वो तकती निगाहें

बात दरहसल 2005  की हैं जब हम पहली बार एक दूसरे से रूबरू हुए थे. दिल्ली की सर्दियाँ अपने चरम पर थी. उस भागती हुई दिल्ली की रफ़्तार सुबह के वक़्त कुछ ख़ासा तेज होती थी. ऐसा लगता था मानो सब शहर छोड़ कर भाग रहे हो. वो भागती हुई गाड़िया शहर की रूहानी सुबह को तहस-नहस कर रही थी. उन सर्द हवाओं की भीनी-भीनी खुशबू धुएं के कारण महकना बंद हो गयी थी. सफ़ेद कोहरे की चादर में धुएं ने पूरी तरह सेंध मार ली थी. फिर भी शहर की आबो हवा में एक रोमांच तो था ही. दिल्ली दिल वालो की जो हैं

शायद यही वजह थी की जब मैंने उन्हें पहली बार देखा, तो मैं उन्हें अपना दिल दे बैठा. वो वसंत विहार बस स्टैंड पर खड़ी थी. इतनी भीड़ में हमारी नज़रों का मिलना तो नामुमकिन था और सच बताऊ तो उन्होंने कोशिश भी कहा की थी ! उनके लिए तो मैं अब भी एक भीड़ का हिस्सा ही था. एक जिज्ञासा तो हुई की उनसे कहूं कि क्या आप अपनी नज़रो को थोड़ा तकलीफ देंगी, जिससे कि वो हमसे मिल सके. पर इतने में उनकी बस आ गयी. मैंने आव देखा ना ताव उसी बस में चढ़ गया. उस खचाखच भरी बस में लोगों को अपने स्टैंड के आने का इंतज़ार था. लगता था की वो भीड़ नहीं रोबोट की फ़ौज हैं. पर मुझे तो इंतज़ार था हमारी नज़रों के मिलने का. 

खैर कुछ दिन यह सिलसिला यूहीं चलता रहा और एक दिन हमने उनसे कह ही दिया कि हमे आपसे मोहब्बत हैं. सुनने में थोड़ा फ़िल्मी तो लगता हैं पर इससे बहतर मुझे कुछ सूझा नहीं . मुझे इतनी अंग्रेजी तो आती थी कि 'I LOVE YOU' कह सकूं पर यह तो सब कहते हैं ना ! पहले तो उन्होंने अपनी निगाहो को हम पर टिकाया, फिर मुस्कुराई और बिना कुछ बोले चली गयी. फिर कुछ दूर जाकर पीछे मुड़ी, मुस्कुराई और बस में बैठ गयी. मेरे पैर तो जैसे जाम हो गए थे. उस दिन मैं बस में चढ़ ही नहीं सका. दौड़ती भागती भीड़ के बीच एक जगह पर खड़ा हुआ बस हिचकोले खा रहा था. वो भी किसी फिल्म के एक दृश्य (Scene) से कहा काम था !

हम भी अब दिल्ली के दिलवाले थे. यह तो सच था कि वो दिलवाली मुझे उस भीड़ में ही मिली थी अब जब भी हम साथ होते तो भीड़ जैसे अपनी निगाहें हम दोनों पर तका देती. मानो पूछ रही हो तुम क्या कर रहे हो हमारी दिलवाली के साथ. ना जाने क्या हो गया था उस भागती भीड़ को ! शहर के किसी भी कोने में वो निगाहें हमारा पीछा ही नहीं छोड़ रही थी. ना जाने क्या दिलचस्पी रही होगी उस भीड़ को हमे हर वक़्त ताकते रहने में. इस बात का अंदाजा हमे पहले क्यों नहीं हुआ. अब तो हम दोनों की निगाहें भी इसी में  बात में जुट गयी कि कौन कहा से देख रहा हैं. वो निगाहें एकाएक और चौकन्नी हो जाती थी जब मैं उनके हाथ को थाम लेता था. 

एक दिन सोचा कि इस भीड़ को चकमा देकर कहीं चलते हैं. पर जाते कहा इस 1 करोड की आबादी वाले शहर में. हर तरफ तो निगाहें टिकी हैं. क्या जरुरत हैं इस शहर को CCTV कैमरों की ! हर शाख पर कोई ताक रहा हैं.  फिर वसंत विहार पर हम दोनों का इंतज़ार करती उस भीड़ को ठेंगा दिखाकर मैंने ऑटो-रिक्शा वाले को रोका.

मैंने पूछा भैया नॉएडा चलोगे ? उसने कहा दिल्ली के ऑटो नॉएडा नहीं जाते. मैंने बचकाने अंदाज़ में कहा कि अरे दिल्ली में कहीं दूर ले चलो यार. वह मुस्कुराते हुए बोला बैठ जाओ, मैं समझ गया आपको कहा जाना हैं. पर हम दोनों नहीं समझ पाये की वो क्या समझा हैं. हम दोनों बैठे, एक दूसरे का हाथ थामा ही था कि रिक्शा चालाक ने अपनी निगाहें हम पर टिका ली. आसान था उसके लिए सिर्फ अपने Front Mirror को adjust ही तो करना था. हमने 50 रुपये दिए और उतर गए. 

अब कहा जाए ? मैं उसके घर जा नहीं सकता और वो मेरे घर आ नहीं सकती। घर वालो को पड़ोसियों की तकती निगाहों को जवाब जो देना था वो कौन थी/था जो आपके घर आया/यी था/थी. जवाब न देने की सूरत में एक सीधी सच्ची मोहब्बत को शक के दायरे में ला दिया जाता. क्यूंकि एक हमउम्र लड़की या तो बहिन होगी या फिर शादी के बाद बीवी. समाज ने उस रिश्ते को कोई नाम भी तो नहीं दिया हुआ हैं, यही शक की बुनियाद हैं.
सोचा की चलो किसी गार्डन में चले. वहा जाकर तो ऐसा लगा कि लिखा हो 'Sit at your Risk ' क्यूंकि या तो कुछ देर में हमे वहाँ आकर पुलिस पीट देगी या फिर कोई सी सेना आकर पहले पीटेगी, फिर राखी बँधवाएगी या शुद्दिकरण कर देगी हमारा. वीडियो बनाकर सारे दिन न्यूज़ चैनलों की खबर बनते रहेंगे वो अलग से. 
होटल में कमरे लेने की सोचना भी पाप था. फिर ख़याल आया की क्यों न राम गोपाल वर्मा की कोई फिल्म देखने चले. वहा कोई होगा भी नहीं और सुकून भी पूरा रहेगा. ऐसा ही हुआ हमारे जैसे कुछ युगलों (Couples) को छोड़कर वहा कोई नहीं था. और वहाँ मौजूद किसी की मंशा फिल्म देखने की थी भी नहीं. वह उस अँधेरे में कम से कम ये तो यकीन कर सकते थे की कोई तकती निगाहें यहाँ नहीं होंगी.  

"Shaadi" - The Format of Typical Indian Arrange Marriage

They say "Marriages are made in Heaven" but there is a format to make it happen on Indian soil. Since my teenage times, I was very skeptical about the typical format of Indian Arrange Marriages. My parents, folks of their generation, even most of my cousins and friends used this standard format to find their life-partners.

Here, I am going to explain in detail about the format, which I observed closely.

FORMAT OF AN INDIAN ARRANGE MARRIAGE

1) AGE THRESHOLD - I can simply generalize the Indian Middle Class mindset in the context of arrange marriages. To get married, the boys need to find a job and the girls simply pass their time. Liberal parents allow their daughters to study to pass this long time. The boys have to get a conventional job, which society considers a preferable job, for eg. Software Engineer, Chartered Accountant etc. Other innovative career preferences are BIG NO. The girls, on other hand, may opt fashion design, interior design and home science to pass their time. The threshold for girls is 24 years but the society is lenient for boys, its 28 years. If someone crosses this age limit, that person is talk of the town. Discussing the possible causes for the delay and matchmaking suggestions are majorly talked. Parents, their extended families, friends and even neighbours are the panel of discussing these issues, as if this is more important than climate change.

2) INTRODUCING MEDIATOR - The panel uses it's connections in the society and spreads the news like a fire in the forest. Soon, its a conference topic in every social gathering. Here, a prospective mediator is found. The mediators' sole job is to matchmake based on the spreading news from different panels related to varied boys and girls. In the matchmaking process, the mediator has to closely evaluate the behaviors of the families, job of the boy (annual salary package), beauty (fairness and slimness) of the girl, their ages above threshold and other parameters. Most importantly how much MONEY** boy's family expects and how much girl's family is capable of. The mediator has to make a call to concern families that fit above parameters and offer his matchmaking idea. The mediator is in/directly known to both the families. In short, he is the free version of SHAADI.COM. 

3) EXCHANGING PHOTO-BIODATA & GAN MILAN - The mediator sends at least 2 photos (1 close-up and 1 wide shot) and biodata of the girl to boy's family. These pictures are shot by a professional photographer. He cleanses all sort of face spots in the resulting pictures. In the girl's biodata, fair and slim are highlighted whereas in case of boy's biodata, annual salary package is underlined. Initially, the similarity of astrological parameters (GAN) are evaluated. 18 GAN out of 36 must be matched for a happy and unproblematic married life of the duo. The vital attributes fairness and slimness are further crosschecked in the photos and examined through round of discussions by family members. The boy's annual salary is down-scaled to monthly income for much clarity among old people. The (pseudo)experts in girl's family even estimate boy's probable savings after subtracting the expenses based on the city, he lives in.

4) FIRST MEETING -  When the families agree to proceed, the mediator organizes the first meeting. The boy's family visits others. The group includes boy, his parents, his siblings,  jiyaji (brother-in-law) or fufafji (father's brother-in-law), if any, and some other unwanted people. The old people, just after introduction, try hard to find family connections among each other. The young siblings feel privileged to be there and the kids grab the served eatables like never eaten before. The boy's eyes look for the girl's appearance which may happen from any direction. As the girl arrives, most brains stimulate to compare the photos, sent earlier, with reality. They exchange fake smiles, ask useless questions and waste a lot of precious time. Then a smart lady in the middle of overly dressed group of women appear and offer boy-girl private meeting. The old people frown in collusion, the mid-aged people get embarrassed but show off their readiness because it has to come sooner or later.

Nobody still approves till the other lady gives her conset "Why not ?" and orders a young girl to join the boy and girl. We call it private.

Before the girl gets comfortable with this unknown boy who starts to first ask usual questions like "What are your hobbies?" , "Would you like to work after marriage?", someone knocks the door.

She excitedly says "Are you guys talking all now ? Let somethings remain for post-marriage. The uncle is calling you now."

They have no choice but to stop that "so-called private meeting". After more time being wasted by the group of families, the invited family has to leave. The final decision leaves pending from both sides. The girl's family anxiously awaits the telephonic call from boy's family.

5) ENGAGEMENT to MARRIAGE (Golden Period) - An engagement and marriage dates are decided with mutual consensus. The families frequently visit each other to organize such big social events. The gifts are exchanged. But there is hardly anyone who thinks of boy-girl meetings during the "so-called golden period". This time can be used to understand each other.

The old people have a opinion about the meeting. They question "Why to meet frequently ? You are anyway going to spend the entire life together." 

But that's the point, you hardly know the person before spending the entire life.

The middle-aged people say" This freshness of the relationship works well to tie the bond after marriage. The more you know before, the more conflicts you have. That may break-up the relationship before marriage, which is dangerous for the boy/girl and their families." 

But that makes no sense, why one has to keep the relationship even it doesn't fit !

There is only one way. Secret Meetings ! The couple have to be courageous to meet secretly. That needs a lot of lies, planning and efforts. 

6) MARRIAGE DAY - This is the day where parents spend all their saved/borrowed money to demonstrate their societal status. The bride's parents have to put additional money to meet the demands** of groom's family. Approximately 1000 people are invited where 90% of invitees are only interested in food. It's a great deal for the people. By handing over the gift of 150 Rs, the entire family can have unlimited food of worth 1000 Rs. Other than commenting on food and other arrangements, men tend to estimate the budget of the marriage. Women are interested in what bride brings** from her home. As none of such things matter to them, but they do it for passing the time. They are queued for being photographed with the wedding couple. The couple has to continue smiling for approx 2 hours while being photographed with the guests. When every guest eats and leaves the place like a garbage-land, here the wedding couple has an opportunity to eat. In the midnight, they have to listen to 7 promises of the marriage, read by the priest. While all married couple are laughing at those promises, the clueless wedding couple awaits more to get this all over.

FINALLY THE GAME IS OVER & NO ONE WINS

** Dowry - The money (Organizing the party, Expensive Gifts, Even Cash or Property) which bride's family has to give to groom's family. 

My Girlfriend's Marriage

Background:- I almost spent my teenage in those old government colonies built in the outskirts of the city. My father worked with Indian Railways. I always wondered who designed Indian trains and such colonies probably the same guy as one could hardly differentiate such government quarters and train bogies. Those quarters included a vast coverage of bare land at the front of the house, which you're supposed to convert into a beautiful kitchen garden otherwise wild bushes would grow up and extensively be used by snakes and other dangerous reptiles to hide. In addition, the shared stairs with your neighbours to reach the gigantic roof from a huge common backyard were at the stake of privacy. The living space was hardly 20 % of the entire constellation. The toilet was of course outside the house. 

It was of no motivation to live there till I saw her first time. That day, my mother sent me to place wet Papads (home made Indian snacks) on the roof. You can't deny your mother for any nature of work at home because of her threat of complaining it to my already angry, tired and frustrated father from work every evening. 

I ascended the stairs holding those Papads as she was descending gently. I smiled and said "Hi" for which she replied with a cute smile. In today's times, it is just a great start, but for a small town boy from a hindi medium boy's school in 1995, it was too much to digest. I rushed to see her father's name plate to check which caste she comes from. She belonged to Brahmin (Priest) and I was Baniye (Business). Though I was hardly aware of the hierarchy of Indian caste system but it seemed to be not that difficult to arrange this marriage. That night I made a concrete plan of how to proceed further. The ultimate goal was to get married to her. 

Some Intermediate Explanation:- (Who thinks of marriage at the age of 16 ? You are right ! No one does now. But what else you expect from the times of 1995 in a small town ? You can't meet girls because you study in the government hindi medium schools and school administration either makes two separate shifts for boys and girls or if you are a bit lucky, the girls can study in your shift but definitely in a separate section. The younger girls in your neighbourhood call your Bhaiya (Brother) and you have to address Didi (Sister) to every elder girl you meet. Even then you get a girl, you can't date her because of CCE (Close Circuited Eyes) all around the town. There, everyone knows somebody who knows someone in your family. This chain can spread anything. Difficult times ! ) 

Next day, I returned from the school and saw her entering my house with a fat woman. I hesitated to step ahead. It took me 15 minutes to enter my own house. 

"Son, she is Sharma aunty and her daughter Neha. They are our first neighbours. Neha didi is studying in BA I year." My mother introduced. 

Oh damn ! Neha didi ? Why should I call her didi ? Why did I enter my house that day ? I cursed Indian pledge that says "All Indians are my brothers and sisters, though I never uttered that line in my entire life. I decided not to call her didi. 

There was no sign of hope till she came to me and asked " Which class do you study?" 

Was it real ? Was she talking to me ? I replied " Class XI, Science Maths". I was overexcited hence over-answered. She smiled and left. 

In the next months, we exchanged some more smiles and short messages. Thanks to 1980's hindi movies that enlightened us with an idea of hiding messages in the books and exchanging books were no crime. I even exchanged a rose on her birthday. In return gift, I expected her to say "I love you". 

With her continuous denials and my constant efforts, she agreed to say "I love you". But the question was where to say it ? I had an idea. It was a fool proof plan. 

I sent a message " You have to give single tone missed call on our landline phone when there is no one around at your home. If I send back the same single tone missed call, it's safe to call me." 

We were not privileged with mobile phones. 

After consistent trials, we managed to get a green zone. Her mother was sitting with my mother in our common backyard. 

She rang and said "I love you. Now happy ?" She hung up the phone. 

I was on top of the world. My mother called me and asked " Whose phone was that ?" 

I replied anxiously " It was a blank call" 

My mother annoyingly said to Neha's mother " Bhabhiji, we are getting too much blank calls these days." 

Her mother agreed " Hmmm. We too bhabhiji." 

Both cursed the blank callers and BSNL. I escaped the place.

It took me another several months to convince her to kiss me. She sent a message " You meant on hand na ?" 

I replied "Kisses are always on lips. Understood ?" 

My father got a transfer letter few days later.

I directed her "If you love me, you have to kiss me before I leave the city. Otherwise this love story ends now." 

She agreed after several refusals. It was the night before we planned to leave the city with our stuff. I kissed her on the common roof. With tears in her eyes, she left immediately. My lips, tongue and throat got dried. My heart started beating beyond the danger zone. I was called downstairs. I wasn't in my control. We left.

3 years later .........................

We received her wedding card. Neha weds Banwari Lal Sharma. Though my parents ignored the invitation, I was determined to attend the wedding. I reached there. Our eyes met. She ignored. 

Her uncle asked me " Son, your parents didn't come ? But it's good you are here to attend your sister's marriage. Now you have to work a lot in next two days." 

I passed a fake smile showing my disagreeing agreement. 

He continued " Son, could you arrange the chairs first and then serve Thandai  (Indian beverage) to Baraatis (Groom's family) and most importantly to your jiyaji. They are staying in the guest house." 

I agreed with a fake smile. I met the groom and cursed Neha's decision to marry a fat guy. 

I worked like a wedding sister's brother. It was a general impression among Baraatis that I was among the main brothers of the bride. That's the reason I skipped the Fera Rasm (Important Ritual of Indian marriage), because they would have forced  me to pursue Kanyadaan (Important Ritual of Fera Rasm which brother of the bride performs) of my first love. It would have been too much.

I wished her good luck and left.  

I never dared to visit her later in life. Probably if I had visited her, her kids would have called me "Mama"(Maternal Uncle). I couldn't have handled it. 

  

   

 

     

She is from Delhi

The first day in college might sound exciting for others but I was nervous for known reasons. More than a fear of being ragged by the seniors, I was quite anxious about giving self-introduction in English during the orientation session of the new batch. Being a throughout Hindi medium scholar and yet to be called upon the stage at 2nd place, because of my name (Aaditya), were quite the reasons of being highly strung. I cursed my grandfather of giving that name to me.

It was a hot day of July. I wore a formal shirt, pants and polished shoes (Probably the first time I polished my shoes.)  I had to change 3 city buses to get there. I was sweating like hell. Being nervous, profusely sweated and worn formal outfits easily classified me as a I year undergraduate. This caught the attention of a group of 3 boys in the last city bus of the journey.
One of them shouted " Oye, idhar aa (Hey, come here) ! I year ? "
I stammered " Yeee....s"

The threesome enjoyed their success of making me more nervous by their senior undergraduate status.
The second boy shouted "Sight your eyes at the third button of the shirt. Chal intro de ab ! (Give your Introduction)"
They altered my introduction, which I mugged up for the orientation session, several times. It took me 30 minutes to get introduced as per their version. I was relieved at the end.

I rushed to the entrance of the auditorium but was stopped and scolded by a very tall person." You are late even on the first day of the college." He taunted.
I responded " I am extremely sorry sir, my bus was late." I somehow made the most general excuse.
He whispered " Burdens on Society" and passed a very bad look to me while I was entering the fully packed auditorium.

Though I was late, my seat at the 2nd position of the first row was reserved. I thanked my grandfather. The flower bouquets were being exchanged at the stage while I was taking my seat. My neighboring fellows passed "Good for Nothing" looks to me in exchange of my smile.

Just after the boring speech of a non-understandable old person sitting on the podium, a girl took over the mike and started addressing us.
She looked very beautiful in a pink saree. Her straight hair elegantly outlined her shining face. I couldn't sense anyone's presence except her. I was totally lost in her. It was my first love at first sight. It seemed like she was calling me to her.

Then somebody shook me " Bro, your name is being called at the stage"

I quickly got back to the reality and rushed to the dais. I spoke into the mike. I mixed my mugged up version with the one imposed by the seniors. Somehow I finished it but very imperfectly.

Later that day, I met one of my school-mate, namely Paresh, who also got admission in the college.
" Bro, I guess I am in love" I shared my recently developed emotions.
" Yaar, tu toh killer nikla. Pehle din hi setting kar li." (Hard to translate this overexcited expression) 
"Nah bro ! It was love at first sight. You remember that girl speaking at the podium ?" I demystified the secret.

He furiously responded " Are you crazy or what ? She is from Delhi. You are from Jalore, not known small town of Rajasthan. Her father is a CEO of MNC and yours a clerk in Marudhara Rajasthan Gramin Bank. Did you listen to her speaking fluent English that too in English Accent ?  I heard your introduction, you could hardly complete a sentence. She is in II year. I heard that almost every boy of her batch having the same status tried on her. Love at first sight !" After the descriptive analogy, he passed "You are an Idiot" look to me.

But I refused to give up. "I agree the differences but I secured top 100 Rank in State Engineering Entrance Exams and the college discounted 25% of the fees. Can't my good academic background attract her ?"     
"What ! 25 % discount ? You know, she paid 250 times of the fees as donation. It doesn't matter for her. " He discarded my positive point. "Anyway how do you come to college ? How much is your pocket money ?"He asked these questions, which according to him preliminary to even think of approaching her. 

"I come by city bus. I get 500 Rs out of which 300 I spent to buy the monthly city pass, so technically I have only 200 Rs as spare money." I honestly answered.

He again lost his temper "Man, you are totally crazy. 200 Rs is her daily canteen expenditures. You can't afford her. We small town boys never get girlfriends in the college. We never fulfill 1%  of the criteria.We are destined to do arrange marriage."

Then a boy, namely Rishi, from the same town interrupted us "Hey Paresh, what are you guys talking about ? "
Paresh made fun of me " Bhai ko pyaar ho gaya hain (He is in love) !"
Rishi curiously asked "Who?"
"Sonali, II year" Paresh fired the one liner.
" Bro, it's not your mistake. Almost half of the college love her. But we can't deserve her. She is from Delhi and you know what I mean."
 Paresh interrupted " Yeah, I explained him"
Rishi continued " Good. I have also heard that she does already have a boyfriend. He usually comes here over the weekend with his luxurious BMW car and they disappear for 2 days." Rishi enlightened us.

My first love story ended within 24 hours.

Disclaimer: "She is from Delhi" is used as a phrase to define the social (status) gap of a boy and girl. You know what I mean :P     

I Met Her

1980, the year I met her for the first time. Today is 2015. I am 58. Recalling the memories of these passing decades, it was this memory of meeting her, my brain cells didn't attempt to replace. She is not my wife. I only spent 3 hours of my life with her. I don't know where is she now! I didn't even try to find her. She didn't do it either. 

Today I would like to write our short story.

I was born and brought up in a typical Indian middle class family of a small town. With "Typical", I meant by the generalized pattern these families follow to carry out their lives.
Like for a Boy:- Get educated, Get a Job, Get Married, Have Babies, Build a House, Save the money, Get your children married, Retire, Die. 
For a Girl:- Become 18, Get Married, Have Babies, Never Retire, Die.
Any slight deflection from this pattern would create a big destruction.

In my case, two steps were already accomplished as I got a government job at the age of 23 after being graduated in Commerce. I was returning back to home to have a relaxed week long Diwali vacations. On the other hand, my joint family, consisting of 5 paternal uncles, their wives and children, was desperately waiting for me to help me achieve 3rd step of the pattern. My Marriage. It was the single mission to be executed that vacations. I was unaware of it. For us, marriage was an annual affair because of my 22 cousins. Now it was my turn.
The prerequisite to get married is to find a girl. My family had already scrutinized few biodatas out of the numerous and countless biodatas they received. It was a matter of proud for them. I wondered why I was the most eligible bachelor of the town.
My aunt then explained me " You have a secured government job and we have our own house. What else a girl needs ! "
Okay, it was not my looks (as shown in Bollywood) and education (as per logic) that the girls' families eagerly approached us. It was about life-long never-ending incomes and after death pension benefits. 
   
Anyway, at first they decided to visit Kalpana's family living in the town not from ours. My grandmother selected the panel which would visit her family. The panel included all my uncles, eldest aunt, my parents, father's sister (Buaji) and her husband (Fufaji), a cousin sister and her spouse (Jiyaji), two kids and of course me. We hired a mini-van to reach there.
As we reached their house, a kid yelled out " Aa gaye (They arrived)". Soon a group of men gathered at the gate to receive us. The eyes from the neighborhood started scanning us to figure out who's the prospective groom. I was nervous. We stepped in. It was a similar kind of housing we had. The house was full of people too. They offered us the seat and the plate full of Gulaab-Jamun, Bengali Sweets, Chips, Namkeen (Indian sweets and snacks) and some unidentifiable things. A glass of cold-drink was an addition. My denial of having them all was rejected by one of the oldest person from the other side.
He said " Beta (Son), this is nothing but to taste. We will have the main course in few minutes." Everybody laughed. I didn't find humor in it. My father directed me through his eyes to eat them all. Then came the food. I was terribly tired of the food. My stomach was just flooded of sweets, spices and oil. My eyes were desperately waiting for Kalpana. My despairing eyes were caught by my sister. She pulled my leg saying " Aa jayengi bhabhi, thoda intezaar karo bhaiya (Bro, she will come ! Just have some patience)."

Then arrived a girl escorted by few other women. She looked like a show stopper. She was wrapped in a beautiful saree. She held a tray full of neatly aligned cups of tea. She offered me to have one which I couldn't deny despite my troubled stomach. Our eyes met. She sat far from me.
Then an old lady started briefing her qualities" Kalpana is very simple girl. She can cook almost everything. The samosas, you ate this afternoon, were made by her. She is the best in pursuing all sort of house chores." Everyone felt proud of her outstanding attributes and showed the fake smiles.
Then a mid-aged man asked me " Where are you posted at the moment ?". That was all asked from me. Two more hours passed. No-one asked me to ask Kalpana any question. My father with his playing eyes asked me" What's my decision ?" I ignored him.


I interrupted everyone " Can I have a word with Kalpana in private ?"
My question silenced everyone. Few hearts stopped pumping, few mouths remained opened, some eyes widened at me. They reacted like if I asked her to kiss me. Then a lady broke out the silence and accepted my proposal " Why not ? You should talk to each other. Sonu will go with you two."  
Sonu was a 8 years old boy who was supposed to protect his sister from me during our meeting. Irritated but a sigh of relief for me to talk Kalpana in person.
All the eyes followed us till we entered the private room.
I asked her to sit down. Sonu sat next to her leaving no place for me. He was doing his job. I chose to stand up. I asked Kalpana if I could ask any question. She hesitatingly agreed revealing her shyness to the extreme. She was very nervous. However I tried to frame some questions.
I : Hi, What have you studied ?
She: 12.
I: What would you like to do afterwards ?
She: As you say.
I: I meant how could I decide what would you do ?
She: No answer
I: What do you think of marriage ?
She: No answer
I: Do you have any question?
She: No answer
Sonu was enjoying every question of mine. He laughed at all of them. I was sure he would reveal all questions with other family members once I would leave their house.
Then someone knocked the door. It was hardly 10 minutes I spent with her. Kalpana's sister entered our room " How long will you talk ? Everyone wants you back outside." She passed the irritating smile.
We got out of the room and soon left their house. We agreed to give our decision in next days.
I was pleased by Kalpana's smile, shyness and her simplicity. I adored her. I liked her. We all had our opinions but to be discussed with my grandmother. She would take the final decision.

We reached our home. My grandmother was angry of something. She yelled at my eldest uncle " Why didn't you investigate about the family before meeting them? The girl's aunt (Buaji) did inter-caste marriage. Lallu-lal ji came after you left. He informed me. This marriage can't be done. No more words.Begin the next hunt."
Though everyone got surprised with this fact, I remained clueless. My story ended shortly but the memories lasted ever.



















    

Whatsapp in 1930

Background :- Since my childhood, I have always believed that despite born and brought up in an Indian middle class family, I have had the best of the resources all the time. My parents managed all very well. Whether it was buying a big fat Onida Color TV in mid 90's which essentially required a Babul's wood-made strong table to hold its weight forever. My father had to apply for a loan to bear their costs.

Getting a BSNL landline connection in mid 90's was not just filling up a simple form. The actual journey started after filling it up, where one had to dig all his VIP contacts to get it installed. When we lost all hopes of getting the telephone at home, one tired old man, holding a big black receiver, turned up one fine day and installed the device. He handed over the telephone directory saying it was free. My brother was happy to hear something free. Few bucks (Mithai ke liye) were undoubtedly given to him to get the privileges. The dry climate of Rajasthan makes its dusty particles roam around freely and stick all charming uncovered devices of the home. My over-protective mother showed her love for the phone by knitting a multicolored cover for it. So the attachments or accessories were quite prominent as well. As a kid, I didn't have a free will to call someone because its keypad was locked by a plastic cover to which a small lock was attached. The key of this lock was always put in the locked drawer, access of which was limited to my mother. Though locking up STD and local calls were the obvious restrictions.

Then came an invention of the millennium, Mobile Phone, in early 2000's and the honor was transferred from the landline to it. Though it was officially owned by my father but it was an alliance of everyone in the family, sometimes to the neighbors as well. My father hardly used it, my mother kept it in the locker to prevent us playing Snake game. Despite the peculiarities, it has been a life full of resources. I don't complain. Thanks to my parents.

Today it doesn't matter that the people are smart or not, they do have smart phones whether they could afford it or not. Of course Whatsapp App installed in it.  
Whatsapp is also an invention first of its kind.

I wonder what if Whatsapp was invented in 1930, the era of my grandparents, what would be this like ?  Let's have a look ! 

STORY (COMMENTARY) BEGINS

Leading Characters :-

GrandMa - Rukmani

GrandPa - Srinarayan

Rukmani's Sister - Dulaari

It was 1930. Rukmani and Srinarayan just got married. Srinarayan's obsession for smart-phones made him gift an IPHONE I1930 to Rukmani on wedding night.

Srinarayan excitedly said to Rukmani "This is IPHONE I1930, the world's best smart phone. Now it's yours."

"Really !" Rukmani couldn't hold her excitement and jumped on the bed like a kid.
She was just 14, so technically was a teenager kid.

"Hold on My Love. Understand the important stuff. Whatsapp !!   It is already installed in it and there is WiFi in our Haveli (A household where big families live together under one roof, specially in earlier times of India), to which you can always get connected." He explained.

"Oh ! That' great. Yeah, I have used Whatsapp several times on my mother's phone." Rukmani showed her awareness about newly invented application.

"I am happy that you are familiar with the application. It's a vital tool to be the part of this family. The status of Buaji, being the single sister among six brothers made her qualify as an undisputed group-admin of our Whatsapp group. I have requested her to add you as a member for which I had to give 100 bucks as an additional "Nek" (A kind of bribe in Indian customs and rituals). You will be added soon. " Srinarayan assured her.

"But few things, you have to keep in mind. Like for example, you have to respond (preferably with smiley or thumbs-up) to every post of your Sasu-Ma (Mother-in-Law), Jethanis (Sister-in-laws) otherwise they might get offended. Everyone responds to Bhuaji's post, there is no question about it. Even if they just post "Good Morning All", you have to respond. We have 45 people in the group. Everyone is pretty much active on Whatsapp." He further explained the family's technicalities.

After few days, Rukmani's sister Dulaari arrived at her place and queried about her daily affair with such a big family (in-laws) of 46 members. 

As Whatsapp was an integral part of her day to day life, she started in terms of Whatsapp " Everyday at 4:00 AM, Sasur ji (Father-in-law) posts 10 different pictures of Lord Krishna, followed by Buaji's 'Good Morning All :)' message. These two are daily rituals. Sasu-Ma makes sure that everyone responds to Buaji's message."

She continued "The Bahu (daughter-in-law), who promptly posts the Selfie (using date-enabled Camera) after completing the crucial tasks like moping the central floor of the Haveli, kneading the floor and washing the clothes, gets the privileges like her husband eats first that day despite the family's hierarchical structure. Lalaji (Younger brother-in-Law) always posts the riddles just to know the answer because somebody in other groups would have asked the same and in answering by copying from one group and paste it to others promptly makes him the genius, at least outside the family. Moreover, the name of the group gets changed every other day because of birthdays and marriage anniversaries of 46 members. The retired Fufaji (Husband of Buaji) maintains the list and hence changes the name and picture of the group accordingly. That's his post-retirement job but that didn't qualify him being the Group-Admin. Buaji is the ruler."

"So you celebrate this much of occasions ?" asked Dulaari shockingly. 
"Don't be surprised Dulaari ! You know, Badi Jethani (Eldest Sister-in-law) even celebrated the "Kua-Pujan" anniversary of her beloved fifth son. Annoying is her husband too who forwards all the messages he gets without even sees them. According to her spreading rumors, India has already got independence every other week. Once he sent "Kamasutra Pose" which half of the family didn't understand. I too googled it !"

Dulaari was stunned to hear her Whatsapp commentary. Me too by imagining that way :) 

Tour de 1920, An Era of Grandparents

The first thing that comes to mind when thinking of pre-1947 India is the struggle for independence. I have some perceptions about those times, believing that everyone born before 1947 was a freedom fighter. People either joined Mahatma Gandhi’s peaceful campaigns or Bhagat Singh’s aggressive ones, based on their personal choices. It seemed everyone was sent to jail at least once in their lifetime. The youth were driven by a fervent desire to gain freedom from the colonial empire. Back then, "falling in love" seemed like an undefined concept in our country.

One fine day, my friend, who could read my mind, offered me a chance to travel back in time with his remarkable time machine.

"Hey bro, you should travel to any time before 1947 and meet your fantasies," said my friend Siddhartha.

"Are you kidding?" I responded.

"No, seriously. The device is ready to go. The only bug is that you can't return for six months. But don't worry, your present time won't be lost. When you come back, you'll rejoin us as if you never left," he explained.

"Okay, then, I would probably visit my grandparents' hometown, Alwar, in 1920. Let's see if they were having a great time."

We both chuckled.

The time machine had been successfully tested several times before, so I wasn't afraid. Though I had no clue how I would handle the people of different times, generations, and mindsets, I brushed aside all uncertain thoughts. I took my grandparents' blessings by folding my hands in front of their picture and packed my backpack with clothes and a few eatables.

I started my journey and landed in Alwar. It was a sunny morning on October 2, 1920.

The city looked more like a village, with vast bare land. I could hardly see any houses, though some astounding architectures caught my attention. Men were properly dressed in dhotis, kurtas, and pagdis. Women were wrapped in dhotis with covered faces. Carts and bicycles were the most favored means of transport, though people mostly walked. Men and women moved in different groups, with men leading and guiding the chattering women. It was just as I had imagined. I was amazed to see people working on October 2, which is Gandhi Jayanti, until I recalled that it was 1920 and Gandhiji was still alive.

I quickly reached the Mohalla, where my grandfather and his family had lived. Almost everyone on my way to my ancestors' Haveli glanced at me with anger. As I entered the Mohalla, the women shouted, "They have come, they are here!" and dragged their children inside their houses. The men hid themselves too. I had no clue what I had done wrong to cause such fear and hatred among my people. Did I look that scary?

Then I saw a boy fearlessly walking towards me. "Hey, go back where you came from! We want to live a free life here."

I asked the boy, "Hey young man! What's going on here? What did I do wrong? Why is everyone scared of me?"

The boy angrily replied, "I am not scared of you, you white idiot. You English people can't ruin us. We will throw you out of my country." He then punched me hard in the stomach.

Gathering my strength, I replied, "I am not English. My name is Ravi. My grandfather lives here. His name is Madan-Lal. He is the Tehsildar of Alwar District."

The boy curiously interrupted me, "Oh! You sound like us. But there is no Madan-Lal here except me. How do you know that I want to become Tehsildar?"

I had forgotten for a moment that I had traveled to the past. It took some time for me to realize it. The person standing in front of me was my teenage grandfather. How young, fearless, and dynamic he looked. I was filled with excitement. I couldn’t explain to him that I came from his future. He probably wouldn’t understand.

I diverted his curiosity. "I mean, you could become Tehsildar. You are young and dynamic."

"Thanks, but I need to pass class X to become one. I have been failing class X exams for the last three years. You know what? Narmada is 14 years old already, and if I don't pass this year, she will marry someone else. Her father is a rich contractor. The financial gap can be bridged by my job as Tehsildar, which would allow my marriage proposal."

"Hold on, Daadu. You will become Tehsildar and marry Ms. Narmada. I can see it..." I stopped myself from revealing the truth. "May your mouth be filled with ghee and sugar. But how will I pass the class X exams? Despite topping the class, I failed all subjects except Maths and Hindi. I got zero in English, which I believe is useless. That’s one of the reasons I don’t like English people. No one explains science the way it should be. We have to memorize it, which I can’t. Above all, I haven’t seen Narmada since the last Jagannath Ji Mela," he said with disappointment.

"Hey, don't worry. I will teach you the subjects if you promise to introduce me to Ms. Narmada," I offered, desperate to meet my grandmother.

"How could you help me? Have you already passed class X?" He was doubtful.

"Yes, I can help you. I am pursuing a Ph.D. and studying science in English," I explained.

"What? What is a Ph.D.? Is it after class X? If something exists after class X, why do it if you can become Tehsildar first? It's a waste of time and money. My parents can't even afford private tuition fees. You seem educated and probably the only option to solve my problem," he said, partially convinced of my higher studies and teaching him.

After two months of rigorous planning to dodge his relatives and friends, we finally met Ms. Narmada, my grandmother, at the fair. My grandpa introduced me to his girlfriend. I touched her feet. She was extremely shy but quite happy with my grandpa.

Upset, she asked, "Bauji wants to marry off all his daughters on the same day soon. When will you become Tehsildar? I can't marry someone else."

"Don't worry, Narmada. You will become the mother of my children. That's my promise. Someone is calling your name. We have to go now," my enthusiastic grandpa reassured her.

We returned to the city and studied hard for the next few weeks. When my six-month stay was almost over, I told him I had to go. He was disappointed.

"I did very well in the exams. You have been a great help. Can't you wait until my results? I want you to attend my wedding. I will convince your parents. Please stay with me," he insisted.

A tear hung at the edge of his eyelid. Neither of us could resist our emotions.

"Hey bro! I would stay if I could. But I promise we will meet again," I said, holding back my emotions.

"Do you promise? Will I see your parents too?"

"Yes, you will surely meet them. I assure you," I smiled.

We exchanged smiles and said goodbye.

It was a wonderful time spent with him and his surroundings. I was astonished to see my forefathers and their family of 100 members living together under one roof with limited resources. They ate together. Despite financial constraints, my grandpa never left his family and became Tehsildar, the only boy in the Mohalla. Above all, he fell in love with my grandma and passionately achieved his dream of marrying her. What a wonderful journey it was with him. I will cherish it all my life.