FLIGHT

‘…we deeply regret the inconvenience caused to you’. The perfect westernized accent would have put even Her Majesty Queen Elisabeth II to shame, so immaculately she addressed the whole crowd upon delay in flight from fifteen fifty hours to sixteen thirty five hours. And immediately my sharp & ever ready to grasp ears heard a number of sighs of sadness, apathy & helplessness from around each of the quarter at the Hyderabad airport. Actually it was the sighs that sent message to my brain from my otherwise ready to listen ears. Yet, was beyond my brains to grasp the announcement in so alien accent in its maiden announcement, I had to listen it in other languages too including Telugu. Had it been railway station passengers would have emptied their filled cavity of mouth with saliva mixed paan or gutkha in cleanest possible place in the filthiest area in the world called railway station as a mark of their protest. But fortunately all those gutkha, paan, saliva & slang remained within the vicinity of mouth cavity.

Wearing careless look at the airport is the sure shot gesture to puts you in the upper echelon as frequent flier & thus the rich one who can afford flights & has enough work to justify so. With neatly tucked shirt in the neatly pressed trousers with polished shoes I was perhaps the only person looking shabby around. ‘Pull the shirt out’, wife noticed all those stares around gazing her dearest, ‘don’t look so formal, be at ease’. Lastly unable to cope the stares, I visited the ‘Men’s’, pulled out shirt a bit from a side, rubbed trousers on my right thigh to wear worn look, put my own foot onto the shoe to soil it, ruffled hairs a bit. ‘Now?’ seeking her approval, her satisfied look soothed me. Now I was looking frequent flier!

We waited, having known ‘patience causes little pains’, I reached my wife if she needs anything to bite. ‘It must be damn costly!!’ she exclaimed with curved eyebrows. It was indeed damn costly. The COP (cost of production, in our parlance) of samosa can never be more than two rupees; I bought it for rupees thirty only with printed bill from the electric cash register with ‘NA’ printed in front of VAT column. Lukewarm red tea apparently without milk & sugarless can not be sold even at the railway platform out of fear of beaten up badly at the hands of public, was ready to be tasted for again rupees thirty only. I took a glimpse of it before passing onto my tea craving wife. Her explicit facial expression spoke tons immediately the moment her taste buds had dialogue with all those tea molecules.

Experiencing the typical attitude of, so what if you are flying? All those dry, suspicious & ruthless stairs from the CISF (Central Industrial Security Force). And more than loving as if the whole passengers have arrived for her marriage & she is welcoming them with open heart expressions from all those ground force girls’. Or having come to fly is like doing greatest favor of her life. The only question was harassing me as if thorn has struck deep into my heels & can not be removed easily as, how far a person can wear such a welcoming & happy look? Experiencing such a contrasting expression under one roof is really a great achievement; I sincerely bow to all those frequent fliers from the bottom of my hip bone.

Being not able to handle so loving & caring expressions from so cute & made up faces I preferred to look outside the small window of aircraft during rest of the flight. ‘Look at her skirt how high it is, see her heels. Gosh, what a make up? See …’ wife’s’ monologue looking at the breezing by air hostesses sent me through the laps of sleep unknowing. My condition was rather precarious, having own wife seated by side neither I can train my eyes on those plastic plastered beautiful faces nor being able to accept that loving & caring look all the time with mutually colliding eye sights.

Food served in air has different taste. Having visited seven stars to minus seven start hotels I never tasted such a food be it whatever. Perhaps high altitude causes some abnormal chemical reaction in the food making it so obnoxious to consume. Now you can not leave it or deny it since it is served with so much care & love with neatly manicured hands & smile flashing through so nicely painted lips. You can not consume it too, considering your failing capacity of stomach; which is not used to so airy foods.

‘Look at that’ this time wife prodded her nailed finger into my stomach making me answer her at last, considering she was again up to some hairdo this time. ‘What?’ I tried to be as calm as one could be in the temple demanding god just everything on the earth. Otherwise too I try to hold my calm as if I’m in the temple not yielding to the Brahmin with his back permanently towards the idol of god. ‘That, outside the slum’ she pointed out her index finger out. Yes, it is time to fasten the seatbelt, the Dharavi slum spread miles across separating the plush airport with just barbwire fencing is the view signaling my hands to come in action & fasten the seatbelts, before ears hear announcement.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

RETIREMENT PLANS

‘There is more fun in working than in sitting idle at home’ my newly enlightened friend in his newly entered sweet sixties spoke his mind with puffing off his cigar. Otherwise he’d plans rather he’d chewed my hundreds of hours in discussing his plans after his retirement. His topmost plan was to sit in the recliner eat healthy he actually meant edibles he thinks healthy whilst his doctor has other opinion about, drink dry martinis, smoke cigar, watch TV & discuss share market. I were sick of his plans, ‘talk anything but your retirement plans’ I once shut his about to open mouth; after all there is limit to everything.

His dream plan on resting in recliner with a cigar in the fingers has eased out it seemed. ‘How about start working again?’ I was more than anxious to listen him, as he has built up pile of money from his initial days of staying days together empty stomach. He’s always occupied upper echelon in my mind on ‘how to achieve something in life’. ‘No way, enough of that money earning, let’s do something different’ I again clutched his wandering mind. He was really not sure on what to do? Tickling wall clock was ruining his peace of mind earlier too he had same problem with the wall clock but now conversely the bloody time is not moving ahead.

‘Why don’t you guys buy a binocular & see the distant objects instead?’ his wife ridiculed on us both looking at us plunged in serious thought on what to do, how to pass time. Actually we both since our childhood never pursue any hobby which might kill our empty time now. Childhood flew away without trace, adolescence & teens got buried under school & college assignments, studies, results & grades well, we did out bit in those troubled days by catching hold of best & beautiful girls in our college making them our partners forever. Badly entangled in the daily chorus of work we just never realized as when hair got grayed & retirement date reached without inkling.

‘Why not try that too?’ he quipped with winking eye. ‘What do you do with the binocular, search for another star or what?’ I amazed looking at his thick glasses. ‘She fooled us, perhaps she wanted us to move to terrace so that she can get her friends & continue with kitty parties without our disturbance, got me?’ I tried to speak what was their in his wife’s’ mind after all I know her since our boyhood. ‘Whatever let us try this too’. He spoke with rare determination. I found such determination, spilling out of his otherwise clear but not red due to alcoholic effect, only when he has something else in his mind. He bought guitar not to learn but to follow his girl studiously learning violin then. Joined mess other than college canteen only to enjoy weekly feast of non-veg, a revelry then. Religiously bring grocery & vegetable to home when we all play at ground, not to be mothers’ obedient son but to swindle money.

I meekly followed him to buy binocular of good quality. Commissioned it on the terrace the same evening. Equipped with his dry martini, my scotch, ice cubes, his cigar, my pipe, roasted cashews etc. we settled onto the terrace with a good luck wish from our wives. They had rare satisfaction of fooling us in their still beautiful deep eyes, which I’m used to; as at least once a week I get such gesture from her. And it is close to thirty three years of togetherness I’m yet to gauge the loss to me but get an idea that I’m duped by her. It was she only who let our daughter dearest marry her Canadian husband diplomatically fooling her resisting old fashioned husband, that is me.

‘Let’s train our glasses onto moon first till we get accustomed to other heavenly objects’ sipping scotch on the rocks I was excited to see the creators & valleys & perhaps that great foot-print of human being on moon soil. ‘You fool, can’t you see moon with your necked eyes. I didn’t spend eleven thousand thirty four bucks to see moon which we otherwise see daily’ he chuckled with devilish smile. ‘See there through that window…’ I saw & froze with a glass of liquor where in the floating ice cube was melting.

‘Look, age doesn’t matter. If doing so in our teen was a fun & fetched our beautiful wives, what is the problem now?’ he was trying to convince me wiping dew on his glasses with his night suit. ‘Let the bodies’ age, mind is still fresh. At least mine is, how about yours?’ I shook my head in affirmation without my notice. ‘That’s’ it’ his slap on my back was rather bone breaking yet his sock to my head was much surprising & shocking.

‘We are on the terrace, to see the heavenly bodies’ with a particular stress on bodies we found a rare & confidential hobby to pursue. God is great!!!

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

ON PAPER

‘Talk anything but on paper’ I was literally out of my mind talking to one of my closest friends who came to meet me after some seven years of gap. And the fellow was chattering non stop on his pet subject paper, paper making, constituents of paper, paper technology, gsm, porosity, fiber percentage,…. He’d virtually driven me out of my heads. I was dreaming of painting our good old college days with him, those girls with their 1:24.5 proportions to boys in our class, daily parties, writing exams, copying, getting caught, and even shamelessly chuckling. But the man was wrapped & pinned in paper as tight as if currency note bundle.

The first sign of growth is differentiation by a kid in any other paper & paper money. ‘Paper has always remained my nightmare’ I can never forget I failed pathetically in XIIth maths paper. I was trying to make a point on paper to my wife. ‘I love paper’ she had to antagonize with me being a woman putting her views before man & also being a wife against her husband. Looking at the cobweb of wrinkles on my receding forehead she explained, ‘without solving crosswords daily how a day will progress? I love paper also because money is printed on that small piece of paper, even our wedding card was printed on paper only’ she chuckled. Wives can read husbands’ head & heart as if they are standing opposite mirror, I always doubted. Knowing opponent so well, helps disarming him like pulling fish out of water. At least my wife never required any efforts to win against me.

Handwriting is my one such an enemy that always kept me at distance from paper. If a person himself doesn’t understand what he’s written what a poor paper can do? Every night I shed at least two tears in the name of whole clerk community in the world. Poor men, always buried in paper. Paper only amused me when I was too young & enjoyed paper boat floating in rain floods out. Mark sheets have always given me mild heart attacks years after years. My graduate mark sheet though was totally in black didn’t let me enjoy since my whole career was open like ocean in front of me & I had my sole paper boat to carry me through.

That piece of paper which brought the information of my selection for my post graduate relieved me & still sooths my senses; I’d at least two more years to go before I actually start sailing through the ocean. My first salary cheque of fourteen hundred twenty five rupees, that paper had made me the riches person in the world that day. One such thin piece of paper stamped mark of fulfillment & immortalizing my living, birth certificate of my son. Many such papers have gone through these hands; many of them have brought me accolades, money & even misery. Most of them have met with their fate in dustbin.

Many of such pieces have helped in igniting cigarette in my lips when smoking was heavenly experience especially in hideouts. One of my friends while sunk in shame & depressed of not having job; I advised him to put some idea on paper. I mean paper on which degree certificate is printed. He’s traveling in chauffeur driven car now; his company has provided him one. A paper sent in time has created marvels, many papers not reached in time perhaps created havoc. One such paper once reached rather late in the marriage hall of my friend; saved the girl who had written him & the one about to seat next to him gave him a black eye in front of some hundreds of baratis.

All said & done, I have not yet adjusted myself to two type of papers; paper napkins at the dinner table & of course toilet paper. They say both the papers are same, yet I prefer water instead. Even today a few signed papers come to me which I deposit in bank with my upward curved lips. Tragically, many a papers I need to sign, I don’t need to watch myself in mirror to see my downwards lips, strained face.

A single piece of paper is light, very light. You raise your hand & leave the paper it will show you where is wind is flowing. If not stacked, papers are very light indeed. Yet, I’m buried beneath such a piece of paper which is literally suffocating me & it will keep doing so. My fathers’ death certificate.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

BRIBE

‘Who has invented the system of bribing, I’ve vowed to myself to find out the root of this’ my ever enthusiastic & innovative friend declared while we were about to finish our final round of coffee on 4th Sunday evening club of elitists like us all. ‘You fool bribe taking & giving is the basic instinct’ another ridiculed him. Actually instincts are basic only but I’d decided not to plunge into the issue till it gets ripen enough & all eight of us get interested to contribute the valued views. ‘I’ve never seen cat to bribe its master to get the milk’ the earlier one shot back, he must have felt bitten dust by those remarks. ‘Look, we can say bribing is the human instinct. Show me one person who hasn’t taken or offered bribe in his life’ I could not hold myself & put my mouth into the debate. Suddenly I found everybody shook their head in approval & the issue melted like ice cube in the summer noon.

‘Listen, wake up you, I think I found the root of bribing’ my enthusiastic friend called literally in the mid night that night to reveal his discovery. It wasn’t funny for him or me to call or answer the call in the odd hours. ‘Yes, what is that?’ And he narrated the story which I listened helplessly & hung up in the end. ‘Long back, brother in law of a king was good for nothing. So the poor king, to please his queen offered him the job of counting surfs seating at the shore of the sea. The fellow did count surfs & struck with an idea of squeezing money from every passing ship & boat. And the bribing was born here’. Perhaps Octroi too, and that is the reason bribing at Octroi posts are so systematic after all it has the history of thousands of years. Police, revenue, education, power, … are comparatively new in the business; a feeble thought passed by my mind as I was in half sleep & half awaken condition.

Years passed & my ‘human instinct’ carried me through revenue services which presented me with pretty wife & unbelievable opportunity for bribe. ‘Do not bring all those dry papers to me to sign’ I issued standing instructions to entire of my staff which they followed standing not only for me but for themselves too. Be it leniency or delay, promptness or haste in action, transfers, sharing of information, sharing of collection I imbibed on my staff on how it is beneficial to all of us to get along & to get rich. I recently read in some news paper that the ‘percentage’ is fixed in my department. It was truly a proud moment for me & my wife too. After all it was her father who preached me technique of accepting bribe, inducing potential customer to offer bribe, corner straight forward person & squeeze bribe, make crystal clear file into complicated one. Confusing higher-ups & sowing seed of malice into their mind was the shortcut to make money. Why otherwise I’d frame his photo into gold & dangle on the hall front wall?

All said & done, but one of our, I mean mine & my wife’s ambition was far from accomplished. Yet, I’ve full confidence in our judicial system & that day oops night arrived soon. Two past midnight I answered the door bell to welcome the CBI team on raid on that auspicious night of my life. ‘You are really CBI’ my wife just couldn’t believe her eyes she cried emphatically, just short of hugging the officer. Some fifteen member team went on their job of combing our seven bed room terrace flat at the top of the building sea facing owned at some undisclosed sum. ‘It is already three hours they’ve started their work, shall I offer him something to hush up the matter?’ I whispered into ear of my wife pulling her into our kitchen. ‘You are truly ignorant bum. Let them get some clue to our wealth then we will offer them proportionate sum then. They are the people who will leak the information helping us upgrade our stature in society. Those xxxx had settled their raid for three corers, why you want to settle for less?’ my over ambitious wife lectured me in kitchen pulling my night dress close to her chest. ‘Raid revealed treasure’ I read seating at home next days headline in news paper flashing my smiling face.

‘To hell with congratulatory calls’ I cried in regret of putting phone at my home. People from all quarters of life were calling & congratulating me. Few fools were congratulating me on getting pass from the judicial maize; wise men were congratulating me on knowing that I’ve accumulated so much of wealth in such a short time. I had just achieved everything a man can. Money & fame what else one needs? Had my father in law alive, he’d have cried in happiness for his son in law has surpassed him. his mere pension was stopped I was dismissed from the job.

I was grateful for not having the job. I’d ticket for the forthcoming election from the national party. ‘Now a days, getting famous people to fight election & run a government is big problem’ the politician who came at my home to offer ticket & inform his party’s decision was telling me adjusting his topi & dhoti. I looked at my wife she was beaming with joy & looking gorgeous than our marriage day.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

FACE

‘Seen your face in the mirror?’ perhaps ashamed of facing such question even during college heydays I never purposed any girl. Gifted with longer than normal nose, tiny chin, large forehead, dark complexion, oily skin & no tinge of any intellect; rather confused emotion spilling through those deep small eyes how can one dare to purpose any girl? Well in dreams I did that many a times & had my dream girl too, why lie! Looking at all those fair complexioned, nice nosed, great chocolate faces I’d envy them all through my childhood till teen. This was the reason I’d started to exercise & spent some money even in buying dumbbells, skipping rope etc. If not face, popping muscle through the half sleeve shirt would impress at least some one was my aspiration.

‘This face has created many problems than somebody’s fate would have…’ I was pouring out my mind to my closest friend in deep voice after taking him into confidence over three plates of burgers & two glasses of coke at McDonalds’. He listened till he finished munching free burgers & sipping free coke, wiping his fingers to the paper napkin & then his lips he questioned, ‘anything else?’ ‘Actually you see..’ I continued, relived at least I can talk to him looking into his eyes. ‘I mean anything else to eat?’ he opened his mouth for the first time other than to eat. My already un-presentable face must have turned into unpleasant too if somebody noticed me that evening.

Worried & unsatisfied with this face I cursed the god many a times on how come the genes responsible to grant good face went on strike while I was created? I took the decision to take the things into my control & visited the plastic surgeon. ‘Yes what can I do for you?’ the fellow literally bombed my ambition of looking handsome. I thought the moment he sees me, he’d present his recipe of turning my face into the face of great roman warrior. Perhaps he forgot to put on his glasses I felt. Yet, collecting courage I persisted, ‘I’d like to do my face lift. I’d like my nose to be shortened, chin to be increased, upper part of my forehead may be implanted with hair to make it little short & good looking, ….’ I poured my list of expectations. ‘Then what?’ he asked me with no change in his face, no wrinkle changed its place, no wrinkle cured or straightened. ‘Well, I’d like to look better, handsome!’ I’d come to him with certain cause & it was me who was going to pay him & get the work done. ‘It will cost you dearly’ ‘I don’t bother’ I cut him short, perhaps the fellow doesn’t know how it pains when somebody teases you, girls simply avoid you, nobody takes you seriously. ‘It will cost your dearly’ the doc again continued his line perhaps making it rather clear that dearly means really not affordable money, ‘and most important, who will recognize you with your changed face. You will be a different man altogether’ he finished his sentence. Getting down from his stairs, I was a different man without plastic surgery correcting my unpleasant looking face.

‘Man’s strength lies in his ability in making money & protecting his family, while woman’s strength lies in her beauty; man doesn’t need to look good’. My father was comforting me before we started searching for a match for me. But, by then my priority was changed I was more worried about my career. And way to a good career goes through interviews & to impress interviewer it needs good face which I lacked.

‘You didn’t mention the year of passing of your graduate?’ I found myself asking such question to job seeker to my own office. It was my face which changed face of my career, tired of giving interviews in pursuit of good career I finally left job & started my own business. It was nice & great feeling to be in the seat of interviewer than being interviewee.

I still remember the day I took first interview of a candidate seeking job with me. I closed my eyes in the bed that night & thanked god profusely for having gifted me such a face. HE does right; it is we who take time in understanding HIM.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

DATING

‘What?’ to my what my wife screamed as if she’s seen venomous snake crawling on our bed. Even I myself a seasoned husband got shocked with her scream, I reached to bed lamp hastily & switched it on. ‘What has happened?’ I asked her innocently. ‘You are just impossible, where do you live in what century? I told you just our daughter has not been asked for dating even though she’s attained her puberty & you are asking what?’ She did all, raised her carefully crafted eyebrows, lifted her small beautiful nose, opened her mouth wide, raised hands with neatly manicured fingers in some classical dancer posture & most important her feeling of frustrations having backward husband like me was spilling through her emotions & body language. I still did not know what exactly she wanted to impress upon me. I’d heard three four months back that our sweet little daughter has grown up & needs extra care. But now what?

‘Look’ my graduate wife having passed in her third attempt & that too in useless subject as economics sat on the bed folding her legs to explain me thinking I was a bum with having done my masters in two subjects of mathematics, Topology & Statistics with doctorate within two years, and working as scientist. ‘Gone are our days when we’d no choice but to face arrange marriage’ she was giving me lecture; it means she chose a wrong person? I got up to sit before her; so far I’d taken her casually. Well, I spoke all this in my mind only, which husband would open up loosing battle with his own wife at eleven O’clock in the night especially when, the next days pressing appointments has already occupied your brain. ‘Now a day’s young boys & girls go on dating. They spend time together & perhaps choose their own life partner’. She cleared the matter.

Gosh, it means so far we at our schools, colleges, offices were using the word date has another meaning too. I never new, I realized this maths has really taken toll of my brain. I remained speechless for a longer time than a woman would during whole of her day. I never had any inhibition in my daughter meeting, playing, talking or going for movie with anybody as long as she thinks the company is right for her. I’d never said that boys are bad or like that. But what on earth this dating means?

Next morning when she put the plate of toast & omelette onto our crystal top dining table with a bang I realized two things. Had the bang been little too hard, the table top would have lost it’s once piece status; & the dating issue was still on the top of her head. Being scientist I always learnt in taking up problems than keeping them in cold store till they loose their shin. ‘What is it?’ I tried to be calm rolling my wristwatch under the cuffs so that I won’t look at the watch & get alarmed with my office appointments. I reached perhaps one & half hour late to the office, put blame on the traffic before settling with my numbering games. That day we’d decided to leave everything to our sweet daughter, with us restricting ourselves in the capacity of advisers. And most important, if she doesn’t get worried of her not being called for dating, do not ask her.

The very next day she was called for dating. My wife called me to inform with her beaming voice, ‘she’s been called for dinner date…’ ‘When will she come back?’ I asked my concern to which she just cut the line. I realized I’m buried within the walls of my office; the world has gone much ahead. The yesteryears taboo has become the fashion today, be it thighs revealing skirts, or low to very low cut blouse, unnecessary hugs to opposite sex friends,…. I slipped in to memory lane on my first revealing my mind on the girl my parents had chosen for me, ‘I like her’ in place ‘I love her’ saying so I’d left my home alibiing visiting my friend. Now a days, they even love dresses, pens, food, bikes leave alone girls & boys. ‘Like’ has lost the race with ‘love’.

‘It is eight O’clock & now she’s leaving home?’ I whispered into my wife’s ear, to which she just gave me her angry stare. Like a ship trapped in the hurricane, my brain was trapped into the clamour of thoughts with senses seizing to work by each passing minutes while I was strolling into our bedroom gallery facing front gate. My wife was snoring with smile of satisfaction on her face. I’d then decided to marry my daughter as early as possible; the thought of her marriage soothed my senses to some extent. By midnight my daughter arrived seated behind somebody’s motorcycle. She waved her hand & dancing entered into the gate. She was looking very happy. Before she uses her keys I opened the door. ‘It was great dad. We’d lot of fun, we ate you know what, we ate fish with cola. Planned our studies, like you I’d like to peruse with maths,…. Before I asked about her wellbeing she started with all that, perhaps I didn’t listen her since I was engrossed in looking her, her happy mood, her beaming face, her expressions and her decisions. I got up to give her close hug, kissed her forehead & wished her goodnight though it was well past midnight.

I suddenly got up with the cold water showers. ‘What has happened?’ I got up from the sleep with surprise, since bed lamp was on, with no sunlight passing through the window curtains, it was still night. ‘You are snoring like a tiger, I can’t sleep’ it was my wife. I turned to her side & hugged her close, kissed her & whispered, ‘thank god, our daughter is called for dating’. I closed my eyes since I didn’t want to see her surprised face I knew I’d see it with my eyes closed. Felt her hot kiss on my lips & never know when I slept again, perhaps snored too without being disturbed.

By
Vijay Yelmelwar

POLITICIAN

‘Seventy percent of the time you are out, out of rest thirty percent time fifty percent of the time you are in bathroom, twenty percent time you are doing Pooja & rest twenty nine percent times you are in meetings’ my new PA was explaining me on his set answers over telephone to the common public. ‘But when do I answer them, they are the one who elected me’ I was getting buried in confusion. ‘It is half percent time sir, you may speak over phone’ a fifty three years old man spoke with hands folded back, head down with eyes searching underworld as if. A pure seasoned man in the corridors of power, a befitting man for all season. Otherwise my mentor hadn’t proposed me of his name. ‘Look, I’ve settled him for one & half percent on your settlements he does. He is very loyal you see’ my mentor whispered into my ears patting my back assuring, he truly had deep interest in me & I had deep regards for him. Otherwise who on earth takes care of ones men like this? I gave him reins for settlements & collection & though new in power not new at all in politics, I took care that the fellow is watched & followed.

‘Started collection?’ one of my old pal chuckled while whispering into my ear at the South Block corridor. He was a cunning lucky guy; his first attempt to LS itself ensured his berth at the cabinet. He only advised me to choose state ministry in defense than go for full post in coal, fertilizers, water resources etc. ‘No exposure, no talks, no interviews. Just collection & mind well, less you speak better it is. For the first term at least you should opt for defense. Later on you may go for ministries with public contact’. He truly had vision; I decided to back him at an hour of necessity. “There are no permanent friends & foes in politics” I got this line printed on the colour printer on silver lined paper & decorated under my glass top. But later removed having sensed, the sheer line is flowing with blood through vessels. Alike, I removed a word called trust from my dictionary. ‘In politics it has no meaning’ our PM spoke to me in private. As it was clear from his Herculean efforts on bundling different large & small regional & national parties together to form a government & make him PM. Everybody must have squeezed his price before signing letter of support. To hell with trust!

‘There is breakfast meeting sir, tomorrow with three major generals, one general, general, French minister for defense & a group of French arms dealers’. PA whispered while putting his paper of agenda on my table before I leave the office in the evening. ‘Why so late?’ I raised my eyebrow in dissatisfaction as there was hardly any time left with me for preparation after attending today’s evening banquet at the Rashtrapati Bhavan. ‘Sir, I’d to have a dialogue with those French, they were insisting on low & again not ready on cash…’ he spoke in as low tone as if I listen to my mind. I grinded my molars & clinched fist, ‘No sir, that won’t help they live far away in France. ‘Cancel the meeting then’ I told him firmly. It was just nonsense, despite having poured millions to get the damn ticket; get elected with so much of hardships even got permanent backache in the name of spondylitis bowing at the feet of every Tom Dick & Harry while begging for votes; securing right berth if not getting chance to make bucks then what? ‘Sir’ the fellow put brakes on my thinking process. ‘They got ready. But they’d make it in pounds’ the man was doing his job. ‘Fix the meeting’ I said plainly, I’ve learnt this tact to remain plain while I get the most.

‘How’s’ our defense, young man?’ the grand old man, epitome of wisdom & supreme commander of armed forces asked me in his unique trembling voice seated in his high chair. ‘Excellent sir’ I gulped saliva while saying so; it was my first time in having talks with such a great soul. ‘I’m taking stock of the situation…’ before I continued with my chatter my elder friend gently pulled me back. ‘Thank you sir…’ saying so bowing in back I mingled into the crowd of greats of the national politics. ‘I told you, do not open your mouth. The President is x ray machine & former international defense analyst & national security adviser. Keep off from him’. My friend had just saved me from my political suicide.

Next day it was big buck defense deal I’d to sign. Secretary for public relations had made me photogenic & TV camera-genic. We smiled without being asked to say cheese & signed the paper with two rupees Reynolds ball pen. While the PA was assuring me with his patented sign of moving his head in particular angle at his right side, of pounds being stuffed into my benami lockers seven seas across long long away from me.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

QUOTA

‘But he is served the sweet dish, why can’t we?’ I was disturbed while eating at the college mess, since this was not the first time I’d observed. My classmate in front of me was just moving his lips & pointing his index finger towards them. ‘What?’ perhaps I was looking stupid to him, at least his face was saying so. ‘Read my lips, you bum’ he whispered in as low tone as possible. ‘Q U O T A’ now I got him. ‘Ok then, no problem’. Quota guys & girls were served sweet dish or non veg on daily basis whilst for general category it was once fortnightly. I should have realized their tables were separate, covered with the table cloth with a flower vase in between, clean chairs, clean & shining plates, each curry pot neatly covered. A waiter of upper cast, I later came to know, would always stand by their table with folded hands. ‘Ours is the marvelous country you see’ my friend was bellowing smoke while we walk towards our rooms in the full moon night. ‘Hundred & thirty years back the upper cast had oppressed the lower cast & now they are doing same on us’. ‘Legally & with the help & at the behest of government’ I quipped to which we both laughed till we found tears roll out of our eyes.

‘Q for quota’ I distinctly remember having learnt in place of ‘a for apple’. Our age a b c d started with q u o t a. This has helped us immensely to absorb the future shocks. ‘We are fortunate & evolved ones having taken birth as humans. But, there are more fortunate & more evolved ones who have taken birth in quota categorized caste’ my father would recite his pet rhyme at least once in a week while he spotted me in the hearing vicinity. ‘You are demoralizing him’ my mother then would shot back thinking he is doing so. Sometimes my father would just laugh in his big thick moustaches or sometimes he’d tell her holding her arms, ‘dearest, I’m saving him of his future nervous brake downs’. Though just a fire man at fire fighting station he was gold medalist in his pet subject of quantum physics with his doctoral research on existence on anti matter. His biggest mistake was he was born to poor upper cast family which thus made him unqualified for the scholarship to study in foreign university. He had to share his gold medal with a guy who’d scored thirty four percent marks less than him, yet stood first from the quota. He’d to take up job in the fire station; ‘otherwise where else a poor scientists would go?’ he’d ask with candid laughter. Here too, he remained as fire man despite serving thirty two years; his juniors had superceded him, became chiefs & even more. He is still at the same place with his whistle in his mouth banging the bell of the fire fighting van whenever they receive a call of emergency. He however still writes in the foreign scientific papers, visits the scientists’ gatherings gets money there. With that money only he could afford to pay my hefty donation & got me into space technology.

‘Shouldn’t you feel frankly this should stop? Enough of this social justice even after hundred & thirty years of independence?’ I spoke to one of my professors who just got promoted at the fag end of his career to that post, a noble nominee three times. ‘You are expecting too much little man’ he quipped & started to walk towards his laboratory holding his stick for the support. ‘Yet, knowledge has to have a say, we are in space technology sir’ I ran after him & pleaded, I was determined to get the answer from that old epitome of knowledge. ‘We study space kid, but beyond that there is existence of god, study Bhagwatgita. One should take refuge in the god, you will be answered there’ with his trembling neck & legs the icon of national space technology disappeared behind the doors of the laboratory perhaps in pursuit of another mission.

‘There is no point in studying space technology & taking up job as sweeper, proofreader, sales man, valve man in the municipality water supplies or a cook in the private company. We should do something worth us’. I’d taken a centre stage & vomited out in front of our closed door gathering of all poor upper class guys. ‘The future is bleak, no chance in government offices neither in private offices, no chance to leave the country since every field of working & every avenue of opportunities is under quota’ one of us seemed pathetic spoke while sobbing. ‘Can’t we ask the government that,…’ we discussed & discussed till wee hours & jotted down certain points. In the end we all felt hopeful yet no way sure of our endeavors & future too. Our “points to ponder” were to be submitted to the government

1. Grant at least three percent of the seats, opportunities for the upper cast in all the areas.
2. Tax all in uniformity. Remove more tax on upper cast.
3. Let upper cast men work as labour in the farms, buildings & as zebra crossing painters, fruit & vegetable sellers, road sweepers, coolie at railway station etc. while they’d promise not to become the contractors & will remain as labour.
4. Trust the upper cast men that they’d not indulge in knowledge activity & gain power. They’d perennially remain as workers.
5. Grant or lease any one state in any province to upper cast. Relax all the clutches of the government. At the end of ten years, if ten times revenue than the normal not paid, with retrospective effect, to the central exchequer, then hang all of them. If paid the revenue, offer them semi independence.

Though I signed the paper as the chief & posted to the PM, waiting in anticipation of jeep with siren with trembling legs in the pants & drenched in sweat on the stairs of our college in midnight.

By
Vijay Yelmelwar

DOGS' LIFE

All of a sudden I heard ‘bhav bhav’ in tender voice of barking of a pup while I was taking my much valued Sunday afternoon nap. It gave me not less than a shock, how on earth there is chance of getting such voice in my fifteen floor flat. Soon I realized the source of the voice, my tiny daughter in third standard had made this miracle happen by way of her candid act of philanthropy. She’d given shelter to the stray pup drenched in rain water in her own room placed in the shoe box under her bed. It was a little terribly wounded & weak pup on the verge of dieing. We took it to vet yet, it was too late & it died leaving a big void in the mind of my tender daughter.

On her insistence & bowing to her prime weapon of cry to the top of her lungs we decided to buy a pup at last. ‘But after your promise that you’ll take its care’ to which the kid agreed with huge smile; I could see the happiness in her big eyes. Girls are like that, they turn your home to heaven. ‘Fifteen thousand only’, my denture was about to pop out to pet store mans’ casual dialogue. I gulped saliva & again asked to make it ascertain as the figure was just hard nut to swallow. ‘Fifteen thousand you said for this dog?’, ‘minimum’, perhaps incessant barking of the dogs of various age & type must have taught him to speak less & observe patience. May be perhaps my daughter who had accompanied me had made him damn sure that the customer won’t go off the hook. And also perhaps he knows & understands, ‘seeing is believing’ he opened his laptop from the hidden shelf inside the counter. ‘By god, the fellow got laptop too’ I murmured, which I was planning to buy for a long time now. He opened it & switched it on & browsed for his desire folder like an expert, he was already giving me complex. His computer had a number of video clipping of vast number of dogs around the world while they are eating, running, licking, barking etc. ‘Dad, I want this’ my daughter first opened her mouth after going to the shop till then she was intently observing. That is Pug, it will cost forty five thousand & with paper it will be sixty five’. I’d made myself shockproof then. ‘What is paper?’ like a dumb man I opened my mouth. He looked at me as if he was looking at that Pug only. ‘You get the certificate of assurance of its pedigree’. I felt I was wondering in fairytale, dogs just dogs are certified of their pedigree. ‘There are Pugs, German Shepherds, Rottweiler, Dobermans, Blood Hounds, Wolf Hounds, Afghan Hounds, Terriers, Basenji, Borzois, Whippets, Bull Dogs, Dalmatians, Chow Chows, Boxers, Pomeranians, Pekingese,…. I took soda, after having a pup Pug.

My kid was just more than happy with her new play. Wife had tough task in keeping her home clean & keeping the pup inside the home. Next morning only I’d to take half day leave to visit the pet shop. ‘The pup is not eating anything’, I put my grievance, I had a serious concern that, and it shouldn’t happen that the forty five thousand assets is worthless if not fed properly plus the emotions of my little bundle of happiness. ‘What did you offered it to eat?’ by now I was used to the pet store mans’ nature, he was typically like his products, “leave it, it’ll run & catch it, it will bite”. ‘Just milk & roti’ I’d surrendered to him long before. ‘Look you should give him special food available, that will give him balanced diet & help him build his hair coat, hair shine, prevent hair fall, strengthen his bone structure,…’.

I end up in buying dog food, the special stainless steel bowl so that the pup won’t tumble the food, belt, chain is harsh to pups so leather leash, dog soap for regular wash, dog shampoo for intermediate wash, dog lotion to help it prevent from ticks & mites, dog toothpaste, dog toothbrush, play bone for dog to save other objects getting chewed, chew sticks if it gets bored with the artificially flavored bone, dog ball to play etc. etc. And reached home will two bags full of dog accessories with face down, as wife was standing in the door itself. She’d her long pending demand of having sari shown in some kitchen politics afternoon TV serials.

On his third day stay in his new home the little dog bitten our neighbors’ son, again half day leave to get him to clinic to inject anti-rabies injection after due firefighting rituals at home. While I took a prudent stand & got all the kids in our building vaccinated with anti-rabies including myself & my wife. Pug was vaccinated too at the vet & found that its vaccination cost was more than ours. ‘Kid is a kid whether it is ours of dogs, it will make the place dirty till it gets old enough to understand’ again pet store man. I then took the responsibility of getting half hour early from the bed which I never did so far & take the pup for a round in the nearby garden & one in the evening of course.

‘That is natural, all dogs shed hair in certain season’ the pet store man spoke in his usual causal manner as if nothing has happened. But for us at home it was a great thing, my kid had breathing problem & our pediatrician had strictly forbidden her from any exposure to dust, dirt, pollen, animal hairs etc. etc.

Her mother took her to her grandfathers’ place while I tried to sale off the Pug. I was sure, when she’ll return most probably she will have forgotten her little friend. ‘We don’t repurchase or replace the pups’; he refused to buy the pup at any cost. Lastly I gave it to him free which he took as if doing great favor to me. Later I heard the fellow sold it for fifty five thousands, with no word of thanks to me.

Pug had burnt my fingers & made a hole to my pocket, I still hesitate to count.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

CAR

It was truly hard to make the choice; this car is beautiful or that car. On the top of it the cute lass in minimum possible clothes was given the task to hook me up making it more difficult. She was stretching my financial limits beyond my worth in true sense & embarrassing me. Perhaps it was her duties to squeeze the buyer & put him to shame, other than compelling him buy the costliest available car. ‘This has more bhp & torque, see the leg room & elbow room & largest boot in the category…’ her continuous chatter was now making banging noise in to my ears. Just half hour back when I arrived here I’d thought I was the lucky man with such a close proximity with such a beautiful girl, her talks were sounding jingle to my ears. Plus the plush glass showroom, that cool breeze oozing air conditioners, posh couches & polished men & women with meticulously chosen use of words in order to convince, confuse & coerce the customer.

‘What is this bph?’ I chose to get myself clear as it was me who was going to pay the big money. She laughed with her beautiful teeth shut avoiding eye contact. ‘How about the average?’ perhaps I’d shown my true worth to her since all those around laughed even small kid of some customer playing with play car. Leaving my both the questions unanswered she sneaked behind some glass door & vanished leaving me stranded unattended, I got disturbed & thinking of leaving the glass walled showroom after all I still remember having read somewhere ‘customer is the king’. Actually I had other questions too just behind my teeth waiting to spill out like, what is elbow room, leg room, boot, ground clearance, MPFI, rear spoiler, keyless entry….

She left & a sales man of weighing hundred & thirty five kilogram ‘coal black’ complexion appeared from nowhere. Perhaps he was ready, tying pads & gloves the way cricket batsman do, somewhere inside in the hole of his size to tackle customers like me. It was straight way my insult I can never forget. How on earth they can take away such a great damsel & send in the black monster? ‘What for you require a car, sir?’ his sir was adding pinch of salt in the salad of bitter gourd, otherwise I felt he was ridiculing me. ‘What do you think why should one buys a car?’ now her exit had already taken toll of my patience & the fellow of my triple size with his belly touching my flat stomach asking me stupid question. ‘Sir, there are various reasons, say for single use from home to office, for family use, traveling long distances, for business purpose etc.’ monster was mellowing down.

‘I want a car which should be cheap, more on average, sturdy, low on maintenance,…’ perhaps he’d put in his little finger of his left hand into his left ear & shook it for a moment when I’d lost him on sight. Finding even the son of elephant disinterested in me I left the place. I heard they took a sigh of relief, yes indeed I heard! I then decided to use my grey matter however little I received. Logged onto internet, my daughter in sixth has trained me on this, & downloaded the various sites. Whole week I was immersed in cars in each of their minutest details. There were many manufacturers ready to offer their cars viz. General Motors, Ford, Suzuki, Maruti, Nissan, Tata, Mitsubishi, Skoda, Lamborghini, Mercedes, Rolls Royce and what not.

To my amazement, all cars have comparison figures just close to each others say 799, 803, 1403, 1400, 1500, 1504 on cc of engine same for their length, width, bph, torque etc. etc. but price wise hell of a difference. I reached to the conclusion that prices are determined by not the value the car delivers to its buyer car but the perceived worth of their brand in the market. ‘Look’, I called my wife, poor woman since very beginning she’s been my patient listener whenever I talk & vice versa of course. ‘There are two types of cars based on their fuel, diesel & petrol. Now a days petrol cars are modified to LPG & CNG’. Looking at her confused wrinkle on her forehead I clarified, ‘gas & natural gas’. ‘We want petrol, no gas thing’, she issued her final order while I listened patiently.

‘There are three sizes, small size, mid size & big sized cars; bean shaped saloon & sedan. I mean without luggage space, with small luggage space & large luggage space’ I explained in details. ‘Luggage space for what? We don’t often go out, & if we go out long distance there are buses, trains & when ever your office permits we have air travel too. We don’t need luggage space’. Again final decision from the Supreme Court. ‘Then we’ve little choice darling’ I call her darling either in bed room or whenever no body is around & I notice whenever I utter ‘darling’ she blushes. Which wise man in the whole world doesn’t want to stay with a satisfied wife if both are to live up together? ‘This costs…’ before I started talking she cut me short, ‘look we have a son & a daughter to educate & to marry, take care of our parents, think of our retirement; why waste?’ she was absolutely right I shook my in head in affirmation. ‘But the car doesn’t have air-conditioner, no leg room, no elbow room, ground clearance,…’ I was still taking chance if by chance she approves we might have bigger better car. But, the Supreme Court whether at the heart of the nation or at the heart of the husband works on pure logic. She stopped me before I finished, ‘you’ve have not replaced our ceiling fan for last six months the whole summer passed without fan air why do we need air conditioner any way, if we have space to sit inside our legs & elbows will also adjust. And as far as the car runs on ground that’s it. We’ll go for such car only, which is that car?’ she bent herself on the glossy papers I collected turning her hairs back from her cute innocent face.

She was looking just beautiful, better than that showroom girl. Not only because she’s my wife & easily reads my mind but also because she knows better where to spend & why to spend.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

TAX

‘Gosh! This is going to kill me one day’ my exclamation caught rare attention of my wife ever filled with bliss while in her Kingdome the kitchen. ‘What has happened? What is going to kill you?’ she came wiping her ever wet palms to some cloth always stuffed to her waist. ‘Look they have increased the Education Cess by a percent point’ I stared at her from above my half rim glasses with popping eyeballs. Surely it was going to make a hole to my pocket while my customers might hardly share me with the difference. She looked deep into my eyes, perhaps thinking I’m growing miser as I age. ‘It is just a percent point on that sixteen percent of the excise duty such a tiny amount, why worry so much, you are impossible!’ and she was about to go leaving me look like a fool seating in our bedroom gallery garden of cactus. ‘Madam, never undermine tax be it tiny or tons. It takes toll of the tax payer in the end just like camel which initially offers to save its head of the outside cold. In the end the camel is inside the tent & poor Arab out in cold’. I compared tax with story of camel & Arab to make her understanding of taxes rather clear. But, if anywhere in the world if anybody declares that his wife takes him seriously & successfully proves it. I think he doesn’t have to do anything to get moksha or salvation. He’s already attained it.

I never knew, by just inkling of the increased Cess what might have happened outside. ‘Eleven rupees sir’ the rickshaw driver demanded in as rude manner as possible, perhaps determined to squeeze the money. He refused to take ten rupees bill which I’ve been giving him for last three months & thirteen days, thanks to halt in rising petroleum products prices. ‘But yesterday you took ten’ I tried to put my point after all it was matter of point not penny. ‘…tax has increased…’ and the way he made face, I understood what he wanted to convey me. It was actually, ‘you silly bum, don’t you read the news paper…’ I sheepishly searched for the coin in my inner pocket & put it onto his sweaty dirty palm & got rid of him.

‘Pay your tax & hold your head high…’ they are not leaving even Ravindranath Tagore too through news papers advertisements on paying Tax, I murmured reciting his ‘Where the mind is without fear & head is held high…’. To discuss the issue I thought of calling a friend who must be equally stressed on the subject of rising taxes. Before I picked up the receiver, it rang & I was amazed to note it was him only; telepathy is this I patted myself. ‘Could you lend me sixty five thousand bucks?’ he opened his mouth without any morning greetings, asking my wellbeing etc. he must be tensed otherwise even over a cup of tea the fellow asks me, ‘so how are you?’ ten times; sipping tea five times, just leave sipping whiskey aside. ‘It is tax I must pay’ he clarified.

I lent him, that night we met over a glass of drinks, the poor fellow was too worried, and he’d postponed his daughters’ marriage to pay the tax by borrowing remaining money from me. ‘Why do we pay tax? I’d refuse paying now. It is we who earn toiling in the sun & pay so much for what? What do we get in return? Corrupt politicians, corrupt government, lethargic society, no social security,…’. He spoke & spoke while I listened. ‘Don’t rub the soap so much’ I cautioned him interrupting him. ‘What soap?’ he raised his thick eyebrows over his red lull eyes. I persisted saying ‘I say don’t rub the soap so much. It consists of taxes up to forty percent. So every time you rub it against your body & hands forty percent of its costs are going to government’.

On paper napkin, we finally drafted the proposal to the government. He said, ‘let’s ask government to take entire of last months’ salary of salaried men or profits of businessmen & give us a pass. No more taxes then after’. I laughed at his innocence, finally we came to the conclusion & drafted our joint proposal that, government should take seventy one point thirty three percent & let us get our daughters married, sons studied, family members get hospitalized & people like us drunk in merry or in grief.

‘How come you arrived at that seventy one point thirty three percent figure?’ wife screamed as if she thought the Finance Minister listened us & he developed complex of squeezing so less so far while public was prepared to pay more. And the fellow was going to call the Secretaries of Direct & Indirect Taxes, Revenue etc. & ask them to make a blue print; it should be called red print I sincerely believe, on what all needs to be done. ‘Look, actually since morning I was trying to type what all we discussed & scribbled onto the paper napkin last night. You know you can’t drink & write’, this sentence I uttered in low tone to save my truthfulness & skin both. ‘Read this’ I handed over my neatly typewritten paper on my electronic typewriter & reached for towel to head towards bathroom. Actually we’d decided yesterday night only to pay less in tax to the government by way of our small small bits. While bathing I decided to use lesser water, cold water so as to not to pay tax on water & electricity. Rub soap lightly only to more sweating area like face, neck, armpits etc. After bathing stand erect & jump twice or thrice to help letting body water drain away by gravity, then wipe remaining water with towel slowly to save tax on buying new towel premature. There are plans to ….

While wife was reading that proposal paper aloud, women are number one in publicizing anything before they happen. Fifty three percent of the seventy percent of the total exchequer may be kept aside for corruption. Twenty three percent for the defense, zero point zero three percent for education, one point thirty two percent on infrastructure development, zero point fifty nine percent on internal security like police, home guards etc. one point ….

‘Since we were not truly agreeing to certain percentage there could be tolerance of five to seven percent point’. I told her seriously, noting even though I finished my bath, she was still reading the same paper with popping her already large eyes.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

ELECTIONS

Like all others now a days even I too felt election fever once. ‘Why not run for the elections?’ I whispered into ears of my wife, thinking if she finds it just rubbish no other person would know. But to my amazement, she spontaneously agreed hugging me close, ‘tomorrow is the last day for filing nominations, come on let us do it’. When my wife agrees to something, I’m sure it won’t happen, and I slept in assurance, had she said no then I might have given a thought. I don’t mind her taking part even in Formula 1 drive on the busy street of Kalba Devi. But, if she agrees with going on Bajaj Street to vegetable market, I’m scared till she gets back home safe & two days even after her safe arrival. As she doesn’t know how vehicles may might have collided & banged their head with walls or onto other vehicles in pursuit of saving my ever ignorant wife.

By my first tea next morning, I received my first call congratulating me on my decision of filing nomination for the elections. I was more than astonished but when realized the fellow was my brother in laws friend active in politics, I came to know it was my better half who had publicized our bedroom goofing. ‘Listen’, I was trying to keep my cool while calling her, yet the volume was just more than normal. ‘Look, it is just the matter of few million bucks, so why bother. I’ve managed everything; you just sign the papers’. Wife should be like that who just rightly guesses what her husband wanted to tell her; furthermore if she knows how to cool off her husband before he opens his mouth than it’s icing on cake.

It all happened just automatically, as if I was dreaming. By noon there were few hundred people gathered in front of my home sloganeering & hailing my name. I even visualized my photo dangled on the wall just next to Mahatma Gandhi for a moment. My wife had turned me into politician just within hours; it took me more than half of century to somewhat settle in life & take breath of comfort in chilly air-conditioned atmosphere. I had sighed of relief that my both son & daughter got married to their best of choices & settled rich abroad. And we were just relived off, returned from our world tour & I’d just started feeling of my dream of lifetime got true. I never know my thirty year companion was so explosive & excited on my entering politics through electioneering. It was not even twelve hours that I was filing my papers in collector office with much funfair after I first spoke of elections just like that to my wife in utmost privacy.

I was more than amazed with all those banners, posters, larger than life size cut outs, hand bills as if it is only me who exists in the city. Suddenly at every nook & corner people started giving me familiar glance, everything bought out not deserved. ‘When do we leave to meet the public in our ward?’ to my such a honest question everybody, including the poodle in my wife’s’ arm I suspected, plunged into laughter. ‘Your huby is too immature in politics’ her brothers’ friend said to my wife while skillfully holding his liquor glass taking care it won’t spill down. ‘It is all taken care of my innocent buddy’ my flamboyant brother in law assured me while patting my back & perhaps winking at others in the party I clearly felt. ‘You just get ready tomorrow morning in dhoti instead of in jogging suit’. ‘Dhoti, I’m not used to dhoti, I just can’t handle it’. I tried to resist yet nobody listened, as if all was set I’d to do as said. Next morning, they made me up with clean shave, tikka on forehead, dhoti, long shirt, Gandhi topi to cover my graying hairs & oil applied Kolhapuri chappals in my otherwise shoes wearing feet. ‘Always keep hands folded’ my wife made it too loud & clear by chanting the line till she slept yesterday & since woke up in the morning today.

Trampled each & every lane & by lane in the ward I stood. Kept hands folded to every living organisms while my wife kept constant vigil on me. Offered prayers at least three hundred plus temples, broke thousands of coconut to wherever they asked me to be it at the temple, gurudwara, mosque doorstep or launching gym to airport terminal to railway station, which never will come up, during those eleven days of schedule. I spoke lie countless number of times as I went on reading the master minded drafting handed to me. I promised just everything but heaven during the elections speeches making me feel myself no less than god, if all those promises come true. It felt like I truly got fed up all those yet, thanked profusely to my family doctor, the poor guy would come every night to apply some soothing lotion, spray on my whole body especially my aching legs & make me pop few pills to get me relived of day long hectic leg breaking walks.

It was result day, everybody but me were anxious to know about the announcements. I was more than sure that, with so many lies, loss of money, fooling around people; who’d vote for me. Isn’t there a place for commonsense? How can I make airport where making a Jogging Trac was impossible due to space scarcity. How to build dam without flowing river, power plant with no chance of getting coal to burn, flyover where in there is not even a trail or no laying railway tracks at the destination where hardly any people ply. Having done business for so many years I knew it was just not easy to generate jobs. And without money the really real big money how it would happen? ‘You won!!!’ even the air trembled in our hall with that; it was none other than my wife. She hugged me & kissed my lips passionately in front of our kids their spouses & other hundred odd men. And I reduced to paltry flesh & fell in our posh couch, partially due to ashamed of being kissed in public & largely due to knowing my false promises to the public & my inability to deliver. I’d to wonder among them as being called myself as liar.

‘Politics is the play of impossible’, my brother in laws’ friend was patting his friend with laughter spilling his lips I never seen before.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

Appearing Interview

‘Where is Chile?’ his words were hardly percolating through his thick jungle of moustache. ‘Chili?’ I was more than confused. Already I was feeling tremendously uneasy. The chilly atmosphere in the reception & here in the cabin of interviewer had filled my urinary bladder & it was pressing my already tightened leather belt. The tie was perhaps tied more tightly than required it seemed, it was almost chocking my neck. Since the volley of all those uneasy & unexpected questions were seemingly making it hard to gulp my saliva. ‘Chili must be there in the chili field or in the kitchen’ I wiped my sweat from below the left ear in that chilly air. It was more than an hour waiting outside the cabin in the reception & some fifteen minutes here inside the cabin; my lungs were deprived of smoke. Want of smoke was making my head unclear too. ‘Young man, I meant, Chile the country, where it is?’ It was not the effect of chilly air but his question which sent shiver through my spine; was he planning to send me to Chile or what? ‘You have branch there sir, in Chile?’ I gathered guts to ask him back. ‘No no, I was testing your GK’.

Straight I visited toilet to satisfy my lungs & reprieve my bladder at once. Then first thing I bought was the sphere of earth, who knows someone might ask me where is Madagascar, Peru,…. ‘Which are basic colours?’ ‘How many satellites are there in the solar system’, ‘Who invented cigarettes?’ one should be ready to face all such question during interviews especially when you are going to seek a job of industrial marketing & your specialization is chemistry. When I couldn’t answer the name of cigarette inventor it was a matter of shame for me. Having turned thousands of cigarettes into ashes I must know its inventor. I felt deep pity on me; grief of loosing job was nothing then. Later I postulated that the fellow must have got stumbled over these questions volleyed by his young son or daughter at home. So he’s quenching his thirst this way. But one thing, he wouldn’t ask the relevant questions which he knows he knew them little. By being in dry administration, his touch with basics has faded away.

Many a times you shouldn’t speak your mind but lie especially in the interview, I learnt a hard lesson at the cost of loosing a good job. ‘Strom the structure’ was my flat answer to the years of nagging problem of Ayodhaya during my early interview for a good post in the cement company. I was declined the job. ‘Anywhere but in Punjab’ on, if I could be transferred anywhere, I answered to the interviewer of the leading courier company during Punjab’s worst days in history. I never got reply neither the job.

What they gauge in the interview is really a big question. Since all those forward & bright friends of mine have mugged up & conditioned their brains to ‘lie & only big lie’. While they were preparing to lie I used to pray the god to collect my courage to stand & sit there confidently & answer them. ‘You fool, they don’t listen what you answer; they see how you answer’. You have to bullshit there yet confidently’. My flamboyant & fearless friend said bellowing while puffing borrowed cigarette from me patting my back. Till I breath my last I can not forget his advice.

‘Can you come for the interview on seventeen? To this call just after that advise, I fearlessly said, ‘just a moment, let me check my diary’ took two three puffs then refused to meet the date & asked for delayed date. To my amazement the fellow agreed, plus offered to & fro air fair too. I purposely visited the venue fifteen minutes late & regretted with putting blame on the limo which was supposed to carry me from airport to office. On the contrary I’d visited the place previous night by state transport bus, stayed with friend free of cost. Sat in the chair more comfortable than the interviewer himself. After initial talks it seemed like he was convincing me to join his company & I was reluctant at the post & package he was willing to offer. In the end he paid me more & gave bigger post too.

Perhaps I spoke sheer nonsense which fetch me job with more than hundred & fifty percent jump. Thanks to opening economy, all those bulls & bears are running forward only.

Hats off to my friend who taught me to lie yet confidently.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

EXAMS

‘But it is almost seventeen years I appeared for any exams,…’ I was arguing with psychiatrist during our first meet. He listened to me with all the attention I deserved making me sit on the easy chair for more than sixty five minutes. While he was quietly listening to me as if he’d no other work left in the whole world to do. ‘Well, you get nightmares due to your fear of exams which you used to appear for?’ he was trying to simplify me. ‘No no, not exactly that’ I cut him short; actually he was not understanding the gravity of the situation. ‘Look, I get literally drenched in the sweat in the mid of my sleep, many a times I cry, shiver in utter fear of not being able to solve the sums in my dreams…’. ‘These are the capsules & take them properly’ before letting me complete my explanation to let him understand the gravity of my nightmares he scribbled a few lines on his letterhead & handed over to me. ‘You may make payment at the reception’ he didn’t forget to make me remember of his fees while lifting his intercom; must be to inform the girl at the reception for the amount.

Declaration of my sentence date might not sink me so deep than the declaration of my exam date. Exams have really filled me with tremendous fear as if it was going to the end of the world. I’d collect all those notebooks & text books, loose papers, journals, drawings just everything. Sit & make schedule of the studies as per the respective subjects’ exam dates. Start solving previous year’s questions papers as much as possible. ‘Tonight it’ll be seventh paper I’d be solving for all the subjects’ my classmate quipped a week before our first paper. That much was sufficient for me to pop in fever pills; actually there should have been fear pills since I’d solved only five papers then.

I’d take a bath in cold water even if I run shivering fever contemplating, if I don’t take a bath it would not be auspicious, with a fear of failure peeping in. Then apply Tilak on the forehead, wear the previous day clothes if that paper was satisfactorily solved else fresh clothes; many a times for all those ten days I could be seen in the same dirty stinking shirt & pants. Till the last bell or till the examiner pulls the book from my hand & throw them in the hall corner I’d be glued to the books & read. Who the hell knows which question is going to appear in the exams? Even after solving all those papers satisfactorily if someone comes up with his own theory of papers being sent to tough paper checker or to some other district. I’d just pray god to save my papers from getting lost in transit, eaten away by cattle, wet in water, burnt in fire & even go in the hands of tough & miser paper checker. My biggest worry was my own handwriting. I’d read somewhere, ‘mans’ own enemy is he himself’, whilst my own enemy was my own handwriting; even doctors can scribble legible than me. During my education years I was fed up with my handwriting.

But all are not equally fool like me. There were great souls with whom I’d shared the same time space, class space & even exam-hall space. ‘Write that answer, will you?’ & meekly I’d hide my paper below my closest exam hall-mates’ paper & write the answer for him. Just to keep myself exam writable for the next days’ exams looking at his muscle popping up from his half sleeve shirt. ‘No the answer page is torn from this guide’ I’d given the guide back to my fellow student, later realizing had I been caught with the guide in my own hand than?

‘Squad’ used to be cruelest entity living on the earth then. They were permitted to barge inside any hall, search any girl of boy writing exams. During those days only I truly understood the meaning of discovery as witnessing these squad would discover copies hidden at various places. Inside ear, shirt collar, blouse, skirt, shirt seam, pants seam, inside innerwear, compass box, behind the ruler, inside socks, inside hollow of shoe hill, written on hands, palms, thighs in details or in abbreviations the list is long. Many forward guys & girls would visit toilets in the mid of exams many a time & get back loaded& get back loaded, while I’d be seen begging god for some more time,.

Even in the freedom struggle I’d have fought against rulers with much ease than fear of exams. My teen has been spoiled by these exams; I could not even make any girl friend forget about loving one, these exams never left any time for all such things. Weekly, monthly, quarterly & yearly exams & on the top of it surprise exams had left me shattered. Those who say college life is the best life, god bless them. For me it was hell, just like having asked for all that gold from the god & out of fear of it getting stolen away making it to be seen by self only in the second & the last wish. Upon granting the wish when the god disappears with a chuckle, you realize what is left behind.

Exams left behind all those notebooks & text books, loose papers, journals, drawings plus one more roll of yellow paper with a red engraving onto it, my degree certificate. Leaving me grope for the job in the mid of jungle.

I put my first step on the footpath out of the psychiatrists’ clinic assuring myself popping these pills might get me rid of that haunting exam-phobia.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

AT MISERS' CLUB

‘…even he doesn’t buy daily news paper but gets stale one from the waste-paper bin…’ I overheard my neighbour whispering to his friend & I doubt it he must be referring to me. Since at my inkling he stopped chattering. ‘Whatever people say about me but why should I change my lifestyle?’ I made my point to my friend who had trouble with me. He’d heard somebody mentioning that I switch on lights till it is too dark & at home bang my head on the wall. Or I don’t miss any dinner invitation, have no car still uses thirty six years old fathers’ bicycle, didn’t marry, didn’t paint walls & now the bricks beneath are visible, ….

‘It is very simple truth; you need more time to earn than to blow off your hard earned money so why spend?’ I chose to speak the sentence while preparing my speech at the ‘Idealists’ club’ instituted by me only some fifteen years back. Few fools call it as ‘misers’ club’ instead, well we never felt bad about it. Since then many people joined & due to our hard restrictions & exclusivity many self proclaimed hard core misers had to quit their memberships. One such spendthrift was thinking of shifting the present venue of our meeting to some other ‘at least’ non stinking place, it was shame on us & we unanimously decided to remove him. How can we abandon our meeting place which was slaughter house before we occupied, since they felt it was unhealthy for them. How can he ignore that the place doesn’t need to pay any taxes, no lights to be burnt & nobody comes here too. Apart from this we can plan our investments meticulously.

One member on whose inclusion I was responsible & really feel ashamed on my decision & even apologized a many times to my fellow members. The rascal wanted tea to be served during our fortnightly meeting at ‘Idealists’ club’ & that too at our own cost. Whenever I’ve sipped tea it is always at somebody else’s place or at party wherein I was invited. How could he think of such largesse? Since it was the thumb-rule of our club was to ‘fill our stomach at somebody else’s expenses be it a party, canteen, office etc. & if we’ve to eat buying our own food do not eat more than the body requires to burn the calories in four hours time. Our junior member only, who chose to open the door before our meeting time & close after the meeting, kicked one of our members who bought new clothes. We congratulated him profusely on his timely decision, since it could have been detrimental to our code of conduct. Since, one of our senior & illustrious member fainted down at the news as he never bought clothes. He stays naked at his home, a single occupant, goes out for work in factory uniform & for the meeting in his school days clothes stitched & stitched & altered at many times by his pet tailor who is also our member. Having such an apostle of miserliness how can our club member dare to spend money on new clothes?

I’d postulated our three point regulations & all our members had to stand by it if not better it.

Don’t buy.
Don’t spend.
Invest as per the club guidelines.

These were the main points which were easy to remember. Other less important points were even written with a piece of coal on the wall against the window were:

1. Eat less at our own expenses. It will save us money as well as getting sick since we eat more & burn our calories less. Many of our valued members have shown restraints of not eating for four days in row once they’ve filled themselves at some party with no gifts.
2. Dress & undress only when required, you might tear off your pants while putting it on & off frequently.
3. Never go out unnecessarily since it calls for expenses. If at all go out never carry cash & it will help you from spending it.
4. Do not maintain relationship with relatives. If possible don’t marry; having made a mistake don’t dare have kids.
5. Don’t spend big money on wife’s ailments you may have another at that cost.
6. Water & earth the soil are the best medicine try them & you get rid of all the ailments. Walk & walking will keep you fit & spend nothing.

I’d many other & noble ideas too to make life better & richer. Who can boast of being rich; the only one who has riches. Who can count money spent; but one can easily count money held!

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

FUN

‘Seen eunuch die of heart attack?’ the question stunned all fifteen plus of us gathered to have fun at my friends’ place that night. Few splashed their drinks from their glasses, few stumbled to something kept in the hall at their feet, and almost all remained openmouthed with the most unexpected question from him. He was known for such jugglery right from his half pants days. ‘Remember their way of clapping, they in a way are doing acupressure & avoid dieing of heart attack’. He although finished with serious note, the whole hall was over flown with great laughter. ‘Why on earth someone goes to see how the eunuch has died?’ my friend quipped struggling hard to keep his laughter beneath his teeth. Yet, ‘his mere presence is fun’ somebody spoke in low tone clearly honouring his great sense of humor.

‘What is there in life? Have fun’ my other lighthearted friend is known to enjoy each minute of his living. Even our greatest funny moments are filled with his memories only. He’d just clean shave his head neck up even his thick moustaches; he’d not even spared his eyebrows too loosing his bet on winning India to Pakistan. Just after the match was over in the evening the fellow lived up to his bet & headed for his home. ‘Whom do you want?’ the obvious question was from his own father with specs on who opened the door. It was another close shave at home. He was the true connoisseur & true fan of James Bond 007. Who otherwise can buy all those eighteen (then) CDs of James Bond sees them in one single stretch. in pursuit of aping him barge his scooter on half feet width & eight feet long wooden board with speed of eighty into his home which was four & half feet high from the ground. And, expectedly, broke his right leg with multiple fractures in his right arm with scooter onto him? We still call him bond.

One of such would follow allegedly egoistic girl who’d never even look at any of us always sitting onto the cement benches & gazing closely to each bypassing girl as if that was the sole work left onto earth outside our college then. He’d follow the girl so much that the girl then complained to principal who warned him of dire consequences yet the fellow didn’t budge & remained after her. He’d keep watching her below her building in pouring rain just to get her glimpse. Lastly the goddess of beauty & blonde came down to earth from her heaven to ask him in her mesmerizing honey drenched voice, ‘what you want? Why you follow me’ thinking he’d fell on knees & plead for her love. I literally fell on the ground form the same cement bench & got my head injured listening his answer. He’d said to the girl, ‘what you think of yourself, you look so lousy & dumb…’. While he could’ve otherwise said, ‘I love you’ which I must have. I’d no courage to ask him on what was the girls’ reaction?

We were on numerous occasion caught in the exam hall for, truly, not copying yet helping those deprived copy, ran away from the table after stomach full snacks without paying & got caught at the very counter & headed for the kitchen for washing utensils. We’ve even won cricket matches with huge margins on scoreboard & not on ground & got hit with the same stumps & bats. Once even tried traveling WT on train & whole five hundred plus kilometer there was no inkling of TT. Police squad caught us at the station on charges of crossing tracks & not using stairs.

Life has been fun just like dollops ice cream, enjoy if before it melts away from hand.

I madly loved a stunningly beautiful girl next door & with all the sincerity had decided to marry her. Keeping the same aim in life, I tried to excel myself each day & year since I gained adolescence just to be able to be her life partner. With bit of a complex in mind if she refuses I settled with her not so great looking younger sister. ‘Actually sisi wanted to marry you from the core of her heart since her girlhood, she loved you so much. But you chose me how lucky I’m…. My newly wedded wife was electrocuting me on our honeymoon night.

It was fun!!!

By
Vijay Yelmelwar

SWINDLE

‘You miser bum you’d even think miserly!’ my closest friend was showering his immense praise on me. Fed up with the mundane life we were discussing trying something different which would refresh us & provide money as well. Being good at thinking I coined the idea of deceiving common people & earning through it. Actually it would have been the nicest changeover I thought of. With absolutely no risk & high to very high returns. Say, trap a youth convincing him of getting job in say Railways. What it takes to print the letter-head, visiting cards, identity card & make few stamps? What all it takes to fool & deceive a job seeking youth? I can easily swindle him for say fifty thousand bucks. Ten youths a district & so many districts around I see my future is truly bright. To this idea my friend expressed his rather frank opinion about my colossal idea frankly. Over a Wada-Paav & milk mixed black tea he thought swindling say fifty youth for couple of hundred thousands was a miserly act.

Well, I’d considered myself in the act with my forty seven kilogram weight at forty two years of age with obvious spectacles & ageing brittle bones. My friend with his shirt & pants which would bring shame to circus tent, hundred & thirty five kilogram weight & takes hundred & thirty six seconds to get up from the steel chair, I don’t let him sit on wooden chair at my home. We’d to do something wherein we don’t have to do something which we really can’t do say running, getting bitten up in red & blue with the lathis of police etc. Plus with few hundred thousands in the pocket we can easily buy ever thirsty & lusty police, can take care of ever lying lawyers & manage a couple of judges, if at all we get caught. We’d to do something soft.

‘So what the hell you think you dumb?’ I was irritated at him. Since getting such a nice idea in the graying brains takes lot of brilliance. ‘Shut up, just shut up’ he shouted at me, everybody around in that dull, soot smeared ceiling roadside restaurant started staring at us must be thinking, why the thin guy visibly irritating the fat one which is just not good for his own health. Even I considered my merits at fighting physically with him & paper thin chances of winning. We then thought of duping banks with stolen credit card or demand drafts, snatching chains on road & in the running trains, fooling casinos, stealing information from the processing plant or FMCG (fast moving consumer goods) & selling to their competitors. Even we spent time to think on our capacities & abilities of kidnapping kids for hefty ransoms, threatening calls to filthy rich movie men & business men. But both of us were not convinced with the money, thrill & risk associated with the ad(verse)venture. ‘How about hijacking a passenger plane?’ I’m always popping up with the fresh ideas. ‘Even a kid will knock you down with single blow, look at you in the mirror’ my big friend was getting more vocal than he should, with him on the board the plane wouldn’t even take off. Well I gulped my thought with saliva.

‘Have you heard of Albert Einstein & Robert Oppenheimer? My friend chuckled with twinkling eyes’. I couldn’t note what he meant, rather I stared into his eyeball for visible stupidity; otherwise why on earth he’s talking of nuclear physicists while we discuss on something rather serious issue of swindling & minting fast bucks. ‘Look’, he changed his posture on the cracking steel stool at the rusty restaurant leaning almost to my face he revealed his idea sprinkling his saliva on my face. It took me some time to understand him & when I got him, I reached for my purse to get coins to pay at the counter & started walking. He chased & caught me with all his elephantine body & with elephantine efforts. Considering the big & really big bucks involved, we started making blue print of our plot.

It was simple! All we’d to do is to learn more about making of the atomic bomb. Window to the world was open in internet to us. Rest of the missing links was easy to link. For the missing links we’d decided to make a few trips to Pakistan, Iran, Korea, Vietnam & we’d even thought of visiting Iraq but later dropped the idea. Collect the information with some material such as enriched Thorium, Plutonium or any radio active material with bit longer stability. Having collected all this we’d to just get the information passed onto the internet just plainly with no ambiguity.

We’d listed a large number of takers including unstable nations, failing economies who wanted to twist arms of their rich neighbors & obviously if nobody turns up than our very own fixed customer was Osama bin Laden.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

WE PAINT

‘I’m dreaming, yes I’m…’ and the whole hall plunged in the laughter. I was aghast to see, they all stood up & started clapping in my praise or to be specific in my humility. Actually I was getting truthful not humble. I hadn’t painted the painting & the auction was done showering really real big bucks on me. Somebody one who called himself painting connoisseur bought my painting for almost big buck.

It was a free weekend for me The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City was the obvious choice then. Truly speaking I was longing to visit the place since my School days. I’d one duplicate Rembrandt, one original Raja Ravi Varma both were my priced possession. Especially Rembrandt self portrait was in true sense since I used to brag its ownership saying it was the original one. ‘Can we too come with you this time?’ I just couldn’t refuse my daughters’ cute & pleading gesture & took both, her mother, too to my forthcoming official visit to New York City. It was nice till we were passing through titans of art world like Frida Kahlos’ self portrait, Andre Derain. Andrea Mantegna, Vinci’s’ work, religious & emotional work by Rogier van der Walden, Jen Fouguet. Even my daughter liked Albrecht Durers’ Head of an Apostle I took longer before Peter Paul Rubens’ The Judgment of Paris while my wife lingered before Nocturnal Composition of Georges de La Tour. ‘Dad’ she shouted & caught everybody’s’ attention around. I reached her leaving the Judgment being passed on those beautiful ladies behind. ‘I can draw this Milk Pouring maidservant’ she was pointing her finger towards Jan Vermeer’s’ all time great. I admonished her to keep quiet & the first frame caught my attention was Eugene Delacroises’ Liberty Leading the People while my daughter was spending some more time in front of abstracts of Turner, Kenneth Noland, Jackson Pollock & of course of Pablo Picasso. Wife had switched her position to ‘A wheat field with cypresses’ obviously by Vincent van Gogh.

‘Will you teach me to paint?’ kids can ask for anything pulverizing parents’ ego to shame. Her dad & mom took few minutes to shut their mouth while we were returning from the museum. I had to lower the glass to get some ice cold breeze to bring my senses to normal. ‘I can buy canvas, brush, paints & that’s all my baby; I can’t even hold a brush’ the truth is you can shamelessly express your inability before kids only. ‘Well, get me those dad’ she was more than reluctant to resort to means than the end. I was actually an accomplished painter in my own right & my limits were drawing two to three hill tops with sun rising from behind any two of them, with a blue stretch of river as if originating from the ball of sun. To fill the canvas I might paint a hut or two with a number of flying objects which might resemble with birds & yes coconut trees. With such accomplishment what can I say or do before the kid who had seen the worlds’ best brush men?

To really quench her thirst I bought a dozen canvas of different sizes with heap full of water colours & oil paints with different sized brushes, stands etc. etc. my wife cleared our store room for her paintings & we took a dip sigh as the summer was going to be rather cool. But my first evening after office hours at home was going to be just different. Not only canvas but entire home was drenched in water colours & oil paints. Each of walls turned into frescoes by my darling daughter. Her mother was laying on sofa seemingly popping painkiller for her obvious headache. She had to be taught to use brush & paints on the canvas only. To teach her we too started to try our skill at the brush. Later on our golden Labrador too tried its luck by intruding himself in the store room & churned himself on the laying canvas. Our mewing cat too then followed the suit like her big foe turned friend. Meanwhile even the black coffee got splashed onto the very canvas while my wife slipped on the soiled floor. I then took the decision to keep the canvas onto the terrace to dry it as early as possible. Yet the plight of the canvas war far from its end. It had got drenched in rain showers that summer night.

Contemplating her priced painting closely the little kid said, ‘Dad can we keep our painting at The Metropolitan Museum of Art?’ I was more that stunned even it was me & my wife to hear our sweet & innocent little daughter. Yet, to please her I took a nice photograph of the canvas which was terribly spoiled & far from getting anybody’s attention. Mailed my daughters’ creation to all of our relatives. Her aunt at Orleans called back to enquire more about the painting. Behind me my wife lied to her elder sister saying the painting was done by me. How can her daughter do such a damn thing?

My sister in law had arranged all that at Paris even the auction of our painting contributed by us all including our lab & cat even the rain showers in painting it. ‘Frame it with the best of wooden borders’ she didn’t forget to ensure through her numerous calls & e-mails.

I was sinking in shame while the auction was going on. My wife, her sister & her husband were more than happy dreaming of owning big bucks. Daughter was happy too; her painting was kept on silver stand.

Art connoisseurs were examining the canvas with their sharp eyes covered with spectacles & lenses in their hands. Their delight was spreading through their upward curved lips. I was nervous, with my downward curved lips.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar

MALL

‘…but Dad, you can buy pin to plane there’. My twelve year old one was trying his best to convince me. I could clearly see his stretched face; bow shaped strained eyebrows his body language everything spilling his obvious frustrations. I could gauge all that, as if he wanted to tell his adamant father that is me, ‘you ignorant old man you don’t know what the Mall is. Just open your eyes & try to look where the world is moving…’. Truly speaking I didn’t know much about the Mall & I hadn’t seen any before; neither I was interested. Actually I was in a teasing mood, ‘look sonny, I don’t need any pin & I can’t afford the plane either. So why go, you better study exams are coming up’. He left room thumping his feet as hard as he could. My ‘study’ plot was just right weapon to unarm him. ‘Let’s go the Mall today evening, can’t we?’. Exactly third minute my son disappeared from before me, I heard a sweetest possible voice from the kitchen side. He was my son after all; he’d filed his petition in the high court, from where he knows judgments are issued without any hearing. I folded the Sunday Times to take all that valuable afternoon nap. The request from the kitchen side wasn’t so, it was an order. Any obedient, not so obedient, harsh or a man who calls himself husband can easily understand. So why not take a sweet nap before getting raided?

‘Deposit your baggage there’ a strong & sturdy lady in uniform advised us in as politely as an hundred & thirty kilogram weighing six feet heighten coal dark coloured woman would in her voice resembling five quintal weighing snoring sick ox with common cold in the stable. I meekly obeyed her whispering into my sons ear, ‘but if we have to buy something inside?’ ‘They give us different bags inside’ now my son apparently started distancing himself from his ignorant dad.

It was too a big space inside bigger than my whole company where I go to work to be a part in manufacturing automobiles. It was posh & chilled than my managing directors’ cabin. ‘How’d they afford to sale table salt in here?’ now afraid of my sons body language I filled in my wife’s ear with my ignorance. She too walked swiftly behind her son leaving me behind, keeping me unanswered. Whole of my life till then I was never neglected like this, thanks to development & changing culture. I was used to buy table salt in kilogram bags full for my monthly requirement from regular grocery shop standing outside the counter in hot sun while the fellow inside fill the grocery duly weighing. Here every woman customer barring my sari clad wife were half naked & men barring myself & my son were in half pants & T shirts. They were taking things from the shelves & stuffing into their wheeled carriers as if they were not buying but burgling the mall. It had all that I’d seen & much much more than that. Imported chocolates to dog chains, designer bras, only my stupidity revealed it was bra, ‘what’s that cobweb like?’ when I asked to sales girl I’d never seen through my naked eyes to woolen over coat which may not be useful till the ice age comes or in place suitable like Siberia, Alaska etc.

Mall was filled with items just stuffed with. I was thanking myself for getting chance to see all those things in one place & having discovered living so far without those too. ‘You’d have to cross the road outside the mall there in that restaurant you’ll get water, we keep only cold drinks’ a beautiful film actress material sweet girl was explaining me. Tired of walking inside those by lanes while I’d quenched my thirst just looking at her only. Finally I decided to buy a bottle of cold drink to really quench my thirst which that sweet girl did with opening the bottle in my hand. ‘How much you get here?’ I popped up a question to her taking undue advantage of my gray hairs. Sometimes simple decisions can change the life. I’d refused to buy the costly dye & decided to remain old looking man till I get my economy pack usual dye. Her answer almost fainted me. She was getting much more salary as sales girl than what I was getting as production manager in my company. And foolishly I was thinking I was a successful man.

My whole brain below my gray hairs filled with repentance. Why did I chose to be an engineer, why production, why this company,… lastly I even repented to take birth as a man & why not like that girl? While I was sinking like ship in the deep ocean my son & wife who’d made me realized the truth came with pushing their wheel carriers crammed with innumerable items I’d never seen before & not going to use in rest of my life. Yet, I was calm, perhaps after true realization great souls get calm like me. I handed over my wallet itself to my wife & dragged myself out of the Mall. They noticed just nothing about the thunder in my mind.

Nobody noted, that night after everybody slept I put my computer on silence mode & trying to log on to web sites of Wall mart, Reliance Fresh,….

By
Vijay Yelmelwar

I PRESENT BUDGET

‘Speaker sir, honorable members of parliament…’ I coughed a bit & started my budget speech. I spoke for almost two hours amidst applauses & desk thumping from the treasury benches & expected uproar & sloganeering from the opposition. But I kept reading the thirty eight & half page neatly drafted brief budget speech reaming conscious of the gazing eye of the camera on me. Through which the whole nation was observing me & more so the leading economists across the globe & yes of course the ever volatile stock market.

Actually it all started with lengthy, cumbersome & exhaustive exercise. Being leader of the small group of MPs I remained adamant on the FM post. And to gain it, house arrested my fellows in a posh hotel, a regular phenomenon. Since second in line is FM just after PM, of late HM has lost luster, if you observe. ‘Prepare a financial dictionary & its easy meaning immediately’ I ordered my under secretary the moment I sat in that powerful, soft cushioned brown leather revolving chair. Actually the chair was black I got it in brown my favorite colour before I sit into. Under Secretary was rather prompt in handing over the dictionary to me by that afternoon itself. ‘How nice you are too prompt’, I comforted him taking him into confidence. ‘It’s alright sir, I just had to search of it, and the present incumbent didn’t require it. Earlier were dependent on it only. We were updating it time & again’. The fellow made me feel at home in the chilled air office. ‘And why so my predecessor didn’t require…?’ ‘He was from LSoE sir’ before I finished the sentence the man jumped in with abbreviation. I decided to shunt him to military accounts from central revenue, I never like the abbreviations. ‘And what is LSoE?’ I asked him looking straight into his eyes, as I wanted to convey him that I was the boss behind that half round fifty square feet mahogany wood brown coloured glass covered table. ‘London School of Economics sir’. I bode him farewell.

‘What’d you like to have?’ cuddling my wife that nights being her FM husband I whispered into her ear pulling her close in my arms. ‘Actually I was longing for Switzerland trip, shopping in Hong Kong …’ her list was lengthy. ‘Well I mean from the forthcoming budget’ I got her down to our soft cushioned bed. Immediately she moved a bit away from me. ‘What a normal woman would ever want from any government?’ Being a typical woman her answer has to start with a new question, I kept patience. ‘Cheap vegetables, cooking gas, kerosene, petrol, diesel, availability of continuous power, water,’ she had easily entered into ‘no men’s zone unknowingly. I could hardly slept that night & coming some thirty plus nights every time I happened to meet those industrialists, leaders of various NGOs, members of opposition, representatives of peoples’ groups, economists, etc. If that was not enough I had a series serious of meetings with the PM, took his guidance, my collogues from various key ministries including rail minister, various stalwart secretaries etc. To not to leave any stone unturned summoned half a dozen spiritual gurus & babas. ‘Why don’t you understand it is my endeavour to keep my impression on the Indian politics’ I was trying to pacify my wife who had grievances of my not reaching home timely, disturbed sleep & developing anxiety.

The dictionary handed to me was my reference book those days. Yet, it was not seemingly futile. You touch any one figure the whole scenario was supposed to change or disturbed just like in hooked Excel Sheet in good words I realized. ‘How’s your work going on?’ my old friend called on one day in the Sunday morning. He was least bothered of any thing & self content man I’ve ever seen, plus finest writer he’d work as professor of literature for living. I requested to meet me. Poor guy came on, ‘Why don’t you copy earlier budget?’ He just spoke jokingly.

‘All is well set by predecessors, why take a chance to ruin it?’ I diplomatically put my views on budget to the PM the very next morning. The man spoke none, yet next morning he called me on to give a go ahead. ‘Fill in the blanks’ I asked all my secretaries, ‘with the fresh details’. I didn’t forget to mention the punch line.

My professor friend drafted the whole thirty eight & half page budget just nicely in record time of three days taking stock of those voluminous details & tackling all those seasoned public servants & their egos. With the help of some twenty nine thousand five hundred words he’d painted national economic picture of the future year. He did just as I said. Two Hundred & thirty words on poetry, quotes from scholars. One thousand words on pinching opposition, & a bit more hailing on my own regional party & the main party of our combine. Rest was dedicated on eloquently written dry desert of all those subsidies, revenue, expenditure, direct & indirect taxes, deficits & various proposals which may help fill the gap.

All that worked which I took pain for. The fresh coloured jacket, the newly bought golden framed glasses which showed me perfect studious & sincere, wrist watch from state owned HMT, facial & hair cut done early in the morning. And yes of course, I’d shown prudence in announcing that the forthcoming budget won’t just be goody goody yet meaningful in the primary school gathering a fortnight back.

It all went fine even the post budget meeting summoned by FICCI & CII. I took my secretaries along with. They’d answer the difficult question & I’d make face as if it was the simplest one.

That night, I hugged my professor friend. He needed just that. I indeed had much to offer him, just more than feelings.

By

Vijay Yelmelwar