The Divine Intervention - Part Three - The Insignificant One

Read Part One and Two the story before reading this part.

Barney

It was a beautiful winter morning. The sky was clear, and the sun shone brightly.
The cold morning air hit against my face.
I smiled. I was feeling light, happy and liberated.
I had nothing to hold me back. The open road ahead was calling out to me.

The bike drove excellently. It was nothing like the small bike I used to ride at hostel. I wished I could call my friend Arnob, who was a biking freak, and tell him about this bike. Then I remembered that I had promised myself that I was not going to keep in touch with any of the college guys.

I didn’t face much problem riding the heavy bike. I mean, despite its heavy weight, it was very easy to ride.

We rode silently, with Barney sitting quietly behind me.
Occasionally he made me stop the bike. He would get down; take out his huge sophisticated camera, and then he would take a long time adjusting the lens of the camera, checking out the light. I realized this old man was just like me, and how interested he was in admiring the beauty of the nature.

I asked Barney where we were. I mean I had got down from the train at a strange place, and had walked the whole night in the dark. Then I had driven for about an hour on a bike. I had no idea where the hell I was.

He quickly replied that we were somewhere in Orissa, somewhere near to a town called Sambalpur.
“Good” I replied. “We can fix your leg there”.

We reached Sambalpur in another half an hour.
It was like any other small Indian town, lazy and dirty. The market place was crowded with all kinds of people.

We found a doctor’s clinic in the market.
The doctor confirmed my fears that it was a broken leg. He plastered the leg, and told Barney he should take fifteen days rest, and that he should not put too much pressure on his leg.
Barney looked at me and winked. I just smiled back at him.

We hung around in the town for a little while. We had our lunch in the market. Barney paid for me. I didn’t even object. Hell, how could I object? I had no money. Barney must have guessed my situation. But he didn’t ask me about my past, and I too didn’t tell him anything about it. All that we knew was that we were two strangers from different countries, but we shared the same enthusiasm for travelling and nature.

He bought a few other stuffs for me, a riding jacket, a helmet, riding gloves, and a small tent.
‘He must be stinking rich’ I thought to myself. Why else would somebody pay for a stranger who he wasn’t even sure would stick with him throughout the journey?

After lunch we visited some nearby temples; the Samaleswari Temple, The Leaning Temple of Huma and the Ghanteshwari Temple. Barney was excited about each of them, and kept clicking photos with his camera. I wasn’t too impressed with them. I mean they were all old and everything, but they were just temples.

Then old Barney said we should start moving again. The famous Hirakud Dam was just fifteen kilometers from Sambalpur.

Barney was over the moon to see the world’s largest earthen dam.
The Hirakud was amazing. I mean, it made me feel proud of my country. Hell, it was the first major multipurpose river valley project started just after India's independence. My people weren’t so lazy and useless after all.

I had just read about the Hirakud in geography books. But standing in front of it was something else. It was massive! Maybe more than twenty five kilometers in length.
After that we started moving again. Our next target was to reach the Kumarbandh village in the Belpahar-Banharpali range before night fall. It was around ninety kilometers from Sambalpur.

We reached Kumarbandh in the late evening. Barney told me about an island called Cattle Island at one of the extreme points of the Hirakud Reservoir.

“Cattle Island? What kind of name was that?” I asked

“The island is actually a submerged hill, and before the construction of the Hirakud Dam it was a developed village. During the resettlement period, the villagers left some of their cattle behind; when the dam construction was over, the cattle settled on the hilltop” Barney told me.

I was amazed. I mean, wasn’t I supposed to be the local guy here? It was the foreigner who was educating the local guy about his own country.

We left our bike near the reservoir, and hired a boat to reach the island.

Barney started conversing with the boat man in his strong accented Hindi. I smiled at myself. At least he is trying to belong here, trying to be a part of our language and culture. And what we did was try and ape them, trying to copy their accent, their culture, their food, their way of living. The irony of the situation made me smile.

The boat man was telling Barney “The nearby area filled up with the reservoir water, turning the hilltop into an island. The cattle were now wild, very swift and not easily caught. Living on a hilltop with dense forest, they are larger than your tame cattle. Almost all of them are white in color.”
The boat man was acting like our guide.

“Sometimes we try to capture these animals from time to time, but these hunts are rarely successful.” he said.

“These animals provide a contrasting picture of their breed returning to life in the wild. Nature is strange” Barney commented with a sigh.

Anyway, that was much of my first day with this stranger from a different part of the world who had befriended me. He had actually saved me from destructing myself.

Sometimes I still think about this spirited guy, what he meant to me, what was his importance in my life.
I mean he was a rich guy, and must have been to many different countries in the world. In each of these countries he must have met hundreds of different people. I wonder when he thinks about all his adventures all over the world, would he still remember me? Was I significant enough in his life to remember me? I will remember him forever in my life. But would it be the same from his side?

Maybe not. Maybe that’s why he used to take so many photographs; to help him remember.

Ok. So that was the first day with Barney. I ended up travelling with him for over a month. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind. We would spend a few days at some place. And when we felt like it, we would decide our next destination.

This is my story, and I don’t want it to sound like a stupid travelogue. So I won’t get into the details of the journey.

But let me tell you the places we covered over our one month journey.

After Sambalpur our next stop was at Varanasi, the holy place of the hindus in India. Varanasi was six hundred and eighty five kilometers from Sambalpur. And the ride along the NH2 was the best I had ever travelled on.
Barney just loved Varanasi. We stayed there for five days. Barney would follow the other hindu devotees in their deep in the holy river. I was not too enthusiastic about washing my sins in the river, but he forced me to do it. Then we would seat with the holy man. Barney would smoke weed with them. Then they would talk about God, religion, duty and other intellectual shit. I would not take much part in it, just offering a few of my own views here and there, but listening and learning for most of the part.

our route

From Varanasi we travelled to Allahabad which was just a hundred and thirty kilometers from Varanasi.
Barney was amazed at how holy the hindus considered the meeting point of the three rivers. We spent a few days camping at the Triveni Sangam, the confluence of the holy rivers Ganges and Yamuna, and the ancient Sarasvati River.

Then we travelled to the ancient city of the Nawabs, Lucknow.

I had stayed in Uttar Pradesh since my childhood, and I was ashamed that I had never travelled to this city. God, the people here are damn lucky. I had never in my life tasted anything that was even remotely as tasty as the Kakori Kebabs, Galawati Kebabs, Shami Kebabs, Boti Kababs, Patili-ke-Kababs, Ghutwa Kababs and Seekh Kababs that I tasted here. These dishes left an ever lasting taste in my moth. I have never ever been able to enjoy non vegetarian food of any other place, after I had tasted these dishes of heaven.

After Lucknow, Barney wanted to visit Kanpur, my home town. It took a lot of convincing and lies on my part to convince him to skip this city.

We skipped Kanpur, and directly reached Agra, the city of the impressive Taj Mahal.

Needless to say, Barney went crazy here. I guess there was not even a single angle of the Taj from which Barney must not have taken a picture.

While riding to Delhi, Barney whispered in my ears “Ab Delhi dur nahi” (Delhi is not far).

I thought about it, and made my decision.

At our next break, I told Barney about my decision. I would not be able to accompany him any farther. I had reached my destination.

He showed the slightest sign of regret for the smallest second, and then smiled at me, and gave me a hug.
He didn’t ask me why I wanted to stop at Delhi. Good thing though. I would not have been able to reply to that one, for I had not the slightest idea what I was going to do there.

So we said our goodbyes at Delhi.
Barney told me he was going to travel as far as Leh in the extreme north of India. Then he would sell the bike, and maybe go to another country.

I suddenly had an idea.
“Hey, can you give me a call when you want to sell your bike. I might think about buying it from you”.
“Sure. Give me a number where I can call you” he said.

I hesitated. I didn’t have any contact number.
“I will contact you. Give me your number”, I said.

He laughed. “Boy, are you stupid? You travelled with me for over a month. Do I ever stay at one place for too long? I don’t have any contact number. That is the bottom line, right? I just don’t want to be followed wherever I go. It is just me and my bike”.

Now tell me, how could you not admire a guy who could say things like that?

Anyway, that was the end of my jourmney. But my story isn’t finished yet.
The initial one month in Delhi was the hardest in my life, even harder than the days I had to endure studying the engineering subjects. I was always hungry, tired and frustrated.

But I never cried. I never complained.

I had learnt better. After jumping the train, the course of events in my life had taught me enough. Life was a journey. We just have to keep on travelling. Sometimes we might take a wrong turn and end up at a dead end. But we always have the option to take a reverse, and find another road.

I finally landed a job at a call center.
I didn’t like the job, but I needed it.

At the same time I also developed a fascination for photography. I wanted to know why Barney loved photography so much.

I would work at the call centre at night, and attend a photography class during the day.
I guess I just had the knack for photography, because it was easy for me. I just loved it. Not like the engineering studies I so used to hate.

When you love what you are doing, you put all your heart and soul into it.
I soon managed to save enough to be able to buy a Nikon SLR. That was my first camera.

After that it was relatively easy.

I soon started taking photographs all the time. I would sleep with my camera. Even during eating I would check out how the food on my plate looked through the lenses.

When you put your all in one thing, you are bound to succeed. My first photo of the sun set soon won the first prize in a local photography competition.

After that there was no looking back. Very soon various photography and travel magazines were publishing my photos.

And I got a good price for my photographs too.
So I decided to quit the call centre, and devote my entire time and energy to photography.

Very soon I was also writing travelogues for various travel magazines all over the country.

Yes, I also got in touch with Barney.
Thanks to the internet, I soon found out that he was a very famous photographer of France. I got his email address, and dropped him a mail.

The old fella remembered me!

That was enough for me.

It has been six years now since I jumped that train.
I am twenty five now. And I am rich and famous. Not as stinking rich as Barney. But I am happy and independent.

I have my own Royal Enfield now. And I travel with it all over the country. And the funny thing is I get paid for it too.

I get paid for what I love doing.

I sometimes get invited to speak at colleges and corporate bodies. They pay me for listening to me speak shit about my life. They say it is inspiring for the students and the employees.

I am always surprised.
Me?
My life serves as an inspiration to people? Me, who once thought of ending his life, me, who jumped from the train because he had no idea, what to do with his life, or where to go.

If my life could be an inspiration, I am damn sure your’s would be even better.
Just believe in yourself, and follow your dreams.

Yeah, yeah, I know I sound corny now, just like those fat successful sons- of- bitches who used to lecture us just because they were successful and we were not.

But I have earned that privilege, don’t you think so?

Yeah, and the next time you see a photo in a wildlife or travel magazine, signed ‘Amc’, and you start wondering how lucky the photographer must be, just tell yourself that this guy once considered himself to be a loser, big enough to think about ending his own life.
 
      Signed
  Yours truly
      Amc


   - Concluded

The Divine Intervention - Part Two - 'On the Road Again'

Read Part One before reading Part Two of the story 

I sat there, in the dark, crying.

What have I done? What had I done to my life?
Why was I struck here?
Why am I the way I am?
How did I reach this stage in my life?

I had screwed up big time.
I kept telling myself that I was special, different from the others, but the fact of the matter was that I was a big time loser, who could never fit into this society. I was a runaway kid, a kid nineteen years of age, who had no idea what he wanted to do in life, who had an ego as big as the earth itself.

I will never survive here. I am a loser. I don’t deserve to live. I would do myself and this world a huge favor by ending my life.

I sat there for half an hour, crying. I just cannot tell you how I was feeling at that moment.
Some moments just cannot be described. You have to live those moments yourself to understand them.

I used to be the top ranker in my class at school. How did I ever get myself into this situation in life?

At that moment, something extraordinary happened. Something inside me stirred, and I could hear a voice in my head.

‘What are you doing, boy? How can you ever think like that?’

I was in a trance. I could not feel anything, just the booming voice in my head.

‘You are here for a purpose. There is a plan for you too. You are part of a larger master plan. Don’t give up now, boy. Good things are in store for you. Just keep walking. You will get there eventually.’

I never believed in God. I mean, I never showed any disrespect to God, but I never asked anything from that supreme power. I trusted my instincts more, and believed finally I would get what I wanted.

I wondered if this voice in my head was actually God.

I had no answer. But something in me had changed. I stopped crying. I felt a new fresh surge of power in me.

I had no idea what I was thinking, or what I was going to do. I just knew that I should not give up now. I had to keep walking.

Yes, that’s what I will do, I will keep walking. I will reach somewhere.

I looked into my wallet. There wasn’t much cash left.

I got up, and started walking towards the train track.

I started walking beside the track. The full moon in the sky helped. It made it less scary.
But I was still scared. Sacred of the dark, scared about my safety, scared of the future.

‘Being scared is a good thing, boy. It tells you that you still love yourself and worry about your welfare’ the voice in my head boomed again.

There wasn’t even a light in sight. There was darkness as far as I could see. The cries of the insects and the animals in the jungle caused goose bumps on my skin. The cold weather too did not help much either. And I had left my jacket on the train.

I kept walking.
Don’t ask me how long I walked. I don’t know. I didn’t have a watch to tell me what time of the night it was.

I just kept walking, as if I was under a spell.
I felt no pain; I was not tired even after walking for hours.
Damn, if you ever felt the way I was feeling at that moment, you would forget pain and all.
But you have never felt like that, ever, so you will never understand from where I got the strength to walk that far.

Have you ever felt like if you don’t do something, you are no longer going to live? Like when you are new to swimming, and your instructor throws you in the middle of the pool, you know you just have to keep on paddling, even if the cold water enters your moth, your nostrils, and the water reaching your lungs. You just have to keep on paddling to see the light of the next day. You had no other option.

That was my situation then.

Anyways, I kept walking, and after what seemed eternity light dawned in the sky.
It had been years since I saw the sunrise. At the hostel I used to go to bed only hours before the sunrise.

It was beautiful, the way the dark slowly gave way to light, as if the giant screen at the movies was being lifted, to revel the more beautiful and delicate things behind it.

I finally saw a man far across the paddy fields, coming out to do his morning business.

I was never so happy to see another fellow human being ever in my life. All my hatred and feeling of superiority over other humans just evaporated. It was like I had seen someone after being marooned on a deserted island for years.

I waved and shouted at him, laughing and jumping like a mad man. He saw me, but felt he needed some time alone for his private business early in the morning.

I wasn’t angry with him or anything. I felt like a changed person. I was happy. I was excited about the journey ahead.

I decided to get off the rail track. I jumped into the field beside the track. The thick thorny bushes hurt my skin, but I was still happy. It was like I was intoxicated, and felt no pain, only ecstasy.

I walked slowly across the field of thorny bushes. Finally I could see the road now.

I climbed out of the field, brushed myself, and got on the road.

It was like I had just been released after spending years in the jail.

The weather was fine, and I felt hungry now. But I still could not see any hotels or anything.
I kept walking, with my tummy growling.

There was still no sign of anyone on the road, no man, no vehicles.
I kept walking for about an hour more.

Far away in the distance I could now see the outline of a man. Something near him glittered in the sun.
I smiled to myself, and walked faster.

It was a man. An old man. And his bike.

A blonde man, maybe a European. He was an old guy, maybe around sixty.
He was wearing a pair of shorts, and a shirt thrown loosely over his body, just like all Europeans dress up when in India. He had a pony tail tied behind his head.

He was sitting on the ground beside his bike. I could see that he was hurt.

I walked closer to him, and said ‘Hi’.
He looked up at me with suspicion. But the eagerness to meet some one must have clearly shown on my face, for he slowly gave me a crooked grin.

“Hello. Good morning”. He said that in Hindi.
“Wow! You speak Hindi?” I said in Hindi too, excited about something related to my country, after a long time.
“Yes, I have been living here for over two years now”, he said.
“Why? You work here?” I asked.
“No. I just love this country. I am travelling all over the country on my bike”, he said with a smile.

I smiled. Here I was, cursing, and hating every little thing related to this country. And here was this old guy, who had come from some other part of the world because he loves it here. I felt a strange feeling of pride in my heart. I had never felt proud about my country before.

I asked him if he had a cigarette. He offered me one, and I sat down beside him.

We started talking. His name was Barney. He was a sixty two year old French guy.
He had been in India for almost two years now. He had traveled the whole of south India, on his Royal Enfield Classic.

I asked him why he was travelling like this. I mean I thought he was one of those guys who travel all over the world with a message of peace, acting as if God himself had sent them to be the prophets of mankind.

No. He was travelling, just for the heck of it, just because he enjoyed it. He travelled at his own leisurely pace, halting and staying in the small villages, mixing up with the villagers, and then moving on to his next destination when he felt like.

Last night while travelling on this road, he met with an accident, and had hurt his leg. From the grimace on his face, I feared he might have broken it.

He asked me about me. I didn’t feel like telling him my story. I mean you could not tell a free and liberated person like Barney about your loser story. He would laugh at your face.

So I told him that I was just travelling with no particular destination in mind.
That brought a smile on his old face.

“Want to join me, boy?” he asked.

That’s what I love about these people. If it had been some person from my country, he would not have talked with a stranger in the first place, let alone invite him to join on a journey together. Barney was the kind of person I admired, and I wanted to be like him.

I thought about it. I had no better option in front of me. Maybe this was the ‘good thing’ in my life that the voice in my head was talking about.

“How do you intend to travel with that broken leg of yours?” I asked him.
“Oh, its nothing. I have had worse things happen to me in my life while I was in the Army in France”, he said with a smile. My respect for this old guy increased ten fold.

“Can you ride a bike?” he asked me.
I thought about it. I used to ride a 100 cc bike at the hostel. It seemed like a toy in front of this 500cc monster bike.

“Yeah. But I have never driven such a heavy bike. I don’t know” I was confused. I mean I weighed only fifty kilos. The thought of controlling this 180 kilo bike just scared the shit out of me.

“Come on boy. It’s not about how heavy the bike is. It’s how you control it”, Barney said with a hand on my shoulder.

I have never forgotten that line of Barney in my life ever after. In the face of extreme danger or trouble I reminded myself that it did not matter how big the danger was. What matters is how I face the situation.

“Ok”, I said. “So where are we going?” I asked with a smile.
“No idea. You tell me where you want to go”, he said with another big smile.

I loved this old guy. I just adored him.

“Ok. Let’s ride then”, I said and jumped up.
“Lead the way, boy”, he said, and I helped him get up on the bike.

This is going to be fun, I thought to myself. It was time to leave the past behind me.

    - to be continued -

The Divine Intervention - Part One - 'Cobwebs in the Head'

The stupid train was finally pulling out of the station.

It was over half an hour late.
Why can’t the trains in this stupid country ever leave on time? Everything in this damn country is slow, the people, the cars, the public transport system, and even the economic growth.

I just hope I can get out this god-forsaken country as soon as possible.
I just can’t bear to be here any longer. The whole damn system here is so rotten, right from the bureaucratic system, to the thinking of the people.

We Indians are easily the biggest losers in the whole world. We dream of being counted amongst the super powers of the world. Hah, what a joke! We are light years away from being a Super power. With the kind of thinking that my people harbor, we can only dream of that. And changing a person’s thinking is easily the slowest progress in human kind’s history.

And the problem is if you don’t think just like the other clowns here, you are blamed, and called ‘A fool, an idiot, a nincompoop, who just doesn’t deserve to live in the society’.

What these idiots don’t understand is that a person could be just ahead of his times.
He could be way too wiser than you all, to be a part of your moth-infested society, your crap country.

But that’s where the problem lies. I was way ahead of this age.
I wasn’t born to live and die like the other losers in this country, living from hand to mouth, running after money, having dozens of children, and dying neglected and soon forgotten.
I was here to be remembered even after I was gone, and I will make sure of that.

The train stopped again, just five minutes after leaving the platform.

I leaned outside from the window of my sleeper class coach, trying to get some fresh air to cool my mind.
Instead a weft of shit-smelling air found the way through my nostrils. I almost vomited.

I saw a few beggar boys, small kids, about six or seven years, playing beside the tracks, their dirty smelly clothes just not enough to preserve their self respect. The government did nothing for them, did nothing to help their parents. Come to think of it, their parents too must have deserted these stupid dirty boys here in the first place.

A man ran beside the tracks now, just below my window, trying to get up on the train. How on earth did he ever dream of getting on the train with that child in one hand, and that dirty bag in the other hand, only he knew? His four other children and his wife ran after him, the mother of the five children hitting the child in front of her, to make him move faster, like a farmer hitting his bullock to make them move faster.

Damn this country! Damn its people!

Damn the education system! Damn my college for throwing me out!

How could they ever throw out somebody like me out of the college?
I mean, does it really matter so much if a person could not use all those stupid instruments to draw some stupid drawings in Engineering Drawing? Does it really matter so much if a person could not understand the Heat Expansion, or the Theory of Thermodynamics, or for the matter calculate the stupid forces on each hand of a stupid metal frame called Truss?

I know I use the word ‘stupid’ quite a lot.

But who cares about heat? Who cares about some stupid metals? Who cares about pulleys and gears?
Are there not more interesting things on this earth? Why can’t a person find more interest studying the flight of a bird in the sky, or the first bloom of the flowers, or the melting of the mountain snow, or spend the evening studying the strange colors of the setting sun?

Are they not more interesting?
We live on this beautiful earth, we live just this once.
So why would one want to waste his time studying non living things, instead of admiring God’s work?

They threw me out because I could not clear those stupid subjects even in the third attempt. They marked ‘Not Fit for Technical Education’ on my mark sheet, as if I cared the least about their stupid education.

I didn’t need teachers. I could teach myself. I had always been a bright kid even at school.

I liked my school. They gave us free periods. They taught us music, gardening and horse riding.
I liked being in the open, under the sky. I felt suffocated in the classroom. Even at home I used to spend more time on the terrace than in my room.

The ‘Father of the Nation’ came inside the coach, and gestured for his huge family to sit on the seat opposite me. There was already an elderly couple sitting there. The man politely asked them to adjust a little. “Just for two stations, tauji”, he said, putting up his best smile.

How on earth did he expect his huge family of seven to sit there, only he knew, or maybe God.

But his smile and his polite request worked wonders. The old couple moved closer, trying to accommodate the others. The old man even made one kid seat on his lap.

What is wrong with these people? Why can’t they just say ‘No’ sometimes?

This was too much for me. I put down my book, knowing very well that I would never be able to read with this circus in front of me.

I needed a smoke.

I got up from my seat, and walked with great difficulty trying not to step over the twelve pairs of legs around me.

I reached the door.
The train had finally picked up good speed, but knowing my country well, I was sure this speed won’t last till a long time.

No one was there near the door, which was quite an unlikely sight in India, where there is always a family travelling near the door, because they could not manage to get the tickets at the last moment.

I lit my cigarette.
I took a long puff, and leaned out of the door. The fresh country air was refreshing.
I took another drag from my cigarette, and noticed the ‘No Smoking’ board near the door.

The full moon was up in the clear sky. It was just the kind of night I liked to spend on the hostel terrace. The fog and mist had slowly started enveloping the air. The cold air pinched my face and hands. But I liked the cold, and very rarely would I ever put on my jacket. Even in the cold winters of Uttar Pradesh, I would sometimes go out without a sweater or jacket. I always believed that it was what you think in the mind that makes your body react to the situation. If you think ‘hot’ your body won’t even know that it was cold.

I felt a hand on my left shoulder. I looked back, and immediately dropped my cigarette, which I was holding in the other hand, outside the train.

It was a police man.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a stern voice.
“Nothing. Just standing here” I replied in an indifferent voice.
“Smoking here, huh? Don’t you know it’s a punishable offence?” He must have been thinking about the five hundred rupees fine he would now be forking out from me.

Stupid man.

I was much smarter than him. I have been in this situation a hundred times before.
“No. I wasn’t smoking.” I said, showing him my empty hands.

He could do nothing, the helpless idiot, until he caught me red handed with the cigarette. He watched helplessly as the last of the smoke from my previous puff from the cigarette accompanied the smell of tobacco around me.

He knew he had missed his chance. He made a face, and watched the five hundred rupees slip out from his hands. He walked away, sounding a warning to me not to smoke again.

The loser, I thought and smiled.

The train had slowed down now.

It was pitch black outside. The train had stopped in the middle of nowhere.

Damn the trains of this country. Why can they never run like normal trains? Why do they always run at the speed of a bullock cart?

I didn’t want to get back to my seat, and watch the faces of those stupid kids again.

I got down from the train.

I could see other inquisitive and eager minds get down from the other coaches, trying to find out what was wrong. There was no red signal ahead. Maybe the train driver felt like peeing, and stopped the train. He was free to do any damn thing in this stupid country. It wasn’t really his duty to run the train on time. If someone misses some important meeting, or suffers a financial loss because of him, wasn’t really his problem. He was in a free country, and could do anything he wanted to do. The constitution of the country gave him this freedom.

I stood there for over five minutes. The driver wasn’t really in a hurry to move.

‘What the hell is the problem of these people? May this country rot in hell’.

The train had stopped in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t even a light in sight as far as I could see. Tall trees were on both sides of the tracks. He had stopped the train right at the start of the forest area.

I took out a cigarette. I hadn’t been able to finish my last one because of the stupid policeman.

I walked a little farther away from the train, and stepped over the edge of the forest.
I lit my cigarette, and took a few more steps.

I would not be reaching Kanpur before tomorrow evening, if we continue to travel at this rate.

Come to think of it, what better would it be even if I even reach there on time? I just could not face my uncle. I just could not. How would I tell him that I had been kicked out of the college? Not that it would make any difference to him. I don’t think he would even bother if he found out that I was murdered the last night.

After my father died in that accident in the factory three years ago, all my uncle had done for me was just lend me a small room at the back of his house. But he was regular in sending me the three thousand rupees on the fifth of every month. Three thousand rupees, that’s all.

I tried to remember the face of my mother. I could vaguely remember her face. I was just two years old when she had died. I did not even have a photograph of her.

I sat down on a piece of rock, under the trees. It was quite dark there, despite the full moon in the sky.

I heard the train blow a whistle.

‘What am I thinking? What would I do after going back to Kanpur?’

The train blew another whistle, and I could hear the slow and steadily building thrust of the heavy engine.

‘I cannot go back there’.

The sound of the engine told me that it was picking up speed now.

‘Why would he even allow me to stay at his house?’

The long whistle of the train from a far away distance broke the silence of the night.

I realized I had just let go of my past along with the train.
Maybe my future too. Along with my entire luggage.


      - to be continued  

The Race

Life is a Race, God is your end point.

Came into this world with a special feeling,
A feeling that you are special, and sent here for a reason.
With all the attention and care, you think yourself to be a prince,
And that your life will never change with the change in season.

Blessed by everyone, cared by all, you spend your time
Playing with the trees, under the clear blue sky.
Nothing much to do, you slowly get tired of your life,
Need some change, spread your wings, and try to fly.

You open your eyes, and look at the distant crowd ahead,
And realize, you are late, it has already began, The Race.
You are young and confident; and will catch up with them,
You believe everything in the world you are ready to face.

Stretch your every nerve, prepare for the race ahead,
With dreams in your eyes, you trust yourself with reasons good,
The start is good; you are fresh and cover good distance,
Life is easy, just the way you told yourself it would.

Running a long time, your mind starts to have second thoughts,
Keep going, almost there; just a little way ahead it lay.
Your heart is with you, but your body now starts to bleed,
And they try to hurt you, those Scary faces along the way.

Your body burns, the blood gushing through your veins,
The pain is unbearable, and you gasp for that one last breath.
And one day you find He is already here, blocking your way,
His face scary, with an axe in his hand, you have finally met Death.

Standing outside the gates of Heaven, you are confused and scared,
Your dream unfulfilled, your heart shattered with the unfinished song.
He had sent you, the divine power, your Creator,
You are confused, and ask him what went wrong?

You were special, and different from the others,
Not following the crowd, your own path you had to take,
Pursuing other’s dream, you wasted your time,
When an entirely different story, I had, for your sake.

The Rich Man's Woe

If you could see beyond his expensive suit

He is rich, famous and well known.

Everything in the world he owned.

Everything a man could ask for,

But his heart sometimes still moaned.

He stood there, watching,

Over the beautiful garden outside his house, grand,

Wearing his branded evening wear,

The expensive gold ring shining in his hand.

In his personal garage, the boy now cleans

His pride, his fleet of seven Cars.

Again The strange thought crosses his mind,

Bringing to life, his heart’s same old Scars

He tries to avoid them, but again

He thinks about his past, his life.

His childhood, his school, his youth,

The day he had first met his wife.

He feels strange, he feels alone,

Holding in his hands the glass of his expensive wine,

His mind races back, reminding him

The days of his youth gone by, the days fine.

He remembers his books, his toys,

The days spent in the company of his friends.

Amidst all the money and gold,

Feel lonely, his heart sometimes tends.

He shivers, and feels cold,

The cool sea breeze sweeps across the floor,

Even after all the fame and money,

His heart still asks for more.

What good is all his riches, he thinks,

And wipes from his eye, that solitary tear,

This loneliness, this pain,

Is much more than what his old heart can bear.

If only God gave him another chance,

To turn the pages, and Go back in his life, old,

For the company of his good friends,

Happily, he would give up the all world’s gold.

A Free Soul

Life is like a 5-speed bike. Most of us have gears we never use.

I am the happiest man in the world,

As a felling of ecstasy grabs my Heart,

I put on my jacket, and my gloves,

And with a kick, the throbbing engine does Start.

With he tank full, and the backpack over my shoulder,

The hills calling, I start my journey Long,

The sound of the heavy engine stirs my soul,

I am free, and I break into a Song.

The Sun rises slowly in the sky,

And the morning air, cold, pinches my Face.

I leave the crowd far behind, I am finally free,

So lucky to have come out of that Race.

The truck driver now gives me way,

I return a grateful salute, with a wave of my Hand.

With a smile I look back in the mirror,

And leave my past behind on that last road Bend.

I think about the past,

It is gone, And I feel bad for my Boss,

Poor fellow, If only he had read me better,

He would never have suffered this Loss.

I look farther back,

And in my mind I remember my teacher, Old.

His books and lessons wasted,

Coz’ to the road, I have now my soul Sold.

The thunder of the heavens breaks the silence,

The sky opens, and down now comes the Rain.

Washing away my past, my mistakes,

And making me free from that sharp Pain.

No money, No idea about the future,

But tell me, the future Who has Seen?

But one day proudly I can tell my kids,

The Free Soul that I had once Been.

Note from the Author
This one is dedicated to all those wonderful free souls with whom I have ever had the pleasure of riding,
and to all the Riders of the Free World.

A Letter to Myself

Life is tough. And the sad thing about it is that it moves very fast.

It seems only yesterday that you were fighting with the neighbor’s kids in the mud, wearing that brown shorts and white vest. Mom would soon come out screaming, trying to break you away from the other ruffians.

It seems only yesterday that you used to save each penny you got to be able to buy that new comic book. And you were the happiest kid in the world when you were finally reading that colorful comic book, full of those super cool antics by the super heroes.

It seems only yesterday that you used to climb up that mango tree in the back of
your  house with your sister, and sit there for hours,  enjoying the sweetest fruit in the
planet. Doesn’t it seem like only yesterday that you fell from the tree and broke your
leg, and had to be taken to the hospital, with Mom scolding you  continuously
on the way?

Life moves quickly. And before you know it, you have had your heart broken a million
times, had grown a beard and began to realize that people are selfish, and that the
friends that you were once so close to were not the greatest people you had ever
known. You  soonrealize that the job that you are stuck with wasn’t even remotely
near to the wonderful  work you thought youwould be doing to become a
famous man.

We all make mistakes in our life, mistakes which we realize only when it’s a little
too late. And at that moment we wish if only we could get a chance to relive those
moments again. We know that we would have never made those mistakes again.
If only we had a chance to send ourselves some sort of a warning from the future.
As we grow up we learn from our mistakes, and become wiser. If only we could
use some of this experience to avoid those mistakes in the past.

It would make for an interesting read, if we could write a letter to ourselves back
into the past. Long, would be the list of mistakes we would warn ourselves from
making. It would be different for each living person. I am sure my letter would be
quite interesting too.

If I could send a letter to me when I was five I would warn myself not to take that
box of matchsticks from Dad’s coat pocket and begin testing each stick trying to
see if I could light a fire. I would tell myself not all matchsticks were bad, and they
could catch fire, and end up burning my tiny fingers. And the bed-sheet too!

I would tell myself not to test the depth of my nostrils using that piece of chalk.
I would tell myself you had no idea how that harmless looking piece of chalk
could prove to be so painful.

If I could send a letter to myself when I was six I would tell myself how important
the piece of paper on which I was painting my master piece was in fact a very
important official document for Dad.

God, and the near blind -experience, how could I ever forget that? I would
definitely save my eyes from my younger sister’s nails when she put out her hands
harmlessly while riding the old tricycle, and ended up scratching the white of my
left eye. God, how could I still be so cool about all the attention that I received at
that time, while Mom was praying her heart out to God to save her only son from
becoming blind.

I would tell myself not to lend my favorite blue Racing car to my sister. I would
warn myself that all she wants to do is check whether she could hit the branches
of the Gulmohar tree with my toy car. And no, my racing car was not unbreakable,
as written on the box.

If I could write a letter to me when I was eight I would tell myself not to lend my
copy of the   Jungle Book to that tall and strong kid in our class. I would tell myself
you have no idea how painful it could be when he lands a blow on your nose when
you go and  accuse him of borrowing your Jungle Book two weeks ago. ‘Your nose
is much more valuable than the book’ I would tell myself.

If I could write a letter to me when I was ten, I would tell myself to stay longer at our
grand parents’ home during the summer vacations. You wouldn’t have them with
you  forever, boy. Little do you know how badly you could miss eating a fresh ripe
mango with your grandpa. Or how much you would miss sitting with your grandma
in the sun  in the backyard of the house during those cold winter mornings.  

I would tell myself you might feel bored now when Mom asks you to go and collect
the olives from under the olive tree in the backyard. But ten years from now you
could kill just to get one more chance to see that olive tree again, under which you
have had so many family picnics during numerous New Year Eves.

I would tell myself not to get too excited when the local kids cheered me on during
the cycle race down the slope of the hill. It hurts very badly, and moreover it is very
embarrassing when you fall over the edge of the slope into the front yard of the
house where that pretty little girl from your school lived.

When you are a twelve year old kid, you think very highly of yourself. You think it
would be very heroic and cool when you jump from the roof of the house after
Mom gets angry and removes the ladder. You just can’t imagine for how many
days your ankle could pain after you land on the hard concrete path below.

I would tell myself not to read the comic book during study hours at home. You
think you are the cleverest kid in town when you put that comic book inside the
Science text book, and read it only a little too attentively for Mom to realize that
her son was being too abnormally quiet and patient while studying today.
The thrashing you got. Plus the sorrow of your comic being torn to pieces right
in front of your eyes is just too much to bear.

When you are a fourteen year old kid, and have just recently been taught about
electricity at school, you think it is a piece of cake to cut the wire of the electric
cable of the television which Dad had moved to the store room for the entire
month, just so that your elder sister could concentrate on her board exam studies.
But your urge to play Super Mario and watch the score of the cricket match
overweighs your fear of your Dad’s wrath. You don’t have any idea what
Dad’s thrashing, along with the electric current shock from the television electric
cable could do to you.

It is amazing how you could learn to respect Mishra Sir, Mousami Miss and
Rashmi Madam so much in later years for forcing you to read those stories in
your English textbook, or solve Grammar problems, or for the matter read that
novel she had forcibly made you borrow from the library. You have no idea wha
t she is trying to do is make you fall in love with the language, and how much
you would be grateful to them in your older years for making you
learn to love literature so much.

I would have told myself not to write all those rubbish dialogues in the school
diary. You could easily forget what you had written on its front page before
submitting it to Principal Madam for signing that Absent leave record.
When you are fifteen year old, and have learnt a few new dialogues in English,
you feel it is very cool to write them down in the school diary, just to impress
your friends. And later when asked to write an apology letter I would have
strictly struck to normal English usage words, instead of adding a few more
newly learnt English slangs in it. Oh, you have no idea how offended you class
teacher Bipasha Madam could be after reading your apology letter. She would
find it so offensive that your Dad will have to be called to school the next day.

I would have encouraged myself some more to try and keep alive the Blue Star
Club that I and a few other friends had together established. I would have told
myself that you had no idea what you were ignorantly doing is cultivating a very
good reading habit both in yourself and in your friends, when you spent hours in
the outhouse at the back of your house which you and your friends had turned
into the Club office. You are also, without any formal training in Management
courses, slowly but surely learning the tricks of management and financial
management.  If only you had not allowed your personal differences come in the
way of the Club.  It was fun organizingthose Club meetings on those lazy Sunday
evenings in the Club office. Mom’s tasty snacks added some more favor to those
evenings.

If I had any idea, I would have never allowed myself to sleep on that fateful night.
It would not have made any difference to me if I had lost only one night’s sleep.
At least Mom might still have been alive today. Maybe if you had stayed awake
by her side that night, you would nothave to live with the memory of spending
alone that dreadful hour with your Mom’s lifeless body in that empty hospital
room, for  the rest of your life. Maybe you would not have to remember the
doctor  telling you to return those medicines that he had just asked you to bring
from the  pharmacy.

I wish I could tell myself that it you don’t have to make yourself so tough that
you could not even talk about Mom with anyone anymore. I wish I could tell
myself that it is ok to cry sometimes. You just don’t have to be so hard on
yourself that you change as a person.

If I had any idea about the future I would have surely told myself not to follow
others blindlywhen they start preparing for those tough Engineering Entrances.
If I could respect my instinctsmore clearly like in later years, I would have told
myself to listen to my heart more freely. You will realize it only later how it feels
to be struck in some profession to which you can not even remotely relate to,
and feel kind of pity for yourself and your colleagues.

I would have stopped myself every time I lost my temper on my dad when
he scolded me, or said something harsh. You will realize it only when you
are a little older that he had only yourinterests in his mind, and that his every
action was  directed at your own benefit. You have no idea that the man on
whom you are losing your temper now, you would one day learn to respect
the most in the world, and feel amazed at all the things he had seen in his life.
Youjust can not understand  how he could see everything so clearly, think so
quickly, and foresee the future so  vividly. You will see that one day you would
seek his advice at the smallest problem  in your life in later years.

I would have told myself that there is no use loving that person so much with all
your heart. She will never respond to it. It will never work out. She would go
away one day. I would have taught myself to feel grateful to her when she said
that there is no way it could ever have worked out. I would have told myself to
listen to my friends when they warned me that I was only hurting myself in the
process. I would have told myself that one day you would be relieved that this
thing didn’t work out, and that it  was foolish to let yourself change so much just
for the sake of that one person.

I would end by saying that I know you feel defeated, dejected and sad. But trust
me;  you haven’t seen the best as yet. I wish you would worry less, and enjoy 
your present. You are living in the best of your times. Time and tide wait for none,
and once these precious moments are gone, they will be gone forever.

Life has its own strange ways of making us learn things, which we otherwise
refuse to learn. Some things in life we are in charge of, other things we have
no control over.  It is foolish to let ourselves worry so much about things we
have no control over.  It would be more helpful if we could instead channelize
all our energy thinking about the things we can control.

The other things we should just preserve in the back of our mind, as Memories,
both sweet and bitter. 

 Note from the Author  This one is dedicated to all those people who have 
ever come  across in my life. Thanks a lot to everyone of you for being part
of my memories. And a big thanks to my friend Khanirup for making me listen
to  Brad Paisley songs which inspired me to write this piece.

  

The Cobbler Boy - Part 2

Read Part 1 before reading this part

Part 2

The police reached there after half an hour.

By then Ravi had got all the information about what had happened from other people standing nearby. A big crowd had gathered there. Ravi could hear the Bank Manager cry out loud like a baby.

He had been robbed. It was a bank robbery, in broad day light.

Just when the vehicle that had been loaded with the money to be sent to the nearby Milk Dairy for the worker’s monthly pay, two men, one with a gun, snatched the keys from the driver of the vehicle. Even before the security guards could react, the younger one drove away with the older cripple, and they ran away with all the money.

People were drawing their own conclusions from the scene.
‘The cripple could not drive. That is why he brought his son along to drive.’ somebody said.
Another one said ‘They escaped with crores of rupees’.

Ravi felt bad for the Bank Manager. He was a good man. Mister Mouse and his son had to be caught. The Manager should not suffer such a huge loss because of them.

The police came and, squared off the area, and dispersed the crowd. They talked with the bank Manager for a long time. The man was still crying.

The police then started asking questions to the people who had gathered around.

People gave the description of the two men. Soon the Police artist arrived, and tried to draw an impression of the two men. But no one could give any more description than that one was a cripple, and the other was a younger man. Both of them were wearing masks.

‘Why do they need to see their faces? Can’t they just search for a cripple and his son’, Ravi thought. He had not seen their faces, but he felt he knew the two men very well.

Ravi thought whether he should tell the policeman about what he knew. But then decided that it would not be of much help to them. He hardly knew anything else, other than the description other people had already given.

He came back to his shop on the pavement.

His mind was still on the two thieves, who had been talking in front of him just an hour ago.

 People were still talking about the robbery. In the nearby tea stall people had gathered, and were offering their own views about the whole episode, some of them not at all true.
No one was listening to the radio that was playing in the tea stall. Only an hour ago people had gathered there to listen to the cricket commentary on the radio. Now it was just playing in the back ground, no one even bothering to listen to the commentary.

“V.V.S is still there. This man is India’s crisis man. How many times he has rescued India right from the mouths of defeat. He is definitely Very Very Special.”

Ravi sat down on his wooden stool.

“And looks like he is going to save this test for India too.”

‘Oh, Laxman is playing such a fine innings, and no one is even bothered now. What a waste. This test perhaps will be saved’, Ravi thought.

Then something striked in his mind. His eyes lit up. He sat there for a moment, thinking. The hair on his hands stood up, as he linked the dots.

He got up and ran towards the Bank Manager.

The hawildars stopped him before he could reach the Manager.

“Get back, boy”, one of them said, and pushed him back.

“Sahib, Sahib”, he shouted at the Manager.

The man saw him, but didn’t respond.

“Sahib I think I know where the thieves might have gone.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing. The Police Inspector immediately caught him, and took him inside the Bank.

“What do you know? Tell us, boy.” the Inspector said.

“Sahib, I think I know their hide out”, Ravi said.
“Where?”

“I can’t tell you the direction. I am blind.” Ravi said.

The expectant look on the faces of the Manager and the Inspector dropped.

“But I can take you there”, Ravi said. “But you will have to walk with me slowly, and let me count my steps. I can’t tell the direction in your Police vehicle”.

“Yes, yes. No problem. Take us there.” the Manager said.

“How do you know where they are?” the Inspector was still skeptical .

“I will tell you after you catch them. What if I am wrong, Sahib?” Ravi had started enjoying all the attention that he was getting. What the Police had not been able to solve, he had done it in minutes.

After half an hour the strange procession of the blind cobbler boy leading the group of police men started. People watched as the Inspector held the boy’s hand, and the entire police force walked silently behind them.

Ravi walked silently, counting his steps. He thought about what would happen if he was wrong.
‘Will the police lock me up in jail if I am wrong?’ he thought.

He could not be wrong. He knew that place very well. He had been there several times. He remembered the strange smell there. The same smell on Mister Mouse’s shoes. He knew he was right. He could not be wrong. But he still kept on praying silently to God.

The group followed Ravi silently, as he took a turn on the road.

From far away they could now hear the distant hum of a thousand voices shouting, and cheering all at once.

Ravi kept walking. The hum grew louder and louder with each step he took.
He stopped right outside the stadium. The sound inside was deafening.

‘Guess Laxman completed that double century’, Ravi thought to himself.

“I guess we are in front of the Gate of the stadium?” he asked confidently.

“Yes. Gate number sixteen”, said the Inspector.

“I would not know that”, Ravi said with a smile.

Ravi slowly led them through the gate. He kept counting his steps silently.

He kept walking. Finally he stopped near the parking lot. He counted fifty eight steps towards the left. He put out his hand, felt the branch of a tree, held it, and started walking a few more steps. At the end of the branch he started counting loudly “Twenty-twenty one, twenty two.”

 “There. Are we in front of a huge wooden door?”
“Yes” said the Manager.

“They are inside.” Ravi said, and smiled.


Epilogue

“Tell us Ravi. How did you solve the whole thing?”

They were all back at the bank. It was already dark outside. Ravi wanted to go home. His mother must be getting worried.

The Manager was very happy and was distributing sweets to all his employees, and the police men.

He offered another sweet to Ravi, for like the hundredth time.

“It was the clay. The smell of the clay actually.” Ravi began.

“It is a special kind of clay. They bring it from some other part of the country. They use it to build the batting pitch. When laid properly below the grass, it makes a good bouncy pitch. It is very sticky, and has a strange smell.”

The other people were dumb-struck at the knowledge of this poor blind cobbler boy.
There was silence in the room.

“Arrey Sahib, I used to work there earlier. I helped in the unloading of the clay from the truck. And then I helped in laying the clay on the pitch. They paid well, and sometimes I got to hear the voices of our Indian players too. What more could a blind boy ask for?”

Ravi took a bite on the sweet.

“And then one day they threw me out. They said I could not work properly; because I am blind.”

“Today when I was polishing Mister Mouses’s shoe, I found the same smell on his shoes, the same sticky substance. At that moment I could not place it. But after the theft, when I heard the cricket commentary on the radio, I remembered something the younger man had said about meeting after the test. I suddenly realized he was talking about the test match between India and Australia. ”

“And after that, the smell, the clay, and the clay store house, everything came back to me. I knew they must either be hiding in that store house, or they must be workers there.”

“Yes. Both of them were grounds men at the stadium. They helped in building the pitch, and maintenance of the outfield. They had full access to that clay storehouse. After we arrested them both, they confessed that they had thought that since the match was in progress, there would be no use of that store house now. They felt it would be the perfect hiding place for the bank vehicle. No one had access to that door, except them. They were waiting for the test match to get over, and the crowd to disperse. And then they would move out the vehicle to a safer place. But we caught them just before they could move out, thanks to Ravi”. The Inspector said and looked proudly at Ravi.

Ravi looked out of the window. He listened to the vehicles running on the road outside, their horns blaring. He could feel that it was getting darker outside.

“Sahib, I need to go home. My mother gets worried if I get too late.” he said.

“It is dark outside, son. I will drop you home.” The Manager said.

“It is okay Sahib, I will forget the way to my home if I go in your car. I am used to walking in the dark. It does not make any difference to me whether it is day or night.”

And the blind cobbler boy collected his things, and started walking away, disappearing into the darkness of the night. But the feeling that he had done a good deed brought some light in his dark world. He smiled as he walked, proud of himself, proud of his abilities and inabilities.

  - concluded 

The Cobbler Boy - Part 1

Prologue

It was a hot summer day.

The hot July sun of Delhi beat down hard on the city, making it unbearable to stay outdoors. The hot air blowing across the city made things even worse for the city dwellers.

There were very few people in that small street of old Delhi at that time. Most of them preferred to stay indoors to save themselves from the harsh sun. The homeless too were having their afternoon siesta, satisfied at having been able to buy themselves a lunch after their long day of hard work.



Part 1

Fourteen year old Ravi sat alone on the corner of the street. He had had almost no customers the whole day. Only the lady with that sweet fragrance had come in the early hours of the morning. Ravi had to stitch her sandals for her. They were in a very bad shape.

He thought about the lady. She had the most beautiful voice. And that smell she wore, it was the sweetest he had ever smelt. She must have been quite well off. He knew those kind of perfume did not come cheap. He remembered the extra two rupee she had paid him. Maybe she felt bad about his condition.

‘I wish I could see her face. She must have been beautiful’, thought Ravi.

But just like other times, when he wished he could see like normal people, he let that thought vanish quickly.

God had not given him the gift of sight. He was blind since birth. But he was gifted with other strong senses. His mother always used to tell him that he was special, that he was God’s favorite child. Other people could only wish to have the other qualities that he had been gifted with.

Ravi smiled. He knew he had other qualities which made up for his loss of sight. He had a strong sense of smell. Once a smell found its way up through his nostrils, and reached his brain, it remained imprinted there forever. He would never forget that smell ever in his life. And he had the most amazing hearing power. He could hear a sound and instantly draw conclusions about its direction, intensity and various other personal traits of the source of the sound. And just like his smelling capability, once he heard a voice, he could recognize that voice over a hundred other voices, even after years.

But right now Ravi was bored. It was a lazy afternoon. Even no one from the government bank in front of which he sat on the footpath had come today for polishing their shoes. It was the last day of the month, and they were very busy. It was pay day for many government organizations today, and the bank had to send money to many organizations.

On other days he would have at least four to five customers from the bank. The manager of the bank was a regular customer. He would park his car every morning sharp at nine, get down from his car, and come to Ravi for a shoe polish. He was one of Ravi’s favorite customers. He had the most amazing collection of shoes. And Ravi could tell which shoe he had worn that day just by listening to the sound the sole of his shoe made when he stepped onto the pavement. Sometimes he too would pay Ravi an extra rupee or two.

Today even the manager had left in a hurry. He had got down from his car, and Ravi could make out the hurry in his foot steps, as he listened to the footsteps go farther away from him towards the bank.

Ravi yawned. He was feeling sleepy. And he was hungry.

Just when he decided it would be better to sleep than stay awake hungry, he heard foot steps. Heavy foot steps. They were coming towards him.

He listened intently. There was something strange about the sound of the footsteps. There was a small pause after each foot step. Very small pause. Anyone other than Ravi would not even have noticed the peculiarity. Maybe the man walked with a limp, or he was very fat.

The foot steps didn’t stop near Ravi. They went past him, and Ravi let out another sigh.

‘There goes another potential customer.’

He decided to sleep.

As he was getting ready to lie down on the foot path, he heard the foot steps again. They had stopped just a few feet from him. Silence. Then they started again, as if the man was lost or uncertain where to go.

Ravi listened for about a minute. Then they approached towards him.

“Boy. How much for a shoe polish?”

It was not a vey deep voice. A squeaky voice. Like a mice speaking in a human voice.
‘Not a fat man’, Ravi thought to himself.

“Five rupees, sir”, Ravi replied.

He heard Mister Mouse take off one of his shoe, and have a little difficulty as he stood on one leg for three seconds, before stepping into the spare sandal Ravi had kept there.

‘Definitely a cripple’, Ravi thought to himself as he collected the shoe from the man.

Ravi felt the shoe. It was a big size. Maybe a size eight. A leather imitation. Not pure leather. This could only be a black color shoe.

Ravi took out the black color shoe polish.
He heard the man light a match stick. And then there was the smell of burnt tobacco.

‘Goldflake, small’, Ravi concluded, as he started polishing the shoe.
‘Not a rich man’, thought Ravi, thinking about the leather imitation shoe, and the three rupee cigarette brand.

There was a strange sticky substance beneath the shoe. It smelled odd.

Ravi knew he had smelled it somewhere before. He just could not remember where. He could not even place what the sticky substance was.

He let it go. He knew he would remember it sooner or later. He hardly ever forgot a smell.

Ravi made no effort to protect his shorts from the sticky substance. They were already dirty. He kept the shoe on his lap, and went on polishing the shoe furiously.

The man got up. Ravi could hear him walk impatiently on the pavement.

‘What is his hurry? Can’t he even wait for a moment? How long does it take to polish a shoe?’ Ravi thought angrily.

He hated customers who could not wait patiently and always seemed to be in a hurry.

He stopped for a moment. There was another pair of foot steps approaching. This one was a normal, heavy one.

They came closer. No. Not a leather shoe. Maybe a canvas one. Not of his interest.
He got back to polishing the shoe.

The new set of foot steps stopped just near him.

“Where the hell were you?” asked the squeaky voice.

“Just nearby”, replied the new voice. A deep voice.

‘A medium built man’, thought Ravi. This one seemed a much younger man.

“We are getting late. I have been waiting here forever”, said the older man.

‘Liar. He has not even been here for five minutes.’ Ravi thought and smiled.

“Yes? That is why you waste your time getting your shoe polished?” the younger one said sarcastically.

‘Getting your shoe polished is not a waste of time, you moron’, Ravi thought of telling the younger man. He tapped on the wooden box twice to let the man know that he was done with that shoe. The man took the shoe from his hands, and handed him the other one.

“Shut up. And get ready. It’s almost time.” Mister Mouse commanded.

“I am always ready” said the other one in a confident voice.

“Meet me there after it is over.”

“No. After the test.”

“What? How can you think of the test at a moment like this? You are useless. Why did I ever bring you here with me?”

“So go by yourself. I don’t mind.”

“Shut up.”

“You Boy, hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”

“Yes, saheb. Almost done”, Ravi said.

He hurriedly gave a few more strong strokes to the shoe, and handed it over to Mister Mouse.

The two men walked away.

‘Strange men’, Ravi thought, and lay down on the footpath. Very soon he was fast asleep.

He was woken up by a loud noise. A bang.

Ravi sat up on the pavement. There was a lot of confusion in the air. People were shouting and Ravi could hear the sound of many running footsteps. People were running in all directions. He again wished he could see like the others.

There was another loud bang. Ravi had never heard this sound in his life. It sounded like a big Diwali cracker had just burst very near him.

“Give me the keys. Give me the keys”, he heard.

‘God! It is Mister Mouse.’ Ravi suddenly remembered the squeaky voice. But the voice didn’t sound funny any more. It sounded dangerous.

‘What is he doing?’ Ravi thought.

There was another loud Diwali cracker burst.

“Get into the car. Get into the car”, Mister Mouse seemed very nervous, and excited.
“Drive. Drive.”

Then there was the sound of the wheels squeaking on the road, as the smell of gun powder and burnt rubber filled the air.


   - To be continued

Me against the World - a poem

I was standing there on the edge of the world,
With nothing below, but the roaring Sea.
There was no one there, I was alone,
Just my loneliness and Me.

A strong breeze now started blowing,
Shaking me right from the Inside,
I am the King of this World,
With none of my lowly country men Beside.

In the distant sea, I could see a little ship,
Slowly disappearing from Sight,
‘I am the King of this World’,
I shouted with all my Might.

The sky became dark, and opened up,
A flash of lightening, And the Thunder of the Gods.
From the Heavens they now let me know,
They were not happy with my Challenge with the Lords.

It was just me against them, Me against the World,
They were all lowly Beings.
And I was their King, big and strong,
Look, now even the Battle Eagle for me Sings.

Somewhere along the Journey of Life,
A friend once said ‘Life is a State of Mind.
You are what you think you are’
And no, I was not weak, I was not Blind.

My quest ended now,
Peace is what I had Sought.
There, at that moment I found it,
After all those people I had Fought.

I forgive them all.
I forgive my Boss for insulting me.
I forgive my little sister for breaking my Toys.
I forgive my teachers for shouting at me.
I forgive my girl for taking away all my Joys.

They don’t understand,
I was above them all, The King,
‘It’s Me against the World’
I now loudly Sing.


Note from the Author :
This one is inspired by my recent trip to Goa, and the feeling I experienced while standing there on the edge of the cliff, with nothing but silence for company. And a big thanks to my dear friends Bonny and Hrishi for the dose of confidence booster. Thanks guys, I will remember it till my last breath.

A Good Deed - a poem

I was walking through the woods,
My spirits sky high.
A sweet smell hung in the air,
Mesmerized by the river flowing near by.
It was a happy morning, the world looked happy.
The birds were busy,
Singing their morning songs upon the tree.
The rabbits ran amok,
Thrilled at the feeling of being free.
My old body tickled,
Brushed by the morning air, cold.
The sun playing hide and seek,
Made the dew drops shine like gold.
I walked on,
Thanking God for this world so grand.
‘Thank you Lord,
For into this beautiful world, you had me send.’
My soul in high spirits,
Soon I reached by the side of the river.
And there in front of me,
Was a scene that made me shiver.
Lying there in a pool of red blood,
Was a crying and wriggling full grown deer,
Counting its last few breaths,
With its young fawn watching, standing near.
I watched helplessly,
As the body of the deer became still.
I picked up the fawn,
He was scared, his heartbeats I could feel.
A sharp pain pinched my heart,
As I watched the fawn drop a tear.
Silent, and yet crying,
God, this was too much to bear.
I felt for the young thing,
Orphaned and helpless, I brought it home.
And kept it in a cage,
No longer in the forest it could now roam.
I felt I had done a good deed,
One of my kind had killed its mother,
And it was because of me,
He could now run freely no further.

When Darkness Falls - a poem

The western sky cries out
Turning a dark Red.
Your body turns pale,
Your world is sad, Very Sad.

The light in your life goes out,
Foretelling the approaching Night.
Don’t you cry now, my love,
You have enjoyed your day Bright.

Your world keeps going round and round,
Your days never stay the Same.
Sorrow is bound to follow joy,
So why do you now have others to Blame?

The King of Darkness now descends,
Think of the night, the Bliss.
Let the silence grip you,
When the world for once gives you some Peace.

The cold night air touches your body soft,
You love the serenity that it has Brought.
The dark signifies the end of the tempest,
Wasn’t this peace what you had always Sought?

Close your eyes, my love.
You have run enough, its time for some Rest.
This race will never end,
And you know you will never pass this Test.

Why do you cry sweetheart?
I am here, dear, why then do you Fear?
I will always be just by your side,
Never will I let your eyes drop a Tear.

You cry for that one last breath,
Your body gives up, your heart Slows.
 I know the world has been hard on you,
Looking deep in your eyes, it just Shows.

Don’t you cry now, my love,
The pain will soon be Over.
The Night will give way to the Day,
And I will still be with you, your Lover.

Once a Thief

Vivek wasn’t a good man.

He was a criminal. A thief.

He was one of those innocent faces, who could convince you of anything they said.
You would have to believe whatever he said. He could tell you that he was the richest man in the country, and you would believe him. He could say that it was his father who controlled the Army of the country, and you would still believe it. He could even get away saying that he was not a thief.

But the fact remained. He was a thief.

He would go around the market, thinking of ways to make money, steal money. He was a master at his job. He could very well open a school for aspiring thieves. In his short career he had tried every possible way to force others to part with their wealth. He started with picking pockets. It was too easy for him. He soon got bored of it.

Then he moved to robbery. He joined two of his fellow friends, and they would go around the streets in the evening, trying to pick up a worthy target. At night they would break into that house, and sweep every penny they could find in the house. The owner never ever realized it, not before waking up in the morning, to realize that he had been robbed.

He had also been involved in one or two bank robberies. It was a huge catch. But after the second time he had some trouble with his fellow robbers. Trouble erupted over the division of the loot.

He then got into money swindling. He fooled a lot of people, and forced them to part with their wealth. His stunning good looks helped him get a lot of potential fools, especially women, who wouldn’t think twice about parting with their money, just so that they could enjoy his company for some time.

It wasn’t really their fault. He was so attractive. A woman could spend endless hours staring at him, just see him talk. And by God, could he talk!

He was doing well. He was getting richer.

And then he fell in love.

She was a very beautiful woman, simple and down to earth, the kind of girl whom you would love to take home and introduce to your mother.

It was one of those regular evenings. Vivek was at his regular tea-stall, with his fellow friends, enjoying his evening cup of tea and jalebi. They were cracking stupid jokes, pulling each other’s legs, when he saw her for the first time.

She walked past them, her eyes on the ground, not daring to look at the group of street-boys. One of the boys passed some remark on her. She obviously heard him, but showed no reaction, and continued walking, her eyes still on the ground.

Something pricked at Vivek’s heart. They passed remarks on girls every single evening, right at that spot. It was a daily affair for them. But this time an unknown feeling came over him, a strange feeling of guilt.

He didn’t even know the girl. He had spent a lot of time in that street of Delhi for a long time, but had never seen her before. She was so beautiful. A simple girl, dressed modestly in a yellow color salwar-suit.

It was a new feeling for Vivek. He was never much interested in women. It was usually the other way round. This new feeling of shame made him feel very uncomfortable.

He noticed her everyday after that, walking consciously in the same way, her eyes on the ground. She walked past that group of unruly street boys everyday at the same time, never ever daring to look up at them.

His friends too felt something in him changed whenever the girl passed by. They laughed at him and made stupid jokes about him and the girl. Very soon, whenever she would pass by them, they would shout out “Look, man, there goes your bird”. And then they all would laugh out loudly.

The uncomfortable feeling of guilt and shame in Vivek’s heart soon reached its limit. He could no longer bear to be in the company of people who would insult her everyday. With every single passing day, this feeling was growing strong. Till one evening when she was passing by them, as usual, not looking up from the ground. Somebody made the usual remark, and the rest of them joined in the laugh.

Vivek looked at the girl. She didn’t look up. But he could see that she was almost in tears, unable to bear this daily dose of insult and embarrassment. But she looked like a helpless bird, whose wings had been clipped. She didn’t even have the courage to look up at them. But her eyes told Vivek, that this was enough.

He hit the boy who had just passed the remark, right on his face. The boy was taken aback by this sudden reaction from his friend.

Vivek hit him again, throwing him on the ground. His blood was boiling. He forgot that it was his friend that he was hitting, a friend with whom he had spent almost half his life, drinking tea and eating jalebi.

Even before the others could react, He flung himself on the boy, and started hitting him like he was a piece of wood.

His friends got hold of him, and pulled him away from the boy, who was now bleeding very badly.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” they shouted.
“Look what you have done to him, you dumb ass.” shouted another, and grabbed his collar.

Vivek could not hear them. His blood was still boiling.

A crowd had gathered around them now. Vivek spotted the girl, standing behind the crowd. She was looking at him. She still had tears in her eyes, and a feeling of disgust and shame written on her beautiful face.

Their eyes met, and she looked away from him, and started walking hurriedly away from there.

“What is your problem, man?” shouted one of his friend.
“You hit him just because of that stupid bulbul?” said another.

Vivek shook himself away from them, shouted at the gathered crowd, and walked away into the evening.

He never ever hang out with his friends after that.
The next day he knew he had to talk to her. He waited for her on the street. His friends saw him standing opposite to them. They did not bother to talk with him ever again, nor did Vivek. He knew he had lost his only friends in the city. But he was least bothered. He was trying to think of how to approach the girl. He knew he had not left a very good impression upon her. He was just a ruffian for her, a street dog. Maybe she even knew that he was just a common thief.

He was nervous. Nevertheless he knew he had to talk to her. He would amend his ways, leave everything behind. He could start a shop where he would sell tea and jalebi.

He waited for her.
But she didn’t come that day. Or even the day after that.

He still waited for her the next day.
His heart skipped a beat, when he saw her walking round the corner.
He looked at his friends standing opposite to the street. They saw her too.

There was silence, as the girl passed in front of them. She walked nervously, her eyes still on the ground.

Vivek knew he had to move now.
He called out after the girl. She started walking away even quicker.

Vivek ran up to her.

“Hey. I just want to talk to you for a moment. Just hear me for a moment.” he said, each word weighing like a ton.

She looked up at him. She had the most beautiful eyes.
She stopped walking.

“I just want to talk to you.” Vivek repeated.
“What do you want?” she asked, irritated, and scared.
“Nothing. I just want to talk to you.” he repeated.

“Please leave me alone”, she said, almost about to cry, and started walking away from him

Vivek did not follow her. He was in a trance. His heart was beating fast.

The next day, he asked her her name.
“Sakshi”, she replied.

The next day, he found out from her that she was a school teacher, and taught in the local primary school.

With each passing day, she became more open to him. He would wait for her near the school, and then would walk with her till the market, talking with her. His friends would look at him walking along with her, and they would throw a look of disgust at them. But never did anybody pass any remark at her ever again.

After walking together to the market place, she would ask him to leave. She said she had an old father, and she didn’t want him to see her with a boy.

He obeyed her, and never tried to find out where she lived. He never tried to find out anything more about her, more than what she told him about herself.

Very soon they were very much in love with each other. They would walk together the four kilometer distance from the school to the market.

When she asked him what he did for a living, he lied that he ran a tea shop at the market.

Sure enough, he was now a changed man. He gave up his old ways, and opened a tea stall near the spot where he had first seen her. His friends never ever visited his stall. They never talked with each other again. They would pass each other in silence in the market.

They became very close to each other. He would eagerly wait for her outside the school gate, counting each passing minute with great difficulty. His best time of the day would be when she saw him standing outside the gate, smiled at him, and waved at him.
They had now been seeing each other for almost six months now.

One day, while walking with her from the school, he found her abnormally quiet and disturbed.
He asked her, what was disturbing her.
“Nothing”, she said with a false smile.

He knew something was wrong. He could not see her so sad. He was dying to see the smile on her pretty face.

He kept on asking her. Finally she said “There is a small kid in my class. His name is Vijay. He is just eight years old. He has been diagnosed with a rare blood illness. He fell unconscious in my class yesterday, and they had to take him to the hospital. The doctors say he has very little chance to survive, unless they operate upon him immediately. But the boy’s father is a daily laborer, and does not have so much money. All the teachers were discussing today that the boy is going to die”, she said, looking at him.

He looked at her. She was the most amazing person, so kind hearted, so beautiful. And he had been a sinner all his life.

“How much do they need for the operation?” he asked her.

It was a big amount. But he had seen much bigger amount than that in his life. He had been a sinner all his life. He had stolen from countless people, and spent it upon himself and his friends, wasting them all.

He thought about it. One more sin hardly seemed to matter. It was for a good cause, he told himself. ‘After this one, I will tell her the truth, and never do this again in my life’ he thought to himself.

He just had to see the smile back on her face.

The next day, outside the school gate, he handed her the money.
She was shocked. She asked him how he had managed to get the money.
“If I tell you, you will not use it. And I don’t want to lie to you. I will tell you everything later. But right now, you have to take this money to the hospital. If you can save this boy, I will think that all my past sins have been washed away. I love you. I want you to be happy. And keep smiling”.

She was crying now. He hugged her, and asked her to run to the hospital.

The next day he waited for her outside the school. Soon the last kid had come out of the compound. There was no sign of her.

He waited for another hour. She did not come out.
He asked the chowkidaar about her.
“She did not come to school today.” he said.

He wondered if she might be at the hospital.
He went to the Government Hospital. He didn’t even know the name of the kid. He asked at the Reception about an eight year old kid, diagnosed with a blood illness.

There were none.

He checked at the next hospital. And the next.
No eight year child with that illness had been admitted in any one of them since the last two weeks.

He waited for her near the school gate the next day. There was no sign of her.
He waited outside the gate the whole of next week, hoping that she would come out again, smiling, and waving at him.

But in his heart he knew it was useless.
He had fooled enough people in his life to realize when he had been fooled.

He was shocked. Why would she ever lie to him?
He could not believe it. This cannot happen.

She loved him. She said that herself.
How could anyone ever trick him? He was the trickster, the thief.

He asked a lot of people, and finally found out her home.
There was a big lock on the door.

He found out that she used to live there with her aged and sick father, and her kid brother. A year ago her father had died of a rare blood disease. And recently they found out that her kid brother too suffered from the same disease.

The trickster had been tricked.

He stood below the window of the two storied building now. It was raining hard, and it was well past midnight.

He was very angry. He had given up everything for her; he had become a good man now. He had even fought with his only friends just because of her.

And how does she repay him??

He was wet to his skin now, standing in the street, ready to break into the house.
He was crying.

“So this is what you want me to become? Right, I don’t need you. I was much happier before you came into my life”, he cried.

He wiped his tears with his sleeves, planning for his next break in.

“But why did you do this to me?” he cried again.

‘Maybe she knew all along about my past. Maybe she just used me to get the money. Maybe she was playing with me all along.’ he thought.

Then another thought crossed his mind.

‘But what if she really loved me, and found out only after I gave her the money. Maybe she found out that I had stolen the money. What if she left me, just because she was heart broken to know about my truth?’.

He was crying now. He sat down in the middle of the street. It was raining harder now.

He sat there for almost an hour.
Finally he had made up his mind.

‘I don’t know if you ever loved me or not. But I did love you. I will become the man you wanted me to be’.

Now that he knew clearly what to do, he felt much better.
He got up, wiped his tears, looked up at the building, and started walking away from it, disappearing into the rainy night.