Category: Uncategorized

  • The Politics of Cricket or the Cricket of Politics?

    He is a batting genius, the greatest we have ever seen, my generation has spent one-third of its life watching, thinking and talking about him, still he remains humble, modest, calm and a man of integrity.

    He is an economic genius, the greatest the country has ever produced, at least with the greatest impact, my generation has seen so many changes around us due to him, over the last few years he has carried a big burden, still he remains humble, modest, calm and a man of integrity?

    It was 1991, he was touring Australia and facing an all out pace attack at Perth. He scored one of the best innings anyone had ever seen. And India’s favorite kid with his Power bat entered everyone’s heart and into the head of Australian pace attack led by a tall guy with a huge moustache.

    He was led by a wristy, skillful and stylish Hyderabadi who himself had debuted in mid 80s and was now leading the Indian side. Under him for years to come India remained strong at home, almost invincible, and entered a modern era, the age of ODIs. ODI cricket fuelled a new generation with Colas, Color televisions and new consumerist life. All along this the Hyderabadi gave the maestro a free hand, and let him bloom into what we know of him today.

    It was 1991, the economy was in shambles and he delivered a historic budget, which changed India, forever. India was opening up to the world and an entire generation of people was exposed to Colas, Color televisions and a consumerist life. He was drafted into the ministry by someone from Andhra, he had his own style, had mastery of multiple languages and had been in the Cabinet in the mid 80s. And similar to the man leading India on the Cricket field, he gave maestro a free hand, a shielding from the all the politics around him, and allowed him to bloom.

    Eventually the Hyderabadi had his downfall, caught in the web of corruption, only to resurrect himself later as, guess what, a politician!

    Eventually the man from Andhra had his downfall, caught in the web of corruption, but he couldn’t resurrect himself, maybe there wasn’t a dirtier profession left for him.

    As India welcomed the new century, marred by corruption and allegations of match fixing, the most ardent fans had stopped watching cricket, they had lost faith in an institution revered by many, as the simplest expression of honesty. And we got a leader who believed in leading a fresh generation of player, who didn’t think about just thinking, they were there to do it. The skillful, and almost poetic batting of the prince of Kolkata was a precursor to his aggressive displays on the field, we had finally found a leader, who spoke his mind, and made us proud on the Cricket field.

    As India welcomed the new century, marred by failed governments, weird games of parliament and the influence of regional parties, the most ardent believers in India’s democratic system had lost faith in the country’s functioning. And we got a leader, who came with his fresh set of ideas, and a team which promised to guide us in the next century. The poet from small place called Balrampur (U.P.) had seen it all, and his calm aggression, both on matters of national importance or economic importance made us proud Indians.

    In 2003, India reached the world cup finals, it was lead by the leader whom we thought had it all, but at the finals it seems, his team was too charged up, maybe a bit over confident.

    In 2004, India faced another election, it was lead by the same old veteran we talked about, but at the elections it seems, his team was too charged up, maybe a bit overconfident.

    2011:

    Our batting maestro still goes on, with his same passion for cricket, all these years might have taken away those curly locks, a bit of speed while running between the wickets, or while fielding. But it hasn’t taken away his dedication and integrity.

    But what happened to our economic maestro, well we had immense faith in him. He was a calming influence to the erratic ruling coalition loosely held under the blessing of India’s royal family. We had faith in him, and we gave him his chances. Be it the reservations or the terror attacks everyone stood by him. The entire country showed confidence in the nuclear deal because we knew it was he who was backing it.

    But then he stopped talking.

    And let things happen, as he silently watched, like a boring Wimbledon crowd, clapping at each ace, be it 2G, CWG, or Adarsh or any such thing which comes up daily.

    At one end I see the batting maestro, putting in everything so that he could win it for us.

    At the other I see a person, who just keeps on losing everyday at work.

  • Fear. Indifference. Awkwardness. Fear

    Past 2-3 months…

    It was that kind of a mad night, winter just about knocking on the door, truck flipping on road, tyre busting and finally a bang bang happening. Although I was happy that nothing happened, but something which still happened was enough to create a churn in my mind. And my head went bang bang for a few days. As always I crumbled under this one too, simply because history was behind me. I used to love history lessons back in school though, but this history I am referring to, is bad. I am afraid of history now.

    I don’t think she was stunningly beautiful or anything special, but as I observed her sitting there, I just felt that something. I am a very curious guy. I tried talking to her, but it didn’t work out. I love talking to people though, and I had a chat with her entire family, but not her. Then someone told me she is old, very old, well I left the case then. I hope she is happy doing whatever she is doing because I feel she is doing something really nice. I am very happy that I never talked to her.

    I hate encounters, I love them too, I love to meet people, new ones are good, old ones are better and then there are always the awkward ones. I have become an awkward person in the past few years. I used to be so comfortable for everyone before that. Maybe I was an awkward person even before that. I think I am ok. I think people around me are awkward. I don’t know when it ends. I know I don’t want that stupid awkwardness around me, it should be nice and simple. I love all my friends, and I think I have become really nice and simple around them. I am comfortable, awkwardly.

    I can go to Goa again right now. It’s the best place to be, and just be. I love the way they make omelets. Goa should be famous for omelets than Sea Food. I think most of the foreigners who visit Goa are beggars. I will buy Jenny an omelet if I meet her again. I should tell you that she wasn’t a beggar, she is decently educated. Few of my friends think they are not getting a girl on their life because I am around and I discourage them. I think they were talking about all the time, not just the time in Goa. I think they are all scared to have a girl in their life. I am scared too.

  • गीत नया गाता हूँ

    बचपन से ही मेरी राजनीति मैं काफी रूचि रही है। ९० के दशक मैं भारतीय राजनीति मैं खासे उलटफेर हुए, परन्तु उनमे से सबसे रोचक क्षण तब आया जब अटलजी ने प्रधानमंत्री का पद संभाला। बचपन में मैंने एक दिन पुस्तकालय से एक किताब उठायी, अटलजी की जीवनी जो रोचक भी थी, और काफी कुछ सिखाती थी। मुझे उनकी कवितायेँ पढना भी काफी पसंद आया। उनके बारे में समाचार पत्र में पढना, दूरदर्शन पर उन्हें सुनना काफी अच्छा लगा करता था।

    अब जब में उन दिनों को वापिस देखता हू, तो पाता हूँ की राजनीति से सारा रस ही छीन गया हैं। परिवारवाद और घोटालो से घिरी यह राजनीति में उन अच्छे वाद-विवादों, रस भरी कविताओं, अच्छे वक्ताओ, और इमानदार लोगो की खासी कमी है। ऐसा नहीं की उन दिनों स्त्थिथि कुछ बेहतर थी, परन्तु अटलजी जब तक इसका हिस्सा थे, तब तक एक उम्मीद थी, और भरोसा भी था। अटलजी का राजनीति से दूर होना, मेरे और मेरे कई मित्रो का इस विषय से रूचि खोने का भी कारण बना।

    २५ दिसम्बर को अटलजी ने अपना ८६वा जनादीन मनाया। मैं उनकी लम्बी आयु की कामना करता हूँ, और उम्मीद करता हूँ की भविष्य मैं हमें उन जैसे कुछ निर्विवाद, भरोसेमंद और प्यारे नेता मिले। अभी मैंने उनकी किताब मेरी ५१ कवितायेँ पढ़ रहा हूँ, सोचा मेरी पसंदीदा कविता के साथ इस लेख का अंत करू,

    टूटे हुए तारो से फूटे वासंती स्वर,
    पत्थर की छाती से उग आया नव अन्जौर,
    झरे सब पीले पट,
    कोयल की कुहुक रात
    प्राची में अरुणिमा की रेख देख पाता हूँ।
    गीत नया गाता हूँ।

    टूटे हुए सपने की सुने कौन सिसकी?
    अंतर को चीर व्यथा पलकों पर ठिठकी।
    हार नहीं मानूंगा,
    रार नहीं ठानूंगा,
    काल के कपाल पर लिखता-मिटाता हूँ।
    गीत नया गाता हूँ।

    Featured image by Wikicommons

  • Remembering Her

    As everyday I reached the school gates on a cold winter morning in Korba. The rush of students, tens of buses (the one which stood out was always the Coal India township buses, white covered with layers of Coal dust), kids with their hair well-oiled, the sight of green blazers all over (a few scholar ones-red and blue), and the pink lady-birds and the black MTBs which had become so popular on those days welcomed me. As always Dutta bhaiya was on top of his voice, screaming on the gates and always giving that awesome smile when I entered the gates. That day I had not entered, I was standing at the front-gate with few of my friends, a green FIAT halted near the gates. Her green fiat is something which I distinctly remember, just like her red-shawl (which wa snever to be missed during winters), her commanding voice, and her accent which was very unique and just stays on with us. She got off the car and said, “Deshpande, clean your blazer properly before you come”, and she walked away.

    I was a four year old when I appeared for an admissions interview to DPS Korba, I vaguely remember a young handsome Thapar Sir (very little imagery, but I think its mostly constructed from the conversations I had with her) accompanied by her. She was the in-charge of junior sections and the interview was held at the Pragati Nagar campus. I was asked about my favorite cartoon character and I had danced all over the place like HE-MAN, and the panel had a nice laugh. I was given chocolates and an entry to DPS Korba- 8810 it was.

    I met her last in 2004, she had lost a lot of weight, well that was the only thing which had changed, she looked the same, her eyes were still as expressive as always. She had made coffee and as she was talking about her new home at SADA and the change from the Yamuna Vihar home she suddenly mentioned, “Nowadays you don’t watch He-Man, they don’t show it anymore I believe?”.

    She was like that, she would recall the tiniest bits which would have happened, and bring them back to conversations. It was strange that despite being for my entire life in school I never got a chance to be her student. But I was fortunate it happened during my last year in school, Class 12th, it was just a coincidence that it was her last year too at the school. And as expected she was awesome, it was fun attending her classes, her voice modulations as she went through the English Literature stuff was brilliant, I vaguely remember the details, but it was a great feeling.

    And in that year came a forgettable day, where for the first time she became so angry at us (I don’t remember what had happened), she made the entire section stand and then she went and started punching back, this was not like her, she had become very angry with the behavior of few students in my section. Then as she finished the first column of benches, she came to one student and then she stopped (I believe it was Shameek or Swapnil) and then she cried. She then apologized for her actions, but conveyed how bad she had felt about the entire thing. Our entire class was not able to face her directly for a few days to come after that.

    She was strict, but she was much more loving than that. Her touch was extremely special, she knew everyone’s family in and out. Once in a while she would catch hold of me and ask me about home, about how my sis is finding the place, and am I enjoying my studies. She kept a tab on my studies as well that of 1000s others. I remember in Junior school Shameek used to be her favorite (or at-least that is what we presumed) and everyone wanted to be good in front of her. But she was never biased, she loved every student and really cared for us through all those years.

    Also few things which I have memories of are that of her speech during Annual Function (she used to present an update of Junior school), she leading the assembly in case B Singh sir was absent (or later our other Principals), her screaming out for Kalpana Didi and Dashrath Bhaiya (that was actually funny, both of them were always scared when they reached her), her annual trip to U.S. and stories from her trip during assembly (I remember her talking about Yellow Stone national park, and Disneyland).

    The last I had a really long conversation with her was in Dec, 2001. I was along with my family on a trip to South India and met her on Raipur airport. She was on the same flight with us to Mumbai (from where she was supposed to catch an international flight to Qatar maybe) and I took a seat next to her. This was my first flight ever, the first time I ever sat in a plane and I was lucky enough to experience my first flight with her. She talked about her trips, the years passed by in Korba, about her family in U.S. and a lot of other things. Even that was winter and she was wrapped in a red shawl.

    I sometimes feel that over the years I should have tried to connect back with her, I think I called her once in 2006, to tell her my engineering was done and I would be joining job at Bangalore. Be it the meetups with school friends, or teacher’s day or sometimes just like that, I would remember her and think that I should contact her. But I didn’t do it for a few years, something which I would always regret.

    We would all remember her, always…

  • Wedding Bells!!!

    This weekend came with a strange feeling, its not that I haven’t attended a few weddings offlate, but this one was different. I have spent a considerable part of my life with him, those childhood days, stupid teenage discussions, my weird spin bowling and his super quick pacers, and just staying next to each other for so many years. And then we moved to different places, but those letters (one of which almost got me into superbig shit at school), STD calls, mobile calls, mails, and then reuniting properly after so many years at Gurgaon last year.

    I don’t think I will ever think about stupid concepts which have been introduced to the friendship lingo off-late with him, like having personal space, having a connect or a disconnect, the need to meet each other every other week, or to discuss the same old crap, it just stays simple and nice as it always was.

    And I was nervous, I don’t know why, but from the time he climbed the ghodi I suddenly had this feeling of how much things have changed, he is getting married, we have grown up, things have started changing. And even during the wedding when I was with him, we just needed a couple of words to convey whatever is going on, I hope it stays so nice and uncomplicated with everyone around me. The period between the jaimala and phere was full of nostalgia, lot of thoughts, tonnes of pineapple juice and mega tonnes of awesome Indori food.

    And by the time it ended, I had realized maybe its time to change gears, maybe not marriage, but something which as we discussed brings isthirtha to life.

    I don’t know, with so many people around me getting married, how much more will I think, maybe Feb’11 in Kerala would be another such affair, I am clueless about the changes happening around me, maybe its the age for change, maybe its just that one desires a break from the routine, or maybe its just the way wedding bells have been ringing all around which makes me think. I meet a few people around me and I feel there life is changing, the topics of discussion are changing, and they are changing for the good. They have moved a couple of steps ahead in life, I am as always on the same page.

    Whatever it is, its a fascinating and a happy period for me and my loved ones, and I hope it stays forever happy.

  • The Death of Longer format

    Watching the current India-NZ series made me think a bit. Gone are the awesome days of test cricket when there was a patient build up to the innings, each ball was played on its merit and there was a healthy competition between bat and ball. God, Dravid and Laxman are probably the last generation in World Cricket who can play the classical game the way it was played. So what has changed apart from the ho-hullah of T20 cricket, the flatness of the pitch, short grounds and lesser number of test matches due to jam packed T20 seasons.

    I feel test cricket’s biggest change has been the role of opening batsman. Where a Gavaskar or a Boycott labored for the entire morning session without a helmet to take the shine off the new ball, the likes of Sehwag, Smith, Gayle hit it all across the park to take the shine off the new ball. Opening batsman of the past were patient enough to see the new ball off, and pass on the responsibility to the middle order to accumulate the runs. Not that they were not scoring runs, but they usually used to stick around, anchoring the innings. A modern day Test opener wants to unsettle the opposition by thrashing him all around the park, then let the captain spread the field and then accumulate singles. They are fearless (given all the modern day equipment, and the lack of awesome fast bowlers). They want quick runs, so that there isn’t much pressure on the middle order.

    If we look at it both had similar intentions, but the way of achieving it was different.

    Now think about how life has changed around you. Well the pitch has changed, there are lot of opportunities, life is faster now. You want to a good opening in life. Everyone wants quick success. Ask any MBA who has recently passed out and they will say, well I will work till I am 40, and then become a consultant, or work with NGO or do something on my own. Till then I want to earn. Everyone wants quick bucks, quick success. Everyone is secure financially, still they want more of it, and maybe few years from now give their children an awesome playschool so that he /she can enter a good school. Be it career, relationships, friendships, everyone wants to keep things short and uncomplicated.

    Think of the previous generation, they used to labor it for years for getting things in place and give their next generation a better life. They would face the balls coming their way with courage despite much cover, lesser security, play off the new ball and then pass on the innings to their children to take it forward. It was all so courageous but brilliantly simple and happy.

    And I think in between these two generations separating the Test Cricket generation and the T20 generation, we are stuck, the One Day generation- confused and unsure about our existence!

  • [SCM]: Baigun Bhaja

    [My fascination with Bong food goes back to my good old childhood days, where Durga Puja and Navratri used to be my favorite festival. Khichdi at Durga Puja has no match, and the amazing chutney served with it, ahaa. Also my pados ki aunty used to make amazing fish for me. My liking for bong food has been well documented earlier. This recipe is dedicated to kharagpuriya bong at whose home I made this last week, the to be bong bahu who will eat a fish-head during her wedding, and my poor friend who spends nights in shady bengal hotels traveling on thelas, eats jhal mudi and sells tide:). And haan to the Amdavadi Bahu who loves cooking]

    Baigun Bhaja (Serves 3)

    Ingredients:

    • Big Fat Brinjal (One or two, depends how hungry you are, please check for small pores in the Brinjal, if they are there be careful, isme keeda lag jaata hai kai baar]
    • Mustard Oil or Sarso ka Tel (extremely high on calories, superb on taste, if you don’t have this, please don’t try this dish)
    • Ginger-Garlic Paste
    • Turmeric and Red Chillies powder

    Method:

    Wash the Brinjal (they use the max pesticides on poor Brinjal, wash it properly, and then wipe it with a dry cloth). Cut it into slices, slices shouldn’t be wafer thin, nor they should be very thick. Medium thickness slices. Cut them but don’t leave them for long, Brinjal has Iron in it, so like Apple, it oxidizes and turns dark. Its very high on Vitamins and Iron, but don’t worry, we will kill it all :).

    Take a bowl, put 2 Tb Spoons of Ginger-Garlic paste in it. Add a tea spoon of mustard oil, half tea spoon of turmeric and hald tea spoon of chillies powder. Mix it well. Remember its not like pakode ka batter, it shouldn’t be too much, you just need to put that masala on the slices.

    Take a pan, heat it, put mustard oil in it. Remember less oil and Brinjal might burn, or turn dry, a nice bhaja is always soaked with oil. Put the Brinjal slices in the bowl with paste in it, coat it evenly and shallow fry it in the pan.

    While frying notice the sides, they will turn crisp, the center soft and yellow, fry evenly on both sides. Don’t fry it too much, otherwise it will be too oily, just the right amount. The center should taste like oily bharta, and you know its done.

    Goes well with Khichdi, simple Daal-Rice and even as a starter with alcohol. Yes after a long time I have found new company for alcohol 🙂

  • [SCM]: Desi’s Mashy Mayo Wich and Thakela Sunrise

    [Through Simple Cooking for MBAs or SCM I want to share a bit of whatever I try out in kitchen, you can ping my roomie, it tastes decent :), and its easy to make. For all my friends, living on those lonely sales stints, or sitting in distant plants, girls who always have wanted to cook but then finally don’t, guys who think they can cook if they make maggi, those who are bored of their cooks, or thinking of throwing a home party, you can try a few out. Didn’t take any pics today, will put them up next time around.]

    Desi’s Mashy Mayo Wich (serves 3)

    Ingredients:

    • Vegetables: 3 Potatoes, 2 Tomatoes (1 tomato diced, 1 sliced), 1 Onion (diced), 2 green chillies (finely chopped)
    • Brown / White bread: 9 Slices
    • 1 Tea spoon oil (use Saffola, good for heart, and would help increase my friend’s sales)
    • Butter / Amul Lite (based on what mood you are in, nothing tastes like Butter, but I think Lite is Ok)
    • Masala: Jeera whole (1 tea spoon), Red Chilli powder, Chat Masala, Salt, Pepper
    • Mayonnaise (take the veggie one, its tastier, there is healthy option available too, fat-free one in stores, made of mostly milk solids)

    Method:

    Boil the potatoes (wash them, put them in a cooker, now handling a cooker totally depends on you, my cooker is awesome, and I am comfortable with its setting, Apeksha’s cooker behaves differently, totally your call. For me I sink them around 3-4th in water, put 6-7 whistles as I want to mash them, Jeera-Aloo would require 4-5 whistles). Then mash them.

    Heat a bit of oil in pan, now crack Jeera in it. Now Jeera cracks earlier than Rai (mustard does) so don’t heat it too much or you risk burning the Jeera. Best way is to heat it, then sim the gas a bit, then add couple of Jeera seeds, if it cracks put the rest.

    The sugandh / khushboo / fragrance which follows is better than your Chanel’s and Boss’s. Its mahaan (most prominent places where you find the smell, Jeera rice, Dal Fry made with Jeera ghee and aloo jeera).

    Put in the mash potatoes, mix chat masala and red chillies powder. Slightly heat it and mix it well. Take it off the flame, add diced tomatoes and onions. Cool it a bit (the sandwich mix is ready). Put salt and pepper to taste (remember you have added Chat Masala which has tonnes of Salt, so be careful while adding salt)

    Heating the bread is not a simple act, there are multiple variations to how you can do it. The most boring is the videshi method of putting it in a toaster or microwave. Boring!!!

    Best is the desi tarika, put them in a pan / tawa, put Lite / Butter, let it slightly melt add Jeera powder in Butter (you can add Red Chillies Powder too), put the Bread on Top, nicely butter it with Amul Lite (remember not that many calories, you can add your bit:)) and heat it. Let it be nicely brown (slightly soft or crunchy, whichever way you like it).

    For the wich to be ready now, keep a slice of heated bread on a plate, put the potato as one of the layers. Close it with a slice, put mayo on it. If you are cal-conscious use a knife to spread it, otherwise use a spoon :). Remember even this has salt (so keep this in mind while using salt earlier). Now put the tomato slices on this layer and close it.

    Its a fact that Sandwiches cut diagonally taste better than stand alone or beech se cut sandwiches.

    Btw it’s ready, eat it :). You can add cucumber to it, might go well. Goes well with Thakela Sunrise.

    Thakela Sunrise (Serves 3)

    Ingredients:

    • 350 ml Minute Maid Pulpy Orange
    • Ice Cubes 12
    • 5 Tea Spoons Glucon D (preferably Orange flavor)
    • Bacardi White Rum (90 ml) (depends if you want a mocktail or a cocktail)

    The objective of this drink is to energize you on a boring day, and its amazingly refreshing. A sunrise for the thakela 🙂

    Remember cocktails are all about measures, you won’t get the right feel if the measures are not right.

    Method:

    Mix it, if you have a cocktail mixer, shake it. And its ready.

    Let me know if you try something out, in case you don’t be happy to know that your friend keeps on trying things out 🙂

  • Main meebo hoon…

    Eeeeee…it hurts. Its so strong, so bright, so yellow. And he closed the eyes. He tried again.

    Ufff…too much. I will wait.

    He was sitting, he had opened his eyes for the first time and found it difficult to just keep it like them. The sun was just too strong for him.

    He opened them again, it was beautiful, it was all green now, all that was yellow had turned into a deep orange hanging somewhere on top. He felt happy. He tried to stand, he fell. He couldn’t stand, his legs were just too weak. But he sat there, he felt comfortable in the greens around him. He was sitting next to two white long rods, on the other ends he saw some beautiful colors dancing around, blue, red, pink, black, lots of colors. A little later they all went away, and it started turning black, the beautiful orange amongst the blue was gone. He was scared and he closed his eyes again.

    He woke again, too tired, his throat was dry, he needed something, he tried to stand again and this time he stood, and stood there for sometime. He started moving away from the pole and he fell. He tried again and it worked this time. He was walking.

    He started walking, he saw a spray in the middle of the green, he went towards it, a bit of that went into his mouth. He felt good. He had more of it, and he felt even better. He felt he was ready to move. All this time he was missing something, he didn’t know what, but he was missing something for sure.

    There was a pool of that liquid created on the ground, and the sun was shining brightly on top of it. And he saw someone in it. He was scared, so he walked away, and so did the someone. He realized that it was him, he had seen himself for the first time, pale, four legs, weak, two ears which stood up, and slightly yellow as that light which he had first seen. But not that bright.

    He started walking towards the end of the grass, there were green trees on top he crossed a sort of a mound and heard a few screechy sounds…”bow, bow, eeeeeeee….” suddenly a similar voice burst out of him, maybe they were the ones he was looking for, they were the ones missing. He started running towards the sound. He saw two of them much larger than him being dragged into a wooden box, and there two more, exactly looking like him being dragged into a wooden box by two tall brown people. They were shouting, but they moved inside a blue big box which whizzed away on the clean grey roads.

    It all seemed grey, maybe he knew who they were, but maybe he will never know them, and he didn’t know who he was, all that he saw was grey in front of him and he felt a growing heat under his feet so he started walking. He found trees around him and on his left he found a path which was white he moved onto it.

    It was nice and cool there, there large white and cream colored structures on both his sides, and pavement which was fitted with white and brick red tiles, on the three way he took a right and walked. There were tow large buildings on both his sides and he saw green again in front of him, he jumped there again and he closed his eyes.

    ” Dekh dekh, waha amisha aur uska boyfriend hai, arre unhone dekh liya, bhaago”

    This noise woke him up, it was dark already and there bright lights all over him. The trees were hardly visible, he saw three guys running from there, and then he saw two people sitting on bench, one with long beautiful hair and the second, a tall guy. Both of them were very close.

    He thought he will walk so he started going ahead on the pavement and took a right, he thought he again came back on the greys, he was tired and weak again, so he slept.

    Thuck. He woke up.

    It was bright again and someone had thrown a yellow long something at him, it smelled good, he licked it, he felt a nice sensation in his mouth he saw lot of beautiful bright colored people walking around. On top they were black and light brown, below they were of multiple colors, as he had seen earlier on the greens. People with long hair, people with short, both distinctly different.

    He was still missing something.

    And then he started walking along with them, he was not scared, but all of sudden he thought were they the same people who had taken those who were similar along. As he was thinking someone threw things at him, he felt a pain and they started making loud sounds, he was scared. But then he felt something on his back. It was that thing which was missing, it was the touch of someone who cared.

    He looked at her, he felt amazing, she was so nice. He started walking with her, and kept walking. And then she picked him up and took him to a huge hall. It was huge and bright and there lot of brightly colored people. One of them in blue with shiny black hair came and sat next to her and asked “Who’s this?”. She told ” He’s nice na, think of a name”. The guy told “Meebo”.

    “Meebo!!!”. He smiled and felt happy, he knew what he had missed, he had seen all colors and smelled beautiful things and tasted some nice stuff, but he had missed the sense of being with someone who cared. And he had finally got it.

    He looked at both of them, they were looking in front now, and she gently patted her back. He finally knew who he was.

    “Main Meebo hoon…”

  • The SemiPali Adventure

    Mondays were always like this, f**king boring, although I am not allowed use the F word as I am still in class VIth, it brings out the haaawww from you. So we have a Maths test tomorrow, I don’t know what happened to my school and they kept this routine of a weekly test, Kendriya Vidyalaya is so good they have a unit test, need to study once a month, we need to do it four times a month, although thanks to Gregorian, we sometimes have it five times a month.

    Mr Sharma, we secretly call him DK and laugh behind his back, is different from the rest, just this year they started telling us that other than numbers you can also play with a,b,c in Maths, hey but this guy is new, maybe he doesn’t know Maths at all, otherwise confusing English with Maths is a mistake, atleast something which I would never do. He calls this new thing Algebra, sounds like a Arabic Zebra, but my friends say that if you do this you get very good marks later in boards, and anyway everyone says you have to be good in Maths, they are the only test copies my father is interested in seeing, luckily for me I end up scoring good marks in this.

    So I have a Maths test tomorrow, and I can’t get the hang of it, these f**king (a,b,c)’s, so let me roam around a bit. Maybe Kartik would be studying too, let me bug him, he studies a lot anyway all the time. Kartik lives on the last home of my row, in township we have rows of houses, we even have gali rivalry, people from our row cross into other rows mostly to play cricket, pitthul and kabbadi and racetrip as we don’t have enough boys of our age group here, all are people from Tiny Cottage, those red dress wearing, nose wiping, small looking kids.

    I shouted Kartik’s name standing at his house gate, it may not sound civilized but this is the way we do our things, and he comes out in his trademark wide-assed shorts and a baniyan. By the way Kartik quite wide-assed, literally i.e., people had that observation when he rides his cycle, both the cheeks spread out like a vada-pav. Infact most of our brain works during that time only, we think better when we are on our cycles, we talk about girls in different way nowadays too while riding the cycle, things are changing.

    “So, how is the preparation, bore laga raha hai”
    “Yes Pattu, but I still have lots of course pending”
    “Hmm…, lets roam around a bit, get fresh and come back, you and Sunny always talk about that place right, with a small river and a bridge nearby”
    “SemiPali?”
    “Oh haan, yes that one, lets go there ”
    “Now? You must be out of your mind its around 10kms, no point today, we can go tomorrow”
    “Na na, today chal yaar, this algebra anyway doesn’t make any sense”
    “Ok, let me get ready then”. So Kartik puts on his trousers, wears a rough looking checked shirt, I am wearing a trouser too with some T-shirt. Trousers are in nowadays, my cousins from cities talk about something called a jeans but we don’t like that much, trousers make you look older than your age, and also its much better than half pants, we are in sixth now, so we are anyway allowed to wear trousers, it feels great, also with so many hirsute male legs around, it is a welcome move.

    So we pick up Sunny from his home and progress on our cycles to SemiPali, Sunny by the way is another of my classmate, I don’t interact with him much but Kartik so transitive ways I too, he is a good footballer and is creating a buzz on the township cricket scene too nowadays. SemiPali is a small village next to JamniPali, our township is located in village Jamnipali although it can be noway called a village with beautiful gardens, club, great homes, shopping centres and clubs around.

    Sunny talks about Semipali on the way, about how Kartik and he has been to the area before, how they found out that place, how one of his chachaji sat on a grave and had a cigarette.

    “Grave!!!”

    Yes he said, he told the river had a graveyard nearby, which was rumoured to be extremely old, and its closed now that means no more new burials there, but for me it came as surprise, recently they started Zee Horror show on television which I find very scary and anyway I am very afraid of ghosts and spirits and similar stories. The first episode was killer with the head of Archana Puran Singh served on a plate by a butler, although Butler reminds me of the sweet Butler from Ducktales, wonder what his name is though?

    We ride on this kaccha road outside our township, all Chattisgarh roads are kaccha mostly, and you just have to get out of the township to ride on any of them. As we continue on the road, we find a theatre on the way.

    “Hey, have been here saw Jurrasic Park here, what is it playing now”

    Some dirty stuff, people say its known as Porn or something, its not good for kids and newspapers and posters advertise it as above 18 stuff, I don’t know how being 18 qualifies you to see a movie, although the poster here doesn’t have any good hero-heroine also, who will watch it anyway. Also it seems Jurrasic Park is the only under 18 movie ever played in this theatre, because that’s the only one I saw here with Meenal (chronologically my oldest friend, about her sometime later).

    As we start moving ahead the small shops and business owners give way to lush wide paddy fields (quite a common thing in Chattisgarh) and half chopped teak woods in the way. This area is mostly red-soiled, you can conclude that in two ways- the ghadas made here are Red in Color and during Autumns when the leaves dry and shed off, they all get a reddish tinge on them from dust. They look simply amazing, even the Trees turn Red. Certainly not RedWood though, read in Britannica that they are found in USA. Right now though my Hercules MTB is getting a Red Tinge, lucky Kartik and Sunny, they have a Red Bike.

    As we moved ahead all three of us were pretty excited, both of them talked about the beauty of the place, while I was wondering how I could have missed this place. The road was sparsely populated, just a few cycles once in a while and even a tractor once. The slightly tiring long legs on the BiCycle keep moving though, crawling towards the destination.

    On the way you see small children playing, women moving around with Water in Brass Pots and men sitting and chatting, its almost 5:00 PM and everyone is back from fields. One thing about Chattisgarhi Women though, their skin is has this amazing shine, it shines as though tonnes of Coconut Oil has been poured on it, and when they carry the Brass Pots on their heads, the sheen and the contrast makes the whole imagery brilliant. That Dark Shining Skin reflects confidence and their hardworking character, which I find missing in people from township. I was seeing this movie Shaukeen the other day where even Utpal Dutt was appreciative of Chattisgarhi women, but in a not so goody way. Generally he is good but that time he wasn’t, he was a bit dirty.

    “Aha, so here we are”

    “Pahuch gaye” shouted Kartik while getting off from his Bike in a superb fashion which was possible for only Kartik to do. Jumping off and continue running, it was funny but took a lot of practice. He also had many other tricks up his sleeves on a bicycle of which I had tried at least half, and almost all of them had resulted in a fall, and Dettol being pured over me.

    It was beautiful. It was like well, lets see, a bridge, a leftward turn down a dusty lane, a small river, making the nice kal-kal sound. Smell of wet mud, aha, now thats something.

    “And, there is the kabristan” shouted Sunny. How the hell does one see that in between the scenic beauty. Anyway we rolled our cycle down the lane next to the bridge, took it to the river and gave it wash. It was shining, the sun was about to set and there was a beautiful orange light all around us, the cycles were shining too, although the shine was nothing compared to the skin of those beautiful Chattisgarhi women.

    And it was all so nice, we sat there, and it was all so nice, before…

    He was a silhouette, a sort of a shadow, a lean figure, short in height, he just kept walking, he came from the side of the kabristan. I don’t know what the others were thinking, I thought he was a ghost, a spirit, or something on those lines. He limped slightly, and then he came near Sunny’s cycle, a mid-heighted reddish bike, picked it up and kept walking. He didn’t utter a word, we shouted chased him, but we were so scared, we couldn’t do a thing, it was so weird.

    And he went away, and I sat there, scared and stunned, and suddenly I realised that Kartik and Sunny were running behind him and they were gone.How the hell did they have the guts to chase him. I felt slightly ashamed, or maybe weird that I didn’t support them. All I could manage to do, is cry.

    Yes, I cried!

    And I picked up my bicycle and started going back towards the township, the roads were empty and dark, there was hardly any street lighting on the way back. I felt ashamed that maybe I just left my friends on their own, or I felt that I cheated them, or I was just lost.

    Yes, I was lost!

    I was just going back, I found a drunk fellow on the way back, and there were no Chattisgarhi women with that awesome shining skin. I was crying and cycling back, running away from my first slightly super-natural adventure.

    It was an hour and then I saw light, ya, Mohan talkies was here and I had reached the edge of the township and once I entered I cycled back to my home.

    I had reached, somehow!

    I just ran to my room and sat on my greenish teak wood study table. I couldn’t concentrate, nor did I have the courage to goto Kartik’s home and ask about him.I was scared, and I wanted to read.

    I somehow tried to sleep later at night and just saw the same figure before me. I ran to the bathroom and saw him standing there again. It was so so bad.

    Morning finally came.I possibly had my first night out and somehow cycle to the college. I crossed Kartik, we didn’t say anything and rushed away to the test hall. I couldn’t see Sunny around, but later realised he sits in another exam hall. I couldn’t concentrate, nor could Kartik, I just wanted it to end.

    And it ended, and we met, and I asked?

    “How was the test?”

    Kartik told “ It was Ok!”.We met Sunny sometime later, he said “Hi” and moved on.

    What about the kabristan guy? What about the cycle? What about Semipali again? What about Maths test? How did you come back and how?

    The day ended and I just wanted to go back and sleep, I stepped out into the cycle stand and saw Sunny riding his red cycle. I wondered what had happened. Maybe I shouldn’t discuss this, maybe I was too sleepy!