Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The lost childhood
*DISCLAIMER: The story below is a work of fiction. All descriptions of various naxal and government activities are based on various media reports.*
In need of an egalitarian society, India
chapter 1
Bastar, Chhattisgarh.
Anand was only 5 year old when he had first seen a couple of gunmen kill a cop in the forest. Roaming alone in the Jungle, which used to be a daily excursion with his friends, was now prohibited by the elders of the village.
One night while they were pretending to be asleep on the cold floor of their thatched hut, he whispered to his elder brother, “Who are these people?”
“Khaki ones are the jawans while the others are Naxalwadis”, replied his elder brother, Kishan. Anand hardly understood anything but memorized those names.
By the end of that year, Naxalites had murdered the school head master as he used to pass on useful information to the government. This resulted in increase in the number of security personnel. Soon the school premises turned into their camps. Classrooms, kitchen, toilets!! They were everywhere. A feeling of hesitancy grew among the parents who feared that their children would become victims of sexual harassment in the hands of security persons or their children could be tagged as Maoist. Unfortunately, school was shut down for an indefinite period.
Whenever someone was killed due to naxal violence, Anand would ask several odd questions to the jawans whom he had befriended at his mother’s tea stall.
“What do they want?” he would ask. Though their reply was always as simple as- “They want a different government”, a seven year old kid hardly understood the ten letter word.
During the daytime, he and his friends played near the pond. Here, Anand would stand on the top of a large rock while his friends would gather around him to gain knowledge.
“They want a different gone-ment,” Anand declared while his friends gaped at him.
“What does gone-ment mean?” one of them asked curiously.
Some suggested it was a toy while others said it was some kind of property as elders generally have disputes over properties. But all awaited their leader’s final verdict. Whenever Anand didn’t know an answer, he would cleverly reply, “Its top secret! I can’t share it with kids!”
He didn’t go to school anymore but he hadn’t stopped studying. He treasured his books. He wrote stories on mountains and rivers. Among his writings, there was a strange longing that a child craves for. Be it a toy or simply attention. But the thing he most longed for was his father. He had never seen or heard from him. All he knew about him was that he was fighting a war.
On one of the winter nights, Anand broke into a fist fight with his brother in the open space near their tea stall. Hearing the fracas, their mother came out of the house and stopped them.
“What is this all about?” she demanded.
The ten year old Anand, turned to his mother with tears in his eyes. He pointed towards the small bonfire beside them. Unfortunately the glowing embers were not of wood or coal but of books.
Before she could start arguing with her elder son she noticed some movement near the trees.
“Move inside the house! Fast!” she ordered them. As soon as all of them moved inside, she locked the doors. “Hide!” she shouted. And then there were several knockings on their door.
In that dim light of the lantern, Anand could make out that his mother was panting. She waited for sometime but the poundings didn’t stop. Nervously she unlocked the door and a large man entered. Squinting in the dark, Anand who was hiding behind the small cupboard tried to see the stranger. The unkempt, tall man was covered in shawl.
“Why are you here?” his mother asked.
“I have come to collect my son,” the man replied.
“YOUR SON? I must remind you that you had abandoned me and your children nine years ago for the so called war.”
“And war has brought me back,” he said. “I need him for the same cause.”
“Kishan is only 15. He won’t go anywhere!” she announced.
“Please Maa, let me go. I am ready for this. Those useless books won’t bring peace to this place,” said Kishan who came out of hiding and stood beside his father now. The man smiled proudly at his son.
Her eyes turned moist. “You can’t achieve peace by means of violence. These methods are wrong.”
The man replied calmly. “We are more concerned about the results it will yield.” And with that, he left with his son. Anand’s mother cried night after night. Though Anand never cried, he wondered why his father chose Kishan over him. Am I not strong enough? Daddy didn’t even ask about me? Why? Questions were many but the answers never existed.
Nearly after four months, one night jawans were circling in a Maoists camp in the forest when they saw a figure emerge from the bushes and break into a run. They took aim and shot him. Only later they realized it was an unarmed teenager. Kishan died on the spot.
The whole village was shocked and staged protests against CRPF jawans calling them ‘Destructor’. Anand stayed in the house with his mother who had become ill and bedridden.
Then one day a policeman entered their hut and said, “If you give in writing that your son was killed by Naxals and not by us, then government will give compensation of one lakh rupees.” Anand’s mother was shocked. She refused as she knew if she agreed she would be troubled by naxals for the rest of her life.
That very night she passed away in her sleep. Doctors said that she couldn’t deal with the trauma of her son’s death. Anand was an orphan now. He refused the shelter given by government and instead lived in his own house. Day by day he became a loner. There was no one he could speak to. He made and served tea for the jawans to earn Rs. 30/- daily while the villagers provided him with food. Toys and books didn’t interest him anymore. While sitting by the pond in his free time, he too thought if only he too had a gun…
One evening, Anand was lying flat on his back near the pond, watching the various shapes of the grey clouds, when a sharp voice made him jump.
“You don't have anyone to live for son. Come with me and work for the party”, said the man who visited his home once. His father.
chapter 2
Anand had never traveled so deep in the forest. But he wasn’t scared as he was with his father. After walking for an hour, he saw several check posts guarded by armed men. Few boys and girls were playing cricket at one corner while armed men and women were parading and demonstrating their prowess at another. To his surprise, there were many people whom he had seen in the village before but didn’t know about their occupation.
“You said I can help you win this battle. How?” he asked his father.
“You will know very soon.”
And soon he realized what was about to come. Everyday he and other kids woke up at 4 am for PT and drill, followed by breakfast. Then they were taught about the fundamental percepts of Maoism and communism. After lunch they followed the same routine. At night, they were taught how to draw maps of police stations, how to gherrao police posts, how to snatch a rifle from a constable and other such military acts.
Sometimes after the training, he touched his small palms. It has become rough. But he didn’t care as long as he could make his father happy. But unfortunately, he hardly got a chance to speak to his father as he hardly saw him. And whenever he did, he remained busy lecturing on the quiescence of the government towards the development of their region to the young soldiers.
Whenever anyone was seriously injured, a doctor from the city was brought to the forest. Anand assisted the doctor with injections and saline drips. But some operations were just confusing for him.
“He looks perfectly fine to me. He is getting married next week”, Anand said to the doctor who was operating on the lower half of an unconscious man. The doctor smiled, “As he is marrying another naxalite, bearing kids in the future may bring weakness to the war. He won’t be able to become a father after this.” Anand only gaped at him.
On a rainy night, after hearing some quarrel outside his tent, Anand went to check. He saw all the elders including his father standing near a blindfolded cop who was gagged and tied to the bark of a tree. On seeing Anand, he called him. Anand went running towards him. He was handed a pen and a piece of paper which had a map on one side and blank on the other.
“I have heard that you were the best student in your school.”
A smile leaped across his face. Finally his father was praising him, he thought. But he never did.
“Write two lines for me.”
He sat on the ground and held the pen inches away from the paper. He realized that his hand was shaking nervously. He had not touched a pen for several months. I can hold a gun so easily but what is wrong with a pen? Finally he wrote as he was told with great difficulty.
Then a large, burly man lifted the cop and asked Anand to accompany him into the forest. After walking for about half an hour, the large man threw the cop amongst the bushes.
“What will you do Anand if I tell you that this man killed your brother?” the large man asked him. He had already forgotten about his brother. So many things happened after that night that he had lost the count of friends and family who have died. But the thought of his brother’s death resurrected a suppressed anger. He always wanted to do something evil to the man who killed his brother. He looked for something sharp but found nothing. Then he broke a branch of a tree and began hitting the blindfolded man. Every time he hit him, he felt a release of poison that has grown inside him. He stopped when he realized the man was crying. He knelt forward and removed the cloth from his mouth. The man, who was bleeding profusely, coughed a little and then spoke in an extreme rush as if he knew what was coming.
“Anand you know me… Your mother served tea to us…I never wanted to kill Kishan…it was an accident-”
And in a split second, the large man knelt beside him and slit the man’s throat. Hot sprinkles of blood fell on Anand’s face and tongue. He felt as if something bitter has been put forcibly in his mouth. The feeling was disgusting.
The large man then placed the letter he was carrying inside the dead man’s left shoe when Anand was busy vomiting at a corner.
The next morning they were given personal handguns looted from the police stations. He saw kids of his own age showing off their new toy to each other. But he kept it to himself. Atleast they never saw a murder. Even if they did are they still willing to contribute for the war? More he thought more he got confused. And one day a strange question hit him. Why was Kishan unarmed when he was killed? As soon as handguns were distributed, they were asked to keep it with them under every condition. He knew of only one man who could have answer to this mystery.
2 kms away, a constable found a corpse of a cop. After checking, he found a map which showed a highlighted region where naxals were supposed to hold their next meeting. He looked on the other side of the page. It read- 8 pm, APRIL 6th. APPROX 25 NAXALS. The constable smirked. The dead cop found out the location and hid it in his shoe before he was murdered.
“What is it son?” his father asked him after Anand took him away from a meeting to a secluded area.
“Did my brother wanted to leave?”
Before he could answer anything, both of them heard a distant voice shouting. It was the messenger. “THEY HAVE FALLEN INTO THE TRAP. NEARLY 120 OF THEM ARE COMING.”
Both of them were aware of the plan. The map was a decoy. As soon as the cops will reach the highlighted space of the map, they will be attacked from all directions.
All the naxals ran towards the spot with their arms. His father moved towards the voice when Anand aimed the gun towards his temple. He checked his pockets but his handgun was missing.
“Very clever! You hid my gun. But I don’t know what are you talking about,” he said calmly. But Anand didn’t lower his gun. “Say the truth or else I will kill you.” The confidence scared him. Reluctantly his father confessed.
“Yes. At first he showed real courage. He liked my talks about the development of our village. I showed him the glorious dream. He loved it and so I asked him to join us.”
Anand never knew of his brother’s secret meeting with his father.
“But he was soon frustrated. He knew too much of our secrets. We couldn’t let him go. We decided to eliminate him. But somehow he got the air of it and he ran away. Luckily he got killed the same night.”
For the first time after his brother’s death, tears rolled into his eyes. How can a father plan of killing his own son? All these years he had asked himself why his father abandoned his family. Now he knew why. He was simply incapable of being a father.
And then it happened so fast that he hardly saw anything. His father jumped on him and he pulled the trigger unknowingly. For a few seconds he didn’t react. Slowly it dawned on him what has happened. Blood was oozing out of his father’s temple.
He then thought of the naïve jawans who will die an innocent death. There will be more orphans like him. It was time for reparation. He didn’t waste any more time and broke into a blind sprint towards the place. A new wave of positive energy filled his veins as he ran through the dense forest which he knew like the back of his hand.
The armed jawans stopped short aiming their gun towards an unarmed boy running towards them and shouting something. And then they saw movements around the trees.
He waved and shouted, “GO AWAY! GO AWAY!!!” But they could hardly hear him. He leapt forward and ran towards them. Suddenly he heard a gunshot and then several others followed. He crouched on the ground as soon as he realized that the naxals had launched the attack. The jawans surged towards him firing in different directions. Suddenly sharp pain arised from his right leg from where blood was spilling. Then a jawan fell over him. Then two more fell over him. He applied his full strength to prevent himself from choking by their weight. Of late he realized that they were not breathing. Slowly it started suffocating. He didn’t realize how many more fell over him. He closed his eyes and saw both his brother and mother smiling at him. The sounds of gunshots were fading. It was the best dream he had seen in months. And he didn’t want to be disturbed.
On April 6 2010, 76 CRPF personnel and a state policemen were killed in Dantewada after over 500 Naxals ambushed the patrol party. Anand survived as Naxals didn’t check under the debris of dead bodies. He lost his right leg. As soon as he surrendered, he spent four months in the rehabilitation center before starting with his education once again at government’s expense at Raipur
-- ARITRA SEN
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
ONLINE FRIEND
Michael Gnana says..........
This film "ONLINE FRIEND" is our 3rd movie. It was made for a mobile movie making competition held in our college tech fest "TRANSMISSION '10" and it won the 2nd prize.
This movie remains close 2 all of us as it took more than a week to shoot it at various locations.
This movie will b a reminder of all the wonderful moments v spent together in those college days.
I hope you will enjoy it...
One more thing, I want to thank Benny who wrote this blog. We loved it so much that we decided on making a film on this story. Though we took the liberty of changing the story at a few places (bcoz of budget :-) ) but you can still read the original blog here-
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Taste of love
Aditya Bajaj was not someone you may meet everyday. With his wit, charm and keen flirting skills he had no trouble attracting people to himself. For women, he was their Prince-charming while men envied his skills. He believed that each and every woman was weak and foolish enough to fall in love if only you have a nice story to tell. For example, they couldn’t stop shedding their tears on hearing about his mother’s illness (who didn’t exist) and how he was having a hard time paying the hospital bills. As a result they sympathized, loved and cared for him. But Aditya hardly cared about their feelings.
And one fine day this chapter of false love and betrayal came to an end. That was the day when Aditya Bajaj fell in true love…
***
Aditya’s Story-
I never believed in love at first sight. As a matter of fact I never even believed in love until I saw her. I only saw her eyes as she was clad with burqa. I could only say that she was fair, thin and smaller in height.
She was seating alone at PRISTINE hotel’s lounge, Goa . I waited for my friends to leave for their respective rooms until I made a move towards her. But she left as soon as I sat next to her. She then stood beside a man double her age near the check-in counter. I didn’t react and thought of her as too shy.
On the same night, I and my friends entered a restaurant for dinner where I caught a glimpse of her. She was sitting opposite to the same man, probably her father. I chose a seat from where I could see her clearly. The only thing I noticed about her that she was expressionless as if she was a prisoner.
In the darkness of the night and mild breeze on the beaches of Goa , my friends were busy playing cricket. But I wasn’t. My mind was elsewhere then. I made an excuse and moved back to the hotel where I asked the hotel manager about this mysterious woman. The information he apprised me with was a big blow: “Mr. and Mrs. Khan are here for their honeymoon”
I walked up to my room and saw a woman sobbing outside the room at the other end of the lobby. It was her.
“Is anything wrong Ma’am? May I help you?” I came running towards her. But she hardly budged. I repeated myself but she continued crying and knocking on the door, “Please let me in. I beg of you!”
I heard a crack at the door and she stopped crying. This time she looked at me sternly and said, “Go away! Now!”
I stepped backwards while she walked inside the room.
I could hardly sleep that night. I heard noises that tormented my mind. I could feel her agony but couldn’t do anything to comfort her. What kind of man would give his wife such a pain, I thought. And then, the guilt inside me grew stronger as I thought of the women who suffered pain because of me. I always thought of myself as a hero but today I despised myself.
The next morning we were sight seeing at Basilica of Bom Jesus where I saw her with her husband. She was looking at me but I couldn’t read her eyes. They were again the same-expressionless. I knew she wasn’t happy but I could hardly do anything about it. Few of my friends noticed the change in my attitude but I couldn’t confide in them my feelings and the burn inside my heart I was feeling that very moment. “Go away! Now!” I could hear her speaking those words again and again.
I confronted her near the washstand after the dinner that night.
“I know you aren’t happy with the old man. May be I can help you…….”
“How?” she said fiercely and I was dumb for a second. I had no answer at that moment.
“I don’t know…but at least tell me something about you-”
“Meet me at 2 ‘o clock on the beach”, she said and left the place.
I walked on the sand until I saw the elfin beauty beside a small bonfire. She was staring into the embers, her fierce eyes reflecting the flames.
“I can think about nothing but you”, I whispered in her ears.
“That’s what he says too”, she said letting out breathe of air, “How can you help me?”
“Tell me something about you first”, I said.
“About me? I am Asra Khan, 3rd wife of Mr. Ahmed Khan who is rich enough to pay a ransom to my parents and then marry me. I was sold in the same manner as vegetables in a market.”
For the first time I had felt the force of her defiance. I listened quietly while she continued speaking. Initially, I was merely attracted to her beauty but now I started respecting her as a woman who was still waiting for her chance to freedom.
My fingers lingered on her hair for a few minutes and then on her face. She leaned on my shoulders, “He kicked me out last night when I refused him in bed. Anyone can buy me and sell me but my heart will remain my own.”
It was around six in the morning when I woke up beside the extinguished bonfire. I was still on the beach. Asra had left.
“Where the hell were you?” I was darted with questions as soon as I entered my room. My friends were already packing their belongings.
“With someone…”, I said politely.
“Oh god! What about those two women from Mumbai?” one of them asked appallingly.
“It’s different here”, I said in my defence. It’s always difficult to make your friends understand when it comes to women. All of them start acting like a concerned parent. But I didn’t quit. After several minutes of persuasion they left without me as I had bigger issues to handle at that moment.
I followed the couple everywhere they went, but couldn’t think of anything that might help her. On the same night, I heard frequent knocks on my door. I opened it and saw her sobbing. Her cheeks were moist and swollen red. There were bruises on her hands. The old man must have beaten her severely. I never felt so much of hatred for anyone in my life as much as I did for this man. I took her by her hand and moved towards her room. She resisted, “Please! I don’t want to go there. He’ll kill both of us if he sees us together.” But I didn’t hear her and knocked on their door. He opened it only after the knocks turned into bangs. He was in his underwear with a bottle of whisky in one hand and a wooden stick in the other. He raged with anger when he saw me holding her hand. He hit the stick hard on my chest, “HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER!!!”
I caught the end of the stick when he raised it for the second time and punched him on his face. The blow was so hard that he couldn’t balance himself and his hands left the bottle while clutching my collar. As a result his head knocked on the small dressing table behind him and he took me along with him. My head crashed on it as well.
I didn’t remember what was going on when I woke up. Asra was packing her bags. I realized that I had been unconscious for some time. But what appalled me was the blood on the floor that was oozing out of the old man’s head.
“He’s dead….” she declared.
Her voice sounded distant. When he fell his head crashed on the dressing table’s upper corner and may have lead to him dying instantly.
“We need to elope or else the police will catch us”, she said hurriedly.
I packed my belongings as well and checked out of the hotel with her. Though she kept on saying that it was just an accident but my mind couldn’t escape the remorse of my deed. I had killed a man!
We reached another hotel after two hours of journey. Asra was leaning on my shoulder and was fast asleep. I gazed at her. She looked beautiful in the moonlight falling on her face. When love is right, things workout, my mind said. I paid the cabbie and entered the ATM outside the hotel. She was still sleepy but she managed to stand beside me while I withdrew the money.
I took her face near mine as soon as we entered the hotel room and whispered, “I love you.” She blushed like a little girl and said, “I know what you want from me, but first you take a shower!” I smiled back. This little girl isn’t that little I thought.
I stepped into the shower and thought of Asra and the future waiting for us. I was happy that she was with me and not with that old frog. I stepped out of shower in bathrobe and shouted with exhilaration, “I LOVE YOU!!!” But there was no reply. I put on the lights in the room but there was no one. Both of our bags were missing. And not to mention my wallet, ATM card, my clothes, my underwear were missing too. I was feeling like what-the-hell-is- happening.
I called the hotel’s manager and he confirmed that the woman accompanying me had left and had asked me to call PRISTINE hotel. I didn’t understand at first but was shocked to hear from the PRISTINE hotel’s manager: “Mr. Khan left just minutes after you.” I realized where I was wrong. I believed Asra’s words that he was dead but never checked it myself. I called the police when I was assured that there was no murder.
“Do you read newspapers, sir?” the man in khaki clothes asked me. I shook my head and he handed me that day’s GOA TIMES. The headline said- FATHER DAUGHTER DUO CONNED SEVERAL MEN. I banged my head with my hands. “Sir there’s a note on the table left for you”, he said and handed me the small piece of paper. It said- Hi Aditya. By the time you read this, I and my father (the man you killed! Remember? ) must have gone far away. You were one of the most handsome men I spent my time with. It was really nice conning you. Take care handsome. Bye.
Yours forever
Asra
PS: I saw your password at the ATM
***
Life has its own ways of teaching lessons. For Aditya, he understood that it was he (men) who was weak and foolish enough to fall for an unknown woman so easily. So unlike other love stories, he tasted the fruit of love but some fruits can be bitter in taste.
--ARITRA SEN
Friday, January 8, 2010
those 21 minutes of my life…
I think this happens to everyone of us- We forget to eat, drink or sleep before an interview. We forget to do the homework but we make sure that we look good. We forget about our goals and spend hours editing our so-called ‘impressive' resume.
And like that old pepsi ad, I too used to ask-“Mera number kab aayega?”
That day it was my turn…
6th Jan 2010-6.30 pm
“Good evening Ma’am. May I come in?” I asked the woman who was scrutinizing some sheets of paper deeply.
She didn’t even look at me. “You are already in Mr. Aritra Sen.”
I noticed that I didn’t knock on the door but instead stepped inside her cabin directly.
This lady, who was barely a year older than me, was wearing a yellow kurta and blue jeans. And she was damn cuteJ.
Agar Jatin(my dear friend) hota toh kehta-“Aritra, main toh bolu isko pata le. Teri life set ho jayegi boss!”
I sat opposite to her and gave a curt smile.
“Tell me Mr. Sen, if we have an array of numbers, which sorting technique will you use to sort them?”
“Merge sort!” I replied instantly. Not that I was confident about my answer but the truth was that I forgot the names of other techniques.
“Why not Bubble sort or quick sort?”
“Because it is the fastest of all”, I said.
“But isn’t it more complex?”
“Complexity is not a problem for engineers, is it? All we need is to save some time.”
She looked unsatisfied by my answer. I gave a faint smile and pushed my folder containing all the certificates towards her. “Trying to impress me by your records Mr. Sen?”
“No Ma’am, I was just....” left the sentence incomplete…!
She wrote some numbers on a piece of paper and said, “Sort them.”
Sorting i.e. arranging numbers in ascending or descending order was a child’s play.
I did it within a second.
“Which technique did you use?” she asked.
My jaw dropped.
I thought she said SORTING! She never mentioned that I have to use some particular technique to derive my answer.
I said, “Bubble sort”, because I had a fair knowledge of the algorithm.
“Why?”
I said in a low voice without looking at her eyes, “Because it’s easy.”
BAKRA PHASS
“Easy!!! ‘Complexity is not a problem for engineers’”, she imitated me, “Why not Merge sort this time?”
“Kuch naa aaye toh jhooth mooth ka haans dena”- Karthik’s words started ringing in my head.
I smiled falsely in a hope that she would smile back at me but she didn’t.
“Stop giving that stupid smile”, she snapped.
Kill you Karthik!!!
“Tell me, what is late binding?”
“I don’t know…”
“What is binary search tree?”
“er…em…I don’t know…”
“What is the difference between Structure and
“I don’t know…”
HATRICK!!!
“What is the difference between printf and sprintf?”
“I don’t know…”
“What are types of queues?”
“Linear queue…er…em….ah…circular queue…er…I don’t know…”
“What is the syntax of free function?”
“Write ‘free’ and open close brackets.”
“What!” she exclaimed, “That’s it?”
I realized that I made a horrible mistake by answering something I didn’t know.
“Sorry…I think I am wrong…I don’t know…”
DOUBLE HATRICK!!!
I wished she slapped me and have said, “Gadhe! Tu software engineer banega!”
But she remained calm and continued firing more questions.
“What is an abstract class?”
YES! YES! I know this one!
I managed to deliver an efficient answer.
Her eyebrows rose an inch.
Ah! She never expected this!
I was feeling like a loser turned hero.
She asked me more and I gave her more.
NOTE:- There’s no double meaning to the above statement. Well, not intentional anyways…!!
She bowled five more balls while I managed to deliver a six in every shot…felt like Yuvraj singh!
C’mon baby! One more!
“Shed some light on storage classes.”
OH! Yuvraj Singh just had a cramp in his leg…
“I don’t know…”
“Thank you, you may go now.”
I just saw the negative axis in my ‘Engineer’s dream’. It was clear that I couldn’t make it to the next round.
It was 6.51 pm then. I made a mental note that mine was the shortest of all interviews.
As soon as I came out, many curious faces started asking me one question-“Kaisa tha?”
And I managed to give them only an one word answer-“Pakau.”
*
Everything she asked was read by me at some point in my life but I forgot to brush up my memory.
I believe someday, both you and me will survive those 21 minutes! And even if we get rejected again, then-Honthon ko kar ke gol…Seeti bajaa ke bol…Aal Izzz Well!-ARITRA SEN
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
the wedding bells
this story is about my cousin's marriage....hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed his marriage.Chapter 1- the imperfect groom
I was resting on an untidy bed piled with clothes, utensils, and plastics, etc.
“Where’s your brother?” asked a familiar female voice.
I looked up to see my cousin sister Tia, who was dressed in a beautiful saree.
“Practising for the next season of Indian Idol”, I said pointing towards closed door of the bathroom where the sound of water falling on the floor was dwarfed by my cousin’s singing- “Ami je tomar…sudhu je tomar” (I am yours… only yours)
My sister ran across the room and knocked on the bathroom door, “DADA!!! DERI HOCHCHE! MAA CHITKAR KORCHE!” (BROTHER!!! IT’S GETTING LATE! MOM IS SHOUTING!)
The singing stopped.
The bathroom door opened. A skinny, tall and dark man came out completely wet with a towel around his waist. His name was Dibakar Ghosh, my mama’s elder son, who was getting married today.
“Where’s mom? Please call her”, he ordered her.
After sometime, a middle-aged woman entered the room and started shouting at him as soon as she rested her eyes upon him.
“YOU ARE STILL NOT READY? Look at me! I am a woman and I am completely dressed, with the lipstick on my lips. And you are still wearing that 10 year old torn towel around your size zero!”
She looked like a dominant Saas from the soap operas in the TV.
He looked at me and then whispered something to his mother.
Though I thought that he must have said something to calm her temper but his mother looked angrier and slapped him on his shoulder.
“You don’t know where I keep your under wears! How will your wife tolerate you? You still behave like a toddler!”
My brother looked more embarrassed while I hid my face behind the cell phone to hide my laughter.
She went to the shelf and brought him some garments. Then she looked at him and frowned again. This time she brought another towel to dry his hair.
Once his mother was gone, he started dressing at my back while I played games on his phone.
“Help me!” he said after a few minutes.
I turned around and found my brother wearing a golden colored Kurta made of Tassar silk. He was also holding a 2 meter long white cloth in his hands.
“Are you thinking of wearing that saree?” I asked confusedly.
“Idiot! It is dhoti.”
It was then that I noticed his bare legs which were half covered by his kurta.
“MAA!” he shouted again.
I smiled while his mother helped him with the dhoti.
After she was gone, he looked at me and said, “How do I piss now?”
I thought of my pyjama which was held up by a simple Naada and couldn’t stop smiling at my brother’s helplessness.
“Bakra ready ho
My brother replied instantly, “Paaji main khud kushi ke liye ready hu!”
“Arre tune world cup ulta kyu pehna hai?”
My brother laughed heartily.
Actually it was a conical embroidered white cap called as TOPOR, made of a material called sola, weared by every Bengali groom.
“Jhontu! Sit in the car!” the groom’s mother shouted to her son.
“Maa! Please don’t call me by that name in front of so many people”, he replied angrily and sat inside.
Mama sat beside the driver while his daughter and wife sat on either side of the groom.
“C’mon children we will walk. It’s just half a kilometer”, announced my masi to all of us, “Arre Bhai Gaan Bajana suru koro!” And the Emotional Attyachaar tone roared in the neighbourhood.
*
Sardarji was resisting his legs from the moment the songs started.
After all he is a Punjabi!
As he was too embarrassed to be the only adult to dance in the procession, he asked all the elders separately to join him. But he was disappointed by -“Arre bhai, Paaye baitha!” (oh dear, I have pain in my legs!); “Dhoti khule jabe!” (Dhoti will come out!), etc.
But they clapped to the beats of the song to encourage their children who were dancing enthusiastically.
Sardarji poked me once and asked, “Common! Let’s shake a leg!”
If only he would have been a girl, then I would have said, “Let’s do it baby!” and would have bluffed about me giving a crash course to Hrithik Roshan on HOW TO DANCE!
“They could have arranged a horse. An ambassador car is too old fashioned, isn’t it?” I said to change the topic.
“Gadha ghode pe kaise baithega!” he said coolly.
At the same instant my brother summoned me from behind. I was too relieved to leave Sardarji and his dance topic alone in the crowd.
“Yes?”, I inquired.
Squeezed between two large but gorgeous women, my brother asked for an unusual request. I ran to the other end where the band walas were playing there instruments. I met the leader and instructed him to play TWIST-the hit number from the movie LOVE AAJ KAL.
No sooner did the song begin, than all the kids stopped dancing. Men and women on the streets gathered around us. From that distance I couldn’t see what was happening, but soon became aware of the reason for my brother’s special song request.
SARDARJI WAS DOING THE NAGIN DANCE!!!
It was a treat to all the eyes in the public to see a Sardarji joining his two hands to imitate a snake and then belly dancing.
After all… how many of us have ever seen a Sardar perform a NAGIN dance! I wish Shakira was here!
All of us gathered near the car while Sardarji ran towards the Band party to pay them.
I stood near two teenagers from the bride’s family, who were waiting for the car’s doors to open. I overheard their mother instructing them, “If he is fat, no need to pick him up. Just hold his hands and take him inside.”
As soon as my brother stepped from the car these two teenagers picked him and made him sit on their shoulders.
“I hope his dhoti remains intact”, Tia commented while we followed them inside the house. They took the groom inside one of the rooms which was crowded with bride’s family. All the elderly people from girl’s family were blessing the groom. Similarly our family went to bless the bride.
As soon as the ceremony ended, I and Sardarji went inside and sat beside my brother who looked nervous.
“Are you OK?” asked Sardarji.
“I lost my shoes”, he said innocently, “I think they fell when those two goondas picked me up. They were Nagras brought from Rajasthan.”
“Don’t worry Jiju! They are as safe as your future wife”, said one of the pretty girls who were standing near the door, “Just pay us about Rs. 1000/- and get them back”
“These activities of yours make you worth being called as SAALIS!” taunted my brother while they giggled on his comment.
“What are you girls doing here? Don’t irritate the groom and his friends. Go away!” shouted an elderly lady. She turned to us, “Shub Mahurat is in 10 mins. Let’s go to the mandap!”
*
We left the groom at the mandap with bride’s father and an old pandit who was reading some Sanskrit shloks from a book to perform some rituals.
I and Sardarji grabbed the seats and started with the delicious feast.
“Are you from
I nodded not knowing what was about to come.
“Have you seen Sachin Tendulkar?” one of them asked.
People outside Mumbai think of it as a small city where everyone including the stars and cricketers stays in the same society.
“Sachin and I don’t talk anymore”, I said coolly. The girl was disappointed and asked me the reason. Sardarji was busy laughing while I answered her, “His son broke my window panes thrice in the same week while playing cricket. I know he is son of the Master Blaster but that doesn’t mean that he will blast my house!”
Before they could react, the girl who was teasing my brother with his shoes arrived at the spot. “What are you girls doing here? Masi is searching you both.”
She watched the girls till they went inside and then turned to us, “I hope the food is alright?”
“It’s delicious” said Sardarji while I said, “It’s okay.”
The girl looked embarassed at my reaction.
“Why? What’s the problem?”
“All the beauties are busy with the marriage. If someone as beautiful as you accompanies us then…”
“Really? I can solve that problem within a second”, and she went inside.
“Oh god! Her hair is silky! Her skin is Milky! She is just like a vanilla ice cream!” exclaimed Sardarji.
“Main line marr raha hu naa!” I said.
“Hello uncle!” said a small cute looking girl who was accompanied by the same girl.
“Isn’t she beautiful? Sona, why don’t you recite the new poem you learned yesterday?”
The small girl looked excited and started with BABA BLACK SHEEP.
She smiled at me and said, “Enjoy!”
I smiled back and found myself developing a crush on her. I looked at the kid who was eating a Vanilla ice cream and poked Sardarji, “Your Vanilla Ice cream!”
The bride was covering her face with two betel leafs (paan). She was wearing the usual red bridal saree and a small crown on her head made up of sola.
“She is heavy!” I said to sardarji, “but I think she is beautiful.”
“Yes, Juliet marrying an Idiot!”
The groom stood at the center while the men carried the bride on the plank and revolved around him seven times. Then the bride was told to uncover her face and my brother blushed as soon as he saw her.
They exchanged flowers and sat down. All of us gathered to see the remaining ceremony where pandit was reading the shloks.
*
“Basor? What about the suhaag raat? And what’s Basor?” asked Sardarji.
“Well, we won’t allow them to have suhaag raat tonight. We will keep them awake” I said jokingly.
Basor meant all kinds of fun-music, drama, caricatures, etc. to keep the night alive.
The saalis and saalas entertained us all through the night. I and Sardarji were the only one who was representing the groom’s family while the others left.
“How did you propose?” asked one of the saalis to my brother curiously.
As the couple was too shy to recite their story, Aparna, the girl I had crush on, stood up and asked me to act with her.
“I will play the role of Jiju and you will be my sister.” I agreed.
All the eyes were fixed upon us. She bent down on her knees and took my left hand in her own and said, “I feel wonderful because I’ve seen the love light in your eyes; and wonder of it all is that you just don’t realize how much I love you”, she paused briefly and said, “Please marry me.”
I couldn’t stop myself from blushing.
I MEAN HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A GIRL PROPOSING?
I replied instantly. “Yes. When are we getting married?” And everyone laughed at my reply.
*
Around 3 am in the morning when all of us were tired and felt sleepy, Aparna played the song KAWA KAWA on her cell phone and asked the couple to dance.
It was fun to watch the newly wedded couple to rock n roll on those tunes.
My brother no longer cared for his dhoti!
“Aparna! Play that song” requested the bride. All of us stepped aside while the woman took her husband’s hand in her own and looked straight into his eyes. The dance floor melted into a romantic night when the recorded voice sang- TUJH MEIN RAB DIKHTA HAI…
*
It’s been a week since my brother has moved into his new house with his wife and I have returned to beautiful, bawdy Mumbai. But still the memories of that night- the new couple, Sardarji, Aparna and the song- Tujh mein rab dikhta hai… is fresh in my mind.
--ARITRA SEN
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