Sunday, March 14, 2010

By the Caspian

Even though the way back is the first left when you get out of the office the traffic dictates you travel a kilometer right, take a U-turn and get on your right way, the way back. Some drivers have other, more complex, ways of making the journey back, but that was the route we were on that day. And it was a good route to travel in the fading lights. Travelling next to the Caspian Sea, looking at the waters to wash away the distances. Distances that are hard to describe, hard to cover, washed by the even harder to describe a distance that the waters are. A feeling of peace transcends when you look at the waters.

The house faced the sea. It was a small two-three room construction, about six feet high from the road level. The front door opened to a small platform and stairs down to the road. The three of them stood there. The eldest, about five-six years in age, stood in the corner of the small platform. The second boy was standing about a yard away from his elder brother. And the little girl, unable to decide whether to join the boys in their play or not, standing half in the middle of the door neither out on the platform nor in the room.

On the other side of the road a new three-four star hotel has come up. Hotel Ramada. It must have blocked the view of sea from the door where the children stood, if not complete definitely partially.

The eldest boy was showing his little brother how far he could pee. Maybe showing off, see how far my peepee goes. Or maybe he was trying to achieve the hard task of peeing across the road on the hotel. Getting back at the hotel for blocking their view he was trying to make the best of the projectile. The younger boy seemed impressed. Taking his lessons, in the art of making a pee-projectile, seriously. Maybe they will work hard and one day successfully pee on the view-blocking-rich-looking-no-good-to-them-hotel-Ramada. Together, both of them. And the little girl, not very sure of what was happening, slightly confused of how the peepee was making a projectile, stood at her distance. Ready to run to the safety of the house, and probably her mother, in case the boys wanted her to join in their play.

The projectile was not that strong. And hotel Ramada was safe for now. And so was the road on which we crossed between the boys and hotel Ramada after taking a right and a U turn, riding next to Caspian Sea, on way from office to city.

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Sukhdev Singh is milking a buffalo when I call him. We are speaking after a long gap. His voice carries the same cheerful energy I remember....