On a sunny valley,
green trees on the mountain belly
and two thousand and one flowers of different colours...
The smell of hay and honeysuckle
make my mind buckle.
I see a hut on the mountain top,
maybe that's where Lucy Grey stops
Outside a stone seat surrounded by rustling firs
Goats grazing contendly as of time has stopped-
and a steam gushes down with ice melting atop
The ice gleams in the sun and the lake nearby sparkles
With deep blue calm waters
So clear that I can see the multicoloured granite bed
With shades of black
as if it were made of lead
I see a cowboy lying still, enjoying the perfect weather
He might have been a tree rather
Not a cloud in the sky
and snatches of wind
The only sound I hear is of birds gay with spring.
And the rythm of woodman's axe or the musical waters
I would'nt bother if my life were a few days less
if it offers me days like this
Days that I call
Perfect Bliss
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Travel Companion
"You remind me of someone, someone I used to know ", she said. The moment the sentence slipped out she looked uncomfortable with the mistake, realizing that it was said to a perfect stranger with whom she hadn’t shared a single nod, forget about smiles and words. The gentleman on the opposite berth was equally startled at the sound of her voice, even though he knew that she had been staring at him or through him. He had, tried to stare back, but the lady had looked lost in a trance. He had not thought it right to speak to her and with his gestures had tried to ask her if she wanted anything. But then, it had not worked. After a while he had grown tired and went back to his book, holding it in such a way so that he could see her and she could see him and yet his mind could focus, could remain on the words he was reading while his eyes kept a close watch on her.
The book had slipped out of his hand at her statement and had fallen on the floor. Both of them bent down to pick it and then when their heads were about to meet she withdrew back, sitting upright again. He picked up the book, brushed it and again looked back at the woman. She looked confused now, and he realized that she had spoken more to herself than to him. She certainly looked normal and not in any kind of trauma. Yet her eyes had that faraway expression that made him wonder what was on her mind. He could not make his mind as to whether it was polite to ask her or to ignore it since he didn’t want to embarrass her. But then before he could react, she said "I am sorry, hope you don’t mind my words- I didn’t mean to startle you" He calmed her down and simply asked "Would you want to have some tea? I am going to have one," Saying this he waved at the chaiwallah who was standing 3 compartments away. She nodded in positive and proceeded to take out some change from her purse.
He studied her. She didn’t look more than 28 and didn’t look like anyone from his past and yet something about her stuck him familiar. He could see that, she was a strong woman who wouldn’t be out of her elements like she was right now over a small matter. Obviously his face had evoked some painful memories to put this tall elegant yet young lady. On one hand he felt guilty and on the other he felt good about himself. After all, he was 46 and still managed to make an impression with his scholarly looks, the French beard and the slight mischief that resided in the corner of his eyes, distinguishing him as a true gentleman as against the more book worm type creatures.
Tea in hand, they started talking. She looked more calm now, the paleness no longer there. The flow of conversation was easy, the awkwardness on her initial sentence, washed away by the tea. He still wondered about her, for rarely he came across a young woman who could carry on a conversation, despite being on an emotional low (which he could still sense the way her eyes scanned him when she thought he wasn’t looking). Plus she was a beauty; he had to keep his mind on listening to her rather than watching her.
"..........work you do?”, she was asking something about his profession.” I am a professor of Human Resources in the BHU and you?". “Aah I thought so...”she said ignoring his question. "You have been there for quite long- right?” "Yes, almost all my life, I studied there and after a brief stint with the corporate, I went back to the being a teacher rather than being the manager", he mused again getting back to his thoughts. "I don't work in the normal sense of the work, but I have a full time responsibility of a forgetful husband and 2 lazy brats", she said all by herself, referring to his earlier question, even managing to look coy for a second. "You were in Kolkata, so far from your holy city on business or pleasure- if I can ask that?"; she queried further. "I was there since the last 6 months, on a teaching assignment in the University of Burdwan. Now it’s done and I am so very relieved to go back to my own city, my family. Bengal is nice, but at my age I find home the best place"
"Shall I tell you something I found funny?” she asked, almost like an excited child. He nodded. "You are the first professor whom I have seen carrying such a huge suitcase. Usually professors will have 4 sets of clothes and they believe in simple living and high thinking. When I first saw you, I thought you must be some big shot in a corporate, kinda Director or CEO- a rich guy. He laughed at her revelation. "Maybe you are right, of what you say about the teaching fraternity. But the big suitcase is the end result of my daughter's trip to Kolkata a few days ago. She is getting married next month and did a lot of shopping in Kolkata- sarees and jewellery, but then like a typical girl she couldn’t carry all that stuff herself. Hence she took my much smaller suitcase and went back while I the coolie of the family was left to bear the burden. As far as being rich is concerned, I am not, but then I am not poor also. God has given me enough and I am thankful for that......" Before he could finish his sentence her mobile rang.
She excused herself and smiled looking at the number. He could make out that she was speaking to someone she loved. He studied her again. He liked the way she held the phone between her shoulders and ears while her left hand was playing with the ring in the right. Maybe she had been one of the students, hence that familiarity. He was secretly pleased to think of a pretty girl like her infatuated with him during the course of her studies, while he had taught away unaware of her desires. He wasn’t unfaithful but the simple knowledge of being the teacher, whose class no girls would ever would want to miss was knowledge enough. He made up his mind to ask her about her education to delve deeper into the mystery.
"Sorry, my husband, he was calling to find what coach I was into", she said confirming his earlier thoughts. "No problems", he replied. A brief patch of silence followed in which he decided to finally ask her "the question". "I assume you know me somehow- or someone like me, I am curious to know. Maybe you studied under me?” Her face lost its color for a moment but then she smiled and said "No it isn’t like that......normally I wouldn’t share my story, but then you can do me know harm by knowing. Besides, it would make the time go faster..."
"Well my story starts 4 years back. I was single then and working. However, my job had become monotonous and I was looking for a way to escape the boredom. The opportunity presented itself when I was offered a new position, which was much more challenging. However, before I could start working, I needed to attend a few trainings. It was in one such training program that I met Vidyut Sir. Within a few hours of meeting him I was absolutely in awe of his classroom delivery. He gave each of the participants individual attention without letting any of them go out of hand. He scolded us at our mistakes; it was actually like, like being back to school. To cut a long story short, I stayed in touch with him and met him several times. He treated me like a daughter and for me he was God- mentor in all my pursuits in life, personal or professional. It was last year in January that he was diagnosed with throat cancer, in its advanced state. Before the news could even sink in, he was gone, within days. This was my first brush with death and I was broken- I hadn’t realized how much I needed him while he was there....."
Tears glistened in her eyes. Tanmay couldn’t decide what the best way to pacify the girl was. All he said was "I am sorry". After a moment of silence she continued. "After being distraught for a couple of months I decided that I was doing nothing...Vidyut Sir used to say that a pain that does not bear a good fruit is worthless. So in partnership with some of the students whose life he had touched I am trying to raise funds for a school for the less privileged children, dedicated to his memory. He loved kids and this was the best way in which we could all feel his presence around. So, I was on one such fund raising trip to Kolkata. I hadn’t imagined I would meet some one who would look so similar. On seeing you here, I was in a state of shock; it was as if he was sitting here. But now I think, its my good luck omen. You see, I did not get the actual money that I had estimated and the thought was depressing. Who knows, his spirit might have entered you to let me know that he is still around to guide me", She added playfully. But the next moment she again grew serious, "There is a lot that still needs to be done. With recession showing its ugly face, people really aren't at their charitable best. I need another 50000 INR if I want to see the school functioning by end of this year...."
"Would you take something if I offered you?". She looked surprised and then confused. "But....".”No ifs and buts, good teachers and good human beings are rare these days and I would like to contribute something to the cause. My only problem is I have cash right now- are you ok with carrying cash, instead of cheque?" "I cannot tell you how thankful I am to you....sure cash isn’t a problem". He looked around to see if someone was watching. No one was. The train was practically empty, it being the exam season. He opened his bag and took out a wad of notes and handed her. She took it quietly with grateful eyes and submerged it deep inside her handbag. "Keep it safely", he added, more out of habit of advising young people than a matter of fact. "I will....and thank you once again. You shall be our special guest in the inauguration ceremony for the school. You will come, won't you?” she quipped. "Oh sure, it would be a pleasure"
It was 9:30 PM. They proceeded to have their dinners, once in a while took a bite from each other's hampers. By 10 they were ready to bid goodbye to the day. "Goodnight....see you tomorrow morning. My husband would be so happy to meet a great human being like you. Besides he will agree that you and Vidyut Sir look like real brothers". "Good night", he smiled. Sleep was round the corner and the long day had really made him tired.
Some far away noises awakened him in the morning. His head felt heavy and he had problem opening his eyes to the bright sunshine streaming in. As conscience set in he realized he was still in the train, but the faces around were unfamiliar. His wife was there(where had she come from?), so were a few boys from the pantry car and another man whom he didn’t know. "Are you ok?” his wife asked. "I am perfectly fine, but what happened? Why are you worried, did I oversleep?"; he said looking out of the train window and realizing that they were in the train yard. "It looks like someone stole your luggage in all probability after drugging you", she replied. "Do you remember what happened yesterday evening? Were you talking to someone unknown?” she asked. "Yes, I was...but she was a young girl...” he replied in dismay. “How many times have I asked you, not to be over friendly with strangers? Ok lets go now, quickly, we have to register a police case...Maybe it's a lesson to you for being so casual about everything…” she sounded angry.
He had to make an effort to get up- the drug obviously still in his system. The knowledge was being duped by a young girl so easily was a painful one to digest. Something shifted inside his shirt. He felt it....a paper between his skin and shirt. He was upset yet decided to discover what was inside that, at his home, not before the prying eyes of the people around. The journey home was a quiet one. His wife was obviously angry....over the loss of all the clothes and jewels that their daughter had chosen. It was quite a loss, not less than 80000 in any case. He on his part was quiet, wondering about the girl and the paper. He hadn't told his wife anything about either of them.
As soon as he reached home, he locked himself inside the toilet. Took off his shirt and opened the letter and read through it.
Dear BHU HR Professor...........
It's a shame that we talked for a whole evening but did not exchange names. I was bound more by the rules of my profession and you, I guess by your nature. If you are reading this letter, your thoughts for me would not be very nice one; very different from what you thought yesterday.
Yes, I am a professional thief. The dinner you ate from my hamper yesterday night helped me in my venture. Sorry about that. I could have left without a trace but then I really liked you for what you are (even though there is/was no Vidyut Sir) and decided to leave a note. As I write this letter in the half light you sleep away peacefully right in front of me, happy in the knowledge that you are helping some children for a good cause; in the memory a fictitious dead man.
Now coming to the point. Your generosity on hearing my untrue story really touched me. I have told this story to a lot of people all over the Indian trains in the past 3 years but I never found a soul who could so easily offer a penny. You are different. You offered to help a perfect stranger even though you have to marry off a daughter in the near future. You have put me a place and my mind is in a struggle with my heart...you see even thieves have morals.
All in all, it did not feel good to cheat a great human being like you. Vidyut Sir never existed, but if I steal your things, I will cheat maybe the real Vidyut Sir....you. But if I go without a "kill" my gang members would insult me or maybe question me- they already know about your huge suitcase (which brought me to you in the first place). I don’t want to get into either of the situations. So what next?
I guess I can find more details about you from what you have already told me. When I get back to my apartment with your heavy suitcase, I shall take out all (yes all )the stuff you have inside for your daughter's marriage and fill it up with some old books that should have been disposed off long back. They will certainly look eligible and look good in a professor's heavy suitcase. I shall try to send your things somehow. Out of the 5000 INR you gave me yesterday, Rs 4000 will go as my "kill" (even I need to survive and earn my living and the remaining Rs. 1000, I shall spend on some street children whom I know - for meaningful purposes. Call it the "Thief’s Social Responsibility"
I will never meet you again. But then your memory will stay with me forever; like the story I told you. You can go to the police with this letter and register a case or you can sit at home and praise your generosity towards a human cause which saved you from my real intentions. In either case you will have your things and the police will not be able to find me......Rest is your choice.
I guess its a pretty long letter and I must end it now. Take care and thanks once again for showing me that goodness does exist in this world.
Yours,
Train-Chor
The book had slipped out of his hand at her statement and had fallen on the floor. Both of them bent down to pick it and then when their heads were about to meet she withdrew back, sitting upright again. He picked up the book, brushed it and again looked back at the woman. She looked confused now, and he realized that she had spoken more to herself than to him. She certainly looked normal and not in any kind of trauma. Yet her eyes had that faraway expression that made him wonder what was on her mind. He could not make his mind as to whether it was polite to ask her or to ignore it since he didn’t want to embarrass her. But then before he could react, she said "I am sorry, hope you don’t mind my words- I didn’t mean to startle you" He calmed her down and simply asked "Would you want to have some tea? I am going to have one," Saying this he waved at the chaiwallah who was standing 3 compartments away. She nodded in positive and proceeded to take out some change from her purse.
He studied her. She didn’t look more than 28 and didn’t look like anyone from his past and yet something about her stuck him familiar. He could see that, she was a strong woman who wouldn’t be out of her elements like she was right now over a small matter. Obviously his face had evoked some painful memories to put this tall elegant yet young lady. On one hand he felt guilty and on the other he felt good about himself. After all, he was 46 and still managed to make an impression with his scholarly looks, the French beard and the slight mischief that resided in the corner of his eyes, distinguishing him as a true gentleman as against the more book worm type creatures.
Tea in hand, they started talking. She looked more calm now, the paleness no longer there. The flow of conversation was easy, the awkwardness on her initial sentence, washed away by the tea. He still wondered about her, for rarely he came across a young woman who could carry on a conversation, despite being on an emotional low (which he could still sense the way her eyes scanned him when she thought he wasn’t looking). Plus she was a beauty; he had to keep his mind on listening to her rather than watching her.
"..........work you do?”, she was asking something about his profession.” I am a professor of Human Resources in the BHU and you?". “Aah I thought so...”she said ignoring his question. "You have been there for quite long- right?” "Yes, almost all my life, I studied there and after a brief stint with the corporate, I went back to the being a teacher rather than being the manager", he mused again getting back to his thoughts. "I don't work in the normal sense of the work, but I have a full time responsibility of a forgetful husband and 2 lazy brats", she said all by herself, referring to his earlier question, even managing to look coy for a second. "You were in Kolkata, so far from your holy city on business or pleasure- if I can ask that?"; she queried further. "I was there since the last 6 months, on a teaching assignment in the University of Burdwan. Now it’s done and I am so very relieved to go back to my own city, my family. Bengal is nice, but at my age I find home the best place"
"Shall I tell you something I found funny?” she asked, almost like an excited child. He nodded. "You are the first professor whom I have seen carrying such a huge suitcase. Usually professors will have 4 sets of clothes and they believe in simple living and high thinking. When I first saw you, I thought you must be some big shot in a corporate, kinda Director or CEO- a rich guy. He laughed at her revelation. "Maybe you are right, of what you say about the teaching fraternity. But the big suitcase is the end result of my daughter's trip to Kolkata a few days ago. She is getting married next month and did a lot of shopping in Kolkata- sarees and jewellery, but then like a typical girl she couldn’t carry all that stuff herself. Hence she took my much smaller suitcase and went back while I the coolie of the family was left to bear the burden. As far as being rich is concerned, I am not, but then I am not poor also. God has given me enough and I am thankful for that......" Before he could finish his sentence her mobile rang.
She excused herself and smiled looking at the number. He could make out that she was speaking to someone she loved. He studied her again. He liked the way she held the phone between her shoulders and ears while her left hand was playing with the ring in the right. Maybe she had been one of the students, hence that familiarity. He was secretly pleased to think of a pretty girl like her infatuated with him during the course of her studies, while he had taught away unaware of her desires. He wasn’t unfaithful but the simple knowledge of being the teacher, whose class no girls would ever would want to miss was knowledge enough. He made up his mind to ask her about her education to delve deeper into the mystery.
"Sorry, my husband, he was calling to find what coach I was into", she said confirming his earlier thoughts. "No problems", he replied. A brief patch of silence followed in which he decided to finally ask her "the question". "I assume you know me somehow- or someone like me, I am curious to know. Maybe you studied under me?” Her face lost its color for a moment but then she smiled and said "No it isn’t like that......normally I wouldn’t share my story, but then you can do me know harm by knowing. Besides, it would make the time go faster..."
"Well my story starts 4 years back. I was single then and working. However, my job had become monotonous and I was looking for a way to escape the boredom. The opportunity presented itself when I was offered a new position, which was much more challenging. However, before I could start working, I needed to attend a few trainings. It was in one such training program that I met Vidyut Sir. Within a few hours of meeting him I was absolutely in awe of his classroom delivery. He gave each of the participants individual attention without letting any of them go out of hand. He scolded us at our mistakes; it was actually like, like being back to school. To cut a long story short, I stayed in touch with him and met him several times. He treated me like a daughter and for me he was God- mentor in all my pursuits in life, personal or professional. It was last year in January that he was diagnosed with throat cancer, in its advanced state. Before the news could even sink in, he was gone, within days. This was my first brush with death and I was broken- I hadn’t realized how much I needed him while he was there....."
Tears glistened in her eyes. Tanmay couldn’t decide what the best way to pacify the girl was. All he said was "I am sorry". After a moment of silence she continued. "After being distraught for a couple of months I decided that I was doing nothing...Vidyut Sir used to say that a pain that does not bear a good fruit is worthless. So in partnership with some of the students whose life he had touched I am trying to raise funds for a school for the less privileged children, dedicated to his memory. He loved kids and this was the best way in which we could all feel his presence around. So, I was on one such fund raising trip to Kolkata. I hadn’t imagined I would meet some one who would look so similar. On seeing you here, I was in a state of shock; it was as if he was sitting here. But now I think, its my good luck omen. You see, I did not get the actual money that I had estimated and the thought was depressing. Who knows, his spirit might have entered you to let me know that he is still around to guide me", She added playfully. But the next moment she again grew serious, "There is a lot that still needs to be done. With recession showing its ugly face, people really aren't at their charitable best. I need another 50000 INR if I want to see the school functioning by end of this year...."
"Would you take something if I offered you?". She looked surprised and then confused. "But....".”No ifs and buts, good teachers and good human beings are rare these days and I would like to contribute something to the cause. My only problem is I have cash right now- are you ok with carrying cash, instead of cheque?" "I cannot tell you how thankful I am to you....sure cash isn’t a problem". He looked around to see if someone was watching. No one was. The train was practically empty, it being the exam season. He opened his bag and took out a wad of notes and handed her. She took it quietly with grateful eyes and submerged it deep inside her handbag. "Keep it safely", he added, more out of habit of advising young people than a matter of fact. "I will....and thank you once again. You shall be our special guest in the inauguration ceremony for the school. You will come, won't you?” she quipped. "Oh sure, it would be a pleasure"
It was 9:30 PM. They proceeded to have their dinners, once in a while took a bite from each other's hampers. By 10 they were ready to bid goodbye to the day. "Goodnight....see you tomorrow morning. My husband would be so happy to meet a great human being like you. Besides he will agree that you and Vidyut Sir look like real brothers". "Good night", he smiled. Sleep was round the corner and the long day had really made him tired.
Some far away noises awakened him in the morning. His head felt heavy and he had problem opening his eyes to the bright sunshine streaming in. As conscience set in he realized he was still in the train, but the faces around were unfamiliar. His wife was there(where had she come from?), so were a few boys from the pantry car and another man whom he didn’t know. "Are you ok?” his wife asked. "I am perfectly fine, but what happened? Why are you worried, did I oversleep?"; he said looking out of the train window and realizing that they were in the train yard. "It looks like someone stole your luggage in all probability after drugging you", she replied. "Do you remember what happened yesterday evening? Were you talking to someone unknown?” she asked. "Yes, I was...but she was a young girl...” he replied in dismay. “How many times have I asked you, not to be over friendly with strangers? Ok lets go now, quickly, we have to register a police case...Maybe it's a lesson to you for being so casual about everything…” she sounded angry.
He had to make an effort to get up- the drug obviously still in his system. The knowledge was being duped by a young girl so easily was a painful one to digest. Something shifted inside his shirt. He felt it....a paper between his skin and shirt. He was upset yet decided to discover what was inside that, at his home, not before the prying eyes of the people around. The journey home was a quiet one. His wife was obviously angry....over the loss of all the clothes and jewels that their daughter had chosen. It was quite a loss, not less than 80000 in any case. He on his part was quiet, wondering about the girl and the paper. He hadn't told his wife anything about either of them.
As soon as he reached home, he locked himself inside the toilet. Took off his shirt and opened the letter and read through it.
Dear BHU HR Professor...........
It's a shame that we talked for a whole evening but did not exchange names. I was bound more by the rules of my profession and you, I guess by your nature. If you are reading this letter, your thoughts for me would not be very nice one; very different from what you thought yesterday.
Yes, I am a professional thief. The dinner you ate from my hamper yesterday night helped me in my venture. Sorry about that. I could have left without a trace but then I really liked you for what you are (even though there is/was no Vidyut Sir) and decided to leave a note. As I write this letter in the half light you sleep away peacefully right in front of me, happy in the knowledge that you are helping some children for a good cause; in the memory a fictitious dead man.
Now coming to the point. Your generosity on hearing my untrue story really touched me. I have told this story to a lot of people all over the Indian trains in the past 3 years but I never found a soul who could so easily offer a penny. You are different. You offered to help a perfect stranger even though you have to marry off a daughter in the near future. You have put me a place and my mind is in a struggle with my heart...you see even thieves have morals.
All in all, it did not feel good to cheat a great human being like you. Vidyut Sir never existed, but if I steal your things, I will cheat maybe the real Vidyut Sir....you. But if I go without a "kill" my gang members would insult me or maybe question me- they already know about your huge suitcase (which brought me to you in the first place). I don’t want to get into either of the situations. So what next?
I guess I can find more details about you from what you have already told me. When I get back to my apartment with your heavy suitcase, I shall take out all (yes all )the stuff you have inside for your daughter's marriage and fill it up with some old books that should have been disposed off long back. They will certainly look eligible and look good in a professor's heavy suitcase. I shall try to send your things somehow. Out of the 5000 INR you gave me yesterday, Rs 4000 will go as my "kill" (even I need to survive and earn my living and the remaining Rs. 1000, I shall spend on some street children whom I know - for meaningful purposes. Call it the "Thief’s Social Responsibility"
I will never meet you again. But then your memory will stay with me forever; like the story I told you. You can go to the police with this letter and register a case or you can sit at home and praise your generosity towards a human cause which saved you from my real intentions. In either case you will have your things and the police will not be able to find me......Rest is your choice.
I guess its a pretty long letter and I must end it now. Take care and thanks once again for showing me that goodness does exist in this world.
Yours,
Train-Chor
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