It’s my third job in just over a year. Don’t really know if life has been good but it’s moving along well, like a Bombay local. Picking up mornings and dropping them at their respective evenings, some held on till night.
But this one is not a Bombay local. I am sitting in a train in Andhra P. Don’t know the trains name, where it starts or where its going. I nearly missed it or rather just caught it by few seconds, some confusion between two drivers as to who was to pick me from the hotel. This is the third consecutive journey where I have been the last one to arrive.
I am in and the metals have started grinding against each other. The round one thinks it is better, it gets to see the world, other knows it gets to see the world longer and better. Some times its good to be still in life.
I have to edit a word document so I took out my laptop to work and started working on different document, this one. Two side berths (actually one) are/is occupied by a two lovers (I guess so by the way they are… lets not discuss the way they are…).
Mukesh sings (with the help of Windows Media Player, Thx Bill Gates!!)
Teri yaad dil se mitane chala hoon..ke main apni hasti mitane chala hoon..
I am missing delhi…
I am trying to play some songs for the couple. But actually ending up playing depressing numbers…
Mukesh goes on..
Waqt karta jo wafa, aap hamare hote……
The other guy from my company who is traveling with me wants us to listen this song. Something special. Mukesh goes mute…(how easy to control people through few buttons, wish it was so)… He has played ‘Habeebi’, its in Arabic, very sweet to listen. He tells he and his wife danced on this number on their wedding. He seems to miss her a lot. Have called her four times since morning. He told me India is very expensive when it comes to international calling. Poor chap paid around 600 INR for calling her wife 3 times for a minute or so each time. It was time to put things back into perspective. While we waited for the driver back at hotel, I took him to a phone booth and this time he paid only 50 bucks for four minutes of call. It was just that he was making calls from the hotel phone earlier. He is happy to know the trick. I guess he won’t be making any calls from the hotels ever again. We are friends now. Isn’t making friends so easy.
Earlier we exchanged cards. Not really exchanged, Manik and Derar exchanged and gave one each to me. “I am yet to get mine” was all I said and of course added “I joined recently”. This is my third job in a year or so and by the time I get my business cards I am already in the next company’s office. It should be different this time though (I hope so).
TT said it would take around three and a half hour to reach our station. It’s nearly three, I should enquire.
As luck would have it. The first person told me that Samalpur Jn. was the station we just crossed. “No it’s the next one” shouted a lady sitting in next cabin. What a relief. Sometimes I do love women; no I think I love them all the times even when they are not to be.
We are here now in this hotel, where we will be staying till another journey, another train, another flight and another day. We had food (which by the way was pathetic) and now I have browsed through the TV channels twice. Mostly maddu, but time can be killed very easily, very very easily.
Mukesh sang earlier. Think I wasn’t listening then….
Aaya hai mijhe fir yaad ai zalim, guzra zamana…..
More than any other medium… fiction mirrors truth… the reality of my times… so I write fiction.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi
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Aaya hai mujhe fir yaad ai zalim, guzra zamana…
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