मंशा

मंशा - कभी कभी सोचती थी कि क्या उसकी किस्मत उसके नाम से है? या फिर उसका नाम उसके माता पिता ने उसकी आने वाली ज़िन्दगी को भाँप कर रखा था? मंशा - जैसे अधूरी सी एक इच्छा , जैसे कोई अंत-हीन कहानी।

" मिस! मिस! छाया ने विदुषी का दाँत तोड़ दिया!"
घबरा कर मंशा कॉरिडोर में पहुँची। विदुषी नाम की लड़की गला फाड़ फाड़ कर रो रही थी।
" ये क्या किया तुमने, छाया?", मंशा ने छाया से सख्ती से पुछा।
अपने हाथ में रुमाल से पकड़े हुए एक टूटे हुए दाँत को हवा में लहराते हुए छाया बोली, " मेरी कोई गलती नही है मिस। मैं तो बस उसे दिखा रही थी की दूध के दाँत को कैसे तोड़ते हैं।"
छाया की इन्ही हरकतों से मंशा झल्ला चुकी थी, " अभी चलो मेरे साथ प्रिंसिपल के ऑफिस में! इस उजड्ड लड़की पे तो उसका भी असर नही होता। नजाने कैसे घर वाले हैं। नोट पे नोट लिख कर भेजो, बेशर्मी से साइन करके वापस भी भेज देते हैं। अपने मम्मी पापा को बुला के लाना कल!"
विदुषी का रुदन सुन कर अब कॉरिडोर की सभी क्लासों के बच्चे बाहर आ गए थे। अक्सर क्लास में बैठे बोर होते हुए बच्चे इसी उम्मीद में रहते की कब छाया कुछ फसाद मचाये और हम तमाशा देखने बाहर जाएँ।
मंशा ने हर बार की तरह छाया की डायरी में उसकी शरारतों के बारे में नोट लिखा। लेकिन इस बार उसके माता पिता से स्कूल आ कर उससे मिलने का आग्रह भी किया। फिर चीखती हुई विदुषी को दवाइयों वाले कमरे में ले गई। इस तरह एक और दिन का अंत हुआ ।

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" साम , दाम, दंड , भेद! आपकी बच्ची पर तो किसी का असर नही होता ! कल ही एक बच्ची का दाँत तोड़ दिया! वो भी पक्का दाँत! उसके माँ-बाप ने कैसा बवाल मचा दिया कोई अंदाजा भी है आपको? अब मैं क्या जवाब दूँ? मेरी तो नौकरी पर ही बन आई है। सारा दिन क्या एक ही बच्ची को नज़रबंद करने का ज़िम्मा ले रखा है मैंने? आठ साल की बच्ची ने तीस-पैंतीस साल की टीचरों की हवाइयाँ उड़ा रखी हैं!", मंशा छाया की माँ, नियति , से पिछले बीस मिनटों से उसकी शिकायत कर रही थी।
और पिछले बीस मिनटों से नियति के मन में बस एक ही बात चल रही थी- "हे भगवान्। जल्दबाजी में मैं गीज़र तो खुला ही छोड़ आई। ये अगर घर आ पहुँचे तो कोहराम मचा देंगे। कल ही सब्जी में नमक ज़्यादा पड़ गया था। ये सच ही कहते हैं। मैं इतनी गैर जिम्मेदार हूँ। तभी तो छाया..."
"... तभी तो छाया को अपनी गलतियों का एहसास होगा।" कुछ सुझाव देते हुए मंशा ने अपनी बात पूरी की ।
" जी मैडम। अब आगे से ध्यान रखूंगी। अभी मैं जल्दी में हूँ। घर पे कुछ काम अधूरा ही छोड़ के आई हूँ।" नियति ने गीज़र के बारे में सोचते हुए कहा।
"इसके पापा क्यूँ नहीं आए?" मंशा ने हड़बड़ी में जाती हुई नियति से पुछा।
"वो... वो उन्हें कुछ ज़रूरी काम था । " नियति ने बहाना बनाया। वो कैसे बताती कि उसने पावक को बताया ही नहीं ? कभी भी नहीं। कि आज तक सारे नोट्स पर साइन भी उसी ने किए थे। कितना गैर जिम्मेदार समझेंगे वो उसे । वैसे भी कल सब्जी में नमक ज़्यादा पड़ गया था।

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दस सालों में कितना कुछ बदल जाता है। जितनी बार ये दुनिया गोल घूम चुकी होती है उतनी बार परिस्थितियाँ बदलती हैं, उतनी बार सपने बदलते हैं, उतनी बार अपने बदलते हैं। खुशियाँ कभी कभी त्रासदी बन जाती हैं... और त्रासदी समय के साथ एक मज़ाक! बस रह जाती है तो एक उम्मीद। क्यूँकी उम्मीद की बुनियाद पे ही तो दुनिया गोल घूमती है।

दस साल पहले बाईस साल की एक लड़की दिल्ली से रतलाम आई थी। दिल्ली से रतलाम दो तरह के लोग आते हैं। एक वो जो अपनी सारी ज़िन्दगी बड़े शहरों की भाग दौड़ में बिता कर अब आराम से किसी छोटे शहर में, अपना बड़ा सा घर बसाना चाहते हैं ।आख़िर जुड़ी हुई सविंग्स से एक बड़ा प्लाट खरीदने की उनकी क्षमता भी तो सिर्फ़ छोटे शहरों में लेने की होती है । दूसरे वो जिनकी मजबूरियाँ उन्हें खींच लाती हैं । जैसे कि बीमार माँ, या फिर ट्रान्सफर।

मंशा की न तो उम्र हुई थी न ही कोई मजबूरी थी। फिर बाईस साल की कमसिन उम्र में उसका रतलाम जैसे शहर में क्या काम?
उस दिन , सड़क के किनारे , बस स्टाप की बैंच पे बैठे बैठे नजाने कितने घंटे बीत गए होंगे। घर जाती तो फिर वही आईना दीखता जिसमे वो दोनों अपनी शक्लें साथ साथ देखते और कहते "हैं न हम बिल्कुल मेड फॉर ईच अदर?" ; फिर वही बालकनी दिखती जहाँ रात रात भर बैठ कर वो उससे फ़ोन पे बातें करती। अब वो घर दोबारा कैसे जाएगी? ये सब कुछ सोच ही रही थी की सामने एक गाय दिखी। दिल्ली की सडकों पर गाय दिखना भी एक अजूबा ही है। M.C.D की वैन्स को इन बेचारियों से कुछ खासा ही लगाव है। उस दिन मानो वो गाय भी भगवान् की ही भेजी हुई थी। दुर्बल सी गाय, जिसकी पसलियाँ बाहर दीख रहीं थीं, इतनी दुर्बल होते हुए भी अपने छोटे से बछडे को दूध पिला रही थी। क्या खाती होगी जिसका ये दूध बन पाता होगा ये तो अल्लाह ही जानता है। ख़ुद अन्दर से लगभग खाली है लेकिन जितना दूध उसका बछडा खींचता उतना दूध उसके थनों में भर आता। वाकई आश्चर्यजनक है।
"क्या वाकई इतना आश्चर्यजनक है?" उसने सोचा। "क्या ये सच नही कि कुदरत ने हम सबको एक ऐसी ही ताक़त दी है? कि हम अन्दर से खाली होने के बाद भी कुछ चीज़ें दूसरों को दे सकते हैं और ऐसा करने से वो चीज़ें हम में वापस भरने लगती हैं?"

उसी दिन उसने फ़ैसला किया कि वो रतलाम जाएगी। वहाँ बच्चों को पढ़ाएगी। उन्हें शायद उसकी दिल्ली में मिली अच्छी शिक्षा से लाभ हो। इस तरह उनकी मदद करके शायद वो अपनी मदद भी कर सके।

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आज छाया स्कूल नहीं आई। "चलो! एक दिन तो शान्ति से बीतेगा!" , मंशा ने चैन कि साँस ली। पूरा दिन गुनगुनाते हुए काम किया। यहाँ तक कि बच्चों को एक पीरियड फ्री भी दे दिया। उसी फ्री पीरियड में उसने सोचा कि कुछ अधूरे काम पूरे कर ले । कल का क्या भरोसा किस नए फसाद में उलझ जाए? बड़े समय से बच्चों के रिकॉर्ड बनाने का काम वो टाल रही थी, तो सोचा कि उसी को निबटा ले। एक रजिस्टर में पाँच खाने बनाये। एक में बच्चे का, दूसरे में माता का, तीसरे में पिता का नाम, चौथे में पता, और पाँचवे में फोन नम्बर।

" नम्बर ग्यारह... छाया मिश्रा... माँ... नियति मिश्रा... पिता ... पावक मि..."
पावक मिश्रा। पिता का नाम पावक मिश्रा। मंशा को मानो साँप सूँघ गया हो।
उसने झट से नम्बर देखा-9425311709

नम्बर के आखिरी चार अंक 1709 थे । पावक अपने नंबरों के आखिरी चार अंक 1709 ही रखता था। सत्रह सितम्बर- उसका जन्मदिन।

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"ये कैसा मज़ाक है भगवान् जी! सोचा था कि वो एक बुरा सपना था जो मेरी ज़िन्दगी में होना ज़रूरी था। शायद मेरे कर्मों का फल। लेकिन ये भी सोचा था कि आप मेरे साथ हैं। और मुझे उस अंधेरे से बाहर निकालेंगे जिसमे आपने मुझे शायद कुछ सिखाने के लिए धकेला। और आपने निकाला भी। तो अब ये कौनसी नई परीक्षा? क्या मैं कई परीक्षाएं दे नहीं चुकी? क्या ज़िन्दगी भर मैं बस परीक्षाएँ ही देती रहूँगी, अपने आप को सिद्ध ही करती रहूँगी? किस लिए? एक दिन मर जाने के लिए?"

भगवान् से इस तरह संवाद करना मंशा कि आदत बन चुकी थी। उस रात उसे नींद नहीं आई। लेकिन ज़िन्दगी के बुरे से बुरे वक्त में भी सोना, उठना, खाना, तैयार होना, सब्जी वाले से दाम पे बहस करना, उसने सीख लिया था। तो सुबह होते ही उसकी आँख लग गई। नींद खुली मोबाइल फ़ोन की घंटी से, जो कि सातवीं बार बज रहा था।
"हैलो?"
"मंशा, कहाँ रह गयीं तुम? कोई ख़बर नही। सुबह से फ़ोन लगाते लगाते आफत आ गई।", प्रिंसिपल की आवाज़ दूसरी तरफ़ से गरज रही थी। "छाया ने यहाँ बवाल मचा रखा है। दो बच्चियों के टिफिन छीन कर खिड़की से बाहर फेंक दिए। जल्दी आओ!"
" बाप पर जो गई है", मंशा ने मन ही मन सोचा
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" मेरी गलती नही है मिस। सब इसी की गलती है। इससे पूछो इसने मेरा कहना क्यूँ नही माना?", छाया ने अपनी सफाई दी।
"कौनसा कहना?", मंशा ने पूछा।
" जब मैंने कहा कि अपने टिफिन से एक रोटी चम् चम् को दे दे तो दी क्यूँ नही?"
"चम् चम्?", मंशा का सर घूम रहा था।
"मिस, चम् चम् वो गन्दे, काले कुत्ते का नाम है जो नीचे गार्ड अंकल के बूथ के पास बैठता है।" विदुषी ने पुराना बदला लेने की एक कोशिश करते हुए कहा।

" छाया, सारी दुनिया तुम्हारा कहना माने ये ज़रूरी नही है। सबकी अपनी अपनी सोच है। किसी को चम् चम् पसंद है किसी को नही। अपनी सोच दूसरों पे थोपना बंद करो! और अपनी ग़लती मानना सीखो! समझीं?", मंशा ने छाया को डाँटते हुए कहा।

और कड़वाहट भरे मन से सोचा, "तुम्हारा बाप तो कभी नही समझा"

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स्कूल जाना अब मंशा के लिए एक सज़ा सी हो गई थी। वैसे तो छाया कभी भी उसे फूटी आँख नही सुहाती थी, लेकिन जबसे पावक वाली बात का पता चला, तबसे तो मानो उसे उसकी हर हरकत में पावक नज़र आता हो। पहले तो वो उसे झल्लाहट में डांटती, लेकिन अब उसकी डांट में एक अजीब सी कटुता थी, उसके शब्दों में घृणा का डंक । कई बार वो अपने को समझाती कि छाया एक आठ साल की बच्ची है, दुष्ट ही सही, और वो बत्तीस साल की औरत। उसे अपने पर इससे ज़्यादा काबू होना चाहिए। ये सोच कर जिस दिन वो स्कूल जाती भी, छाया की हरकतों को देख अपना आपा खो बैठती। मानो २२ साल की वो लड़की बाहर आ जाती हो। २२ साल की वो लड़की भी तो बच्ची ही थी...
एक दिन छाया क्लास लेट पहुँची। जब मंशा ने लेट आने का कारण उससे पूछा तो उसने मुँह चिढ़ा कर अपनी गर्दन फेर ली। छाया के लिए ऐसा करना आम बात थी लेकिन मंशा के सब्र का घड़ा भर चुका था, और उस दिन उसने अपने अध्यापन कार्यकाल में पहली बार किसी बच्ची पर हाथ उठाया। गुस्से से तिलमिलाती मंशा तेज़ी से क्लास से बाहर स्टाफ रूम को बढ़ी। क्लास रूम से स्टाफ रूम के छोटे से सफर में उसके हाथों की कम्पन और गालों के फड़कने की वजह गुस्से से बदल कर पश्चात्ताप हो रही थी। स्टाफ रूम में घुसते ही दरवाज़ा बंद किया। सौभाग्य से वहाँ कोई नही था। दस सालों बाद वो फूट फूट के रो रही थी।
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" मैं पापा को बताऊंगीSSS! तुमने मुझे माराSSS! वो तुमको खूब मारेंगेSSS!", छाया अपने आप को टॉयलेट में बंद कर के ज़ोर ज़ोर से दहाड़ रही थी।
"छाया ... बेटा ... दरवाजा खोलो... तुम अच्छी बच्ची हो ना ?" मंशा ने उसे बहलाने की कोशिश की।
" मैं अच्छी बच्ची नही हूँ SSS! मैं अच्छी बच्ची नही हूँ SSS!"
" अरे नहीं बेटा। किसने कहा तुम अच्छी बच्ची नहीं हो?"
तपाक से जवाब आया, "सबने SSS... तुमने , प्रिंसिपल मैम ने, पापा ने SSS"
मंशा के दिल की एक धड़कन उस समय सुई जैसी उसे चुभी। वो ये कैसे भूल गई की पल पल अगर किसी को उसकी कमियों का एहसास दिलाया जाए, उसे ये बताया जाए की वो कितना बुरा है, कितना लापरवाह, कितना गैर जिम्मेदार, तो वो इन पे यकीन करने लगता है ?"
" छाया बेटी। आय एम् सॉरी! तुम तो इस क्लास की सबसे प्यारी लड़की हो!", मंशा सच बोल रही थी।
अचानक टॉयलेट के उस पार खामोशी छा गई। एक धीमी सी आवाज़ आई, "सच्ची? तुम मुझे बाहर निकलने के लिए झूट तो नही बोल रही?"
" नही बेटा! एकदम सच्ची!"
चिटकनी खुली। मंशा ने छाया को गले लगा लिया।

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"प्रिय मैडम,
आज छाया के गाल पे हमने उँगलियों के निशान देखे। पूछने पे पता चला की आपने उसे थप्पड़ मारा। पिछली बार जब उसके पुराने स्कूल में मास्टरनी ने ऐसा किया था तो हमने उन्हें अपनी पहुँच के दम पे स्कूल से निकलवा दिया था। हमें अपनी गलती का एहसास कभी न होता अगर आज उसने हमेशा की तरह ये न कहा होता कि गलती उसकी नही थी। आज उसने न केवल ये स्वीकारा की गलती उसी की थी बल्कि एक सवाल पूछ के हमें शर्मसार कर दिया। उसने हमसे पूछा, "पापा, थप्पड़ तो टीचर ने मारा, पर फिर सॉरी उन्होंने क्यूँ कहा ?" शायद छाया ने हमेशा अपने घर पे गुस्सा और दमन करने वाले को ही सही सिद्ध होते हुए देखा था।
हम में इतनी शक्ति तो नही कि आपसे मिल कर ये बात कह पाते इसलिए पत्र के माध्यम से आपसे माफ़ी मांग रहे हैं और आपका शुक्रिया कर रहे हैं। वैसे हम कभी भी किसी से इतनी बातें नही कहते लेकिन नजाने क्यूँ आपके बारे में सुन कर ऐसा लगा जैसे आप ये समझ जाएँगी।
हम कोशिश करेंगे कि भविष्य में आपको शिकायत के कोई अवसर प्राप्त न हों।

आपका शुक्रगुजार,
पावक मिश्रा"

पत्र को सलीके से तह कर मंशा ने उसे अलमारी के लॉकर में रख दिया जहाँ वो अपनी यादों से जुड़ी हर चीज़ रखती थी। उन चीज़ों में पावक कि ये पहली और अकेली चीज़ थी। पुरानी चिट्ठियाँ और तोहफे तो उसने कब के फेंक दिए थे। दस साल पहले ही। इसलिए क्यूँकि वो उन सब चीज़ों से बाहर आना चाहती थी। और उसे लगा भी था कि वो उन सब से बार आ गई थी। लेकिन शायद नही। क्यूँकि किसी चीज़ से पूरी तरह से बाहर शायद तभी आया जा सकता है जब मन में अतीत के सामने आने का डर न हो, अतीत के सायों और किरदारों के प्रति मन में घृणा न हो, बुरी यादों की कड़वाहट न हो और अच्छी यादें मन में न पैदा करें - मंशा ...

आज ये पत्र वो इसलिए संभाल सकी क्यूँकि उसके मन में उसे ले कर न कोई भय था, न कोई मंशा। थी तो बस एक भीनी सी मिठास, जो लम्बी बीमारी के बाद स्वस्थ होने पर होती है। ये पत्र उसे ये याद दिलाता रहेगा कि किसी के मन में अगर रावण है, तो राम भी। कि कड़वाहट कड़वाहट को नही मारती। कि कहानी का अंत सुखद हो या दुखद- ये हमारे हाथों में है। और ये कि भगवान् जो भी करता है, अच्छे के लिए करता है...

INCREDIBLE INDIA!

I always thought I’ll never write a travelogue. But just as another of those things that I vehemently, and even sanctimoniously, say Nevaa…hhh to and then one day find myself in the thick of, here I am, writing one of sorts.

If I were a pro traveloguist (if there’s a word like that), I would have mentioned the exact coordinates of my destination, but not before I physically landed in the village of Karauli did I even know the name of the place. I was a reluctant part of a documentary-film-making unit that was to shoot for the ministry of Panchayati Raj, a ministry I had, hitherto, not known to have existed. Rajasthan is a preferred location for all such shoots that show “Rural India” because of the stunning contrast between its earthy and undulating landscape and the vibrant colors that the Rajasthanis don. Not to mention the lingering effect of their folk melodies and the naiveté of the locals- both used equally deftly by the film-makers. All in all, it is a complete value-for-money destination.

DAY 1

We woke up early in the morning and went in our white, monolithic Sumo, further into the interiors of the village. I did not know what to expect from this expedition because this was going to be my first real experience of being in the “other side of the world”. Was I to expect the hapless and downtrodden villagers of Swades or the cheerful and quaint ones of Sajjanpur?

We zeroed in on a location that had lush green fields on the backdrop and a solitary tree under which my co-artist and I were to stand and play the roles of two really smart journalists who knew more about the ministry of Panchayati Raj than, I guess, even the Prime Minister would. About fifty odd villagers, completely caught unawares, were ushered into the scene at the “request” of their Chief or Pradhan. Apparently, they were told nothing but to just sit down and do as they were asked to. As the shot was being readied, I was trying to acclimatize myself to being stared at unapologetically by children, men and women, as if I just landed down in a spacecraft. I did not know what to do but to smile and twitch my eyebrows in a rather silly way. But because that did not work, I decided to ask them a few typical questions that smacked of my urban, patronizing attitude.

Of a little blue frocked girl, I asked, “School jati ho?”

She smiled, looked around, as if seeking approval from her elders to answer a funnily powdered and patched stranger’s questions. She then nodded.

I tried to make her comfortable and asked her in pure Hindi, “Kaunsi Kaksha?”

Pat came the reply, “4^th Class”.

That was the first blow to my assumptive urbanness. But it could have been a one-off thing, I thought.

A partially veiled lady then asked me, “ Je philim ki sooting ho rayi hai?”

“Haan”, I answered.

“Kay ki philim?”

A young lad dressed in a pair of jeans said “ Salman aur Aiswarya ki”

The crowd laughed. I smiled embarrassedly.

Then I tried to explain them in a Hindi so impeccable that my school teacher would have cried tears of joy.

“ Amma”

Someone remarked Ee chhori ne amma bana diyo tujhe and a few little ones giggled.

I continued, “ Ye film aapke gaanv mein kya kya vikas hua hai, aapke kya kya adhikaar hain aur sarkari aur gair sarkari sansthayein aapki kaise madad kar rahi hain, inke bare mein banayi ja rahi hai”

“Je kahan dikhegi?”, Amma probed on.

I myself didn’t know. So I made a smart guess, “Doordarshan”

“Maari photu bhi aaegi?”

“Haan” I said, not very sure of my reply.

“Humein pata hoti to hum nha-dho ke taiyyar ho ke aateen.”

I smiled. But I, for the first time, realized that our counterparts, just like us, like to look good. Why did I assume otherwise?

“Koi baat nahi Amma. Aap to waise hi acchi lag rahi ho.”, I wasn’t entirely lying.

Someone remarked. “Fair and lovely lagai aao”

The crowd roared in laughter this time.

And I was nearly gaping in astonishment. Both at my ignorance of their beauty consciousness and at HUL’s market penetration.

The shoot went on the entire day. We rambled on like two lunatic journos who could write a thesis on the ministry. The script was in such cumbersome Hindi that even the villagers could not understand it. And without food and water, gradually their excitement turned into restlessness.

“Je kab tak chalega?”, A disgruntled man asked.

“ Pata nahi. Madam se poochho.” I replied.

“Hum to soch ke aye the ki naasta paani milego”

“Hum bhi” , I thought.

“Ab poora din na khaana khayo, na kaam kiyo. Iski majdoori mile kya?”

They were right. This was labour and labour needs to be both paid and consented. But my ideas on HR and labour relations would not have been very well received by my director. The downside of being half a management aspirant and half an artist is that the two worlds don’t see eye to eye.

We packed up in the evening. I was too tired and hungry and thirsty to inquire if there was any payment set aside for the villagers and too enervated to brace myself for a confrontation with Madam, who was not exactly in the pleasantest of her moods.

But now, I cannot but ask myself- Will I ever stand up??

DAY 2

We got up even earlier today and frankly, I was wondering what stuff are these film-makers made up of? They get ready in ten minutes stat and I wonder if they’re all constipated or have ingeniously trained their evacuation systems to function at will, like true yogis.

We went to a different village within the Karauli district today. I don’t know why we did not go to the same village as the day before but my guess is that after the previous day’s experience we wouldn’t have been very welcomed. So to maintain the continuity of the shot, all throughout the rest of the shoot, we had some or the other puzzled villager hold for us a broken branch of a tree, brandishing it behind our heads, so that it gave the effect of the tree that we stood beside the previous day. Only I know how I kept a straight face during the shots. Acting ain’t no funny business!

Yet again, I found myself surrounded by men and women, gaping at me like I was a circus lion in chains (They weren’t very far from the truth.). A young woman offered me a hukka or a smoking-pot. I politely refused, a little taken aback from seeing even rural women smoke. But I was getting used to all the surprises and my urban presumptuousness was being humbled.

They asked me the same question- what were we doing? I answered verbatim as I had the day before. I noticed that each crew member was giving a different answer. Guess we were a very confused lot!

A young lady suddenly said something that I was totally unprepared for.

“Mhare ko bhi Dilli le chalo madamji”

“Dilli mein kya karogi?” , I asked.

“Main bhi tumhari tarah acting karungi”

Well! It could be true that looking at me she must have thought that if I can act, anybody can. And I dare say she was right! But as I smiled at her (my only weapon when I don’t know what else to do) and looked at her closely, I realized she was not just anybody. Give her six months of not working in the sun, a good face cleansing and threading regime, a blow dry and Shopper’s Stop and Voila- She could have been Nandita Das! And minus the tan she would have looked a little like Sonam Kapoor.

“Humko padha do behenji.”, A veiled woman intercepted my musings.

“ Tum school nahi gayi?”, A lousy question, I thought in hindsight.

“Nahi”

“Ye gair sarkari sansthayein padhane ka kaam nahi kar rahin yahaan?”, I asked in the true spirit of my script.

They looked around trying to figure out what Gair Sarkari Sansthayein meant. I got my answer.

“Je sooting ke chakkar mein aaj roti na pakaegi ghar mein?” , An elderly man asked his wife.

To which she retorted, “ To tum roti bana lo, Main bhi to kamaa ke laaun ab.”

I smiled again. This time a genuine smile of relief that came from both this small glimpse of women empowerment and the humour with which both the man and his wife conversed.

“Kaam karti ho tum sab kahin?”, I enquired.

“Haan. Yahan khudai chal rahi hai.”

“Narega (NREGA) se?”

“Haan.”

I don’t know what exactly about this made me happy. Was it the knowledge that a Government scheme is actually helping them or the lessening of my guilt at not being able to help them become literate?

Anyway, time was up and I made some mumbled statements of trying to bring them help.

DAY 2.5

Our final destination was a village in Savai Madhopur. This was a much more developed village. The villagers here brought us loads of guavas and some radishes, fresh from the farm.

I was overwhelmed by their gesture. They needn’t have. After all it behooved us to treat them to naashta-paani after all the work we extracted from them. But the white, monolithic Sumo, for some odd reason, bestows the status of learnedness and power on its travelers.

“Dhanyawad”, I thanked them.

“Welcome”, came the response!

“What is your name?” , asked a villager, trying to talk to me in what he thought was “my” language, English, just as I had been trying to speak with them in “their” language, Hindi. Weren’t we both equally ignorant of each other?

“Mayukhini”. I replied.

“Hain? Ke khini?” someone asked. They giggled.

I giggled too. This time, again, it was genuine.

The sun was going down and that meant, much to my relief as well as that of the villagers, that the shoot had to be wound up.

My patchy foundation had become even patchier and cracked and my real skin was showing, finally getting a chance to breathe. I wanted to wash my face, splash it with some cold water, so I could remove this layer of lie from me and become “Ke khini” again!

I was too tired on my way back home, but as I write my “travelogue of sorts” now, I wonder which villagers did I meet? The hapless and downtrodden villagers of Swades or the cheerful and quaint ones of Sajjanpur? Guess I just met the hapless and cheerful and downtrodden and quaint people of incredible India…

The Beginner's Survival Guide To The Gym-Assault (Part 1)

This new year, cuddled up comfortably inside my razai, binging on Haldiram’s New Year Celebration Pack of an assortment of sweets, I sat, watching on television the highlights of 2008. According to the channel, one of the biggest and life-changing stories of ’08 had been Kareena Kapoor’s weight. Now I had seen pictures of her often, but on this particular day, when I saw her lithe size-zero flash on the screen, for some reason I was hit hard. Such was the impact of this imagery that had I not been as fond of good food, I would have dropped, in true Bollywood shocking-news-revelation style, my pack of Haldiram’s goodies.

There are times in our lives when we truly mean to be a better person, meaning every single word of our resolve in all earnest. New Year Day is one such time. An engineer by qualification, I used to think that size- zero is a paradox, an oxymoron. That had also been my excuse all these months for not wanting to be one and for even mocking at it. But on this day, the New Year Day, the one day that you dare to be honest about all that you’ve done and not done in the bygone year, I asked myself the obvious question that I had been eschewing for a long time now:

“Theoretically assuming that a size-zero is physically possible, if I calibrate the measuring tape with Kareena as size-zero and Rani Mukherjee (and not Adnan Sami of yester years, for one must be ambitious) as size-ten, where will I ‘figure’??”

The answer was written in bold all across the Haldiram’s Pack, “Drop it! And hit the gym!”

Deciding upon a New Year resolution in itself is a gladdening activity. You haven’t even begun following it but you feel much better already! So smiling ear to ear, the very next day, I enrolled for a gym membership, greeting everyone with the air of “having arrived”.

It took me exactly fifteen minutes to realize that imagining a Mayukhini jogging full steam on a treadmill is very different from a Mayukhini actually jogging even partial throttle on one. Beyond the first ten minutes, even the peppiest of Enrique Iglesias numbers blaring at the highest of decibels cannot salvage your plummeting morale.

It is in such dire times that you call for divine help, needing something, anything to keep you going. I was reminded of one of those self-help stories where God shows a man after he is dead something like a Performance Evaluation Report in the form of footprints on sand. There are four footprints all his life, two his and two God’s following his. Then in troubled times there are only two footprints and according to God , He was carrying him in His arms all those times. I could not but wistfully conjure up images of God jogging on the treadmill, carrying me in His arms.

But they say that necessity is the mother of all inventions and so, gradually, not only did I learn the tricks of the trade but also discovered some handy ideas to keep you going while you work out.

Because I have already exhausted the word limit beyond which any post becomes scary, I have elaborated on these ingenious ideas in a sequel to this - The Beginner's Survival Guide To The Gym-Assault (Part 2). Check it out!

The Beginner's Survival Guide To The Gym-Assault (Part 2)

(The Leg Extension Machine)

(The Cross Trainer)

Disclaimer: The following ideas will be helpful only if you consider the chances of their occurring a real possibility.

Statutory Warning: In case of any signs of over-exertion viz. fainting, nausea, please stop imagining.

Following are some ideas to survive some popular gym equipments and exercises.

1) The Treadmill: Imagine. You are Basanti of the Sholey fame. Your beloved is handcuffed by your gym trainer who is laughing maliciously a la Gabbar and saying “ Jab tak tere pair challenge tab tak iski saans chalegi”

2) The Leg Extension Machine: This is the one where you have to lift a load on your feet. Now , in case you aren’t married or are married but haven’t had any kids as yet, this could well be a possibility when your little brat asks you to papa-papa/mamma-mamma-pair-mein-jhooli-jhooli. And should you fail to do so he is gonna wail his vocal-cords out and you can safely kiss your good-night sleep goodbye. Better be prepared.

3) The Cross Trainer: This is the machine that simulates running without its jerky effect on the knees. So to a bystander, it’d look as if you are doing a slow-motion run as in a Yash-Raj movie. Now what if the guy doing ab-crunches next to you is actually a secret Yash-Raj movie agent. You won’t want to jeopardize your starry dreams and let him find out that you cannot do a slow motion run sexily.

4) The Exerbike: It is the year 2058 and we have run out of all gas supply. Your fancy car is in the garage in abeyance and you have to get back to using good old bikes. Because of human tampering with the food chain most rats have been killed and hence most cats have died from starvation. The dogs are hungry and you are fat (read a lot of meat), hence smack of big returns on their investment. Run for your life!

5) Push-ups (where you can’t bend your knees): You are at the Oscar Award Winning Ceremony wearing extreme slim fit jeans. Your name has been announced for the best actor, singer, director and script writer –the first time in the history of Oscar. As a natural fallout of your excitement you trip over the stairs, lying face down. If you bend your knees to get up, the world will witness your slim-fit jeans come apart at the seams, literally.

I have personally tested these ideas and have found them useful. Any improvisation is most welcome. Until next break-through, Happy Work-out!

What They Don't Teach You In Romeo & Juliet

Some stories are archetypal- buried in our consciences. No one knows if they’ve been traveling the globe, brought by travelers, with just the protagonists changing with changing cultures or they are so universal in their happening that every civilization has its own true-story.

In case of stories like Romeo and Juliet, Laila and Majnoo, Heer and Ranjha, my guess is that the odds are more in favor of the latter than the former. After all, don’t we see the same story, only coated in different flavors, repeat itself time and again, in our own families or muhallas or even our own lives?

Girl/ guy is sixteen. Falls in what she/he thinks is love. Hides it from parents because the board exam results are yet to come. Thinks they’ll not approve of it (which is true). But the symptoms are abound and after all, parents bhi kabhi adolescent the, so they have an inkling that something’s cooking and all they need to be absolutely sure of it is that one tiny mistake from you – the last nail in your crooning coffin. You think you are smart like most next-gen people do, but some things never change and some bahaanas always fail and you end up spilling the beans. So far do they scatter that even the neighbours now know!

Now the whole ghar-baar, from your little sister who is nine to your grandma who’s nine times nine knows, and but for your little nine year old sister, who doesn’t quite get what the hullabaloo is all about, everybody else is in a state of frenzy. You are now officially out of the “good boy/girl” club.

Obituaries are written. “ He was such an ideal son.. Wonder what happened..”

Aspersions are cast. “It is her bigde hue friends..”

And security checks are placed.

Your best-friend is eyed with most suspicion and before he/she can hand you over chemistry notes they go through a series of checks -from your nine year old sister to your nine times nine year old grandma, lest the notes be of a different kind of chemistry. I am a little outdated on these affairs so I’m not very sure if frisking too is employed these days.

They think you ought to be remorseful. But you’re not. On the contrary, you’re indignant. After all it’s True Love that we’re talking about, right? True Love? A la Romeo and Juliet? Like Laila and Majnoo? So what’s wrong with a Tina and Bubbloo?

Nothing, if you ask me.

Except their names.

And except that Romeo, Juliet and company never had to take an entrance exam!

And that is the number one reason cited by your parents for acting Amrish Puri in your love story. And you hate it. Firstly, because “entrance exam”, “future” and “career” are such puny things before True Love. And secondly, because you’re smart enough to balance work and love. Correction: work and True Love.

The number two most popular reason posited by your parents is that you are not mature enough to handle love-affairs. This is also the number one most unreasonable reason on your list. After all, hello! You are sixteen. SIXTEEN! That was her age when your grandma had had two kids! Well, personally speaking, if I were the parent I would have had to give that one to my sixteen year old. After all, I have seen even some fairly established fifty-somethings behave like fifteen year olds in matters of heart, and what’s more, making the same mistakes all over again! You’re never really mature enough to handle love, I guess!

Doing a Romeo in reality is not exactly your style. So you decide to do the next best thing- keep it low till things cool off. Beyond this point, different love stories meet different fates. In some cases you discover Truer Love and even go on to Truest Love. Or discover that you were not really smart enough to balance work and love whereas your Lady Love was and so now, while you’re doing the rounds of FIITJEE, your Lady Love has already joined IIT Khadagpur with all the muggus there fawning on her. In other cases, where there are still chances of a happily-ever-after, you wait endlessly, wishing for days and years to fast-forward so you can finally get your love.

GET your love. Wasn’t that always what it was all about? Isn’t that always what it’ll be about? If you’re lucky, you will end up GETTING her/him. However, if you’re not, you will probably end up learning what they don’t teach you in Romeo and Juliet and the likes of it – that sometimes, to love is to let go…

Little Mr. Raju

With the Satyam Faux Pas rife among mailers, I got a mail from Prashant in which nursery rhymes were made on the now notorious Ramalinga Raju.

I couldn't hold the "poet" in me back so I made up one too and with Thumbs up from Prashant ("Blog it, blog it!") I take this opportunity to share it with the rest!

Based on Little Miss Muffet:

Little Mr. Raju
Sat on a Taraju
Balancing his profit and loss..

There came a big shock
He became a laughing "stock"
And 7k Crore turned into dross!

R.I.P

World Peace, anybody??

Charity is one word that elicits responses of varying degrees and kind from all quarters- from plain indifference, to emotional outbursts; from economic theories to cynicism. So when I came to know about this N.G.O that asks people to donate not necessarily money but intangibles like “TIME” and “TALENT” I was struck by their ingenuity.

This concept is based on the premise that each one of us has some skill or knowledge or talent that we can share with those who can benefit from them and the possibility of corruption does not arise.

My wandering mind could not help but think how many possible applications this brilliant concept can have and how far-reaching and world-changing can its ramifications be!

So I quickly drew up a table of people who have a surfeit of certain such usable tangibles and intangibles and their respective possible beneficiaries.

S. NO.	DONORS		THE DONATION OR Daan		POSSIBLE BENEFICIARIES
1	Arjun Singh		"Seat" Daan		Bus Stops , Public Parks
2	India TV.		Reuters Daan		Center For Paranormal Research and Investigation
3	Navjot Singh Siddhu		Laughter Daan		Mamta Bannerjee
4	Aamir Ghajini Khan		Tattoo Daan		Saif Ali Khan, Salman Rushdie (for remembering the names of his exes)
5	Salman Khan		Bashing-up Daan		Speaker of the Lok Sabha (For tackling indiscipline)
6	Investment Bankers		Pink-Slip Daan		Ekta Kapoor
7	Aaj Tak		"Sabse tez" Daan		Inzamam Ul Haq, National Security Advisor
8	Sarah Palin		Hyper-political-correctness Daan		Sambhavana Seth
9	Smriti Irani		Tear Daan		P.M. Drought Relief Fund, Mob Control Resources
10	Delhites to be married		Faaltu-Fund Daan (Includes expenditure on Rose-Petal-Throwing-Machine, the 5:1 attendant to guest ratio and Wedding Choreographers)		National Poverty Alleviation Program
	And a few Special Donation Programs -
11	VIPs		Security Personnels Daan		The Aam Aadmi
12	Dog Trainers		Service Daan		Kerala's C.M- V S Achuthanandan
13	Shahrukh Khan		Dialogue timing and delivery Daan		R.R. Patil for "bade bade shehron mein aisi chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rehti hain"
14	Nita Ambani		Private Jet Daan		The N.S.G (so they don't have to keep waiting at airports)
15	Minister of foreign affairs, Pakistan, Malik Amad Khan		Acting skills and histrionics Daan		Imraan Hashmi, Himmesh Reshamiya
16	Any sighted person		Netra (Eyes) Daan		Asif Ali Zardari

Anybody else thinking win-win?? Maybe the Nobel Peace Prize Panel should take a look! ;-)