the man who never ceases to surprise...

The late late, very late almost morning post

It’s been a while since I found myself awake and sleepless so late into the night, to be precise its 4:21:46-47 a.m EST. I never paid much attention to time zones before, but here I am specifying which time zone I am in. It makes matter complicated especially when a country has three time zones and the time changing in every 6 months. We international student have hard time calculating the time back home, especially when you have to remember which time zone you are and then know if it’s day light saving or daylight wastage time of the year. Why to make your life more complicated than it already is. Or then again they are just trying to scare away Mexican immigrants by their complexities of time system. That said, summer is here, I must say it is a respite from the night is dark and full of terrors (you do get to know the actually fears of winter after staying through the most mildest of all winters in a 100 years) but I swear to god I probably smell like a freshly fried beacon the moment I step out from the safety of my damp apartment. This comes from a mumbaikar who has faced the stuffiest of summers and monsoons in more stuffed train locals. Summers in which you actually felt like carrying condensers only so you could breath (nerd joke alert) and also spending some really long and complaining summers in Kolkata, I have been born and raised in humidity and I find it unbearable in here.

Change of topic: pokemon go.. seems to be quite a thaang right now, eh.. (yeah catching on the accent yo,) it has divided the whole of the 7 billion (is it?) into 4 categories.

     1.     Pokemon go craziers- people whose life’s purpose is to be the pokemasters , potentially everyone who plays it dreams about it .

      2.       Pokemon don’t carers – what? When? Bleh……

      3.       Pokemon non getters – people who are a fan but have an incompetent phone. (me!)

      4.       Pokemon wanna bes, pretendzees ( i am really getting the hang of american vocab huh!) – people who know zilch about pokemon but want to join the crazy herd.

The power that pokemon go has harnessed is incredibly freaky. It just proves that a certain “something” is edging towards world domination. This might just be a test trail for the real thing to come into operation. You will blame the heat for my crazy conspiratorial talk, but don’t tell me you didn’t feel the chill go down your spine when you saw masses of people running about crazed in parks and sidewalk when someone claims to see a rare pokemon, or when you hear weird stories about people leaving their jobs in conquest of being the pokemon masters. (no this is not a talk out of jealousy either). Actually I got a pretty interesting idea for a story right there. May be I will publish for the generation which comes after there is a revolution and world domination comes to an end ( a book named, "told you so!", nothing sells better than an obnoxious self gloating title!) 

wake up world!!! 

I really don’t know why staying up late makes my nose an oil field! It will save US lot of trouble to just harvest the oils from my nose than meddling their nose into others affairs. till then PIKA PIKA!!!

Oh and a very interesting theory on the world of pokemon, check it out if you want your happy pokeworld to shatter http://9gag.com/gag/a7dDxQw?ref=fbp

Just can't get enough of pikachu gifs! :/ 

philosopher's ramblings: Part 1

DISCLAIMER: Dark mood ahead.

Remember the time when you promised yourself you will not change what you are, that you love yourself the way you are. But just like the moon morphing itself gradually with time you change too. Whether you like it or not. You are not what you were 5 years ago, hell not even few seconds ago. Some people say “never change yourself” think again are they giving you a good advise or a bad one. Change is happening and whether you want that to happen or not.

Sometimes you feel like the captain of the ship, who has no control on the winds which is forcing the ship go in the direction its not suppose to go. Its strange when you look back to all the things you did and thought you did do. The explanations you had for all kinds of theories, the ample possibility of your kaleidoscopic imagination, when you actually thought you could win the world with your imagination super power. And then suddenly while you were sniffing benzol in the lab you come across a bottle of ammonia and recoil with disgust, but by then the smell stays, obliterating any traces of the sweet scent of benzol. The sting of ammonia knocking on the peeling black door of reality.

If someone asked me why did you change if you didn’t want to? I would answer him by smacking his head with a heavy book of “on the origin of species”(by Charles Darwin). The whole book boils down to this point that “if you ain't changing you ain't surviving”.

If you had the power to be how you were, would you go back to your old self?  A Penny for your thought.

the first...

It’s 28^th Jan 2016, I think I have not been that late for wishing everyone HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I don’t believe the year is old enough (abhi toh saal jawaan hai).  I know I am rusty and I feel like the old librarian trying to find the book which she knew she had stacked somewhere in the labyrinths of shelves. Anyhow, for the lack of any creative spurts and the disinterest of doing the homework (yeah, you read it right.. HOMEWORK!) hear me ramble, if you please.

I had a decent year I would say and “decent” only cause I had pretty high ups and low lows, so they kind of cancel out and settle somewhere in the middle. I was lucky enough to camp in couple of relatives places and friends. A failed birthday surprised in Texas, a risky interstate drive to Nebaraska and being rewarded by the heavenly view, magical Disneyland , not a snowy Christmas, cold and chilly new York with someone warm to hold on to (wink wink). I have loved my trips and tedious long flights. And believe it or not I have loved staying with my aunts and uncles. I know I had stated contrary on some posts about my relatives but that’s what a foreign land does to you. You yearn for that familiarity and you try to find it anywhere even if it means going to a dingy Indian market and hearing gujus talk (no offence :P)

the 800km drive to 6,225 ft.. Lake tahoe.

the magic wand!

I might elaborate on my trips if memory, mood and enthusiasm stays, but let me describe the first snow/ blizzard of my entire three and twenty years. (I have lived that long!) The blizzard is not magical if that’s what you were looking for. There is snow in your eyes, ears, mouth, pockets (warning, do not try this at home) but the bunch of us the three wise monkeys went to experience the blizzard inspired by the overflowing photos of people in snow (amateurs!) and didn’t put any photos up.(laziness) but oh! What a feeling when you step out with the cold winds and falling snow and freezing hands. After an entire day of snowing and blizzarding when all had ended it was surreal. There was inches of whiteness all over untouched, sparkling in sunlight, icicles hanging from rooftops. Claiming to be a veteran of the snow (certainly more experienced with it than most of my tropical friends) but somehow this felt more intimate, more real. To think of, its nothing but white its simple but yet so breath-takingly beautiful, of course before we ran all over it and made it look like a crumbled paper. It felt like natures unused sketching papers just lieing around waiting to be inked.

It all sounds very romantic for now, but wait till you have to see that for the next three months and the white snow doesn’t stay white anymore! (what a delusion!)

white wonder! (my backyard)

I could have gone on but I guess I have spoken long enough for now. 

zombie ramblings..

Imagine when a rocket shoots straight into the sky and suddenly runs out of fuel, it suspends mid air waits facing upwards for few seconds, anticipating the next move and baam you are speeding towards concrete jungle leaving a fire trail crashing through empty building, smashing zombies, setting fire to zombie clubs..which had zombies doing zombie moves with zombie music with zombie beats. And then, the rocket door opens with zombie astronauts come out with half burnt bodies gnawing at their suits having no idea that minutes before they were at the peak of their lives.

Hence inferred,  I am in a very dark mood, as opposed to my rainbows and ballet doing zombies with cute pink frocks. Why the rants about zombies? cause i haven't seen the recent walking dead scenes and have been avoiding twd spoilers which are sprayed all over the net. (and also i dont need the excuse for my zombie drooling). For people who really want to know the reason behind my dark mood and also if they could find any analogy between my rocket suspending and zombie dancing you would know that I am talking about the relativity between happiness and time speed ( i know you would have seen it!)

There are times when you feel it's a dream and you wake up to someother world. mostly you feel so when things are going too good or too bad in which case you would just hope you wake up in a less worse place than you are. You did have a walk holding hands and wonder if it's real, Laugh at some stupid joke and wonder if the time would come back again. The constant questioning of reality. The answer to which just seems vague. When you start feeling dizzy with these speculations you just take a sigh and go with the flow. You come out from the speculative sphere and for that moment which was standstill, that moment when you were admiring the world, the people, the feeling, is the moment when the rocket stands stills till you come out of it and crash into the "reality" if you believe so and crash into the rawness and messy lives of zombies. Cause when you are a zombie you don't question you let the disease control you.

We needn't be the bloody, gory, limb missing, bad hair day zombies. The absence of spark is what a zombie truly is. WELOME TO THE ZOMBIE WORLD!

    In celebration of being zombies.. 

notes from seas apart

I am finally here! Can you (random)guys believe it! (pretending i have regular viewers) all the slogging and tantrums and mood swinging to moon and back, the sweat drenching anxiety ridden long wait has finally FINALLY bought me away from home. Just not away, but seven seas, 13,568 km, 10 hours away!! It just doesn't set into me. Every morning i wake up and see it's 11 and wonder how come my door hasn't been broken down yet by my early to rise parents, i just groan at the time and stuff my head back into the pillow. You do realise while reading this basket of jumbled sentences i have finally set my foot out, out from my loving over protective very happening bengali family, from the city of dreams and love to some place strange and wonderful and adventurous.
I am over romanticizing. You are hit by the ruthless and demanding nature of grocery shopping, the attention seeking laundry and the requirements of doing the dishes. You get the picture right?
But alls not that dull and dutiful. There is the amazing weather if you like -20s! And dazzling white-white skins if you are a racist. And a loving (south) indian community who seem to think telugu is the language of prime importance. So yeah, I am in paradise. It's like someone just cleaned your dirty specs. It's like you were living in a room where you could see brownian motion and someone just switched on the vaccum cleaner and the air was clean. (i know horrible joke) 
I am home sick and euphoric at the same moment, most of the times. It's so surreal that i feel its inception. My nightmare being I have picked up their lethal drawl. Next to the aussie's rotten accent I think American drawl tops the list. Cross your fingers that I don't pick up with the top 3 disgusting accents which includes overdone american- indian (NRI wannabes) accent.
I thought i should fill in with tit bits of life. I had the most filmy farewells(truly), the most teary goodbyes (yeah right!) and the un-happening flight (other than when i was expecting breakfast they give you lunch!) 
The only reason why i suddenly got time to write this rambling done is cause i seem to find time when i am always short of time. Amazingly me! I amaze me man! chalo I hope to catch up with you soon my ""imaginary"" "regular" readers. No I don't think i am some psychic kid having imaginary friends, atleast i hope not! :/ 

There is no right or wrong, just consequences...

Kolkata footnotes :the probashi feels:

DISCLAIMER: The following content doesn’t describe the best places to eat or any tourism related content. I might write something about digestery (no such word) adventures.

On my last day of my unplanned extended so called vacation i finally sit to write something down after a heavy push from my high inertial self (surprisingly!). To begin with “Kolkata Footnotes” the term footnotes came into my mind for the want of less clinched and less bollywoody wanna be hollywoody use(hint: Dairies, no end to those!) “footnotes” has a simple explanation. We have been famously known as paye chaka deva (translation: wheels on feet) as far as my memory goes, i have been travelling to a new place almost every year since i was a few months. Each place is a sub chapter and Kolkata is footnote seen every now and then.

My stays in Kolkata have usually been short(very short according to dimu, no one can satiate her in terms of staying back at kol). Every visit is first welcomed with a short illness of some kind followed by irritated dad running around with a topping of fussy mom. A fast recovery of a day or two and then starts the relative visiting ritual. A probaashi bangali (NRB- non returning bong) or not, relative citation is a must. My visits are usually strenuous and tedious on the stomach muscles. Every relative one meets one has to devour a series of mishtis(Sweets) with a side plate of bengali samosas, beguni, neemki, teele bhaja, fish fry, mutton cutlet, kochuri, moglayi (drools). Even though while listing down my mouth waters, but when you have been made to sit through all this with minimum of four sweets, and have to go atleast three more houses and been offered food fit for a regiment and assumed to have an appetite as that of descendants of “kumbhakaran”, even a fist full of gelucil and digen won’t come to your rescue. Apart from the usual relative stuff, of whom she looks like and how small you had been there is nothing more to list down.

Coming to the city, i find Kolkata a small bundled up city, more like an ant colony seen at cross section (might be my Mumbai perspective). The city is dominated by narrow lanes and often will make you feel an outsider for the lack of knowledge of its lanes. The air of past hangs heavily over it. This time the whiff of nostalgia settled on me and i took to rampaging of old photos and dusty junk. Finding black and white photos, age stained photos, photos of high end parties, of gentlemen in suit and horn-rimmed glasses with whiskey and cigars, of ladies with elegant silk sarees and highbuns. I even found records of abba and boneym of old hindi songs and some Bengali too! Oh! How i wished i had a gramophone! The city i have always imagined with horse carts and vintage cars. People with suits and gowns with their little fragile umbrellas, people drinking tea with their little finger sticking out. What contributes more to the heavy air of nostalgia is the still existing trams, and hand rickshaws even cycle rickshaws.

Every street will have a tale of your grandparents or parents telling how they ate at that place or shopped on that corner. For me Kolkata is a city of tales, i relate places of this city with tales of others. When i was small people thought it amusing to ask me which city i like most, Mumbai or Calcutta.. even then i was more diplomatic than my age and i would sweetly answer both. But if you ask me truly i would ask you back, would you question whom you love more your biological mother, or the one that raised you? 

lehrein ayi, lehro mein beh gayi...

A song, a feeling, a scenery, a painting, few lights, a misunderstood joke, a lizard perhaps (i miss my marley) urges you to write a line or two may be. Suddenly while doing a very clerical and tedious job i stumble into a song which makes me want to write. An urge i had lost in the hum drum of this ordinary chaos. So 2014 is at an end, and one more circle completes of the many rings that forges into a man's life. It would be interesting if a man wore a chain forged by no. of years lived (i am sure the ladies would not approve of it!)
To review this year, is something that frightens me. A year of drama, of tears and happiness of shocks and despairs, of guilty pleasures and partying :D a mini TV serial, (a hindi soap drama for sure) A year of lost and found. I always get melancholy as the last week of the year approaches. Apprehensions of the coming year eats up the joy of a year successfully surviving with head over my shoulders. or may be it's just the blues. And sometimes life creeps you out when you have your friends boyfriend's misc tape and see his name and picture in album art (AWKWARD!) instead of Nickleback's.
I think my refill of writing has exhausted. I need to get a new refill from the inspiration shop hopefully he has one to fit my miracle writing pen. :/
CIAO!

sin or sacrifice?

behind the dark curtains and a room gloomier
a shade darker than it was earlier
someone lay there curled up and shriveled
eyes wide open with tears

that trickled
a sin or sacrifice it knew not
as the gloom threatened to take over with every sob
what of happy endings and cherry red flowers
what of rainbow and sunshine and happy ever afters
all seemed gone
all seemed dispaired
sin or sacrifice it knew not
everytime it tried to get up
sounds of past tormented it
curled in the corner back it went
whimpering to sleep of confusion
where it dreamt of dark rooms and gloomier curtains
sin or sacrifice it knew not

LOST

Never at peace she rests

A vagabond soul searching for what is best

Her journey took her to many places

Of frozen rivers and angry faces

At long last she sat under a tree

And realised the forest that accompanied her in all degrees

A bolt of thought came crashing down she

May be she had all in this forest that reached the sea

Of tall trees that looked down at her

With leaf like eyes glowing with fervor

Questioningly looked up with tilted head

It seemed to nod with a grave dread

Eagerly she stepped into

The cool calmness and tall solitude

She felt it, engulfing her with loving care

Oh! So hard she had tried getting this without a vanity fair

With building excitement she entered

A knot or two made her stumble, no matter what she always tethered

Entangled trees were handsomely patterned

A beautiful place and a lack of lantern

She needed a torch to see

But instead felt the depths of the forest calling thee

“Come”, it says

Let me guide you through my wilderness that lays

A turn wrong and she is lost

Some deer runs by with antlers frozen with frost

She smiles to herself as realisation dawns

She loves the forest so much than plain flat lawns

Lost in the complex beauty

Of foreboding instances and amusement that’s there in plenty

But she had declared the love for him

The moment she held his arm to walk within

If you still have not figured out

Which you are

Yes, you there reading with small eyes that dare

I am the girl and you are the forest

I am lost in you forever till i rest.

PS: If a writer loves you, you are immortalised ;) 

makhi meri jaan!

Disclainer: the following is a bucket load of rambling. proceed if interested. reader must read only if he/she have no self preservation of your sanity. read on crazy minds! 

To my regular readers (if there are any) you must be waiting for my customary post about the pre-rain , during rain and post- rains posts. Well, as the arrival of rains this time was late i was “khafa” (upset, zindagi serial effects) with the rain gods and posted it well into the monsoon. Apart from having self doubts about my writing abilities , all thanks to GRE super human vocabs. I mean c'mon who uses words that take half a day to pronounce and longer time to spell and said once in every solstice . Keeping my whinnying aside i lunge into the topic of monsoon.

This time i am not going to romanticize monsoon. I am going to talk about a nuisance that gets introduced like the help at your place who turns up when you are going to have a party at your place when your parents are away (not from experience ;) ) :drum rolls please: MOSQUITOES!! Yes. Those tiny buzzing irritating to death mosquitoes. Monsoon famously brings machar and makhis. The former being also the buzzing irritating to death traits but their job profile includes sucking blood and transferring dangerous diseases like malaria, dengue. While the more squashy and blotted looking counterpart the “makhis” love to spread the ill health of diarrhoea and other stomach cleansing diseases.

I am going to restrict my say to “makhis” only, in other words flies. Makhis sound way cooler and i am an ultra cool person, makhi it is. Apart from spreading disease it loves to entertain itself by buzzing around you for no apparent purpose.  You could spend a whole day running around the house with a newspaper roll trying to swat into cutlet or with chopsticks (over-inspired ninja movies), unless its a lazy fat makhi or may be oldage it refuses to die.   

If “makhis” would have brains they would strive for world domination! With their numbers and killer instincts of that of spreading disease and annoying effect. People would either poop to death or suicide out of the the annoyance of makhis. If there was a similar experiment as that shown in the movie “deep blue sea” or something like that ,where they inject the sharks with brain matter and make them super intelligent (why on earth you want super intelligent sharks?!weren't they dangerous enough!). If such a thing was done i am sure the world would get a “makhi hitler” who wouldn’t fail in world domination this time.

As gre has taught me to support your statement with a good example. The movie called makhi which was a remake of a south movie (surprise surprise) where the hero turns into a fly and seeks revenge. Is a pure example of what they are actually capable of. And their nuisance value is very well illustrated in the episode “the fly” in”breaking bad” (googly eyed thinking of breaking bad) .

Rethink of the power of makhis as you are chasing it with a newspaper roll, will you be spared if they revolt against humanity?! A paisa for your thoughts. (going desi as independence day nears)

watch out at 2:32

he doesnt need to know..

He doesn't need to know

Of the times spent at the quarry

He doesn't need to know

Where his mom went as he tarried

He doesn't need to know

What cost him those boots

He doesn't need to know

What happened to his sisters two front tooths

                              He doesn't need to know

                         Where went his father's ticking watch

                               He doesn't need to know

                          That dinner had caused him the absence of the dogs barking match

                                He doesn't need to know

                              Why his father came black, everytime he stepped out

                                   He doesn't need to know

                             Why his sister complained of rough hands with a pout

                                     He doesn't need to know

                                       Of the leaky roof that bothers father during monsoon
He doesn't need to know

That rain fall inside is just not natural

He doesn't need to know

That there are more toys than a cycle tyre

He doesn't need to know

Life ends in a burning pyre

He doesn't need to know

Of fathers coughing worsen day by day

He doesn't need to know

That life is as frail as pots of clay

He doesn't need to know

That soon he would be crowned the man of the house

And then,

he will have to know it all

children of hell

A flash.. And the sky lights up

Like a bullet fired from a bullpup

The kid looks up in awe..as it rained fire

This is hell on earth as the souls rise higher

A touch on his shoulder, sees his mom with him

her body might vanish but her memories live within him

A bark from his lost dog

hiding under the debris from the war lord

Dizzy he was, as things long lost flooded him..
But transfixed he stared as hell sang its own hymn..

He dug deep and set his pal free

nothin around was standing except for the oak tree

An oak tree which stood tall in its time of glory

Now withered in a site that was too gorry.

He wandered north and then went east

there he saw the evil general with gold teeth

The battle is won the general said

100 dead how could he sleep cozy on his soft bed

Flashed his teeth as he laughed at his question..

U naive boy i m going to make a new nation

Pulled a knife out and slashed it across his throat

blood spilled as the soldiers walked to save the man in green coat

For all the lost things he loved the most

The father , the mother and the holy ghost

The devil inside him killed them all

How come he still gets a cushion for his death fall

As the bad lie on his cushion of death

The noble boy lay slaughtered in bullet sheath

The world is soon gonna need blood plumbing

i ask the lord when is his next comming

the fight for friendship and beyond

The fight for friendship and beyond

A time of roses and thorns

I was sparing a lad with his armor on

Couldn't see his face as we sparred on the lawn

A rose for every slash i made

A thorn for every bruise that would fade

People watching would find me ungrateful

A knight that answered every slash with a rose

For me i saw a thorns of the rose

And forget about the petalled core

soon the lad took off his armor

And i could see hurt in the clamor

As realization dawned it was too late

The rose was of petals and not thorns of fate

My blunder was irrevocable and unpardonable

But oh! I had fallen for him hard, which was undeniable

And all i could ask was for forgiveness

 For a knight like you doesn't deserve a girl like me in such foulness 

smile :)

Smile me through a path that's harsh
A Lil by Lil as we march
Through these treacherous road we walk
Waterfalls on one and and cliffs as white as chalk
But you make me smile on every single step
As we bound over the bridges and leap
Soon the road stretches too far
May be into a mad kings lair
But its an adventure i would like to have for a while
Cause you always make me smile.

turmoils

there is only so much a man can take
but i give up, for once i wished i didn't have watsapp.. for once in the many times i wish i was in an era of letters. where people took no liberties of staying mad forever, or where there was no space left for misunderstandings, or where feelings meant much more to dash them away.. i wish..
why my post.. i have had a tough day and a night emotionally taxing.. trying to save friendships , apologizing to people.. why i do? i don't know.. cause i care? i guess.. i do.. no matter how much i try..
does the time spent hold no value? does caring for some people whom you hold dear, not enough?
i am emotionally exhausted and spent.
seas are never smooth.. but when they are rough.. often the ship wrecks. the ship, the crew, the timbers all washed away swept to be never seen or found.. perhaps a few debris sweep up the beach.. painfully reminding of the once majestic ship with a crew of many...
friendships are similar... built with love and care the timbers.. the memories the crew.. whole together the ship.. once shattered is never placed back, never glued back.. and someday when you are sitting on a beach and sudden memory flashes by.. and you are painfully reminded of a once friendship, of a bond that once was so dear.
and when there are three ships sinking together at the same time.. its hard.. its more like a 100 typhoons raging over, howling but you are there trying to stire clear of it.. tugging the ropes hard.. holding on to the ships.. but will the hold stay? shall you see a new sun?

lonely man

alone in the crowded road
alone in the cramped bus
alone in the stuffed canteen
alone in the bustling office
alone in the jammed train
alone alone alone

alone among the grouped tress
alone in the swinging party
alone in the prayer hall
alone in the noisy parks
alone in the busy shop
alone alone alone

does it bother?
does he care?
does he notice?
does it feel?
noone sees
a lonely man....

just coffee (2) :the road

My note: i have been meaning to write many short stories with the title just coffee.. so here is the second installment to it.. hope you like it (cross my fingers)

The only constant in my life seems to be coffee. My life till now has been like the rickety shack that is on the main road, surrounded by the buzz and hum of the on going traffic but still afar from all the hustle bustle, within it’s own private bubble. And such is a place i frequent to. I am a working girl in a different city almost every year  i have to shift my base. Do i mind? Not yet.. am i a loner? Not by choice! And my coffee?? Such a loyal friend.

I frequent a place just like the shack i mentioned. Middle of nowhere and everywhere. Its location is very convenient for me. Somewhere on way to work. Not the CCDsa nd Baristas, but a typical Indian Nescafe doodh marke with diabetic inducing levels of sugar. It went light on the pocket and its location, perfect. Like every tea and paan shop located in India this was run by a man being the namesakes of half of India , Ramu kaka. I was his favourite customer. Needless to say i was the only women visiting his shack on a regular basis and taking compous amount of coffee. Ramu kaka’s place was frequented by all types of people.. the “shehar wales” (city people) dropped in for some cigarettes, the drivers for paans, the passengers for chai, the kids for wafers and chocolate, the teenage girls for juice and the rich brats for mountain dews. You named it and ramu kaka had everything one needs when it comes to road trips. During the shaddi season you would see truck, bus, tempo loads of people in eye numbing glittering attires climbing down these oven hot boxes and pilled over ramu kaka. You could see whole of india just sitting in this blow away shack.

Ramu kaka is like all other ramu kakas in the world. Tanned dark with sun, a small man with flashing white smile and eyes that crinkle in the corners. He had a missing a lower tooth and if ever asked how he would fall into a different stories each time.I never knew which one was true or if all together had bits of truth in it. But he was a man of the world. Happy and content at this moment with a wife and 3 children all married. He had a lame dog too whom he had named Hitler.When i asked him does he know who he is. He simply shrugged and said someone told him it’s a german shepherd. And all he knew about Germany was Hitler. Yes, you might think that’s a bit estranged piece of information for someone named ramu kaka. But that is ramu kaka to you, a man full of tit bits.

I was an esteemed customer for ramu kaka. He had a special rickety stool set aside for me which seemed to come from baba adam's era. my orders were always taken first, tho i rarely had to even ask him. I was his only customer drinking coffee and he showed me off to any new regulars who would drop by. I loved sitting there in dirt and filth of the main road and watching cars pass by. It was like spa to me after a tiring day at office. With the warm cup cuddled in my hand all the memories floating up from it with every wiff of the sweet smell. Sometimes when it was a slow day ramu kaka would sit and ask me all sorts of questions. At times i had a book in my hand and he would want to know the whole story! He was inquisitive by nature.He was a father in a far off distant land to me.

My parents were dead against about my stopovers a ramukaka’s chai shop. The news they hear all day long about all kinds of heinous crimes. They are not to blame. Inspite all that i never left going to the place. Another regular was shakti ji.  Given to his herculean name he was nothing but it’s opposite. A man in his 50s with scanty grey hair, a hooked nose and bulging eyes. In the first look you would think he is the middleman of some smugglers ring passing up messages inconspicuously. But in reality he was a band member in barati.. Those who play loud instrumental versions of bollywood nos like munni badnam hui, sheela ki jawani (my knowledge lacks on tacky nos)  for the dulhe raja (groom) barat to dance to the doom of two people. He was a man with worries, a man you often see buying desi daru from a wine shop. Thankfully shaktiji had enough shakti to have come out of the alcoholic red zone. A man who played the trumpet and made music for happy people to become even more happier, himself suffered from deficiency of happiness. He had two daughters. One married and the other yet to marry. His fingers had rhuetism so he couldn’t play much of the trumpet without killing himself with pain. But yet he did and everyday he came back to ramu kaka a confider and friend ,his guardian angel. To his chai. Ramu kaka sympathised with him and nodded sadly at his worries.. about the dowries one must pay.about the inevitable evil that is society. But as he said  wisely“hum toh aam adami hai, humra kaam hai jhelna” ( we are the common man, its our duty to suffer)

As the days went by, shakti ji chattered about the upcoming marriage. Even after the mega shock he was about to receive financially for the marriage there was sunrays of happiness and hopefulness for his daughter. This cheered him up considerably and i wondered how easy is the heart. All was settled and set to go for the big wedding of shaktiji’s daughter and he politely invited me to the wedding, which flattered me to some extent. But there was one element missing in the marriage. It was the band baja. The “ladki wale” (bride’s party) are suppose to arrange for the band. And it so happened that shaktiji had no money left. The irony. No band for the daughter of the band wala. He was in pieces. The ijjat and even the marriage was at stake. Yes, they are so fragile. Confessing about his new found troubles to ramu kaka. Kaka silently contemplatively gave shakti ji some chai. His eyes watching me , watching him. Like he was looking for some approval. Then he suddenly leaves having a quick chat with his wife, who lived just behind the shack. He returned with some money apparently sufficient for the band and forced it into shakti ji’s hands. A reluctant shakti ji  accepted the money and promised to return it full aware of the uncertainty of the promise and the depth of gratitude.

Sadly, i had to shift my camp again and would not be able to make it to the wedding at the cost of humanity. I bid my farewell to my dear ramu kaka and left. A few months later i was passing by ramu kakas chai shop and thought of having that old sweet coffee once again and of course to chat up with ramu kaka. On my arrival i saw her wife recognise me and immediately make me a cup of coffee and clean up my stool. Even hitler came wagging his tail and sat by my feet looking longingly at the biscuits. I glanced questioningly at ramu kakas wife whom i always addressed as ramu kaki. She gave me a pained expression with watery eyes and i knew. Ramu kaka had caught the dengue. There was no money left after he offered his help to shakti ji and no hospital would take him. He was too proud to ask back for his money.

 He was now just a spec in the memories buried somewhere dusty in the minds of the many travellers he served. The chai shop witnessing an act of benevolence and generosity , of humanity against the stringent rules of society. In its own private bubble. Going unnoticed by the speeding cars. As the whole india past by it few knew the stories that makes human humane. Of so many stories of bravery we read this one finds it’s own niche. his fervent soul now inscrutable matter on earth.  My dear friend ramu kaka.. “aam admi such as you are never aam” ...

it's always the race against numbers!