Fear in the Dream!

‘What the fuck?’ I said to my friend.

‘Yes, what the fuck.’ He said.

We ran across a ploughed fiend and reached to the railway track within seconds. The transportation was faster than that of light.

I was sitting in my room. I don’t know how it looked like. It was just a room at the first floor of a building which was situated in the middle of the field. The farmer had ploughed the field and a fresh rain had showered the mud grains. The grains were dry. May be the rain had arrived few days ago and sun had dried the mud powder which is suitable for farming.

I was lying in bed or doing something. I don’t know what I was doing actually. My friend was also doing something. Don’t know what. But he was talking of some magazines. He was in a cheap half sleeve shirt and a pair of shorts. I was wearing the same dress. Mine was little dark because of dust that had layered on my shirt and shorts because I was habitual of wiping my sweating face with the sleeves of my shirt and some games in the dust had left my shorts dirty as well.

We saw a huge train which had just jumped off its track. It was red in color and was bigger in height but smaller in length than the trains that we have here in India. I signaled him to help me to save the people. But we couldn’t see anybody looking out through windows of the train.

‘W-h-a-t t-h-e f-u-c-k?’ He said.

‘Yes, what the fuck.’ I said, running towards the tail of the train. The engine had left the compartment behind and it only had slipped off the track. We saw a gap between the two increasing.

‘Look,’ He said to me. I turned to him and began to run like a madman. He ran to somewhere and went invisible. I don’t know where he had disappeared. I ran with all my might. Within seconds I had covered miles. I had seen the engine running in my direction. I got it. It was about to run over me. I escaped. It ran behind me off the track. I couldn’t understand how it became possible for the engine to run down the ploughed field. But it ran. And it ran comfortably.

Now, I had reached to my village and didn’t look behind because engine was still running towards me as if it had decided to kill me. And I knew the reason why it wanted to kill me. It looked like a man with big head and without body. The engine was occupied by a human head.

I slipped into the first home which was at the outskirt of my village. Village started from only there and ended to the bank of river Ganga. My home was somewhere at the other end near the bank. And there was a solid road from the outskirt to my home. And I thought if I run down a solid road then it won’t take the engine much time to catch me and trash me under its wheels.

On the way, I had understood why it wanted to kill me. I had been speaking lots of bad things about the organization in which I was working. I dint like it because of partiality and many other things that were discouraging me. I was getting less focused on the work just because the organization was not giving me what I deserved. And it had sent the train to kill me. It followed me like a dinosaur.

I found my cousin at the entrance of the house and didn’t tell him why I was running away. Generally I don’t visit his place though he and his family like me and my family.

‘Let’s go to your home.’ He said.

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Oh, don’t fool me. Let’s go. I know you spend most of your time at your place whenever you visit village.’

He forced me and I couldn’t say no. But smartly, I chose the way which was very narrow. It was not actually a road. It was the boarder of the banana gardens which formed a narrow way on which only one person could walk. We rode bicycles down this narrow lane when we were kids to prove we were good bicycle riders.

The engine stood at the main solid road and looked confused as it couldn't run down across the banana gardens.

On the way home, he had asked me to say hi-hello to other village people whose houses were coming on our way, among banana gardens! But still I din't feel safe.

But I was in hurry and I wanted to reach to my place where my mother was waiting for me. I didn’t understand how she came to know that I was going to visit village though it all happened in seconds. She had made rice, daal, aaloo fry, chutney and achar for me.

I kept meeting people and moving on but my cousin had also disappeared on the way. Don’t know where!

Now, my place was one kilometer away and I had to walk full one kilometer and it was turning dark. I moved with a fear in my mind that anytime, the engine could run over me!

Before I could reach my home, something else happened.

I opened my eyes and found myself sleeping in my bed. I removed the sheet away, switched off the AC and looked to the wall clock and found it was forty five past six. I was late. I'm habitual of waking up between five and six. But it was Sunday so it was ok. I went to kitchen and switched gas stove and put a tea pan on it. I poured milk into and added water, sugar and tea leaves into it, slowed the flame and moved out to balcony. I stood there and looked to the trees and visualized my dream twice.

Debut novel

My debut is coming soon.
Book cover with title will be uploaded here soon.

Leni Deni & India!

Jise dekho vahi duniya ki lene p laga pada h!
Or aap?

Modiji ko dekho,
Lagta h jaise ek budha bandar h,
Jo kafi saalo se maun vrat p h.
Army k jawan mare,
Ya china inki keh k lele.

Use dekho,
Ise dekho,
sab h pareshan h.

Sonia ko dekho,
kabi laloo to kabi nitish,
ek se kaam nhi chalta iska!
Saare choro ko ikattha kar rhi h,
Jaise kisi sabse bade ghotale ki tyari kar rhi ho.

UPSC aspirants ko dekhlo,
Dhang se padh nhi paye,
to road p tamsha kar rhe h,
Jisne sahi preparations kar rakhi h,
Unki ye dhang se le rhe h.

Khud ko mirror me dekho,
To aisa feel hota h jaise,
sabse bada be was insaan saamne khada ho.

Log padh padh kar h pareshan,
Kisko job chahiye,
to kisiko paise,
To kisiko.....!

Commonwealth me golds ki le rakhi h,
Indian athletes ne.
AAj ye gold jeete ja rhe h,
Kal ye yhi kisi road k side p,
Paan cigarette bechte nazar aayenge.
Dhanya h hamari bharat mata!

Isi beech me,
Kejriwal ko dekho,
Lagta h jaise saare auto wale iske jiju h.
Inhi se iska ghar chalta h,
Or autowalo se hi ye desh chalayega!
Hights of chutiyapa!

Gaza me dekho,
Kya ho rha h?
Kuch seekho unse!

Thank You USA

Thank you readers.

Reason: Half a lac of readers.

Overwhelmed!

Special thanks to the USA readers who have always outnumbered Indian readers with huge margin. And their number is rising everyday!

Keep reading.

I'll be getting you fresh stories from India.

It feels great when I check my blog stats and find a great difference between Indian and USA readers.

Thanks again.

Accident Happen down the Roads, because Road is always Hungry!

Exactly by 5:30PM, I leave my office,
Then starts a bike race,
Race with the auto rickshaws,
With buses,
With cars and bikes.
And cycles as well!

It was raining,
Road was wet,
Like a plate has been sprayed with water,
Before filling it with food.

I ride,
Slow and fast,
Fast and slow,
With horn, blowing with little break,

I move on,
tearing through the crowded city roads.
The car moved on right,
And an old man on the left.
Quite relaxed.

I blow horn.
Once, twice, thrice.
The old man walks,
And walks like a deaf.

I visualize his right hand,
Getting hit by my bike.
And I simply press brakes.
Bike jumps into the car,
And me on the road,
Wet road.

I rise up.
Collect my bag.
Some people run to pick my bike up.
'Are you alright?'
Somebody asks.
'Yeah, Thank you.' I say.
And jump back on my bike.
Lovely parrot bike.

A man approaches,
And says,
What were you doing?
I got confused.
Then he grabs me with my collar.
And drags me down the bike.
Then I realize what I had done.
I have already got hit in my legs and hands,
That pain badly.

Within seconds,
The car owner is lying on the ground.
I am on riding on another bike now.
And fuks the bloody bastard.

That's the humanity in New Delhi.
People love their cars,
More than their mothers and sisters.
I shower heavy punches on the sisterfucker.
And ride back on my lovely bike,
And fly to my place!

Eid Mubarkbad

Day looks new,

Refreshing, green and clean.

Streets are empty,

Offices are closed,

Schools shut,

Parks are full,

Full of kids.

Sky is clear,

But sun is invisible,

But lights are there.

May be he is busy,

Busy in some preparations,

Preparations to welcome Moon.

Trees are looking green

And extra clean.

Guavas are ripening,

And some had turned white.

Yellows are falling on the ground,

And the seeds are spread,

All around the fruit.

Small colorful birds are jumping,

Jumping in the happiness,

And excitements,

From one branch to the other.

Mynahs are gathering,

As if today is their holiday.

The crows are speaking,

But in lower tone today.

They are on leave,

Off teasing other birds.

The wind is absent,

As if it’s helping the Sun,

In the preparations,

Preparations to welcome Moon.

Mosques are full,

Full of kids,

Full of white kurta and pajamas,

And round caps,

Caps are carved with many designs.

A wind takes a break,

And come down to the Earth.

To shook the trees,

To feed us some fresh oxygen.

Everybody and everything on earth,

Are preparing to end Ramzan.

Netaon se, hamari hai darkhwast,

Karde hame Azad.

Eid Mubarkbad!

Hindu Muslim

Hindu Muslim ladte h.
Ek dusre ko jalate h.
Kaat b dete h.
Ek baar b nhi sochte jinhe unhone vote kiya h wahi ye sab karwate h.

On ground level they have to live together.
Truth is that they can't live without each other.
They are born together.
On the same mitti.
They've grown up together.
On the same mitti.
To grow old together.
Love each other.
Otherwise these politicians will gulp all of you. someday!

Behind the Broken tall walls of Tughlaqawad Fort

Right in the morning, at fifteen past seven, the guard had unlocked the huge iron gate of the Tughlaqawad fort. I walked in and found a map carved on steel board on my right hand side. I tried to study it but failed. I stood there for some time, thinking; shall I go to left or straight?

I chose to move straight as I could see the parts on the left side while returning. My eyes fell on the top of the tallest broken wall. I saw a small girl, sitting at the top.
'What the hell?' I said to myself.
I walked close to the wall and found the girl, doing something with her hands. At first, I couldn't notice but later on I guessed that she was collecting manjha of some kites. But it was strange, finding a small girl sitting on the top of a wall even when the main gate was locked from outside. She was wearing a government school uniform. I got scared first but dared to talk to her, standing before the wall.
'She is probably a spirit.' I guessed.

'From where?' I dared to ask her, completing the question with some signs that I made, using my hands.
He pointed to her back. I moved on.

Wherever I went I found the small girl trailing behind me or playing with the rock around me. I chitchatted with her. At the same time I was fearing that the girl may plot some attempt to rape story and would let me put behind the bars.

I found many good and bad things hidden behind the tall broken walls of Tughlaqawad fort.
The worst part was the kal kothris. Foolish people are filling them with wastage, wrapper of chocolates and chips, empty water bottles and many other thing. I asked the security to look after them and take of them as those are very rarely left with our heritage.

One of the good things was a small plinth, which is made by putting bricks one on the other from three sides and a piece of rock forms its roof. I saw some scented sticks, smoking.

I stood there for some time and watched people and the dog who kept changing its sitting postures.
A man came with a lota, probably full of water. He slipped out of his chappals and moved to the plinth and stood with his eyes closed, then, he showered the plinth foot with the water. He crouched down and touched his head to the base, rose up, turned back, moved to chappals and them slipped his feet into them and walked away.
Dog kept staring at him till he disappeared behind the broken tall walls.

This time a lady came to the plinth. She was in black burqa. She was beautiful as her eyes could say to me. She looked at me and unwrapped the part of burqa from her face. She looked like an angle. I wished I could marry her! I visualized her a bride, getting married with me. I looked good as a bridegroom.

She cupped her palms and touched one with the other, closed her eyes and did some pray. I watched her, standing on one of the roofs. She also crouched down and spread a sheet on the ground before the plinth and did her namaz.

I got confused.
Was it a temple?
Or a mosque?
Or both?

Before the Rain comes!

The wooden window touch its frame,

With a small tuck.

Crows start cowing,

One by one.

Like disciplined soldiers,

Who fire bullet on a terrorist tied with chain.

One by one.

Then I hear a bang,

And find my door shut,

Perfectly fit into its frame.

Though I apply extra force,

To pull and fit it into the frame.

I peep out through window,

And find guava and mango branches.

The shook and shook,

Forward and backward,

Left and right.

They dance like a young lady,

Who has just started going to dance class.

A hissing sound comes,

And its volume increases.

I look at the tall branches,

They are shaking more at some distance.

They dance like a trained dancer.

Smaller once, copying the bigger once.

Then I hear a patting sound,

And lean to see to the ground.

Ripe fruits are falling,

One after the other.

Like crows are talking,

One after the other.

A bang, louder this time,

The Main gate does it sometimes,

When the wind blows faster.

Squirrels begin singing.

More birds join them.

A parrot flies past my window shouting.

Like a warrior lady,

Who always fight with others in her streets.

I'm sitting in my chair,

With my legs resting on the bed,

In pain.

Two wounds have popped out.

One after another.

First, on the foot finger, was still healing,

Another pooped out of right buttock.

They want me to suffer,

As if I've hurt many good people.

Bed sheet swings,

Touch my leg with the healing wound.

It gives a velvety touch,

Pain dies for the moment.

I rise up,

Look around,

In great pain,

Switch off the ceiling fan,

To feel the cold wind.

The wind dies,

And humidity rejoins,

With its partner,

Heat.

Then I hear pat-pat-patting,

On the window shade.

Crows stop.

Squirrels run away.

No more noise comes from the doors,

And windows.

The rain comes,

Like a newly wedded bride,

Who enters into her husband’s home,

For the first time.

Proudly.   

A simple Love Story

He had fallen in love with her at first sight. This was natural in him. He would start loving a girl at first sight! Since he was a boy of thirteen!

It was a Sunday evening. Weather was fresh as a rain had just stopped after showering Delhi for continuous six hours. A white BMW stopped at the parking area of the Metro Walk Mall. One of the back doors opened and a pair of black boots landed on the ground. Other gates also got opened and some cool dudes got down. A beautiful girl emerged out of the car. She was wearing short cloths.

He was parking his old Yamaha RX 100 at the same parking though the area was reserved for the cars only. His eyes, hid under half broken helmet, rolled to the car and he kept staring at it with curiosity for some time. The car was shining more. He was confused; to look at the girl or at the car!

 
His eyes were fixed on the black boot girl. She came out, stretched her arms, removed her big sunglasses and brushed her long open hair. Her hair was almost touching her waist. Three boys, who had come out of the same car, walked to her and discussed something. She nodded, adjusting her sunglasses on the top of her head.

They began to walk down the decorated clean cemented lane, which was the only way to the entrance of the mall.

He threw his broken helmet on the ground next to his bike and followed them. Before that, their eyes had met once. She giggled when she found him looking at her as if it was normal to her.

After getting their bodies scanned with the metal detectors, they were inside the compound of the mall. They guy was so much into hurry that he jumped over the scanner and paced his walking towards the group.

‘Sir,’ the metal detector man said to him from behind.

‘I'm not your sir.’ The guy said in hurry and walked without a pause.

The metal detector man grabbed his wrist and pulled him near entrance and scanned his body. The guy had starched his arms without looking at the metal detector man as his eyes were moving where the group moved.

‘Are you mad or what?’ the man said to the guy.

‘I'm sorry. I don’t have time to deal with you. I’ll speak to you later.’ The boy said and ran towards the group but the group had disappeared somewhere.

He ran to the spot where he had seen the girl while getting his entrance business done.

He ran his eyes to his left and right but the girl was nowhere, nor the boys who were accompanying her.

He then looked up to the sky to curse the God but dint as his eyes felt on the girl who was walking towards Pizza hut on the first floor area.

Three steps jumping at a time and he was on the first floor now. They checked into Pizza hut. He rushed behind them and grabbed a seat in a corner. They discussed for next ten minutes and but result was still awaited so the girl ordered the waiter to get a good chicken pizza for four along with any four mock tails.

‘Sir, any order?’

‘Hmmhhh..’ the boy said, vaguely.

‘Any order, sir.’ The waiter repeated his question, standing before the guy.

‘Oh, I'm sorry.’ The boy said, taking out his wallet.

He scanned and found four old ten rupee notes. He looked back to the waiter who was checking out the girl. The boy hid his wallet and said, ‘Bhenchod, meri wali ko dekh rha h.’

‘Yes sir. You said something.’ The waiter said.

‘Nothing. I'm saying I’ll call you when I'm done with this long menu.’

‘No problem, sir. But here is the upgraded menu. You can take Mexican pizza with which a chocolate truffle and a cold drink free.’ Waiter said, handing a new menu to the boy.

In return, the boy showed his twenty four shining teeth to the waiter.

Her friends had been noticing the boy was following the girl and when they found him sitting there, they showed their eyes to him. He smiled in return and mumbled, ‘Chutiye.’

The girl first looked at her friends and then to the boy, who had already said cheese.

She smiled and rubbed one of the boys’ shoulders to calm him down.

He checked out the menu and found it very expensive as price of one good chicken pizza cost his monthly pocket money. He then shifted quietly from table to sofa where some newspapers were kept. He took out the one and made a small invisible hole into it and saw the girl through the tiny hole. She was sure the boy would be seeing her despite seeing her male friends threatening him with their eyes.

She toasted first bite to the three boys and began to eat. His mouth watered. He leaked all over his lips with his tongue and enjoyed the spicy virtual pizza, closing his eyes. At the other side, the girl was physically eating pizza but mentally she was visualizing the boy looking at her.

They were done with the bills and tip and walked out but somehow the boy had lost into an article in the newspaper so he dint notice them leaving pizza hut. The girl flashed a look at the boy and found him busy, looking into the paper. He was no more looking at her through hole.

At some part, she wanted to the boy to notice her leaving.

She checked it for last time, standing outside the transparent glass wall of the pizza hut where the boys were discussing to enjoy some rides in the adventure island.

‘Asshole.’ The girl murmured to herself.

‘What?’ the three boys asked together.

‘Nothing.’ She said with a sad face.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. I'm.’

‘Sir, any order please?’ the boy heard it and lost focus over the article which was related to some NGOs which were working for the development of the healthcare system for homeless people of Delhi.

‘Oh, I'm sorry.’ I don’t have so much money.’

‘Sir, we’ve a pizza of just ninety nine for the people like you.’

‘What?’

‘Where is that girl?’

‘Who?’

‘That girl.’

‘Who?’

‘Fuck off.’ The boy said and began to rush out. The waiter followed him to gate.

‘Sir, they were talking of Adventure Island.’

‘Oh. Thank you so much.’ The boy said and kissed his hand.

‘Welcome sir.’ The waiter smiled as he could see the boy’s curiosity for the girl.

Within a minute he was at the entrance of the Adventure Island.

‘What’s the ticket price, sir?’ He asked a security guard.

‘Three ninety nine, sir.’

‘Shit. I wish I was a rich guy, like those assholes.’

He walked slowly to the railing which was next to the gate of Adventure Island and leaned on it and looked into the lake which was artificially made to give a beautiful look to the adventure island and the purpose was boating.

He was tired by now as he had worked whole night at a publishing house as a helper and had distributed newspapers down the streets of Rohini in the early morning so soon he was asleep, leaning on the smooth cold metallic railings.

The boy was born in a poor family and had lost his mother during his birth process so he was seen a sign of evil by his father, his only family member. His name was Rajib. As he grew up he wanted to go to school but his father, a hardcore drinker had forced him to work day and night and whatever Rajib was earning he had to hand it to his father who would slice three hundred rupees notes out and would give them to the boy and would keep the rest which he would spend on his wine bottles.

To be cont..

Why it happened?

I had come out of the old deserted washroom which was only the way out of my house.
I knew I was going fo attend a ceremony. I din't know what it was for. I ran and within seconds I had reached to the spot.
Everything was well decorated qith colorful pieces of cloth. The smell of food was coming out of everyehere.
I walked down straight to the fixed seat. I don't know who fixed it.

He was in silk kurta and white dhoti. Neck of the kurta was decorated with gold zarri work. He was sitting on the floor and was eating his food. He was like a common man. But he was not.
I went near him and crouched. He ate. I saw him and expected he won't allow me to sit with him but he was hardly caring for anything except the food.
people eyed me as I sat in the right side of his plate and began to speak about poor, poverty, the worst healthcare syatem, their death, their education system.
He listened and ate. After sometime he took one chicken piece out of his plate and put on my empty plate then he put another. I kept speaking of poor people and their poor kids.
He lost intetest into my words when another man came with an empty plate. He put one chiken piece into his plate. The man smiled, bowed, folded plate and disappeared behind me.

Then he didn't listen to me and ate food with great concentration.
I rose up and left with two chiken pieces.

He was Narendra Modi, the prime minister of India!

The Culture of Contractual jobs in India

Chapter: 1

We wake up in the morning, go to washroom to get fresh, wear sportswear and walk out of gate of our house to go to the park for jogging or morning walk. We see some men and women sweeping streets with broom. If we’re rich enough we see one or more than one security guards, standing at our gate.

They keep out city clean and our houses safe. They are believed to be poor people who have hailed to the city from village in search of some work and are found working for us. Most of them are always seen in some particular uniform that they get from the agencies which are government approved agencies. As far as security guards at our gate or at the gate of malls, ATM, shops and any commercial and domestic building are concerned, they are the people who are generally village guys who are supplied to the town and city by some agents. They get such small jobs here in the city and stay alone, away from their kids, wife, husband, parents and their love.

Who are these guys?

They are the contractual employees of the government municipality or some private agencies.

After morning walk, we take shower, wear dress, eat our breakfast, take our bike or car keys and get ready to go to our office. On the way we come across many traffic lights which are run by automatic controller. We, the gentlemen and ladies follow traffic rules and some of us are smart enough to jump the red lights after checking if any traffic police in white and blue uniform are standing on either side of the traffic light or not.

On the way we come across many men and women who wear almost same uniform as the traffic cops who stand at the road sides, waving their hands to give direction to our vehicles according to the weight of the vehicles. Modern urban developments which have been done by the respected PWD and road transport department have been playing a leading role in making road traffic smooth. They have made many dividers to divide the road so that light and heavy vehicles can run in their respective lanes so that the traffic may run easily.

On the divider again we see many men and women in blue and white uniform, waving their hands to give directions to our vehicles. They look like the traffic police but they are not. Who are they then?

They are again the village people who have come to the city or have been supplied by the labor agents to the agency who have been given contract by our government for maintenance of the roads and smooth traffic. They are the contractual employees who take charge of traffic police, keeping their life in danger.

If any traffic jam happens on these roads they are the people who work to clear the roads. No doubt some of the government traffic cops come but two or three in number and they are helped by ten to twelve contractual people to smooth the traffic. Many people in the city are irritated or frustrated so they fight and they beat the men in blue and white uniform. It happens only in our motherland, India. You can fight anywhere, with anybody and can do anything like beating with them.

If we’re intelligent enough we have government or permanent job in our hands so we’ve to reach office by time to work. Over there in office we have again contractual employees in government and non government offices. The number of contractual employees is far more than the government officials or CTC (company role) employees everywhere in India.

The government officials do only supervision work and rest works are done by these contractual guys. According to their educational qualifications they are hired by the agencies or contractors for the same work. Their work ranges from municipality sweeping to the engineering and managing. Even in government schools and colleges teachers, lab assistants and many other staffs are recruited on contract basis.

What I want to say is that; we’ve contractual employees on each walk of our life. They range from banks to schools to college to engineering firms or hospitals or software companies to public welfare departments to power generation, transmission, distribution to police to advertising agencies to hotels to everywhere.

They’re lucky among billions.

Why?

They’ve a job in hand so that they can run their family.

Population is a thing which has not been kept under control by any government of India and is that only the sole reason for this misfortune with Indians.

Well, they’ve a job, they earn money to eat and feed their family and do shopping occasionally, if possible and enjoy their life.

Why do we work?

To earn money.

That’s what we call salary.

To be cont….

A Seductive Evening

It takes more than normal time to come out of a warm quilt when it’s the month of January. It is holiday day today on account of the happy birthday of a Muslim prophet. I wish I could know something about the Mohammed whose birth day is giving a day to rest and stay under quilt in the winter. I visualize him in some Mecca or some imaginary holy Islamic place. People say I imagine a lot. Nobody can stop his/her head from imagining the things.

I rise up as I’ve already slept for three hours and I can’t stay in bed for long and I rarely sleep for more than an hour in after noon. I feel the room cold as if my body has dived into a cold sea and fish into the heap of cloths for my heavy jacket. As soon I find it slip it on me quickly as if the cold would bite and tear my muscles into pieces.

Next step is to make tea. Tea looks sexy and intoxicating in winter. Isn’t it?

To make tea, you need to wash the cup that you’ve used to drink last tea and then tea pan needs to be washed. I put the cup in sink and pour some water into it so that it’s dry bottom of the tea that is left after last sip can melt and it’s easy to wash then.

The gas stove is on and supplying blue flame to the bottom of the tea pan which I fill with some water, some tea leaves and one teaspoon sugar. It takes some time to boil and then I add some milk into it to give it a nice color and taste.

I can’t stay standing in the kitchen, staring at the boiling mixture so I go out to balcony to see the world around me.

  The day is still and calm. I see some sun rays falling on the other side of the road at the open area which is generally used for parking cars. It’s a holiday but still I can’t see the place crowded with cars like every day.

I stand in the sun, which burning into white and when I look at it my eyes resist and can see only the orange envelope around it. I try to look into the sun but it’s still burning and trying to show it is superior to me. I'm habitual of looking into sun since I was a kid and the people around me would say you can’t stare at it or you shouldn’t. I took it as a challenge then and tried it many times until I got shifted to the metro city.

All good feelings and love for the nature die when you come to an urban place. And those who are born here are inhabitants, who look strange to me because I fail to understand the way they live their life. They wake up late in the morning. They try their best to earn more and more money. One thing that I strongly hate about them; the way they celebrate their parties in disco or pub or bar. I can’t imagine some people sitting, dancing, drinking wines and shouting in a room which is equipped with some musical equipment. This is the way people enjoy here!

The sun is warming my body that I can touch the full sleeve of my shirt and feel the warmth.

The trees are standing, lifeless. There is no wind and so their leaves can’t shake. They’re standing as if they want to stand without making any movement. It happens during summer when the atmosphere lacks air. Or as if their work is to stand and let the world see their disciplines.

Before me stand a series of street lamp poles in a row with a black cable connecting then with each other. Two lamps, sitting on each pole stare the ground as if they are trying to find something or they are trying to inspect like cops. Rarely, some cars come at speed slower than usually cars ram there and pass away, leaving behind some engine voice to die soon.

I see four black pigeons sitting on a cable that is connecting two poles. They twist their heads all around that makes the cable shake little. One of them gets bored with sitting on the same line so it flies to the other which is a pack of six black cables twisting together as if snakes have curled themselves to show unity. The other pigeons welcome him with a nod. After seeing the warmth welcome other three can’t resist themselves and flew to join their neighbor.

Everything looks lazy. One sardarji emerged out of a hut and begins bhrooming the ground before his hut. He looks slow. I look to the other side and find a tree that sheds its leaves in winter only. It looked like a naked beautiful girl with a curvaceous slim body with round healthy bosoms and long hair which is open and spreading all around her body.

I hear some birds chirping in the trees of a nearby park that is separated from my home by a small old government office. I'm listening to them after long. It’s been years, I guess. I go to park every morning and I find birds singing there but I fail to enjoy it. Many other things roam inside my head when I jog. I feel bad.

I look into sky when I hear some sound of an airplane passing over my head. I try to trace the plane but fail. May be the dense fog has gulped it. The milky blue sky looks beautiful. It was missing or I was missing it. I drink the view as if my heart and eyes were thirty for it since years. A white car arrives, posche this time with music at full volume. It forces me to look at it. I find it same as other cars like Mercedes, BMW, Ford etc. which are passing by. It looks as a dead body, getting dragged on some fuel.

I hope the tea would be ready.

I break my connection with the nature, the silent after noon turning into evening, the blue sky, the orange sun, the green trees, the naked tree, the people walking by, the cars and everything and walk straight towards the main gate.

Before the main gate I find a heap of white sand that has been kept there for the two weeks and it is blocking more than half of our entrance so we have to use another gate when we need to park our vehicles.

I don’t miss a chance to walk on sand when I find it anywhere. The dogs have played with it and have spread all around. The color of sand looks similar to that of the day. Milky and foggy.

I smash sand under my feet that spread and let my feet sink into it. Some of it slips between my feet and slippers. I had developed a technique to get rid of the sand from my feet when I was a kid and used to walk down the river bank which was covered with white ret. I repeat my technique but stop myself soon as I find it nice under my feet and move inside my compound.

A dog is sitting, curling it body into a circular thing on the dry leaves that the naked tree has shed. It blinks its black dark eyes at me and closes them without moving. I push the heavy wooden door that opens into stairs that goes to first floor where I live. It gets closed on its own with a creaking sound that reminds me of horror movie in which doors always get shut by themselves with this peculiar scary sound.

    

An Evening

I'm back from office. It was a busy day as government officials are not supposed to do many works in a day but I'm the new one, the young one so I try my best to work hard and finish with all the pending public complaints regarding electricity. Yes, I work in the electricity department of the capital city and as a young man I understand my responsibility to repair the department which has been puncturing by old officials since the department was made.

I make some tea in kitchen, pour it into a cup, come into my single living cum bed room, place it on my study table and open a book; Rusty goes to London, the story of Ruskin Bond. I suppose he writes for kids but I liked his story because he has written the stories based on Indian places and I'm always fond of reading books about Indian villages. It reminds me of my childhood days that I’d spent happily in my village.

The book keeps reminding me of my early days and I can’t stop myself from missing those good days. A guy knocks on my door. I open the door and find the engineer who works in the electricity department but in another office at another place but lives in the same apartment at ground floor and makes and eats dinner with me. He is strange. He is of the same age as mine but he has lost his hair on most of the parts on his head. I ask him to come in and sit. He sits and I take my seat on the chair and take the book. I know he will sit and chitchat. I can read and chat at a time.

I get lost into the story soon and so he has to take a newspaper which is kept folded next to him.

‘Where is today’s newspaper?’ The expected question came from him. I knew he will ask for fresh newspaper.

‘It’s still rolled into a rubber band somewhere in balcony.’ I answer, visualizing the newspaper that I’d seen in the morning.

Suddenly I feel helpless and want to go out and buy some books of Ruskin Bond. And I can’t help myself when I'm in need of a novel. I can sell my course book or any another thing to buy a novel.

‘Is there any bookshop around?’ I ask.

‘Not here. But at some kilometers away.’ He answers, dipping his head into newspaper.

I switched to my phone and typed book shop in a red app called places in my phone. I find many book shops but all at a distance of more than two kilometers away.

Om book shop, I found it in a market which was some five kilometers away.

‘Let’s go.’ I say.

‘Okay.’

I know he can’t refuse to me. I have made him my friend and we go outside when we feel like eating something in the evening and I pay most of the times as he get less salary and I feel sorry for him.

I want to go to my favorite bookshop. I’ve a bike and I’ve just got it servicing done I want to ride it as much as I can and when I comes to night I love biking at night among head lights.

Within fifteen minutes, we reach to the South Extension part-1. I realize its Monday and the market is closed for the day and I am very confident about it because I’ve lived this place for years when I came to Delhi.

I park my bike before a down shutter and ran to my favorite book shop which is in basement. I find the narrow door opened. I ran downstairs.

‘Is there any Ruskin Bond’s new arrival?’ I ask the counter man, who is bald and he knows me since long.

‘Yes.’ He says and directs, one his guys to get me the one. ‘Second shelf with blue cover. Hard cover.’ He adds.

Before his staff would arrive I begin to search on the shelf but fail to get the one. His staff also struggles to get the book and another joined who knows which one to take out.

‘I don’t like it.’ I say.

‘Where are the rest of Bond’s book?’ I ask.

‘There,’ the bald man says, pointing to a narrow lane between big book shelves.

‘Go with him and tell him to do fast.’ I hear the bald saying it to one of his men.

I see a shelf full of books written by Ruskin Bond. I get confused which one take out. The staff and my friend stand on back. I sit on my legs to look at the titles clearly. Very few light reaches there.

‘Sir, please do fast. The shop is about to be closed.’ The staff says from behind when he finds me reading the back cover of each book on the shelf.

I take out two, pulled my wallet, pull my card and hand over to the staff and ask for get them billed and then ran to a corner which is very dimly lit and no light can reach there but I want to see some more books because I'm visiting my favorite shop after long.

‘Shit.’ The little light that was coming died and I can’t even look at the titles.

‘You’ve done intensely. Haven’t you?’ I ask.

‘It’s a time to shut the shop. It’s Monday. We already have little staffs and they want to go home.’ The bald says, punching the keys before him to bill the books.

I see another bulb flashing strong light only above the new arrivals. I run there to see some books. I read some more titles but don’t want to buy more otherwise I’ll run out of cash and have to think.

From Rampur to Pescadero

Chapter: 1

Once upon a time there was a village which was surrounded by the banana trees from its three sides. A big milky river that changed its color every season and ended nowhere flew at the foot of the village.

Kids played most of the times and ate when they had food and slept hungry when they dint have anything to eat. They looked lean and thin, thinner than their parents. Elders never worked except taking water from the river and watering banana threes. The old men sat everyday in morning at a dalan and discussed the village stuffs like whose daughter was seeing a guy who was from another village and the guy from lower caste and of course the politics. The discussion always turned hot when they talked of Congress.

Over there, in a family, a boy was born who was named Ravindra on the name of the great Indian laureate Ravindra Nath Tagore. He grew up faster than other boys. 

Next day to the death of his mother he began to go to school as this was his mother’s last wish. She wanted him to be an educated man and earn something to get some changes in his village. He took it deep into his heart and studied in the school where there were only few teachers who most of the times chewed tobacco and betel and drank palm wine and taught very less and they beat students.

One day Ravindra was sitting on the bank of the river and was lost somewhere, staring at water. He was eleven now and he has been seeing the changing color of the river. He wanted to know where the river was coming from and where it ended. He saw some white leather flowing near the bank. He walked down on white sand to reach to the leather, pulled his pyjama up with one of his hands and entered into water. He took a loaf of icy leather and smelled. It smelled like a dead rat smells.

He looked to his left and found huge loafs of white mountainous leather flowing towards him from the west. He dived into water and water closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes he was at a new place.

He opened his eyes and began to run away from the water body. An old man followed him with the same pace. The old man caught him from behind. Ravindra fell on the wet sand.

‘Who are you?’ he asked the old man.

‘Who are you?’ the old man repeated his question.

‘I'm Ravindra.’

‘I'm James Frank.’ The old man said, offering hand to the boy lying on the ground.

Ravindra grabbed his hand and he was standing now.

‘How did I come here, James?’

‘I don’t know. I saw your body flowing at the bank of the sea and dragged you here, pushed your chest. You spilled water from your mouth and then you opened your eyes and asked for some food.’ The old man continued, ‘when I returned to you with sandwich and water I found you sleeping.’

‘What is sea?’

‘What?’

Ravindra repeated his question.

‘Sea, aamm.. It’s a sea.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Village.’

‘Which village?’

‘Rampur.’

‘Where is it?’

The boy thought for a while and answered, ‘it’s situated near a river.’

‘Which river?’

‘A river which is full of white Mountains.’

‘White mountains?’

‘Yes, white leather mountains.’

‘Oh, I see, you’re from India.’ The old man said, chuckling.

‘Yes, that’s my country name.’

‘BehenChod main kahan pahuch gya? Out of India?’ Ravindra fussed to himself.

                                         ****         

Chapter: 2

One month had passed and by now Ravindra had understood that Pescadero had become his hometown and he forgot his father and his village soon. By next month he began to go to school which was drastically different from his village school. White kids came there and teachers were also white. It became quite difficult to understand the books and language. There were many teachers who didn’t drink palm wine and chewed tobacco or betel.

James was happy he and his wife, Anne had got a kid. They were childless couple and had been wanting to adopt a kid since they came to know they would never give birth to a boy or a girl or none of them but Anne wanted something else. She wanted an Indian child as she had heard that in India many new born kids, who were results of the unwanted pregnancy or a girl child are thrown on roadside or big dustbins.

She took extra care of Ravindra because she believed that the God had sent the kid to her. She woke Ravindra in morning, gave him hot coffee and took him for a walk on the costal garden. When they came back from their morning walk, she could make breakfast, pack lunch and get the boy ready for school and dropped him to his school. In the evening James would wait for him in his car outside the school.

At night James would come to Ravindra’s room and tell him some fictions. Ravindra wished all the kids of his village would have gotten the same treatment. He visualized his village friends and slept.