Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Smalltown Romances
The ‘boy meets girl’ routine in small-town India used to be pretty heavy business. In Patna, guns played an important role in legitimizing that very American institution dating. In the late 90s – 1997 to be precise – my school, an all boys’ grind for more than a 100 years, turned co-ed. "I’ve decided to throw some roses among the thorns," declared A.D.Rozario, the principal.
I fell in love. Thorny, bespectacled me fell in love with rosy, anorexic Lavanya. She had matchsticks for legs and long, very long hair.
I discovered New Kids on the Block and yellow Digene. I bought an Archies card (10 clocks on the front and inside the deadly punch line ‘It’s time we got together’) and gave it to Lavanya in between the covers of a Math’s register.
So far so good. Lavanya invites me to a Football match. It’s 7c vs 7a. I arrive in a white Smash t-shirt; light blue Wranglers and a Rexene belt studded with stars. We say hello and shut up for another hour. Afterwards she says goodbye and leaves with her girlfriends. Minutes later I am surrounded by three guys. They have country pistols. "Light-eyed lover boy (‘kanja deewana’)," they tell me, "get off her trail or else…" I cycle back home.
In the next few days I discover a thing or two about dating in Patna Want girl? Need ‘backing’. Whose backing? Hindi Medium School kids – the kinds who’ve been flunking class 9 for the last 5 years. They have real bombs, they have scars, they have the lingo. A typically violent Bihari lingo
* * * *
The English Medium kids need the Hindi Medium goons. The latter need the former – they want to be seen with the cooler English speaking kids (that would be me…Ahem! Ahem). In the evenings, they form groups and hang out outside downtown soft drink booths.
I graduate to calling Lavanya up every evening at five. I have Karan’s backing. Karan just had his arm blown off in a crude bomb attack. I never graduate to taking her to ‘tila’, a desolate mound on the outskirts of the town, at the very edge of the cantonment area, overlooking fields of mustard. Serious couples come here to plot elopement and discover the sense of touch. There’s no place for them on the main drag. They exist on the fringes, away from prying, provincial eyes.
* * * *
That was 1997. The year MTV came in a big way with their ‘drop your side burns’ ads and all-American programming. No Govinda. Just the Pearl Jam-obsessed Danny McGill. For the first time we heard of something called ‘Valentine’s Day’. We were not sure so we went to our English master, Valentine Massey, and put the question to him. He asked us to get back to Shakespeare.
This is 2006. I find myself in another small town: Pune – smaller than Patna, wetter, doesn’t believe in pavements. Barista and Coffee Day opened shop some time back. Cheaper local alternatives have changed the local landscape. They all have one thing in common: clear glass fronts, trendy furniture, music and light, lot more light, still more light. Couples no longer hide, they want to be seen. The coffee shops provide them with message boards. Kids communicate via pink post-its (‘Shalu, I am sorry – call 098…’) and mobile phones.
But, as always, the country is too layered for there to be one simple generational change. There are still loads of couples who fix dates inside cinema halls and make sure they are never seen together outside.
Recently, I went to watch ‘Krish’. Two boys walk in early and block four seats. Soon their girlfriends arrive. They eat popcorn, sip milky coffee, hold hands. Show over, they hug, whisper, giggle, say goodbye. They leave through different exits, the boys together again, the girls clutching their handkerchiefs. Outside they wait separately for autos.
Or take the case of my friends Ashish and Nidhi who were ‘caught’ hugging outside The Polo Bar. "Take this crap to your bedroom," shouts Mr. Khanna from inside his Hyundai Santro. "This is not Taliban country," Nidhi shouts back. Then, Mrs. Khanna, who has been observing proceedings from inside the automobile, decides to get into the act. She begins shakily, ‘You you…’ she mutters before exploding with a thumping coverdrive, ‘…what kind of a man are you? Can’t you control your wife?’ Nidhi is very upset. ‘Nobody controls me… or you,’ she says, trying to make a larger feminist point. Mrs. Khanna, completely missing the point, lunges forward and sinks her talons into Nidhi’s right forearm.
Moral of the story: as long as you sit across from each other in full public view, it’s fine. Just don’t hug or kiss or touch. This is small town India. Changed but still changing.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Final Chapter
They hurried up, making their final arrangements for the screening. There was chaos all over the place. People ran around like rats, falling, tripping and sometimes even running over some one. The screenings would start any moment and there was lots to be done. But in middle of the entire chaos they stood their silently, half looking at each other and arranging their ties and the she her dress. People went by them unheard and unnoticed.
The final announcement, it was finally time. They held hands their grips tightened. Sweat running down the rivulets of the fingers, making their palms moist. The final announcement was made, they walked up on the stage, and cameras flashed… they pinched themselves.
* * *
The last few embers glowed at the end of the cigarette. He held it just above the ashtray, piled high with stubbed ends and loose tobacco which had spilled out from the cracks where the paper had not been properly sealed. As the paper started to burn and crackle, he lifted the short and thick cigarette up towards his mouth, held it to his pursed lips, and dragged hard, making it burn quickly as air passed through it and the smoke was pulled into his lungs. He removed the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, holding the smoke in his lungs and tilting his head back. He looked up towards the dim light that glowed in the centre of the room, and tried to see the cream ceiling through the thick smoke which had gathered. He watched the swirling patterns in the smoke, tried to imagine images forming, and then blew the smoke out and high towards the ceiling. He watched for several seconds as the smoke rose and mingled, creating new shapes, then looked back down to the seats opposite him.
Tanya was sitting in the inflatable chair, her legs crossed and with an empty soft drink can in the small dip this created. She was probably only twenty-three, and was smoking with energy, with enthusiasm as she talked quickly to Jeetu who sat next to her. He was more relaxed, laying back in his seat and shifting his gaze between Tanya and the television that flickered in the corner. Jeetu started to move for his pocket as he had noticed that a cigarette had just gone out, and pulled out a small tin which contained all kinds of stuff. As he did this, Tanya continued to talk to him, fervently brushing the hair away from her face as it rolled down from her head, trying to find its way out of the tight pony tail she had tied it up in.
She looked so young and fresh. As she dragged on the cigarette, he watched her face contort, he watched the orange glow light up her face and cast shadows. Then she would blow the smoke away to her side, and continue talking as the fire burned further down towards her fingers, then repeat again .
Who wants pizza?" asked Jeetu.
Everyone agreed, and Tanya went to the phone. Bikram watched his hand as the latest joint burned down towards his fingers again. It was so slow, He flicked his gaze over to the TV. The sound was down, and he could just hear the voices of actors above the wheezing of Jeetu breathing.
They looked at each other and smiled. Bikram stood up, shakily, and wandered over to the stereo as Jeetu turned off the TV. At the cabinet, Bikram turned on the machine and started to look through the tapes. He found the battered case that he'd had for about ten years, took out the tape and started to play it. As the guitars started, Bikram and Jeetu looked at each other, still smiling.
"Classic rock." said Jeetu.
Tanya entered the room, waving a menu in her hand. "They said it will take forty five minutes. You're not playing this again are you?"
"Classic rock," repeated Jeetu, his hand tapping out a beat, which didn't seem to fit in with the tune they were listening to.
"
I'm popping off," said Bikram, nodding to the others as he stepped into the corridor. As he shut the door, he heard Tanya start talking again, trying to be heard above the music. Bikram walked slowly up the hallway, running his hands against the turquoise painted walls. He looked at the award resting on the mantel; the dim light would make it stand out even more. They would shine it almost every day. He remembered the joy of winning the award for the best one-minute movie, the sheer excitement and the glow in their eyes. He remembered running to this town in order to realize their dream, in order to make it big. Well you once must have read about a frog who once dreamt of being the king and became one, well except for the name and few other changes if you talk about them, the story is still not the same one. He walked down the stairs… thinking how they had failed to make their mark. How now Tanya worked as a waitress and they delivery boys. But well their fight, their struggle was far from over.
In the corridor he could still here the music but Tanya’s voice had stopped talking.
He wore his jacket and walked down to the closest video shop, this would give him some idea of how to go about the script which they were writing, more over it would help him get through the night he thought. At first he saw several faces, then the blue of the cover took over, and he looked at it.
"It's a good movie." , the store guy said
"Robert de Niro. He's good." Bikram said, handing over his credit card.
They all agreed, and then Bikram signed the receipt. More money going out, he thought as he picked up the bag of shopping and took his cards back. Bikram walked out of the shop and back into the night air. He crossed the street and headed off at a slight jog back towards the house. The lamp was still on in Jeetu's room, so he knew he didn't have to hurry. Walking up to the door, he took his keys from the deep pockets, and unlocked the door. He closed the door to the living room, and sat back in his armchair. He placed the video in the player, and poured a glass of cola for himself. The trifle was positioned close to the leg of the chair, and he put the spoon of top of the lid. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the tin, and reached over to pick up a long book. Resting it on his legs, he placed everything he needed onto the book. Licking the papers, and sifting through the tobacco, he followed the ritual. The night air had cleared his mind slightly, and he soon had the next joint ready. It was three papers long, and thick. He picked up an ashtray and put it between him and the sofa so that Jeetu and Tanya could use it. He placed the joint in his mouth, and struck a match. The flame lit, and he put it against the end, hearing the tobacco light and the paper start to crackle once more. Shaking the match to put it out, he took a long drag, filling his lungs with smoke. He leant back, closed his eyes, and blew the smoke up again. It shot towards the ceiling. He opened his eyes as the door opened.
Tanya was on the doorway. He grinned at her, and took a second drag. The orange fire was burning in his mouth as he dragged smoke into his lungs, and into his blood. He was looking at her; she was looking at him. She came and sat on the sofa next to him.
He could hear Jeetu snoring loudly,
“ Is he asleep…” he asked
‘Hmmm…” she replied fixing her eyes on the colorful blur of the television.
He looked at her, the cold outside had made her nose turn red, her smiled, and she looked beautiful even with her hair messed up.
Eyes still fixed, she said
“ The weather is horrible.”
He grunted his assent. He took another puff of the joint and saw the orange glow drawing even closer to his fingers.
“ I mean why don’t you ever talk to me’ she pounced on him.
“Sorry?”
“You hardly talk to me now a days, why?”
“ You know why… don’t you?” he took another puff.
…She knew why. She lit another smoke.
He looked at the award resting bravely on the mantel…
The final announcement, it was finally time. They held hands their grips tightened. Sweat running down the rivulets of the fingers, making their palms moist. The final announcement was made, they walked up on the stage, and cameras flashed… they pinched themselves.
* * *
The last few embers glowed at the end of the cigarette. He held it just above the ashtray, piled high with stubbed ends and loose tobacco which had spilled out from the cracks where the paper had not been properly sealed. As the paper started to burn and crackle, he lifted the short and thick cigarette up towards his mouth, held it to his pursed lips, and dragged hard, making it burn quickly as air passed through it and the smoke was pulled into his lungs. He removed the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, holding the smoke in his lungs and tilting his head back. He looked up towards the dim light that glowed in the centre of the room, and tried to see the cream ceiling through the thick smoke which had gathered. He watched the swirling patterns in the smoke, tried to imagine images forming, and then blew the smoke out and high towards the ceiling. He watched for several seconds as the smoke rose and mingled, creating new shapes, then looked back down to the seats opposite him.
Tanya was sitting in the inflatable chair, her legs crossed and with an empty soft drink can in the small dip this created. She was probably only twenty-three, and was smoking with energy, with enthusiasm as she talked quickly to Jeetu who sat next to her. He was more relaxed, laying back in his seat and shifting his gaze between Tanya and the television that flickered in the corner. Jeetu started to move for his pocket as he had noticed that a cigarette had just gone out, and pulled out a small tin which contained all kinds of stuff. As he did this, Tanya continued to talk to him, fervently brushing the hair away from her face as it rolled down from her head, trying to find its way out of the tight pony tail she had tied it up in.
She looked so young and fresh. As she dragged on the cigarette, he watched her face contort, he watched the orange glow light up her face and cast shadows. Then she would blow the smoke away to her side, and continue talking as the fire burned further down towards her fingers, then repeat again .
Who wants pizza?" asked Jeetu.
Everyone agreed, and Tanya went to the phone. Bikram watched his hand as the latest joint burned down towards his fingers again. It was so slow, He flicked his gaze over to the TV. The sound was down, and he could just hear the voices of actors above the wheezing of Jeetu breathing.
They looked at each other and smiled. Bikram stood up, shakily, and wandered over to the stereo as Jeetu turned off the TV. At the cabinet, Bikram turned on the machine and started to look through the tapes. He found the battered case that he'd had for about ten years, took out the tape and started to play it. As the guitars started, Bikram and Jeetu looked at each other, still smiling.
"Classic rock." said Jeetu.
Tanya entered the room, waving a menu in her hand. "They said it will take forty five minutes. You're not playing this again are you?"
"Classic rock," repeated Jeetu, his hand tapping out a beat, which didn't seem to fit in with the tune they were listening to.
"
I'm popping off," said Bikram, nodding to the others as he stepped into the corridor. As he shut the door, he heard Tanya start talking again, trying to be heard above the music. Bikram walked slowly up the hallway, running his hands against the turquoise painted walls. He looked at the award resting on the mantel; the dim light would make it stand out even more. They would shine it almost every day. He remembered the joy of winning the award for the best one-minute movie, the sheer excitement and the glow in their eyes. He remembered running to this town in order to realize their dream, in order to make it big. Well you once must have read about a frog who once dreamt of being the king and became one, well except for the name and few other changes if you talk about them, the story is still not the same one. He walked down the stairs… thinking how they had failed to make their mark. How now Tanya worked as a waitress and they delivery boys. But well their fight, their struggle was far from over.
In the corridor he could still here the music but Tanya’s voice had stopped talking.
He wore his jacket and walked down to the closest video shop, this would give him some idea of how to go about the script which they were writing, more over it would help him get through the night he thought. At first he saw several faces, then the blue of the cover took over, and he looked at it.
"It's a good movie." , the store guy said
"Robert de Niro. He's good." Bikram said, handing over his credit card.
They all agreed, and then Bikram signed the receipt. More money going out, he thought as he picked up the bag of shopping and took his cards back. Bikram walked out of the shop and back into the night air. He crossed the street and headed off at a slight jog back towards the house. The lamp was still on in Jeetu's room, so he knew he didn't have to hurry. Walking up to the door, he took his keys from the deep pockets, and unlocked the door. He closed the door to the living room, and sat back in his armchair. He placed the video in the player, and poured a glass of cola for himself. The trifle was positioned close to the leg of the chair, and he put the spoon of top of the lid. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the tin, and reached over to pick up a long book. Resting it on his legs, he placed everything he needed onto the book. Licking the papers, and sifting through the tobacco, he followed the ritual. The night air had cleared his mind slightly, and he soon had the next joint ready. It was three papers long, and thick. He picked up an ashtray and put it between him and the sofa so that Jeetu and Tanya could use it. He placed the joint in his mouth, and struck a match. The flame lit, and he put it against the end, hearing the tobacco light and the paper start to crackle once more. Shaking the match to put it out, he took a long drag, filling his lungs with smoke. He leant back, closed his eyes, and blew the smoke up again. It shot towards the ceiling. He opened his eyes as the door opened.
Tanya was on the doorway. He grinned at her, and took a second drag. The orange fire was burning in his mouth as he dragged smoke into his lungs, and into his blood. He was looking at her; she was looking at him. She came and sat on the sofa next to him.
He could hear Jeetu snoring loudly,
“ Is he asleep…” he asked
‘Hmmm…” she replied fixing her eyes on the colorful blur of the television.
He looked at her, the cold outside had made her nose turn red, her smiled, and she looked beautiful even with her hair messed up.
Eyes still fixed, she said
“ The weather is horrible.”
He grunted his assent. He took another puff of the joint and saw the orange glow drawing even closer to his fingers.
“ I mean why don’t you ever talk to me’ she pounced on him.
“Sorry?”
“You hardly talk to me now a days, why?”
“ You know why… don’t you?” he took another puff.
…She knew why. She lit another smoke.
He looked at the award resting bravely on the mantel…
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