Ambrosia

It was new year’s eve. Sulking in the dark corners of her cell, she saw the sparkling lights and glittering fireworks, through the window on the opposite wall. Indeed her one room flat in the poor lanes in the outskirts of the town was no better than a cell. The poorly, yet neatly furnished room had damp walls that had been hit by the rains last night. The plaster had also come out of the wall at several places. The floor had many a cracks and it sounded as if the ground had been hollowed by the rats. The fan hanging by the ceiling made more of sound than it cooled. She just had enough of everything just for her own self. An old kerosene burner of the 18th century, perhaps; a few jars. That was all. But she had a whole line of rich and fancy outwear in her wardrobe which she didn’t wear though but only at night when she would be at streetwalking.

Whether it be Christmas or new year-nothing held any importance for the poor ever. They were just the festivities of the rich. Santa never came, jingling to them. The new year brought no hopes. They counted days as cold when the weather was chilling or cold when they were ill-treated, beaten up or thrashed. The life of the poor was devoid of any warmth.

For the hookers it was even harder, for they were not accepted in the colony of the poor either. Yet each night the market at the outskirts would be at the boom. The ‘queans’ would become the ‘queens’ of night. The men who would despise even the sight of them during the day, would be caressing them like princesses during the night; would be bringing them flowers and sweets. All in for the session they want to have. Each woman would have a price. The young and pretty one would go for hefty prices. The older ones would be like ‘take away left away for less.’ Since she was getting old herself, she was nearing the same creed too.

She hadn’t gone for the trade that night. In fact she was cooking for herself. Though she cooked each night, but that was just for the requirement to live. But tonight she was cooking for herself. She was making something out of the nothing she had for she didn’t had much of spices or flavors to add. But at the moment she had joie de vivre to add. As she was sautéing the contents of the pan, she heard a gentle knock at the door.

‘humph…it must be the kids’

Kids were left home all by themselves or by the elder kids when their mothers went on ‘work’ at night. The ill-stared kids would belong to the same mother but they could never know who their fathers could be. The mothers would tell them that their father was in some other country or died in war or something of the like. The kids though were too young to understand all this.

She kept sautéing. But she heard another gentle one over the door.

‘This must be Sophia’

‘Sophia, is that you? Sorry girl I am not coming this night.’

She didn’t invite her in. for if she would have invited her, she might have to share her food and she didn’t want to. It was ‘all hers’.

‘No ma’m I am Roger. Roger Cliff. You might not be knowing me, but I recognize you.’

‘Is he some maggot? Looking for flesh? No, he can’t be. He’s so humble and his voice seems like of an adolescent yet. He couldn’t have come here to ‘hook up.’ she ruffled up her old tattered apron and moved to the door.

She saw a boy of seventeen-eighteen at the door. Simple in texture. He was perhaps from the colony of the commoners from the town, but what was he doing there if he wasn’t up there for game?

‘Yes, boy. What brings you here? Who are you?’

‘Ma’m, I am Roger. I live in the town and work in the clock shop, down the street to the monastery, as a helper boy. Last night I just noticed from the shop onto the street that while you got into the cab, this scarf( producing a white scarf with violet polka dots before her) fell off your shoulder and perhaps you didn’t notice that but I did. I ran after the cab for a while but you were gone. I enquired much about you and then I could get your address from the women there.’

‘Ma’m wouldn’t you let me in? I am thirsty. Can I have a little water? I came running all the way to return this to you. This looked costly. Thought you must be worried about it.’

She was puzzled. No one had ever come to her earlier and talked in such a benevolent tone.

‘Look boy, don’t know who you are but you belong to perhaps a respectable society. Don’t come inside And rather don’t stand at my door either. You go the way you came. Your parents wouldn’t like that you came here, if they got to know. You know who I am?’

‘Yeah, you are a hooker as they say. But I don’t understand this. For me, you are just another woman. Perhaps of the age of an elder sister.’

She couldn’t find an argument to it. Rather she hadn’t heard any one talk this way before ever. She was feeling good about it. She was not used to such a feeling. She could not let this little conjurer just let go without he being quenched. She let him in. And brought him water to drink in a brass tumbler, only two of which she had in total. Making himself well seated on the only small stool and bringing forward the beautiful scarf, he said- ‘Here ma’m. Here is your scarf.’

‘I didn’t even remember I had this scarf with me last night. Thank you kid. But I can’t believe that you took so much of pains to return a mere scarf to a slut and are sitting in her home and having water too from her. Most men wouldn’t like to have anything from the hands of a whore.’

‘Yet they would come to you for game, won’t they? So what? They take you as a promiscuous one, but I see you as a lady elder to me and hence respectable’, argued the boy.

‘Who are you? No one would have ever thought this of me. Are you some saint? But then why would they come to any of us here?’, asked the woman.

‘Who are you?, I ask, for no woman would take up this profession of their own free will.’

‘Why you want to know? Are you some creepy journalist or playwright, who just keep fagging in search of realistic lines to sell?’

‘I am none. I am just an ordinary helper boy at a store at the street. With no family of my own, I live just for myself. Yeah, I do like to talk to everyone. Perhaps that’s where I think I justify your queries.’, the boy said.

‘But then why should I be telling you all this?’, the woman argued.

To this the boy took her hand and said, ‘Trust me.’

The mere touch of the boy had taken her under some spell. She hadn’t had such a tranquility in years. Men had been all over her every night usually for the past seventeen years. She never felt this good ever. Rather alcoholed mouths had always been such a nuisance and that was what she always had. But today this touch was all together different. Today it was serene rather. She couldn’t resist but ask, ‘No one ever asked me this. They just asked for my price. And today, don’t know why, I feel like telling this to a boy who is half my age young to me. Tell me are you some magician?’

‘No ma’m I told you who I am’, the boy said.

And hence she began.

‘I was fifteen when my father died. And my aunt and her three little kids were who ever I had. My aunt was a nice lady. She loved me even more than her own kids. Since the only earning hand was gone, it was too hard for us to make a living. Aunt started working as a domestic help. But still she couldn’t meet the requirements of food even. The following winters, she had been taken ill. And we didn’t had money to pay to the doctors even. Whatever scanty my father had left us, had been used till yet. I could still survive, but the kids were still young to withstand hunger for days together. The youngest one starved to death. Aunt died the following night too. We didn’t had to grieve their deaths either. It seemed like death was knocking us all down: three gone, three left.’

‘I couldn’t have let my brothers to starve. I took up a job as a domestic help. The lady used to beat me up. But still the children could make a living of it. She was an ‘angel’ in disguise. But as if the trials with destiny were not over yet. That one day we heard that the war had broke out. The Germans had captured the eastern frontier and may break into the city as well, very soon. The life of the poor was going unaffected. But one day eventually, the Germans broke in. there was curfew everywhere. Streets blocked, shops shut. Everything came to a standstill. People didn’t even dare to open their windows even. I too couldn’t move out of the home even. We were starving again. I couldn’t resist seeing the two boys starve to death. So one day, stepped out in search of work. I went door to door, but none opened. Work I didn’t find but an army van stopped in my way. Taking me for a whore, the soldiers tore off my clothes and undraped me on the war hit naked streets. They were fifteen or twenty rather. I kept screaming for help, but no door opened. I kept pleading that I am not a slut but they weren’t interested. More they were interested were a poor lamb to feed upon. They ravished me, and left me unconscious lying naked on the street.’

There was silence in the room. The woman was sniffing, in tears perhaps. No one had ever seen the scars on her soul. Never had she let the pain come out. The boy was silent. Silent as sea dead.

‘The next morning, when I regained senses, I was shivering, my legs lying lifeless, blooded. I gathered the tatters which just the previous night were my clothes. I was hating myself. But I couldn’t have died even for I still had two kids to live for. I went to home, falling each time I would stand up. Somehow I made it to the flat. I couldn’t relate myself to the world anymore. I was feeble. I was bleeding. I was shivering. I was numb. I entered home only to find the younger one dead. Again had nothing for funeral. Neither me, nor my brother had the strength to take the corpse to the graveyard. I couldn’t have grieved for my own, for I still had the other one to support. Now he had none of his family except me. I had to pull up my nerves.

‘Cut the corpse into pieces, we’ll bury him in the forest ourselves.’, I said to my brother.

‘Jesus! How could we? He is our brother’, the only surviving brother of mine said.

‘Brother is gone. This mere a corpse and neither of us has the strength nor the money to take it to the graveyard and get it funerated.’

‘But sister cutting the corpse into pieces is a sin.’

‘We don’t have any other alternative, do we? And what is sin to the poor when there is no good.’

The body was cut into pieces and was taken to the woods in shifts and was buried there under an oak. My further searches for job all went in vain. I was rebuked everywhere. They called me whore, promiscuous, bitch.

All my grievances went vain.

My soul was crippled. I was reduced to just a living corpse. I couldn’t have let the only surviving son of my aunt to die starving too. I had to market this corpse. I used to die many a deaths each night.

Brother went into army. The purpose of my life was perhaps over. But I couldn’t let myself just pass away still. I lived. I lived by the hope that someday perhaps I will die in honor. That I will die under the silver lining someday.’

The boy took her hand into his and said

‘amen’

‘You will attain the highest order of calm and joy. The kingdom of heaven will take you with their open arms..’

As if a spell was cast by the these words. The woman felt the calm of the spring and the joy of the river. The joy was such that she didn’t even ponder what the boy said and where he left. She just kept sitting in the same position motionlessly. A smile had come to her face. She hadn’t smiled ever since her father died. She felt the elixir of life trickle down her throat tranquilizing her guts. Her stomach was fed and the soul quenched.

She had the best sleep of her life that night to which she never woke up. That was her last sleep: an end to all her miseries. She had risen to a new dawn; a new horizon. Her corpse was buried by the women of the neighborhood but her soul had risen to the heaven. Her soul was now pure at last. As pure as the water from the first rain.

The Message in New Year

Its New Year time. Celebrations all around. I love celebrations. Only if I could be a part of them most of the time. But then perhaps, parties are not meant for me. I have lots of other stuff to do in life. I might be having. God has something for everyone. This might not be the right time, that’s it.

But then its new year and the spirit of new year tells you to keep moving, the celebrations won’t be far behind . It might just be that you are not taking the right step forward or may be you are not well directed.

New Year is to rejoice-whatever you are, who ever you are, wherever you are. Rejoice. For life comes only once and you cannot afford to let it all just get wasted in frowning or whining.

New Year comes for everyone- rich, poor; old, young; men, women and everyone. It never discriminates. So shouldn’t we. We must have compassion for every living soul, God had said and we must abide by it. New Year brings in new hope. And vows. A student hopes that he’ll excel in the year or that he might not fail again and will strive hard. A workman hopers that perhaps his pay will be hiked in the new year. Whatever and for who ever it be, new year comes with hope for everyone. Hope is life. So hope this new year be yours.

Amen.

Jan 01, 2011

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?’

Astrology and family of like disciplines

Astrology -an inseparable part of the Indian lives. Here people, in general, more than themselves believe in their stars. Here astrologists, palmists and all other of the same creed, thrive as much as do the doctors. Rather at times people rather than consulting a doctor for some illness, prefer rather to consult an astrologist.

People believe in the powers of the celestial bodies. And that everything is governed by them. In fact, in Hindu mythology there are citations that these planets have proved their strength over gods even. Even the mightiest of all gods, Shiva, couldn’t ward off the harsh period of the planet ‘Saturn’.

Possibly this all may be true. But has anyone ever heard that planets ever changed their course that often and then how many times? The earth is inhabited by some six and a half billion of the human race itself and then there are millions of others too inhabiting earth from fiercest and wildest of the animals to invisible to naked eyes micro organisms. And what a havoc it would have been if the planets had to move as in accordance with everyone. Who knows. Or did they ever start revolving in some other direction? Don’t know about the rest but I never observed anything like that. But we have always heard people saying-

“Din kharab chal rahe hain”, even in the finest of weather.

“Grah kamzor hai”, even though we know that all the planets have their definite mass and we know that nothing is going to happen to happen to them even in some hundreds of years.

“Grah-Dasha kharab chal rahi hai”, as if it was not for some planet but some rickety bus which ruled Delhi in not very distant past.

“Grah-Dasha badal sakti hai”, of which we know that they had been in nearly the same orbit ever since they got burst out of the Sun.

And tha Saga continues. But the question is still there as firm as ever. Do planets in actual govern us and our lives. To which I would say ‘yes they do’.

An old and wise sage once equated energy and mass in just one seemingly simple equation. Einstein Baba gave E=m.c-squared. Following that sage’s words we know that energy varies directly with mass. And thus we could say that the planets like Jupiter and Saturn which are manifolds bigger in size and heavier in weight than mother earth, possess a magnanimous amount of energy and with this amount of energy they do exert some pull or force (as given by another wise sage of the modern sciences that we study, Newton in his theories of gravitation) pertaining to their mass. And thus neither the earth and nor any of the earthlings remain unaffected of it. Thus the reasoning for the stars and planets affecting our lives. But we know and are sure of the unity and synchrony of each of the heavenly bodies. Then how could they affect the lives of each of us so uniquely and so distinctly from each other’s. To this there arise two possibilities- one that celestial bodies just mould the path as in accordance to what moves an individual takes but to move and how and where to move is in each individual’s backpack. The other possibility is time whose might cannot be neglected either.

The energy and time together make work possible. This we know pertaining to our knowledge in physics and thus the events occur.

When staunch followers of the GOD process disapprove of some scientific reasoning, I laugh at them but when people who believe in science disapprove of GOD and yet show reason for every occurrence, they make me laugh even harder. For as I see neither science ever disapproved of GOD and neither GOD ever rejected any of the reasoning provided by science. In fact, both the phenomenon are so well cogged into each other that there arises a clear outlook to both and yet validating the each other without disapproving of one another.

The being of GOD phenomenon

Often it comes to head that this world: the world around, is so perfectly knit in itself. Every event is so perfectly cogged and driven. And yet remains the uncertainty of every moment.

Amidst all this there still remains a thought in the minds of many- “The human civilization has developed its spectrum of knowledge so much that it has found a reason to everything that there seems to be no space to the ‘GOD’ phenomenon.” Truly there seems nothing to justify the presence of GOD.

Let us begin with the very beginning. The beginning of life. A sperm fuses with an ovum and a zygote is formed which attaches to the mother’s womb for forty whole weeks, developing each moment to take up human form. And hence begins a new life. Crawling, peeing and pooping in beds. This new life takes up nutrition (by various means), grows and everything occurs as we study in our science textbooks at school. How a foreign body enters our well fortified body; to which at times we fall prey and fall ill. How medicines and vaccines work against them and how this biological framework is repaired. Everything has got a reason and purpose attached to it; whose knowledge could be accredited to the expertise that human race has achieved over science. The ageing also could simply be accredited to the shortening of DNA over and over again due to replication. This ultimately leads to death. And after death: well nobody came back to tell about the afterlife. Many people have many beliefs. But out of our knowledge and logic we know that this is how it is.

So where was the GOD in this whole process? When something that has to happen will eventually happen, and its occurrence has got a well justified reasoning to it in the modern world. So what this ‘GOD’ thing actually is. Is he ‘Shiv’ or ‘Jesus’? Or is he just a figment of imagination turned into staunch unparalleled and unrivalled belief? The thing is that well no one actually is sure of it. And I am sure that no one is sure of it. Because GOD is the only phenomenon, science has no reasons to.

Though no one has exactly known what his form is or could be. But he is and makes his presence felt. He is there and watching over us. He is the spark within; the driving force that leads to discoveries and inventions and philosophical outlooks. He is the desire to possess things and care for them. He is the hope that makes it easy to live even the harshest of circumstances. He is the calmness that the dead has. He is the charm that that a cradled one has. He is the gallop that the horses take. He is the sea whose tides rise and fade. He is everywhere-in you, in me. One may question- “Where in me? I am so much of a biological system.” He is in the strides that the human mind takes. He is in the mount of emotions it makes. Albeit he is the one who makes minds out of brain. Ignites the spark of synaptic impulses of the neurons.

Science gives reason to everything, but GOD is the cause to everything.

Remember, science and the best of human knowledge has reasons for how everything started but only the being of GOD makes it understandable.