Kusro! Kusro!

“Kusro, Kusro!” Nandu was shouting. It was raining heavily. Water dripping down his nose, the head cap was not sufficient, his hair were wet. He shouted again,”Kusro, Kusro! Chalo Kusro!” His six-seat vehicle was almost full. He was awaiting only a seat to be accommodated. A lady came running out of station, without any umbrella, she rushed into the vehicle, Nandu started his roaring six-seater. It was Nandu’s source of earning; daily to and fro rides from station to his village Kusro. This was his last trip of the day. It was already seven and he knew considering the traffic in the weighty rains, it would take an hour to reach the destination unlike daily’s half an hour. The rickshaw hit the highway. Nandu was driving with a constant speed, the engine was noisy and it felt louder with the mammoth showers on the tin top of his vehicle.
The commuters were sitting steady, trying to ease themselves and not letting the water from their bag or umbrella on the fellow commuters. The lady, who got inside last, got her cell phone out from the polythene bag, called someone and said that she would reach in an hour and not to worry,. Nandu drove the rickshaw on the left most side of the road letting all the other vehicles pass ahead of his. He saw a man waving to stop the rickshaw, but Nandu was not in a mood to let anyone in except the six inside. He knew how clumsy and uncomforting it is for the travelers when one loads around eight to ten in a six-seater. With precisely six in the rickshaw, he used to charge a couple of rupees more and nobody bothered until they were safely and comfortably landing the destination. He passed by the waving man, and then drifted his vehicle in the traffic ahead. There was a long queue of motors, trucks, of about a couple of kilometers. He knew all the bumps and the holes on the road. Cutting through the lanes, passing by massive trucks, he got the rickshaw in front of the signal, which had caused the long stuck traffic. Now it had started pouring hard with strong wind. The wind caused the covers of the vehicles to flutter harder, water started spraying inside. Nandu slowed down ahead as a commuter patted on his back to stop. The man, paying ten rupees, got down opening his umbrella and disappeared into the dark. A few meters away, he saw another man waving. ‘He did look like the previous one’, Nandu thought, stopping the vehicle next to him.
“Station?” the man, all drenched without any cover, asked Nandu.
“No man! You are standing at the opposite side. Go across the road, you shall get a rickshaw there.” Nandu moved his hand on the gear to proceed, when suddenly he saw the man’s head coming closer to him from the other side. Man looked innocent and in deep trouble. “I know I am at the wrong side but no vehicle is stopping there. Are you doing another trip? ” the man asked with hopeful eyes to Nandu. Nandu startled for a second then said “No man! I am not coming again.” and he moved the vehicle a couple of feet away. The man, still following the vehicle, rushes his head inside and said,
“Look, I have few people waiting across the road near the hospital, including a lady. Please see if you can come. I’ll give you fifty rupees a seat. I have five people with me.”
He put his hand on Nandu’s and asked with a gentle smile, “so, you would come, right?” Nandu felt his ultra cold hand, saw a weird light in his eyes, maybe a bloodshed look at the liners, or some absurd look! Startled Nandu said “ok ok, I‘d come”. He then said, “Good! Thanks! I’ll be standing there, across the road. See you.” Pointing his fingers near a banyan tree, he ran there. Shiver ran down Nandu’s spine as he started driving further. He felt a little weak for the rest of the journey. He reached Kusro in 20 more minutes. Rains slowed meanwhile, but poured in bits with a slower force. Before going home he stopped by his regular country bar. He started feeling very cold. He was shivering and felt like having fever. He ordered his regular strong alcohol, had couple of pegs, and suddenly remembered about the man he had affirmed to travel back to station. But, the remembrance dozed away as the alcohol made its effect. The cold weather demanded few more pegs than his regular intake.
Next morning he woke up all fresh, and healthy. He felt more refreshed. It amused him that how alcohol with a good sleep makes a good and refreshing combination. As usual, he washed his rickshaw, especially all the mud that had stuck around the wheels, bottom surface. He was all set for his new day, and for the first trip, at 7 a.m. before he could shout and seek any commuters he saw a group heading towards his vehicle, few men, and a lady, going to station to sell some fish. They all sat inside with a glib. ‘A good start for the day!’ he said to himself, as he got the rickshaw accommodated without any wait. The weather seemed very nice. Sky was clear, the nature had blossomed green. The muddy side paths looked beautiful surrounded by all green grass. He realized that his rickshaw was also running a little smoothly without the usual roaring engine noise. Strangely, he didn’t see any villager on the road, which he would usually observe on the road, to go to the station. The morning was pleasant, nobody spoke inside, and neither there was any other vehicle buzzing. He looked at his rear mirror, and was surprised to see no other fellow rickshaw drivers. He couldn’t believe it was the very road that had blocked yesterday night. ‘Is it a holiday today?’ he thought to himself, but soon realized it was middle of the week. Soon he came near the country hospital and he remembered, yesterday the man who had stopped the vehicle was to halt here. He just remembered it, and dozing off the very thought he accelerated on the free road. Suddenly from nowhere, Nandu saw a massive, long truck trying to cross the road from far end. Nandu slowed a bit, he let that truck pass, and again accelerated, only to find a hefty thrust to his rickshaw from behind. People inside neither screamed nor showed a little sign of movement. Before he could understand what hit from behind and about the commuters, he saw the truck which he just let pass, coming in an increasing speed towards his vehicle. Nandu blew horn with all his power in the hand, also trying to turn the vehicle to some safer side. He used all his driving skill to skip the speedy truck but he was helpless as nothing helped as his vehicle got damaged so badly from behind. Within seconds the rickshaw crushed like a small tin can. Bleeding Nandu fall out of rickshaw, his one leg stuck inside, near the brakes, another leg under the rickshaw, he cried loudly for help. He saw the fellow commuters bleeding too, but they didn’t show any sign of pain. They were also stuck inside but eventually came out with an ease. Nandu was crying loudly, in pain, asking for a help from them. They all came towards him, only to shock Nandu, when he could see their drastically stopped bleeding and dried blood on their cloths. He saw one man’s arm cut, the lady had a severe cut on her head, and another man’s flesh had come out of his limb. But they all came with a thin smile on their faces towards him. A sudden thrust to head, and he saw face of the yesterday’s man next to his face.
“You should have come yesterday, I was waiting for you.” The man said with a cold. “We all were waiting for you”, rest all followed in unison. They all lifted him letting his stuck body parts inside where they had stuck, carried him on their shoulders following the tall armless, one-footed man.
Back here in Kusro, all the villagers were discussing about the two tragic and massive accidents that occured yesterday night. It killed six people standing by the road to go to the station, and after a while on the same road another hit and run case with a rickhsaw. Those people were first hit by a truck and then again rolled over by another speedy truck coming from the wrong side.

Humor around!

Many a times it happens that your friend cracks a joke in front of you, or a colleague tells you a funny incident he had been in, and starts laughing, thinking the joke or the incident was very funny, before the listener could get the entire story or joke; all you do afterwards is give a awkward small smile, and say, “Ah, sahi hai!” and widen the smile or if you are brave enough, you say, “What are you telling men? Shit, I should’ve been there! Very funny it was! ”and give a hi-fi to him. Many people I’ve seen, who fail to tell a humorous event or incident as effectively as it did happen. It really is an art to portray a funny incident in an appropriate way, so that listener enjoys it to the fullest. I’ve also been embarrassed several times and seen the uncomfortable laughs on my face. Later I realized to differentiate between the type of people and type of humor to be shared with. If you are around with your closest one, then it is a different thing altogether; instead of plastic smiles you immediately get banged with a kick on your butt; they will start picking up on you and you get along immediately and forget the thing comfortably.

Few days back, an acquaintance met and after usual ‘hi-hello’, he suddenly said, pointing his hand towards a board, “hey, look at the board. ‘Rathor- the Beer Shop’, it’s the surname of our Sanskrit teacher. Ha ha ha! ” he moved his hand forward for a hi-fi and with an equal artificial strength I appreciated his wit. My one friend, Prashant is a different person when it comes to these types of situations; he will be responding either by making his face as if he is trying hard to take shit out of his butt or he’ll bounce back furiously saying “F*#*, you are cracking the worst joke ever and expecting me to laugh! Back off your hand immediately!” angry faced Prashant would then look at his face and laugh out loudly, patting on his chest, say, “Just kidding men! Rathor sir was a real joker I tell you!” Later Prashant told me, “By doing this I get revenge immediately for his horrible joke and embarrassed him, also get an appropriate signal about ‘what and where to say some things?’ ” Anyways, I tried this thing once but found it very itchy, when the opposite person said, ‘sorry man, don’t laugh if you don’t want to; I didn’t mean to hurt you!’ Laughing at me, Prashant later told me that I must have done badly in the ‘patting in the chest’ part, which surely was correct; I had not picked the right moment and power to thump on his chest. Anyways, most of the times people tend to be on the safer side, get away with a smile and keep the honor of the teller.

Once a colleague of mine, Maher, told me the following “Man, you should have come the other day, you surely have missed it. Nil, Ani, Shanty, Rohit and me were hanging around in Matunga. So we were walking down the parker street. I was ahead with nil and Ani, and Shanty and Rohit were behind us. There was a place, fuck men it was so dirty garbage was flooding down, and Ani was on that side. There was a pot hole on the footpath and bang, suddenly a cyclist came in front of us so fast, that nil moved away to avoid the hit, cyclist lost the control and turn to left and went over Shanty. Shanty jumped to skip the pothole as well the cyclist but unfortunately and mind you, funnily landed on Ani and they both fell down towards in that garbage. I just escaped as I left behind while talking on the fun. Men, you should’ve seen the way shanty jumped! ” He told this ‘hilarious’ story to every other guy who knew any one of the character from the incident, with his own uncontrollable laughs intruding his own speech. While I was listening to the story, a colleague passed by and sarcastically murmured, “Oh, that Shanty story! It’s really funny!” It still, plenty a times happen, when Maher puts in picture the angles, sides of four football players with their speeds and how four of them collapsed into each other ‘funnily’. I wish one day will come when I’ll go and say to him, “Look bro, whatever funny incidents you always tell us are not funny at all for us! We just keep giving you fake smiles and how can you not get our sham laughs, bogus responses to your stories” But it never happens, and never will; everybody gets peeved with him but end of the day, we all think, if he feels happy, he laughs all day and makes most of his day useful working hard, we ought to support him with our grins. It’s really better than hurting the poor boy.

Well, it is true, every group around us, has its own compatibility with the kind of humor they share. Some laugh on every single odd thing happening around them, some laugh only on situational jokes, some don’t laugh at all on situational jokes, many groups have unsaid rules about the type of wit to be talked and the boundaries of the black humor. The ultimate thing is, hilarity is required in order to have fun while working. The intensity of wittiness may vary from person to person, group to group, but it acts like a lubricant in our dreary routines.

Something is Missing......

He always felt that he is special, with immense talent and confidence, he can be successful. Daily, he would get feeling that he could write impressive, he had the creativity, he had the imagination ; standing on the footboard of the train, breathing in the fresh air, daily, he would dream himself to be a successful writer,

He would see a little child doing potty at the side of rail track, he would imagine, what would be that boy’s life? Does he go to school? If not, had he ever thought about going to school? What are his parents? Are they working on daily wages and is he the one unlucky playing with children of same condition? Would he able to read books that I read? What if I go to him someday ask him what does he do? What if I spend an entire day with him? What if I understand his emotions, and write his feelings about the children who are been raised well? Or else, what if I write a diary for him? ‘Sounds to be an interesting idea!’ he would say promising himself to surely develop on it when he will get back from the office.

Day gets over, and here starts another journey of thoughts while traveling back! He would imagine looking at the throng on the station. ‘Why do we live in Mumbai? It is the dirtiest city with people crawling like ants here and there. Why am I living here? I’m not at all getting any sense of living my life here; I’m not getting time to do something in my way, something I really like. I’m doing job just for the sake of the money, there also I don’t get enough scope to explore myself. Am I the only one living this kind of life here? Am I the only one frustrated with family problems?’ Bang, his imagination starts working, he decides to write on the nuisance he is feeling; he would pretend himself leading hundreds of people who are sharing the same sentiment of frustration, anger, helplessness as he is feeling and people behind him nodding ‘Yes, he is the one who understands us. He is the one who could actually write our emotions.’

He would come home drained, too hungry to wait; he would eat dinner, thinking about the mails he has to send tonight and not at all enjoying the dinner to the fullest, just doing it mechanically. By the time, he sits on the computer, does his office work, his eyes start prickling, and he decides to go to bed rethinking of tomorrows work list; Completely forgotten about writing the thoughts, being a writer. Very soon, his body demands a sound sleep and again his life goes on the same cycle next morning.

He continues to live this way knowing he is not living to the fullest. Though he enjoys little joys in the life, adjusts himself according the life demands, he lives with something missing, something incomplete, and never satisfied...................

Move on!!!!!!!!

He is a fantastic person; humble, sarcastic, jovial, endearing person who could play excellent football as well. Most beloved among everybody around him… People used to say ‘nothing can go wrong with him, yet if it goes, he’ll get the best out of it and make things under his feet’…because he is supposed to be the Perfectionist!!

Aniruddha, or simply Ani, as we all call him, is single and always takes things like love, attraction, emotions in the most ironic way as he could. He has his own concepts of relationships which were very moral, logical, sort of ideal but only good on paper, speculative or simply ‘filmy’. He would argue you about one who’s drastically changed over a girl, one who’s ditching someone and going after another, wasting money for gals etc. Seeing you disagreed with your own views on love, relationships, used to give him a great pleasure and sense of moral victory.

But from few days back, he was being very averse from these kinds of discussions… he left hanging out with us, frequently, as he used to do. Ani started to leave from college very early; he suddenly found sitting for lectures very boring. Our surprise came to an end one day, when we caught Ani and Neha, our one fellow classmate, sitting in a nearby coffee shop. Next day, he told us, formally that he was going around with Neha and he liked her a lot. So, from then onwards, it was very common to see the changes like, being on phone for hours, bunking the college and finding him in that coffee shop, skipping our hang outs, etc. Their love story blossomed in a week, with lots of meetings in Barista, lots of hours on phone. He always used to tell us, ‘she’s so different than other girls’, ‘very caring n’ sweet’, ‘I’m very lucky to have Neha etc’. We didn’t find anything special in her, but the truth was, ‘Ani liked Neha’! A constant conflict between his two minds was making him nervous. He was the one who used to make fun of people in ‘Baseless, impractical, immature Relation’ and now he was passing through the same phase, Balancing between own inner image of himself and the one which he shaped before people, us.

One month later…………

“Please don’t go now… I want to talk a lot with you… wait for some more time!”

“Don’t talk with me… you can go and enjoy your football and your friends…I mean nothing to you anyways!” she said the last words so loudly that Ani felt very embarrassed. “I love you dear…But try n’ understand, we’ve our match tomorrow, we had to practice…….” Cutting his sentence she got up and said “give me a call at 12 exactly, not a single second late…bye…that’s your punishment…mind you, not a single second late.” Ani sat helplessly on the couple’s seat of coffee shop looking her go out so ruthlessly. He sat for few more minutes and left shop thinking of how weird one can act. Ani walked down the street thinking of that day when Neha came to him praising his football skills. “I loved your brilliant play today…you couldn’t manage to score a goal but still your game was excellent!!” The conversation started with this appreciation then turned into lots of chats, discussions, ended up with hours of ‘sweet nothings’ on phone. He thought he’s found the ultimate love he was searching for, in just few days. Now he was so poignant! How lucky he felt that day when she said ‘YES’…., Ani recollected his small period of romance with a solid kick on a dead cold drink can on footpath. It was certainly not going in the right way; the luck was certainly not on his side, one month of relation gave him very few happy days, he had to spin it off, get over the situation. After long rational, logical thinking, he came to a decision.

Ani suddenly got up at 11-50.remembering about the call. He thanked god for waking him up on time… Ani went to bathroom, splashed water on his face. He was very nervous…what will she say? This is not the first time but still…will it be alright in the end? I don’t want time-pass relation anymore; it has to be a serious one! She’s so sweet; it’s just that we would need time to get along…reminding him to be positive, he finally moved towards phone; Dialed the numbers…phone rang… “Hello”

“Happy birthday, Priya!” he whispered “Its exact 12’o clock, not a single second late”

“Thanks a lot!” she said “You are very punctual! I was expecting your call!”

“I know! So what is your answer? I’m waiting and dying to listen”

“The answer is what you expect dear…YES!!!”

“I knew it” he said “I love you!”

“I love you too!!”

So this was Ani…life asked him to move on and he did it with the smartest and practical way he could…the perfectionist!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He followed a famous filmy dialogue,

“Never run after a bus, train and girl; because, if you miss one, you will get another in sometime!!” ;)

Yeah hai Mumbai meri Jaan

Yeah hai Mumbai meri Jaan

Now, this will be my fourth year in Mumbai. It was only a few days after the big crisis of 26th July, when I first came to Mumbai with my elder brother. ‘The City’, for me was never beyond, Pune. From my town, Latur, I reached Mumbai; with the help of my elder brother, found accommodation and, here was to start my life without my parents, without my joint family back there; a completely independent life; here was I to decide my further path in life. On the first night, I fell asleep thinking how my journey shall be thrilling in this happening city; the so called, City of dreams, financial capital of India, city of Bollywood.

Now after three years, I can see the real life of the most of the people living over here. Life here is nothing but full of traveling. One day you come to this city for your career, in search of employment, for education, and you end up being a Mumbaikar. People come from every corner of the India, they struggle; struggle and more struggle which makes them find their permanent pie in the city. People travel for a couple of hours, all the way from the places like, Virar, Badlapur in overloaded trains; but they will travel, no matter how hectic it is; because, after all it's for the family they have set up during their time of struggle. After two years in a hostel, I moved in with my sister, who happened to be here for her higher studies. Here was my first encounter with actual daily traveling in local trains.

“Oh boy, he’s gone!” one commuter said.

“Why do they hurry?” another responded.

I eagerly asked them, “What happened?”

The few inches of distance between us in that overcrowded train, made me intrude their conversation, as I just sensed something has fallen down as the train arrived on Kanjur station. “Nothing muc!!,He hustled to get down even before train had haulted”

“Did they take him to the hospital?” I asked , but, it was an useless question as I also knew that train hardly waited for a few seconds to know what would happen later.

“Probably he is dead; Platforms are dangerous. If fallen on the tracks, there’s a chance of saving.” Within the few words he analyzed the death and forgot it talking about his office stuff to his colleague. I was terrified, speechless, and blank, thinking of what would have happened to that guy.

When someone young dies, it’s not just his death but it’s an end to his dreams, his parent’s hopes, his partner’s expectations and it affects a lot of people around him.

I didn’t know why that day was destined for me, but as soon as I got down at my destination, I saw a middle aged, badly bleeding woman being carried on a stretcher. I got to know later that she just fell off on the track because of the crowd trying to get into the train frantically. I couldn’t stop thinking of the guy and the face of the bleeding woman; life is very cheap here, I thought.

Tomorrow, I can be one of them if I would become so called Mumbaikar, if I stay here for my career, if I think about my permanent stay in this city. There’s no guarantee whether I’ll come back alive; this terrifying thought shook me for some time; But as a true Mumbaikar, I forgot the incident as early as possible. That’s the spirit of Mumbai which’s been appreciated in the entire world. No matter how many die every year, we won’t stop hanging on the footboard; we won’t stop sitting on the rooftops, we won’t stop clinging on to the train where danger sign is stenciled; that’s the spirit to live. Even within few hours of 7/11 blats, people traveled in trains, that’s the spirit; they showed world, nobody can kill our spirit, even bomb blasts can not stop us running, can not stop our lives; we are already dead inside, we leave our houses like brave Jawans on the border, with our lives in god's hand, that’s courage. I see many people, traveling the entire journey on foot boards of the train, with one leg inside, another leg almost outside, three fingers on the upper outer side of train and another hand holding on to a bar inside the train. Despite of the plenty pushes and explosive situations inside the train, they’ve enough confidence upon themselves that none of the insider’s thrust or the rush in the interiors will make them slip off their three fingers and consequently, their lives. Nobody has the time to think for all this; city is always on the run; it has to, there’s no escape!!

Every night, exhausted me, see myself, resting on the big varanda after my evening play, I see myself waiting for my dad coming from his office, playing with my mom’s sari while she cooks; pressing my granny’s legs; snuggling with my cousins; I sleep every night, dreaming to go back to those days. I will live that peaceful life, one day. One day I shall go back to my own town; be at peace.