She may go to kolkatta to attend a seminar.”
“Please congratulate her from my side for her success and what about Aporva?”
“She is doing well in MBA, her first semester result has been excellent. She plans to go to some other country for a summer job.”
“Oh good, anything more.”
“Only lonely ness.”
“We all are lonely in this crowded world Maya.”
“Ok. Bye,”
“Bye.” Please chat on internet.”
“Ok.” I said and off the mobile.
These days I was taking daliya and milk only, Sulochana used to prepare it for me. One day I asked her.
“What kind of relationship we have?”
“God knows.”
“But where is God.”
“God is inside of us.”
“Oh” I said.
The days were improved, now I started my work. I went to my studio for work and used to come back in night, Sulochana warned me not to do so much work. One-day night I chat on computer to Maya, she was in the chat room, we started.
“Hi! Maya how are you?”
“I am fine, what about your fever?”
“I am fine now and doing my work.”
“It’s fine. I feel loneliness now very much.”
“It so happens at this stage of life.”
“My NGO work is good but I am fed up with all these things. I want to settle in life. What is your opinion? Do you remember our days in desert area and in Udairpur.”
“Yes, definitely, those were the golden days of our life but unfortunately we could not continue.”
“Oh no, we could make it now. Do not you feel any thing for me.”
“I do feel for you but what to do?”
“You------You------ I like you very much. I want to give the best of mine to you.”
“Maya I not only like you but love you.”
“Oh Rakesh why you took so much time to say this word.”
“But we are far away.”
“The distances are physical, love is eternal I wish to come to you as a flying bird.”
“You are welcome Maya.”
Maya continued in a sentimental voice.
“Please Rakesh come or else I will come to you.”
“Wait for some time.”
“Now, no waiting please Maya wrote like a teenager.”
“Come Rakesh come. Love me. Enjoy me. Touch me. Hate me, hit me but accept me with my short comings.”
I could not give any reply except to read she continued.”
“Touch me. Pet me. Kiss me comb my hairs as you used to do in Udaipur, please Rakesh.”
“Maya do not be so sentimental.”
“No I am not sentimental I need you at this stage of life as a fellow person.” She further said.
“If you agree I can offer you the chairman ship of NGO and I will work with you. You come to Shrinagar. Leave all these serials etc. and live a peaceful life here. Both of us will live here in this small village.”
“True Maya but is it so easy to leave all these?”
“No I know, but you are made up of some other type of soil and I hope you will be able to run the NGO in a better manner. I need your support and your shoulders too.”
I could not write any thing but I my self was fed up with this life in Mumbai. I asked Maya to continue the work of NGO and soon if possible I will join her. She became happy her voice mail and photo showed the happiness. It was late night I decided to go to bad my mobile rang. It was Maya again. She was highly sentimental.
“Rakesh I can not live without you, you see Aporva has gone and will probably not come back to India, we are in the middle of our life please propose me and we will marry.”
“Is it so easy to have the things as per our wishes.” I said.
“I know you can do it, you can revert the current.”
“Maya have a heart, I want some more time and then we may decide.”
“If you agree I may come to Mumbai.”
“You are always welcome” I said and said good-bye to Maya. I slept.
Next day evening again Maya was on Internet and we discussed the matter at length. Finally I decided to move to Shrinagar to work in NGO of Maya, I begged leave from Sulochana and Abhimanu to join the NGO in Shrinagar. Maya became the chair- person of NGO and I started working with her.
When I reached to Shrinagar Maya was very happy and was looking like a young girl, we went to the office of NGO, completed the works and then went to the pond of the village and remembered out old days. Maya took my hand and kissed it we came back to our residence.
Apurva’s education was about to complete. She did her summer job in Sweden for two months and was now preparing her dissertation. One day she informed Maya that she is in love with her class met and want to marry him. Maya after a discussion with me allowed them to marry, but requested them to come to India for marriage.
After three months Apurva and her boy friend Alok came to India and in a small but gracious way Kanya-dan, was done by Maya and me. The newly wedded couple went back to Europe on their new assignment. A big worry of Maya was over she has completed the last responsibility entrusted by her elder sister to her.
I was working hard in the NGO and local villagers and officers have now accepted me as a fellow worker. It was good for all of us.
Rainy season has started, clouds were coming and going, some times heavy rain and some time dazzling only the pond of the village was over flowing and it has happened after so many years. The villagers organized a picnic on the bank of pond we all enjoyed it very much. There in the picnic local folk music, folk dancers and folk culture came to it’s peak. We all enjoyed.
The old rape case of Nathi has been decided and the culprits got punishment. It brought a wave of happiness to our NGO also, as we fought the case. Local leaders and powerful persons were unhappy with our work but we continued.
On one fine morning I asked Maya to go to court for the registration of the civil marriage of both of us. Maya happily agreed, we went to court, gave a notice for registration. After a month our marriage was registered in the court. We organized a small party in the village. On this occasion Jarina, Salim and their son also came and attended the party. Maya was looking highly beautiful in the wedding dress. An old man of the village performed Kanya-dan also. Rosy performed a dance on this occasion. A treat followed the program. For some time we handed over the charge of NGO to Rosi and went for honeymoon.
Maya and I went to the hillside areas of north India for our honeymoon. From Delhi we came to Haridwar, visited Rishikesh and went to mossrie via Dehradoon. Dehradoon is a small town but after becoming capital of the new state has became a city. The city is full of rush, institutes, green mountains and above all crowdie roads. We took a taxi and went to mossorie, there we stayed in a three star hotel. It was late in the night Maya and I went to mall road for a walk. The mall road was full of crowed, peoples, couples and local shopkeepers they were busy in their business Maya took my hand in her and moved towards a lonely place. We set on a rock on the roadside for some time. Moon has came out of the clouds and the scenario was romantic, cold wind was blowing slowly, she petted my hand kissed it I countered it, on her cheeks. Time was passing slowly; Maya sung a song I also hummed for a while.
Both of us came to the hotel I asked the waiter to bring the dinner in the room and went up side. We changed the cloths, Maya was looking highly beautiful in light blue gown, and I was in white kurta and paizama.
The waiter knocked the door, came in and set the dinner on the side table went back without any noise.
Maya and I took the dinner, I gave a morsel of bread in to the mouth of Maya, and Maya enjoyed it.
Maya and I were happy and romantic; the cable T.V. was showing some picture. Maya off the T.V. and took me on the bed she loved again and again. She kissed me, made noises and I entered in to her.
“Oh, Rakesh I am waiting come and enjoy me, engulf me.”
We continued. Snow was falling out side the window of the room. Maya and I slept a sound sleep with dreams and dreams only.
Next morning we went to kampti fall in a taxi, road side was full of high trees, greenery and cold wind, local people with their cattle’s were moving from one side of the town to the other side of town. Maya liked the scene very much. There was huge rush on the site of the fall. The water was very cold but a large number of people were bathing beneath the fall. No one was bothered for anybody, every body was enjoying him-self, women, men, children, and couples, new and old, everybody was there in the waterfall for enjoyment.
Water was falling continuously, Maya afraid a little but when I helped her she also started enjoying the waterfall and water games. The water was sweet so was our life.
We came out of the water late evening and came back to our hotel. I took Maya to the dance floor of the hotel and the danced till late night. In the early hours of the morning we came to our room and slept till day noon.
When Maya awake it was 3 pm, she saw towards Rakesh who was still in sound sleep She kissed Rakesh, he awakened he took Maya to her side and played. This time Maya was up. She groaned, hissed, clucked and roared time and again, it was a matter of love and obsession for me. I continued. Maya thought as if whole world is enjoying and she too. She pampered me and allowed me to pamper in return. It was like a musical harmony. Both appreciated each other through eyes only.
In the evening we walked through the streets, on mall road, had a dinner on a roadside dhaba and came to the hotel late night we spoke less but our souls and every part of bodies spoke too much. We under stool each other better during our stay.
After two days we came back to Dehradoon in a taxi, the road was highly curved, round and circular, but the driver was expert of hillside driving. We walked through the narrow streets of the town. In the evening we went to see various institutes of the town we also visited local temples, where Maya worshiped for the betterment of our life. Maya and I than decided to go to some other places, after some discussions we moved for Jammu and Kashmir.
We arrived to Jammu, went to vaishnodevi temple on foot and finally moved to Srinagar of Kashmir to stay for a couple of days in the Dall Lake.
We choose an old heritage shikara to live. The owner of the shikara told us that earlier many couple have started their married life in his shikara, it was an excellent house boat swimming on the Dall lake, the interior designing was also very attractive, above all the hospitality of the boat men was excellent and wonderful.
Maya liked the morning Kashmire tea very much. We stayed in the shikara for the first day, Next day we moved in the lake on the boat with the housemen. The house lady was also very nice. I asked them about terrorism and other problems but the house lady did not spoke much, later on we came to know that only son of the owner has left them to become a militant, the sadness of the house lady was under stable.
Maya and I took lunch on the shikara and went to the city. The chinar trees, green Kashmir and beautiful women were the main attractions of Kashmir we were very much happy to see the scenario.
Kashmir though a disturbed area for decades has now became a peace full area for tourists. The tourists are happy and the terrorism is reducing day by day. After spending some more time in Shikara we decided to move to laddakh area this is the third part of Jammu and Kashmir area.
Laddakh, a place of Buddism is altogether different from the culture of Jammu and Kashmir, but Maya liked the place very much, the matths of Leh were highly peace full and full of spiritualism, the holiness of these matths was also highly impressive.
I had a dialogue with the matths peoples they were happy and satisfied with their life. Their requirements were very less and they were committed to take care of their culture, art and spiritualism.
Maya and I stayed there for a couple of days, Maya had an interaction with local ladies regarding their social life, customs etc. the local ladies were also happy to invite the new couple in their houses. After two days Maya and I left for Rajasthan where Rosy was waiting for us.
After Rakesh And Maya went for Honeymoon. Rosy got a mail form Vrindavan regarding the widows of the place. The N.G.O had given some information regarding conditions of the widows residing in the lord Krishana’s birth- place. Rosi was interested to know more about the life and circumstances in which the widows were living. She started for Vrandavan with one of the office bearers of her N.G.O. they reached to the site by road, there they stayed ion a hotel and took some rest.
Next day Rosi took a local tourist guide and went for site scenes, she was delighted to see the temples, Yamuna River and local narrow streets, market and various places where Krishana culture is still prevailing. She visited Mathura, Gokuldham, Goverdhanji and took a Parikrma of Girrajji. It gave her lot of peace of mind. Since she had spent her life in physical world of west, she enjoyed the holiness of the place and the spiritual activities of the area, she sat in a temple peacefully for a couple of hours and listened the haveli music, dhrupad and astachap poetry being played and recited the in the temple. The tourist guide told her that only such other place of Brij culture in ShriNathdwra in Rajasthan where child swaroop of lord Krishana is worshiped. She told the guide that she had been to ShriNathdwara and remembers the place and Banas River, here Yamuna river is much bigger than Banas.
Rosi asked the tourist guide to show her some places where widows of various places are being kept. The guide agreed to show her some places where in ashrams poor, old and ill widows are kept. Rosi along with her staff member and guide went to such places. She observed that hundreds of widows from various parts of the country are kept in these ashrams. The management provide them food, shelter and security. The widows are not happy. They were pale, ill, without proper clothes and above all sad, depressed and ill treated. She asked one of the widows about her past life. The widow said
“I am form west Bengal, I had a very good life, my husband was a big businessman, after his death my son and daughter-in-law left me to this place for the rest of my life. They send a fixed amount to the ashram for livelihood.”
“Are you happy here?”
“No. No one can be happy in such a miserable condition.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“Who will accept me?” She countered. Rosi had no answer.
Rosi took a round of the ashram, kitchen, and office and talked to the another who was comparatively young.
“How are you?”
“I am fine.” Replied the widow.
“Tell me about your past.”
“I am a war widow my husband took part in the war of 1962. I got very little pension and other benefits. So I decided to move to this place. Here I worship the God in the ashram and pass my time.”
“Do you have kids?”
“Off course.” She said with a light in her eyes.
“Where they are?”
“They are busy in their family life. They have land in the village. My elder son has a daughter also.”
“Oh Good.”
“What about your own daughter?”
“She is in her in-laws house and is happy there.”
“Are you satisfied with the facilities here?”
“I am satisfied with the worship of God. He is keeping me here so I am living here.”
Rosi had no answer to all these things but she was astonished to know that widows are living here in minimum facilities and without physical amenities and above all according to them this all due to their own destiny and almighty God is right for all such conditions.
Rosi along with her guide went to other ashrams also, at one place they stayed for a completed day. Early in the morning the widows used to wakeup at 5 A.M. They go for Prathana of God, take breakfast, worshiped God and take rest. Their over all life was miserable. Every woman has more or less the same story. The guide took her to the ashram in which some old process was being kept. They came from Mumbai, South India and many other places. The life of all these women in the society was miserable. Rosy thought. If the widows die the ashram people also do their funeral.
The tourist guide took Rosi to some other places were widows and old persons were living in the ashrams. These places were superior to the widows’ ashrams. It was told that these are old person’s houses, where one can live by regular payments. The old persons were more or less happy in these houses. A few persons have paid good amount of money to the houses, whereas in other cases the sons of old persons were sending money regularly to the management for the expenditures. All these things impressed Rosy. The society has changed and the life at old age has to be changed, Rosy prepared a detailed note of her observation and sent to her guide in Europe. She got a good response of the note.
Before departing form the Brij bhoomi Rosi went back to Bankebihariji temple and worshiped for some time. She paid to her tourist guide and came back to her base camp, where lot of work was pending. In Shrinagar also there were widows, war-widows and the conditions of these women were not good. One of the war widows told her about the amount she had got from government and other organization was to be used for the development of the village, she wanted to have statue of her husband in the village, the statue was ready but for inauguration money was to be spent by herself. Even the expenditures of V.I.P visit are to be borne by her. Rosi took a notice of the matter and informed higher authorities and the war-widows got some relief.
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CHAPTER-XII
“Oh! TWIN”
When Maya and I reached to our work place in rajasthan, RosY Handed over a mail to Maya, in which Apurva, her sister’s daughter had informed that she would be coming to India for some time. It was good news for all of us. Apurva was to arrive in Delhi in a couple of days. Maya managed for her arrival. Apurva was received on the Aero drum by Maya and I. We came to jaipur by taxi, Apurva was looking sad, when Maya asked about her sadness she did not replied. After tea Maya again asked Apurva.
“What is the matter my dear daughter? Why are you not happy?”
Apurva sobbed and then said.
“My married life is over, he has decided to divorce me.”
“But Why?”
“It is a common feature in western world. He has decided to break the marriage.”
“Can we help?” I asked.
“No. Nothing will work. His decision is final and I am also ready for it.”
“But what will you do now?” Asked Maya.
“I will remain in India and will work with you Mom.”
“Oh! It’s good. We have no objection.” I said.
We consoled Apurva and after some time she told us the details.
“When we reached back to Europe after marriage we were very happy and our life was passing peacefully. But after a year he stopped coming to home at night. Later on I came to know that he has opened a new company with his colleague. The intimacy with his colleague increased day by day and finally he asked me for divorce. I also agreed to the proposal and after some formalities I moved to India, where my roots are still surviving.”
“What a tragic story.” I said.
“It so happens in life.” Rosy said.
We decided to assign the welfare work of widows to Apurva, I asked Rosy to brief her. Rosy took the task and Apurva became busy with the work. After working some days Apurva went Vrandavan also to get first hand information on widows, form there she went to south India for a couple of weeks and came back. Maya was worried about her but Apurva came back in fresh mood.
I received a telephone of Sulochana from Mumbai that she has decided to marry her two daughters in the next month, she requested us to attend the marriage at Mumbai. Maya and I decided to attend the marriage along with Apurva and Rosy. All of us reached to Mumbai a day before the marriage. Marriage was organized in a banquette hall in Andheri. Sulochana has made good arrangements for all of us. She told us about the daughters and their grooms with enthusiasm. According to her, her elder daughter an M.C.A has got a software engineer placed in an M.N.C, whereas her younger daughter an artist herself has chosen an artist as her husband. Both the marriages were to take place in a simple and graceful manner. I requested to Sulochana to invite her brother-in-law also as the father in-law was no more. After some initial disagreement she invited her in-laws family. Now the marriage was the perfect one. Dance music, D.J and good food were there. We enjoyed the marriage party. The grooms were handsome. After the marriage the local guests went. The newly wedded couples went for honeymoon. Now Maya, Sulochana, Apurva, Rosiy and I sat outside the building for some rest and exchange of views. I asked Apurva to bring coffee and started talking. Rosiy said to Sulochana
“Well! Madam now you will be alone. Loneliness will prevail in your life. You have retired also what will you like to do now?”
Sulochana did not reply for a couple a minutes and saw the sky silently. Maya also said
“Well, Sulochana what have you decided for future?”
“By now I have not decided any thing, but I am thinking on this line now.” Sulochana said in a cold voice.
“Well, do not be nervous and depressed, we all are there to help you.” I said.
“I do not need any financial help. Only loneliness of retired life would be there. I may go to my daughters to see them.”
“Off course, but they will be busy in their own life.” I said.
“Definitely.” Said Sulochana.
Apurva brought coffee and some snacks. We started sipping the coffee. Rosiysaid
“In my opinion Sulochana madam should come and join us. It will help all of us as well as she will remain busy. What do you think Maya?”
“I also have the same opinion.” Maya said.
“So should we take this decision that Sulochana will come to join our N.G.O for social work.” I asked.
“Give me some time to think.” Sulochana said.
“Definitely.” I said.
Next day was Sunday, we all decided to go for sites scenes of Mumbai, a taxi was hired and we went to see the film city, Mahalaxmi temple, marindrive, juhubeach, chawpati, flora mountain and the Elephanta caves. Their Sulochana told me about her decision to join the social work. I informed all. All became happy. We took our dinner at a roadside Dhaba and came back to stay place. Apurva went to Pondycheri.
Apurva after coming back from Pondycheri informed us that she is interested in joining a news channel in Delhi, after a short while she joined a new news channel as a reporter. The new work was interesting for her and was challenging one. After some initial training in the channel she got her first assignment to cover the poor condition of the women in the slum areas of the city. She made a hectic news report and telecasted the story at the prime time. The news story was liked but one of her friends, who was not in the profession asked her.
“Why you people see only sadness of the society. Why you listen bad, see bad and speak bad only. Is there nothing good in the society? Why good things do not become news?”
“Because no one wants to see good things. They are a normal feature of life. Suppose a son and daughter-in-law are keeping their parents happy and giving them full respect, it can not be a news, but if as old person is deprived of these things it is a news and every body wants to see it, read it and here it.” Said Apurva.
“But it is not fare.”
“May be so, but the T.R.P is the only criteria for a news in our profession, my promotion, increments, salary and above all my identity belongs to such news stories only.”
Her friends in the media were happy. But the persons viewing such stories were not much happy. The so-called crime law reports were always full of violence, raps, sexual harassment and allied things, allied news and some times the stories were so much change that the truth is hidden and the Mirch-Masal a came up. But Apurva was happy with her new assignment. One of her colleague Ramesh Verma, who was on the beat of apolitical party said to her.
“Why don’t you come to the political reporting? It is safe and more paying.”
“How can it be more paying?”
“Well, you have to workless and sometimes the parties plant news in their own interest.”
“How to plant a news?”
“It is very easy. You have to fabricate a story and run to air, it may be wrong but paying.”
“But it is against the ethics of journalism.”
“There is nothing against journalism. Plantation of news is a big industry and even at highest level it is done by the V.I.Ps of all the parties and even by the governments.”
“Oh! If it is so, it’s not good.”
“May be but it is fact.”
Apurva was astonished to note it but she started reviewing print and electronic media in the light of plantation of news, she was upset by seeing that this industry is growing day by day. During election days the plantation of news is done by money and muscle power also. She further observed that newspapers and news channels crying against corruption whole day and night are enjoying the black money. Even the small reporters are getting their share of corruption and are living a lavish life much more than their salaries. Apurva was working in the channel of news so she was aware of all these things, she thought that there are good persons also in the field, but they are much away from the main stream. Such workers were either side tracked or compelled to resign or terminated. Her news channel has recently started a religious channel also, it was nice initially but soon she came to know about it’s shortcomings also, the electronic media though powerful, but much less reliable. She said to her self.
Apurva remained in the field for a couple of months only and then moved to Internet journalism. She did an investigative story on purchase of arms in the ministry of defense. She could get some very important news regarding purchase, but when she filed the story the editor refused to telecast it. Later on she came to know that the arms were sold by their own sister company, she resigned.
Apurva after getting disappointed from the print and electronic media moved to creative writing. This was safe and easy for her. She thought why to work so hard if there is injustice at any place, rather than reporting it to the media, it is easy to write a story or a novel, get it publish and live the life easily. She wrote stories and published in various papers, magazines or on Internet and passed her time for some days and months, she got a prize also.
Apurva became a story –writer, the journalistic pattern she left back. She some times wrote columns also but it was not a regular feature. One day she saw Ramesh verma her former colleague in a big mall she reached to him after some initial talks they came to coffee shop. Ramesh has now joined a political party as an office bearer; it was big news for her. She asked.
“How you managed it?”
“It is not very difficult in politics, you have to manage a few peoples only and if your move is smart and intelligent you can achieve it. I did it, through the media and than left the media”
“So media was a stepping stone for you”
“You can call it like this, I do not mind”
“So what next?”
“Nothing more. I will be satisfied by getting a ticket for next elections, that’s all.”
“Wow you have very big ambitions.”
Ramesh did not replied for some time and than said.”
“There is space for you also, you are smart, intelligent and beautiful and above all full of energy I can make some room for you in our party, do you agree.”
Apurva did not replied but she was astonished to know it, than she said.
“No thanks but if I join what have I to do?”
“Not much, you have to use your contacts for the party and some times the party will assign you some tasks. The higher office bearers of the party are supreme and high command is final.” Said Ramesh.
“But if I could not cop with high command than?”
“Than one has to leave the party and political carrier both”
“It is very much disgusting”
“Nothing like that, almost every person in politics is surviving in the same manner.”
The coffee was over; Apurva begged leave from Ramesh and came out of the shopping mall. She thought how easily person can get success after some compromises in life, probably compromise is life the same she has seen in media also. The compromises are physical also so far as women are concerned. She decided to write a story and came back to home, but stories are not the total realities of life she said herself. She sent the story on Internet and got a prize.
Suddenly one day she received a phone call from Rosy that Maya mummy is in hospital. She rushed to the place from Delhi. She saw that Rakesh papa, Sulochana aunty, Rosy were in hospital and mummy was inside the operation theatre, She was told that mummy was expected but suddenly her condition became serious and was brought to the hospital, now she was being treated in the hospital. She went inside the operation theater to see her mummy.
I was moving out side veranda when I saw Apurva coming out of the operation theatre, she was nervous and depressed. I tried to console her, but I my self was not very much confident. Sulochana was inside the labor-room. Doctors were attending her and at any time any news could come. I prepared my self for any information but nothing came out. I continued thinking my time with Maya, in Udaipur, in Mumbai, in Delhi and in the sandy desert of western Rajasthan. Her love, hate, interaction, views and about the pregnancy, all were coming to my mind like a reel. How will be keep our baby and how will we teach him, brought him were the main issues of discussions those days. What would be names, will it be a male or female child.
One day she told me that if twin is there it will be good, and to our surprise the doctors also declared a twin after sonography but did not told about the sex of the twin.
I was worried cold wind was blowing I again started wandering in the veranda of the hospital. One of the doctors came out of the labor room but said nothing to me. I asked him.
“May I go in?”
“NO.” She said strictly and went away.
I was nervous and depressed but could do nothing; it was hard time for me. I started moving to & frow like a pendulum in the corridor of the hospital.
I started thinking again about our past life, Maya’s contribution to my early life and her own early life with was full of pain and poverty. I remember our honeymoon days, her early pregnancy days and the manner in which we planed the baby and how to brought up her. Time pass, I remember the story of few days back when in one night Maya told me that some pain is there. I asked him to bring the doctor but Maya refused, after some time the pain subsided. I listened the baby’s sound with my ears on Maya’s abdomen. She laughed at my childish behaviour, but I enjoyed it very much.
Suddenly a nurse came I asked her.
“Can I see her?”
“No.” She said and went out.
I was highly disappointed. Suddenly a cry of newly born baby sounded to my ears. I became happy to listen it, the nurse cried.
“Oh it’s a twin but we could not save the mother”
Immediately I went in the labor room without any hitch the twin were crying to inform the world that they have come. I kissed the newly born babies, one of them a male child and other a female child. I thanked God and came out of the labor room and said to my self.
“May God blessed them”.
000
P.S.
The life continued. The physical journey also continued. I moved to politics but could not succeed. I moved to spiritualism but failed and finally left for Himalaya in search of peace.
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86.laxmi nagar brahmapuri jaipur-302002
