some games

She stood on the ridge road stretch asking for a lift; it was quarter to 11…few hours remained of Friday the thirteenth. The scorpio just braked in front of her to offer the free rider what she sought…a free ride that was not to be.

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He had been warned by his group not to pick up girls/ladies as passengers at night especially from and around connaught place; it was not as if Baiju turned out to be a lusty monster at nights – he was a jolly good young fellow from varanasi, taxing to make bucks. He needed some bucks that night for fuel; all he had a crumpled note of Rs. 50 and he was far away from his final destination – the T3. As he veered to his left, on to the barakhamba road, he did not fail to note a female figure standing under a dimly lit street pole, the yellow street light was enough to reveal the skimpy dress which her hugged her figure.

She had been standing there, under the pole, since quarter past ten; eyes nervously trying to peer through the dimly lit road, beyond the circle. She knew somewhere in the darkness men waited for her; her lips silently prayed for lift.

Baiju braked a few meters ahead and she came running in and sought lift upto kale khan. Wondering as to what this maal was going to do at kale khan, he said “aao ji” and she hopped into the front seat. He eyed her skimpy dress while changing the gear and said, “madam, 100/- rs. Ok na?” and she nodded. As the white indica negotiated few circles and neared mandi house, she heard the sound of following bullet. Very soon, Baiju saw two famous duos which he was supposed to avoid especially during nights…pair of constable and head constable, the ‘thullas’. As the duo parked the bullet, Baiju’s lips uttered abuses…silently. More abusive words poured out as Baiju was yanked out of the car…Baiju at receiving end. Soon the charges flowed out; that of carrying prostitution racket to trying to rape. Baiju realized the whole game of the trinity. He announced, “saab! Only 50 rs… diiesel fill karna hai”. Tarkeeb Singh went furious and came out set of volleys for the girl, “saali, bola than a night time only private cars and no taxis”. The girl shouted while hopping out, “time 11 ho gaya tha....”. And then the negotiations started and eventually settled for atleast the tea cost. Tarkeeb and Jaal (the sidekick) knew they could not push for more for a crazy driver may end up reporting to some cop. With private cars, this would not be the case; rich haul of cash was guaranteed in private car case and then there was the case of blackmailing. It was a bad day for the trinity. Baiju accelerated with a poker face till he could not see the trinity in his rear mirror…

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Soon the girl chose to quit the holy alliance; Tarkeeb had other ideas to up his income from the side business which roads gave him. He cajoled his wife to become part of the alliance…there was no risk; all she had to do was to hop in a private car and then they would intercept the car and money would flow in. She took her baby steps and soon the nervousness gave way to bold confidence…all went as per plan until Friday the thirteenth. Tarkeeb was posted on a night “route duty” near dhaula kuan; she announced that it was off being Friday the thirteenth but Tarkeeb persuaded her and assured jaal, his able sidekick was there and money was not to be lost because of silly dates. Jaal, for comfort level, agreed to take risk at 9 pm and that too at ridge road which was closer to dhula kual. Everything was arranged for. She stood near opposite the park entrance and she managed to hop into a black scorpio…Jaal was impressed…it was a mighty catch. She hopped into the front seat and delivered her dialogue…the destination. The driver eyed her and nodded; she could sense the scorpio picking speed and close to 7-8 minutes had passed, there was no sign of Jaal. She looked back hoping to catch the bikes light but she caught three men staring at her. Soon the power windows rolled up and the scorpio came to a stand still somewhere around side ridge road; she was pulled out to the back seat and she knew there was no Jaal coming and there was no point in protesting…it was a consensual rape…a rape which never became a ‘news’ in the Saturday the fourteenth paper.

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Jaal seeing Tarkeeb’s idea of profiting more had waited for the right moment and it was a simple deal with the scorpio chap…a simple web on Friday the thirteenth. Tarkeeb and his wife were not be seen thereafter…

Gurgaon-Concrete Jungle

Gurgaon as a city, from National Highway No. 8, looks superb; major corporate buildings flanking both sides of the road, the NH 8 with series of flyovers, qualis, honda's, smaller cars compete with audi's, jaguar's, rolls-royce and high-end bikers accelerating and racing on the NH, malls and lots of malls, metro connecting the malls, high-rise apartments...

From these virtues emerge vices...speed deaths on the NH, firing including corporate firings and labor unrest, traffic jams,flooding, uncouth local population including those in power with tongues perennially lashing abuses in crude hariyanavi dialect, green fields being converted into high-rise apartments...the list goes on.

Gurgaon - essentially a village given guru drona has metamorphosed into concrete jungle with zero infrastructure in place-not even sewage system and public transport with metro being subverted to prime locations of prime estate developers. Come rainy season, the roads are only fit for navigation vide boats and traffic piles up for minimum 3 hours, NH-8 included.

dabba-the tiffin carrier

Carrying a tiffin box to office, that too a three tier tiffin carrier, after 12 years seemed very strange to me. Obviously I would have continued consuming yawn evoking food served at office but for the right wrist fracture. The very sight of a stainless-steel tiffin carrier conjures in mind a different time period and thus, the aversion of carrying it; the outer plastic dabba for insulation purpose is a saving feature. The habit of carrying tiffin ceased when i entered college; I vehemently and successfully resisted my mom's idea of continuing with my old oval stainless-steel school tiffin box. The oval tiffin box was my sole faithful companion to school right till my 12th; curd-rice with lemon pickle or roti with tomato onion sabji were my favorites.

Another dabba which I stumbled upon was that of Stanley's; an amazing film on child labor by amol gupte. The plot revolves around stanley who does not gets his dabba and khadus-the hindi teacher (played by amol gupte) who also does not carry his dabba but feasts on students dabbas. The dabba, metaphorically also appeared to me as referring to stanley's fertile tales about his mother (when he pens an essay on his mother, the way his mother prepares his dabba). A must-watch film - would compel the viwers to jog their memory to school days, having lunch in-beetween periods, teachers-good & bad etc.

Here comes Monday…followed by…

One sentiment which I share with Pakkada of pasanga fame is looking up the calender for holidays and now the list of holidays circulated by the HR. Life was not all about commuting to Gurgaon daily…school, college and advocacy was all punctuated with regular dosage of holidays. These holidays have dried up, no point in looking the holiday list; the last one was in April and the next one is in August. Life is fixated on reaching the Friday evening so as to enjoy Saturday and Sunday. But as Saturday dawns, the feeling of coming Monday sinks in and the weekend goes in brooding and mulling how to sail through mon-fri…I would not call it sailing through…it is akin to a test-match innings…play it innings by innings…pre-lunch and post lunch session. The sole aim, suddenly has become to arrive at Friday evening!

"The calender is an indispensable requisite of modern civilized life." - Meghnad Saha

krishna, narmada & tunnel

Train journey always excites me and brings out the kid in me; the green fields, rivers, hillocks, small stations to big junctions, red and black soils, the chambal ghatti, the music train produces....the route of tamilnadu express always fascinated me so much so i remained awake to see river krishna around 1am after vijayawada. The narmada river just before bhopal and the tunnel section between bhopal-itarsi happen to be my favorites. Over the years we adopted the bangalore route for to & fro and literally gave up the tamilnadu line. It was almost after a decade that i was back on the line but this time on different train and time setting; however the madurai sampark kranti just got delayed to enable me to cover the river krishna, river narmada and tunnel section; this time i felt that forest in the tunnel section had dwindled and was not spectacular as it used to be - the awe perhaps has diminished little bit (grown-up effect).

Dear Grandma

Na jaayate mriyate vaavipascit
Naayam kutascin-na babhuuva kascit
Ajo nityah saasvato yam puraano
Na hanyate hanyamaane sarire

The intelligent aatman is not born, nor does He die.
He did not spring from anything and nothing sprang from him.
This unborn, eternal, evelasting, ancient is
Not slain even when the body is destroyed.
- Kathopanisad

As I write this, far away in trichy, the mortal body of my beloved maternal grandma shall be consigned to agni, the agni devouring the flesh and the bones. She is very close to my heart; death may take away the frail body but not sweet memories etched in my heart. I’ve all through, spent my summer vacations with her, listening to her sweet voice narrating stories after stories about her tryst with peoples and lord murugan. Certainly, being the first grandson, I was her pet; with all fondness she would over-serve me (rather all, even strangers too). Her food serving style was testimony to her magnanimous heart; even in this June she distributed all the marriage sweets to all the visitors. I would keenly await the arrival of her magic vibhuti for my exams and credit for passing all the exams goes to her and my mom’s prayers. It was she who taught me sandhyvandaman mantras and it is because of her initiation, I still perform my morning duty.

Her life was marked by ‘sacrifices’ – for supporting and raising grandpa’s siblings, marrying them off, raising her own kids, borrowing and repaying the debts. It is indeed remarkable how she single-handedly managed her finances and savings and took care of her daughters after the death of my grandpa; perhaps a trait (the fighting spirit) common to that generation.

She also had some frailties; long hours of looking into horoscopes (all for free), food habits and lack of regular walking were prime ones which resulted in slow heart pumping. It was in the month of December 2005, she suffered her major attack but she hung on, hung on to see the death of her 3rd grandchild and my marriage. Just a month ago she emerged victoriously from the ventilator but complications compiled. Yesterday, she was at the nursing home narrating to the doctor her problems and suddenly, without any sign, life ebbed away in a span of five to ten minutes. Death was an unexpected visitor! Perhaps, persons of her rasi/lagnam bid farewell suddenly.

This june I prostrated before her with fond hopes of meeting again in November. But fate had other plans. This morning the vaadhiyar, as usual arrived late and over phone I heard the chants and final procedure being executed and finally the wails when the body was lifted. I cannot comment on the desirability of such procedures.

I only hope the aatma continues to shower blessings. I have some bookish knowledge which has taught me to distinguish the bodiless soul from the perishable body and thus, not to grieve. Tears do emerge on the thought of having separated permanently. But I have sweet memories to cherish which death cannot take away…of course…I wait on.

Daughter & father-Bond between

This has been the month of re-runs; had repeat watch of pasanga, tamil padam and abhium naanum. The last mentioned tamil film touches the bond shared between a father played by prakash raj and his daughter played by trisha. The film is simple in plot but portrays the emotions beautifully; an affectionate father (would seem over affectionate) a confident daughter who chooses her life partner on her own, marraige and eventually moving away from her father's place. This scenario is not out of place in normal indian households (of course there exists option between love and arranged marriage). This is prakash raj's second film as a possessive father (santosh subramanyam) and I have become his fan since gilli, mozhi, velli theeray etc.

The relationship between daugher and her father may be taken as granted but given the concept of settling at husband's place, the wedding day shatters the grantedness. More painful is the day when girl's parents bid her adieu at the railway platform/airport/bus-stand after leaving her at her hubby's place. And this I realised when I came to know about my fil crying after boarding the train and my wife crying for an hour later at zero hours. Again after three months, while watching this movie, tears trickled from my wife's eyes and by the time we finished teh film and went to our room, tears flowed like a river. And the unspoken and unsaid bond and affection between a father and his girl dawned on me. Given the fabric of indian household, the girls slowly move away from fathers (usually reciprocated) but affection remains and deepens.

“Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.” - Joseph Addison