Sunday, 18 December 2016
Thursday, 23 June 2016
Monday, 20 June 2016
Saturday, 28 May 2016
Wednesday, 25 May 2016
Tuesday, 24 May 2016
The Orgasm
At my age of 28 today, I have been married for 5 years. These
years have been very satisfying. One has a comfortable house with all the
amenities, a loving husband to take care of one’s financial and physical needs.
We have a child that keeps me occupied. But I try to grope through life to find
what still keeps me Unsatisfied?
I look back to my early age when this only daughter of my
parents was being brought up by two working and committed lecturers in the JNU.
The Jawahar Lal University is a sprawling campus with residential apartments
for its faculty. The faculty primarily comprised of the ex-students that fared
well in Post graduate course or pursued Phd in the academic environment of the
University.
My parents had not seen the world beyond their books,
lectures, Symposiums, Workshops and Paper readings. Their social interaction
would also take place with the fellow academicians where chatting would turn
into a debate over cups of tea.
At an early age I was introduced to the world of books. The
growing years made the books grow fatter and more in number. The quest to know
more triggered interest in literary talks, debates and by the time I finished
Post graduation, I was participating in the Inter-University debates.
Today a young girl in her preteens is conscious of the fashion.
For me fashion and dressing up was White Salwaar with coloured handwoven Khaadi
kurtas. It gave me a sense of belonging with the culture and environment of the
Academic community in JNU. It was kind of an unwritten dress code for women
feeling strongly about social and intellectual issues.
I had never noticed my height of 5ft. 7 inches with sharp
features and fair skin. It was a distant relative who extended the information
and shared the statistics with this well-to-do business family in Delhi. It was
the girl’s looks that mattered, for Business people do not appreciate
establishing family relations with Professors.
The boy and now my husband was well built, smart young man.
He communicated fine. His vocation was trading in Automobile spare parts. He
had no vices that successful businessmen adorn them with. But other hobbies and
interest would again be business, investments, properties, plots, money and
assets. The issues that related to society, community, state and the mankind
would seldom evoke a comment. I could not know him more then, for the marriage
was a hurried affair over the weekend.
Well, the marriages are made in heaven. Ours was heavenly. A
simple ritual was solemnized in the front lawn of the flat. The boy’s family
celebrated the event by holding receptions at their native place in Punjab and
Delhi. I could not comprehend the reason for such a splurge and extravagance.
Honeymoon was being planned. The plan for Honeymoon was a
topic that all participated in. Relatives, friends, chums, acquaintances and
neighbours all talked about the Honeymoon. As new to this house, I was open to
accept a different lifestyle but that of the Business people seemed quite
divergent and loud.
At the hill station on ‘Honey Moon’ we seldom got out of the
hotel. My proposal of long walks on hilly terrain was always dropped in favour
of remaining indoors. I presume men behave that way. The vacation was extended
and the sharp featured, fair, tall torso evinced more interest in the young man
than the three different newspapers that I ordered the Bell Boy to deliver
every day.
The marriage is give and take. I have learnt to talk money. A
great marriage is not when the ‘perfect couple’ comes together. It is when an
imperfect couple learns to enjoy the differences. I enjoy the love and
attention that I get from husband and family. I feel satisfied and satiated. What I still however miss is the
Intellectual orgasm.
- Bhaiya, Jagdeep Bhargava
ONE BEDROOM FLAT………….. An Indian
Software Engineer’s Life--- A bitter reality.
As the dream of most parents, I had acquired a degree in
Software Engineering and joined a company based in USA, the land of braves and
opportunity. When I arrived in the USA, it was a dream comes true.
Here at last, I was in a place where I wanted to be. I
decided I would stay in this country for about five years in which time I would
earn enough money to settle down in India.
My father was a Government employee and after his retirement,
the only asset he would acquire was a decent one bedroom flat.
I wanted to do something more than him.
As time passed, I felt homesick and lonely. I would call up
home and speak to my parents each week, using cheap international phone card.
Years passed. Two years of Burgers at Mc Donald Pizza & Discos and two
years watching the foreign exchange rate, getting happy whenever the rupee
value went down.
Finally I decided to get married. Told my parents that
everything had to be decided and finalized in ten days of holidays. Bought
myself a ticket in the cheapest flight. I was jubilant and enjoyed shopping
gifts for the family and friends back home.
Reaching home I spent a week going through the photographs of
the prospective brides and short of time agreed, rather forced to select one
candidate.
The marriage was hurriedly solemnized. After the marriage, it
was time to return to USA. Having given some money to my parents, and
requesting neighbours to look after them, we returned to USA.
My wife enjoyed this country for about two months and later
started feeling lonely. The frequency of calling India increased to twice a
week, sometimes three times a week. Our savings started depleting. After two
more years, we started to have kids. Two lovely kids, a boy and a girl were
gifted to us by the Almighty. Every time I spoke to my parents they asked me to
come to India to enable them see their grand children.
Every year I decided to go to India. But work and monetary
conditions prevented it. Years went by and visiting India was a distant dream.
One day I got a message that my parents were seriously sick.
I tried but there was no leave allowed and thus could not go to India. The next
message that I got was of their having passed away. As there was no one to do
the last rites, the society members had done whatever was possible. I was
depressed.
My parents had passed away without seeing their children.
After couple of more years passed away, much to my children’s
dislike and my wife’s joy, we returned to india to settle down. I started to
look for a suitable property, but to my dismay, my savings were short and the
property prices had gone up during all these years.
I had to return to the USA.
My wife refused to come back with me and the children refused
to stay in India. My two children and I returned to the USA after promising my
wife that we would be back for good after two years.
Time passed by. My daughter decided to get married to an
American and the son was happy living in USA. I realized that I had enough and
wound up everything to return to India. I had just enough money to buy a decent
two bedroom flat in a so called clean society.
Now I am sixty years old and the only time that I got out of
the flat was for the routine visit to the temple. My faithful wife has also
left me and gone to the holy abode.
Sometimes I wonder if it was worth all this. My father, even
after staying in India, had a house to his name. I too have one and nothing
more.
I lost my parent and the children for just ONE EXTRA BEDROOM.
Looking out of this extra Bedroom window, I see a lot of
children dancing. This damned cable TV has spoiled our new generation and these
children are losing their values and culture because of it. I get occasional
cards from my children asking if I were alright. Well, at least they remember
me.
Perhaps after I die it will be the neighbours again who will
be performing my last rites. God bless them. But the question still remains, was all this worth it?
I am still reaching for an answer………..!!!----- By AN INDIAN
SOFTWARE ENGINEER who was in The USA.
- Bhaiya, Jagdeep Bhargava
The Mountain Top
Gregarious is the word in English language that means,
‘living in a group’. When I describe my social existence, I feel as a point,
which the entire group is woven around.
Yes, so popular I am that my friends begin the day by making
a phone call to me. Then the morning walk in the city park is not confined to me
but I am joined by many others who drive to reach this park, giving scant
attention to the others that come by on the way. There definitely is something
about my personality that draws hordes of my friends to me.
The evenings are yet to set in and during the day I get calls
from them chalking plans to be together. What a lovely feeling is it to be
wanted by the kin.
Some ten years back I moved from the Moffusil town where I
had grown in years, to the Metropolitan. Here I am growing at a still faster
pace. My financial growth is talked about in the Business Journals now. The
friends from the previous town, for whom I have little time, have all the time
to steal a chance to meet me and keep in touch. The new bunch vie with one
another to be known close to me. The parties are planned to match my schedule
in town. At the social evenings my hugs to their lady spouses are a matter of
pride to them and an occasional suggestive joke friendly and sweet.
Anecdotes and instances where I am the central point are
narrated. What a wonderful feeling it is to be the centre of attention in a
social group.
The other day one amongst the friends talked about my new pup
at home. Its salient features and habits were appreciatively talked about. (To
be truthful, I have yet to observe them). What lovely friends I have that take
much interest in me, my life and also that of my pup’s. Each vows in the
privacy of my ears to do anything for me.
Despite this ‘friendship’ why do I find myself so lonely? Do
I attribute this loneliness to my status or to the dearth of well meaning
friends?
I am a rich successful person. I may look happier than the
rest of the flock because they cannot see my unhappiness hidden behind the mask
since I wear one. You may not necessarily have seen a person who has amassed
wealth and is also leading a happy life. They say, Mountain tops are very cold, very lonely.
- Bhaiya, Jagdeep Bhargava
- Bhaiya, Jagdeep Bhargava
The Gujaraati Mama
This is about my 63 years old neighbor who lived all by
himself in a flat in this building in Colaba. He is supposedly a bachelor, for
not anyone has known about his marital life. He does not keep a very good
health and needs medical, emotional and financial help.
For the emotional bondage, he had a sister in the far end of
Mumbai whom he visited sparingly but kept in touch. He had been a large-hearted
man who had helped people all his life. He must have attended hundreds of
funerals, consoled many families, helped in doing errands for the relatives and
acquaintances who had been hospitalized. Whenever anyone needed any help in the
extended family, he would stretch to reach out. He had helped a sister marrying
the daughter off and helped another’s three sons with money that he could
afford and they needed for studies.
Now he had nothing much to call substantial. A cash balance
of about Rs. 20000/- and the flat in Colaba was his net worth. Apart from that,
no shares, no fixed deposit, no saving certificate and no mediclaim either. His
other assets if you call them were the three Billionaire nephews who had made
big abroad.
This neighbor would place his chair at the front door of this
one room flat to chat with anyone passing by. The ‘Baais’ were the ones who could
spare more than a minute to talk. Others were busy people who rushed by
greeting him.
The nephews had NRI accounts with the Banks in Mumbai that
ran into eight figures. But the ‘Mama’ was too proud a gentleman to ask for a
penny. It was at one of the visits to Mumabi, India; that one nephew remembered
‘Mama’. He could guess how difficult it would have been for Mama to pay for the
medicine, amenities like electricity and water, and the ‘Gujaraati Khichdi’
that he had twice a day. He wanted to extend comfort to Mama but this was a
strong self respect loving person. Six new sets of Gujaraati half sleeved
Kurtas and Pyjamas that the nephew carried touched Mama enough to wet his eyes.
He was happy that the nephews were comfortable enough to do this for him.
My suggestion of drawing money as little as Rs.15 lacs from
the NRI account and putting as Fixed deposit with the Nationalized Bank where
Mama had his little saving was readily accepted by the nephew. The either or
survivor account was arranged in a manner that the interest got credited to
Mama’s account. Mama did not get to know much about it and the nephew was
satisfied that he would be able to afford the Doctor at flat and the regular
dosage of prescribed medicines.
Mama however could not enjoy his financial comfort for long
and withdrew from the Savings account only twice. Soon after the arrangement he
died. He passed away in sleep to die peacefully. The nephew’s attention did
give him the emotional satisfaction before death.
Mama’s funeral was well attended. Baais of the building
attended it. The other flat wallas made sure that they also attended the
funeral, howsoever rushed affair this may also have been.
- Bhaiya, Jagdeep Bhargava
- Bhaiya, Jagdeep Bhargava
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