Thinkin about "YOU"
has become
A "vital life saving" process....
The moment I stop the "Think"
It starts to "Sink"
And then your "Thought"
Comes as a "coast guard"
Offering an "Angel's Hand"
And bringing me out of
The "WHIRLPOOL OF SILENCE"
Vikram Malhotra
Wednesday 2:30 AM
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
THE INCOMPLETE….
She was walking alone…the dry leaves rustled. It was getting dark, as though every step she was taking was towards darkness…more darkness. There was an eerie feeling in the air…exactly what she had felt some five years ago…
…A railway station, lots of people, the hustle-bustle and the descending night…yet there was a sense of security. Dad was by her side, guiding through the way. They were going somewhere for a month. Then… there was a flood of people oozing out of the train…then chaos…voices shouting at a deafening volume…then…as though the flood had carried away Dad. She looked around. She ran. She shouted out. A glimpse of Dad...across the platform.Oh yes! …I’ve found him…and suddenly as though Death had blown its trumpet. The train moved. She was loosing sight…couldn’t see Dad. The train moved on and on and on…it was just not coming to an end! Tears welled up in her eyes. She doesn’t want to loose Dad.
Dad! She cried out.
Dad…but he won’t listen.
DA..D! And this time he turned back…there eyes met…as if it was the last moment…and then Death blew its trumpet harder this time…only to wake her from this freaky dream. The alarm was screeching… It was time to go to school. The dream kept coming back to her again and again at all odd hour’s leaving her with a sense of disgust at her sick imagination. But she never told anyone about the dream. It’s just a dream after all…and it soon got dissolved in her daily routine of schooling and exams.
Life came to a sudden halt when Dad died. Everything was happening too fast. But one thing that had stuck like an empty void in time was the dream…now it haunted her. It was exactly a month back that she had that weird dream. Now that she had realized this it made her feel worse. Was she responsible? She? Daddy’s darling baby. She wanted to cry…Oh daddy…! But time isn’t that giving. The few tears that had welled up in her eyes could never rain down to wash away that pain. They stayed there…forever…not letting the wounds heal…
She grew older than her age. The innocence lost somewhere in the midst of the harsh realities and …her dreams. Dreams…which foretold everything. From friends to family…hard times and success. Trust, betrayal. Taste of failure, pain illness, disease, death…everything…
But no one believed! ‘You have started reading a lot of novels’ they told her…and she remained silent…
Gift or a curse? She could never decide. It was like drinking from the CUP…THE CHALICE…Painful, yet a unique gift from God himself. The gift of dreams. But the clock ticked life away…and she knew it. Life-in-death.
All of a sudden immense light blinded her…and as she lay in a pool of blood she realized she had been hit by a car. She was still alone…The dry leaves rustle no more…everything was still…No air…No life…Only she and her last few breaths caught Life-in-death…A faint smile crept up her dying face…She always knew this was to be her fate…Her dream had told her this a long back. Gift or a curse? She still can’t decide. No one will come to her rescue .She knew it. Today is the day!
I have to go …she thought. Death came slowly…She lay there as if her own life had hit her…in flash backs.
Childhood flew right in front of hr eyes…friends, family, good times, bad times, dreams…and Dad!
‘Dad?’ A pained smile drew across her dying face once again. She felt him…very near to her. She saw him…he was there…Arms wide open…ready to hug her …the same way he use to do when he was alive. Now I am secure…she thought. She smiled…almost laughed…and for the first time her dead eyes were alive…and for the first time a tear rolled down from her eyes…finally unleashing everything…
Dead desires, pains, killed emotions, innocent smiles and …her soul!
The body was recovered and the police is still trying to solve this mystery of the hit and run case in a NO VEHICLE ZONE. But they will never find…she even knew this. Number of odd things like a broken pen supposed to be gifted by Dad, a small pencil, a broken key ring, cards, dry flowers ,leaves, a wrist watch with no straps and dials and a lot more was found when her belongings were being taken care of at home. Amongst all these were her dairies…her only possessions which her family thought to be a mirror to her life.
Her dairies were read. She had mentioned all her dreams…there meanings and there connections with the incidents happening around her every day. But still no one could ever know her completely. Even her dairies couldn’t reveal her mysterious side for she never completed her sentences. Half a sentence and then the dots…
It is said that she was an ordinary girl with an extra ordinary gift…the gift of dreams. A girl who lived to die daily…and died to finally live freely.
Apart from her incomplete life, all she left in her dairy was this piece which was written a few hours before she died.
I lived and I died everyday as I saw what the future holds,
I locked it all in my heart under the weak emotional bolts…
I will die, to live a life which can never be told,
Yet you will find an incomplete ‘ME’ in this dairy’s every fold…
As I came, so shall I go…
Unravished by human understanding and power,
And all you will see shining up there will be PENTACLE…The star……!
…A railway station, lots of people, the hustle-bustle and the descending night…yet there was a sense of security. Dad was by her side, guiding through the way. They were going somewhere for a month. Then… there was a flood of people oozing out of the train…then chaos…voices shouting at a deafening volume…then…as though the flood had carried away Dad. She looked around. She ran. She shouted out. A glimpse of Dad...across the platform.Oh yes! …I’ve found him…and suddenly as though Death had blown its trumpet. The train moved. She was loosing sight…couldn’t see Dad. The train moved on and on and on…it was just not coming to an end! Tears welled up in her eyes. She doesn’t want to loose Dad.
Dad! She cried out.
Dad…but he won’t listen.
DA..D! And this time he turned back…there eyes met…as if it was the last moment…and then Death blew its trumpet harder this time…only to wake her from this freaky dream. The alarm was screeching… It was time to go to school. The dream kept coming back to her again and again at all odd hour’s leaving her with a sense of disgust at her sick imagination. But she never told anyone about the dream. It’s just a dream after all…and it soon got dissolved in her daily routine of schooling and exams.
Life came to a sudden halt when Dad died. Everything was happening too fast. But one thing that had stuck like an empty void in time was the dream…now it haunted her. It was exactly a month back that she had that weird dream. Now that she had realized this it made her feel worse. Was she responsible? She? Daddy’s darling baby. She wanted to cry…Oh daddy…! But time isn’t that giving. The few tears that had welled up in her eyes could never rain down to wash away that pain. They stayed there…forever…not letting the wounds heal…
She grew older than her age. The innocence lost somewhere in the midst of the harsh realities and …her dreams. Dreams…which foretold everything. From friends to family…hard times and success. Trust, betrayal. Taste of failure, pain illness, disease, death…everything…
But no one believed! ‘You have started reading a lot of novels’ they told her…and she remained silent…
Gift or a curse? She could never decide. It was like drinking from the CUP…THE CHALICE…Painful, yet a unique gift from God himself. The gift of dreams. But the clock ticked life away…and she knew it. Life-in-death.
All of a sudden immense light blinded her…and as she lay in a pool of blood she realized she had been hit by a car. She was still alone…The dry leaves rustle no more…everything was still…No air…No life…Only she and her last few breaths caught Life-in-death…A faint smile crept up her dying face…She always knew this was to be her fate…Her dream had told her this a long back. Gift or a curse? She still can’t decide. No one will come to her rescue .She knew it. Today is the day!
I have to go …she thought. Death came slowly…She lay there as if her own life had hit her…in flash backs.
Childhood flew right in front of hr eyes…friends, family, good times, bad times, dreams…and Dad!
‘Dad?’ A pained smile drew across her dying face once again. She felt him…very near to her. She saw him…he was there…Arms wide open…ready to hug her …the same way he use to do when he was alive. Now I am secure…she thought. She smiled…almost laughed…and for the first time her dead eyes were alive…and for the first time a tear rolled down from her eyes…finally unleashing everything…
Dead desires, pains, killed emotions, innocent smiles and …her soul!
The body was recovered and the police is still trying to solve this mystery of the hit and run case in a NO VEHICLE ZONE. But they will never find…she even knew this. Number of odd things like a broken pen supposed to be gifted by Dad, a small pencil, a broken key ring, cards, dry flowers ,leaves, a wrist watch with no straps and dials and a lot more was found when her belongings were being taken care of at home. Amongst all these were her dairies…her only possessions which her family thought to be a mirror to her life.
Her dairies were read. She had mentioned all her dreams…there meanings and there connections with the incidents happening around her every day. But still no one could ever know her completely. Even her dairies couldn’t reveal her mysterious side for she never completed her sentences. Half a sentence and then the dots…
It is said that she was an ordinary girl with an extra ordinary gift…the gift of dreams. A girl who lived to die daily…and died to finally live freely.
Apart from her incomplete life, all she left in her dairy was this piece which was written a few hours before she died.
I lived and I died everyday as I saw what the future holds,
I locked it all in my heart under the weak emotional bolts…
I will die, to live a life which can never be told,
Yet you will find an incomplete ‘ME’ in this dairy’s every fold…
As I came, so shall I go…
Unravished by human understanding and power,
And all you will see shining up there will be PENTACLE…The star……!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Lost ma childhood!!!
Sadness and Darkness are now synonymous........
And i spend my time sleeping
In d dark
As d light is nowhere.
Since happiness iz lost somwhere.
Somewhere........
where i lost my childhood !!!
And i spend my time sleeping
In d dark
As d light is nowhere.
Since happiness iz lost somwhere.
Somewhere........
where i lost my childhood !!!
BIFID
When i think
A life without YOU.
A life
SIMPLE yet so STRUGGLING
LIVING yet so PERISHING
REVELING yet so WEEPING
A life with a smile,
but unrenderedto my soul and eyes
A life full of friends,
but still my sorrows have no end.
No comfort i'll have and a sound sleep i'll always nag.
No relieving words to cheer me.
No warm embrace to keep me.
No CARING care.
No ARDENT love.
I'll be a PERSON yet so SOULLESS.
A SUNNY day yet so MOONLESS.
A FULLNESS yet so EMPTYNESS.
All pretending but hollow inside.
A LIFE WITHOUT "YOU"
will be nothing but just a
BIFID
A life without YOU.
A life
SIMPLE yet so STRUGGLING
LIVING yet so PERISHING
REVELING yet so WEEPING
A life with a smile,
but unrenderedto my soul and eyes
A life full of friends,
but still my sorrows have no end.
No comfort i'll have and a sound sleep i'll always nag.
No relieving words to cheer me.
No warm embrace to keep me.
No CARING care.
No ARDENT love.
I'll be a PERSON yet so SOULLESS.
A SUNNY day yet so MOONLESS.
A FULLNESS yet so EMPTYNESS.
All pretending but hollow inside.
A LIFE WITHOUT "YOU"
will be nothing but just a
BIFID
Your wine eyes match the drink in your glass,
D wine & shirt matches.
The tough look on your face
And your wild hair!
It seems your shirt took the color of your bleeding heart............
Your bleeding heart.
Now contained neatly in a wine glass!
I see you are alone
On your own.
And there are brick walls, too!!
But the brick walls dont speak!]
Or do they... speak to you???
The puff of smoke dances on your lips,
You slowly breathe it in.
You're breathing these days,
it seems to me.
Almost in afterthoughts.
Enchanting
Leprechaun.......
Playing tricks on me.
I am the trace
of the fear
that escaped your eye.
And travelled across your desert face.
And washed ashore on the corner of your mouth
Just in time
to catch
the prayer on
your lips....!
D wine & shirt matches.
The tough look on your face
And your wild hair!
It seems your shirt took the color of your bleeding heart............
Your bleeding heart.
Now contained neatly in a wine glass!
I see you are alone
On your own.
And there are brick walls, too!!
But the brick walls dont speak!]
Or do they... speak to you???
The puff of smoke dances on your lips,
You slowly breathe it in.
You're breathing these days,
it seems to me.
Almost in afterthoughts.
Enchanting
Leprechaun.......
Playing tricks on me.
I am the trace
of the fear
that escaped your eye.
And travelled across your desert face.
And washed ashore on the corner of your mouth
Just in time
to catch
the prayer on
your lips....!
TO REMEMBER ME
The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital busily occupied with the living and dying.
At a certain moment, a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that for all intents and purposes,
MY LIFE HAS STOPPED
when that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine, & don't call this my DEATH BED, let it be called the BED OF LIFE & let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
Give my sight to a man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.
Give my heart to a person whose own heart has been causing nothing but an endless day of pain.
Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren PLAY.
Give my kidneys to the onewho depends on a machine to exist from week to week.
Take my bones, every muscle, every fibre and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.
Explore every corner of my brain, take my cells, if necessary, & let them grow so that some day, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat & a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.
Burn what is left of me & scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.
If you must bury something, let it be my faults, weaknesses and all the prejudice, my dear friend.
Give my sins to the devil!
Give my SOUL to the GOD!
If by chance
you wish
TO REMEMBER ME,
do it with a kind deed or word to someone, who needs you!
IF YOU DO
ALL I HAVE ASKED
I WILL LIVE FOREVER!
At a certain moment, a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that for all intents and purposes,
MY LIFE HAS STOPPED
when that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine, & don't call this my DEATH BED, let it be called the BED OF LIFE & let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
Give my sight to a man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.
Give my heart to a person whose own heart has been causing nothing but an endless day of pain.
Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren PLAY.
Give my kidneys to the onewho depends on a machine to exist from week to week.
Take my bones, every muscle, every fibre and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.
Explore every corner of my brain, take my cells, if necessary, & let them grow so that some day, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat & a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.
Burn what is left of me & scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.
If you must bury something, let it be my faults, weaknesses and all the prejudice, my dear friend.
Give my sins to the devil!
Give my SOUL to the GOD!
If by chance
you wish
TO REMEMBER ME,
do it with a kind deed or word to someone, who needs you!
IF YOU DO
ALL I HAVE ASKED
I WILL LIVE FOREVER!
“Main? Bus driver hoon ji...”this was what I got as a reply when I asked the driver who he was. Strange, isn’t it? Because generally when asked who we are, we immediately tell our name to identify ourselves. His reply caught my attention .I wanted to know more. So I started questioning him----
‘Jeevandas’, a man in his late thirties, stout and sturdy just like any other man around ,but...still he carried around him a strange aura. A ting of mystery.
Not enough...I have to know more I said to myself. I tried my luck and asked about his family and this time I get a stern look...as if I was trespassing privacy...I saw he did not like it. No one would actually...!But I tried again telling him I was from the media and I got a sullen answer—wife and a Girl child, Arzoo, old parents and a sister old enough to get married. Quite to the point answer. No. I thought...he could tell me more. But I decided to respect silence for a while and let him concentrate on his driving and his life which I had just maelstormed.I glanced a look or two at him every now and then...too unaffected, I thought. Huh! No use! I can never make this stone talk! I glanced at him for the last time, cursing him under my breath! I started thinking for some other story. It was sunset. What a coincidence I thought! Even my job would get a sunset if I did not get a story for my boss. My job was at stake. I could be fired!
I stared at the setting sun...too disheartened.
“Pandrah ghante ki duty hove hai...ke karoon clutch, break, gear.sadak...bus yehi dikhe hai...yehi zindagi hai. Kabhi kabhi toh lage hai jaise main bus ko nai bus mujhe chalave hai...”and he laughed a laughter hidden with lost hopes and crushed desires. But who cared. I was astounded.Great! Finally, I have something for the news column won’t be fired! I rummaged my bag for a pen and paper excited about the story and my bonus awaiting me.
So you work for a newspaper. He asked me in his haryanvi-Hindi. I nodded and in my short hand, I quickly wrote what he had said earlier.
-15hrs duty-life revolves around break and the road-in short he
THE DRIVEN
Thereafter he told me what I asked, very obediently like a school kid answering his teacher, honestly.I kept juggling from listening haryanvi to translating it to sane English as he said....
It is a fifteen hours duty madamji.One route if it is a long route duty and four to five route if it is a short route duty. The only holiday for me is a Sunday that too depends on my boss.Ke kare? Main contract basis pe hoon na ji...sab kuch maanana pade hai...what to do? What to do? I am on contract basis...I have to agree to whatever they say.
And then a long pause...
The contract is for eight years .He began. After eight years if they are kind enough I will stay or else search for a new job. For next eight years, I will have to live with the salary of 2000rs per month and 2% commission; it is hardly 3500rs in all. Penteesaw (3500rs) mein kuch bhi nahi bane hai madam ji...
Yet another pause. I waited for him to speak again. But he was dazed, lost in his own thoughts. I had no time for sentiments. My quest for money had killed them a long time back.
I moved on with my next question. I loved traveling, so do most of the people...so I even asked him.
Main toh bahut ghooma hoon ji. (I have traveled a lot.) From himachal to Delhi and haridvar and all of Uttar Pradesh...I have seen it all...all the raods, streets, buildings...everything...
Par ab main thank chukka hoon... (But now...I am tired...)
...and then his voice choked...I could see him fighting back his emotions. His eyes strained .I stopped writing.
He glanced a look at me, then again got back to the long black stretch. I was touched. I wanted to ask if he was fine. But I did not. I felt ashamed. I had forced him to stand face-to-face with reality. Crude and raw.
He began again, in a much sobered tone this time.
“To be a driver you need to be a tenth pass but I am a graduate. I wanted to be a teacher you know...commerce...I wanted to be a commerce teacher...” He said, smiling, as if he was recapitulating the theories and the formulae’s of commerce...” even sat for the government teacher exams and cleared it with very good marks. But I could not get through the interview...” His voice saddened.
“Pahunch nai thi na madam ji...gorment opposition ki thi...” (I did not have the approach after all...the opposition government was in rule.)
“Huh!” He sighed..., as he took a break, thinking why it happened to him.
“Yeh saali gorment...” (This bloody government!) His expression was that of disgust and loath. I guess he wanted to abuse more, vent out his anger but did not because he was talking to a young girl...
“Then what ...because of some family circumstances I sat for this job’s exam...praying that I won’t clear it even this time... par saali ,bhen**** kismet bhi toh aisi hai...maine isi mein select hona tha...bus tab se aaj tak isi seat se chipka hoon!”
Suddenly the bus screeched to a halt. I realized it was my bus stop...I shifted from my seat keeping the pen and paper in my bag to get down when he said... “My life has also become just like a bus stop...no fixed timings, no security, only toiling hard...each day like a bus, a new route...a new destination...unknown ...unwelcomed...” The bus moved for the next stop...I was still there... “Kabhi teen baje, toh kabhi raat k eek baje...koi timing nai hai...jab shift lagti hai, uthta hoon aur chal padhta hoon... gareeb hai na ji...gorment ne kaha hamari sunanni hai... over routing se itna beemar hote hai hum log...” His tone changed, he was becoming the representative of the whole clan of his fellow drivers and conductors now.
‘Mostly we route from a cold area to a hot area or vice versa. This frequent whether change affects our health too much. We are not even provided with facilities for night stays during the night routes...” He stopped...He was a bit calm now, composed yet a little irritated by his helplessness about all of this. He said nothing more...All I asked was, “Then?”
“Fir kya madam ji...gaadi mein he sote hai...garmi, sardi, barsaat...koi farak nahi padhta.pucce ho gaye hai...gaadi ki tarah.” And then he laughs...Now he was feeling much better, because he had a more cheerful tone, he would often smile and laugh more. And despite a big age difference, we had become friends for the journey. Even though we were total strangers for one another...!
“I have now been driving for ten to fifteen years, but I have never seen a savari (passenger) like you. Passengers are mostly rude and they treat us like next to nothing. The ones who are good hardly care about us, they are too busy with their own lives you see. Nobody actually sees what we go through everyday. Koi nahi dekhta...gorment bhi jhoothe vaade karti hai ji...hum log ki toh koi sunta he nahi...I have only one complaint madam ji...That politics not only governs us but it also controls our lives and our fate.”
When I asked, why he and the others never raise a protest or object to this, he simply said... “Gorment se kaun lade madam ji...voh bhi jab uske paas gundagardi ka license ho! We have protested a lot madam ji...now we are use to all this...par haar nahi mani hai madam ji...I just hang on to whatever ray of hope I see... After all I have responsibilities...I am a father. And I do not want my daughter to be ashamed of me...I do not want to be a looser in her eyes. That is why I am still living...TO FIGHT YET ANOTHET DAY!” I was amazed at the amount of wisdom and open mindedness of this man...whom I thought to be JUST a driver. I was assured that his daughter had a good future... life was his teacher and he would be the best teacher to his daughter...
It was the last stop for the day...the bus finally came to a halt...so did our conversation. Suddenly I was able to detach myself from everyone else in the bus and view the passengers from JEEVANDAS’ eyes. A sudden peace fell over me. Every thing else faded out. I looked at him. Really...he was ‘JEEVANDAS’----THE LIFE SERVER...I smiled at him...not knowing what to say I just said “Aap bahut ache hai...real life teacher hai.Please do tell me if I can help you in anyway.” He paused for a while, smiling at me, may be comparing my young age to the harsh realities of life...and then he said, “As my passenger, I don’t want any favours from you...I will manage my life even as a driver...But yes...now that you have honoured me as a teacher, I can only advice you... ya fir yeh keh lo ki guru dakshina maang raha hoon...”
And then he continued with a teacher like voice... “Respect power and authority, but always stand by truth. after all life is not only about earning and spending lavishly...its about having some principles and sticking to them...even if everything else in the world comes down to pieces... Haina bete ji?” And he placed his hand on my head and blessing me, he said... “Unchayion ko chuon bete ji... asmaano main udo... par paon hamesha zameen pe rakho... hamesha zameen pe rakho...”
He walked off... I stood there for a long while seeing JEEVANDAS, walking down joyously with a smiling face towards what he loaths the most...the reporting office...the political gundas...and then he disappeared among the crowd of drivers...
My eyes were moist...both with happiness and for the sad state of so many people’s lives. I took another bus and hurried toward my office compiling the story on my way. I put the story on my boss’ desk...not with the hope of getting my bonus (that had died way back when JEEVANDAS’ hope in life had reborn because of me...) but with the hope that may be this little story would haul up authorities in some way or the other...
I still try to haul up the authorities... It has been a year now... it is my birthday today...and as I drive down towards the peaceful lake to have a few quite moments to myself at the days end after all the fun and party...i remember him...JEEVANDAS...
My friend and my guru for life...who gave me a beautiful and eternal; gift last year...
The gift ...the way leading to a real life!
And this gift rejuvenates every time I learn something new about life ...Now I gaze at the setting sun...cheerfully this time...wishing that may my gurus life always have a brighter sunrise after each sunset...!
‘Jeevandas’, a man in his late thirties, stout and sturdy just like any other man around ,but...still he carried around him a strange aura. A ting of mystery.
Not enough...I have to know more I said to myself. I tried my luck and asked about his family and this time I get a stern look...as if I was trespassing privacy...I saw he did not like it. No one would actually...!But I tried again telling him I was from the media and I got a sullen answer—wife and a Girl child, Arzoo, old parents and a sister old enough to get married. Quite to the point answer. No. I thought...he could tell me more. But I decided to respect silence for a while and let him concentrate on his driving and his life which I had just maelstormed.I glanced a look or two at him every now and then...too unaffected, I thought. Huh! No use! I can never make this stone talk! I glanced at him for the last time, cursing him under my breath! I started thinking for some other story. It was sunset. What a coincidence I thought! Even my job would get a sunset if I did not get a story for my boss. My job was at stake. I could be fired!
I stared at the setting sun...too disheartened.
“Pandrah ghante ki duty hove hai...ke karoon clutch, break, gear.sadak...bus yehi dikhe hai...yehi zindagi hai. Kabhi kabhi toh lage hai jaise main bus ko nai bus mujhe chalave hai...”and he laughed a laughter hidden with lost hopes and crushed desires. But who cared. I was astounded.Great! Finally, I have something for the news column won’t be fired! I rummaged my bag for a pen and paper excited about the story and my bonus awaiting me.
So you work for a newspaper. He asked me in his haryanvi-Hindi. I nodded and in my short hand, I quickly wrote what he had said earlier.
-15hrs duty-life revolves around break and the road-in short he
THE DRIVEN
Thereafter he told me what I asked, very obediently like a school kid answering his teacher, honestly.I kept juggling from listening haryanvi to translating it to sane English as he said....
It is a fifteen hours duty madamji.One route if it is a long route duty and four to five route if it is a short route duty. The only holiday for me is a Sunday that too depends on my boss.Ke kare? Main contract basis pe hoon na ji...sab kuch maanana pade hai...what to do? What to do? I am on contract basis...I have to agree to whatever they say.
And then a long pause...
The contract is for eight years .He began. After eight years if they are kind enough I will stay or else search for a new job. For next eight years, I will have to live with the salary of 2000rs per month and 2% commission; it is hardly 3500rs in all. Penteesaw (3500rs) mein kuch bhi nahi bane hai madam ji...
Yet another pause. I waited for him to speak again. But he was dazed, lost in his own thoughts. I had no time for sentiments. My quest for money had killed them a long time back.
I moved on with my next question. I loved traveling, so do most of the people...so I even asked him.
Main toh bahut ghooma hoon ji. (I have traveled a lot.) From himachal to Delhi and haridvar and all of Uttar Pradesh...I have seen it all...all the raods, streets, buildings...everything...
Par ab main thank chukka hoon... (But now...I am tired...)
...and then his voice choked...I could see him fighting back his emotions. His eyes strained .I stopped writing.
He glanced a look at me, then again got back to the long black stretch. I was touched. I wanted to ask if he was fine. But I did not. I felt ashamed. I had forced him to stand face-to-face with reality. Crude and raw.
He began again, in a much sobered tone this time.
“To be a driver you need to be a tenth pass but I am a graduate. I wanted to be a teacher you know...commerce...I wanted to be a commerce teacher...” He said, smiling, as if he was recapitulating the theories and the formulae’s of commerce...” even sat for the government teacher exams and cleared it with very good marks. But I could not get through the interview...” His voice saddened.
“Pahunch nai thi na madam ji...gorment opposition ki thi...” (I did not have the approach after all...the opposition government was in rule.)
“Huh!” He sighed..., as he took a break, thinking why it happened to him.
“Yeh saali gorment...” (This bloody government!) His expression was that of disgust and loath. I guess he wanted to abuse more, vent out his anger but did not because he was talking to a young girl...
“Then what ...because of some family circumstances I sat for this job’s exam...praying that I won’t clear it even this time... par saali ,bhen**** kismet bhi toh aisi hai...maine isi mein select hona tha...bus tab se aaj tak isi seat se chipka hoon!”
Suddenly the bus screeched to a halt. I realized it was my bus stop...I shifted from my seat keeping the pen and paper in my bag to get down when he said... “My life has also become just like a bus stop...no fixed timings, no security, only toiling hard...each day like a bus, a new route...a new destination...unknown ...unwelcomed...” The bus moved for the next stop...I was still there... “Kabhi teen baje, toh kabhi raat k eek baje...koi timing nai hai...jab shift lagti hai, uthta hoon aur chal padhta hoon... gareeb hai na ji...gorment ne kaha hamari sunanni hai... over routing se itna beemar hote hai hum log...” His tone changed, he was becoming the representative of the whole clan of his fellow drivers and conductors now.
‘Mostly we route from a cold area to a hot area or vice versa. This frequent whether change affects our health too much. We are not even provided with facilities for night stays during the night routes...” He stopped...He was a bit calm now, composed yet a little irritated by his helplessness about all of this. He said nothing more...All I asked was, “Then?”
“Fir kya madam ji...gaadi mein he sote hai...garmi, sardi, barsaat...koi farak nahi padhta.pucce ho gaye hai...gaadi ki tarah.” And then he laughs...Now he was feeling much better, because he had a more cheerful tone, he would often smile and laugh more. And despite a big age difference, we had become friends for the journey. Even though we were total strangers for one another...!
“I have now been driving for ten to fifteen years, but I have never seen a savari (passenger) like you. Passengers are mostly rude and they treat us like next to nothing. The ones who are good hardly care about us, they are too busy with their own lives you see. Nobody actually sees what we go through everyday. Koi nahi dekhta...gorment bhi jhoothe vaade karti hai ji...hum log ki toh koi sunta he nahi...I have only one complaint madam ji...That politics not only governs us but it also controls our lives and our fate.”
When I asked, why he and the others never raise a protest or object to this, he simply said... “Gorment se kaun lade madam ji...voh bhi jab uske paas gundagardi ka license ho! We have protested a lot madam ji...now we are use to all this...par haar nahi mani hai madam ji...I just hang on to whatever ray of hope I see... After all I have responsibilities...I am a father. And I do not want my daughter to be ashamed of me...I do not want to be a looser in her eyes. That is why I am still living...TO FIGHT YET ANOTHET DAY!” I was amazed at the amount of wisdom and open mindedness of this man...whom I thought to be JUST a driver. I was assured that his daughter had a good future... life was his teacher and he would be the best teacher to his daughter...
It was the last stop for the day...the bus finally came to a halt...so did our conversation. Suddenly I was able to detach myself from everyone else in the bus and view the passengers from JEEVANDAS’ eyes. A sudden peace fell over me. Every thing else faded out. I looked at him. Really...he was ‘JEEVANDAS’----THE LIFE SERVER...I smiled at him...not knowing what to say I just said “Aap bahut ache hai...real life teacher hai.Please do tell me if I can help you in anyway.” He paused for a while, smiling at me, may be comparing my young age to the harsh realities of life...and then he said, “As my passenger, I don’t want any favours from you...I will manage my life even as a driver...But yes...now that you have honoured me as a teacher, I can only advice you... ya fir yeh keh lo ki guru dakshina maang raha hoon...”
And then he continued with a teacher like voice... “Respect power and authority, but always stand by truth. after all life is not only about earning and spending lavishly...its about having some principles and sticking to them...even if everything else in the world comes down to pieces... Haina bete ji?” And he placed his hand on my head and blessing me, he said... “Unchayion ko chuon bete ji... asmaano main udo... par paon hamesha zameen pe rakho... hamesha zameen pe rakho...”
He walked off... I stood there for a long while seeing JEEVANDAS, walking down joyously with a smiling face towards what he loaths the most...the reporting office...the political gundas...and then he disappeared among the crowd of drivers...
My eyes were moist...both with happiness and for the sad state of so many people’s lives. I took another bus and hurried toward my office compiling the story on my way. I put the story on my boss’ desk...not with the hope of getting my bonus (that had died way back when JEEVANDAS’ hope in life had reborn because of me...) but with the hope that may be this little story would haul up authorities in some way or the other...
I still try to haul up the authorities... It has been a year now... it is my birthday today...and as I drive down towards the peaceful lake to have a few quite moments to myself at the days end after all the fun and party...i remember him...JEEVANDAS...
My friend and my guru for life...who gave me a beautiful and eternal; gift last year...
The gift ...the way leading to a real life!
And this gift rejuvenates every time I learn something new about life ...Now I gaze at the setting sun...cheerfully this time...wishing that may my gurus life always have a brighter sunrise after each sunset...!
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