I frowned as I got out of the lift and banged the doors shut. Never had I hated going to school so much. But school is not really fun when the biggest bully in the class is made to change places and sit right in front of you. I mean, ya he is the brainiest boy I have seen in my whole life, but, so what?
He was a bully. He is a bully. He will remain a bully.
And I hate bullies. Anyone would actually, especially if you are on the receiving end. I mean ya, being a girl, and him being a boy, I didn’t really suffer much. But God! That didn’t make him any less annoying.
Plus I was about as tall as he was. Maybe that is what made him stay at an arm’s distance from me. But still, there are a number of ways to bully someone. And I was seeing them everyday.
Really. Every single day.
Each day, Monish would enter the class, and catch the first person he could see as his first bakra. And the day would begin with getting some homework done. It would be followed by scrawling the black-board with some stupid stupid cartoon which only he found funny. Of course, the cartoon would carry the artist’s name, and that would be his second bakra for the day. In the recess, no matter how much you tried to hide it, Monish would come to know if there was something yummy anybody had got in his or her lunch box. The periods between the first and the second break would go quite uneventful, and the day would again conclude with one of the teachers probably getting her sari or dress wet as she sat on her chair. And finally, as school came to an end, Monish would run down the stairs, pushing practically anyone who came in his way aside, without much caring to see the consequences.
Really, what went wrong when boys came to fifth grade?
Like many other bullies, Monish had a huge gang of boys who followed him everywhere. They would literally lay their lives down for him I guess, if he asked; they all liked him so much.
Puh-lease!
But my guess is, they were all scared of him.
Oh by the way. I guess I didn’t tell you what he did to me.
He untied my hair.
Everyday.
Without fail.
So what was the big issue?
I had hair that came down to my waist. Mamma would braid them and fold them up and tie them so that I had two short plats that just touched my shoulders. And Monish simply loved to untie them. He took care to not let me notice it, obviously. He would just loosen the knot, and the next time I turned my head, my hair would all come loose and fall on my back.
Boys. They can be irritating, I tell you.
I reached school bang on time. I parked my cycle in the parking area and bounded up the stairs. We had a ‘half day’, since it was the last day of the month. My bag was a little lighter hence, and my tiffin a little interesting. Not the regular poli-bhaji. I had corn and potato sandwiches, my favourite! A part of me was happy, and a part of me was, scared. i didn’t want Monish to eat up my tiffin! Please! At least not today, considering he ate half of it almost everyday.
He liked everything my mom made.
I hate bullies.
I HATE BULLIES!
But today seemed different.
The first four periods went uneventful, and I could see the Monish’s impatience build up. All the teachers had come bang on time too, giving Monish almost no time to plan anything. I feared this was the quiet before a huge storm, but prayed for the best.
Recess came, and my stomach sank. Me and my bench partner Kaustubh both took our tiffins out. I looked around. Monish was not in the classroom. I quickly opened my tiffin and started eating.
Suddenly the table shook.
I looked at Kaustubh. He was banging his tiffin on the edge of the table.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“My tiffin… it’s not opening,” Kaustubh said, and banged the tiffin on the table again. My tiffin inched towards the edge of the table.
“Arre bang it against the other desk na!” I said. “My tiffin will fall.”
Kaustubh continued banging the tiffin on the table. And with his fifth bang, just as I was about to gather my tiffin Monish entered the classroom.
“Boo!” he shouted.
I looked up.
Kaustubh banged the table again.
And my tiffin fell to the floor with a big clang.
There was a momentary silence, and suddenly everybody burst out laughing.
I looked at the spilled sandwiches.
I looked at Kaustubh. He was laughing. I turned around to hit him, but he quickly got up and ran out of the classroom.
I looked at the sandwiches lying on the floor in a mess. My stomach was rumbling with hunger. I was sure the sound was almost audible to everyone around me. I got down and started cleaning the mess. Suddenly fat tears started rolling down my cheeks. I looked again and again at my empty tiffin and the sandwiches on the floor. The tears kept coming. And just about as suddenly as my tears had appeared, two more hands appeared on the floor beside mine. I looked up.
It was Monish.
I looked at him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was he so mad as to eat food off the floor?
He put the pieces of sandwich into the tiffin in my hand.
“What happened?” he said.
I told him the incident.
Within a few moments, his gang had brought Kaustubh in front of me.
Monish got up and hit Kaustubh.
“Say sorry,” he said, and immediately Kaustubh said ‘sorry’ to me. He helped me clean the rest of my tiffin.
My crying still didn’t stop.
“Why are you crying?” Monish asked, after Kaustubh had cleaned my tiffin. He was standing next to my desk, mute.
I didn’t answer.
“Should I hit him again?” Monish asked.
“No!” I exclaimed.
Monish looked at me.
“Then what?”
I looked down at my tiffin.
“I’m hungry,” I said.
Pronto Monish pulled Kaustubh’s tiffin out of his hands and opened it and held it in front of me.
Mooli ke paranthe.
I didn’t move.
“Eat na! He won’t say anything,” Monish said, glaring at Kaustubh. Kaustubh looked down at the floor.
I didn’t touch the tiffin.
“You don’t like it?” monish asked. I nodded. Monish immediately turned the tiffin upside down. The Paranthe fell to the floor. Kaustubh didn’t budge. Monish opened his tiffin and held it in front of me.
“Eat na!” he said.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’m not hungry,” he said.
I looked at him
What was wrong with this guy? He wasn’t hungry??? What was he saying? How could that be?
“Really, you eat,” he said. I took a bite from his tiffin.
“Thanks,” I said. He smiled.
“Put it back in my bag after you are done,” he said. “I have to go!” and before I could say anything he had stormed out of the room, faster than he had come in.
Nothing altered much after that day. Monish was still his annoying self. But, I had seen the side of a bully which I had never expected to. And Monish now smiled at me every time we saw each other.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
THE WAIT WAS OVER
I looked at the sky as I stepped out of the hospital. It was a bright blue colour. Absolutely cloudless. I smiled.
The first thing I saw ahead of me was a mother playing with a small kid in a pram. The kid had a rattle in his hand and was shaking it wildly. He got his mother on the head with his rattle a couple of times, but she seemed not to mind it. I walked over to mother and child and got down on my knees. I ruffled the kid’s hair and he looked at me. I smiled, and the baby chuckled and let out a delighted squeal.
I was thrilled and made to pick up the baby.
‘He must really like you,’ the mother said. ‘He is not so good with strangers.’
I smiled at the mother and looked back at the baby. His eyes were a sparkling blue. Ice blue. Ocean blue. Baby blue.
‘He is adorable,’ I said as I handed him back to the mother. She took him and put him back in the pram. I was too elated to say anything. I just smiled at her and started walking back to my car.
I got in and started driving towards our home.
I stopped at a crossing as the signal turned red. I glanced around me. my eyes fell upon a small girl sitting in the car next to mine. She must have been about two years old. She was wearing a white coloured frock. It had a lemon yellow ribbon around the waist and beautiful big balloon sleeves. She had a doll seated in her lap and was busy combing her hair. She happened to look at me. I smiled at her. She turned pink in her cheeks and looked away. She made a straight dive for her mummy’s tummy. The mother jumped in her seat and looked at her daughter. Then she looked at me. I smiled at her. she smiled back.
The signal turned green, and we were on the roll again.
I stopped by a toy shop, just a few minutes before our home. I parked the car and went inside.
The spirit of the place gripped me and I literally felt the ‘kid-in-a-candy-store’ feeling. I looked at all the bright coloured soft toys, play stations, dolls, teddy-bears, stuffed puppies and kittens that looked so amiable I felt like picking them all up and stuffing them into my car. I looked at the fur pillows, at the jigsaw puzzles, at the play-houses. The shop was almost empty, except a few kids and their parents. Suddenly I felt this compulsive need to go talk to each of the women and befriend them… I felt like one of them.
I picked up a huge life-size koala bear. The girl at the counter helped me carry it back to my car and get it in. just as I was about to thank her and get in myself my phone buzzed. It was a message.
‘wer r u? cnt wait. come coon.’
I smiled. I got in the car and drove straight home.
Just as I entered our front gate, I saw Siddharth come out of the bungalow. His face was tensed. I purposely took my own sweet time to park the car. Siddharth’s eyes caught the back seat till then. I could see his face go from tensed to confused as he tried to figure out what it was that was occupying the back seat top to floor. Finally I turned the car off and got out. I opened the rear door and set about trying to pull the koala bear out. Siddharth looked upon. Just as he saw the furry arm of the toy emerge out of the door, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards himself. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I could feel his heart beat against mine. He pulled me away. I was smiling ear to ear, too overwhelmed to say anything. My eyes welled up with tears. He looked at me, into my eyes.
He put a hand on my tummy.
He raised his eyebrows.
I blinked.
The tears rolled down my cheeks.
I smiled, blushing ever so slightly.
And the next minute, Siddharth had scooped me off the ground and was turning round and round in circles.
When he finally put me down on the ground and helped me remove the koala bear from the car, we walked back into the house, me holding the bear by its tummy, Siddharth holding me in his arms. My head tipped onto his shoulders, as his hand came down and rested on my tummy. I put my hand on his hand and he grabbed it.
The wait was over.
The first thing I saw ahead of me was a mother playing with a small kid in a pram. The kid had a rattle in his hand and was shaking it wildly. He got his mother on the head with his rattle a couple of times, but she seemed not to mind it. I walked over to mother and child and got down on my knees. I ruffled the kid’s hair and he looked at me. I smiled, and the baby chuckled and let out a delighted squeal.
I was thrilled and made to pick up the baby.
‘He must really like you,’ the mother said. ‘He is not so good with strangers.’
I smiled at the mother and looked back at the baby. His eyes were a sparkling blue. Ice blue. Ocean blue. Baby blue.
‘He is adorable,’ I said as I handed him back to the mother. She took him and put him back in the pram. I was too elated to say anything. I just smiled at her and started walking back to my car.
I got in and started driving towards our home.
I stopped at a crossing as the signal turned red. I glanced around me. my eyes fell upon a small girl sitting in the car next to mine. She must have been about two years old. She was wearing a white coloured frock. It had a lemon yellow ribbon around the waist and beautiful big balloon sleeves. She had a doll seated in her lap and was busy combing her hair. She happened to look at me. I smiled at her. She turned pink in her cheeks and looked away. She made a straight dive for her mummy’s tummy. The mother jumped in her seat and looked at her daughter. Then she looked at me. I smiled at her. she smiled back.
The signal turned green, and we were on the roll again.
I stopped by a toy shop, just a few minutes before our home. I parked the car and went inside.
The spirit of the place gripped me and I literally felt the ‘kid-in-a-candy-store’ feeling. I looked at all the bright coloured soft toys, play stations, dolls, teddy-bears, stuffed puppies and kittens that looked so amiable I felt like picking them all up and stuffing them into my car. I looked at the fur pillows, at the jigsaw puzzles, at the play-houses. The shop was almost empty, except a few kids and their parents. Suddenly I felt this compulsive need to go talk to each of the women and befriend them… I felt like one of them.
I picked up a huge life-size koala bear. The girl at the counter helped me carry it back to my car and get it in. just as I was about to thank her and get in myself my phone buzzed. It was a message.
‘wer r u? cnt wait. come coon.’
I smiled. I got in the car and drove straight home.
Just as I entered our front gate, I saw Siddharth come out of the bungalow. His face was tensed. I purposely took my own sweet time to park the car. Siddharth’s eyes caught the back seat till then. I could see his face go from tensed to confused as he tried to figure out what it was that was occupying the back seat top to floor. Finally I turned the car off and got out. I opened the rear door and set about trying to pull the koala bear out. Siddharth looked upon. Just as he saw the furry arm of the toy emerge out of the door, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards himself. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I could feel his heart beat against mine. He pulled me away. I was smiling ear to ear, too overwhelmed to say anything. My eyes welled up with tears. He looked at me, into my eyes.
He put a hand on my tummy.
He raised his eyebrows.
I blinked.
The tears rolled down my cheeks.
I smiled, blushing ever so slightly.
And the next minute, Siddharth had scooped me off the ground and was turning round and round in circles.
When he finally put me down on the ground and helped me remove the koala bear from the car, we walked back into the house, me holding the bear by its tummy, Siddharth holding me in his arms. My head tipped onto his shoulders, as his hand came down and rested on my tummy. I put my hand on his hand and he grabbed it.
The wait was over.
Friday, May 2, 2008
MOM LOVES ME
I looked down at the floor
Two big fat tears fell on my dress. They blotted it and made it a shade darker___ a strawberry pink from a rose pink.
I bit the insides of my cheeks trying to stop the tears from coming. As if rebelling, they came bigger, faster, as I clenched harder.
I tried to swallow; my throat had gone dry in seconds. I tried to breathe, but my nose had choked. I opened my mouth and took deep breaths. I ran a tongue over my lips. They desiccated within splits seconds.
The more you try to avoid something, the more it gets back at you.
A thousand voices screamed inside my head. An army of thousand men, marching… a thousand firecrackers bursting in the sky… a thousand drums beating in perfect synchronization… nothing could have equaled the pandemonium in my head at that moment. Altogether, at once, I went back in time to when I was in seventh-grade… tenth-grade… college… last month… last week… I grew taller, bolder, smarter, wiser, more sensitive, more responsible, more mature…
But Mom was the same.
Judgmental.
Strong-headed.
One-track minded.
Hypercritical.
Insensitive.
Uncaring.
Mom was still the same.
My vision blurred as the tears pooled in my eyes. I blinked. The tears ran down my cheeks.
‘You say my behaviour hurts you. Your behaviour hurts me too.’
The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.
There was a moment of dead silence.
‘But I never say it.’
Pause.
‘Because I don’t like to. And because I love you.’
I had finally found my voice. Thousands of words were on the tip of my mouth, but I clenched my teeth and stopped myself from saying them. ‘Cause I knew myself and I knew that I was capable of inflicting stinging tears by saying fewest of the most vicious words. And I didn’t want to do it. I was trying to learn not to do it.
And still my mother said I didn’t love her.
That I didn’t care for her.
How could she?
My ears felt hot. They were burning, red. The tears kept coming in steady streams.
I tried to think of our best times together.
But they kept coming.
I tried to think of the many times when we had laughed till our stomachs ached and jaws went numb.
But the tears kept coming.
I squeezed my eyes shut again to clear the pool of tears in my eyes. As I opened them I sensed some movement towards my right. I didn’t look up.
Mom came up to me. She put her arms around me.
And all dams broke loose as I heard her whisper in my ear…
‘I’m sorry.’
I put my arms around her and put my head in her bosom and cried.
It felt nice to be held by my mother, in her arms… after all these years…
It felt safe.
It felt secure.
It finally felt like… despite all my faults and the times that I had unknowingly hurt her, Mom still loved me…
Yes. Mom loves me.
Two big fat tears fell on my dress. They blotted it and made it a shade darker___ a strawberry pink from a rose pink.
I bit the insides of my cheeks trying to stop the tears from coming. As if rebelling, they came bigger, faster, as I clenched harder.
I tried to swallow; my throat had gone dry in seconds. I tried to breathe, but my nose had choked. I opened my mouth and took deep breaths. I ran a tongue over my lips. They desiccated within splits seconds.
The more you try to avoid something, the more it gets back at you.
A thousand voices screamed inside my head. An army of thousand men, marching… a thousand firecrackers bursting in the sky… a thousand drums beating in perfect synchronization… nothing could have equaled the pandemonium in my head at that moment. Altogether, at once, I went back in time to when I was in seventh-grade… tenth-grade… college… last month… last week… I grew taller, bolder, smarter, wiser, more sensitive, more responsible, more mature…
But Mom was the same.
Judgmental.
Strong-headed.
One-track minded.
Hypercritical.
Insensitive.
Uncaring.
Mom was still the same.
My vision blurred as the tears pooled in my eyes. I blinked. The tears ran down my cheeks.
‘You say my behaviour hurts you. Your behaviour hurts me too.’
The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.
There was a moment of dead silence.
‘But I never say it.’
Pause.
‘Because I don’t like to. And because I love you.’
I had finally found my voice. Thousands of words were on the tip of my mouth, but I clenched my teeth and stopped myself from saying them. ‘Cause I knew myself and I knew that I was capable of inflicting stinging tears by saying fewest of the most vicious words. And I didn’t want to do it. I was trying to learn not to do it.
And still my mother said I didn’t love her.
That I didn’t care for her.
How could she?
My ears felt hot. They were burning, red. The tears kept coming in steady streams.
I tried to think of our best times together.
But they kept coming.
I tried to think of the many times when we had laughed till our stomachs ached and jaws went numb.
But the tears kept coming.
I squeezed my eyes shut again to clear the pool of tears in my eyes. As I opened them I sensed some movement towards my right. I didn’t look up.
Mom came up to me. She put her arms around me.
And all dams broke loose as I heard her whisper in my ear…
‘I’m sorry.’
I put my arms around her and put my head in her bosom and cried.
It felt nice to be held by my mother, in her arms… after all these years…
It felt safe.
It felt secure.
It finally felt like… despite all my faults and the times that I had unknowingly hurt her, Mom still loved me…
Yes. Mom loves me.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
THE WEDDING
Riddhima looked around at the people sitting in the drawing room and stifled a yawn. The clock struck twelve-thirty. It was pitch black outside.
‘Well, we certainly can’t do anything. At least till Dada is back,’ her father said, and everybody else in the room nodded in agreement.
‘But how are we going to break the news to them when they do get back?’ her mother said.
‘Parvati calm down,’ Riddhima’s grandfather said. He turned to look at his younger son. ‘When is Nikhil supposed to be back?’
‘Dada is coming back tomorrow Baba,’ Rohan answered his father. ‘He will be here by seven in the morning. Mala tar Wahinichich kalji wattiye,’ he said. I’m more worried about Wahini.
‘Don’t worry about them,’ Baba replied. ‘You take Parvati and Baby back to your room, and all of you get some sleep. We are going to have a long day tomorrow.’
Riddhima tore her eyes open as she heard Baba mention her. She got up as her father took her mother’s hand and walked to her. She held his hand and the trio walked back to their room.
Rohan lay in his bed, looking out of the window, a thousand thoughts crowding his mind…
“... this shouldn’t have happened. But then, who can stop the inevitable?... Dada-la itkyanda bolun pan... (Even after telling Dada so many times)... kids become rebellious. And then Melody wasn’t a bad girl. And Parth and Melody were both mature, and they were adults by law. Had Dada treated the issue with just a little bit of more sensitivity, maybe Parth wouldn’t have eloped with the girl...”
Baba looked at his son, his daughter-in-law and his grand-daughter as they walked back to their room. He heaved a sigh. He took his specs off.
“Why did you do it Parth? Couldn’t you come and speak to your Baba at least, before doing something like this? Have I not supported you, and helped you out of situations, and reasoned with you when I thought you were wrong? Did I ever force anything on you? Did I not help you solve things between you and your father?... Yes. Most certainly what you have done today is wrong... but at the same time, I guess I have no right to say this either... hadn’t I done quite the same thing as a young man? I can’t condemn you... but I had no ‘Baba’ to stand by me. You had one... why didn’t you trust me? Or anyone of us for that matter? I believe we have failed as a family... for you found it easier to confess into your friends and take them into your confidence than us... I guess we have failed... Yes. But still... you shouldn’t have done this Parth...”
Riddhima tip-toed out of her room and peeped into her parents’ room. They were fast asleep. She tip-toed back to her room and shut the door. She turned the light over her study-table on and took her diary out of its drawer and started writing.
“God! Eeeee! I don’t believe this. I so can’t believe this! Is it really happening? I like Melody... she is such a nice girl! And you two look so good together! But Kaka is going to be mad at you... really mad. You have any idea what you have gotten yourself into Bhaiyya? Its like, a part of me is very very happy for you. But a part of me is very worried too. I mean... surely there had to be some other way! Maybe you could have convinced Kaka. We could have worked out something... anything! There had to be a way! But God! This is so romantic! Just like QSQT! And as much as I hate you for leaving like that and not telling me and involving me in the planning, I am happy for you... I pray you will survive and make it through... and well, I received the pre-paid card you had kept for me in the drawer of your study. I will keep it on for an hour every night. But I hope this is not yet another of your jokes, and that you will really call me one of these days...”
Parth put an arm around Melody. She was fast asleep, with her head on his shoulder. He looked at her, looked down at her tear stained face, and an ever-so-small smile danced on his lips, even as his eyes filled with tears. He looked out of the door and saw the fast-receding railway tracks in the moonlight, running parallel to the track their train was on. His mind went back in time and a small voice in his head read-out to him the letter he had read and re-read several times before leaving it in his parents’ room, on their bed.
“... I don’t know if I have done the right thing Papa. But doing it felt right enough. I know you want the very best for your son Papa and that you would have had me marry a nice girl from a good family. But I love Melody. I know she is not going to live for more than a year, and I know I am going to be alone after she dies. But just think about Melody. If I had abandoned her, she would have crashed. And so would have I. I didn’t choose to elope Papa. The choice I made was to be with her and be happy for a short time, over abandoning her and being unhappy for the rest of my life. I know you may perhaps never understand my decision; that you will find it unreasonable that I waste my life for a happiness that is so short-lived. But sometimes you have to do things in life. There is no reason; you just have to do them. Melody is my Fate, and I want to take my chances. If you have ever loved anyone from the bottom of your heart you will someday understand me..."
‘Well, we certainly can’t do anything. At least till Dada is back,’ her father said, and everybody else in the room nodded in agreement.
‘But how are we going to break the news to them when they do get back?’ her mother said.
‘Parvati calm down,’ Riddhima’s grandfather said. He turned to look at his younger son. ‘When is Nikhil supposed to be back?’
‘Dada is coming back tomorrow Baba,’ Rohan answered his father. ‘He will be here by seven in the morning. Mala tar Wahinichich kalji wattiye,’ he said. I’m more worried about Wahini.
‘Don’t worry about them,’ Baba replied. ‘You take Parvati and Baby back to your room, and all of you get some sleep. We are going to have a long day tomorrow.’
Riddhima tore her eyes open as she heard Baba mention her. She got up as her father took her mother’s hand and walked to her. She held his hand and the trio walked back to their room.
Rohan lay in his bed, looking out of the window, a thousand thoughts crowding his mind…
“... this shouldn’t have happened. But then, who can stop the inevitable?... Dada-la itkyanda bolun pan... (Even after telling Dada so many times)... kids become rebellious. And then Melody wasn’t a bad girl. And Parth and Melody were both mature, and they were adults by law. Had Dada treated the issue with just a little bit of more sensitivity, maybe Parth wouldn’t have eloped with the girl...”
Baba looked at his son, his daughter-in-law and his grand-daughter as they walked back to their room. He heaved a sigh. He took his specs off.
“Why did you do it Parth? Couldn’t you come and speak to your Baba at least, before doing something like this? Have I not supported you, and helped you out of situations, and reasoned with you when I thought you were wrong? Did I ever force anything on you? Did I not help you solve things between you and your father?... Yes. Most certainly what you have done today is wrong... but at the same time, I guess I have no right to say this either... hadn’t I done quite the same thing as a young man? I can’t condemn you... but I had no ‘Baba’ to stand by me. You had one... why didn’t you trust me? Or anyone of us for that matter? I believe we have failed as a family... for you found it easier to confess into your friends and take them into your confidence than us... I guess we have failed... Yes. But still... you shouldn’t have done this Parth...”
Riddhima tip-toed out of her room and peeped into her parents’ room. They were fast asleep. She tip-toed back to her room and shut the door. She turned the light over her study-table on and took her diary out of its drawer and started writing.
“God! Eeeee! I don’t believe this. I so can’t believe this! Is it really happening? I like Melody... she is such a nice girl! And you two look so good together! But Kaka is going to be mad at you... really mad. You have any idea what you have gotten yourself into Bhaiyya? Its like, a part of me is very very happy for you. But a part of me is very worried too. I mean... surely there had to be some other way! Maybe you could have convinced Kaka. We could have worked out something... anything! There had to be a way! But God! This is so romantic! Just like QSQT! And as much as I hate you for leaving like that and not telling me and involving me in the planning, I am happy for you... I pray you will survive and make it through... and well, I received the pre-paid card you had kept for me in the drawer of your study. I will keep it on for an hour every night. But I hope this is not yet another of your jokes, and that you will really call me one of these days...”
Parth put an arm around Melody. She was fast asleep, with her head on his shoulder. He looked at her, looked down at her tear stained face, and an ever-so-small smile danced on his lips, even as his eyes filled with tears. He looked out of the door and saw the fast-receding railway tracks in the moonlight, running parallel to the track their train was on. His mind went back in time and a small voice in his head read-out to him the letter he had read and re-read several times before leaving it in his parents’ room, on their bed.
“... I don’t know if I have done the right thing Papa. But doing it felt right enough. I know you want the very best for your son Papa and that you would have had me marry a nice girl from a good family. But I love Melody. I know she is not going to live for more than a year, and I know I am going to be alone after she dies. But just think about Melody. If I had abandoned her, she would have crashed. And so would have I. I didn’t choose to elope Papa. The choice I made was to be with her and be happy for a short time, over abandoning her and being unhappy for the rest of my life. I know you may perhaps never understand my decision; that you will find it unreasonable that I waste my life for a happiness that is so short-lived. But sometimes you have to do things in life. There is no reason; you just have to do them. Melody is my Fate, and I want to take my chances. If you have ever loved anyone from the bottom of your heart you will someday understand me..."
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
A LETTER
DEAR TAI,
Congratulations! Heartiest congratulations on your wedding, and may God bless you and Jiju with his choicest of blessings.
I am sure you didn’t expect to get a ‘gift’ from your younger sister today, and definitely not a letter. But then, it is the best I have to offer. What else can I give you? I don’t work or earn! Hee hee…
The first time Dad told me you are getting married, I was stunned. For a moment, all was lost to me, and I was lost in nothing. And then suddenly, I was smiling ear-to-ear and hugging Dad tightly. I was so happy! Ecstatic! And even more so when he told me you are marrying Sanjay. I was so pleasantly surprised! You wont believe me, but in that insane moment, I tried to imagine marrying one of my school friends; God! I went crazy rolling with laughter. But I was so happy for you… really. ‘It must be the best thing to marry your friend,’ I thought to myself… atleast that’s what I think. But then, I’m only 16, so I maybe wrong. But I’d like to believe I’m right; it makes life so much easier.
I was very nostalgic the day Dad told me about your marriage. I found it pretty surprising, and I shocked myself with what I felt about your wedding. I mean, I never saw much of you, but then, you are my real sister after all, even if we don’t live together, and never will perhaps. And now I was not going to be able too see you at all; what with you migrating to Switzerland. I am going to fight with Jiju over this some day…
I have always wanted to have a real sister or a real brother. I used to look at you and Dada, and my heart used to fill with envy. And I used to hate myself for envying you. I used to be so excited when we met at all our family get-togethers. Really! Even before Dad told me about us being real brothers and sisters__ about us being real siblings__ you were always special to me. I don’t know why. On the very few and extremely rare occasions that you’d come to live with us, I would be so fascinated! I used to copy everything you did. I used to get up and laze in the bed. I used to sit in my window, close to you, with my toothbrush in my hand. I used to shake my head left-right vigorously after my bath. You’re hair was shorter than mine, so it was ok for you. But my waist-length hair used to get entangled so badly, Mom used to really have a tough time untangling them, and I used to often get a slap or a rap on my back for my stupidity. I never used to cry.
I remember the night very clearly when Dad told me about us. I remember his exact words, and how shocked and surprised and confused I was. I tried to make head or tales of what he had told me for a long time. So many of my questions had been left unanswered… Why you and Dada didn’t live with us, when we were real brothers and sisters; why did you never even come to stay with us and play with me, atleast once in a while; why you didn’t call my Mom ‘Mom’ but called her ‘Maushi’… I struggled to try and understand why things were the way they were. I was too young to understand the situation. It was more like, I knew the situation, but didn’t know what it meant.
I never ever felt depressed though. Never. I was never ‘sad’ or ‘depressed’ or ‘angry’ or any of the things. I never for a moment hated Dad, or even you or Dada for that matter. In fact I felt more and more close to you, and I loved you and adored you and idolized you even more day-by-day. But I did feel deprived; very deeply deprived.
As I entered secondary school, I began understanding what it meant… us being siblings and not staying together. And that is when it really hit me. I felt so terribly deprived. It was like, I had a brother and a sister, a Tai and a Dada; but I could never tell it to anyone. I would always stumble when my new-made friends would ask me: So do you have a brother or a sister? Only briefly, but I would feel… awkward. And more often than not, I’d end up lying: Nope, I’m alone. And if my friend had a sibling, he or she would call me ‘lucky’; and if they didn’t, he or she would say ‘me neither; join the club!’ they’d say they were glad to be alone, and I’d nod, pasting a smile on my face.
Every time we all gathered for any festival or festivity, you would all talk about the fun you had as cousins; and the stuff you confessed into each other; and the way you covered up for each other; and I’d feel like an alien amongst my own cousins. You had grown together, and it seemed to me like I had tagged along. I had attached myself to a group of brothers and sisters whom I had nothing in common with. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I would always closely listen to you guys, and try and think what it must have been like. I tried to do stuff that would make you notice me and talk to me. I listened to English songs in hope that I would get to talk to you about them. I tried to adopt the several things you guys did to try and blend in with you and be a part of you.
But most of all, I always tried to be your younger sister Tai; your ‘kid’-sister. I always tried to bond with you. I loved you so much! I was in awe of you. I was fascinated by you; by the thought of having a Tai I could share my stuff with__ ear-rings, clothes, boyfriends, break-ups. I always wanted to be your ‘kid’-sister. But I never got to be.
Every time I was at your place, I’d go through your stuff and try to find out more about you; your likes, your tastes; so that I could adopt them and then probably have something in common with you that would help me strike a chord with you and make you think of me a little more and talk to me a little more and notice me a little more. I would go through the books you read__ Archie’s, Comics, Garfield, Sherlock Holmes__ I’d leaf through them. I never meant to pry through your stuff or take it Tai. I never ever meant to steal it! If I had known you did not like anyone going through your things I wouldn’t have dared to even look at your things. I wouldn’t have dared to enter your room. All I wanted was to be your sister and all I wanted was you to be my ‘Tai’. All I wanted to do was connect with you and feel at least for a moment that I had a sister; a real sister.
I was deeply hurt that day when you told Dad that you didn’t like me sneaking in your room. But I didn’t say anything. And unknowing to me I started detaching myself from you guys, from my cousins, from you. I started having my meals with Ajoba on the dining table when ever we gathered, instead of sitting among you guys and chit-chatting and having fun. I used to pretend to feel very sleepy after my meals and used to go off to the bedroom of whosever house we had gathered at and used to try and fall asleep. I had come to accept that I never was and probably would never be a part of your world; a world which you had all shared together as cousins, but which you were too old to share with me now. I never thought there would be a ‘generation gap’ between us, but that is what happened… to an extent. With you, the youngest of you all, being 9 years older to me, I was another generation for you guys, and I tried to accept it.
I am sorry. I am sincerely sorry for going through your stuff and for doing those things I did. But believe me, I never meant to be privy. All I wanted was to get to know you…
As I see you standing on the stage with Jiju today, I know you have changed. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your gestures. I can feel the aura that you seem to be radiating. I felt it the day when, on our recent get-together, you asked me why I had chosen to sit on the oldies’ side of the table in the restaurant and not with you guys; and it’s stronger than ever today. I can see that you have ‘come of age’ as they say…
I wish you all the luck and all the very best things in life. It is great to see you so happy, and I am happy for you. In fact, I am sure I am the happiest person in this wedding-hall right now; next to you and Jiju of course!
I have put a bet with Dad that I won’t cry when you leave. But I know I am going to cry buckets when I’m alone later in the day.
Don’t tell Dad though! Or I will lose the bet…
I love you! And I am going to miss you a lot…
YOURS TRULY.
Congratulations! Heartiest congratulations on your wedding, and may God bless you and Jiju with his choicest of blessings.
I am sure you didn’t expect to get a ‘gift’ from your younger sister today, and definitely not a letter. But then, it is the best I have to offer. What else can I give you? I don’t work or earn! Hee hee…
The first time Dad told me you are getting married, I was stunned. For a moment, all was lost to me, and I was lost in nothing. And then suddenly, I was smiling ear-to-ear and hugging Dad tightly. I was so happy! Ecstatic! And even more so when he told me you are marrying Sanjay. I was so pleasantly surprised! You wont believe me, but in that insane moment, I tried to imagine marrying one of my school friends; God! I went crazy rolling with laughter. But I was so happy for you… really. ‘It must be the best thing to marry your friend,’ I thought to myself… atleast that’s what I think. But then, I’m only 16, so I maybe wrong. But I’d like to believe I’m right; it makes life so much easier.
I was very nostalgic the day Dad told me about your marriage. I found it pretty surprising, and I shocked myself with what I felt about your wedding. I mean, I never saw much of you, but then, you are my real sister after all, even if we don’t live together, and never will perhaps. And now I was not going to be able too see you at all; what with you migrating to Switzerland. I am going to fight with Jiju over this some day…
I have always wanted to have a real sister or a real brother. I used to look at you and Dada, and my heart used to fill with envy. And I used to hate myself for envying you. I used to be so excited when we met at all our family get-togethers. Really! Even before Dad told me about us being real brothers and sisters__ about us being real siblings__ you were always special to me. I don’t know why. On the very few and extremely rare occasions that you’d come to live with us, I would be so fascinated! I used to copy everything you did. I used to get up and laze in the bed. I used to sit in my window, close to you, with my toothbrush in my hand. I used to shake my head left-right vigorously after my bath. You’re hair was shorter than mine, so it was ok for you. But my waist-length hair used to get entangled so badly, Mom used to really have a tough time untangling them, and I used to often get a slap or a rap on my back for my stupidity. I never used to cry.
I remember the night very clearly when Dad told me about us. I remember his exact words, and how shocked and surprised and confused I was. I tried to make head or tales of what he had told me for a long time. So many of my questions had been left unanswered… Why you and Dada didn’t live with us, when we were real brothers and sisters; why did you never even come to stay with us and play with me, atleast once in a while; why you didn’t call my Mom ‘Mom’ but called her ‘Maushi’… I struggled to try and understand why things were the way they were. I was too young to understand the situation. It was more like, I knew the situation, but didn’t know what it meant.
I never ever felt depressed though. Never. I was never ‘sad’ or ‘depressed’ or ‘angry’ or any of the things. I never for a moment hated Dad, or even you or Dada for that matter. In fact I felt more and more close to you, and I loved you and adored you and idolized you even more day-by-day. But I did feel deprived; very deeply deprived.
As I entered secondary school, I began understanding what it meant… us being siblings and not staying together. And that is when it really hit me. I felt so terribly deprived. It was like, I had a brother and a sister, a Tai and a Dada; but I could never tell it to anyone. I would always stumble when my new-made friends would ask me: So do you have a brother or a sister? Only briefly, but I would feel… awkward. And more often than not, I’d end up lying: Nope, I’m alone. And if my friend had a sibling, he or she would call me ‘lucky’; and if they didn’t, he or she would say ‘me neither; join the club!’ they’d say they were glad to be alone, and I’d nod, pasting a smile on my face.
Every time we all gathered for any festival or festivity, you would all talk about the fun you had as cousins; and the stuff you confessed into each other; and the way you covered up for each other; and I’d feel like an alien amongst my own cousins. You had grown together, and it seemed to me like I had tagged along. I had attached myself to a group of brothers and sisters whom I had nothing in common with. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I would always closely listen to you guys, and try and think what it must have been like. I tried to do stuff that would make you notice me and talk to me. I listened to English songs in hope that I would get to talk to you about them. I tried to adopt the several things you guys did to try and blend in with you and be a part of you.
But most of all, I always tried to be your younger sister Tai; your ‘kid’-sister. I always tried to bond with you. I loved you so much! I was in awe of you. I was fascinated by you; by the thought of having a Tai I could share my stuff with__ ear-rings, clothes, boyfriends, break-ups. I always wanted to be your ‘kid’-sister. But I never got to be.
Every time I was at your place, I’d go through your stuff and try to find out more about you; your likes, your tastes; so that I could adopt them and then probably have something in common with you that would help me strike a chord with you and make you think of me a little more and talk to me a little more and notice me a little more. I would go through the books you read__ Archie’s, Comics, Garfield, Sherlock Holmes__ I’d leaf through them. I never meant to pry through your stuff or take it Tai. I never ever meant to steal it! If I had known you did not like anyone going through your things I wouldn’t have dared to even look at your things. I wouldn’t have dared to enter your room. All I wanted was to be your sister and all I wanted was you to be my ‘Tai’. All I wanted to do was connect with you and feel at least for a moment that I had a sister; a real sister.
I was deeply hurt that day when you told Dad that you didn’t like me sneaking in your room. But I didn’t say anything. And unknowing to me I started detaching myself from you guys, from my cousins, from you. I started having my meals with Ajoba on the dining table when ever we gathered, instead of sitting among you guys and chit-chatting and having fun. I used to pretend to feel very sleepy after my meals and used to go off to the bedroom of whosever house we had gathered at and used to try and fall asleep. I had come to accept that I never was and probably would never be a part of your world; a world which you had all shared together as cousins, but which you were too old to share with me now. I never thought there would be a ‘generation gap’ between us, but that is what happened… to an extent. With you, the youngest of you all, being 9 years older to me, I was another generation for you guys, and I tried to accept it.
I am sorry. I am sincerely sorry for going through your stuff and for doing those things I did. But believe me, I never meant to be privy. All I wanted was to get to know you…
As I see you standing on the stage with Jiju today, I know you have changed. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your gestures. I can feel the aura that you seem to be radiating. I felt it the day when, on our recent get-together, you asked me why I had chosen to sit on the oldies’ side of the table in the restaurant and not with you guys; and it’s stronger than ever today. I can see that you have ‘come of age’ as they say…
I wish you all the luck and all the very best things in life. It is great to see you so happy, and I am happy for you. In fact, I am sure I am the happiest person in this wedding-hall right now; next to you and Jiju of course!
I have put a bet with Dad that I won’t cry when you leave. But I know I am going to cry buckets when I’m alone later in the day.
Don’t tell Dad though! Or I will lose the bet…
I love you! And I am going to miss you a lot…
YOURS TRULY.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
ANALOGY
‘But I have nothing to give you! My hands are empty!’
‘Not any more!’
I smiled as Jo slid her hand into Friedrich’s and they kissed under the umbrella as the rain poured down on them; and the picture blacked out and the credits started to roll. I kept staring at the TV-screen for a moment, lost in the world of ‘Little Women’… In a time when girls wore dresses that were hideously impractical and huge and made them trip over every time they tried to be elegant and walk… specially girls like Josephine March! I got lost in a world where boys actually meant all the things they said when they proposed a girl and asked her hand in marriage. I got lost in a world which though it existed only a few decades ago now seemed like eons ago.
I tried to imagine what life would be like in a world like that. I for sure would be a ‘Jo’; caught between someone I was and someone I wanted to be; clumsy and not much of a girl, or a ‘lady’… and with thoughts and questions like ‘Why do we have to marry at all?’ in my mind. But then, I realised, life wouldn’t be all that bad either; if it was going to end up in my meeting a ‘Friedrich Bhaer’! And also if it meant that I would be a published author for sure someday!
I came back to the present as the credits rolled out and the advertisements started. I quickly put the TV off, but not without hearing ‘Das saal se mera sathi’; Aaah! What a stupid stupid ad! (Sorry if you are an ardent SRK fan… actually no; why should I be sorry! I take it back!) I always hate it the way the commercials take away from all the aftereffect of a nice movie; especially a movie like the one I had just seen. That’s why I prefer seeing movies at the theatre. I cursed no one in particular and turned the TV off, the frown on my face refusing to go away. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to go back to Jo’s world, but with little success. But the frown sure did fade away in the process. I went to my room and shut the door. I propped onto the pillows on my bed, lying on my stomach. I looked out of the window, now the smile on my face refusing to go away. I could see a clear blue sky and the leaves of the almond tree planted in our parking. It had grown tall and I could almost reach out and touch a few of its leaves from my window. I looked at the leaves, now turning into a shade of bright crimson-orange red… quite similar to the shade of orange-red leaves I had just seen in the autumn of the Little Women’s world. I smiled. Again and again, my mind flashed back to Teddy’s proposal and to Friedrich’s kiss, in the opera, and outside Jo’s house. Suddenly a sher I had once received as an SMS came back to me…
Jisne hume chaha, usse hum chah na sake
Jise chaha, usse hum pa na sake
Yeh samajh lo dil tutne ka khel hai
Kisika toda aur apna bacha na sake
I don’t know why it popped into my mind at that very moment. The very next moment though, I found myself trying to see myself in place of Jo. I have always liked Jo the most, of all the four March sisters; probably because in ways more than one, she seemed to be my alter ego, my twin soul, running around the house shouting ‘Marmee’ every time she called out to her mother. I felt like he was addressing me when her father comes back from the army and addresses Jo as she flies into his arms as ‘The Wild One’. Jo, who lived in a world of her own where Vampires were a reality. Almost immediately I hoped though that my writing wasn’t as bad as Jo’s, or as bad as Friedrich made it out to be. I tried to decide which would be worse, it being bad, or it not being appreciated by a ‘Friedrich’; and my smile faded a bit as I realised there was no ‘Friedrich’ in my life… sigh… or was there? Yes… sure there was! I had found ‘my Friedrich’… yes I had. But he was miles apart at the moment… but then so were Jo and Friedrich at some point, right? And my smile grew wider than before at the prospects…
If only this one analogy, which was the only difference for the time, turned out to be true too, it would so be a happy ending… just like in the movie…
‘Not any more!’
I smiled as Jo slid her hand into Friedrich’s and they kissed under the umbrella as the rain poured down on them; and the picture blacked out and the credits started to roll. I kept staring at the TV-screen for a moment, lost in the world of ‘Little Women’… In a time when girls wore dresses that were hideously impractical and huge and made them trip over every time they tried to be elegant and walk… specially girls like Josephine March! I got lost in a world where boys actually meant all the things they said when they proposed a girl and asked her hand in marriage. I got lost in a world which though it existed only a few decades ago now seemed like eons ago.
I tried to imagine what life would be like in a world like that. I for sure would be a ‘Jo’; caught between someone I was and someone I wanted to be; clumsy and not much of a girl, or a ‘lady’… and with thoughts and questions like ‘Why do we have to marry at all?’ in my mind. But then, I realised, life wouldn’t be all that bad either; if it was going to end up in my meeting a ‘Friedrich Bhaer’! And also if it meant that I would be a published author for sure someday!
I came back to the present as the credits rolled out and the advertisements started. I quickly put the TV off, but not without hearing ‘Das saal se mera sathi’; Aaah! What a stupid stupid ad! (Sorry if you are an ardent SRK fan… actually no; why should I be sorry! I take it back!) I always hate it the way the commercials take away from all the aftereffect of a nice movie; especially a movie like the one I had just seen. That’s why I prefer seeing movies at the theatre. I cursed no one in particular and turned the TV off, the frown on my face refusing to go away. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to go back to Jo’s world, but with little success. But the frown sure did fade away in the process. I went to my room and shut the door. I propped onto the pillows on my bed, lying on my stomach. I looked out of the window, now the smile on my face refusing to go away. I could see a clear blue sky and the leaves of the almond tree planted in our parking. It had grown tall and I could almost reach out and touch a few of its leaves from my window. I looked at the leaves, now turning into a shade of bright crimson-orange red… quite similar to the shade of orange-red leaves I had just seen in the autumn of the Little Women’s world. I smiled. Again and again, my mind flashed back to Teddy’s proposal and to Friedrich’s kiss, in the opera, and outside Jo’s house. Suddenly a sher I had once received as an SMS came back to me…
Jisne hume chaha, usse hum chah na sake
Jise chaha, usse hum pa na sake
Yeh samajh lo dil tutne ka khel hai
Kisika toda aur apna bacha na sake
I don’t know why it popped into my mind at that very moment. The very next moment though, I found myself trying to see myself in place of Jo. I have always liked Jo the most, of all the four March sisters; probably because in ways more than one, she seemed to be my alter ego, my twin soul, running around the house shouting ‘Marmee’ every time she called out to her mother. I felt like he was addressing me when her father comes back from the army and addresses Jo as she flies into his arms as ‘The Wild One’. Jo, who lived in a world of her own where Vampires were a reality. Almost immediately I hoped though that my writing wasn’t as bad as Jo’s, or as bad as Friedrich made it out to be. I tried to decide which would be worse, it being bad, or it not being appreciated by a ‘Friedrich’; and my smile faded a bit as I realised there was no ‘Friedrich’ in my life… sigh… or was there? Yes… sure there was! I had found ‘my Friedrich’… yes I had. But he was miles apart at the moment… but then so were Jo and Friedrich at some point, right? And my smile grew wider than before at the prospects…
If only this one analogy, which was the only difference for the time, turned out to be true too, it would so be a happy ending… just like in the movie…
Thursday, March 27, 2008
THE GLINT IN HIS EYES
‘Collect your pictures in half an hour,’ the lady who had just taken my picture told me.
‘I hope there is no confusion,’ I said.
‘Yes ma’am; ten stamp-size copies and ten passport-size copies,’ the lady repeated my order.
‘Right!’ I said and smiled. She smiled back. I stepped out of the studio and walked down the stairs. I came out of the complex and took a deep breath. I looked at my watch. I had come quite a long way from my house to go back and come in the evening to pick up my photographs. Besides I could do with getting them early. I decided to spend some time in the Crossword outlet across the street while I waited for my pictures to be developed.
I crossed the street and entered the store. The blast of the cool AC-air felt like a blessing, with temperatures hitting 38 degrees. I deposited my hand bag at the counter and took the coupon. Stuffing it into my pant-pocket, I started walking towards the ‘New Arrival’ section.
Visiting book stores somehow leaves me feeling rejuvenated. Every time I look at the stacks after stacks of books, piled ceiling to floor, I can’t help but contemplate over the treasure that might be hidden in those millions and millions of pages. There could be stuff out there that could change my life forever, make me a believer of something, make me hate something; make me long for something… anything. The power of words. Words, words, words.
That’s probably why I always like to go to bookstores alone. It makes me feel great. Nothing makes me feel as great as after a visit to a bookstore.
And we come there to choose one out of thousands and thousands of books...
I read somewhere that its not we who choose; the book chooses its reader. It should be true. I like to try new authors. Somewhere I believe it’s our responsibility to give them a chance. Encourage them, buy their books; atleast give them a try. We spend so much money on so many things. It’s ridiculous that we should think and debate before spending a few bucks on a book, just because it’s not by Jeffery Archer or Agatha Christie or Stephen Hawking or Paulo Coelho. And even though it sometimes boomerangs, it’s ok. Atleast for me. I still keep trying new books. I read them and I pass them on among my friends... And just as the book chooses its reader, it also chooses when the reader is to read it. I could put aside atleast five books right now from the ones I have that I haven’t read at all, though I bought them a long long time ago. For whatever reason, they have been left untouched. A few days back, one of my friends borrowed one of these books from me, and she really loved it. And she was also very surprised I hadn’t read such a nice book. Now I have been given the ultimatum: Book padho, ya mujhe bhul jao! (Read the book or you can forget about our friendship!) Anyways…
I went from the ‘New Arrivals’ section to the ‘Indian Fiction’ section. One after the other, I read the titles and names of authors. Once in a few names, a name would make me pull the book out of the stack and look at its cover, then look at its back and then the first few pages. I read ‘praise for the author’ and wondered exactly how many people actually meant what they said. I put the book back in its place. Sometimes I put it elsewhere. I wondered who’d be the next to pick it up. After going through a number of books, I settled for just one (very uncharacteristic of me). I put it in the shopping-bag I got at the door and turned around. I went to the billing counter. The man took the book from the shopping-bag and kept the bag on a pile of several other shopping-bags. I drummed my fingers on the counter.
‘Two-fifty, ma’am.’
I patted my pockets and realised I’d left my wallet in my bag.
‘I’ll just go get my wallet,’ I said and left the queue. And just as I turned around, I saw a lady enter the store with a small boy. He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt with some abstract design printed in pink. His hair was an unusual reddish-brown colour. His feet were done in bright colored sports shoes. Within fraction of a second as mother and son entered the store, the boy’s eyes lit up. They grew big and wide and I saw a glint in his eyes. They were shining bright. The gleam was unmistakable. And even before the mother had a chance to say anything, the boy freed his hand from the mother’s grasp and ran inside the store, towards the kids section. My eyes followed him. He ran straight to the end of the store and stopped in front of the books section. I smiled and went back to the billing counter. I paid for my book, picked up my hand bag from the counter. Just as I was about to step out of the store, I turned around one more time to look at the boy. He was deeply engrossed in reading a book. My smile grew wider. I walked back inside and walked up to that boy. I got down and sat on my knees. I ruffled his hair (a habit I have. I always ruffle kid’s hair. Especially boys’). He looked up from his book, a bit confused. I smiled. He smiled back, but a little cautious.
‘You like reading?’ I said. He nodded. I reached inside my bag and pulled out an old copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’. I have a habit of carrying some kind of a book or novel with me when I go out. I opened the book and took the bookmark out; a typical sun-sign type. I held it out to him. He looked at it, then looked at his mother, who had now come and stood behind me. She nodded. The boy’s face lit-up with a big smile, and the glint was back in his eyes. He took the bookmark from my hand and looked at it.
‘Even my sun-sign is Sagittarius,’ he said and smiled.
I laughed. ‘Do you know what a sun-sign is?’ I asked. He thought for a moment, then counter-questioned me; ‘Do you know what it is?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Then why do you ask?’ he said.
‘Bhaskar! What happened to your manners?’ his mother scolded him as she walked over to him. The boy looked down at his feet.
‘No no! Please!’ I said. I ruffled his hair again. He looked up at me and smiled as I got up. I turned toward the mother.
‘I am so happy you brought him here instead of taking him to a toy-store,’ I said.
‘Oh he loves reading,’ the mother said. ‘I don’t like reading myself much, but I always encourage him to buy books. I guess it’s come to him from his grandfather.’
‘That’s really great,’ I said. I turned to look at him. ‘Bye Bhaskar!’ I said. Mother and son both waved at me as I finally walked out of the store. I then walked down to the studio and picked up my pictures which were now ready and drove back home.
For the rest of the day, my mind went back again and again to the little boy I had seen in the bookstore. I just couldn’t put his face out of my mind. The glint I saw in his eyes… It was pure and innocent. It was strong and full of hope, curiosity, happiness and a… a kind of positivenness that was so alluring... I was to meet my Professor in an hour regarding a project I was working on. I was sitting in his office. The kaka (peon) told me he’d take another fifteen minutes to come back from his meeting. Automatically my hand reached inside my bag and I pulled the copy of Wuthering Heights out. I shuffled through the pages and suddenly realised I had given the small boy my bookmark. I smiled as his face, his eyes popped up in my mind again; and instantly my face lit-up with a smile too. I opened the first page of the book and started reading it all-over again… glad he happened to me.
‘I hope there is no confusion,’ I said.
‘Yes ma’am; ten stamp-size copies and ten passport-size copies,’ the lady repeated my order.
‘Right!’ I said and smiled. She smiled back. I stepped out of the studio and walked down the stairs. I came out of the complex and took a deep breath. I looked at my watch. I had come quite a long way from my house to go back and come in the evening to pick up my photographs. Besides I could do with getting them early. I decided to spend some time in the Crossword outlet across the street while I waited for my pictures to be developed.
I crossed the street and entered the store. The blast of the cool AC-air felt like a blessing, with temperatures hitting 38 degrees. I deposited my hand bag at the counter and took the coupon. Stuffing it into my pant-pocket, I started walking towards the ‘New Arrival’ section.
Visiting book stores somehow leaves me feeling rejuvenated. Every time I look at the stacks after stacks of books, piled ceiling to floor, I can’t help but contemplate over the treasure that might be hidden in those millions and millions of pages. There could be stuff out there that could change my life forever, make me a believer of something, make me hate something; make me long for something… anything. The power of words. Words, words, words.
That’s probably why I always like to go to bookstores alone. It makes me feel great. Nothing makes me feel as great as after a visit to a bookstore.
And we come there to choose one out of thousands and thousands of books...
I read somewhere that its not we who choose; the book chooses its reader. It should be true. I like to try new authors. Somewhere I believe it’s our responsibility to give them a chance. Encourage them, buy their books; atleast give them a try. We spend so much money on so many things. It’s ridiculous that we should think and debate before spending a few bucks on a book, just because it’s not by Jeffery Archer or Agatha Christie or Stephen Hawking or Paulo Coelho. And even though it sometimes boomerangs, it’s ok. Atleast for me. I still keep trying new books. I read them and I pass them on among my friends... And just as the book chooses its reader, it also chooses when the reader is to read it. I could put aside atleast five books right now from the ones I have that I haven’t read at all, though I bought them a long long time ago. For whatever reason, they have been left untouched. A few days back, one of my friends borrowed one of these books from me, and she really loved it. And she was also very surprised I hadn’t read such a nice book. Now I have been given the ultimatum: Book padho, ya mujhe bhul jao! (Read the book or you can forget about our friendship!) Anyways…
I went from the ‘New Arrivals’ section to the ‘Indian Fiction’ section. One after the other, I read the titles and names of authors. Once in a few names, a name would make me pull the book out of the stack and look at its cover, then look at its back and then the first few pages. I read ‘praise for the author’ and wondered exactly how many people actually meant what they said. I put the book back in its place. Sometimes I put it elsewhere. I wondered who’d be the next to pick it up. After going through a number of books, I settled for just one (very uncharacteristic of me). I put it in the shopping-bag I got at the door and turned around. I went to the billing counter. The man took the book from the shopping-bag and kept the bag on a pile of several other shopping-bags. I drummed my fingers on the counter.
‘Two-fifty, ma’am.’
I patted my pockets and realised I’d left my wallet in my bag.
‘I’ll just go get my wallet,’ I said and left the queue. And just as I turned around, I saw a lady enter the store with a small boy. He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt with some abstract design printed in pink. His hair was an unusual reddish-brown colour. His feet were done in bright colored sports shoes. Within fraction of a second as mother and son entered the store, the boy’s eyes lit up. They grew big and wide and I saw a glint in his eyes. They were shining bright. The gleam was unmistakable. And even before the mother had a chance to say anything, the boy freed his hand from the mother’s grasp and ran inside the store, towards the kids section. My eyes followed him. He ran straight to the end of the store and stopped in front of the books section. I smiled and went back to the billing counter. I paid for my book, picked up my hand bag from the counter. Just as I was about to step out of the store, I turned around one more time to look at the boy. He was deeply engrossed in reading a book. My smile grew wider. I walked back inside and walked up to that boy. I got down and sat on my knees. I ruffled his hair (a habit I have. I always ruffle kid’s hair. Especially boys’). He looked up from his book, a bit confused. I smiled. He smiled back, but a little cautious.
‘You like reading?’ I said. He nodded. I reached inside my bag and pulled out an old copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’. I have a habit of carrying some kind of a book or novel with me when I go out. I opened the book and took the bookmark out; a typical sun-sign type. I held it out to him. He looked at it, then looked at his mother, who had now come and stood behind me. She nodded. The boy’s face lit-up with a big smile, and the glint was back in his eyes. He took the bookmark from my hand and looked at it.
‘Even my sun-sign is Sagittarius,’ he said and smiled.
I laughed. ‘Do you know what a sun-sign is?’ I asked. He thought for a moment, then counter-questioned me; ‘Do you know what it is?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Then why do you ask?’ he said.
‘Bhaskar! What happened to your manners?’ his mother scolded him as she walked over to him. The boy looked down at his feet.
‘No no! Please!’ I said. I ruffled his hair again. He looked up at me and smiled as I got up. I turned toward the mother.
‘I am so happy you brought him here instead of taking him to a toy-store,’ I said.
‘Oh he loves reading,’ the mother said. ‘I don’t like reading myself much, but I always encourage him to buy books. I guess it’s come to him from his grandfather.’
‘That’s really great,’ I said. I turned to look at him. ‘Bye Bhaskar!’ I said. Mother and son both waved at me as I finally walked out of the store. I then walked down to the studio and picked up my pictures which were now ready and drove back home.
For the rest of the day, my mind went back again and again to the little boy I had seen in the bookstore. I just couldn’t put his face out of my mind. The glint I saw in his eyes… It was pure and innocent. It was strong and full of hope, curiosity, happiness and a… a kind of positivenness that was so alluring... I was to meet my Professor in an hour regarding a project I was working on. I was sitting in his office. The kaka (peon) told me he’d take another fifteen minutes to come back from his meeting. Automatically my hand reached inside my bag and I pulled the copy of Wuthering Heights out. I shuffled through the pages and suddenly realised I had given the small boy my bookmark. I smiled as his face, his eyes popped up in my mind again; and instantly my face lit-up with a smile too. I opened the first page of the book and started reading it all-over again… glad he happened to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)