A Guy in Gurgaon!

It was around six in the morning when I jumped off my sleep.
Somebody is knocking at my door.
Sandeep was off that day, as it was Saturday, he goes home during the weekend to Delhi, So I have to open the door.
I got really surprised as I saw Neeraj was standing there.
Seeing me he said, ‘Aj ka Times kya tum le ke aaya?’
I nodded, I was hardly in senses from sleep.
Neeraj smiled and said, ‘Sala Bips ka ak mast picture aaya hai lekin subha subha koi mar diya!’
I said him to look upstairs.
He said he would but again reminded me to search for it.
‘Badiya snap tha yaar..uska item..’ he was shaping in his hands the unmentionables.
I smiled and came back to bed.(Truly speaking feeling a bit bad that I missed the snap of Bips!)

Neeraj is one of the first friend with whom I got close in that house.Around 40 guys live there in three floors and he is the most witty and helpful.
He is from Kulu, and he said me that his father runs a hotel there. He is bulky , fair complexion and just love to drink milk. Everyday after coming back from office he used to drink three glasses of milk and then run to park for walk shouting, ‘Are yaar mera weight bar gaya!’Moreover he is helpful too. Whenever any one runs out of money he gives him but later on he himself lend money from others..he is a moody guy..going in impulses so one day he buys an expensive Nseries , another day he treates all the guys sweets and lassi just because he feels like! If any body asks him he will say,
‘Yunhi! Are yaar khana hai to khao nehi to jao!’

Then there is Sanjeev , a typical corporate guy with golden specs and sharp features, originally from Jaipur. Then there is Rocky, a Kanpur boy who shouts too much and stammer a bit and mad about cricket. It is mainly because for his initiative that we formed a team and in weekend played cricket in the park and it is a 10-10 game.He was a great fielder and bowler. Then Satya was there, my project guy, a very sweet natured soft-spoken calm responsible guy from Hyderabad ,Pankaj a Mumbai boy who is basically had a crack in mind who do everything in whims.

Power off is very frequent in Gurgaon.

And in those type of evenings we come out of the house and sat in the bench.
We spoke of everything..sports, politics, weather, money, career plans and obviously sex.
Its been an ‘adda’ (gathering) of unique nature where I found that real picture of India through the young eyes comes out. And some sort of Indianness prevails there as in the group South Indian, Punjabi, Bihari, Bengali….all are present.

And gradually as the moonlight soaked the park.. everything start looking whitish..as some lost birds found the nest.. as from the Highway sounds of cars came smoothly..as the clouds in sky starts floating in sky ..as the winds blow with a fragrance of an unknown flower..six guys start saying to each other their pains almost not as sharing but much more than that to have a better understanding of the pains..thus Nikhil slowly says about his old mother lying alone in a village near Panipath where still electricity has not reached..Neeraj spoke about his pain of his lost first love..Sanjeev who has the responsibility of three sisters and how in childhood he has seen his mother fetching water from digging in sand when they used to live in remote village..I spoke of my lost father..
And then comes the plans..and the resolutions about how this particular job is important for our life and family….it was not only individual dreams but it was really six guys trying to live their life in the best way they can..and with their heads high..and thus changing through them not only themselves..not only their family..but also their past..
And when we all got serious and all got quiet and it was Neeraj who will break it by saying.. ‘Bandelog..ab to rok..ab to hum ro denge sale!’

This is life in Gurgaon.

A bit of loneliness.

A bit of work.

A bit of pain.

But a lot of entertainment.

And then a wait for the call.

As night comes it is just this call for which I wait.

The call from her.

To whom in night I can surrender myself completely.

Its her.

My love.

Undeciphered Themes

Sometimes I feel that I am somewhat lost..

Sometimes I feel that I have somewhere else to go..

Sometimes I depict life beyond Sensex drop and Mumbai Terror..

Sometimes I welcome with open eyes the festive spirit of a silent winter..

Sometimes I worship words that are yet not written..

Sometimes I measure the distance of my untouched dreams..

Sometimes I want to create a different world..

Sometimes I walk like a tired traveller under a shaded tree..

Sometimes I search my woman beyond sex..

Sometimes I think life can be different..

Sometimes after midnight I slowly come to the window and look at the rising stars..

Sometimes I try to smell the night..

Sometimes I close my eyes and feel like crying..

Sometimes then really I slowly utter the decorated words..

Sometimes I think when I really can really can….

Sometimes when I will decipher the Undeciphered themes of my life..!

The Woman on the Calangute Beach

There she is.
As the wondering clouds slowly exposed the moon,as the sandy winds embarked on a high note, as the coconut trees signals towards the elapsing away of the silent fog..
There she is.

I am standing in the verandah. It is almost one the morning. And from this scarce distance also I can see her through the steamy fog which is decreasing now bit by bit.
The town behind me is sleeping, only some street dogs waiving their tail and looking for some scattered food in the empty road. Just opposite me the light of the hotel still twinkling, maybe somebody has forgotten to put it off, from a distant a sound of a fading roaring bike came..
I looked again.
She is standing again by the sea.
With that same unmindfulness, a lostness in her whole appearance.
I came to Goa, three days ago and for the last two nights I saw her coming at this dead night and standing and walking there calmly.
Who is she?
Though the question is totally meaningless and I have no right to ask it.
But as a human being when I see a woman coming everyday at the same time and standing at the beach with such lostness my sensitivity rouses and make me curious?

I want to know about her.
Seeing this happen for two days thus I started enquiring about her.
Firstly, our hotel manager who is totally a bull shit and got me totally wrong and even indicated me that she can help me about a girl for a night.

Though the question that came in to my mind was that do that lady is a localite?
From her appearance and dress it looked so to me.

At that time an old man with numerous wrinkles who runs a wine bar just opposite to my hotel..helped me out.
As I went yesterday there for a glass of beer, I found out that he is smiling towards me.
I went to him and asked, the reason.

The old man with a pipe in his mouth said, ‘I listened to your enquiries about Liza from Mathur!’
Mathur is our hotel manager.

‘Who is Liza?’
‘Well man, the girl about whom you are asking..why mate..whats the issue?’

I told him the reason.

‘Why, don’t you think it is personal matter?’
‘I know, but I found her intersting’.

The old man looked towards me..and smiled.. ‘Everybody finds her interesting..’
‘But why does she comes at the beach at the dead night?’
The old man gave a bite in the pipe and said.. ‘because it is there where she lost her boy-friend..the only thing she got in her life’

‘How?’

‘No body knows, some says he was drowned, some says the guy has ditched her!’
‘What is the truth?’
‘Don’t know..the only thing that can be is that Liza comes at the beach in the night..for what I don’t know may be to find his memories, or may be to find herself..

‘Where can I find her?’

‘She works as bartresses in ‘Goden Sand Resort’..she earlier worked here but time changed and I am wrecked now dear..no money to pay for fun..’


At that moment I started searching for the answer. And for that I have to wait only for night.

Now she is there.
I don’t want to waste the chance.

Soon I was in the beach.
Clouds now broken into pieces.
Moon light flooding the sea-shore.
Sea waves crushing on the shore with silver lining.
Sky now full of glowing stars.
Fog totally disappeared.

I stopped.
Because she is standing before me.

Winds blowing in a hush.
And now one such sweeping sandy winds hit me.

And not only me.
The woman also who is standing before me.
Again the sandy winds passed.

The light of the moon glowed with all her pride.
And she turned back.

For a moment I became mesmerized!

As before me not only a woman is standing..but she is the last word for beauty..
Her hair almost brown have a silky touch for the moon..her eyes..perhaps the best expression of senses..where within a lostness a glow of beauty is shining..her lips..trembling a bit like an untouched petals of a flower..her neckline..as if the perfect arc of geometry..within her v-cut T-shirt her bust-line like a deep cascade is visible..her breasts an invitation to the undiscovered valleys lies..her feet engraved in sand and continuously making marks..footmarks of a beautiful lady..within her whole picture there was not a single trace of exposure of naked beauty..the beauty is naked no doubt..but of sublime perfection..and treasure..more so because the woman who is standing before me looking lost and thus totally unconscious of her stunning beauty..

Again a brushing of sandy winds.
I came back to senses.
And at that time I found that she has kept her eyes on me.

I started searching words but managed only one.. I uttered.. ‘Liza’..

And at the next moment she stepped back and started running back..her short skirt getting more wet..her feet moving more fast..her brownish hair in strings flying parallel to the moonlit night..
I tried to walk in the path she ran but then gave it up..
For what she ran away from me?
I havn’t asked her a single question even?
But where I would find my answer?
Where?

Feeling perplexed I turned back.

While walking slowly along the beach I saw scattered on the beach different sketches of the night..a boat man repairing his wrecked boat which for long is earthed to the ground..a young boy who sells little parachute to kids counting money with his eyes full of tears..a couple kissing restlessly..a boat boy going for a ride in speedboat at this long past midnight..a girl looking like a college girl drinking and talking loudly in her own .. a local person listening to Goanese song in radio sitting beside a thatched umbrella..
All pictures of different moods of life..or may be incidents which is happening only at this particular moment of life..may be all this has happened earlier many times..it would happen again and again..but still this moment..this incident is new..a part..a feature of this very particular night..whose significance is only that all these are by itself insignificant..

I walked on..
Through the sands..over the ripple marks of thousands..
I realized that why I am trying to unravel the secrets of these insignificant incidents..I have no right to disturb the balance..the mood of life..I should keep it as it is.. in its own tune..

I walked back to the hotel..
Leaving behind me many questiones..
Which have no answers..

Next morning I went to that old man and after saying him about my night episode asked him, ‘Why havn’t she replied once to me,why?’

‘Have you searched her today?’ the old man asked.
‘Yes, I do searched her at the resort she walks. She was not there!’

‘Then I am afraid you have lost her!’

I smiled..’Well, I never wanted to make her mine..just wanted to ask her in details what exactly happened to her..and why she comes at beach every night. Everything is granted still, but hey can you say me why she ran away from me?
I stopped. Then said, ‘I want an answer from her..’

The old man looked at me and smiled again..and then said, ‘Sorry, my boy, but that you can never get!’

‘Why?’

Through the verandah of this wrecked pub the morning sea can be seen. The sunlight shining clearly on the tip of the waves. Tourists pouring in the beach. Seagulls flying high..parachute, water speedboat..beach volleyball..sounds coming from everywhere..Goa is a busy place now and Calangute beach is the centre of attraction.

I looked at the old man for the answer..I again asked, ‘Why?’
The old man releasing a swarm of smoke from the pipe said quietly with a smile,

‘Because Liza, can’t speak! She can never give your any answer!’

Maybe before this question I have the ways to come back. But now I have lost the road.

As from this very moment I fell in love with that woman..

Will I get her anyday?
Will she understand me anyday?

All,this questiones are totally irrelevant now..it doesn’t matter to me at all..
I walked on to the beach.

Numerous footprints spotted in the brown sand.
I stepped into the golden sand.
I walked forward.
Then turned back.
My footprints got engraved among the thousands of lost footprints among which one is of her.
I smiled.
I walked on….



-----------------------------------

Life through the Lenses

Moments!
The most mysterious gift of time. And I love to frame these moments. Sometimes I looked at wonder at my handycam.


Though I am not a professional photographer it is one of my secret obsession, how the camera should be held, at what angles, the source from which the snaps would be taken,the distance and the thing that needed to be caught, all these I love to know and use that while I am busy in shoots.
I believe everything should be pure and perfect before dare to capture a priceless
moment of time through lenses.
I always roam with the handycam in holidays, and like to hop through the city and outside for subjects.


Thus a lonely farmer sowing crops..a naked child in the lights of the multiplex..a woman breasting her child on the roadside,as in the backyard people celebrates, ‘Woman’s Day’..a boy crossing signals in random with buckets of tea in his hand..a hawker throwing newspaper in dustbin….the headlight of the rain in a rainy dark night as the wet rail lines crisscrossed..an old Majhi jumping in the river with a broad smile in his teethless face..a coolie in station trying to catch the railing of a sleeper class of a running train..a small girl drinking water from a pond, a dog staring at her..a Sherpa beneath the Himalayas pointing with a smile towards Mt.Everest in Nepal..an old man facing walls in a blind lane in North Kolkata and searching for his lost stick..a potter making a face of a goddesses..a boy with an innocent smile looking at the first arrival of Idol Durga in a pandal..the scenes of Dusshera..the scenes of a group of local guys dancing with glasses of ‘Siddhi’(milkwater) in their hand..a girl in white salwar washed in colours, in a day of Holi,her face full of surprise..an evening of Norwester..an afternoon of torrential rain flooding Kolkata..within the dark clouds over the Maidan and the cascades of the blowing leaves,the towering angel of the Victoria Memorial looming high..
all subjects of neglected moments..
all that of no importance assuming in reality a gift of nature..
pictures that shows..
how ordinary people in ordinary moments can make life special.

The Quest

Sometimes I think my life can be different.
This can lead to a two misleading deduction. One I am not happy with my life. Another, I want to change my life-style. But both are wrong. The truth is that, I just want to search my soul a bit further. Escaping from the daily demands of life, the agony of any uncherished dreams and ever booming hopes of a middle class young corporate. Just to remove the branded ‘tags’ and where I am truly my own. Where my whims are my boss and breaking rules is my job-profile.

But why I am so juxtaposed in these rubbish thoughts?
Well, its my letter and here I can write whatever I feel. Thus I am free to express myself here. And thus I would not dare any pinching eyebrows or fake adjustments of sheer hypocrisy.

But still life amazes me with its beautiful flavours.

Once while traveling with my friend in Agra-Delhi Highway in bike we stopped at a Dhaba.
It is nearly three in the morning. But still this roadside Dhaba is awake.

Trucks are coming in large numbers….the drivers getting out and ordering lassi , tea and then talking in regional accent with other truck drivers. Hindi, Punjabi are the most frequent in this Agra-Delhi highway, still Gujrati is also heard….the radio is on ….both in the Dhaba and the parked Trucks….tunes of Himesh Reshamiya….Kajre Re….Tere bina jiya jai na….all going in random thanks to Channels of FM…. The passing on of running Trucks, cars in lightning speed….the flashes of their headlights cutting the darkness into pieces….suddenly someone shouting, ‘Arey Raju, kahan mar gaya?’….the coming of the answer from inside the Dhaba….the smell of Tarka,( a preparation of pulses), the clinging sound of spoon and glass mixing sugar in lassi ….the smoke of tea rising from the aluminum teapot kept over the furnace….the 80 power yellow bulb hanging from the bamboo wall….some birds sitting on the thatched roof , flapping their wings ….preparing to fly for the day….the small boy in this darkness also running swiftly to serve the food…. The Dhaba is alive….these Dhabas hardly sleeps .
After having food we slept over a bamboo-strip bed, locally called ‘Khatiya’. Open in the air.
I tried to remember that when did I last saw sky like this.
The sky is just kissed by a faint light. The colour of this light is just maddening…the light itself shows the slow evolution of morning from night….I once had a great friendship with this moment of nature….in my childhood I often visited my maternal house ….the village is in the banks of the Subarnarekha river…it was during this moment that my grandfather everyday used to walk out from house….he went everyday to the river and made worship to the first ray of the light of the sun….I sat quietly in the banks….the gentle wave touched my feet….the wind drew many wrinkles over the water….the deep blue sky passing on to be a bit lighter….then more lighter….then golden….then morning ….it was unbelievable….everyday I waited when that moment would come and everyday I had the fear that maybe he would find the sky and the river…. old….but it never occurred….when I grew up….when I first started writing ex-pressions through words in personal diary….I understood that nature is forever….it never gets old….
I also remembered those daysof childhood which I spent on Benaras.
We had a small rented house in Varanasi….my mother , a teacher of a Govt. school….my little sister….Rini….who is in seven now….my father….
Died in cancer…. My relationship with the morning and the evening Ganges…. dancing over the boat with the old Ali Bhai, the old boat man smiling with numbered teeth’s….the romanticism of roaming through the different ghats of Varanasi in boat….things changes….the day when I lighted the funeral pyre of my father in the burning ghat beside the Ganges….my life changed from that day….I never got my father’s Govt. job….politics, backdoor….anything can be the reason….thus I decided that I have to shine in life….and mother gave her every deposited money for my engineering..
Now I am standing here..working in an MNC.. but where is that smell of nature….where is the simple picture of my grandfather walking through wet fields of villages….where are my little emotions….irrelevant illogical likings of meaningless things…. moments….where is my lost diary….where I have lost my feelings to scribble up anything, everything for my own….for just to find a different me within ….?

I feel like now as if I am lying naked below the vast sky.
How long I would only run behind career….money….selfishness….slangs….wine….women….sex….own pleasures….how long?
And at that moment as the shades of dark slowly withers away and first traces of light opening up..
I wept.
And with wet eyes I continued my quest..
My quest for the lost truth within me.

--------------------------

I saw her standing over the platform..all alone..

I saw her standing over the platform..all alone..
A desolate Station of a chilled November midnight
Not a soul anywhere except she..
Has she lost the road or came there anyway?
Has she in wait for someone..her lover coming in the up-train?
Trains came..one up..one down..
No body got down
Neither she got in..
And the train disappeared among the foggy night..
At That moment she turned her eyes
and kept on me..
I shivered!
May be I have seen her earlier, yes I did..
I met her on the stairs of Varansi on the bank of the Ganges..
Or I met her on a boat in the mid river?
Or is it on the busy streets of Calcutta,
Or in a narrow muddy strip of a remote village?
I don’t know..
I saw her standing..all alone with eyes not on me..

I smiled..
May be I have seen her no where
May be I have seen her everywhere
As she is nothing but a very simple woman..
On whom I found my piece of love..!
I saw her standing over the platform..all alone....

Sohini and that Guy at Tundla

Sohini found herself totally alone once the Jodhpur Mail left the station.
Among the thick mass of fog.
Which is spreaded everywhere.
She took a long breath.
She made her dupatta proper over her shoulder.
She brushed her hands through the uncombed hair.
And then she started walking through almost dark station.
Sohini looked at her watch.
Its four past ten in the morning.

Naturally the whole platform is sleeping.
Shades of dark and faint light dispersing the sky and the universe.

Sohini walked on silently.

She spreaded her eye lids open.
She kept her eyes on the station before her.
Tundla Junction.
Though the word ‘junction’hardly symbolizes now as it is almost silent.
Sounds appearing only as guests in the station. And that also in the mode of passing and halting trains.The usual booming hub of a station is totally lacking here.


What lies in abundance is different sketches of nature.
The sky a pallet of blue where now slowly and slowly splashes of violet purple and red are appearing. Soon the ratio of red would submerge the other as the morning is about to bloom. The air is totally calm though sometimes with frequent moody undulations. Flatterings of birds wings , the wavy flight of them in the sky, pigeons sitting on the roof of the platform slowly twisting their little legs, a smell..a mixture of dust, grass, air and the morning itself slowly filling up the air..

Sohini walking within this wonderful offerings of dawn felt that it is one of the most memorable sight she had seen of a station.

Being herself a renowned reporter Sohini have to travel a lot..she changed trains many times during night, early morning at different places all over the world..but she cant remember such a picture of dawn blooming among a station.
Sohini nodded because she thought, as nowhere she saw such a silence in this time.
And morning demands silence.
And there is a uniqueness that a big station being totally silent.

Sohini stopped. She is now at the middle of the station. She looked around.
People, Coolies , Beggars all lying in the platform some in seats, some in floors.
Dogs roaming. Some running through the tracks.

But Sohini didn’t found what she is looking.
A tea- stall.
In this first week of October the wind is quite chilled.
And so long as long as it was calm it was not felt.
But now the wind is flowing scatteredly.
Flocks of fog now slowly rising over the tracks.
Sohini badly needs a cup of tea.
But where?
Because not a single shop is open.

Faint light is increasing now. The clock pointing 4.30 A. M.
Still the station is soundless.
And now Sohini felt that quite strange.
Why not even a tea-stall is opening also?

A Coolie is passing by her side.
She asked about a cup of tea-stall.
The Coolie while passing said ‘ Dukan to hai bahaut lekin aj nehi khulega, aj yahan bandh hai! ( Due to a bandh no shop would open here today.)

Now the puzzle came to be solved.
This is the mystery of such a silent Tundla Junction station!

Sohini felt disgusted.
So she had to spend here the next three hours without any activity.
And she like a crap not brought a single paperback with her this time. She planned to buy it here but naturally now it became vain.

Little traces of sounds coming.
As people who are sleeping are gradually waking.
Sohini felt that she need to go to toilet once to freshn up.
Though the sight of a waiting room toilet doesn’t appear pleasant to her.
But still she went.

After getting rid of the tiredness and combing her hair Sohini felt that only thing she needs now is to change the salwar.
But she gave up the idea.

As soon as she came outside the waiting room Sohini heard the sound of Azan.
Morning blossoming up.
Trains coming, but the local trains all stranded.
Naturally as it is a bandh here.

Sohini started walking.

Still some hours of Train journey left.
Their newspaper ‘The Daily Chronicle’ having its Annual Conference this time in Simla.
Earlier it was scheduled in Mumbai. Due to a change and that also only three days ago,
Flight tickets are nor available.
Thus she had to do the booking like this.
She would meet the rest of the Team at Kathgodam.

Suddenly Sohini heard a different sound.
Within the floating sound of Azan, another sound got mixed.
An unique sound.
And Sohini knew this sound from her childhood.
It is the sound of dhak.

And listening to it Sohini at once remembered that today the date is October 12th and today is Saptami(The firsta day of Puja).
Through the shades of platform a cold wind hit Sohini.
She spreaded her dupatta over her salwar and cardigan.

She felt that a shawl would be a much better option.

The sound of dhak now sounding in rhythmic tune.
It is coming from outside the station.

Sohini ran towards the station gate.
And as she reached there she saw that just opposite to the station there is a pandal where there Durga Puja is taking place.

Sohini came out.
It is morning now.
Scent of flowers filling the air, fog slowly slipping away.
The dhak is beating.
In that very known dancing tone.
Sohini went to cross the road.
Somebody shouted, ‘Mat jaiye bahinji, yahan golmaal ho sakta hai.’(Someone shouted not to go.)
But Sohini hardly cared.
She is Sohini Sen ,renouned journalist of a leading daily newpaper.
She would be afraid of this type of little political disturbances?
Sohini smiled.
And crossed the road.

And soon she came near the pandal.
And then she saw Devi Durga.
What a beautiful Idol!
The Goddeesses is decorated in total white which in local Bengali called’ Daker Saj.
Though in narrow sense some differences can be found of the Idol which easily denotes that this idol is not made in Bengal.
But still she is Devi Durga!
Still it is the Durga Puja.
Still a glamorous spectacle with the right mixture of beating of dhaks!

Sohini took the handycam out , she kept her eyes on the lenses
And at that moment the incident happened.
Two bullets passed narrowly Sohini, one beside her back and another just missing her feet.
In front of her eyes a car was lit in fire.
And at that moment as Sohini jumped at a corner of the pandal a guy caught her hand
and pull her and soon they are running through the back lane of the pandal towards the station.
Reaching within the station, the guy left the hand and said, ‘maf Karna!’
Sohini who got back her breath now said ‘Sukriya!’

The guy smiled.
And then added ‘ Bahar halchal bahaut kharap hai..kal yahan par ek murder hua hai….’
Sohini said, ‘I see’.
Sohini started walking so do the guy.
When Sohini managed a seat the guy said, ‘Apse ak sawal karu?’
Sohini looked at him.
And to her greatest surprise the guy said , ‘Apni ki Bangali?’ in pure Bengali accent.
Sohini got a bit surprised.
The guy wearing very simple dress a brown shirt and a black faded trouser with almost torn slipper.
The picture denotes that he is a local guy and stays here nearby.
Sohini nodded and said, ‘Apnio to tai dekci..’(You also look like..)
The guy smiled and said in bengali that he is.
‘You stay here?’
‘Ha, aknei thaki oi akta choto khato chakri kori….’(He stays there and he do a small job there.)
Sohini thought this guy could give her a trace of a tea.
And surely the guy did.
When Sohini asked he said that, ‘Daran ami panch miniter madhye niye asci’
The guy disappeared.
Sohini saw her watch. Still one and a half hour for her train.
Within five minutes the guy came back with tea and samosas.
Sohini opened her money bag but the guy said,’ Na na , a ki korcen’(He refused.)

Sohini though really thankful that the guy has saved her but still wondering why he is still standing and what can be his motive.
She got again surprised when the guy asked that very question to her.
Sohini smiled and avoided the answer.

The guy said holding a cup of tea, the fact is that he likes Bengali and people from Kolkata. But unfortunately his working place and surroundings are non-bengalees. And moreover he likes to ask things about Kolkata. And then said after a brief, ‘katodin hye gelo Make dekini janen ?’(It is a long time that I saw my mother.)

Sohini though feeling a bit bored but liking the guy’s innocence.
Thus she asked now ‘Kno Kolkata gelei to hoy!’(Why, you can go sometimes..)
Jabo ki kore ja kajer chap!(How, too much work pressure.)

Though Sohini looking at the guy doubted what type of work he do and what type of pressure thus he have to take.
Sohini is getting impatient now.
Thus she took a hundred rupee note and extended towards the guy.

And soon within this sunny morning Sohini saw that the guy’s face became black.
He said, ‘Ata apni ki korcen..’
‘Na, na apni amar janya anek korechen..’(You did a lot for me.)
The guy looked at Sohini and said after a while that I did because you are a bengalee from kolkata and you got in danger.

The guy stopped for a minute.
Then said, ‘Asi’(Bye)

‘Apnar namta?’ Sohini asked.

‘Alok’

And then the guy disappeared within the station.

Sohini truly felt bad, but except that she have nothing to do..
How long she would go on talking rubbish with a stranger?

Sohini took out yesterday’s newspaper and started reading it.

Time passed.
Morning changed to day.
Winds lost its teeth.
A Pleasant day is about to begin.
Faintly the sound of Dhak still beating.

The Kathgodam Express inspite of the bandh came at the right time.
Sohini is about to carry her bag when she found that someone had already carried her bag.
That guy.
Alok.

‘Kato no kamra ?’Alok asked.
Sohini not knowing what to say replied ‘AC 1’
Alok started walking and soon Sohini found her seat.
Alok turned after keeping the bag.

‘Kno ami firlam janen..karan ami apnake duto mithye bole gecilam..(I came back because I told two lies to you.)

‘Ami akne choto khato chakri kori na..ami akjan Coolie..( I work as a Coolie and this is the first lie….)

‘Ar amr nam Arjun Bannerjee..kicu mne porce Sohini Sen?’

Sohini asked that how do he know my name?

Alok smiled and said that, Because I know you..maybe you can’t still remember me but I can never forget you..as you take away my everything.. my job..my prestige as you in your newspaper accused me for a audit scandal..the money that was lost was later found but I never got back my job..and also my mother left my home..I had no other way..for 7 months I tried for other job but not found any..ultimately I got this job of a coolie..I was bound to take it as I had to survive..but Sohini Sen I would not ask from you any help but only one thing..can you go and tell my mother that I have no faults..
Just this much can you do.. Sohini Sen..I need it ..I really need it..

The whistle of the train came.
Arjun stepped off the train.
And Sohini saw that in corner of his eyes crystal droplets of water shining..

The train left the station.
Soon passed all the traces of the Tundla Station.

Sohini knew that she would travel through thousand stations in future but she would never feel so empty..
As she left in Tundla ..
her clean image..
and her pride of being a successful reporter..

After two months from this morning Sohini submitted her resignation in ‘The Daily Chronicle’ and joined another leading news agency.

Six months from this incident Sohini again toured Simla again through Tundla.
With her team mate.
And there in the Hotel ‘The Himalayas’ they signed in the Register Book as..
Mr.Arjun Bannerjee and Mrs. Sohini Bannerjee.
And Room no 004 is a Honeymoon Suite.

------------------------------------




-------------------------------

The Lady with her clothes off....

I am walking through a large empty lush green field
A Silent night like a lost visitor spreading itself
The wind in its whims passing over the grains of ripe rice
Air inviting in a mood of wonderers
Still silence reigns
Still the world waits
The moonlight now exposed totally
As there is no more cloud cover
And the moon shining in an aura of womanly essence
As if her clothes are off
And there her beautiful naked breasts looking blue
Winds slowly touching the nipples almost in a rhythm of a song
I crossed the field
And looked back
The field now looking blue
Winds breaking away the swarms of fog
Dew drops kissed the tip of the ground
I walked again
I turned again
I left her..
The gorgeous naked lady..
All alone
Like a lost Worshipper!

My Private Honour

At last you came..
I waited for long with a desire of a thirsty wings of a bird to fly
But now as the moment came when you came finally
I have nothing to offer you
Except lostness and soltude.

The moment you came
A hush of sharp wind swept the city of gray concretes
The begging bowl dropped from the hands of a wrinkled beggar
With scattered pieces of coins
Two college girls passed me running with their eyes half-closed
A swarm of dust strangled the traffic for seconds
And then the last ray of sun shaded away from the day
And my sun-burnt red face got the first touch of the Monsoon
My pains..my anger..my frustrations and all the daily hazards
Now got soaked in the water droplets
Making me nothing
But Pure..Very Pure.

And then you came
In drops..in showers..in twinkling eyes..in dancing eyelids..in tottering lips..
In open hands..in soaked hairs..in muddy shoes..
In Loving soul..
And in the first blooming of the first letter..first word..
The first tune of rhythm..
Another ordinary evening which turned special
As I got a poem..

I started walking in the rain..
I walked completely soaked..
Behind me the city looked green washed in rain
The scent of the wet soil in air..
I walked
I walked..
And I smiled..
I can lost everything but still I would be special
I would be different
As I have the gift of words with me..
The sheer amazement of poetry..
Which is my truth
My Private Honour!

A Question along the Beach

There she is.
As the wondering clouds slowly exposed the moon,as the sandy winds embarked on a high note, as the coconut trees signals towards the elapsing away of the silent fog..
There she is.

I am standing in the verandah. It is almost one the morning. And from this scarce distance also I can see her through the steamy fog which is decreasing now bit by bit.
The town behind me is sleeping, only some street dogs waving their tail and looking for some scattered food in the empty road. Just opposite me the light of the hotel still twinkling, maybe somebody has forgotten to put it off, from a distant a sound of a fading roaring bike came..
I put my eyes in front.
She is standing again by the sea.
With that same unmindfulness, a lostness in her whole appearance.
I came to Goa, three days ago and for the last two nights I saw her coming at this dead night and standing and walking there calmly.
Who is she?
Though the question is totally meaningless and I have no right to ask it.
But as a human being when I see a woman coming everyday at the same time and standing at the beach with such lostness my sensitivity rises and makes me curious?
For three days I found the woman on the beach but could not say anything .
But tomorrow I need to ask her.
I have to.
Why this lady comes to the sea every night at this hour?
I waited for morning, then evening and then night came.
But today she did not came.
Night passed. Midnight came and got ripe. Then faint light of the dawn started removing traces of darkness.
Next night she never came also.
And so the next day.
She never came.
Thus she became a mystery to me forever.
Along the beach at Calangute this lost woman is never seen again but she with all her paradoxes and beauty remained to me as one of the brightest and interesting moment and character of Goa.
Not just a woman.
A Silent wonderer.
Or may be lost lover!
Or may be she is just a simple woman who came at the beach for three days only in her whims..it is me who fantacise her and may be tried to find within her ..
My woman of Love!

A Song of a Couple in Goa

Its been a story of a long time ago..
When a boy meets girl beneath sky coloured indigo..

There are traces of gold and silver
They are bound to be in that four letter wonder

For now its a story of three months and a bit more
Oh Lets the curtain rise and on to the galore....

**************************************************************

As you smile in a bright sunny day and as the winds blow unhurt
The hostess signals 'The flight is ready to depart!'

As your face brightens and eyelids open and shine
I realize that we are slowly now in the cloud nine

Your strings of hair flows as if in a bit of sigh
A flock of clouds gently pass as if to greet us 'Hi!'

I looked I stared I talked I laughed
Its moments of sunlights immortalised

The bright orange kurta and the skinny jeans
I touched you to feel it is real and no dreams

Through food music and hostesses to adore
Kingfisher and Spicejet brings us to the shore

The shores of blue sky and golden sands
Where party begins and romance lands

I touched your hand and lifted it in mine
Your face bears nothing but a bridal shine

As we slowly steps down a breezy wind washed us in sway
I whispered 'Bride Welcome to Goa! Ahoy!'

Its Love.. when you kept your beautiful eyes on me through the evening sun
And a bunch of seagulls flies along with a speedboat run

Its love..when you touch me with your soft flowery fingers
Evening dawns as a saga of romance lingers

Its love..when you put your feet on sandgrains and move on
Your green skirt in full flow as if a maiden in a song..

Its love..when the first touch of sea kindles over your naked feet
The same touch the same wave Oh baby as if paradise lies in our feet beneath..

Its love when you open your hands below the limitless sky..
I felt like I am the king..Queen shall we fly?

Its love..when the beachlight decorates carelessly your heavenly neckline
Oh! Dont'mind I want to kiss you deep lady just there the silky line..


Its love..when you slowly dances your feet through the sea and cruise goes on
I hold you..your breath kissing me and your curves in my body.. sloping on..

Its love..when your eyes says me silently your joys beyond all strife
Oh Baby its a feeling with which I can spend thousand life

Its love..as you watched the garlands of Goa by the Mandavi river
I touched you again far from the maddening crowd as I found we shiver

Its love..when we shop mixed in the crowd of foreigner
But still you are the one my gorgeous sexy beautiful lover

Its love..when your eyes lit seeing a Lighted Church over the Highways
I fall in love with you again and would be always

Its love..when you in your crispy lips drank a toast of wine
I kissed you I hugged you and then its time to dine

Its love..when we relax at the poolside and winds blow through the green leaves
You kept your head on my shoulder..a lyrics of kiss of breathes..

Its love..when you hold me and dipped in sea and hugged me totally wet
Its love of holding a friend who from years for me await

Its love..when you say nothing at all and I looked at you
I realize that my everything is meant for you

Its love..when in night you invite me with your rosy lips and open dreams
You made me a complete man.. lady with touches of indescribable rythyms..

Thus the song goes on
And on..
A wonderful journey of a simple man
And the most beautiful woman
We hoped..we won
We aspired..we won
We dreamt..we won..
We cried..we won..

Through the sizzling sea and the cool winds
As the night midnight dawn swings
We loved..
We loved..
Thus from shores to bed
Words often said and not said..
Waves came again
Waves.. again and again..

So the story is this far
Maybe another story some day other

Maybe not in the seashore may be in some other soil
Maybe a story near a village of red soil

But for now readers you can close your eyes or bliss
As now it time for us to kiss
Kiss..Kiss..Kiss..
Oh Baby..what a deep Kiss!











-----------------------------------------

Tuli - A Short Story

A bunch of burnt bricks.
A background of green trees.
A vast blue cloudless sky.
And a dozen of maize.

Tuli surveyed the place before she sat on her marked place over the dusty ground. Yes, the place is same. There the white spot on the branches of the tree. There the numerous pebbles, there a wrecked useless radio-set, and there far across the trees the pond.
Tuli sat down after a silent prayer. She don’t know whom she is worshipping but anyway she everyday prays.
For sale of these dozen maizes.
Sometimes, specially in winters a no. of dozens. It is very hard for her, a fourteen year girl to reap the maizes from the claws of Geetamasi, Khantamasi and others who are daily dealers of the maizes.
It is raining for some days.
Summer is about to take a twist and the monsoon is arriving. The clouds are flocked with grayish floating clouds, winds blowing a bit irregularly. Tuli sat and waited.

Cars are passing in high speed. Two ambassadors lowered their speed towards her but passed in a hush.
Tuli knew it is expected.
Now it is just twelve. Now a hardly car stops.
It is generally in the afternoon after two that maizes are sold.
Tuli felt happy that the weather is rainy now, her sale would increase today, hardly people like to have maize in a scorching heat. But once it rains it is a different story.
Though Tuli has managed only twelve today.
How can she?
Her brother Taataa is ill today, she hardly had scope to reach the dealing place of the market early morning,when she reached only this dozen was remaining.
Taataa didn’t went to school today.
The fourteen year girl thought a bit.
She needs twenty rupees tomorrow for giving Taataa, the school fees are in defaulter for last three months, if tomorrow she didn’t pay Taataa would be thrown out from school.

A sharp wind swept throughout the Ruby bypass.
From the western front a big towering cloud is galloping.
Rain is about to begin.
Tuli’s frock started waving in the air.

Looking far Tuli found that the world around her has turned grey.
The sky, the houses, the green fields, the ponds, the walking people everything is grayish.

And within the next sweeping wind Tuli went away from present.
She shivered a bit.
She is afraid of clouds.
She is afraid of this dark colour.
The nightmare popped in front of her eyes. The day when her father, a hawker died in police lathi-charge, protesting against ‘Operation-Sunshine’ was dark like this.

One year later when her mother eloped with Kashida that was also same dark, grayish day. Tuli came running home from school and found her mother has gone.
Then the whole world changed for Tuli.
Her house went, they became homeless and ultimately she took shelter in a broken
unused house. Now also she is using that same house.
Where else she can go?

Another splash of wind and the rain began.
It was accompanied with a furious storm.
The whole bypass got hazy within seconds the potholes of the road soon filled up and overflowed, the pungent smell of the Dhapa swinged in the air, the clouds in the sky coming swimming in.
After half an hour Tuli left all hopes of selling the maizes.
Until the rain stops not a single car would stop.
And the rain signals no indication of stopping soon.
Tuli took all the maizes and returned home.

And she got alarmed to see that Taataa is shivering in the splashes of rain and wind.
Tuli tried to cover all the broken windows with newspapers but water is soon droving away everything.
Tuli touched Taataa.
Taataa has very high fever and he is groaning in pain.
Tuli got puzzled.
What would she do now?
The rain is still falling and not a single piece of maize is sold.
Tuli started giving strips off water over Taata’s forehead.
She changed it again and again.

It is around evening that the rain stopped.
And Tuli sensing that Taata’s fever has slightly decreased ran outside again with the maizes.
She needs medicine.
And that twenty ruppeees.
She have to sale this dozen maizes.
Anyway.
She came running towards her spot.
Gathered the burnt bricks.
And then kept the maizes with their layers open.


But she had no luck today.
For the next one hour not a single car stopped.
It was almost eight Tuli felt seeing the colour of the sky.
White clouds are sailing in the violet sky as an uncherished dream.
Tuli prayed again.
For selling the maizes.
She is becoming restless at the same time.
How is Taataa?
Will she ran for a moment and look on him?
But what about the medicine?
Without medicine how will Taataa spend the night?

Paradoxed Tuli wondered what to do as evening slowly slipped into night.
The weather is looking gloomy again.
Wind very silent.
Sky sliced with clouds.

And at that very moment an ambassador stopped and from it two persons jumped down.
One person took two maize in hand and asked ‘Kto?’(How much?)
‘Char taka babu’.(Four rupees)
The person looked towards another person anthey talked something within eyes.
Then the first person said ‘Sabgulo nile ktoi dibi?’(What is the cost of this dozen?)
‘Sabgulo nbe babu?’(You will take all?) Tuli asked almost in a voice of disbelief.

‘Ha’, the person smiled.
‘Bol ktoi dibi?’
‘50 taka babu’?(Fifty Ruppees)

And to Tuli’s wonder the person took out a fifty rupees noteand gave it in her hand.
The note trembled in her hand.
The person said, ‘Tbe toke pouche dite hbe.’(But you have to send it in a place)
‘Kothay?’ Tuli asked.
‘Ai samnei, tui garite uthe ae!’(Quite near, you come into the car)
Tuli shivered.
She know these languages, these looks,
Geetamasi always talk about these, about how she earns 100Rs a day sometimes!

‘Ki re chal’ The person came a bit forward.
A splash of wet wind struck.
Tuli thought for a moment of Taataa, his medicine, his school fees.
She needs money for everything.
The night is again filled with stitchy rainy winds.
The dark bypass has hardly any light.
Cars and trucks running in a hush.
The person hold Tuli’s hand, ‘Kire chal?’(Lets go)
Tuli once looked at the fifty rupee note.
Then she walked.
The person opened the door of the car.
Tuli stepped in.

After one hour when Tuli came back home her body is filled up numerous pains.
But still she ran towards Taataa.
Yes, Hec has again got high fever.
Taataa is unconscious.
Tuli soon gave her the medicine.


Outside it is again raining.
Tuli slowly lied over the floor and closed her eyes.
But she can’t.
She jumped up.
And sitting again looked towards the face of Taataa.
The colour is returning on the face.
Tuli went towards him and spreaded her hands over his hairs.
Beside Taataa lay his maths copy.
Tuli took it in her hand and opened it.
In all the pages there are right marks and comments written ‘Good’.
All the sums are right.
And in all the class test Taataa scored ten out of ten.

Tuli is going through the pages unconsciously, she is thinking of her own school days, she is also very dood in maths, she also scored full marks.

Suddenly Tuli felt a hand over her shoulder.
And she heard ‘ Ki dekchis re Didi?’(What you are seeing Sister?)
Taataa.
Tuli seeing Taataa coming in senses hugged him tightly
and said, ‘Kicu na re, kicu na!’(Nothing)
And then all her pains, came out as cry.
Tuli is crying, in one hand she is holding Taataa and in another hand his copy where Taataa has scored ten out of ten.


Outside rain is falling torrentially.
And through the innumerable cracks of this broken house waters are pouring heavily, from everywhere.
A drop of water failed on the sheet of paper.
She rubbed it.
Again another drop failed.
She closed her eyes and also the copy.
She did not want any spot in any sheet of this copy.
And also in the life of his little brother.
Taataa.



-----------------------------------

Roadside Dhaba: A Taste of India

I stopped at the roadside dhaba just beside the National Highway.
The night is cold, the wind blowing with disguised teeth, sky clear with shining stars. The lights of the bikes are cutting sharply all edges of the darkness. The silence of the night, the faint cry of a night bird , the emergence of any distant sound..all merging with busy sounds of the Dhaba.
While traveling from Agra, a nice spot to stop.
A nice place to relax your body and eyes. You can remain quite but you can see a lot of colours, flavours and spices of life.
Trucks are coming in large numbers….the drivers getting out and ordering lassi , tea and then talking in regional accent with other truck drivers. Hindi, Punjabi are the most frequent in this Agra-Delhi highway, still Gujrati is also heard….the radio is on ….both in the Dhaba and the parked Trucks….tunes of Himesh Reshamiya….Kajre Re….Tere bina jiya jai na….all going in random thanks to Channels of FM…. The passing on of running Trucks, cars in lightning speed….the flashes of their headlights cutting the darkness into pieces….suddenly someone shouting, ‘Arey Raju, kahan mar gaya?’….the coming of the answer from inside the Dhaba….the smell of Tarka,( a preparation of pulses), the clinging sound of spoon and glass mixing sugar in lassi ….the smoke of tea rising from the aluminum teapot kept over the furnace….the 80 power yellow bulb hanging from the bamboo wall….some birds sitting on the thatched roof , flapping their wings ….preparing to fly for the day….the small boy in this darkness also running swiftly to serve the food…. The Dhaba is alive….these Dhabas hardly sleeps ..
And then came the food.
Chappati and Mutton Roganjosh!
With piece of onion, lemon kept on the dish.
Delicious!
I can bet even food of afive starrer hotel would think to compete with this flavour.
After food again ride and move.
Don’t worry when you need to stop you will definitely find another Dhaba.
A place where you can taste and share real India!

Love in the Desert Rain

It was one of those special nights in Jaisalmer.
Jaisalmer..A city of desert..a city of history..a city of Rajputs..a city once captured by the Khalji dynasty. And it is also a city of very simple people who smiles at every word keeping their daily hazards of poverty and pains in shadow.

It was a quite night, after dinner I just went for a walk around the hotel when suddenly I felt something.
Something new happened.
Something touched my hand.
I looked up towards the sky.
And once again the touch came.
The touch of water droplets.
Little liquid drops of sheer amazement in this city of desert.
And soon it started raining.
Clouds floaked in the vast sky.
Winds rushed.
Sands gripped the roaming air.

And within that from all around came running people shouting almost chanting, ‘Barish! Barish!’(Rain..Rain!)
Their eyes full of wonder, happiness and ecstacy.Some hugged each other,some ran across the desert,some jumped,some shouted in their local dialects..there..in front of me lay a group of local –people to whom today again is a night of magic! As clouds hardly stops at Jaisalmer. In the whole Rajasthan broadly. Maybe this rain came after 3-4 years!
Thus to all these people..the colour and touches of rain appeared special.
Special like the first touch of a woman!
And at that moment within the vast epitome of the brown sand dunes and the ripple marks I saw a girl.
She is hardly twenty.
And she like an open spirit running all over the desert!
Her hairs open like a fountain.
Her face blushing with some innocent godly beauty.
Her naked feet creating ripples all over the sands.
Her yellowish Choli(blouse) and green ghagra(skirt) getting wet and soaked in rain.
I got mesmerized and went on looking at her.
A mere local Rajasthani girl appearing in my eyes as the most beautiful lady of the world.
Again the splashes of rain.
Again the winds sharp.
Again the lightning blue through the white desert.
Again far across..two camels along with a caravan move on slowly..bells ringing from their neck.
Again the rain drops touching and pouring down the girl’s body.
Her hair.Her neckline. Her breast. Her hands.Her feet.
And her lips.
Wet lips.
Winds crossed her and swept me.
I shivered.
The winds carried something more with it than the rain.

Beneath the Golden Fortress on the top of the mountain..within the seven hundred years old city..within the scattered broken historical buildings..the smell of a local Rajasthani girl of Jaisalmer slowly spreaded throughout my body..
A smell..a fragrance of a silent love.
I kissed it!

Alone in a Lonely Station..

It was twenty past twelve.
And through the shades of midnight the Rajdhani Express suddenly halted.It was unexpected as Rajdhani stops only in some stations..clearly it was nothing but a matter of signal..I can hardly take bed so early thus I stood up and peeped through the glasses.

And I got stranded.
A beautiful night awaiting for me outside.

The station was totally empty..over the glasses I saw some yellow green leaves running scatterdly over the platform in winds..sky clear..stars shining at regular intervals.

It became tough for me to remain within the train.
I walked from the AC –Sleeper class,opened the door and stepped into the station.

As my feet touched the platform, a wind swept me which bear an unknown fresh smell
.Is it a smell of the soil?
Is it a smell of the cattlefields?
Is it the smell of the tree, its branches?
Or is it the smell of the night?
I don’t know but I felt the smell contains ingredients from all of it.

I looked front. There was no trace of any signal.

I started walking. The scattered leaves now roamed over my feet.
The wind blowing in different tunes..the sky looks amazing..no trace of clouds..a faint moonlight spreading herself over this unknown station at this particular night..the air is cold..

I stared at the mesmerizing view of the night which lay before me.

The station though almost empty has a view of solitary loneliness..only a light of the lamppost of the station glowing and pouring on a banyan tree..the tree is old with numerous branches..some green..some yellow..some without leaves..some with leaves shaking in winds..throughout the station beneath the the blue sky the banyan tree with all its shades of colour and spreading of green leaves among the yellowish image resembling as if the only symbol of life..behind the plots of cattlefields..behind some bushes..I saw ..quite far from here..a hazy layout of a steep plateau like structures..from which direction the winds are suppose to be blowing..there was hardly any sound in the place except..the clattering of a night bird..the flapping of its wings..a dog running through the fields parallel to the tracks..a cow standing in the night over the grazing fields..sometimes nodding its head unconsciously..all pictures of loneliness..all a piece of singleness trying to hold the epigraph of time..of life..all sketches of solitude..all pictures of a different world which made this night,this moment,this station so very precious to me..

I thanked God that the train stopped here..

It was really unique..far from all the resemblance of our known world..far from the sorrows and daily struggles of survival..this night showed the vast epitome of the world..lesson of feeling the world for some moment instead of only running and searching for meaningless worldly things..a desire of surrender to this world..to open myself completely and absorb all the wonderful gifts that the nature had to offer..a raga of timeless sensations..a feeling of individualness which can be so pure..so mouthful of essences of rendezvous..

But at that moment the signal was shown.
The green light flashed.
I boarded the steps of Rajdhani.
The train started slowly.
The yellowish platform passed.
The beautiful banyan tree passed.
Its dancing leaves passed.
The blue sky with numerous stars passed.
And then passed the ‘board’ on which the station name was written.
The light of the station as well as the moonlight fell on the name.
‘Paharganj’.


I came back to my seat.
Through the looking glass I saw moonlight kissing all corners of the earth outside.
The outside world with all its people and their emotions was running again parallel to the train.
Another station came.
Passed.
Another came.
Passed.
But I know I can never forget this remotestation which gave me nothing but a sense of solitary individualness..and gifts of unpredicted beauty!
And another thing..
A smell of lonely romanticism!

One Night at Chittore

I really wanted to spend a night in Chittore.

And thus when one day I got a chance I took it.
I was struck in work there and thus have no option but to stay a night there.

From the day I started loving History, from the day I became a student of archaeology,and the day I became an Junior Archaeologist….it was a dream of mine.To face history….to spend nights in historical places.
I finished my dinner within ten thirty and then came and sat down in a chair. The sky was filled with spongy clouds which is kissing the moon and adoring her light. The wind was blowing gently though it also sometimes brought dust with it.
After taking an hours rest and when no one in the whole house seemed awake I slowly slipped out of the house. I started walking slowly. I took the road towards the fort. It was a steep sloppy surface . the sky is now totally clear and the moon was shining in her own majesty. The moonlit night was slowly gripping the night of Chittore.
I passed the temple of goddesses Kali. I passed some houses built of rocks which had their origin in last three to four centuries ago. Within some wrecked houses I found fire was burning. Maybe in this cold weather some shelterless person earning warmth.
A shadow of a person appeared before me in distant near. The shadow almost tottering came towards me and then asked ‘Brijesh keya? Lakhan ka dukan keya bandh ho gaya?’(A meaningless question to someone )I ignored him and went on walking. That person again said something. It was useless answering him as he was drunk and not in sense.
The wind touched me with a splash. I looked upwards. Clouds were gathering and breaking up. Much like my feelings ….astonishment..wonder..joy..happiness..yet a feeling of despair all coming..gathering .. and then breaking up.
To the left side of mine was total empty steep slopes ran down almost down to the foothills of the town. In my right side broken houses ,scattered pieces of rocks some illegible memorablia, almost like an inscription, numerous bushes and trees and dark dimmy small houses on the steep slopes….and more than anything a different strange smell..a smell which denotes old things existing in the present day earth which is itself an amusing and pecuiliar feature.
I came down to the gate of the fort. There ought to be some security here but I cant saw any one of them. I smiled. I went inside and thought if anybody asked me my motive for such an night ride it would be difficult to explain them. But what would not be difficult was showing them my ID card of A.S.I.
A whole new world awaited inside. It was simply mesmerizing . The light of the moon now flooded everywhere. I came and sat over a rock near Vijay-Stambha which Rana Kumbha has built to commemorate his success. It was a glorious architecture symbolizing the best specimen of Rajput architecture. I have seen it numerous times but never in such a moonlit night. I have seen moonlit Taj , this is an experience comparable to it. The tower of Vijay-Stambha was looking totally white as if it was built of marble and it seems the white light was pouring down from there to the ground and then throughout everywhere. The moon light has started writing a lyrics in her own tune in the modern world with themes of past.
It was a night which I never forget..
I went to Chittore later also sometimes.
But never found that sizzling touches of moments like that night.
May be I have changed..may be I have become old..thus lost those senses of romanticism..
But still remember that one night when..
Time stopped at Chittore!

The woman on the banks of the Ganges..

The woman was sitting at the same place over a rock in the banks of the Ganga river.
It was the third day consecutively that I found her on the same spot.
Her anchal of the blue saree gently blowing in the wind, her sleepers lay in the sand, her naked feet playing with the grains of sand , marked with all signs of unconciousness.
Her eyes looking at a distant though it seems, that she is hardly looking at anything particularly.
She looks very impatient, restless.
I am staying in Hardwar for last one year. I never found any woman sitting in such a posture with negligible movement of limbs.
The woman captured my attention. I stopped walking and came and seat over a bench near the river.

It is quarter to five now in the morning. The first rays of sunlight slowly getting visible in the vast sky which just shaded off the colour of the night. The breeze that is coming from the Ganges is wet, fresh and lively. The surrounding blue hills slowly assuming the golden light of the sun. Numerous birds flying with their colourful wings. The sweet swinging sound of the river water gradually getting mixed up with other colloquial sounds as the city is getting awake.

Ganga is beautiful here. She looks like just a virgin glorious young lady who goes on with a distinct pride of beauty and innocence.
She is much stable here. She is much reserved.
It is really wonderful to see the Ganga river flowing in three differnt portraits.
In contrast to Hardwar, the river had much speed in Hrishikesh and in Lachmanjhula
she is too fast, bubbly and hilly with great speed as she is just coming down from the glacier of Gomukh.
Hardwar is getting busy. If you are a visitor it is the best time to enter Hardwar.
I first came to Hardwar in my college days through Doon Express and I entered the city
during this time.

It was winter….the morning fog covering a large part of the road though the sky slowly getting clear….the tangas moving with the horses ….from all the roads people walking towards the Ghat …. Numerous pilgrims..local people.. from eight to eighty walking towards the river carrying towels in their back and a mug( locally called ghati) in their hand, needed for taking a dip in the water and for the Suryastaba( Prayer to the Sun) as the first light appears in the sky….there was a tremendous hubbing sound near the ghat .sound of so many people talking, chanting , whispering….pandas calling from the roadside in numbers ‘Baba Daksheswarer darshan hobe?’, mainly in Bengali(Calling for a visit and worship of the Lord Daksheswar) ….hawkers also selling their goods among which you can get everything….people of all caste, religion can be seen there.. it was wonderful and stunning ..as before me lay.. a mini edition of India.

I walked along..
Looking at the woman..
She became the greatest mystery to me..and also the subject of interest.
I thought of going to her and breaking her solitude but can not.
I have no right to interfere in her personal matters or her silence.
From next day she was not there.
But I remember her still.
I doubt whether I can forget her anyday.
As she remain a picture of loneliness..melancholy silence to me..
Or may be she would remain to me as a poem with lyrics of uncherished moods..forever!

As she came in the Norwester rain..

It is five past five.

And the evening had suddenly disappeared among flocks of dark clouds . The march of those clouds is threatening enough to break the rhythm of normal life. Some sort of urgency has gripped the streets….people swiftly moving from one place to another….

Cars running with headlights on….hawkers pulling up cover on their commodities….

The scent of wind gradually spreading the message in lips and bounds….and with every second the earth seems waiting for something to happen….

Another slash of wind.

The message which came as a rumour now turned into reality.

Monsoon halted at Park Street.

The clouds within fractions of moment started milking water….and rain came down.

A torrential rain.

When the first drop of rain touched me I am crossing the road….my umbrella looking like a mere laughter and I ran towards the steps of Music World.

I got a bit protection under the shade.

But I got worried.

How would she come?

The distance from her office to here may be a minute’s walk, but in this rain it is sure to be take much more time and the walking among these cosmopolitan ruffians would surely be far from easy.

I am getting mad to think what should I do….I am always impatient….now to the extreme. Once I thought I should move towards her office but it would be really a hand-clapping sight if instead of her I meet her boss looking toward me with numerous questions scribbled on his face with hints of added spice and gossips!

I started walking restlessly….and at that moment….

I saw her.

She is walking as usual calmly….every steps bearing the undaunted significance of a confident woman….her face in this darkness also holding a light as if declaring the images of the lost evening sun….her blowing hairs writing some fantasy among the hazardous atmosphere….her beautiful red kurta and yellow salwar reciprocating her madly beauty….the drops of rain on her red kurta disappearing almost flawlessly without leaving a mark….a picture of naturalism which made me remember ….a landscape of Abanindranath Tagore….the master of naturalism….her eyes searching for me…. a feeling which is itself enough a reason to live a thousand life….her lips touching each other as if to discover those moments ….in which some words comes to heart but never spoken through lips….a soothing symphony of undescribed emotions….

She saw me….

She is coming towards me….

My heart still runs faster.

After so many days still whenever I see her I feel that I am seeing her for the first time.

I love her.

She is coming towards me….I forgot about the heavy rain….I forgot that my umbrella is almost blown away….I lost from my mind totally that in this rush I should save my pocket, Park-Street being like a holy place of the pick-pocketers….I hardly heard that

Cars, taxis, bikes are fiercely blowing their horns….I hardly saw that the Traffic signal is irritatingly sluggish and got stranded in red light as Rahul Dravid does in 99….I did not care about the cover of the book-stall in front of me is almost falling on me after not managing any traces of friendship from the rainy wind….

I only saw that she is coming….

A picture written with pure words of mesmerisation and beauty….

She is crossing the roads….

She is coming near and near….

She.my love. When ever I saw her I feel that I am in front of a vast sky which has no limits. Much like Tagore’s writing I can say that whenever she comes towards me….

I realize that there are many things in between me which is only meant for her….

The more I know her ….the more I doesn’t know her….the more I feel her ….the more I

possess the urge to adore her….She is like a deep ocean to me which touches shores ….only to show that she is unreachable….her real beauty lay in the freedom ….the vastness….the horizon….

It is a moment which became immortal!And it made life looks a bit more beautiful!

Crossed Fingers

Crossed Fingers




Sneha

Scattered clouds. Roaming winds. Bluish white sky. And smell of sea.
The night couldn’t have been better. And after dinner to stroll is the best in this weather.It appears that I have a spring in my steps.I felt like running. But I like also this casual slow walk towards the sea.As if I am slowly and steadily preparing myself to surrender to the eternity. And I am always crazy for that moment! After a long time I am again here..only me and the sea. And where in India Brown sand..indigo sky..green sea merges? Guesses?
Its Goa!
Thus when yesterday Friday evening when Ron-(scrapped from Ranvijay) came to me and tell his plan about Goa I jumped!
This must be a brainwave!
We called Abhi(again cut from Abhimanyu), he though now a days looks a bit groovy for his new crap project thankfully agreed also.By eight we are in Cafetaria of office and by 10 we are sailing in Innova! Though its month end, though the pocket is bit tight but any way we are on our way!
After all we are from office days The Terrific Three!
And our friendship started from a very unique moment.
We three got through the campus but still we hardly know each other just faces known.
I got the first project after a hack of two months training in Gurgaon ,
The day when my train was that very day Mamata bannerjee the great lady of Bengal decided that it is a golden moment to obstuct the road, thus when I reached Sealdah , it was five minutes for Rajdhani to depart..I ran..while surfing through coaches the Whistle came and at that moment one door opened and a hand came out..I caught it and then another hand came to hold my another hand..the first one was Ron and the second one was Abhi! Thus started our trilogy!

Cool breeze came and swept me..far ahead garlands hanging over the sea..a large ship and small boats sailing away..roaming clouds giving ways to glimpses of moonlight at regular intervals..a bunch of sea-gulls flying..small thatched huts lighted in small bulbs at along the beach..some boatmen walking gently over the sands..some foreiners drinking beer..sketches of night Goa slowly changing its tune to the midnight..

I walked..I saw my watch..
Its almot 12..
And there is the Sauza Lobo Hotel
And here is the Calangute Beach..

I stopped. I thought about the SMS just after dinner today which flashed in my mobile:

“Plz meet me below Sauza Lobo
Calangute
Sharp at 12 midnight
I will wait”

I am on my spot.
But I can not see Abhi.
I stopped .
I waited.
As another cool sea wind washed me the question again came in my mind..
Why Abhi called me at midnight..Why?

Abhi

Well I am perfect from all other side but the least punctual, thus I am not a good tolerable boyfriend to girls,and when some think of me like that the day when we fixes an appo that was the end of that. Sneha is the only girl who never slapped me when she waited for me many times..she is just an angel..but I doubt and surely know that patience also have a limit. But today I want to change all those..may be I also want to show that I am a perfect man..with responsibilities..

Its fifty past eleven..I almost ran through the sands..I thought about Sneha..the day we became friends from that day she did many thing for me..cooked for me by her own and brught lunch..reffeered me and brought me in her project ..though now we are again in a separate project..she was always there in my bad times..helped me in many technical knowledge and training and all those stuffs..she is a gem of a friend..and though I thought many times about surrendering myself to her..but can not..but today I would surely do..

I passed two children locals building homes with sands..
I stopped and looked..I have to start building my dreams today..I again walked on..
I am getting tense4d..Can I really teel it to Sneha?
I took a long breathe..yes..I would..
There is the Sauza Lobo..
I am almost in Calangute there..

I am getting tensed but also along with that I have a feeling of unexplainable happiness..
As I thought about the SMS after dinner in my cell:

“Plz meet me below Sauza Lobo
Calangute
Sharp at 12 midnight
I will wait”

I start running now.
The SMS incident is just the alarm I needed.
It is truly “ Deemag ki Batti jala diy” case!

While walking through the beach I though an not help asking myself a question..
Through the cool wet winds I thought “
Why Sneha asked me to meet at this midnight..will she is going to propose me first?
Ron

A big wave is coming.I stood up and faced it while standing over the wooden stand of the small boat. The boatman shouted “ Turn Back Sab” ..I ignored him.
I know it can be dangerous and thus I love challenges and what is life without challenges? The wave came. It hit me like a storm. For a moment I thought that I would be swept aside and would be thrown into sea.And while I found myself suffocating in water a face blossomed up over my eyes..a beautiful face..soft tender with goddess smile and I lost myself the moment I saw her..broadly when from the doors of a train I caught her pinkish hand and pulled it towards me..Sneha..yes Sneha..and the moment when I found that I am going to be in the sea I caught hold over the wooden stand..like the last support and with my closed eyes I found that between life and death lies she..Sneha..my ultimate passion.
The wave went. I sat again over the boat. Wind is rough clods flocking in..is it going to rain? It can..moonlight quite less now..

The boat man said “Apko bola tha sab! Abhi mat aaiye..Mausanm thik nehi hai!”
Yes the boatman did warned me but I forced him.
I need to go out of the shore.
I thought what should I do staying in the shore?
And how can I ?
I thought may be some day I would tell Sneha about my feelings..but I thought she never thought me like that way..always with Abhi..bringing lunch for him..referring him as he is bit down in tech fundas..and when she is with me she is so quite..hardly talks..
I thought one day I would propose her surely..but each day when I prepare myself I found that Sneha talking about Abhi..and I resign for my planning of proposing her..

The sea is getting rough..sky cloudy it is surely going to rain..
I looked at the vast sea..the sky the eternity which lay at front.
I am feeling lonely very lonely..
Beacause I am feeling that I am no more a good human being!
Any man who worshipped her love and thought about getting her how can do that diplomacy? And with whom? With one of his friend?

I have lost myself.

I saw at my watch ..its 12.05AM midnight.
I pressed into my Message Box.
And then with fast fingers wrote the message.
And then send it.
Multiple options.
To Abhi and Sneha.

Sneha

‘Abhi, whats up?’
I asked the first question to Abhi as it is almost two minutes that we met in Calangute and like a shit first time lovers are totally mum.So no other way I have to open my account.

But still Abhi quiet. I pushed his shoulder, “ Hey man , I think you called me here to tell me something..right?”

Abhi now stared at me and the said,

“What? Sneha, you have called me dear!”
I am surprised like a crap and thought Abhi must have lost words manytimes like early.

I called you for what, Abhi?
‘The same question I am asking you..”
‘But its you called me..’
‘Abhi, need a slap..its you who called me.’

So lets check the SMS.
And so we both opened our Inbox and the Message.
And like a bullshit we both have the same message!

Who is it then?

Our question before popping up a new message sparked our in box.
I opened it..
Abhi leaned over..

“Guys, I have separated you..Abhi you got
removed from the project because of me
I reffered you to the US Project..
I am Sorry guys..but now we are in Goa
I have brought you here only for that..
Abhi, tell it yaar..Sneha, you can also..
But for God’s sake u2 gt2 promise noy 2 ask me
Why I dis that..
Sneha..it is an unexplainable reason..
4gv me & wnt a Champagne!”

I am totally struck reading the message and need some seconds to got out of that.
And then I looked into Abhi.
He did the same.
Then I rang Ron’s mobile.
It is switched off.
I turned around.
Sky full of clouds..air smells rain..wind harsh..sandgrains filling up the air..
I was about to work Abhi caught my hand..
‘Sneha, I really want to tell you some thing..”
I stopped and looked at him and said ,
‘Abhi, please later on, but now I have a much important work.’
‘What’s that?
‘To find out Ron’.


Ron

Its raining heavily now. Winds almost in a mood of storm. Clouds red, and ligjhtning reflecting the beautiful Goa by night.I jumped off the anchored boat. And then started walking.I am totally wet , I need a shower now, feeling though quite light now.Or may be abottle of champagne waiting me? I hope Sneha would forgive me?

As I reached the tip of the shore I found the beautiful orchestra of strings.
I know this sound.
A Message came in my mobile.
Though the drops of rain I opened it.

“ Our script is already written ..you can’t re-write it..
And I came to Goa with you only for that..
I kept quite..my eyes low..my blushings..
Idiot..can’t you get anything?
If you ever think of coming back..
You plz come below Souza Lobo..
Calangute..
I am waiting..
Ron, I am waiting..”

I start running. Oh! Why the beach has become slipper in rain?
I am running..running..
There is Souza Lobo..there is Calangute..
And there she is..
I told you guys, there lies only one barrier between life and death.
And the she is.
Sneha..my life!






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