Hot, Humid and Wet!

When you are loaded (over-loaded) with work, it’s obvious to skip the thought of home. But when you do, and you know you can (‘cause it’s time!), a heavy-laden cloud strikes the chord.

There is no mystery here. It’s simple. I was late to the University today (I slept late the last night because of work obviously). Entered the classroom after 15 minutes past the start of class, so without a doubt, was treated with rude, impolite words, “Be on time, or don’t come at all!” Grrrr…What a start to the day, I wondered. To everyone’s surprise in the class, the teacher was in no mood to speak. He made us present case studies. Separated the friends (you know how, the same ol’ tricks) - “Com’ on count 1, 2, 3…all the 1s come together", and so on. As if we didn’t understand, he went on to explain why he made us count. Yawn! All this was ok until he wrote Robot as “Roboat”. My stomach was itching to explode. He must have taken three round “boat” trips of the platform he stands on, to realise his “mistake”. I was still in the Boat! Then Group 1 presented the case study - poor guys couldn’t finish discussing. So, an incomplete presentation. It was my group’s turn next. They forced me to present. We needed two to present, so I dragged one along. Anyway, we did well, which obviously didn’t go well with the teacher (“She is the late-comer,” he might have thought!). Asked us question1, 2, 3, 4, 5… The period was over. We tried our best to answer. I’m pretty sure I made expressions of extreme dislike for him all along! Group 3 was called and then it was all over. Or was it? The class was still discussing the Boat!

“Sun on the head, but I still headed office!” Reached to discover that the work I did last night was approved and in the process of being sent as the final copy for yet another project. Sigh! 1 down, 2 to go. I worked, worked and worked till it was 6 p.m. (that’s the time I am “allowed” to leave office). Thunder struck! It was raining cats and dogs! And I was stranded in the office. Making a wild call, I told my colleagues, “we must leave now or else we’ll be stuck here for the night!” Good enough for me. They accompanied me to the bus stop. We sped for life…naa autos! Couldn’t get any. Had to board the bus. Not one…two. That’s how it is in Delhi. My brother Robin called to tell that the news is reading “Dilli doob gaya” (Delhi drowned). The bus took 2 hours to reach my destination, which is 45 minutes normally. I could see traffic on the footpaths too, can you beat that? The ladies seats were occupied by men, who were also busy pretending as if they were asleep or unwell! I approached to one of them, who looked at me and gave me those “you dare suggest me it is a ladies seat!” looks. Before I could say anything at all, a man standing on my right warned me, “sab ko mana kar rahe hai, koyi nahi uth raha hai” (they are refusing all, no one's getting up) . I jokingly said, “Kya baat hai aaj sabhi ko baithna hai!( what's is it, everyone wants to sit today!)” He smiled and minded his business: I don’t know what that was! Mission accomplished without a pain. Folded my jeans, boarded a cycle rickshaw and headed home. Sweet home!

Parallel

I fly

I sink,

I laugh

I mourn,

I coy

Outgo,

I sleep

Wide awake,

I drive

I halt,

Confident

I wary,

I forget

I remember,

Undecided

Resolved.

Rocks on tracks

Having lived three-quarters of my life in Ambala in the railway colony, I had come to consensus with the crude realities of life. I would pass the railway station daily in order to enter the main town area which housed all the schools, markets, church, temples, tuition centres etc. Initially, I used to cross the tracks on foot and later on the bicycle. Nevertheless, what remained the same, untouched and unchanged, was the state of the people who slept, ate, drank, bathed and lived near the tracks. I would see the faces daily; sane people become insane; children earn money much before I was given pocket money. I saw them convince people to give them money way before I learnt to speak correctly, and then survive with one piece of cloth all round the year when the many I had were insufficient for me. Such was the condition of thousands who flocked the railway station every year. I would pity them, yes, I would. I would sympathise with them, but I knew not how I could empathise. I thought I would do a lot for all the people, who I reckoned did not merit the life they were living, but just did not know how. The possibility seemed bleak. I wondered if life is such. Turmoil would rise within me. Is there no way, I would think. These things would not leave me.

The Mystery of the Missing Shoe

"Jutha Kathi Galeche??"

"Hahaha....""hohoho......" the basement of 52/10 C.R. Park rang with laughter as a small boy tells his vivid story. The story goes - "Raju Kumar Kamat" urf Raju, who shares my last name is my office boy. It so happenned that Raju had to attend a marriage in his wife's village, name: Majorha - in the land of Laloo, Bihar. He buys himself brand new shoes from Delhi in his quest to flaunt his possessions at his in-laws house.

Raju wears the brand new shoes throughout his three day train journey to his native place and later on the big wedding day. Afters days of showcase, Raju gets tired and replaces the shoe with the Indian chappals. (The skin of his feet, "ahh...sigh!")

Fun days were over for Raju. It was time to go back! Raju prepares to leave, bags are packed and blessings taken. He proceeds to the aangan (Veranda).

Raju: "Jutha Kathi Galeche??" (Where is the shoe?)

Relative: "taalab mein toh nahi pekh diya kisine? Mein dekhta hoon." ( has someone thrown it in the lake? let me see.)

The shoe was nowhere to be found. One out of the pair had gone missing!

Missing! In-laws were offering their shoes to Raju. But Raju held his dignity intact. He refused and came back to the city in his Indian chappals with a single shoe in his bag. Days passed and then a month was gone. He called every possible day, from the office phone, to enquire about his shoe.

A man was travelling to Delhi from Bihar (No, it is not Raju). Raju was in Delhi. Some other man travels to Delhi. He too is carrying a single shoe in his bag. He reaches his destination. He digs his hand into the bag and retrieves the lone shoe and hands it over to another person. The person smiles and gladly accepts. Raju Kumar Kamat was a proud owner of his Rs. 350 pair of shoe with a distinct change! Change it was. The sun, the rain and the dogs were a friendly company to the loner - "the shoe" it travelled parts of the village. Didn't possibly make a change in the places it travelled...but in itself...what a change!