A LAST GOODBYE

A LAST GOODBYE

He was a part of my unknown vision of the world outside my mom’s little womb. My storyteller. My guardian to school. My charitable friend who gave my Rs 5 everyday for the samosas in school. My carrier for a Band Stand sea view in those toddler days.

His grey hair…His moist eyes…his cricket fever…now that he’s gone…a lot of these small big things take me back to the days…when he was so much around.

He cried on so many occasions. I saw tears when I passed my tenth grade with distinction. I saw tears when I opened my eyes after a major accident that could take away my life. One element…Thousand Emotions.

He died a not so peaceful death. Cancer was eating his system at 80. I knew his pain. But couldn’t do much about it. He complained of pain equal to a thousand scorpion bites. I knew it must be bad. But I didn’t want to imagine.

One night he went off. I felt numb. Cold. Sad. Hurt. I cried but not the Indian conventional way. For the first few days…I couldn’t accept he wasn’t around anymore. And then…it was a crisis situation for everyone. And I decided- INEED TO BE STRONG!

Here I am today. Back to the suburban life of Bandra. Meeting my friends. Loving my people. Telling them about the latest addictions of Good Life. And suddenly I meet Sev Puri Chacha.
His rare quality- He gives me a free puri everytime we meet. He asks me- Aur Dadaji kaisa hai?
I give him the answer, he wouldn’t want to hear. He turns away his eyes, pauses a minute and tells me- Who Bahut acche the. Tumko bahut pyaar karte the. Kitna roye the jab tum hospital mein tha. Kitna khush huye jab tumko noukri mila.
He tells me a lot more that take me down the memory lane. So much…so much!

I am heading home now. My cell buzzes and its mom. “Hi Mom”
How long?
Half n hour possibly.
Come soon. Dad’s waiting for dinner.
Ok. Mom….
Yes
Dadu loved us so much…so much!

There’s a pause. And for the first time since that incident we both cry together.

Thanks Sevi Puri chacha. For unlocking these tears. They needed a release.

Bye Dadu…Miss you so much…so much!

TAKE MY HAND

TAKE MY HAND

How far will I walk with you…?
Maybe till there where the skyline ends.

How deep will I dive with you…?
Maybe till there where the sea bed rests.

How high will I climb with you…?
Maybe till there where the tallest star resides

How close will I get to you…?
Maybe till there where your heart reveals your unknown side.

A long journey has just begun…
Together how far…only time will reveal…
Take my hand in yours and smile as we walk till then…
Coz We got miles to go... before we sleep.

One Simple Question

As i walk up the stairs of Mahalaxmi Station I see her again. She challenges me everyday. Day aftr day. With tattered hair. Ragged clothes barely coverin her ageing torso.She looks into my eyes with one eye. The other has lost light anyways. And tat eye asks me

one simple question.

This is the 2nd time i see him. He's lost his companion. A companion tat helped him thru the waters of the Dal lake. Fed his little family of 3. He silently curses the storm tat challenged him last evening. Then he curses his hands tat lost grip of his companion's lifeline. Finally the lake waters tat ate up its oars.. Amidst the mean cold, at a nt so friendly hour and an even unfriendly day in tat beautiful city made ugly by the life tat it sheltered, he looks for a new companion he can carry his trade on, shell a few coins in return of taking people across the banks and his lifeless eyes peer into mine through the big screen in my hall and ask

the same simple question.

The wheels are moving and I hav a new friend. A friendship tat bloomed over 5 seconds, a filmi tune and a coin tat cant buy him a meal. I watch him countin all the pennies he collected. He's happy. Happiness worth a vada pav. A vada pav to kill his hunger pangs till the next morning. Happiness worth his breath through the night. He breaks into another tune on his rusted harmonium, dances, sings and as I see his happiness worth every tear, his eyes again spring

the same simple question.

The one eyed old beggar lady on the streets of Mahalaxmi Station...The little boy who toils for survival in the heart of Kashmir...The little singer tiring his torn vocal cords to fill his hungry cold belly...all tied by one common string...One Simple Question. A question tats bcom a part of their soul. Gues they never realise it. Bt do they realise they have a soul? A soul is non essential. Insignificant.Bt its ther. Always ther. And it asks tat simple question everytime- If your an Indian...Who am I? If this land is only winning...then wat ground do I thrive on?

Does anyone hav an answer? I don know abt you...Bt i simply and sadly... Dont!

All I have is a doubt about the true power......... Of a super power called India!