Dacaar!!

wondering about the title? Over smartness, with a pinch of highly westernized language, tend to invention of such words. got it? Dafaq you did, exactly, i am talking about 'The car', not the hindi word for burp.

'babuji, main paise le aaya babuji...main paise le aya'
'bete in gale hue paison ki koi keemat nahi rhi ab'
Bhagayashree intervenes: 'babuji agar in paison ka koi mol nhi to duniya me kisi cheez ka koi mol nhi'

I was watching the exact same scene from 'maine pyar kiya' when my phone started ringing, bad omen.

'Buy a car'
'what the...'
'No seriously, see my father have two of them, and i have one for myself, so its obvious, just buy a car'
i thought about my second hand discover bike, how much pain and trauma i went through to buy it, it was my three months saving and four months jack denials behind those two wheels and now here is a girl asking me to buy a freaking car. calculations show for a second hand Santro it would be eleven months of saving and fourteen months of Jack denials on the stake, never, ever, ever...and ever.
'listen baby'
'dont baby me, do you want my father to agree for us or not?'
'i do..but'
'no but shut fut...just buy a car and on sunday come home only in a car, and yes, please dont buy a second hand one like that god forsaken bike of yours, for god sake'
brand new car? nineteen months of saving and twenty three months of jack denials.

'babuji main or paise le aunga babuji, mujhe ek or mauka dijiye, ek or mauka dijiye babuji, main vada karta hun ki iss baar note bheegenge nhi, note bheegenge nhi babuji' what an irony. i never thought a salman khan movie could be so damn realistic that i have to fight back my tears.

'I need a car' i said with a poker face. his face lit. budget, mileage, loan, model, leather seat, fully loaded all these terms started raining from his mouth, my mind was stuck only with word scheme. This one you can take it for three days and after that if you dont like just return back us. 'just return back...just return back...just return back' started playing in my mind.

I will take it, i mean i will try it' after few signatures here and there and some proofs of my address and identity here and there. i was riding a brand new honda city, with just one month of salary in deposit. heaven.

I came home and showed the key to my roommate and instead of just a happy smile he started laughing and pointed to the tv.

'what nonsense yaar, har cheez ki had hoti hai sameer. meri maan or vahan jake usko bol ki ye sab natak nhi chalega. are usne teri khuddari ko lalkara hai yaar. kya kar rha hai, mard ban, be a man'

Dil chahta hai. He switched off the tv and said, 'dude she said 'god forsaken' to your bike' and laughed again. well i was not really motivated but yes 'she insulted my bike' and yes, thats a big deal.

Sunday morning i was there in front of her house, in a brand new Honda city, well NO, on my God forsaken, second hand Bajaj Discover. In my hand there was no bucket of flowers but my four jack denials cost smartphone.

Her father opened the door. gave a rejection look to my bike and then to me. without any delay i handed my phone to him with a video playing.

'Sir main Kavya k liye better insaan baanna chahta hun'
'to fir cigarette kyun pita hai?'
'Sir main uske liye better insaan ban sakta hun, badal nhi sakta'

Humpty Sharma. After watching the clip, he looked up. And...

Disclaimer: Pardon me if you are not a Filmi buff...

    

psycho in me

tak tak tak tak tak.....was the only sound coming apart from the tik tik of the wall clock. 11:47 Friday night and i was slicing onions. dinner was far away as i spent whole evening staring to the email which said 'Its over'.

i touched the blood, warm it was, it started flowing towards my wrist. i felt a strange pleasure filling my heart. a voice in my head said, 'its not over' and i knew what i wanted. i wanted more.wall clock was still ticking. i could count single second passing. there was no other sound but heaving of my lungs.

i looked at the twinkle of light on blade of the knife, marvelous it was. i could feel its reflection in my lenses. i closed my eyes and felt it, adrenal rushed through my veins as i cut through myself, smile appeared, i did not need a mirror to see myself smiling, i felt it from my soul. i opened my eyes and there was a miraculous scene of red. enough of small little fingers, i needed a higher dose, greater smile, more pleasant scenery for my eyes.

In a stroke i chopped off two of my fingers, a shiver ran, whole body became numb, i couldn't feel anything, not even pain. blood started dripping off the kitchen platform. eyes still staring the separated piece of slow moving meat of my own. where was the rush? where was the smile? and when i heard those same words, i knew what was to be done. with a single stroke i pushed half of the blade into my thigh, blood came out like a fountain, dark red liquid coloring the pool. and it appeared, yet again, the smile, the satisfaction. more and more smile covered my mind as more and more blood colored the floor.

i thought of plucking out my eye, but then i wanted to see the blood so i dropped the idea, instead cut my left ear so that blood could cover my still clean face.'its not over' i stuck the blade to my chest and handle to the kitchen wall and pushed myself on it, cutting open a four inch wound, i made it wider by chopping off the flesh, i could hear it now, heart pumping, dup dup dup dup dup dup...'
holy mother of cow' i stood back, alarm was still beeping. i was drenched in sweat. i checked all my intact fingers and repeated 'holy mother of cow'.

Later when i returned back from the office. an unread mail was waiting for me. subject line said 'its over'. i threw a glance in the kitchen, there was an onion kept beside the knife, waiting.      

'Its over?' millions of thoughts hovering. more than 5 years, thousands of memories, and just a mail saying 'its over'. i gulped the last sip and came into the kitchen.every slice i cut, my mind repeated 'its over...its over...its over' and next moment a jet stream of red viscus liquid broke from my finger. in few minutes, half of the board became red. a smile appeared on my face. i could feel it. the more blood i saw, more i smiled. 'its not over yet' then it stopped. 

wonder what was the story behind !!

it was an usual morning. over crowded airoli-borivali bus number 123. smell of ocean's rotten water mixed with smell of sweat of people occupying the minimum space required for their shapes. bus conductor very comfortably making space for himself in between nearly impossible gaps. all these were so incredible yet so ordinary in a person's life who is a regular commuter of BEST buses in the city of Mumbai. 

headphones stuck almost touching my eardrums, D K Bose song playing in loop to the maximum capacity in cellphone, i was on my way to the office. every now and then throwing a glance on my cheapest fast-track watch, not to see the time but to think of a new excuse to give on the question 'why are you late today? again!' i myself was pissed on the same old truth of traffic conditions, day by day worsening to the limits.

lady beside me stood up and three of them standing on the aisle blocked the way not to stop her but to occupy the seat. somehow she walked out and disappeared in the crowd, i was forced to slide towards the window so that people struggling to find the seat could sit, at least one of them.
seat was not empty, there was a book. title 'what the hell'. i myself was a reader but never had heard of this book, well no one could possibly know all the books, specially if they are published to compete with the growth of mushrooms. i picked it up and unplugged my earphones to concentrate more on the book.
first page:

it was handwritten. 'To the only person who is the inspiration behind this book, its not a book, its our story'
quite clear the book was a gift from the author himself. There was a line, again hand written in a different handwriting.

'leaving this in a crowded bus, no one will ever know that the book was written on me, for me. I am sorry'
i realized that the lady was in fact not reading but writing on the first page of the book. bus was already moving, she was already gone. last stop which crossed was kandivali. i was still there, holding the book in my hand, wondering what might be the story behind it...!!