The sun had set long ago. Aamir was alone in his house enjoying the darkness. He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with darkness. Hell, as if it matters he thought to himself and gazed in the direction of the table. It was pretty dark but even then he could make out the outline of the envelope which had arrived five days back. It had laid there undisturbed ever since. Aamir had approached the table a few days back with the intention of opening it but then his eyes fell on the return address and the envelope had remained untouched. “Am I afraid of Janaki?” he shouted in the darkness. Then all of a sudden he went silent as if he already knew the answer.
Back in college Aamir was not exactly a stud or a playboy. He wasn’t even brilliant in studies though he managed to end up in the first ten in the class. The only thing glamorous about him, according to me, was his name. He did not know what he wanted from life. In short he was a confused soul.
Janaki was also not the most beautiful girl in class but she was likable nonetheless. She was outspoken, assertive and contrary to Aamir knew exactly what she wanted from life.
After spending two years in the same college and pursuing the same course Janaki developed a liking for Aamir. Looking at Aamir she thought of taking the initiative and proposing but she was skeptical. She didn’t have the capacity to suffer another wound. This time it would be the last time. So Janaki decided to wait.
This is where Janaki got it all wrong. Her friends tried to reason with her, explaining the futility of the wait. Most of the girls around Janaki felt that Aamir was not ‘man enough’, that he lacked the emotional strength to take the affair to its logical end. But Janaki decided to wait.
In another two years time, they graduated from college. As predicted by their friends nothing happened. Janaki had waited and Aamir had not yet reached a decision. At this time, parting would have been the best solution. But fate has this vice of playing cruel jokes with people, and as fate would have it both Aamir and Janaki got placed in the same company and were initially assigned to the same project.
Now they were really alone i.e they didn’t have friends who would give unsolicited advise. Janaki thought that maybe Aamir would now reach a decision. She started dropping hints. Soon matinee shows, luncheons started to become common. But that was all.
After six months the project ended, but Janaki’s wait continued. For their next assignment they were deputed to different locations. Janaki was to stay put in Pune, her hometown, but Aamir was to be shifted to Delhi for a duration of 8 months. The timing for all this couldn’t have been worse for Janaki. Back home Janaki’s parents had started scouting for a suitable groom. It was not that they were averse to the idea of Janaki finding a boy for herself, but they thought that it was high time for her to get married.
“If you cannot find one for yourself we will find a perfect match for you”, was what her mother had said lovingly. Janaki had asked her to wait for a week. In a week’s time Aamir was to leave for Delhi. If nothing happened until then, she would accept her parents’ choice.
All thorough THAT WEEK Janaki was not at all normal. The first two days she looked dazed. Her colleagues often caught her staring into nothingness. Her eyes always seemed to be moist and they had a look of an impending disaster.
“Hope everything is alright. You haven’t being acting normal the past few days. Kuch problem hai kya? Can I be of any help?”, Aamir finally asked on Tuesday. “No, you can’t do anything about it” she almost shouted and walked away. Aamir decided to talk to Vaidehi about this. Vaidehi was a very good friend of Janaki. They had been pals right from their school days. That evening Aamir met Vaidehi. She had promised Janaki that she would not tell anyone about the deadline. So Vaidehi just shunned the topic and started talking vaguely. Aamir pressed her on the topic and finally Vaidehi relented. She told Aamir everything. She told him about Janaki’s wait for all these years and also about the deadline. Aamir heard what Vaidehi had to say and then left.
“He didn’t say a word, Janaki”, was what Vaidehi told Janaki that night.
“I think my wait is finally over”, was all Janaki could manage to say in response.
Janaki took leave from office for the rest of the week. Aamir was disappointed when he learnt about this from the office clerk. He impulsively dialed Janaki’s number from his mobile, but before the call could go through he cut it.
“Think and act you fool”, he said under his breath. Finally after debating with himself for my hours Aamir dialed Janaki’s number. The phone was answered in the first ring itself. Aamir didn’t find this odd. Janaki always answered his calls immediately. They wasted sometime talking about office, the new project, Aamir’s Delhi trip and also about the ongoing cricket test between India and Australia. Then all of a sudden there was a hush. It was like nobody wanted to talk and nobody wanted to hang up.
A few silent moments later Aamir said “If its alright with you how about meeting up tomorrow evening at 6 at the Law College CCD?”.
“Yes why not”, said Janaki immediately. She almost bit her lip for sounding so impatient but then she was desperate, time was what she did not have.
“Okay then, cya tomorrow at 6,bye” said Aamir and hung up. He cursed himself for being so abrupt. He thought about dialing Janaki’s number again but then changed his mind.
Now all that remained was the actual talking. “Ill think about the talking tomorrow yaar, its no big deal”, he told Suresh that evening. Suresh was his closest friend. Aamir slept peacefully that night.
He woke up with a start the next morning. He had beads of sweat on his forehead. He had dreamt about his meeting with Janaki at CCD. He could see her waiting and impatiently checking her watch every few seconds and then suddenly he had woken up. Well that was a weird dream he thought to himself. He had expected to see Janaki and himself talking over a coffee but that had not happened. Also how come his forehead had become sweaty? He shrugged the dream off and started his day with a strong coffee. He had taken a day’s leave from office. After lunch he settled down and started thinking about his meeting with Janaki. “Call it a date”, was what Suresh had said almost teasingly last evening but Aamir had refrained from using the word. He thought about what he was going to say but then nothing came to his mind.
He spent the whole afternoon thinking but he was making no progress. His mind was totally blank. He had spent hours just staring into the wall opposite him. He had called up his friends seeking advise but most of them were busy and the few that had time told him not to think and just go there with an open mind. As the clock struck 4 Aamir started feeling tense. His hands became sweaty. He was surprised seeing his body react this way. Talking to Suresh yesterday it all seemed so simple.
“You walk into CCD with Sneha tomorrow and she will get the whole picture. You talk as if everything is normal and then leave after an hour or so. Let Janaki do all the worrying then.” was Suresh’s plan for Aamir’s meeting. But he didn’t want to get Sneha involved into this. She hardly knew Janaki and Aamir didn’t want to face awkward questions from Sneha about Janaki. The clock struck 5. He had been staring at the clock for an hour now. He tried to close his eyes but the outline of the clock still lingered in his vision. He rubbed his eyes and closed them even more tightly. After sometime the outline of the clock transformed itself into an outline of a human figure. Was the figure coming close or moving away? Aamir couldn’t tell. He tried to concentrate on the figure to see if it was somebody familiar. Then suddenly everything became pitch dark.
Janaki came to CCD a good 15 minutes early. She was wearing a dress which Aamir had selected for her. Luckily for her their usual table was empty and she occupied the chair facing the entrance so that she could see Aamir as soon as he came in. After sometime the door of the coffee shop opened and in walked Aamir with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Janaki noticed that he was wearing the shirt which she had selected for him. Aamir sat in the chair next to Janaki and immediately said, “I am sorry I made you wait so long. But now finally I have realized what a fool I have been. I love you Janaki, I really do”. He then presented her with a bouquet. Janaki was about to accept the bouquet when she heard a very harsh sound. In a second everything had disappeared. It was yet another dream. Janaki had started dreaming about their ‘date’ from the time Aamir had hung up yesterday. But even Janaki was surprised at the vividness of this recent dream. She shook her head just to clear her thoughts and casually glanced at her wrist watch. It said 7.15. Janaki was blown off her feet. She had waited for more than an hour and Aamir hadn’t turned up yet. She took out her mobile and dialed his number but the cell was switched off. She understood everything. Her wait had been futile.
“He should have atleast come there and told me about it” she calmly told Vaidehi after hearing about Aamir and Sneha from her.
“I told you he didn’t have the guts to face you. But you wanted to wait for him.”, said Vaidehi mockingly.
“I pity him.” said Janaki and hung up the phone.
The next morning Janaki was infront of Aamir’s flat staring at the note he had left for Suresh. The note read- “I cannot face her man. Its too much for me. Im off to Delhi don’t call me for a while. Ill contact you when required. I feel so sorry for myself”. Janaki dropped the note and made her way back to her house.
After eight months Aamir came back to Pune. The project had ended on time but Aamir had suffered. Sneha had dumped him saying that she needed an emotionally stable guy. As he opened the door of his flat he could not help but think of Janaki. At that precise moment the postman had arrived with the dreaded envelope. Aamir had taken the envelope with trembling hands and flung it on the table nearby.
Even after 5 days he had not touched it. The envelope contained an invitation for Janaki’s wedding with Swapnil.
Janaki’s WAIT was over. Now it was Aamir’s turn to WAIT..
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Sitting by the river....
I still remember the day vividly. It was my fifth birthday. As a birthday gift my grandfather had promised to take me to meet her. We started early that day, the journey was going to take about half an hour and we were going to walk. On other occasions walking for even five minutes was a real hard task for me but today I forgot everything because a meeting with her was all I had desired for the past one year.
Finally we reached her abode. Along the way, miraculously the landscape changed and as we neared her it became greener and denser. My grandfather led me through a narrow path at the end of which I saw her. There she was with beauty beyond words, with bounds which the human senses could not conceive, with brilliance beyond imagination. She was VAIDEHI- THE LIFE GIVER.
I instantly took to her. She was to be my best friend. I don’t remember what else I did by her side that day; all I remember was that she could feel me and also that she wanted to talk to me.
After that day visiting VAIDEHI became a daily ritual for me. I used to just sit by her side watching her graceful dance and her occasional ripples of laughter. At times I would vent my frustration and anger by throwing pebbles at her. She would not say anything. She tolerated me and continued dancing. I questioned her once about her silence, I think; but she gave me the same old reply. She could say so many things through her SILENCE.
After I completed my tenth, I had to go to the nearest town for further studies. Even then when I came on holidays I saw to it that I spent enough time with her. She was the first one to know about my results and also the first one to know about SHEETAL. The only thing which I told her the last was about my departure. Many times tears would trickle down my cheek but she would just continue dancing.
My academic pursuits took me to a city which was not that close to my village. I didn’t want to leave VAIDEHI but…
Before leaving I did go to meet her. That day she was a little slackish. She had lost her charm and enthusiasm. I thought maybe she is sad too. I didn’t stay long, just said GOODBYE and left with a promise to see her again hopefully in her full brilliance and grace.
Just four months back I visited my village. It was after three long years. Many things had changed, but one thing which was not going to change was of course VAIDEHI. I ran with the setting sun to meet her. I found the narrow path with ease, but something inside me was telling me “alls not well”. With each step on that narrow path my heart became heavy. Finally the path ended and I fell on my knees. Not because of her brilliance but because VAIDEHI was nowhere to be seen. The place which she used to grace with zest and vigour was barren, marked with potholes and dotted with bulldozers. There were workers walking all over the place carrying mud too and fro. I somehow got to my senses and asked a worker about VAIDEHI. He gave me a puzzled look and went on. That night I didn’t sleep well.
I don’t know what happened to VAIDEHI. I didn’t bother to enquire. My father was saying something about the river drying up, water pollution etc. but I didn’t pay attention. Though I had a month’s vacation left, I departed the next day. Two months after that my parents shifted to the city. I never visited my village again.
The newspapers say that my village has been declared DROUGHT-PRONE, tankers are required to supply water. I just turn the page asking one question only, “WHERE ARE YOU, VAIDEHI?”.
Finally we reached her abode. Along the way, miraculously the landscape changed and as we neared her it became greener and denser. My grandfather led me through a narrow path at the end of which I saw her. There she was with beauty beyond words, with bounds which the human senses could not conceive, with brilliance beyond imagination. She was VAIDEHI- THE LIFE GIVER.
I instantly took to her. She was to be my best friend. I don’t remember what else I did by her side that day; all I remember was that she could feel me and also that she wanted to talk to me.
After that day visiting VAIDEHI became a daily ritual for me. I used to just sit by her side watching her graceful dance and her occasional ripples of laughter. At times I would vent my frustration and anger by throwing pebbles at her. She would not say anything. She tolerated me and continued dancing. I questioned her once about her silence, I think; but she gave me the same old reply. She could say so many things through her SILENCE.
After I completed my tenth, I had to go to the nearest town for further studies. Even then when I came on holidays I saw to it that I spent enough time with her. She was the first one to know about my results and also the first one to know about SHEETAL. The only thing which I told her the last was about my departure. Many times tears would trickle down my cheek but she would just continue dancing.
My academic pursuits took me to a city which was not that close to my village. I didn’t want to leave VAIDEHI but…
Before leaving I did go to meet her. That day she was a little slackish. She had lost her charm and enthusiasm. I thought maybe she is sad too. I didn’t stay long, just said GOODBYE and left with a promise to see her again hopefully in her full brilliance and grace.
Just four months back I visited my village. It was after three long years. Many things had changed, but one thing which was not going to change was of course VAIDEHI. I ran with the setting sun to meet her. I found the narrow path with ease, but something inside me was telling me “alls not well”. With each step on that narrow path my heart became heavy. Finally the path ended and I fell on my knees. Not because of her brilliance but because VAIDEHI was nowhere to be seen. The place which she used to grace with zest and vigour was barren, marked with potholes and dotted with bulldozers. There were workers walking all over the place carrying mud too and fro. I somehow got to my senses and asked a worker about VAIDEHI. He gave me a puzzled look and went on. That night I didn’t sleep well.
I don’t know what happened to VAIDEHI. I didn’t bother to enquire. My father was saying something about the river drying up, water pollution etc. but I didn’t pay attention. Though I had a month’s vacation left, I departed the next day. Two months after that my parents shifted to the city. I never visited my village again.
The newspapers say that my village has been declared DROUGHT-PRONE, tankers are required to supply water. I just turn the page asking one question only, “WHERE ARE YOU, VAIDEHI?”.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
RANGE DE BASANTI.....
Almost each and every one of us knew that the movie revolved around the MIG crashes (thanks to the IAF censure) and also around I don’t remember the exact number but lets say ‘x’ buffaloes, ‘y’ horses (thanks to Mrs. Maneka Gandhi) and some humans…..actually the animals in the movie and some humans on screen played their part well but it was the humans behind the scenes who failed miserably.
Movies regarding corruption in politics, politics underworld nexus have been galore but ‘MIG crashes’ was virgin territory and some more research would have helped. The way the movie went forward with the making of the documentary on the lifes of the revolutionaries was well done but then after the interval the movie lost its grip. The death of Madhavan in a MIG crash (well in wht other way they would have brought in the MIG’s) and then the ease at which Aamir and co. kill the DEFENCE MINISTER of INDIA was predictable and illogical respectively. Then after a day or two they coolly walk and take over an AIR broadcasting station to tell the country their motive behind the killing just like Bhagat Singh and co. did by surrendering before the British.
Well it is not over yet, the government after hearing their announcements send special commandoes with orders to kill everybody. So what does the director imply that Bhagat Singh was better off when he surrendered to the British than DJ and his friends??? One more memorable scene was the one where the DEFENCE MINISTER is compared to Dyer at the sight of the Jalianwalla Bagh. That was both too loud and left a sour feeling in my mouth. Also in most Hindi cinema the police arrive after the incident has taken place but here we see no investigative authority anywhere even when a person as important as the DEFENCE MINISTER is killed. I mean are we rational beings or what?
Finally I would say that the soundtrack is awesome, the movie is interesting before the interval and after that it becomes a freak show….frankly speaking ‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’
If Aamir Khan is going to sit on such scripts for two to three years then I think he should really get his brain checked!!!!
Movies regarding corruption in politics, politics underworld nexus have been galore but ‘MIG crashes’ was virgin territory and some more research would have helped. The way the movie went forward with the making of the documentary on the lifes of the revolutionaries was well done but then after the interval the movie lost its grip. The death of Madhavan in a MIG crash (well in wht other way they would have brought in the MIG’s) and then the ease at which Aamir and co. kill the DEFENCE MINISTER of INDIA was predictable and illogical respectively. Then after a day or two they coolly walk and take over an AIR broadcasting station to tell the country their motive behind the killing just like Bhagat Singh and co. did by surrendering before the British.
Well it is not over yet, the government after hearing their announcements send special commandoes with orders to kill everybody. So what does the director imply that Bhagat Singh was better off when he surrendered to the British than DJ and his friends??? One more memorable scene was the one where the DEFENCE MINISTER is compared to Dyer at the sight of the Jalianwalla Bagh. That was both too loud and left a sour feeling in my mouth. Also in most Hindi cinema the police arrive after the incident has taken place but here we see no investigative authority anywhere even when a person as important as the DEFENCE MINISTER is killed. I mean are we rational beings or what?
Finally I would say that the soundtrack is awesome, the movie is interesting before the interval and after that it becomes a freak show….frankly speaking ‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’
If Aamir Khan is going to sit on such scripts for two to three years then I think he should really get his brain checked!!!!
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
21
The watch on his wrist read 5:45am. With uncertain steps Amit made his way towards the Govindnagar bus stop. It was his first day at work. Midas, a medium scale unit in the MIDC area, had hired Amit. It was 10 kilometers from the Govindnagar slums where Amit lived with his mother. She had given him the Hanuman Chalisa and asked him to keep it with him at all times. Amit was still in two minds about accepting the job. He felt the Chalisa in his shirt pocket looking for help and went on.
When Amit had shown his mother the appointment letter she had been ecstatic. She had distributed pedas to everybody in the chawl. “Don’t forget to give Ramesh the pedas. Why don’t you bring him over for dinner once? I haven’t met him as yet”. “ I don’t know when I’ll meet him.” he had replied. There was a certain amount of sadness in his tone but his mother was too happy to notice that. It took Amit some time to decide at what time to leave and which bus to take. He was surprised why this took so much thinking. However he laughed it off and settled for the 6:15 am bus.
He reached the bus stop at 6am. Surprisingly there was no one around but for some policemen who had been stationed there since Friday. Though this bus stop was his own backyard he had never been there so early. He instinctively went and sat at the second seat from the right and casually glanced to his left. There he saw scribbled on the wall in his own handwriting the words “ AMIT JAI AUR RAMESH VEERU”. Looking at those words the wounds he was trying to heal deepened, the memories he was trying to forget came back in a torrent and even the feel of the Chalisa couldn’t help him. Tears trickled down his cheeks.
Amit though surrounded by a group of boys from his chawl always seemed to be alone. He had no one he could call a friend; that was three months ago. Sitting at the bus stop looking somewhere at a distance with tears in his eyes he tried to remember where he had first met Ramesh. It was near this very bus stop on that Sunday of September. He couldn’t remember the date. All he could recollect was that it was rainy heavily. Amit was returning from the college when he saw a crowd in the middle of the street. He went and joined in. It didn’t take him much time to realize that an accident had taken place. He forced his way through the crowd and came to the fore. A man around his age was lying unconscious on the road and blood was trickling from the back of his head. A few paces ahead were the mangled remains of a motorcycle. Amit lurched forward and tried to lift the victim. Even moving him an inch seemed to be a Herculean effort. He looked around pleadingly. Some people reached out with a helping hand although reluctantly. “Remember lad we didn’t help u do this OK!!”, said one. Amit acknowledged and together they heaved the unmoving mass into a nearby rickshaw.
The man was Ramesh. He was admitted for a week in the hospital. The police closed the case as just another ‘hit and run’ incident with the last words in their report being ‘investigations pending’. During the course of the week Amit made it a point to be with Ramesh. Ramesh had come to the city a few weeks back and had no relations. After he was discharged from the hospital Ramesh would meet Amit daily in the evening at their adda- Govindnagar bus stop. The words that Amit saw now where scribbled on their birthday, 6th October.
One thing, which Amit always noticed in their conversations, was that Ramesh was never short of money and that he evaded any questions regarding his job and his family background. Amit once voiced his concern of getting a job to support his mother who was working as a domestic help. “Ill see what I can do about it, in the meantime keep this”, said Ramesh forwarding a bundle of Rs.50 notes. Amit accepted it after much coaxing and promised to return the money at the earliest.
Around 6:15am a crowd started building at the Govindnagar bus stop. There were school children, a newspaper vendor some office goers and a few boys just loitering around. Amit didn’t notice anything. He had buried his face in the palms of his hands and all he could hear were the horns honking on the day when he had met Ramesh the last time. Was it a week ago or was it yesterday he was not sure.
That day Ramesh looked nervous. It seemed he had come there to observe something and not to meet Amit. Amit did question him about this but Ramesh ignored the question altogether and handed him an envelope. “Its an appointment letter. You start your job next Monday and the pay is also decent Rs. 5000”, said Ramesh forcing his lips to take up the shape of a smile. Amit couldn’t believe when he opened the letter and read it. He was dumb founded. He didn’t say thank you but his eyes had conveyed all his feelings. “Look, today I am in a hurry. Go to go outta town for a week or so. When I’ll come back in the city Ill come to your house directly to take the pedas. Jara extra lake rakna. Bye buddy take care”. Saying this Ramesh started his motorbike and made his way through the traffic. Amit just looked at the speeding bike and waved his hand clutching the letter in his other. “Ill wait for your return friend.” He said to himself.
The next two days Amit was on a high. All his problems seemed to have been solved. Ramesh had taken an iconic status in his mind. “A true God sent angel”, his mother had said.
Then on Friday an incident shock the Govindnagar slums. An explosion had ripped a bus at the bus stop claiming 10 lives and injuring 20 others. Amit had rushed to the scene and immediately started helping the injured together with the emergency teams and people from the slums. While looking at the injured he could not help but think about Ramesh. Investigations started in the slums and some people were rounded off by the police but were later released. On Saturday the newspapers claimed that the explosion was an act of terror, the handiwork of terrorists and that the police were getting close to the mastermind behind the act. There were heated discussions about the incident and various conclusions were drawn. The area around the bus stop was teeming with khaki clad policemen. Though everything seemed to be normal people all over were thinking twice before boarding a bus and a look of apprehension was writ on their faces.
Sunday morning was a bit brighter for Amit than for others. Though the explosion was fresh in his mind, he had a big day before him tomorrow. Thinking of his first day and of Ramesh he unfolded the bulky Sunday edition of the newspaper. He gave out a cry just seconds after he had set his eyes on the headline. There written in bold letters were the words ‘THE MASTERMIND NABBED; CONFESSES THE CRIME’ and below these words were a close up of Iqbal- the mastermind. The face was emotionless and so were the eyes. Everything other than the photograph started dissolving in front of Amit’s eyes. “That’s not Iqbal that’s Ramesh.” he screamed. He flung the newspaper. He became numb, all that money that evasiveness when questioned about his family and his job started coming back to him. He realized Ramesh’s nervousness on their last meeting. He was there for a last look at his battlefield. Things started spinning around Amit. He leaned on a cupboard for support and caught sight of the letter resting on the table nearby. He wanted to tear that piece of shit. But then the image of his mother came before his eyes. How could he explain all this to his mother? He needed the job. He slumped in the chair when his mother entered with the pedas. He couldn’t muster the courage to tell her the truth about Ramesh ‘the God sent angel’. She didn’t deserve all this after all the hardships she’d been through all her life. So Amit just played along never making her realize that something was amiss.
The traffic now more than a trickle and the crowd at the bus stop had become sizeable. Amit looked at the dust, which the passing traffic was working up. “You OK mister?” enquired the policeman who seemed to have nothing on his mind. He nodded and smiled. “Has the 21 arrived?” he enquired in as casual a tone as was possible of him. Before the policeman could react he said looking away, “I am sorry I forgot.”
The watch on his wrist read 8am when Amit entered his house. His eyes were red and he looked as if he would collapse anytime. “What happened? Are you all right?” asked his mother worriedly. “He blew up the 21,” was all he could manage.
When Amit had shown his mother the appointment letter she had been ecstatic. She had distributed pedas to everybody in the chawl. “Don’t forget to give Ramesh the pedas. Why don’t you bring him over for dinner once? I haven’t met him as yet”. “ I don’t know when I’ll meet him.” he had replied. There was a certain amount of sadness in his tone but his mother was too happy to notice that. It took Amit some time to decide at what time to leave and which bus to take. He was surprised why this took so much thinking. However he laughed it off and settled for the 6:15 am bus.
He reached the bus stop at 6am. Surprisingly there was no one around but for some policemen who had been stationed there since Friday. Though this bus stop was his own backyard he had never been there so early. He instinctively went and sat at the second seat from the right and casually glanced to his left. There he saw scribbled on the wall in his own handwriting the words “ AMIT JAI AUR RAMESH VEERU”. Looking at those words the wounds he was trying to heal deepened, the memories he was trying to forget came back in a torrent and even the feel of the Chalisa couldn’t help him. Tears trickled down his cheeks.
Amit though surrounded by a group of boys from his chawl always seemed to be alone. He had no one he could call a friend; that was three months ago. Sitting at the bus stop looking somewhere at a distance with tears in his eyes he tried to remember where he had first met Ramesh. It was near this very bus stop on that Sunday of September. He couldn’t remember the date. All he could recollect was that it was rainy heavily. Amit was returning from the college when he saw a crowd in the middle of the street. He went and joined in. It didn’t take him much time to realize that an accident had taken place. He forced his way through the crowd and came to the fore. A man around his age was lying unconscious on the road and blood was trickling from the back of his head. A few paces ahead were the mangled remains of a motorcycle. Amit lurched forward and tried to lift the victim. Even moving him an inch seemed to be a Herculean effort. He looked around pleadingly. Some people reached out with a helping hand although reluctantly. “Remember lad we didn’t help u do this OK!!”, said one. Amit acknowledged and together they heaved the unmoving mass into a nearby rickshaw.
The man was Ramesh. He was admitted for a week in the hospital. The police closed the case as just another ‘hit and run’ incident with the last words in their report being ‘investigations pending’. During the course of the week Amit made it a point to be with Ramesh. Ramesh had come to the city a few weeks back and had no relations. After he was discharged from the hospital Ramesh would meet Amit daily in the evening at their adda- Govindnagar bus stop. The words that Amit saw now where scribbled on their birthday, 6th October.
One thing, which Amit always noticed in their conversations, was that Ramesh was never short of money and that he evaded any questions regarding his job and his family background. Amit once voiced his concern of getting a job to support his mother who was working as a domestic help. “Ill see what I can do about it, in the meantime keep this”, said Ramesh forwarding a bundle of Rs.50 notes. Amit accepted it after much coaxing and promised to return the money at the earliest.
Around 6:15am a crowd started building at the Govindnagar bus stop. There were school children, a newspaper vendor some office goers and a few boys just loitering around. Amit didn’t notice anything. He had buried his face in the palms of his hands and all he could hear were the horns honking on the day when he had met Ramesh the last time. Was it a week ago or was it yesterday he was not sure.
That day Ramesh looked nervous. It seemed he had come there to observe something and not to meet Amit. Amit did question him about this but Ramesh ignored the question altogether and handed him an envelope. “Its an appointment letter. You start your job next Monday and the pay is also decent Rs. 5000”, said Ramesh forcing his lips to take up the shape of a smile. Amit couldn’t believe when he opened the letter and read it. He was dumb founded. He didn’t say thank you but his eyes had conveyed all his feelings. “Look, today I am in a hurry. Go to go outta town for a week or so. When I’ll come back in the city Ill come to your house directly to take the pedas. Jara extra lake rakna. Bye buddy take care”. Saying this Ramesh started his motorbike and made his way through the traffic. Amit just looked at the speeding bike and waved his hand clutching the letter in his other. “Ill wait for your return friend.” He said to himself.
The next two days Amit was on a high. All his problems seemed to have been solved. Ramesh had taken an iconic status in his mind. “A true God sent angel”, his mother had said.
Then on Friday an incident shock the Govindnagar slums. An explosion had ripped a bus at the bus stop claiming 10 lives and injuring 20 others. Amit had rushed to the scene and immediately started helping the injured together with the emergency teams and people from the slums. While looking at the injured he could not help but think about Ramesh. Investigations started in the slums and some people were rounded off by the police but were later released. On Saturday the newspapers claimed that the explosion was an act of terror, the handiwork of terrorists and that the police were getting close to the mastermind behind the act. There were heated discussions about the incident and various conclusions were drawn. The area around the bus stop was teeming with khaki clad policemen. Though everything seemed to be normal people all over were thinking twice before boarding a bus and a look of apprehension was writ on their faces.
Sunday morning was a bit brighter for Amit than for others. Though the explosion was fresh in his mind, he had a big day before him tomorrow. Thinking of his first day and of Ramesh he unfolded the bulky Sunday edition of the newspaper. He gave out a cry just seconds after he had set his eyes on the headline. There written in bold letters were the words ‘THE MASTERMIND NABBED; CONFESSES THE CRIME’ and below these words were a close up of Iqbal- the mastermind. The face was emotionless and so were the eyes. Everything other than the photograph started dissolving in front of Amit’s eyes. “That’s not Iqbal that’s Ramesh.” he screamed. He flung the newspaper. He became numb, all that money that evasiveness when questioned about his family and his job started coming back to him. He realized Ramesh’s nervousness on their last meeting. He was there for a last look at his battlefield. Things started spinning around Amit. He leaned on a cupboard for support and caught sight of the letter resting on the table nearby. He wanted to tear that piece of shit. But then the image of his mother came before his eyes. How could he explain all this to his mother? He needed the job. He slumped in the chair when his mother entered with the pedas. He couldn’t muster the courage to tell her the truth about Ramesh ‘the God sent angel’. She didn’t deserve all this after all the hardships she’d been through all her life. So Amit just played along never making her realize that something was amiss.
The traffic now more than a trickle and the crowd at the bus stop had become sizeable. Amit looked at the dust, which the passing traffic was working up. “You OK mister?” enquired the policeman who seemed to have nothing on his mind. He nodded and smiled. “Has the 21 arrived?” he enquired in as casual a tone as was possible of him. Before the policeman could react he said looking away, “I am sorry I forgot.”
The watch on his wrist read 8am when Amit entered his house. His eyes were red and he looked as if he would collapse anytime. “What happened? Are you all right?” asked his mother worriedly. “He blew up the 21,” was all he could manage.
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