http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=bfUhWHJjZHE
Click on the link above to view the video.
Regards,
Vociferous
Saturday, October 11, 2008
COMING SOON
A sweet little anecdote on Durga Divine – The Power Goddess. I’ve deliberately tried to give the title, a very cult status. Through this anecdote, I’ll try my level best to present a picture of what happens during the five day festive occasion. There’s so much to discover from gossiping ladies to swinging singles and romantic liaisons to rumours galore. Let’s see, when can I post it? Because I’m not in the pink of my health. Trying to fight the October heat and chasing a hectic schedule, I would look ahead to fill this space with images of Durga Divine and the marvellous experience of the festive occasion.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
KALKE MAA ASHHCHEY
5th Oct10.30 hrs - Sasthi Puja, Kalparambha
20.00 hrs - Bodhan, Amantran, Adhibas
6th Oct
9.00 hrs - Saptami Puja
7th Oct
8.30 hrs - Ashtami Puja
11.30 hrs - Kumari Puja
00.05 hrs - Sandhi Puja
8th Oct
9.00 hrs - Navami Puja
9th Oct
10.00 hrs - Dashami Puja
15.00 hrs - Bisharjan
Friday, October 03, 2008
CORRUPTION IS PROTECTION
“Corruption? Corruption is government intrusion into market efficiencies in the form of regulations. We have laws against it precisely so we can get away with it. Corruption is our protection. Corruption keeps us safe and warm. Corruption is why you and I are prancing around in here instead of fighting over scraps of meat out in the streets. Corruption is why we win.” blasts the character Danny Dalton enacted by Tim Blake Nelson in the spy thriller ‘Syriana’ released in the year 2005. And it holds so much truth. This he says in context to corrupt practices followed in America.
I think ‘Corruption’ is the most delicious delicacy ever served on a platter called ‘Democracy’. Yes! At least in India, Democracy is nothing more than a frayed platter. Corruption breeds within our day-to-day chores. Its reproductive quality is unparalleled.
So, why am I talking so much about corruption? Simple, I had experienced it in the past and I succumbed to it recently. The point of discussion is the sudden loss of my driving licence. At the first place, I lost it because of my own fault. While it rained incessantly, I chose to wear my windcheater. After having paid the electricity bills, I tucked the receipts, my licence and cash amounting to Rs. 450 in a polythene bag. I was supposed to insert it in the pocket provided in the windcheater. This is exactly where I committed a major mistake of not checking whether I had tucked the polythene bag rightly. I realised my foolish deed only after 15 minutes. I drove back to the same spot where I might have misplaced my licence. To my surprise, I discovered that someone had already made away with the booty. Only the cash might have earned him a fortune for a day or two. But the licence and receipts held little relevance.
Quite frustrated, I started inquiring about the procedures to acquire a duplicate copy of the driving license. Thankfully, I had sufficient Xerox copies of my license safely reserved at home, in my wallet and at all possible places that has something to do with my passion to drive. After almost 15 days of the grand loss, I approached my agent at the RTO. Middle-aged, composed and ever cheering; she asked me to first lodge a complaint at a local police station about the loss. I rediscovered her after having lost track of her for last four years since my first licence was issued.
I hurried at an indescribable pace to the nearby police station to register a complaint. A smart cop whose only responsibility is to issue complaint numbers asked me to first get an affidavit done about the loss of my licence. This particular task made me travel to the nearby court where hundreds of Xerox centres are ready to shell out an affidavit at a cost of Rs. 140 in flat 10 minutes. After I got the affidavit done, I rushed back to the police station. The smart cop scanned the affidavit with his feisty eyes and replied that he cannot register a complaint at his police station. The reason he cited was quite legible. The actual place of loss mentioned in the affidavit did not come under the jurisdiction of the police station he was attached with. The other available option left was to get the complaint registered at the mentioned place in the affidavit.
I had never entered a police station in my life, not at least a local one. The entire ambience was gloomy. On entering the police station there was a dingy room on the right hand side with a cage like structure installed. I suppose this arrangement is usually referred to as a police lockup. Seated in the room were three teenagers who were supposedly beaten up badly the previous night. “Ok” I said to myself as I was facing the harshest reality of life. Not a single cop paid attention to my sudden appearance. It was only after a middle aged cop inquired the reason of my presence that I gathered some courage. I informed him that I had lost my license and was looking ahead to register a complaint. He asked me to hand him over the affidavit. He rose from his chair and walked inside. He inquired for the person who was supposed to register the complaint. To my surprise, the cop; a man reaching closer to his sixtieth year of existence on planet was dozing off somewhere inside. He emerged quite lethargically. His disturbed looks confirmed my doubts that he was least interested in doing some work at that hour of the day. Ok…so after having disrupted his siesta, I expected him to work a little faster. But…no! His fingers refused to follow the rule of the day. The pace was unnerving. His task was interrupted with punctuations of filthy communications.
Finally the complaint was registered, which consumed 45 minutes of my otherwise busy schedule. After having scribbled something on a recycled piece of paper, the cop stretched his palm just like a beggar does for soliciting alms. Puzzled…I inquired about what he needed. He bluntly replied, “Money…young man…show me the money!” To which I questioned, “How much sir?” His imaginative reply, “Anything you wish to young man…500, 1000 or 5000 bucks”. I felt like screaming, “Are you out of your mind?” But I maintained my calm and shelled out Rs. 100 instead of the contemplated Rs. 50 note. He would have shot me for getting into that act of bravery. Quite displeased, he reluctantly accepted Rs. 100 and commented that it cannot buy him even a kilogram of mutton. I replied, “Sir, chicken would do for you?” He replied back, “Please leave”. I hurried back to the RTO and handed over all the papers to my agent. She replied, “Now you can leave…” I inquired, “And my licence?” She requested me to hand her over some more money so that she can fasten the process. I bluntly replied, “No…first get me the licence and then you get what you want.” Money paid, formalities done…I eagerly waited for my licence to arrive. I nagged my agent, tempted her with lunch offers, but to no avail. Finally three days back, she informed, “Hey aren’t you coming to get your licence?” I rushed to the RTO. She was standing there like an angel, smiling devilishly. As I was about to take the licence from her hand, she stepped back. I said, “Hey…?” She bluntly asked me to first pay her some extra cash. I pulled out a 100 rupee note and took control of my licence. Somewhere within her, a little bit of conscience prompter her to do one good. As I planned to walk back to my office; she offered me lift in the rickshaw she was driving back in. I discovered that other side of her…which was soft, motherly and caring.
We struck a conversation, which brought to my notice the fact that she too has adapted herself to corruption. On inquiring why? She replied, “Well young man…this is the demand of time. If you aren’t corrupt, you cannot survive.” I agreed with her and as she departed dropping me near my office, she screamed at the peak of her voice, “Don’t lose your licence now because I won’t like you to see greasing filthy palms again…and take care son.”
I hate corruption from the bottom of my heart. But I can’t stay away from it. Because at regular intervals it has protected me and bestowed on me some benefits, which could have been unimaginable without being corrupt. So, long live corruption because one day it would meet its fate just like it did in the movie – V for Vendetta.
My count of corruption:
Cash paid to agent: Rs. 500/-
Affidavit: Rs. 140/-
Bribe to cop: Rs. 100/-
Travelling expense: Rs. 160/-
------------------------------------------------
Total Rs. 900/-
------------------------------------------------
I think ‘Corruption’ is the most delicious delicacy ever served on a platter called ‘Democracy’. Yes! At least in India, Democracy is nothing more than a frayed platter. Corruption breeds within our day-to-day chores. Its reproductive quality is unparalleled.
So, why am I talking so much about corruption? Simple, I had experienced it in the past and I succumbed to it recently. The point of discussion is the sudden loss of my driving licence. At the first place, I lost it because of my own fault. While it rained incessantly, I chose to wear my windcheater. After having paid the electricity bills, I tucked the receipts, my licence and cash amounting to Rs. 450 in a polythene bag. I was supposed to insert it in the pocket provided in the windcheater. This is exactly where I committed a major mistake of not checking whether I had tucked the polythene bag rightly. I realised my foolish deed only after 15 minutes. I drove back to the same spot where I might have misplaced my licence. To my surprise, I discovered that someone had already made away with the booty. Only the cash might have earned him a fortune for a day or two. But the licence and receipts held little relevance.
Quite frustrated, I started inquiring about the procedures to acquire a duplicate copy of the driving license. Thankfully, I had sufficient Xerox copies of my license safely reserved at home, in my wallet and at all possible places that has something to do with my passion to drive. After almost 15 days of the grand loss, I approached my agent at the RTO. Middle-aged, composed and ever cheering; she asked me to first lodge a complaint at a local police station about the loss. I rediscovered her after having lost track of her for last four years since my first licence was issued.
I hurried at an indescribable pace to the nearby police station to register a complaint. A smart cop whose only responsibility is to issue complaint numbers asked me to first get an affidavit done about the loss of my licence. This particular task made me travel to the nearby court where hundreds of Xerox centres are ready to shell out an affidavit at a cost of Rs. 140 in flat 10 minutes. After I got the affidavit done, I rushed back to the police station. The smart cop scanned the affidavit with his feisty eyes and replied that he cannot register a complaint at his police station. The reason he cited was quite legible. The actual place of loss mentioned in the affidavit did not come under the jurisdiction of the police station he was attached with. The other available option left was to get the complaint registered at the mentioned place in the affidavit.
I had never entered a police station in my life, not at least a local one. The entire ambience was gloomy. On entering the police station there was a dingy room on the right hand side with a cage like structure installed. I suppose this arrangement is usually referred to as a police lockup. Seated in the room were three teenagers who were supposedly beaten up badly the previous night. “Ok” I said to myself as I was facing the harshest reality of life. Not a single cop paid attention to my sudden appearance. It was only after a middle aged cop inquired the reason of my presence that I gathered some courage. I informed him that I had lost my license and was looking ahead to register a complaint. He asked me to hand him over the affidavit. He rose from his chair and walked inside. He inquired for the person who was supposed to register the complaint. To my surprise, the cop; a man reaching closer to his sixtieth year of existence on planet was dozing off somewhere inside. He emerged quite lethargically. His disturbed looks confirmed my doubts that he was least interested in doing some work at that hour of the day. Ok…so after having disrupted his siesta, I expected him to work a little faster. But…no! His fingers refused to follow the rule of the day. The pace was unnerving. His task was interrupted with punctuations of filthy communications.
Finally the complaint was registered, which consumed 45 minutes of my otherwise busy schedule. After having scribbled something on a recycled piece of paper, the cop stretched his palm just like a beggar does for soliciting alms. Puzzled…I inquired about what he needed. He bluntly replied, “Money…young man…show me the money!” To which I questioned, “How much sir?” His imaginative reply, “Anything you wish to young man…500, 1000 or 5000 bucks”. I felt like screaming, “Are you out of your mind?” But I maintained my calm and shelled out Rs. 100 instead of the contemplated Rs. 50 note. He would have shot me for getting into that act of bravery. Quite displeased, he reluctantly accepted Rs. 100 and commented that it cannot buy him even a kilogram of mutton. I replied, “Sir, chicken would do for you?” He replied back, “Please leave”. I hurried back to the RTO and handed over all the papers to my agent. She replied, “Now you can leave…” I inquired, “And my licence?” She requested me to hand her over some more money so that she can fasten the process. I bluntly replied, “No…first get me the licence and then you get what you want.” Money paid, formalities done…I eagerly waited for my licence to arrive. I nagged my agent, tempted her with lunch offers, but to no avail. Finally three days back, she informed, “Hey aren’t you coming to get your licence?” I rushed to the RTO. She was standing there like an angel, smiling devilishly. As I was about to take the licence from her hand, she stepped back. I said, “Hey…?” She bluntly asked me to first pay her some extra cash. I pulled out a 100 rupee note and took control of my licence. Somewhere within her, a little bit of conscience prompter her to do one good. As I planned to walk back to my office; she offered me lift in the rickshaw she was driving back in. I discovered that other side of her…which was soft, motherly and caring.
We struck a conversation, which brought to my notice the fact that she too has adapted herself to corruption. On inquiring why? She replied, “Well young man…this is the demand of time. If you aren’t corrupt, you cannot survive.” I agreed with her and as she departed dropping me near my office, she screamed at the peak of her voice, “Don’t lose your licence now because I won’t like you to see greasing filthy palms again…and take care son.”
I hate corruption from the bottom of my heart. But I can’t stay away from it. Because at regular intervals it has protected me and bestowed on me some benefits, which could have been unimaginable without being corrupt. So, long live corruption because one day it would meet its fate just like it did in the movie – V for Vendetta.
My count of corruption:
Cash paid to agent: Rs. 500/-
Affidavit: Rs. 140/-
Bribe to cop: Rs. 100/-
Travelling expense: Rs. 160/-
------------------------------------------------
Total Rs. 900/-
------------------------------------------------
ON OCTOBER 2, 2008
Durga Puja Preparations:
Housekeeping
Done away with junk, old newspapers, magazines and other papers
Application of Henna to my salted and peppered hair
Thinking of availing leave on October 7 & 8
Bike:
Maintenance done after eight months
Filled with 3.74 litres of petrol
Tyres hard with air
She looks sexy again
Celebrations:
Gandhi Jayanti – Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday
Every news channel carried extensive bytes on the ‘Mahatma’
Movies shown: My all time favourite – ‘Gandhi’ and the adorable ‘Lage Raho Munnabhai’
Lal Bahadur Shastri’s birthday – Forgotten and Ignored
Visits:
Local Gaon Devi temple after a long time
Goddess Kali’s abode in colony after a long time
Encounter:
One of my best friend going on a long drive with her handsome hubby and cute son
Phone Calls:
My childhood friend and one of my best colleagues from earlier office
Sunday, March 23, 2008
PATH TO REDISCOVERY
That day...I was walking on the road. I was walking with my head down. Suddenly I heard a car stop at a distance. I looked up and saw the car slowly moving back. From the car peeped out a face. And I was shocked as hell. It was none other than 'Me'.
It was quite amusing to see myself step out of the car and walk towards me. 'Me' suddenly popped a question, "Hey dude...Whazzup?"
I was speechless.
'Me' continued..."To be frank, let me tell you that you are at the crossroads of your life.
You spent 17 years studying and 10 years working.
During all these years you earned money, fame and hell lot of other things. Not to forget that infamous French beard too.
But, have you reached your destination?"
I was still speechless.
'Me' showed me the sportswatch on his wrist and said, "Time is ticking away. Do what your heart says." He further continued, "I am making a move. I'll see you in two months from now."
He walked towards the car; opened the door and drove away.
I stood there watching 'Me' disappear.
In a few seconds, I received an sms from 'Me' saying, "You are walking on the path to rediscovery. You would find mountains, obstacles, dacoits and many other things. Keep walking and do make it a point to fail yourself. Because after failure comes success."
I am walking and will be back blogging when I reach a suitable destination..........!!!!!!!!
-vociferous
It was quite amusing to see myself step out of the car and walk towards me. 'Me' suddenly popped a question, "Hey dude...Whazzup?"
I was speechless.
'Me' continued..."To be frank, let me tell you that you are at the crossroads of your life.
You spent 17 years studying and 10 years working.
During all these years you earned money, fame and hell lot of other things. Not to forget that infamous French beard too.
But, have you reached your destination?"
I was still speechless.
'Me' showed me the sportswatch on his wrist and said, "Time is ticking away. Do what your heart says." He further continued, "I am making a move. I'll see you in two months from now."
He walked towards the car; opened the door and drove away.
I stood there watching 'Me' disappear.
In a few seconds, I received an sms from 'Me' saying, "You are walking on the path to rediscovery. You would find mountains, obstacles, dacoits and many other things. Keep walking and do make it a point to fail yourself. Because after failure comes success."
I am walking and will be back blogging when I reach a suitable destination..........!!!!!!!!
-vociferous
Thursday, January 17, 2008
A TWIST IN THE END
On 15th January 2008 with great pleasure we celebrated 'Makar Sankranti'. Being a die hard addict of mouthwatering products made of sugar, escaping those sweet somethings was a temptation, I couldn't afford to miss. On the other hand, I am fascinated with food. Anything that kills my hunger gracefully is good food to me. Why am I stuck on 'Makar Sankranti'? Because this year I am running short of 'Tilgul' supplies. This Maharashtrian sweet made of jaggery and mixture of groundnuts and 'til' is my personal favourite. During my days when I used to teach mathematics to some of my students they always tried to bribe me to escape my tantrums by offering the first 'tilgul' of the season. Those memories still keep lingering in my mind. So, I am still talking about 'Makar Sankranti'! That is because from 15th January 2008, the temperature in Mumbai is rising higher and higher. And it has started taking its toll on me.
Today I planned to visit Mumbai Central for some personal work of mine. I was at the first place put off by the long time it took me to travel to Byculla by a slow train. I am accustomed to travel by fast trains. The journey was not only irritating but frustrating too. The train seemed like taking ages to reach each station. I finished reading the gossip tabloid 'Mid Day', which now-a-days has nothing to offer except the Mid Day Mate, which was a fascination in college days and now is just an accessory which comes free with the timepass daily. I read it for yet another reason. I am personally aware of a female journalist who along with one of her other journalist colleague comes up with somewhat interesting stories. But now-a-days even she has disappeared. And this has happened right from the day, I thought of appreciating her efforts by personally congratulating her. Ok....so without losing focus on what I plan to write, I was busy reading the Mid Day. Quite impatiently I awaited the arrival of Byculla. The moment the train stopped, I jumped off and landed on the platform. I felt, I am free. From Byculla, I made up my mind to walk all the way to Mumbai Central. I repent that decision of mine. The sun seemed to be teasing me from the sky above. It reminded me of the story I had once read in one of school textbooks about who is mightier the sun or the wind? In my case, I agree the sun is mightier than any one else. I walked for 20 odd minutes and finally reached Mumbai Central. After my work was done, I boarded a Churchgate bound local. At that hour of the day (14.20 pm), I was surprised to see the second class compartments packed to the cored. 75% of them were my bengali friends, who travel all the way from Bhayander and Mira Road to turn gold into beautiful pieces of jewellery. While the 25% were travellers of a normal nature like that of mine. I descended at Churchgate and once again chose to walk towards Regal. Once again, I regretted that decision of mine. Because this time, the sun had made up its mind to melt me. I ran out of breath and finally feeling hungry reached the Majestic Hotel.
This Hotel was our favourite joint in the past when we frequented the Gateway of India on holidays. I feel very sad to say the Hotel has lost its expertise it had in cooking the best Mutton Biryani. At the first place, the mutton was half cooked and on the other hand, the rice served was cold. I couldn't fully enjoy the four pieces of mutton which came hidden in the rice mountain. I tried to tear the flesh apart from the bones, but, I failed miserably. If someone would have been supervising me secretly, I must have definitely resembled a creature out of National Geographic. And yes, there was this beautiful lady who was watching me from a distance. Feeling dissatisfied, I first planned to order another plate of Haka Noodles but then settled down for a lassi. I politely told the waiter, I didn't enjoy the food. He smiled and gracefully walked away with the money I paid for that half cooked biryani. The lady too left looking at me still very amusingly. It was only when I gulped that 'Mitha Pan' from a pan vendor located at the hotel's entrance did she believe that I was as normal as she. But the twist was yet to come. The lady was walking towards Regal talkies. She seemed like curiously walking towards me. She stopped at the same pan vendor, I was having my pen and ordered the panwallah, " Ek Wills ka packet dena". She tore off the thin plastic cover on the pack, pulled out a cancer stick, pressed it between her lips and lit it with a lighter offered by the panwallah. Now it was my turn to watch her amusingly. But she just turned to the right, called for a taxi, settled in and rode away....I stood there for 10 minutes wondering "Women Liberation Zinadabad". The panwallah told me that she owns a boutique at Colaba, is married twice and now lives somewhere at Charni Road with a guy half her age. On inquiring as to how does he know so much about her, he replied, "Mera bhai boutique mein kaam karta hair aur Charni Road ke ghar par aana jana hai".
Shaken and stirred, I walked towards Mumbai CST and settled down in this Cyber Cafe which has been my favourite choice to browse the net. Blogging from portasia.
This is Vociferous.
Today I planned to visit Mumbai Central for some personal work of mine. I was at the first place put off by the long time it took me to travel to Byculla by a slow train. I am accustomed to travel by fast trains. The journey was not only irritating but frustrating too. The train seemed like taking ages to reach each station. I finished reading the gossip tabloid 'Mid Day', which now-a-days has nothing to offer except the Mid Day Mate, which was a fascination in college days and now is just an accessory which comes free with the timepass daily. I read it for yet another reason. I am personally aware of a female journalist who along with one of her other journalist colleague comes up with somewhat interesting stories. But now-a-days even she has disappeared. And this has happened right from the day, I thought of appreciating her efforts by personally congratulating her. Ok....so without losing focus on what I plan to write, I was busy reading the Mid Day. Quite impatiently I awaited the arrival of Byculla. The moment the train stopped, I jumped off and landed on the platform. I felt, I am free. From Byculla, I made up my mind to walk all the way to Mumbai Central. I repent that decision of mine. The sun seemed to be teasing me from the sky above. It reminded me of the story I had once read in one of school textbooks about who is mightier the sun or the wind? In my case, I agree the sun is mightier than any one else. I walked for 20 odd minutes and finally reached Mumbai Central. After my work was done, I boarded a Churchgate bound local. At that hour of the day (14.20 pm), I was surprised to see the second class compartments packed to the cored. 75% of them were my bengali friends, who travel all the way from Bhayander and Mira Road to turn gold into beautiful pieces of jewellery. While the 25% were travellers of a normal nature like that of mine. I descended at Churchgate and once again chose to walk towards Regal. Once again, I regretted that decision of mine. Because this time, the sun had made up its mind to melt me. I ran out of breath and finally feeling hungry reached the Majestic Hotel.
This Hotel was our favourite joint in the past when we frequented the Gateway of India on holidays. I feel very sad to say the Hotel has lost its expertise it had in cooking the best Mutton Biryani. At the first place, the mutton was half cooked and on the other hand, the rice served was cold. I couldn't fully enjoy the four pieces of mutton which came hidden in the rice mountain. I tried to tear the flesh apart from the bones, but, I failed miserably. If someone would have been supervising me secretly, I must have definitely resembled a creature out of National Geographic. And yes, there was this beautiful lady who was watching me from a distance. Feeling dissatisfied, I first planned to order another plate of Haka Noodles but then settled down for a lassi. I politely told the waiter, I didn't enjoy the food. He smiled and gracefully walked away with the money I paid for that half cooked biryani. The lady too left looking at me still very amusingly. It was only when I gulped that 'Mitha Pan' from a pan vendor located at the hotel's entrance did she believe that I was as normal as she. But the twist was yet to come. The lady was walking towards Regal talkies. She seemed like curiously walking towards me. She stopped at the same pan vendor, I was having my pen and ordered the panwallah, " Ek Wills ka packet dena". She tore off the thin plastic cover on the pack, pulled out a cancer stick, pressed it between her lips and lit it with a lighter offered by the panwallah. Now it was my turn to watch her amusingly. But she just turned to the right, called for a taxi, settled in and rode away....I stood there for 10 minutes wondering "Women Liberation Zinadabad". The panwallah told me that she owns a boutique at Colaba, is married twice and now lives somewhere at Charni Road with a guy half her age. On inquiring as to how does he know so much about her, he replied, "Mera bhai boutique mein kaam karta hair aur Charni Road ke ghar par aana jana hai".
Shaken and stirred, I walked towards Mumbai CST and settled down in this Cyber Cafe which has been my favourite choice to browse the net. Blogging from portasia.
This is Vociferous.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
DESPERATELY SEEKING 2008
The countdown to 2008 had begun right from December 30, 2007. There was no end to excitement. Be it conversations, arguments or mere discussions; means to celebrate the New Year occupied a prime position in every other thing. I have never been fascinated with the entire concept of ushering in the New Year. For me, it is the excitement of unveiling the new calendar. Earlier I was the first to receive a copy of the year’s first calendar. Now the expectations are scarce. I don’t even expect a diary to come my way. Thanks to my Mom who manages to get one for me.
My friends asked me, “What’s your New Year Resolution?” I replied, “None”. Then they inquired, “What’s the plan tonight?” I replied, “None”. I was not interested in divulging my plans as I held it too personal. But quite selfishly I took keen interest in eavesdropping about what others were planning for 31st night.
After having left office a little early I eagerly anticipated boarding a vacant train. To my surprise, the trains were running behind schedule and were packed to the core. Reasons cited for the delay and overcrowding was a derailment which occurred in the morning. Accepting the fact so closely witnessed in the morning, I managed to cut through the crowd and was smartly pushed towards the window which separates the ladies first class from the compartment flooded by men. Though people deny not fancying to this lucky spot, I frankly say 98% of them lie. There is immense curiosity to stick to that place. I too stuck there without a sign of apprehension on my face and without any guilt in my heart. In my hand, I held the latest issue of ‘The Sunday Indian’ which showcased the year 2007. On other days I listen to a bunch of songs stored in my Sony Ericsson W700i but today I chose to shun the melodious songs. I stood there near the window which is also regarded the video coach in many of the suburban locals. The entire compartment was abuzz with conversations and plans to usher in the New Year. After having left Byculla, the train’s next halt was at Dadar. Just like their mighty male counterparts, females rushed into their first class compartment; screaming, yelling and arguing for a better place. Amongst them a young female managed to occupy the position bang opposite the window I was standing and looking at the hara-kiri. Without paying any heed to what was going around she fished out her mobile and started speaking. The first line she spoke in Marathi was, “Kuthe Aahes Tu?” (Where are you?). On learning the destination of the person on the other hand, she said, “You should have boarded the same local. You have to understand that I have told my parents that I am going to a friend’s place for some work. They aren’t aware about my plans of spending the night at a resort located in Karjat. Do one thing; make it a point to board this same local from Kalyan where you had your meeting.”
I had never come across souls so desperate to usher in the New Year with such excitement. I just wished secretly that the female stays safe tonight and returns home safely to her parents the other day. Luckily her conversation lasted only for 7 minutes.
The train slowly reached Kurla. A very loudly dressed lady boarded the train. Looking at the way she boarded the first class compartment, she sent out loud signals that she wasn’t a frequenter. After 10 minutes her phone rang. She answered the call in broken Hindi with a heavy Bengali accent. The first lines she spoke were – “Abhi bola gadi Thane mein layega. Aur abhi bolta hai ki rickshaw se aao” (You just said that you will be bringing the vehicle to Thane. And now you say that I have to come by rickshaw). Then she continued that she will not be charging a penny less for services that would be sought from her. She repeatedly inquired about at least three hotels which are located on the Ghodbunder road in Thane. That confirmed my doubts that she was a prostitute who had been paid the advance to entertain some unknown guests during the New Year eve. After disconnecting she dialled some more numbers and spoke in fluent Bengali. She said, “Ora bolche aro teente aurat lagbe” (They need three more women). Bangladeshis always make it a point to include Hindi words in their otherwise Bengali conversations. Then she disconnected saying, “Thik ache kalke ashey commission diye debo” (Ok! I will give you your commission on my return tomorrow).
The unpleasant conversations made it apparent that she was on her way to entertain some clients and had already arranged for some more girls to extend an olive branch to some pleasant guests. It was interesting to know that people still find it so interesting to experiment when India is already showing early signs of being a nation highly susceptible to the spread of HIV/AIDS virus.
With every New Years Eve we are exposed to a new evil in the society. This year I discovered them in these two females. One female was making herself available at a cost while the other was falling prey to the intentions of a friend she might have known for long. What needs to be understood that what might have happened to both of them on the other day? As far as the prostitute is concerned she might have walked back with loads of money and gifts in her kitty. But what about the pretty female who was over excited to spend the night out with her male friend, fiancé, acquaintance, office colleague or a blind date???
Curious and concerned I stayed awake till 1 a.m. to welcome 2008. Being a holiday I spent the entire day doing other household chores and on January 2, I am back to work but still the thought revolving around both the females are lingering in my mind. What a beginning to 2008?
I expect others also to think with me..........................
My friends asked me, “What’s your New Year Resolution?” I replied, “None”. Then they inquired, “What’s the plan tonight?” I replied, “None”. I was not interested in divulging my plans as I held it too personal. But quite selfishly I took keen interest in eavesdropping about what others were planning for 31st night.
After having left office a little early I eagerly anticipated boarding a vacant train. To my surprise, the trains were running behind schedule and were packed to the core. Reasons cited for the delay and overcrowding was a derailment which occurred in the morning. Accepting the fact so closely witnessed in the morning, I managed to cut through the crowd and was smartly pushed towards the window which separates the ladies first class from the compartment flooded by men. Though people deny not fancying to this lucky spot, I frankly say 98% of them lie. There is immense curiosity to stick to that place. I too stuck there without a sign of apprehension on my face and without any guilt in my heart. In my hand, I held the latest issue of ‘The Sunday Indian’ which showcased the year 2007. On other days I listen to a bunch of songs stored in my Sony Ericsson W700i but today I chose to shun the melodious songs. I stood there near the window which is also regarded the video coach in many of the suburban locals. The entire compartment was abuzz with conversations and plans to usher in the New Year. After having left Byculla, the train’s next halt was at Dadar. Just like their mighty male counterparts, females rushed into their first class compartment; screaming, yelling and arguing for a better place. Amongst them a young female managed to occupy the position bang opposite the window I was standing and looking at the hara-kiri. Without paying any heed to what was going around she fished out her mobile and started speaking. The first line she spoke in Marathi was, “Kuthe Aahes Tu?” (Where are you?). On learning the destination of the person on the other hand, she said, “You should have boarded the same local. You have to understand that I have told my parents that I am going to a friend’s place for some work. They aren’t aware about my plans of spending the night at a resort located in Karjat. Do one thing; make it a point to board this same local from Kalyan where you had your meeting.”
I had never come across souls so desperate to usher in the New Year with such excitement. I just wished secretly that the female stays safe tonight and returns home safely to her parents the other day. Luckily her conversation lasted only for 7 minutes.
The train slowly reached Kurla. A very loudly dressed lady boarded the train. Looking at the way she boarded the first class compartment, she sent out loud signals that she wasn’t a frequenter. After 10 minutes her phone rang. She answered the call in broken Hindi with a heavy Bengali accent. The first lines she spoke were – “Abhi bola gadi Thane mein layega. Aur abhi bolta hai ki rickshaw se aao” (You just said that you will be bringing the vehicle to Thane. And now you say that I have to come by rickshaw). Then she continued that she will not be charging a penny less for services that would be sought from her. She repeatedly inquired about at least three hotels which are located on the Ghodbunder road in Thane. That confirmed my doubts that she was a prostitute who had been paid the advance to entertain some unknown guests during the New Year eve. After disconnecting she dialled some more numbers and spoke in fluent Bengali. She said, “Ora bolche aro teente aurat lagbe” (They need three more women). Bangladeshis always make it a point to include Hindi words in their otherwise Bengali conversations. Then she disconnected saying, “Thik ache kalke ashey commission diye debo” (Ok! I will give you your commission on my return tomorrow).
The unpleasant conversations made it apparent that she was on her way to entertain some clients and had already arranged for some more girls to extend an olive branch to some pleasant guests. It was interesting to know that people still find it so interesting to experiment when India is already showing early signs of being a nation highly susceptible to the spread of HIV/AIDS virus.
With every New Years Eve we are exposed to a new evil in the society. This year I discovered them in these two females. One female was making herself available at a cost while the other was falling prey to the intentions of a friend she might have known for long. What needs to be understood that what might have happened to both of them on the other day? As far as the prostitute is concerned she might have walked back with loads of money and gifts in her kitty. But what about the pretty female who was over excited to spend the night out with her male friend, fiancé, acquaintance, office colleague or a blind date???
Curious and concerned I stayed awake till 1 a.m. to welcome 2008. Being a holiday I spent the entire day doing other household chores and on January 2, I am back to work but still the thought revolving around both the females are lingering in my mind. What a beginning to 2008?
I expect others also to think with me..........................
Any ways, wishing you all A Happy New Year and announcing my comeback on the blog circuit.
Expect more such practical and very real stories to come your way.
Vociferous
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