A Village in the Middle of a City

The room is filled with a thick aromatic cloud of smoke. Our windpipes are choked, mouths have stopped munching and our nostrils are searching for a fresh whiff of air.

We aren’t dying. We are eating at Bunty’s one-room restaurant, which is filled with Indian-masala-fragrant smoke. Eating here means being prepared to face this harsh treatment, and many years of practice has grown us accustomed to it. For bachelors like us, Bunty is a God sent man, an owner of a round belly that comes erupting even outside his loose shirt and an ever-present cheerful grin over his face, showcasing his nice set of frontal teeth and making his small beady eyes grow even smaller.

His restaurant is one of its kind. A steel made shutter, which overlooks into a narrow, crowded gully, acts both as a door and a window. Just attached to the narrow gully, a set of staircase transports you to the shutter. As you move to the last stair, you can smell a whiff of exotic Indian masala and find sweat-drenched Bunty working diligently near the gas stove—either leveling paranthas or making alu fry or omellete. Some lazy people don’t climb in. They shout from the gully itself and place their order and smoke a cigarette or two till their order is ready.

**

Outside, sky is overcast with fluffy white clouds, and Sun is playing hide and seek behind them.

The paranthas look luscious with melted butter spread over. Suddenly, Sun appears and soon hides, not behind clouds this time, but behind a tall and grim human figure moving inside.

Penetrating the thick layer of smoke, Choudhary Jagdish Singh, a Jat and the owner of the building, enters the room, moves over to the refrigerator, takes out a small bottle of Thumps Up, removes the crown with a popping sound, and settling over a nearby chair gulps down half of it. Then putting the bottle down with a light thud, throwing a cursory glance from his plastic-framed glasses over the colored version of Dainik Jagran, and after a moment of inspection, he mutters complainingly, “What names, behenchod? Apartment, Hostel, Biwi No. 1 – what are these? Are these movies names or what?”

Bittu chuckles and so do we, giving encouragement to the JAT, to continue his verbal attack.

“Rajnigandha, Sholay, Anamika. These were the movies. Great actors then. Now, it’s all timepass, behenchod,” he continued.

We don’t chuckle. Feeling demotivated, he stops his monologue, orders an egg parantha, uncorks another bottle of Thumps up and digs himself in the newspaper.

Soon, with electricity back, smoke starts to find way out through the aid of a noisy exhaust fan rotating above Bunty’s head.

Sun is hidden again, behind clouds this time.

**

Bittu’s restaurant sits over a basement where an Internet Café runs, where kids from Government School after bunking their classes spend time watching porn. Sitting and eating paranthas in the restaurant, you can witness the different moods of various types of earthly creatures sashaying on the narrow, cramped gully.

In this April month, Sun is at its tyrannical best, getting insensitive with each passing year. But it is still not so powerful enough to dissuade peaceful, sleepy cows motivelessly ambling in the narrow gully; their meditative eyes reflecting disinterest toward the world and its inhabitants. A dispersed group of mangy dogs—with their salivating tongues gaping outside as if drained of all their vital energy—stealthily loiter around in some desperate search, suddenly stopping, raising their ears in rapt attention the moment they spot any thrown away food item. And often there is a fight, starting from a ‘grrr…grrr’, and resulting into “kayn kayn kayn kayn.”

Survival is for the fittest.

A small open area called Parak, which inhabits a marriage hall and a car-parking cum vegetable shopping area along with a small playground where children play cricket, football, volleyball all at the same time— there under the shadow of a Eucalyptus tree a JAT aunty is busy giving bath to her “constantly-munching-something” and white-teethed buffalo, the force of the cold water from the MCD pipe giving the silent buffalo a feel of heaven and wave her tail in extreme joy. And a little far away, under the shade of a small Neem tree, some JAT uncles resting their hips over a broken sofa and with their hunched backs are playing cards, loudly shouting “O Behenchod” at each other after every few minutes before concentrating again over their cards.

Litting his Navy Cut from a Chinese-made lighter, Dhiru breaks the ice, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted our precious youth in Katwaria Sarai?” in his south accented English. Dhiru is a long time friend who is Bengali by caste, Bihari by birth, and a keralite by education. He was one guy who immediately impressed me by his English when I first met him. With a stylish bag hung over his back, I remember he had asked something in fluent English, which I couldn’t understand in the first attempt. Being a guy from village, I had never spoken in English so I was immediately at awe.

“This is going to be our 10th year. We should settle down in some good place. Now, we are earning, man,” he said.

Saying so, he threw the small smoke balls one after another and took another deep drag. This time he let all the smoke out from a small opening of the right side of his lips. He is the only guy who plays with smoke in different ways. Being a non-smoker, I take all the fun by watching him.

My usual jolly friend certainly seemed in some serious mood. His serious demeanor of the last few hours had suggested that something serious had been cooking up in his head.

A man gets serious at a certain age—mostly either at the approaching age of marriage when he is unsuccessful at getting the right partner or after a few years of marriage after getting the wrong partner. The former case applied to him.

But I pondered over what he said. I felt he was right up to an extent. The world is so big. In fact, let’s not talk about the world. Delhi is in itself so big. What kept me in Katwaria Sarai—a place, I am sure, not even many Delhites know about? It’s very different from the rest of its surrounding areas. In fact, it’s a village in the middle of a city. Buffalo, cows, and Jat. Doesn’t that give you an idea? If not, you’ll get to know soon.

And with the fading clouds of smoke, wafting out of the room slowly and slowly, past memories unearthed: of my entry in Katwaria Sarai, friendship and acquaintances made and unrestrained fun. A world which was different from its neighboring posh localities, yet so unique in its own respect. And for the sake of telling these other worldly creatures—who often zipped outside Katwaria Sarai in their cars oblivious of many stories forming and dying in this Village in the Middle of a City— I am writing this story.

Love Finds its Way - Part 3

Awakening of Desire



Watching a romantic scene of the blockbuster movie Indecent Proposal on his China made DVD player — the scene in which Robert Redford impresses Demi Moore by telling her the story of his first love whom he saw in a moving train and could never see again— Padhi’s heart missed 8-10 beats. What heart scintillating romantic scene it was!

In the next few minutes during which Robert Redford and Demi Moore danced holding their hands together, swaying their body along with the rhtym of the music, Padhi’s popcorn munching mouth went still. A sweet, sad sensational current took a sudden birth down his spine and like a flickering current ran fiercely from bottom to top—and with that returned the deeply buried memory of his three-eyed damsel. Almost a year had passed since the occurence of that tragic event that had snatched his damsel and made the possibility of any reunion completely bleak. Hopelessness had made Padhi obliterate her from his mind. But it seemed destiny wasn’t letting him do that.

He switched off the Television and jumped up from the couch. Keeping his chin over his throat and looking downward pensively, he gave a few rounds of circulatory walk around the room like a man in deep thinking. Damsel’s eyes, her smile, and beautiful curvaceous body wafted before her eyes. As restlessness grew in him, the intensity of his walk increased too.

My Name is Roy….Sandipan Roy

In one of the dark streets of Kolkatta, a lady was pacing breathlessly toward her destination. Houses on both sides of the street slept as if induced to a high dose of cocaine. Not a soul stirred. But in these streets often lurked the shadows of thieves. And Oh! Girl….a beautiful girl. Has world been so nice to them? Her breathlessness was an indication of the fear known to only a girl. Suddenly, a lone mercury Bulb hung to a steel pole revealed her figure. A tall, beautiful figure. Not an Indian. Somewhere from the West.

As she moved to a wider street where light conquered darkness under the valiant efforts of mercury bulbs, the lady took a deep breath.

But her breath stopped in her diaphragm when she saw four demonic shadows approaching in front. Her womanish heart could sense they were dark characters and her heart beat faster. She paced forward, praying God to avert the danger. But they were dark characters and how could they not get tempted at the sight of a beauty. And there they surrounded her, stole her bag, and stared at her in ugliness.

A thin cry of help pierced the congested human habitation and echoed in the cocaine induced street.

“He he…Madam, no help here,” smirked a man with a bushy moustache and goatee.

Others laughed.

Girl’s eyes grew larger and she cursed them helplessly and awaited her doom. But then a bulb came to life in one of the cocaine induced building. The clatter of footsteps over the staircase enlivened the dark, dead street. And in a moment there was a help for the girl. He stood at a distance, grim and with a purpose. His face was not clearly visible in the dim light. His shadow fell and stretched like a ghost in the street. Dark characters went still for a moment. When they committed crimes, nobody interfered them. That was how it had been so far.



“Hey! Hero. Go back and sleep tight. You want to die?” cried one of them in an intimidating tone.

But instead of getting frightened and retreating to his room the man started to pace toward the dark characters. Seeing that, they too moved toward him, whipping out their knives.

The girl prayed for the valiant man who was taking such a risk for her. But in a minute, yes, in a minute, the four dark shadows disappeared in the darkness. And alone stood the man, his thick goggles now visible and his face still serious.

The girl almost ran toward the man and holding his both hands thanked him to the bottom of her heart. A smile came to his lips and then to his eyes.



“What’s your name?” asked the girl.

“Roy”….”Sandipan Roy,” the man said.

“Oh! James Bond style,” screamed the girl.

Roy smiled. “Where are you heading to, beautiful girl? Don’t you know night isn’t good for girls? I’ll escort you to your destination.”

The girl smiled and said, “How wonderful! Can you take me to Shyama Charan Mukherjee Street?”

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you what takes you there at this hour?”

“I’ve booked a hotel room there. I had ventured in the morning to capture the glory of daily life in Calcutta streets when I lost the way. And here I am.”

“What liveliness and simplicity,” Roy thought.

“Oh! No worries. I’ll drop you.”

And in his motorbike, Roy roared in the cocaine induced streets—the girl sitting on the back clutching Roy tightly. Shyam Charan Mukherjee Street was only 5 minutes away, but Roy took half an hour to reach the destination. He had fallen in love with the girl and chose a circuitous way instead so he could spend some time with the girl.

Next day, there was news of Sandipan Roy in the newspaper, highlighting him as a ghost buster. The headline read:

Beater of the Dark—a Hope for the Ladies

Sandipan drew his goggles closer. How come, he thought. Then, drinking his pudina laced herbal tea, he immediately roared toward the Shyam Charan Mukherjee street.

The girl came out to be a journo. They smiled and drank tea together.

In the next few days, Sandipan was busy giving interviews to news channels.

“So how did you do that? It must take a lot of courage to take on those murderers. From where did you gather all that courage?” asked the interviewer.

“Well, well. First of all, courage comes from the soul. If your soul is strong, then your body is strong too. Even a man who can lift 100 pounds of weight in gym will run at the sight of a kitchen knife, and a man who hasn’t even seen what a gym is like will remain unperturbed before a gun. It’s all soul, the power of soul.”

Padhi saw one such interview. “Oh! That’s our Sandipan. From where did he generate such power as to beat such dark characters in the dead of night?” thought Padhi.

He immediately dialed Sandipan’s number.

“Hey! Padhi. Arrey, how come after so many years?”

“Just saw your news. What a valiant feat! And what a beauty you protected! You will directly go to heaven after death. You should be honored with a bravery medal, man.”

“Ha ha! I’ve been learning kung fu and other secret techniques for quite some time from a Chinese trainer.”

“Great man! Let’s meet some time. Are you coming to Delhi?”

“No such plan, but you never know. Will certainly meet once I am there. Call Makheeja and KC too. Currently, going to watch A Romantic Manifesto with Charlene, the girl I saved.” And with that they transported their phones down to their pockets.

Padhi felt a bit jealous. He complained to God for being cruel to him. But he thought of meeting Makheeja and KC. It had been long since they met.


A Way

Makheeja was a changed man. Over his usual smooth chin and cheeks, there sprawled a beard. Some strange shine and seriousness resided in his demeanor. It was always evident from Makheeja’s behavior that he would one day throw such a surprise, but a surprise of this nature. Everyone sitting inside looked toward him.

Sitting around the round table of Café Coffee Day, Padhi asked, “Makheeja, strange to see you in this get up?”

The usual silent Makheeja smiled and then said, “Things change. Even I didn’t know that. Baba Ranganathan changed me.”

“Ranganathan?” exclaimed KC.

“The great tantric of Himalayas whom only the luckiest people (only if their destiny allows) can meet? And the master who has lived in the same body for several centuries,” he continued.

“Yes, you are spot on, KC,” Makheeja said.

“I had gone on a small trekking trip to Gaumukh when I met Ranganathan. I was sitting at the edge of a cliff, drinking Beer, when the great tantric appeared from the thin air and said he had long awaited me. I myself felt a little drawn toward him. There was some great magnetism in him and a strange force in his voice.”

“After a few months of tantra practices, the world is a different place now. Every mystery is no more a mystery. There is no planet in this universe that isn’t unreachable to me now.”

Hearing the last sentence, Padhi went attentive, “Can you really go to any planet?”

“I cannot only go there, but I can even bring people from there,” said Makheeja.

With a bit of shyness, Padhi asked, “Can you touch base with the three-eyed damsel too?”

Hearing that, Makheeja burst into laughter.

“What? You still stuck to that beauty? Nowadays, people change girlfriends or boyfriends every day. Oh! Boy, you’ve depth. I’ll do that for you. I’ll have to perform a special ceremony to bring your damsel here.”

“Can you really do that? I doubt, man,” KC exclaimed.

But when by his mere glance Makheeja moved the glass platter over the table, KC believed and Padhi’s heart sang the song of romance.

KCs Email

“Come to Delhi as soon as you can. Makheeja has developed great superpowers. I heard about your Charlene episode. You guys are progressing fast. Developing powers as if they could be bought from the market. And, yeah, Makheeja is performing some ritual to bring the three-eyed damsel. Come along with Charlene if she wants a great story for her news channel.”

KC dropped this email at Sandipan’s email id sandipan_the_lone_warrior@gmail.com

Sandipan responded:

“Good to hear from you, man. I remember that three-eyed damsel episode very well. I am excited to hear about the possibility of its resurface. I’ll talk to Charlene if she is willing. Going by her enthusiastic nature, I can say she will surely come, no doubt. See you there soon.”


Everybody is Looking for Love

In a secluded, peaceful cottage in Nahan, Makheeja’s hometown, all friends gathered. Weather carried a tinge of autumn freshness. Pleasant evening and birds’ restless retreat to their homes made existence exciting. Trees stood fresh in silence, with no complaints in life.

Tea was served. All thanked Makheeja for organizing a get together, in which he had always been bad.

Then, when it was dark, Makheeja brought two big white stones, kept them closely together and keeping his eyes shut for a while mumbled some mantras.

Then with his eyes closed, he said, “The planet is located. I’ve touched base with the three-eyed damsel.“

Hearing that, Padhi’s heart fluttered. “Really? Can you talk to her?”

“Yea, she is angry with you. She says you didn’t try to search her all this time. That shows there is no real love.”

“The same girlish behavior. Tell her I love her from the deepest of my heart. I have thought about her all this time…just about her.”

“She says what proof you can give her of your love.”

Padhi, not finding any concrete proof, implemented the same old technique boys have used for many centuries. He said, “Ok, tell her if she doesn’t come, I’ll jump from the cliff at this instant.”

“No, no need, she is coming. But she says there is another girl, her bestest buddy, willing to see passionate, romantic Indian men.”

“I can support her too. I’ve accumulated a lot of money from my onshore ventures,” said Padhi.

“Ok…be ready then.”

And at that very moment a bright light engulfed the room for a moment, and two sparkling girls stood in front. One pounced over Padhi the moment her eyes met Padhi’s. The other girl was even more beautiful. KC, who had remained a single so far, didn’t want to remain single after seeing her. So, before Padhi could take both girls away, he approached the girl and said, “I haven’t seen anything so beautiful in my life. Your eyes carry the silence of lake, your cheeks have the curves of mountains found only in Himalayas, and your lips have the flutter of a passionate bird always willing to fly high in the sky.”

Hearing that, the girl almost screamed in joy, hugged KC, and said, “I always knew Indian boys are poetic and romantic. So true.”

Makheeja, whose mind was in dwindle after seeing the beauty, just scratched his beard. But then it wasn’t a thing of worry for him. He could found many from any planet.

Thereafter, the night was spent in gossips, drinking beer, and hearing about Sandipan’s and Makheeja’s stories of bravery and supernatural.

They all departed the next day.

A month after a novel, written by Charlene, hit the market. It became an instant hit. It was full of love, adventure, and supernatural.

And all lived happily after.

Love and Revenge -- Part 2

Party at Ruby’s Tuesday

Half-heartedly, Padhi had to throw a treat to his friends in Ruby’s Tuesday. He had managed to suppress the secret of what had transpired in the flying Saucer by extreme application of will-power on his usual chirpy tongue. He didn’t know why he was hiding it from his friends, but he wanted to keep it that way currently.

Dark had already set in and rain was pattering on the roof and plastic canvas outside. Activities of the market were in full view from the seats close to the glass windows where they sat. An old 70s western classic song suffused an element of romance on an already wonderful ambience where vibrations of romance and youthful exuberance floated in abundance.

But Padhi looked downcast…

Not able to comprehend the reason behind Padhi’s dull mood— which was actually due to the unexpected loss of the three-eyed damsel and the dollar filled suitcase— Sandipan, Maneesh and KC sat clueless, sipping cold Beer and transporting, after every few seconds, a spoonful of Pasta to their mouths. How could they have understood the plight of Padhi? A loss of this nature, which they didn’t have slightest idea of, could bring even the liveliest of creatures to an abrupt state of depression. And Padhi certainly deserved a bravery award of the highest order for being inside the restaurant with the same people who actually were accountable, though unintentionally, for bringing that misfortune to him.

Sandipan, breaking the leg of a prawn from his right hand and adjusting his old-styled plastic-rimmed specs from his left, said in an intriguing tone, “What Padhi! You look not so happy today.” He had noticed Sandeep’s silence since his escape on the river bank. At the back of his mind, while asking this question, he suspected Padhi under the grip of some Atma that might have got inside Padhi during the Yamuna escapade. He remembered that Padhi had remained unconscious for a few minutes, and had gained consciousness only after the massage of Jhandu Baam.

Padhi just let out an artificial smile and said, “Nothing…it’s all fine, dude.” But a seed of suspicion had started germinating in Sandipan’s mind, and some remedies of the unknown problem, based on his suspicion, had already started to float in his mind. An immediate one was to get in touch with Tantrik Guddiyappa, revered like a god in Sarai Kale Khan. People claimed that they saw through their naked eyes many bhoots running for mercy just after they saw a glimpse of Guddiyappa. Such was his dread or atank.

Maneesh and KC were busy gulping down Beer bottles, giving least care to food lying over plates.

Maneesh said proudly, “My quota is over. Six bottles down under.”

To which KC responded, “Oh! only six. It’s Padhi’s dollar treat. Think about another six more.”

And they continued…

At 11:00 PM, all left the restaurant. Rain was still drenching the thirsty earth. Outside, Sandipan kept reading Padhi’s every movement, his downcast and lost expressions.

KC and Maneesh, who had started a conversation on Buddhist philosophy after having downed the seventh bottle in the restaurant itself, seemed to relish on the discussion even more in the rain—again quite oblivious to what Sandipan was up to and Sandeep’s unusual silence.

Soon all wished Good Night to each other and planned to meet again. Maneesh, after 5-6 unsuccessful attempts at his TVS Victor Bike when finally managed to awaken it, flew it like a Jet Aircraft on the rain drenched Delhi roads, giving KC many near-to-death experiences at every turn and signal. He said, “His concentration was at its best after gulping down a few bottles.” To which frightened KC didn’t respond and got down even before his stoppage came, lying to Maneesh that he had shifted his house to another location.


Love, a Sweet Poison




Love seemed more the reason than the loss of money behind Sandeep’s dismal demeanor. Flashes of those twinkles of appreciation and affection from those three eyes of the damsel erupted before him every now and then, jolting him from his sleep and giving sweet sensations. If she had been an earthly beauty, he at least would have the chance to search and find her. But a damsel of another planet and in a Saucer? Even if he managed to get hands on the fastest running plane, it would be difficult to locate her. The Universe was too big to find her.

His mood swings increased day by day. He also lost some pounds from his body. And whenever he ventured outside, he would apply a thick layer of Jhandu Baam on his forehead.

One day Sandipan, who by now was sure of some evil spirit behind Sandeep’s changed behavior, told KC and Maneesh about Tantrik Guddaippa. “A famous Tantrik…in a second our old Sandeep will be back to his original self,” he said popping in some groundnuts inside his mouth and grinding them.

So it was finally decided that Guddaippa should at any cost be called. Or some such arrangement be made that Sandeep could come before Guddaippa.


Wicked Plans of a Scorned Lover




“Hell has no wrath like a woman scorned,” said Shakespeare many years ago. The saying— which basically means if you hurt or make a woman mad, it will be worse than hell— has its applicability intact even in today’s world and will have till Universe remains.

So was the case with the three-eyed damsel. How could she forget the betrayal by a two-eyed Instructional Designer? Though her motive behind gulping Padhi inside the Saucer was pure business then, the communication happened through their eyes had done the damage that many mortals since the birth of this Universe have suffered. And that hope given to her romantic heart was taken away mercilessly by Sandeep’s betrayal and KC’s violent entry. They hadn’t yet any antidote against those bamboo sticks and Desi Tamancha. Otherwise, she would go immediately and teach both a lesson.

But soon came jumping a monster without even knocking on the damsel’s door, giving no time to the damsel to hide Padhi’s photograph that she had closely held.

“What uncouth behavior? Don’t you knock at the door before entering in a lady’s room?” she rebuked the monster.

“Oh! Beautiful Goddess of Zanzibar planet, the news is such that my feet lost control. Our underpaid scientists have finally developed a powerful response against those dreaded weapons.”

“Oh! Great news…let’s hurry up then and move our Saucer to the planet.”

And the Saucer zoomed toward the planet earth, cutting the thick veil of Zanzibar security layer to which no instrument sent by NASA scientists could penetrate.

Her plan was to finally kidnap Padhi and keep him as a permanent captive in an ice-cream parlor of Zanzibar where all varieties of ice-creams would be kept before Padhi, but his hands would remain tied. She was burning with revenge and she felt this punishment was the best. Even KC was going to face her fury as they had now solid response against Tamancha and bamboo sticks.


Talk with the Tantrik




Sandipan and Maneesh were already in Sarai Kale Khan talking to Tantrik Guddaippa. When the entire episode was narrated to him, he stroked his moustache, sharpening both sides like a pencil’s edges.

“Hmm!! It seems Pani Pret, found only around Yamuna, has possessed your friend.”

He added, “It’s nawt a naarmal Bhoot. Bhery-bhery straang (Guddaippa showed his command over English and told both that he was a graduate in Political Science at a time when it wasn’t such an easy thing.)”

He continued, “This bhoot drinks a lot of Yamuna water and the whole day eats different kinds of fishes, which makes him very powerful.”

After thinking a little, he said, “But there is one solution. You bring your friend to the same spot and I’ll throw Shamshan Ki Raakh on him and murmur Pisach mantra…enough for Pani Pret to go crazy and be back to Yamuna.”

Sandipan and Maneesh were really happy that there was a solution to the problem and said a few butter-laced phrases in praise of Guddaippa, at which the tantrik got very happy and uttered a loud laughter.

So it was communicated to KC that he would by some trick bring Padhi to Yamuna, and Maneesh and Sandipan would bring Guddaippa to the same spot to give Pani Pret a lesson of the lifetime.


Clash of the Titans




Crossing the Noida Bridge toll in his TVS Victor at 100 km/hr speed, with Guddaippa and Sandipan sitting on the back, and then taking a rough route amid thick bushes and thorns they finally landed down to the bank.

KC had already brought Padhi with him, by telling him a lie that a Dolphin had recently been spotted in Yamuna and there lay a possibility of catching a glimpse. Tantrik, Sandipan and Maneesh slowly crept toward Padhi whose feet were almost touching the water. This was a wonderful opportunity of attacking Pani Pret from the backside and bringing an immediate end to his kahani.

Guddaippa had almost reached near Padhi when a light flashed up above and from the Saucer jumped the damsel and other occupants, carrying some strange weapons. Guddaippa wasn’t prepared for this. In fact, he had never seen such ghosts in his lifetime. Before they could start their attack, Guddaippa started throwing ash toward the three-eyed monsters and loudly muttered pisach mantra. The effect was such that their strange weapons disappeared in the thin air and they were completely weaponless.

Capitalizing on the wonderful opportunity, KC took his Desi Tamancha and bamboo sticks and beat them once again mercilessly, forcing them to take a u-turn toward the Saucer.

But before the damsel turned back to the Saucer she looked deeply toward Padhi. Their eyes were set on each others for some time. KC stopped his fury and went astonished and so were others.

But Guddaippa thought the damsel was hypnotizing Padhi and he again started to throw ash and mutter pisach mantra, at which the damsel too ran for safety in her Saucer. And in no time, after a few up and down movements, the Saucer disappeared from the sight.

Padhi looked dejectedly toward the disappearing Saucer and applying a thick layer of Jhandu Baam on his forehead said very sadly, “They say love is blind. But how can it be blind when eyes have a big role in this.”

Abduction of Sandeep Padhi by Flying Saucers - Part 1

Abduction
While loafing around the streets of Atlanta, with a cup of Starbucks coffee in hand, Padhi was half-absorbed by the reddish Sun setting fast in the West and half-absorbed in the thoughts of how to make quick money in a short span. He thought half of the life was gone in toil and sweat and another half would pass away like that only unless he thought out of the box. He thought the life would remain meaningless unless he at least possessed a red Ferrari and a swanky bungalow around Yamuna. Then, he could, whenever his whims allowed, go anytime around Yamuna beach with his love-of-life and do fish hunting.

He was slurping the hot, aromatic coffee slowly and slowly so it could act as a catalyst for prolonging his thought process. After all, he remembered the saying of an old Indian Sanyasi who had said this famous line “what you think, you become.” Padhi, a firm believer of this philosophy, was thinking on how to apply this theory to make him a rich man.

He went so deep in his thinking that in 5-6 hours that flew—during which birds went back to their houses, cooked their dinner, male birds gulped down a few pegs, and went to sleep—Padhi remained oblivious of the night setting in. He came back to his world back only when he saw a flying saucer rotating fast above his head. He certainly was in danger. Before he could throw the cup in the dustbin nearby (a good habit gained after spending 6 months in Atlanta) and leap back to his guest house, a white light originated from the saucer and gulped Padhi inside the Saucer. Now, he was among the creatures of different order. They were three eyed monsters—one eye on the forehead.

Padhi, seeing his untimely, imminent end, mumbled the entire Hanuman Chalisa that he had mugged up in his childhood in 5 seconds. As he finished, a door in front opened and from there erupted a beautiful girl, who with an eye on her forehead, which Padhi took as a Bindi, was very different from the girls on the earth, but so beautiful that Padhi’s eyes remain fixed on her for a while.

The girl in her sweet voice said, “So you are Sandeep Padhi. Have heard about your ID skills a lot in the entire Universe. What’s the secret?”

Padhi saw a fresh hope in those words that ringed like the twinkling of bells in a temple. What bad things he thought a moment ago disappeared and were replaced by an opportunity in front. “Great thinking Indian mind set into action by Starbucks coffee and Indian Desi Chole Bhature,” Padhi said in response to the damsel's question.

Padhi’s confident voice in such alienating conditions impressed the damsel to the core. She said, “Quite true you are to the words floating about you in the Universe. We’ll give $ 50,000 billion if you could transport your knowledge to our brains. There is a lot of Web 2.0 and Social Learning stuff going on in our planet and we seem to be quite ill equipped. People in our planet don’t even understand Bloom’s taxonomy and Gagne’s 9 step model. Wot say? Will you do that for me? Or I increase the money a bit more?”

Padhi, whose feet were already shaking after seeing such a beautiful girl, after hearing the billion dollar agreement, shook his feet so fiercely that he ran flat on the ground and his eyes closed for a moment. The beautiful damsel took Padhi in her arms and caressed his forehead and muttered, “Oh! such a cute knowledgeable man though with only two eyes.”

By that gentle touch, Padhi opened his eyes and immediately jumped back to life like an army soldier eager to go on front.

The Alien Who Took Padhi's Breath Away




Padhi sipping the cold coffee from the glass that he had forgotten to throw in the dustbin on the Atlanta road said, “Real knowledge requires a calm mind. Only when the mind is focused, that real knowledge goes in. It’s like you cannot cram an already filled box with more stuff. You first need to make it empty.” He took a pause and took another sip, during which the damsel and other creatures looked toward Padhi in awe. “A mind that has understood Indian philosophy is a powerful mind. It’s focused, clean, with all cobwebs removed.” “Oh! we’ve heard about the Indian mind and its rich philosophy,” shrieked the damsel. Padhi at the back of his mind knew he was gaining control of the situation.

He told them, “If you want to gain knowledge, you’ll have to take the saucer to Yamuna where the energy is in dense form and there knowledge transfer will be quick.” The reason Padhi said this was if there was any danger he could jump into Yamuna and being a good swimmer, which he learnt in a tubewell, he would swim to the bank.

So there zoomed the saucer toward Yamuna…


Padhi’s Friends and Their Rescue Plan



Padhi had a wonderful bunch of friends who were equally talented as Padhi himself. After all, a man is known by the company he keeps. Padhi again believed in this philosophy. Among his best friends were Maneesh, KC, and Sandipan. All from different corners of India and belonging to the same profession as Padhi himself was in.

Maneesh held some strange interests. In his idle hours, he would often get astrayed to Yamuna and click photographs of flying birds and Yamuna herself from his old mobile phone and then posted them in Facebook, which garnered him a lot of praise. KC and Sandipan praised his skills and egged him on to continue with this killing-of-time. Both felt life was a great Maya and whatever one did, it didn't make any difference. Acceptance was the key.

And there floats another set of pictures of Yamuna on Maneesh’s FB account. “What! This is Padhi, our own Padhi. And those monsters around him,” KC exclaimed as he saw one of the pictures that captured the clouds above Yamuna. On straining their eyes, Sandipan and Maneesh could also see Padhi talking to the three eyed monsters.

KC, to whom Sandeep had promised of a treat after he returned to India and another expensive offer, wanted to rescue Padhi at any cost. So did Maneesh and Sandipan. They too were to be offered the same treat, after all. The plan was made, according to which KC would stealthily climb in at the roof of an Indian Airplane and jump to the flying saucer when the plane went above it. He would take with him the most dreaded weapons: a Desi Tamancha and 3 powerful bamboo sticks to beat the life out of the monsters.

Once KC rescued Padhi, he would jump along with him in Yamuna where Sandipan and Maneesh already waiting in a boat ferry both of them toward the bank. And then Sandeep would have to throw a gala treat for rescuing him.



Padhi’s Gyan Session and Rescue Bid

Now, the creatures and Padhi were over Yamuna, hiding behind a cloud that was effectively captured by Maneesh’s old mobile phone. Padhi said, “Meditation stills the mind. All thoughts that are dispersed soon take a direction and that energized thought become so strong that things start materializing.”

The damsel got so impressed that she drew herself closer to Padhi and summoned one of the creatures to take the suitcase out that contained the dollar currency.

A suitcase is brought soon. Padhi, seeing his dream getting fulfilled, continued, “World is a divine Maya. If you are aware of it, you’ll not unnecessarily get bound by rules, illogical customs, and your free mind will make you fresh like a butterfly floating in the sky.”

Suitcase was almost near Padhi now.

Just at that very moment, an Indian Airplane flew over and a loud thud was registered at the saucer’s roof. In the next moment, the window was flung open and KC unstoppably, like a wild horse having gone berserk, flew the bullet from his Desi Tamancha in every direction. He took out bamboo sticks too and beat the three eyed creatures mercilessly—all to the wonderment of Padhi who rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

As Padhi could understand, KC dragged him toward the door and jumped into the Yamuna.


Boatmen (Padhi's Friends) and Their Demand



Maneesh and Sandipan, who had by this time captured a lot of fishes from Yamuna, when saw Padhi and KC coming down, took the boat swiftly to the spot where they were about to fall and ferried both to the bank.

After a massage of Jhandu Bam on Padhi’s forehead, he came to life again. And immediately, Maneesh, KC and Sandipan demanded a gala party for having rescued him by putting their lives in danger. It was agreed that KC deserved a special treat.

Padhi applied more Jhandu Bam on his forehead, grabbed his head and said, “Friends in the hour of wrong need are not friend indeed.”

Drunken Philosophy… for Non-Drunks


“First there was water, created by God with the intention of making man remain alive. But then its role was just that…to let man live till the time messenger of death came. And just living and dying isn’t extraordinary. To experience something that shakes you up…to come face to face with your inner self is. So thoughts were inserted in the man’s mind to create a golden liquid…a potential medium to give man the glimpses of something extraordinary…to make man burdenfree and see life as an empty void.”

                               Piyakkad Shastra, 2nd Century BC


I am not a big drunk, but my friend says I am. He says even after gulping down the entire bottle (of course shared between the two), where he starts to spin like a top I remain intact as if I drank just water. And I realize so. But then I’ve a secret that works for me. I drink four times more water than I usually take while I am drinking alcohol and it helps. While my friends get knocked down or move to another dimension, I am intact like a racing horse. 

Frankly, though I can gulp down half a bottle in one shot, the idea of gulping another or even going closer to another golden bottle doesn’t emerge in my mind even after a month. I drink, but I am not a drunkard. Not at all an addict. But then suddenly a friend erupts out of the blue who is looking for a drinking partner and the moment he spots me, he speaks in the most intimate fashion, “Hello! Friend. How are you doing man? It’s such a good weather and Saturday too. What luck! Life is so short. What do you say?” And even if you had some other plan –maybe of finishing some book kept for long on your shelf or something else, you know—you get swayed by the idea of idling time over golden water. 

Ok, you are asking what’s so special about this golden water. 

Ha! See you are now getting curious. 

Man is the most dangerous creature in this existence. For his personal interest, he has not left even huge whales in the vast depthless ocean or big elephants in crowded jungles. Whether black, white, semi-black, wheatish, dwarf or a giant; a man is a man, creating huge structures and destroying everything that is natural. He has this strange intention of enslaving the whole world. He keeps doing something, sometimes making aeroplanes, electric rail, or even machines that can go faraway in the sky. 

The same man created this special type of water too that can give you glimpses of another world. Oh ok! you want to know what this another world stuff is before I continue. I had a vague inkling that you’d ask this. I know you haven’t had drinking sessions so far. That’s why such curiosity. Good guy you are! You have followed your parent’s teachings very well. But please be cautious. Currently, you are showing a lot of interest in what I am saying. 

See actually what happens there is something strange in this liquid and there are types, you know: Whisky, Rum, Wine, Champagne, Beer, and so on. Whatever type it is, it works the same way in our body. 

The intelligent man knew that human mind is the culprit. If it can be stopped for a while or made weaker, the man can be unburdened of all the past and future he carries with himself. Glimpses of another world can be seen when there is no past and future because mostly even though our body is at the present moment our thoughts are constantly rotating in the past and future—either brooding on a lost opportunity or on a heart wrenching affair or thinking about how much effort to put to become a Manager or Director or a Business tycoon or as famous romantic a hero as Shahrukh Khan. Am I right, my friend? What nice smile you have! Only a man who is ignorant or has no knowledge of the world can smile so innocently. A man of knowledge is serious….very very serious. Sit before him and watch. And if you watch with focus, you can see cobwebs around his minds...the so called cobwebs of knowledge. Forget it. It seems your mind hasn’t yet overtaken you. 

So the man worked on his ideas and liquor—the golden water— was finally born. Whoever tasted it –whether in America, India, Britian, Pakistan, or Yuganda—became its slave. Color may be different but people are people. They all want to be burden free of their mind and the excessive baggage it carries, even though they may claim differently. They may say with confidence, “No, that isn’t the reason they take alcohol.” But believe me that’s the reason…a subtle one which is to be felt than known through reason. 

We are not just flesh and bones, but mind and heart too. Mind drives flesh to take different actions and these physical actions (depending on their types and the reactions they generate) create a mix of emotions. Every day we perform many actions (through our thoughts or our body), and they have equal and opposite reactions. Oh! You are asking how I can say with such certitude. Actually, both science and philosophy have proved it. Whether Hindu or Christian or Muslim or any other philosophy, all say “As you sow, so shall you reap.” Newton’s Third Law of Motion says, “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” If you go deeper in metaphysics, it talks in great length about it and will give you many proofs. 

Everyone in one way or another is affected by this complex condition created by body, mind and emotions. Even when you are alone, you aren’t alone. Ha ha! I was expecting that. You are asking how stupid this reasoning is: how can one not be alone when one is actually physically alone. Just think about it. What are you doing when are you alone? You may be at your house or drinking coffee alone or in a mountain or fishing. But aren’t you constantly surrounded by thoughts: thoughts of pasts and future. You aren’t even drinking coffee with full attention. Between the sips and vapors sometimes erupts the beautiful face of your girlfriend whom you loved or your hunky boyfriend who set your pulses racing like the Ferrari of Schumacher. So you aren’t alone. We are troubled creatures. We carry a lot of load of the past and future. Our mood keeps changing and our mind keeps craving for a joyful existence, and it is always under an impression that if you’ve that thing then you’ll be happy. But even then you aren’t. Mystery of that new thing evaporates once you’ve experienced it. Then another and another and another…

But when you gulp down those golden pegs a different atmosphere sets in. Suddenly mind starts to loose its control because alcohol gradually makes it weak. People come close to their real nature or in other words in a state where suddenly the excessive baggage looses its weight. The effect is wonderful. Haven’t you seen in a group (after rounds of pegs) the most hunky guy gets emotional or the softest looking becomes Darasingh? There are others who almost start crying because they once loved someone so much and haven’t been able to forget. All that is buried inside suddenly finds way out. So golden water makes that possible. It makes you burden free for a while and lets your hidden part come out. What you generally don’t express you start expressing after those pegs. 

But then those moments are temporary. You get a glimpse and then it disappears. And because you got a glimpse that made you weightless you want to experience that weightless state again. So you have another session and so many sessions. 

Suddenly, what happened to you? You seem determined. Where are your legs directed to? Oh! You are almost running. You have taken turn and now you are in the same lane where there is an English Liquor Shop. Oh! My god, you are talking to the liquor shopkeeper. Oh! You’ve finally bought a Golden bottle. Don’t fall for it. But I must say that’s a good choice...bottled in Switzerland. Quite smooth!

But beware, my friend, beware!! That’s not a final solution. 

An Indian Road...

Under the shadowy shade of a series of trees lining the road, I am standing on the pavement waiting for my cab. Buses, trucks, small cars, scooters are moving democratically over the road. Every vehicle is trying to proclaim its existence through a distinct sound, trying to gain attention and telling the world: Here, I am. But under the groans and puffs of bigger buses and trucks the voice of smaller vehicles fades away; they are merely a moving figure then, a dot in front of a bigger circle.

Sun is ruthless and angry today, but I am protected by the sensitive shade of trees. Sometimes I wonder what will happen if all these trees are gone.

Still some time left for my cab to reach, I plug in the microphone cable in my latest Nokia 5800 mobile. Remo Fernandes, the famed singer of the O Meri Munni…Munni Munni Babe number, diverts my attention from the squeals, coughs, and screeches of passing vehicles. But I am playing a different song of his. It starts in this manner:

{A fusion of different instruments}

Lyrics:
Yeh, kaisa mor hai…rukna na chahe mann
Peeche murna bhi muskil…lekin mane na mann
Ankhon main tufan sawalon ka…dil main jawabon ki pyas
Lakh pukare parchahiyan…mujhe chalna hai Suraj ke sath
Aja sanam ush ujale ko choo lein…sochey tu kya?
Mere hathon main chalna akela…toh mujhe kar de fida

My black leather shoes gently start striking the earth surface. I notice some ants moving. I stop.

Suddenly I notice that the road is filled with such chaotic romance that I desire to witness every minute happening.

I look at the drivers, riders, and passengers in bigger vehicles. All lost in their world, doing their respective karmas. But only passengers have the privilege to do anything. They can talk to other passengers, ogle at the beauties in the bus or dispersed around the road, or daydream.

In Indian roads, cycles and scooters were omnipresent at one point of time. During those times, it was easier to cross roads. You saw a scooter or cycle coming and you’d not even think that it could in any way be a danger. The cycle rider used to tinkle the bell, but you would show him your right hand, gave him a stern gaze and cross the road like a lion. But now some sort of expertise is necessary. Today’s time requires that you exercise your eyes a bit before crossing the road. Only after many left-to-right and right-to-left rolling of your eyeballs and a few quick permutations and combinations in your brain, you cross the road. And that too like a sheep.

Suddenly I see an attractive girl on the other side of the road. Wearing tight black jeans and white shirt, she emerges from the DDA buildings. She tosses her silky, shampooed hair, making them float backward. Her fair skin shines under the clear sunlight. From her demeanor, it seems she is aware of her attractiveness and she is aware that people around are watching her—from the buses, autos, small cars…and from the helmets on scooters. She is conscious of the attention— every moment. She is carrying a subtle smile, a smile that she has learnt to carry since she grew younger. Boys must have fluttered around her—in school and colleges, around her mohalla, in shops. She must have received thousands of greeting cards, several calls from so-called-lovers. She may even have fallen for a few, the ones who were consistent in their expressions and who could promise a glint of romance in their eyes. The smile on her lips, which energizes her whole body, assures her every day that she is in demand. Swaying her body as if a feather floating in the air, she walks toward the Bus Stop and soon merges with the rest of the crowd.

I see toward my right. A cow is standing at a distance—a silent and peaceful cow. She seems to be in her own world, not at all interested in the hustle-bustle around. I realize she is munching on the waste from the nearby dustbin. Her motive is over and now she wants to experience the other side by crossing the road. She waits for the vehicles to stop, but they don’t. Finally, she starts to cross the road without caring for the moving traffic. Buses groan, scooters tweet, and small cars blare their horn. But the cow crosses the road unperturbed and with the same peace and dignity, maybe thinking—to hell with you all assholes…you mechanical robots, you’ve eaten all the grass and trees around…you selfish creatures…because of you I’ve to dig my head in dustbins…you drink my milk and prepare that wonderful tea using my milk in the morning…haven’t your parents ever told you the importance of a cow in Indian setup. Fuck off! Let me cross the road.

And she crosses the road with her large impassive eyes. Vehicles move…

Remo Fernandes is on this line now:

Chalte jao chalte jao....are you ready?
Yaa (background artists)
Keep all moving…keep all moving

Suddenly a crow flies over my head, casting its moving shadow on the road, and perches over a wall on a house at the other side of the road. It rotates its head around, adjusts some food between its beaks, flies back to the tree and lets out its caw caws. Maybe he is telling the house owner: You paunchy rabbit…you threw a stone at me yesterday…now see I’ll eat all your pickles one by one even if I’ve to visit a doctor later on.

A small sized, as round as a football, and chocolaty colored kid—wearing a Sando and a Bermuda— distracts my attention. He carries a polythene bag, which he wants to throw in the dustbin on the other side. He waits for the traffic to stop, but it doesn’t. So without waiting much he throws the bag toward the other side of the road with the intention of hitting the dustbin. But the bag splits into two pieces, one part hitting the dustbin and another finding way at the center of the road. A policeman, who is normally sleeping in his one room cabin, suddenly emerges from there and waving his oil-polished stick asks the boy to remain standing where he was. The boy shivers and wants to run, but remains standstill. Policeman twists his ears, gives him gyan, lets the boy open his strangely white teeth, and creates a terror for some time before letting him go. Policeman is happy. His task is over, of punishing someone. The half-split part of the polythene remains where it was. Some passing vehicle will crush it and then only will it be known what is inside.

A maroon colored Qualis screeches in front and from there a few hands wave in my direction: my colleagues. They smile. It seems they noticed me lost somewhere. I smile and look at my shoes, over which a thick layer of dust has taken residence.

Remo Fernandes is on this line now:

{Salsa type music}
Sabalaba biba boom
Baba biba boom
Para pira param pam boom
Yeh yehe

What is it that keeps me moving?
It’s a beat in my brain…its’ a rhythm in my soul
It’s tirkit mann main
Tirkit mann main
Tirkit mann main
Tirkit mann main....

Chalte jana…chalte jana
Are you ready?
Yeah…keep on moving
Beep Beep.
Yeahhhhhhhhhhh…

I open the back door of Qualis, sit inside, and shake hands with colleagues. Qualis groans, trembles, and zips on the road.

Time is passing by...

Blazing hot and humid weather of Saturday kept us indoor. August has approached, but rain is nowhere in the sight. It rained scantily a fortnight ago, but that created more trouble rather than bringing any respite. Venturing outside means getting severely burnt, so we kept ourselves indoor: my friends and I.

In India, people can discuss endlessly on any topic. And people can easily find ways to do that. Keshavji moved in the Kitchen and came back with 3 steamy cups of tea. And that was enough to create an atmosphere. With intense sips of the warm tea, Keshavji initiated the discussion telling about a prediction of world coming to an end in 2012, prediction made by some astrologers in a newschannel. Sanjayji's eyes popped out of his spectacles and he said "Acchaji!" And there was no stopping anybody after that. All past, present and future erupted: from Nostradomus to Hitler to present nuclear weapons.

I added, "Yes, Nostradomus said something like that...but I guess that was the year 2000, not 2012."

"Acchaji, Sanjayji's eyes came erupting out this time." "His predictions have been very accurate so far: from the rise of Hitler to the collapse of World Trade Centers," Kehavji added more spice to it.

"Do you know Hitler and his girlfriend were shot dead?" Keshavji added.

"But I heard he could never be found and got buried under one of his buildings."

"No, that's wrong...he and his girlfriend were shot in full public view," Keshavji flaunted his knowledge of history.

"By whom?"

"Some American soldier."

"Quite a lucky guy whoever got a chance to do that."

"Whatever...If world comes to an end, all must die at once. No discrimination. It shouldn't be that one place vanishes before another...everything should evaporate at once," I put my point. "Is there any way of escape?" Sanjayji asked quite seriously.

I added, "Perhaps, there is one way: we all collect a number of oxygen cylinders and jump into an ocean...we'll wait there until things are under control." And there was a loud cackling of sounds. "There is no escape in the ocean too. If the center of earth's gravity is disturbed, even oceans will not remain at one place," Sanjayji flaunted his knowledge of physics.

"This prediction can be a bluff, just to draw some public attention," Kehavji added. "Even if that is so, the world will end soon...Today, the nuclear nations have the nuclear capability to destroy the whole world 5000 times. The way Taliban and other militant organizations are operating, that dooms day can be any day." "Right," Sanjayji acknowledged pensively.

Chutku, who had remained silent so far, stood up and said, "Do you know Alexander Technique?"

"No," a unanimous reply.

"The technique is to help your life force flow uninterruptedly through your backbone." "You can do so by maintaining a good straight posture, by not bending your back...it helps one remain straight...at the present moment, no past and no future."

And there was silence after that.

Note: While accidentally coming across a magazine with an article on Hitler, I got to know that he wasn't shot dead. He commited suicide along with his wife. Keshavji's history knowledge lacked sharpness ;)