The place where I stay is called ‘Kalikund’. I can say it’s the ‘Malgudi’ of Gujarat. It’s a beautiful little place with few ancient architectural structures adorning the village. A beautifully sculpted Jain temple ornaments the main square of the town. As the town is in Gujarat, people go about their ‘business’ (literally) with all the ‘busy’ness they can summon. The prosperity of Gujarat lies in the fact that even if the son doesn’t bring home good mark sheets, he learns enough to understand that his education is an investment made by his father. And it’s a less profitable investment than the share market.
Despite their ‘busy-ness’, people have lots of time at their hands to poke their noses in others’ business. Just like any other village in India. And I stay in this village quietly minding my own business. I rent a house here with three other boys who are also from Maharashtra and we have nothing much to do after we come back from the office. So, when one of us gets busy watching TV, the other one gets tired of watching it. If someone wants to go out, the other one wants to wash the clothes. When one of us urges me to play the guitar, the other one would turn on the TV volume as much as he can. In short, we never reach consensus except on two things- Blaming the company for everything that goes wrong and talking on the phone! Every one of us is addicted to mobile phones. Although, you must agree that it’s a better way to deal with loneliness than other known forms of addictions. No one blames anyone if he is on the phone. I can also defend myself by saying that we are all desperate to speak in our mother tongues and always ready to talk to our near and dear ones. Apart from being away from our homes, we also stay away from the glittering city-life which we were used to.
There are some peculiar habits of phone-addicts. They want to go as much away from the other phone-addict as possible. They would talk on phone in such low voice, that the satellite would have to strain its ears to pass on the message on the other end. They hate to be bothered when they are on phone. No one should approach them for any damn crisis in the world when they are glued to the phone. Most of the tsunami victims were talking on phone when the tides came disturbing them. They continued their talk even in the heaven. The ‘mobile-mania’ has gripped the world so much, that even the God is calling network service providers to put up some towers in heaven. And the place where there is no network would be automatically called as the hell!
But people of Gujarat are exceptions. It’s obviously a bad investment. They don’t understand why we should make Sunil Mittal richer than he already is. So, while the four of us get out of our home to talk on phones, they just observe us. As far as I am concerned, I observe them back because anyway I am hardly interested in stuff like ‘you know what Anjali did today?’ I just have to keep talking on phone for philanthropic purposes!
But we were committing a grave mistake unknowingly while talking on phone. We used to wander around in our ‘shorts’ in the neighborhood. On one such instance, one of my friends went a bit too far from the house and sat on a bench wearing a Bermuda. The poor guy mostly talks with his mom and he is an inspiration to all of us! While he was deeply immersed in the conversation, a man confronted him. He was a bully and he was on a bullet. He told my friend to cut the phone. “Cut the phone? What the hell? How can anyone just tell me to do that?” My friend was furious. He told the man to go to hell (probably because there is no network there) and continued his talk. We only came to know what followed when we reached the hospital to see our friend!
That man didn’t have problem because my friend was talking on phone, but he was wandering around in ‘chaddi’. Locals here call shorts by the same name as we would call our underwears. And the man was a policeman. We were also informed that we have to meet him at the local police station and we could exclude the injured person. So, there we were, standing in front of him in our full pants, washed or not! Initially, he was very angry and accused us of violating the culture. I could very well understand his emotions. And I was cursing myself for violating the culture by showing off my ‘not pedicured’ knees. I apologized profusely and then he calmed down somewhat. I echoed his emotions and I myself gave a speech of how not to violate the culture to my friends. Ultimately, he looked pleased with himself for teaching us a proper lesson and we came back home without any further visit to the hospital for ourselves.
The next day, when we told our ‘shorts’ tale to our house-owner, he was in fits! He couldn’t hold off his laughter till he fell on the floor. We were clueless as to what has happened to him. He called almost half the neighborhood and they were looking like members of a ‘laughter club’ gathered there to cure their blood pressures. After, the last member had cured his blood-pressure, some one came to our rescue and enlightened us. He told us that the policeman was the most corrupt goon of that area. He was also a dreaded ‘Saitaan’ in his own household. His daughters were scared to death to have such a father. And one of his daughters finally ran away with a boy. The boy was a reputed businessman. He used to make- ‘chaddis’!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
The 'Miss' Interpretation!
The other day, I was traveling by a GSRTC bus. The busses in Gujarat can be as packed as ‘the fevicol ad bus’. But it was one of those fortunate days when you get a seat without much struggle. When the bus got full to the brim and almost overflowing, I asked conductor when they will start. He curtly replied, “let it get full, bhai”! While I was waiting patiently to let the bus get ‘full’, I had nothing to do but to observe people. I didn’t understand their language much, but I was enjoying myself; finding me immersed in the beautiful ‘colors of India’!
In due course, the bus started and I started getting high on Aerosmith songs pouring romance into my ears. And while the bus was taking turns rapidly, out of nowhere there emerged a girl, too beautiful to belong to that crowd! She was about 22 and wearing a Punjabi dress which looked expensive. She also wore a light make-up and was looking totally out of place for that bus. I wondered if she was some ‘Nat-Geo reporter’ studying colors of India. But she looked too shy to be a reporter. Moreover, she was herself looking very much part of the same ‘colors of India’, although a bit more ‘branded’. As I tried to gauge her, I realized that at least a 100 more pairs of eyes were glued to her, scanning her everywhere. And she looked ‘not used to at all’ to this negative attention. She was already very troubled by the crowd. This was their ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunity and they were not going miss it. She was being pushed from all the directions and I really felt sorry for her. However, I think she was even more troubled by the ‘looks’ she was getting and I think she felt violated. Despite her troubled features, there was a degree of calmness and a sense of simplicity about her. I liked that girl and if I didn’t have at least 17 girlfriends to think of back in Maharashtra, I would have thought of her!
She arrived near my seat and stood there. I think she looked at me. Even though I would not be the most handsome guy she ever saw, I certainly did not belong to that crowd either. She must have thought of asking me for my seat but she didn’t say anything. I had understood by that time that I would have to let go my precious seat and stand on one foot for the next two and half hours! I took almost 30 seconds to prepare my mind and just when I was about to stand-up and give her my seat, out of nowhere there emerged a beautiful 90 year old country lady and asked me for the seat. Well, I got proposed twice in those one and half minutes, by two beautiful ladies, one a 22 years old and the other one almost a century old! But before I could take my decision, the old lady grabbed my seat with the swiftness of a 16 years old kid. And there we were, both standing now, in the middle of a ‘Kumbh-Mela’. But she looked just a tad bit relieved. I was trying hard to maintain distance between us, at least in nanometers. And she positioned herself in my direction and was looking more relaxed now.
I was trying my best not to look at her at all, even though I had absolutely nothing else to look at. I couldn’t even move my neck much and I was already busy increasing that distance from nanometers to millimeters. And she was facing the similar predicament. I still had not removed the headphones from my ears, so I just closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the songs. The songs unfortunately were adding fuel to the fire and I couldn’t even get my phone out of my pocket to change the songs. She, on her part, was looking down and started observing the GSRTC bus flooring design, which was not even visible!
In such complicated situation, a half an hour passed. Meanwhile, whenever the bus stopped, the inflow and outflow of people were making it impossible for me not to touch her in any way. But at least she understood my efforts and I was getting positive vibes from her. After a while my songs ended and I removed the earphones. After 3 minutes of embarrassing silence (for her almost 33 minutes), she finally said in Gujarati, “ketli bheed chhe!” (It’s so crowded here). My scant knowledge of Gujarati was not helping now. I decided to shut my mouth instead of advertising my Gujarati skills. So I just replied, “Hmm…”. She misunderstood me as a very shy person and I continued to let her misunderstand me. Actually, I had misunderstood her as well. Behind that mask of shyness, lied a very talkative girl who just unleashed her weapons and started firing at me a range of sentences in Gujarati. I once thought of telling her that I don’t speak Gujarati, but she seemed to be enjoying the company and anyway she was not giving me any time to talk. Finally I just decided to go with the flow and tried my best to reply just in ‘Hmms’ and ‘Haa’s and Naa’s’ and whatever broken bits and pieces I knew. But I was doing a commendable job and she was just happy not getting interrupted. She wouldn’t have got a ‘bakra’ like me in years who would just nod to everything she said without saying a word! By the end of next hour and half or so, she must have started dreaming about her future. If not about me, she must be thinking about a guy like me. Which girl would not?
As our destination grew nearer, she started asking me questions about me. She asked my name and I told her my full name like a school boy. I was fully aware that some Gujaratis also have the same last name as I have and I could hide behind it. She asked me what I do and I told her few things about my career. I could tell most of this part in English without sounding too ‘angrez’. Finally, she seemed to have liked ‘the profile’! As the bus arrived in the city, she was contemplating if she should ask me my phone number. She was hesitating, but she gathered courage and just when she uttered a word which sounded like ‘mobile’, the very same instrument in my pocket rang. By this time, the bus was less crowded and I reached for my mobile and saw who the devil disturbed me at the climax of that highly interesting story. As I saw the name, my face whitened as a ghost and I forgot everything and I picked up the phone! The person calling me was obviously punishing me for some sins I didn’t even remember and I was helplessly explaining to her my situation. Without any good result, she hung the phone on me. And at that moment, it dawned on me that I had talked in fluent Marathi over the phone! The beautiful girl was looking at me like I had just molested her! Without uttering a single word, she looked away. And for the next 3 minutes till the bus stopped, she silently observed the GSRTC bus floor design which was now very much visible to her!
In due course, the bus started and I started getting high on Aerosmith songs pouring romance into my ears. And while the bus was taking turns rapidly, out of nowhere there emerged a girl, too beautiful to belong to that crowd! She was about 22 and wearing a Punjabi dress which looked expensive. She also wore a light make-up and was looking totally out of place for that bus. I wondered if she was some ‘Nat-Geo reporter’ studying colors of India. But she looked too shy to be a reporter. Moreover, she was herself looking very much part of the same ‘colors of India’, although a bit more ‘branded’. As I tried to gauge her, I realized that at least a 100 more pairs of eyes were glued to her, scanning her everywhere. And she looked ‘not used to at all’ to this negative attention. She was already very troubled by the crowd. This was their ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunity and they were not going miss it. She was being pushed from all the directions and I really felt sorry for her. However, I think she was even more troubled by the ‘looks’ she was getting and I think she felt violated. Despite her troubled features, there was a degree of calmness and a sense of simplicity about her. I liked that girl and if I didn’t have at least 17 girlfriends to think of back in Maharashtra, I would have thought of her!
She arrived near my seat and stood there. I think she looked at me. Even though I would not be the most handsome guy she ever saw, I certainly did not belong to that crowd either. She must have thought of asking me for my seat but she didn’t say anything. I had understood by that time that I would have to let go my precious seat and stand on one foot for the next two and half hours! I took almost 30 seconds to prepare my mind and just when I was about to stand-up and give her my seat, out of nowhere there emerged a beautiful 90 year old country lady and asked me for the seat. Well, I got proposed twice in those one and half minutes, by two beautiful ladies, one a 22 years old and the other one almost a century old! But before I could take my decision, the old lady grabbed my seat with the swiftness of a 16 years old kid. And there we were, both standing now, in the middle of a ‘Kumbh-Mela’. But she looked just a tad bit relieved. I was trying hard to maintain distance between us, at least in nanometers. And she positioned herself in my direction and was looking more relaxed now.
I was trying my best not to look at her at all, even though I had absolutely nothing else to look at. I couldn’t even move my neck much and I was already busy increasing that distance from nanometers to millimeters. And she was facing the similar predicament. I still had not removed the headphones from my ears, so I just closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the songs. The songs unfortunately were adding fuel to the fire and I couldn’t even get my phone out of my pocket to change the songs. She, on her part, was looking down and started observing the GSRTC bus flooring design, which was not even visible!
In such complicated situation, a half an hour passed. Meanwhile, whenever the bus stopped, the inflow and outflow of people were making it impossible for me not to touch her in any way. But at least she understood my efforts and I was getting positive vibes from her. After a while my songs ended and I removed the earphones. After 3 minutes of embarrassing silence (for her almost 33 minutes), she finally said in Gujarati, “ketli bheed chhe!” (It’s so crowded here). My scant knowledge of Gujarati was not helping now. I decided to shut my mouth instead of advertising my Gujarati skills. So I just replied, “Hmm…”. She misunderstood me as a very shy person and I continued to let her misunderstand me. Actually, I had misunderstood her as well. Behind that mask of shyness, lied a very talkative girl who just unleashed her weapons and started firing at me a range of sentences in Gujarati. I once thought of telling her that I don’t speak Gujarati, but she seemed to be enjoying the company and anyway she was not giving me any time to talk. Finally I just decided to go with the flow and tried my best to reply just in ‘Hmms’ and ‘Haa’s and Naa’s’ and whatever broken bits and pieces I knew. But I was doing a commendable job and she was just happy not getting interrupted. She wouldn’t have got a ‘bakra’ like me in years who would just nod to everything she said without saying a word! By the end of next hour and half or so, she must have started dreaming about her future. If not about me, she must be thinking about a guy like me. Which girl would not?
As our destination grew nearer, she started asking me questions about me. She asked my name and I told her my full name like a school boy. I was fully aware that some Gujaratis also have the same last name as I have and I could hide behind it. She asked me what I do and I told her few things about my career. I could tell most of this part in English without sounding too ‘angrez’. Finally, she seemed to have liked ‘the profile’! As the bus arrived in the city, she was contemplating if she should ask me my phone number. She was hesitating, but she gathered courage and just when she uttered a word which sounded like ‘mobile’, the very same instrument in my pocket rang. By this time, the bus was less crowded and I reached for my mobile and saw who the devil disturbed me at the climax of that highly interesting story. As I saw the name, my face whitened as a ghost and I forgot everything and I picked up the phone! The person calling me was obviously punishing me for some sins I didn’t even remember and I was helplessly explaining to her my situation. Without any good result, she hung the phone on me. And at that moment, it dawned on me that I had talked in fluent Marathi over the phone! The beautiful girl was looking at me like I had just molested her! Without uttering a single word, she looked away. And for the next 3 minutes till the bus stopped, she silently observed the GSRTC bus floor design which was now very much visible to her!
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