I have woken up all dazed today. She is gone. Three precious little days, and she is gone. I look around, a slight buzz buzzing in my head. It doesn’t seem right – the room without her. Something’s amiss. It was this way three days ago, it’s the same three days later, but something’s changed.
It’s the smell.’ Her smell is still lingering in the room’ - I tell myself. My Self replies back – ‘or maybe she is still there…inside you…maybe she never left”. I realise I am not making any sense. I shut my Self up. Still dizzy, I try and think back to the past 3 days…think back to try and figure out what is it that might have changed between then and now. But my memories are glazed. They are not the discrete snapshots they used to be. Instead, they are like water flowing down over vertical glass. They are in constant flux. They are like quicksand…the harder I try…the deeper I sink into this hazy, surreal feeling. It’s like I am looking at my own mind through a window…and the closer I look…the more my own breath fogs the glass.
3 days ago - 8.00am
I have woken up smiling. Waking up to her is like waking up to…actually anything else isn’t waking up at all. But she isn’t there by my side. I look around worried…like a kid who slept with his trophy last night and couldn’t find it when he woke up. But it doesn’t take long for me to spot her…how could it. Drying her hair by the dressing table, she is the perfect vision of the perfect vision. And then there is her smell...that mesmerising fragrance…that debilitating perfume. She reminds me of Eskimos…how they use refrigerators to keep their food warm. I see her spray herself with some perfume…and I know that she uses it in the same way… to cover up that sweet intoxication that emanates from every cell in her body. Our eyes meet…she smiles…and I nod in agreement…such potency must be kept in check…at bay.
11:00 am
I’m riding a bike and she is sitting behind me…clutching me tightly…as if holding on for dear life. I open the throttle a little more and the bike surges ahead. She clutches harder. I feel invincible…What can hurt me…when life is clinging on to me for dear life.
My thoughts are glazed. She is saying something to me…trying to shout over the winds gushing past. But I just have music in my ears. Music in my ears and warmth over my back. She is trying really hard to ask me something…”How long does it take to Pushkar?” she asks.
I remember wondering about how cruel it is to remind someone in heaven that a concept of finite time exists.
I answer … “about 45 minutes”.
“We must grab something to snack upon on the way…some biscuits perhaps.” she says in reply. We are almost at the edge of Ajmer. By now I pretty much know every shop worth knowing in this town. I smile and nod a confident nod. A minute later I am parking. We enter this store and it suddenly hits me…I have lost the ability to shop like I used to…like everyone else does. Everything around me is reduced to being a formulation, a concoction of chemicals packed in one of the many choices of packaging material, planted at eye level by a salesman on the payrolls of the distributor who has paid for this and now expects me to buy it and pay him back. I can no longer just pick something because I like the look of it…because I know someone made it this way precisely because they knew I would like the look of it. I see the scheme. I know the schemer. I know that I am getting this razor for a third of its price now, because the schemer wishes to milk me when I buy blades. I know this Rs 6. Product is being offered to me at 5 because a 6 rupee coin doesn’t exist. I know that this shampoo that promises to make me a superstar is nothing but a glorified detergent and a lot of water. I know…and I can’t not know now.
But this isn’t about me. I chose for things to be this way. It’s about her…and she is done doing what I can’t.
11:30am
The road winds…tracing the valley…cutting across two mountains. I remember feeling poor…at a loss of words to describe the view. She is quiet too. There is music in my ears.
My thoughts are glazed…but I vividly recall what I saw next. On our way we have gone past hundreds of billboards, but this one is different. With the dark green color…that background made to look like bricks…a psychedelic white font specifying the name…The Pink Floyd Hotel has a sign board that one can’t afford to miss. Bang in the middle of nowhere, flanked by billboards inviting you to have continental food at Vaishno Inn and delicious sea food at Jagdamba resorts…the billboard might as well have read ‘Randomness Begins’. She is also looking at it now…she is also as amazed…she is also in agreement…this is one place we must visit. I open the throttle again. She clutches harder, again. I feel alive.
Hi people…true to the title…allow me to begin by apologising for not updating the blog for the past month. (I know that this apology implicitly assumes that some/all of you liked the blog and liked it so much so as to feel bad about the dirth of new posts…but I’ll request you to play along and not break it to me.) In my defence, the last few weeks have been turbulent…with one stint ending (Yup…sales stint is over) and another beginning…there was a lot of stuff happening. Also, post Rajasthan, Mumbai was a cultural shock that I’m still adjusting to.
Not to mention, that post sales…the number of stories to report have gone down considerably. The good news is that I still have some of the sales stuff to report…so the fun shall go on for some time. So I shall be defaulting on my promise that with each stint we shall begin a new book of the BLT series…because I am sure that nothing is gonna match upto book 1.
Moving on to some updates…Well the sales stint ended and I am now in my Customer Marketing stint. (I again assume this matters to you…kindly follow protocol and play along.) It is a 6 week stint in Bombay where I shall try and figure out why we shop the way we shop. Another update – If you had read the post called ‘Kiss of Death’…you might be interested in knowing that the wholesaler I talked of in that post…well he went into Coma…came out…and then few days later died due to some infection that the bullet had left. Randomness – I bow to thee!
As a logical conclusion…I once again promise that henceforth…the blog shall remain updated…that I shall soon write all that is in the pipeline…clear my back log…and begin the second book hopefully before the end of the second stint. On a parting note – I must confess that post Sales…there may not be many interesting incidents/experiences to report…as I shall have a proper office job. So in rare case that you actually did like what this Blog was all about…do feel free to put in your suggestions about what path should it proceed on henceforth. Should I make it a ‘Marketing Funda from Real Life’ sort of a blog…should I continue with experiences but and live with the fact that they shall be lesser…anything you feel…
‘Could you tell me when the next bus to Pushkar is’
I turned around and saw the female who was sitting all alone all this while.About 5”6’ tall, dark hair, athletic built, proper American accent and a backpack almost her own size – that was Roberta (as I’d learn later).
Me:’Umm…am really not sure…let’s get down and I’ll find out for you’
Roberta:’Ohh you would…ohh that’s soo sweet of you’
And then she did it…she brought together both her hands and started ’Namaste’ing me.
‘Thank you soo much..it’ll be a great favour’
Ohhk woman…stop…stop it right there. I am no backward, illiterate, ultra-religious Indian. Do not ‘Namaste’ me. I have yet not been able to fathom WHY I felt so strongly about what she did. It almost felt as if she was mocking my entire existence - mocking my education, mocking my fluency at speaking her language, mocking the hours I’d spent at Barista sipping Cappuccino, mocking the nights I’d slept listening to Floyd, mocking the ‘wassup’s’ I’ve used to greet my friends, mocking my 234 strong friend list on facebook- just mocking everything. In that one moment I wanted to shout out and tell her so many things – I wanted her to know that I hang out at pubs on Saturday nights and in café’s on others, that just like her I am not one to make ethical and religious issues out of short skirts, kissing in public and one night stands, that I have a hep friend circle that dopes, smokes pot and sleeps with multiple partners, that even I shop at malls and screw up my credit card limits, that I also watch friends, that even I use ‘fuck’, ‘whatever, and the middle finger when am at a loss of words (I was at a loss of words when this entire scene did happen…it was only later that I reflected on what made me mad…but at that time…I was just mad!!), that I write a freaking blog!– I don’t know why I wanted her to know all of this but I’ve narrowed down to two options.
1)It was either out of my sheer anger at her holding such a stereotypical view of all Indians…and daring to ‘Namaste’ me and saying thank you…how could she presume about me without even knowing who I am (that fact that she might have just been told by someone that this is what you do in India is something that didn’t seem like a possibility worth considering until wayyy after)
Or
2) I, just like a lot of Indians, wanted to prove myself to this westerner…this human being whois universally accepted to be ahead of and better than me because she comes from a more prosperous nation
Yup…you got it…it was not an either or…it was a combo of both these reasons.
Anyways, so I told her that it was ok and we stepped off the bus. By now I (and obviously she) was the center of attention. And as expected, as soon as we stepped off the bus-
‘Madam…Madam…pushkar madam…nice AC car…200 only madam…200 only for you madam..’ (these offers were interspersed with subdued cries of ‘kya maal hai’, ‘aaja meri gaadi main baith ja’ and ‘full service madam ji’)
Well this was precisely the reason I had offered to find her a bus to Pushkar. At 11 in the night…trying to find transportation to pushkar…alone…a westerner…NOT a good idea. In that respect, Rajasthan roadways was a much much safer (and cheaper) option
Me:’Nai chahiye bhai…koi gadi nai chahiye’
After repeating the same for 5 minutes, I was able to ward off all evil, but not without sly remarks about how I was trying to act smart with the ‘Angrez’ and screwing their potential earnings in the process (actually it was said with much brevity in Hindi – ‘akele hi lega ya humen bhi kamane dega’).
Apparently the next bus to pushkar was due to arrive in 10 mins. Hmm…so we need to make small talk now….ok
Me:’Hey, the bus is coming in another 10 mins. So I guess you’ve got to bear me a bit longer’
Roberta:’Ohh you don’t need to stay … you already have done soo much for me…I really can’t ask for more…pls don’t le t me keep you’ (btw…from now on assume that whenever she had to thank me…her Namaste pose – with proper head bent down n all han – was a continuous accompaniment)
Me:’No really…its ok … I don’t have much to do…and this isn’t a very safe hour to be at a bus stand. Not to mention that the time estimates given in India rarely hold so you will constantly need to recheck on the time of arrival and where the bus shall be parked’
Roberta (more vigorous Namaste and a pained/ indebted face): ‘ ohh how can I thank you…’
Me (you could start by not thanking me): ‘Well…so…tell me about your trip to India… Where all have you been…how long is the trip’
Roberta: ‘ Well the trip has just started…just spent a week in Rajasthan and Delhi…plan to go east and then south after this. I am here on a 75 day vacation’
WHAT!! Are you even allowed to use ’75 days’ and ‘vacation’ in the same sentence!!
Me:’75 days!! What do you do for a living…how did you manage to get such a long leave’
Roberta: ‘Well I used to work for this publishing house for 3.5 years…then due to the global recession…I got laid off…so I thought I have my savings…I should use them…and here I am!’
Ok..this conversation isn’t making any sense to me…are we from the same planet…is the end near…did she just say she got laid off and she used her savings to go on a 75 day India trip!!!!! I mean, tell me frankly, what would you have done? I would have: Taken the pink slip à gone to my atm and checked my bank balance à gone home and started working on my CV à cut down on petrol, movies and a few meals to ensure my savings last.My head drifted back to Mr. Anthropologist in the bus and how he would’ve evaluated this contrast in reactions…while Roberta continued speaking
‘ I had always heard about India from my father who had been in the Italian Embassy here and I soo wanted to visit…and I knew that in a job I would never get such a long vacation…so I took the chance’
Hold on…did she just say Italy
Me:’ Which country are you from again?’
Roberta:’ Italy’
Me:’ Wow…you have a perfect American accent’
Roberta:’Yea…I’ve lived in New York for 7 years’
Me:’Hmmm..no wonder…umm…am sorry…don’t think I caught your name’
Roberta:’Roberta’
Me: ‘So Roberta – you are on a 75 day trip to India…ALONE! – WOW’
I suddenly looked around us…and there were like 20 people gathered all around…staring us down. Typical Indians…huh
Me:’Hey…if you aren’t already…then get used to this…you will be flocked everywhere you go. I on the other hand…am new to this attention…’
Roberta:’Yea…I’ve noticed this…but why’
Me:’Maybe you are too good looking (yea I know…lame attempt)..maybe us Indian men are too desperate, maybe it’s reverse apartheid and they want you to be the brown man’s burden (I think this bounced over her head – and thank god for that)’
Roberta (having heard only the ‘desperate Indian men’ part):’ Yea…I know…this driver I had in Jaipur…the guy who took me around the city for 2 days…I think was a gigolo’
Ok that’s it…where is the Mars rover hiding...i mean… everytime we start having a decent conversation on similar planes of existence…she shoots off to another dimension and says something absolutely unfathomable…I mean …how on earth do you – ‘THINK someone is a gigolo’ – isn’t it an extremely rare profession which has a very clear and objective way of being identified!!
Me:’How the hell did you ‘think’ he was a gigolo’
Roberta:’Well…all the time he drove me around…every half an hour…he would keep asking me – “will we go back in the evening to your room and have sex” ‘
Houston we a ready for take off…please please call us back to mother earth!
Me:’WHAT!’ (you really expected me to say something intelligent)
Roberta: ‘Yea…n I kept telling him that noo…I am not here for that…I am here to see the country…but he just wouldn’t listen’
I really wanted to ask her…did she never consider LEAVING THE CAB and finding another one…did she never feel UNSAFE in this guy’s company… but apparently she didn’t….infact - turns out that she was trying her hand at understanding the guys psychology while he made his sexual expectations clear to her
Roberta:’I guess he must’ve met other westerners who come here just for that…he must’ve seen then get sloshed and then sleep around..that’s why he kept asking’
Roberta…darling…there are times when you don’t try and figure out why the gun is being pointed at you…you just run
Me:’Ohh gawd…he actually…he said…ohh shit man…how could you…didn’t you’ (I think I was able to beautifully and concisely capture the emotions and feelings I’ve expressed in the paragraph above)
Me:’Ohhk…that is freaky…I would’ve freaked out had I been in your place…btw…freaky reminds me…what brings you to Pushkar…and why can’t you spend the night in Ajmer and travel in the morning. Such urgency to get sloshed han’
Roberta (smiling):’No I don’t drink…I really like to keep fit…even while travelling…I just go to a city and walk…that’s it…no guide no nothing..,just start at 6am and walk’
Wow…just wow….I’d give an arm (I wanted to say an arm and a leg – but you shall soon realise why I couldn’t) to do that…go to a new place…with nothing to go back to…and walk!
Roberta: ’And I’ve given my word to someone in Pushkar and I want to keep it by getting there tonight…’
And another 10 people have started watching the show
Roberta: ‘I don’t understand…why do they keep looking…Indian women are soo beautiful’
Me:’Yea but they aren’t hot (another lame attempt I know…but the truth)’
Roberta:’I dunno…they have such good features…such amazing faces…every other one can be a celebrity back in hollywood’
Well I didn’t expect to get into an intellectual discussion on how beautiful, cute, pretty and hot are all different things…so I just nodded and agreed.
This entire conversation was, btw, interspersed with me checking for the bus and she checking if I wasn’t getting late and ‘Namaste’ing more vigorously with every negative reply from my end. So finally, at this juncture, the bus arrived and we started saying our goodbyes
Me:’I guess this is it…have an amazing journey…n keep safe’
Roberta (worshipping me like a God):’Thank you soooo much…I dunno how I can thank you…I would’ve been lost if not for you…you are my angel…I will PRAY FOR YOU TO RAMA’
Now you’ve done it
Me:’Umm..i don’t really believe in Rama’
Roberta:’Well then Ganesha’
Me:’Lets just say that I do not subscribe to the concept of a God’
Roberta:’Really…not even one’
Me:’Nop’
Roberta:’Well yeah…I understand…when I see a lot of misery and hurt and suffering around me…even I lose faith sometimes…but it is so comforting and so calming to pray in a temple or a church and just be at peace’
Well by then the bus had started to move….so we quickly shook hands…said our final goodbyes…I helped her board…and off she went…
The scene…its 10 in the night…I am dead tired and waiting at the Kishangarh Bus stand for a bus to Ajmer…my salesmen Miyalaram and Hanuman are standing beside me…
Me:’yaar melaraam (that’s what everyone calls him…regardless of what his actual name is)…ye Kishangarh se Ajmer ki busses ke do alag rate kyun hote hain…koi Rs14 main le jaati hai toh koi Rs17 main?’
Miyalaraam:’who sirji jo Ajmer depot ki local gadi hai…jo sirf Ajmer-Kishangarh chalti hai…who 14 leti hai…but jo Jaipur depot ki gadi hai…who Rs.17 leti hai’
At this point you should know that Kishangarh falls on route from Jaipur to Ajmer…you should also know that I didn’t know it then…so I just nodded my head with my special, erudite – ‘Ahhh…I see I see’ look on my face…and Miyalaraam bought it!! Another potential threat to my vanity avoided…haha!!
So a bus arrives…I wave goodbye to my salesmen…with the usual joke about how I will stay up all night devising ways to increase their targets and make their lives miserable (actually…somehow I didn’t think they’d appreciate the joke…so I normally kept this parting joke to myself)…and I stepped onto the bus…
The scene…I walk up into the bus…and like any normal Indian…immediately notice that at the far end of the bus…3 foreigners are seated!! Now going by my amazing track record…I will surely find a seat much before I reach the end…and this trip shall pass without event!! But the Indian mind isn’t this simple minded…esp. the Indian male’s mind. Within fractions of a second I have run a 1000 P&C’s that will lead to an interesting conversation between me and the 3 white people (ohh…am sure you’ve been wondering…so I’ll answer…2 girls and one guy) and how somehow the guy will only turnout to be a brother…or maybe just an extremely white Indian…who knows…
Well…while I was still lost, thinking about that one possible scenario where the hotter of the 2 girls had noticed the HUL sign on my bag and was now excitedly telling me how she knew all about the BLT program (you know…maybe she had a chat friend in India who was in a B-school and he told her about how awesome HUL and its BLT program were…its completely possible!!)…and how she thought that I must be really smart to have gotten into it…back in the real world…I had walked the entire length of the bus realising that no seat was available!
Ok…it is important now to understand how these 3 ‘firangs’ were seated. One girl and the guy were seated at the last seat…the one that is a long continuous seat extending from end to end. The girl was sitting at the window and the guy right beside her…she was asleep. The other girl was sitting at the window seat right in front of this girl.
Now, as luck would have it…there were just 2 seats vacant…one was beside the girl sitting alone…but she had kept her huge backpack there…and the other was bang in the middle of the last long seat…right next to the guy. With absolutely no bias towards either seat…I asked the hot girl sitting alone if I could sit next to her…
Now, as all those guys who have been in similar situations would agree…when you are about to utter the first few words to a hot angrez, you wanna make sure they come out right…that they are the perfect words…being verbose will just expose your desperateness…be too terse and you might stand embarrassed as she’ll have to ask your pardon…giving you one of those ‘what did u say u Indian guy’ looks which you so dread….be too loud and you’ll get that same look…be too low key and she won’t hear you and everyone else around will smirk…add to all this the fact that everyone else in the vicinity is looking at her…and with you making it obvious that you are gonna talk to her…they are now looking at you too…it just makes it really tough to ask whether the seat next to her is empty…
But hey…its not over yet…once you’ve tuned your vocal chords to the right decibel level…the freakin bitch called ‘options’ confronts you! Would saying ‘Can I sit here’ be the politest way to ask…or would it just seem to her as if you are quizzing her about your ability to sit at the seat! If you ask ‘Is the seat next to you empty’ – she might just say yes and turn around…without removing the backpack…what then! Then again..you can just push in and expect her to understand and remove the backpack…but she might be American for all you know…in which case she wouldn’t understand and you shall be caught in an awkward situation!
Well, to put things into perspective, all these calculations happened in just a split second… and I finally asked…’Is it ok if I sit here?’. Well…she turned and responded saying yes…which culled my biggest fear – ‘what if she didn’t know English at all!!’ But then she began her attempt at removing the huge backpack from the seat and I realised that there were atleast 2 dead bodies in it…and disturbing them in their peaceful slumber was not the kind of thing I’d want on my record…so I politely told her it was ok…and I sat down next to the white guy (told you there was no bias). The girl did try and tell me it was ok…that she will manage…but I guess deep down inside I am a true Indian boy…and so there was only so far I was gonna push my luck at saying the right words to a female foreigner in front of a bus full of prying eyes…so I chose to pass!
So the bus ride began…there was the usual awkward silence around me…where all the Indians sitting within hearing distance of the white people will stay absolutely shut…as if they are all relatives of the national security advisor and anything they utter can be a potential danger to national security…while their ears were completely tuned in to every word that the white people spoke…desperately attempting to gather bits and pieces of their conversation and make a mental map of their lives…how they were related…was she his wife or girlfriend or just friend or sister…were they English or American or from the rest of the white world (those are the only 3 classifications we are capable of making). This continued for 5 mins…until the guy (hereafter referred to as WG)broke the silence and asked –
WG (with a lot of effort to overcome his European accent):’ So you live in Ajmer’
Me:’No actually…I’m just working in Ajmer for a few weeks. So where are you guys from and what are you doing in India’ (there you go Mr. curious little Indian)
WG(heavy accent):’Ohh weee are phrom Belgiuum. We on vacashion in India’
Further probing on my part revealed that he was travelling with the girl next to him and they were not with the girl sitting in front (I know its an obvious conclusion…but she was alone!...and no…I didn’t dare ask how these 2 were related to each other)
WG:’So where do you work…whats your job?’
Me (curbing my instinct to explain about BLT and HUL to him):’I’m into sales…working for Unilever…you may not have heard of it…what about you…what do you do?’
WG:’ Well I’m an anthropologist’
Here we go with the special, erudite ‘ohh I see I see’ look again…twice in less than 15 mins!! Well in my defence…I did have a faint idea that anthropology had something to do with studying humans…but that seemed extremely vague and broad a definition for a specific field. It was only later that I realised that it was actually just that!! Btw, I narrated this incident to 3 more people…and I can bet that atleast 2 of them gave me their own version of the special, erudite ‘ohh I see I see’ look in response…while the 3rd one just laughed a silly laugh…realised that it was a lame attempt…and asked what it meant.
Anyways, with the knowledge that WG was a researcher …that anthropology was a science that need him to research people…I confidently asked the next question that would cement the authenticity of my special, erudite look.
Me:’So is this an educational, work related trip…or is it a pure vacation’ (haha…nailed it)
WG:’Well…it is vacation…but you really can’t stop mind from looking at it with academic angle. You see people…you try and understand why they do what they do’
That’s all he needed to say…and suddenly…I was aware and conscious of every moving muscle in my body. What are my hands doing…why am I moving my feet…Is this guy making an opinion about Indians with our interaction as his data…am I a guinea pig…a lab rat…why does he have that sly smile on his face…does he know what I am thinkning…
Me:’hmmm…must be interesting…what interests me is why you chose to do research when you have a masters degree…any Indian with that degree would look for a fat paycheck!’
WG:’Well…in Belgium…higher education is very expensive…and unlike India…we don’t have too many jobs….so we go in for research’
WHAT!! Ever heard of PPP…higher education in India aint too cheap either…and whats that about India having lots of jobs…your country has an unemployment rate of 7.5…ours the figure is 10.1. Surely, given our population, the absolute number of jobs would be more…but whatever gave you the idea that per capita we have more opportunity!! I was seriously shocked at his comment!!
Me(extremely tired but still making an attempt to make him understand):’ In india…a guy with masters will look for a job…because in all probability..his folks spent half their live’s earnings…and killed almost all their own desires…to afford his/her education. The only option, thus, is to now earn and bring a larger sum of money, comforts and satisfaction back in his household. It’s not really because we have more jobs… (how could he make it sound so easy for us!!)’
WG(with a look that said ‘I’m no longer interested in your opinion’): Maybe…so what all is there to see in Ajmer’
Well, so much for being an anthropologist…but whatever…as a courteous Indian…I went on to tell him about Ajmer’s attractions. I also gathered that they were on a 5 week long trip, of which 3 days had already been spent in Jaipur…and as usual…I wondered whether I’ll ever take a month off from work and go explore some exotic foreign land. I sometimes try and imagine what feelings a trip to India would have evoked in me…had I been a westerner. There really isn’t any other country in the world that has so many misconceptions about it…so much mysticism surrounding it…so many tales…so many epics...But being Indians we’ll never get to experience that rush of travelling to the land of elephants and snake charmers. Neither will we ever be able to appreciate Indian women as much as we appreciate firangs…but that’s a separate issue.
As I was lost in this deep thought…the bus came to a halt and the sudden commotion made me realise that till now almost everyone in the bus had been extremely silent and were glued in to every word I and WG exchanged…..and they were now giving me a look that was a mixture of 3 looks in varying degree:
1)The guys were giving me the ‘ghani angrezi main chapar chapar kar riya se’ look
2)The females were giving me the ‘dikhta toh Hindustani hai par chokhi angrezi bol lewe hai’ look
3)And the uncles were giving me the’ humari bhi baat karwa do’ look
Suddenly, feeling alienated amongst my own people, I starting saying goodbyes to the WG, and the girl by his side-who had just woken up. As we lugged our stuff and started walking towards the front door…I heard a distinctly American…distinctly female voice call out from behind me..
‘Excuse me…’
I turned around - could it be her??…I had forgotten about her presence completely…
‘Could you tell me when the next bus to Pushkar is’
Ahh Miyalaraam…I finally understand why this bus costs Rs 17 and not 14…
Me:’Miyalaraam, aaj saare Wholesalers ke target poore karwane hain…ok’
Miyalaraam (my top salesman at Kishangarh):’Ji sir’
Me:’Chalo, main Wholesalers ke naam leta hun…tum bolo target hoga ke nai…’
Miyalaraam:’Ji sir’
Me:’Oswal’
Miyalaraam:’hoga sir’
Me:’Shiv Shankar’
Miyalaraam:’hoga sir’
Me:’Apsara’
Miyalaraam:’hoga sir’
Me:’Nirmala’
Miyalaraam:’nai hoga sir’
Me:’Kyun’
Miyalaraam:’sir usse kisi ne goli maar di’
Me: (oh cmon…you really expected something here)
Ohk…so there are moments in life which leave you speechless…and then there are moments when you don’t know till 5 mins later that a moment 5 minutes back had rendered you speechless…because your mind had gone blank and it couldn’t take notice of your speechlessness! This was neither one of them…but this whole moment thingy sounded really cool so I put it there…
Anyways…coming back to the point…HOW THE HELL WILL I MEET MY TARGETS NOW…oops…missed the point again…
No really…coming back to the point…WHAT IN BLOODY HELL DID HE JUST SAY! Seriously, every now and then you settle into ‘Normal’ mode…where life starts following a pattern…a routine…and then just like the kid who will start crying the moment he see’s that Mom’s not paying any attention to it…arbit random shit starts happening.Here is the scene…this wholesaler…the biggest one in Kishangarh…is heading back home after work and carrying the day’s cash with him when 2 guys pull up on a bike…shoot him…he Is shot in the ribs but he makes sure he turns into the nearest sweet shop and deposits the cash there…and the guys run off…brilliant.
All day that day, this incident was the talk of the town. Any shop I went to..no one wanted to talk of Lux or Breeze…it was all Lachchu bhai (the wholesaler) and how bad a shape kishangarh was in. But getting airtime equal to the famous Lachchu bhai’s famous story…was another incident…of an unknown girl.Apparently, 2 days before the shooting incident, 2 guys on a bike had stopped a girl on the busiest road in Kishangarh…at 2 in the afternoon…held her hand…kissed her .. and driven away!
Now, what I found really interesting, was the way everyone in town described these 2 incidents. Each and every one of the n conversations I had that day ended with this line – ‘Batao sahib…kya halat hai kishangarh ki…sarre aam ladkiyon ko pappi de jaate hain…logon ko goli maar jaate hain’
When people said it this way…it just didn’t seem right to me…normally people say two things of comparable intensity/severity together…you know…it’s fine if someone says that 10 ppl died here and 14 died there…but no one says 10 people died here and even my foot is hurting…similarly…these two incident were not of comparable intensity by a long shot…but still everyone reported them together…in one breath…as if they happened simultaneously. Also, the kissing incident had happened 2 days back…why didn’t anyone feel the need to talk about it then!
The normal course of thought would be that these people are obviously worried about the state of crime in their town and it wasn’t until 2 incidents happened simultaneously that they realised how grave the situation was…and so they are reporting them now…together. Well, that is logical…but I don’t think it was the fear of crime…the fear of being hurt…or the fear of dying that I saw in many people who spoke the most passionately about this incident. No…I think it was the fear of not knowing when and how the crime..the hurt…the death will hit them. It was the ugly reminder that randomness had sent them to shake them out of their cosy homes made with patterned walls . I don’tthink they knew it consciously…but they had just witnessed the thread called arbitrariness that binds life and death…through 2 explicit examples…one of life and one of death…
But does that mean we’d be better off if we knew when death will hit us??
I don’t know…there are people who know they will die in a month and some of them live their life in those 30 days while the others sulk it away. But what’s common to both reactions is the undercurrent of helplessness. Both know that they are helpless against what we call ‘fate’. Now the notion of fate has a n inherent self-annihilating paradox…the paradox is that the notion of ‘fate’ lives on an inherent belief in a pre-decided end to a particular chain of events..thus implying that there is a pattern…a method to the madness…but if there is a method…then I believe someone would’ve found it in the gazzilion years that human beings have existed…thereby eliminating the need for the mysterious notion of fate itself!!
But then again we, the human race, are extremely skilled at taking the easy route…so we go ahead and introduce another notion…that of a GOD…and using him/her (has that been settled yet?) give credence to the notion of fate…we say…ofcourse there is a pattern…and ofcourse we teeny tiny humans haven’t been able to/ never will be able to figure it out…because STRANGE ARE THE WAYS OF GOD…’wah re upar wale…teri maya koi nai samajh paya’….
What’s the result…we basically support a notion (of fate) that itself contradicts the premise that forms its very foundation, by inventing another notion (of God) that has no reason to exist except to keep a hundred other notions from being shattered…amazing!!
So are we doomed to a life of despair…when anything can hit us anytime…and we can’t even believe that there is someone up there who will serve justice…who is controlling all the variables…even if we can’t understand his modus operandi!!
The reactions that the people of Kishangarh had to this event were equally educative for me. There were people saying that now all shops will close down by 8pm…that they will ask for more police presence…that they will not send their women out alone….
Basically…all I could hear was…’we have seen 2 more forms of randomness and now we shall be prepared if randomness decides to repeat itself’…well hello…that is randomness’s core competence…it doesn’t fuckin repeat itself!!! ( The reactionreminded me of the Indian governments reaction to terrorist attacks…ohh they came from the sea…secure the ports now…they came by air…secure the airports now…seems like the government is saving the cost of hiring consultants who will tell them all the flaws at one go…whats the hurry…the terrorists are doing it anyway…and since they take some time…the costs get spread out!!)
Well…it didn’t fill me with despair…infact…I remember being quite happy that day…not that I wasn’t worried about the guy who got shot…but for me the 2 incidents reminded me that some unexpected good thing might be on its way…after all…randomness is extremely fair…the problem is that when it brings hurt people curse it…but when it bring happiness they feel that it had to happen and randomness gets no credit! Well I was happy…because in the fair world of randomness…the probability of a good thing and a bad thing happening is exactly the same!!
Ohh btw…the guy went into coma…came back out of it in 2 days…is absolutely fine now…and the 2 gunmen walked into the police station 4 days later and surrendered…No one know why they did so…(evil grin)
