Small Wonders!

Oh c’mon! These cobwebs won’t vanish so easily. It was just that last weekend I was partying with my folks in Pune.

BTW ‘Thanks’ to all those who read the stuff on this space and even wait for whatever I cook here. Initially, I advertised and many people came and read out of friendly courtesy but now its only dedicated patrons.

Hmm! I got a lot of reactions on all the stories that I wrote below. The most common feeling was the latter ones don’t have those dramatic tail-spins as the first two. Simple stories don’t appeal is it? And there is one who prefers orange dawns over the kinky palate and there is another who feels the edge is lost whenever he doesn’t see the kink! So you see good gossip is what sells. But I am a bloody accountant, I don’t sell. I count the money made at the end of the day and show you the reality without any garnish.

This time, I am gonna write about a world within our world, which we don’t see, we don’t observe but its something which is so alive and so beautiful right in the middle of this entire ruckus. I always regretted growing up. And somehow I still get along beautifully with kids more than adults. It’s their world, (and that’s what it is about this time) that I fit in so comfortably, rather than this one where I keep getting lost all the time. I am so sick of trying to find my way every now and then.

So here I go! And by the way, whatever I write here today isn’t fiction; even the names are not changed. J

I belong to this small town called Satara, about 2 ½ hours drive from Pune. I have some relatives there and we do make frequent trips to that place. Satara is another Malgudi. In fact I could go on writing tales about the town itself, but I’ll save that for some other day.

My Atya (Dad’s elder sister) stays there. Her grandson was about two and a half years old when he had started going to a play school. We call him Pranav. Pranav is the only son my bro and bhabhi have, so he didn’t have a sibling to look upto when he came. He was a very quite kid. Mainly because in a riotous family like ours, he never got a chance to open his mouth. But Play school changed a lot of things. He found a friend called Soham. Suddenly he wanted to watch all ‘cool’ cartoons on TV. Once I caught him watching ‘Power-puff girls’, and imagine he told me in his baby voice, “Atya please don’t tell my friends that I was watching PPG”

It was fun to watch them play. I would normally take my novel and sit in hearing distance to see what goes on in that little world. One evening they had decided to make houses in a pile of sand. Each one was busy making his home; and there came Avinash the bully. Avinash was in second grade; he was the tallest among all. He wanted to make a castle and not a small house. After sometime, I could hear Pranav and Soham shriek, “Hey why are you taking our sand? There is plenty of it on the other side.”

Avinash didn’t care, “but I want this sand. You two go and fetch that one for yourself.” These two didn’t say anything and got back to their work. After sometime, Avinash wanted more sand and he took some from our builders’ site. “Avinashhhhhh!” they shouted. But the big boy just would listen. This went on for sometime, till it came to a fist fight. Avinash came and hit Pranav hard. I was just about to intervene, but then I witnessed the most amazing settlement of a brawl. Soham got up, unzipped his shorts, pissed on the sand, and said, “You want all the sand right, now take it.” For next two days, I was laughing even in my sleeps. I immediately took both the boys for a double ice-cream treat, I was so proud of my nephews!

Pranav and Soham were thick pals. Once Soham’s Mom had hit him for something and he came to his buddy. They were sitting under our mango tree and discussing, “I think we have to call Shaktimaan, my Mom keeps beating me…” To which Pranav replies, “I don’t think Shaktimaan can do much, we will have to call ‘Jai Hanuman’! I wish their Mom’s could have heard that their kids thought of them as ‘Mutant Ninjas’ who could be tackled by Super-heroes alone.

Both of them couldn’t do without each other. You would always find them walking hand in hand. But there was one issue where the friendship took a back-seat. And that was the time I realized, this ‘guy thing’ comes inbuilt in the piece itself. Every evening, you would see them walking hand in hand to their third friend’s home. A little girlie called Pushpal. The hands would come off as soon as they reached her home, and there would be a fight over, who would ring the doorbell. So they would be fighting outside her door, all neatly combed hair in a mess, and finally aunty would open the door after hearing the commotion outside her house. I sometimes wonder what the lady must be thinking. At two her daughter was causing a mob fight at her door-step, by the time she would be twenty, her parents would have to keep Hounds and Dobermans to guard the house. And Pushpal madam was even smarter. She would come to play with both of them on each side and holding one hand of hers. After that, all they did was, “Pushpal see I can run faster, Pushpal see I can jump a longer distance, Pushpal see I have a toffee for you. Pushpal who is your favourite, me or him?” The guy who was favoured that evening, would eat his dinner without any tantrums, no sleeping tantrums, he would be the best boy that evening. And the not so favoured, could be heard howling in the neighbourhood.

Then came Deepa Atya (that’s me). Now where every other guy had an Atya who was older than his dad, in a boring saree and always nagging, Pranav’s Atya, wore Jeans, went to a college, took him around on a bike to eat ice-creams and played with him. I didn’t even realize, our boy was already hogging footage in the gang, over his Atya.

I would find it a little strange. Pranav’s friends would come home, look at me, and when I smiled and said hello, they would jump and giggle and run off as if they came to a zoo to see a rare species. It was one evening when Bhabhi’s friend came home, and half jeeringly said to me, “I have come to see Deepa Atya today, coz Pranav doesn’t let every one meet Deepa Atya. My boy is asking his father, don’t you have any sister like Deepa Atya?” After that, I gave a good one to that brat of a nephew of mine. So all the kids were allowed in, and I made it a point to play with each one of them.

But the best piece was this one. One evening, every one else had left and only Soham was lingering around. And these are two and a half year old guys ok! I was reading a book in the drawing room. And both of these guys would come, stand for sometime and run away. First I thought, they are playing something, but it wasn’t so. So I looked up.

I asked them, “what are you both upto now?” Pranav spoke up, “Deepa Atya, Soham wants to say something to you.”

“What?”

Then Soham came ahead. “Deepa Atya, can I kiss you on both your cheeks?” Trust me, I think no guy can beat this one ever in my life. These kisses would always be special to me. There was some fear, some anticipation, some excitement in those tiny eyes which I can never ever forget. I smiled and nodded and bent down. He came and slowly kissed me on both my cheeks. And as if that encouraged him further, he asked me “now can you kiss me on my cheeks too?

I was simply smiling ear to ear. And I am smiling as I am writing this as well. Of course, I kissed him too. It’s something that I will never forget. My youngest admirer. :) I think it’s all about the innocence and the simplicity of those years. I hold on to mine very dearly, but I don’t know why, people prefer growing up.

Pointless Relationships!

It’s a damp evening, slightly chilly. Its about 7.30 pm, an uneventful evening almost lazy. It is reminding me of a similar evening many months ago. I was lazing around the house. Had just passed my CA exam and was waiting to start off with a job. In fact it was a crazy day. I never sleep in the afternoons and that day I slept like a log till about 7 in the eve. When I woke up, I saw my cell was switched off 'coz I had managed to sleep on it. When I put it on, there was a message that someone was trying to call. Now, I don’t return calls on such numbers, but that day I did. It turned out to be an acquaintance; I wouldn’t even call him a friend. Of course, I know this person well, but yes he wasn’t one in the inner circles. He casually asked me for a coffee, if I wasn’t upto something interesting. Again, this is something really crazy, I hate going out on an off-the-cuff invitation, with acquaintances. Not 'coz I am a prude, but I am quite a private person that ways. (I know many of you laughing your wits out at that one, but people that’s coz you are the club I go out with, ask the ones I haven’t gone with!)

From that point started a pointless relationship. A friendship to which I don’t know who contributed more. It was timeless and yet time-bound. Everlasting and yet had to last just so much. But yes, I learnt my lessons, impressions deeply engraved.

And when I looked around myself, I found so many of them scattered like million stars thrown across the dark blue night sky. Each shimmering like a diamond, but everyone knows that they are burning balls of fire, scalding and tumultuous, and not so pretty.

Every time now, when I meet someone and look in their eyes, the eyes ask a question, “so, what’s your story?” Those other sets look away as if they have heard my question, and they don’t want to open that closet that was closed and nailed long time ago! Each tale is buried under layers and layers of humour, new found joys, bitterness in a few cases. But we are animals after all, how long can we stop living because of these Pointless Relationships. There are basic needs of survival and the animal instinct imbedded deep within keeps you going.

But that effort God made, to make you a species different than every other animal, creeps up sometimes. It will die out eventually by our constant battering, but it keeps showing up as long as it is alive.

This one’s about a girl who dealt with her story with a lot of courage. She wasn’t exactly in my ‘group’ in school. But the year that we were leaving school, she gave me a very sweet card. She didn’t give it to everyone, so I knew she meant something when she did to me. It was a silent acknowledgement to a Pointless Friendship (frankly I can’t think of any word, and friendship is the most loosely usable word). She had a heart inside that didn't merely pump blood.

Now she wasn’t somebody really innocent, in fact miles and miles far from that. But must be some reason why my mom always liked her. She used to say, “there is something very simple and innocent about that girl.” At that school girl’s age, I could never understand Ma, but I think I am seeing the point now.

Her innocence lies in the fact that, she feels she can place her trust in someone and forget about it for the rest of her life. She can follow her heart wherever it takes her, and as long as she is honest about it, it’s all ok. She feels the world is a learning ground, you are allowed to make mistakes when you are learning. But there was no one to tell her, it was plain recklessness. This world is still light years away from being that open-minded. This may sound like glorifying her, and many don’t see her the way I do. But I have no reason to associate her with anything vile.

I caught up with her and she was engaged recently after a long groom-hunting exercise her parents undertook. (well that is an epidemic that has struck our generation lately) Which meant she had put behind the fellow she was dating. I never asked her any details, as I never showed interest when she was dating him either.

She was somebody, who in school was a ‘Doormat’. She was the favourite punching bag, favourite butt of every joke, people just walked all over her. Something which I could never tolerate and I would have to stand up for her many times. That time I am sure she must be the lowest in her self esteem. She would ask me, “Do I look pretty? Would guys ever find me attractive? Would anyone ever find me interesting?” I was so young myself, I didn’t know the answer. And I can’t lie.

Next year we went to another class, the only friend she had to start off was me, and I had a different group of my own, but she started hanging around with some other gals. And that turned the tables around. That gang was of gals that guys call the “tote variety”. I kind of lost track of her life after that, that ugly duckling was turning into a swan. Afterwards, there were many stories that started doing rounds, which weren’t nice to hear. I never let my Ma know about those stories about her, somehow I didn’t want to. Probably it happens; when suddenly a flood gate opens, the first thing is always a gush, a strong one that sweeps you away.

I had contacted her after almost three years for a friend who was looking for a bride. I had no intentions of match-making but my friend was after my life and just had to trace her. But then she had found someone. Uncle somehow was very keen on her tying the knot before he retired which was end of this year. In her words, he wasn’t interested if the meeting of the minds and the chemistry happened or not. She had to marry! Many guys came and met her. She is a pretty looking damsel now, so everyone she saw would be quite positive, but when she met them one-to-one, none of them had the courage to handle her past. Uncle didn’t know what was going wrong.

It came to a point where he avoided these one-to-one sessions itself and fixed her up. This time she met her man alone only after she was engaged. But resilient as our lady is, she still wanted the man to know! I must mention here, the Religion that she comes from, doesn’t tolerate a girl after a broken marriage. Its unimaginable how she would have lived with a taboo for the rest of her life, firstly of her past and secondly of the failed marriage. She would have paid a heavy price for a relationship which was absolutely Pointless when it was. It should have been inconsequential ideally because it was meant to end, isn’t it? So then why did these guys who came to see her hold it against her?

She narrated the story of her first meeting with him to me. She first told him everything, and he was listening to her without a pause. In her heart she had prepared herself for the storm. When she was done, she could see he was livid. In a fit of rage he caught her by her arm and dragged her to the car and took her to his home. There was no one home that day. He paced up and down for a long time. She didn’t say word in her own defense. Finally when it was about to get dark, he dropped her home and left without saying anything. She was simply waiting for him to call up the next day and call the wedding off. But nobody called the next day. A day later, her Mom called the groom’s family for dinner. Rafat didn’t know what was happening. She dressed up for the evening and was waiting for the inevitable.

“Masha-allah! She is looking absolutely beautiful”, said the future Mom-in-law. Rafat didn’t have the guts to look up at her groom (well maybe).

Her brother added to it, “Jeeju, you should consider yourself lucky to have found my Api!” Rafat so wanted to dissolve in the air when he said that.

“Yes, I am!” he replied. Rafat couldn’t believe it. She just looked up at him in search of that smirk that she missed in his voice. He wasn’t smirking. He returned her gaze and smiled. She knew she had met her man.

I am so happy that she found someone who would take care of her now. It’s a man’s job to take care of his lady, and lucky is the woman who finds a Man; her Man! And these relationships are the ones that have a point!

Addiction!

This one is more like Britannia Little Hearts. Tiny, light biscuits kissed with sugar. Not as intense as the previous ones, but would sound like one of those Malgudi days short-stories.

Addiction is something I am really scared of. Now I don’t know exactly where does this stem from. Maybe I saw too many programs on TV about substance abuse, I remember Doordarshan used to have quite a many of those kinds when I was small. Although I haven’t met anyone personally who is an addict, but that phobia has just stuck.

I have addicted and de-addicted myself from a lot of things, Orange candies, Eclairs, Chewing gum, Sugar. Coffee for one! The amount of coffee I used have in a day was crazy. If I smelled coffee beans somewhere, I would start following the whiff and reach the destination. It came to a point when I would get a headache if I didn’t manage to get my cuppa. That was it. I simply restricted myself to one cup a day. Even the sight of coffee used to make me paranoid. Now I still have coffee, but not like a maniac.

Once me and some friends went to this place called Sanskruti in Pune. It’s a resort with lots of things to do apart from just eating. You’d find tattoo makers, cartoonists, palmists, astrologers, and the likes strewn all over the place. And living up to the traits of my gender, I went to the astrologer first. Of course now astrologers don’t come with any credentials, you just have to go along with whatever they say. He may be correct about some things and may not about others. But then how do you decide, which bit would come true after all? He started off, “You are an intelligent girl, you will do well in your career. But you are a very hot-headed woman, you should watch your words. Can’t really figure out when will you get married and how would your husband be like.” I said to myself, wow I couldn’t have figured even an iota of this using my nut sized brain. Then came the mother of all, “By the way, you should stay from liquor or similar things as you have a tendency of getting addicted to things” Damn! He just had to say that and I was doomed for life.

Next day I met my friend Rishi. Rishi is someone ……! Ok this is a futile effort. Let me just say, he is knows me the way only a real friend can know. “Rishi you know what, I think I am addicted.” He just looked at my face, “addicted to what?”

“Pepsi”

“What?”

“I have been having a bottle of Pepsi everyday. See, people stopped having it after the pesticide episode, but I still didn’t. I have it if I have a headache, I have it if I have a stomach upset, even if I have cold, anything for that matter.” “I didn’t realize it was a grave condition, until yesterday when this guy told me I can hooked on to things!”

And this is precisely why Rishi is my friend; he didn’t laugh at me, he didn’t shoot my thoughts down, and in all probability he didn’t buy my theory but he still treated me as if he believed in every word that I said. “Ok in that case, we should first cure you out of this, and next time be careful that you don’t get addicted to anything new.” That was quite reassuring and once Rishi had taken things in his hands, days were sunny again.

Initially, we substituted the Cola with Lime soda. Then I started having so much of lime soda that I had to substitute lime soda with apple juice; so on and so forth. Rishi took care that I didn’t continue with any thing for more than a month.

Then one day! “Rishi I am addicted to the kathi kabab rolls in Olympia.” Not my fault, anybody who has eaten those kathi kababs, would stand up for me. It was difficult to resist as no road in Pune reached my home, without passing Olympia. Even if I tried to pull myself away, it just didn’t work. Now even my mom was irritated at this one, because I was having one every day. And if I didn’t get one I would act like a cranky Queen of Sheeba, who just ordered and people would make people run around and fetch whatever I wanted.

This addiction thing was far more perilous than I had imagined. I was paranoid about anything and every thing that I ate or drank. I would drive Rishi crazy. Now when I think of it, why did he even tolerate me? But he had adopted me like a kid. And I am sure he must have promised himself he will never have kids of his own after that. Everyday he would talk to me; put my demons to rest. If he could, he would meet me as much possible. He never left me unattended as if I was an imbecile. And I was turning into a spoilt brat. I wouldn’t sleep until I had spoken to him. There were times, that I would call him, have nothing to say, then wish him good night and hang up. If I craved for something, I would want to have it in his presence, as if he would catch the demon called ‘Addiction’ by its neck and fling him into space.

One day I hear my Ma warning Rishi, “Beta, you are spoiling her. She is taking advantage of this whole thing now.” Imagine My own Mom and telling Him all this. It blew my lid off. What were they thinking? Was I some kind of trouble making, attention seeking, spoilt kid? When I now think of it, I did play it to perfection though! :-)

I just decided, I don’t need Rishi. I can very well manage on my own. I would never be able to repay what he did for me as a friend, but Goodbye and Thank you! Of course, I couldn’t stop talking to Ma, but I would never go to her, even if I had to go to a Rehab every time I got addicted to something; even if it was Orange juice. To hell with all of them!

At night, when I hit my bed, I couldn’t call him and I hate to confess, it was difficult to fall asleep. I started the next day with a grumpy face as I hadn’t slept. One day passed, two days passed, I still didn’t get sleep at all. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I was eating well, coming to bed on time, no boyfriend trouble; there was nothing that would give me sleepless nights.

Suddenly lightening struck, Wait a minute, did I get addicted to him?