PARIJAT-12

The river has become narrow. The construction work is progressing from both the banks simultaneously. Artificial islands have been created for smooth progress of work. The aim is to restrict that undisturbed and uninterrupted flow of water to the down stream. The flow needs to be controlled by constructing a barrage. The works move on at a feverish pace. Suddenly the stream has become turbulent and rough. It now flows with a hissing sound angry over the apparent encroachment on its freedom. It has been narrowed down with restriction. The dissatisfaction is obvious. It protests. It pleads. It persuades but to no avail. It is like conservative parental restriction on recently flowered girl. But can we restrict that bubbling spirit of youth and the quest for that forbidden pleasure. That zeal, zest, anxiety and curiosity need to be channeled before it breaks the barrier of restrictions. The flow in the river is increasingly becoming rough. The artificial islands created by driving wooden lugs into water are creating whirlpool of different sizes. The big whirlpools are the sure sign of agitation inside. It is the initial sign of that rebel to crop up with all its compressed and coiled might.

John could see that and sense that. It is matter of time for that gushing water of that churlish hilly lass to break that restriction and set free by eroding away the artificial islands created to facilitate the construction work. The zeal has been further augmented by overnight rain so rare in winter. It needs to be guided. It needs to be redirected. It is New Year eve. A holiday looks of merry-making all round. The artificial island on either side of the river bank needs to be slit in the middle to create additional water path. John called for those gigantic earth excavators of the construction site. It needs a careful maneuverings. He wanted to monitor that slitting all by himself. Both side of the slit needs to be protected by immediate stone pitching to prevent regular erosion.

The morning sun is moving up. It has taken, already taken a huge angle from the horizon. Soon it will be perpendicular and direct over head. John moved under the shade of the tamarind tree of near the river bank. The bushy and small leaves of tamarind tree always render a smoothness and tenderness to bright and scorching sun of noon. The smooth winter breeze of the river flutters the tamarind’s leaves like the busy wings of bees. The air is refreshing with mild tangy smell of tamarind’s leaves. John could feel that tangy tenderness all-around him. It is caressing him with mildness of exotic feathers of peacock. It is smooth,tantalizingly smooth.

It is smoo Eyes are dropping down. John could see from distance the two giant excavators moving up their booms from opposite directions, front to front before they strike in tandem on the freshly laid sandy earth of artificial island with vigor of two fighting cobras. The distance between the excavators approaching from opposite directions is closing on. The job is being carried as directed by John. The slit will appear soon to redirect that energy. The flow of water will be smooth and tired.

John’s eyes are dropping further. It is becoming narrow. It is the last day of the year. The time has moved fast. It has moved ahead before John could realize it. It has been hectic and absorbing too. John could hear the occasional sound of drums, erratic, unsynchronized sound of drums. Somebody is testing those drums. The labour colony is gearing up for the night of amusement in the welcome of a new beginning, a new hope and a new dream. Reels of past days of the departing years flashed before him. He tried to remember everything. He did not remember the moments of his technical brilliancy that has left his colleague speechless. He did not try to remember his rather simple and astute solutions to the seemingly difficult problems. The son of the plumber from the obscure village of eastern India has traveled far, far more than expected. Nothing has become smooth. No road was paved for him. It was always slushy and muddy with nerve racking bent and undulation. He has crossed those all alone with single mind determination to succeed and excel. He remembered those so called lesser mortals who have made a difference to his thinking and living. In the closed eyes under the sun shade of tamarind tree his memory floated back to that brilliant talkative stone cutter boy who brings the lemon tea with honey, to the mesmerizing and enchanting flute of Raghu which touches the every chords of the soul, to the agile septuagenarian Muthu and his sense of responsibility, to the sense of togetherness and leadership of Marandi and his art of staying together , to the reassuring hand of Papaji , to the giggling Mini Jacob, no, it is Mini JOHN Jacob and her biting the earlobe before his departure to this new construction site, to the survival instinct of that barber, to the brilliant and unrecognized talent of Raja and his feeling of impotency and to his friend Jacob sleeping under the blanket of Parijats, his clasping hand on John’s hand before he closed his eyes for ever not to see this world once again.

Ah! It is big and real big family for him at the construction site. He gets the love of family; the love of sharing. He belongs to this big family of lesser mortals so lively, so unassuming, so simple and so caring. It needs a bigger heart to realize this. It needs a bigger mind to understand this. It needs a deeper sight to see this. The mother earth teaches that, the nature teaches that but it seems as if we never learn. Petty minds engaged in petty things.

The yell of the one of the excavator operator brought back John to the present. He is calling John to have a look on the work carried out. The work is over. The water has been redirected to the newly opened slit. The gushing sound in the main stream has receded. With the departing sunlight of the day John could see smaller and smaller whirlpool as water gets redirected to newly opened slit on the artificial island.

The celebration at the camp has already begun. John knew his construction camp is a miniature India. It is congregation of people from different parts of India. Different languages, different religions, different foods, different cultures, different dresses and in fact different body languages but in the end it is that fragrance , that essence of mutual respect ,hospitality, togetherness, brotherhood ,God fearing attitude, simplicity and shear love for that Mother land which bind them together. You do not find Indian in the street of India, you find him in the heart of an Indian.

The New Year celebration is fast approaching climax. It is sound of drum, flute, long trumpet, tambur, sehnai and conch all mixed together representing diversity of India while singing the unity of India.

In the crescendo of the celebration one heavyset laborer drags John towards his camp. His eyes are beaming in pleasure. He carries the expression and joy of divinity. Words do not flow, it is incoherent in joy. He drags and drags John to his new born, a beautiful girl born on the onset of New Year, carrying the saga of a new age, a new era, a new time, a new hope and a new aspiration with a new smile. She clinches her fists and cries. No, she sings. John could read that; he could feel that. Those tight fists are sign of unity while she wishes a “HAPPY NEW YEAR” in her song.

PARIJAT-11

It is drizzling outside. It is mild. It does not have the ferocity of a shower. It is an isolated low level cloud of hill side. The winter wind is mild enough to drag it. But it is soothing enough to send the sensation to trigger that laughter. It is laughing in sensation, the sensation pleasurably pleasant. The entire body is quivering as it is shedding the tears in form of big drops. John looked to that dark cloud, it looks sensual. It is beautiful. It is look of a nubile about to engross herself in the first sensual touch of her lover. It is look of semi closed dropping eyes in anticipation of an unknown pleasure. It is difficult to describe. It has no language. It is beyond description. It beggars description.

John stretched his look. It is a new day about to tell the story of new challenges. Look to it the way you want to look. It is mixture of all ingredients of life love, hate, fear, pleasure, and anger, every emotion you can think of. The drizzling is slowing down. It has almost stopped. A beam of sunrays has entered into the room uninvited through the semi closed window. It is bright and crimson. Tiny dust particles are floating around, in random movements. No aim, no purpose: it is mere existence. Have we all come to this world with no purpose, with no aim? How many times we have introspected that? How many moments of this life we have lived with a purpose? How many moments we have spent for a cause? Have we not engrossed ourselves in routine resembling the purposeless movements of tiny dusts?

John came out. It is feeling of missing something. It is about to express itself, but yet it is concealed. John tried to read that. He failed to comprehend. It is around him. It is encircling him. He could feel it. It is like cold winter breeze, all around him, but he can not see that. It is like cry of a child. It cries and cries. But it never says why. The adult inside him has taken a back seat. The adult is loosing the grip; he is growing tiny, increasingly tiny. He wants to wail, wail aloud. But why? Oh mother, will you comfort me? Will you cajole me? I miss you. I want to cry. Are you listening? You must be listening. I can sense you. I can feel you. I can listen the song of your heart, rhythmically beating for welfare of me in this auspicious day of 25^th December. John is crying, the cry of a child. In the morning sun of construction site, isolated, he is crying.

The loveable Papaji is taking measurements. He is taking measurements of steel reinforcement to be used for concrete. He is a towering and elderly Sikh with his favorite saffron turban. He cracks jokes while he works. Mostly he jokes on himself. It requires a big heart to laugh on yourself. Certainly Papaji possess that big heart. He is from the land of five rivers the Punjab. It carries history. It carries stories of great warriors of history: the stories of braveries and supreme sacrifices. The Punjab has bled in each outsider onslaught. It has become two pieces between two neighbuoring and yet rivaling countries. Yet it smiles, yet it laughs. It is the land of Sikh Guru holy Nanak, the founder of SIKHISIM that narrates the story of supreme brotherhood.

Papaji is the head of steel reinforcement fabricators at construction site. He carries the years of experiences. He has his own style of working. He is a mere fabricator. But he studies engineering drawings with the accuracy of an experienced and accomplished engineer. He does not require complex trigonometry formulae to calculate the length of a particular reinforcement shown in the drawing. All that he needs a big and smooth cemented platform. He breaks the drawing to pieces and draws that to full scale on the cemented platform. He draws the concrete member first and then the shape of the reinforcement on it as shown in the drawing. Bingo, the shape of reinforcement is now all apparent in full scale to take measurement and fabricate it. It is ingenious, quite ingenious.

Papaji is with John from the day, John joined as apprentice at the construction site. In the beginning he had the usual difficulty of an inexperienced engineer fresh out of college. It looks new, everything new. John feels utterly helpless when he sees those big blue prints at construction site. Those never look familiar to him. Asking seniors means risking his job. John can not afford to do that. He must find a way out. Perturbed to core, John one day discovered the cemented platform of Papaji. His enthusiasm grew further when he saw the friendly smile and calmness of father figure Papaji’s face. John remembered the old saying of his childhood teacher. Sack your ego, if you wish to learn. Bear the inquisitiveness of child, if we wish to learn. Knowledge is teacher. Learn to recognize that, learn to respect that. Surrender to that. A teacher teaches; he is always respected; he can be anybody. John vividly remembers those days, the teaching of Papaji, his ingenious method of simplifying the drawing, a whole to parts and again reassembled to whole.

Papaji is reading John. He recognizes each movements of John. He could sense the emptiness in John’s face. Face is reflection of mind. It reflects your inner core. You can not hide that even if you wish to hide. Papaji is scanning John’s face. His eyes riveted on John. He could read him, whole to parts and again reassembled to whole. It is no difficult for him.

Evening is drawing nearer. Workers are returning to camp after the day of hard works. Today is “BADA DIN” (the Big Day), December, 25th. The pang of morning again resurfaced. John felt miserable. He stretched himself in that arm chair and looked to the wall. The second hand of the old wall clock moving, moving fast. Outside is outrageously calm. The night is descending fast. It is also moving fast like the second hand of wall clock. He could only hear the sound of second hand, monotonous and rude. Time moves. It does not care who is lost, who is lost forever. Who wins? Who loses? Past will write that. Time has no time to wait. It moves. Run along if you can. John could feel he is gathering weight, the weight loneliness. He closed his eyes. From the nearby temple the sound of bells started singing the praise of the Lord. It will continue for sometimes, the priest is offering the last prayer of the day.

Somebody is knocking the door. The door is not locked from inside. Papaji did not wait for John to open the door. He came inside and extended his hand to lift John from the arm chair. John accepted that knowing very well Papaji is twice of his age. Sometimes the extended hand of old and experienced is very comforting. John needs that today.

It is dark, pitch dark outside. There is no power cut. But why it is dark? Who has switched off the lights of construction site and labour camp? Papaji is almost dragging him. From a distance he could see something red, the sign is apparent and familiar. It is a red star light. As Papaji guided John towards that red star, suddenly the labour colony sprang back to life. John could see bright fluorescent lights everywhere. The darkness has hidden its face in shame. Then came the sound, the sound John was so eager to listen, it is like an enchanting chant, so familiar, so soothing. Hundred flutes will hide their faces in shame. They can not match that sweetness; they can not match the divinity of that crescendo. It is a song, song from the souls, it sings in unison “MERRY CHRISTMAS, JOHN”.

It is one of the rooms of labour camp. The occupant has vacated it temporarily. There in the middle of room stands a nicely decorated Christmas Tree telling the story of worship of the evergreen tree as a symbol of the everlasting life. Behind it, John sees photo of Mother Mary with infant Lord. Tears rolled down; it is uncontrolled. John did not want to control it. It is tears of morning, tears of wailing John. Let it flow. It is tears of love. Suddenly he started realizing the pangs of the morning. Papaji could read that, it is easy –whole to parts and again reassembled to whole.

With tear brimmed eyes john knelt before the Mother Mary with infant LORD. His eyes closed in love and gratitude. He could hear a carol in praise of the Lord. Who sings that? It is secular India, led by Papaji, the Sikh. Tears are in spate. It is tears of love, love for Mother and Mother Land.

Where are you Parijats? Smile. I love that smile.

PARIJAT-10

There was something awfully wrong. The well foundation for bridge pier is sinking. John could feel the vibration on the surrounding earth. It was a concrete structure just like an open well with thick wall in form of a ring. On the surface it looks like two concentric circles, the space between outer ring and inner ring is filled with concrete to make a thick annular concrete wall. It sits like a thick bangle on the surface. Concretes walls in ring form is built up as the bangle sinks slowly under its own weight inside the ground when the earth from inner ring is taken away by a mechanical earth cutter-cum-grabber. Removal of earth from inner ring reduces the frictional force, thereby helping annular concrete wall to push inside the ground by its own weight. It is the process of well sinking. But the concrete giant never sinks uniformly. It all depends on the resistance of the soil below the tip.

Inevitable has happened. The giant concrete monolith has avoided the resistance. It must be relatively soft soil on one side which has made the monolith to gush in hissing sound and vibration. Now it stands tilted as if bowing the head out of shame.

It is path of least resistance. It is less painful. But it makes you ashamed in the end because you never learn anything significant in life. You cease to be human being if you never accept challenges. Difficulty in life is not going to last for ever. It makes the achievement pleasurable, more pleasurable. You need to struggle. You need to sustain the pressure and overcome that resistance. That makes you sharper and wiser in the end. It is the pressure which converts coal to diamond. Smooth sea never makes a good sailor. It is the turbulence in the sea that teaches. It has a thrill. It has a charm. Without that thrill life is dull and monotonous. It is the life of four-legged involved in routine. Who wants that? Experience in overcoming the odds is the best teacher, never mind if it is an expensive teacher.

John is standing near the concrete monolith. It has tilted. It has tilted a quite a bit. It needs urgent attention. It has to be set right before it tilts further. Intuition tells loading it eccentrically is not going to help; nor the loosening of the soil in the side of the tilt by water jet. The tilting is huge. It requires a diver who will go inside the water and cut the earth on the tip of concrete giant.

John was totally bemused. Divers are rare in construction site now days. They come from a particular part of the country. Professional divers with their under water gadgets and dress are slowly replacing the traditional divers. But professionals are at premium, they do not come to remote construction site. They do not follow the traditional method of oiling the body for hours before entering into water with weight hung around the waist to counter the buoyancy. The metallic cap in the head is connected to a compressor to supply air for breathing while they are under the water. The pressurized air from the compressor drives away the water and creates a big air bubble around diver’s head. The modern divers with their sophisticated under water jacket do not require so much elaborations of the traditional diver.

Time is running out first for John. The giant is going to tilt further if something is not done immediately. The only traditional diver of the construction site, Muthu, is running high fever. The fever has lasted for last two days; still it does not show the sign of coming down. Hilly terrain. It could be mosquitoes born. John is really worried. Who will go inside the water of giant well? He must be experienced. He must have the sense of timing. He should possess that extra in-built sensory to throw that extra weight around the waist and move up as the well tries to correct itself otherwise he will be trapped in the loose and bouncy sands.

John started to move in short and quick steps. His to and fro movement speaks about his mental perturbation. He had a squint glance to the tilted giant. It is standing head bent, challenging John, testing his patience. John started breathing heavily. It is sign of restlessness. He ought to act. He can not allow the situation to drift. His fists are clinched. Teeth are rigidly joined and grinding each other.

He needs to consult Muthu. May be the septuagenarian has something to contribute out of his experience. He dragged his feet towards the camp. From a distance he could see some movement near Muthu’s cottage. It became slowly apparent as he approached nearer. It is the traditional rope cot where Muthu lays chest upward. Two of the construction workers are massaging oil. Muthu’s body is totally soaked in fresh oil. This is a special massage before diving inside the water. John could sense the intention. Muthu’s eyes are blood tinted in high fever of the hills. But there is a purpose in his face. It is a challenge not new to Muthu. He has done it in the past. He will do it once again. It is the call of the duty. It is the call of the responsibility. It is the silent call of his leader. He needs to deliver. How can he ignore that call? It is the silent call to wake up and rise up. The old war horse `is rising, definitely rising.

John hurried back to the construction site. He did not say anything to Muthu. He knows very well the septuagenarian is not going to listen to him. It is very difficult to control him. But he needs to prevent Muthu going inside the water. He has to make a balance, a realistic balance. It is concern for work while keeping intact the concern for people. That is what leadership warrants. The optimization is possible, definitely possible. Look into the issue. Have a close glance, half of the battle is own. Leadership is all about leading from anywhere and setting example. The call of the moment is to lead from the front. A leader should inspire. He needs to be a mixture of courage, charisma, knowledge and concerns.

John soaked himself in oil with quick hands. The metallic cap connected to compressor is already in his head. He needs to go inside the water before Muthu’s arrival. It is silence, a deafening silence all-round. Lips do not move but eyes tell the story. It is the song of silence. It has a pulse. It has a beat. It has a rhythm. It has a lyric. Listen to it if you wish to listen. It is within you. It is inside you. It is embedded in you. It is song of sense of duty and responsibility as charming and as exciting as red tubes of Parijats.

PARIJAT-9

The nimbleness of his fingers over the computer keyboard tells the story of an unfathomable piano player. The speed was breath taking and presentation on the screen was crisp. In one breadth it tells you all accounting information of the construction site, the daily out put, work in progress vis-à-vis planned, material at stock, future requirements etc: an excellent piece of self developed, tailor made management information system. John had never thought of somebody presenting with such intensity for a post of an accountant at a construction site. He was just dumbfounded and was at the edge of his chair, his vision riveted to computer screen and attention glued to the analysis. His senior colleague from head office bears no expression on his face. He does not appear to be that excited. An aged body with aged mind loves his cigar and has gone out once in between presentation to emit that black smoke like an aged and outdated train engine.

The make-shift interview room at the construction site was clumsily humid due to slight drizzle and overcast sky. The light outside was dim in cloudy sky. The old model florescent light inside the room was just adequate. The table fan struggles to push the air and gnaws at its failure. There are drops of perspiration on presenter face. He looks tensed. The muscles on his face are in movements, lips dances in expression and eyes flicker brighten ups as the desired and the expected flashes on the computer screen but in the ends it is all the expression of a plaintiff note, cloudy and smoky, the scene of water vapours engulfing that tiny fire of aspiration. With all coordinated efforts of tiny muscles the vocal chord does not emit that sweetness; it is all grunts, grunts of failure, grunts of desperation and grunts of that armless lonely warrior. With all that he smiles with satisfaction in the end as he bows his head while computer screen flashes the message:-

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF RAJA

PHYSICALLY DEFFICIENT, DUMB

BUT

MENTALLY AGILE, BRIGHT.

The so called mental agility of Raja had no effect in the mind of John senior colleague. His expressionless face conveys the assumed and preconceived reality. The boy is dumb. He does not fit into the scheme. The rule book does not permit too. There is no room for sympathy here. John knew that his colleague will not make any deviation from the practice. Still he stood up and extended a warm shake of hand to Raja. The boy had in fact done a commendable job. He was exceptional. He was out of ordinary. But it requires exceptional brain to understand that. We need to peep out of that cocoon to understand that. Rules are generalist in nature. It recognizes average and talks of average and meant for average. The exceptional conveys his own rule. It requires an exceptional brain, courage and convictions and willingness to recognize that.

Raja had left the construction site. He is bestowed with the brilliant acumen of understanding the situation and comprehending the situation very quickly. He had read that expressionless face. He had understood the message behind John warm hand shake. The vibration of shaky hand had conveyed him everything. He does not require that. He does not require sympathy on anybody look. He requires the reorganization. He wants to overcome that feeling of failure, that feeling of impotency. He wants to be one among the physically efficient person. He wants to overcome the deficiency of dumbness with his mental sharpness. But nobody sees that, nobody hears that. All that they hear the grunts, the grunts of a defeated person. Who cares for that feeling? Who cares for that mental agility and the talent of exception in the world of the averages?

Suddenly Raja felt the burden of the laptop on his shoulder. It is becoming heavy, increasingly heavy. But he is determined to carry on with the burden as he marches on. He races along alone in that marathon of life always competing with himself, redefining himself, rediscovering himself. It is journey of self-discovery towards self actualization.

AAHH, it is beautiful! Parijats, are you smiling!

PARIJAT-8

The morning was sheepishly lazy. John looked to the large sized mirror in his room. He looks haggard with the disturbed sleep. Water sags below the eyes are distinct. Look of tiredness was prevalent on his face. Beards have grown in his pock-marked face. The old marks of small pox have prevented those beards to grow uniformly. Surprisingly the skin inside those small pox marks look tender and young. Oily pores have opened up in the sagged chins. It is mixtures of white and black, all sprouting up on that unshaved face.

John splashed fresh cold water in his face. It was refreshing. He wanted to wear a smart look. Hairs in that semi bald head have grown wild. The receding and thin hairs have become fragile too. Disturbed sleep has made him to roll on his bed with frequent changes of side. That has given a further untamed look to his hairs.

It was Sunday morning. John put on a loose trouser and moved out. He wants to look younger with a smart navy cut to his hairs. It is a funny but interesting feeling. We sometimes want to fly back and go back down the memory lane. We want to have a flash back of everything. Every thing looks pleasing all of a sudden in the dark lane of memory. That child inside us crawls up mischievously. We forget we have grown old. We forget we have become more matured and responsible with the burden of reality.

Ahha! It is nostalgic! It is vibrating and pulsating memories of that game of hide and seek, that wild swim towards upstream of river and soon followed by floating on back, looking up to the sky and thinking of somebody with that bewitching and infectious smile while the gentle flow of river glides you to its destination and that blind folded game of touching and catching somebody when everybody moves around you. You move your hands in blind fold with hope of catching that smile. It comes to your fold knowingly, stays there knowingly little longer than required, falling knowingly over you as if everything has happened accidentally, by chance. As if that smile was not willing, only you have caught her in that blind folded game. It is feeling of getting everything while hand is empty. It is there still it is not there. So near yet so far.

Time passes by. We fail to realize that still we play the blind fold game of childhood. Till today we move with that feeling of unknown, unseen, unrealized pleasure of achieving and failing, getting and losing. Eyes are open. We do not see anything. Like that blindfolded child we move our hands in nothingness and emptiness in hope of touching and catching the elusive. We fail to see in that dark corridor of the place of worship somebody lit lamps for us with lips full of prayers. Ahha!

John has reached the barber shop. The surrounding appeared to him quite different from an ordinary barber shop. It is a longish room with a huge backward. The back yard gives an impression of a play school. Tiny toddlers are on bicycles and tricycles. Some are simply running along with the tricycles. Slightly seniors are on see-saw and on glide too. Most of them have already had their haircuts but refuse to go home. John went inside the hair cutting room; the longish room is made up of mud walls with split bamboo inside it as reinforcement. The walls are elegantly thin, flexible and strong. Mud wall gives dual advantage of coolness in summer and warmness in winter. The room was equipped with ten revolving chairs to serve ten customers at a time. Ten small wall hanging mirrors with racks for keeping the haircutting tools. All the chairs are occupied. It is sound of busy scissors and never stopping mouth of barbers. They know everything -politics, sports, films, music everything. Every thing appears to be in their finger tips. Only you need to be good listener. Never mind, if you are not a good listener, they have an uncanny knack of drawing your attention to their talk. They know your pulse.

Behind this row of ten chairs hangs a screen separating people who are in wait for their turn to come. Long benches with reading desks are occupied by people in wait. John went inside occupied a seat in long bench. One old man appeared with some reading materials. Those reading materials are actually old paper cutting stitched together subject wise-sports, stories, events etc. John was surprised to find these innovations a small barber shop. He was further amused to know that all the ten barbers are the owner of that shop. Anybody is free to join there. The new entrant has to bring his own cutting equipments and revolving chair. The flexible mud wall with its roof shall get extended over night.

He thought of Raghu's words. It is battle of unequal. Big fish will eat away small fishes mercilessly. It will be the win for big and strong. He smiled on his own when he remembered that wise man saying “life's battles do not always go to stronger or faster one, sooner or later he/she wins who thinks he/she can”. Look for your strength, recognize that, explore that and exploit that, you are bound to be a winner. Can any mechanization replace that tender touch of human hand? Can any mechanization replace that bewitching and loving smile of friendliness? Can any mechanization replace that feeling of loving together, smiling together and crying together? Man has become robotic but that feeling has not died. It smiles, likes, loves, cries, gets angry, shows emotions and as long as you are serving those you are bound to be a winner.

John had his navy cut and special massage with mustard oil. The strong and pungent smell of mustard oil drives away all tiredness of the muscles. There is a spring in his feet as he walks. His mind and thinking have taken an upbeat trend. He remembers Marandi’s labour groups and joys of geese synergetic flying. Down in the lane of memory he recalls the flexibility of that DEODAR tree. It was a spectacular sight of adoptability and flexibility. He was astonished to see that DEODAR tree which grows tall with look of a closed umbrella has in fact bent in a right degree to have horizontal growth more than the vertical to avoid the shade of big tree growing over it. Once it avoids the shade of the big tree it again goes up vertically. To balance that extraordinary horizontal growth it shoots a branch down ward for support just like a banyan tree.

Small has its own significance. In that battle of that unequal it is bound survive with that winning smile of parijats. Develop the flexibility and look for your strength.

PARIJAT-7

HIS LANGUAGE WAS CHASTE, ELEGANT AND SOPHISTICATED. IT TOUCHES YOUR CHORD. IT HUMS IN YOUR EARS. HE SPEAKS FROM HIS HEART WITH TOUCH OF IRONY AND AGONY. THE VEINS IN HIS NECK STAND UP WHEN HE IS AT HIS ARGUMENTATIVE BEST. BUT THERE IS A FLOW IN HIS TALK. HE LOOKS INTENSIVE WITH THOSE SUNKEN EYES AND HIGH CHECK BONE AND SEMI WHITE UNTRIMMED BEARD. PEOPLE CALL HIM BY MANY NAMES –CRAZY, BROKEN HEART, FAILURE, LUNATIC, AND VAGABOND AND YET, HE IS UNFAZED. HE TALKS CONTINUOUSLY ON HIS OWN. HE DOES NOT REQUIRE A PARTICULAR LISTENER. HE SEEMS TO TALK FOR EVERYBODY AND TO EVERYBODY.

JOHN HAD MET HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME NEAR THAT TEA STALL. PEOPLE HAD MOVED AWAY AS HE APPROACHED. HE CAME AND EXTENDED HIS HAND. JOHN FELT AS IF HIS BONE IS GOING TO CRUSH AS HE SHOOK HIS HAND. IT WAS A KNUCKLE BREAKER. HE LAUGHS WITH HISSING SOUND WITH THOSE ODD SIZED AND YELLOWISH TEETH OUT. DIRTY DRESS WITH A FESTOON OF SEMIDRY AND SEMI ROTTEN VEGETABLES HUNG FROM THE NECK. HE WAS IRRITATINGLY SMELLY. SURPRISINGLY HE HAD A FLUTE IN LEFT HAND. HEY, MR. JOHN NICE MEETING YOU, GOOD SAMARITAN. I AM TOLD YOU WORKING FOR POWER IN NAME OF POOR. YOU ARE A HYPOCRITE PERSONIFIED. DO YOU REQUIRE A RESERVOIR TO WATER THE LAND OF LANDLESS? HE GRINNED. TELL ME WHO THAT SECRET POWER IS. HE LAUGHED WITH HISSING SOUND.

JOHN MOVED TWO STEPS BACKWARD. HE FELT LITTLE UNEASY AND UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT AGGRESSIVE APPROACH. WORDS ARE PIERCING. HEY JOHN, HE CONTINUED AS IF JOHN IS OLD BUDDY MEETING TOGETHER AFTER YEARS, YOU LOOK LIKE THAT CREATURE LIVING THOUSAND MILES DEEP INSIDE THE SEA, I MEAN, DESIGNED TO CARRY TONNES OF WEIGHT AND IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THAT PRESSURE OVER YOU, THEN YOUR INTERNAL INBUILT PRESSURE IS GOING TO TEAR YOU APART IN THE ABSENCE OF COUNTER PRESSURE. AH, NICE CHAP DESIGNED TO CARRY PRESSURE. BUT FOR WHOM YOU CARRY THAT PRESSURE POOR OR POWER. HE AGAIN STARTED TO GRIN. THERE IS LITTLE CALMNESS IN HIS EYES. INTENSITY HAS DIES DOWN A LITTLE.

JOHN FELT LITTLE RELAXED AS HE TURNED TO MOVE AWAY. HE STARTED TO BLOW THAT FLUTE IN ODD AND NOT SO SYNCHRONIZED TUNE MIXED WITH SOME BRILLIANT TUNE. HE APPEARS TO HAVE A COMPLETE HOLD OVER THAT HALLOW PIECE OF SLOTTED BAMBOO OTHERWISE THE QUICK MANEUVER BETWEEN MEDIOCRE TO BRILLIANT IS NOT POSSIBLE. AS HE MOVED TO A DISTANCE HE TURNED BACK, RAISED HIS LEFT HAND AND YELLED, BY THE WAY JOHN, I AM RAGHU. NICE MEETING YOU, MY FRIEND OF POWER, SORRY-----, HEY DAMN IT, MY FRIEND OF POOR. HE BLEW THE FLUTE ONCE AGAIN AND STARTED RUNNING IN A JUMPING AND SWINGING GAIT OF A TEN YEARS OLD.

ALL THROUGH JOHN HAS MAINTAINED A STOIC SILENCE. SILENT IN MOUTH MAY AVOID MANY PROBLEMS AND SMILE IN MOUTH MAY SOLVE MANY PROBLEMS. JOHN FELT LITTLE UNEASY, EVERYTHING HAPPENED IN A DROP OF AN EYE LID. BUT IT LEFT AN IMPACT- POOR OR POWER? YEAH, THERE IS A MEANING TO IT. BUT WHAT EXACTLY IT EXPRESSES? SOMEBODY TRYING TO SYMPATHIES, SAID TO JOHN, FORGET SIR, HE IS A LUNATIC. MAD. UNSUCCESSFUL CREATURE HAS LOST EVERYTHING BUSINESS TO LOVE, EVERYTHING. HE HAD A CHAIN OF VEGETABLE SHOPS IN NEARBY TOWN BUT HE LOST IT TO SUPER MARKET.

JOHN CAME BACK TO CONSTRUCTION SITE. TRUCKS OF BRICKS, STONE CHIPS AND SANDS ARE GETTING UNLOADED. JUNIOR STAFFS HAVE ALSO JOINED.LABOUR CAMP AND SITE OFFICE ARE BEING CONSTRUCTED. SURVEY WORK IS OVER. THE REAL CONSTRUCTION WILL COMMENCE SOON.

JOHN HAS GATHERED EVERYTHING ABOUT RAGHU, THE LUNATIC BEFORE HE CAME BACK TO CONSTRUCTION SITE. IT IS STORY OF BIG FISH EATING AWAY SMALL FISHES. STRANGE WORLD .DESPITE ALL PHILOSOPHICAL TALK OF EQUALITY IT HAPPENS. THAT IS REAL. THAT IS LIFE. THAT IS THIS WORLD. SELF CENTERED TO CORE. SURVIVAL OF FITTEST. RAW TRUTH. COMPETE OR FIZZLE OUT. BUT HOW DO YOU SURVIVE IN THAT BATTLE OF THE UNEQUAL. IDEAL DO NOT SURVIVE IN REAL WORLD. IDEALISM IS GOOD TO READ BUT HAS LITTLE MEANING IN PRACTICAL WORLD WHERE REALITY RULES. RAGHU WAS AWARE OF THAT. HE WAS INTELLIGENT ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND THAT. HE KNEW THE ENTRY OF SUPER MARKET WILL EAT AWAY SMALL TRADERS LIKE HIM. EVERYBODY WAS LAUGHING WHEN HE EXPRESSED HIS APPREHENSION. THEY MOCKINGLY REPLIED DO YOU THINK SUPERMARKETS ARE GOING TO COMPETE WITH VEGETABLE VENDORS LIKE YOU. THEY WERE SO TRUE, SUPERMARKETS DO NOT COMPETE WITH VEGETABLE SHOPS, THEY SIMPLY EAT AWAY IT. THEY CALLED HIM CRAZY AND MAD; TODAY ALSO THEY CALL HIM THE SAME. WHY? BECAUSE HE TELLS THE TRUTH! SUPERMARKETS NOT ONLY SOLD THE VEGETABLES , BUT IN SUPERB SHOW OF POWER, ARROGANCE AND SO CALLED BUSINESS ACUMEN, THEY ALSO PURCHASED THE LANDS GROWING VEGETABLES CUTTING OUT THE SUPPLY OF ALL SMALL VENDORS LIKE RAGHU .HIS WORLD STARTED MELTING . EVERY ASPIRATION, HOPE, DREAM AND LOVE WASHED AWAY WITH THAT. WHAT REMAINED A GARLAND OF ROTTEN BUT SMELLY VEGETABLES? A SMELLY DREAM, A SMELLY BODY. A SMELLY MIND, A LUNATIC MIND WITH SMELLY SHRIEK. YET HE SPEAKS TRUTH, THE TRUTH OF REALITY WHEN THAT FLUTE RHYMES.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

JOHN FOUND IT DIFFICULT TO SLEEP. IT IS OUTRAGEOUSLY COLD OUTSIDE. BUT JOHN IS BOILING IN THOUGHT. SLEEP WITH ITS FAIRY DREAM HAS DESERTED HIM. HE WANTED TO HAVE SHOWER IN THAT COLD NIGHT. HE SHIVERED AND STARTED SNEEZING IN COLD AS WATER STARTED POURING FROM SHOWER. HE WIPED HIS BODY DRY AND AGAIN TRIED TO SLEEP. DISTURB THOUGHTS ARE SLOWING DOWN. HE STARTED YAWNING IN BED. IT IS A NIGHTMARE, NO, IT CAN NOT BE DREAM. DREAMS ARE SWEET AND ROMANTIC. THIS IS SCARY. THIS IS NIGHTMARE. IN HOT DESSERT OF NOTHINGNESS, IT IS JOHN SURROUNDED BY VULTURES. HE IS MOTIONLESS IN BARE BODY. VULTURES ARE SWOOPING ON HIM. HE IS TURNING INTO RAGHU AND SCREAMING IN PAIN, YOU RUTHLESS POWER AS SHARP TALONS OF VULTURES TEARS HIM APART. HE SCREAMS IN BLOOD-CURDLING PAIN AS EVERYTHING CRUMBLES IN FRONT OF HIM. VULTURES ARE EATING HIM LIVE, THEY NO LONGER LIKE DEAD. THEY PREY ON LIVE. THEY PREY ON HELPLESS AND MOTIONLESS. TASTE OF BLOOD IS INVITING. NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DEAD AND ALIVE FOR THEM, IT IS TEMPTATION OF FRESH BLOOD AND FLESH. THEY BITE HIM WITH THAT HORNY PROJECTING AND HORRIFYING JAWS. IT IS BLOOD, FRESH BLOOD WITH RAW FLESH EVERYWHERE. RAGHU NO LONGER SCREAMS. HE LOOKS TO DISTANCE SOMEBODY IS MOVING AWAY FROM HIM WITH FACE OF SCORN AND HATE. HE CONJURES OF ALL HIS ENERGY TO MOVE. IT IS WEIGHT VULTURES ALL OVER HIM. HE SCREAMS WITH ALL AGONY, DO NOT GO AWAY. YOU HAD PROMISED TO RUN ALONG WITH ME. DO NOT MAKE THIS JOURNEY SO SHORT. DO NOT MAKE ME A MEMORY ON SANDS TO BE BLOWN AWAY TO UNKNOWN. SOUND OF THE SCREAM VANISHES TO OBLIVION IN THAT DESERT OF NOTHINGNESS. HE SEES CHARCOAL OF FIRE. IT IS LAST CHANCE FOR HIM TO CONJURE UP ALL HIS ENERGY TO CALL WITH ALL THAT MELANCHOLY IN HIS COMMAND. HE MOVES UP HIS HAND AS HE OPENED HIS MOUTH FOR THAT LAST CALL. IN SUDDEN LIGHTENING FLASH HE PUTS HIS HANDS IN THAT CHARCOAL OF RED FIRE TO CALL, PLEASE --------------DO---------NOT -----------------GO AWAY. TALONS OF VULTURES CLOSED IN ON HIS EYES. SOON IT BECAME DARK, PITCH DARK IN THAT DESERT OF NOTHINGNESS.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

JOHN GOT UP WITH THAT LAST SCREAM. IT WAS REAL SCARY NIGHTMARE. IN THAT COLD NIGHT OF HILLS, HE FOUND HIM DRENCHED IN SWEAT. HE OPENED THE DOOR AND CAME OUTSIDE. COOLNESS OF WINTER EMBRACED HIM. IT WAS SURPRISINGLY PLEASING TO HIM. THE HILLY TERRAIN IS REVERBERATING WITH SWEET RHYTHM OF FLUTE. THE MASTER AT HIS BEST. IT IS RESOUNDING IN THAT SHORT HILL DRESSED IN GREEN; STANDING LIKE REPLICA OF GOD .IT IS SMILING AND SPREADING ITS ARM TO EMBRACE WITH LOVE OF A SISTER. WHO IS THIS FLUTE MASTER? WHO IS HE? JOHN STARTED SMILING WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF KNOWN AND FAMILIARITY. THE DARK SKY ABOVE HIM IS CALM LIKE DEEP OCEAN WITH ALL ITS SMILING STARS GLEAMING AND FLOATING LIKE PARIJATS. THEY ARE THE STARS OF THE SEA, SMILING PARIJATS. THE TIMBRE AND NOTE OF FLUTE IS ENCHANTING AND MESMERIZING. WHO WILL MISS THIS ALLURING, BEWITCHING AND BEGUILING CALL? THE LIVING SOUL WILL CERTAINLY COME BACK, BOUND TO COME BACK TO RUN THAT LAST LAPS TOGETHER. WHO SAYS THIS RELATIONSHIP IS FRAGILE? IT IS NOT FOR A SEASON, IT IS NOT FOR A REASON: IT IS FOREVER!

THIS BLOG IS DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND MERISTELA , A LOVELY SISTER TOO. IN FACT THE LAST LINE OF THIS BLOG IS COPIED FROM HER BLOG WITHOUT HER PERMISSION . SHE WILL PARDON ME FOR THAT.

PARIJAT-6

DRY WINTER MORNING IS ALWAYS IRRITATING. IT GIVES A FEELING OF LETHARGY WITH POOR BLOOD CIRCULATION. AS THE AGE INCREASES THE FEELING OF LETHARGY BECOMES MORE APPARENT WITH LESS TOLERANCE TO COLD. IT WAS COLD OF HILLY TERRAIN, ALL NEW TO JOHN. HE DID NOT WANT TO GET UP FROM THE BED, THOUGH HE FEELS NO MORE SLEEPY. SOMEBODY IS KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. JOHN RELUCTANTLY GOT UP AND DRAGGED HIS FEET TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS HE OPENED THE DOOR, HE SAW A LITTLE HAND OFFERING SOME BLACK LIQUID IN A GLASS TUMBLER. FRESH LEMON TEA WITH BLACK PEEPER, SIR. HAVE A SIP THE COLD WILL RUN AWAY, HE CONVEYED WITH STYLE OF AN EXPERIENCED SALE PERSON. JOHN WAS TOTALLY AMUSED BY SIGHT OF THE YOUNG KID IN HIS AGGRESSIVE SALE CAMPAIGN. JOHN KNEW THE EASTERN PART OF HIS COUNTRY IS FAMOUS FOR LEMON TEA. IT IS REFRESHING WITH PEPPER AND DASH OF LEMON.

THE KID CONTINUED TO DISPLAY HIS SELLING SKILL. SIR, NO SUGAR, SIR. IT IS WITH HONEY, FRESH HONEY FROM VALLEY. JOHN HAD SEEN THE KID IN THE NEARBY TEA SHOP. BUT HE HAD NEVER EXPECTED HIM SO EARLY IN THE MORNING. SIR, I AM TOLD, YOU ARE GOING TO STOP THE WATER FROM FLOWING DOWN THE RIVER, THE BOY CONTINUED. LOT OF PEOPLE WILL BE COMING TO WORK HERE. MY PAPA WAS TELLING ME YESTERDAY TO GO TO VALLEY AND PURCHASE BOTTLES OF HONEY. HE HAS PROMISED ME TO PURCHASE A NICE WOOLEN SWEATER AS OUR BUSINESS IMPROVES. HE SAYS I MAY NOT HAVE TO CUT THE RED STONE IN FUTURE. THE BOY CONTINUED TO SPEAK WITHOUT BREAK AND WITHOUT WAITING JOHN TO ANSWER. JOHN SMILED AS HE STARTED SIPPING THE TEA, IT WAS SWEET AND TANGY.

THE BOY CONTINUED, WHEN ALL YOUR PEOPLE WILL COME, SIR? WHEN THE WORK WILL START? JOHN ENJOYED THE INQUISITIVENESS OF THE BOY. HE DID NOT SAY ANYTHING. HE WANTED TO THAT EAGERNESS STAY ALIVE. HE JUST PUT HIS AROUND THE SHOULDER IN CONVEY OF AN ASSURANCE AND COMFORT. SOMETIMES THIS ASSURANCE WORKS WONDER IN OUR LIFE. ASSURANCE MAY NOT TURN INTO THE TRUTH, BUT IT CONSOLES YOU, IT CAJOLES YOU AND COMFORTS YOU AND DISTRACTS YOU FROM MISERY OF THE MOMENT. WE ALL LONG AND LOVE TO CONVERT THAT ASSURANCE INTO TRUTH. BUT IT DOES NOT HAPPEN ALWAYS. SOMETIMES WHEN IT HAPPENS ALSO WE DO NOT KNOW. IT COMES AND GOES LIKE THE FIRST MOON AFTER THE NEW MOON DAY. WE ALL LIVE WITH THAT ASSURANCE WITH A HOPE THAT IT WILL TURN INTO REALITY. THERE IS A CHARM IN THAT WAITING; THERE IS A PLEASURE IN THAT WAITING. ONLY THE EXPERIENCED UNDERSTANDS THAT. IT IS LIKE THE LIFE OF THE SWALLOW BIRD WHICH STANDING IN KNEE DEEP WATER WAITS FOR THOSE CLOUDS IN THE SKY TO CRY FOR IT. NO REGRET, IF IT DOES NOT COME AND DOES NOT DROP, BUT IT WAITS FOR THAT ASSURANCE TURNING INTO REALITY.

THE BOY HAS LEFT WITH EMPTY TUMBLER. JOHN IS STILL WONDERING ABOUT THE CORNS IN THE HAND OF YOUNG BOY. IT MUST HAVE HAPPENED BECAUSE OF CONTINUOUS HOLDING OF SOMETHING HARD WHICH HAS LEFT ITS MARK IN THE TENDER HAND. WHAT IT COULD BE? IS THE BOY ALSO INVOLVED IN SOME STRENUOUS LABOURS OTHER THAN SELLING TEA?

FOR A MOMENT JOHN DIVERTED HIS ATTENTION TO THE ONE DAY OLD LOCAL DAILY. IT REACHES ONE DAY LATE. HE WENT THROUGH THE HEAD LINES. NOTHING COULD ATTRACT HIS ATTENTION. HE COULD NOT CONCENTRATE EITHER. IT IS SLOWLY AND SURELY TURNING OUT TO BE BRIGHT SUNNY DAY. HE HAS TO MAKE A SURVEY OF THE LOCALITY AND CHECK THE BILL OF QUANTITY AVAILABLE IN THE TENDER. HE HAS ALSO TO MAKE A MATERIAL SURVEY. HE HAS ALREADY COLLECTED A FAIR IDEA OF THE LOCALITY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER. HE PLANNED TO HAVE A LATE BATH SOMETIMES IN AFTERNOON AFTER FINISHING SOME PORTION OF SURVEY.

HE STARTED MOVING IN THE ROAD LEADING TOWARDS HILL. IT IS A ROAD FULL OF DITCHES AND RED DUSTS. MOVEMENTS OF LATERITE STONE LOADED TRUCKS HAVE MADE THE MATTER FURTHER WORSE. THE LATERITE QUARRY IS NEARBY. STONES ARE BEING CUT FOR CONSTRUCTION PURPOSE. IT IS EASY TO CUT LATERITE STONE, ONLY THE DRESSING REQUIRES SOME SKILL, IT REQUIRES PATIENCE ALSO.

IT IS DUST OF LATERITE STONES, REDDISH WITH ITS PUNGENT ORDURE .JOHN STARTED SNEEZING HEAVILY. IT WAS CONTINUOUS SNEEZING WHICH MAKES EYES SEMI CLOSED AND WITH THAT EVERYTHING LOOKS LITTLE HAZY. SOMEBODY IS MOVING TOWARDS HIM, A SMALL LITTLE FIGURE, BODY COVERED WITH RED DUSTS .NOSE AND MOUTH COVERED WITH A PIECE OF CLOTH. HELLO SIR, HE GREETED JOHN. DO YOU REQUIRE LATERITE STONE FOR YOUR CONSTRUCTION WORK? GOOD STONES AVAILABLE HERE . COME SIR, I WILL TAKE YOU TO MANAGER. THE TEA BOY OF THE MORNING IN HIS NEW ROLE. SAME ENTHUSIASM. SAME INQUISITIVENESS, THE ACUMEN OF EXPERIENCED ALL APPARENT. THE GLAZE OF AN UNCUT DIAMOND, REQUIRES LITTLE POLISHING. IT IS JUST LIKE THAT JASMINE OF JUNGLE, EMITTING ITS FLAVOUR IN UNKNOWN, UNSUNG AND UNNOTICED. NOBODY WILL NOTICE THAT. NOBODY WILL DISCOVER THAT UNKNOWN DIAMOND. NOBODY WILL GIVE A POLISH TO THAT. IT HAS COME UNKNOWN AND UNNOTICED AND GO AWAY UNNOTICED AND UNKNOWN. TALENT WILL GET BURIED IN THAT UNKNOWN CORNER OF THE WORLD. WHO WILL NOTICE THAT? WHO HAS KEPT A COUNT OF THOSE UNKNOWN TALENTS?

IT IS MANIFESTATION OF INEQUALITY. WHO HAS CREATED THAT? WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT? TALENT IS EVERYWHERE. SEARCH FOR IT YOU WILL GET THAT. JOHN AGAIN PUT THAT HAND OF ASSURANCE ON THE BOY BACK. HE WANTED TO TELL SOMETHING, BUT HE WANTED THAT INQUISITIVENESS TO GROW BIGGER AND BETTER. IS THERE A WAY OUT? JOHN MOVED AWAY FROM THE LATERITE QUARRY.

RED DUSTS BEHIND HIM. RED DUST OF LATERITE STONE. JOHN STARTED SNEEZING AGAIN. HE SEES HANDS WITH CHISEL DRESSING THAT LATERITE. TINY AND UNCONTROLLED HANDS WITH HAMMER IN THE LEFT ONE. THE HAND IS YET TO MASTER THAT STROKE OF HAMMER WHICH FALLS ON HEAD OF CHISEL. SOMETIMES IT HITS PARTIALLY THOSE TINY MUSCLES GRIPPING AROUND THE CHISEL. THE FACE GRIMACES IN PAINS. BUT THE HANDS NEVER STOP. IT MOVES MECHANICALLY TILL IT FEELS THE PAIN OF FRICTION WHEN GRIP SLIPS ON THE CHISEL. HEAT COMING OUT OF THAT FRICTION CREATES CORNS WITH THICK SKIN IN THOSE TINY HANDS. BUT THE WORKS CONTINUE. THE HAND SHIVERS IN PAIN. IT CRIES IN PAIN. IN THE MISTY EYES OF REMEMBRANCE IT REMEMBERS THE HANDS OF THAT LOVE PRAYING SOMEWHERE FOR HIS WELFARE WITH FOLDED PALMS FULL OF PARIJATS.

PARIJAT-5

IT IS BARREN AND DRY. THE MONSOON HAS LEFT. WINTER HAS JUST PEEPED IN. THE EARLY WINTER LANDSCAPE NEVER DRAWS A SUCH GLOOMY PICTURE. MILES AND MILES OF VAST BARREN LANDS WITH NO SIGN OF VEGETATIONS. IT HAS NOT RAINED FOR SECOND CONSECUTIVE YEARS. JOHN KNEW HIS COUNTRY IS FULL OF EXTREMES. IT IS PROBLEM OF PLENTY AND AT THE SAME TIME HAS PROBLEM OF SCARCITY. THE PROBLEM COULD BE SORTED OUT IF WE HAVE A WILL TO SOLVE IT. BUT WHO BOTHERS? PASS THE DAY. IT IS NOT MY PROBLEM. WHY TO BOTHER?

BUT SOMETIMES WISER COUNSEL DOES PREVAIL. FROM THAT ARROGANT AND INTELLECTUALS REALM OF POWER TO SAY “NO” A DECISION HAS FLOWN IN .THE UPSTREAM WATER HAS TO BE STOPPED; A BY-PASS WILL BE CREATED TO DIVERT MORE WATER TO THE SMALL HILLY RIVER FLOWING IN A GORGE. A BARRAGE HAS TO BE CONSTRUCTED CONNECTING TWO SMALL HILLOCKS; WATER RESERVOIR WILL BE CREATED TO DIVERT THE WATER TO THE BARREN LAND. EVERYTHING HAS TO BE DONE BEFORE THE ONSET OF NEXT MONSOON. JOHN KNEW THE HIMALAYAN TASK AHEAD OF HIM. BUT HE LOVES CHALLENGES. HE IS AWARE THAT NOTHING HAS BECOME SMOOTH IN HIS PROFESSIONAL CAREER. PROBLEMS AND HINDRANCES, ALL UNEXPECTED, ALL UNIMAGINABLE HAVE ALWAYS CROPPED UP. THEY HAVE LEFT THEIR SCARES JOHN’S MIND. BUT HE WAS NEVER FOUND WANTING. HIS TECHNICAL JUDGMENTS HAVE NEVER BETRAYED HIM. IN THE LAST HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN WINNER. IN THE END IT IS HE WHO SMILES.

JOHN HAS COME TO HIS NEW SHELTER AFTER THAT BUS JOURNEY OF NIGHT. HE IS ALREADY ONE DAY OLD IN THAT SHELTER. IT IS AN USUAL SHELTER IN CONSTRUCTION SITE. WALLS ARE CONSTRUCTED IN SEMI BURNT BRICKS AND MUD MORTARS; ROOF IS COVERED WITH OLD GALVANIZED METALLIC SHEETS WITH STRAWS OF PADDY OVER IT. STRAWS ARE HELPFUL MANY WAYS. IT PROTECTS AGAINST HEAT AND COLD, ALSO PREVENTS RAINDROPS FALLING INSIDE FROM THE NAIL HOLES OF METALLIC SHEETS.

JOHN IS OBSERVING HIS BULKINESS STANDING IN FRONT OF LARGE SIZED MIRROR INSIDE THE ROOM. THE MIRROR REFLECTS IMAGE OF EACH INCOMER TO THE ROOM. IT IS A STRANGE THING TO FIND IN CONSTRUCTION SITE SHELTER. ON ENQUIRY HE WAS TOLD THAT COMPANY HAS PURCHASED ALL THE HOUSEHOLDS OF THE SHELTER IN A BULK AUCTION. HIS WAIST LINE HAS INCREASED, THE EXTRAS OF HIS SAGGING BELLY GIVES AN UNCOMFORTABLE LOOK. SAGGING CHIN WITH RECEDING HAIR LINES WITH MIXES OF THE WHITES. IT IS ALL ODD. SIGN OF ADVANCED AGE. HE HAS GROWN OLD WITHOUT REALIZING THAT. EVERYTHING LOOKS SO RECENT AND SO FRESH. BUT TIME HAS TICKLED DOWN LEAVING ITS MARK IN HIS PHYSICAL LOOK.

JOHN MOVED AWAY FROM THE MIRROR, SAT DOWN TO DRAW THE WORK SCHEDULE. THERE IS A NEW SURGE IN HIS MIND, A NEW ZEAL, AND ZEAL OF A YOUNG, TO EXCEL AND SUCCEED. HE STILL POSSESSES FIRE IN HIS BELLY; ENTHUSIASM, DETERMINATION OF YOUNG MIND AND ACUMEN OF EXPERIENCED TO CONQUER THAT UNCONQUERED. THE OLD AND TIRED LOOK IS DECEPTIVE FOR VERY FEW HAS SEEN AND REALIZED THAT FIRE, URGE AND DESIRE TO SUCCEED. JOHN WENT THROUGH SCOPE OF WORK, CAME ACROSS REHABILITATIONS MEASURES TO BE ADOPTED. EXPANDING WATER IN THE WATER RESERVOIR WILL DISPLACE MANY HOUSES WITH THAT DESTITUTE HOUSE FOR THE OLDS. THOSE ARE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF RIVER. JOHN THOUGHT OF MAKING VISIT TO THAT VILLAGE. THERE IS NO BOAT MAN TO OAR THE BOAT ACROSS THE RIVER. JOHN WANTED TO VENTURE THAT OLD EXPERIENCE. ROWING OF BOAT ALL ALONE.

THE SUN HAS JUST STARTED ITS WEST WARD JOURNEY. SLIGHTLY INCLINED SUNRAYS ARE WARM AND BRING COMFORT IN A WINTER DAY. JOHN CAME TO RIVER BANK. HIGH TIDE HAS COVERED A VAST STRETCH OF RIVER BANK. HE HAS TO WALK IN THE SALLOW WATER TILL HE REACHES NEAR THE BOAT. BECAUSE OF HIGH TIDE COVERAGE THE BOAT LOOKS AS IF IT IS IN THE MIDDLE OF RIVER. JOHN FOLDED HIS PANT AND WALKED DOWN TOWARDS BOAT. HIS FEET ARE GOING DOWN IN SOFT AND LOAMY SAND. IT MAKES SOUND AS HE PULLS OUT HIS FOOT, SAND RUSHES IN TO COVER THAT IMPRESSION. THAT IMPRESSION NEVER LASTS. IT GETS COVERED OF IN NO TIME LIKE THE PAST MEMORY OF WEDDING GIRL WAITING FOR THE ARRIVAL OF HIS NEW MAN. MEMORIES GET BURIED FOR HER LIKE THOSE FOOT IMPRESSIONS IN SUBMERGED SAND. SOME MEMORY REMAINS AS THE REMINISCENT OF THAT PAST. THOSE ARE WRITTEN IN INDELIBLE INK.

JOHN CROSSED THE RIVER, CAME TO THE SLEEPY VILLAGE ON OTHER SIDE OF BANK. IT IS DEEPAVALI DAY. THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHT. AS THE EVENING APPROACHES SOUND OF CRACKERS WILL FILL THE AIR. EACH HOUSE WILL BE DECORATED IN OIL LAMPS EMITTING LIGHT OF TRUTH, HAPPINESS AND PROSPERITY. MAY BE THIS IS LAST DEEPAVALI FOR THE VILLAGE. SOON IT WILL BE PART OF MEMORY WITH ITS STORY OF LOVE, BETRAYAL, ANGER, HATRED, MISERY, SMILE AND HAPPINESS. SOON IT WILL BE ENGULFED IN SWELLING WATER OF RESERVOIR. NO REGRET, IT WILL BE PART OF PAST FOR A CAUSE. IT WILL BE LIKE THAT IMPRESSION OF FOOT IN SUBMERGED SAND ENGULFED IN THE ANTICIPATED PROSPERITY OF NEW ERA WHEN THE EACH BARREN LANDS WILL SMILE WITH GOLDEN MUSTARD FLOWER OF WINTER.

JOHN CAME TO THAT DESTITUTE HOUSE OF OLD. SOME ARE ALONE. SOME LUCKIER ARE WITH THEIR SPOUSES TO SHARE THAT BITTER AND YET SWEET PAST. FORGETTABLE, YET UNFORGETTABLE. BUT THEY ALL LAUGH TOGETHER IN THAT COMMON HALL. THEY HAVE LOST THEIR TOUCH WITH OUTSIDE, NOBODY ENQUIRES ABOUT THEM. NOBODY EVER BOTHERS TO PEEP IN. THEIR FAMILIES HAVE FORGOTTEN THEM. BUT STILL THEY LIVE AND SMILE IN ANTICIPATION OF A TOMORROW, A BETTER TOMORROW WHEN SOMEBODY WILL REMEMBER THEM. THE OLD MODEL BLACK TELEPHONE HAS GATHERED DUST. IT HAS NOT RUNG SINCE LONG. STILL THEY LOOK TO IT IN THUMPING HEART AS THEY PASS BY IT. THEY MUTTER AND PLEAD, PLEASE, PLEASE RING FOR ME. IT NEVER RINGS. THUMPING HEART OF ANTICIPATION SLOWS DOWN; SOMETHING FROM INSIDE THAT OLD HAGGARD BODY COMES OUT IN FORM OF A DEEP BREATH OF DESPERATIONS. THEY HAVE RECOGNIZED THAT DESPERATIONS IN EACH OTHER FACES, THEY HAVE REALIZED THAT AS IT IS SO COMMON TO THEM. BUT IT REMAINS UNTOLD.

JOHN VISIT TO THEM WAS LIKE THE TOUCH OF SANDAL IN HOT AND PRICKLY AFTERNOON OF SUMMER. THEY HAVE SURROUNDED HIM AND BLESSED HIM IN HEARTS OF DIVINITY AS IF HE IS NEAR AND DEAR TO THEM. THEY HAVE LISTENED TO HIM IN RAPT ATTENTION OF A CHILD LISTENING FROM GRAND MAMA THE STORY OF BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS ELOPING WITH HER DREAM MAN, WHEN JOHN DESCRIBED THEM THE PLAN OF RESERVOIR AND CULTIVATION OF BARREN LANDS. THEY HAVE AGAIN BLESSED HIM AMASS WHEN JOHN LEFT THEM IN APPROACH OF EVENING. THEY HAVE LOOKED TO HIM IN HEAVY HEART AT THE TIME OF DEPARTURE. AGAIN THE SOUND OF UNTOLD BUT DESPERATE DEEP BREATHS HAVE FILLED THE ATMOSPHERE.

JOHN WALKED DOWN IN THE VILLAGE ROAD AS IF HE IS MOVING IN THE PAST. IT IS NOSTALGIC. IT REMINDS HIM OF HIS YOUTH. OLD TREES IN THE SIDE OF ROAD REMINDS HIM THAT “TREE OF WISHES” OF HIS VILLAGE, WHERE EVERY YOUNG HEART WILL WRITE DOWN HIS OR HER WISHES IN THE DARK OF NIGHT AND PRAY SECRETLY FOR THAT WISHES TO BE FULFILLED. JOHN HAS REACHED THE RIVER BANK. FOR A MOMENT HE WISHED TO ROW THE BOAT UP STREAM. SOUND OF OARS BECOMES OSTENSIBLE ALONG WITH THE SOUND OF BOAT CUTTING AND SPLITTING THE HEART OF WATER STREAM. AN OLD SONG OF PAST RESOUNDED IN HIS MIND’S EYE; SOMEBODY IS SINGING IN THAT PAST WITH TOUCH OF AGONY IN REMEMBRANCE OF THAT REMINISCENT MEMORY. OH, MEMORY YOU ARE LIKE THAT UNKNOWN BREEZE OF RAINY NIGHT. YOU ARE LIKE THE LIVE FIRE BURIED UNDER HEAP OF ASHES. YOU ARE THE TEMPLE SURROUNDED BY DANCING ANGLES. YOU ARE LIKE THE CRESCENT MOON EMITTING SILVERY GLOSS. YOU ARE THE NAME WRITTEN IN CHARCOAL IN THE WALL OF AN OLD INN. OH, MEMORY, YOU ARE THE VILLAGE OF MY LOVE OF PAST. YOU ARE LIKE THE FRAGILE PAPER BOAT FLOATING IN THE DOWNSTREAM OF THE RIVER. OH MEMORY, HEY MEMORY, YOU ARE LIKE THAT BREATH OF MY MOST HUNTED AND YET LOVEABLE PAST.

IT IS SOUND OF CRACKERS EVERYWHERE. IT IS NIGHT OF DEEPAVALI. IN DARK SKY OF MOONLESS NIGHT, LIGHT OF CRACKERS CREATED FLOWERS OF THOUSAND LIGHTS. IN THE BANK OF RIVER HOUSES STARTED SMILING IN GLITTERS OF OIL LAMPS. THE DESTITUTE HOME FOR THE OLDS IS STILL DARK. NO SOUND OF CRACKERS EITHER. AGAIN JOHN FELT A SUDDEN RUSH URGE INSIDE HIM, URGING HIM, ATTRACTING HIM AND DRAGGING HIM TOWARDS DESTITUTE HOUSE. HE MUST GO. JOY OF A CHILD, JOY OF THAT ONE LEGGED DANCE IN LABOUR COLONY. HE HEARS SOUND OF SMILES ALL AROUND IN THAT FLOWING RIVER. SOUND OF GIGGLING MINI BITING JACOB’S EAR LOBE. TRIUMPHANT SOUND OF MARANDI’S DRUM AFTER THAT BONE CRUSHING SIXTEEN HOURS OF SUPER HUMAN EFFORT. IT IS BLISS. IT IS TRANQUILITY. IT IS HAPPINESS. HE MUST SHARE. HE SHOULD SHARE. HE STARTED ROWING FEVERISHLY TOWARDS THAT DESTITUTE HOUSE OF THE OLDS.

THE TERRACE OF DESTITUTE HOME BECAME ACTIVE. OIL LAMPS STARTED EMITTING BLESSINGS IN THAT DARK NIGHT. IT IS SMILE OF LAMPS, GOLDEN LAMPS LIKE THOSE OF PARIJATS SMILING IN FULL BLOOM.

PARIJAT-4

THE BUS HAS COME TO A HALT NEAR THE ROAD SIDE DHABBA. IT IS TIME FOR REFRESHMENT FOR DRIVER AND CONDUCTOR OF THE BUS .OTHERS MAY JOIN. SOMEBODY WILL GET UP AT LEAST TO RELEASE. THE IDEA OF A FRESH CUP OF EARLY DAWN TEA IS NOT BAD. IT IS A SMALL SINGLE STORIED BUILDING WITH ASBESTOS ROOF WITH A STRETCHED OUT OPEN YARD. IN SUMMER YOU WILL FIND LOT MANY ROPE COTS ON THAT OPEN YARD. IT IS ALWAYS RELAXING FOR TRUCK DRIVERS ON A LONG JOURNEY TO STRETCH OUT THEIR BODIES AFTER A BOUT OF CHICKEN AND BEER.

MORNING IS YET TO SMILE. THE DRIVER OF THE BUS OPENED THE RIGHT HAND SIDE DOOR NEAR HIS SEAT AND JUMPED OUT SIDE. AS HE LANDED ON TWO LEGS HE RAISED HIS HANDS PARALLEL TO GROUND AND STARTED FLEXING THOSE. MUSCLES NEED SOME RELAXATION. JOHN FOLLOWED THE CONDUCTOR THROUGH THE USUAL OUT LET OF THE BUS. THROUGH OUT THE NIGHT THEY HAVE TALKED. THEY HAVE TALKED ON VARIOUS TOPICS. TOPICS MIXED WITH CRANKED IMAGINATION LACED WITH FALSEHOOD TO ADD THAT LITTLE SPICE TO MAKE IT INTERESTING. THEY ARE AWARE OF THAT AS THEY CONVERSED BUT THEY KNOW THAT THEIR TOPICS NEED TO KEEP THEM AWAKE. LITTLE CRANKINESS HERE AND THERE DOES NOT MATTER.

IT IS FOGGY WINTER NIGHT. FOG ALL AROUND LAMP POSTS MAKE AN INTERESTING VIEW ALONG WITH THOSE TINY INSECTS CLOGGING AROUND THE LAMPS FOR DEAR HEAT. DEEPAVALI, THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHT IS AFTER TWO DAYS. HOUSES WILL BE LIT WITH OIL LAMPS. CRACKERS WILL BE BLASTED IN CELEBRATION OF WIN OF GOOD OVER BAD. THESE INSECTS WILL HAVE THEIR END ON THAT DAY. IT IS THE TEMPTATIONS FOR MORE THAT WILL INVITE THEIR DEATH. IN ATTRACTION OF MORE LIGHT AND HEAT, THEY WILL BURN THEMSELVES BY JUMPING INTO CELEBRATION DEEPAVALI LIGHT. IT IS SHEER TEMPTATION NOTHING ELSE WHICH BRINGS THEIR END. EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT BUT NOBODY REALIZES THAT. NOBODY ASSESSES THAT. BY THE TIME REALIZATION COMES, IT IS ALL OVER. POINT OF NO RETURN HAS ALREADY KNOCKED THE DOOR.

THREE OF THEM WALKED DOWN TO THE DHABBA. THE HOT TEA IS BREWING ON THE KETTLE. THE SERVER BOY IN HIS BARE BODY STANDING NEAR THE COAL FIRED HEARTH. THE WARMTH OF HEARTH IS GOOD ENOUGH TO KEEP AWAY THAT COLD. HIS FACE IS LITTLE OILY IN HEAT OF FIRE. HE HAS OWN STYLE OF MIXING SUGAR BEFORE SERVING THE TEA. THE SERVING TEA TUMBLER IN LEFT HAND AND THE MUG CONTAINING TEA IN RIGHT HAND WILL GO AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AS TEA IS POURED TO TUMBLER. AN ARCH OF FLOATING TEA WILL BE MADE IN THE AIR AS TEA GETS MIXED WITH SUGAR BY INTERCHANGING ITS POSITION FROM TUMBLER TO MUG AND MUG TO TUMBLER. HIS SKILL IS APPRECIABLE AS NOT A SINGLE DROP OF TEA FALLS ON THE FLOOR IN THE ENTIRE PROCESS. PASSENGERS HAVE STARTED COMING DOWN FROM THE BUS. SOME OF THEM HAVE GONE INSIDE THE DHABBA. HOT TEA IS NOT SUFFICIENT FOR THEM IN THIS COLD NIGHT. THEY WANT A SPECIAL PEG OF COUNTRY LIQUOR. WITH THAT THEY WILL AGAIN SNORE TILL THE END OF JOURNEY.

THE SIGHT OF COUNTRY LIQUOR BROUGHT CERTAIN UNEASINESS TO JOHN. IT WAS MEMORY OF FEW DAYS BACK. IT HAPPENED IN THAT BRIDGE CONSTRUCTION SITE, HIS DIFFERENCE OF OPINION WITH HIS SENIORS REGARDING LABOUR PRODUCTIVITY AND QUALITY. THE COMPANY HAD DECIDED TO GO FOR READY MIXED CONCRETE WHICH CAN BE PUMPED WHILE CASTING BRIDGE DECK. NO MORE REQUIREMENTS OF SO MANY LABOURERS. JOHN HAD PROTESTED THAT NOT FOR THE REASON THAT HE WAS AGAINST HIGHER TECHNOLOGY. HE WAS WORRIED FOR THAT GANG OF HUNDRED ODD LABOURERS. NOW THAT STRENGTH HAS TO BE REDUCED TO TWENTY FIVE. HARVESTING SEASON IS OVER. FROM WHERE THESE RETRENCHED LABOURERS WILL GET FOOD FOR THEIR FAMILY. THEY CAN NOT FIND ANOTHER CONSTRUCTION SITE ALL OF A SUDDEN. COMPANY MESSAGE WAS VERY CLEAR. CUT DOWN THE LABOUR STRENGTH.

JOHN WAS WORRIED AND DISTURBED. HE COULD HEAR THE SOUND OF BEATING DRUM. IT WAS SOUND FROM ONE DRUM UNLIKE THE SOUND OF DRUMS AT THE TIME OF ONE LEGGED NIGHT DANCE. IT WAS SOUND OF ANGER, PROTEST AND CHALLENGE SLOWLY TURNING INTO A CRESCENDO. JOHN CAME OUTSIDE. POUNDING SOUND OF SINGLE DRUM. IT WAS MENACING. THERE STOOD THE UNDISPUTED LEADER MARANDI, EYES RED, TOTALLY DROWNED IN COUNTRY LIQUOR, THE BALD HEAD COVERED WITH RED TURBAN OF PROTEST. HE IS ALONE, ALL ALONE. HE IS THE LEADER. HE HAS ASSURED ALL THE LABOURERS TO BE CALM. HE WILL NEGOTIATE WITH JOHN SAHIB AND FIND OUT THE SOLUTION.

JOHN KNEW MARANDI VERY WELL. THE ENTIRE LABOUR GANG MOVES IN HIS DIRECTION OF FINGER. JOHN RECALLED THOSE MASS CONCRETING TIMES, SIXTEEN HOURS OF CONCRETING AT A STRETCH. THE SAME GANG OF LABOURERS HAS TO DELIVER THE RESULT. COUNTRY LIQUOR WILL FLOW. MARANDI WILL MONITOR THE ACTIVITIES. HE WILL DROWN HIMSELF COUNTRY LIQUOR, JOKE, LAUGH, SING AND DANCE WHILE BEATING HIS DRUM IN RHYTHM TO KEEP THE TEMPO GOING. IT IS SIXTEEN HOURS OF CONTINUOUS UNTIRING HUMAN EFFORTS LED BY MARANDI, THE MOTIVATOR, THE DRUMMER, THE SINGER, THE ENTERTAINER AND THE UNDISPUTED LEADER. HE HAS DELIVERED THAT FOR JOHN SAHIB OUT OF SHEER RESPECT FOR JOHN.

TODAY HE BEATS THE DRUM WITH A DIFFERENT PURPOSE; HE HAS DROWNED HIMSELF IN COUNTRY LIQUOR FOR A DIFFERENT PURPOSE. HE DANCES IN FRONT JOHN SAHIB WITH A DIFFERENT PURPOSE. NO VOICE, MOUTH CLOSED, FOLDING HANDS IN BETWEEN BEATING OF DRUM, SUNKEN EYE LIDS CONVEY ALL. HE DANCES IN A HAUNCH BACK AS IF HE CARRIES THE BURDEN OF A MOUNTAIN. YES, HE CARRIES THE RESPONSIBILITY TO FEED HUNDRED LABOURERS AND THEIR FAMILIES. HE IS THE LEADER. HE KNOWS HIS JOHN SAHIB WILL NOT DISAPPOINT HIM. JOHN MOVED FORWARD, HELD THE HANDS OF JOHN ASKED HIM TO CALM DOWN. JOHN STOPPED. HE IS HAPPY. JOHN SAHIB HAS UNDERSTOOD HIM. HE SALUTED JOHN, TURNED BACK AND MOVED TOWARDS THE LABOUR CAMP LEAVING JOHN THINKING UNDER THE HOT SUN.

NEXT DAY READY MIXED CONCRETE STARTED FLOWING IN THE DECK CONCRETING. NO PROTEST, ONLY ONE FOURTH OF THE LABOURERS HAVE BEEN CALLED. MARANDI IS MONITORING THE CONCRETING. HE LOOKS DISTURBED. AN UNEASY CALM IS FLOWING IN HIS FACE. THERE HAS BEEN INSTRUCTION TO JOHN FROM HEAD OFFICE TO CALL FOR POLICE PROTECTION. THERE MIGHT BE LABOURERS UNREST. JOHN HAS IGNORED THAT. HE HAS TALKED TO HIS COLLEAGUES IN OTHER CONSTRUCTION SITES IN REMOTE AREAS. HE HAS WORKED OUT A FORMULA TO SOLVE THE EXCESS LABOURERS PROBLEM IN HIS SITE. HE CAN RETAIN TWENTY FIVE AND REST OF THEM CAN BE DIVIDED AMONGST TWO REMOTELY PLACED CONSTRUCTION SITES. JOHN WALKED DOWN TO MARANDI. MARANDI IS TOTALLY ABSORBED IN WORK, HE DID NOT NOTICE JOHN UNTIL JOHN KEPT HIS HAND ON HIS SHOULDER. JOHN PUT FORTH HIS PROPOSAL IN A BOWING HEAD. MARANDI LISTENED, LOOKED TOWARDS JOHN AND SMILED AS HE BREATHED OUT HEAVILY. DO NOT WORRY SO MUCH SAHIB, I KNOW, YOU HAVE TRIED. LEAVE IT TO ME. RELAX; YOU HAVE BIGGER THINGS TO DO.

MARANDI VANISHED SOMEWHERE AFTER THE CONCRETING WORK. HE HAS NOT KEPT INFORMED ANYBODY ABOUT HIS WHERE ABOUT. HE HAS ARRANGED FOR COMMUNITY KITCHEN IN LABOUR CAMP FOR COMING ONE WEEK AND ENOUGH COUNTRY LIQUOR FOR ENJOYMENT.

IT WAS THIRD DAY EVENING AFTER THE READY MIXED CONCRETE WORK AND CURTAILMENT OF LABOUR FORCE, JOHN HEARD SOUND OF LABOURERS OUTSIDE HIS ROOM. HE STARTED BREATHING HEAVILY IN APPREHENSION AND ANTICIPATION OF LABOUR UNREST. MARANDI IS NOT THERE. WHO WILL CONTROL THEM? JOHN CAME OUT AND SAW LABOURERS ARE HAPPILY WAVING HIM. THERE STAND MARANDI AMONGST THEM IN ALL SMILES. MARANDI CAME FORWARD WHISPERED TO JOHN, I AM TAKING THEM ALL TO ANOTHER CONSTRUCTION SITE SOME THREE HUNDRED KILOMETERS AWAY. THE WORK THERE WILL LAST FOR ANOTHER THREE MONTHS. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN AFTER THAT. MAY BE, WE MAY GET ANOTHER BIGGER CONSTRUCTION COMPANY AFTER THAT. WHO KNOWS? BUT SOME HOW I DO NOT WANT TO BREAK MY GROUP. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE SOUND OF HORN OF THE BUS BROUGHT JOHN BACK TO THE PRESENCE. PASSENGERS HAVE REFRESHED THEMSELVES. THE BUS IS ABOUT TO LEAVE. JOHN STROLLED TOWARDS THE BUS AS HE LOOKED UP. IN THE SKY OF DAWN, HE SEES GEESE MOVING IN A "V" FORMATION. THEY ARE MOVING IN A GROUP INTERCHANGING THE POSITION OF LEADERSHIP. SYNERGY AT HIS BEST. THEY WILL ONLY STOP IF SOMEBODY AMONGST THEM WILL GET HURT AND BECOME SICK. THEY WILL AGAIN FLY IN A GROUP TILL THE SICK RECOVERS TO FLY OR DIES. NOBODY WILL MOVE ALONE. NOBODY WILL BE LEADER FOREVER. IT IS ALL ABOUT SHARING WHILE KEEPING THE UNITY. JOHN SEES MARANDI AND HIS TRIBAL LABOURERS GROUP AMONGST THE GEESE. IN THE FLOW OF DECENT MORNING BREEZE, JOHN GETS THE SWEET AROMA, THE AROMA OF PARIJATS SMILING TOGETHER IN THAT CEMENT FLOOR.

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THE BUS IS HAVING A SMOOTH GLIDE IN THE NEWLY LED BITUMEN ROAD. JOHN DOES NOT THE FEEL THE JERK THOUGH HE HAS OCCUPIED ONE OF THE REAR SEAT. THE PATH IS IN A STRAIGHT TRAJECTORY WITHOUT MUCH OF A BEND. IT NARROWS DOWN IN HORIZON LIKE THE ACHIEVABLE AMBITION OF THE PRESENT. LOOK UP YOU SEE THE SKY, LIMITLESS SKY, REACHABLE IF IT IS NARROWED TO HORIZON. THE JOURNEY IS ENJOYABLE IN THE COOL EVENING. IT IS LOOK OF COUNTRY SIDE. LINES OF SMALL HEIGHT PALM TREES ON THE BOTH THE SIDE OF ROAD, STAND ERECT IN THE WELCOME OF PASSER-BY. FROM THE DISTANCE, JOHN COULD GET THE SIGHT OF TALL PALM TREES WITH THE SWINGING NESTS OF WEAVER BIRDS. WATER BODIES ON THE BOTH SIDE OF ROAD CARRIES THE REFLECTION OF PRESENT .NO PLACE FOR PAST THERE IT PUSHES THOSE BACK TO ACCOMMODATE THE PRESENT. IT HAS NEVER SEEN THE FUTURE AND NEVER CAPTURED IT. FUTURE, IT IS SHAPELESS, IT IS ENDLESS, IT IS AN UNTIED KNOT, IT IS A MYSTERY, THERE IS NO FUN CAPTURING IT. THOSE WATER BODY CARRIES BOTH LILY AND LOTUS IN PLENTY. BOTH ARE HALF BLOOMED IN THE EVENING SKY. ONE IS CRYING IN SOMEBODY DEPARTURE AND OTHER IS SMILING IN SOMEBODY ARRIVAL. THE SAME TIME TELLS TWO DISSIMILAR STORIES, STORIES FULL OF OPPOSITES. DICHOTOMY AT ITS BEST. IT IS THE TIME WHICH CREATES ALL DIFFERENCES. OVER A SPECTRUM OF TIME THE STORY OF LILY AND LOTUS APPEARS SIMILAR. IT BECOMES STORY OF ANTICIPATION, EXPECTATION, UNION, SEPARATION AND REUNION. BUT THEY ARE UNIQUE. IT IS STORY OF DEVOTION, ATTACHMENT AND PERMANENCY. WAITING HAS ITS OWN PLEASURE. DEVOTION LEADS TO PERMANENCY. DETACHMENT LEADS TO ATTACHMENT. FRUITS GET DETACHED FROM THE TREE TO CREATE TREES. WATER EVAPORATES TO COME BACK AS RAIN. IT IS A CONTINUUM. EVERYTHING IS IN A CONTINUUM. DO NOT LOOK FOR THE SHAPE, LOOK FOR THE CHARACTER. NOTHING IS LOST THERE. NOTHING IS MISSED THERE; THE CHARACTER IS INTACT, ONLY THE SHAPE HAS CHANGED. THE TIME HAS CHANGED.

THERE IS A RUSH OF THOUGHT IN JOHN’S MIND AS THE BUS MOVES UP. IT IS COLD WINTER IN HILLY TERRAIN. IT IS SERENE AND SILENT OUTSIDE. COLD WINTER NIGHT LOOKS SLEEPY. IT IS DARK. PITCH DARK. JOHN PULLED THE BLANKET UP AS HE STRETCHED BACK. STILL HE FEELS THE COLD. HE RECALLED HIS CHILDHOOD, THOSE COLD NIGHT WHEN HE AND HIS ELDER BROTHER USED TO FIGHT FOR THE SINGLE BLANKET THEY HAVE TO SHARE. JOHN WILL ROLL HIMSELF IN THE BLANKET LEAVING NOTHING FOR HIS BROTHER. HIS BROTHER WILL SHOUT AND ULTIMATELY THEY WILL END WITH A COMPROMISE THAT ELDER BROTHER WILL BUY A KASHMIR BLANKET FOR JOHN AS SOON AS HE GETS A JOB. THE CHILD INSIDE THE JOHN IS GROWING; HE WANTS TO ROLL HIMSELF IN THE BLANKET. THE PASSENGER NEAR BY IS COMFORTABLY SLEPT. JOHN LOOKED AROUND; ALMOST EVERYBODY INSIDE THE BUS HAS SLEPT. SOME OF THEM ARE SNORING LOUDLY. THE BUS CONDUCTOR IS CHATTING WITH THE DRIVER. THEY NEED TO TALK EACH OTHER LEST THEY MIGHT FEEL SLEEPY. IT IS THEIR RESPONSIBILITY TO TAKE CARE OF TRAVELING PASSENGERS. JOHN STARTED THINKING ABOUT THIS STRANGE CHARACTER OF HUMAN BEING. HE DOES NOT WANT TO KEEP HIMSELF ALERT FOR HIS OWN SAFETY. HE THINKS IT IS NOT HIS DUTY AND RESPONSIBILITY. SOMEBODY HAS BEEN PAID TO TAKE CARE OF THAT SAFETY. JOHN REMEMBERED THOSE BRAVE SOLDIERS OF THE BORDER WHO KEEP THEMSELVES AWAKE SO THAT WE CAN SLEEP PEACEFULLY. HE LEAVES AWAY FROM HIS FAMILY SO THAT WE CAN LIVE PEACEFULLY WITH OUR FAMILY. CAN MERE MONEY BUY THOSE SACRIFICES AND DEVOTIONS? IT WAS NOT FAR FROM HIS MEMORY WHEN HE SAW THOSE SOLDIERS GOING TO THE BATTLE FIELD. JOHN WAS TRAVELING FROM WESTERN PART TO EASTERN PART OF INDIA. THE TRAIN HAS HALTED NEAR A STATION CALLED VIJAYWARDA JUNCTION. THE WAR AT THE BORDER WAS AT ITS HEIGHT. JOHN SAW A TRAIN FULL OF SOLDIERS GOING TOWARDS NORTH. THEY ARE IN OPEN TRAIN BUGGIES WITH THEIR AMMUNITIONS. THEY ALL ARE LAUGHING AND SMILING WHEN THEY ARE WAIVING TO PASSENGERS OF THE STATIONS AS THEIR TRAIN MOVES ON. NO TRACE OF FEARS, NO TRACE OF REMORSE IN THOSE FACES, RATHER THOSE ARE FULL WITH DETERMINATIONS AND JUBILATIONS. IT IS SHEAR DEVOTIONS. JOHN HAD JOINED THE CROWD IN CHEERING OFF THOSE BRAVE SOULS. WE DO NOT KNOW HOW MANY OF THEM RETURNED TO THEIR FAMILY. WE DO NOT KNOW IF ANYBODY AMONGST US HAS KEPT A COUNT OF THAT. MAY BE IT HAS BECOME ANOTHER MILITARY STATICS. NOBODY HAS KEPT A COUNT HOW MANY BRAVE FATHERS HAVE SHED THEIR TEARS; HOW MANY BRAVE LADIES HAVE SACRIFICED EVERYTHING IN THE GREAT ALTAR OF SUPREME SACRIFICE. THEY HAVE SACRIFICED FOR US TO GROW AND SMILE, FOR US TO LIVE AND ENJOY. BUT DO WE RECOGNIZE THEM?

THOSE BRAVE SOULS ARE JUST LIKE THOSE PARIJATS. THEY GIVE US PLEASURE. THEY GIVE US HAPPINESS. CAST OFF ON THEIR OWN TO TELL THEIR STORIES. WE MAKE GARLAND OUT OF THOSE , SOME OF THOSE FIND THEIR WAYS TO HAIRS OF HONEYMOON LADIES , SOME FIND THEIR WAYS TO GODS’ PLACES , SOME GOES TO WRISTS OF BEAUX DROWN IN HOUSE OF INFAMOUS. STORY DOES NOT END THERE. GARLANDS ARE COLLECTED ONCE AGAIN FOR SEPARATING THOSE RED TUBES AND TO MAKE DYE SO THAT THE WORLD BECOMES COLORFUL. THIS IS STORY OF DEVOTION, STORY OF SACRIFICE AND STORY OF PERMANENCY. LOOK OVER A CONTINUUM OF TIME YOU FIND THE PERMANENCY; RECOGNIZE THAT PERMANENCY. THE PERMANENCY OF PARIJATS.

JOHN MOVED UP FROM HIS SEAT AND WENT TO THE DRIVER AND CONDUCTOR OF BUS TO SHARE THEIR EXPERIENCES. THEY HAVE MILES TO GO!

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JOHN STRETCHED HIS BODY ON CEMENT BENCH. HE FELT ACHE ALL OVER HIS BODY. HE MOVED HIS FINGERS IN HIS HAIRS. IT IS ALL WET IN MORNING DEWDROPS. HE LOOKED TO THE PARIJAT TREE. IT LOOKS WET GREEN WITH DEW DROPS. CLUSTERS OF BUDS LOOKING UP IN ENTHUSIASM TO WELCOME TO THEIR DAY. FROM THE CORNER OF THE NEEM TREE, A CROW STARTED CALLING ONLY TO BE JOINED BY OTHERS IN SUCCESSION. LEAVES IN THE NEEM TREE ARE SLOWLY BECOMING VISIBLE. THE SKY IS BLUE, DEEP BLUE. SMALL PATCHES OF WHITE SCATTERED CLOUDS ARE LOOKING DOWN LIKE THE HURRIED WHITE STROKES FROM THE QUILL OF THAT ENIGMATIC YET BRILLIANT ARTIST WORKING ON A MASSIVE BLUE CANVAS. CROWS ARE MOVING AROUND WITH THAT CAW, CAW SOUND ALL WELCOMING AND GREETING THAT NEW MORNING. CROWS ARE MOVING IN A GROUP TOWARDS THAT TERRACE. THEY ARE CALLING EACH OTHER LOUDLY AS UP THERE IN THE TERRACE SOMEBODY HAS LEFT GRAINS FOR THEM.

JOHN LOOKED TOWARDS THE RIVER. THE OLD PRIEST OF THE NEAR BY HINDU TEMPLE IS COMING BACK AFTER TAKING BATH IN RIVER. HE WALKS BACK WITH THAT BRASS POT ON THE PALM OF LEFT HAND. BRASS POT FULL OF RIVER WATER. AS HE WALKS AND CHANTS VEDIC MANTRA, HE SPRINKLES WATER TO THE FRONT AND BACK ALTERNATIVELY. JOHN HAS SEEN THIS BEFORE MANY TIMES. HE HAS GONE TO THE TEMPLE MANY TIMES ALONG WITH HIS HINDU FRIENDS. ONE DAY, HE MUSTERED ENOUGH COURAGE TO ASK THE OLD PRIEST. GRAND PA, WHY DO YOU SPRINKLE WATER TO THE FRONT AND BACK WHILE YOU COME BACK FROM RIVER AFTER TAKING BATH? HE WAS ANTICIPATING THAT THE OLD PRIEST WILL TURN RED AND SHOUT OR HE MAY ANSWER VERY PHILOSOPHICALLY OR DOGMATICALLY. HE MAY QUOTE SOME RELIGIOUS SCRIPTURES. HOWEVER, NOTHING THAT SORT HAPPENED. THE OLD PRIEST SMILED A PLAIN SMILE. NONE OF HIS FACIAL MUSCLE QUIVERED. HE ANSWERED, SON, I CLEAN THE PATH THAT I HAVE TO WALK ON AND I CLEAN IT FOR OTHERS AFTER I WALKED ON.

PARIJATS HAVE FALLEN WITH THAT RED TUBE UPWARDS. THERE ARE DEW DROPS ON THE TUBE, WHICH PRESENTS A MAGNIFYING VIEW. THEY ALL ARE SMILING TOGETHER, SINGING TOGETHER IN A CHOIR IN WELCOME OF THAT NEW MORNING. LEAVES OF THE NEEM TREE ARE BECOMING DISTINCT. THE ENIGMATIC ARTIST IS BUSY IN THAT BLUE CANVAS. CLOUDS ARE TURNING CRIMSON BY HIS DEFT AND SWIFT TOUCH. CRIMSON RAYS ARE COMING THROUGH DARK GREEN NEEM LEAVES LIKE THE VERMILION ON NICELY COMBED HAIRS OF A NEWLY MARRIED NUBILE.

SOMEBODY IS KNOCKING ON THE MAIN DOOR. JOHN STEEPED INTO THE ROOM AND OPENED THE MAIN DOOR. LOCAL WORKERS HAVE COME FOR PACKING HIS BELONGINGS AND DO SOME ODD JOBS FOR HIM. JOHN GUIDED THEM TO A DISTANCE. UNDER THE NEEM TREE, THE CYCLE RICKSHAW IS STILL WAITING FOR WILLIUM, LUNATIC, UGLY AND ARROGANT WILLIUM, WHO HAS VANISHED IN THIN AIR. JOHN HELPED THE LABOURERS TO LIFT THAT RICKSHAW. IT WAS BROUGHT UNDER THE PARIJAT TREE. SUN HAS COME UP IN THE SKY. EARTH IS TURNING WARM. JOHN ASKED THE LABOURERS TO ERECT A LOW HEIGHT PARTITION ALL AROUND THE PARIJAT TREE AND CYCLE RICKSHAW. THE NEWLY APPOINTED BRIDGE MAINTENANCE ENGINEER HAS PROMISED JOHN TO TAKE CARE OF THE PARIJAT TREE, CEMENT FLOOR AND THAT CYCLE RICKSHAW. SOMEHOW, JOHN BELIEVES THAT HE WILL DO THE NEEDFUL.

LABOURERS ARE WORKING ON THE BARRICADE. JOHN CAME INSIDE. TODAY IS THE LAST DAY FOR HIM. SO MUCH WORKS ARE THERE FOR HIM TO DO. HE WENT INSIDE THE BATHROOM, STOOD UNDER THE SHOWER AND OPENED THE TAP. SHOWER WAS NOT IN USE FOR MANY DAYS. WATER STARTED FALLING HAPHAZARDLY ON HIM. HIS EYES STARTED SCANNING THE BATHROOM. OVER THE VENTILATOR THE LADIES BLOUSE IS STILL HANGING. JOHN TRIED TO REMEMBER THOSE MOMENTS, THE ABERRATION OF HIS PROCLAIMED BACHELORHOOD. IT WAS OUT AND OUT PHYSICAL WITH THAT MUSCULAR FEMALE LABOURER. PURE HUNGER, PHYSICAL HUNGER. NO FEELING, NO LOVE. HOWEVER, IT WAS LUST. THEY HAVE NOT TALKED. THEY HAVE ONLY GRUNTED TOGETHER, PERSPIRED TOGETHER AND GRASPED FOR BREATHES TOGETHER OUT OF THAT FRICTIONAL PLEASURE. MIND HAS NEVER MET. FEELING HAS NEVER MET. THEY HAVE NOT SEEN EACH OTHER PROPERLY, BUT THEY HAVE DISCOVERED THAT PHYSICAL COMPATIBILITY IN THAT SENSUAL MOMENT WHEN EVERY LOGIC, EVERY RATIONALITY TAKE A BACK SEAT. IT IS CALL OF HUNGER, CARNAL HUNGER. JOHN HAS NEVER REALIZED THAT, NEVER TRIED TO RATIONALIZE THAT. WHY IT HAPPENS ? WHEN IT HAPPENS? DOES IT HAPPEN TO EVERYBODY? WHAT IS THAT RELATIONSHIP? HOW YOU DEFINE THAT? DOES EVERY BODY SUCCUMB TO CALL OF THAT HUNGER? DOES THE RATIONALIZATION, REALIZATION REALLY VANISH? MAY BE WE ARE TOO INTELLIGENT TO RATIONALIZE EVERYTHING AND INTERPRET SAME THING IN DIFFERENT MANNER IN DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES AND ALSO IN THE SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCES.

WORKERS HAVE STARTED PACKING JOHN BELONGINGS. JOHN PULLED OUT THAT OLD BOX OF WILLIUM FROM THAT CUB WEBS. PULLED OUT THAT BLOUSE FROM VENTILATOR. ALONG WITH THE WILLIUM BOX, HE PACKED THAT BLOUSE IN A CARD BOARD BOX. HE DOES NOT KNOW WHY HE CARRIES THOSE THINGS, BUT THERE WAS AN INNER URGE INSISTING HIM TO CARRY THOSE. ---------------------------------------------------------------

TIME IS RUNNING OUT FAST FOR JOHN. THE BELONGINGS WILL GO FIRST. HE WILL CATCH THE EVENING BUS TO THE NEW CONSTRUCTION SITE.

HE LEFT THE HOUSE AND KEPT IT OPEN FOR WORKERS TO PACK THE BELONGINGS. CAME TO THE RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL. IN THE ENTRANCE OF THE SCHOOL, MADAM MULLER SAW HIM AND ALMOST SHOUTED IN EXCITEMENT. HEY JOHN WE HAVE ADDED JOHN IN YOUR CHILD NAME. NOW SHE IS CALLED AS MINI JOHN JACOB. THEN SHE STARTED CALLING IN HER TOP OF VOICE, MINI, HEY MINI, WHERE ARE YOU, LITTLE ONE. YOUR PAPA IS WAITING FOR YOU. FROM THE UPSTAIRS OF RESIDENTIAL HOSTEL, JOHN COULD SEE MINI IS COMING, NO, SHE IS RUNNING AND JUMPING, COVERING TWO STEPS OF STAIRCASE IN ONE GO. JOHN COULD SEE THE EXCITEMENT. HE HAS SEEN THE EXCITEMENTS EARLIER WHEN HE WAS COMING WITH JACOB. MINI JACOB, YES MINI JACOB, NOW MINI JOHN JACOB. THANKS JACOB WHEREVER YOU ARE! JACOB, YOU GREAT SOUL! MINI IS RUNNING, RUNNING FAST TOWARDS JOHN. NEXT MOMENT MINI HAS ALMOST JUMPED ON JOHN. IT WAS HUG. HUG WHEN SOULS MEET. WHO SAYS OFFSPRING RELATIONSHIPS ARE BY BIRTH? NO, IT IS MADE HERE, ON THIS EARTH, IT IS NOT BY BIRTH. THANKS JACOB. THANKS A LOT. THANKS FOR YOUR LOVELY GIFT.

JOHN SPENT CONSIDERABLE TIME WITH MINI. MINI KNEW JOHN IS GOING TO A NEW PLACE. THERE IS A PANG IN HER HEART REGARDING JOHN’S DEPARTURE. BUT SHE WAS AHEAD OF HER AGE BY REALIZING THE REALITY. IT IS SAD BUT TRUE. EVERYBODY HAS TO GO. SOME GO EARLY. SOME GO TO COME BACK. SOME GO FOREVER, NEVER EVER TO COME BACK. SHE HAS SEEN THAT, SEEN THAT FROM A CLOSE ANGLE, NOT ONCE BUT TWICE. DEPARTURE IS NOT NEW HER.---------------------------------. IT WAS A HUG ONCE AGAIN , JOHN COULD HEAR THE SOUND OF THUMPING HEART . EVERYTHING APPEARS TO HAVE STOPPED FOR A MOMENT. MINI LOOKED TO JOHN, AVOIDED THE DIRECT LOOK. SUDDENLY BITE THE EAR LOBE OF JOHN AS SHE USED TO DO TO JACOB. TURNED BACK, STARTED RUNNING TOWARDS HOSTEL AWAY FROM JOHN, WENT TO THE TERRACE OF HOSTEL AND SHOUTED PAPA, I FORGOT TO TELL YOU ONE THING, PAPA, I HAVE BEEN DECLARED AS THE BEST STUDENT OF THE CLASS. BELIEVE ME PAPA. SEE IN THE NOTICE BOARD. THEN SHE STARTED WAIVING TO JOHN FROM TERRACE WITH A SIGN OF DEPARTURE BUT WITH A HOPE AND WISH TO MEET SOON. JOHN SMILED AND RAISED HIS THUMB TO CONGRATULATE MINI. BUT THE THUMB WAS ALSO CONVEYING ASSURANCE OF COMING BACK AND MEETING SOON.

JOHN TOUCHED HIS EAR LOBE AS HE STARTED TO GO AWAY FROM SCHOOL. HE SMILED AND ALMOST BURST INTO THE LAUGHTER AS HE DISCOVERED THE SALIVA OF MINI IN HIS EAR LOBE. HE MUTTERED AS HE LAUGHED –YOU NAUGHTY. SUN IS ALSO LAUGHING OVERHEAD WITH ALL MAJESTY.