Wake up Arun!

September 19, 2009 47 Comments

[Instead of writing a story, I have attempted a monologue for Priya. Priya is the main protagonist, who unable to cope with the jeopardy life bought to her, goes berserk. This is once again my first attempt of this kind. Therefore, Pl is kind to me. Here it goes…]

-At home-
9:00 am: “Arun, Pl wake up it is a 9’o clock in the morning and I‘ve already re-heated your coffee for three times chellamma*. I have to get ready for the office re. You know the new broadband that our company has launched, is bringing so many “impatient” customers complain. I must reach early so that I can come back early. My day is going to be tight today, Honey”.

“Arun, honey are you listening to me? [Giggles] No baby, not now…Oh god, why does this phone has to ring all the time and at all the wrong times”?

“Hello, hi Anuja nalla iriken, ning eppadi irikinga? [I am fine, how are you doing] Off course, I am fine, trying to wake Arun from his beauty sleeps. I am glad that you remember his birthday. What happened why you are distressful? Now do not start the same nonsense again Anuja, why? Arun is here only. For heaven sake, why are you crying? What forget Arun? What da, what are you talking? Listen I am in hurry and have to let the line go. See you later”.
[Hung up the line, walks down to Arun]

“That was Anuja with her usual… hey, you still sleeping? Hmm ok, my lazy baby; enjoy your beauty sleep. I have made some porridge for breakfast and kept it in the microwave, pl reheat it before eating. The juice is in the fridge. Do not forget. Shanta bai will come by 12:00 to cook lunch. Yes, baby, I shall eat in the office. Now, need not worry about me…Oh, fish, this coffee is spoilt; shall I brew a fresh one? Ok baby take care. Do shave today; it was so hurting last night”.

[Door closes; Priya calls for a cab for the office]

“Driverji, how many times do I have to tell you to wash the upholstery? You know Arun has a dust allergy. What? Yes, Arun sir is there, sleeping inside. Now you just clean it in case if he wants to use the car today. I will take a taxi, no issue. Oh God, I said na- “No issue-driven”.

-In office-
10:00 am: “Yup honey, I have reached office. Do eat your breakfast and take care. See ya”.

4:00 pm: “Oh these customers, why on the earth are they so ‘impatient’ all the time? Renuka you are lucky that you are handling the payment desk. Not that I am complaining after all this is where I first met Arun. Arun oh! Gosh in all this mess, I forgot to call him. He is not well you see- later Renuka, let me first ring him and…stop talking rubbish about… Hey, baby, what are you up to? Why did you take so much time to pick the call? Had your breakfast on time? What Shanta bai did not turn up today? Let me come back in the evening, I shall handle all her increased absenteeism these days. Oh, you have sent the car to pick me. How sweet of… Honey, let me disconnect now, Renuka is coming back and if she sees me talking to you, she will once again start her lectures”.

“Oh Renuka, I do not understand what is wrong with all my friends? First Anuja, now you. Listen, dear, it is Arun’ birthday today and I must rush early. You know na what has happened last year; it was our Mehendi and Arun has to suddenly leave in the middle for an urgent call of duty at Taj. I was so scared when we saw all those firings on the TV. With mom’s crying, my fainting, gosh it was such a dreadful evening. Thank God, that Arun came back next evening. These heartless terrorists, they have soiled all his uniform with blood. I still am struggling to wash off all those stains from his uniforms. First that damn hepatitis and then this attack. Wish we had not left Bangalore and come to Mumbai. Renuka…Oh, fish, I need to rush, Arun would be waiting for me. You see, it is his birthday today. Bye”.

-On the way back to home-
“Driverji, stop once at the Kormangla Signal, I need to buy some flowers and stuff. Come on stop giving me that puzzled look and hurry up; Arun Sahib will be waiting”.

-Back to home-
6:00 pm: “Sorry baby, this BTM traffic is gone to dogs and to top that this Renuka too has lost her marbles. Same old rubbish that stops thinking about Arun, Arun has left you and blah blah. She is crazy or what? I have even asked her to come with me and see from her own eyes that we are still together and happy too; people talk rubbish”.

“You won’t leave me na? Please do not leave me. No baby I will not cry again. I know that you are not like those men esp. the breed of my father. I know you will never abandon me. We shall build a home together and start our family soon. Let us have at least two children, a girl, and a boy. Twins? Wow! We then will buy everything in pairs for the- two pair of the pram, socks, feeders, rattle-tattle etc. Blue color for the boy and pink for the girl child”.

“Yes, we will have children. I want both of them to look like you, their father. Ok, the girl like me and the chap like you! Happy? If its girl, we will name her ‘Suhani’ and the boy ‘Sooraj’- Captain Sooraj Thapar, s/o Captain Arun Thapar”.

“Wow! Oh yes, I know am dreaming once again but it is a beautiful dream. Moreover, after ma’s demise, these dreams have become my family. Daddy was always a way that I never knew what a father is until I met your dad. Your dad and mom have filled the gap of parents in my life. They have made me so much at home, with a family that I could never ask for more. Sorry, I am not going to cry again but I am missing them so much. Hope, they return soon from their trip to the holy shrine. I could not join them as I do not want to leave you alone on your birthday”.

9:00pm: “I still remember our first meeting and our first ride. Oh Arun, I am so glad that you came to my life. A life where men had no place, no trust, you came as a fresh breeze, a blessing in my life. No pain seems visible, no problem appears difficult ever since you walked in, held my hands and we walked together. Let us celebrate this over the wine that I bought today and some nice pasta. Here, toast to our love, your long life, and our unborn babies”. Cheers!

Next morning when Shanta bai came inside the house, she saw Priya half-lying on the table with an empty wine bottle and two glasses, half-empty. The silver candle stand was still holding the residue of the burnt candles. As Shanta bai leaned over the table to erect the stand and escort Priya to bed, she heard Priya whisper in half slumber- “Shanta Bai, why did you not come yesterday, Arun Sir had to eat outside. You know his present health does not allow him to eat out”. “Shanta bai I do not want to be awake now, I want to sleep for some time”.

Shanta Bai nodded in approval with her one hand holding Priya and other hand wiping her tears.
[Readers, a funny incidence happened while I was writing this post. I got a call from Hyderabad office where a person called me up to follow up on the yesterday’s discussion. Yesterday’s discussion? I could not recall any such discussions but he insisted that I had. For a moment, I was befuddled. Am I being forgetful while writing a schizophrenic story? I insisted and asked him to check again. Thankfully, he rechecked the name and found that it is some other Ekta, Ekta Khungar, from Mumbai office. “It was so nice to talk to you though”, he said before hanging up:)]

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Circle of life: [Part I]- Soil Erosion & The Fat Cow Theory!

September 14, 2009 46 Comments

Once upon a time, when I was a small girl, I used to go to school. The name of my school was Holy Cross Convent School and my class teacher in standard four, section B, English medium was Miss Elsamma Varghese. Miss Varghese was a very strict teacher, always ready with the ruler in her hands and I did not like her as much as I liked my class II class teacher, Miss Asha Wilson.

Miss Wilson was my favourite class teacher. She was a very-very sweet miss who never punishes me hard. She will also not charge me much fine even if I beat a boy in my class and wrap his neck with his own school tie. But Miss Elsamma will give a lot of punishments and if she were to see my English here, she would have fined me with a lot of my nanaji’s money. [Gosh, it is so tough being a child but I will still try].

One day Miss Varghese took our class on soil erosion. She taught about various causes of soil erosion including cattle grazing for prolonged hours. The lesson was short, simple and miss said it would be in the syllabus for the next school unit tests. [I loved the short part as it got me ample time to play with Shahnawaz Khan and Cezo of my class]

The dreaded unit tests were there again. Miss kept her promise and asked the question for all 3 marks.

Original Question: Why we should not allow cows to graze the same land for a long time?
Original Answer: Heavy grazing causes land stripped of vegetation and rain hitting the barren land cause significant run-off, hence causing soil erosion.

Ekta’ Answer: We should not…because it causes soil erosion, a phenomenon where rain washes off the weak soil that is supported by grass roots.

When I saw the question, I almost jumped off my chair. I prepared this yesterday during the power failure that switched off my video game and made me pick the boring Social studies book. My non-stop gaming turned my nani into Hitler, threatening to pack off my Super Mario Bros. She thinks that my video games are spoiling me. Today I can proudly go home and tell her how i knew 70% of my test questions. I still wish if school test were like Video games. Imagine if they develop games on soil erosion, how interesting that would be to learn.

Next day after tests, Miss Varghese came to our class with test copies and another big stick in her hands. She kept the stick on the desk and dropped a bomb in the room. She said everybody passed in the paper but one student. My heart started beating fast. The classroom was looking like one big blackboard. Once I looked at the miffed expression on Miss’ face and next to the sharp stick on her table. Suddenly "past tense" made my present tense and I turned black & white, I mean flashback.

[Flashback]Nani told me to stop playing the video game and prepare for the social study test next day but I did not listen to her and continued jigging the Mario and his brother Luigi on my TV set. Then there was Miss Varghese who the other day scolded me not to play ink-ink with Shahnawaz khan and concentrate in her S. St class. [But this shahnawaz boy you know, actually you do not know him. He was the class topper in studies, sports, good looks and almost every girl in the class “lobhed” him.
[He was from section C that merged into our section B. Like nanaji’s business that often takes over the traders under his umbrella, we have taken over them…so snob ka sawal hi nahi hota] Every second girl in the class had a crush on him. How boring! It seems Miss also use to like him a lot and envy all girls who liked him. She made him sit next to me, making me an object of envy of all those stupid girls in the class. "Ek to waise bhi ladkiya mujhse kum baat karti thi, ab to aur bhi kum karegi". The teacher was so clever, she put both of us in the same "orange group" in the whole class whereas all other Red, blue and hee hee Green. You know the day when Miss was re-arranging the seating arrangement, ok that is a long story and irrelevant like Anish’ answer to the “soil erosion” question. Besides, Shahnawaz was not the snob he meant to be and we began to be good friends, having lots of fun in class. He loved my bicycle too but hey we are not talking about bicycles here, else Kanu will give me another award on writing extra long blogs..he hee]

A sudden thump on the table spelt off my past tense into present participle when Miss decided to read out ‘that’ funniest answer in the class. Oh no! Miss pl no. I will not talk to Shahnawaz again [in front of you] nor would I tell him the math’s sum a day before you teach it in class. Please do not call my name in front of the class. Thump-thump 1, dhak-dhak 2 and there she read the answer-

Ques: Why we should not allow cows to graze on the same land for a long time?
Answer: We should not allow cows to graze for more and more time on the same grass as the more and more and more the cow eats the grass, the more fatter and fatter cow becomes. Cows should not become fatter and so we should not allow them to eat more grass.

What? I mean Whoopi! This certainly is not me, not me. Ya da ya da ya ya..

The genius behind this great discovery was this shin Chan character of my class and he scored -1. Thank God! I wonder what Shahnawaz would think about me. Oh no, we were just good friends. Lolz…Regarding Shin Chang, I mean Anish? I am sure he would be in R&D team or joined MTV.

All's well that end's well but that is not the end here. That was just the relation between the cow and soil erosion, so now can you tell me the link between grass and butter? Think through and think hard… will see you in the next post.

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The Rain Song

September 08, 2009 13 Comments

Hmmm its long since I have posted here and quite sometime since it is pouring non stop in Kolkata...So, a great time for feisty chai, bhajia, pasta soups and poetries? Until I come to terms with various scribblings in my mind, here's a poem that I have written some years ago, while in school I guess....

In July when it rains
leaning aside my window pane
Tin pan alley of pearl drop
some sizzling over my head
some dropped down my cheeks
And some felt on lips

Field beyond the paddy crop
drenched in water, immersed and soak
Rain flouirshes up to knees
its so splendid, to be ceased
Drizzling gets as long
Merrily i could sing
my rain song

Pearls still pouring up my head
lonely sight but not sad
Cloud bursts and ether cries
Vibgyor splendours over the endless skies
Pools of water on garden n' road
Wading ducklings, happy toads
Spread of greenary all over
Fumes of soil lingers the soul
Earth finds heart; Zephyr wraps in
a fragrance of whole
and a mud pottery brown cover

Tunes of monsoon; rhythem of leaves
tintinabulation of the roof top
tidal din of seven seas
fluttering butterflies & bees
And Merry humes of dover
Season of drench last for four
speel bound the dusky hour
Joy of lives; fun of rain
ungratified thirst & departing pain
Season of clouds come again
For Augustic winter likes to unfold

PS: excuse if you find the writing a bt outdated. It surely is :)

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