Zehen (Memory)

This one is dedictaed to all those who suffer from Alzheimer's and the pain they have to go through along with their loved ones.






कुछ कहने की कोशिश ,

जुबां से अलफ़ाज़ निकलने को कतराते हैं ,

चेहरे पे इक उलझन नज़र आती है,

जैसे मानो आप कोई पहेली सुलझा रहे हो .



कुछ पढ़ने की कोशिश ,

किताब मानो इक अनसुनी जुबां में लिखी गयी हो ,

न लफ़्ज़ों की समझ , न कहानी का ज़हन ,

आपकी आँखों में एक धुंध सी नज़र आती है



कुछ करने की कोशिश ,

शुरू कहाँ करें , और खत्म कैसे हो ,

भटके हुए से लगते हैं अपने ही घर में ,

खिरकी से बाहर की दुनिया आपको बेहतर नज़र आती है



आप हैं यही पर हैं नहीं ,

कह दीजिये वो बातें अनकही ,

मुनासिब न होगा ये जानते हैं हम ,

एक आस से जीते हैं , ये आस ही सही



-Vikram

Time to get back on track!!

Its time to channelize my thoughts and actions. The last year was great personally but professionally there seemed to be a void. Like a mid-life crisis, I think I am going through a mid-career crisis. Not that things are bad but I realize that I have reached that point where the curve needs to go up. Some things that I intend to do:

1. Focus heavily on a single area
2. Leverage on my strengths
3. Be more patient
4. Meet challenges head on
5. Respond proactively

Lets go 2013...lets go!!!

Good Over Evil

Happy Dusherra to All of you!!!!

He looked over the heavens and he roared with delight,
He had conquered the the world with all his might,
Neither men nor gods could stop him tonight,
He would slay her to pieces in an unequal fight.


And then there was a tremor that shook him off his feet,
Such powers, such strength never had he seen,
There was fury in her eyes and a fierceness in her laughter,
Never had he fought such a powerful being.


'What the hell', he thought, she is a woman after all,
He will defeat her in no time and on his feet she would fall,
He unleashed his powers and he tried all he could,
Lion, Tiger, Buffalo, he became them all.

She fought like a soldier who never backed down,
She had to end this evil so that there was peace again,
Demons like him had to be put in place,
She would do anything to protect the human race.

The sun rose and set and rose again,
The battle went on for many nights and days,
The demon was tired, not expecting such wrath,
The lady was a fighter, she expected a blood bath.

It was when the sword came out, that he knew it was time,
She drove it into the belly and and yelled out a rhyme,
He was done and dusted as evil met its end,
Good always prevails and thats the lesson my friend.

-Vikram

The Ratman of Mumbai

Long Pending. A tribute again to all peculiar vocations

1. Welcome to Mumbai
I woke up with a jerk but even before I could open my eyes, someone had kept his huge suitcase on my feet not noticing that I was sleeping right next to the smelly compartment door.It was dark and the train had reached its destination just 20 hours late from its scheduled time. "Get up and give some space for me to get down you rat", said the passenger and he did not bother to stop there. "Saala tum Bihari log apni aukaad dikha hi dete ho, bhar bhar ke aate ho aur phir har jagah bas jaate ho, compartment ko tho chhod de maadarchhod. Gaali tho samaj aayi naa, hat saale."All this happened in a matter of 10 seconds and I really had to push myself out onto the platform. "Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus mein aapka swagat hai", came the voice from a speaker. What a fuckin welcome!!!Ranchi was definitely a better place to be I thought and why not, it was my hometown after all. But those four walls within which I grew up all my life could not be called home anymore. Dead father, evil stepmom and a sadist sister, life could not have been worse. I had just finished school when my stepmom decided to get married again and more so she decided it was my time to banish me. I was a bastard now in a true sense and my friends did not miss an opportunity to call me that.Like a loafer I spent days and nights in the Ranchi National Park. I worked at the Chai stall for almost four days to earn just enough for a meal and thats when I met Fulwa my schoolmate who left school for almost the same reasons that I did. He told me about Mumbai, the place where everyone makes it big, well in his own way. He drove the auto there but made enough money to get married and rent a house and live life King style."Aaram ki zidagi hai bhai, haan kaam karna padhta hai par yahaan se tho bahut hi acchha hai", he said. "Bas pahunch jao, sasuri zindagi khudahi raasta dikha deti hai"Well then, Mumbai it is but I really hoped that the direction bit was true. So here I was, a nice rough welcome to Mumbai.

2. Vada Paav and Mirchi
It was still dark and the feeling of being a complete stranger in a new city was just too overwhelming. I broke down and I could not hold my tears and for a moment I felt like getting up and catch the next train to Ranchi and get back. But the thought of going back to a place where happiness no longer prevailed was even scarier.Just then, a few rays of the early morning sun brightened the then dark and dingy platform. It was like in the movies. Just when the protagonist is almost done and dusted, there will be a divine voice ringing in his head or a bright light shining just out of nowhere trying to motivate him.Sadly, neither was I a hero nor was this a movie. This was harsh reality. There was enough light to look around and what I saw was nothing less than a horror flick. Beggars, drunkards, dogs, passengers and of course there was I who was probably the only one awake. There was of course the constant stench of an Indian railway station which was unbearable. With just around 1000 bucks in my pocket, I had decided to come down. Now I just wanted to go back. I did'nt really understand what the fear was about.Either it was the people of this city, heartless and self-obsessed, or the comfort that Ranchi provided. As I was lost in thoughts, the inevitable happened. My stomach started to growl and I realized that the last I ate was in the afternoon the previous day. I got up. I desperately needed a cup of tea and something to eat. After a quick leak on the tracks, I looked around for a tea stall.There he was my saviour, the chaiwala. " Bhai zara ek cup chai bana de, kadak wali aur haan, khaane ko kya hai?" . He looked at me and smiled. "Ranchi kaa ho, fikar naahi karo, mumbai ki hawaa abhi abhi lagi hai, theek ho jaoge?". I was thrilled, he understood my apprehensions. "Bhaiya, will I get a job somewhere here?". He handed over the cup of tea,"Look brother, getting work is not a challenge in Mumbai but there will be struggle initially and you have to be strong. The one thing that you have to tell yourself here is that no work is less. Look boss, the railways minister is a Bihari but I had to toil hard to put up this small tea stall here. They hate us here and we need to live with it."He smiled again,"Dont worry, I know what you need and remember this will keep you going in Mumbai." From the bottom of the stall box, he removed what looked like a piece of bun, a really tine one. He cut it with a knife and placed a small ball-like patty. "This is the staple diet of Mumbai, the Vadaa paav. Have a bit and bit into the chilly with every bite." I did as he said and I do not know whether it was hungry tummy or the Vadaa paav, I felt a sense of relief. The bite into the chilly opened my eyes to my first morning of Mumbai.

3. Ab Bhaag Bose DK
When Babloo (The chaiwala) spoke about being willing to do all sorts of work, I had no idea that he could be talking about extremes. He showed me an advertisement which seemed right out of hell. It was an advertisement by the Mumbai Municipal Corporation. It said, "Rat Killers Wanted" in bold and there were criteria too. "Only men aged 18 to 30 need apply. They must be able to lift a 50 kilogram (110 pound) sack and run a few kilometres (miles). They must demonstrate their ability to catch and kill a rat in the dark within ten minutes." I was a little surprised with the last criterion. Ability? How can someone have the ability to kill rats and that too in the night? What shocked me was what I read below that was written in big bold yellow letters, "Passing grade with at least 50% at high school level will be needed". "I hope you completed school", Babloo asked.The peculiarity and gruesomeness of the vocation itself had not sunk in, so enrolling for the job was far fetched."Look boss, its about filling tht tummy. The rest is your wish", Babloo had said. It was diffcult to comprehend but it made sense.So here I am, in queue to enrol for a job where I have to kill rats. I am told that I would get paid Rs. 14 for every rat I kill and I have to kill 30 rats every night. It seemed reasonable. I would get paid Rupees 12000 a month which would be slightly less than a starting bus drivers salary in Mumbai. At least that made my job sound a little respectable."Kishen Kumar hai tumhara naam aur Ranchi ke rehne waale ho", said a fat looking burly man sitting on a tattered chair. He had rested his hands on the table which hd nothing but a glass of water with a lemon isnide floating. "Bose DK, Mumbai hi mila tha aake rehne ko, aur baaki sheher dikhta nahi hai kya bhootnike. Ek kaam karo, yeh 10 kg ka bhar uthao aur woh door jo pole dikh raha hai wahan tak bhaago aur bhaag ke waapas aana. Dus seconds mein aaye tho theek warna phir se mumbai mein dikhe tho usi pole mein latka denge". I did not pay heed as Babloo adviced and was determined to run the mile. As I stood to run the man shouted loud "Ab Bhaag Bose DK" and I ran. I touched the pole and was back in a jiffy. "Hmmm paanv mein tho bahut jaan hai. Chalo ab kar hi lo kaam. Raat ko Dus baje aana idhar. Kaam sikha denge".

4. Dhaava Bol
India seems to exist in multiple historical periods simultaneously.One side of the neighbourhood is edged by a high shining fence beyond which lies 21st century India: the Bhabha Atomic Research Center, the country's premier nuclear research facility.On this side of the fence, people live in a vaguely medieval place where need outweighs hope and there is still talk of the plague.To the south is a 50-acre slaughterhouse, one of the largest in Asia. To the north is a city dump.In other words, rat heaven.The work was quite simple minus the trash and stench all around. In the faint light of the windows you can see that the ground is alive with rats after 12 in the night. A twitching nose peeks from a crevice in the wall. A rat tail vanishes down a hole.The trick is to catch the rat's eye and shine a flashlight in its face. The rodent freezes like a deer in headlights.Thwack!If the aim is a little bad, then the rat would probably try to bounce back.Thwack!Thwack!Thwack!Thats it. The only thing you need to take care of is that you need to lift the dead rodent with your leg and not hands to avoid the risk of any infection. You lift it with a leg and chuck it in a basket.

5. Ratman of Mumbai
Its been 5 years since I have been killing rats. Its a vocation noone would be willing to take but the fact is that I am proud of myself. Its because of men like us that infections like plague and vermin. I have in fact become a master at it. Just last year the Municipal Corporation awarded me as the "Ratman of the year". I killed 24586b rats last year. I was also interviewed by CNN, BBC and NDTV. It was a great feeling.I am married and have a kid. There are times when my wife is scared about the kind of infections I would bring home but then she soon realizes that the belly always rules. I love Mumbai and I am honoured to be its Ratman.
V.V.Vikram

For you...as promised!

For someone special. Thanks for knocking on my door. I am glad I opened it :)

A loner I was, walking solitarily on paths unknown,

Trying to connect the dots in my own comfort zone,

I always searched for you on those unfrequented roads,

And you, the ever elusive, were never easy to find.

And then one fine evening, as I walked through the aisle ,

I saw you, sitting by the river, with kohl in your eyes,

I asked the hermit below the Banyan Tree, "And who would she be"?,

"The softness of the world is because of her", replied he.

I tried to look more closely and you looked back at me,

It was something that I felt, like you had set me free,

It was you, I knew, the one I yearned for always,

Your warmth I felt always around, your smile lit up my face.

Just this once, walk with me on that lonely path,

I no longer want to walk on it without you,

I know this time it shall feel different with you beside,

I know this time I shall be myself with you on my side.

V.V.Vikram

The Last Few Moments

Somewhere the stars have aligned,

To create a magic beyond imagination,

And in the very life of the cosmos,

I am waiting for you like I have never before,

Come hold my hands and embrace me.

It seems like the moon waited too,

She glows so much more today in anticipation,

Brushing aside every cloud that tries to cover her,

Every wisp of air whispers your name to me,

Every leaf watches motionless of what is to come.

Dry leaves on the path rustle in restlessness,

You are there somewhere, I can feel you close,

Serenity galore, I just hear just my heartbeat,

My feet tremble, my lips quiver, my eyes twitch,

Where are thou my beloved?

And then you arrive, like a princess,

The moon bows down, the stars shine like never before,

The air fills with your divine scent,

As you come close, the drops of heaven fall on us,

Take me with you my love for I am done and dusted here.

V.V.Vikram

Alvida

कभी सोचता हूँ तो यूँ लगता है,

की जैसे बँध चुका हूँ मैं,

नहीं जा पाऊँगा छोड़ कर,

पर जा रहा हूँ और वो भी दूर,

शायद इस बार लौटना ना हो.

आज खाली किया सब मैने,

ले जा रहा हूँ जो अपना है,

छोड़ जा रहा हूँ सब पराया,

पर कुछ है जो ना जा पाएँगी मेरे साथ,

यादें है कुछ ऐसी, क्या करूँ मैं.

उसका चेहरा देखता हूँ,

इस आस से की ये आखरी बार ना हो,

पर सच तो ये है की यही होगी आखरी मुलाकात,

एक छोटा सा किस्सा यहीं होगा ख़त्म,

यहीं से शूरू होगी शूरूवात यादों की.

V.V.Vikram

Khaali Khaali Raat

Just Read.....

खाली खाली रातों से दोस्ती कर लेता हूँ

अब जब कभी अकेला सा लगता है तो आईना देख लेता हूँ

मुस्कुराकर दो लफ्ज़ खुद से कह लेता हूँ

देर से ठह़री निगाहों को बूँदों से भर लेता हूँ

खाली खाली रातों से दोस्ती कर लेता हूँ

दिल के सन्नाटो को खोलने की कोशिश करता हूँ

खुद से पहेली बना, खुद ही हल कर लेता हूँ

दिन गुज़ारता हूँ यूँही, रातों का इंतेज़ार कर लेता हून

खाली खाली रातों से फिर दोस्ती कर लेता हूँ

सोचता हूँ को वो अब आए तो इक तस्वीर बना लेता हूँ

ना आए वो तो चाँद को तस्वीर में उतार लेता हूँ

इक मैं ही क्या, इस जंगल में हैं वीरान सब हर पल यहाँ

यह सोच के ही अपने मॅन को कुछ कदर बहला लेता हून

है दिन तो क्या कुछ पल में होगी रात, बात फिर आगे बढ़े

खाली है तो क्या यह रात, है ज़रूरत इसे भी दोस्त की

खाली खाली रातों से दोस्ती मैं फिर कर लेता हूँ

V.V.Vikram

Unaccustomed

Losing a loved one is not easy. This is dedicated to all the closed ones who passed away. You will always be remembered. Life will always remain an unaccustomed affair without you.

Nothing has changed with your going away,

The night brings about its darkness as always,

The moon still manages to illuminate the dark alleys.

The bend in the road,

Where you took a different turn,

Away from me is still there and I am still here,

I have never taken that path alone since,

I have tried not to look that way again.

Forsaken by you and deserted by shadows,

I have tread over splinters of the past,

On uncushioned bare feet,

There is loneliness outside and emptiness within.

V.V.Vikram

Angst

A piece inspired by a short story from the book 'One Amazing Thing'

Whenever I turn back and look,

You appear a bit of a stranger

A bit of a stranger I too.

We no longer stand where we stood once,

Neither is there a chance we will be together,

Nor is there any angst or remorse,

Yet you appear unhappy.

You were a spent moment in a spent relationship,

Tonight as the moon plays his melancholic tune,

A mere memory remains of the last time we walked,

Yet you seem to have lost your way.

V.V.Vikram

An Ode

This is an ode to the real women of India. The ones who sweat it out on the fields. The ones who keep their family together always. The ones who look beyond themselves every time. I salute you!

The fragrance of the soil in your hands,

You smear it like the sun with drops of rain,

Immense support that your lonely shoulders provide,

Under your shadow they all take a relieved sigh!

With your wooden flute you get the fireplace alive,

And with the hymn you ignite the spirit of life,

Somewhere in the fields your earring tinkers,

The sound of which keep your men going all night.

Soaked in the heat of the day,

Your skin becomes a tad little dark,

Like the last coal which burns just a little,

You provide the warmth to your family at night,

Theres a twinkle in your eyes, like the stars in the sky.

The winds bow down to you Oh! Lady of the house,

The seasons salute you with a smile,

The dust is your make-up,

So what, you are the like rivers that bring life.

It sound like a million shells when you heave,

There is a feather to every sorrow you grieve,

The dark cloud is like the kaajal on your face protecting you,

And you smear it like the sun with drops of rain.

V.V.Vikram

Square Zero

A piece written by a very close friend.

I lie under two gazes.

Introspections rising out of two kinds of love.

One comes with an insane sort of liberation.

Another that mirrors much of my soul.

But I will choose the security of order,

For how long will I stand on your love?

It's freeing foundation is but quicksand.

Your world but a blackhole draining my soul.

While I love that maddening freedom,

I look on, to walk towards that path of sanity.

I will look at myself the way he does.

I will get used to the way his hand caresses my skin.

I will learn to remember his smell in the place of your's.

I will grow into him, like I did into you.

For isn't much of love but a new habit you learn?

Bid me farewell now.

Let me go seek him; mirror his soul.

Maybe this is how far we were meant to go,

And leave trails of dust behind us

From our star-crossed destiny.

By-

Trinity Unlocked

Baat niklegi tho phir door talak jayegi

This is an attempted translation of one of my favorite Jagjit Singh's Ghazals. It is about a relationship that could not materialise. About two loved ones who could not get together because of external reasons. It is about how even though they love each other, they cannot carry on. It is about how the guy is telling the girl, be string and face the society boldly.

If the word is let out, it shall spread my dear,

People shall ask unnecessarily about your sorrow,

They shall also ask about your troubled self.

Fingers shall be raised at your dishevelled hair,

They shall glance suspiciously at the long gone years,

Your bangles too shall be joked about,

Even your trembling hands then shall be taunted at.

People are cruel, they shall taunt at every possible thing,

And somewhere in the taunts, I shall be mentioned too,

Do not give their words any significance my love,

Or your expression shall give it all away,

No matter what, do no argue or question,

Do not talk about me to them whatsoever,

Because if the word is let out, it shall spread my dear

V.V.Vikram

नासूर

In a relationship, theres always that one person who loves the other more. That one person is always willing to go any extent to keep the other happy....stupid fella.....but then its always an experience....the fact is the more hurt you are when things come to and end....the more stronger you become when you come over it.....

This is an ode to all those give all their heart and soul to their relationships...rest kindly buzz off ;)


नासूर
----

एक ख्वाहिश है अब की ज़िंदगी यूँ ही रहे,
इक दूरी सी रहे, दरमियाँ बना रहे,
एक सन्नाटा सा है हर मोड़ पे अब,
बस यूँही बसर, ज़िंदगी तन्हा सी रहे

ऐसा नही के तुम थे ही नही,
जब थे, तो बस तुम थे और कुछ था ही नही,
ना थे, तो ये अश्क रुकते थे नही,
अब बहना चाहें तो भी ये बहते नही.


एक वजूद है मेरा, जो भूला था तब,
तब तुमसे था सब, अब मुजसे हैं सब,
तुम नही हो अब और यहाँ,
अब मैं हूँ इस पूरे राह समा,

आगे बढ़ गये तुम जल्द ही सब भूलके,
हम भी भूले पर ज़रा ज़रा करके,
धीरे से भूले, हम अब नासूर हैं,
पर आप दिल के हाथों अब भी मजबूर हैं.

V.V.Vikram

Karma Sutra

To all who discriminate based on caste, creed or any other form of discrimination, you ignite the fire of rage and violence. Its a vicious circle because the fire never extinguishes

In the dark alleys of abuse and violence,

I have grown, watching it all, in shock and silence,

With loved ones gone now, I feel so lonely,

I have learnt to take it all, now things dont hurt me.

Dont gimme this bullshit bout cause and effect,

The guy with the trigger is the guy who is set,

I never meant to harm, but what did i get,

Karma is a bastard, you read about and forget.

I am a gangsta now, so what should i do,

I never meant to be one, life made me to,

I will kill them all if I really have to,

I find solace in revenge, yeah every moment I do.

V.V.Vikram

रहगुज़र (My 50th Post)

This is a special one. I started blogging in 2008 with the intention that I needed to have a concrete hobby on my CV. This is the 50th today and I am pretty happy that I have taken a liking to blogging. I have tried to bend towards the creative side in my posts and not blog the traditional way (experiences and opinions) and hence the 50th has taken a longer time.

I wondered what it should be...english poetry which was my usual stuff, a short story which i have begun to write off late or probably an experience. Then i realised that my 50th should be about what i write best..my hindi poetry and so this is an ode to all the ghazals i listened to since class 5th which have made me a huge fan of urdu and hindi nazms..a special thanks to my dad who always played quality music at home when i was young...my poetic sense truly comes from there...

तब मैं क्या था और अब मैं क्या हूँ,

तब जला था और अब धुंआ हूँ,

सब कम ही था और ग़म भी था,

पर इक मस्सर्रत थी जवां,

अब सुकून हैं, थम चुका हूँ,

उस जुस्तुजू को खो चुका हूँ.

जब चला मैं, जहाँ गया मैं,

हर कदम पे था रक़ीब,

अजनबी से इस शहर में,

अब मैं ही अपना रहनुमा हूँ.

रहगुज़र था, रहगुज़र सी थी मेरी बेचेनियाँ,

हर सफ़र में था जुनूं और हर सफ़र इक कहकशां,

एक इन्तेहा है ज़िन्दगी अब इस शहर में हर तलब,

काटों भरे इस शहर में, अब इक गुलिस्तान ढूंढता हूँ.

तनहाइयों में चल पड़ा था , सोचा की कल मिलेगी ज़िन्दगी,

शहरों की इन दलदलों में लेकिन दब रही है ज़िन्दगी,

सबको ही सब कुछ दिया, देने को अब क्या रह गया,

माँगा नहीं था आसमान, बस पूछ लेते हाल-ए-दिल,

अब भी खुद का सोचते हैं, कैसा शहर है सोचता हूँ.

--Vikram

Beyond

Sometimes I tend to stare beyond boundaries,
A sense of utopia prevails then,
For a moment or two to me,
It seems like I live the perfect life.

My thoughts then fly like a kite,
Not knowing to what extent they can go,
Unaware of what may happen next,
They guide themselves towards the unknown.

And then in a second I am back,
I find myself staring at a wall,
I try to look beyond again, but in vain,
The kite has been cut, it has gone down.

It sets in so deep, this loneliness,
It engulfs you like the quicksand,
It pulls you in so that you cannot see,
How shall I now stare beyond those boundaries?

V.V.Vikram

An Imbroglio...When life becomes a soap

First of all, apologies for the language in the story...cos its just that. This was written way way earlier and some of you may have read it prior. Cheers ;)





I know I have gone crazy. I have turned eccentric. But this is the way I want to be. At least for a while. This is how I want my life to be.Small thoughts. Shortsightedness. Impulsive decisions. Oh !! how much I have suffered.Or have I? Let callousness prevail.

I have no name. Well I do. But I do not want to reveal it. Why? My F@#$$ wish. Call me what you want. Arrogant B!@#$d. Son of a B$#@. I care the least today.I have a bunch of air tickets in my hand. I am off on this world tour. The POA is even more interesting. Around the world in 80 days. I am not kidding dood.The plan is just that. I am running away from the shitty lanes of Karol Bagh. I am no longer going to veer my konked up santro through the Delhi traffic. I am going to travel in Business class and stay in the best hotels. I saved all my life. So why the F@#$ should i compromise. I compromised all along.


About the trip. In the next 80 days I will be in China, Malaysia, Tokyo, Sydney, Chile, Brazil, Chicago, New York, London, France, Germany, Italy, Russia and back in India. Only the best places. I am not going to travel to shitty places like Africa and spoil my mood. I want to be ecstatic. The trip has been planned exactly for 80 days. Well I am going to repeat a Jules Verne. Actually I havent read the book. But what the heck, I will still repeat history. And oh yeah baby!! I am going to write a book on my experiences. So watch out Mr. Verne. So F@#$ my wife (well someone else has been doing that these days), F@#$$ my boss(trust me, that can happen..literally) and F@#$ that whore (even they need more than just an intercourse these days).



Long ago and yet not so long ago, I was Just a mediocre. An average guy with a happy married life and a decent job. At least I thought it was like that.

My wife turned out to be a S@#&
----------------------------------

An average looking woman, my wife, a homemaker, was a blessing in disguise. Unlike the trendy women of Delhi who cribbed about everything possible in the world and cried about equality at the end of every damn conversation, my wife was more practical and very caring. She cooked, watched soaps and did her night duties pretty well. But can people be so perfect?

Right out of the penthouse books, became the story of my married life. I returned home early one day to find my wife being bedded by my smart neighbour who was just out of college. When I caught her red-handed, I was heart broken. She wept and yet had the audacity to tell me that I was an average office going piece of shit whom she had never hoped to marry. She left for her mother's place soon. And I sent the divorce papers within a week.


My Boss just "loved" his subordinates
-------------------------------------

My boss was a very jovial man. He started the largest book store in Delhi. Soon it became a chain and he became a millionaire. I was the only guy who reported directly to him. So much was his dedication towards work that I cared the least about the grapevine that spoke crap about him.

When he heard about my divorce, he hugged me and consoled me. I found it a bit wierd but I just needed it at that time. He called me home for a drink that night. My boss was a widower and both his sons were in the USA. That night after a three rounds of drinking, I was sloshed. The pain and the betrayal had forced me to drink. My vision had blurred and the last thing i remember was my boss putting his arms around me. The morning was a revelation. I was sleeping next to him. I was naked. My boss was fast asleep and lay naked too. I was hurt, shattered and was amazed at how quickly things were happening.

In a dazed state i Just left his house. I put in my resignation in a week's time.

Even a Wh!@# wants love these days
------------------------------------

Life in a way had become tragic. I laughed at times at the way things were turning up. Yet most of the times I wept bitterly. I cursed God and wondered what I had done wrong. I was at home jobless. Then one day I decided to take a walk around connought place in the night. Thats where I bumped into a Wh@#$. She looked like one but she definitely had a grace. Like all of them, she slid a small piece of paper into my pocket. I called her that evening, unable to take the loneliness anymore.

We met often. I did what my wife had deprived me off in the last month and she did her job. We conversed a lot after those lovemaking sessions. It had been over a month now and I had not found a job. That is when life took another big turn. I had made her pregnant. I thought it was normal for her till she told me that she had feelings for me and wanted this child. I was flabbergasted. I abused her of using me and left the Wh@#$ house.

I had become extremely cranky and irritated when i decided that was time I be to myself. I spoke to my closed ones and they suggested that I take a break. It was then that I saw the funny adaptation of 'Around the world in 80 days' which starred Jackie cHan. What a fool?? It struck me that this was it. I had become mad and yet I wanted act like I was insane. I sat one whole day on the internet and planned a world tour that would last exactly 80 days.

Here I am today, at the airport of New Delhi. Am off to China.

V.V.Vikram

Life In Words

The post has been written with the thought that Life is like a game of scrabble. All of us are like individual letters who come together to form a word. Then slowly more words are formed around us and a journey begins and ends as the game gets over. A new journey begins again with a new game.


Many years earlier, I was a mere letter,
I was single and yearning to give meaning to life,
You were a letter too, leading your own life somewhere,
Then we came together to form a word.


As words formed around us, the game improved,
But soon the board became congested,
We became stagnant and so did our importance,
We realised we were now entrapped in our squares.


Then we were removed from our squares,
We were now placed in different ones,
There were empty squares now between us,
We now led different lives.


And then one day we bump into each other,
This time the words around form slow,
We spend more time and find new meanings,
We enjoy as we know the game shall end.


Then in one moment, the game ends,
I shall be picked out soon and so shall you,
But we shall meet again, so lets just smile,
We shall form a beautiful word again,
So we shall meet another time.


V.V.Vikram

A Wall At Harisava Street

The Harisava street comes alive on a sunday. For that an outsider would say that a Sunday is just an excuse for the Bengalis. But Harisava street is an exception. One of the darkest streets in Calcutta, the Harisava street is in Kidderpore.

Close to the port, Kidderpore historically was inhabited by the fisherman clan. Hence even today the street is mostly inhabited by the lower-middle and lower classes and not to mention the faint smell of dead fish throughout the day. The Harisava street has tall buildings which are no sky-scrapers but are the old chawls built for the british soldiers to rest. The buildings are so high that they cover the sun almost till noon and for the rest of the day a little after noon. And in
one such building lived Dibyendu Bhattacharya and Proloy.


The Vintage writer
--------------------

Dibyendu Bhattacharya looked out of the window, his hand held on to the rustry grill. He was waiting for the 'Jhalmudi' wala to come. Sundays was when he would come a little early than usual. Dibyendu coughed and cleared his throat. He had kept all the empty packets of milk under his bed and his writing table so that he wouldnt have to walk to the bathroom every time to spit the phlegm. He would spit in the empty packets and dispose them once a week.

The Jhalmudi wala arrived at the window. He mixed his spices to produce magic. That is what Dibyendu called him-'The Magician'. The Jhalmudi always tasted the same, not a pinch of spice less or more, just as Dibyendu wanted.

Dibyendu picked up the Telegraph. It pained him when he read through the paper. So much had changed about the paper in the last two decades.Dibyendu had retired as the editor-in-chief of the telegraph in 1988. Since then the standard of news had degraded and the sanctity of the media had been lost.

Dibyendu had not stopped writing though. He was known for his views on politics and his anthology of political essays was widely read and appreciated. Just as Dibyendu finished with his Jalmudi, the bell rang. It must be Joyeeta, his maid who had been with him and taken care of his since his wife had passed away.

As Dibyendu stood up, the bell rang again and then once more. It could not be Joyeeta then. She would wait for him to open the door. It was Proloy, Dibyendu's neighbour. Lean and Nimble, Proloy was the irritating neighbour of Dibyendu or at least that was what Dibyendu thought of him. The irritation had nothing to do with Proloy's attitude but it was to do with what Proloy and his generation stood for. It was something Dibyendu could not relate to and unfortunately every mannerism of Proloy's reflected that standpoint.The other unfortunate part for Dibyendu was that Proloy was a columnist in the Telegraph as well. He wrote a popular column for the youth, the content of which Dibyendu detested. He must have come to borrow a packet of milk, as always, thought Dibyendu.



The Gay Columnist
------------------

Proloy had been living in Kidderpore since he was born. He could not imagine himself living outside. Hence, after he became a columnist at Telegraph and started earning, he shifted within Kidderpore itself. He adored Harisava street and somehow Proloy felt that the darkness stimulated him to write. It was as though his creative stimulus reacted to the faint luminiscence than anything else.

Though there was one more reason to move. Since his childhood, Proloy was a loner. Both his parents were highly read and had a bent towards literature and there were no marks for guessing Proloy's professional bent. Yet, somehow Proloy was different. He would never go out and play and rather go out with his mom to buy clothes, vegetables and loved it when she bargained. He loved watching his mom putting on make up. He always felt that men were deprived of a lot when it came to fashion. As years passed by, Proloy realised that there was a woman inside him that yearned to get out but could not because of social stigmas
attached. Worst things happened when he hit upon guys and could not control it.

Revealing the same to his parents had caused a huge hue and cry. His mother was supportive but lost hope when she realised that it was not a passing phase. His dad had threatened him and told him that he should get out of the house.And that is what Proloy did. His columns gained popularity and he soon became one of the leading columnists in the Telegraph.

He was proud of it and hoped that his parents thought the same. Then one day, tragedy struck when he heard of his mother's death. His 'maa' was no more. He was shattered. For once he thought his 'baba' would call him back. It never happened.


A Birthday forgotten

--------------------

It was Proloy's birthday and he wanted to see his Baba once and get his blessings. Every year Proloy would go with a cup of Kheer to his Baba's house. His ears would yearn to hear a wish and his shoulders would warm up for a hug. The ego though was too huge and the shame too damning for his father. Today was yet another birthday and there was yet another hope. He rang the ball. He rang it twice and then again. The door opened. The disgruntled Dibyendu looked on.

"Eei samanya kichu apnar jono" (This is something for you), said Proloy. His father did not utter a word.

"I thought it was Joyeeta", said Dibyendu. "Hows is work and all?", he asked.

"Good. My columns are being appreciated by everyone", said Proloy.

"No heart and no soul. Your generation is about quick bytes and short cuts. They will never understand true writing", said

Dibyendu skeptically. "And by the way, how has the taker become the giver. What is this kheer for?".

"Have you forgotten Baba? Its my birthday today", said Proloy in a strangely innocent way.

Dibyendu stopped walking. It was his son's birthday and he had forgotten. His Tuktu's Birthday. Thats what he called him when he was young. Thats what he named him when he was born. His heart felt heavy. He turned around. He put his hand on his head and said, "Happy Birthday Son. Hope you have great year ahead."

Proloy was hoping he would say more but Dibyendu kept the kheer and did not say a word. Proloy understood and took leave. As the door closed behind him, he could feel his eyes turn misty. He wished things were normal. He wished his baba understood. He wished so much that his baba would call him back.

Dibyendu on the other side was experienceing the same. Pain, emotions, guilt. He wanted to forgive his son but somehow could not. He felt ashamed of his son for what he was and that ashamed him about himself.

Life had to move on. Inside the chawls of the Harisava street lived many Dibyendus and Proloys and yet the street looked and sounded ecstatic on a Sunday.

V.V.Vikram