| Thursday, July 17, 2008 |
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They live in Bilaspur. Near the railway station. They have a shop where they sell household paints and other solvents. They’ve been doing this for years. Everyone knows their shop and their home, so all you have to do when you get off the train and into a cycle-rickshaw is tell the puller ‘_________ ke yahan jaana hai’ and he will take you there without any further questions. A few minutes after you have reached their home, the entire neighbourhood will know that ‘________ ke ghar saadhe-teen bajey ki Gitanjali express se mehmaan aaye hain, shayad Bombay vaale mausaji hain’.
It’s a narrow lane, which in the last few years has gone from a small tar road to being hopelessly broken and pot-holed to being laid with paver-blocks. There are houses on both sides of the road, two-storied ones. Theirs is the most distinct one because parked outside is a gleaming white Santro, the only car in the lane. There are no driveways, no garages … the builder didn’t think that people living here would ever own cars.
Everyone who lives in this lane knows everyone who lives in this lane. At the corner there is a grocery store where everything is available – it’s run by one of the families who live in this lane and all the homes in the lane have a monthly tab which they clear every 1st of the month. The kids from all the homes line up together at the mouth of the road to wait for their school bus, and even today all their mothers come to see them off. Because Bombay vaale mausaji has come today, there’s a sumptuous breakfast being prepared that will be a little different from his usual cornflakes and cold milk. By the time he is through with samose, dal-kachori, raajbhog and maalpue, it’s time for lunch and all he can do is stroll down to the chemist to buy Digene – the chemist obviously won’t take any money from him because he is Bombay vaale Mausaji.
After coming back from school, you don’t know where the kids are. They could be in any of the houses in the lane, doing anything from homework to playing games to sleeping to having their lunch. They will come back though, well in time for evening snacks. The father of the house as usual enquires about them when he comes home for lunch, and as usual the mother of the house shrugs and asks him to discipline them a little. As usual, he turns to Bombay vaale mausaji and smiles and says ‘ab yeh kaam bhi hum hi karenge’, and the mother makes a mental note to have a chat with mausaji about the fact that she wants him to talk to her husband about giving more time to her and the kids. He’s working too hard she will say, he leaves home at 10, comes back home for lunch and a quick nap, and then returns at 7, after which the family have dinner together, occasionally play a round of cards or scrabble or watch TV or on weekends go for a movie. ‘Aise thode hi chalta hai mausaji’, she will say. ‘Kaam hi toh sab kuchh nahi, kuchh saal baad yeh khud hi kahenge ki Priti kaise jhat se badi ho gayi, ab shaadi ho kar chali jayegi aur ghar soona ho jayega.’
There is a sitting room as soon as you enter – that’s where the guests are welcomed and served orange squash, thandai or water, depending on the guest. Beyond the sitting room is a small open area – covered with a jaali so that if the kids playing on the terrace fall they won’t come crashing down and break their bones. Around the open area are two rooms, a guest room and the kitchen. Next to the kitchen is a flight of stairs that leads up to the father’s study, another room, and eventually the terrace, where the mother hangs up all the clothes to dry. Earlier she used to wash them too, but now after he got her a washing machine, she has a little more time on her hands. She’s planning to start doing crochet again – she was excellent at it in school, all those years ago.
The kids have grown up so fast. They speak fluent English, albeit with a desi accent because their teachers all have desi accents. Tonight, both Priti and her younger brother Karan are going to chew their father’s mausaji’s brains about hindi films. Has he met any film stars? Has he been on a shoot? Surely he must have at least seen them in person. One of their friends has a cousin who has a friend in Bombay who lives in the same area as Celina Jaitley. Who’s she, mausaji will ask, and they will be disappointed.
Dinner has been substantial. Mausaji has promised ice cream for the kids so the three set off on foot. Will help the digestion too. Mausaji is surprised to find a Baskin Robbins here. Yahan Barista aur Coffee Day bhi hai, the kids beam. While the kids dig into their ice creams, mausaji is served a huge glass of lassi heaped with malai – the owner of the ice cream parlour used to be a halwai before he expanded. Now his dukaan is right next door – ‘hum Bilaspur ke meetha king hai mausaji’, he beams. As mausaji struggles to finish the lassi, meetha king creates a ruckus when mausaji starts to give him money. Aap se paise kaise le sakte hain, he says. ‘Bhabhi ko boliyega kal subah naashta nahi banayengi, hum aapke liye pyaaz ki kachori, chutney, gaajar paak aur strawberry lassi bhejenge.’
That night, after the mother has had her chat with mausaji, the kids have been put to bed and mausaji has taken his blood pressure medicine, the father fills him in on all that has happened since his last visit. ‘Dukaan achhi chal rahi hai, ek plywood aur laminates ki dukaan aur daal raha hoon. Thodi duur hai, apni dukaan se 5 km aura aage, toh raat ko ghar vaapis aane mein 20 minute aur deri hogi. Ab aapki bhaanji ko aap hi samjhao – kehti hai itna duur roz khud gaadi chala kar jaana zaroori hai kya. Samajhti nahi ke mere aage ab Priti ki shaadi ka kharcha hai. Iss dukan ka karza toh chukka diya hai, kaafi fixed deposit bhi bana ke chhod di hain. Nayi dukaan se umeed hai ki Priti ki shaadi aur Karan ki padhai ka kharcha dono nikal jayega. Karan bahut hoshiyaar hai padhai mein, mein usse MIT bhejna chahta hoon. Mausaji, ab se plan karenge tab hi jaa kar 6 saal baad itne paise honge ke woh jitna jee chahe, jahan jee chahe padh sake. Koi MNC mein naukri kare, kuchh apna khud ka kare, main nahi chahta ke gali ke baaki ladkon ki tarah woh bhi apne baap ki dukaan par baith kar zindagi nikaal de.’
The next day, a Saturday, everyone piles into the Santro for the long 15 minute drive to the nearest cinema hall, where they buy five 40 rupee dress circle tickets to watch Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na. The mother is dressed in a 'special-ocassion-chiffon' saree, the father is wearing stone-wash jeans and the kids look grand in their Gini-Johnny outfits. The kids tell mausaji that Imran Khan is Aamir Khan’s nephew, and ask him if burying pets is a normal practise in the city. After the film, they all go off to Sagar Bhojanalay where there is a gigantic Rajasthani meal waiting for them.
The kids take their cousins’ email addresses and Facebook IDs from mausaji before he boards the Gitanjali back to Bombay. ‘Tum log Bombay kab aaoge?’ he asks them before the train pulls out of the station. The mother and the kids look at the father for an answer, and he says the same thing that he has been saying for the last 7 years … ‘agli chhuttiyon mein, mausaji.’ |
posted by n.g. at 21:13
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| Tuesday, July 15, 2008 |
| Deeply Randomly Pottery |
agar Shakespeare zinda hota
sabun se apni aankhein dhota
faaltu kalmay padh kar
dimaag se apne sadh kar
apna sar pakad kar rota |
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posted by n.g. at 16:41
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kabhi shayar shayri likhte thhey
dilon mein jazbaat tikte thhey
naghme gaye, reh gayi jhankaar
sirf wohi thhey sachche fankaar
kyunki woh gaandu nahi dikhte thhey |
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posted by n.g. at 16:41
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chutiye teri zindagi hai jhund
chalta jaise gaand mein lund
do takke ki akal
aadhe takke ki shakal
fir bhi khud pe itna ghamand |
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posted by n.g. at 16:37
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| Thursday, July 10, 2008 |
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i just read that an ex colleague from my advertising days has quit her job to seek greener pastures.
there are two kinds of people. one, who can always only be the organisation they work for. take the organisation away and they're nothing, because their only identity is the name of the organisation that's printed on their visiting card, which humours the designation printed below. if you're reminded of them during conversation with friends or family, you'll recollect them as so-and-so who worked for so-and-so company.
the other kind are those who are not defined by an organisation or designation. whenever you talk about them, you'll recall them as so-and-so who did so-and-so stuff. |
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posted by n.g. at 07:47
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| Wednesday, July 02, 2008 |
| From Russia, with love. |
i may be wrong, but i think there's much more than meets the eye about the whole recent oil spike.
there's enough oil in the world to support demand, so why is everyone trampling everyone else to go by stockpiles?
OPEC members themselves are baffled by the prices. Experts are crying themselves hoarse saying they're unjustified and speculative. Some experts are even saying they're fundamentally justified, what with developing countries growing faster, thus inflation increasing, thus commodities increasing, but increased purchasing power absorbing higher prices of everything from cars to homes to durables to well, fuel, therefore oil.
Point taken.
Here's what I think.
There'll be a new American president soon. And it's no secret what all the old one has done for oil, during his term. It's also no secret that the universal favourite new President is not in favour of the Iraq war, and his stance on Iran's nuclear enrichment activities is not exactly favourable for oil in the long term, if he comes into power.
Essentially, if Mr. Obama comes into power, oil prices should at least stabilise around the $100 level. If even that seems inflated, here's a little known fact - we in India have been paying that much for oil since forever, even when it was much lower.
But at $100 a barrel, the current president will incur a huge 30% loss on his personal oil holdings, according to current prices.
If you were him, would you sell at $140 during your term, or at $100 after?
Maybe even quietly ramp it up to $170 to get more bang for your buck, giving a damn about the American dollar, and the world economy, and the billions of people invested in financial assets the world over?
And to top it off, playing the saviour by getting the US Fed to bail out ailing banks. At a fraction of their embedded value?
And ironically making millionaires of Russians, the sworn long term enemy, thanks to their huge oil reserves?
Remember, if so many people are buying oil at $140, it's because someone's selling it at $140.
Go figure.
And buy gold. They don't make it any more. |
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posted by n.g. at 13:58
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Name: n. g.
Home: Bombay, India
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