Joda Achcha Lagega

Last Sunday, I was out with my friends from school - Aditya, Astha, Jayanti and Udit; hanging out in Dwarka. Meeting school friends had always been quite a ritual, for we all used to come together whenever Aditya would be in the city. Though rest all of us reside not that far apart, but we hardly used to meet. Count that on the busy schedules and life otherwise we all had been leading. But whenever Aditya would come back from his university in Chennai, it used to be grandeur for we all could be together then. Aditya was to give treat this time for his birthday previous month. So, we all met at Dwarka sector-10 metro station. This was instantly followed by a ceremonial, warm hugging welcome, by each one to each one. Led by the ever puzzled but pretending not to be, friend of ours, Aditya, we traipsed on the eerie roads of Dwarka.

The series of events that followed I prefer not to talk of ‘cause they are not the cause behind my writing. So, I would resume it from here. After offering a sumptuous Italian lunch, Aditya was leading us to some ice-cream parlor. On the way we came across beggars; not two, not three but several. As if lined up in an array.

Well, these beggars, I can’t miss describing. All of them were kids. Girls but one. Mostly in their pre or early adolescence. Don’t know whether they do this on purpose or genuine lack of amenities; they all gave a look of not having bathed since last spring. Their parched skin and the hard sheet of blackening dust defied. Dressed in the shabbiest of the clothes, soiled n tattered. The girls having a rag on their heads. There was a whole flock of these kids, as if were waiting for us only to pass by. But then they catch every passerby. Perhaps only, someone could ever pass without being noticed and approached. They work on a network basis. The leader of the flock would station all to different cites and mentions their place of work where they have to be active enough to let any one just pass by without being caught. These are the road-hit managers, having their own organization to run. If one notice closely, he could judge there could be an in charge of HR, for administration, finance, R&D, so on and so forth, in the whole network. Well, I guess someday IIM’s would be conducting seminars where in these managers of the road would be rendering lectures.

With a much practiced fake, or perhaps, anticipation they would approach you and with their much learnt, and mastered rather, baritone and dialogues, they would ask you for alms and would bless you in the magnitude of pounds. They would follow you to quite a distance. At times even touching your feet. Many a people just to evade such embarrassing moments would give a coin or two to them. At times, when you don’t respond and move on, these kids would curse with something even they would be not knowing the meaning of, but were taught so, or even hit you. Whatever.

That day too, we were, as if stalked by the whole battalion of little beggars. Don’t know why but I have this benevolence for these kids. And this only ends me up having chat with them, every time. I never let a penny out though. This is specifically about the two of them:

First one; a girl having the same above described attire and perhaps of twelve approaches us:

With all her routine dialogues she began to ask for alms.

‘I don’t have money’, I said which I obviously was lying.

But she continued wooing the lambs.

‘Do you go to school?’, I enquired knowing that obviously she wouldn’t be. But this always works for me. Ask about school and they are vanished. I had assumed that she too would just vanish or give a regular ‘NO’ in reply. She indeed said no but what she said along with took me aback or rather I was mesmerized by the innocence with which she replied.

‘Nahi, hum nahi jate par hamare bhaiya jate hain’

Next was the girl in the video below. And just as any other kid of her age would recite a rhyme, she started pleading for alms.

‘Ae de de bhaiya, tumahri jodi achchi rahegi’

Once. Twice. Thrice. And again. And over again. She had taken Jayanti for my partner.

‘She is my sister kid’

But as if she had no attention to what we were saying. She was just repeating her lines. The subtle cuteness of the kid, made me take my phone out and capture her; but just as I started the camera of my phone, I guess she noticed what I was up to and got conscious. May be to the camera. Whatever.

I fear in getting some conclusion out of this. For I don’t know what would it be- mercy, shame, surprise, confusion, anger. Don’t know. I just know this is there.

Munni Sarvatra Hai :D

Ekadashi (eleventh date) of the Hindi month of Kartik(this month starts from the first full moon after Deepawali and most often falls in October-November). This has always brought celebrations around for on this day it is considered that all the Hindu Gods and Goddesses wake up. And this thus marks the advent of the marriage season in Indian Culture.

Marriage!!

Marriage??

Marriage.

(Here this full stop has more meaning and worth than the word itself)

By simple permutations there arise four cases:

1. Boy is Angel (perhaps just saying ‘not bad’ would do the justice) and the is Girl is Witch(and that means a wicked witch) : kind of equivalent to that the boy is hanged by the noose, eventually for the whole life which perhaps would mean ‘till death’ only.
2. Boy is Devil (or even gross) and the Girl is an Angel : in this is the case I truly feel pity for the girl. May no girl ever has to be in this case.
3. Boy is Devil and the Girl is Witch : Oh gosh! Full on entertainment perhaps for the neighbors. But then I feel sorry for the kids.
4. Aww…this is the sweetest one. Both the Girl and the Boy are Angels : Perhaps this is the rarest case. One in a million.

Now let us come back to the point. Will it be anything, marriages mean celebrations, showing off, lots of work(for the families engaged) and lots of nuisance( be it ‘cause of dowry or boozed up attendees or anything).

In fact once I remember a fight broke out just ‘cause two men of the families couldn’t have a common agreement over whether the rasgulla were black or brown? And this led to the most memorable of the events, which we call the ‘rasgulla fight’ ‘cause that argument over the colour of rasgulla had led to both of them throwing rasgullas at each other. And this is a true story and I myself had attended that wedding.

With marriage also comes music associated. Earlier it was only restricted to ‘Mahila Sangeet’ and Shehnai. But as time passed ‘Dhol’ and band came into the scene. The latest in thing is the DJ’s. Perhaps for most of the people it though means dance floor with the music played loud over the sophisticated music systems devoid of any mixing and grooves, etc. I recently happened to attend a wedding this season. The dance floor there was full or in fact crowded and people were perhaps jumping to the beats of ‘Munni Badnam’. Once, twice, thrice, again. I then noticed a few drunk men who were standing by the man who was playing the music. (I wouldn’t perhaps disgrace the profession by calling him a DJ) And rest perhaps could be well guessed.

On our way back, we passed by a two or three weddings and everywhere the same song was being played. My brother who was alongwith me, said-"Brother , look this song is being played everywhere on a repetition basis. Doesn’t Munni herself get tired?" I calmly smiled to my brother and said-"Bhai, Munni ke anek roop hain. Munni sarvatra hai." :D

P.S. : In fact I was born on this Ekadashi of Kartik month too. :p

Acute Assignmentory Disorder

I remember once when during my engineering days a lecturer asked for a particular assignment as it was supposed to be the submission day for the same.

Damn, I had almost forgotten about the assignment. It was to be submitted today and I haven’t even started it yet.

Those days I used to sit in the second last row. The coolest one as I thought, ‘cause there neither would the last bencher tag be associated with me, nor it would be close to the teacher. So it would make eating during the classes and in fact even dozing during the boring lectures quite comfortable. But that day don’t know how out of the blue, the lecturer started calling out roll number-wise.

‘Roll Number 1’

‘Not done ma’m’

‘Why? Your class has made it a routine. I wouldn’t allow you people to attend the my class now onwards. Till you get the permission from the HoD to do so. Now go out of my class.’

Fish! Permission from the HoD. And he’ll ring the parents.

‘Roll Number 2’

‘Yes Ma’m’

‘Keep it here’

I am gone now. He’ll call up mum-dad.

‘Roll Number 3’

Dad will cut short my allowances.

Mum is going to scold me.

‘Here it is ma’m’

‘Keep it here’

No money, No movies, No eating out.

‘Roll Number 4’

‘Not brought’

Oh my goodness, now I don’t have time even to copy it from someone. Why are they calling parents? It would have been just a routine if they wouldn’t have been ringing them.

‘Get out and get the permission from the Head to attend any of my next lectures’

I am ruined.

‘Roll Number 5’

Its nothing that great, but my parents. Who’ll make them understand?

‘Roll Number 5’

‘Haanh…yeas ma’m’

Where’s your assignment?’

‘I haven’t done’

‘Even you? Go out and get…’

‘Ma’m actually I have Acute Pulmunatory Disorder and I had an attack of it a few days back. So couldn’t do the assignment as I had to visit the doctor on the regular basis and he used to check my blood pressure and its viscosity and oxygen carrying capacity on a regular basis and was given the fumes of condensed oxygen with the other medicinal fumes.’

The lecturer as if skipped a breath. There was silence of the sea. Drop dead silence.

‘Okay then submit it in a week’s time’

‘Thank You ma’m’

‘Oye, is it?’ my friend sitting by my side said.

‘Is it? You think?’