A Torn Ten Rupee Note

I was blessed with a torn ten rupee note. It came into my worldly possession after a long booze session when one saw poorly.  So, as we say here - I wanted to chalav it - literal translation - wanted to walk it - but meaning - pass onto someone and get rid of it. 

Next morning with a clear head I thought of a bakra / popat ( someone I can dump this torn ten rupee note on ). Rickshaw wallah.  Perfect poor guy who can be bullied,  not always though. I had some errands to run so, after a careful selection of what looked like a poor rickshaw wallah and also who seemed could be bullied, I hired him and rode with him. I hid the torn ten rupee note among the good notes. I chatted with him about everything and nothing but all the while thinking about how to present the torn note to him so as not to arouse any suspicion. So I folded it, re folded it, made it into a tiny paper, then again unrolled it, pressed it and finally prayed that it would go unnoticed. Wow! What drama just to get rid of one ten rupee note.  But then, someone had fooled me in my inebriated state  and I wanted to fool someone else.  Ego issue. Ergo - rickshaw wallah. 

I restarted my conversation with him - politics, cricket, whatever he liked hoping for a diversion, and then his diluted attention span. 

Midway to my destination I started feeling bad. My conscience at last woke up. What was I doing? So I thought of giving him the torn note only after telling him that it was torn. What honesty! Then I thought what the heck! Will give him a charity / tip whatever you call it. If it worked - fine - else it was not a financial loss to him. I stopped the rickshaw just a few meters from my destination. I handed him the torn note and told him it was torn and it was not part of the fare.  It was just extra. And if he could “chalav” - it was his else he was not losing anything. He just smiled and said - let it be part of the fare. It’s fine. I will somehow manage the torn note. Need not pay me extra-

I was dumbstruck.  And before I could say anything he said - I have noticed that  you still need to go a few meters farther up. Hop on and I will drive you there. No need to pay me since I’m already heading there. 

Well! I thought myself. If he has noticed this then he has obviously noticed my shuffling and reshuffling of the torn ten rupee note. 

I didn’t know what to say, what to do.  Since no words could come out, out flashed my silly smile which said thanks. I would walk the remaining distance. Before I could tell him or rather acknowledge him further, he smiled and bid me good day. 

Old Woman

 

All day along she sits by the window 

watching people go about their business. 

Some smile, some wave, some nod to say hello-

she finds these greetings a bit meaningless. 

Sometimes someone drops by for a quick chat

which lifts her spirits just a little bit. 

Sometimes someone brings flowers, pats her back-

finds nothing to offer but some lame wit. 

She longs to talk but hears the clock ticking 

so her words jumble, tumble and overlap. 

The past overflows memories leaking,

and those tears or joys seem a bizarre yap. 

She sits by the window, asks for our time,

long talks- and a clock with no hands, no chime. 

Red Checkered Wallet

 

Stuffed with my identities

a red checkered wallet lies. 

Old photos and old cities-

knots of memories it unties. 

I stare at it quite often

but I rarely carry it. 

It helps my nerves to soften

as my past nears bit by bit. 

When it gets worn out and blurred-

It will lie in my cupboard. 

Cauliflower

 

I never liked cauliflower - still don’t. My hate for this vegetable goes back to my college days. Once I drank half a bottle of rum and ate cauliflower like crazy - those days it didn’t matter what you ate after drinking.  And so - after drinking, what felt like, gallons of rum I puked - and the floor became a cauliflower garden. So I gave up - not drinking - but cauliflower. 

My mom had a belief that one should eat all the vegetables and since I didn’t like cauliflower ( not aware of the reason ) she was hell bent on feeding me. So she devised a plan. 

She cut this bloody cauliflower into small pieces and shoved it into pav bhaji. She camouflaged it like a true detective that she was -some secret mission.  She served me pav with this bhaji, and  sat back. Generally there was always a smile on her face when she served food but this time there was no smile and so I suspected something fishy. And then I spotted just a tiny bit of my nemesis sticking out of the well disguised bhaji.  To not disappoint her I ate the bhaji with extra pav so as to reduce the know-ability of cauliflower. She smiled and asked me - How is the bhaji?- 

I said - It is terrific -

She smiled even broader and said - There was a bit of cauliflower in it - 

I gave a silly-overacting-astonished look and said - I don’t believe it-

She busted out laughing and said - See, you like my cauliflower. 

I nodded vigorously - overacting in full force. 

I hated to spoil her secret tactics. And went along with it. But told her laughingly not to do that again else I would fear eating pav bhaji next time.

She said ok.  But she did that again many times. And I acted even more stupidly every time.  We played along with this game for quite some time. 

After many years of this, she eventually stopped making cauliflower pav bhaji.

One day we talked about it and I told her that she quite fooled me with that dish. She was getting old but more alert.  She rested her legs on the table, reclined her head and said

 - Oh! of course you knew there was cauliflower in it. You just played along to please me - 

she smiled and then added 

- hope your acting has improved since then-

She passed away a few days later. 

I wish to have that cauliflower bhaji again. 

Niyo

 

A silent strength you possess-

lazy bum precious priceless. 

Kings and queens maybe many

but just one little princess. 

Aishu

 

I first saw her when she was two years old.

She spoke to me in her broken English.

- Talk to people - She was probably told.

We were unaware that that was her wish.

Bubbly child sounded much like a dolby-

Aishu was born to spread love and laughter.

This little kid brought out the kid in me.

And her presence I will feel much after.

She was a friend, and she was a daughter.

Someone you could just dream or hope to be.

I will pluck memories from my jotter.

And wish her joy wherever she may be.

I will miss those big, naughty, dreamy eyes.

Though they will appear in a different guise.

Version

 

Memories are just versions-

some are real, some made up. 

When truth finds no diversion-

we conveniently dream up. 

Mysteries are glorified. 

And the history is blurred. 

War and peace are storified

for we like the written word. 

A myth is passed on as fact-

unaware what truth it lacks.