Breaking free!

There comes a point in time for almost everyone of us, or atleast those of us who acknowledge it, a need to break free, to escape from the humdrum and torture of monotony.

"It should not be denied... that being footloose has always exhilarated us. It is associated in our minds with escape from history and oppression and law and irksome obligations, with absolute freedom, and the road has always led West." - Wallace Stegner

Combine this spirit of footloose with desperation to the point of being driven to the wall, and what do you get? The long repressed desire to break free, suddenly erupts violently, and the native with a sudden surge of courage launches out into the unknown, throwing to the winds, all forms of safety, security and plan! And a true blue backpacker's born...

Unfortunately, i wouldn't dare qualify as a true blue backpacker, except for the fact that my life was contained in two rucksacks!

My breakfree journey had the semblance of plan and strategy and prior reservations, atleast for the first part of the trip! Beginners should be allowed a small measure of lenience in this regard :)

And so, on the eve of Diwali when the whole world (read all those people who love being at home and socializing with fellow homo sapiens!) was celebrating, my journey began on a quiet note.

The railhead at Dadar, Mumbai conveniently forgot to list my train among the expected trains for the evening. As a result, i thought i had time excess on hand, until a glance at a platform visible to the corner of the eye revealed my train sitting squat as do all trains!

My seat was located in a colourful, rather explosive location! I was surrounded by a bunch of pre-teens twelve-ish or something less who knew nothing about law, order and discipline!
To add to the confusion was a generous dollop of love and affection from concerned parents. Tearful goodbyes, kisses, knick knacks, sweets, colas and a whole lot more kept criss crossing the place. These kids were apparently headed for a 6 day picnic in the wild. The way their parents were fussing o'er 'em seemed as if they were headed for war!

Ready for action sir!

The kids were only too smart and knew only too well how to have fun. Would it make a significant difference to the situation if i mentioned that the kids were all GUJJU? Certainly it did to me! Allow your imagination to run wilder than a fox in a chicken coop and picture 10+ li'l (or not so li'l) tots jumping, running, swinging, wallowing and engaging in all forms of gymnastics alongwith a lot more that can't be penned down

Don't i deserve a break??

Sleep was a bit of an issue for me. By virtue of default and the roll of the die with genetics, i was born 5'11 in a family where men rarely grew higher than 5'6! Height meant longer legs and a side upper seat could accomodate only so much, which meant my legs poked out pretty rudely at the person who was at the next side upper seat, who in this case was a tot! Mercifully, the kid didn't think of tickling this BigFoot's feet in the wee of the night as a sport, and so...

Morning ten thirty-ish presented a very different landscape. Tall trees covered the place as far as the eye could see and a slight chill in the air felt perfect. My destination, a place with a funny name (Londa) had pulled in! An athletic guy wearing spectacles was waiting in a white Tata Indica to take me to the camp. This is what i had to look for at the station, and the description fit to a tee.

Yee Haw!

Now what? The journey begins...

The Vetaal Tales - That thing call'd friendship!

Kanhaiyalal aka the Vetaal had taken me prisoner for a reason as he put it. "It's for your own good my friend, and in my interests as well. I'll let you go but before that, i want you to answer a few questions i have in store for you my friend. Beware, the questions seem almost childish but if you dare bungle with the answers, you'll roam Neverland forever..."

"Shall we begin sir? I'm sure you're quite okay with the conditions, not that you have a choice of course!". This Vetaal sure had a sarcastic sense of humour indeed, but i guess it comes with endless traveling between the worlds and grilling God alone knows how many other hapless souls like me!

Vetaal: "Let's begin with something simple. Tell me something about friends. Why do you need friends? Who, according to you is a good friend?"

Verma: "A friend is the response from the universe to your cry for help. Two pair o' hands work better than just one, it pays to have someone guard your back in a world of backstabbers! If nothing, a friend is good fun to have around you when you're plain bored and want to enjoy the world..."

Vetaal: "You were born alone, this journey of life, you must but chart alone, and when its time to go, Death won't wait for your friend to join you. Then why do you need a friend?"

Verma: "It's true that a great majority of life has to be charted alone, but a friend's help nevertheless is required at some point or the other. Let me ask you to guage this universe, can you tell me how small is it? Have you traveled across the different stratas of it, how far have you reach...."

Vetaal: "Haahahahaa, i have no mortal form and i'm free to roam across the Universe except the highest and nether regions where the... "

Verma: "I'm not referring to your present avataar Vetaal, i'm talking of the time when you were just Kanhaiyalal, and not the spiritual Vetaal!"

Vetaal: "Aye, that may be true. A friend is like having an additional pair of all the senses and a mind. A friend may not think like i do, and that could be quite useful. But what you talk about is idealistic, and not true. True friends are hard to come by and the rest who walk around are all gold diggers. Running around with you until their purpose has been met and served! Hah, i could do very well without such creatures for sure..."

(frowns and grimaces and a sour mood takes hold of Vetaal at this moment)

Verma: What you say may hold true but for a few. A friend is a mirror image of your soul, which means you'll find a friend who exactly mirrors your true nature! If you're a good person at heart, there's no reason you must worry 'bout finding a good friend!

Vetaal: So you're calling me a blackheart eh? Although i rightfully should kill your soul for this but you still haven't breached my original condition, so let you live still! I remember the story of two men, the best of friends and how they finally parted ways as mortal enemies. Let me check when and where did this happen...

(pulls up a pair of glasses and after a while of fumbling, fetches a scroll and begins reading from the scroll)

Vetaal: Ah yes, don't bother about the names so let's call them A and B but this happened not very long from now. In the very heart of Mumbai were two friends, mind you, the best of friends ever since childhood. They were together since the age of 7 uptil they joined Don Bosco College of Engineering Studies where they met Shweta.

Both boys had feelings toward Shweta, but A felt more deeply for Shweta than B. B merely had a passing crush on her and wanted to bed her and get rid of the feeling! A however trusting his friend B deeply, poured out his heart's feelings toward Shweta to B. A desperately wanted to propose his feelings to Shweta but was unable to do so. Why so? A was an introvert whilst B was a flirt. B

listened to A's story carefully and promised to help A out with his dilemma and elected to speak to Shweta and tell her all about A's feelings toward her.

My good friend, what do you think of this...?

Verma: That's so noble of B to do. Overruling his own heart's feelings, he's opted to woo Shweta for A. Aye, that's what true friends are all about. You're disproving your point Vetaal, and i'm certain you wouldn't do so. So, come to the finale as to what happened next?

Vetaal: Yes, you've understood me or atleast you understand where i'm coming to. That's jolly good! Returning to the topic, there was a inter-college tournament for football and A opted to play for the program which'd last a fortnight. During this period, it was decided mutually by A and B that B would try his best and woo Shweta for A and tell her all about A's feelings for her. B nodded in agreement, and promised Shweta'd greet him with open arms when he returned with the trophy from the tournament. A was so happy that day, he could kiss B and his heart sang in joy thinking of the future he'd have. If only A didn't hold such deep feelings for both Shweta and B...

The fortnight passed and A returned to college to find Shweta and B together. Smiling joyfully, he greeted them and indeed Shweta greeted him with open arms. Later during that day when A and Shweta were alone, A mustered some courage and tried speaking with Shweta. I remember those words so very clearly, they ring in my ears to this day...

"Hi Shweta, did B speak to you about me? It's a bit tough for me to express it but then i've..." A had hardly completed when Shweta cut him short. "I have some joyful news for you A, B and i are together. He expressed his feelings toward me during the fortnight, and after a week's courtship, i've responded positive! You're B's best friend since childhood, don't you think we make a great couple?"

A was shell-shocked and heart broken. Tears welled up in his eyes and his tongue refused to speak except in stammering sobs, and yet "Yes, B's a good man, he'll keep you happy Shweta. Wish you'll a happy future" and left the place in pain and misery. B was too cowardly a man to confront A after this incident, and A left college and re-joined his Engineering program someplace else in the country. I never came across him ever after that. B eventually had what he wanted. After a few month's worth of sexual dalliance, he dumped Shweta for another female. I tell you Verma by God if i could ever lay hands on him, he'll burn in the depths of Hell for eternity...

(By this time Verma too was gripped by emotion and both sprite and man maintained silence for a few moments) 

Verma: That was cruel of B to do, specially knowing his friend's feelings toward the girl, and that too for just a short sexual affair! What a pity Shweta couldn't see through B's falsity and A's love.

Vetaal: That's the way the world runs my friend. That's friendship for you. Heh, you expect true friendship can be expected in this age? From a human that too? Did you know my death was caused by not an enemy's bullet but a friend's treachery. That's an incident far too long ago, and i won't dwell on it. So Mr.Verma, tell me now what's your opinion on friendship? It should've changed by now right? (sniggers cruelly)

Verma: I still hold on to my opinion of friends Vetaal, i still believe there'd be a good friend somewhere for everyone among us out here. Tell me truthfully, did you not meet one good friend in your life? Did you not trust your life and everything that mattered with that one someone ever? Did someone not trust you with their life ever? Were you not someone's friend sometime?

Fiends always stalk even among the best of us, and the heart is but a fickle being. Aye, the heart can twist and malign the best of men into base creatures unworthy of mercy and salvation. But despite the best efforts of Fate, there exist a few who'd live their lives and perhaps when the need arise, sacrifice their own lives to save their friends. You must've surely heard of Karna, the famous Pandava brother who fought alongside the Kaurava clan in the battle of Kurukshetra...?

Vetaal: Ermm, Ved Vyas was a good writer but his writing never really caught my fancy, but yes i've heard of him somewhat!Verma: Karna was the epitome of what a man must ever be in his life.

Vetaal: You mean fight his own kinsmen in favour of their enemies. Funny principles you have in life Verma!!

Verma: Don't cut me down Vetaal, not when i'm far from complete. Karna never knew the truth of his birth and parentage until the eve of the battle. Karna was always teased and taunted by the Pandavas and when he was at his lowest, Suyodhana, the Kaurava crown prince stepped in and helped him, granted him the kingdom of Anga, and regarded him as one of his brothers.

Suyodhana was a noble man but his hatred for the Pandava knew no limits and in order to get even with them, he crossed the line of honour and steeped in treachery. Despite his lowest deeds and atrocities toward the Pandava which earned him very many enemies,

Karna never gave up on him. He did try and warn him, tried stopping him as much as he could, and when he realized Suyodhana was beyond correction, stepped forward to receive the crown of thorns for his sins.

He fought against the Pandava even when convinced otherwise by none other than Krishna. For him, his loyalty toward his friend was more important than righteousness in life and conduct. And fighting God, he met his cruel end before the battle of Mahabharata ended. Upon his death, even Krishna, the Omniscient Ruler of them all, praised him for his loyalty, placing him much higher above Himself.

That my friend is true friendship. Bleed your heart for the one who acknowledges you as a friend, love that friend, correct them and bring them to the path of right conduct. And if not possible, step forward and joyfully accept the punishment due for that friend...

I hope that answers your question...

Vetaal was silent all the while and Verma could feel him loosening his grip on his neck.

Verma: All said and done Vetaal aka Kanhaiyalal, tell me about yourself and how'd you come here. Tell me else i won't let go of you!

Vetaal: (Laughs) You are but wise Verma. You gave me the answer i was expecting. For this i must let go of you today. We'll meet again sometime soon. For now, your family's waiting for you and don't forget to buy those brinjals your wifey asked you to buy!

In the twinkling of an eye, Vetaal shoots off and Verma is transported back into the real world, stunned and stupefied for a moment. He recovers of course and heads off to buy those brinjals...

The Vetaal returns to haunt, after the break!

"There's nothing black, nor there's anything white. The world's a smoky illusion of grey" - Old jungle saying

Life exists in the strangest of places, in the strangest of forms. We refuse to believe certain life forms exist because we cannot see or perceive their existence. That's because we're attuned to a set of images our mind has formed about the places we live in and travel. We refuse to see anything beyond these images, and only when there's a gross change in the picture is when we're forced to accept this change in the picture. This is called conditional vision or perception, a game played by the mind.

So, we're seeing in effect only what the mind wants us to see! And how does the mind know all of this? This happens indirectly when our likes and dislikes become strong enough to voice out their opinions, and begin colouring the mind. Once this happens, the mind shows us only what we want to see, and nothing else. This is our make believe world ladies and gentlemen!

And in this make believe world, i, Prakash Verma too had a small piece of earth to call my own with a roof over my head. Living off the land, working at famous corporation who'd invested deeply here and earning a bit more than my neighbours. This slight advantage made my life a bit more enjoyable, and to put things in a nutshell, i was living in my own designer cocoon!

Life can get a bit dull once the challenges have been settled and there's not much turbulence to everyday life. We're a paradoxical people, us humans! We crave for a small measure of peace and quiet in times of trouble, and when we attain this peace, we begin to feel "bored" and seek further challenges to spice up life! Funny isn't it...?

It was at a time like this that i met him. Enroute to the railway station, a dense grove of banyan trees grow thickly in a small space of earth. The roots droop downward, dig back into the earth and at another corner of the plot, re-emerge as another tree.

This cluster parented from one ancient banyan, was now 6 trees thick! This cluster is of paramount importance for the events that are about to transpire.

Legend has it that the place is a bloody grove. Indeed, a murder was reported when i was a school boy. The blood had seeped deep into the dark brown soil, but was still visible on the surface. There was a marsh nearby where wild boar used to haunt, and the whole place had an eerie and spooky appearance. All of it has now but gone, but the banyan cluster remains.

I usually gave this place a miss when returning from office, but once in a while i would come via this less trampled path only because it was quieter than the traffic congested stretch of M.G.Road. And on just another regular evening, close to dusk i met Vetaal. 

Vetaal in colloquial Hindi means a sprite or a celestial being, usually a mischievious prankster, something like Casper the lovable ghost! Vetaals across India have different attributes, some even border on the verge of murderous beings capable of dangerous manipulations, while others are lost souls damned to haunt the nether world, neither hell nor earth until the time of Judgment or when their sins would be forgiven, whichever came first.

The vetaal i met was an altogether different creature or being, bearing no semblance whatsoever to anything or anyone who could call himself a sprite! He looked every bit like just another old man on the street. Tucking in his dhoti (an Indian sarong) between his legs, and wearing a knotted piece of cloth as a turban and a white kurta covering his torso, he looked like a traditional headman from someplace in rural Gujarat or Rajasthan.

Squatting in the shade of the tree the way only an Indian can squat, he had a look of peace and content on his face. The sun was dipping in the western horizon, and after yet another day at the place i called my place of work, tired and hungry i headed back home when he called out to me. It was October and the season we call "second summer", the weather was a bit sultry. Yet there was a strange chillness when i passed by the banyan grove. Must be because of the tree cover i thought.

"Time kya ho raha hai bhaisahab" a slightly accented voice called out from my right handside. Turning to locate the source of this voice, we locked gaze. Vetaal saw me, and i saw Vetaal."Pouney saat" i spat out without much effort or attention spare a glance at the wristwatch. I didn't intend having a conversation with this stranger, and i'd answered the man's question. That's enough as far as public courtesy's concerned!

"Rushing home to savour supper Prakash Verma?" the old man who called himself Kanhaiyalaal called out in a snide tone to me. Surprised more than shocked, i turned back to see him squatting still, but smiling deviously. A few teeth were missing in what could be called a toothy grin.

"Reality can be stranger than fiction, 1 plus one's not always two, logic is a make believe truth!" the words were coming in a flurry, and he was looking at me with a devilish expression, and the above dialogue happened in English! Quite surprising for someone who looked like he needed a bit of education in English (i'm such a bourgeoise bugger at times!)

The incidents happening in the next few seconds have been the most terrifying moments of my life, it was a wonder i didn't have a heart attack! In the twinkling of an eye, the guy squatting on the ground leaped up into the air with a cackling laugh and before i could realize was piggybacking me with his hands firmly twisting around my neck.

"What the...??? What do you want you %^&^%#$#$3" and i tried grappling him down on the earth where i could teach him some manners.

But the twist around my neck was as firm as a vice grip, and try as much as i may, i couldn't get him off my neck! "Relax Prakash Verma, i won't kill you unless i have to. I'm not trying to kill you now, so please don't force me to kill you now!

All i want you to do is answer my questions and i'll let you go" the weird cackling laugh now screaming loud in my left ear. If you're wondering what happened to the quiet and sparsely but populated street, we were there but then the time zone seemed like we'd traveled sometime back in time, a few millennia would be quite an accurate number.

"Who're you mister, and what do you want? You're not just another local, and you're something far from human. Are you some kind of a poltergeist or a spirit? Or some celestial being?..." The questions just kept coming in a flurry "The wallet's in the bag, you can have my soul if you want to, what'll you give me in return for my soul, are you the one they call Beelzebub...?"

"Shut up Prakash Verma, and listen to me for a change. Just fucking listen to me! Just keep walking, and talk when i ask you to, do i make myself clear?" curtly he shut up my whining. The place we were walking through was the same banyan grove lane, just that it didn't have any signs of civilization and it was nightfall and it looked every bit like a forest, something it was until just a few decades ago!

We walked for a good distance in silence, the weird travelers walking through a forest which obviously had wildlife everywhere and were audibly vocal after sunset. "Can i know who're you kind sir, and why do you enjoy piggybacking on my back?" this time i was more calm and composed.

"Good evening Prakash, my name's Kanhaiyalal or must i say that was my name until i died. Humans are one miserable race. The moment i died, or just left my human body, they called me spirit. Fate has it that i roam the earth until God knows when.

Overpopulation's not a problem only on earth, even the celestial abodes are having tremendous queues, and i didn't quite know any famous saint or politician to gain a VIP entry, so..." And from here began a journey i would later term as my path to evolution...

Humpty Dumpty's great fall

The story revolves around Mr.Humpty Dumpty and his constant state of depression. Humpty's life is on the rocks quite literally. The recession of '08 rendered him jobless, a wife who found a better partner and outstanding rents and bills stare blankly at him. Set in Manhattan, New York, Humpty finds life difficult to manage with his woes. And so...

Look around and what do you see
Happiness, sunshine and a good lot o' glee!
Smile please, smiles are good, smiles are free
But why's it that it's so difficult for me?

If there's something i carry with me,
It's got to be lots o' pain and misery
A life so gloomy, a life so tough
Wonder why'd Fate leave me out in the rough...

Hurt or abuse, i never did to anybody
Then why's my fortune so drab and shoddy?
I live my life, others i just let them be
Aren't you seeing this, it's not something else you see?

Their faces beam and they walk ever so upright
Sparkling shoes and collars tight
A spring in their steps, they step so light!
Jolly good fun! What a happy sight!

The sun for me's in eclipse, and my horizon's dark
Rays of hope are bleak for the darkness is stark
If i could, i would to someone hark
Bring back my joy, bring back my singing lark!

How'll it all end, or will it end at all?
Is there someone who'd answer my call?
Someday again, again i'll walk tall
Or take the plunge once and for all...

Hope seems to surge high briefly and Humpty gets a job as a cashier at a coffee shop in Tristate. Fate doesn't want to let go of him so quickly, and before you know it, he's jobless again. Humpty's determined to keep up his promise. He didn't quite walk tall, so he's prepared to take the final fall...
From the 25th storey of a skyscraper which's his building, Humpty breathes in the surroundings for the last time. The sun sets in the western horizon and far below him, the rush hour is about to start. Well, there's nothing much to mope around for. And so...

Adieu cruel world, i'll miss you but i have to go

The fall would take seven minutes before he smashes into the tarmac like an eggshell. As he's going down, he sees the people he thinks are happy and content. That's what he used to think until...

Mrs. Walker, walking with her head held high
She's bowing down in grief, i wonder why!
She's weeping for her son, who's taken the way of the gun!

Mr.Turner, the ever-smiling, "do good" man
Is that blood he's spitting in that pan?
Reckon it's cancer, wonder when it began!
He'd be feeling Hell, he's dying
But i've never heard him once crying...

Hello Jeannie, babe of every man's dreams!
All's not well with her, so it seems
Why's she living so alone and forlorn
Unloved like a rose's prickly thorn?

Trip, the next promising soccer superstar
Runs hard sending the ball high and far
A prosthetic leg's what he wears
Yet what brilliant grace he bears...

If you're wondering, it's not seven minutes yet. Humpty's heart is pumping hard, and his senses are hyper-excited. That's why time seems to go slowly for him. The sight of people he once thought to be free from suffering makes him think. Perhaps he'd made a rash decision. But then it's too late to stop now...

Sorrow lurks among one and all
All that matters is how much's your gall
Fate may bend you, but you have the option to walk tall
Maybe i shouldn't have take...

CRUNCH!!!!!

Silence for a moment, screams later. A small pool of blood begins to gather at the place where Humpty hit the tarmac, and the pedestrians gather waiting for the paramedics to arrive. The pain would've been terrific for he fell from a good height, but there's a strange smile on his lips...

Mindless travel of a heartless soul

My first attempt at what "Streams of Consciousness" writing! Heartfelt thanks to a beautiful angel who bummed a cigarette for me. The cigarette was perhaps the triggering factor for the events unfolding below...

The rains were on the verge of leaving and the air hung listlessly as if a leg of beef hung from a meat hook. Perhaps it was the air or was it perhaps the cigarette that i'd bummed, or was it perhaps a combination of both; i know not but this state of mind (which could've been a conspiracy of the universal elements for all you know!) started the snowball of the events to come.

To think and yet have nothing to ponder, aye is it possible? Yes, why not! If forty winks could be had without either of the eyelids ever batting, immortality had from death, it's verily possible to think and yet have nothing running in the mind as you think :)

It was nearly sundown or atleast 30 minutes before the sun made bade farewell to our side of the hemisphere when the peregrination began. As if guided by a divine compass, the feet automatically turned westward and trudged onward toward the huge stretch of reclaimed land, a seamless necklace of tarmac and streetlights also known as the Queen's Necklace. All along the promenade were people. People thronged thick all along the stretch of the place and as far as my eyes could see, i could still see a huge congregation where the promenade ended at a small shingle!

All along the way were everyday common folk. Tourists, touts, families, lovers, artists, beggars, drunks, beautiful single women and a good many more perhaps representing every inch of the social fabric that's called Bombay. Sunday's the day when Marine Drive becomes a living, breathing museum of anthropology and maybe you'll find atleast one individual representing every race, caste or demography of the megacity.

Having seen such sights one time too many for once i too used to gaze at the setting sun from the safety of the boundary wall as the waves crashed into the tetrapods below. The winds they come from distant lands. From the land of the Arabian nights, whooshing over the famed Persepolis, stirred and egged perhaps from the dry winds of the North African Sahara; it was here the winds culminated blowing inward the fragrances and tales of these fabled lands, and recently, the smell of chemicals and polluted brine inland. Entwined with this mish mash of smells was slight smell of damp tobacco and old tar, hanging on to me like a secret lover's lipstick.

People laughed, cried, spoke, sang, lived, loved and did what society'd allow them to do on one free day they could wrestle out for themselves and their beloved. How i wish i could join them and for a moment's worth share their joy and sorrow if i could at all, but Time, that ever present guardian was standing next to me tapping his right foot impatiently as he was wont to. I could almost imagine him giving his stale, milennia old one liner "Time and Tide wait for none" and before he'd open his mouth, i left the place leaving the mortals to their life and fate...

Maya walked alongside walking just as briskly as i was. She'd always surprise me from behind whenever i least expected her to turn up. I once used to dread her presence and fear for what'd happen next, but now it was something of a routine. Smilingly, "Where's the young man headed to...? Where'll it be this time? You weren't supposed to be marching like this alone!". For those among you'll who don't know Maya, she's the silent seductress who slips into your mind in the twinkling of an eye, and makes the heart long for something or someone who's not close at hand. Further conversation with the temptress would only mean she'd get in and it's a tad bit difficult to get her out once she claims your heart for herself! 

"Some questions need no answer! Some paths lead nowhere. And walking along the path to nowhere doesn't mean i'm lost..." the subconsciousness aka the alter ego answered on my behalf. That was too much for her and she fell back sulking and grumbling. Every once in a while, at a place along a straight road comes a turn which may perhaps turn the wheels of Destiny, perhaps change the very essence of life. Well, in this case, this was a diversion along the Marine Drive which lead further inward into Marine Lines and a veritable maze of roadways, open sewers and secret fantasies and unspeakable horrors! What lay in store here? i didn't quite know and so a turn eastward was inevitable and with a final goodbye to the setting sun (the darned clouds obscured the sunset!), i made my foray inward.

Places of work, peopled to the point of suffocation on weekdays are eerily empty on Sundays, specially during the evenings and the only few who wander around are those single, young, enervated men deep from the heartland of the nation who have no family to call their own and have no other means to kill time. The more endowed make their way to a place not very far off where they could have their libido's urge satieted for a few hundred rupees (it is fabled you could score a woman for nothing beyond two dollars in the place they call "Street of a Thousand Whores") The others with much cleaner (hopefully!) sit around street corners chit-chatting, whiling time.

Along the way, a drunk man was fighting with a posse of non-descripts who seem to be the man's cronies or friends. The man excitedly gestured and called upon a hapless soul's ancestors and a few invectives to the women in his family. No sense in butting into this fight, you never know what can a drunk man swing or throw at you! Perhaps it was frustration. Frustration with his family, his work, his home, his workplace, and this man who by some stupid twist of Fate, opened up the vents of frustration unwittingly! Frustration is a way of life in this city for many, and they deal with it in one way or the other...

The street twisted and turned and a decrepit signboard read "AarPee Specialty Chemicals, Princess Street, Mumbai-400001". From the road to Kalbadevi, how'd i land here, don't ask me the same question that Maya did. Some journeys wander and meander across the world and yet reach nowhere! Princess Street, for the uninitiated was the place where chemicals could be obtained in bulk and at cheap rates. It wouldn't be very surprising if the place also catered to the chemical abusing segment of humanity. It wasn't dark as yet and hence maybe the denizens of the dark still hadn't made their way out craving for a fix!

The place, including the surrounding areas of Kalbadevi, Pydhonie and Girgaum were built successively. The oldest building i could find in the area was one dating back to 1872 A.D. Most other buildings date back to 1924 onwards, but as the world was discovering itself, it wouldn't be very surprising if someone had try to discover Bombay as well! The area is predominantly an industrial area, and hence for reasons mentioned before, weekends are short breaks of silence. On any given weekday, you could scream out loud and people may not even spare a second glance for you, but on holidays such as these, you could hear your heart thump. The streets spoke out loud in the lingo of silence. In moments of quietude, you could almost hear the city's blood flow in its veins!

Although i had the dream catcher with me, for a mysterious reason, i didn't quite feel the need to get it out and capture some images, some fleeting memories of the place. The streets had their own way of silencing desire. "The best memories are those fleeting moments in time where amidst the most mundane and ordinary, you see something beautiful and honest..." the streets whispered. Perhaps the romance was in the moment's kiss itself. No sense in capturing them within the dream catcher staid and dead for posterity's sake!

Time and space were now relative, and street after street did trudge along my two sturdy feet. After what seemed like a while, humanity made its presence felt in a very different way indeed. I'm not too sure what's the place, i think it was Manish Market or something like that (i was too lost in thought and smoke clouded the mind from that bummed cigarette!)

The place was teeming with people almost like the way Marine Drive was clogged, except that there wasn't any sea or setting sun to lure them close, it was something more ordinary, shopping! Locals who worked their asses off during the weekdays, made some time out for their families and shopping is but an essential chore in a family man's life.

Colourful fancy dresses, daily household items, and just about everything under the sun that could be covered under the broad umbrella of "Utility" could be found there. College girls pored over modern fashion, children squealed and mothers spanked and fathers were only too happy to be ignored from the general humdrum. After the deafening silence of Princess Street, this place almost frightened me with the people, the number of voices and general cacophony!

Just a few hundred meters away lay the famous Crawford Market, the place where everything and anything could be bought for a price. The last i'd heard they even stored fruits i as an Indian could've never found anywhere else in the city. Not to mention the illegal animal bazaar, the place where exotic birds and strange animals could change hands from dealers to owners for the right price.

The road turned yet again and as is my wont, i turned along with it too leaving behind Manish Market and its wares forward toward a huge enclosure which looked like a municipal market for vegetables. There was a strange smell that hung around in the air, and it wasn't fresh vegetables. I was walking alongside the butchery in the market and the strange sweetish smell of death pervaded the air. Today wasn't market day and so there wasn't any activity, but the sight of the meat hooks didn't make visualization of a busy day very difficult. This was by far the coldest and most eerie of all the places i'd seen in the evening...

The road ahead snaked on toward Mohammed Ali road where the faithful would break their fast on the call of the muezzin announcing the end of the daylong fast they'd been observing as tradition demands during the month of Ramadan.

The sun had set and it was time to count back footsteps homeward perhaps by some other way, if possible! Along the way were the denizens of this city who'd made their peace with life, their peace with loneliness, some signed their tryst with Fate, others tried to fight bravely only to fall back into the wayside ditches in the dark.

The "homeless" prepared their beds to rest for the night for there was yet another day to begin tomorrow, yet another day to start afresh, and a rumbling stomach hailed me homeward...

We're like this and we love being like that...

This poem is inspired and dedicated to that mass of humanity who see nowhere beyond themselves, and never gave a damn about comfort for their immediate neighbours. You'll find them in every walk of life, walking alongside us, getting into fights with us. Here's an ode to them, fresh from the bile ducts!


Last week's experiences made me spill out my bile onto the public forum, hoping for a better and more civilized tomorrow. What can you say to people who don't offer a seat to an old man, or grumble at having to adjust their "tashreef" space!

Garish shirts and lousy pants,
Scant with brains, rich with rants!
We're like this and we love being like that!

Formals are always minus shoes, chappals can do
Trousers can be at ankle length, shirts are open too
It's all just fine, it'll just about do!
We're like this and we love being like that!

Goochi, Tommy and all angrezi wangrezi! All bakwaas, all your bull
Don't expect us to take that shit, we're too full!
Local tailors, Nandu, Bala, Ganpat can make us too look cool
Fashion and fun can come cheap as well you fool!

Stars talk and what changes destiny are those zodiac rings
They've got the power to change paupers to kings
You don't understand them, then stay out of these things
Just as a crow doesn't know how a magpie sings!
We're like this and we love being like that!

Sorry, excuse me, please ain't our cuppa chai
We've never heard of 'em, never used 'em, don't ask why!

Comfort is our right and if there's a fourth seat you'd want
Take it from us for sure, but not minus a fight or a taunt

Old or young, woman or child, we care a damn for none
There's no free meals for anyone under the sun
Chalte ban man, get going and run!
Wasting my time with you's not my idea of fun

We may be ugly, we may be mean, but that's us all right
We have our numbers, and we've got our might
Hope to see someday when you're nowhere in sight
Hope to see someday you understanding our plight

All said and done, all of it's in good fun
We're like this and we love being like that!

Ghotala - The corruption of power...

The events that have occurred in the recent past provoked me to write this excerpt of an interview. In the right hands, a pen can cause more catastrophe and damage than a nuclear warhead.

Note: None of the characters in this "interview" are real nor bear semblance to anyone. If you find this offensive, please stop reading, and do send me some hate mails. Assassins would be equally entertaining, but please do send a return address so i can return the favour!

18th July '11, New Delhi:

Our correspondent Chiquita Perez aka Chickie, a former correspondent for a leading news daily, presently a
freelance scribe blogs as a non-entity on popular blogs and tries to expose corruption and treachery rife in Indian politics. Today, Chickie's interviewing a popular member of the Parliament a day after the bomb blasts in Mumbai, and the Lokpal Bill threat looming around the corner. Chickie's meeting Mr.Babubhai, a somebody from someplace who's a part of the ruling party in the country, or atleast claims to be ruling...

Babubhai Kantibhai Chimanlal Patel also known as BP within the party circles, also called "Big Pig" of course behind his back! BP has been a part of the Indian political scenario ever since the fall of monotheistic ruling party culture, and the ascent of coalition ruling. BP has been the CM of Maharashtra and has critical acclaim for development of the island city of Bombay, specially development of housing for the lower income segments. BP has agreed to give this interview, under the condition of anoynymity. This conversation has been recorded "off the fucking record"!

This interview is conducted in a seedy bar near Chandni Chowk

Chickie: Mr.Patel, it's an absolute pleasure to have you with me across the table, engaging in free conversation with me! BP's dressed to appear incognito, read a gaudy pink shirt stretching over an ample hemisphere that's his tummy, wearing heavy gold chains and a bracelet. The first two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, "to be kool" as he says. His trouser too is a colour equally outrageous, but he's got to "disguise" himself right? He cannot be giving interviews to people like Chickie who'd lunge at anyone with a pen and a mob to back her! For the privilege of his words, BP expects some positive coverage when its time for the polls...

"Yeh duniya, yeh duniya badi gol hai! Hai isme kitney jhol!" the music blares from loudspeakers and a few busty bar girls croon to the music. Those who're here for the music and the women enjoy themselves, those who're here for privacy keep their distance from the overcrowded center and seek refuge in the shadows of the dark...

BP: Arrey madamjee, zara quietly, quietly please! People here know me, some of my party members may be around. If they see me with you, i'm as good as a bakra on Bakri Eid! You're wellcome, wellcome madamjee, as long as you keep up your word! It's all a matter of "len-den" madamjee, give and take. I give you some spicy news fresh from the corridors of power, and you provide me the power to reach those corridors! I hope we understand each other, don't we? For now you can call me BP!

Chickie: Of course we do BP, don't you worry. It'll all be done! So, shall we get started sir? It all begins with the Lokpal Bill, Anna Hazare and the recent attacks of terror in Bombay. Are these all individual events or do they come together somewhere someway...?

BP: (Laughs) Madam, i don't understand what you're saying! How can these lafdas have something in common? Tauba tauba, such bad days upon us! God forbid such a thing should ever happen!

Chickie orders for a beer for herself and a Jim Bream sour mash whiskey for BP. "Oonchey log, oonchi pasand!" BP reiterates the famous "Manikchand" ad's catchline. BP calls for some snacks and a roast chicken.

BP: Chickie madamjee, please have your beer with the chicken. It'll taste all the better! The meat only enhances the flavour of the drink.

Chickie: Coming to our topic for today sir, what was your reaction when the Lokpal Bill protest and Anna Hazare's movement started?

BP: Dekhiye, you see, after nearly a lifetime of experience in the political scene in India, nothing really shocks me. I am one of the veterans and yet i agree to the fact there are people in the beaureau who're far more experienced than i am. The only incident in the entire history of post independence politics in India which had shockwaves running through the country was the declaration of a state of Emergency.

Indeed, people, aam junta, politicians, journalists, the army, name it and you'll find a mention were waiting to
see the drama unfold. I was a mere footsoldier then. Indira Gandhi, aka Mother India had the nation by its balls in her hands. "India is Indira, Indira is India" were some of the slogans we used to shout!

Chickie, you tell me something. At the end of the day what would you want to take home? Please answer my quaestion (sic question) honestly...

Chickie: Me? What about me? I'm not somebody with great ambition or interest in jamaaoing (aka gathering) wealth!

I'm not keen on making money for myself or my family. I'm a single woman with little creature wants that my salary can afford to pamper!

BP: Exactly! You say creature wants, i say basic essentials! Schooling for Hetal and Hiten, my children, some money for my wife's needs, some money for my creature wants (winks at Chickie, although the wink only further accentuates his piglike appearance!) and some money for the future. I want a stadey* source of income. I'm a "grihastha", a householder, can i afford to lounge around for three square meals a day? Don't i have responsibilities to fulfil?

(Drinks deeply from his peg of whiskey, lets in the alcohol sink in. Belches in contentment...)

(Chickie too sips at her beer and munches on the snacks while BP tucks into a leg of chicken. A devout Gujarati at home, his idea of vegan food apparently goes for a toss when he's drinking, or so they say...)

BP: Madamjee, do you know what happened when the Emergency was called off? There was mass revolution in the country. Lots of mens, young and old had been jailed, including our noble Jaiprakash Narayan, JP saab you know na? Indira was finally doomed, or so it seemed...

I'd approached Indiraji when she was in jail, told her i wanted to become something better than a party member, something better than the ordinary member who pays an annual fee, reads the party circulars and goes around doing odd jobs. Tell me what should i do. Indiraji told me, "Mujhe yahaan see bahar nikaal, aagey ka main dekh loongi!" You get me out of here, and i'll see to the rest that needs to be done. That's all that i needed.

Immediately, i gathered a few laundas around Allahabad. Laundas and lafangas, good for nothings and a few thugs. We soon ran amock in the city attacking shops, cars, buses and everything and anything that appeared before us. I'd specially prepared a petrol bomb (read Molotov cocktail) and we burst a few around the city's streets and plazas, calling for Indiraji's release from custody. Then what? After that, there was no looking back, i was made a Special Executive Officer, following which i was able to become a MLA, and now, i'm a MP! (laughs and takes another deep draught from his now refilled glass)

Chickie: You mean to say you were offered all that you got because of goondagiri?

BP: Arrey arrey madamjee, please don't use that Bombay lingo and call me a goonda! Su hun tamey goonda lagu chu? Do i look like a goonda to you? How can you then call me such things? I'm offended, and am forced to demand a "sorry" from you!

Chickie: Sorry BP jee, i didn't mean to call you a goonda, but what you did in Allahabad back in '79 wasn't exactly legal, was it?

BP: Madamjee, as long as it secured the  result, i don't care a damn whether the action was right or wrong. I wanted Indiraji out from prison, and i did what i had to do. Simple! The first rule of politics, do what your Godmother or Godfather tells you, without asking questions. Full stop!

(Now thoroughly enjoying the conversation, Chickie directly takes a swig from her bottle of Cobra beer, BP's recommendation for the best beer in the state)

Chickie: Accha, so you did what you had to do, without asking any questions, good good, very good! A very honest and hard working man you seem to be...

BP: Of course, of course, i'm a dedicated social worker and an even more dedicated servant to my leader. My party leaders know and understand what this nation needs, and how to give what it needs the most. Congress party ni jai!

Chickie: BP, we've come a long way now and have been talking for over half an hour, yet you're nowhere close to telling me what i want to know. You're not being a good social servant BP jee, you've cheated me...

(BP is taken aback by this statement from Chickie, tries to console her) Chickiejee, i mean Chickie, what is it that you want to know. Tell me and i'll tell you the truth, mother promise!

Chickie: Accha? Then tell me what happened when Anna Hazare threatened the Parliament with the Lokpal anti-corruption bill? Why was there so much confusion and turbulence?

BP: (Sighs) You women eventually get what you want, no matter how hard it may be. If i tell you this, and you publish it openly under my name, i'll be dead. Literally. My family alongwith me will die. Sarkaar ke haath badey lambey hotey hain, the government has a great reach! But i'll tell you the truth, because...
Because, you've been a good friend to me Chickie...

Initially, we expected this Anna to be like just another RTI query, something our legal eagles could simply wind up and lock up in some cupboard someplace. But he began playing the game the way we do, he began gathering momentum from the public.

The hunger strike, and the media constantly barking on TV and radio, was too much for us. I'm not saying we've gathered money by "other" means, but this meant the party's treasury would come under the scanner as well. I'm a good, honest and God fearing MP, but there are others in the party who're not so good you know...

They have earned hundreds of crores, by ways and means you'd better not ask. They have money pouring out of their ears. Why do you think they keep making trips to Switzerland so frequently? Only to visit their vaults and deposit some money there. The money's not sent directly in one package, but in different packets with some party members, some relative or someone like that who'll deposit the money there. If the money goes as one big "matka", a pot, we're doomed...

Woh sab baad ki baat, coming to our topic, Anna threatened the unity of the nation. If our party fell now, we could never rise up ever again. Even the opposition agreed on this. We could not let this man threaten our delicate stance in the nation. And to make things worse, that gando, that madman Ramdev also began fasting and wanted us to declare our assets publicly. Anna Hazare is one thing, but this fraud Baba was quite another!

Fortunately, we had some boys who were good with their maths. They soon uncovered the Baba's significant holdings in business and the 83 companies that were managed under his name. Niklaa ki nahin, chor ki daadhi mein tinka? (laughs) After all, didn't we sniff out the unaccounted wealth he too was concealing? We're good with our maths!

The arrest and subsequent breaking of the fast of that Baba was a minor victory for us. Yes, but the major reason behind the terror was yet to go down. But we could not "put down" an old man who threatened us with a hunger

strike, could we? I too have an old father, and no matter what the lafangas in the party's bottom ranks or the coalition members asked for, i wouldn't allow the arrest of the Anna. There'd be rivers of blood then, rivers literally. (Drinks again and tucks into some chicken, now gone cold)

Chickie: Go on BP, tell me something more. Surely there's more to it than meets the eye. Right? (winks at BP and orders for some more beer)

BP: Chickie, i've told you a lot now, i expect you to canvass me during the elections. Do remember that you owe me this favour chokri, because i'm not going to be forgetting this...

Chickie: Of course BP, of course! I won't fail you when the time comes! But tell me something further, the story's only becoming interesting now. The masala's in this part (smiles and indulges in chilled beer)

BP: Where were we? Ah yes, Ramdev was arrested, our coalition partner's party was maligned in the recent telephone network scam. Overall, we needed something to win back the people's hearts, or atleast some diversion from this everyday highlight and telecast of corruption. And then, the terrorists struck in Mumbai. Our Mumbai, maari Mumbai ma, in my Mumbai. Darned cowards!

Chickie: Were these people really terrorists BP? Or some thugs paid to plant explosives in the marketplace?

BP: Do you mean to say we planted the bombs? Su vaat karey chhey chokri? What are you saying? Do you have any sense in you? (gets really angry and smashes the glass on the floor, orders for a quarter of whiskey)

Chickie: (Visibly shaken and frightened) I didn't mean to say you or your party were involved in the bombing. I'm just wondering whether they could've been done by some of our own people for a diversion from the mainstream events.

BP: I don't know about this, but i heard whispers in the assembly of some people talking of some little known jehadi faction, i don't even know the name. Ketlo terrorist factions chhey ney? How different are they from one another?

Some people in the assembly were talking of this party a week before the blasts, and i heard them mention Mumbai. I thought maybe the police have discovered a new sleeper cell in Mumbai. And then, the blasts happened. Ram Ram, they exploded bombs in Zaveri Bazaar and Opera House. Many of my fellow Gujaratis died there. I'm saddened...

Chickie: Could it be that this incident could have been known in advance to some members in the assembly?

BP: I cannot commit anything concrete, but it seems there could be a possibility that some people knew this to be coming, over even planned it. I'll never stoop down to kill our brethren Gujaratis. I'd throw a few in Madanpura or Null Bazaar or someplace where "those" people live. These people harbour the terrorists, eat our gai maata, and call gaalis upon India, and love Pakistan! I'd throw more than a few bombs there if i could. Many of our Gujarati bhais and bens died due to their atrocities across the country. All Hindus must rise and fight them!

Chickie: But you'll promise them political representations in the Parliament and reforms, and now you talk of killing them?

BP: Hun pan su karu? What can i do? Elections are a time when numbers talk, the bigger the better. You need to pan dirt and crap to get to gold, right?

Chickie: Hmm, that is true. Politics is but a gutter, but full of riches provided you know where to clean and pan, right?

BP: Ekdum perfect Chickie, absolutely perfect (laughs hard and almost falls off the table but is helped up before he does)
Stone drunk BP and a more than slightly buzzing Chickie are having a good time. Conversation and liquor are freely flowing. And the night too is drawing its darker shade of black now...

BP: It certainly must have been someone from the assembly, one of those coalition waala chors! They came in for the loot but promised us much needed support. They must've allied with those terrorists and organized the explosions.

God knows what they've done! They must have, they must have, they must....(drools and dribbles and falls asleep on the table. The chicken's still waiting to be attended to!)

Chickie: BP jee, BP jee, get up, we need to move on now. I too must go home, and your missus must be waiting for you at home...

BP: Huh, Kavita? Kavita? Yes yes, Kavita, Hiten and Hetal must be waiting for me. We must move on now.

Chickie: Thank you for today evening's conversation. I loved every bit of it, be it the beer or you shooting straight from the hip!

BP: It's okay Chickie, i may have told you many secret truths and open lies, but i'm a bania, a trader. I want my share of the meat when the time comes, and you know my price right?

Chickie: You have my word BP, you have my word...

BP gets into his car and so does Chickie. Chickie gets off at Daryaganj and the car speeds off toward Karol Bagh into the darkness...