life worth of five thousand rupees

My sleep was broken by the noise of already awaken world around me. One thing I hate about hangovers, you spend your last penny to escape this chaos but when you wake up you find yourself amidst of it with nothing in your pocket. Most of my days started with a question of how I can arrange for at least five rupees till evening, to have a glass of Bangla. My family knows I am old; I can work no more in the farms. Although I can have food at home if I am at home at meal time, I am not counted while cooking and everybody shares the loss of my presence.

I stood up on my weak legs and tried to remember who bought me home. Even if I don’t remember somebody will tell me when I will be roaming in the village by afternoon. as the main door was locked, all the family members must have already left for the farms. Earlier my grand children used to wake me up before going to school, but now he helps his father in farming. He too must have left early morning with everybody. I was not liked much at home because of my drinking problem; they expected me to save money for living. They think I don’t care about the family; I just care about my addiction. They may be true, but in my worthless life drinking was the only thing which keeps me breathing till the evening.

I washed my face and I drank stomach full of the water from the mug, my grandson must have kept for me. I could feel emptiness of my stomach filled with water. I know there won’t be any breakfast for today. Even my family member will be having only dinner by evening as we didn’t have enough grain to cook till the next crop comes.

I left the emptiness of my home and started walking to my friend's place. My friend used to live just at the corner of the village in an old hut. His life is not much different than me, except he receives pension of Rs. 500 every month. That was the only thing which made him less worthless than me. Our friendship wasn't that old, once I met him in the village liquor shop. I didn't have money to drink and the owner off course was not ready to serve me on credit. Then this man paid for my peg. That night he was broken for his son's behavior. He told me his story how he end in the village hut when his son abandoned him from his house. I do not know why he was telling me those things, but I didn't stop him as he was paying my drinks. We drank till the owner pushed us out to leave the bar. Next time when we met and I paid for the bill. In many aspects we were alike; we both had many things to be heard, to complain, to curse and to laugh all would happened when we share the table. The other day he cried like a child, when one of his friend died after a long sickness. People say it's a bless to live longer. For us it was a curse to see our dear once dieing. Death is the end of all your pains but ones who love you have to bare the pain, till their turn comes. We still don't know who will be carrying this longer among us.

I reached his home, I found it latched from outside. He must have gone to the city to have his pension check. It was already late afternoon, he wont be coming today then, he always took at least two days to get his own money. I opened the door and decided to wait. There was nothing a thief could find in his hut, not at least at the last day of the month.

I waited till the dusk. It was already dark inside the hut. I decided to leave the darkness and to walk towards village. I latched the door and started to walk towards home. If I reach early today I may have something to eat, to fight till tomorrow, till my friend comes.

The hut was quite secluded from the village, about a half a mile from village. I didn't see any lights today in the village, it must be power cut I guess. I walked many times on this road, but the road seemed longer today. The light of a vehicle, passing once in a while, made my shadow to appear spread till the infinite distance when the vehicle was far away behind me, as the vehicle came closer shadow grew shorter, much shorter and abruptly disappeared as the vehicle passed beside me and I was left with the darkness.

As the vehicle passed I saw something like a coin dropped from the window. The vehicle didn't stop, but I wasn't sure what was that fell from the vehicle. I waited other vehicle to enlighten the road. After a while a car came, it was quite fast, it's light fell on the road exactly on the place I heard the sound. The ray of light reflected from the five rupee's coin. It would have disappeared once the vehicle is through, so I jumped to take the coin. I was about to have hold of the coin, the vehicle hit me hard. I was thrown off the road. I had lost the coin. I felt my forehead was bedraggled with something, I realized it was my blood.

My eyelids were heavy, I could hardly open my eyes. The only thing I realized that it was the hospital I was in. I could hear some whispering outside the room.
“Who was the new case?”
“Just another drunkard hit by a car, at some village”
“Any chances of survival?”
“It will be costlier to keep him alive, I don't think his family has that much money”
“What about the car driver?”
“He has big connections, all is settled with cops and the family.”
“For how much?”
“Five thousand, two thousand for the cop and three thousand for the family.”

I was numb. The wound didn't hurt anymore. For all these years I thought my life was worthless. I was wrong, it did worth, it worthed of five thousand rupees.

From the half open eyes I could see those two shadows in the door. The shadows spread till the infinite distance, the shadows started to grew shorter, much shorter and as the bright flame came out of me, I was left in the darkness, the darkness spread till the infinite distance. At last the all the pains of life has ended for once and all.

Shopping with her

Disclaimer: All characters (me and she) appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

For so many years, I was a fool to consider myself a well descent gentleman with average style and dressing sense, until my fallacy was brutally broken when I had a chance to go for shopping with her. It was my birthday; I decided to have a new shirt for myself. My friend heard the word ‘Shopping’ through my mouth and expressed her wish to come with me for shopping.
It was decided to meet on a Sunday evening on one of the crowded street of the city. The special about this street was it has plenty of fashion shops. When you say it’s a fashion shop, it includes Skirts, earrings, bangles, and what not. The only job any male would have here would to pay for the things his female partner has selected. Well this street was also had a big mall where you could see a comparably neglected corner of men’s wear. I was suggested and taken to the mall.
We entered the mall and visited the men’s section for my shirt. It really had a huge variety of shirts in all the possible colors.
“So which kind of shirt would you like to wear?” She asked me.
“Anything which suits me and is comfortable”, that was my nice escape to the question as I never realized that they have different kinds in shirts.
It was nice collection; I just picked one of the shirts I liked and already decided to buy it. Just for the confirmation I asked her about her opinion about my choice.
“This is kind of ok, but not which you should really buy, It’s too loud”, her.
I wish I could hear what she heard so loudly. Well if she says so there must be something wrong with the shirt so I decided to choose other shirt which would be quieter than the previous. I went through some more shirts and I picked another shirt. I proudly turned to her to show my second choice, neglecting the fact that the shirt I had chosen earlier was still my favorite among the rest.
My expectations were welcomed with a so discouraging comment, “You are just choosing the shirt like my maid’s son wears”.
I never thought the shirt was so bad, but I thought, she indeed knows about the fashion, doesn’t everybody care about what her or his maid’s son wears.
I tried to look for some better shirts, every time my efforts wear slashed with different comments; the only similarity in those different comments was, all were proving that my choice of apparels is even worse than her maid’s son.
“Well then why don’t you select a shirt for me, (if you think you know better about everything, and the person in front of you is a dumbass and stupid, beside the truth that even he wasn’t naked for all these years since he born, excluding some initial stages of his childhood) and I would love to wear something of your choice (even if I look like an elephant dressed for the a marriage ceremony so that another fool can ride it)” the irony is, you can’t say everything you can write in the brackets.
“Well, I will show you, what the actual gentle man wears” indirectly it means you are not a gentleman. Does she think I can’t read between the lines?
Although in the unexpressed rage I asked her to choose a shirt for me, but I didn’t realize that time what a mistake I had already made. She just went on a mission of analyzing each shirt to find at least three faults in each shirt; every fault was different than all of other faults. One shirt was peach blue; the other was royal blue, and some other was somewhat else blue. If someone would have asked me, I would have said all the seven shirts are blue, but who the hell was asking me, what I would like to wear.
We went through all the possible things in the mall which can be named as ‘a shirt’ or somewhere near to ‘a shirt’, but the great lady was not ready to make her decision. I still thought that the shirt I chose for the first time was the best of all I would like to wear. In a hope of her mind would change about that shirt, I tried to make some small efforts to revisit the shirt, but her facial expression made some unsaid sentences that I didn’t dare to go back to that shirt.
Finally she liked some two or three shirts and she asked me to try it. After I tried those on me she rejected those with some other excuses. By this time we are done with the whole section, without having anything in our shopping bag. She had a feeling that some other section could have men appeals, so I was taken to the other section. That section had many colorful things like skirts, earrings, suits, bangles, and some other things (I didn’t really know what they are called).
“Isn’t this nice?” she asked me without even looking at me.
“Yes, it is very beautiful” I said without even looking at the skirt.
After that somehow she forgot that we wear there to buy a shirt for me and I had to reply to all of her questions about the skirts, although any of my opinions didn’t matter at all, I answered with different words in the same sentence, ‘It is nice’, ‘It is great’, ‘It is beautiful’. After spending three hours in that mall at last we are done with the shopping, she bought a pair skirt and jeans for her.
And then, suddenly she realized why we were here, “Oh god, we still haven’t decided upon your shirt. You are so slow yaar, can’t even you choose a single shirt in three hours, you should learn something from me and….”
“I would have done that, but….”, before I could complete my sentence, I heard an announcement requesting to leave the mall as it is almost the time to close. I ran to the men’s section neglecting what she was still talking about my choice. I looked for the shirt I liked for the first time, and found that it was already sold!

Love at the first bite

Disclaimer: This post is just to express the personal feelings about the mentioned dish and does not intend to criticize or discourage vegetarian diet.

I don’t remember exactly but I think it must be a love at first bite. I must have been in love, when I had the first bite of chicken. I must have seen it prepared in a dish inviting me to taste it. I would have had it and I would have been crazy about it. I can’t remember how my first encounter with it was, but surely it was similar to what I dream about now. Now, it’s been years and I still love chicken dishes more than any other dish.

In my current life, it’s an event to have chicken. When I work I look forward to the weekend, just to have chicken. I am really lucky that I am always accompanied by some of my friends who share my ideology on chicken. Of course, it’s fun to have chicken but, to have it with the company of people who really respect the dish as you do, is a great feeling. On such moments, you find your appetite doubled.

I always used to think, what I would do without chicken. Sometimes I was afraid, what if I get bored of this dish as I had started to take chicken thrice a week. The feeling was horrible. Sometimes, I thought I should lessen my frequency, but I couldn’t help. I decided to take a good long break. In the Hindu calendar there is a month called ‘Sawan’ when it is prohibited to have any non-vegetarian dish. Actually, since I left home for the studies, I never followed any period to be prohibited from chicken, but this time I took a very harsh and brave decision, not to have chicken. The four weeks I lived the life of a vegetarian. Although, one says he is vegetarian they end up having dishes of Paneer. Believe me it is nowhere near substituting chicken dishes. It was really difficult time for me to go to the restaurant and order pure vegetable dishes. Did I tell you about the pure vegetable starters? Well for me starter doesn’t exist if it doesn’t contain chicken. For the four weeks, I felt like a prisoner who made the cage himself. I saw the life which I used to laugh at. In this period I was pained by those who suffered my sarcasms, when they used to have vegetarian dishes. I thought I have to pay it respect as I had no choice but to be stern on my decision.

Finally, as every night is followed by morning, the Sun rose in my life to tell that ‘Sawan’ is over. It was the day of ‘Gatari Amawashya ’. For the people like me such days brings happiness. I was so lucky that the day was Saturday. As it was a holiday for me I could make all my preparations to celebrate this most awaited moment, since a whole bloody month. I planned to have chicken Handi on the same evening. I never waited for anything like this. The sun was in the skyline and the moment was coming. I was prepared with hunger in my stomach. The last hour when I placed the order seemed unnaturally long. The clock hand was moving very slowly. Then, I heard the knock on the front door, there was a boy holding the order I placed an hour before. I took the order and unpacked it. I took the first bite. My god it was tastier than I had it last time. This time it was as delicious as it would have been when I would have taken it for the first time and I fell in love with it. I felt like heaven and I kept having it till my stomach had space, even for a single bite.

I was back in my world and I was welcomed here. It was a very warm welcome for me. I was lost in the world of vegetables and Paneer. I saw that world, may not be very closely, but I still salute the vegetarian people as they live without chicken. I accept that I am too weak to do that. I accept they are brave as they can resist themselves from having chicken. I am happy, for one of the best creations of man is available to me and I am madly in love with it. I am thankful to the chickens who give their lives to be served in my plate.

A success Journey

It’s not that I am a very good dancer, but when it comes to rock n roll on any beat I don’t miss a chance. Although the situation was much different here, I thought let’s give it a try. I always reckon dancing is one of the ways to express happiness and excitement, but I never tried to tie it with any regular formation to make it an art, I never tried to make it any better. But I had to revise my concept of dancing.

We started with the very basic steps of one of the old Hindi songs. First day itself I realized that I was not the only one who had wrong definition of dance in mind but there were other boys too. On the other hand girls were really very good in dancing. It made me envy them. I remember how I laughed on Sunny Deol for he couldn’t dance. When it was difficult even to dance, girls were asking me for suggesting new moves. I didn’t know what to say; at last I suggested one move (on which I would have laughed like anything if someone else would have done it)

Everything was going quite well until we introduced a song ‘Mauja ni Mauja’. It was one of the very fast beat songs. We were struggling to make those slow moves proper and we came to know that we will be performing this fast beat. We were taught the moves and everybody did well, except me. I had a real problem remembering the steps. I tried to follow the steps done by the girl in front of me, but it made everything worse. Soon it was noticed by the choreographer that I am not only making the wrong moves but the moves I did not come under any of the dances. All of them tried to fix my moves, but I (unintentionally) turned all of them down. At last it was decided that I will be taught separately, as it seemed impossible to make me dance for that time. At last I took a video of all the moves performed by my friend and practiced it at my home.

I remember I used to wake up early for my exams, so I did for this dance practice. I first tried to remember the moves. I practiced it to at least six to eight times. On the last day, that is on the day of competition I was in position to pass as a dancer.

Before I went to dance on the stage I felt a new energy in me. I was wearing a black and very flashy shirt as my entire dance group was wearing. While we were going to the stage I saw people staring at us as we looked very different than any of the persons in the premises. I saw each of my group mates, now they looked much like me. They wore the same clothes and same expression as I had on my face. At last we performed on the stage. For my surprise I didn’t make much mistakes and the dance was over. We won the second prize for the dance. We could be sad for losing the first place but we preferred to be happy for the second place.

We came back to the place we practiced our dance. At last the event, which we were practicing for, was over. We could have chosen to go back to our homes to have sleep after such a hectic day, but we chose to return to the place we achieved our last dance. It wasn’t the event which made it special, not even the victory we had; it was the whole week we spend together to achieve the last performance. It wasn’t the destination; it was the journey we made, to come till the accomplishment of this event. I may not remember the last performance that I did on the stage, but I can’t forget the time I spent practicing it offstage.

It is true that success is not the destination but it is the journey.