silly, me!

It felt so awesome in school when no one in class knew an answer and yours would be the only raised hand.

The proud look on your teacher’s face that said “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Her next look to the others that said, “Look at her and learn something!”

The scornful looks from stupid rival classmates that said “Show-off!” or “Teacher’s pet” or “Ha! Nerd”.

The happy, smiling looks from friends that simply said “Yay!”

I loved those looks. All of them. What satisfaction they gave!

Silly days.

One such thing happened in the seventh standard (we didn’t use the word ‘grade’ then) in the science period (that’s what ‘lectures’ were called in school) with Aruna Miss (all of them were called ‘Miss’ irrespective of their marital status). Silly lingo.

We were doing ‘Respiration’. Miss asked what breathing in and breathing out was called. All of us in unison said “Inhale and exhale”. She said; “Good. Can anybody tell me the synonyms for them?”

I almost jumped with the answer, then composed myself and quietly raised my hand. She smiled at me, but ignored my eager hand. She scanned the class for other hands but her eyes returned to me.

A guy called Sarvesh whispered to someone behind me, “What’s a synonym?” Silly Sarvesh.

“Okay I’ll give you one of them. To exhale is ‘to expire’. Does anybody know the opposite?”

Jessica asked me, “What is it?”

“Inspire.”

“Ey you’re mad or what! Inspire is like motivate.”

Miss overheard our conversation. She gave me a broader smile.

“’Inspire’ is the right answer. How do you know it?”

I was so happy! Not just because I got it right but mainly because just the previous day Daddy taught me those two words. I told her as much.

Jessica looked stupefied. Silly Jessica.

Horse is always black

“Will you be my Valentine?”

“Obviously ya!”

“Chal toh half an hour mein andheri station mil.”

As usual she made me wait. Like normally it’s me who’s invariably late. But with her it’s different. Anyway today was Valentine’s Day so I didn’t tell her anything when she finally came. We were moving towards the ticket window when I got a call. It was Nabil. Her boyfriend. No, ex-boyfriend. Or boyfriend. It’s complicated.

Oh by the way, I’m talking about Sadaf, my bestest friend. We were both single on that day (as in those days!) so we thought of meeting up, going to the Kala Ghoda festival, eating, roaming, ‘sight’ seeing. We hadn’t met for quite some time and we really wanted to make up for it. But then this call. It was decided that he’d join us there in some time. More waiting…..

Saddo’s parents were also around the same area, buying sweets for her to-be in-laws (I told you it was complicated). She called them and they said they were at Thakkar Sweets and asked us to go meet them. Anyway we had a lot of time to kill. So we went there (mainly with the intention of making them buy us sweets, which they almost did, but there were no gulab jamuns, and we both wanted precisely that). From then on, till the end of the day we were craving for gulab jamuns.

We took a train, reached Churchgate and walked to Kala Ghoda. We stopped en route every two minutes to check out old, yellowed, second-hand books. To admire a piece of art (there were many put up on the way). To decide whether to walk or to take a cab.

We were amazed by the colors, the energy, the activity. In every corner there was something to be seen. Even on the ground, there was a 3D painting. Looking up, there was a huge bell with so many smaller bells in it. We clicked crazy pictures! Around the mini Eiffel Tower, with a few weird paintings, under a fake nest.

As we were bargaining at one of the stalls, Saddo pulled at my sleeve. I looked in her direction and following her gaze saw a five hundred rupee note lying on the ground. We asked a few people but they said it wasn’t theirs.

Sadaf the Saint started saying things like “Oh we should give this money to a beggar...”

I asked her to shut up and took the note from her and asked her if she wanted a share.

That’s when Nabil jumped out from nowhere (he was lost) and cried, “I want! I want!”

Two minutes into the discussion as to what we’d do with the money and Saddo said sheepishly, “Ey can I also have a share? After all I saw the money…”

Nabil and I exchanged a look and started laughing. “Why not baby! We never said you couldn’t. Only you-”

“Haan shut up now. I just thought…anyway, let’s eat dinner with this money.”

So it was decided. We moved ahead to check the schedule. There was one thing that all three of us were keen to attend. Poetry workshop. There was like an hour left for it to begin, so we just loitered here and there and entered a lane and walked and walked. I saw a nice light blue building. It was a synagogue. We weren’t entirely sure if we could go in, but we sneaked in all the same. The peace and quiet was such a welcome change. We looked around, sat for a while, prayed and left.

Next we were headed towards the venue for the workshop. Kala Ghoda Office or something. Asking a lot of people where it was, dodging a few eateries (we didn’t have time to eat), we finally reached the building. The stairs were so awesome! They had that old world charm. We climbed up around three floors and there it was. Huh? It was deserted. But it was time for the workshop to begin. The lights were switched off, which we switched on. We examined the place, called out to someone who’d probably be somewhere in the other room. No one answered. Nabil walked towards a table that stood at one corner and picked up a sealed Coke bottle from there, opened it and started gulping it down! We followed.

There were three doors. We tried one. It opened to a pretty corridor. There was a small staircase going down from there but there was a grill so we couldn’t explore in that direction. The corridor led to a terrace. And there was another terrace over it. Excited little kids that we became, we started running around the place. We took more pictures. Then we went back to try the other two doors. One of them didn’t budge. The third door made way to a conference room. We rushed in, sat on the chairs, I even put up my feet on the table in full filmy style. Some more pictures.

Out in the real world, we started walking again and reached Colaba Causeway. Walking for another hour or so, simply deciding where to eat was the only time in the day that was not so happening, as we were all so beat. Finally Café Mondegar welcomed us and we had a hearty meal: crispy chicken, some pizza and chicken hakka noodles. Big smiles on our faces. We hailed a cab, took a train and reached Andheri around 11.

As if it wasn’t already an eventful day, we did another cool thing. We went to Mc Donald’s. No, that’s not what’s cool. What we did there was. The Mac at Andheri station is always so full we can’t sit there for more than 20-25 minutes without some staff member interrupting. That day it was empty! For the first time in our lives had we seen this. We went upstairs with our Soft Serves. ‘Aahuun Aahuun Aahuun’ was playing. Saddo and I got up and started racing. It was a who-sits-on-all-the-tables-first race.

We raced and Nabil took a video. And I won!

Bum Bum

His legs hurt, courtesy Sagar, who unfortunately happened to be one of his closest friends. They walked barefoot for four hours along with hundreds of others for whom it was routine to walk to Siddhi Vinayak temple every Monday night.

Stupid Sagar. He’d kept a mannat to walk all the way to the temple if he got laid. So, on Sunday morning when he called Kunal (saying “Dude! Last night I became a man!”), Kunal grumbled as he knew he’d obviously be dragged to fulfill the mannat the next day. But why did Sagar even need it! He was so charming he could maneuver any girl into the sack. It was later that he unwittingly confessed that he wanted to go there to wash away this cardinal sin. To this day his friends mock him.

Throughout the four hour walk, Sagar was telling him the smallest of details of his Saturday night feat. He was really not interested right now as he was complaining to himself. Life was so sad for him. No adventure. No action.

Life was unfair.

There was a long queue in spite of reaching as early as three. He was sleepy. And tired. And hungry. And his legs hurt. And now his head too.

“Dude why’re you looking constipated?”

Dirty look.

 “There’s public toilets back there.”

Dirtier look.

“Oye you want me to hook you up with Ananya?” laughs loudly.

(Ananya looked more like his elder brother).

“No Sagar. Thanks for the offer. Now shut up!”

It was so stuffy. He was lifting his hand to fan himself but it brushed against a fat aunty’s fat derrier and she turned and almost slapped him. She turned back and blushed.

“Dude why’re you looking so scared? Tere bag mein bomb hai kya? Bol na dude, tere bag mein bomb hai kya?”

“Dekh Sagar, irritate mat kar.”

“Okay dude, sorry. Chal you wanna go back?”

“After walking for hours you ask me if I wanna go back!”

“Arre you’re constipated na!” laughs loudly.

Kunal moved to get out of the queue to leave but Sagar stopped him.

“Aye baby, my darling, my shweetie pie! Don’t get show annoyed.”

“EXASPERATED is the word.”

Biting each word.

Laughs loudly.

“Oye bol na, tere bag mein bomb hai kya?”

“HAAN MERE BAG MEIN BOMB HAI” yelling at the top of his voice.

“HAI MERE BAG MEIN BOMB!”

The fat aunty with her fat derriere froze in horror. And so did the others. But just for a few moments. Because after that they started screaming. It didn’t take more than 30 seconds for the security to surround them. A couple of guards caught hold of Kunal and started thrashing him. He kept crying “Sorry!” but would they forgive someone who ruined their forbidden sleep? No chance!

All this while, Sagar lay on the ground, tears in his eyes, laughing hard.

Life was indeed unfair.


PS: This is inspired by a true story.

Untitled

Bleeding heart

Barren eyes

Smiling lips

Speaking lies.

Drowning hope

Doubtful belief

Throbbing pain

No relief.

Thinking mind

Feeling soul

Widening gap

Gaping hole.

Busy people

Blasé life

Numbing senses

Blunting knife.

Bottomless well

Endless wait

Stagnant time

Teasing fate.

Falling walls

Closing space

Shifting ground

Changing face.

Hurting words

Haunting voice

Tough escape

Little choice.

Lone struggle

Long walk

Breaking strength

Wearing rock.

Slapping wind

Fading light

Clouded thoughts

Dawning night.

Last wish

Dying me

Seeing once

Heartless he.

A walk to remember

They stood there at the ATVM machine at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, looking at the map. Tracing the routes on the screen, they fought with their index fingers. Her finger overtook his and raced towards Mulund. His finger slowly made its way to CBD Belapur. They exchanged a look that dissolved their differences. She took two tickets to CBD Belapur. Two one-way tickets.

They read in the train. And talked. And people-watched. And people watched.

He got up, took her hand, and they walked to the door. The train was moving super fast. She was scared. But he gently yet firmly pulled her close, her back facing him, and they were half hanging out. It felt so awesome! Like a smaller, local version of the Titanic feeling. But then, feelings cannot be measured and compared, right? So yes, it was like the Titanic feeling.

Belapur was not all that welcoming. The weather was okay; not as pleasant as they were hoping for it to be. They went towards the rickshaw stand. The guy asked him where they wanted to go. Again they exchanged their trademark look that leaves nothing to be said.

“Chala.”

(Let’s go)

“Kuthe?”

(Where?)

“Tumhi chala, mi saangto.”

(You come, I’ll tell you.)

“Asa nahi chalat, tumhala mala saangava laagel kuthe jaycha aahe.”

(That’s not how it works; you’ll have to tell me where you want to go.)

“Amhala nusta kuthe tari jaaun chalaycha aahe.”

(We just want to go somewhere and walk.)

He motioned for them to sit.

The road stretched in front of them and after a few minutes turned left and it was like a completely different place. So green. So serene. So unreal. They wanted to get off right there but they knew that the right place was yet to come. A couple of minutes more and they got off. There was an upward-bound path. It was markedly different from the rest of the area. Greener. Serener. Unrealer. They strolled up to the foot of the path and they realized what was so strange about it. It was the weather. The weather was different on that way. It was cool and breezy and heavy. The ground was moist and so were the branches of trees that met over them.

A look exchanged. No word exchanged. They walked.

perfume

The other day I caught a whiff of that perfume. It felt so familiar. So at-home. Nostalgic.

It bolted to my head immediately and I started looking all over for a lost face. Unstirring eyes set on me, taking me in. Untrained, untamed heart holding itself back. I felt watched. I felt lost in known territory.

My eyes darted in all directions, scouring the crowd. All I could see was a sea of nameless faces and all I could feel was the faceless scent in the air. And an urgency. It was getting fainter. I could not let it go. It had been years! I wanted to capture it. Fill it in a bottle that I can uncork, or in a stone that I can rub, or in a scarf that I can wrap around.

But it faded. Fast or slowly, I don’t remember. But it faded, leaving behind a teasing, lingering trace. And the memory of the first time I smelled that perfume.

The first time. It was loud, pungent, obnoxious. Why can’t people not wear perfume if they don’t know how to use it!

I didn’t know back then, that it would grow on me.