Imagination rules

Storytellerviv

2008-09-18T03:17:00.001-07:00

“The last puff of the day-wind brought from the unseen villages the scent of damp wood smoke, hot cakes, dripping undergrowth, and rotting pine-cones. That smell is the true smell of the Himalayas, and if it once gets into the blood of a man he will, at the last,forgetting everything else, return to the hills to die.”
-- Rudyard Kipling

Four Hours at the SkyBar

2008-09-17T21:04:00.000-07:00

I trudged towards the elevators pulling the samples bag. ‘Am I a salesman or a bloody Manager,’ I said to myself cursing my fate. The so called business tour was taking a toll on my senses and all I now needed was a chilled beer. The check in and immigration at Bahrain Airport had been frustrating and now I had full four hours at leisure before I took off for Doha.

The SkyBar looked decent but it was humming with unwanted noises. I am generally a quiet person and seeing all the chaos inside made me think twice whether I really wanted a drink. Anyway I gathered courage and entered the bar; I could see Black, Brown, White, Beige heads whichever color you want, coupled with a cacophony of multiple languages. To my utter relief and disbelief I spotted an empty space in the corner of the bar. I pounced towards it like hungry lion and settled down with a satisfying heave. The Arab sitting next to me just looked at me with bloodshot eyes through which I could see the Budweiser river gushing ahead, full throttle.

I acknowledged his glance with a nod, fished out a book, pack of cigarettes and settled down.

‘Hello, can I have a beer,’ I said to the bartender. ‘We have many beers sir, which one would you like to have.’

‘Get me a Heineken,’ I replied turning the pages of my book.

‘Sir would you like to have a Bottle or a Can,’ he said without any change in his expression. I just looked at him cockily and said ‘No I want neither,’ with a touch of sarcasm.

‘I am sorry sir,’ he replied still maintaining the calm of the ever grinning Filipino bartender, gosh they were extra efficient; I have always thought so when it came to service. “Service with a smile”, well I agree with it now. ‘I want a Heineken draught, is that fine.’

‘Very well sir and he sailed away.

Now was the time to scan the surroundings, behind me was a group of pissed drunk hippies, so they looked, as I could only see beer cans strewn all over and no table in sight and they were laughing like lunatics. Next to them was a Texan cowboy. Why the fuck was he wearing a cowboy hat and dingoes in Bahrain, Americans are weird, they have to be different I chuckled to myself, he had a strange accent which was funny plus he had caught hold of a fellow American and they were discussing about the current state of jersey cows in America and their milk giving capacity.

Next to them was another American couple discussing something I couldn’t guess, the lady was quite generous with her midriff, and the Arab next to me had been losing no time in ogling like a hyena at the bountiful assets on display. For a moment my gaze was also glued on the spot but one has to be a gentleman in public places, so my gaze decided to hover someplace else but pay a visit to the spot once in a while.

‘Now what do we have here,’ I said to myself slowly and looking directly in front of me, well there was a girl sitting on the table opposite mine and gazing in my direction , oh boy finally my lucky day. Chest out butt in, I plunged into the eye game with full vigor. The beer had arrived, I had familiarized myself with the surroundings; the game had begun.

I lit my cigarette and settled down with the book glancing now and then at the ‘spot’ and the ‘game,’ the Arab next to me had decided to be bolder, he laid his head down on the bar and was in direct line with the spot, the lady had no intentions of taking action, I guess she was rather enjoying all the attention. The cowboy was staring at the Arab, the hippies were still howling, the game was looking in my direction if not at me. An Irani couple came and settled behind her on the sofa and ordered for their drinks.

‘How much is a beer for,’ I heard a sheepish voice. There was malabari gang of three people which had moved in and looked like construction workers, I took a sip, slipped in the bookmark and started following their conversation in an interested manner, and here it goes:

‘How much beer?’ – Malabari representative

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’ – Filipino bartender

‘How much is the tin (can) for’ – Malabari representative

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’- Filipino bartender

‘Can we get in a glass for one dinar’ – Malabari representative counting the money.

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’ – Filipino bartender

‘Ok give us the small glass for one dinar’ – Malabari representative looking desperate.

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’ – Efficient, service with a smile Filipino bartender.

Finally they lost patience, counted their money, had a final discussion and agreed to leave in peace looking at the flowing bar greedily while departing. The bartender heaved a sigh of relief; I didn’t know what to think, whether to laugh at a fellow countryman or feel sad. The game was looking at me again; I obliged her by giving a long penetrating gaze, suddenly she butted out her cigarette picked her bag and left. ‘Shit, I said to myself at least she could have smiled.’ I burrowed myself again in the book.

‘Can I have a light,’ I looked at the new entry, a bearded American with a clear and crisp tone.

‘Yes sure, I said passing him the lighter, he lit his cigarette and was now between me and the Arab who was still busy studying the spot.

The overzealous Texan cowboy with a paunch which could cover half the globe came trotting towards the bar, ‘One gin with tonic,’ he said to the bartender and looked at the Arab. He could see where the Arab was aiming for and tried to strike a conversation. I was hooked on to my second cigarette, took a puff, threw a cursory glance at the spot and focused my attention on the rotund cowboy.

‘So you an Arab ehh’ – paunchy Cowboy

‘No I am from Dubai’ – Spot hunting Arab (in full Arabic attire i.e. white tablecloth, as I read somewhere)

‘Which means you are an Arab’ – Bearded American with a crisp tone joining in.

‘Hey man was sup, are you an American’ – Pissed drunk paunchy cowboy to the crisp American tone.

All the three were looking at each other, the Arab not wanting to be left out remarked ‘I have been to America for training once, ok place hmmm’.

‘Which state were you in,’ – Crisp American tone.

‘United States, I told you Americaaaa” – Drunk spot hunting Arab to both the Americans. The two Americans looked at each other and then looked at me I gave them an encouraging look conveying my regards- ‘take him, he is all yours’. I puffed on my cigarette and busied myself in the ensuing ensemble.

‘Well America is big, which part did you take your training in, - Crisp American tone.

‘Engineering department in America’ – Confused, caught, drunk, spot hunting Arab.

I chuckled to myself and hid my face behind the book; the Arab got up on the pretext of taking a leak and hurried across.

‘The fuckhead Bedouin has never been out of the desert’ – The paunchy American roared off laughing looking at me, suddenly he focused his gaze on the hippies on the sofa behind us.

‘Hey are you guys from Philippines, Manila, mama sita, Noodles,’ something of that sort, the hippies stopped their howling and stared at him. ‘Yo man I have lived in manila,’ and he started making funny gestures and noises aimed at convincing them that he had a local touch. The hippies looked oriental but were not amused.

‘I go Manila, I take flight, I go America, then I go back Manila.’ The paunchy cowboy was muttering with his eyes closed trying to sound genuine. The entire SkyBar had focused their attention on our area.

One of the hippies got up from his seat and placed himself between the two Americans, ‘We are from Chile and going to Kuwait for work,’ he said smiling.

The cowboy and the crisp tone looked taken aback at their misjudgement; they abandoned the discussion there. The cowboy invited the crisp American tone to join his friend on the sofa to talk about Las Vegas or cows, it didn’t really matter. Incidentally I noticed two malabari jabbering away with a young American sitting just next to the spot, and eyeing ‘the spot’ at every opportune moment. We will never change was stamped all over them.

“Pheww,” I said to myself and asked the bartender for a refill. Nothing happened for another hour, the Iranis left for Iran, Cowboy’s extra friend left to catch his flight, the Chilean hippies were back to their drunken orgy, the Arab had returned to his usual place and started off from where he left. I had another hour to kick off and was by now engrossed in the book “The Third girl – Agatha Christie.”

After two beers my senses had also started floating, needless to say I was enjoying the feeling after a dry and hot stop in Kuwait, the next destination – Qatar also was not an exciting prospect, Bahrain attracted me. I closed the book and started pondering about my work and life, what I was doing and why I was doing it. Should I move back to India? All these thoughts were mixing with the brew.

‘Hey, you guys are from Philippines right’, a jovial but foreign accent cut in.

I looked up noticed a fat European already looking drunk sinking into the chair between me and the Arab, where once the great crisp American sat. He was looking in a weird way towards the Chileans and to our surprise he started on the same trip.

‘I have house in Manila, very nice place, beautiful girls, you go Manila?’ – Fat European.

I looked at the Chileans; they looked at the cowboy who in turn stepped on the dais. As we are all aware America always saves the world, so here we had the paunchy Cowboy in his boots and hat coming forward to save the day.

‘Mate, this gang is from Chile’ – American Cowboy.

‘Huhh, you don’t tell me I know a Filipino when I see one, they are from Philippines’ – Fat drunk European ordering a double scotch.

Sitting in the corner I had been a silent spectator, but now I was pulled into the drama. The paunchy cowboy rode up to me, ‘Dude tell him who they are?’

‘They are Chileans,’ I said to the Fat European, who eyed me suspiciously ‘And who are you?’ he snapped.

‘Dude he is not from manila either,’ cut in the Cowboy. The Chileans were now eagerly looking at us and happy with the attention they were being given. I felt that the bar was no more a sane place to be in and lit another cigarette. The Fat European gulped his two shots and started on his Manila experience with the American cowboy, I buried myself in my book once again. In due course of time I realized the Fat European was a German shepherd, the cowboy had shifted away from him as soon as he realized that.

One of the Chileans came up to me and said, ‘What is manila?’ I just looked at him and said,‘Don’t you worry, you just look like manila,’ he seemed satisfied with the answer and went back to share the mystery with his friends.

‘Holy Shit! My flight is about to depart,’ said the German shepherd in haste. ‘Bartender, pass me my cheque,’ he fired across the table. The Ever smiling bartender was at the moment busy smiling at other customers.

‘Have I paid my bill, I think I have,’ the German shepherd nudged me slowly in a drunken stupor. I lowered my book and looked him in the eye with hostility. ‘I don’t think you have,’ I said with distaste.

‘Eh, then I need to pay it hahaha, Bartender!!!!!’ barked the shepherd.

‘Sir, its five dinars,’ said the bartender with the cheque and showing his white calcium fortress.

‘Five dinars for a shot of scotch, you must be mad,’ shot the German with boiling anger, ‘you are cheating the bloody customers, I will have you booked.’ Meanwhile he was also loosing his balance and swaying like a seesaw while hurtling profanities at the ever smiling bartender.

He somehow managed to get up and delve into his wallet, counted five dinars and threw the bills at the Filipino bartender whose smile by now had vanished into thin air. ‘But sir, this is five Jordanian Dinars, we do not accept Jordanian currency,’ he replied meekly, and very likely on the verge of tears.

‘This is all you get, you ass and I am leaving, tell the police if you want to, try to stop me from boarding, I am leaving,’ saying the German staggered along the bar towards the exit, screaming his flight number and boarding gate. There was pin drop silence, the poor Filipino was just staring at the Jordanian currency blankly looking very hurt. I was studying his reactions closely and sipping my beer, but yet again the silence was broken by the saviour, ‘the American Cowboy.’

He came up to the bar with his fellow American and coaxed the ever crying Bartender. ‘Don’t worry dude we will pay up for the freak show,’ saying he took out a crisp five dinar note and gave it to the bartender.

In a flash the smile returned, everything turned ok, the dark clouds cleared, the sky was bright, and yet again the US of A had saved the world. ‘We will keep the Jordanian currency as a memento of our visit,’ said the cowboy wincing, and returned to his place.

My departure was also due by now, I paid my cheque with the right currency, and left a generous tip for all the entertainment. Pushing the bags was now a bigger pain in a state of drunkenness; I allowed an elderly European couple to enter the elevator before getting in.

‘What do they call this place, Bahhhhrrrraaain,’said the elderly European lady sounding amused.

‘It sure is a funny name dear, ‘replied the elderly European Gentleman even more amused.

I just closed my eyes and stood smiling in the corner, thinking of the funnier and more amusing things in life…..

Men, Women and a Murder...

2007-10-29T10:19:00.000-07:00

Murder! Murder! The cry rang out in the haunted Railway colony lane. Rajhi the colony sweeper was running hysterically, announcing the murder. The street dogs had been woken from their slumber and were looking in a puzzled way towards Rajhi’s direction.

Even the colony chowkidar was aroused from his karmic meditation, ‘What? A murder in the colony,’ he said yawning excitedly. Finally in thirty years of his service he is going to see some action in this sleepy colony. Stuffing a beedi and armed with a well oiled lathi, he ran towards Rajhi.

‘Ms. Cooper has been murdered,’ said Rajhi, gasping for air.

‘What the old Granny? Who would want to murder her?’ muttered Mr. Patel, the colony head, who had run out half naked with his lungi fluttering halfway over his head.

The seniors and distinguished members of the railway consortium had collected in the colony ground, Mr. Patel, Hazari the chowkidar, Mr. Biswas the fish eater, Raju the colony goonda, Mr. Bhatti the events organizer (who had already started thinking of future events and media galore), Mr. Kamran the poet (who was already gazing at the stars and composing his best funeral couplet, maybe this will be the day when he will be finally noticed), and finally Mr. Das the grand old man of the colony, who could barely see or hear anything.

Let us not forget the loudest majority of the railway colony, who had also come out of their hibernation and were keen for action, the women, who kept popping in and out of the dimly lit windows.

‘Tell us what happened?’ asked Mr. Patel, allowing Rajhi to gain his composure.

‘Nobody should enter granny’s house till the police arrives,’ poked in Mr. Das with an irritating slur. It seemed he had a soft corner for Ms. Cooper and was deeply agitated with the current happenings.

‘I happened to cross by her house and saw the door ajar; there she sat on her rocking armchair with blood all over and eyes wide open,’ said Rajhi with fear in his eyes.

‘Don’t worry Rajhi, its all right now,’ Raju ventured to calm him down.

‘Who could have ventured into my territory,’ Raju whispered to himself, seeing his reputation being challenged.

In between the ongoing chaos, suddenly the colony lights went out without a warning, the entire congregation jumped with amazing coordination.

‘It’s the murderer, he wants to kill us all, wipe off the entire colony, and he has started laying his plans. Run for your lives,’ shouting Mr. Biswas made for the nearest exit.

‘Calm down and shut up Biswas, the electricity goes out at 10 pm for half an hour, everyday,’ said Mr. Patel. His intervention had a soothing effect on everybody; even the fish eater had been pacified. He rejoined the group gathering the ends of his dhoti.

‘We must sit together till the electricity comes, tell the women to close all windows and doors Hazari,’ Mr. Das said to him. He went about the task rather hesitantly, but the women had already started pouring out from their houses, trying to get a glimpse of Ms. Cooper sitting with her eyes wide open.

‘These women will get themselves killed, the killer is still roaming the grounds,’ said Kamran finally finishing off composing his tribute for Ms. Cooper. Candles could be seen gathering near Raju’s house who was Ms. Cooper’s neighbor. Namrata his wife had become a celebrity overnight.

Inspector Kabir arrived with the electricity and his entourage ordering Mr. Patel to herd away the womenfolk to their respective quarters, the coroner also accompanied the inspector.

Suddenly the railway colony had come alive with activity all credit to Rajhi and Ms. Cooper. For the moment, yelping of the street dogs, clanking of the railway bogies and the hooting of the train horn were forgotten and ignored.

Inspector Kabir went on with his duties diligently. The body was shifted to the ambulance and shipped off. Except Mr. Patel, Hazari the chowkidar and Rajhi everyone else was cautioned to stay indoors.

‘We cannot say anything right now, will have to wait for the coroner’s report tomorrow,' Inspector Kabir said to the colony head. ‘I have left two guards just in case,’ he said in an assuring tone.

‘Did you not see anything?’ Kabir questioned Hazari, who was supposedly the chowkidar, the work at which he was adept at only in the mornings.

‘No-No nothing sahib,’ he said with full confidence, ‘there was not a soul in or around the colony, I can vouch for that.’

Hazari had been an efficient chowkidar in his days but a comment from Mr. Das a few years back had taken away his vigor. One night he had been on his daily rounds shouting, ‘Jaagte Raaho’ when suddenly Mr. Das in the mood for some fun (the urges get the better of you, once you cross seventy), blurted out, ‘if we have to do that for the night, why have we kept you, for sleeping, you lout, shut up and do your duty.’ There was a hearty laugh that followed for months on this joke, which deeply hurt Hazari and he has been like this since then.

After few more questions Inspector Kabir bid everyone goodnight and left, promising to come back the next day with the outcome.

Mr. Bhatti was already busy organizing a press conference for the next morning, and being the events organizer of the colony he had to take care of the funeral also, surely he was a busy man that night.

Kamran had retired after being satisfied with his compilations and was waiting for the big day, his recitals could be heard in harmony with the street dogs in the wee hours of night.

Mr. Patel was busy chewing his paan and planning out the dress he would wear the next day as the headman.

Raju was till puzzled and busy trying his contacts to find out which bhai or goonda of Rajgarh could have dared to enter his domain.

Mr. Biswas had locked himself inside his parental king-size trunk and was already asleep to catch the early morning fresh fish from the bazaar.

Mr. Das sat in his balcony staring sadly towards Ms. Cooper’s house, though he could barely see anything even with his spectacles on.

Rajhi had gone back home after achieving star status and had to be ready for the local newspapers tomorrow once the murder was announced. (Say goodbye to the sweeping job star).

Finally Hazari the chowkidar had gone back to his daily night duties; sleep in peace once again, as now he had two policemen available at hand.

Everything was again calm in the railway colony; even the dogs had gone off to sleep. Only the honking of the night train could be heard in the distance.

If the night was dominated by men, hold on, the morning was contested and won over by the womenfolk of the colony.

Namrata was up early; she had telephoned her relatives scattered all over the sub continent, right from Jammu to Allahabad, finally culminating on the shores of Kanya Kumari, updating them of her adventure.

‘Oh yes it happened just next door, it was gruesome, I have never seen so much blood in my life, we were good friends with her, the police is on it, I am one of the key witnesses, sad,’ this was the general line of conversation with all of them and when finally satisfied with the outcome, she went inside to dress up for the day.

‘Hello Namrata are you there?’ Mrs. Biswas was shouting at her front gate, slowly Mrs. Patel, Supriya the school teacher and Mrs.Bhatti also joined in. Everyone wanted to be near the murder site and what better place than Namrata’s.

The men folk had gone out to fulfill their daily duties so the opposite sex had the day to probe the murder mystery. If the stand during the night was taken on the colony grounds; battlefield for the day was Namrata’s courtyard.

The sleuths were already congregating inside to form a general consensus and give their final verdict.

‘Ms. Cooper was very rich, I am sure she had pots of gold hidden under the flooring,’ said Namrata addressing the meeting. ‘Yes these Anglo-Indians are very rich, her son also works in London, that is what I have heard,’ Mrs. Patel leaped inside the conversation not to be left behind, forgetting Ms. Cooper was never even married.

‘She never spoke to anyone much, but was a nice lady, I am sure that sweeper Rajhi is the culprit, he must have got hint of the money and seeing an old lady alone, must have clubbed her and created the scene,’ Namrata said with firm conviction.

‘Well your husband was seen leaving her house in the evening, that was the last time she was seen alive, Mrs. Patel,’ said Namrata. Mrs. Patel sensed the attack and counter attacked vehemently, ‘he went for colony matters everyone knows the fact, moreover Namrata your husband is the goonda of Rajgarh, I am sure he has something to do with it, he must have seen the hidden money and called in his goons to do the job.’

‘My husband was locked up in the trunk with his fish, he cannot be the one,’ Mrs. Biswas said meekly. Nobody paid attention to her.

‘Shut up all of you, why are we fighting among ourselves, it could have been an outsider,’ said the intelligent Supriya. ‘I have my doubts on Rajhi and Hazari if it’s an insider; they were the only two people wandering around the colony yesterday night.’

Cross examination went on for another two hours, theories and hypothesis were formed, snacks were served to enrich the grey cells of the jury, but still a decision could not be reached.

‘I have seen Rajhi peeking inside Ms. Cooper’s house many times in a curious manner,’ said Sarla the housemaid, while serving the snacks, eagerly wanting to become a part of the conversation. Her revelation took everyone by surprise and infused a new spirit in the group.

‘What are you saying Sarla?’ said Mrs. Biswas with fear. ‘He cleans my lawn too, oh Durga Mata, what will happen?’ He cleans all the lawns in the colony Mrs. Biswas, not only yours,’ Supriya replied with a desperate wave of her hand.

After a grueling session the verdict was finally passed, based on Sarla’s breaking evidence Rajhi was found guilty. The ladies seemed satisfied with their work and broke off promising not to disclose their views to anyone until they hear the Police’s verdict and then offer them their line of thought if they flounder. Namrata was unanimously chosen as the leader of the pack.

Hardly had they left for their homes when phones started ringing. Namrata called her relatives all over again, telling them how remarkably she had solved the mystery. Mrs. Patel called Mrs. Shah, Mrs. Biswas called Mrs. Gosh, Mrs. Bhatti called Mrs. Jolly, Supriya called all the schools of Rajgarh and Sarla called all the snack bearers in the vicinity. The telephone lines of Rajgarh were thus jammed for the next whole hour.

Soon the word was out all around the state that Rajhi was a murderer; the feat was achieved in just half an hour, maybe business school graduates should learn networking on the railway colony campus rather than blowing away their parent’s hard earned money on campuses abroad.

The most interesting part was that no one knew where this news originated from, what mattered was that everyone knew who the culprit was, and they just knew it. ’Has the money being found? Has Rajhi been taken into custody? We cannot trust the servants now.’ Even the local newspapers were baffled; the police had yet to come out with their verdict.

Rajhi was locked inside the house and his mother stood on the entrance with a hatchet ready to finish off anyone who dared enter and hurt her son. ‘My son sweeps floors, not people, but I am adept at both,’ that’s what she was heard shouting waving, the hatchet.

Within hours the colony had become alive, reporters were pouring in (just two of them, but were considered many by the railway colony inhabitants). Mr. Bhatti had also organized a stage with a microphone and was actively handling the proceedings i.e. shouting at Mrs. Bhatti who was smacking the junior Bhatti across the field, Mr. Patel was roaming around in his new Dhoti kurta waving to anyone and everyone, Mr. Das was still confused what was happening and was limping around staring at everyone though he could not see anyone, Raju had got his friends to control the reporters and any gangsters who were expected, Mr. Biswas was back inside his trunk after his fish luncheon, Kamran was in queue behind Bhatti to rehearse his couplets on the microphone.

On the other hand the womenfolk were on with their daily chores as if nothing had happened and they had never heard of a Ms. Cooper.

The cacophony created on the grounds, left even the animals running for shelter, by now the situation had got out of control Bhatti and Kamran were fighting for the microphone to make themselves heard, Mr. Patel had managed to get on the stage and was waving around to the street dogs, Mr. Das had limped his way accidentally to Rajhi’s house and was readying for a duel with his mother, though blindly. Raju and his goons were surrounding Rajhi’s house and Mr. Biswas was seen escaping for the bazaar to get fresh stock for supper.

The ruckus was broken with the arrival of the police jeep. Inspector Kabir straightway went towards the stage to have a word with Mr. Patel and the reporters. The women gathered around at the edge of the ground smiling at each other with satisfaction.

Within a few minutes, the reporters were seen leaving the scene, Mr. Patel and the seniors all talking to themselves made a move towards Rajhi’s house. Kabir was accosted by the women on his way back to his jeep.

‘He is the murderer, we knew it Inspector,’ said Namrata jubilantly.

‘What murder? Whose murder, there was no murder,’ said Kabir in an amused tone.

‘Off course Ms. cooper who else?’ Mrs. Biswas said trying to be brave.

‘No Ladies, Ms. Cooper died of a heart attack, she was already seventy five and had a heart ailment. The coroner’s report says clearly she died of natural causes.’ Kabir said, with a nod of his head.

‘But we all saw the blood,’ Namrata said in an astonished tone with the entire group nodding in approval.

‘Oh that was not blood, it was a red berry face mask given to her by Mr. Das as a valentine gift, to smoothen and bring glow to her skin,’ said Kabir laughing loudly.

‘Red berry paste, you said ehh,’ said the group in a chorus looking at each other.

‘Well I just don’t understand one thing, how did entire Rajgarh get hooked on to the stupid idea, that she was murdered, and that also by poor Rajhi,’ said Kabir, rubbing his chin in confusion.

‘Even we are wondering about the same thing, poor Rajhi,’ the choir sang out, once again in perfect harmony……

My friend Ram

2007-10-29T09:38:00.001-07:00

I still remember everything vividly...

It was vacation time! My first since the time I had enrolled in a boarding school in Mussoorie. The yearning to be back with my family after a ten month hiatus was filling me with emotions I had never experienced before.

Soon I would be gliding down the mountains and wading in the plains again. My home beckoned me; the people who cared were waiting for me.

I waved goodbye to my friends, who were as excited as me running around the school flat with their belongings. One could see the Hammals with trunks and Hold alls with hockey sticks poking out, on their backs, moving swiftly from one taxi to another. There was a line of ambassadors waiting to cruise you down on the winding Mussoorie – Dehradun highway, the environment was full of chaos, cars, Hammals and parents.

I looked around; there was an air of joy. Even the mist was slowly descending upon us to share our happiness, and play with the tall oaks. The wet green moss carpeting the walls were slowly shedding tears in trickles, bidding us goodbye, the ferns had come alive and were waving back and forth. Soon they would all be enveloped in a white blanket and only come out to welcome us when we returned for the new academic year in March.

Rajgarh, the place where I hail from is a small peaceful town located in the heart of India and nothing exciting ever happened there. But to be in known surroundings, walk the same roads again, and feel the recognizable smell of evening air was pushing up my adrenaline with every passing moment as I approached it. The train slowly chugged to a halt at the platform, my heart was beating fast, ‘where are my parents?’ I asked myself, looking left and right for them eagerly.

Then I saw them, the tears just couldn’t stop escaping; I ran on the platform forgetting everything, to be enveloped in the comfortable embrace of homecoming.

It is said that good days fly past, but within a month of serious pampering at home, I started to long for the hills again and there were still two months to go. Having many friends back at school and none here, made me feel lonely in Rajgarh, all I could do was eat, sleep and run behind my mother all day. My sisters were not very enthusiastic about playing cricket or football or even cycling, they were well justified. The younger one had barely come out of her nappies, so I could not blame her.

‘There is a mela in the colony today,’ announced one of the servants trying to cheer me up.

‘Can I go there Mom?’ I asked my mother in a pleading tone. She fully understood my loneliness and readily agreed. The servant was to accompany me to the mela.

The colony ground was a small one; the place looked like an overcrowded Bazaar with children running here and there, the yellowish dust was rising above us, people were screaming out their bargains for the day. The things which attracted me the most were the Giant wheel, the snake charmer and a puppet show. Snakes were something which fascinated me always; we had a good and jolly group of them in our garden. My servant told me they helped in cleaning the house of rats, which I am sure they did with a real professional touch.

There was a strange snake with a head on the both the ends instead of a tail on one, which amazed me; I could not take my eyes from it and squatted down with admiration for the creature.

‘It is from the Gujarat desert,’ said the snake charmer enriching me about the double headed reptile. I just nodded my head and continued gaping at it. A cobra also jumped out from one of the disk shaped bamboo boxes.

‘Truly majestic,’ I said to myself. For the first time in my life I had seen a Cobra from such a close distance. The snake charmer went out of the way allowing me to touch it, it felt cold and leathery.

Just then across, on the other side, I saw a boy of my age smiling at me. I smiled back returning the courtesy and he slowly came towards us, my servant on seeing him said something in the local language and he replied back with gestures pointing towards a particular direction.

‘Bhaiya I will be back in a minute, in the meanwhile Ram will give you company,’ my servant said, pulling Ram and giving him instructions to stay with me. I introduced myself and he also squatted down next to me to enjoy the snake show.

‘Where do you live Ram?’ I asked him after a brief pause. He pointed towards the railway quarters just opposite the ground.

‘That is very near to my place, I live in the next lane,’ I said with enthusiasm.

‘I know, you live in that long snake like house,’ He replied in an amused manner. It bought a smile on my face, ‘what do you mean snake like?’ I asked laughing.

‘Oh it looks like a snake sooo long, starts from one corner, ends on another,’ he said using his hands to explain the length. The servant joined us then, I asked Ram if he would like to go on the Giant wheel with me. He was overjoyed at my invitation and we started off on our evening of fun and frolic.

It was the first time then, that I noticed him; he was the same height as me, wheatish in Colour. His hair was patched with some real solid glue or oil which held them together. A half shirt with two buttons hung on his frail frame, the zippers of his shorts were held with a safety pin, and he preferred walking without any footwear. The most important thing was we had started to understand each other as the evening grew old.

From that day onwards Ram started visiting my house regularly and we soon fell into the habit of playing in the garden till the sun went down. My parents had no reservations as I was finally enjoying my stay now and had company. I would tell Ram my boarding school stories and he used to listen with deep interest and fascination as I was someone extraordinary. He taught me the art of playing Kanchas (marbles), Pitthu (seven stones), pulling water from a well, breaking street lamps and patio bulbs with a gulel (catapult) and running wild without caring in the open fields. I enjoyed his company, every day he had a new game to astonish me with.

One day my father got a bicycle for me; it emulated the design of the larger and sturdy Atlas cycle, the only difference being the height and support wheels on both sides. I felt overjoyed at my new acquisition and started to feel like a grown up already. Ram’s house was the first destination which came to my mind and I sped off.

‘Ram, Ram, come and see this,’ I shouted from outside. He came running followed by a train of children presumably, his brothers and sisters.

‘This is so beautiful,’ he said touching the bicycle. ‘Father got it for me today,’ I said excitedly. Everyone was hovering around with wistful eyes; I was full of pomp at that moment. Ram was happy I know it even today, he was, but I missed a look which came and left his face then. It is the look which I still see sometimes today when I close my eyes and rewind.

‘Come Ram hop on, I will take you on a ride,’ I said pulling him on the carrier. We went around the entire colony, the next colony and the next. We crossed the farms, touched the rice mill, and overtook the train. It was evening already and we were in Patel colony which was near to our Railway colony. One of my aunts’s lived there so I thought of surprising her with my new bicycle.

I told Ram we will have snacks at my aunt’s place and then go home, he readily agreed to the proposition. My aunt was overjoyed at seeing me and praised my bicycle; the entire household came out to kiss me as if I had returned from a war after many years. Ram just stood in the corner looking at the ceremony. We were ushered inside the house and I asked Ram to sit next to me on the sofa. It was then everyone noticed him.

‘Who is he?’ My aunt asked in a strange tone. ‘Oh aunty he is my new friend Ram, we play together everyday,’ I said munching the sweetmeats in front of me.

My aunt gave him a scrutinizing look, to make matters worse Ram’s nose was flowing in full flow, he had lost one of the last remaining buttons from his shirt and his feet was covered with mud. We both never realized anything and were busy eating and planning our next adventure. Aunty had seen it, she called me inside once we had finished and gave me a rupee.

‘You should have better friends; you can’t go around with anyone like this.’ She said with a sigh.

‘Oh aunty we are good friends and I like his company, he knows a lot more than I do and he is teaching me new games everyday, I teach him English only, bye now we have to go.’ I kissed her goodbye and cycled off with Ram.

The days actually flew away; time to return had arrived. Ram had come to the station to see me off; my parents were accompanying me to Mussoorie this time. He had made a bouquet of flowers plucked from the neighbor’s garden and neatly rolled inside the Navbharat Times newspaper. I told him I will be back in November and we will carry on from where we left.

I saw him waving sadly, and staring blankly ahead, till the train disappeared for him and the platform for me.

Two years flew by like this, every winter vacation I came to Rajgarh, every time Ram came to receive me and see me off at the station. My biggest surprise was when I got a letter from him at school, it was not legible enough but it left a mark on me. I started writing to him also occasionally, telling him what I was doing in Mussoorie, my escapades and adventures. I don’t know how he managed to understand them then, but twenty odd years later I came to know from one of my sister’s friend who was a teacher and lived in our colony that Ram got all my letters translated by her.

In two years time we had grown up together and a bond had developed between us. I still recall once we were cycling around the market, we stopped at a stationery shop.

‘I will have that one day,’ I said pointing towards a Hero fountain pen with a golden cap, kept in the showcase. ‘The cost of the pen was twenty rupees, a princely sum for a fourth grader.

'Three more years and once I reach seventh grade, I will graduate to a pen from a pencil,’ I said looking at the pen.

‘Yes, it will be yours one day and then you can teach me also how to write with it,’ Ram replied dreamily.

We used to hang around the marketplace, sit for hours near the tube well, and gather the smooth mud from the drying pond near our colony. Three months went and came again, I returned, we played and then again I left.

With time, we grew and so did our intellect, at least mine if not his, he became intelligent and I conceited. By the time I reached sixth grade, I felt a vast change in my personality, I had already stopped writing to Ram sometime back and now was even avoiding him.

The difference which I had never seen was shown to me by people around me, I forgot we were friends, time had changed and so had my thinking and outlook towards life. I wanted to stay with people like me, I felt as if Ram was an embarrassment and nothing more than a company when I was small. This was not an everlasting friendship for me, something which we had promised each other near the tube well, to stay 'friends forever.'

During my vacation I started avoiding Ram. He came to see me many times but was given some excuse or the other at my behest. One day we were going out for lunch, as our car pulled out of the house, I saw Ram walking towards us, it was the last time I saw him. He had grown tall like me, and looked neater than before.

Our eyes met for a brief moment, I tried to say something through them. He was more intelligent and understood the nervous movement of my eyelids. For a second, I think, I saw a sad nod of approval from him.

I kept looking back till the dust as a mediator wiped us apart forever, and all I could see was a friendship melting into it.

The guilt never left me; Ram never came home after that.

I had reached seventh grade and was just reading a book in my garden one day when the servant came up to me and said, ‘Bhaiya you remember your friend Ram.’

‘Yes, what happened?’ I asked him.

‘He gave me this to hand it over to you, when you come for your annual vacations,’ saying this he placed a small box in my hand.

I told him to leave and opened the box; I saw the gold cap of the Hero pen at once, with a small chelpark ink bottle and a note saying ‘best of luck’ in a crooked handwriting.

I don’t remember for how long I sat staring at the pen that day, a lump formed in my throat and I cried. I do not know how he managed to get that pen, where he got the money from? But he remembered I was going to the seventh grade and how badly I wanted it.

I tried locating Ram that day and the days that followed, but in vain. His father had retired and the family had shifted to their hometown.

It’s been twenty years now since then. I still walk down the lane where he lived and cross his house whenever I am in Rajgarh. The memories are still alive, the times we had, the things I learnt from him, I have become adept at marbles and the catapult, all credit to Ram.

Though I never cry, but sometimes I feel a strong urge for tears rise inside me, especially whenever I try to take a walk down memory lane. Wherever he is I am sure of one thing he must have become a better human being than me.

I being the educated one turned out to be illiterate in the end. I have asked God to give me one chance before I die to meet Ram, face him, and say sorry to him as a true friend and not out of guilt. Maybe someday I will and then we will remember the days as real friends together. I still have the pen and it works perfectly….

The Adventures of Detective Momo – Short Stories

2007-09-02T22:25:00.000-07:00

A detective is born

"Sherlock Holmes of course," I said making my point clear. "He was the best detective ever; I shall surpass him one day." I said dreamily. My cousin just shrugged, he was least interested in the discussion.

I had come home on my annual winter vacations from boarding school. This academic year had been a very exciting one, reasons being, I had moved to the senior school as a ninth grader, and most importantly, I had chosen a career path for myself. I was proud of what I had achieved in the last eight months, finishing off volumes of Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot mysteries available in the library, and spending hours on the mountains polishing my skills of deduction and observation.

Now, I had the perfect opportunity to bring into use the powers I had gained in the hills, and embark on a journey of intrigues. My cousin Amit was not at all amused with my career progress, and sat there mocking at me. Though only four years elder to me, he thought himself as a reincarnation of Socrates, ‘sigh’; I pity philosophical people who don’t follow methods and order.

‘Ha!! Aunty, Momo wants to become a detective’, ridiculing my candid revelations, he went out laughing to spread the news. A detective had just been born, all I needed was a case to start off my budding career and prove to the world my finesse at the art.

Like my idol, I also needed a Watson to compile my cases and act as my eyes and ears and I just gathered who the lucky one was.

"My dear Watson, I have a job for you?" I said to my younger sister Nita, who was busy dressing up a stupid Barbie doll in her room. My sister though only a year younger, had still to learn the basics of real world which was unlike her Barbie doll house. But she had potential and I was willing to mould her, what other options did I have?

‘Watson eh, who’s he? A new film star,’ she said innocently.

"Nita my sister you don’t understand, your brother is going to be famous soon and you are going to be a part of his success. Have you heard of Sherlock Holmes?"

‘Is he a film star too?’

"Never mind forget them, well you see that greeting card," I said pointing to a card lying on the table.

‘Yes I do, in fact Mom had asked me to open it earlier,’ she said, stooping towards it.

"Can you guess whom is it from?" I said with a superior nod of my head and embarking on to give her a small sample of my skills. ‘How can I know unless I open it? The sender’s address is also not mentioned.’ She said with a puzzled expression.

"Well I can tell you without looking at the envelope, it’s from Canada and Aunt Anita is the sender. Open it."

‘Wow brother you are right, how did you know?’ she said looking at me with awe plus admiration and puzzlingly at the envelope.

"Watson it’s the art of deduction. Observe it’s an airmail which means the letter is from abroad, we don’t have any relatives besides Aunt Anita who lives there and could have sent us a greeting. Finally the Canadian stamp on the envelope confirmed the identity of the sender. So you see it is all nothing but logic."

‘You are great brother,’ Nita exclaimed, with the awed expression becoming even more awed.

‘It was so simple but yet complicated, anyone could have noticed the stamp and guessed.’

"That is the difference between you, me and anyone; you still have to learn a lot. I have been practicing my powers since the last eight months." I said haughtily.

The small but fruitful dialogue finally got me an awed associate, though a little low in grey cells content, but I could manage. I still had to take her into complete confidence with few more demonstrations of my newly found powers. I Shall do it positively tomorrow, I reminded myself.

The morning was a beautiful one and I had a feeling that my first official case was around the corner. Nita was eyeing me the entire time while we finished off having breakfast, maybe trying to convey a message across.

"Well what is it?" I asked her tugging her inside the drawing room.

‘You know my friend Shruti, don’t you?’ I nodded in approval.

‘I told her I am Washburn or whose son, whatever, and you are Detective Momo now.’

"Its Watson," I intervened.

‘Yes Wat-a-son, she was impressed when I told her about the envelope case, you should have seen the awed expression on her face, and guess what?’

"What?" I replied with an exhilarated feel of having two awed followers already.

‘She has a case for you to investigate, it’s a murder.’

"What murder eh?" I said overjoyed hugging Nita, ‘but murder is nasty business, we have to be careful. Call her in the afternoon and let us hear about the tragedy. And you get a diary and start making notes, this is our first case," I said to her excitedly.

Even Sherlock Holmes’s first case would not have been a murder; things were moving fast, I had expected a minor theft or misunderstanding but a murder never. It was always good to start early in life and I had the gift.

The skills my idols acquired during a career spanning their lifetime, I had in fact mastered in a few months by just reading all their ways and methods, an intelligent shortcut I would say, which deserved a pat.

We gathered after lunch in the Drawing room, making sure everyone else in the house was asleep, especially Amit, I didn’t want dumb witted moron’s intervening in between matters of grave concern. I sat on the head Sofa with my fingers crossed giving a serious and thoughtful look, Watson sat at my side with her Barbie doll notebook and finally Shruti opposite us, looking awed with the ongoing charade.

I have to mention that the grey cell count of Nita and Shruti was fiercely competitive and I had to keep this factor in mind during our discussions. With a gesture of my hand I beckoned Shruti to start.

‘Well Momo it happened this way’

"Detective Momo or just detective," I said intervening.

‘Oh sorry detective,’ I could see the awed look reappearing on her face. ‘I shall try my best to relate the incident as clearly as possible, well; I left Nina in perfectly good health day before yesterday and..’

"Who the hell is Nina?" I cross questioned her. ‘Oh she is Shruti’s best friend,’ Nita cut in.

"Ok, so you have also met her, keep noting down," I said to her. "Yes Shruti please continue."

‘Nina suddenly disappeared yesterday, I tried looking for her in the house, colony, everywhere, and even Ramu Kaka was on to it but in vain. Finally today we discovered her body in the garden; somebody had cut her throat,’ she broke off sobbing.

"So you discovered the body in the morning," I said. (But of course in the morning moron, I guess I was being too logical hummph.)

‘No it was Rocky our Dog who found it.’

Hmm I though to myself, correct!! Dogs are the first people to smell anything dead. "And was Nina living with you?" I asked.

‘Yes Mom and Dad had brought Nina two years back,’ she said sobbing. I comforted her; Nina was an adopted child, her sister. What a ghastly incident.

"Have your parents informed the police?" I asked.

‘No, Mum asked me to keep mum, no calling the police.’ She replied.

"This is not good the police should have been informed and where is the body?"

‘Its still in the house, Mum said we will bury it on Sunday,’ she said with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"What? The body is still in the house I need to speak to Mrs. Gupta, this matter is serious," I beckoned Nita to get the telephone set. Shruti dialed her home and I was put on to a husky voice.

‘Yes, who is it. Oh Momo tell me,’ she said.

"Aunty I am really sorry to hear about Nina, Is it ok if I come down to have a look," I said with a voice of assurance.

‘Sure son come down, Shruti is taking it really very hard, I feel sorry for her, Nina was her sister, and we have to still catch the culprit who did this to poor Nina. I guess you can help her out.’ She said in a rather sad voice and hung up.

What have the elders come to? Keeping a dead body in their house was something totally insane. My mind was racing, already a hypothesis was forming but I needed to examine the scene of crime and the body to net in more clues and round up suspects. Every minute detail mattered in a murder investigation.

"Ok Shruti I will take up this case, we need to go to your house right now to investigate and let’s also finalize on our fees." I said.

‘What fees?’ She exclaimed looking rather surprised.

"Detectives don’t work for free, we work on a fee, I am sure you want to catch Nina’s killer, I’m your only hope." I said in a serious tone.

‘I can offer you two Dairy milks, that’s my entire wealth,’ pleaded Shruti.

‘Can I have the doll bed too,’ Nita giggled in.

"Shut up," I shouted in anger. "Nina has been murdered and all you can think of is dolls and only dolls, I shall exclude you from my internship.

The sentence on exclusion took Nita by surprise and she pleaded to be forgiven. After all she had seen my powers. So once everything was decided and agreed upon, I put on my blazer, gloves and cowboy hat, slipped in a magnifying glass which I had bought for three rupees, useless though but gave a professional touch. Being under age I could not smoke a pipe so I suffed a toothpick in my mouth making it a trademark style, a final look in the mirror and I was ready.

‘Where do you think you are going in that hideous dress, a Halloween party maybe, and what’s with the toothpick,’ said Amit entering my room bursting with laughter.

I was flushing with anger but ignored his comments as there were more important things to attend to rather than playing Aristotle, Aristotle with the dumb witted moron.

My mother soon followed after him, ‘what is this you are wearing Momo, and where are you off to,’ she asked sounding puzzled.

"Mrs. Gupta has called me to help her, there has been a murder at her place," I said seriously. There was howl of laughter in the background and I saw Amit rolling all over the floor.

‘The great detective Momo has been called to solve a murder hahaha!’ He kept on howling.

‘Amit shut up and Momo you better stop playing such stupid games, I shall speak to Mrs. Gupta on this subject and what’s with the toothpick,’ mumbling she left the room.
I had also by now seen enough howling of the baboon and decided to join my admirers who were waiting in the drawing room.

"Lets make a move," I said entering. Both the girls looked at me, then looked at each other and then again looked at me, this time with awe.

‘You look mind blowing boss,’ Nita said, full of admiration.

‘What’s with the toothpick,’ said Shruti.

"It helps me think in a logical way," I replied trying to sound intelligent and again was greeted by the very same expression I was getting used to now ‘awe.’

Ramu Kaka opened the gates for us as we entered. "I am really sorry Kaka about Nina,’ I said in a comforting tone.

‘What? Who? Eh Nina, ahh yes it is sad very sad,’ he said scratching his head.

"Can you show us where the body was found Shruti?"

She guided us to a spot in the garden, ‘here’ she said pointing towards the grass. I chewed on my toothpick and went down on my knees, feeling the grass.

"Hmm I see two set of footprints, and some of the grass has been ruffled here in this place, which means that the body had been dragged from the verandah, " I said thoughtfully putting my magnifying glass back in the pocket in a professional way.

"Ahh what do we have here," I said and bent down to slip an object of interest in my blazer pocket.

‘Can we have a look with that glass? We can’t see anything,’ Nita said.

"Not now," I replied, "maybe later we are finished here, nothing much to see eh! Let’s examine the body," saying I glanced around one last time like any other detective would and noted the same expressions which I don’t need to mention now on the faces of my interns.

Ramu Kaka was still scratching his head as we crossed him, looking at us in an amused manner.

‘What’s with the toothpick Momo baba,’ he said scratching his scalp even more vigorously.

‘It helps him think in a logical way,’ Shruti jerked in before I could open my mouth. I nodded in approval.

‘And the hat helps in keeping his big brains inside his small head,’ cut in Nita enthusiastically trying to gain my nod of approval. I looked at her in disgust as we entered the house.

‘Let us go to my room directly, Nina is sleeping there,’ said Shruti. Hearing her only gave me the creeps, how can one keep a corpse inside the bedroom and where are the elders? They have no concern or brains.

‘There it is,’ she said pointing towards the bed starting to sob again.

I looked in the direction but was unable to see anything, maybe it’s under the bed and quite logically it should be there I thought to myself, where else can it be. Slowly I eased myself under the queen bed. There was nothing there.

‘What are you doing under the bed, the body is on the bed,’ retorted Shruti.

‘Boss is looking for clues, I am sure,’ replied Nita, saying something intelligent for the first time. Well I did not see any body on the bed, I thought to myself, must have missed it, let us see again. I came out in the light again.

"Where?" I asked.

‘There,’ said Nita pointing on the bed

What I saw next should have brought about a turning point in my detecting career but due to my inner strengths and resolve I survived the shock. There lay on the bed a ‘Barbie doll’ with a cut on her throat. I was taken aback by the sight, I had no words or as they say, mum is the word.

‘Isn’t it shocking,’ said Shruti wiping her tears.

Nita comforted her with an equally matched answer, ‘I would have felt the same if someone had done this to Jessie.’

I felt like tearing my hair and running like a madman on the streets, I had actually overestimated the little and the tiniest grain of grey matter which was there in the two brilliant brains. My hopes had been dashed, the first case had become a fiasco; I was actually investigating the case of a murdered doll. Amit’s howls of laughter started ringing in the background.

‘So what do you think detective?’ said Shruti breaking into my thoughts.

"What do I think Eh? What do I think? Both the nit wits had no clue what I had been going through, they wanted me to catch the murderer of a doll. Thinking logically at the same time, I could not reveal my lines of thought so far otherwise I would make a fool of myself and also end up losing my two followers, especially their expressions.

Also I had accepted the fees for the assignment and the code of a detective does not allow him to turn back. What would Sherlock Holmes say? I pondered.

"The show must go on, as said by someone, sometime for some show." I got a sudden vision on how to solve this crazy mess.

‘Boss is everything all right?’ nudged Nita, waking me up.

I picked up the doll examined it closely and then gave a slight smile, yes the same smile which brings on the expressions. It was very clear from the scratch marks that the culprit was none other than Rocky, Shruti’s dog.

"The case is solved, I know who the killer is," I said with a triumphant wave of my hands, followed by throwing away of my toothpick with the click of my finger.

(Well I cannot describe it; you had to be here in person to see the expressions on both the faces. No wait a minute I sensed rather panic on Nita’s.)

‘Can I have a word with you in private brother,’ she pulled me outside the room. Shruti was still mesmerized on her spot.

‘Will you really tell her the Killer’s name,’ she said now approaching tears.

"Yes I have to Nita, I hope you remember we had accepted the fees and this is my job. But why are you behaving like a loony." I said amusingly.

‘How did you find out that I had killed Nina, don’t tell her please, I will give you my dairy milk chocolate,’ said Nita desperately panicking.

"Well, Well, I say," my mind was going round and round and round. So Nita had taken the doll, that’s why she was dressing her up the other day or rather undressing her as it was found dead nude. I never thought from this angle. My powers were failing me; I had to think of something. An idea struck me instantly; it pays to be a real detective.

"Ahhh its ok dear, I knew it from the beginning it was you who had done it but I just wanted to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth," I said calmly.

‘Really brother I must say, you are brilliant. I always wanted Nina’s dress for Jessie but Shruti would never give it to me, always showing it off, so one day I pinched the doll. While I was undressing it the razor struck her throat accidentally and the soft neck just gave way, not my fault though. Then after finishing off, I went and threw the carcass in Shruti’s garden.’ She finished with her hideous story. What a dangerous girl, but can come handy to ward off danger in times to come, I might use her as a potential weapon against my future enemies; I think I sensed it right.

"Well that is a very bad thing to do even though I know Shruti is a show off, it does not mean that you go on a stripping and slitting spree, I should not hear of this again, you understand." I said in an authoritative tone.

‘I promise, but what are you going to tell Shruti now,’ replied Nita.

"Leave that to me, I am a detective," I said wincing at her. (Yes I saw the expression; you don’t have to tell me, Momo is not a fool)

"People gather around as I am now going to reveal all." Shruti looked around there was no one else in the room. (And I was not in a mood of doing a full Monty) I saw her concern and quickly rephrased my sentence, "Well just sit both of you and I shall bring out the facts."

"The killer is an insider Shruti," I said bringing some pain to my voice, "and I can prove it."

‘An insider I can’t believe it,’ she shrieked completely shocked.

I pointed to the corner where Rocky was busy licking his tail and proclaimed, "He is the culprit." Rocky was caught unaware, I guess. He panicked suddenly at my outburst and making a yelping sound ran out of the room.

‘What proof do you have,’ Shruti said with certain excitement.

"Well you observed when we were in the garden; I had picked up an object." I reproduced the object from my blazer pocket.

‘That is Rocky’s name plate from his leash,’ puffed in Shruti.

"Precisely, I discovered it at the crime scene, also one of the set of footprints there were Rocky’s. With precision and a magnifying glass, a good detective can ascertain the difference between human footprints and a paw." I signed off on a winning note.

"Now let me re-construct the entire scene for you, Basically there could only have been one suspect because uncle was on tour, aunty was busy watching recordings of the K-factor drama throughout the day, Ramu Kaka is too old to pinch and slit dolls, Nita was no where near the house when you discovered the body, she was with me and you my dear cannot murder your own friend, so logically who remains." I said finishing off confidently.

‘Rocky, who else?’ punched in Shruti with admiration.

"Precisely, I believe he had a grudge against her. You always dressed Nina in beautiful clothes and poor Rocky was ignored always. Jealousy got on too him and turned him into an animal, so he sneaked inside your room when no one was around and dragged Nina to the garden through the path, where we observed the ruffled up grass."

‘Poor Nina, but where are her clothes? And who slit her throat,’ Nita asked in a puzzled manner. (Well you should know better nitwit, I thought to myself).

"Ohh its pure logic again, Rocky is three months old and at this tender age dogs have an itchy feeling in their canines, I correctly presume after studying the scratch marks, that Rocky took out his itch on Nina keeping in mind the grudge. After his itch had been satiated he realized what he had done, so he took off with all shreds of evidence from the crime scene, I mean whatever was left of her clothes."

Nita was even more wide eyed than Shruti after my brilliant expose; the expressions just kept getting better.

‘You are a genius, can I also work under you like Nita,’ Shruti said pleadingly.

"Well, well, we shall talk about recruitments later, I am really tired after such a tough case, and my brain needs some rest. Nita are you coming home?"

The sun was setting on the horizon throwing a bright orange streak across the sky; I was followed out by my admirers with Rocky yapping at their heels. The poor soul had been convicted wrongly though I confirm I had seen his itch marks on Nina’s face. Well that was the price he had to pay for his canines, I guess.

Shruti bid us goodbye thanking me again and again with the ‘look.’

‘Detective Momo you are the best,’ she said clasping her hands together. I just flicked my hat with the tip of my fingers and moved on. Ramu Kaka was still scratching his head.

‘Eh Momo Baba where is the toothpick,’ he said in a confused tone as we crossed him.

‘His brain is sleeping and cannot think logically now, so the great detective does not require the toothpick,’ Nita cut in with enthusiasm to gain my vote of confidence. I nodded blankly, reminding myself of her grey cells level as we trudged along.

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

{This is just the beginning of Momo’s adventures, he was not aware of the greatness he was destined to achieve in his mohallah and the next mohallah, mohallah’s of other cities, and international mohallah’s, in the coming future.

He with his entourage of awed grey less cells and moron’s was the best thing to have happened to the detective fraternity, and it is as we say again ‘just the beginning.’}

Alive Again

2007-08-20T03:13:00.000-07:00

All I could rememember was skidding off the main road and ramming on to the pavement with a loud noise caused by metal cramping against stone. Tire bursts are not something which you expect driving on a beautiful morning full of life, but no one knows it might just be your day, By the time I realized what was happening, I was stunned and completely crushed inside the car slowly melting inside the metal furnace, there was a sharp penetrating pain at first but then calmness started to take over, my body had gone numb.

There were people all around, staring at me with hands covering their mouths as if it were some unique site or if an horror act was been put on and the end of which had convincingly hit the nail in fulfilling its objective. A group had formed surrounding the debris but no one dared to come near even when they were seeing me struggle to live, I had never imagined myself lying mangled inside a smashed car without any hope of survival and being made a mere subject of interest.

My life started to come and go in a flash, sometimes the visions would blur but the memories kept striking against the walls and remained. There were many things which were unfinished, “I should have taken care of them earlier”, I thought to myself, it seemed as if I was preparing myself for the long journey ahead already.

“It cannot be this easy,” I heard my brain tell me one last time and then it went into a deep sleep.Fire brigade and ambulance alarms were the last sounds which I heard before losing audio and visual contact with earth and floating away into the darkness. As it was my first dying experience it left many questions in my mind regarding the core principles of death, how could it be so peaceful and calm? Why was there no pain? When things happen the way you want them to, it means there is definitely something wrong, otherwise the world would be just too perfect.

It is hard to say how many weeks or months it took but finally one day I heard voices around me, though there was darkness all around, the voices were present to give me company, becoming clearer and clearer with every passing moment. Was I in heaven, but surely it can’t be dark out there, then it must be hell I suppose.

It did not take me long to understand after overhearing the doctor that, I survived the crash, but had slipped into a coma . What I had heard of this state during my conscious days was that it is like sleep, in which individuals are completely unarousable, and unresponsive to external stimulation and to their own inner needs. Survival chances were very diffcult in such cases unless miracles come to your aid, i was aware of the facts and was trying to prepare myself for what lay ahead.

There was still darkness around, I could not feel my eyes, there was no sense of smell and no pain either, what I had left with me were just my inner thoughts. I could hear people moving around the room more clearly now, it was the doctor instructing the nurse with my daily schedule. Though I could not see anything but I could fairly well imagine the hospital room, had seen it a lot of times in the movies with all the instruments, green curtains, white sheets and the drip by the bedside. I always thought why we had white sheets in the hospitals universally why not black? They would last longer, white sheets get stained easily. Maybe black signifies death that’s why it’s shunned, but is it not the white sheet you are wrapped in when you make your final journey?

'Well doctor how long is this stage going to last,' I heard my friend Ram ask the doctor.

'Let’s go outside and speak,' was the reply.

So finally I heard a known voice, it gave me some inner strength that my people were around me and it will not take long for my parents to arrive too, how will they bear this shock?

More of my friends had gathered by now, I could hear their whispers? where? when? how? Now what? will he? These were the basic lines of thought going through everyone’s minds and lips.

Family members started pouring inside the room soon after, my uncles and aunts, cousins, sisters, everyone had the same questions on their lips, there were tears, short sobs, withheld emotions, what else could they do. The heart wrenching moment came when my parents arrived, I heard my mother wail on seeing me, she had to be taken and persuaded outside the room by my family, I could not imagine her pain and I did not want to also, a mother’s heart always bleeds to see her child in suffering, even though the child would never actually understand that.

I wanted to tell them badly, it was not my fault to have caused them so much pain and misery, its just fate, I could not even cry. The ordeal lasted for a few hours and finally my mother was pacified.

I do not even know whether she touched my forehead or held my hand, I was blind and numb.

After a few hours everyone started leaving one by one saying their goodnights. My family and Ram were staying back at the hospital but no one was allowed to be in my room as per the doctor’s instructions. My parents also bid me farewell for the night and promised to be by my side first thing in the morning.

The voices slowly died away and silence prevailed, I could hear the ticking of the clock, circling of the ceiling fan and a slow beep coming from some instrument. Was I breathing? I was not sure of that too. Will I live again?

My mind started floating down memory lane; I found it a good opportunity to trace back my entire life once again. Even if I lived on or not, I could still cherish the moments one last time before departing. I saw myself as a small boy growing up, going to school, the fun filled days, college days and finally graduating to become a man ready to shoulder responsibilities, destined to be a part of the life cycle like any other normal human being. The sweet memories of childhood, the innocent pranks, fights, love affairs, friends, family, times of poverty and luxury, jobs, destinations, failures, successes, all passed through me one by one, some brought smiles, some tears.

I felt overwhelmed in the end, I was always thought of as a trouble maker, and people were happier to keep me at distance to avoid trouble. According to them I was one who had no goal in life, no plans, running from one place to another, one life to another; but walking down the memory lane, seeing everyone today and hearing their words from the bottom of their hearts washed away all the prejudices that existed, a dying man never lies, he becomes more strong than ever as he has no fears left.

I saw my entire life go by in one night, the journey so far had been a wonderful experience and by the time I finished reaching the present, I realized I wanted to live more.

There were so many things to be done and undone, I could not leave before saying thank you to a number of people and sorry to some. I still had to spend some time with my family; there were still many moments ahead to laugh and cry together for, I needed some more time to find love, learn to give and sacrifice.

Whatever I had done and achieved so far seemed miniscule to what still lay ahead, I just wanted some more time.

My eyes started opening slowly, I could see a bright white light ahead of me, I knew the time had come to go but I was not ready, heaven is a beautiful place but I wanted another chance to live in the right way and become worthy of a berth there.

I felt my mind slowly leave my body towards the light, I tried holding back.

I did not want to go but the power of God is supreme, it kept pulling me towards it. I stretched both my hands ahead with all the strength I had left and tried to pull myself back inside my body when suddenly with a swift jerk I sat up.

The air conditioner was humming noiselessly, there was darkness all around. I was sweating profusely trying to catch my breath as I came alive again, slowly I rubbed my eyes and started to gather my senses.

“Is it a dream?” I questioned myself looking around and trying to find my feet on the ground.

“It was a dream,” I said laughing with joy while parting the curtains. I was in my room.

The orange sky welcomed me with a cool breeze providing solace to my excited mind, the birds were chirping noisily heralding the start of a new day, people had started moving on the streets getting along with their daily routines, a pack of street dogs had ventured out in their search for food so that they could survive for just another day, the beggar had taken his usual place, on time for business.

Everything around looked alive, I was alive with another chance to fulfill my destiny or just dissolve in the human cycle, who knows...

Mariam

2007-08-10T03:50:00.000-07:00

I got up with a jerk!! “Had the alarm cackled or not?” – I mumbled to myself, remembering hazily switching it on snooze and again dozing off. Slowly I eased myself out from my cozy bed realizing I had overslept by 45 minutes and was going to be late again for office today. Pulling myself together i started on my daily chores.

My eyes were still drooping caused by the extra dose of sleep and were unable to open fully due to diziness, gazing at the mirror while brushing, I started recollecting the events of the early morning, “Surely the alarm had rung, it was a dream i guess, I had also felt the pressure in my bowels urging me to rise to the occasion, was it not the perfect time to get up then!!" god, why cant you just wake me up just once on time?.

In no time I was on the road driving at full throttle trying to bridge the gap and at least make it to office at a respectable time; my arrival was greeted with hostile glances and a familiar smirk on most of the faces around, convincing me of my talent of never reaching office on time no matter how sincerely I tried. With a desperate look around for genuine sympathizers, I slowly slithered off towards my cabin.

“Where is it now, can’t see it see it anywhere today,”I said to myself humorously, Ahhh there it is, the memo was on a different and strange location today, stuck neatly on one of my motivational posters which read – 'The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the moment you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office.' Off course 100% correct but the memo had a different view to my motivational poster, it said, 'Vivek do you actually ever make it to office, forget being on time, see me at your convenience,' signed GM.

I had by now forgotten, the number of memos I had received but it was fun locating one whenever I was late, kind of Sherlock Holmes looking for clues, everyday a new location, surely the office people had there share of fun too , I chuckled to myself and settled down.

"Well!" There were better things to think about, it was weekend and my spirits were really high just thinking about the spirits I would be consuming in the coming two days and also an unexpected visit from a spirit which was going to haunt me for a long time. The next day was perfectly planned with a few common friends; we were going down the lakeside for a nice picnic which in itself was not a very thrilling idea but the lakeside palace turned out to be a perfect bait to lure me into the “Picnic thing,” being a history buff I was always ready to dig and bury myself in the past whenever I got an opportunity.

I actually made it through the day without much pain and suffering to finally see creatures of the dark starting to venture out of their dens and getting ready to party throughout the night. For me it was an early morning so had to give up the Bat dance tonight.

“We are going to be late if we do not hurry, get along with the things, it’s a beautiful morning,” I shouted at Amit, junior member of the Picnic Contingent.

I had to pick up three other contingencies on my way and reach the destination directly. The two hour drive was pleasant one with our spirits overflowing from within us as well as from the cans we were gulping one after the other, 'after all there are only few humans lucky enough to get a share of the divine juice early in the morning.' We arrived on time to be greeted by three other members taking the toll to a final eight.

“So what do you think of this place,” said Rajesh.

I had already started scanning the surroundings, “there it is, that’s the palace,” I said pointing towards a depleted structure not very far from us.

It must have been majestic in its prime I thought to myself lost in reconstructing the past. A mutual agreement was reached amongst us to have a light breakfast first and then explore the ruins till lunch time. We hurriedly unpacked, set up the picnic environment and gobbled our Tiffin’s coupled with beers without wasting any time to start on our adventure.

The palace was still a private property but luckily Amrita had spoken to the caretaker Mr. Rahman requesting permission to enter the compound, Rahman himself lived there with his family and was more than willing to show us around and enrich us with the history of the place and its royal occupants through generations.

'It looks much bigger from here now' said Amrita as we approached the main gates.

“Hmm it truly does,” I murmured to myself in an amused manner, as we entered.

Rahman greeted us on the pathway, this was followed up with a long round of introductions, 'No one visits the Nayab Palace nowadays, I am happy to see you youngsters taking interest in the place’s history,' he said enthusiastically. I could see seven pair of eyes glaring in my direction. It was my condition to join the expedition only if we had the palace visit in our agenda.

“WHAT,” I screamed sarcastically looking at my friends.

“Learn something about your past,” and moved ahead laughing to examine the carved palace walls leaving them with Rahman, who had already started off with a volley of historical bouncers.

The architecture was indeed splendid; the walls were full of intricate carvings, what craftsmanship, I thought to myself. Suddenly something caught my attention; they were small ivory Lion heads adorning the staircase, which led to the first floor of the building.

“I’ve seen these Lion heads somewhere I am sure and recently but where,” I was thinking hard.

I felt one of the Lion heads with my hand, it was cold, and again started to drift down memory lane where, where??

I came back to my senses with a jerk!!! “Ohh yes I saw it yesterday morning, during the 45 minutes of extra sleep,” I cried out loud, was I hallucinating, was it a coincidence, my mind was racing with multiple lines of thought, me in front of the mirror while brushing and trying to remember, the extra sleep, a boy and a girl “what was her name,” I thought hard, ‘Mariam,’ I said to myself repeating it, yes Mariam.

The group had caught up with me while I was still thinking hard, lot of the mist had cleared from my mind by then.

'Have you discovered something,' said Rajesh jokingly snapping me from my reverie. I looked at Rahman who was still babbling his stuff.

“Did a girl named Mariam live in the Palace,” I asked staring blankly.

There was a sudden silence, Rahman had frozen on his spot and was staring at me; my friends always had the confidence in me for knowing everything and anything in history, it was normal for them so without taking any notice, they moved ahead finding a lucky escape route from Rahman by hooking him on to me.

“How do you know about Princess Mariam, no one has ever heard about her,” he said in a nervous and shaky tone. Now it was my turn to get really surprised and taken aback, so it is true, I thought, she really existed, what is happening here and to me of all the people, a staunch follower of Darwin’s theory of evolution.

“I don’t know her; I have never seen her it’s just a dream which I had yesterday,” I replied with a slur.

Rahman was still not his normal self and looked pale and white as if he had seen a ghost, I started narrating my dream to Rahman – “I was walking down an imaginary lane trying to find my way to a particular destination which I do not remember, and I encountered this small boy playing on the roadside, as I was lost so it was an intelligent idea to ask him for help. He guided me on the right path and thanking him I trudged along. After a few minutes walk, I noticed him running behind me trying to catch up."

“Please can you help me,” he said panting.

I was ready to oblige my guide willingly. He fished out a currency note from his shirt pocket,

“Can you please give this fifty rupee note to my friend on the way, she lives in the palace few meters ahead, her name is Mariam, ask the gatekeeper he will take you to her, tell her that I had sent the note for her and promise me you will give it to her and nobody else.”

“Why can’t you go yourself,” I asked out of curiosity it’s just a few meters.

“No, I am not allowed there,” was his reply.

“Ok my friend I shall deliver this to her I promise,” I said waving to him and resumed my walk. I think he did not budge from his spot till the time I disappeared from sight, ‘well that’s just a feeling.’

Next thing I remember is entering the Palace courtyard with the gatekeeper and as I kept my hand on one of the ivory Lion heads to climb the stairs, I woke up.

“This is my part of the story which I can recall, I don’t remember seeing the face of the boy, his name or even the palace only the ivory Lion head, the name Mariam and my narration,” I said finishing my dream.

This is extraordinary, I don’t know what to say, unbelievable,” stammered Rahman. By now I was excited on three angles, first of all being part of a mystery gave my stomach a churning feel, secondly I was afraid of potential appearance of ghosts which was pushing up my adrenaline now and then and finally Rahman’s tone was now unnerving me. “Please tell me what you know of all this, who is this Mariam? I don’t understand a thing,” I asked begging him.

“Come we will sit here and I shall clear all your doubts,” he gestured towards a chair, after making ourselves comfortable he started with the most amazing story of my life-

“Princess Mariam lived during my Grandfather’s time in this palace; he was the gatekeeper that time, I am happy he has a part in your dream," he continued smiling.

"The Queen died while giving birth to Mariam, the King was so shocked with her demise that he locked himself and Mariam in the palace forever. Nobody except the royal household knew of the existence or even birth of Mariam, she was a no one. Only the Grocer’s son Ranjit from the outside world knew about her existence as he used to get the provisions daily for the palace staff, but even he knew her only as Mariam not as a princess.

As both Mariam and Ranjit were of the same age, eight years old and without any friends, they were bound to come close to each other. Ranjit used to get small gifts for her everyday, things which she had never seen. Even colored stones or marbles would make her shine and he would just watch her happily. Together they found happiness, trust, friendship and an everlasting bond for life. “Ranjit used to visit the palace daily and would run on these same stairs,” said Rahman pointing to the staircase to Mariam’s room, and there they used to play and sing the whole day.

One day Mariam asked Ranjit for a fifty rupee note as she had never seen one in her life. It was her first request since their friendship had started; Ranjit could never have refused her and so promised to get it for her the next day. He went home and took the note out from his father’s pocket to show it to her.

Mariam had fallen ill the next day and was sleeping; Ranjit at the usual time came running excited and clutching the note, just thinking how happy she would be to see it. He reached the top of the staircase and suddenly twisted his ankle; the ivory Lion head could have saved him but it slipped from his hand and he went tumbling down. The servants who saw this ran to save him but in vain; it was difficult to survive such a nasty fall. My grandfather told me he was still clutching the note in his hands with a peaceful and innocent smile as he lay motionless.

Mariam thought Ranjit was not coming to meet her because she had asked for the fifty rupee note, this deeply saddened her, but when she heard of his fate a few days later, she broke down and could not even survive for a week, this my friend was the story of Mariam who was born unknown and died unknown to the outside world except for Ranjit."

Rahman finished his part, everything made sense now, I was dazed, I’ve never believed in things which were beyond the realms of human existence but this incident had me thinking again and again of the supernatural. Some things should be left as they are, unsolved and buried deep beyond human imagination.

'Do you want to see Mariam,' I was suddenly woken up by Rahman.

“Oh yes it will be my pleasure,” I said in a rather confused tone.

We walked up the winding staircase towards Mariam’s room; it was cold but well lit, it seemed the caretaker had preserved the room well. There on the wall stood the picture of a beautiful young girl trying to put on a smile, her melancholy eyes clearly showed her loneliness, devoid of joys, a longing for home, it was not hard to imagine that moment what a friend like Ranjit would have meant to her. Rahman left me staring at the photograph; I could hear him slowly descend the stairs.

Suddenly I remembered something; I reached out for my wallet took out a fifty rupee note and slowly inserted it in the photo frame.

“I have fulfilled my promise my friend, I‘ve delivered the note and so have you,” I whispered to myself, looked at Mariam and walked away.

The Black emperor - Myth & Legend (Chapter-I)

2007-03-13T04:32:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER I – THE COMING

The rolls of thunder were increasing, the sky cast a black blanket over the stretched plains of grass, it was surprising in this month of the season to be under the influence of such conditions and every passing minute was increasing the blackness as if the devil has arrived with his army to conquer the ends of earth. Mothers were hushing their children inside the mud houses, cattle fleeing here and there but no rain only the never ending darkness.

Lorando was not a kingdom of much significance, a poor state of peasants, no army or victories to boast of. King Regan had ascended the throne ten years back and things had improved for the poor kingdom, an army had been formed under the command of General Litzer a very competent warrior and principal aide of Regan, small victories over the neighboring tribes had earned Lorando the title of a growing kingdom.

The wise of Lorando were confused at the turn of events in the sky above, was it the end of the world being announced by the heavens, had the evils of mankind surpassed their luck to survive what could be this warning signal, what is going to happen…..

Regan was pacing up and down in the palace courtyard momentarily gazing up at the sky as if waiting for the black clouds to engulf the land and swallow the entire human race. His astrologers were right then; the end of the world is indeed approaching who could expect such a night on a bright March evening only the devil.

The wise gathered in the courtyard to solve the puzzle of this mysterious evening, what is it then, "what do the signs foretell Bluzzard?" Asked King Regan, are we approaching the end

‘We have a general consensus to this line of thought, Your Majesty,’ replied Bluzzard the wisest and Chief Minister of the state. He was an intelligent man well versed with the laws of administration, a gifted astrologer and had worked his way up the ladder inside the circle of notables solely on the basis of his merits.

'According to the movement of the stars and report from an outpost guard the clouds of death are hovering only over the kingdom of Lorando, the rest of the world seems to be calm sire,' said Bluzzard, I will hurry to my study and delve deeper into this, how have we wronged the almighty who has inflicted upon us such a dark evening. The wise moved out hurriedly following Bluzzard to further speculate on the ongoing chain of events.

Regan was again restless, we have just started to grow, glory still had to be seen what wrong have we done to face such wrath. His chain of thoughts was suddenly broken by a streak of lightning striking the earth, has it begun…. already, he ran up the palace steps to see the scene of impact, a red glow was visible in the distant fields the smoke had mixed with the clouds and no difference could be made, another bolt was thundered, the King was staring at the destruction with gaping eyes, all was finished…..

There was a distinct confusion within the walls of the city everybody was running for safety cursing their fate, no casualties had been reported so far only the destruction caused by the lightning.

A maid came suddenly running towards the king, 'your majesty, we believe the Queen will deliver tonight and your presence is expected.'

The current situation had entirely made Regan forget that his wife had been expecting, but was it not at least after a month; well it seemed the circumstances had made everything possible…

The queens room was filled with maids and the royal physicians, 'we don’t understand sire,' said one of them we weren’t expecting the arrival of the newborn till the next month this seems unexplained, "well a lot of things tonight seems unexplained," replied Regan, kindly get on with it, I shall be waiting outside to hear the good tidings.

"Summon Bluzzard" he said, to one of the Sentries, who departed instantly.

"The guards have reported lightning bolts all across the kingdom, the people have been spared till now," gushed Bluzzard as he came panting, a strange phenomenon according to my study it is definitely a warning of the arrival of something not complete destruction, a warning of death coming in the future.

Regan looked relieved for the moment, "well Bluzzard the Queen can deliver any moment, according to the royal physicians."

"What !!,Impossible..." shrieked Bluzzard.

"I beg your pardon Sire," he said after composing himself, but according to the stars only death can be born today, this has entirely not been expected, the anger on Regan’s face was clearly visible.

‘what do you mean?, the newborn brings the tiding of death….. be careful of your words Bluzzard.’

"I am sorry your majesty but the stars are never wrong, I am a loyal servant of the kingdom and its ruler and it is my duty to abrade you with the facts and findings. The strange phenomenon happening, the queen delivering prematurely points to the newcomer, there is nothing else to explain the evening." he said explaining his position.

"I don’t believe you, damn your stars," Regan replied with a stern stretch of his arms. Suddenly a bolt struck the palace premises, the King rushed towards the courtyard with Bluzzard and the guards following.

The rolling of thunder was deafening, the black clouds were floating inside the palace now, it was a truly a depreciating site, even the guards were afraid and down on their knees repenting for there sins.

Regan reached the spot where the lightning has struck, it was the courtyard, there was a strange light engulfing the area where the bolt had struck.

"Look!!!!" Shouted Bluzzard pointing at the clearing, his whole frame trembling, Regan slowly moved forward….

There was a black patch left by the lightning, it was a blurred outline of a human form riding a horse waving a sword. The king was stoned to his place, Bluzzard fell on his knees. All of a sudden the thunder stopped and the sky started clearing immediately.

The maids came rushing in the courtyard, "your majesty the Queen has given birth to a beautiful boy."

But there is something strange….

Regan stared at Bluzzard.

Content life

2007-03-13T04:19:00.000-07:00

The day started, as usual with a cup of black coffee and checking emails of the so called prospective clients, working and adjusting to the new environment was taking a heavy toll on my mental abilities, at one stage I was very enthusiastic on joining the new firm but within months it made me realize the error of my decision and to worsen the situation my manager Mr. Rajgopal was helping in increasing my anxieties every coming day.

I was staring blankly at the wall mulling over the decisions taken and mistakes committed when suddenly, the phone rang waking me up with a jerk from my reverie.

'Vivek, come to my cabin QUICK.'

Damn he always has this habit of calling me in his cabin as soon as he enters the office, now does he want to have his coffee with my brains, thinking hard I moved towards Rajgopal’s den.

'I want the UK business plan on my table today.'

"But Sir," I resisted, "it is not possible we do not have the data available from the London office," suddenly realizing, that in this state of anxiety I had completely forgotten to contact the London office.

‘What??’ He roared like a lion, yes a very hungry lion indeed; 'you have had it boy if I don’t get the plan by today evening, beg, borrow or steal, I don’t care, you very well know the consequences.' Thanking him in my mind for giving me at least the three lovely options ‘beg, borrow or steal’ tchhhh, I left his den.

The yearning for fresh air and a nice smoke usually increased inside me during moments of such encounters or patches of despondency, the air was cool but ohh!!! Look it seems the rains would be paying us a visit today, damn nothing right is happening today, I puffed on my cigarette inhaling the smoke vigoursily inside my lungs.

The traffic was moving at a snails pace on the crowded Gandhi lane in Andheri west where our consultancy firm was located, I was staring down at the horde of vehicles lining up one after the other honking like mad bulls. My car loan had not been approved till now and I was left at the mercy of the State bus transport which was a major competitor to the roller coaster ride at Essel world which I had visited with my friends last week.

Stubbing out my cigarette, I entered the office readying myself to face the ordeal later in the evening, which was inevitable. As soon as I had taken my place, the downpour started with a deafening clatter.

With the business plan to finish I lost track of time, it was 1 in the afternoon, I sensed a commotion in the office, Ruby the secretary was running like a scared chicken around the office and all the ladies had formed a union in front of Rajgopal’s den,

"something’s up," I thought to myself but looking at the target, decided to carry on with my work rather than being devoured by the hungry lion in the evening for not completing the idiotic plan.

'Aren’t you going home,' asked Hari.

I looked at him dreamily and said "it is just one pm now, are you crazy the lion will butcher me."

'Well the bully gave permission to leave early today due to the heavy rains,' replied Hari.

"ohhhh was the ladies union standing for that," I asked him jokingly.

‘Yes precisely, they feared the water levels to rise as it are one of the heaviest downpours in years, well I am leaving bye for the day’.

I was not amused but it was a good opportunity to bunk, this breaking news had refreshed my mind and I thought of enjoying a smoke, approaching the main door I bumped into the lion happily getting ready to leave the office.

'Hello well Vivek, the weather seems to have favoured you but I want the business plan first thing in the morning on my table you still have the other half of the day and night,' he frowned looking at my devastated face and started packing again.

I left in disgust; the need for a puff had reached its limit now, surely it was a heavy downpour I noticed coming out in the open and continued my observations of the traffic and pedestrians puffing my cigarette slowly.

Ramu the peon came from behind and nudged my back, sir tea for you to enjoy with the lovely weather. I had already started thanking him from the bottom of my heart when he produced the office keys from his pocket.

'Mr. Rajgopal said you will be staying till late and to hand you the keys, well I am off i have to go to Kalyan.' He left happily leaving me to stare at him and say a lot many things.

‘Did he just make fun of me and leave, maybe no I was thinking too much.’

So now I had another responsibility to add to my job profile, I gave a smirk and re entered the deserted office. Music was on full volume now and I started to concentrate on my work.

Well after a good five hours of hard labour when I felt I was getting nowhere near the end of the Plan, I gave up like a lost soldier in a battle ready to be shot down like a dog. The pang of hunger had also made me realize the time, I glanced at the clock, it was over six already.

"Time to pack up," I said to myself, while shutting the music down, the sound of the rains had increased definitely since the morning, I sensed a feeling of alarm but did not take much notice while I continued shutting off the main panel.

Getting my things together, I reached the main door, as I opened it “whattttttttt the hell!!” I said to myself in a cracked voice, the entire road was flooded with water with a few cars toppled over on the side road. Soon the river will be entering the office, might be a holiday then tomorrow I thought to myself trying to stay positive.

I locked the door, and pulling my trousers up, jumped into the Ganges.

With every step the water level seems to be rising and the rain drops were hitting my head like missiles, GOD I wish I had an umbrella, within minutes I was soaked from head to toe. The bus station was deserted with the water reaching knee level, I stood there like a stone for a few minutes not knowing what to do.

‘Sahib no buses today, everything is blocked,’ said a passerby.

"What" I nearly choked. "How do I get to Andheri station then, there must be a way," I asked him.

‘O yes, maybe walking will be the best option but I doubt the trains would be running,’ saying that, he left with a smirk which irritated me to the core.

I was not going to give up, thinking of what he had said I trudged along, the sky had started getting darker now and it was a long walk to the station. Soaking wet, hungry, no transport and hounded by the lion in the office, it was turning out to be a nightmare.

After walking for nearly two hours I reached the station, water was gushing everywhere, the wares of the poor street vendors were taking a bath in the flowing Ganges, what a loss of property; “this is why we pay taxes to the government to provide us with an open air swimming pool with currents at least once a year tcchhh.” Pathetic!!!!

'No trains are running today, all the lines are shut,' I heard one stranded commuter saying to another, this was the last thing I wanted to hear, my heart sank it was cursing my fate my whole life, what is happening? why me?………..

I started walking towards the blackness not knowing what to do where to go, a lump was forming in my throat as if pleading me to cry, I held back. Just around the bend there was a shelter i walked up to it and sat down with a thud without contemplating any future course of action, letting my head droop in desperation.

"It seems you have had a tough day my friend, I turned my head to look at the intruder, my name is Manoj," he said very calmly.

Seeing no reply from my end he continued 'well I think you won’t mind having a cup of tea and a cigarette.' aha some hope I thought.

"Yes sure it would be the most welcome thing at this moment, by the way I am Vivek".

I followed him into a side lane fighting the flow of water, there was a strange calmness in his face which seemed out of the place somehow, during such adversity how can one be so cool. There was a single vendor, half submerged in water selling tea, cigarettes and Vada Pav , he reminded of the band that played in Titanic which went down playing till the end, I chuckled imagining him going down handing Vada pav’s.

'Well here we are,' he said. I hungrily ordered for Vada Pav’s and gulped four of them one by one, ahhh wonderful, they are so tasty, I thought to myself munching away without even raising my head. With my hunger being satiated by now, I realized the presence of Manoj and immediately apologized.

'No no it is ok,' he said handing me the cup of tea and cigarette and we sat down in the corner building steps where the river could not wash us away.

"So you are also stranded for the night," I asked him.

'Yes I missed my train to Ambernath.'

"WHAT you live in Ambernath," I gasped, that’s a long way from here. The conversation went on for hours as there was nothing better to do, topics like politics, business, cricket etc seemed to be the source of nourishment for our tired frames.

It was strange to see the calm face every now and then, "so how is life Vivek," he asked finally exploring the private domains.

"Don’t ask me, my life is in a mess, I will be loosing my job tomorrow surely, no savings to survive on, this wretched weather to add on, soaked, dirty and hungry with nowhere to sleep, God has not been kind with me I suppose,"I said in a depressed mood and waving my hands as if trying to say everything was over.

'I think the rains were a welcome sign today after months of killing heat, of course except for the water clogging ,these are least of your worries my friend,' – said Manoj brooding.

This statement made me take a long puff on my cigarette, "Yes it seems you are a very happy man with a comfortable and secured life, that is why it is easier for you to comment like this, when you have money even the gutters seem like a stream of magical water. But look on the other side there are people like me who have to fight to survive in this city," I said vehemently taken aback by my own outburst.

Manoj just inhaled on the cigarette looking at me without any change of expression, the silence was not very hurting as the rains were constantly providing music to the ears.

After a brief pause he said, 'I was in your place today afternoon, you think you are the most unlucky person alive and cursing your fate, come with me,I will show you.'

I did not budge from my place, he started slowly-'I lost my job a month back, my savings are down the drain, I have a wife who is mentally retarded and two girls one of them who is a cripple to support, my friend you are not even married, you have no responsibilities, you are young with all your parts together in one place and still you curse your fate.'

I was starting to feel a pang of remorse by now, 'come with me,' he said tugging my arm, I followed him outside the lane, in a corner next to the station he pointed to a place, it was a small makeshift made from plastic sheets.

'I was contemplating suicide in the afternoon, thank god you have not reached that stage till now, well I was just standing near this hut and thinking about my wasted and harrowed life when a small girl pulled my hand.'

'Sahib you can come to our house to take shelter from the rain,' she said shyly. I hesitated but the way she said it touched my heart forcing me to enter this place you see, which to them was home.

You know what I saw - there were five people huddled inside, the ground was wet, no carpeting, no windows for fresh air, no place to stand upright, no kitchen or bathrooms but it was their home.

The man of the house welcomed me to join them, I studied them all one by one a young woman, a crippled man and three angel like daughters, none of them had enough clothes to cover their frail frames.

'Would you like to have a cup of tea,' the woman said with a smile.

'We are not that well off but my husband has got a job as painter in the nearby garage so maybe the next time we can offer you sweetmeats.'

Her husband smiled at her cuddling his daughters lovingly.

Even with nothing they had everything; they were “content” they had a home not a house of bricks and mortar decorated with material comforts of life, the only means of an imaginary comfortable and satisfied life for the educated.

I just nodded blankly and Manoj carried on – 'I refused their offer politely and thanked them for their hospitality telling them my family was waiting and emerged from their home a changed man even the falling rain seemed beautiful then.' Now it is you who has to understand what I understood.

'I realized something important, this whole encounter though a brief one taught me the most important lesson of my life and I want you to realize the same, life is too short and precious to be cursed or scorned at, make the most of it,' he said smiling to me.

I was just staring at the makeshift tent, after a brief pause I turned around to speak but Manoj had left. Day was breaking and the skies had also cleared, slowly I parted the sheet of the tent, there was the mother, the father and three daughters cuddled in between, sleeping peacefully despite all the hardships and discomforts, without the luxuries, without even the bare necessities of life they were content.

I smiled to myself slowing walking towards the new day, everything was calm now, there was no Rajgopal, no rain, and no hunger, surely I was a very lucky man.

My heart was at peace to be finally back home……..