Friday, December 6, 2013

A Brutal Reality

Monday Morning. Since I am anyway living life of a robot, as per schedule, my alarm clock starts crying at 7.30 in the morning. I change the side, try to kick the clock, and when failed, curse the guy who invented it, put pillow on my ears and try to grab some more of my monster’s sleep. After about 10 seconds, the volume gets louder, forcing me to get up and hit on the top of that poor thing which is actually trying to help me. With my eyes half open, I wake from bed, fold my blanket, murmur my morning prayers, brush my teeth with random directions and speed for about 10 minutes, walk up in the shower and stand there like an idiot for another 15 minutes. Finally, dot at 9.30, I was on my way to office.

I was waiting for my office bus when I saw a middle-aged lady knocking the cars window when the traffic signals turned red. That didn't surprise me as I am now habituated watching people doing this every day. I have just learned to ignore them. Not that I don’t care, but I know giving them 5-10 Rupees wouldn't solve any of their misery.  This woman, though I must say, somehow looked different than the common beggars’ crowd.  Her face had turned dull what I considered might be because of the sleep deprivation. Her hair was askew, her saari, even after the stains of mud, looked decent. She was sweating profusely from the labor of walking around . But undeterred by the simmering heat, she ambled from car to car at the traffic signal, rapping her knuckles on the tainted windows of each car to plead for help.  But as usual, she was not getting audience. Monday morning, frustrated people, heavy traffic, office timings. She failed to realize that this city can never be her agony aunt.  Once the signal turned green, the cars honked mercilessly at her, leaving her behind to wait patiently for another slot of “We-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-your-condition-we-have-our-own-worries” people.

I don’t know why, but I somehow felt like offering  her something. I signaled her to cross the road and come to me. As soon as she came, I took out a 50 Rs. note. To my surprise, she refused to take the money. “Mala paise naahi pajihe sahib” (I don’t want money Saheb), she said in a clear, no-nonsense and sophisticated Marathi tone. Then what do you want? I asked, clearly taken aback by her tone. She took out a small diary which had some numbers written in it with addresses. “I just want a ticket to go here, she said pointing at one of the addresses”. “Nagpur?”, it’s quite far from here, I said hurriedly, looking at my second office bus swaying away from me. “Please saheb, I beg of you”, She was almost about to touch my feet when I stopped her. Not only it was embarrassing in front of people, but also she was my mother’s age. “Aunty please, I need to go. I have office”. It takes at least 450 Rupees to go to Nagpur from here. I don’t have that much cash with me and I am getting late. Sorry, But this is all I have, I said, taking out whatever I had in my pocket, which were just around 200 Rupees.”  I handed them over to her and started walking away. 

She didn't stop me. But somehow, my conscience did. A lonely old lady in this big City, by looking at her, I knew she wouldn't even be able to find the station even if she had money. Screw the office, what do I have to lose at the most? One fucking day’s leave?  This lady did not take the money, so obviously there was something else to the story. So I turned back. I could see the shine in her eyes as soon as I turned back and started walking towards her. “Okay. I will manage your departure to Nagpur, but first tell me what happened.” I said. She looked so tired and weak that she was barely able to stand. So, I took her to a nearby hotel, ordered some breakfast for her on which she hogged like she was hungry since ages. Then she told me what happened.

When her husband died, her son and his wife asked her to sign on the property paper of house. She happily gave it away. Then the torture started. Her son and his wife used to beat her daily.  They asked her to leave the house. His wife used her as a slave. Asking her anything from cleaning dishes to cleaning their toilet. One day, her son almost tried to kill her. So she ran away in fear, grabbed first train that she could find and landed in Mumbai. Now after three days, with no money and no food, she was helpless. She wanted to go to her brother in Nagpur. The pain she felt because of her own son, whom she had given every bit of her life since his childhood was much more than the pain of wounds and scars she showed me on her back and hands. I was almost in tears. How could one son do this to his mother?  I was so angry about the entire incident, I would have killed that bastard. So I took a leap of faith and decided to do what is right. What my principles permit me. Sending her to Nagpur to her brother was not a solution. Teaching her son a lesson so hard that he would think thousand times before doing such evil thing was all I wanted. Office was  anyway ruined since it was well past 11 O’ clock. Not that I cared. So I called office people and informed them I won’t come. I then called my mother and explained her the situation. She, being a social worker and my father, having well known contacts pulled some strings together and within half an hour, a senior police inspector called me from Pune, asking the boy’s location. This lady lived in Pune so I took the first train with her and went to pune. It did not end there. I had some plans.

By the time we reached there in afternoon, the police had already dragged the boy into police station. A 6’2” drunk guy with red eyes and devil face appeared before me and when he saw me with his mother, the first thing he said, not fearing the police was, “ya kutrila tar me marnaarch aahe, pan aata tula pan sodanaar naahi" (I will anyway kill this bitch, but I won’t spare you as well). Oh My, that guy really had guts to say that in front of police.  I suddenly kicked him so hard in his groin, he almost felt on ground. One kick in his stomach and one solid punch on his face and his nose was bleeding like anything. I would have killed that asshole but police stopped me.  I again called my parents and made sure that this devil stays in the lockup. I don’t know what my father talked to the inspector, but police registered a fake FIR against him for some case and made sure he won’t get a bail. I then convinced them to transfer the property paper back on this lady’s name. It would take some time, but my mother made it sure that it will be done. I then called one of the lady’s sisters staying in Pune and asked lady to stay with her until the matter resolved. That lady joined her palm in front of me despite my attempts and thanked me with gratitude. I gave her my number and asked the policeman to call me next week about the progress in the issue. I then left back to Mumbai.


I thought over it for a long time but couldn't understand why this happened. What is wrong with people? Are we so senseless that we can literally try to kill our own mother, who is no less than God, just for the sake of money? Have we become so cruel that we have forgotten the value of relations? Who poisoned this guy's mentality? His wife? Or his situation? Or his abhorrence?  I still don’t know the root cause. But this thing sadden me to the core. Tore apart my basic understanding of mother and son relationship. When I came back, I was scattered into pieces. 

God alone knows what’s going to happen in this what we call as Kalyug.

Friday, October 4, 2013

The Naked Truth!

She could clearly see the disappointment in his eyes. "The least he can do for me is to act like he is glad to see me", she thought. He didn't say anything. But she understood what that silence meant, for she had lived her whole life with that kind of silence. “You tricked me. You are so ugly. Ugly as a pig shit”. “Forget about marriage, I won’t touch you even if you stand naked in front of me”, he must be shouting inside, she thought. She waited there. Patiently. Hoping he would say something. But he didn't. So finally She looked into his eyes for the answers. Those newly found eyes. They did not spell happiness. They spelled disgust. They spelled hatred. There was nothing much left in her life but whatever it was, it was destroyed at that very moment. She wanted to slap him, yet she didn't. She wanted to scream, but she didn't.  Getting no response from him, she started walking out slowly from the hospital. He didn't stop her.

At night, she took a shower. She didn't realize for how much time she was in there, standing and wailing.  Allowing to let it all flow. When she felt a little less heavy, she came out. Standing naked, she looked in the mirror. She was ugly, she knew it. But tonight, mirror reflected her image uglier than ever before. Scars on the black and pimple covered face, small and distorted nipples, fat belly tyres and short height.  She had nothing to offer to a man except a caring and pure heart. A heart that was romantic as hell. A heart that believed in fairy tale stories. A heart waiting for her prince charming to rescue her. A heart that believed appearances are deceptive, and the only thing that lasts is inner beauty. She smiled at her stupidity. “Ever heard of someone falling in love at first sight with an ugly person?” she thought.  Everything she ever believed in was a fierce lie. A make belief. She thought he was different. At least until he got his vision back.

“I am ugly. You won’t like me when you will be able to see me”, she had warned him once, very well aware of the consequences. “Baby, I love you. You have a pure heart. You are the reason I am getting my vision back. Don’t ever think that you are ugly. You are as much beautiful outside as you are inside, at least for me.” He had given her a hope. A hope which was like the first sun ray entering into her dark world, eradicating all the darkness she had. She had started to dream again. A dream where even she looked beautiful. A dream where they held each other’s hand. A dream where they were together.

“I don’t mind even if you can’t see me. But I want you to have a life that you deserve. Money can’t be the obstacle. I will get your vision back. No matter how much it costs”, she had promised. Now, after 6 months, she had gathered enough money perform an operation on his eyes. It had cost her everything. Her life’s savings, her investments and her jewelries. But nothing was worth his happiness. The least she had expected was his smile when he first looked at her. But it was destroyed. All of it.

“I don’t deserve this”, she cried aloud, throwing a stone at the mirror. The scattered pieces multiplied her ugliness. She looked into them for a long time and just smiled. She knew it is time. Time when she had lost her last hope. Time when she cannot take it anymore. She slowly walked towards balcony. She looked down and closed her eyes. Without a second thought, she jumped from the floor. She did not feel scared. She was simply at peace. For it was her last moment of torture.



Thursday, September 26, 2013

Senseless nonsense!

I want to hug you tightly. A little aggressively, may be. A hug that tells you how much I need you. You might resist, not because of the fear, but because of the inexpressible  nervousness. I want to feel that sweet aroma of your body, that washed and then slightly dried hair of yours, those silky lips wearing light colored gloss, and those eyes! How madly I am in love with your eyes. They have all the expressions. Of need, of love, of helplessness, of fear and of lust, too. You are like my alcohol. Giving me temporary pleasure but killing me from inside, slowly and sweetly. I know it and still I want you in my life. For a moment, I want you to forget everything and be a part of me, mentally and physically. Yes, love, when reached to its madness, doesn't stop on heart. It needs everything, flesh, bones and blood.

How does it feel to lose someone you truly care about? How does it feel to see eventually your love turning into hatred? How does it feel when someone who is world to you, betrays you right in front of your eyes? How does it feel to turn into a person who cannot feel anything anymore?


All my hatred, all my frustration, all my sadness, all my love fail to give my expressions that understandable form of words. The more I try to go back to my normal life, the more senseless my writing becomes. Everything is hidden beneath a mask. Everyone is confused. Some do not know when to start and some do not know how to start . At time, life doesn't make sense. 

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Oh Thou Mighty Maid!




“Saheb, Mai nahi aa rahi aaj, khana khud bana lo,” my maid shouted on phone. In my apartment, her words are final verdict.  This is not a new thing to me now. Having a maid who takes away her salary on the 1st of every month, thereby making an intense impression about her punctuality, which she doesn't even remotely apply in her job, is a common sight in Mumbai. You can find a nice job in this city of dreams, even a true love, even a wife. But bai, and that too a hardworking-bai? Ney!

So may I introduce this one of the most typical maid creatures found in this part of world, my dear “sarla tai”.

Well, in Mumbai if you are a bachelor and that too living alone, people in the society automatically label you as “That-Guy-Stays-Alone-So-He-Gets-Laid-With-A-Different-Girl-Every-Night” kind of playboy. It took me all my sophistication to prove to other equally assholes, but hidden beneath "Married" mask people that a maid can come to my house, cook and go away without I raping her. So by mercy of the aunty next door, I was introduced to “Sarla tai”. 

When she first came to meet me, it was I who was scared to death of being robbed and then raped in my own house. “2000 rupaya legi, ek time shamko khana banayegi wo bhi 9 baje se pahele(you got the hint, right?), ek time zaadu maregi, sirf Saturday ko kapde dhoyegi subah aake, toilet-bathroom mai nahi saaf karegi  aur Sunday ko chutti hona mangta”, she said everything in one breathe, flashing her tobacco stained teeth, in her typical tapori Mumbai tone. I was like, "Are you fucking kidding me !? You give me 2000 Rs. and I will do more work than you :P". But at that point my life was just fucked up and I desperately needed a maid. So I accepted all her terms and conditions.

Gradually, hearing things like, Cooker laga diya maine, teen sitti marne ke baad band karneka, mereko aur bhi kaam hai, ja rai mai”, “Aaj bedroom nahi zadungi to kya bura ho jayega?” “Itna clean chahiye sab to khud zaadu marneka ek baar aur, waise bhi akele hi to sote ho. Kaunsi ladkiya aati hai yaha? ”,  “Mai do din nahi aa rahi, aaj 25th hai, siddha 1st ko aaungi (hain? 2 din? :P) salary lene”, “Sunday ke saath Saturday bhi chutti diya ho kya hota?, 5 din to karti na itni mehnat mai (Mehnat? Scratches his balls - because hair is too mainstream??)” , have become an integral part of my life.

For grocery shopping, I hand her over 1000 Rs. each month, along with a list, that at the most costs 700-800, but I never get money back. Despite all rudeness, she is really a nice person at heart. There was a time when I was ill and she took care of me like my own mother for 3 days. There was a time when she told me things about her drunken husband and all the worries she had. How she alone slogs to support her entire family.  But over the time, it became almost impossible for her to manage all the work in the evening. I never complained when she did not show up even for weeks. Last month, she came only for 3 days in the entire month, still I did not say anything. The main reason was, I felt I was under her debt for taking care of me when I was sick. And besides, considering her worries, it was not really a big deal to pay her that much money for whatever she does for me. I don’t know how, but she managed to come to me day before and said, “aap bohot acche ho saheb. Mai itni chuttiya marti fir bhi kabhi kuch nahi bola aapne. Yaha koi samajhta nahi itna. Lekin mereko bhi lag raha hai ke aise haram ka paisa nahi khaneka.” Mai na chhod rahi aajse. Hua to dekhti hu koi acchi kaam karne waali bai aapke liye. Waise aap khud bhi acche se kar lete to tension nahi leneka. Milungi kabhi”, she said with a heavy heart and returned me her last month’s salary despite my attempts to persuade her to keep it.

That was really noble of her. Just one day gone and I already miss her presence. Most of the times, It was me who used to cook and she used to taste it. Half an hour of her typical tapori language and her drama would made my mood fresh like anything. Anyway, things should move on, so should life. :) Long live, Sarla tai.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Changing Times.

My heart is drenched in blood. Still it’s not painful. I am yearning for pain, for love, for sting, for itch. My brain cells are buried under the weight of hurt caused by the unexpected. I finish my dinner unwillingly, drink water, wash my hands, wipe my lips and face with a napkin, fold it back and keep it on the table, clean the dishes, stand up and tiptoe to the roof. Standing on the edge of the height, I look down. Arrays of red and yellow lights are in quest to overtake each other. The life is all about overtaking or stumbling behind, I think. I lit a cigarette. It’s been 2 months I last touched it. But I need it today, desperately. I look at the time. It’s half past three. Sometimes you get so engrossed in something, you forget the existence of time. Why am I so left behind in the race when my intentions were honest and my love was pure? I think. May be because I did not get enough time to communicate? Or May be because someone else was already there occupying my place? Or maybe because distance does the trick? If I were with her all the time, would the things have been same? I don’t think so. The more you know about the person, the more you start liking him/her. Eventually, the good/the bad/the ugly/the rich/the poor, everything boils down to void. Yes, time is one ruthless bastard. It takes away the hardest of the pain, does things which we never think of. Unfortunately, I did not get the privilege of time. Someone else did. Sheer luck, as we call it. This entire dilemma has scattered away my self-confidence. My player image has somehow returning back to haunt me. All I did was to love someone. Honestly. Words never fail me to express. Then why is that I came to this stage? Girls are complicated creatures. No wonder it’s impossible to figure out what a woman wants. They behave two faced, securing all the options. When it comes to love matters, they are confused and cautious as always. A guy lacks rational thinking in love matters. He does what his heart says. 

A biker loudly honks horn on the road, bringing me back to the conscious stage. I cannot bear noise nowadays. Not a bit. Even slightest disturbance makes my brain cells tear apart. Sometimes, I literally hit my head against the wall, hoping to get rid of the severe headache. Yes, migraine is back as well. It took me so long to fight it. But it came back like Karma. “Too much stress and thinking”, doctor had warned. This is not what I deserve for being honest, I cry aloud. Unfortunately, there is no one to hear me. Who imagined my life would be like this all of a sudden? I have lost that charm. And for whom? And WHY? I honestly don’t know why! I have started hating girls. Stopped talking with everybody. Even my best friends. It’s funny how some experiences make your opinion so generalize. I love, I try to show, I then try to hide, I talk, I then go silent, I stare, I then don’t even look, I come out of it for some time, I then go much deeper. Ah! Love is a bitch.

I hear screeching sound of my heart and head. I am well aware of the result, but my yearning for pain suddenly swells. No. I am not a person who gives up things so easily. And pain? I have learned to laugh at it. I had seen worse. This phase shall pass.

My feet trembles, but my determination doesn't.



P.S. After pondering over for a long time, I have decided to come back to blogger! Thanks a lot guys for your inspiration and support. And more importantly, thanks for not leaving me and having faith in me :) 

Friday, March 8, 2013

Oh Womaniya ! :)


Yes, it was you (Eve), who was responsible for the fall of man. Yes, also agree that it was your (Draupadi) giggle that started the Mahabharata. You (Sita) were responsible for Ramayana, also agree with that part. You (Helen) burnt Troy, agree. You are responsible for some of the greatest (Taj Mahal) and the worst events of mankind, accepted. But why did that happen? It is because; we (men) need you. We’ll burn the world, wipe away humanity, and fight against God, for we need you. Bats are blind by nature, whereas though we have eyes, we are blind by character. It is you, who fills in the light in our lives and shape our character, so that we live like an honest man.

You (Mom) are always considered to be the weaker sex, but I understand your strength, for you bore me in your womb for 9-months and did almost all the daily routines and your man (father) only watched and helped a bit, which was his best. You bled, so that I may live. Your strength is what makes me breathe today, and makes me part of the stronger sex. Today, I proudly announce to the world that, I have a heart of a man and strength because of you. If anyone comes up to me, and says: ‘Don’t be a girl dude, be a man’, I’ll with an elan say, ‘I don’t mind being a woman, for my mother is one’. Next time someone says you are weaker, tell them about the son you have.
You (Mom) are considered to be nagging, but later I realized that it is your constant nagging, that today makes me keep my room clean, walk straight upright, close my mouth while I sleep, pick up the rice bits after dinner- so that cockroaches do not roam around, write in good hand-writing, keep my computers motherboard intact by dusting it regularly, keep the required change in my pocket so that I can easily buy a bus ticket, treat girls with respect. Please don’t stop nagging, I may ask you to shut up like I always did, but you please don’t stop it, just like you never did.

You (Granny) are considered to be an old story teller and repetitive, but it is what gives me that extra answer to win in the tie-breaker of a quiz, a story to tell the little kids to keep them entertained, to tell my friends the history of a place to score that extra brownie-points. You are the reason I have preserved the ethics, the values, the culture for which people around me admire me. Today, when you are no longer a part of this earth, I miss you even more. I miss your basen laddoos, I miss the ways you protected me from my parents bash, when I did naughty things. You are the reason I had awesome childhood. You are the reason I valued my principles and morals in life. I hope one day, you will look from the sky, and be proud about your grandson's achievements. 

You (sister) are considered to be the one throwing tantrums, but this is what makes me get my shirt ironed by just dropping you at the bus-stop. Your tantrums, keeps my room clean, your tantrums give storyline to my blogs. Your tantrums, makes me know, how much you love me, when I am sick. If it weren’t for your tantrums, I would not have known the art of combing my hair well, cleaning my shoes and get things from dad, which only your tantrums could do. If I had never fought with you for the TV remote, I would have never hated ‘Bobby Darling’, ‘Ektha-Kapur’, ‘saas-bahu sobs’. Keep throwing your tantrums, keep acting pricey, it helps me, with Dad and with other girls and for keeping me away from the TV-ghost. For without your tantrums and pampering, I would have never missed you, when you’d leave me. I feel jealous of the people who have you. I always yearned to be a brother. But I guess I am not that lucky. But nevertheless, that doesn't stop me from admiring this form of you!

You (friend), people say bitch about others, you are branded as gossip-monger, but if it weren’t for you, I would have never known the news about the most happening things, I wouldn’t have been on guard against the cunning foxes and vixen, I wouldn’t have laughed out till I cried at someone with a bad hair day, I would not have understood the difference between pale yellow and lemon yellow colors. It is because, you are in my life, I can cry in a corner and still not be laughed at. It is because of you I’d still have a friend no matter how many times you get hooked up or break-up unlike guys, whose friendship and time lasts only till he finds a girl. Spread gossips, bitch about others and keep me close to your heart, for you are the one who keeps me sane and hopeful.

You (Love); most of them say is a headache, a burdened commitment. But am glad, I’ll someday have you. For then I shall know, how to look at life in a different way. If I wouldn’t have this headache, I would never shaved properly, never eat in the best restaurants, would not work that extra hard to earn that little extra, would never stop smoking and boozing, I would not enjoy the rains. Someday hope you will give me these headaches, for I want to understand people’s emotion, write the best romantic poems of my life, and plan for the future. I am still looking for you! Hope you will come soon, for my life without you, has no meaning.

You (wife), they say is a trouble. But I am happy I‘ll have joyful troubles. Trouble of being a man, trouble of keeping my woman happy, trouble of being a rock-star’s father, trouble of taking you to the most exotic places on earth, trouble of spending and saving money, trouble of being addressed as someone’s hubby, trouble of crying with you, laughing with you, sharing a life with you. You will be one precious gem that I will preserve for a lifetime. Without you, I’d be happily left alone, with no one to wish on my birthday and no one to cry when I’d die. So keep making troubles in my life and give me kids, who’d make my life happily-miserable. For I want life, and for that I need you as a trouble.

I do not how else to thank you, you exist in different forms, from being the one who makes sure I’m never late to the office, to the one who nurses me when lying hopelessly on a hospital bed. We need alcohol in our systems to have guts and speak the truth, but you do it just like any other thing. It helps. You taught me the first alphabet, and you make me write Romeo & Juliet kind of stories. You are the life of a song and the death behind the death-meal. You are the soul of Titanic movie and the brains behind simple but most essential things. Unless you point out to me, I would not even know, who my father is. Einstein swears by you, a baby hopes by you, Edison learns from you, a Kolkattan destitute smiles by you(Mother Theresa) and irony is, even a pimp lives by you. You are degraded by some of us, yet we hold you the most dearest in our lives. You may well be just a rib of Adam, but you are the breath and reason behind every man.

To all the lovely women in my life, who are present now, and would come in as I move-on in life. Love to you. May your lives shine, so that I’ll be fine, I may sound like a selfish dog, but in your case, I am happy to even be a dog, for I wish to be faithful.

Dedicated to all the wonderful women in my life (the ones who are present, the ones to come).

P.S. I found this article in my old mails. I just edited it a bit. :). Not sure who the actual owner is.

Monday, March 4, 2013

The other aspect of Life.

Again, long time huh? :) I went through the blogs of all my dear follower friends, and was saddened to see, that, like me, most of them have not updated their blog. Well, they might have their reasons, just like I have my own. Chintan, if you ever read this, please add me to your invited readers' list. I am a huge fan of your articles. But sadly, I guess it is now open for invited readers only. I am trying since 1 month, but I have no idea how to contact you. Mirage, drag that asshole to the court for copying your contents :D  Aliza jee, add in your invited reader's list, NOW! :(. TOSM, if you ask me, you still are "very much you" :). RED, God doesn't have ego clashes :P prey! :) And yes, fill your cavity! And last, but certainly not least, my dear Soumya (Hope you don't get offended by the "dear" word now) :), I loved your Honest posts. I Wish you and Cal live a happy life ever after!

I didn't go to office for two days. I wasn't feeling like. There is nothing/no one in the office that motivates me to go. The concept of having office friends around after office hours is gradually diminishing. People here barely talk something other than work, let alone spending quality time after office hours. I have never lived my life like this, so it makes things difficult at times.

Flat shifting. Another cruel joke faith played on me. I was very much happy with my old fashioned but convenient flat. But thanks to my father's surprise visit. I hate surprise visits. Specially when they are from my parents. That So called sucky device called mobile started showing my mother's number at an ungodly hour of morning 5. The first thought that crossed my mind was, "Is everything okay at home?" I prayed to God for the first time in my life. But alas, I should have prayed for myself instead. As soon as I picked the phone,  my mother shouted, "Beta, we are outside your flat. Please come down!". I literally went numb at that moment. I mean come on! This is not fair! I might have been awarded some world record for cleaning my flat in about 2 minutes and 30 seconds, which includes hiding all the underwear, shorts and other not-so-showable stuff, all the bear bottles, cigarrate packets, putting new bed sheets, spraying room with at least 2 full sized air fresheners and what not. Anyway, mother, being a women kind, was suspicious about the sudden freshener's fragrance in my flat. But since I am good with the words, that part went well.

One look at the flat and my father was like, "you can't live in here. End of the discussion. Period." I rebelled, gave my reasons of staying in that flat, but he was determinant. I hate his contacts and reputation. He made only ONE call and my new flat was arranged within 2 hours. No brokerage, No deposit. But now, instead of paying 7 grands, I will have to pay 10 grands. Well, it sucks. But considering that flat and locality, I guess it is worth it. Being a poor son of a rich father has its own advantages and disadvantages. I took 2 days leave from office, but my father shifted my luggage within 4 hours. Since he had some meeting to attend, my parents left on the same day. Since I wasn't feeling like going to office, for remaining 2 days, all I did was to wander in the city.

I went into the restricted areas of Mumbai. I went to Dharavi, the biggest slum area in Mumbai. At the entrance, there was one police constable who stopped me, saying that this locality is very dangerous. I just smiled and said, " I will manage". At the worst what could happen? Loot? Murder? My life is not that cheap that somebody can take it without my permission. And scariness? It's a feeling that I have abandoned long ago. When I am not afraid of death, I am certainly not afraid of anything else in this world. So I went to observe life. Life of the people who barely manage to live. Who don't care about these glorious flats in a 10 story buildings or locality. Whose only aim is to survive for the day. I went deep inside the slum area. I saw children who were hungry and diseased. Adults, who were carrying weapons, who have entered into the life of crime, because they tried so hard for an honest work but the fucking government can't even give them a job of 100 rs/day. I met with young women, whose husband/family forced them into the heinous job of prostitution. Their beauty, or even worse, their gender has now become their curse. But I observed one thing, at least they all looked happy and satisfied with their lives, no matter how hard it is for them to survive. Again, I just smiled. When I wander in the elegant and sophisticated localities, where people travel by Porsche or Mercedes, all I could see is depressed faces or fake smiles. They seem so irritated, stressed. That makes me think, can money really buy happiness? What about satisfaction? You can't buy it. It has to come from within.

We are so busy in finding the answers that we don't actually understand the questions.