The Godman

I raped a girl and lost my virginity at the age of twenty, and then it continued as an addiction, which soon grew into my need of subsistence like food, water, shelter and electricity. I had become a raping machine that couldn’t be stopped.

It was one of my birthday nights. The party was over. Everybody was gone. The darkness of the night had gulped the noisy evening. Silence had fully stretched its wings. I heard clicking sound of the switch as mother switched off the tube light of verandah. I heard her footsteps moving towards the bedroom where father might have been waiting for her. 

I was wide awake for the next two hours and had decided to elope from my house, the street, and the lovely city, where I had spent my entire childhood.    

It was the first week of January. The night had filled the area with its white foggy smoke and had compelled everybody to stay under the warm quilts. It was all silent. The city had just entered into the world of dreams and I was supposed to roam in the other world for the next seven hours.

I slowly moved out of the heavy woolen quilt. As soon as my Feet touched the icy tiled floor a current of coldness ran through my body. I shivered. I hunted the bed around my pillow in search of my jacket. I put it on, reached to my pocket which was heavy with a thick bundle of ten rupee notes and then I tiptoed toward the main door crossing the verandah, holding a pair of sleepers in my right hand.

Slowly, I wore my slippers and entered into a dark foggy unknown world. The stair case was dark. I looked for the first step, holding the railing with my left hand. Within a minute I reached to the main metallic gate. It was locked from inside. I climbed on it and jumped on the other side which was a road connecting many streets and moved to different cities with an unknown end.

Crickets were singing. Thick dew drops produced a lyrical tapping sound in the trees when they fell happily on the leaves. Dogs barked to warm up their body so that they could survive the spine chilling cold. A wind blew from the west and tapping sound increased and the barking sound paced up slowly. The cold wind hit my ears hard but failed to demoralize me. I moved my head to the right and then to the left. It was all dark. Taking deep breaths, I began to walk to my left. The dogs stopped barking as they saw me walking past them. They followed me. I stopped, turned back and bent down. I rubbed my palm on the head of one of them. And then I touched heads of other three. They were all warm. They made a similar sound of intimacy as they always made when I did the same gesture every morning. They shook their body with a feeling of separation as they knew that I was going very far from them to return never.

Recalling my past, I walked; how my father was after my studies. I never liked the subjects taught in school as my interests wandered around fictions, idea of petting stray dogs, writing about nature, animals and the people who were flying to cities away from their villages. 

Every day, by four in morning, my father would come into my room to wake me up. He would splash some water on my face to hush away the sleep and I had to open my eyes with much reluctance. Since I was a small kid in school, he was after my studies as if I was more of slave than his progeny, who had to study, clear entrance examinations, do professional course, get a job, and look after them. 

The more I thought about it the more my heart ached, my body was unrest and head senseless. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I wiped them and began to run never to be caught by my monster father. After running for more than half an hour I reached to the railway platform of the place where the lord Mahavir was born.

People were lying on the floor. Dim yellow bulbs failed to light the area properly. At a distance of some feet a family slept. All poor. Many of them were passengers and the rest were homeless. I moved to the enquiry office. I had to wait till 2 AM. I walked to a nearby tea stall. The tea maker was sleeping on the counter with his mouth wide open. Next to him lying was a dog. It looked at me nonchalantly. It moved its head into its circular body and slowly closed its eyes. I took it as an approval.

A kerosene stove, a matchbox, a tea pan, some boxes, some cigarette packets, some toffee boxes and some tobacco packets were all kept together. I took the ingredients for making tea, lit the stove after pumping some air into its small cylinder, kept the tea kettle on the yellowish blue flame, poured some water in it and added some tea leaves and sugar. The black tea was ready. I switched the stove off, poured the tea in a glass and lit a cigarette. Suddenly the tea stall owner opened his eyes wide, rose up from the counter, jumped on the ground, grabbed me with my collar, abused, screamed and fell on the counter and slept again. The dog had also jumped with him watched his drama and gradually joined him in his bed. After a short announcement, Vaishali express touched the platform and swirled like a snake beside the platform. Nobody came out of it. I walked close to the door and found it locked. I pushed it hard but failed to open the heavy cold metallic gate. The train whistled sharply and began to move slowly. I ran with it, passing some more doors. One of them was open. I jumped in.     

                    ***                                          ***                                                    

For three years I pulled rickshaw and lived my life. It was the easiest job that I could get in Delhi though an ID proof was necessary. The owner of the rickshaws never preferred any Bihari rickshaw puller as he was always cheated on by them. Some flew to their home town with rickshaw. Some sold them and had alcohol with that money. Some borrowed money to get their daughters or sisters married and never turned back. Some stole money and valuables from his home. All of them had come from the land of Gautama Buddha.

I had met a priest in a temple the night, I arrived to the unknown city. I had slept on the floor of the temple. He woke me up and his first question was ‘where I was from?’

‘Bihar.’ I said hesitantly.

He provided me food and water for a week and assured me of a job. He narrated his story and told me, that he was an engineering graduate but failed to get a job so he started fooling people by saying that he had come from Himalyas and lord Shiva had sent him to be the head priest of the temple. Every evening he used to give spiritual speeches to his audience comprising of both rich and poor. He took me to one of his disciples who had many rickshaws. I got a new rickshaw and started pulling it with full spirits on the roads of Karol Bagh.

The priest took his share from me for getting me the job, and told me never to disclose about my hometown. In the morning I woke up from my bed, which was usually the verandah of the same temple, washed and wiped the floors of the temple, cleaned my rickshaw at the backyard of the temple and ran my vehicle in morning for the worshippers of the temple and in day time I would park my rickshaw at some distance near a park and took rest inside the green garden where many couples came to enjoy the greenery and sex. I saw many people having sex there and realized that I was a man and I also needed a girl to have sex, imagining it thrice a day. When my mind relieved me from the imaginations of sex I imagined fictions and jotted them down in a notebook. In the evening I would repeat my morning work to pick the disciples (mainly obese ladies) of my priest godfather from their homes and drop them at their places after the spiritual speech was over. I was earning more than any other rickshaw puller was earning. At night I would eat my food at a nearby dhaba, drank wine and slept in the temple's verandah.  

It has been one year. The January came again with more intense cold. One day I couldn't earn much as the fog had halted Delhi for a week. Vehicles didn't show up on the roads. Office going people were invisible. Number of worshipers and disciples decreased. One of those nights, I ate less food and didn’t drink alcohol as I was cashless. Sleeping seemed the toughest task that night. I was continuously shivering on the cold tiled floor of the temple. Many beggars of the city slept there. It seemed as if their body was made up of special kind of metal which was cold proof.

At midnight I heard some noise at the backyard. I thought the priest might have woken up to relieve himself. When I heard the sound of opening and closing of backyard gate I became doubtful and got up. I wrapped my body with a blanket, wore a woolen cap on my head, grabbed a bamboo stick and tiptoed parallel the wall and reached the backside. I expected a thief. When the shadow became little visible in the fog, I was astonished,  I saw a lady in a pair of jeans and jacket, her mouth and nose were covered with a stole and she was walking behind the priest cautiously.

I hid myself against the wall and decided to spy the scene. The lady first entered in the room which was owned by the priest. He looked here and there and rushed in quickly and I heard the bolting of the door. I ran with heavy feet and reached to the door and cupped my right ear which heard well than my left. All I heard was the creaking sound of the bed. I did nothing and waited outside at the side of the wall from where I saw the lady entering the temple premises. The lady appeared, kissed the priest on his lips and walked out of the compound. Two strong lights lit the opposite side of the temple. I heard the ignition of the engine. A big car moved in the dark world of fog and vanished somewhere.

‘What the fuck you were doing?’ I asked, blocking the path of the priest.

‘What?’ He said with a tone as if he was unknown of everything.

‘I saw everything.’

‘What did you see?’ he pulled me in the same room.

‘And I heard the lady’s groaning and the noise of the bed. Look at my groin, its hot and erect.’

‘You, sister fucker, I’ll kill you.’ the priest got angry.

‘Kill me. And I don’t have a sister to get fucked by you.’

We made an agreement that I would be his assistant after a month in the temple society. Only two conditions were there. Firstly I had to let my beard and hair grow and the secondly I never had to open my mouth about that lustful night.

Very soon the head priest was thrown out of the temple and I took his seat. I had also begun to give treatment to my disciples. And the lust arose when women came to get their treatment done. 

The Confusion of A Voter!

Whom to vote?
Which button to press?
Anyone?

BJP?
BJP is communal. It focuses on hindu only and that too on upper caste people. But the leaders are great in this party. But why people dont choose them. Why should I then?

LJP, BSP?
They sing the song of SC/ST. They dont have to think of upper caste people. They are criminals. They simply sucks when it comes to rule.

SP, RJD, JDU?
They plant communal voilence & support muslims only. And the support is too fake to hide.

AAP?
We're young we should push the button before Jhhadu. Its a party of young people. But the leaders are too infant to rule the capital city. They're not experinced. Who knows, they are criminals?

Congress?
We hate this word. Its like a henious stigma on the fair face of Indian society. It has done the biggest corruptions on this earth. They should be hanged and not voted for. They support muslims alot. Am I a muslim? Muslims are not humans? But...but..they have developed the capical city. The long highways, the smooth roads, the metro, the tourism, the 24/7 electricity supply, the nonstop water supply, the homes of jhhuggi jhopdi people, and many more. But they're the most corrupt.

None of the above?
What?
Three party people have given us some cash and wine bottles.
Whom to vote then?
Why should I vote?
Why am I not a leader like them?
Why am I standing in a big queue just to push a ballot button?

I'm still confused.

Our Elders!

Every second or third day an old man or an old woman stops me outside a park where I go for jogging and exercising.

There is a big temple at a corner of it. The place is a well known posh area of west Delhi. Only elders are seen there, worshipping and singing religious songs.
In morning, rich people offer tea and biscuits to poors. The quality of tea is the worst. Like water!

Well, the old people stop me and ask me where I'm going.
'Where do you want to go?' I answer.
'To my home.' They say.

I ask them to sit on the back seat of my bike and tell them to adjust and sit comfortably and grab me tightly so that they cant fall. They do the same and adjust their yellow sticks that is their only helper to walk, nicely.

On the way I ask them many questions. I know they love talking to people.
They say they have to walk to the temple everyday to meet gods and enjoy bhajans and have to come back on feet.

It really feels painful when they say their own kids dont have time for their old parents to drop or pick at the temple or to talk to them. Plus their grown up children give them some works like; getting milk & curd & green vegetables at this hour.

On the other side I see middle aged men and women walking out with hybrid dogs.

They love dogs more than their parents!

I can still remember the time when I was a small kid and lived in village. My mother used to teach me, 'son, you should respect and lov your grand father & mother because one day you'll also be a grand parent and you can what is happening all around with the old people.'

Even today, when I visit my parents I see them taking care of my grandma and realise the great difference between the life of old people in metros and small town.

One day everybody will grow old and get the same treatment!

An Ordinary Love Story - 2

They were separate now. They dint text or call each other. The girl was busy with her studies. She focused more into her preparations. She went to her coaching class, enjoyed the boring long lectures. She slept in the class at times but she was happy attending the lectures. At home, her mother didn’t check her phone or asked her about the frequent calls that she had been enquiring about in the past when the girl used to stick her phone to her ear.

The guy on the other side thought that the girl was happy, breaking off the relationship so dint bother to text or call her. He indulged himself more into his work. He performed better and the best. He had already grown up some competitors at his work place. He enjoyed working late night, sitting in the office alone. When the guard asked about his home going odd timing then all he replied; ‘I’ve no one at my home to bother about my whereabouts at late night so he liked to sit and work.’

But both of them kept their phones checking whether there was any message from their ex partners. At times they tried to contact each other but thought that both were happy without each other. At times they called and spoke to each other over phone but their conversation died earlier as they dint have any topic to chitchat at.

It was the girl, who did the break off because she dint like the guy to shout at her and he had already done this thrice in the three years of their relationship.

Problem cropped up when they were free on Sundays and Saturdays when the girl dint have her class and the guy dint have to work till late night in his office. The girl wore the behavior that she had before she had met the guy three years ago. She began to consider the proposes that the guys of her coaching class begged to her. She let the guys approach her. She let the guys impress her more. She gave the guys more room to come close to her. She liked it. She found it as fun. The guys loved her more.

The guy was no less smart. He had joined the other departments where he worked as a trainee on Sundays and Saturdays. He was getting more fame in his organization just because he was doing something extraordinary. It added up to the growth of the company. The HOD of his organization learnt that the guy deserved a hike in his salary. He was called to the HOD office and was handed over a letter of salary hike that the HOD had got mailed from the HR of the same company. It dint fill the tummy of his busyness so he rode straight to his sister’s place on Friday night and enjoyed next two more evenings shopping and playing with his sister’s kids.

The girl couldn’t digest the way the guy had turned up. One night she stopped chatting to her latest boyfriends and wrote a text her ex guy and took twenty minutes to press the send option in her phone. She didn’t get any reply. Then she switched over to whats app messenger and flashed the same message. After getting tired, working whole day, the guy was lost deep into his dreams. Phone vibrated under his pillow. He took out his phone and read the text in his message inbox and then moved to whats app. He read the same message and got confused. He thought he was dreaming. He kept his phone back under pillow. Before he could adjust his sleeping posture his phone vibrated again. He took out and read the text. He rubbed his eyes to see the reality. 

‘Hy, wot hpnd?’ the guy replied blindly.

‘Nuthin.’ The girl replied within seconds.

‘Okay,’

‘Ws juss missin uh, so mssgd.’

‘Okay.’ The guy replied, still in his sleep.

‘Hey, if u dnt wna tok dn leme noe, I vil nvr msg u again.’ the girl replied angrily.

 ‘Fuk off,’ the girl flashed another reply after waiting for the guy’s reply for another five minutes.

It was quite unbearable for her to tolerate the way guy was behaving. She abused him badly in her mind. She would change her sleeping posture. She put on her headphone into her ears and switched onto her favorite music. But it also failed to make her sleep. Then she tried to play games in her phone that dint work too. All she could do; she revised the gallery of her phone. She was missing the guy as hell. She could remember how the guy took her photos, hiding the camera of her phone. She never let him take her photo. But he took with her phone camera because his cheap phone didn’t have such a high megapixel camera like that of girl.

Next day, he opened his eyes. He made tea for himself, his sister and his jiju. They thanked him for making tea in such a chilly winter. They spoke a lot during early morning because the guy couldn’t stay at home whole day to chitchat with them. In the morning also he couldn’t give much time to them as the alarm of his wrist watch forced him to go out for jogging in the park. He also felt sorry for leaving the conversation.

After coming back from the park he saw his phone on the table and his bed was cleaned and composed by his sister. He took shower, ate breakfast in silence and flew his bike straight to his training center. He was early. The government old officers were still to arrive. He took out his phone and saw the girl’s message.

‘Hy, thr s nuthin lyk d wy u think…ws tyrd so ws slpn blindly..’ he replied. He had to wait very eagerly for another twelve hours to see a reply from her.

‘I know.’ The girl replied, controlling her anger.

That night the guy offered the girl to meet while chitchatting. She refused instantly but approved later.

He got ready. He was wearing faded blue jeans, white and blue check shirt and a pair of tough woodland shoes. He checked himself thrice into the mirror. He slipped a black jacket over his shoulders. He looked handsome as the dress suited his athletic physique awesomely. He sprayed a perfume that he had not been using since long. After getting the girl’s message that said that she had left her place, he left his place, looking into mirror for the last time. 

She wore the dress that she had not been wearing since long. She decorated herself the way guy had always liked her in. She was wearing black skinny jeans that had some cut marks near knee. A white and pink linking tee stuck to her curvaceous figure. Above it she had put a short blue denim jacket. She had kept her hair open as the guy liked her the most in open hair. She had applied kajal finely that made her eyes more beautiful. She had sprayed the perfume that the guy had gifted her on her last birthday.

The guy had reached earlier and waited, sitting in a chair at a metro station. He began to chitchat with the girl on what app messenger when he was getting bored.

‘You’re late again.’ the guy typed.

‘I'm not.’

‘Ohh, you’re as always,’ the guy typed and sent it to her with a angry mode smiley.

‘Are you getting angry?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I must go back then otherwise you’ll shout at me again.’ the girl replied with a sad smiley.

It hurt the guy badly. He realized how much the girl disliked him shouting at her. He felt sorry.

‘I'm waiting, bye.’ He sent the last message.

‘Get up,’ the girl replied.

He wanted to reply but suddenly felt like someone was standing next to him.

It was the girl, who stood with a blue bag, hanging on her right shoulder.

‘Hey,’ he said, standing up. They shook hands. Nobody tried to be the way they had been greeting each other earlier. With a tight hug.

They chitchatting formal stuffs. A metro arrived at the platform with a hissing sound. The gates slid open. They entered. The gates slid shut with ting-tong bell sound.

To be cont…

Delhi Bus Gang Rape

A 23 year old girl was gang raped recently in a moving bus in Delhi.

Is it a new story?

No.

Everybody says hang the people who have committed this heinous crime.

They are right. All of them should be hanged without any testing and waiting and any court trial or any other procedures.

It is known that it all happened in a chartered white bus.

Do you know what kind of bus is it?

This is the same bus from the cluster of the buses which were earlier known as the killer blueline buses. These are the same buses that had been killing people. Uncountable crimes had been done in these moving buses on the roads of Delhi in day and night.

When it became more than unbearable for the Delhites to bear whatever was being done by these buses, people came on the roads and after struggling for years these buses vanished out of our sight.

Have you ever thought why it took so many years to throw these buses out of the Delhi roads?

No?

The reason is only one and that says that theses killer buses belonged to the powerful people who are sitting in the government or they have any link to the political wizards.

These monsters have nothing to do with the life of the common people. They just want to drink the blood of common people for their own benefits so they researched and found a new way to continue running their buses and kill people.

Yes, these white chartered buses are the same killer bluelines. They’ve just been given a different color, white. They still run fearlessly on the Delhi roads and have resulted into million of crimes.

The last gang rape is a fresh example of that.

Well, we Indians are sick. We’re habitual of being ruled over. We’re habitual of being the slaves of the powerful monsters. History proves it. Since many hundred years we’ve been being ruled by others. When we got independence, we offered our lives to the political assholes. And since the first day of independence we’ve been suffering. Partition of India and Pakistan is an example of it which has created such an animosity between Hindu and Muslim that will never end.

Let us take an example of the government of capital city. This city has become the worst place to live on earth. And when it comes to the women, the city name has become a curse to them. They’re not safe even in day time. Earlier they were being raped at the nights and now it’s the daytime that doesn’t make the criminals fear of any outcome.

Today, when I was returning from my office I thought to have some boiled eggs as I daily have them. I went straight to my favorite egg stall and found it was missing. I looked for another. I dint get it. I moved to the third but it was also not at its place then I stood for a while and scanned the place and got that there was no egg stalls anywhere around me. I walked down to a juice stall and asked the stall guy, ‘where have these egg stalls gone today?’

‘Teen ladko ne milkar ek ladki ko chod diya, isliye ye stalls band hai or ek hafte tak band rahenge.’  Three guys have fucked a girl that is why stall are closed and will stay closed for a week.

My head turned hot. I walked closer to him and planted a huge slap on his right cheek. The slapping sound was so thundering that people began to gather without delay. Everybody looked confused and anxious to know why I did that.

‘Is this the way you talk of a girl who had gone through such a hellish stuff and she is still fighting for her life in hospital?’ I shouted loudly. I didn’t know why I became so angry.

The stall guy shouted some names and three guys peeped in though the crowd.

‘Beat him up.’ the stall guy said them, pointing his index finger to me. They ran to me. I shouted as loud as I could have. They braked their feet as if something very strong powerful had suddenly pulled them back.

No one came in between. Everybody looked as if something interesting was going to happen there that would ease their eyes.

Suddenly, I saw the crowd dispersed and giving a way to bike whose head light flashed light straight to my face. I closed my eyes, opened, hiding them with half of my hand. The head light deemed and died soon. Two cops got down and rushed to the stall guy.

‘What happened?’ the cops asked him.

‘He has slapped me for no reason.’ He said, pointing his index finger to me.

‘What has happened to you, mister?’ the cops asked me. I explained everything. One of the cops began to beat the stall guy with his stick. The three of his friends had already slipped away and vanished into the crowd.

The cops came to me and explained me why the egg, fish and chicken stalls were closed. They began to disperse the crowd and asked everybody to rejoin their work. They told that the people buy beers and wines and then they come to egg or chicken stall and then they start drinking wine in public and then they do such crimes.

‘But the wine shop is open there.’ I said, pointing my finger to the wine shop at the top of which a red board hung which was decorated with the painting of wine bottles and it was written there in white; government wine and beer shop.

‘Why don’t you cops force to shut such shops that are the only cause of such crimes?’ I asked one of the cops who was not drunk. The smell coming out of the other cop’s mouth proved he was drunk a lot.

Don’t you guys think, the Delhi govt. should be accused for the recent heinous crime?

Happiness Died!

Are you happy?

No.

Look, your face expression changed. Your eyes fixed on the words whatever is written just before you. Now your head has started roaming around your everyday life which is sad and unhappy. You’ve started thinking of your sucking life.

Whatever you’re thinking is not the practical stuff. You’re thinking of your failures. Are you thinking of what else better you’ve done in your in past?

No is the blunt answer.

The life has changed drastically within last one and half decades.

What does everybody want?

To become rich, eh?

Have you ever thought of what good things are there inside you?

No, you’ve just looked at the people who’re rich. Who have cars. Who have big houses. Who have sexy girlfriends who have big boobs, nicely shaped bums and slim curvaceous figure. Who have jobs of huge package.

Well, most of you, whose eyes are staring on this story, are young boys and girls.

Let me take an example of yours, if you’ve earned some technical course and still you’re looking for a job, even if it would pay you less than how much your degree deserves. You’ve studied really very hard and that’s the reason you’ve got your degree. Education system in India is really very puzzling. I bet you, the makers of it will also get confused of what education system they’ve made.

 To get even admission in any college for graduate courses, you’ve to appear for entrance or you’ve to score more marks than required in your boards.

Everybody runs in the race of it just after completing his/her secondary boards. You’ve tried your best and you reach where you deserve. But due to the sucking planning and management of this corrupt government everybody is suffering.

Let me come to the point. You’re not happy just because you’re jobless.

Have you ever seen the people from very close, who have nice package jobs?

They’re running after better jobs and better packages. They look at the people, who have everything (Cars, big houses, jobs outside their own country, Swiss account and many other things) better than whatever they have. If, by mistake, they’ve any girlfriend or boyfriend they keep on eyes on the other girls and guys so that they can contact and propose others, leaving the present partner behind. They’re not happy with what they have got.

Whenever you remember your childhood, you miss it badly. Have you ever thought why is your school life called the golden period?

Your life is better than whatever you think. You can still live your life fully like you lived in your school days. It is quite simple.

Throw all the burdens that are breaking shoulders at this nice age. You’ve to live a long and healthy life. Don’t look at others. Rich people sucks. I’ve seen a lot of rich guys and girls from very close. Their life simply sucks.

This is a half finished story. It will be updated soon with a polish on it.

 [to be cont…]

An Ordinary Love Story

Once upon a time there was a couple. Their love story was quite simple; like any Indian love story. The guy had to run after the girl to get her. The girl was smart enough but she also had a heart and she was unaware of it. She liked the guys running after her, like the dogs fight among themselves to impress a bitch in winter. Foolish dogs! She let each single guy take chance on her and she enjoyed each one of them.

The guy studied her. He researched on her mind whenever he got a chance to go on date with her. She was tired of the discs, pubs, late night clubs and night outs. Then she chose to date the guy. The guy liked to make her roam here and there and made her eat cheap foods from roadside and made her drink unhealthy water as he was not able to get packed water and expensive food. She knew she would fall unwell after reaching home in the evening as her digestive system never supported roadside food but she liked to walk with him, talk to him and listen to his thoughts like a fool. She knew the importance of the poor guy who didn’t have any value to the world, and nor to his parents.

After some months she decided to stop changing boyfriends and stay with a single guy as she was getting bored with doing the same thing; dating the guys, listening to their fake promises, listening to their requests that demanded her to sleep naked with them into their beds. The poor guy never asked her for the same.

He wanted a girl. She looked perfect to him as she was rich enough and matched his routine. She spoke to him when he had time. She knew he was a very busy person. The guy was no lesser than a machine. He woke up at five in the morning, hitting the park for jogging and exercising, liked to make his breakfast on his own, and then he had to go for his office and after coming back he got some time to talk to the girl. She was also a busy person so she knew the importance of time and tried to wait for the guy to be free. They enjoyed hearing each other and discussing their whole day stuff everyday and it never bored them.

They started dating on Saturdays. They roamed. They enjoyed lunch together. They watched movie. Before seeing off each other the girl liked to give him a tight warm hug and the guy said bye after kissing her forehead.

They were in love. One day the guy proposed her. She said no. But they kept roaming on the same way. It was the girl’s birthday when her soul forced her to accept that she was in pure love with the guy. But she let the guy propose her twice. He did it and she accepted after saying yes, no, no, yes, no, no, yes.

On that day, the girl showed herself. She wanted to enjoy each single moment with the guy so she asked him if she could visit his place. She desperately wanted to be alone with the guy somewhere out of the city irritating life. So she asked the guy if she could visit his place. He was shocked to hear it as he never expected the girl to do so.

Without delay they reached the guy’s place which at the outskirt of the city. It was very peaceful place. It was away from noisy city life. The guy loved peace and his salary never allowed him getting a rented flat in posh area.

As soon as they entered the guy’s flat the guy locked the door from inside. They started with smile on their lips and the time came for which they might have waited for long. With some resistance the girl let the guy unbutton her shirt and then she fought a lot to get her jeans unbuttoned. She lost the fight as button flew of its place with a pop sound and landed on the bed. Then they explored each other, crossing all the limits that Indian culture had fixed that an Indian couple must not do before wedding.

The worst days came when they began to get more and more in their life. They started behaving like ordinary Indian middle class youth. They realized the importance of time and the phase they were going through. Yes, they had stopped thinking about each other. All they could think of was their career and future. Both of them were intelligent. They worked really quite hard.

The girl was busy in preparing for civil services and the guy had got an unexpected promotion. The guy had got higher designation with six months of his working duration that he might have gotten after working and getting some experience of three years. His shoulder was loaded with high responsibility. He became busy in his works as the workload was quite higher. On the other side, the girl began to study like Bihari IAS aspirants. So she could hardly get a second to share with any other living creature than her books.

The time came when they could hardly bear each other. They stopped meeting on Saturdays. The Indian highly competitive forced them to do break off. They did it one day. Just for the sake of formality they spoke to each other over phone twice a week and they forgot each other soon as if they had never known each other since the universe were made.

The Boy And The Old Man

To jog, to stretch my arms, legs, neck, body and everything except sexual organ, I reach park very early in the morning. First, I warm up my body before jogging like drinkers spice their tongue and mood before taking the first sip of the colorful wines.

The morning is not the same like every day. Small water loggings look like small lagoons there among the small grasses and tiled tracks. It has rained heavily last night. The air is still and the atmosphere calm. The wet branches look blacker, the leaves newer as the rainwater has washed away all the dirt that city pollution has deposited over them. The grasses look fresh. The birds chirp more. They even cry and fight with each other. The crows tease other the bird species with their idiocies. Some broken braches lie on the wet red track as if a young man was made to bend his head down forcefully.

I begin to jog.

I jog.

I stop.

I jog again.

I look here and there.

I jump into grass.

I dance.

I sniff the smell coming from either grass or trees or the leaves or anywhere.

Snif. Snif. Snif.

Like a dog.

Yoga people look at me, confused.

I stare back at them.

They resume inhaling and exhaling the air around.

I close my eyes.

Opening eyes, I start running, suddenly.

I run to the other end.

I pause, breathing, heavily.

I start to weep.

An old man comes near and asks 'what happened?’

I open my eyes wide at him. He gets scared.

‘Are you an old man?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you.’

‘Yes, I'm the one.’

‘Ok.’ I stop sobbing.

‘Why were you weeping?’

‘Was I really?’

‘Yes, you did.’

‘No, I dint.’

‘Okay.’ The old man turns right and starts running quickly away from me, screeching, mad, mad, mad.

I look at myself, confused then begin running behind him, crying, where, where, where?’

The old man paces his speed. I do the same. He stops, suddenly.

‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing.’ Then I continue, ‘what can you give?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I knew.’

‘What?’ The old man tries to walk away, but I grip his wrist tightly. He shivers, looking at me and at his wrist, at times.

‘What do you want?’

‘Answer.’

‘Answer?’

‘Yes.’ I said, losing the grip around his wrist. He breathes calmly.

‘Were you a child one day?’ I ask.

‘Yes, I was.’

‘Do you still remember those days?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Okay, tell me one thing.’

‘What?’

‘Why don’t the past stop running after me?’

The old man thinks sincerely over my question and in place of answering he asks, ‘why are you asking?’

‘What?’

‘The past and all.’

‘I want to know, that’s why.’

‘What kind of past you are talking of, young man?’

‘Rain,’

‘Rain?’

‘Yes,’ I nod vigorously then I begin, ‘the old rains were nice when I was a kid. I used to focus on each single micro thing that I had seen in the morning after heavy rain of the previous night. I could feel the things around me. But now I can’t feel the things around me. I think, think, and think.

I could go to the gardens. I could see the wet mango trees. I could try to not let my slippers slip on the wet and slippery earth. I could smell the earth and the ripening guava. I could not run like this that day. I could sit and enjoy, seating on the broken branches. The branches on which I once wanted to climb but never did but after………..

The Drama of Team Anna!

'Corruption is a malaise that cannot be cured overnight – certainly not from the top. Corruption is a disease that needs to be addressed from the bottom.’ I want to hear these words in Rajesh Khanna’s tone.

Anna became a hero last year when he sat on fast at Jantar Mantar for a day. But the fast got stretched longer than he and his team that emerged out later couldn’t have dreamed of. This year, we saw there were very least people interested in this movement.
Movement se yaad aaya; No political party is more powerful than a movement in a democracy or even in a monarchy. There are a lot of examples in the Indian history that say movement is movement and it can let a government down within a day. Well, members of team Anna are great people and they know India (its history, geography, social and political life, administration and what not) better than any professor or researchers of the respective subjects better. But finally, they have decided to enter into politics. Such decision can’t be taken in hurry. Most of the people welcomed this announcement of Anna.
I'm confused whether it’s a right or a wrong decision. He may be right because the master brains like Arvind Kejriwal, V. K. Singh and many great people have decided it. I also welcome it. But the movement was a very easy way to get the LokPal bill introduced. To introduce a bill nobody would show any interest in entering into the politics and without politics no government can be formed and without a government no constitution can work. But we want a fair government and for it we need fair politics which is played by great minds and that are lacking in the Indian politics since long.
It’s quite hard to stop fingers when they start typing anything in the laptop when the head broadens its thought and range. Well, I sat to write about corruption that can’t be cured in a day and my head leads my fingers to the topics like politics and government for which I'm just an infant right now.
I'm an electrical engineer and I work in a power distribution company. I meet a lot of people everyday regarding electricity theft and many other cases. Before completing any case each single consumer begins to say like ‘Sir, chae pani karlo.’  There are a lot of such code words that they use and I, the newest engineer to the company understand the meaning of Chae pani and whatever language they use. Some smart people emerge with thick bundle of yellow notes or red notes and they try to slip the bundle either into my shirt’s pocket (when the notes are lesser) or into trousers’ Pocket (when the bundle is big). In short, they try to give bribe so that officials can let them do whatever they want to do with the power supply of their company.
Do I take such bundles that I’ve never seen in my hand before?
The answer is a blunt NO.
I just tell them to stop bribing young Indians because we’re the future of our motherland and it’s been only 65 years of Independence and it’s a very small period for a big country like India so our country is still young and the words like bribe shouldn’t have any place here.
The officers are not corrupt. The police are not corrupt. The politicians are not corrupt. No system is corrupt. It’s the public who are corrupt that try to bribe the officials. The Indians want their work done by any means even if that step is paying illegal cash. If a common man starts thinking of his country. No corruption will take place then. There won’t be a need of team Anna who finally entered into politics in which a God would be supposed to become corrupt.

[to be cont…]

Will be back by 9th of June. :)

Private Engineering Colleges: The Fucking bloodsuckers!

Studying in Private colleges is a very rich affair now. Their sky touching fees like 80,000, 100000  bucks per annum or even more than that doesn't fill the never ending thrust of students’ blood suckers. After getting fees deposited by students they want more and get it anyhow from students. By any means!

These fees come under rechecking fees, filling backlog form fees, training fees, placement fees etc. Many colleges have their own way of imposing fees. Let me start with the rechecking fees.

1) This fee is taken on account of when students are not satisfied by their marks so they want their answer sheets of last examination to be rechecked. For this they have to pay more than 200 bucks per paper. Unfortunately, re-totaling is done in the name of rechecking. When you ask students about this they say it’s better not to fill rechecking form because only a fraction out of hundreds gets their marks altered. The situation is that students are biased to follow. Whenever anyone of them raises voice he/she has to feel the heat from the college managements.

2) Filling backlog form fees: the fee varies from college to college across India which is around 330 bucks per paper at private engineering colleges in Delhi. If a student fails to pay this much he/she is kept out of sitting in examination.

3) Training fees: Summer training/internship is an important part of engineering degree. Without it your engineering degree is of no use. Most of the Indian and outsider companies welcome students for training (internship) in their companies. Private colleges don’t want to leave a chance to make money out of it. They just fix a rule that students have to do one of the two summer internships from their colleges only. For it they take more than 8000 bucks from students, forcefully, of course. When a student tries to oppose this self made rule and wants to do internship from outside, he/she has to pay for it. College managements don’t issue his/her admit card of end term examination so harassed mentally. If you don’t sit in an external paper that means your degree won’t be completed in 4 years, which is a fixed time for an engineering course.
In return students get nothing. If these colleges allow the students to get summer internship outside they would learn more but these colleges play with the sentiments and future of the students. Is this the rule of AICTE?

4) Placement fees: Another new name fee, called placement fee is the fee which is taken by colleges and in return they promise the students to secure jobs for them. Most of the colleges fail to attract companies as they fail to provide quality education to students so companies try to stay away from them. Again, students are harassed by the college managements mentally if they don’t pay them this fee. The amount varies from college to college. They don’t issue admit cards of the external examination to students and keep them away from their examinations, which causes a year back.

Rich parents hardly care. They give all the above fees politely. Most of the students are not rich. That’s the reason they study engineering, so that they would get jobs which would secure their lives. Poor students get education loan disbursed form the banks. Thanks to the banks. But banks give a draft of fees once a year. They don’t give the above fees.
Students are harassed badly. These colleges do whatever they want. Is this the education system working in the rule of present government? This government hardly cares.

When it comes to their infrastructure you get nothing in such colleges. One big building with some useless and experienced-deprived teachers, lesser labs, lesser equipments, lesser facilities, lesser books and lesser research works are the things you find here.

India is producing maximum number of engineers and most of them are useless. The reason: these private colleges. Most of the victims are rural students whose parents dream to make their kids engineers so that they may earn and live their life happily. Indian education system is highly competitive as the birth rate is highest so the number schools, so the number of colleges but limited employment opportunities. Rich parents don’t have time to ask their kids where they spend the cash but when it comes to the poor students they have to give feedbacks to each single buck to their parents. Most of them get the education loans disbursed to pay the college fees. Thanks to Indian banks, anyway. They give loans to the fees only. What about the other fees? Where they get these fees from? They take debts again. After all no single parents would like their kids to drop any grad course. Most of the parents are farmers and you know what the condition of the agricultural system of India is. It simply sucks. Who are the accused? Leaders? Thanks to one Sardarji who planted a huge slap on the face of Mr. Agriculture minister.

Well, they take debs to pay all the fees with a hope that their kids would earn one day and they would be able to return the debts. Are these kids getting the right jobs? No, not at all! Some smart players of the education system play this game well. They attract some IT companies by paying huge amount to them without caring the branches of the students. You’re an electrical, mechanical, civil, computer science, industrial or Information technology engineering student, they don’t care they just push you into IT industries.
Most of the colleges fail to attract even a single useless IT company and the students of such colleges are left with no choice accept to work in BPOs or call centers. Is our government sleeping? Can’t they see what’s going on in their educational systems? They just challenge that they are providing the maximum facilities to the students and their students are becoming brighter.
Many colleges call fake companies in their campuses and get their students placed into them. When the students approach these companies they get nothing there.
Most of the private colleges have some fixed percentage of seats during counseling process which are called management seats. Rich parents do auction of these seats and the one who is the richest get the seat for their kid. Are these kids going to be a good engineer? They can’t be.

Come forward, I know each single student has hatred for his/her college. Post your stories here and let this sleeping government know that it can’t play with the future of Indian students any more.