PUNCTUALITY REDEFINED

This picture was taken a year ago. The office (Oriental Insurance is just opposite Scandal Point, The Mall, Shimla).

The babus here, seem to be quite punctual and they’ll close shop exactly at 5:00 PM and other days exactly five minutes late. Has anybody tried their timings?

Anyway, to begin with, it was a June Sunday. Place: Delhi. Don’t remember well, if I’d cleared the college or was in the final year. But those were the days, when being a Theatre person was high on my agenda and was associated with Advait Theatrical Group – that thought of itself to be a revolutionary concept, with flying egos.

The Director-Founder of Advait was a dear friend in those days, and was four/five years my senior in college. We followed him, if not blindly, but followed him ardently and thought of ourselves as some philosophers who would change the literary world and the art world. Thank God we spared the society of that. Again why am I meandering? Because the story is all about meandering.

The pressure on me was though not too high to appear for the IAS exam but was certainly high on my friend. Let’s call him The Friend only. His parents were convinced that one day their son would leave his vagabond lifestyle and join the mainstream by being a high positioned bureaucrat in the Indian Civil Services. Had The Friend been serious, he would have certainly qualified. I never doubted his intellect, even still though his reckless life has made him sacrifice many friends. Yours truly being one. But that’s a problem with all artists I suppose, who are non-conformists.

On a Saturday night, we decided to stay at my place in RK Puram, as the centre of the exam – some Government School, near Sarai Rohilla Station (near Karol Bagh) – was closer to my home. I don’t remember if we boozed that night or not. But we did sleep late. By the time we woke up next morning, the Sunday, we knew that we were running late for the exam. We hired an auto-rickshaw for the centre and after every minute were looking at our watches. We had to find and trace out the centre too. We were exactly 20 minutes late. We found the classroom where we were supposed to be seated. The invigilator declared that he could have allowed leniency of 10 minutes only and 20 minutes was too much of a time as per the rules laid down by the UPSC (Union Public Service Commission – that conducts the civil services exams). While I was too happy to be late as that would have meant one chance lost – as I knew I had not prepared for the Preliminary exam and I stood no chance to clear it to go to the second round – The Mains. The Friend pleaded with excuses that we had come from Ghaziabad and the train was late to reach the Sarai Rohilla Station. The pleading fell on deaf ears. Later, The Friend told me, “I just wanted to quell my guilt feeling that I did not try.” He unlike me, was under pressure from his parents to appear for the exam.

So what next? We already were feeling the Delhi June heat. We couldn’t go home. As we should have been giving the exam. There were about two-three papers on the day with a lunch break and it was supposed to end at 5 PM. We would have to while away that time out. Even though a friend stayed quite nearby, we didn’t want his parents to know that we’d bunked the IAS exam. So for the mutual love of books we decided to go to Daryaganj – the biggest of the Sunday Market for second-hand books. After a ride on one of the deadly Redline buses (that plied on Delhi roads during those days) we were in Daryaganj in half an hour. The market runs across an approximately 1-km stretch and the heat was unbearable. Still we managed to cover the entire market, with our hands full of, if I’m not wrong, with only James Patrick Donleavy’s The Ginger Man. It had been just over a three quarters of an hour, and the heat had already drained me out and my back and knees too seemed to have lost their lubricant.

The stretch managed, what next? It was just 11 or 11:30 PM. A brilliant idea struck us. Remember not too much money was in our pockets that we could go to some restaurant. It was decided that we’ll watch some movie on a Rs 20 per ticket at Regal in Cannaught Place. The 12:30 PM show. Just about 10 minutes were left for the show, and there was madness for the tickets at the ticket counter. Delhi didn’t have multiplexes or the hep kind of theatres during those days. Priya Cinema and Chanakya were the only decent places. Anyway, back to Regal. The movie that was about to start was – I don’t remember the name – the like of Jawaani Ki Aag, or Jawaani Ki Dushman or Jawaani ki Bhool or Something Something, if you know what I mean.

We weren’t interested in the movie but to escape the Delhi summer for at least two hours, Regal seemed to be a good idea. But the good idea wasn’t that good as the tickets were being sold at a flat rate of Rs 50. That was too much for us. May be we had about Rs 100 put together in our pockets but still Rs 100 for a C/D grade movie was too much for our egos and the artistic fellows who were born to change the way how art was looked upon. We were after all theatre people.

Should we try out any other theatre? The shows ran across Delhi had fixed timings unlike the present days when movie-halls or the multiplexes run shows every half hour.

So what next? A little bit of loitering around in Cannaught Place and 50 paise wala machine ka thanda paani, we found ourselves under the shadow of khajoor type trees in the Jantar Mantar arena. We lay beneath one of the khajoor type trees, hardly a leaf for shadow. I still wonder why there aren’t any shady trees there. We talked for a while and tried to have a wink or two. But the Delhi summer wouldn’t let Lady Sleep come nearby. After every five minutes of silence we looked at our watches. These minutes seemed to be as hours. We tried hard to not to look at our watches. But couldn’t resist the temptation. There were a few middle-aged loafers – like us – there too trying to sleep, or just whiling away time. The only difference was that they were not future bureaucrats in the making and not come out to give an IAS exam. Nor were they the theatrewallas with fine sensibility and refinery for art. May be that was their life. One, pulled out a newspaper from where I don’t remember, opened each sheet and laid them down nicely on the grass to lay upon.

The Friend and me, tried to talk, philosophise or what else? But the sun seemed to have caught itself in the mires and designs and dials of Jantar Mantar. By the way, we paid Rs 5 each for an entry into the Jantar Mantar complex. How the loafers had got in, I’m not sure. They were beggars, I suppose. The newspaper man, said to the other, “Chal lunch karke aate hain, Bangla Shaib (a popular Gurudwara in Delhi and near) pe.” The plan didn’t seem to have gone down well with the other man. The newspaper man then followed it up with all kinds of abuses to the Sikhs, and then turned to us, “Buraa mat maanana Sahab, main bhee Sardaar hoon.” Must be a cut-Sard (Sikhs who have cut their hair and don’t wear a head-gear – the turban). Anyway we were least interested in finding out his background, except that there was some amusement going on for us to get us through the day. Then the newspaper man tried to offer us some sheets of the newspaper, which we politely declined, hoping that he doesn’t start his rant with us. “Main toh ek rupaiya ka paper isiliye khareedta hoon taaki aaraam se so sakoon.”

May be Lady Sleep pitied us and we managed to get some uneasy sleep for about 15 minutes, when our newspaper man shot out, “Bhai sahab, bhai sahab, teen baj gaye kya?” Startled we woke up and looked at our watches and nodded our heads in affirmation, still fearing to open our mouths lest the man starts a rant with us. That didn’t resist him, and asked, “Poocho mujhe kaise pata?” We didn’t try and answer him neither in words nor through our body or any expressions. Still, he answered, “Yeh aurat dekh rahe ho? Ye r**** hai r****. Theek teen baje aati hai yahaan pe. Har roj. Ek baar mujhe kehti, ‘50 rupaiya de, tera l***a c******gee’. Maine kaha, ‘hat s****…” followed by some other words, which cannot be put down in asterisks as well.

The woman got into some small talk with other men around, and soon came to this newspaper man. He too engaged her in small talk, while he looked at us with a smile and an expression, which probably said – See, I had told you. We thought that it was time for us to move out from the place.

We got up, loitered around Jantar Mantar and marvelling the historic place built by His Highness Sawai Jai Singh, – that was more appropriate for us, The Theatrewallas - and left the place. Soon we found ourselves behind Janpath Lane, where some Kashmiri boys were playing cricket. They were, I suppose, the local shop-keepers or who else, I’m not sure. Not to forget that we must have smoked about three packets of Charms cigarettes by then since morning. We smoked Charms those days. Charms with its denim look pack was a cult amongst the theatre people and the rebellious. “Charms is the spirit of freedom, Charms is the way you are” was its positioning statement those days. We weren’t trained in marketing fundas, hence we called the positioning statement as a ‘slogan’ only. Some years later, Charms changed its statement to “You’ll like the taste my friend.” The motto for us was over and we shifted to some other brands.

But again this is not the story about Charms. We saw the Kashmiri boys playing cricket, while trying to decipher what they were talking in their dialect. Around 4:15 PM, we thought that it was too much to bear and we could go home and tell our respective parents that we had finished the paper early, by about 4 PM and had left the venue in an auto-rickshaw for home. Tired, we took our ways. The Friend left for Noida from Janpath and I for RK Puram, not in an auto-rickshaw but in a bus hoping that it’ll trudge slowly picking up passengers on the way and give me a leeway time for little explanation at home. So I boarded the No 615 bus plying between Minto Road and JNU (Jawaharlal Nehru University). But against my prayers, the driver wanted to speed – but true to the character and nature of the Redline buses. On the way, some students of JNU hopped on to the bus. They were on their way back to their hostels after appearing for the IAS exam. So a bleak light that well the exam could be finished by this time – except that my centre was way far than theirs. I tried to gather the threads of their conversation – the questions they were discussing. So armed with some questions that had been asked in the exam, I rang on the door bell at about 4:45 PM.

Nobody asked me, why I was early, except, “Kaisaa hua?”

“Theek hee ho gaya,” I said.

Nobody again asked me what kind of questions had been asked, still I was eager to tell them – the questions I’d eaves dropped upon from the discussion between the JNU students.

Any regrets for not giving the exam? Not as of now, till may be my boss throws me out for non- performance during the economic slowdown and inability to get stories. That was a Midsummer Day’s Dream. I could have entitled the story that but then why vulgarise the copyrights of The Bard, Shakespeare; particularly when we were at that point of time, besides Advait, bringing out a literary magazine called – The Bard. So my due respects for the greatest ever playwright. We had just made an Ass of ourselves. Nothing else.

That’s the price I’m or everybody else is paying for the development and for a better future. The road from Shimla to Rohru is being converted into four-lane, hence we’ll have to bear with it. And may be till then (estimated two years), we’ll have to junk our cars.

However, what I don’t understand is why the stretch between Chharabra and Kufri and Kufri and Fagu is not being metalled. The widening of this stretch was completed many years ago. Even though a staunch Congress supporter, I’d come open in praise of BJP for its obsession with roads. I thought that the previous Congress government neglected the road to Rohru. However, it’s been more than a year, since the BJP came to power in the state (Himachal Pradesh), but the road is as bad as it can get. Worsening day by day. And the stretch between Shimla and Theog and to Rampur is supposed to be a National Highway (No 22, for the uninitiated).

But how about the roads in Shimla city itself. Pathetic is the word – that comes to my mind. Take the route from Victory Tunnel to Lakkar Bazaar and Sanjauli, and you’ll feel that you are in a surgical theatre and being passed through surgery without anesthesia. Shimla is not only the state capital but one of the tourist destinations, that attracts tourists not only from India but from abroad. Is this the image we let the tourists carry back home.

I’d like to request the Himachal government to please do the needful at the eraliest. I’ve been approached by many BJP men to convert, and if they want me to really convert, they’d have to show some good work. Till then it’ll be a choice between the more evil and the less evil.

Also that I’d criticised the former Chief Minister, Virbhadra Singh, for making visits to his constituency (Rohru) though helicopter. He surely wouldn’t like to take a bumpy ride at this age. But all – from both BJP and Congress – took the ariel route and land up in Sawra (Saraswati Nagar), to woo the voters. The prominent culprits are Thakur kaul Singh and Mohsina Kidwai (both from the Congress) and Prof prem Kumar Dhumal (from the BJP).

Even though a Congress-supporter, I’m still happy that Rohit Thakur )of the Congress) was given a boot by the electorate. He rided on big ego and no work. His refrain would be “Jagdish (Dulta) Mama se poocho. Unko batao.” Well, people did not vote for his “Jagdish Mama” but him. I’m not sure, how much work and promises, the MLA from Jubbal-Kotkhai, Mr Narender Baragta would be able to fulfil at the end of his term, but one thing I’m sure is of that he is a genial person and approachable and at least has an ear to listen to the woes of the common man. He’s a permanent for sure for the next term(s). The Congress has let its fort succumb to the BJP. There’s none from the Congress that can give a fight to Baragta. The only solution for Congress would be to do the the improbable (though not impossible) to lure Baragta to Congress.

There’s been enough speculation that in the parliamentary elections, Baragta’s influence might get Virender Kashyap the seat to the Centre. He might swing some votes in Upper Shimla, however, Baragata has little influence in Lower Shimla. More so, parliamnetray elections are a different ball game altogether. Even though I rue the fact that all MPs from Shimla in the past have come as a dud, whether be it KD Sultanpuri or be it Col Dhani Ram Shandil. They’ve done no work for their constituency. I doubt if they raised any questions during their term. All I know of is personal works – like getting a gas connection or a telephone connection or getting a government accomodation out of turn from the MP-quota (during the days when it was difficult to get connections and there was a quota). Overall, their mass work has been nill. And still I’m a Congress supporter. Why? I’ve to ask myself. But I have seen Virender Kashyap too doing little in his public life. His name crops up only during elections and is famous for losing all. He hasn’t learnt any lessons all this while and has done little to up his public image during the term between elections. He could have voiced concerns, participated in public debates and done some social work to remain alive in the public memory.

All I can say at this point of time is may the best person wish. My opinion doesn’t count as I am a registered voter in Delhi and cannot cast my vote in Himachal. But don’t take that lightly. I can for sure swing votes. So I’d leave it to the parties to lure me.

The tender for conversion of the state highway from Theog-Kotkhai-Hatkoti-Rohru into double lane was won by a Chinese company, (Long Jian Road & Bridge Ltd) last year. The company’s quotations were the lowest and armed with the latest technology, the work is in progress and as promised by it, the widening should be on schedule – in three years.

I’ll come to the dog issue later on. However, the first issue is of awarding the contract to a Chinese company. China border is not far off. There have been incidents in the past when Chinese spies have been arrested in Rohru-Jubbal-Kotkhai area.

The road widening work gives free access to the Chinese engineers into the area. What’s worrying is that Long Jian Road & Bridge Ltd, is a state-owned Chinese company. The company has detailed maps with it and free mobility to its engineers. Even though maps too can be sought today through Google Maps, but the Himachal government has personally handed over maps to the Chinamen. There is a great possibility of Chinese spies roaming openly. They simply have to flaunt the company’s I-Card and hence there’s no questioning.

Security issues have really been thrown to the wind. In fact it seems that Himachal is not really prepared for any untoward incidents and takes things lightly. The latest issue of ragging in the Tanda medical college is one just example, where the government has turned a blind eye to security and laws, in spite of having an Ordinance in 2001, which was let be, to be never passed as a Bill.

Allowing free access to Chinamen in the region – is it complacency on the Himachal government’s part or mere overlooking? How is the Himachal government keeping a check on the China company’s employees and making sure they do not involve in espionage

Or does the Himachal government feel that China and India are friendly neighbours like Nepal and India? Anyway the issue has to be addressed well, and be raised at the national level. What’s surprising is the silence of the opposition in the state.

Another issue, I intend to raise here is the possibility of extinction of dogs in the area. I’ve learnt from laymen that the Chinese engineers in the area (Theog, Chhailla and Kotkhai) enjoy their dinner with dog meat. It’s no secret that Chinese love dog-meat. In fact there are legal dog-meat shops in the North East of India. But these Chinese men target stray dogs. As the stray dogs dwindle out in numbers, in the area, the Chinese men send out their juniors to buy domesticated dogs. A black dog (for whatever reasons) is high on demand and gets high quotations of prices.

Also, it’s very possible that these Chinese men will lure young girls too (marriage or outside marriage) and soon we could see Chinese looking children openly roaming in the area. There is a joke around that like in Punjab, where the husband is away in Canada and the wife is lonely back home in Punjab. Local labour was hard to get, hence Bihari labour was welcome. Now, you can guess why many children had names like Ram Khilawan Randhawa. In Upper Shimla area, surnames have ‘ta’ in the end like our respected local MLA – Bargata, and our home-bred actress Preity Zinta. Soon, should we expect names like Yang Ming Kararta, Su Chin Tararta? (Note: I have no knowledge of families having surnames – Kararta and Tararta. These surnames are fictitious and are here only for representative purpose and I mean no offence to any family, which in the unlikely circumstances has the surnames – Tararta or Kararta).

Will the Himachal government please look in to the issue? Are there any NGOs who could take up the issue of security and the animal rights?

वो लिखते हैं: “सर्दियाँ आख़िर आ ही गयीं। इस समय रात का एक बजा है और कडाके की ठण्ड पड़ रही है। इस ठण्ड में आख़िर नींद कहाँ आने वाली है। सोचा क्यों न कुछ लिखा जाए। सर्दियाँ आते ही मुझे अपने गाँव कोटगढ़ की याद आती है। बचपन में स्कूल की छुट्टियां सर्दियों में ही होती थी। तो बस स्कूल ख़तम हुए नहीं के हम सभी बच्चे कोटगढ़ का रुख कर लेते थे।…”

आप भी पढ़िये और मज़ा लीजिये… सर्दियों ओर लोहड़ी की कुछ बातें

Where do I start? Well, it’s been more than a year now that I’m on medication for depression and anxiety with the quantity actually fluctuating. I hope, I’ll be able to get rid of them this year at the earliest. The year started with gloom, with bickering as I had got separated with my wife. The year 2007 was bad for me. The gloom had crept into 2008 as well. By February, the stage was all set for a divorce. I managed to postpone it as Gudiya’s marriage was on the anvil – in April. It went off very well, with some sickened people trying to make a mess of it, and me losing my temper at the marriage. Any way, all’s well that ends well. She’s happily settled in her new home and I’ve only one worry that she’s pretty contended, as of now, sitting at home. I hope she’ll soon be able to start her education again and complete her PhD. I also hope that she’ll also find a job soon.

Hmmm… well by May, my ex-wife had come to terms with my cold shoulder that I’d been giving her with no reciprocation to her calls or filthy language she tried to circulate to provoke me. I just left her with her language and cheap tricks without any retaliation. I’m a short-tempered person and had never ever in my life left a chance to pounce back. But this incident really taught me how golden silence really is. Silence is golden. I killed her with my silence. The Indian law heavily weighs against the man, and I knew she’d no incident to frame me. So why give her an opportunity now. All incidents were loaded against her. She tried a hell of cheap tricks to provoke me and my family. Helped by my great diplomatic and silent father, I managed to sail the rough weather without giving her a chance to harm me or my family. Ultimately, she had to come begging to my door for a divorce. I was more than happy to give it to her and get rid of her. By mid-May, she’d taken all her things. Even the one’s I’d given her. Any ways I don’t regret that. As such I would have given those clothes to the beggars. Better that she took them. And by June 2, I was divorced and free.

Though I was free, but the sudden freedom did start a new hunt at home to cage me again. The hunt is still on. The label of a “divorced” is a stigma. Though some people do say that “nobody cares these days”. But that’s not true. More people care these days. Gone are the days, when girls were married off like sale of goats. Girls are more selective these days. But with all the happenings, I have no one to blame, just that “What ever happens, happens for good.” May be God or Durga Ma has something better for me in store.

All good things in good time. That’s all I can say. After one freedom, it was time for another freedom. I’d been feeling frustrated with HimVani - the way it was going on. I had different ideas and I could not bring people to a consensus. I thought of quitting it. Though some people did point out that I was quitting the battle ground. But I believe in one thing that at times it is better to change the battle ground. With me out of it, it did give me time to relax and look at life closely, which I wasn’t getting earlier with my hands full. Now, I’ve proposed to get in again but from a different route and take things step by step and change some things for good. Let’s see how things go.

Also, the year 2008 gave me a daughter. Funny! A 21-year-old daughter, Sakshi. I call her Dhatri and myself as Juiin. The earth and the moon are sister-brother. So I’ve named her by the popular fable in Himachal as Dhatri. Well, I miss her childhood and the more I look at her and the more I get closer to her the more I feel to have kids now. So that I can feel them, see them growing up, take them in my lap, play with them, nurse them, change their nappies and hear their cry and admire their smile and their laughter. Hmmm… when will I have kids? Even though I have a duaghter. Still I want kids as well. Actually babies.

On the education front, I got registered for my PhD in Journalism, though I haven’t decided my topic as yet. By year-end, frustration just crept in with some restructuring at the office front , which I’m not happy with. It has just made me look for a new job, even though the environment in the market is not conducive, with a halt on recruitments. Still I’m looking out. And my craving to get back to Himachal has only worsened. I want to be back in Himachal at the earliest. I did give an interview for a new launched magazine in Himachal. But they are really paying peanuts. It doesn’t even cover my liabilities.

What more? Yes, I have just got more religious. Even though superstitious. Thanks to my parents, who’ve got more superstitious after the failure of my marriage. They’ve started believing in more of patris and greh-sthitis. So it was year of pujas and more pujas. Even though I did them full-heartedly, I sometimes feel, what has to happen will happen. Though parents have an excuse – the affects are lesser with pooja. Anything to make them happier. This marriage-failure has also taught me not just to be silent but patient as well. This incident not only shook me but my parents as well. So they are already broken. So anything that gives them hope and makes them happier.

Though I did try to bring them around the table to consider Nisha as their daughter-in-law, but then these patris have again become a hurdle. Nisha too is reluctant in such a scenario. So what more? Let life come as it comes. 2009, here I am. Hope you’ll be good to me. Even though 2008 nursed me well, when 2007 hurt me.

This year I think I travelled to Mumbai, thrice. Two new places that I saw are Hyderabad and Bhopal. Both nice places. Even though Bhopal at places comes straight from the middle ages and reminds one of the Mughal era. Hyderabad’s new airport in Shamshabad is really world class though really about one and half hour outside the city. The earlier airport was in Begum Pet in the heart of the city. That has been given to the Air Force now. Another city that I visited this year though for the second time is Chennai. People seem to be really uncooperative towards the North Indians. Autowallahs are ready to cheat you. I think it’s everywhere. So no blame games.

The year also ended with a lot of travelling even though it was pacy. I visited Sarahan, Dharamshala, Mcleodganj, Dal Lake, Naddi Talnu, Jwalamukhi and Chintpurni. All these programmes were sudden. I believe, Durga Ma was extra benevolent on me this year. She called me, hence I went. Just be as benevolent on me this year too Ma. So where next? Up to you Ma…

Two, my daughter has taught me something this week. Daughters are really difficult. You can’t fight with them. Something that I don’t approve of, and having advised her in the past and then repeating the same mistake has put me off – very badly. This time, I thought of not saying anything to her. It’s useless, pointless in arguing or saying something to her. After all when daughters grow up you can’t say much. There’s a generation gap. But then I think of the best for her. But the sad part is she’s been falling for the worst. Something that she doesn’t deserves.

This time, I’m not going to blink. I’m learning to not to talk to her. But that doesn’t make her lesser a daughter. I’ll still think the best for her but all I’m trying to do is preach NOT at all. And just stay away.

The last week also had some great controversies at the job front; with some of my stories falling into controversies. The Indian Readership Survey was out. You can’t please everybody. While with Total Readership (TR) some gained and some lost. With Average Issue Readership, some who’d gained in TR, lost. So the controversy started here, with publications calling up. Two, I’d believed a source when he told me that the particular daily is doing well with marketing efforts being put in. And that the daily has recently got a funding from a Muslim Party and another political party floated by a South Indian super star. Now, I’d put this innocently, without any malice. Meanwhile, there were all positives about the newspaper. However, it turned to be otherwise, with the office getting umpteen calls from the publication and denying the funding sources. Well, if it has not got any funding, good enough. But the daily raised a point that the news item was mischievous and baseless. Baseless, I agree, but there’s nothing mischievous about it. Also, that I’d ruined the reputation of the paper and the owner of the newspaper. Bull-Shit. It’s American mentality I suppose that you don’t want to be associated with a Muslim party, as they are terrorists???????? Sorry, I’m not saying that. I’m talking about the American mentality. Don’t newspapers need funding?

Anyway, the report had to be retracted.

Also, reading Aghora is not coming to an end. I’ve completed Vol 1 but Vol 2 is just dragging on and on and on, getting time just enough to read for 15-minutes only before sleeping. I’d like to complete it soon. A wonderful book it is. Has made me look life from an outset and aloofness.

9XM – Bheegi Billi, Main hoon Bheegi Billi. Well it’s not a promotion for 9XM or Bheegi Billi. Just what Apna made me feel… A Bheegi Billi. I’ll call her Apna. The association started with Apna, a few days ago, when a proposal came to us from Forge Foundry, to document Lok-yores on our site HisOrHerVoice. It was by chance that I saw a picture of Yachna on Chirkut and told her that she’d changed a lot. So I traced her number in my phone-book and called her up. It turned out to be the number of Yachna’s elder sister Apna. Well, I was put on to Yachna and from her came to know that Apna was doing Am-Fill in HimHer Lok-yores from Jay-Noo. I was excited. Apna could have been a great help in our project, so requested for a meeting.

But Apna was too BeeZee; you know. But Apna did take out time one day on her best friend’s birthday. So me and my daughter, who was a ‘Witness’ to the meeting went and met her in Sasta in Defensive Polony. The meeting went on fine. In fact, there were many things I learnt about Lok-yores. Thought that we could mutually learn from each other. And Yachna was a good friend, rather a family friend of Ma. So I called up Ma and asked her “Hey Ma, what do you think? Can we take help of Apna for our project? She said, “Sure.” Or did she mean “Suar”? So I’d gone ahead and met Apna.

Through out the meeting, Apna insisted on how there was no money in Lok-yores and how it could not be commercialised and how she did not have time to help us out. But she’ll try after July 1.

As we moved out of Sasta, my Witness daughter shook her head. I asked for the meaning later. She told me – Apna won’t help. Still my Journalistic mind was optimistic. Patience and persistence… I said.

After July 1, I called up Apna again. She was BeeZee again. So called up after a few days again. Meanwhile, the meeting had woken up in me the suppressed interest for Lok-yores. And Apna had suggested for interpretation rather than just documentation of Lok-yores. I took the suggestion seriously and took up books on Indian mythology, spirituality to interpret Lok-yores better.

I called up Apna again. Meanwhile, I decided to do my Pee-Etch-Dee in Lok-Yores in Journalism. I thought Apna could be of help. So called her up again. She did “not have time to die.” I requested her not to die as we need her for the project and my Pee-Etch-Dee.

She even told me that she was looking for a job as a Cheater. I have a friend who’s a Cheater in DU. So I told her, Mukhda Tata could be of Great help as she’s a Cheater in DU and references work. So Apna asked me. Who is Tata? “A Bong,” I replied. Tata’s aren’t HimHers? “No,” I said. But Apna said she had one neighbour in HimHer, who were Tatas and Tatas are HimHers. May be she thought Tata as in Priety Zinta, Narinder Bragta, and myself as ….Ta – all Tatas are HimHers. Was it so? Any way, then Apna asked me – How do I know Mukhda? I told her, she was Cheater of my Ex-Knife. And incidentally, Mukhda was also separated. (I was Die-Worse-eeeeeehh). What an irony? Apna had a suggestion – Why don’t I marry Mukhda? Oh! I forgot, meanwhile, there’d been an Yachna: “Hey Ma, why did He Die-Worse?” May be Apna took pity on me, hence came the suggestion.

However, I talked to Mukhda that Apna was looking for a job as a Cheater and Mukhda told me – if Apna was looking for a job as a Cheater, she could call up Mukhda any time, as references work in this profession. So I informed Apna and gave her Mukhda’s number. But Apna never called up Mukhda. May be that was asking her to “die.” Remember? She didn’t have time, even to die.

Any way, a couple of days later, I called up Apna again. She was travelling, so could not talk, and she’d be home in an hour. Instead, I call up after three hours. She says “Yellow” and when I say “Yellow” from this side, She disconnects. I call up again, thinking the network was down. No response. So I send her an Yes-Mess, that whenever she goes to Jay-Noo, can she find me one book. I get no response. So in the evening, I call up again. No response. I call up again, thinking the phone must be lying here and there. No response. Finally, I send her an Yes-Mess again that I want to discuss my Pee-Etch-Dee topic with her. No response.

Finally, at 11 PM at night, I get a Mrs Call from Apna. My heart skips a beat. I call Apna back. Apna is angry, and is roaring like a LOIN… for the continuous calls I’ve been making to her. My heart forgets to beat, and this time skips many a beats. But I still survive. Even I don’t have time to die. She informs that she is a girl. (I thought, she was a boy and I was a gay and I was madly in love with her, errrr… HIM.) And she is too BeeZee and can’t help me out. And that if she is not picking up my calls that means she is BeeZee. Well, I was tempted to give her my peace of mind. “We journalists are just pursuant.” She’s not a News, Apna informs me. (Well that was News to me actually. Even that she was a girl… was News. It had to be Breaking News, Flash News or what ever…) I wanted to tell her that 11 PM was no time to call then, if she was so concerned about scruples. But as per Apna, she would not have been able to sleep that night had she not talked to me. Wow! I feel so IMPOTENT. But what about my Sleep then? Did she care… Will I be able to sleep after that? She has an advise too… “Please don’t take it to your heart.” I wanted to give her my peace of mind. But then I remembered Hey Ma. And stayed quiet. Apna told me that I had Intel(inside), so I should under-stand-sit. Whatever… I told her, well having Intel(inside) was not relevant to the topic. She said she worded it wrong. Rather I was Main-Chor, I should understand. I apologised “Profusely” to the BeeZee girl, and felt like a Bheegi Billi. Main hoon Bheegi Billi… 9XM

Well, later, I called up Hey Ma and told her that I wanted to lose out my peace of mind to Apna, and just because of her I stayed quiet. Ma asked, then why didn’t I? I have my own ways of doing things… So here it is… Let me tell Apna through these columns… I’m more BeeZee than her. I drive 1 hour to office and 1 hour back. Reach home at 3 AM in the morning at times, not from the disc cos but from Office. Read Books till 4 AM. Then even take out time for HisOrHerVoice. Write articles for that. Update the Plugins, the Wordpress, the Scripts, Change the Home Page, Approve Comments, GO through Akismet Spam if some relevant Comment has not been trapped in it. Hmmm… there are othjer projects as well. Still get time for Social Work and still am able to help people who come to seek help. Gyaan baantne se badta hai. And still have time to act as Agony Aunt (or Uncle); and even get time to write this Trash on my Blog. At times, even write Poetry. Oh! Yes… I Chirkut also, and FaceDiary too and manage to get Linkedin. Answer mails – I love writing long mails. Now, I’m sure, I’d be able to squeeze out time for my Pee-Etch-Dee as well. But, yes, this all madness doesn’t allow me to go to the mountains to ease myself. So I use either the office/home wash-rooms, and at times, the Delhi Walls – away from the prying eyes of people, with a fear lurking at the back of my mind – Hope the MCD guys don’t catch me and challan me.

But I’ll manage it Apna… without your help… the project and my Pee-Etch-Dee. I have Intel(Inside). Well BeeZee Bee Apna, Best of Luck to you. And may you Bee always BeeZee.

I remember, Guru Nanak/Gobind Singhji’s story. Once passing through a village, the villagers just disrespect him and pay no attention to him and his followers. While leaving, Guruji blesses them “Base Raho”. In another village, the Guru and his followers are treated well and respected. While leaving, he curses, or was it a blessing? “Bikhar Jao.” The followers were amazed. They ask him the reason. The Guru says, “Well “Base raho, because they shouldn’t spread their pervert minds out; and remain restricted to this place.” And “Bikhar Jao so that they can spread their goodness and wisdom to the world.”

So BeeZee Bee, be BeeZee Always.