meeting surri——-part 4

we sat on his priya and were off to a ride.

on the way we slapped three guys and ran away and surprised three ’sexy’ girls by shouting ‘jaanam samjha karo’ while overtaking them.

we came to the bhanng shop at new market. the govt. recognised shop had everything  from bhang samosa to bhang lassi.

hanuman went inside and gulped 3 laddoos what he calls ‘anta’. he was in control now. much more relaxed.

surri took bhang chai where as i took simple chai ( shastri uncle was constantly looking at me. well, he is my neighbour. and he took only one anta.)

“bhai….. let’s go….. my lips are itching.” surri once again brought back the topic.

“haan let’s go….” I said

he again kicked on priya.

this time the ride was long.

we started from rang mahal and while passing through roshanpura, jehangirabad and bharat talkies, we reached the back of laxmi talkies.

the place was full of ladies. and i took no time in understanding what was the place all about.

“dolly meet my friends….. this is hanuman and this is goatsheeng” surri introduced us.

“goatsheeng?????????? hahahaha goatsheeng………… for me you will be gotu…… okay darling”

there were no words to say so i decided to stay quite.

“dolly……. is she bhabhi?????????” i went close to  surri and asked.

“stop it you mother-fucker….. don’t make me to remember that extremely cold girl….. she is dolly….. my dolly ….. the beauty queen…. my sweet heart…” said surri in a lecherous tine.

“are these guys also coming with you jaan……. gotu will have to pay…. and i won’t do anything with this dirty fellow hanuman…. he always stinks…” dolly interfered.

“you slut go out of here” finally hanuman woke up and said something and continued ” goatsheeng let’s go today is mangalwaar, the day of lord hanumaan ….. how could you do this???”

this was a better option- to quit…. i finally followed hanuman… but the only question which was going through my mind was that these places exist in bhopal too.

but as i am growing up I am understanding that these places exist every where.

surri came running behind us and pleaded me to stay.

“you will get the pleasure of heaven my dear friend…. he is a ass-hole…. don’t listen to him..”

“it is better to go yaar surri…..” i said in a serious voice.

“okay….. lets go….but today i will host a party for you two.” surri said and we sat on his priya.

meeting surri ——-3

we reached his room.

for the first time in my life i was passing through the slums of rahul nagar. i had no idea of where i was going? and to some extent i was thinking that the guys had a plan of kidnapping me.

on the way i saw men fighting after drinking, women dragged by their hairs and every possible scene that many award winning authors have written in their ‘poverty porns’. so there is no need to discuss it. read any book about india, you will find it.

so…… we finally reached his room.

it was situated adjacent to ‘guddu and guddu atta chakki pvt. ltd’. some women were in que for water.

“dolly…. fill the water for me too.” surri exclaimed.

“is she your wife?” i asked.

” stop it! you bloody bastard… always talking about bhabhi.”

we entered in his room.

the room had dark green walls and bulb for light. and the older additions of griha shobha and saheli were scattered om the floor.

“what for?” i said pointing towards the magazines.

“well these…” he paused and then continued ” well, grih shobha has a very good fashion section… girls are super hot and about saheli… the saheli of saheli that is agony aunt is very good.”

“okay… but why don’t you buy playboy?” i asked.

“bhai… i am not as rich as you. the latest edition of these magazines cost 25 together while the older edition of  playboy costs rs 40. plus, pakistani aunties are always there for me.” he said while pointing to the  vcd’s of blue films.

“goatsheeng… gaoatsheeng.” hanuman was getting out of control.

“haa bhai…”

“once again tell me that why is your name goatsheeng?”

 i started smiling. this was his patent question. every time we meet, he asks this question.

“well, you remember my janeiu ceremony?”

“yes… my father was the chief halwaai.”

“okay… so that day all my hairs were taken off and i was completely bald. my father then called me ghotsingh where ‘ghot’ means ‘bald’. but when i met people like you, you changed it to goatsheeng.”

“can you sing ure-ure?” this was the limit. it was beyond imagination. i looked at surri. he made faces and then pleaded me for singing.

“no, i can’t” i said.

“goatsheeng… bhai for me.” he said. he was a bit dousy because bhang.

i started the song. the song has no meaning so don’t look for any intellectual thing.

“ure ure…. gaotsheenga…. maanu billa aaya hai… vaauu vaauu vaauu… maanu billa aaya hai… vaau vaau vaau”

he was singing along with me and was dancing with his eyes closed.

“i think we should get some bhang for him. he needs some current”. surri said.

and went directly to hanuman.

“bhai… do you need some currant?”

“haa bhai.”

“let’s go to the doctor. i have got ulcers on my lips.” he said

meeting surri—–part 2

it was seven in the evening. i’d just returned from my shop. it was pretty cold that night. my phone rang. the monitor showed ’surri h’. ‘h’ stands for ‘haraami’.

“bhai… this is surri.”

“haa bhai.. tell?”

“its pretty cold tonight. why don’t you join us here at anna egg wala’s shop?”

“us? who is with you? bhabhi? “

“no, you bastard. hanuman is with me.always talking about bhabhi”

i was in no mood to meet him. i’d no relations with him as such. but surri and hanuman were best of friends. i was finding it difficult to refuse surri’s request. so i just disconnected it.

the phone rang again. this time it was complete ’surri harami’. actually. i’ve five numbers of surri. the rest three are of different names such as surri bastard, surri sala and the last one should not be written here. he takes full advantage of his always sleeping employer and steals the SIM”S and handsets.

the phone rang again.

“you bastard… why’d you disconnected the call?”

“no it just got disconnected.”

“okay so where to meet?”

“no. not today. we will meet some other time. say sorry to hanuman.”

“arrey no. you’ve to come just now. hey talk to hanuman.”

this incident was least wanted. i didn’t want to talk to him. when we once met a year before surri had told me about hanuman. he had started taking bhang. suddenly various voices started coming. and one of them was of refusal of hanuman to talk to me. he was telling surri that he had rajshri in his mouth. but surri insisted. so both of us were talking to each other on surri h’s insistence. i don’t know how surri manage with him.

“hullo……..hullo…”

“haa hanuman bhai…bolo..”

“hullo is it goatsheeng??? goatsheeng?”

“yes this is goatsheeng.”

“goatsheeng this is hanuman….hanuman.”

suddenly he cut the call.

the phone rang again.

“yes, we are waiting for you.” surri said.

the call again got disconnected.

i told my mother that i was leaving.

“beware of these kids. they are not good. and don’t listen to faaltu plans of surri. amit’s mother was telling me about some of his plans that amit told her. you know what reputation these left people have!”

“okay i am leaving byeeeee.”

i was in no mood to waste money on surri and that to when he is with hanuman. i took a tempo to reach anna egg corner. and i had just rs 20 in pocket.

i reached anna egg corner. i found them seating on surri’s 1983 model ‘priya’.

i reached to them.

“see the rich people have arrived.” surri exclaimed.

“leave it yaar!” i said.

i saw hanuman wearing a black t-shirt with a caption ’ milky balloons inside’.

he was looking the same as the last time i saw him during ganesh utsav.

that ganesh utsav was the only event that we experienced with fervour. the right people had given money and the left people made the jhaaki.

“that is what these people are for.” batra uncle said while fighting over money when somebody had given extra money to a left person.

my house was in middle. one side was left area mainly consisting of poor people or lower middle class and right area for the right people, the rich.

to some extent my house was also a part of right area.

they made the jhaaki but batra uncle took all the credit. hanuman was the son of halwaai.

but where am i going? i am not here to write about the atrocities and insults faced by the poor.

” from where you bought this t-shirt?” i asked hanuman as we hugged each other.

“from bumbai, a friend bought it. liked it? have you seen it’s back part?” he squirted a red juice of rajshri as he spoke.

the back part had a picture of pamela anderson with football on her………….

they ordered bhurji and i decided boiled eggs for myself.

“let’s go to my room.” surri said.

“please yaar goatsheeng . please come.” hanuman insisted.

“okay…lets go.”

we, all three sat on his ‘priya’ . and left for his room.

H@#$# B#@$%$%^ B%$#@$%

“Are you serious?” This was what he told me when I stated that I want to start blogging. ‘He’ was my father.

“Yes I am very serious.” I confidently replied.

“Don’t you think that..! Just a waste of time. These stupid good-for-nothing celebrities are spoiling the young generation today..!They are all earning money but you don’t earn money, instead you spend money BIG time..!”

“I don’t want to do this for earning money. Its just for I want to be listened and even corrected if I am wrong somewhere.”

“Who will read you?”

“People read blogs nowadays.”

“yeah only when the celebrities write them..!”

“No..!There are many successful bloggers who are not celebrity. And they write it everyday.”

“Oh..! So, you have planned to waste your time on the stupid blog EVERYDAY!!”

“Its not a waste of time, father.”

“It is. And I am not going to let you do it. You have your studies and that is what should be your concern.”

“It wont harm studies.”

“It will.” How did he knew?

I went to my room, learning that I wont be allowed to blog. There was a glass of water kept on my table and a pill near it.

I stared at it for some time. I stared at it blankly.

I picked it up and swallowed it..! And I fell to the ground-Baanng!!!!
That when my Father came into my room and woke me up.

“Happy birthday blogger!!!”

PS:  I hope the message is clear..:P

PS: Happy birthday agoodthinkingmind..!!

PS: rock on!!!

PS: for those who don’t know me read outlooking life..!

PS: for those who know me do read the other posts on this blog also

a man with rosy cheeks!!!!

this is my homage to the greatest umpire of cricket history mr. DAVID ROBERT SHEPHERD. i’ve no words to describe this loss. a great individual, a dedicated worker and above all a serene soul has departed. i will miss you ’sheph’.

meeting surri—–part 1

i reached there an hour before. i was waiting there for a friend.
suddenly i felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a voice.
“how does it feel when you fart in water?” he asked.
“budoom…budoom.” i replied in a reflex and turned.
he was surri aka saurabh. surri was not the one for whom i was waiting.
“so, what are you doing these days?” i asked.
“nothing, just working as a salesman at a mobile shop.”
“how is aunty?”
“don’t take her name in front of me. she has just ruined my life by marrying that mother-fucker.”
he was loosing temper. i had asked this question unintentionally.
surri’s father died when he was eleven. his mother,then, married to a well known businessman. but after marrying she aborted surri . this has made him quite furious. sometimes he just goes out of control.
i decided to change the topic.
“so, still single or????????????????” this was my question.
“i’m engaged.” he showed me the ring. his eyes were gleaming.
“when is the marriage bhai?”
” as soon as the girl turns 18.”
“and you turn 21.”
“according to my marksheets i will be 21, next month. but you know that we roughly are of same age.”
“lets go. we’ll eat noodles.” i invited him.
“come on! let’s go there fast” he was walking very fast.
“what happened?”
“lets go there fast or else my father-in-law will see us.”
“yes! by the way who is he? who is your lucky bride?” i asked.
” vaidya rajendra kumar, gaya wale is my father-in-law.”
“good yaar! you’ve a doctor in your house.”
“what doctor? he didn’t ask me about my family instead he checked my nabz… and…”
“and?”
“and… don’t laugh over this please… whenever i utter this bloody word ‘galti’ he comes to me and check my nabz. one day he came to me and asked me about that what do i mean by ‘galti’. i told him that i never talk about my ‘bachpan ki galti’”.
i was laughing suddenly his phone rang.
“what? i’m coming.”
he ran suddenly. he asked me to wait there only. but didn’t come even after half an hour. i had minimum balance in my mobile so i didn’t call him.
i left that place to meet the other friend.
to be continued………..
keep reading!

what say?

well, this is not a post. this is a question to know your views.

now a days, we are witnessing a lot of drama and hoopla over global warming. the glaciers are melting at a fast rate and the developed countries are asking india, china and other developing countries to minimise their per capita carbon emission.

i know one fact about this. that per capita carbon emission of india is 1.1 tonnes.

the above fact is true but i don’t know anything apart from this.

jokes apart. our prime minister mr. Manmohan Singh is going to Copenhagen for the climate summit, he is asking the chief ministers of the himalayan states to form a committee to check the status of global warming. himachal pradesh has declared that it will be carbon neutral state by 2020.

they all are doing good work. hats off to them.

but what are we doing?

going for cycling on Sundays and in evenings for spreading a message to stop global warming. what a fuck? i know that i am just ruining the effect of this post by using this somewhat ’slang’ phrase. but i can’t help it. because this is the only thing that these activists and participants deserves. if they are so much into it and really wants to prevent this earth from global warming, why don’t they use cycles instead of cars and bikes on normal days of their lives.

leaving apart the celebrities and ministers, we , the common people can easily switch over to bicycles or public transports. but do we really mean what we do? the answer is a big NO. come on yaar!!! we are just common people,,, no one look at us whether we go by car, by bus or by cycles. don’t confuse yourself that whenever anybody is praising your car, he is praising you. no he is just praising your car.

this is a high time…. we should stop all these ‘dhakoslas’ and really start the job.

don’t think that you are doing your part by planting a tree. stop thinking like that. if you’ll continue thinking like that, at the end, you’ll find yourself fooled by the mother nature. she is giving you chace after chance.  grab this opportunity.

go green in each and every way! stop global warming!   

what say?

keep reading!!

missing delhi!

‘gadhe ke

poot, yahaan mat moot’, ‘jo yahaan peshaab karega woh apni pitaai ka swayam zimmedar hoga’…. when i saw these lines suddenly a similar picture of national urdu council came in front of my eyes.

i went to see ‘all the best’ at rambha talkies yesterday. we( i and my friends) could have easily gone to jyoti or another cineplex’es but we were short of money. in rambha, with Rs 60, you can sit in the box while in jyoti you should have at least Rs 70 to get into it. first we had decided to sit in the box but when we didn’t find any trace of the opposite gender we sat in dress circle.

we reached there an hour before. my friend amit was moving alone. i don’t know why? but the only reason that i could think of is that he was feeling do number or it might be ek number. there was no rescue place in sight. as it was the first show of the day we weren’t allowed to sneak in. and the kha’s who were standing near the wall to beat the transgressor made us to drop the other idea.

let’s talk about the famous dream of amit before going to the main topic.amit my friend has an unusual dream. he wants to do pee and shit everywhere in this world. once, when a friend of mine ( on the condition of anonymity) was telling us about his visit to london airport. amit said ” beta i’ve done shit there’. now why is he having such an unusual dream? he tells “yaar as we, today looks for some archaeological data for undrestanding the life of our ancestors, in the same way people, centuries later would like to know about us. and when they will try to do it. they will find samples of  my urine and shit everywhere in this world. and they will tell that ” the ancient people used to travel. they had a well developed society… see i am doing all this for this society. plus they will give some name to me. i’ll be known forever.” such a weird dream. but this place, Bhopal, is full of kha’s like amit.

in the same manner it was written near Urdu council in Delhi. i used to see it from the window of my favt. bus 764.  call it saat sau chausath and not as seven sixty four. as the latter is too english for the bus. the year which i’d spend in Delhi was one of the best of my life.

i learnt many things there. such as-

1. vodka is not pronounced as vodaka, like modak ( a sweet that is used as a bhog to god ganesh). it is pronounced as ‘vaudka’.

2. girls do smoke. i saw one when i was travelling by auto to my place. i saw her near munirka and they are in plethora in south Delhi.

3. don’t get surprised when you see a girl wearing mini’s ( which we down market guys call chaddi) in Bhopal. there are plenty of them in Delhi like this. and much better than the bhopali ones in every case.

4. whenever you go to visit lal quila, take a 2 rupee coin with you because the sulabh complex workers charge even for doing pee.

5. the world is full of copy- cats. you can see that at lal quila. hundreds of guys take pictures of lal quila in the same way as abhishek bachchan did in Delhi -6.

there are plenty of observations like that. i think, i should tell you about that in upcoming posts. 

miss you Delhi!

keep reading!

ramayana without ram

“welcome guddu bhai. how are you?” i said.

“passing through your shop. have come here to have a tea. where is your uncle?” he asked.

i called my uncle and ordered 2 tea’s.

well, guddu bhai is a very famous socialite of our colony. he knows everything about the society. he goes to every birthday and drink party. he has an account of every extra-marital affair taking place in the society.

“aur chchotu, on dussehra you didn’t come to meghnath’s father’s cremation?” he asked.

“well, i was busy that day, bhai.” i said.

“beta, you should come to such places. we stay in same society. we should always help our co-residents. see, pappu and anil helped in distributing raal ( a compound used to ignite fire). beta you have a shop, you are a businessman, you should take an edge over these motherfucker’s, who follow the opposition party.”

” yes bhai. i ‘ll take care of that.”

“you should.”

“see, that mandodari, the mother of meghnath has got second victim. doosra ravan did a big mistake by marrying her.” he continued.

i decided to keep quiet.

“i heard akshay kumar cried badly. is it true?” i asked.

“yes! he got fainted.”

“before you or after you?” that was my next question.

well, let me tell you who is meghnath? well, meghnath is the kiraana waala of our society, roughly of my age. his real name is somesh but nobody calls him by that name. i think, even he has forgotten his name.  

he got this name as his father died on the day of dussehra.plus his brother’s name is akshay kumar. first we used to call him as indrajeet (another name for meghnath). but later we thought that this name was very good for that fucking bastard. he is a typical ghee-chor. similarly, his shop is known as lanka.

mandodari, his mother once again married after the death of pehla ravan. but doosra ravan also died on dussehra. typical tragedy.

but lets come back to our conversation.

“before you or after you?”

he didn’t pay attention. he was busy playing with ‘haathi ghodas’ who came from his nose.

“hmmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

“before you or after you?” i repeated.

“oh you know about that?”

“yes”

“ kyaa karoo chchotu bhai” he continued” yaar for the first time in my life i had seen electric crematorium. all the body got finished within 10 minutes or probably less and asthis were handed over to them within an hour. yaar,  i was out of my breath. “

“to whom?”

“to the other party… those who opted for that. doosra ravan was cremated according to hindu rivaaz. may be meghnath knows the importance of dussehra.”

we both laughed.

“yaar i’ve asked my bunty to cremate me like doosra ravan or else i won’t be able to rest in peace.”

“here comes the tea, guddu bhai.” i said and continued ” i think uncle won’t be able to join you.”

“arrey satish bhai!” he called another person who was standing outside my shop and called him in. but he refused to do so.

“okay!yaar chchotu tell your uncle that i was here. i’ve come to take chanda for diwali celebrations. but i’ll come later in the evening. don’t worry.”

he took my leave. i accompanied till the gate and then till satish.

“arrey guddu bhai i’ve to talk to you something personal.” said satish.

“okay guddu bhai…namaste.” i left.

“what! that whore did with you?” guddu bhai exclaimed after listening to satish.

stop the hatred!

“aur kha… kiya chal riya hain?” that’s what these bhopali say when they meet somebody. the old man told to another one.

“no.. not these days…time has changed uncle… Bhopal has changed a lot.” i replied and continued ” well there is no harm even in talking like that… that’s their style.”

“Bhopal can never change.”

“no sir. it has changed.”

“what do you know about Bhopal? hayn? i used to stay in Bhopal during 1967-69 while doing training in Bhopal. all the places where you stay and go were literally jungles. you are a new kid…my boy… you know nothing about Bhopal. a place full of katuas”

i was feeling harassed. i never like to hear any filth about this city.

“uncle! do you know where is sundar nagar?” i asked just to see what he knows about Bhopal.

“look kid! don’t try to be smart with me.”

“gupta saab! i used to feel contaminated while staying in jehangirabad…these musalmaans have no ethics. you remember how we had thrown them out of ’saandpur’. beta! we used to chant slogans “musalmaan ke do hi sthaan pakistan ya kabristan”, “jo bole ali ali… uski maa ko cho** gali gali.”

and then it was gupta saab’s chance to utter hatred.

“beta… some hindu brothers did the right work during the riots. they burnt the shops of some musalmaans at badaa. thanks to them or else we would have been in hands of these motherfuckers.”

“uncle

it’s not like that… they are just another sect. see i own a showroom and three fourth of workers are muslims. we get our two times of bread from them only. they are good people.”

“arrey beta! you are very liberal… try to become a bit hard. they had chanted this slogan during ’ ladke liya pakistan… haske lenge hindustan’. believe me they can do that anytime and Stupids like you will help them in achieving that.”

i was feeling helpless. i had no option except to listen their filth.

“you know pathak saab. bhagwaan has punished them. you remember the gas tragedy? hayn? thousands of them died. it was a direct message for them. and Bhopal will face more tragedies like that… believe me.”

“uncle ji chaai lene aa jaiye ( uncle please come inside to take tea)”  here came my saviour.. my brother, for whom i was there in saandpur.

“these guys are full of fire” i said.

“yes they are! bloody bastards! they call themselves purists. and see what is the result of their ‘coservativeness’? saandpur is still devoid of good roads, traffic is worst, requires good societies.”

“to be a conservative is a good thing but interfering in others business and condemning it, is of no use” i said.

“absolutely” he said and continued ” well! had they told about their generosity? that Bhopal became the capital on the mercy of saandpur. “

“no”

“then you must feel yourself lucky dude!”

“you saved me”

after sharing some greeting i left that place.

at the end i would like to say ‘hindu muslim sikh isaai, hum saare hain bhai bhai’

_this is a fictional work based on real incidents.

_sorry for using the rotten aphorism at the end. but it stays true.

India is great and all indians are brothers and sisters. except one for me.”

jai hind.

keep reading!