Thank you for visiting my BLOG. This is my first attempt to write a story/novel and I would be grateful if you can help me with your valuable comments. I am yet to proof-read and edit various part so please do not consider small nuances in the sentence construction.
Starts Here...
MUMBAI - This city has always amazed me since my childhood. I was born in a small town - Golaghat in a remote part Assam and always dreamt of coming to this city at least once in my life. I have managed to reach Pune 7 years back for my MBA and survived till yesterday there for as many years. Thanks to my Job in this software company where i managed training for a long time. I this seven year I mostly lead the life of a loner though I made many friends. Only asset I created in this long journey of seven years is my car which I am driving in this beautiful highway to Mumbai. My entire luggages were taken care of by my company including my 2 wheeler which is waiting for me in my new Address – Malad. I have experienced many ups and down to make it to this Company and in a broader sense to Mumbai – the City of dreams which have supported many and still welcoming every dreamer with its open arm. There is something in this city which excites me and I have made numerous trips to this place during weekends and at times during weekdays when we come down to Mumbai just to have some beers and go back to Pune. These journeys left a strong feeling of oneness in me and I always longed to be here.
I have been tried and tested by time and I somehow feel I am made to survive anything and everything. I have gone days without food and have walked more than anyone could in a day. Today is this the 26th of July 2010 and I am joining office tomorrow as a manager of this well-known Company in Mumbai and I can see the new challenges coming my way which are based on heaps of expectations irrespective of the salary.
I reached Mumbai with one break in Lonavla where I have taken my dinner and now I have to sleep among the pile of unpacked boxes randomly placed by the logistics company. I could not make out much about the place as I am little tired. The building is made of 2 blocks and my flat is in the ground floor. It should be a 5 or six storied building and from the look I can make out that the building was renovated few times in the past to give the structure the much needed strength. My flat is in the 3rd floor and I had to walk the staircase as the lift was not working. The watchman volunteered to carry my luggage to the flat and also helped me put few of the things aside so that I can make my bed below the ceiling fan as the climate is quite hot and humid. I am sure I will take some time to adjust to the new climate. I gave the watchman a 50 rupee note and asked him to wash the car in the morning before I leave for office whose colour has changed from silver to while with black patches in between. Also asked him to help me unpack the luggage and promised him some extra bonus. He is a man in his 50’s and have been serving as the watchman of this society since the building was built in the year 1980. He left the place after passing his phone number promising to come back next morning. It would have been a very difficult night have not I bought the beers from the corner shop in the main street. I gulped 3 bottles of the strong beers and settled down in my makeshift bed.
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So Far So good
It’s been more than 10 days in Mumbai and I have started getting familiar to this place. I am having a wonderful boss with good subordinates to support me in this new account of the company. I have been working with this telecom Client for the last 5 years and I have joined this company because of the recommendation of one of the client who is very close to me and we have been working together for a long time. My home is settled now and I am happy that I managed to buy this AC at a good discount. The rising electricity bill though sometimes makes me feel that I should be in the office even during the weekends where my consumption at home is higher and also feel this private electricity company loots us in daylight while providing light at night.
I now know few of the people in my society and especially the guy who runs the vegetable cum grocery cum cigarette cum “all your basic need” shop just across the road 300 yards from my house. I can wake him in the middle of the night and ask for a packet or two. This is the benefit of my last profession as a trainer for 5 years which helped me understand people and at the same time the art of building relationship. Though I learnt a lot during my MBA days; there is nothing compared to practical learning and therefore we see 90% of this MBA Graduates become a salaried employees under people who has never gone close to a MBA school. This is one reason why I am in love with people like Steve Job. I have tried many ventures in my life though including the one where I tried to create a tourism boom in the north east of India. I almost did the magic after creating www.kazirangasociety.net to attract tourist from different part of India and outside and had created a long itinerary with various options and have shared my offers with various tour agencies in India with strong logistic support. I along with my partner have spent every last penny to make it a success and SUCCESS we almost saw it. Every of our partners backed out post the serial bombing in Guwahati which took many lives and the entire tourism industry was impacted and I became an atheist from an agnostic after that. I had to struggle from the lowest strata of the food chain to reach here.
Every floor in my apartment houses 3 flats. However my apartment has only 2 flats as I cannot see a 3rd door on the floor and most probably the owner bought 2 flats and combined them into a large flat with more bedrooms and space. The building has a very simple plan and because of its shape it can accommodate 1 flat in the east and 2 flat in the west with a small space of not more than 200 sq. feet between the 3 doors. I have never seen the door on the opposite side of my floor open. In the last 3 months I have not seen a soul or heard any sound from the other side but I am sure that someone stays in the flat as I could see the Newspaper being delivered every day when I open the door to pick up mine. Occasional letters at the door pocket and sometimes Milk packets at the door. I am confident because all these things are delivered and the inhabitant of the house managed to take them in without me noticing it and have managed to do so for the last 3 months. I found this very mysterious and many times thought of asking the watchman but something made me not to pose a question to the old man as he himself seems lost at times. He keeps talking about going back to his wife in Nepal whom he has seen 2 years back. Last time his plan to go to Nepal has to be postponed due to the Mumbai flood where he had to work with the society chairman in the water proofing and drainage work and I hope this time there should not be any damage to the society compound. He hopes to go home soon and though I am not even remotely related to him- I hate the idea because I will be losing a person who use to do most of my work including bringing beers, cigarette for me and need not to mention the regular cleaning and washing of my car and the 2 wheeler. I am aware that this is pure selfishness though I compensate him handsomely for his work.
Today morning too I saw the postman depositing few letters in the letter box of flat 501-502 opposite my flat. I saw him when I was hurrying down to my car as I was getting late for office. I felt like waiting for a while to see who opens the door as the postman was holding a speed post which needed the receiver’s signature and he was pushing the switch to the calling bell. Not sure if someone opened the door. The whole 15 minutes to my office I kept thinking about the person in the next door. “Maybe a very old widow or widower stays” I thought. Maybe the children have migrated to US or are working there. Even Europe could be a possible answer. My thought slowly drifted to the number of people migrating out of India for better opportunities and money. All the countries in the world have a good percentage of Indians living and giving birth to children and as we are very good at that. In few hundred years more half of India would be outside India and I have no doubt that India would not only become a Global Leader in most areas of Science, Technology , Service and Economics but also would lead the population ranking and with ageing locals in most of the prosperous countries we would make good business in areas like nursing and outsourcing where we might take over all the emergency 800 services from those countries; maybe even sending our own fleet of Ambulance Service equipped with the state of the art paramedics service with Indian doctors to take care of. I again thought “What would happen if the widow (I am somehow certain by now that the person living next to my flat is a widow) needed medical service at her doorstep, who would be attending? 30% of the people anyway suffer due to mistreatment by doctors as a part of incorrect diagnosis. Whatever it is? The thought that a very old widow or widower stays next to my flat is getting hard wired now. I had an easy day in the office with Christmas around and a long holiday in the week that would turn 2010 to 2011. I have no plans for the New Year and maybe few drinks with Daju; I have started calling the Nepali watchman “daju” now. Few of my colleagues in the office has asked me to join them in some place call Santorini which is supposed to be a happening place in Bandra and would attract many young people. Young people mean young girls and young girls mean beautiful girls. After coming to Mumbai I found almost every girl beautiful; the power of the cosmetic industry is evident here. There are cosmetics for man too. Right from hair removing to fairness cream you find everything here and when you walk to a shopping Mall these days you do not see a major difference in the numbers of both the sexes in the Cosmetics section. In fact most of the Malls have merged the sections into one large section which I heard has increased sales by 3 folds as both man and women spends considerable time hunting for their favorite brand and more time means more money encouraging the cosmetics company to come up with more products even if they are useless. I would not be surprised if I see a section selling colourless and odorless lipsticks and nail police for the metrosexual youth which definitely would sell like hot cakes. Kim kardisian have gone with her mother to do her bikini line at the age of 7. Padded Bras are sold in the market for 6-10 years age group and the funny thing is they get sold faster than we can imagine. I am not a judge or a religious guru or someone from the moral brigade; but my conscience says this is stupidity. Are we trying to make our children grow faster? In the animal world the babies does the same thing which they have been made to do 1000’s of years ago and they end up becoming as good as their parents. I think instead of trying to see and study the TRP of a daily soap resource should be mobilized to analyse this activity. Juvenile Crime has increased by 10 fold in the last 15 years and we have no answer to that. I think the writers of frekonomics – Stephen and Steven should have a better answer to this as US sees more such crime than any part of the world even a Malcolm Gladwell might come up with his next book –“WHAT the Child Saw?”. Anyway I will decide on the Santorini thing later. Daju has arranged for a plumber to fix the leaking tap at the bathroom and I need to attend that today evening.
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Rendezvous
As usual I am again late to the office. To tell you the truth I never gets late to the office. I prefer going to the office an hour early which I have been doing for many years now. Because we have a UK Client we are required to maintain the UK shifts which we started at 13:30 hrs. The time changes during the daylight saving by 1 hour. We have learnt so many things from the Brits but never time management. I feel sad when I see team members and colleagues coming late to office. Try visiting a government office and you will know what I mean. Millions of productive man-hours are lost due to these employees coming late and going home and hence we see those heaps of files lying somewhere behind those office gathering dust. Almost all the government project gets delayed adding up to high cost of completion. Even the provision for such unavoidable circumstances did not add up to the requirement and we always see last many activities and planning which they could have done long back during the start of the project. A good example is how the scene at the SWG unfolded and the whole world witnessed our corrupt and inefficient government system. I thank the sports man who has put together a great show not letting us down completely. Going back to my native town Golaghat in Assam; the sun rises here at 4 A.M and sets at 5:00 in the evening. The British realized that 100 years back and hence the Tea gardens still manage to run by a different time which is one hour ahead of our official time. I blame the entire episode of a non-progressive state labeled to Assam to this one. Ideally the school should start the day at 7 in the morning which would be close to 9 from purely sun rise and sun set perspective of this part of the world. This would give the children more time to do various activities like painting, Cricket, skating and they would still have time during the late evening to study and do their homework. But this is not the case here; the parents follow the official time and go to office and work accordingly and this is so much ingrained and they have accustomed to the daily routine; no one thought about this and I doubt there would still be people who might think I am sort of crazy to come up with this weird idea for a state whose downfall in the 70s, 80s and 90s is all because of terrorism and not anything else. Let me hold to my views and live with it.
I locked the door to my flat and pressed the Switch to the lift which made a mild sound in the ground floor. While waiting for the lift I turned to the door on the opposite side. For the first time I noticed the name plate at the wall beside the door. It read “Anil and Tina Dhaballa” in gold in some unknown font which I need to check the long list starting from Aharoni to Wingdings 3 in my laptop. A strong Iron grilled door protects the door behind. I tried to guess who among the 2 are alive now. I pressed the switch again. This time the lift made a cracking sound and gave up. This is something I hate and this bloody machine always add those extra few minutes in my already running late schedule. Not willing to waste any more time I rushed towards the stair case and started moving downward when I heard someone calling from behind. I would have continued in my downward motion but for the voice. I have heard many sweet voices in my life but not a single one directed to me and my name how come the person knows my name? I have heard such voice in the movies and the plays I saw while in Pune but not from someone staying opposite to my door in any of the many flats I stayed in my 10 years life outside home. I turned back to look at the person behind. There is this young lady standing at the ajar with one of her hand at the door knob. She has a tall and slim stature with very long hair which were unkempt which made her look more innocent and beautiful at the same time. She was wearing a while gone which covered half way to the ankle. Her 2 big brown eyes were looking straight at me somehow distracting me and making me look the other way. Though she was not smiling I can see the mild dimple in her chin. I can rate her 10 in a scale of ten and rate the next best person below 5 without even seeing the other person. I can see her slim and perfect curves thorough the gown because of the light coming from behind her and passing through her dress.
“I need your help; could you do me a favour please”? She said. There was hardly any expression in her face and it seemed that she was in some sort of pain. Could this be Tina Dhaballa married to Anil Dhaballa who was a very old man and died few days; maybe months back….i thought. This world is becoming more and more materialistic and this is what she got because of her stupidity. No time for more thoughts now; I have to respond to this lady. I also felt like thanking the lift today. Atleast I got a chance to look at this lady who is amazingly beautiful and anyone would be proud to have her beside her. Anil was a lucky guy and may his soul rest in peace.
“Not a problem” I said.
“I am trying to call the watchman since morning but he is not picking up the phone” Would you mind calling him as you are going down and at this time he should be by the water reservoir near the Pump room.
“Sure, I will send him right away” I said with a smile. I wanted to say few more things that she is beautiful – which she might have heard million times in the past…that she has a sweet voice…and a great body. I kept my thoughts to myself and started ebbing in the turn of the staircase still looking at her.
“Thank you for your help” She said this time with a faint smile and I am sure if that smile increases its font even by a few Nano meters; I would not mind getting the watchman to her in my shoulder without even bothering about the lift.
I noticed few other things in my last glance or rather glances which made me take the turn in the staircase in the slowest of motion possible and I could have beaten any of the Bollywood started moving towards each other in slow motion today. Only difference here is I am moving towards the watchman and my slow motion is to have some more glances of the beautiful maiden. She was not wearing anything under her feet and I can see her beautiful nails which are more beautiful than the fingers in her hand. On her right leg she was wearing something to cover her feet and I am not sure about the length of the piece of cloth maybe a stocking or long socks which ran right through the gown to some part of her leg high above. Maybe she was either trying to put on that piece of work on her left leg or was trying to remove the one from her right when she heard my door open.
I came down to the ground floor and rushed (I was getting late) towards the pump room but could not see him. “Daju” “Daju”…I shouted but no reply. Maybe he has gone to buy something outside to the Bazaar across the street which incidentally is called Somwari bazaar and is quit famous in the locality and I use that as reference point for rickshaw guys and all my letters carry Somwari Bazar as the landmark to my building which is dwarfed by the huge new buildings surrounding it.
Though I was getting late I desperately searched for the watchman and even opened his room which was not locked from outside. I saw the mobile connected to the charger and the old man might have forgotten to take it along before going out. I cannot waste more time and moved towards my car. I sat on the car after keeping my laptop in the backseat and started the engine.
“Is it Ok to go away like this” I thought. “There could be some emergency and she is expecting the watchman”. Simply by not going back you are closing the door at your face. If not a girlfriend she can still make a great neighbor and maybe a friend in this lonely island.
I locked the door and again climbed the 5 floor to reach 501-502 and pressed the bell. I waited for 20 seconds and pressed again. No one opened the door. I was panting because of the climb and now no one is opening the door. I am running behind time now and adding to my woes this lady is not opening the down.
“How the hell I will pass the message to her? More importantly how the hell I can tell her that I came back only for her’ I put my hand in my purse and found few post-it which I normally carry to put reminders for myself in the bathroom, fridge and everyplace in the flat where I frequently move around. The best place though is behind the remote. I scribbled on the post-it hurriedly:
“Checked for the watchman; he is unavailable”
Should I put my mobile number in case she needs me to get something for her? No that would tag me as an over ambitious nymphomaniac trying to lay his hands on her. I pasted the note beside the milk packet box and moved down as the lift was still not working.
With many thoughts in my mind I drove to the office. Today I did not notice much in my way the way I normally do. The newspaper boy waved at me in the street corner but I did not bother to buy one. I normally buy my newspaper every day from this boy as no one in my building subscribe to daily Newspaper and hence no vendors wills to deliver newspaper in the 5th floor of my building. My mind was engulfed with the thought of Nita and was trying to understand why she got married to the old man though I do not know if my postulation is correct but I continued to think and believe in my assumptions and I know when I sleep at night with this thought coming to my mind again and again I would hard wire this into my brain the next morning. This is how people normally remember and store things. You sleep with something every night irrespective of the truth in your thoughts and we do not validate everything, every time. All this becomes your personal truth the next morning and with time those ideas are the only fact you know about things and we tend to live by them. I am going to do this to this thought of mine. The face of Nita sparked some corner of my brain again and I somehow felt good.
Somehow I did not had a great day in the office which started with an incorrect mail send to one of my client where I selected Shaw instead of Singh and Mr. Alan Shaw received the mail where I have wrote some strong words related to M Singh’s performance who screwed one of our customers telecom account along with his subordinate Raja. I had to call back Alan and apologize who luckily understood. Secondly I transferred Kalmadi from the sports account to a new department which backfired as I had no evidence of non-performance against him and my senior asked me to summon a case study to prove my point which is like hitting my feet against a sharp Axe. All these and more…
After a very tiring data and so much of Nita in my mind the only option I am left with is to halt my car in the corner just opposite “Shakti Wines”. Whatever be the name I know for sure I need all the Shakti tonight to ensure a good sleep. I do not want kalmadi, Singh and Raja haunting me all night though I don’t mind Nita coming to my dream. I bought a bottle of while Rum and went to the Kabab Shop – Raju Kabab asked the Anna to make a good Kabab for me with extra spice. I know Anna since the week I landed in Mumbai because of my bachelor lifestyle which brings me back to Anna all the time. Though there are few authentic Punjabi eateries Anna makes the best Kabab in the locality. By his look Anna doesn’t even look close to someone forget from Punjab but not even a south Indian. He looks like a Tibetan monk with few hair in his head and his tag mark dhoti. Raju kabab solds more Punjabi dishes than the combined business of the other shops around and Anna serves me anytime of the day at times I have to sneak though the small door behind the shop and request Anna for a half Tandoori or a Punjabi Chole. Being an Assamese we have very simple taste and I should be happy with dal rice and fishes like my kinfolks and family. I developed the taste for Punjabai and all North Indian dishes during my stay in Pune where I had many friends from the north.
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Revelations
10:45 P.M
I took 10 mins to reach my parking. I was struggling to get my stuffs out of my Car. I was holding the laptop in one hand and was trying to collect the other items from my car which included food from the Kakab shop and the bottle of Rum, I also had few files which I carried home as I did not do much in the office apart from few unmemorable mistakes. Seeing me struggle “Daju” rushed from the corner and helped me pull all the small packets and also carried few of them. The moment I saw him the whole episode of the morning came to my mind and along with it the face of Nita. The way I wanted to thank the lift in the morning; I now want to thank “Daju” for what he is as he though unknowingly made Nita talk to me. I should also be happy about his forgetfulness nature which made him forget his phone before going out. I was furious when he left my car key inside while washing my car the other day and I had to waste one entire day going to the dealer to get my key done and I was very angry. The poor fellow tried to compensate that by not charging me anything for the car wash that month. Though I paid him I felt good about the honest nature of this poor man when our politicians do not think twice before guzzling the tax payer’s money. What an imbalance we have in our society? Why should this imbalance be there in marriage too? What made Nita to marry that old man and now have to live a life of a loner…..very similar to me? I thought. The last four letters are important because they show hope and the entire world lives on hope. Why should I be left behind in the race of hope though in all other races I struggle to reach the other end? In fact only race I won during my school days was the sack race and I never loss the slow cycle race. I captained the school cricket team twice to the losing side in the final against the same opponent KKBB school while in Golaghat.
“Where were you in the morning; I came looking for you and why don’t you carry your phone when you go out”
“I had to go out with the chairman to buy some goods as the tank is leaking since last 5 days. The phone was dead and therefore I put it on charge before leaving - Sahib”
When he did not hear anything in response from me; he again asked. “Sahib, was there something important”
No N-o-thing…I said.
“Sahib, today 5th floor madam was asking about you. She said you are a gentleman.
Gentleman – “Gentleman” I am…my “hope” started taking shape inside me and I felt like captaining the school side again and beat the KKBB team. After all cricket is a game of gentlemen.
“What was she saying? I was trying to help her find you” I smiled and tried to be very casual in my talks.
“Nothing much; just that you came down searching for me and also went up to inform her when you did not find me. She scolded me for not carrying my phone just like you did now” The last sentence came out of him in despair; but for me that was the most important line. Even the “Daju”saw similarity in us. Though I did not meet her in my way back to her in the morning; she mentioned that as if we meet. She might have considered the note at her door in this case. I now have a strong urge to meet her and talk to her.
Though I wanted to ask him many things I only asked one.
“Where is Anil Sahib? Do you attend to Nita Madam all the time?
Hearing this “Daju” already old face became more haggard and he now looks like an 80 year old man in his last stage. Did I say something wrong? Was it not the right question? Have I forgotten the social protocol over the years of staying out and all alone? I pondered over the question again. Was it little dogmatist? I am very good at my job….was it a failure in my part to understand things and people. “Hell” will this affect our relationship. I mean the “yet to happen” relationship even if it is friendship with Nita.
“Sahib; that was not ‘Nita’ madam. She is “Shayali” madam and you spoke to her in the morning.
But…I tried to speak
Haan sahib ji…. Nita madam was her late mother who passed away seven months back. She was travelling with her husband. They were coming from Dubai after a vacation.
Lot of thoughts came to my mind. I remember reading on the newspaper about the dreadful accident where an AI plane crashed and burst into flames outside an airport in southern India. I remember the date – May 22nd as that was the day when I forward my resignation letter to my HR in my last company. That was a life changing day for me and a life changing day for Shayali too but in a different context. I felt ashamed about everything I did and thought since morning. I felt like going to shayali and fall in her feet for all those thoughts.
“Sahib…SAHIB” the watchman increased his pitch when he saw me not responding as I was lost in my own thought.
“I know what you are thinking” he said.
“How the hell he knows what I am thinking? Was I speaking to myself all this time…No No I am sane and I know all those were thoughts and he might be referring to something else?
“Sahib…Shayali was just 5 years old when I first came to this building. They moved out of this society to a better place in the town 10 years back and look at fate…She is back here and this time all alone. God is very selfish and he should not have done this to this soul. She is such a sweet girl. She has not been talking to anyone since she came here in July….few days before you came in”
I did not had much to say and I allowed “Daju” to vent out everything. I silently agreed to the fact is God is selfish as he has crashed my first entrepreneurial venture throwing me out of every means.
“You might have noticed her feet” Her right side is partially paralyzed when she drove met with an accident while driving down to Mangalore to see her parents. She ended up in a Hospital In Bangalore and stayed there for 2 months and when she recovered she came here as she feels that she would be closer to her parents if she stays in this flat. She did not get to see her parents for the last time. God should not have done this to her…in fact no one should pass though such plight’ There was a teardrop in “Daju’s” eye.
I don’t know how time passed and after listening to the whole saga and the plight Shyali is passing though it made me respect her more and felt like going to her and talk to her. I took the bottle of Rum out of the carry bag and handed over to “Daju”.
“God bless you” daju said and took the bottle of Rum and disappeared thorough the staircase. I lay there looking into the ceiling for some time. Everyone is confused in life. “Daju” who was cursing the Gods few minutes back asked the same God to bless me after I handed over the Rum bottle. Sometimes I feel God also does the same thing to us as we are also the outcome of his creation and we carry traits of his character. The Politicians take bribe and pass a percentage to the God in some dargah, mandir etc and God in let them go unblemished all the time. I am not sure if God has a plan to kill them ten thousand more times in different ways after their much celebrated life and honoured death. I would like to see one of them hanged – brought to life, crucified – brought to life, shot in the head – brought to life, Cut to pieces – brought to life, poisoned, put to the gallows and so on.
“Shaifali” the right now for a beautiful lady. I now realized the reason behind her wearing that cloth around her right feet.
11: 45 P.M
I was not able to sleep that night and I have already skipped my dinner. Something inside told me that I should speak to her. I am not sure if this is the right thing to do so. She might be sleeping…she might be struggling to make her bed…She needs help…I thought….she needs help not only for today but till the time her leg is brought to life….in case that is a possibility.
I slowly opened the door to my flat and walked to the door opposite. “Anil and Neeta Dhaballa”. A sudden fear grasped me as if both her parents warned me against any wrong doing. I did not ring the bell but knocked it. I had a simple logic. If she is awake she should be in the hall by the TV or would be reading something…In case she is asleep my knock at her door would not trouble her and I can go back to my flat.
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Ensue
The door opened. She was standing in front of me in a white gown; this times a different one with laces in the collar and the shoulder.
“H-E-L-L-O” I said in a low tone and tried to appear as gentle as possible.
“Hi, sorry for the trouble you had to take up because of me in the morning. I am helpless without kaka and hence gifted the phone to him so that he is there when she needs me. Please come in”. She said.
“Would you like to have a cup of tea?”
In any other day this would have been my best excuse to chit chat with a beautiful lady like shayali. Today is different and I genuinely wanted to be with her for some time…even though I have my selfish reason…I wanted to get rid of all those useless thoughts since morning. In the morning in my quest for looking at only the beauty in Shayali I missed the painful part. I did not read her body language which depicts lot of pain. She uses a metal sticks to move from one place to another and this is one reason what keeps her inside all the time. I kept looking at her right hand which struggled to maneuver through the sofa to a chair in the corner which I think is her favorite or maybe she finds it comfortable.
N-O thanks…I really don’t know what to say and just sat there like a fool.
“I am used this now and you should not feel bad about this” she said noticing my eyes glued to the metal rod. It is better now. My oxygen level dropped drastically when I first met with the accident and there was no one to take care of me as everyone got busy with my parents and most of my relatives and friend came to know about my accident only the next day” She continued “the oxygen level kept dipping posing threat to both my head and heart and the doctors kept an oxometer and monitored my level at regular intervals. I had to live on external source for oxygen for more than 15 days. To cope with the constant awareness of a limited lifespan is difficult. I started having intense memory loss. I’d wake up most mornings in the hospital from vivid dreams which could evoke certain memory set. It could be a face, colour, even a particular light! The more restricted my physical life became, the more vivid the life of my mind. I had thought like, would I ever see a new city; would I get to see the sea link extended to Nariman Point. Would I be able to get into the Metro ever? I am more or less in control now. This is one reason I have not kept a servant and try and do everything myself’ she said…there was a faint smile is her face.
I only nodded to every word she said. I am not sure of her expectations and I am sure she has told this story to many in the past and the every listener has responded in his/her own way and everything I say, do or act would be a pick from those people as we are somehow conditioned to behave in a particular way in a particular situation and as human being most of the time we end up displaying the same emotion. I could not make out the meaning of her faint smile and I realized that how incorrect I was in thinking that all those years of training and interacting with people has made me understand people more. Now I realised that all those years have taught me and customised me to behave in a certain way in a control environment which is not a place conducive for free flow emotions which I see now. She might have seen something good in me. Something worthy of trust and I should not break that with my diagnosis and evaluation.
“Do you drink” She asked.
I did not know what to respond. “Sometimes, with friends around or to offer them company but not a habitual drinker” I responded and hoped that I have done it well. I remembered giving away the bottle of Rum to “Daju” few minutes back.
“As I am unable to offer you anything; would you mind making a drink for yourself?” She pointed to one corner of the room where there is a mini bar with all types of drinks. “This belongs to my father and since he left they are lying there with no one coming to this place. You can have the ice from the refrigerator and in case you need anything else you can help yourself. You have given me company today and like your friends I offer you a drink for being so nice to a crippled lady” she smiled. This time the smile was broad as if someone has pumped in lot of life into her. As there was no one around; I take the credit for doing that and something inside me told me that – “you are a great guy”
I did not want to go overboard and made a small drink for myself and offered her some apple juice from her fridge.
“After 4 weeks in Bangalore, one of my friend suggested that I should visit UK and check with Dr.Subramanium. Everything is arranged and I stayed in London for 2 weeks when my oxygen level started improving. I was a student of Psychology and understand few things about the human brain. I did everything to keep myself busy and more importantly happy. With the oxygen level improving my mood also began to lift and I could be more attentive to minute shifts. I ended up reading many Psychology books. I somewhere read that Attention is love. This idea which I have studied and known earlier began to acquire a new life.Attention; observation and trust are fundamentals of my life. I realised if I developed patience with whatever I was feeling and yet was attentive to all that was going around me, I’d be able to live a quiet life. I managed to reach here all alone and expected that my closed ones will help and support me from here. Slowly everyone deserted me. My own brother took control of Dad’s property stating my mental instability due to the accident and never came back, This flat was a gift to me by my mother and I shifted to this flat last July.” I saw her cry and in that moment of emotion I silently cried inside me. I felt like holding her hands and tell her that I am there for her. “Am I really there for her; Is this an impulsive reaction the way it happens when we see a sad movie. Even those corrupt politicians watch those movies and feel sad. They never improve and go back to their old ways. Would I go back to my old ways tomorrow? What about a week after that? What about a year? Will I be able to hold those emotions and cry the way I did? I remembered something that came to my mind that moment.
“Sad moments of the past make you smile and happy moments of the past makes you cry” This is true to a good extent but I never smile when I remember the death of my granny. I still feel sad when I lost one of my friends to a freak bike accident. I feel good about the good times I had while in school. I am losing genuine human touch in this artificial world. There was a ceaslesss review of my life going on in my head, the dark errors, the people I had hurt deeply, the knowledge of how shallow and impulsive I had been. I felt like I am separated by a strong curtain from the real world around me. God should not have done this to shayali. She is innocent and she needs support and help which her brother and family did not provide when she was in need.
I have been tried and tested by time and I somehow feel I am made to survive anything and everything. I have gone days without food and have walked more than anyone could in a day. Today is this the 26th of July 2010 and I am joining office tomorrow as a manager of this well-known Company in Mumbai and I can see the new challenges coming my way which are based on heaps of expectations irrespective of the salary.
I reached Mumbai with one break in Lonavla where I have taken my dinner and now I have to sleep among the pile of unpacked boxes randomly placed by the logistics company. I could not make out much about the place as I am little tired. The building is made of 2 blocks and my flat is in the ground floor. It should be a 5 or six storied building and from the look I can make out that the building was renovated few times in the past to give the structure the much needed strength. My flat is in the 3rd floor and I had to walk the staircase as the lift was not working. The watchman volunteered to carry my luggage to the flat and also helped me put few of the things aside so that I can make my bed below the ceiling fan as the climate is quite hot and humid. I am sure I will take some time to adjust to the new climate. I gave the watchman a 50 rupee note and asked him to wash the car in the morning before I leave for office whose colour has changed from silver to while with black patches in between. Also asked him to help me unpack the luggage and promised him some extra bonus. He is a man in his 50’s and have been serving as the watchman of this society since the building was built in the year 1980. He left the place after passing his phone number promising to come back next morning. It would have been a very difficult night have not I bought the beers from the corner shop in the main street. I gulped 3 bottles of the strong beers and settled down in my makeshift bed.
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So Far So good
It’s been more than 10 days in Mumbai and I have started getting familiar to this place. I am having a wonderful boss with good subordinates to support me in this new account of the company. I have been working with this telecom Client for the last 5 years and I have joined this company because of the recommendation of one of the client who is very close to me and we have been working together for a long time. My home is settled now and I am happy that I managed to buy this AC at a good discount. The rising electricity bill though sometimes makes me feel that I should be in the office even during the weekends where my consumption at home is higher and also feel this private electricity company loots us in daylight while providing light at night.
I now know few of the people in my society and especially the guy who runs the vegetable cum grocery cum cigarette cum “all your basic need” shop just across the road 300 yards from my house. I can wake him in the middle of the night and ask for a packet or two. This is the benefit of my last profession as a trainer for 5 years which helped me understand people and at the same time the art of building relationship. Though I learnt a lot during my MBA days; there is nothing compared to practical learning and therefore we see 90% of this MBA Graduates become a salaried employees under people who has never gone close to a MBA school. This is one reason why I am in love with people like Steve Job. I have tried many ventures in my life though including the one where I tried to create a tourism boom in the north east of India. I almost did the magic after creating www.kazirangasociety.net to attract tourist from different part of India and outside and had created a long itinerary with various options and have shared my offers with various tour agencies in India with strong logistic support. I along with my partner have spent every last penny to make it a success and SUCCESS we almost saw it. Every of our partners backed out post the serial bombing in Guwahati which took many lives and the entire tourism industry was impacted and I became an atheist from an agnostic after that. I had to struggle from the lowest strata of the food chain to reach here.
Every floor in my apartment houses 3 flats. However my apartment has only 2 flats as I cannot see a 3rd door on the floor and most probably the owner bought 2 flats and combined them into a large flat with more bedrooms and space. The building has a very simple plan and because of its shape it can accommodate 1 flat in the east and 2 flat in the west with a small space of not more than 200 sq. feet between the 3 doors. I have never seen the door on the opposite side of my floor open. In the last 3 months I have not seen a soul or heard any sound from the other side but I am sure that someone stays in the flat as I could see the Newspaper being delivered every day when I open the door to pick up mine. Occasional letters at the door pocket and sometimes Milk packets at the door. I am confident because all these things are delivered and the inhabitant of the house managed to take them in without me noticing it and have managed to do so for the last 3 months. I found this very mysterious and many times thought of asking the watchman but something made me not to pose a question to the old man as he himself seems lost at times. He keeps talking about going back to his wife in Nepal whom he has seen 2 years back. Last time his plan to go to Nepal has to be postponed due to the Mumbai flood where he had to work with the society chairman in the water proofing and drainage work and I hope this time there should not be any damage to the society compound. He hopes to go home soon and though I am not even remotely related to him- I hate the idea because I will be losing a person who use to do most of my work including bringing beers, cigarette for me and need not to mention the regular cleaning and washing of my car and the 2 wheeler. I am aware that this is pure selfishness though I compensate him handsomely for his work.
Today morning too I saw the postman depositing few letters in the letter box of flat 501-502 opposite my flat. I saw him when I was hurrying down to my car as I was getting late for office. I felt like waiting for a while to see who opens the door as the postman was holding a speed post which needed the receiver’s signature and he was pushing the switch to the calling bell. Not sure if someone opened the door. The whole 15 minutes to my office I kept thinking about the person in the next door. “Maybe a very old widow or widower stays” I thought. Maybe the children have migrated to US or are working there. Even Europe could be a possible answer. My thought slowly drifted to the number of people migrating out of India for better opportunities and money. All the countries in the world have a good percentage of Indians living and giving birth to children and as we are very good at that. In few hundred years more half of India would be outside India and I have no doubt that India would not only become a Global Leader in most areas of Science, Technology , Service and Economics but also would lead the population ranking and with ageing locals in most of the prosperous countries we would make good business in areas like nursing and outsourcing where we might take over all the emergency 800 services from those countries; maybe even sending our own fleet of Ambulance Service equipped with the state of the art paramedics service with Indian doctors to take care of. I again thought “What would happen if the widow (I am somehow certain by now that the person living next to my flat is a widow) needed medical service at her doorstep, who would be attending? 30% of the people anyway suffer due to mistreatment by doctors as a part of incorrect diagnosis. Whatever it is? The thought that a very old widow or widower stays next to my flat is getting hard wired now. I had an easy day in the office with Christmas around and a long holiday in the week that would turn 2010 to 2011. I have no plans for the New Year and maybe few drinks with Daju; I have started calling the Nepali watchman “daju” now. Few of my colleagues in the office has asked me to join them in some place call Santorini which is supposed to be a happening place in Bandra and would attract many young people. Young people mean young girls and young girls mean beautiful girls. After coming to Mumbai I found almost every girl beautiful; the power of the cosmetic industry is evident here. There are cosmetics for man too. Right from hair removing to fairness cream you find everything here and when you walk to a shopping Mall these days you do not see a major difference in the numbers of both the sexes in the Cosmetics section. In fact most of the Malls have merged the sections into one large section which I heard has increased sales by 3 folds as both man and women spends considerable time hunting for their favorite brand and more time means more money encouraging the cosmetics company to come up with more products even if they are useless. I would not be surprised if I see a section selling colourless and odorless lipsticks and nail police for the metrosexual youth which definitely would sell like hot cakes. Kim kardisian have gone with her mother to do her bikini line at the age of 7. Padded Bras are sold in the market for 6-10 years age group and the funny thing is they get sold faster than we can imagine. I am not a judge or a religious guru or someone from the moral brigade; but my conscience says this is stupidity. Are we trying to make our children grow faster? In the animal world the babies does the same thing which they have been made to do 1000’s of years ago and they end up becoming as good as their parents. I think instead of trying to see and study the TRP of a daily soap resource should be mobilized to analyse this activity. Juvenile Crime has increased by 10 fold in the last 15 years and we have no answer to that. I think the writers of frekonomics – Stephen and Steven should have a better answer to this as US sees more such crime than any part of the world even a Malcolm Gladwell might come up with his next book –“WHAT the Child Saw?”. Anyway I will decide on the Santorini thing later. Daju has arranged for a plumber to fix the leaking tap at the bathroom and I need to attend that today evening.
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Rendezvous
As usual I am again late to the office. To tell you the truth I never gets late to the office. I prefer going to the office an hour early which I have been doing for many years now. Because we have a UK Client we are required to maintain the UK shifts which we started at 13:30 hrs. The time changes during the daylight saving by 1 hour. We have learnt so many things from the Brits but never time management. I feel sad when I see team members and colleagues coming late to office. Try visiting a government office and you will know what I mean. Millions of productive man-hours are lost due to these employees coming late and going home and hence we see those heaps of files lying somewhere behind those office gathering dust. Almost all the government project gets delayed adding up to high cost of completion. Even the provision for such unavoidable circumstances did not add up to the requirement and we always see last many activities and planning which they could have done long back during the start of the project. A good example is how the scene at the SWG unfolded and the whole world witnessed our corrupt and inefficient government system. I thank the sports man who has put together a great show not letting us down completely. Going back to my native town Golaghat in Assam; the sun rises here at 4 A.M and sets at 5:00 in the evening. The British realized that 100 years back and hence the Tea gardens still manage to run by a different time which is one hour ahead of our official time. I blame the entire episode of a non-progressive state labeled to Assam to this one. Ideally the school should start the day at 7 in the morning which would be close to 9 from purely sun rise and sun set perspective of this part of the world. This would give the children more time to do various activities like painting, Cricket, skating and they would still have time during the late evening to study and do their homework. But this is not the case here; the parents follow the official time and go to office and work accordingly and this is so much ingrained and they have accustomed to the daily routine; no one thought about this and I doubt there would still be people who might think I am sort of crazy to come up with this weird idea for a state whose downfall in the 70s, 80s and 90s is all because of terrorism and not anything else. Let me hold to my views and live with it.
I locked the door to my flat and pressed the Switch to the lift which made a mild sound in the ground floor. While waiting for the lift I turned to the door on the opposite side. For the first time I noticed the name plate at the wall beside the door. It read “Anil and Tina Dhaballa” in gold in some unknown font which I need to check the long list starting from Aharoni to Wingdings 3 in my laptop. A strong Iron grilled door protects the door behind. I tried to guess who among the 2 are alive now. I pressed the switch again. This time the lift made a cracking sound and gave up. This is something I hate and this bloody machine always add those extra few minutes in my already running late schedule. Not willing to waste any more time I rushed towards the stair case and started moving downward when I heard someone calling from behind. I would have continued in my downward motion but for the voice. I have heard many sweet voices in my life but not a single one directed to me and my name how come the person knows my name? I have heard such voice in the movies and the plays I saw while in Pune but not from someone staying opposite to my door in any of the many flats I stayed in my 10 years life outside home. I turned back to look at the person behind. There is this young lady standing at the ajar with one of her hand at the door knob. She has a tall and slim stature with very long hair which were unkempt which made her look more innocent and beautiful at the same time. She was wearing a while gone which covered half way to the ankle. Her 2 big brown eyes were looking straight at me somehow distracting me and making me look the other way. Though she was not smiling I can see the mild dimple in her chin. I can rate her 10 in a scale of ten and rate the next best person below 5 without even seeing the other person. I can see her slim and perfect curves thorough the gown because of the light coming from behind her and passing through her dress.
“I need your help; could you do me a favour please”? She said. There was hardly any expression in her face and it seemed that she was in some sort of pain. Could this be Tina Dhaballa married to Anil Dhaballa who was a very old man and died few days; maybe months back….i thought. This world is becoming more and more materialistic and this is what she got because of her stupidity. No time for more thoughts now; I have to respond to this lady. I also felt like thanking the lift today. Atleast I got a chance to look at this lady who is amazingly beautiful and anyone would be proud to have her beside her. Anil was a lucky guy and may his soul rest in peace.
“Not a problem” I said.
“I am trying to call the watchman since morning but he is not picking up the phone” Would you mind calling him as you are going down and at this time he should be by the water reservoir near the Pump room.
“Sure, I will send him right away” I said with a smile. I wanted to say few more things that she is beautiful – which she might have heard million times in the past…that she has a sweet voice…and a great body. I kept my thoughts to myself and started ebbing in the turn of the staircase still looking at her.
“Thank you for your help” She said this time with a faint smile and I am sure if that smile increases its font even by a few Nano meters; I would not mind getting the watchman to her in my shoulder without even bothering about the lift.
I noticed few other things in my last glance or rather glances which made me take the turn in the staircase in the slowest of motion possible and I could have beaten any of the Bollywood started moving towards each other in slow motion today. Only difference here is I am moving towards the watchman and my slow motion is to have some more glances of the beautiful maiden. She was not wearing anything under her feet and I can see her beautiful nails which are more beautiful than the fingers in her hand. On her right leg she was wearing something to cover her feet and I am not sure about the length of the piece of cloth maybe a stocking or long socks which ran right through the gown to some part of her leg high above. Maybe she was either trying to put on that piece of work on her left leg or was trying to remove the one from her right when she heard my door open.
I came down to the ground floor and rushed (I was getting late) towards the pump room but could not see him. “Daju” “Daju”…I shouted but no reply. Maybe he has gone to buy something outside to the Bazaar across the street which incidentally is called Somwari bazaar and is quit famous in the locality and I use that as reference point for rickshaw guys and all my letters carry Somwari Bazar as the landmark to my building which is dwarfed by the huge new buildings surrounding it.
Though I was getting late I desperately searched for the watchman and even opened his room which was not locked from outside. I saw the mobile connected to the charger and the old man might have forgotten to take it along before going out. I cannot waste more time and moved towards my car. I sat on the car after keeping my laptop in the backseat and started the engine.
“Is it Ok to go away like this” I thought. “There could be some emergency and she is expecting the watchman”. Simply by not going back you are closing the door at your face. If not a girlfriend she can still make a great neighbor and maybe a friend in this lonely island.
I locked the door and again climbed the 5 floor to reach 501-502 and pressed the bell. I waited for 20 seconds and pressed again. No one opened the door. I was panting because of the climb and now no one is opening the door. I am running behind time now and adding to my woes this lady is not opening the down.
“How the hell I will pass the message to her? More importantly how the hell I can tell her that I came back only for her’ I put my hand in my purse and found few post-it which I normally carry to put reminders for myself in the bathroom, fridge and everyplace in the flat where I frequently move around. The best place though is behind the remote. I scribbled on the post-it hurriedly:
“Checked for the watchman; he is unavailable”
Should I put my mobile number in case she needs me to get something for her? No that would tag me as an over ambitious nymphomaniac trying to lay his hands on her. I pasted the note beside the milk packet box and moved down as the lift was still not working.
With many thoughts in my mind I drove to the office. Today I did not notice much in my way the way I normally do. The newspaper boy waved at me in the street corner but I did not bother to buy one. I normally buy my newspaper every day from this boy as no one in my building subscribe to daily Newspaper and hence no vendors wills to deliver newspaper in the 5th floor of my building. My mind was engulfed with the thought of Nita and was trying to understand why she got married to the old man though I do not know if my postulation is correct but I continued to think and believe in my assumptions and I know when I sleep at night with this thought coming to my mind again and again I would hard wire this into my brain the next morning. This is how people normally remember and store things. You sleep with something every night irrespective of the truth in your thoughts and we do not validate everything, every time. All this becomes your personal truth the next morning and with time those ideas are the only fact you know about things and we tend to live by them. I am going to do this to this thought of mine. The face of Nita sparked some corner of my brain again and I somehow felt good.
Somehow I did not had a great day in the office which started with an incorrect mail send to one of my client where I selected Shaw instead of Singh and Mr. Alan Shaw received the mail where I have wrote some strong words related to M Singh’s performance who screwed one of our customers telecom account along with his subordinate Raja. I had to call back Alan and apologize who luckily understood. Secondly I transferred Kalmadi from the sports account to a new department which backfired as I had no evidence of non-performance against him and my senior asked me to summon a case study to prove my point which is like hitting my feet against a sharp Axe. All these and more…
After a very tiring data and so much of Nita in my mind the only option I am left with is to halt my car in the corner just opposite “Shakti Wines”. Whatever be the name I know for sure I need all the Shakti tonight to ensure a good sleep. I do not want kalmadi, Singh and Raja haunting me all night though I don’t mind Nita coming to my dream. I bought a bottle of while Rum and went to the Kabab Shop – Raju Kabab asked the Anna to make a good Kabab for me with extra spice. I know Anna since the week I landed in Mumbai because of my bachelor lifestyle which brings me back to Anna all the time. Though there are few authentic Punjabi eateries Anna makes the best Kabab in the locality. By his look Anna doesn’t even look close to someone forget from Punjab but not even a south Indian. He looks like a Tibetan monk with few hair in his head and his tag mark dhoti. Raju kabab solds more Punjabi dishes than the combined business of the other shops around and Anna serves me anytime of the day at times I have to sneak though the small door behind the shop and request Anna for a half Tandoori or a Punjabi Chole. Being an Assamese we have very simple taste and I should be happy with dal rice and fishes like my kinfolks and family. I developed the taste for Punjabai and all North Indian dishes during my stay in Pune where I had many friends from the north.
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Revelations
10:45 P.M
I took 10 mins to reach my parking. I was struggling to get my stuffs out of my Car. I was holding the laptop in one hand and was trying to collect the other items from my car which included food from the Kakab shop and the bottle of Rum, I also had few files which I carried home as I did not do much in the office apart from few unmemorable mistakes. Seeing me struggle “Daju” rushed from the corner and helped me pull all the small packets and also carried few of them. The moment I saw him the whole episode of the morning came to my mind and along with it the face of Nita. The way I wanted to thank the lift in the morning; I now want to thank “Daju” for what he is as he though unknowingly made Nita talk to me. I should also be happy about his forgetfulness nature which made him forget his phone before going out. I was furious when he left my car key inside while washing my car the other day and I had to waste one entire day going to the dealer to get my key done and I was very angry. The poor fellow tried to compensate that by not charging me anything for the car wash that month. Though I paid him I felt good about the honest nature of this poor man when our politicians do not think twice before guzzling the tax payer’s money. What an imbalance we have in our society? Why should this imbalance be there in marriage too? What made Nita to marry that old man and now have to live a life of a loner…..very similar to me? I thought. The last four letters are important because they show hope and the entire world lives on hope. Why should I be left behind in the race of hope though in all other races I struggle to reach the other end? In fact only race I won during my school days was the sack race and I never loss the slow cycle race. I captained the school cricket team twice to the losing side in the final against the same opponent KKBB school while in Golaghat.
“Where were you in the morning; I came looking for you and why don’t you carry your phone when you go out”
“I had to go out with the chairman to buy some goods as the tank is leaking since last 5 days. The phone was dead and therefore I put it on charge before leaving - Sahib”
When he did not hear anything in response from me; he again asked. “Sahib, was there something important”
No N-o-thing…I said.
“Sahib, today 5th floor madam was asking about you. She said you are a gentleman.
Gentleman – “Gentleman” I am…my “hope” started taking shape inside me and I felt like captaining the school side again and beat the KKBB team. After all cricket is a game of gentlemen.
“What was she saying? I was trying to help her find you” I smiled and tried to be very casual in my talks.
“Nothing much; just that you came down searching for me and also went up to inform her when you did not find me. She scolded me for not carrying my phone just like you did now” The last sentence came out of him in despair; but for me that was the most important line. Even the “Daju”saw similarity in us. Though I did not meet her in my way back to her in the morning; she mentioned that as if we meet. She might have considered the note at her door in this case. I now have a strong urge to meet her and talk to her.
Though I wanted to ask him many things I only asked one.
“Where is Anil Sahib? Do you attend to Nita Madam all the time?
Hearing this “Daju” already old face became more haggard and he now looks like an 80 year old man in his last stage. Did I say something wrong? Was it not the right question? Have I forgotten the social protocol over the years of staying out and all alone? I pondered over the question again. Was it little dogmatist? I am very good at my job….was it a failure in my part to understand things and people. “Hell” will this affect our relationship. I mean the “yet to happen” relationship even if it is friendship with Nita.
“Sahib; that was not ‘Nita’ madam. She is “Shayali” madam and you spoke to her in the morning.
But…I tried to speak
Haan sahib ji…. Nita madam was her late mother who passed away seven months back. She was travelling with her husband. They were coming from Dubai after a vacation.
Lot of thoughts came to my mind. I remember reading on the newspaper about the dreadful accident where an AI plane crashed and burst into flames outside an airport in southern India. I remember the date – May 22nd as that was the day when I forward my resignation letter to my HR in my last company. That was a life changing day for me and a life changing day for Shayali too but in a different context. I felt ashamed about everything I did and thought since morning. I felt like going to shayali and fall in her feet for all those thoughts.
“Sahib…SAHIB” the watchman increased his pitch when he saw me not responding as I was lost in my own thought.
“I know what you are thinking” he said.
“How the hell he knows what I am thinking? Was I speaking to myself all this time…No No I am sane and I know all those were thoughts and he might be referring to something else?
“Sahib…Shayali was just 5 years old when I first came to this building. They moved out of this society to a better place in the town 10 years back and look at fate…She is back here and this time all alone. God is very selfish and he should not have done this to this soul. She is such a sweet girl. She has not been talking to anyone since she came here in July….few days before you came in”
I did not had much to say and I allowed “Daju” to vent out everything. I silently agreed to the fact is God is selfish as he has crashed my first entrepreneurial venture throwing me out of every means.
“You might have noticed her feet” Her right side is partially paralyzed when she drove met with an accident while driving down to Mangalore to see her parents. She ended up in a Hospital In Bangalore and stayed there for 2 months and when she recovered she came here as she feels that she would be closer to her parents if she stays in this flat. She did not get to see her parents for the last time. God should not have done this to her…in fact no one should pass though such plight’ There was a teardrop in “Daju’s” eye.
I don’t know how time passed and after listening to the whole saga and the plight Shyali is passing though it made me respect her more and felt like going to her and talk to her. I took the bottle of Rum out of the carry bag and handed over to “Daju”.
“God bless you” daju said and took the bottle of Rum and disappeared thorough the staircase. I lay there looking into the ceiling for some time. Everyone is confused in life. “Daju” who was cursing the Gods few minutes back asked the same God to bless me after I handed over the Rum bottle. Sometimes I feel God also does the same thing to us as we are also the outcome of his creation and we carry traits of his character. The Politicians take bribe and pass a percentage to the God in some dargah, mandir etc and God in let them go unblemished all the time. I am not sure if God has a plan to kill them ten thousand more times in different ways after their much celebrated life and honoured death. I would like to see one of them hanged – brought to life, crucified – brought to life, shot in the head – brought to life, Cut to pieces – brought to life, poisoned, put to the gallows and so on.
“Shaifali” the right now for a beautiful lady. I now realized the reason behind her wearing that cloth around her right feet.
11: 45 P.M
I was not able to sleep that night and I have already skipped my dinner. Something inside told me that I should speak to her. I am not sure if this is the right thing to do so. She might be sleeping…she might be struggling to make her bed…She needs help…I thought….she needs help not only for today but till the time her leg is brought to life….in case that is a possibility.
I slowly opened the door to my flat and walked to the door opposite. “Anil and Neeta Dhaballa”. A sudden fear grasped me as if both her parents warned me against any wrong doing. I did not ring the bell but knocked it. I had a simple logic. If she is awake she should be in the hall by the TV or would be reading something…In case she is asleep my knock at her door would not trouble her and I can go back to my flat.
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Ensue
The door opened. She was standing in front of me in a white gown; this times a different one with laces in the collar and the shoulder.
“H-E-L-L-O” I said in a low tone and tried to appear as gentle as possible.
“Hi, sorry for the trouble you had to take up because of me in the morning. I am helpless without kaka and hence gifted the phone to him so that he is there when she needs me. Please come in”. She said.
“Would you like to have a cup of tea?”
In any other day this would have been my best excuse to chit chat with a beautiful lady like shayali. Today is different and I genuinely wanted to be with her for some time…even though I have my selfish reason…I wanted to get rid of all those useless thoughts since morning. In the morning in my quest for looking at only the beauty in Shayali I missed the painful part. I did not read her body language which depicts lot of pain. She uses a metal sticks to move from one place to another and this is one reason what keeps her inside all the time. I kept looking at her right hand which struggled to maneuver through the sofa to a chair in the corner which I think is her favorite or maybe she finds it comfortable.
N-O thanks…I really don’t know what to say and just sat there like a fool.
“I am used this now and you should not feel bad about this” she said noticing my eyes glued to the metal rod. It is better now. My oxygen level dropped drastically when I first met with the accident and there was no one to take care of me as everyone got busy with my parents and most of my relatives and friend came to know about my accident only the next day” She continued “the oxygen level kept dipping posing threat to both my head and heart and the doctors kept an oxometer and monitored my level at regular intervals. I had to live on external source for oxygen for more than 15 days. To cope with the constant awareness of a limited lifespan is difficult. I started having intense memory loss. I’d wake up most mornings in the hospital from vivid dreams which could evoke certain memory set. It could be a face, colour, even a particular light! The more restricted my physical life became, the more vivid the life of my mind. I had thought like, would I ever see a new city; would I get to see the sea link extended to Nariman Point. Would I be able to get into the Metro ever? I am more or less in control now. This is one reason I have not kept a servant and try and do everything myself’ she said…there was a faint smile is her face.
I only nodded to every word she said. I am not sure of her expectations and I am sure she has told this story to many in the past and the every listener has responded in his/her own way and everything I say, do or act would be a pick from those people as we are somehow conditioned to behave in a particular way in a particular situation and as human being most of the time we end up displaying the same emotion. I could not make out the meaning of her faint smile and I realized that how incorrect I was in thinking that all those years of training and interacting with people has made me understand people more. Now I realised that all those years have taught me and customised me to behave in a certain way in a control environment which is not a place conducive for free flow emotions which I see now. She might have seen something good in me. Something worthy of trust and I should not break that with my diagnosis and evaluation.
“Do you drink” She asked.
I did not know what to respond. “Sometimes, with friends around or to offer them company but not a habitual drinker” I responded and hoped that I have done it well. I remembered giving away the bottle of Rum to “Daju” few minutes back.
“As I am unable to offer you anything; would you mind making a drink for yourself?” She pointed to one corner of the room where there is a mini bar with all types of drinks. “This belongs to my father and since he left they are lying there with no one coming to this place. You can have the ice from the refrigerator and in case you need anything else you can help yourself. You have given me company today and like your friends I offer you a drink for being so nice to a crippled lady” she smiled. This time the smile was broad as if someone has pumped in lot of life into her. As there was no one around; I take the credit for doing that and something inside me told me that – “you are a great guy”
I did not want to go overboard and made a small drink for myself and offered her some apple juice from her fridge.
“After 4 weeks in Bangalore, one of my friend suggested that I should visit UK and check with Dr.Subramanium. Everything is arranged and I stayed in London for 2 weeks when my oxygen level started improving. I was a student of Psychology and understand few things about the human brain. I did everything to keep myself busy and more importantly happy. With the oxygen level improving my mood also began to lift and I could be more attentive to minute shifts. I ended up reading many Psychology books. I somewhere read that Attention is love. This idea which I have studied and known earlier began to acquire a new life.Attention; observation and trust are fundamentals of my life. I realised if I developed patience with whatever I was feeling and yet was attentive to all that was going around me, I’d be able to live a quiet life. I managed to reach here all alone and expected that my closed ones will help and support me from here. Slowly everyone deserted me. My own brother took control of Dad’s property stating my mental instability due to the accident and never came back, This flat was a gift to me by my mother and I shifted to this flat last July.” I saw her cry and in that moment of emotion I silently cried inside me. I felt like holding her hands and tell her that I am there for her. “Am I really there for her; Is this an impulsive reaction the way it happens when we see a sad movie. Even those corrupt politicians watch those movies and feel sad. They never improve and go back to their old ways. Would I go back to my old ways tomorrow? What about a week after that? What about a year? Will I be able to hold those emotions and cry the way I did? I remembered something that came to my mind that moment.
“Sad moments of the past make you smile and happy moments of the past makes you cry” This is true to a good extent but I never smile when I remember the death of my granny. I still feel sad when I lost one of my friends to a freak bike accident. I feel good about the good times I had while in school. I am losing genuine human touch in this artificial world. There was a ceaslesss review of my life going on in my head, the dark errors, the people I had hurt deeply, the knowledge of how shallow and impulsive I had been. I felt like I am separated by a strong curtain from the real world around me. God should not have done this to shayali. She is innocent and she needs support and help which her brother and family did not provide when she was in need.
