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