Chandan Kumar Pathak's Blog, page 4
April 10, 2017
72-hour Ordeal
‘Yes, what do you want?’ The irritated Station Master at Nagpur railway station questioned in Hindi, finding me standing at his office door. My appearance was no better than a tea-stall vendor with soiled clothes, dishevelled hair and a haggard look. It was quite natural, having travelled for two and half days in the second class withstanding the onslaught of the peak summer heat of May....the year was 1987. Speaking in English to impress upon him, I introduced myself and shared my plight. 'S...
February 11, 2017
The Invisible Cloak
Mr Amitabh Singh spent 25 eventful years in the professional world. Through hard work, smart approach and timely manoeuvres he climbed rapidly the ladder of growth and rose to the rank of a Senior Vice President in the organisation.
He was known to be a hard task master, unrealistically demanding in terms of performance and ruthless in decision making. His team members were quite scared to enter his office and during the weekly business meetings, he would blast his juniors who made mistakes or...
January 5, 2017
An Eternity of Ten Seconds
This is a bone-chilling incident which occurred on 19th Sep, 2010 in the remote Himalayas; still gives me Goosebumps whenever I reminisce.
I struggled opened my sleep deprived eyes. My body felt heavy like a stone; each and every bone was screaming in pain. On top of me two piled up quilts fended of relentlessly, the severe cold at 12,000 ft. altitude.
Making the wooden window ajar, I peeped out and the howling wind scared the hell out of me. The tall, snow clad mountain peaks at a distance w...
September 19, 2016
An Enigmatic Girl and A Cup of Coffee
I was sitting idle - watching over the never ending traffic on the road, though it was past midnight. Typical of Mumbai, the city that never sleeps! The cool breeze of the night was enticing enough for me to postpone my retirement to the bedroom. Unknowingly, my mind started jogging in the memory lane and went back as far as twenty-eight years and then it paused to reminiscence an incident or rather an encounter.
I used to work in the offshore oil platform in the national oil company, ONGC as a new trainee engineer. These platforms are on the high seas, some 130 odd kilometres off the shore, where we had to spend fourteen days at a stretch completely cut off from the mankind. A day before my departure which was an off day for me, I hired an auto-rickshaw and rode down to Juhu Beach, a place I was very fond of; because of my attraction to the sea.
It was a mild evening of a December month and I was sitting on my handkerchief, spread over the sand. The dance of the waves and the music of the wind; the frolicking of the children in the water, the occasional warning by their concerned parents not to venture far into the water and the crimson sun getting ready to go down the horizon created a perfect environment. I was silently savouring every moment of it, looking into all directions to witness the happenings around.
About 20-30 meters away, there was an open air cafe which wasn’t yet crowded. It was in a very nice location overlooking the sea. I happened to turn my head towards it casually and something caught my attention.
A young woman was sipping coffee in a corner of the cafe, perhaps enjoying her solitude. Two small bagger children appeared from nowhere and started badgering her for some money. She didn’t seem to get irritated and in fact developed a conversation with them with intermittent smiles.
They were separated by a waist-high boundary only. Without realising, I continued watching them as I noticed a lot of interests from the young lady’s body language as she interacted with the kids. They talked animatedly for a while.
‘Aye, sing-dana....garam garam sing-dana.’ The repeated shrilly cry of the peanut seller completely distracted me. I shooed him away.
In the meantime, I saw the young lady took out a ten rupee note from her purse (a substantial amount in those days) and handed it over to the kids with a big smile. The giggling kids cantered away with their prized possession. It was perhaps more than their daily usual collection.
I looked back at the setting sun. Few seagulls were flying past it, creating a fascinating scene.
I wish I had a camera to capture this moment.
Few moments passed by, I turned my head towards the cafe again without realising. The young lady was still there, in a pensive mood. Our eyes connected - she smiled at me. I felt a bit awkward, not knowing how to respond. I was quite new to Mumbai, coming from a small city in Assam.
Before I could take my eyes off, she beckoned me – gesturing with her hand. The smile was still there on her face. I became nervous, my heart started fluttering.
Shit! Why is she calling me? Is she upset because I kept staring at her repeatedly? What do I do now? Shall I hurriedly leave this place? Fear crept in my mind and my intuition urged me to leave the place quickly before any more trouble generated.
But for some strange reason I could not ignore her and to my horror, I found myself walking towards her. My feet were sinking in the loose sand slowing me down, giving time to ponder why I had obliged to her! I didn’t have an answer and I continued walking.
‘Hi, would you come and join me for a cup of coffee?’ The young lady extended an invitation with the same lovely smile.
I took the other seat opposite to her and smiled back at her nervously. Ordering a cup of coffee for me, she asked me, ‘do you enjoy the sunset here?’ I simply nodded.
‘Even I do. That's why I frequent this place in the evening. Just to catch a glimpse of the setting sun. It reminds me that its duty is over, time for a much-deserved rest. But not for me, no rest for me.' Though she smiled as she talked, there was a tinge of melancholy on her face.
She was in her late twenties or early thirties, a little bit on the darker side with curly and short hair. She wore a skirt and looked pretty but tired.
‘I found you observing me and the street kids with lots of interest when we were conversing. What was your inquisitiveness if I may know?'
Did she get offended? Again, my uneasiness returned.
I stammered with some hesitation, ‘no...no, na...nothing as such. I hardly find anyone taking such keen interest in them. So, your animated discussion with them made me wonder what might have created the curiosity in your mind.’
She laughed, throwing her head backwards.
‘You know, I feel very connected to them. I can feel their agony – very similar to mine, though in different aspects of life. So I listen to them, talk to them and encourage them never to give up in life.’
Her comments were a bit obscure and I struggled to make out a reasonable meaning out of them. I sipped my coffee – there was a momentary silence as we both looked towards the last few golden rays as the sun had already gone down the horizon.
I was expecting her to ask me questions – about me, my name, my profession, my background etc. which normally happens when you meet someone for the first time. But she wasn’t interested it seemed. She was still looking out into the sea, the diminishing sun rays and the invading darkness in the sky.
She broke her silence abruptly pointing towards the sky, ‘look at that lone bird, hurriedly flying past and listen to her chirping. Can't you feel the worry in her voice for her hatchlings?'
She looked at me askance. Completely puzzled and unable to make out what she asked, I simply nodded my head indicating my ignorance.
She sighed, ‘no you can’t feel the pain, not your fault. But I can very well – because we are connected, I go through a similar pain.’
Again there were few moments of silence. I was getting little restless in the strange company. There was something about her – some mystery, some sorrow and some pain in her otherwise pretty look. I felt uneasy and wanted to leave soon, but some unknown force held me back. It told me to keep listening to her though I hardly understood her thoughts.
‘You must be thinking why I invited you over here, without even knowing you? Because my strong instinct told me that you are a simple and a good guy. I knew you would listen to my incoherent babbling with lots of patience. And thank you for doing so.’ She smiled beautifully once again.
By then, I had almost become a complete dumb – as if my lips were stitched up together. I was only listening to her, not a word was coming out of my mouth.
‘I have a small baby – a girl, an extremely adorable one. Want to have a look? See.’ She took out a photograph.
Stunningly cute! A beautiful smile – exactly like her mother.
‘She is so sweet.' Finally, I managed to break my own silence.
‘You know, I am single mom. And I miss her a lot when I have to do frequent stints of many long hours outside.’ She lamented.
I wanted to ask her lots of things, about her, her child, her life in general – because she appeared quite enigmatic as well as someone with loads of sorrow. But I could not because it was our first meeting and it as inappropriate to do so.
‘Well, time to leave. I have to go on call now, long hours you see. Perhaps I shall return home in the wee hours tomorrow when my baby will be fast asleep.’
I smiled at her as we got up to leave. She did not allow me to settle the bill.
‘Let me do the honours, please. It was I who had requested your company.'
We slowly walked out onto the road. She hailed an auto-rickshaw and before getting into it whispered to me, ‘I am really thankful to you for giving me company. No one wants to talk to me in public – because my profession is a dark one. I am a Call Girl!’
She waved at me with her beatific smile as the three-wheeler moved ahead. I was thunderstruck and motionless for a while.
We never met again. But this incident left an indelible mark in my mind. Even after twenty-eight long years, I vividly remember it. The face of the adorable smiling baby, the comments of the young mother, her beautiful smile and the stamp of melancholy on her face – nothing has been forgotten.
Some people are not as lucky as us. Certain compelling circumstances might have forced an educated girl like her to get into the dark profession of flesh trade. There was a strong yearning in her eyes, to escape the clutch of the immoral world, to lead a peaceful and respectable life. To give a good life to her child.
I closed my eyes in an earnest silent prayer for her and her child before retiring to my bed for the night!
(based on a true incident)
I used to work in the offshore oil platform in the national oil company, ONGC as a new trainee engineer. These platforms are on the high seas, some 130 odd kilometres off the shore, where we had to spend fourteen days at a stretch completely cut off from the mankind. A day before my departure which was an off day for me, I hired an auto-rickshaw and rode down to Juhu Beach, a place I was very fond of; because of my attraction to the sea.
It was a mild evening of a December month and I was sitting on my handkerchief, spread over the sand. The dance of the waves and the music of the wind; the frolicking of the children in the water, the occasional warning by their concerned parents not to venture far into the water and the crimson sun getting ready to go down the horizon created a perfect environment. I was silently savouring every moment of it, looking into all directions to witness the happenings around.
About 20-30 meters away, there was an open air cafe which wasn’t yet crowded. It was in a very nice location overlooking the sea. I happened to turn my head towards it casually and something caught my attention.
A young woman was sipping coffee in a corner of the cafe, perhaps enjoying her solitude. Two small bagger children appeared from nowhere and started badgering her for some money. She didn’t seem to get irritated and in fact developed a conversation with them with intermittent smiles.
They were separated by a waist-high boundary only. Without realising, I continued watching them as I noticed a lot of interests from the young lady’s body language as she interacted with the kids. They talked animatedly for a while.
‘Aye, sing-dana....garam garam sing-dana.’ The repeated shrilly cry of the peanut seller completely distracted me. I shooed him away.
In the meantime, I saw the young lady took out a ten rupee note from her purse (a substantial amount in those days) and handed it over to the kids with a big smile. The giggling kids cantered away with their prized possession. It was perhaps more than their daily usual collection.
I looked back at the setting sun. Few seagulls were flying past it, creating a fascinating scene.
I wish I had a camera to capture this moment.
Few moments passed by, I turned my head towards the cafe again without realising. The young lady was still there, in a pensive mood. Our eyes connected - she smiled at me. I felt a bit awkward, not knowing how to respond. I was quite new to Mumbai, coming from a small city in Assam.
Before I could take my eyes off, she beckoned me – gesturing with her hand. The smile was still there on her face. I became nervous, my heart started fluttering.
Shit! Why is she calling me? Is she upset because I kept staring at her repeatedly? What do I do now? Shall I hurriedly leave this place? Fear crept in my mind and my intuition urged me to leave the place quickly before any more trouble generated.
But for some strange reason I could not ignore her and to my horror, I found myself walking towards her. My feet were sinking in the loose sand slowing me down, giving time to ponder why I had obliged to her! I didn’t have an answer and I continued walking.
‘Hi, would you come and join me for a cup of coffee?’ The young lady extended an invitation with the same lovely smile.
I took the other seat opposite to her and smiled back at her nervously. Ordering a cup of coffee for me, she asked me, ‘do you enjoy the sunset here?’ I simply nodded.
‘Even I do. That's why I frequent this place in the evening. Just to catch a glimpse of the setting sun. It reminds me that its duty is over, time for a much-deserved rest. But not for me, no rest for me.' Though she smiled as she talked, there was a tinge of melancholy on her face.
She was in her late twenties or early thirties, a little bit on the darker side with curly and short hair. She wore a skirt and looked pretty but tired.
‘I found you observing me and the street kids with lots of interest when we were conversing. What was your inquisitiveness if I may know?'
Did she get offended? Again, my uneasiness returned.
I stammered with some hesitation, ‘no...no, na...nothing as such. I hardly find anyone taking such keen interest in them. So, your animated discussion with them made me wonder what might have created the curiosity in your mind.’
She laughed, throwing her head backwards.
‘You know, I feel very connected to them. I can feel their agony – very similar to mine, though in different aspects of life. So I listen to them, talk to them and encourage them never to give up in life.’
Her comments were a bit obscure and I struggled to make out a reasonable meaning out of them. I sipped my coffee – there was a momentary silence as we both looked towards the last few golden rays as the sun had already gone down the horizon.
I was expecting her to ask me questions – about me, my name, my profession, my background etc. which normally happens when you meet someone for the first time. But she wasn’t interested it seemed. She was still looking out into the sea, the diminishing sun rays and the invading darkness in the sky.
She broke her silence abruptly pointing towards the sky, ‘look at that lone bird, hurriedly flying past and listen to her chirping. Can't you feel the worry in her voice for her hatchlings?'
She looked at me askance. Completely puzzled and unable to make out what she asked, I simply nodded my head indicating my ignorance.
She sighed, ‘no you can’t feel the pain, not your fault. But I can very well – because we are connected, I go through a similar pain.’
Again there were few moments of silence. I was getting little restless in the strange company. There was something about her – some mystery, some sorrow and some pain in her otherwise pretty look. I felt uneasy and wanted to leave soon, but some unknown force held me back. It told me to keep listening to her though I hardly understood her thoughts.
‘You must be thinking why I invited you over here, without even knowing you? Because my strong instinct told me that you are a simple and a good guy. I knew you would listen to my incoherent babbling with lots of patience. And thank you for doing so.’ She smiled beautifully once again.
By then, I had almost become a complete dumb – as if my lips were stitched up together. I was only listening to her, not a word was coming out of my mouth.
‘I have a small baby – a girl, an extremely adorable one. Want to have a look? See.’ She took out a photograph.
Stunningly cute! A beautiful smile – exactly like her mother.
‘She is so sweet.' Finally, I managed to break my own silence.
‘You know, I am single mom. And I miss her a lot when I have to do frequent stints of many long hours outside.’ She lamented.
I wanted to ask her lots of things, about her, her child, her life in general – because she appeared quite enigmatic as well as someone with loads of sorrow. But I could not because it was our first meeting and it as inappropriate to do so.
‘Well, time to leave. I have to go on call now, long hours you see. Perhaps I shall return home in the wee hours tomorrow when my baby will be fast asleep.’
I smiled at her as we got up to leave. She did not allow me to settle the bill.
‘Let me do the honours, please. It was I who had requested your company.'
We slowly walked out onto the road. She hailed an auto-rickshaw and before getting into it whispered to me, ‘I am really thankful to you for giving me company. No one wants to talk to me in public – because my profession is a dark one. I am a Call Girl!’
She waved at me with her beatific smile as the three-wheeler moved ahead. I was thunderstruck and motionless for a while.
We never met again. But this incident left an indelible mark in my mind. Even after twenty-eight long years, I vividly remember it. The face of the adorable smiling baby, the comments of the young mother, her beautiful smile and the stamp of melancholy on her face – nothing has been forgotten.
Some people are not as lucky as us. Certain compelling circumstances might have forced an educated girl like her to get into the dark profession of flesh trade. There was a strong yearning in her eyes, to escape the clutch of the immoral world, to lead a peaceful and respectable life. To give a good life to her child.
I closed my eyes in an earnest silent prayer for her and her child before retiring to my bed for the night!
(based on a true incident)
September 18, 2016
An Enigmatic Girl and A Cup of Coffee
I was sitting idle - watching over the never ending traffic on the road, though it was past midnight. Typical of Mumbai, the city that never sleeps! The cool breeze of the night was enticing enough for me to postpone my retirement to the bedroom. Unknowingly, my mind started jogging in the memory lane and went back as far as twenty-eight years and then it paused to reminiscence an incident or rather an encounter. I used to work in the offshore oil platform in the national oil company, ONGC as...
August 28, 2016
My Memorable Experience of Pen friendship
The year was 1984; another semester break was over. The boys returned to the hostels in ISM (Indian School of Mines) and brought with them fresh and more exciting stories of their romantic escapades with their respective girlfriends at their hometowns. They were agog with curiosity to hear each other's stories and perhaps outsmart others with their own figments of imagination. Thus, the evenings in the hot ISM campus in dusty Dhanbad became filled with chatters in small groups which would last till the dinner time.
These were the most unendurable moments for me as I had to be a mere audience and listen to all the boisterous claims of my batch-mates. I had no such stories to share and hence was taken for granted. It was not that I believed in all the gossips but I had a self-imposed inferiority complex and that would torture my mind repeatedly.
I contemplated various strategies, it was about time that I did something to salvage my image, boost up my sagging ego. I wanted to have my own stories to share with my batch-mates. I would dream of them sitting around me with rapt attention, on the concrete benches near the entrance of ‘Old Hostel’, captivated by the narration of my romantic adventures.
That was a period when there were no computers, Internet, emails, Facebook, mobile phones and WhatsApp. The only way for the youth to engage in ‘social networking’ was to avail the services of the Indian Postal Service which was no better than the Indian Railways in terms of punctuality. Pen-friendship was quite a popular mode which was the source of some blossoming friendships that metamorphosed into conjugal relationships and also some not-so-blossoming friendships that fizzled out in no time.
I wanted to try my luck at this penfriend-ship thing. In those days, many of the popular magazines had ‘pen-pal’ sections. I picked up one such magazine (can't recollect the name now) and carefully went through the names of girls who had given their postal address, inviting friendship proposals. The boys certainly outnumbered the girls in the list and I counted with disappointment only four girls. Nonetheless, I noted the address of the girl who had the most attractive name and that lucky girl was Daisy! Then I poured my heart out in a carefully drafted letter to her with a liberal dose of emotions.
Dear Daisy,
Greetings from Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad! I found your contact details in the ‘pen-pal’ section of a magazine and a wanted to write few lines. I am Chandan currently studying Petroleum Engineering in the fifth semester. I want to be your pen friend and let me assure you that I am genuinely honest, sincere and trustworthy. I am mostly immersed in my studies, music and poems. Friends are limited and unfortunately I have no female friend. I genuinely desire to strike a friendship with you and I hope we can remain friends forever!
Your name is very beautiful and it conjures up the feeling of serenity, purity, free spirit and the image of someone who is very affable, ever-smiling and caring. My intuitive mind tells me that you are as charming as those fresh blooming daisy flowers that are in my garden at my native place. And I am sure you are very close to my imagination.
I am pondering whether my close bonding with the beautiful daisy flowers since my childhood was in any way prelude to better things about to happen in my life! I am getting thrilled as I am writing to you, at this prospect of our friendship. So please Daisy, let me have the honour! I shall be eagerly waiting to get your reply soon. Please do not delay.
Wishing you all the happiness of life!
Yours to-be-friend,
Chandan,
ISM, Dhanbad
With lots of excitement and anticipation, I brought a colourful envelope with daisy flowers printed in the border, carefully folded the letter and put inside it. I did not forget to place one of my best colour photos, writing at the backside, ‘This is your new friend’. The letter was dropped in the red colour postbox inside the campus the very day and I returned to the hostel with many expectations.
Since then I had eagerly waited for the reply from Daisy, but my mind was not that patience. It worked on its own and generated several versions of the beautiful reply from her in impeccable handwriting. It was getting increasingly difficult to rein my galloping mind which was foraying into my favourite dream-world, carrying Daisy on its back like a beautiful princess with flowing hair scattered by the wind.
Unable to suppress my curiosity as well as concern for not receiving Daisy’s reply even after three weeks, I was restless and started visiting the campus post office every day during the lunch breaks only to return empty handed and more dispirited. I gave up on visiting the post office after one more week and put my mind back to where it should be….in studies.
Time flew by and I had almost forgotten about Daisy. It was a bright and sunny day at Dhanbad, I had returned to the hostel in the afternoon bunking the last class of the day, the most boring ‘Engineering Drawing’. I hated the subject completely and would not understand at all what the old Bengali professor taught. While opening the door of my room, I found a postal envelope lying on the floor delivered by the postman. Casually picking it up, I sat on my bed and started reading,
Dear Chandan,
I hope you are doing well. I have received your pen friendship letter and your nice looking photo a few weeks back. I sincerely apologise for the delayed response as I was traveling (now my heart was beating fast with excitement. Wow, this is my Daisy replying!). I am working in the marketing department in a private firm in New Delhi and hence the need to travel. Recently my colleagues played pranks on me and posted an advertisement in the ‘pen-pal’ section of the magazine that you had referred to, under the pseudonym of ‘Daisy’. Subsequently, I have received your beautifully written letter proposing friendship to her. I am sorry to disappoint you as I am not Daisy the girl but Harvinder, a Sikh boy! In case you are interested, I am willing to be your penpal and continue from here but my gut-feeling is that you have already lost your interest.
Have a great day and keep in touch.
With best wishes,
Harvinder Singh
New Delhi
I was simply transfixed and dumbstruck. I did not know how to react to this extremely unexpected and cruel joke. Out of sheer anger, I started tearing off the letter into smaller and smaller pieces till I could not tear any further. I came out of my room on the first floor of the hostel and threw the pieces down from the balcony. A sudden gush of irritating wind came from nowhere and lifted the torn pieces and sprinkled them all over me, mocking and rubbing salt in my wound!
‘Ugh…….’ I darted back to my room and slammed the door shut in utter frustration. I lied down on my bed; my dream was shattered, the evening was spoiled and I went into further depression thinking that i would never be able to have a girlfriend in this life! :(
These were the most unendurable moments for me as I had to be a mere audience and listen to all the boisterous claims of my batch-mates. I had no such stories to share and hence was taken for granted. It was not that I believed in all the gossips but I had a self-imposed inferiority complex and that would torture my mind repeatedly.
I contemplated various strategies, it was about time that I did something to salvage my image, boost up my sagging ego. I wanted to have my own stories to share with my batch-mates. I would dream of them sitting around me with rapt attention, on the concrete benches near the entrance of ‘Old Hostel’, captivated by the narration of my romantic adventures.
That was a period when there were no computers, Internet, emails, Facebook, mobile phones and WhatsApp. The only way for the youth to engage in ‘social networking’ was to avail the services of the Indian Postal Service which was no better than the Indian Railways in terms of punctuality. Pen-friendship was quite a popular mode which was the source of some blossoming friendships that metamorphosed into conjugal relationships and also some not-so-blossoming friendships that fizzled out in no time.
I wanted to try my luck at this penfriend-ship thing. In those days, many of the popular magazines had ‘pen-pal’ sections. I picked up one such magazine (can't recollect the name now) and carefully went through the names of girls who had given their postal address, inviting friendship proposals. The boys certainly outnumbered the girls in the list and I counted with disappointment only four girls. Nonetheless, I noted the address of the girl who had the most attractive name and that lucky girl was Daisy! Then I poured my heart out in a carefully drafted letter to her with a liberal dose of emotions.
Dear Daisy,
Greetings from Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad! I found your contact details in the ‘pen-pal’ section of a magazine and a wanted to write few lines. I am Chandan currently studying Petroleum Engineering in the fifth semester. I want to be your pen friend and let me assure you that I am genuinely honest, sincere and trustworthy. I am mostly immersed in my studies, music and poems. Friends are limited and unfortunately I have no female friend. I genuinely desire to strike a friendship with you and I hope we can remain friends forever!
Your name is very beautiful and it conjures up the feeling of serenity, purity, free spirit and the image of someone who is very affable, ever-smiling and caring. My intuitive mind tells me that you are as charming as those fresh blooming daisy flowers that are in my garden at my native place. And I am sure you are very close to my imagination.
I am pondering whether my close bonding with the beautiful daisy flowers since my childhood was in any way prelude to better things about to happen in my life! I am getting thrilled as I am writing to you, at this prospect of our friendship. So please Daisy, let me have the honour! I shall be eagerly waiting to get your reply soon. Please do not delay.
Wishing you all the happiness of life!
Yours to-be-friend,
Chandan,
ISM, Dhanbad
With lots of excitement and anticipation, I brought a colourful envelope with daisy flowers printed in the border, carefully folded the letter and put inside it. I did not forget to place one of my best colour photos, writing at the backside, ‘This is your new friend’. The letter was dropped in the red colour postbox inside the campus the very day and I returned to the hostel with many expectations.
Since then I had eagerly waited for the reply from Daisy, but my mind was not that patience. It worked on its own and generated several versions of the beautiful reply from her in impeccable handwriting. It was getting increasingly difficult to rein my galloping mind which was foraying into my favourite dream-world, carrying Daisy on its back like a beautiful princess with flowing hair scattered by the wind.
Unable to suppress my curiosity as well as concern for not receiving Daisy’s reply even after three weeks, I was restless and started visiting the campus post office every day during the lunch breaks only to return empty handed and more dispirited. I gave up on visiting the post office after one more week and put my mind back to where it should be….in studies.
Time flew by and I had almost forgotten about Daisy. It was a bright and sunny day at Dhanbad, I had returned to the hostel in the afternoon bunking the last class of the day, the most boring ‘Engineering Drawing’. I hated the subject completely and would not understand at all what the old Bengali professor taught. While opening the door of my room, I found a postal envelope lying on the floor delivered by the postman. Casually picking it up, I sat on my bed and started reading,
Dear Chandan,
I hope you are doing well. I have received your pen friendship letter and your nice looking photo a few weeks back. I sincerely apologise for the delayed response as I was traveling (now my heart was beating fast with excitement. Wow, this is my Daisy replying!). I am working in the marketing department in a private firm in New Delhi and hence the need to travel. Recently my colleagues played pranks on me and posted an advertisement in the ‘pen-pal’ section of the magazine that you had referred to, under the pseudonym of ‘Daisy’. Subsequently, I have received your beautifully written letter proposing friendship to her. I am sorry to disappoint you as I am not Daisy the girl but Harvinder, a Sikh boy! In case you are interested, I am willing to be your penpal and continue from here but my gut-feeling is that you have already lost your interest.
Have a great day and keep in touch.
With best wishes,
Harvinder Singh
New Delhi
I was simply transfixed and dumbstruck. I did not know how to react to this extremely unexpected and cruel joke. Out of sheer anger, I started tearing off the letter into smaller and smaller pieces till I could not tear any further. I came out of my room on the first floor of the hostel and threw the pieces down from the balcony. A sudden gush of irritating wind came from nowhere and lifted the torn pieces and sprinkled them all over me, mocking and rubbing salt in my wound!
‘Ugh…….’ I darted back to my room and slammed the door shut in utter frustration. I lied down on my bed; my dream was shattered, the evening was spoiled and I went into further depression thinking that i would never be able to have a girlfriend in this life! :(
February 13, 2016
Don't Strangulate the Child!
Of late something strange has been happening to me. Something that others will laugh at, if I narrate. Some will even talk behind my back judging that I have lost my mental balance and that I should immediately visit a psychiatric. But nobody will believe in me when I narrate how an unknown child has been appearing before me and that too quite frequently.
No, no. He is not a ghost or any trapped soul. He is not even a lost-child accidentally separated from his parents. He is very innocent but...
January 4, 2016
The Sitting Duck
Each and every workplace is infested with a substantial population of peers and subordinates (at times superiors as well) who are ready to stab you at the back or derail your work plans and efforts. This is mainly because they perceive you as their threat or competition or for that matter, they envy at your superlative performance or your superior capabilities.
You are hard working, honest, dedicated and apolitical. You also strongly believe in God and hope that He will protect you against suc...
July 26, 2015
The Comfort Zone of Life
Life is a struggle for each one of us. A struggle in many fronts but most of these struggles are towards achieving a better life. A cushy job or a robust business, fat salary, an apartment in a metropolis, a good car and few lakhs of rupees in fixed deposit are the minimum expectations or goals that we strive hard to achieve in order to get the much desired financial security and comfort in life. But do we really get it? Yes and no. As a progressive minded, ambitious generation of young and e...
July 11, 2015
A Romantic Interlude
The evening sky was colourful and vibrant. A soft breeze carrying the smell of wet soil freshened the body and the soul. New and fresh green grass offshoots were raising their spirited heads through the cracks of the dry earth softened by first few showers of pre-monsoon rain. They were playing joyfully with the breeze, giggling at the ticklish feelings when it brushed past them.
Rekha looked at them and smiled silently, savouring the magical moment. Her pearl white teeth shone brightly against her dark complexion.
The naked mountain ranges few kilometres away felt uneasy as the setting sun was trying to expose its scars with its orange rays. Rekha heard it mumbling with anger, let the monsoon come in full swing and I can cover my scars with the green foliage. Then I shall see how you can play these pranks with me anymore!
Rekha smiled silently once more and her beautiful teeth sparkled again.
The lifeless river had slowly stirred itself to life at the soothing touch of the God of Rain. Small localized streams of water here and there were trying to get into motion, thereby jostling with the stones in the riverbed, creating beautiful interlude for the song of silence! Rekha was smiling again, immersed in absolute bliss, oblivious to the presence of anything else around.
‘Oye Rekha, are you ok?’ She woke out of her lost state with a start when Sanjay mildly tapped her shoulder, concerned with her silence and the interjection of strange but beautiful smiles in between.
‘You have been behaving strangely for a while, staring blankly at things and smiling in between.’ Sanjay commented with concern.
‘No, nothing. I am fine.’ Rekha replied with a nonchalant shrug. She became quiet again.
Sanjay didn’t want to disturb her anymore. He was relishing the blissful atmosphere in the presence of his dream-girl; a long cherished dream he had silently nurtured in his heart.
The villagers were slowly returning to their homes from the fields after a hard day's labour for their crops. Few children were racing ahead of their parents, competing with each other. The bullocks were ambling, stopping by here and there, to pick up a quick bite of fresh grass offshoots.
‘Hey....hey....hoor.....hoor.’ Their masters commanded them to get going.
The invading blanket of darkness was slowly swallowing up the twilight as the setting sun started sinking below the horizon. Few stray birds who had fallen behind their flock were scared and hurriedly flew past to beat the darkness and reach their homes.
Rekha and Sanjay finally got up to head back home as well!
(Note: Both of them were in their late teens; from Banjara community)
Rekha looked at them and smiled silently, savouring the magical moment. Her pearl white teeth shone brightly against her dark complexion.
The naked mountain ranges few kilometres away felt uneasy as the setting sun was trying to expose its scars with its orange rays. Rekha heard it mumbling with anger, let the monsoon come in full swing and I can cover my scars with the green foliage. Then I shall see how you can play these pranks with me anymore!
Rekha smiled silently once more and her beautiful teeth sparkled again.
The lifeless river had slowly stirred itself to life at the soothing touch of the God of Rain. Small localized streams of water here and there were trying to get into motion, thereby jostling with the stones in the riverbed, creating beautiful interlude for the song of silence! Rekha was smiling again, immersed in absolute bliss, oblivious to the presence of anything else around.
‘Oye Rekha, are you ok?’ She woke out of her lost state with a start when Sanjay mildly tapped her shoulder, concerned with her silence and the interjection of strange but beautiful smiles in between.
‘You have been behaving strangely for a while, staring blankly at things and smiling in between.’ Sanjay commented with concern.
‘No, nothing. I am fine.’ Rekha replied with a nonchalant shrug. She became quiet again.
Sanjay didn’t want to disturb her anymore. He was relishing the blissful atmosphere in the presence of his dream-girl; a long cherished dream he had silently nurtured in his heart.
The villagers were slowly returning to their homes from the fields after a hard day's labour for their crops. Few children were racing ahead of their parents, competing with each other. The bullocks were ambling, stopping by here and there, to pick up a quick bite of fresh grass offshoots.
‘Hey....hey....hoor.....hoor.’ Their masters commanded them to get going.
The invading blanket of darkness was slowly swallowing up the twilight as the setting sun started sinking below the horizon. Few stray birds who had fallen behind their flock were scared and hurriedly flew past to beat the darkness and reach their homes.
Rekha and Sanjay finally got up to head back home as well!
(Note: Both of them were in their late teens; from Banjara community)
