Pinku-Enchanted Life

Bunty sat straight without a word and looked out almost willing herself to see the bus that must be traveling somewhere before them in the darkness. The others had more or less regained their composure and Neha was pulling Subir’s leg about the bus number. Subir had memorized the number of the bus he was standing in front of while at the terminal and it skipped him that they had got into not that but the next bus. He had been very embarrassed. They had just stood there not knowing what to do next when the headlights of another bus shone on them. The conductor had hailed them with a “bus miss ho gayi?" He had offered to drop them at the next stop. They had hesitated, between themselves they barely had enough money to get back to Delhi, if they traveled further up and then were not able to get to their bags they would be in deeper trouble. It would mean having to call up home for someone to come and fetch them. Neha the ever impulsive had taken the decision for everyone by hopping i

Rohit was trying to balance Neha’s dozing head on his shoulder while trying to stretch his legs and gain a slightly more comfortable position. These seats in buses and cinema halls were always a torture for him. He couldn’t manage the feat and Neha woke up bleary eyed to ask him what the matter was, saw the look on his face and realized it was the “Mr. Long legs” problem. She pulled up his feet onto her lap, telling him to turn so that he was stretched out over her. He said it was a stupid pose but did it nevertheless since there was no getting away from an idea once Neha had got it in her head. She gave a triumphant smile and then promptly dozed off again. Her confident smile had been the first thing he had noticed when he had met her at Malika’s party. She had known no one there and Malika had asked him and Amit to look after her. However within a few minutes of being introduced it looked like they were the one’s who had been put in her care. She asked them half a dozen questions in

Bunty’s face could hardly be seen so wrapped was she in her layers of mufflers and cap. The others grinned whenever they caught each other’s eye. Having been born and brought up in the North they were much better equipped to handle the cold. Bunty came from the more moderate climates of the Eastern part of the country. Incessant rains she could understand and bear but this bone chilling cold almost brought tears to her eyes. For the umpteenth time she wondered how she had let that scatterbrained Neha talk her into visiting Manali in December. She looked around to see both the guys lighting cigarettes. It looked like something that would give warmth, she wondered if she should take a chance and smoke one. Inspite of herself she wondered yet again how the lean, serious, methodical Rohit could be so enamored by Neha who was a compulsive flirt and had to be upto some wicked plan at any given moment. She on the other hand had so much in common with him, their serious natures, zodiac signs,

Lofty thoughts permeate, kindness fills my heart, goodwill makes my eyes shine and I feel as holy as the shrine of the local saint. I am willing to sacrifice all for the current focus of my benevolence. No selfish thought is allowed entry and I go about doing all it takes with the zeal of a new missionary. Determined to change the world into a better place by tomorrow morning if not tonight. I walk with a lighter step, smile at the Manager of the office next door and the guy who sweeps the stairs with equal friendliness and have an exaggerated sense of well-being. I wholly believe that I have found the sublime truth of life and that is to love a fellow being with utter selflessness. And I rejoice, exult in this knowledge. Only for a tiny pinprick to burst my bubble. A pang of jealousy, a hint of uncertainty, a teeny-weeny bit of insecurity and suddenly I don’t feel so great any more. I land back with a thump on the quagmire of human feelings and desire. The beloved needs only be with m

Just finished reading a book by the same name written by Khushwant Singh. Those of you who know me must be wondering why I was reading this of all things. Well, the answer was simple it was at hand and I picked it up and then once I went through the first fifteen pages was mildly interested enough to feel like finishing it. Apart from all the colloquial terms for the penis in English and hindi that Mr. Singh educates one about, the book also speaks about a upper class, Princeton educated, young millionaire man’s unabashed need for women’s company and variety in the kind of woman he beds. From a house-help, (mind you the kind that we have in India, clad in saris or salwar kameezes, mother of 3-5 kids, reeking of sweat, not the dainty, frock wearing ones we see in English movies) his son’s wet-nurse, a diplomat to a masseuse and beyond finally also a prostitute. But what was the reason for seeking a woman’s company? His seemed very unidimensional - to have sex. To keep sex exciting by ha

You go somewhere, look around at all the things you would love to have. Look also at your rapidly dwindling notes and coins and resist. Resist buying that pink silk sarong and the green parasol and the tiny silver earrings with the pearls dangling beneath. What for? For buying that one special thing for that one special person whom you have left behind and would have done anything to have along. You hunt around despairing to find that one thing which would convey all that you feel. And then you finally find it. Tucked away in a corner, looking innocuous, ordinary, you pick it out, read a thousand things into each curve and embed a thousand more of your own memories, desires and expectations into it. You try and explain what it means to you and fail to convey even a tenth of it and you finally offer it, hoping it would be able to convey all that you have repeatedly failed to express. Only for that person to lose it within two days. What do you do? What do you say? What do you feel? You

A trip to a holy land undertaken to dip yourself in the holy Ganges and wash all your sins away as per Mom’s version (she seems to be growing old finally to be able to talk like this without laughing). A trip to a never-seen-before land to dip yourself in the fast flowing Ganges and have a good time in the water was my version. The two coincided in the form of our Haridwar trip last weekend. How did it go? Eye opening. Question raising. How can a place so venerated be so dirty? How can people spit in (not to mention do everything else besides) and drink up the same water with equanimity? How can a government be aware of the potential of a place as a tourist attraction and then do nothing to maintain it? How can people spend thousands on traveling to a particular spot to bathe in the river and not spare a few thoughts and pennies to keeping it clean? How come I the non-believer in all that’s expected to be believed without question land up in the same river and then as I prance about in