One of those days...

For normal people the cause of depression will be, maybe a heart-break, fight with boy friend, parents divorce, friends betrayal…but not for me. For me the cause of depression last Friday was a PRESS CONFERENCE. Yes, as weird and impossible as it may sound to you, it is very much true, and possible with my fate. The fact that it was not one of ‘the best days of my life’, might have had something to aggravate my depression, but nevertheless, this can not undermine the role that PRESS CONFERENCE played in bringing out those watery captives from the prison of my eyes.
It was on that fateful Thursday, the 11th of this month. I got up and realized I was too lazy to boil water, which I have to do because I am too lazy to go and buy a rod (also the fact that I am concerned about my electricity bill, now with standing). So, I took a bath from chilling tap water, for those of you who don’t know, I stay in Delhi and Delhi in winters is like a Harry Potter land where there is a constant presence of Dememtors in the area.
So, after cursing the place, god, my landlord and my office, I set out for my office. One of the most irritating things about Delhi is, that busses don’t stop at the bus stop if there is no passenger who wants to get down or else you are not literally standing in front of the bus, waving your hands high up your head, creating a doubt about your sanity in the minds of those who are not used to this kind of humiliation and are not aware about the limited viewing capacity of the bus drivers.
So, while I was waving my hands like I am trying to catch butterflies in the middle of the street, five bus drivers decided that I was actually doing that and ignored my pleas to stop. Finally, at 9:50 (my office starts at 9:30) a buss driver decided to show some pity on me and stopped the bus. It was as usual stuffed with legs and hands and sweat. I didn’t even bother to try to get past these as I knew I will only be beaten up by the crowd. So, I was standing right at the edge of the bus. A word of advice for those who plan to follow my example, DON’T DO IT. The drivers not only lack visual capabilities, but are completely ignorant that they are actually carrying a bus full of people, most of them hanging on others and bits of metal for dear life. So he made sure that I was swinging like a pendulum and hit each and every part of my body, with either a person pushing his way to get down or from the many rods in the bus.
Finally I arrived at Nehru Place and by them I assure you every joint in my body was paining and screeching for a massage. Thinking about beautiful resorts and spas, I made my way to my office building. I missed the lift and had to wait for some five minute before another arrived. Some how I knew that my day has just started, and was I right or what? The lift got stuck at 3rd floor (my office is at 4th) and after five minutes of everyone in the lift trying their hands at the panel, the lift started juggling upwards and stopped at the 10th floor directly. I rushed back down and slipped, making the two very executive type (good-looking though) men almost giggle. They offered for help but I was too embarrassed to even look at them, so I nodded my head and said something about water on the stairs (it was as dry as an autumn leaf) and left. I kept wondering all the way to my office that why does it so happen that whenever some good-looking man passes me, my life becomes a horror story. Meeting good-looking men is jinxed for me I guess.
So, after reaching my office, I asked for a cup of tea as usual, which I have become quite addicted to, and my brain simply refuses to work without it. Guess what? My tea machine was broken and I couldn’t get any. Typical na? So, I decided to order some tea and biscuits from down stairs ‘chaiwala’. However, before I could even complete this thought, I made the suicidal mistake of telling my boss that there was a press conference of Microsoft today and before I could complete even that thought (which was of not going there) my boss requested (which as an employee when came down to me looked like an order) to go there. I went to see him and told him that I didn’t think it was wroth it. Only that I didn’t say it that way, I said “What do I do in this press conference”. Yes, I know it sounds like the fish is asking how to swim and the reaction you would have given your employee was the same that I received. Which was a blank look and a repetition of the same question in a half-irritated and a half-awed voice. After repeating after me, my boss said I know there is no news there, but go and make contacts at least. I agreed to do the same, for which I paid a heavy price I must say.
I was supposed to go to Taj palace at Sujan Singh Park. I am fairly new to Delhi and haven’t really got a chance to explore the place. And honestly, I am so bad with directions and remembering the name of roads and places that I wouldn’t have been able to tell the rikshawala directions as and how. So, when you have my sense of direction, you have to depend on the rikhshwala to know the place and trust him completely. That day, I asked five rikhshwala to take me there and all in turn asked me if I knew where it was. So, I gave them the look my boss gave me and went ahead to look for another one. Finally, I got a guy who agreed to take me there, however the person who got off the rik before I got in went to some office in the interior of Nehru place, as he forgot his money and had to borrow from someone. This whole process took some 15 minutes during which time the rikhshwala and I were waiting for the guy the come back. After that he drove to Taj at such an excruciatingly slow and cautious way (I am so used to fast driving in Delhi), that I almost dozed off and was rudely awaken by him. I paid him and entered the hell hole (Imagine paying to go to hell!).
I must mention here that the press con was supposed to start at 11:15 and I was dot on time, considering all the odds. However, it is a cardinal mistake to expect a press con to start on time. All though I was expecting an half and hour delay for the proceedings to take place, what followed was unacceptable. There were no chairs to sit on and because they had five laptops and smart phones they wanted to give away to people, who win a very idiotic game I must say, there were flocks of journalist pilling up in that room, which was half the size of a big classroom (the other half was occupied by their banners and laptops for groups to play). Everyone knows that Vista and the smart phones by Microsoft aren’t doing well, so it was basically a promotional strategy. They had set up some laptops in various colors, blue, green, etc and two people were standing around it, making us understand the so called ‘new features’. The lady at the podium started the meet by 12:30, which means that that for nearly a hour and a half we were simply standing and looking at strangers , and as the AC (in winters) was on full blast, our legs were shivering from the effort of standing and bearing the cold as well. That lady herself was smiling like a maniac (literally) and speaking of oceans and skies at a Microsoft Press con. Go figure! Even the PR guys I later heard were flabbergasted by her lack of intelligence. Even for a Marcom person, she was dumb.
We were sorted out in groups and after listening to that lady go on and on about describing the various colors (in which we were sorted), we were sent to laptops under each color platform and were educated about the features. The features were not only old and nothing extraordinary, but also the people talking about them looked like they were being tortured by having to handle us. Lame jokes and scripts that they had prepared (friend-talking-to friend act) added to our misery. I remember one man in particular, who was telling us about this new feature in MSN (which is owned by Microsoft) where one can customize their smiley. The smiley he chose to customize as an example for us was the kissing one. A middle-aged man kissing on a chat box, which fills up completely with his cracked lips, in a press conference, is not a pretty sight, trust me you. While the rest of my colleagues were smiling or looking at their feet, I was openly gaping at the man.
Also the mad lady on the podium was counting down to 10 in every few minutes and pressing the buzzer until she saw some ear bleeding. After that I didn’t have the heart or sense to take in the rest of what went on.
The reason I went there was to meet Hemant their new Joint MD for online and marketing. He was sucked in from Bharti and I was told to make ‘contact’ as is necessary in our line of business. He came around one and addressed the meeting for some 10 minutes. In fact I think those 10 minutes was the only worthwhile period of those three hours I spent there.
However, he came by 1:15 and the whole circus, with the games played and stuff, was done by 2. By that time we all had been standing for almost three hours straight. By now, most of the journalists were sitting on the floor completely exhausted. Luckily there was a rug and they had the comfort of knowing that their asses wouldn’t freeze, like their legs had.
Before they announced the winners, they requested us to join them for lunch. Most of us have our food by 1, so you can imagine how hungry we must be by 2. I, for one left office without having anything so I was famished. However, the line was so big and people so hungry that I didn’t really get a chance to eat properly. Also the fact that the whole set-up of the stalls was done in a space of 3 foot, didn’t help the situation. By then I was done with the whole thing and left on the verge of tears. I reached office, abused everyone and everything, bitched about the whole damm press con, cried a bit (as I was in office) and had momo’s (veg one’s).

When Mumbai got raped once again

27th November, it was the day I had to go to Jodhpur for a press conference. My flight was at 12, so I was peacefully sleeping. At 8 my friend called me and gave me the news of Mumbai terrorist attack that happened previous night. I will very honestly confess that I heard the news half asleep, nodded my head and went back to sleep. I will not get into this whole discussion of how numb and selfish we have become. It is a reality lets accept it. Yes, we have become numb, because we are not left with much choice.
Should we blame the government and the security lapse? I think we should and we have to. We pay taxes heavily for our security and anyone who is even a little interested in the finance world, will know that every country keeps the maximum and a flexible budget for security of the country. Should we blame the politicians? Yes we should, because their job profile clearly states that they are responsible for our safety.
And last but not the least, should we blame our selves? Yes, we should. Not only because we have become numb, but also because we are not joining politics and making a difference. I read a post by Khusboo, a very dear friend of mine on face book, about five minutes ago. And God, was I frustrated by that post or what. The reason I avoid reading opinions in newspapers because it tells me things I already know. The post like many of that same nature spoke a lot about how we are realizing the impact of “terrorism” because it’s happening in our own backyard right now. Sorry to say but it was always happening in our backyard, it’s just that now we have forums like facebook and blogpost and everyone has decided to start writing on these subjects.
I do not want to say here, that the writing in its own effect was bad or wrong. No, it was not. Although I do feel that it did not ask the basic question, which I would like everyone who reads this blog to ask themselves at least once. Why did a 25 year old man become a terrorist? What has gone so wrong with the world that people are ready to kill themselves and others for absolutely no rhyme or reason? What is it that we as individuals and a country can do to save these self-destructive people from themselves and others from them as well?
I have a few theories on what can be the reason for all this, which I do not claim to be an absolute truth. As mentioned it is a theory and I would like everyone to look at them that way. Now, as to why a person picks up a gun, there are multiple reasons behind it. They are brain washed by a few leaders who want political power and their own pawns in the system being the most logical one. Although I don’t think that these leaders are the main problem. They are simply playing the old game, which has been a tried and tested formula for every leader, but with new weapons.

The mail focus for me, is that individual and his issue with the system that makes his mind so vulnerable to such manipulations. He could be poor, or an educated engineer with no work or someone who has been fooled to believe that the rest of the communities are being unfair to his community or religion and he is only reacting on their behalf. In all these cases, it is the collective responsibility of the state to take care of that individual. To make sure that none of these reasons rise for some 25 year old to pick up arms.
Looking at the second question, I would say that the thing wrong with all of us is that we have simply forgotten the importance of being personal and everything is too mechanical and technical these days. It has led to a lot of insecurities popping up amongst the common man. We are so engrossed in our own lives and computers, we simply forget to even look at what our friends or family or even a neighbor, is going through. It has kind of made us blind to their problems and issues. And here I am talking about ‘terrorist’ who are not living in the Kashmir’s of this world. They are in fact a part of our neighborhood in Delhi and Mumbai.
Terrorist living in remote areas have different things working for them. Things like poverty or an Afzal Guru scenario, where a person is forced to become a terrorist by holding their families hostages by these so called leaders. In these areas only our leaders can help them by empowering them with a job or security for their families. Or else one of us can join politics. And yes I am thinking about it myself.
So, should we kill these terrorist. Maybe yes we should. But will this solve the problem of terrorism. I think not. What we have to tap at is the root cause of all this. One of the very obvious of which is development. And here I do not mean making flyovers and dams. Development is changing the attitude of the people. India is a developing country where people earning lakhs of ruppess pee on the road. I think this statement should make you stop and think.

Also, we have to learn ourselves and educate those around us that religion is a personal faith and if somebody tells us that their religion is better than ours we should simply keep devotion to ours and not start reacting to it. As this is what the religious heads do to poke at our most sensitive and intimate belief.
Secondly, please let’s get out of our computer mode and take some time out of our busy lives for our friends and family. How long has it been that you have called one of your closest friends who are not in the same city? Or met those who are in the same city. How many of us take out 10 minutes out of our busy schedule to talk to our parents or siblings or kids or spouses? To know what is it that they are going through or maybe just to know how was their day. It might sound very naïve but this is the only way to make sure that a kid is not lured towards extremism because he doesn’t have parents to talk to at home and seeks solace in god and these so called religious heads to get close to someone.
Yes, we can protest and wave flags, but if we do not even communicate personally with our own selves, the cause is effectively lost.

My anthem

There are words everywhere
Words of hope and despair
There are voices screeching away from the enclosed darkness of our homes
And there are voices singing them from the yellow of the sun
But when they enter the walls of my mind
And make themselves comfortable in the corners of it
They squeeze their colors which reflect in me.
Then are all those colors yours?
And am I simply a painting made by you
I think so not
Because in your voices these colors rot
And smelled of the putrid past or
Tasted of the rush of the future
I plucked them from their backyard of past
And caught them while they ran on the path of future
And planted my dreams and hopes on these seeds
Those seeds might be yours but the dreams are mine
The thought might be yours but I am the one who has made them flourish with the water of my reasoning and interpretations
I am not blind and should I choose to see from your eyes,
The choice would be mine
The repercussions will be mine
For, only I am the sole reason for making me
And none shall ever blame thee
For who I am and what I shall be.

A day in my Life

I live alone in Delhi. No big deal, a lot of people do. So, don’t worry this is not another run-of-the mill piece where I am wallowing in the hardships of living alone. I actually quite enjoy myself. But this isn’t about my oh-so-perfect life either. Actually, it’s a part of that perfect life. It’s about one of the most enjoyable and unforgettable day of my life.
Yes, so I live alone and although I love being by myself, having my family around is more than pleasurable. So, on Friday after convincing my dad that he can survive alone, my mum came down to visit me, ignoring the killer looks and heart-burn of my grandma (she personifies Shashikala's character of that typical Hindi movie mother-in-law) and many hints from my dad about his plight (For the life of him he can’t cook and actually I don’t think he should try either because nothing will be left of the kitchen if he ever attempts that feat). So, on Friday my mother and I had a very enjoyable evening wherein we went to Lajpat Nagar market, gossiped about our relatives, had an ice-cream and a gola and bitched about my relatives some more.
Next day my sisters (I have two elder sisters) were going to visit my place. My mum got up at 6 in the morning (thanks to my dad, who simply does not allow her to sleep after 5 because he goes to yoga at that time and obviously my mum has to do everything right from getting his clothes to making him tea, because as I mentioned earlier he is completely lost without her and cannot manage to even comb his hair on his own), and was tossing and turning on the mattress (I am a bachelor, I don’t have a bed!). No, I did not wake up because I am a sound sleeper and the world can crumble around me with cannons going off and aliens riding down with really noisy spaceships and I still wont get up! My mum tried sleeping till 7, gave up the attempt at 7:10 and then went to take a bath. She washed all my clothes (most of them did not require any cleaning according to me but she cleaned them anyway, out of boredom or because she was disgusted by my effort’s of keeping them clean, I do not know). She was done by 8 and by then she was fruitlessly trying to wake me up. Then by 9 she was done with making the breakfast and cleaning the house (my mum is a neat freak and cannot stand a dirty house). Although I said that even cannons blasting cannot wake me up, my mother washing dishes can. The clanking of the plates and cups were enough to wake the dead. So, I was very unceremoniously woken up and had no choice but to try and pick my body up to the bathroom (It often happens with me that when I wake up, although my mind is in my bathroom brushing my teeth my body simply refuses to make this surreal situation real). So after fighting the resistance that my body was offering ,I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth and washed my face. I then came out and had my breakfast .
Till then we didn't know if my sisters were coming home or not. As they have husbands who will simply refuse to take the responsibility of the kids until and unless it is thrust upon them.
But somehow my sisters managed to convince their husbands that the kids wouldn’t really blow off the place and try and kill them. So being relieved of this temporary job of a jailer they were to come to my place. To freedom at last! But well, one cannot expect exemption from all their responsibilities and roles. And the role that they simply couldn’t shake off was that of a cook. They had to cook food for their family which is nothing short of an army (joint family you see) and can definitely give the appetite of an army a run for their money (or machine guns, have your pick).
As my sisters were supposed to cook for their family, I had to cook for them. No big deal you would say, but what if you have put all the masala and are almost ready to cook your Dal when you realize that the valve of your cooker is missing? It means your cooker isn’t working properly. Did we panic? No we didn’t. I cooked in it and left the rest to god. Apparently it turned out to be just fine. The utensil in which I was to make sabzi for us was too small to hold sabzi made for four people (I guess it never occurred to me and my parents while buying utensils that I might have guest some day at my house or that I will ever cook for them. My relatives really do not believe me when I say I can cook, including my parents).
I managed somehow and it was also quite ok and eatable (I am quite good at cooking actually. And I personally believe that self-praise is necessary at times).
So, with these minor glitches I finished cooking. However, it was 1:30 and my sisters were no where in view. So, I called up their place to find out if they have left or not (both my sisters are married in the same family).
Here I would like to mention they have two phone lines, one upstairs and one down and both are interconnected. So I called them up and guess what, everyone in the house decided to pick up the phone (the attention that you get form your family!). I first spoke to my sister’s mother-in-law but I could not do more than exchange a few pleasantries with her as my oldest niece (14 year old) snatched the phone from her hand, she apparently wanted to talk to me about something but could not because before she managed to take my name, her brother (8 year old) took the phone from her. After this it was a complete chaos! My younger sister’s kid’s (3 and 9 years respectively) picked up the phone from upstairs and all four were fighting on the phone, while in the same house! Yes that’s my wonderful family for you. And what was I doing the whole time? Trying to catch their attention and worry about my prepaid acc getting over. But alas! I failed to make my voice hear over their fighting and was completely denied my existence on the phone by them. Then my brother-in-law came on the phone, and wouldn’t you expect a grown man to sort this mess out? Well, with my family you cant. Instead of telling them all to shut up and keep the phone, he joined in the fighting and in fact started fuelling the brawl. As optimistic as I am, even I gathered that this is not getting me anywhere and I kept the phone without even bothering to say good-bye.
After that we had no option to wait for my sisters to turn up soon. You must be wondering why I didn’t simply call them up on their cells. They are completely technologically challenged and I did not know if they would have got their cell phones with them, which they don’t most of the time. Also, as everyone in my family is partially deaf and cannot hear their mobiles, even if it’s shouting on top of its voice (again and again) and craving for their attention, I knew it was pointless calling them.
It was almost 2:30 now and I was dying of hunger. Finally at 2:40 I decided to have my food as people who know me will tell you that I do not like to ignore natures call (yes of all kinds).
Luckily before I could attack my food with the knife of my hunger, my doorbell rang and my sisters were there. No, I did not get angry at them or greet them, but told them to join me later as I simply couldn’t wait anymore to eat (I could imagine the food begging me too). My sisters joined me before I could manage to get the first bite in (thanks to my super fast mum) and we had a very hearty and enjoyable lunch spiced up with lots of gossip, family and otherwise.
Then we decided to go to Chandini Chowk, as my mum and sis both wanted to buy saris and suits. Most of you must be aware that in India, once married very few ladies wear jeans and t-shirts as their husband’s family isn’t really comfortable with it. Same is the case is with my sisters. So, my younger sister decided to wear my jeans and t-shirt (my elder one didn’t as my jeans couldn’t fit her). Even my mum, who never wears anything but sari, was wearing a salwar kameez.
So, after this makeover was finished we went to catch the rickshaw. Riding on a road of jokes, laughter, light conversation with many bumps and a driver in a lot of hurry, who did not think of us more than human luggage and whose conscience did not screech at him when he drove too fast and nearly hit every vehicle on the road, we reached our destination.
We shopped for nearly two hours and had walked the length of the Bazaar. The crowd was unbelievable and there were enough people there to create a whole new state. The place itself was full of dilapidated shops, and here is where we see irony which can be only found in India, that these shops did a business of more than a crore every year. I imagined the place without the smell of the sweat and the voice of a person and shuddered involuntarily.
I was suffocating and not just by the crowd but from the way the shopkeepers where throwing the exorbitant prices of the most ordinary stuff at us. The fact that people where actually buying them (including my sister) now withstanding. You see I have recently started earning and have suddenly realized the importance money holds. However, the smiles of the would-be brides and their expectant faces along with a pout of a child and the stubborn argument of a girl to buy only the most expensive dress in the shop with her father, were enough to offset the otherwise glumness of the place.
We did our shopping and were ready to go back home. We didn’t find a rickshaw for nearly an hour. When we finally did, we went to 3C’s (a restaurant) in lajpat nagar to eat. My elder sister and I left my younger sis and mum to choose the dinner while we went to the loo to freshen ourselves. After looking at the prices of food items there, my mom decided that we better go to some other place. So, we took a bottle of water (paid more than the MRP, but didn’t really have any choice as we were all dying of thirst) and went to Haldiram’s. Although the prices were no less, my coupons (which I get from office) worked here (We Indian’s can spend 5000 through coupons but 500 in form of cash seems like a lot to us!)
By then my brother-in-law was begging my sisters to return as my niece’s and nephews had fought and blood was shed on both sides. My sisters were ignoring him and I was convincing him to make the kids have haffem (drug) and put them off to sleep.
Although this did not really convince him, he did let my sisters stay as it was already 8:30 by the time we finished with dinner and being the paranoid that he is, he didn’t want them to travel back home so late.
So, after doing a quick jig in Haldiram’s and entertaining people, we went back home. We all changed into my many ‘ghar ke kapade’ (night suits and stuff), we had a cup of tea while watching old songs on my cable TV and some more discussion about my unique and weird family.
Later that night we watched ‘Singh is King’, with special comments from everybody, making the movie 10 times funnier. Had tea at 12 in the night and went off to sleep while talking at 2 in the morning.
That day I did not dream because no dream could compete with the day I had just lived in real life.

A Wednesday

I saw A Wednesday last night. Finally! I had heard so much about the movie that I was extremely excited about it before it even started. I must say that I made the cardinal mistake of expecting a great movie from a good script. Alas! I was profoundly disappointed in that area. It was a good movie, yes. However, I think it could have been better.
Let me first say what I found good in this movie. The best part about this movie was that Nasserudin Shah’s name was not revealed. The reason that by revealing his name his religion would have also been revealed, was something that made me think that if Neeraj Pandey (writer and director of the movie) learns the finesse of film making, he can create great cinema. Secondly, I think that this movie raised a host of questions (for me) which are extremely important for us to understand and ask ourselves.
First, how little do we take into account the meaning of the word ‘life’, whether of a terrorist or a common man? It doesn’t matter who is killing or who is dieing, the question that is left to be pondered upon is that before killing do we even consider that a ‘life’ is been robbed away from a body, which can be the embodiment of so many relationships and emotions. Those relationships and emotions lost in the void forever, never to be formed again, leaving not just that person dead, killing a part of those connected to him or her. How is it possible that these thoughts never occur to those who indulge in this heinous crime?
The feeling of numbness and hatred that is being planted in the minds of the common man is something to think about. The fact that this man, who doesn’t have any direct link to violence per say, doesn’t hesitate in killing those terrorist was something that made me shudder. Imagine the kind of numbness and emptiness, that man would have felt before doing exactly what he was against. It shows that when such crimes are committed, they simply do not take away the life of people, but passes on that evilness to those who have survived it. And we are being thrown into a situation, where we become the monster that we set out to destroy.
Another thing that the movie was quite successful in portraying was the threat that the technology is posing to the world. I work for an IT magazine and I know that computers, although have replaced our best friends can be our worst nightmares as well. As was quite apparent in the movie.
There are multiple reasons why this movie doesn’t become what it should have been. First and foremost the script could have been crisper and tighter. Unnecessary scenes adorn the screen. The actress who plays Nina Roy looks good in an item song, but as an actor she ruined the movie for me. Whenever she was on-screen the only thought that crossed my mind is why in the name of god was she chosen for this role? And please do not insult my intelligence by telling me that a reporter, not even a hot-shot one, can take a camera-man and a van and roam around the city without any consultation with her editor. Only a Barkha Datta will be able to do a fete like such and Nina Roy was no Barkha Datta. The idiocy of our media is well-known but can be please have some sort of reality about how it works seeped in as well?
Secondly, the character of Jimmy Shergil was not explored the way it should have been. Yes, don’t give the guy any dialogue and let his body speak for him. But in that case also some sort of a background, the reason he became the most feared policeman, had to be shown. Also, the character's should have been explored rather than making them a simple accessory in the movie. Which didn't make sense any how because the central message of the movie was how the common man has set out to kill these terrorist before they can kill him. So, these terrorist need to have a character and not just a body and a name. If the director would have gone even a little further in establishing the reasons behind why and how these terrorists are made, this would have been a fabulous movie.
The scene where the terrorist is reminiscing about his childhood fell flat on its face. Was it written to supply as a support to the dialogue later by jimmy or was it written to make the audience understand their psychology? The message was lost on me. A lot of such senseless scenes are there in the movie which should have been deleted from the mind of the writer the moment he thought about them. But alas! He didn’t do it and ruined the effect that this movie could have created.

The stranger in the night.

It was raining heavily that evening. She was standing at a bus stop waiting for her bus, cursing the rain that had rendered her wet. Her long open wet hair were sticking to her neck and back and felt like thorns penetrating through her dress. She was feeling extremely helpless, as she couldn’t fight her black.
As if her hair wasn’t causing her enough problems, the rain was fighting its way down to earth as warriors with arrows on them, shooting madly at anyone and everyone. She sighed and accepted defeat. It seemed as if the forces of nature have come together to make creases appear on her forehead.
She was looking around, as she didn’t know what else to do, when her eyes fell on a long figure looming towards her. He looked like a mass of darkness to her hiding behind the veil of rain, which had by now wrapped the black of the night around itself.
The man didn’t even notice her and went a little ahead; spread his arms, tilting his head upwards and started revolving slowly on the spot, with a huge grin on his face. She looked sideways and was surprised to find no camera or movie crew around him. She was a little taken aback by this erratic behavior.

But then she looked at his peaceful face, which arouse this sudden urge in her to join him in his solo act. Suddenly, he looked at her and asked, “Do you have face wash on you”? She was so taken aback by his question and the suddenness of it that she merely gaped at him and after a moment said “What”? “Face wash! You know the thing that cleans your face”, he said. “I know what a face wash is!” she said. “Then why are you gaping at me like I am from mars and I have asked you why do you have two eyes on you?” he asked. “ a) I am not gaping at you and b) you do look like you are from mars”, she replied. “Why because I am enjoying this beautiful weather the way it should be?” he asked looking quite amused at her stunned reaction. “No, because I think you are just trying to get some attention by acting like this. It's not necessary to go all Bollywood to enjoy rain”, she replied.

“Do you realize your nose is too long", he said. “What?” she asked again. “Is that your favorite word or is it that your dictionary isn’t comprehensive enough?” he asked smirking. “No, it’s just that when I meet people like you my intelligenece fails to understand such giberish”, she retorted turned away from him.
“I like your hands”, he said staring at her fingers. “Would you like me to choke you with them? I am capable of doing that”, she replied still looking on the other side of the road.

"You should have bought that chocalate that you wanted so bad. It's very rare that you get a chance to have what you want in life", he smiled at her. She turned around and looked him in the eye. The intensity in them threw her a step back. “How do you know I wanted a chocalate? Have you been following me? Are you a mugger or a stalker?” she asked, her voice betraying her fear. His eyes glinted and he replied, “Naw even better. I am a rapist”, he said and started moving towards her. Two things hit her at the same time. First, that he might just be the person that he is claiming to be. Second, somewhere in the last two minutes the black of the night and the balck of his eyes had amalgamated into one.

He was close enought for her to smell his cologne. She could not say if it smelled like roses or lilies or wood, but her nostrils were pleasantly surprised to know that it smelled good. She tried going back but her legs were temporary paralyzed from fear. Or maybe it was excitement. She didn’t know which. Her ideas told her that she should be scared as she didn’t even know him and he was going to touch her without her permission. But a part of here wanted to feel what he could do to her.

Was she actually going to let this man touch her? How could she? What was she, a bloody whore. She don’t even know him. How could she fantasize sleeping with him? The image of her father came into her mind and she shuddered at the thought of having him in there along with these thoughts. She feared her reaction more than his actions. She feared that she might actually enjoy this.
At that moment, he took her in his arms and kissed her fiercely and forced her to let him enter her mouth. She did. He then stopped abruptly and moved away from her. He started going the other way and then turned back and smiled at her, “I don’t think I will ever taste anything so sweet ever again". He turned on his heels and left.

She stood there looking at this stranger who gave her the taste of her first kiss. She wasn’t bothered about his name or his face. He was just a moment and the best moment of her life.

Life goes on…

I was reading about the stampede in the Naina Devi temple, in Himachal Pradesh, which caused 145 lives. One of the devotees, namely Ram Prakash, said, "It's a question of faith. The tragedy does raise a question in your mind but faith is supreme. Life has to go on”. Life goes on…this is not the first time that I have heard this sentence being used after such tragic incidents. I have been hearing them for quite some time now. Being from Mumbai, this theory or philosophy has more or less been a part of my personality. Actually, it was made to be a part of my personality. There is a blast, don’t stop for a moment and think about it, start moving about, after all, life goes on. I am on stage and not feeling well, but I have to act, after all, life goes on. There is riot going on in Virar and I have a meeting in Andheri, I can’t get scared and stay at home, after all, life goes on. I had a heart-break, but I can’t moan it, come on yaar, it was just a crush, move on; after all, life goes on. Sister’s cancer, brother’s feud with parents, professional and personal insecurities, cutting through all these, life goes on.
But can we pause for a moment and think where exactly is it going on. If there was a rumor in the Naina Devi temple that there is a landslide, because of which so many died, who started these rumors and why? What happened to the victim’s family? Are they aware of their loss yet? What about those who were injured? Are they all right now? And what about the fear that must have been imbedded in the next set of devotees due the next day. Why can’t they take a day or two and realize the loss of others and their good fortune. Why do they want to be numb and move on when there is so much left to do in the past? Why don’t they help others and realize that a tragedy has occurred, and not just dismiss the dead as mere numbers. Why not moan for a while for the lives that were lost and families that were destroyed?
We always do this to ourselves and others. I remember that day when the serial train blast took place in Mumbai in 2006. Remember it like it was yesterday. Four trains left churchgate station that day, out of which three were blasted into oblivion. I was luckily in the fourth one, on which a bomb wasn't planted. Although, I was suppose to be in the one that was blasted first. I used to catch that train everyday for more or less two years then.
That day also I sat in the train, but was somehow unsure of continuing on it. I was hungry, but also wanted to reach my house on time and this being a fast train would have help me reach my place as fast as possible. I was undecided and almost ignored my stomach cramps and the seducing smell of the kathi roll from the nearby food junction.
However, my hunger won in the face of my willingness to sit comfortably in that first class compartment, and reach home quickly while catching a nap in between. I jumped from the moving train and went to buy my roll.
When I came back the train was obviously gone and there was one slow train for Borivali and one for Andheri. As I live in Goregaon, it was obvious that I should take a Borivali slow, otherwise I would have to change another train if I took the latter. But somehow, I landed up in that Andheri train, which I wasn’t suppose to catch and saw the Borivali one pass by, regretting my decision of not catching it and wondering why I didn’t? In fact I had half a mind of jumping from this train as well and catching the Borivali one. But something pulled me back and I didn’t. Wondering all the way up till Dadar what was it? That is when lights in my compartment went off and my train stopped with a sudden jerk. It was raining heavily outside and no one knew what was happening. Suddenly an SMS came to a lady sitting next to me, who informed us that a train has been blasted. We dismissed it as a rumor and sat tight in the train hoping it will start soon. It didn’t, and the rumors started getting wilder. It seems now there were three blasts. I got scared and started calling up my family and friends. I couldn’t get through and by then I was seriously panicking. I got out of the train and ran out of the Dadar station. I went under the pull right outside the station and went straight to a PCO. Now for people who haven’t been to Mumbai, Dadar station in one of the major connecting points of the city, and is always crowded no matter what time of the day you decide to go there.
But on that day, it seemed like half the population of Mumbai was there on the roads. It was jam packed and mostly with men. I must admit that seeing so many men together intimidated me a bit. I had no clue where all the women where, but at that point apart from a few here and there, I was the only one. I dashed towards a PCO and tried calling home again. By then, it was raining cats and dogs and I was completely wet ( I never carry an umbrella with me). I couldn’t get through as phones were jammed, which we came to know later. I asked a man standing there, what was happening who said he had no clue. No one knew what was happening and everyone was stranded on the road hoping that the trains will start soon.
However, I decided that I will take a taxi and go home. I beckoned a taxi who refused to go. Another one wasn’t interested either and his feelings were passed on to the next one. I was soaking wet and my books, which couldn’t fit in my bag, were falling out of my hands and were almost ripped apart. Finally a taxi guy took pity on me and saved me from getting desolved in the heavy rains. By then it was confirmed by our radio jockey’s that indeed trains were blasted, and many have died. That explained the dead phone lines and abandoned trains on the platforms. I was anxious to get back home and be with my parents. Blasts were always somebody else’s tragedy and were never a part of my life. But now, it had touched my life, allthough not in a big way, but it still had. I was concerned about my friends and didn’t know if they were safe or not. Suddenly two girls and one woman, who I vaguely remember as seeing on the same compartment as I was in, came in front of my window and pleaded me to take them in. I did and the four of us, who weren’t aware of each other’s existence till then, embarked upon a journey to safety.We didn’t talk much and were only concerned about getting to our respective houses fast, praying that all was well with the rest of the family as well.
We sat quietly, trying to get our mobiles work every now and then, got frustrated when they stubbornly refused to and cursed the mobile companies in return . Finally, I got through my place and the relief in my father’s voice was an indication of how worried he must be. The way my mother was giving me instruction of how to come home straight, without stopping anywhere, showed how nearly in tears she was just moment ago. Voice of my brother from behind enquiring about me, showed how he must have been trying my number every two minutes, praying that it will ring and I will pick up. I was just assuring them that I was ok, when the phone went dead again. But at least my parents knew I was alive.
One by one all the other occupants of the taxi left and I was the only one riding it. Suddenly, in Jogeshwari, a mob of men attacked my taxi and were trying to stop it. The taxi driver and I were scared to death, but didn’t have an option, but to stop. I wondered if a riot has broken out and wether these guys were fanatics who wanted to kill me. I am not a religious person, but at that moment, I think I would have flaunted my religion, in case those people belonged to the same community.
However, they were locals helping the many stranded on the road, by forcibly stopping the passing cars and taxis, and making them take the people who didn’t have a mode of transportation.
They were having an argument with the driver of my taxi to take a few with him, who was refusing stubbornly saying that I have girl sitting in my car and I won't allow any unknown man to come in. Finally, one guy realized I was sitting inside looking extremely pale and scared and he stopped the others from arguing. He got a really ageing man and told him to sit beside me. He then came to me and said, “Madame he is also going to Goregaon, please take him with you. We are sorry, but you know the trouble all of us are in and we have to stand by each other”.
I smiled at him and said it was no problem at all. I dropped that uncle at his place and went home. I reached my place at 10:30 that day and my parents have never been so happy to see me. I ate my food, called all my friends to make sure they were all right, and went to sleep.
Next day I realized, it was not an off and we were expected to go to our college. My dad was paranoid and refused to send me anywhere. He was abusing Deshmukh, who was talking about ‘Mumbai spirit’ and how ‘life goes on’ and how we should ‘move on’ and not let the terrorist think that they got us.
But the terrorist did get us. And I think I deserved some time to get over the fear of that evening. And many others who lost their loved ones needed time to moan their death and realize what has been done to them. But no, we were and are, not allowed to feel or think of what is happening. After all, life goes on…