Another Act

She was old. So old you could not tell whether she was a woman or a man. Her jaw was once proud; now it was just a bone, waiting to shed the undulating folds that clung on to it for their dear life. Her breath sounded like a locomotive that had run out of steam from all the climbing up, now wheeling its way down to a place it could finally park itself. She looked around from the doorstep, which opened into the balcony. It was dark and light from the solar lantern shifted as her hands shook, revealing a crumbling edge of the parapet, greening the black of the Tulsi leaves, exposing the tail of a nocturnal insect - all in a few seconds. Just like flashes from her memory - barely coming together as a coherent whole, shifting too quickly to take any form, leaving behind only a sense of the past. Was it ever there?

Very slowly, she placed the lantern on the parapet.  If it fell down, she would have to grope her way through the hall and climb down the cumbersome stairs. She drew nearer the wooden stool, still damp from the rain, lifted the pleats of her sari and carefully adjusted her buttocks so that her weight may fall evenly upon it. As she sat down, she let out a faint groan. The locomotive had found a temporary parking lot.

The light from the lantern was stable now. And it fell on her forehead. The grey of her hair shone like the silver of the moon, under which glistened the lotus pool of her eyes. Her shifting gaze had also settled and placed itself somewhere distant. Or at least it looked like somewhere distant, for she could no longer see too far. What use is seeing too far anyway?

This act, of getting up past midnight - getting up and not waking up for it never looked like she slept - had become a familiar sight. Familiar, if there were an audience to witness, that is. Her balcony would transform into the only stage that mattered, for in this stage she could once again be the Prima Donna, acting out all the parts she once had. Or wished she had. The difference between the two did not matter any more. Fact and Fiction were only matters of labeling; it was Fiction when she was an audience and Fact when she was the actor. And she would spend what would remain of the night, alternating between the actor and the audience. Until the break of dawn, when the curtains would fall, the lights put on again, the soliloquy replaced with the approving tinkling of bicycle bells or the jeering cackle of the peahen. No thundering applause though. There never was. 

The moon slid behind the chiffon blanket of clouds. The edge of her lips curled into the faintest of smiles. Which part was she playing today? The lover into whose ears had just been whispered the promise of faithful love? The friend who had just taken the blood-oath of sisterhood? The little girl who looked into the mirror and saw in it a queen? In any case, it must have been a happy part tonight. Or perhaps it was the fabled smile of knowing. Knowing that there was nothing to be known. 

The moon slipped out, surreptitiously, from under the clouds. Their rendezvous was short lived. One of them had moved on, it didn't matter which. The space between them grew and the wind was in no mood to reverse direction. She blinked, let out a sigh and began to twirl the corner of her sari around her index finger. In some time the black of the night would turn violet, then red. Black and White would be filled with garish colours. And she would retreat into her tomb, waiting for another night, another act.

A Nearly Poignant Afternoon

There is this tiny voice in my head that does not allow me to be in peace. No, it isn’t the self righteous voice of conscience. It isn’t schizophrenia either. It is just like one of those compulsive film critics who get the kicks out of making fun of your film, in this case my life. So this afternoon certain events left me feeling mildly low. By ‘mildly low’ I mean something like an incipient cold. There is a funny feeling in your nose but you are not yet sure if it is cold or bath water that made its way to your sinus. It is like the police preparing for counter-terror strike on independence day, which may well turn out to be much ado over nothing. But prepare one must. So I was slowly, watchfully dipping my feet into the river of melancholy, wondering whether I should take a full fledged dip. Just when I decided to pinch my nose and take the plunge, the tiny voice whispered, “drama queen!”

Drama queen! It called me drama queen! The nerve! Imagine what would have become of all the great poetry if a tiny voice had called Keats drama queen! I mean here I was, about to take a long, lonely walk, stoically swallowing my woes, gently reproaching myself for being so sensitive while feeling superior about my critical self evaluation. What deep philosophical insights could have been revealed while pondering the nature of my misery and generalising it to all humanity. Perhaps some poetry as well! Indeed anyone who deprives a self proclaimed loner of such self indulgence is nothing but cruel. So I said to the tiny voice, “How cruel!” Not that I expected it to cringe in remorse, but it could have toned the sarcasm down. Instead it guffawed in mad glee and offered me a wet tissue to wipe what it called my “crocodile tears”.

Me- Why don’t you wipe your hind side with it?

Tiny Voice (TV)- I am not the one suffering from an “upset” stomach!

Me- How clever! I did not know disembodied voices could make body puns.

TV- Awww.. does the revelation topple your world view? How about taking a long, lonely walk titled, “When my world came crashing down”? I know this really depressing, funereal song that we can play in the background...

Me- Is everything a joke to you?

TV - Not everything. Just your fits of self pity.

Me- You have a sense of humor the size of your body.

TV- Speaking of my body size, did you know how much leg space there is in your head? Very comfortable!

Me- Yeah! What with parasites like you eating into my brain.

TV- Tsk Tsk! What a victim you are of the atrocities of the world! Say, I have another song for the walk titled, “They never understood me”. It goes like, “They came and robbed, they plundered I sobbed, Now I’m empty and in tears, like the space between my ears..”

Me- Thank you! But I can do without your smartness.

TV- I have my doubts about that.

Me- Why don’t you get to the point! What do you want?

TV - Why, Louuve and attention!

Me- Listen! If you just want to be cruel, by all means do. I am going to ignore you.

TV- Although that is a physical impossibility which would mean getting rid of the better part of your humbly sized brain, I shall shut up and let you believe you control.

Me- How awfully kind of you!

TV- No baby! Not kindness! It is out of Louuve and attention you seem to not get enough of from the big insensitive world!

Me- There you go again!

TV-  You started it! In a way you always do. Your tales of woe are so inviting! Though I must say I am beginning to get bored of the same old patterns. You need to script fresher angst. How about a long, lonely walk titled, “I want to break free”?

I want to break free

I want to break free from your lies

You’re so self satisfied, I don’t need you

I’ve got to break free

God knows, God knows I want to break free...

I could hear someone’s phone breaking into the song. I wondered why someone would choose such a dated number for their ringtones.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Everybody loved her because everybody could be somebody when they talked to her. She would laugh at their jokes, respond with the ‘ahans” and the “ohs” that made their story not just heard but felt. She would agree with your opinions mostly but sometimes also pause and look askance, as if reflecting on what you just said, weighing your words – and you would wait in anticipation for “out” or “not out”. When it would be an “out” it would be so tentatively, softly, still leaving some room for negotiation, making you feel that you were talking to a real person and not an interactive, smart program on the other side of the line. Sometimes, after you had reaffirmed your intellectual superiority, legitimized your actions in front of her and consequently in front of yourself, you would go from feeling like a superstar to feeling like a complete idiot who just stripped naked in front of someone to realize that she was still fully clothed. You feel violated. Like a dream where who you thought was your lover was a ghoul disguised as your lover. How do you know that in your dreams? It’s the coldness in the eye, the deathliness in the touch. But her eyes are still warm, and her touch still affectionate. You want to shake her up and ask her who she is. She is the boundary between familiar and unfamiliar, between the self and the other, between friend and enemy. It makes you uncomfortable, if only this minute. Boundaries can be anything. It excites you, if only this minute. Is she the much poeticised “enigmatic woman” that keeps drawing thirsty discoverers to her, men and women alike? Conscious now of yourself and of her, you restrain your talking about yourself and strain your ears for the slightest sound she would make about herself. But it is too late. She has seen your pitiable nakedness and knows the consequences of stripping. She will hold her shawl around herself tightly. But she being who she is, she doesn’t want to break your heart. So she will take her socks off, hesitatingly but in earnest, holding the promise of tomorrow. And tomorrow again, as today, you will fall prey to your vanity, your insecurities. Tomorrow again you will itch to reaffirm your intellectual superiority, to legitimize your actions in front of her, and consequently in front of yourself, and go from being a superstar to feeling naked.

Mobile गणेश

आज जब laptop bag में Pen खोजने के लिए हाथ डाला, तो हाथ आये bag -वाले गणेश.

Bag वाले भगवान अलग श्रेणी, अलग category के होते हैं. वही फर्क जो landline और mobile में होता है, bag वाले और घर वाले भगवान में भी होता है. Bag वाले भगवान light -weight और compact किस्म के होते हैं. इनमें भी अलग अलग varieties आती हैं - जैसे कि calendar वाले हनुमान, photo वाले साईं बाबा, locket रुपी माता रानी, वगैरह वगैरह. और यदि आप मूर्ती पूजन के विरुद्ध हैं, तो ख़ास आपके लिए आता है chewing gum के size का विभूति का packet , या फिर 108 बार राम नाम लिखा चावल का तिनका. गिनने का कष्ट न कीजिएगा. यदि श्रद्धा न हो तो उबाल के खा लीजिये.

हाँ, तो bag वाले गणेश जी मुझे मेरी दीदी ने दिए थे. दीदी ने मुझे कई bag वाले भगवान दिए हैं. भई अब जितने bag होंगे, उतने भगवान भी तो होने चाहिए. तो मतलब समझ लीजिये, कि जब भी किसी shopper's stop में सेल लगती है, हमारी पारिवारिक परंपरा कि वजह से, भगवानों के business में भी बढौतरी होती है. Economics की भाषा में इन्हें "complimentary business" कहते हैं. और कुछ लोग कहते हैं कि economics और religion सगे नहीं!

लाल रंग के छोटे से गणेश जी जब अचानक bag से निकले, तो बिलकुल वैसा लगा जैसे पुरानी किसी jeans में से 50 का नोट निकल आया हो. मन में ख़ुशी कि लहर दौड़ उठी. "क्यों गणेश जी? कहाँ छुप के बैठे रहे इतने दिन? हाथ आ ही गए ना !", थोड़ी देर हाथ में पकड़े-पकड़े मैंने उन्हें निहारा. क्या सोचते होंगे दिन भर बैग में बैठे-बैठे? "ये आया pen drive ! ये आया 2 का सिक्का! अरे! Design बदल दिया? पुराना वाला बेहतर था. कम से कम फर्क तो समझ आता था 2 और 1 के सिक्के में. खैर! अरे, ये क्या? नया mobile ? शुक्र है! Reliance CDMA को तो अब मैं भी नहीं बचा सकता. ये 3G है. अब wi-fi से दर्शन दिया करूंगा सबको. ऊँह हूँ ! फिर इस लड़की ने hotel वाला tissue घुसेड़ दिया! कब छोड़ेगी ये चिंदी-चोरी. वैसे तो बड़ी बातें करती है, दुनिया बदलने की. अपना bag साफ़ कर ले यही बहुत बड़ी बात होगी. दम घुट गया इस कबाड़-खाने में. मैं भी घर-वाला भगवान होता. मुझे भी इसकी माँ रोज़ प्यार से नहलाती. गुरुवार-गुरुवार साईं बाबा की खीर में से मैं भी कुछ प्रसाद चख लेता. लेकिन नहीं! इसे मेरी याद दिलाने के लिए तो कोई hard disk ही crash करानी होगी. या फिर जब लड़ लेगी किसी से, बैल की तरह, तब आएगी विघ्नहर्ता के पास रोते रोते. खैर! Wallet वाले साईं बाबा के पास हो के आता हूँ."

Wallet वाले साईं बाबा की condition थोड़ी बेहतर है. लेकिन आजकल उन्हें भी फिक्र होने लगी है, "क्या बताऊँ गणपति! पहले पाँच सौ - पाँच सौ के नोट हुआ करते थे, अब दस- पचास- सौ ही रहते हैं. सोचती है मुझे wallet में कैद रखने से पैसों की कमी नहीं होगी. अगर ऐसा होता तो सरकार नोट छापने के बजाय, मेरी तस्वीर न छापती?"

"हाँ, बात तो सौ आने की करी आपने"

"हा हा हा, तुम अभी भी भी आनों में ही अटके हो, गणपति ?"

" बुरा न मानना बाबा, अटके तो आप हैं. पाँच साल हो गए आपको इसके boyfriend की तस्वीर अपनी तस्वीर के पीछे छुपाये हुए. कभी मम्मी के सामने खुल जाता, तो इधर उधर तो आपको ही adjust करना पड़ता ना? अब शादी हो गयी है दोनों की, तो भूल ही गयी की अपने मियाँ की photo छुपाने की अब ज़रुरत नहीं. हमारी और उस बेचारे की एक ही दशा है - भूले- बिसरे, बंद, अँधेरी कोठरी में.."

"शुश्श.. गणपति, लगता है हाथ अन्दर आया!"

"भगवान! आज तो बाहर निकाल ले !"

और बाहर निकले गणेश जी!

गणेश जी, I am sorry . आप बहुत cute लग रहे हैं. जी भर के आपको निहार भी लिया. लेकिन अब आपको वापस जाना पड़ेगा, काल-कोठरी में, उन्हीं pens , headphones , tissue , post -its और wallet वाले बाबाजी के पास. माना कि आपके बारे में भूल जाती हूँ, और दुःख में ही सुमिरन करती हूँ, लेकिन mobile गणेश जी! अच्छे network कि यही तो ख़ासियत होती है. ऐसा साथ निभाता है कि अपनी कमी महसूस ही नहीं होने देता. आदत भी इतनी पड़ जाती है, कि उसी कि वजह से काम होते हैं, और उसी को भूल जाते हैं. तो फिर नाराज़ न होइए! "Wherever you go, our network follows" का मंत्र अपनाइए! जो किया, सो किया. अब Nokia कि तरह अपना बढ़िया वाला connection लगाइए.. और ये गए bag के अन्दर!

और सुनिए! मैं इतनी बुरी लड़की भी नहीं हूँ. ख़ास आप ही की सवारी के लिए HP का मूषक, यानि की mouse बैग में छोड़ा है.

क्या कहा? "Made in China" है? क्या गणेश जी! थोड़ा adjust कर लीजिये ना!

A REASON TO LIVE FOR

He could not remember what had happened. Why was he in the taxi he was in? Where was he going to? It seemed as if he had fallen asleep sometime during the ride. He tried hard to remember what was the last thing that he did. Did he drink? That seemed logical. He must have drunk. A lot. But wait... he'd never drink. He'd get migraines from drinking, except for beer. And beer could never get him that drunk. Then did he have an argument with Tara? He must have. And then she must have thrown a vase at his head. That explains his partial amnesia.

He asked the cab driver where they were going.
"Areasontolivefor" He replied.
"What?", he laughed, "You know, that almost sounded like 'a reason to live for'!"
"It is.", the cab driver replied, matter-of-factly.
"Okay... you mean figuratively speaking??", he tried to make sense of it all.
The cab driver remained silent.
He tried to prod him a little more. "Umm... this place where we are right now, what's it called?"
The cab driver stared at him into the rear view mirror and gave him the expression one would to a lunatic, " What do you mean which place we're in? We're in a journey. Who's ever heard of 'being in a place' when you're in a journey?"
He was now sure that he had hopped into the cab of a mad man. "Wow! I have lost my memory and am being driven to a place that probably does not exist by a loony taxi driver! Could it get any better?"
But he realized that he'll gave to hang on till he got his memory back. He tried to look into the rear-view mirror for any bruises on his head that'd explain his situation. There were none.
"You look fine. They won't notice.", the cab driver said.
"Won't notice what?", he asked.
"You know.. the funny talk.", the driver replied.
"What funny talk?", he had never been so bewildered.
"The funny things you talk about. Like which place are we driving in?", and the cab driver snorted.
At this, he lost it. "I don't believe this! You are like the very epitome of madness and you call my talk funny? I mean, which cab driver takes you to a place called 'a reason to live for'??"
"Then where would you rather go?", the cab driver asked innocently.
" Well, aren't there places around that have regular names?"
The cab driver looked as perplexed as he was. "What do you mean by 'regular names'??"
"Well.. i don't know.. something like City Square or.. or High Street.. or a Park Avenue??"
The driver gave him a look as if he was trying hard to decipher the meaning of what he said. After almost ten seconds he replied, " You make funny sounds too. 'siti squay' , 'paak avenoo'. .."
"Those are names of places, weirdo! Where are you from? Timbuktu??"
" But they don't make sense!", the driver reasoned, puzzled.
" Names aren't supposed to make any sense! Names are proper nouns. They could be anything! What's your name?"
" Conscience, what's yours?"
"Kr..Wait a minute! Did you just tell me that your name was Conscience??"
The driver nodded.
Krisn laughed and shook his head in disbelief, "I know what this is. Either this is a very bad joke or i'm part of a fantasy movie gone awfully wrong."
He then added,"okay.. so Mr. Conscience... Hey wait a minute.. Con-Science! Get it?? Con-Science - The Con Man! That's what you are!", he guffawed at his pun and asked,"what's your girlfriend's name? Morality??"
"No. My wife's name is Courage and we have a kid called Wisdom."
"Rriight... and lemme guess where you live. The Mind??", he asked sarcastically.
"Not quite. The Soul."
"Aah! I almost got that right! Jesus Christ! What the fu... heyyyy... speaking of Christ, and while we're at it, who's the 'builder' of The Soul apartments? God himself, I guess! Tell me I'm right!", he smirked.
"What a silly thing to ask. We're all Gods, aren't we? Including you too.", Conscience replied, a little irritably.
"Whoa-ho! I've always felt like God but Tara wouldn't agree! And here I have the certificate of character from Mr. Conscience himself! I am loving every bit of this!", Krisn mocked.

For the next few minutes the cab was silent. Krisn did not know whether to cry or to laugh. Whether to panic or enjoy this crazy ride and see where it gets him. Finally, he decided to just cruise the course for some more time, till he gets a perspective on things. So he tried to engage the cab driver, sorry, Conscience in more conversation. After all, it was a good idea to keep the fun going till the graveness of reality came back to him. He couldn't remember much but he somehow knew that the reality, when it came back to him, would be grave.

"So what do you think Con-man? Am I dreaming??"
"No.. You were dreaming earlier, before I found you. But now you're not."
"Really? And where did you find me?"
"In your dream, like I said."
"But of course. Where did you learn such inverted logic?"
"Where did you learn your complicated logic?", conscience retorted.
"All right, all right. Didn't mean to pique you. I don't want you not on speaking terms with me. Then how'll i ever hear the... 'voice of my conscience'??", he burst into a fit of laughter at his wit.
When he got his breath again he spoke, "you know, you were right, actually. I actually complicate things a lot more than they really are. In fact, most of us do that, don't we?"
" I don't know what you mean by complicating things 'a lot more than they really are'. They really are not complicated."
"There you go again! You're so good at playing with words you almost remind me of my girlfriend Tara. She'd cling on to something I said eons back and argue about it. And we'd go on dissecting my words down to their letters till we would exhaust our vocabulary. And all this ruckus at something I did not even mean to say! I mean, they're just words right?"
" A word said, a thought indulged... is like a child born. It might have been born unwanted, but nevertheless has been brought to life.", Conscience replied.
"Wow... I am beginning to suspect that you are, indeed, Conscience.You certainly talk like that!"
A little shaken at Conscience's last words, Krisn tried to gather his wits about him again. He tried to get back to small talk.
"So how far is this place..'a reason to live for'??"
"It isn't far at all. When you spot it, you ask me to stop."
"What do you mean when i spot it? I've never been there. I don't even know what it looks like!"
"You will when you see it"
"Why do you always talk in riddles? I mean, why do people like you..you know..metaphysical creatures or something..talk in codes??"
"You mean not talk in funny language like you?", conscience winked at him in the rear view mirror.
"Oh great! I did not know that the High and Mighty Conscience had a sense of humor!"
"You've never really tried to know me."
"Maybe."
"Coming back to your question, I've never spoken in riddles. I always speak loud, clear and simple. Maybe, with the funny language you talk in, it's lost in translation. Or maybe you just need to clear your ears of all the muck."
"My ears are in perfectly hygienic condition, thank you", Krisn retorted sulkily.

"Really?" saying thus, Conscience broke into a song-

A canary sang a song imbued
With life and love and all things true
But all that we heard was "tyoo-wit, tyoo-hoo"

"Oh! So are you suggesting that you're the canary and I'm the listener?"
"No. You yourself are the canary as well as the listener. I'm only the song."
"Riddles again!", Krisn rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"okay.. if i have to put it in your funny language, lets just say that you're suffering from some kind of a dissociative disorder. You know, where you can't recognize a part of your own self ."
"If only you had put it like that earlier, we could have avoided such a long and tiring conversation."
"But how, then, would I have flaunted my singing prowess??", conscience smiled at him in the rear view again.
At this Krisn laughed and said, "You know, it's a strange thing. I'm beginning to get your jokes"

Krisn had been thinking for a while. What started as a nightmare had become the most amazing day he had ever had. He spoke aloud,"Did I tell you you were a good conversationalist?"
"That's my job.", Conscience replied.
"And you do it very well. I wish I could ride this cab forever, going on talking to you like this."
"You could, if you wanted to"
"You mean to say if I wanted, I'd never have to get back to the drudgery of my life again?", Krisn's eyes lighted up.
Conscience nodded.
"Wow! No bills overdue, no waking up everyday to a job i hate, no pandering to the whims of an eccentric boss, no coming back home to a list of complaints.... I love you man!"
"For once!", Conscience joked.
"All right man! In that case, lets just go someplace really nice and quiet, like a sea shore instead of the godforsaken 'a reason to live for' and wassay you, we get some cans of beer on our way??"
"Hold your horses! 'A reason to live for' is anything but godforsaken. And we are going there only. I said you did not have to get back to the drudgery of your life again, but that is not the same as not ever going back to life itself.", said Conscience.
Krisn's excitement swooshed out like air from a punctured balloon."Oh! So there was a catch! You tricked me!"
"Well, I am the Con-man, ain't I??", Conscience said, banteringly.
"You are also a murderer who just took an innocent man up a hill, promising him his dreams, and then pushed him off the cliff! I hate you!",Krisn said crossly.
"Well! That was the shortest lived love story ever! You went from 'I love you' to 'I hate you' in precisely forty five seconds."
Krisn continued to sulk and not respond.
Conscience continued,"You like to make judgments a little too soon. Your opinions are like the ground beneath your feet. Without them you'd fall into an unknown abyss. How about trying to put your feet on some firm ground that's not as shaky as your opinions? How about constructing it from what is based on you and not on others? Like maybe your character or your purpose of being. That's what the ground at 'a reason to live for' is like."
Krisn pondered it over for a while and finally spoke, "It doesn't make too much practical sense to me. But it kinda sounds right."
"Such is my voice. The voice of conscience. Marry it with Courage and it will make practical sense to you. That is what Wisdom is born of"
"Oh! So that's why your wife's called Courage and kid, Wisdom!"
"Yeah", There was a twinkle in Conscience's eyes (again in the rear view mirror)
"Did you see that??", suddenly Krisn was all excited.
"What?", asked Conscience.
"That was the first human being I saw ever since i found myself in your cab!"
Krisn had just spotted an old lady their cab passed by.
"Really?", Conscience asked smilingly,as if feigning obliviousness.
"Come to think of it, the old lady looked a little like my mother. Or maybe I was hallucinating."
"There's nothing like a hallucination.", Conscience explained, "At the very least, it is a message your sub-consciousness is trying to get across to you."
"Aha! Sub-consciousness! How could I have had a conversation with Mr.Conscience himself without that word figuring in? By the end of this I will have more than made up for bunking my moral-science classes in school!", Krisn was pulling Conscience's leg now.
"You did well to bunk those classes. They'd have done you more harm than good", Conscience said, matter-of-factly.

"I thought as much. So do you mean to say that was my dead mother that I just saw?"
"Maybe. Or maybe a message from your sub-consciousness. What was she doing?"
"Smiling"
"How does that make you feel?"
"Ecstatic! I finally made her smile instead of complain!"
"Does that ring a bell?"
"Nope."
"Then look around again."
He saw his own self as a child, riding his first bicycle, waving at him.
"It's me! This is freaky! Why am I waving at my own self?"
"Because you are happy. Don't you remember what that felt like? Getting your first bicycle??"
"Of course I do! I had come 23rd in a class of 25 in a painting competition. But my dad still bought me a bicycle because he was proud of me."
"Because you stood 23rd and not 25th?? How did you bear the burden of such expectations??", Conscience smirked.
"Oh spare me the sarcasm! It was not a question of my standing in class. But a question of standing by what I believed in. We were asked to draw on the topic 'What I want to be when I grow up'"
"Hahaha", conscience guffawed, "Drawing a maniac must have been difficult!"
"Funny... well i drew Bugs Bunny because he made me laugh."
Conscience gave him a meaningful look (needless to say, in the rear view), "Now do you get the clue?"
"That I must become Bugs Bunny??"
"Of sorts.", Conscience answered, "You made the old woman and the young boy smile. Ever considered a profession that makes people smile? If only for an hour?"
"Well I don't see how a furniture designer like me can make people smile. Unless I stuff the cushions with tickle-powder."
"You might get sued for that. Try laughing-gas."
Suddenly their was a glint in Krisn's eyes. The kind of glint you see in a cat's eyes when she spots a rat."Keep your con ideas to yourself, Doctor Jekyll! I think i just had a better idea!"

"And I think we're there- 'a reason to live for'", Conscience screeched the cab to a halt.

Krisn looked around. He saw his mother, his teachers, his childhood friends, all smiling, playing with colors and shapes. Even Elmer Fudd!
"Wow! This is incredible!", he exclaimed.
"You'd better believe it. And now you must get off and I must get going."
"Hey.. you cannot go! Heck, I haven't even looked at you! I didn't realize until now but all this while I was only talking to your rear-view reflection!"
"I am only a reflection of who you really are. All you have to do is look into the mirror just as honestly as you do when you're spotting a blackhead.", Conscience winked at him (yet again in the rear view mirror) and said," Keep in touch!"

"But..."
"And that'll be a hundred and twenty bucks."
"What?? I thought this was a free ride."
"And why must this be a free ride, Sir?", The cab driver did not sound very pleased at this proposition. Krisn started. He was staring at the cab driver who had driven him from his office to his place.
"Is that you...er... Conscience??"
"It's me, Khalif.", the cab driver said mirthlessly.
"Oh... I must have... never mind! Here you go." Krisn paid him the due.
He got off the cab, his head buzzing a little.
Khalif turned the ignition on again. And just before he started to accelerate he muttered under his breath, "He talks funny."

EPILOGUE

Krisn soon realized his boss was not as swinish as he thought him to be, but nevertheless quit his job to start an interior decoration firm with Tara. They decided to name it Happy Bug.

Happy Bug
"What's IN, doC??"

Once every month, they choose from a list of applicants, a place to decorate for free. Till now they have decorated for free one orphanage, one old-age home, their daughter's room, whom they've named Sumati- Hindi for wisdom, and Krisn's now ex boss's cabin. He chose the theme of "pearls" to decorate the office of his ex boss. The secret behind it is a private joke that they share- "Pearls before swines!"

Often they are asked what does the capital C in doC stand for? And they joke, "We are Con-men, aint we??"

So does that mean no bills overdue, no waking up everyday to do a job he hates, no pandering to the whims of an eccentric boss, no coming back home to a list of complaints??? Not entirely. There are still times when he forgets to pay his phone bill, still some projects he does only for the money but doesn't really like, still panders to the whims of his new and eccentric boss, his wife, Tara and still comes back home to a list of complaints. But he loves his life.

Oh and what became of Mr. Conscience? Sometimes, while driving, Krisn still checks into the rear view mirror. But all that he sees is the hundreds of people driving through their lives and the inverted image of a rather funny message that his car sticker bears:

A canary sang a song imbued
With life and love and all things true
But all that we heard was "tyoo-wit, tyoo-hoo"

VHP - A Very Ho-Hum Piece of fiction

What happens when a meeting between a VHP activist and a city girl is arranged

for marriage? Read on……

GIRL: Are you superman?

VHP ACTIVIST: No I’m Very Hard to Please man.

GIRL: Ooooooooh la la! My kinda guy!

VHP ACTIVIST: My Kinda Gay? That’s opposition.

GIRL: Never mind! What are your hobbies?

VHP ACTIVIST: VHP

GIRL: Huh?

VHP ACTIVIST: Vandalism, Hadtaal and Partisan Politics

GIRL: Oh! How nice! So what exactly is your job profile like?

VHP ACTIVIST: VHP

GIRL: Which is…..?

VHP ACTIVIST: Vandal who Handles Property

GIRL: Wow! That's like the Accounts Manager.. What property do you handle?

VHP ACTIVIST: Depends. Extortions on a good day. Gold chains and wrist watches on Valentines day.

GIRL: How sweet! Gold chain on Valentine’s day! Is that a hint?

VHP ACTIVIST: Yes. VHP..

GIRL: Lemme guess... Valentine’s Heartfelt Present??

VHP ACTIVIST: No. Valentine Hai Paap. Jo manaenge Vo Honge Punished.

GIRL: Oh… Accha tell me, are your parents supportive of your career?

VHP ACTIVIST (breaks down and starts weeping): I wanted to become a painter. But my parents did not see any future in it. So I decided to make a career of my hobby.

GIRL: That’s not too bad. Show me some of your art-works.

VHP ACTIVIST: (sniff) Here. (hands out some photographs to her)

GIRL: Oh.. but these are pictures of people with their faces painted black.

VHP ACTIVIST: Yes. I took to face-painting. This one’s taken outside Archies gallery. It’s called The Last Shopper.

GIRL: Uh… Ok... Accha since we might end up together, lets know each other’s past. Did you have any girlfriends?

VHP ACTIVIST: That’s a professional hazard.

GIRL: Meaning?

VHP ACTIVIST: Girlfriends are counterproductive to our B.D.

GIRL: BD as in Bajrang Dal?

VHP ACTIVIST: No. BD as in Business Development. Although there was one. I did not bring her any gifts on Valentine ’s Day and explained her how it was American to do so. She slapped me and walked out saying that Saint Valentine was Italian. She ran away with a fellow BD activist who bought a present for her on the sly a month before the V-day.

GIRL: Oh.. I’m sorry.. that kinda explains. Er.. if I may ask, “fellow BD activist” as in Business Developer?

VHP ACTIVIST: No. Bajrang Dal.

GIRL: Aah.. I see.. Uh.. I gotta go now. I have a very high profile meeting to attend.

VHP ACTIVIST: I like you! You’re already talking in my terms! Very High Profile meeting – VHP!!

GIRL: Er… Ri..ght..

VHP ACTIVIST: So, will you marry me?

GIRL (Aloud) : Well…there’s a Very High Probability…

(To herself) …if I want to commit Voluntary Hara-kiri from Psyching out, that is, Mr. VHP…

ONCE UPON A TIME, NANI WAS A GIRL...

Soumya and her folks had gathered at her grandparents’ place in Lucknow to celebrate their 50^th wedding anniversary. After the celebrations everyone went to their respective rooms to sleep and Saumya, as usual, sat in the veranda with her nani who was oiling her hair. Nani noticed that Saumya was unusually silent for herself tonight. She had noticed that even during the celebrations.

“What’s up kid? You alright baby?” , asked nani.

“Hmm..” Soumya replied, noncommittally.

“Boyfriend trouble?”

“Kind of..”

“Care to share?”

“Nope”

“And may I ask why?”

“Because you’re my nani.”

Nani laughs “ That’s unfair! Kyunki nani bhi kabhi cool thi…”

“ Ya.. But nani had just one boyfriend all her life.. Poor old nana, that is.”

Nani had a twinkle in her eye “And what makes you so sure of that?”

Soumya whirled around “ Whoa, whoa!! You’re not telling me…Sheesh! Why am I even asking? Of course you didn’t.. I mean you couldn’t..”

Nani was smiling a really mischievous smile now.

“No way nani… Really? Like really, really? You had a

you know what??”

“ A boyfriend Soumya.. the you know what was called a boyfriend back in our times too, you know. Jesus! You’re way too prude for your times, girl!” Nani said banteringly.

“Oh freak! This is crazy. I mean it is hard to imagine nani young, let alone her having a boyfriend.” Saumya thought in what was almost dismay. Then when she could find voice in her throat she hesitatingly said, “What was that like?”

“ Well.. very heady. He was a student of my father’s. He used to come to our place for some ‘extra classes’”, nani winked.

“Oh nani, don’t, for God’s sake, use insinuations. I’m scandalized enough!”

“Oh silly girl! Don’t jump to conclusions! He was a gentleman. A very well-read one at that. Said all the right things. And he knew it. Knew which book to recommend to which girl so she’s completely in love with his choice. He’d talk of life, meaning, ideals, beauty, aesthetics in a way that’d make you believe it all ran through his blood vessels. You know, not in a dry, intellectual manner, but in earnest. Every girl I knew him to have met found in him a soul mate.” Nani was looking at the flower-pot in the veranda as if she could see through it, smiling a half-smile.

“ Ah! A case of unrequited love, you mean?”, Saumya said almost with relief.

“ You jump to conclusions too fast, girl. Well , yes, women did swoon over him but your nani here was quite a head-turner in her days”, Nani said smugly.

“Aha! So you got him all floored, huh?”

Wait a minute! Did Saumya just see her nani blush??

“Oh my God! You’re blushing! Even after like a thousand years from then! Oh freak! You did get over him, right?”

Nani replied after a moment’s pause. A moment that could easily have gone unnoticed. “You get over everything, honey.”

“ Hmm.. so what happened? How did you end up with nana?”

“ Well.. my mother was opposed to the match. She thought he was too much of an intellectual to make a stable husband.”

“ And nana was not?”

Nani laughed out so loud that made Bozo, their lazy Alsatian, raise his sleepy head and cock his head. “ You impertinent brat! Well, let’s just say your nana was more of a family man than the other guy was.”

“ Hmm… does nana know?”

“ No”

“ Wow! You told me what even nana doesn’t know! Am I honoured! By the way, if I were you, I wouldn’t have trusted a rash kid like me with my secrets. I mean, what if I accidentally blurted it out. Not to say that I would.”

“ Well sweetheart, it won’t matter even if you did. Your nana and I are past that stage in our relationship where these things matter. With as many years as we have spent together you become almost the same person in different bodies, meant not necessarily in a romantic way, so much so that you almost forget that you’re husband and wife- in the manner in which you think of it when younger”

“ Did you ever feel a sense of loss, nani? Like, did you ever regret it?”

“ Sweetie, always remember, in imperfect moments it is the easiest to think in terms of ‘what-ifs’. Let me put it this way. Has it ever happened to you that you were sitting in your school bus and a guy gets on board and for some reason you want him to sit next to you? And it’s not even as if he resembled Brad Pitt.”

"Yeah... has happened a few times."

“ Well life’s like that at times. You meet people you are inexplicably drawn towards. Perhaps it has something to do with some greater connection or maybe it’s their aura and vibes that yours mesh in with. Whatever it is, sometimes you just have to get down at your bus stop and move on.”

“ You know what, Nani? What you just said, I think, may have the answer to my boyfriend crisis.”

“I’m glad about that. Although let me warn you that you’ve got to find your truth on your own. What I experienced in my life is only one of the ways of living life. And you should know it as one of the possibilities and not as a certainty. Sometimes, you got to make your own mistakes. Just remember to be true to yourself and that life never stops.”

“Hmm…” Soumya went over to nani and hugged her.

“And there’s another thing I want you to know, baby.”, Nani’s eyes glistened, with, perhaps, tears of affection. “When I see you, my beautiful, darling grandchild, who brings so much of joy to my life and that of everyone around her, I realize with all the certainty in the world that every decision I made in my life was right because it lead to you…”

LOVE IN THE TIMES OF 8 MBPS (Part 5)

Chapter 5

The mobile phone flashed “Ani calling” on its screen. Rohit said the shortest prayer he had ever said “ God, let her be in a good mood”

“Hi” , said a weak voice from the other end.

“Hi”, hesitatingly said Rohit , unsure of what was to come, although for the phone call to begin with a “hi” instead of “ I have decided something” was a good sign.

“ I forgive you. Come back home”

“ Oh thank God! I’ll be back in a half hour. I love you!”

“ Love you too.” And the voice on the other end trailed off.

Rohit was ecstatic. For the first time he did not bargain with the autowallah on his way back. There was just one question still rankling his mind- although he decided to let it pass. “But I still don’t get it. What had I done??”

THE END

LOVE IN THE TIMES OF 8MBPS (Part 4)

Chapter 4

Anita was over the line with Vivek, Rohit’s friend from school days. “ You are reading too much into it Anita. I know Rohit, he’d never do something like that. You know how crazy he was about you in college, how he would talk about noone but you with us till the point we’d have to literally gag him. And nothing happened, right?? It’s not as if he dated her or something.”

“ Had he done that the chapter would have been closed. Why are you men so obtuse?? Why can’t you understand that it isn’t always about something happening. In fact, a one night stand is probably less alarming than some woman gradually encroaching on your boyfriend’s mind. Don’t I understand that ranting about that woman every single day, trying to get to know her by finding out her background from people who know her- in the form of gossiping, noticing every single detail about the way she speaks, gestures, dresses – in the garb of criticizing her, is only a distorted manifestation of his infatuation for her?? Don’t I know that men go at length finding faults with women they secretly desire, who meet an unsatisfied need in them??”

“What have you been reading- Sigmond Freud?? Or Femina, in more likelihood.” Jeered Vivek.

“ Uff.. no point talking with you. You’re just like him. If not worse”

“Because I don’t agree with you??”

“ Because you can’t take the truth about your species and because you cannot accept an intelligent woman knowing the better of your kind.”

“ Oh come on Anita! Look I know it can irk you the way he notices Shikha- oh sorry! – ‘that woman’ .. alright don’t hang up on me, I was only kidding.”

An uncomfortable pause.

“Ok bad timing.", Vivek tried to mollify her. "See my point is, to what extent can you monitor a man?? I mean it’ll take something like a microphone of the mind to really know what’s going inside a man’s head- or a woman’s for that matter. I say, more so for a woman’s!! Question is how do you define infidelity?? Harmless flirting?? Fantasising?? The ‘unconscious distorted manifestation’ of whatever psychoanalytic stuff it was that you said?? A hot, roaring affair?? Where do you draw a line?? On what grounds will you be willing to patch up and on which will you be wanting to call it quits??”

“ That’s my problem!! Now you get it!! I can’t separate with Rohit on something I merely suspect. Mind you I do see the symptoms. But I know that Rohit is basically a decent guy so even if he consciously desired another woman more than he desires a Ferrari he probably wouldn’t think of walking out on me because he has made a commitment. And I know a lot of men wouldn’t do that. But it hurts me no end when I see myself having failed at being his everything.”

“ That’s the problem with you- you want to be his everything. His friend, girl friend, mother, daughter, boss, wife.. so much so that he forgets family, friends and fun! Well, frankly, if only you could refrain from filling every single crevice of his life he’d probably pay more attention to you.”

“Why should I try things to get his attention that I once got without any efforts. If his interest in me has withered away and moved on else where, it’d be unfair on my part to hold him back.”

“ Oh please stop the tyaag ki devi act! He might not do the mating dance for you as he used to when you guys had started out because he’s more at ease with you now. You call it taking you for granted?? Yes it is that. Beause he takes you as a given. Because one does that only with people who are close to one. Now I am not justifying that. I know it is an irresponsible thing to do- to take those who care for you for granted and those who don’t seriously. But isn’t that human nature??”

“And where did you read that one- Sigmond Freud or some men’s magazine??”,

“Men’s magazines don’t waste precious pages on words. We like pictures better!”

“ Can you ever be serious??”

“ No. Because I find it all very funny! Ask people who have real problems. I mean the guy is just enjoying some extra attention from a good looking woman- boosts his debilitated morale, makes him feel still young, alive and kicking!! Wouldn’t you??”

“Guess I would. But I hate to see that he does too!! We haven’t even married and it’s like he’s already having a midlife crisis!!”

“ Maybe he is. That’s how it probably is in the era of 8 MBPS – everything’s quick to happen. Geez, I must copyright my words! Anyway, I think you’re just being jealous and it isn’t always bad to be. They say it makes the bond stronger.”

“ Yeah, tell me about it when I give that piece of advice to your girlfriend so she can try out your dadi ma ke nuskhe in making your bond stronger!”

LOVE IN THE TIMES OF 8MBPS (Part 3)

Chapter 3

It was well past two a.m. Nocturnal drunkards had given up on haranguing him. Even the street dogs had slept. “Your call could not be completed. Please try later” , said a saccharine sweet voice over the cell phone for the umpteenth time. “F#$% you!”, growled a harried Rohit “What does she mean by that?? Is her phone busy, switched off or out of network area?? What does she f!@#ing mean the call could not be completed!! Why can’t women talk straight??”

LOVE IN THE TIMES OF 8 MBPS (Part 2)

Chapter 2

Anita felt numb. She felt lifeless and completely drained of all energy after weeping all through the night. Questions were shooting inside her head. What went wrong?? What happened?? When??? And why her?? She wished all this had never happened. She wished Rohit were mean to her. She wished she could catch him red handed. She wished he would say something nasty to her. She wished him to actually have a full fledged affair. Anything to put her on a definite side.

Their last conversation kept rewinding in her head. Amit had come back from a tour to Bangalore the day before and as had been the norm by then, he was ranting about Shikha and her overtures. In the last few months Shikha had substituted for politics, movies, career, family and even sports in their conversations. “Like cheap Chinese maal”, Anita would think.

“ Of all the people, could my boss find only me to go to Bangalore with that crazy woman. You won’t believe, Anita, what people in the office have been talking about her. I asked this colleague of mine, Varun, who was in the same college as this girl about her and he told me the most astonishing of all things”

“ You asked him about her??”, queried Anita, her right eyebrow raised a little, as she fixed herself a sandwich.

“ Well ya.. I mean people take her to be a very friendly and outgoing person but I had never quite believed that. So I asked Varun about her. And he told me that she has actually been rather unlucky in love.”, he explained.

“Oh of course. And that she’s trying to put a brave front with all the flirting and back slapping and literally throwing herself at every eligible bachelor she meets. Poor girl!”, she gibed.

“ Well.. I’m just saying what Varun told me. In any case, I still find her very irritating. Don’t know what’s with the other guys. Can’t really understand why they are so over her.”

“She is beautiful and carries a sign post that says in red ‘Take me. I am available’”, Anita gestured as if she held the signpost in her hands.

“How did you know she was beautiful??”

“ Isn’t she??”

“ Well… emmm.. she’s decent. Above average. And speaks well. Except that she goes really overboard with it and ends up irritating me.”, Rohit was speaking cautiously.

“ Decent??”, smiles she, “It’s okay, you don’t have to use euphemisms”

“ I am not. I think she’s obnoxious. The way she’s all the time coming to me, asking me in her cacophonic falsetto about silly work-related problems. What kind of recruitment process do these companies have? They just see a beau… a girl and they forget all about work. And then she really bugs me with her non stop commentary. ‘O Rohit, that blue really suits you’, ‘Oh look how cute Rohit looks when he’s sulking’, ‘Do you like that music you’re playing on your comp?? Isn’t it Van Halen. I love them!’ I so want to tell her ‘No, I just get the kicks from playing the music that I loathe’. What a moron!”

“Do you like her, Rohit??”

Silence flooded the room like Tsunami.

“ I..I didn’t get you”, stammered a nonplussed Rohit.

“There’s nothing about the question to be got. I just asked if you liked her.”

“ Why would you ask that?”

“Why are you answering my question with another question?”

“ Because I don’t get you! Why would you think that I liked her??”

“ Is that a yes or a no?”

“ NO!! I don’t!! I hate her for all you know! What are you?? Deaf?? Have you ever heard me speak well of her??”

“No. But I hear you talk an awful lot about her.”

“ That’s because.. because she just gets on my nerves’

“ Does she?? So that’s why you go around asking people about her.”

“ I don’t go around asking people about her. I was just curious.”

“ Ah yes! Curious. Do you realise that for the past five m onths we have been talking about nothing but Shikha. You are obsessed with her. Every time we meet I secretly hope that you’d talk about me, about us. But no, there’s just Shikha- the all pervading being! And if that’s really the extent to which she bugs you, why didn’t you change your project, like you had announced the very first day you met that bane of my existence?”

Rohit was speechless. He felt his head dizzying from a volley of questions. Not just the ones Anita was asking him, but also the ones he had not been asking of himself all this while. “It cannot be. It should not be.” He thought. It is true that he had had at times those wild flights of fantasy if only for a moment. But that’s what they were- wild , beyond reason, untrue, just the perverseness of his mind. Weren’t they??

LOVE IN THE TIMES OF 8 MBPS (Part 1)

Chapter 1

Rohit was sitting outside Café Coffee Day, watching the occasional cars that would beep by him; the chuckle of lovers that would resound the empty, midnight streets, ricocheting from one building to another like a carom peg. It had all been so sudden. Only two days ago he was the most content man there possibly could be. Or was he? He could still hear her, her eyes blurring from tears, asking him “Do you like her, Rohit?” “Did I like her?”, he was asking himself now. The software engineer in him answered, “Ofcourse not! How illogical! There is no proof… She doesn’t even know. Anita was over reacting. How can you like someone you hate so much??” And then, the boy in him wondered “How could she have known, anyway??”

Rohit and Anita weren’t exactly a Romeo and Juliet kind of couple, but they were very comfortable in each other’s company. They had met at their college festival four years ago when Anita fell for Rohit’s slapstick sense of humour and he for her childlike laughter. That was in their third year into engineering. They were even placed in the same company but a few months back Rohit got a lucrative offer from another firm, albeit in Mumbai itself.

“I think I’m gonna have to change my department”, said Rohit one evening to Anita as they watched India versus Srilanka on television. Anita knew this had to be important because Rohit, like any other Indian male, suffered from partial amnesia when it came to watching cricket. “That Shikha female drives me nuts! She thinks just because she’s pretty the world will come bowing at her feet”. Anita raised an eyebrow. “Just because she is pretty. That sounds interesting.”, she said. Rohit tried to correct himself, “ I mean.. she’s not as pretty as she imagines herself to be. Look at the kind of clothes she wears to office. They are so….ummm… inappropriate. And so is her behaviour. She tries to be a little too pally with everybody, patting them on their backs, cracking insinuating jokes at everyone, trying to be.. you know.. one of the guys.”

“ Does she do that to you?” , inquired Anita.

“ Yeah sometimes. But then I give her the no-luck-here-lady-i-am-taken look.”

“ Did you ever tell her that?”

“Er.. not in so many words”

“Hmmm."