Things people do ...........

With the vague intention of keeping my other blog insulated from all things considered frivolous I post this here :


A pretty girl waits for a bus at the depot. After waiting for some relevant announcement regarding the allotment of the bus (which does not happen) she approaches the depot-office and not unexpectedly draws a blank. Meanwhile a young chap eyeing the beauty for a while now approaches her and inquires about the bus. She, with all the politeness of a stilettoed waitress, says she is as clueless as the rest of the people. In a few minutes the loudspeaker announces the bus which is to be boarded. The girl moves a few paces towards the allotted bus when compelled by some curious quirk she decides to turn back, arc her shoulder most nonchalantly to beckon 'that young chap' with a gesture that would rob the saccharine of all sweetness. The average onlooker should have been forgiven for suspecting some prior porichoy amongst the two at this juncture. I suspect even the unsuspecting chappy for a moment decided to believe in the existence of such an invisible link and indulge in some harmless 'suspension of disbelief'. A careful cricket commentator who knows how the cookie crumbles in such situations might have said, " It looks a promising start......... but then upsets are never too far away at times like these." He just walked in a trance towards the bus. But, good Mobil and torn upholstery in state-run buses are useful ingredients to shake one out of any trance and under their heady influence he took a seat diagonal to the pretty lady in question. As soon as the bus started moving the very possibility of some fat, middle-aged bugger getting his 'lucky ride' this afternoon made the chappy act quickly. With startling alacrity he lunged onto the seat besides the girl. The girl already having engaged herself in the now national obsession of listening-to-FM-on-mobile-phone-while-travelling seemed a little surprised at first, later easing herself to the reassuring fact about 'lamps and flies'.


4 stoppages later the Gods cried "Action!" and action there was.

The smart chappy in an attempt to launch a charm-offensive of sorts decided to buy Ma'am a ticket ( not even waiting to ask where she would get off) while Ma'am was busy switching FM stations. Unaware of such an abrupt benevolence coming from unexpected quarters, when she herself wanted to buy a ticket she threw a fit. With a sudden deluge of Hindi and English which bordered on the fact that "Strangers don't buy strangers bus-tickets" the chappy woke up to the realisation that he didn't follow any of what was being said. With all sheepishness of a sheep in disguise of a man he only pleaded with his eyes and his outstretched hand ( that had the 10 rupee offered to him) that pretty-girl would take this as a gesture of good-will. But the weak-willed can never hope to garner any good-will. He had to relent in the face of relentless appeals by Miss Pretty-face.



All paona-gonda settled, the two looked at ease with the world, unaware of the curious onlookers travelling with them while I was having a hearty laugh (albeit muffled) at the fate of the failed advance.

Things people do to woo .

Ode to Those Eyes

As purposeless as my days are

Next only in hollowness

To some distant shrinking star

Whose solace is but loneliness

I boarded bus like everyday

Got greeted by a harrowed mob

A novice could have been at bay

But dodging was my daily job

Making enough room for feet

For humanhood I heaved my sighs

A day’s fortune seemed so complete

As I stumbled on ‘those eyes’.

With lofted arch in eyebrows both

That parted with a loving kiss

Had pride in them you love or loathe

But never something you could miss.

Those eyes as if were etched on stone

Slit at places God had deemed

Perfection would stay forlorn

If otherwise He intervened.

The black in them of sultry nights

That often kills the vital breath

Resplendent with blinding lights

That augurs well for solemn death.

Transfixed, transported to some place

By the invite in those eyes

An inkling of doubt did surface

As is case with well told lies.

What if it was all my mind

Playing little games to see

The beauty that my eyes could find

Was all the beauty left in me?

In this moment of my bliss

Gods need not have ceased to breathe

The bus in tow gave me a miss

I jumped off it all wise and blithe.

Kanha - VI

It was decided that we skip the morning tour. Avik was having a bout of terrible indigestion and acidity, and the rest of us were feeling 'simply too tired'. Taking out one hectic morning trip out of the itinerary would do a world of good to rejuvenate our minds and replenish our vigor which was not lost at all but starting to sag a bit. After all we haven't had a good long sleep from the time we stepped off the train. The night brought in sleep which was made more sweeter by the knowledge that the morning held no rigors. People could just be in bed till they felt hunger rumbling inside them and that's exactly what they did. It was well past 11 when everyone finally seemed to have taken leave of their respective sleep-hang-overs. The morning was spent soaking in the sight and light of the forest, in the green sofa on the big veranda outside the dormitory. One by one a variety of snacks and cream-biscuits made their way to the cane-table. And as swiftly as they came in, they vanished. Lazing around the adjoining areas, looking out for birds and deers, myself, Baeka and Dudu ventured out onto the road for more. A five-minutes walk down it and there we found a place which looked custom-made for hosting a filmi 'dancing around trees' routine. Yet, it had a order of serenity to it. I egged Baeka into the woods for a closer look-in. The shade of the imposing sals lent a sense of eerie solemnity to the surroundings. Everything was so quiet, so still. The silence was punctuated at unequal intervals by the melodious calls of an Indian roller, a variety of bird found in these parts Baeka would tell me. Then the thought of having our baths and lunch occurred and promptly our secret tryst with the forest interrupted. We made for our hostel and from a distance saw cheetals crossing the road to reach a water-hole. A Jackal was also visible from a distance on our way back. Suddenly, we were reminded that we weren't allowed to roam about in the forest on foot by a passing motorcyclist who waved his hand at us with visible consternation. He was pointing to us the way to our lodge.


Inside the hostel, not yet satisfied with his nocturnal exploits from exploring the magic of using a western toilet the Indian way Avik was betting that he could finish his bath within 8 minutes. The last person to put up his money on a proposition which had even the slightest hint of 'loss', Dudu was the epitome of confidence at such a proposal propping up. He was all for the bet. And like in most cases which concern cash or convenience he won. Avik had taken just over 16 minutes to have his kaak-snaan ( crow-dip) of a shower and he still looked drenched. Towelling would account for another 10 minutes at the least. The rest of us being 'average guys' took our average times under the shower and headed for the canteen. It was lunch-time again. That much awaited hour when we would again take pleasure in startling our audience and bamboozling our hosts, the M.P tourism people who had the courage of thinking of the idea of 'having your fill' and implement it. We were teaching them an unpleasant lesson. Bowls made a bee-line for our table and were left marauded in no time. Rice, chapati, sabji, rajmaa, raytaa. Nothing was spared. Nothing was left. Not even the inconspicuous salad. Strolling back to the hostel in all our rotund glory we stopped to 'smell the roses' a little. A little hour of purposeless wandering refreshing the mind, helping us unwind.

At our door-step was waiting a boy of our age. He was to share the dormitory with us for the coming two days. Getting a little conversation underway we learnt that his name was Chetan and he was a final year student of Architecture and had come here for doing some research on the Forest Dept. structures. Gradually as the eager hindi-speakers amongst us ( that would be myself, Baeka and Harry) made headway in befriending Chetan, clearing a bed off our luggage for him and inquiring about his academic course the reluctant Hindi-bhashis in Avik and Dudu made slow yet steady progress. It was so arranged that Chetan would accompany us on our evening-trip.

Work could wait for the next morning. We could already feel the positive vibes.

The evening trip was not too different from the previous evening trips owing to the fact that the gypsies were not allowed to travel far within the forest during the evening. Returning in time was a security issue in the jungle after sunset. The hazards of traveling inside the forest in total darkness was an avoidable anathema to us, considering the images ( or the lack of them) from our first night in the forest still fresh in our memories. The tiger-trail was quickly latched onto by the well co-ordinated guides and soon we were silent in anticipation of a tiger sighting. After waiting for quite some time with no reward we headed forward. I spotted a white vulture, perched atop a tree, looking contemplative with its gray feathers making for a royal gown. Surprisingly, our guide told us it was indeed called the 'King Vultute' and that it was extremely rare in these parts, battling extinction. Making a detour we came back to a spot where we could see a couple of gypsies eagerly awaiting the advent of a tiger. Suddenly, Avik and Dudu shouted out "sher, sher" in unison, the excitement in their voices rendered genuine by their volumes. Then as reason dawned, Avik whispered a husky, " Haa, haa..... wahaan pe sher thaa. Sher thaa. Chala gaya uss taraf." Dudu lent his voice of support to this assertion. Our guide and Baeka looked skeptical of the veracity of such a claim. Now, our car followed with another in tow in 'that' direction. Avik's blue-eyed 'English' beauty was on another car behind us, perhaps wary of her previous experience one would imagine. The tiger, as said by D & A combine, was heading towards the road when the sound of our approaching gypsy startled it and it made a prompt U-turn, only to disappear into the dense woods. I could not track it too.
Recovering from such a miss as a tiger-sighting the mood was a bit on the side of somberness for the rest of us. Avik had made good for his previous day's miss and was happy for it. Dudu was busy counting the exactitude of extracting 'value for money' from the two sightings 'only' he had had and glowing in its obvious sense of gain. Baeka peppered the guide with questions as to how life for them was inside the forest. What training they had received before getting inducted. What type of qualification was required for such a job. Etc etc and etc. The rest of us, especially Alu, worried that such queries were potential precursors to a voluntary van-vaas of a dear friend, were left speculating on the chances of such an unfortunate eventuality. Then as we were approaching the gate at the end of our trip, a single male Bison showed up in all its brute virility. It looked every bit the one-tonne demolition unit it is said to weigh, a fierce fighter and a symbol of massive strength and violence. While all of us were leaning over to have one glimpse of this shy monster, a piece of conversation stole into my ears and made our day. I could only clench my lips with my teeth to not let out a howl of a guffaw at that very moment. As I later narrated the 'little incident' to others people were rolling over the place with laughter, even the one at its receiving end, Baeka.

When everyone was busy accommodating the Bison within their camera frames, Alu had nimbly put a coupe de grace to all of Baeka's queries with a little chat with our guide ( Raju Yadav). He had said, "Iska sawaalon ka buraa mat maniyega, Bhaisaab......... picchli baar jab yeh Kanha ayaa thha...........tab tiger dekhtey waqt gypsy se girke isko dimaag mein chot ayaa thaa. tab se yeh har saal kanha ataa hain aur..........."

The guide had precluded all further narration with a wave of a hand and a sympathetic, " Haan, maalum chal raha hain. Magar, koi baat nahin, Sirji....... thoda jadi-booti de denge inke liye. roj pelaiyegaa..........bilkuul theek ho jayenge."


The rest, as they say, was history. A hilarious one at that.




to be continued...................................

Kanha-V

We raided the bowls and trays like starving tramps and soon the dishes were made to look washing a completely redundant exercise. Veg or non-veg did not matter now, not even to the most fervent followers of flesh-eating amongst us. The attendant at the canteen was amazed at the speed of our intake. If he was ever afraid of the Tiger's appetite we were surely giving him afterthoughts at this moment. All done and devoured it was time for some afternoon reflection. Lounging in the afternoon sun people around me were having their favorite pastime of choking me to death with 'that obnoxious smoke-machine' they call cigarette. Dodging this way and that I was trying to have a conversation with the troupe, but with little success. Plans and possibilities for the evening-trip into the forest were being discussed. All seemed eager to have another rendezvous with the Striped Beast. Soon it was 3 and now familiar with the system of affairs a little more we were less wide-eyed on entry. Two owls stayed perched inside the hole drilled into a old banyan tree, indifferent to the approaching cars. They had indeed adjusted well it seemed.

There is one thing amongst others which is remarkable about a forest. Feeling the forest is a completely different experience from under the shade than under the sun. Not only is the temperature drop stark and realizable it also provides a kaleidoscopic variety to a single frame of vision when viewed from different angles, at different times. The most absorbing aspect of this trip was becoming the sudden forays of evening radiance interleaved with climbing shadows of the sal. At one bend we saw a family of elephants, three adults and one infant. They seemed to be in a bit of hurry and our guide told us that they belonged to the forest department. Elephants were used to track and monitor the animals ( especially the tiger population) during the monsoon season when navigating the kuchha roads would become impossible.

A word of mention for our present guide here. A fair, strapping individual who seemed every bit the army-jawan type, dedicated to the cause of the forest, devoted to the contentment of the tourists under his charge. But, alas, our discovery was a total contradiction to such expectations.
He stopped our car and went all-ears for fifteen minutes at a stretch, perching on his seat, straining his ear muscles in anticipation of some otherwise humanly imperceptible signal, forbidding us to make any murmuring noise or even less. A tiger was on the prowl nearby, he would have us believe. Then, as if on a cue the monkeys on top of the trees bordering the dense thicket around us started calling out. This call was very different from their normal ones. These were the alarm-calls. Distinct, unmistakable and unfailing in their ability to inspire dread in any animal, even humans. The monkeys gave out such screeching alarm-calls when they would sight a tiger. And we were, if the instincts and calculations of the guide were to believed, some ten hands away from it. But then, nothing happened. Twenty minutes into the wait already and our guide and Rajenbhai seemed stuck on the issue if to move forward or stay waiting for the tiger to make an appearance. The alarm-calls had since long stopped. Helping the course of decision I suggested we move forward. "Agar naseeb mein hain to dikh jayegaa", were my exact wordings. This proposal met with nods of approval and we moved away, to a new location. Little did I know then that this innocuous statement of mine would come back to haunt me later. On our way we intercepted a bunch of wild-boars crossing the road. Shy yet every bit enthusiastic to show us their wares, some even came out of the bushes. They were very short and dark, but looked stocky and ferocious. One wild-boar in its natural surroundings could give even a tiger a tough time, we were told.
Half-an-hour or so passed. Coming to a crossroad we could see one gypsy waiting in anticipation of a tiger. The foreigners in that car were as laconic as their guide was garrulous. Avik, not the one to curb his communication skills even in this haunting wilderness, seemed to have found the perfect audience to his antics in them, a blue-eyed girl. "From which country?" was his inaugural query. "England" being the polite succinctness in her tongue it failed miserably to curb further inquests from the other direction. "First time in India? On vacation? Enjoying your trip to ?" were next in store for the unsuspecting soul. She mumbled and nodded to show that she approved of our country very much, but the swiftness of her departure/escape showed that her belief in the semi-literate desi was amply shaken. Whether she recovered or not we will never know. In the mean-time gypsies arriving from the spot we left after waiting for twenty minutes reported that they had spotted a tiger there. And quick to sense the danger in the air as had been taught to him from his childhood perhaps ( though there weren't any that we were posing him) our army-jawan did a volte face. And believe me, he was quite good at it. He squarely put the blame on me for having missed the tiger. That I had allayed his confused state with my philosophical one-liner was lost on him now. He even rued having left that spot at all. My amazement making way for mild amusement could not garner a suitable response from within. Perhaps we were too tired for it. I even complied with him that we had "missed the tiger. Blame be on me."


Tired we were. After the evening-tea was arranged to be delivered to our door-step ( thanks to the immaculate theatrics of Alekhya feigning someone amongst us was 'really beemar' and hence room-service a necessity) life comprised mainly of waiting for the dinner. A little bolder after the previous night, Baeka showed us groups of tens of cheetals thronging the adjoining field under the cover of the night on our way to the canteen. As the torch-light met them in their eyes, some ran away, some stayed on, petrified. Another sumptuous dinner purged off the plates we couldn't wait to watch the stars today. A pity i.e. Everyone was dog-tired. Back in the dormitory, Avik was complaining of an upset tummy, deprived of rest or any time to acclimatize. In the current light of things ( the upset tummy of course ) the feasibility of conducting a morning-trip next day was being discussed. One could gauge all was not right with his war-hog-like digesting capabilities which seldom failed to deliver. Then suddenly, when everyone thought Avik was reclined to relieve himself of his 'present worries', he came rushing out from the toilet. He seemed excited about something, something he had never believed he could do and yet had finally accomplished with much effort and pain. A cherubic smile complicit with a look of astonishment told us of its 'novelty-quotient'. And believe me, we were not at all off-mark on this.




This is what greeted our eyes and revulsed our senses:
.
.
.
.




Avik had done it.






to be continued.................................