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….



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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.