Creative Impotency'

Before I start this, I am agreeing this is a result of creative impotence, which I am facing, I squarely blame it on winters though I know its just an existence of my unsuccessfulness’


NO TITLE ( I cant think of anything)


It all started when they were young, still kids though. Life was yet to unravel itself, it’s just like an early morning, when sunlight sprinkles in your room, giving window a large shadow and leaving you, neither asleep nor awake.
They were least aware of each other and yet inseparable, there were times when they had lot to do and then there was nothing to accomplish. They existed but the struggle to exist was yet to begun.

Studies still revolved around Things to do and Days to remember, of course now and then from nowhere came exams, it was than, when mothers suddenly stopped visiting each other, relatives were told of an unknown pressure and dad’s general questions became more concentric on studies, but for them it always came, saw and went.

Anyhow, they were not in the same class, now lets be positive about it, coz their mothers never discussed report cards and somehow whenever they spoke about their marks, + 10 was magically added to their scores. For them it all was trifle, studies, teacher, school was never on their mind, when they met, it was other big issues and their little secrets.

At 10, they were too mature to play pranks at each other. The locality was bustling up with children, a living proof of India’s population or future, whatever you prefer to call ! Now in one way or another only they two were of same age group, defying all logics, sometimes logics defy themselves…..so it was He & She and She & He.

One day he decided to hang a frog (must have seen a English flick with his dad), she was enthralled by the idea. Some days were spent in planning, about location, victim and execution details (man is a born manager).
Finally one day she managed to sneak in some wool, they were now prepared and the location was the nearby pond. He was scared, She wasn’t..but than he had to catch the frog, they managed to catch a toad, may be the amphibian would have been of the same age as of theirs, perhaps older, who knows! Finally they managed to get hold of it, she carefully wrapped the thread around his neck (girls always have a penchant for details and accuracy), they had to pull the strings from their ends when it would leap. A small leap for a frog, a game for the mankind. It’s unbelievable but Death is sometimes fun, after some consistent efforts and much to the rescue of frog’s soul, they succeeded. They hanged it on the tree, a mark of their success, Death over life!

When he returned home, it was bustling with excitement, he wondered Do they know, what we did but it was about Dad, he had been promoted and they were being transferred. Transfers are not just physical, hell they are emotional too, not because we love people more because we are scared, sacred of venturing into unknown zones, meeting unknown people. Mom was excited and had transformed into NDTV 24x7 and dad was pensive, may be he was scared too. He was too insignificant to be asked.

Few days later…….He was standing near the truck, which has gobbled his whole house, their parents were joking on how they would have to remain in contact because of them. They were not emotional, that’s being too immature, and perhaps it was more because they were excited, on how she would write him about the frog and he on his new friends. The thought of having a pen friend was in his mind and in hers who knows…..Time as usual passed, how come we not always mourn on its death …wonder! Letters never got posted, may be postal delays. He missed Her……

Delhi is a strange city, he had realized this over 23 years of his existence, like all days he waited for the route no 507 bus. In Delhi its an irony, whenever you want to board a particular bus, it never comes, otherwise you see hoards of them plying by, finally after an eternal wait it arrived. The bus was like all days overcrowded, he mused New Year, huh, people were jostling for space, both physical and mental, pre-occupied.

He managed to find a space, standing like a saint, hand holding the bar, in front of the seat above which was marked “Ladies Seat”, graced by the presence of two fair sexes, one whom every pervert in the bus was eyeing and other with a khadi kurta and specs, lost in a book.
He had stopped leeching years ago, this happened when he got enlightened, that with a physique and pocket like his, it is extremely unlikely that any girl with leftover sense will have a go with him. The realization was painful and slow, slow because in the period he proposed 10 different girls with different characteristics and painful because no one told him the truth, all he got was “I am sorry, but not interested”. Anyhow he was trying to read what the girl was reading.

“Perhaps a journo”, he earlier use to like the breed, now all he had was pity for them, his journo friend told him once the relationship between their salaries and work. He argued on passion all he got was “Passion needs money too” – discussion ended, there was no rum left and water tasted bitter.

The bus had reached IIT gate, he was wondering where the girls would get down, at least he would get to sit. The girl with specs looked up, their eyes met, trying to recognize something, his face was flat. She adjusted her spectacles, back to book and back on track. She then looked again.

“Girl no use, I know what I am….perhaps she is trying to hog a bit of limelight from the pretty lass” he silently laughed. The bus hitched on, his memory too…..may be I met her, nah…..don’t have these thoughts, who? Classmate nah….collegiate…did they know I existed, “who then?”


Munirka was next, she closed the book and raised up, he had to get down too……but he was transfixed.

‘Excuse me

Dibrugarh’

‘What?

Dibrugarh’

‘kya hai bhai, madam ko utarne dega – somebody pushed him


She made her way ahead and turned back to smile!

He was livid now, he streamed across the crowded bus…on to road behind her.

“Excuse me mam”

She stopped.

“Mam, I am sorry but I have seen you somewhere, ever been to Dibrugarh”

He was prepared for the rebuttal, slap but not for public beating or police thrashing. He took his chances.

‘All you remember is Dibrugarh (she gleamed)

He was overjoyed, she was laughing, like kids, like old times…..chronologically they were now mature.

‘Don’t you remember my name (there was false ring of anger in her voice)

Of course, I do…I do….

‘Thx God! At least you remember something, all you were saying was dibrugarh, dibrugarh (she laughed again)

Aah……I am sorry, how are you? (no clues what else to say)

‘Good and you, what about your parents, howz life (girls have this tendency to know everything in one go)

They are fine..I am Ok. Where you heading to?

‘JNU and U?

Me too, that’s great (now that’s good), why you going there?

‘Have to meet someone, you? Study there?

No I plan too.

(she laughed, they moved…)

‘So why you plan to study there?

Got nothing else to try, already tried CAT, Civils and now that’s only left

(She laughed again. He was feeling good elucidating his unsuccessfulness’)

‘JNU is tough you know

I know, first I am illiterate and then they got reservation for everyone else except me

‘Yeah, they got reservations for reserved and than these already reserved get into reserved admissions and than again compete for already reserved seats, India Developing!!!

You a journo?

‘why? Do I look like one?

Yes and you talk big

‘You were always good with guesses, yeah I am under training. What about you, you just preparing or working somewhere?

Yes, Seattle USA

‘What?

Work for a call centre

‘Oh!, than you must have an alias name, what’s yours? (like olden times, sharing secrets, now which are not, bhenchod half of America would know it)

Forget it…so you have to meet your boyfriend?

‘Yes

Cool

‘Disappointed (she laughed again)

No, I am already enlightened (he spoke with a more flatter voice)

‘What that mean?

That’s long, for now you can say I am unsuccessful

(she laughed again, he smiled wryly)

‘You know what, sometimes being unsuccessful is being God too. It costs much to remove the Un

Well philosopher journo, would you explain (he was not amused, girls shouldn’t act bright)

‘You remember the frog

yeah (genuine smile)

'It smelled bad

------------silence as they walked on-----------

He nervously searched his pocket for cig., nicotine his senses screamed. His thoughts lit up with the spark of the matchstick that rubbed against the coarse skin of its counterpart and smoke from his nostrils rolled like that from a steam engine. He moved.

You know what

(she looked back)

I never had friends.

-----------more silence--------------


‘There is he – she pointed to a handsome guy, near the tree, sitting on a bike (definitely male)

‘Wanna meet him

No, may be some other day, have to get prospectus early, neither would have to stand for hours

(she stared back, anguished)

Ok than, we again part (he threw the stub)

‘What, wont you even take down my number (she was surprised and sort of screamed)

No, I have to remove the Un and you just said it costs high….he smiled and walked away………leaving her and a lot behind…….