Humans of Nakthan Village

Dinesh and Manish, 3^rd graders in Nakthan Village, Kullu had just come from school and were playing. Nakthan is a small village located in Kullu Tehsil of Kullu district in Himachal Pradesh.

Below is a conversation with their grandfather. 

-      Kaha se hain aap log? (Where are you from?)

-      Ji, Dilli se (Delhi)

-      Sirf 2 tarah ke log hote hain, dil wale dilli se and paise wale Mumbai se (There are only 2 kinds of people, people with heart from Delhi and people with money from Mumbai)

-      Nai Nai. Hume ye jagah kaafi acchi lagi and log bhi. (No uncle, we really like this place and people here)

-      *to me* Aap inki biwi ho? (Are you his wife?) *pointing at my friend, Abhishek*

*we both look at each other and feel embarrassed before responding*

-      Nai uncle. Hum sab padhte hain saath. (No, we study in the same college)

-      Kitne saal ki ho? (How old are you?)

-      24

-      Abhi tak shaadi nahi hui? Humaare yaha ladkiyo ki shaadi 18 saal mei hi ho jaati hai. Aurat ka kaam sirf ghar sambhaalna hai. (Aren't you married yet? In our village, girls get married at the age of 18. Only men have a heart. Women’s’ work is to manage household chores)

-      Nahi uncle. Mujhe career banana hai shaadi se pehle. (No uncle. I wanna make a career before marriage)

-      Koi faayda nahi. Aurat ka kaam sirf ghar sambhaalna hai. Sirf mard ghar ke liye kamaa sakta hai. (No point. Women’s job is only to handle home. They can’t do anything else like men, who are the sole bread winners of the family)

-      Meri mummy ne 2 bacche bhi sambhaale and job bhi nahi chori. (My mom handled home, raised 2 kids and worked simultaneously)

-      Haan toh unke jaise bano but zyada padho mat. Faayda nahi. (Be like her, but no point studying so much. Handle home only)

-      Aajkal aurat aasmaan mei jaa rahi hain. Kitna kuch badal gaya hai (In today’s world, women are going to space also uncle. They can do so much more)

-      Accha, gayi hai? Par koi faayda nahi uska. (Women have gone to space? That’s true? Irrespective, it’s of no use)

I chose to end the conversation there. The conversation which would have agitated me, in normal circumstances, seemed funny to me then.

Even though the man had a narrow thinking about women and their contribution, he was very warm and welcoming to me. Not once it felt like he was trying to impose his ideologies on me. It seemed like he simply accepted that there are different worlds – his and ours. And he seemed fine with it.

Made me feel okay about mine.

Travelling teaches you so much.

  

It's not you. And I mean it.

My body cringes

When your fingers touch my arm,

When you run them along the length,

When you kiss my fingers

And bite them too.

You pull me close, whisper in my ears

There’s no other place I’d rather be

You look into my eyes,

Let us dance to the melody of Himeros

With every kiss, my lips smile

When you reach my neck,

My arms follow

Your touch is sweet,

And you caress my waist

A kiss on the neck,

Chin. Cheek. Nose. Lips. Tongue.

Legs around your waist, my hands find support around your neck

Head rests on the shoulder while you touch every part of me.

My lust consumes me,

Probably more than it should.

But how do I tell you,

That it's not you

Whose touch I crave.

Could She?

The world is discussing violence

It’s discussing nudity

It is also discussing obscenity, porn, women, and feminism

What it’s not discussing is how a woman feels about being discussed

Individuality is lost

In the mid of all the angst

Too many issues at hand

Too many people to discuss with

She sits in the corner and mourns

Her innocence shattered

Her patience tested

Her body conferred

Her opinions ignored

She sits in the corner and contemplates

Should she fight?

Should she let go?

Should she raise the voice?

Or all her thoughts she should forgo?

Question is,

Could she?

Why fight?

Now, more than ever.

I see your face, I drift away

I see a tomorrow

In the sea of thoughts, that’s a way

I see our lives, from the future that I borrow

I tremble when I walk

On me, your eyes stay

I stammer when I talk

To me, the attention that you pay

Into my eyes you gaze

With so much love and hope

And you’re lost in a maze

I feel I’m pulled by a rope

It’s overwhelming,

The level of satisfaction

It’s charming,

The amount of your affection

Strongest bond we redeem,

We are a team,

A distant world it seems,

Like a translucent dream

And I love you more

With every passing day

Than I did before

It’s what I’ll always say

I tried to live without you,

Tears fall from my eyes

For so many years, or so few

I told myself all the lies

It’s a starry night

When mysteries suddenly unravel

Hold on tight

While all of the fears dishevel

We’re gonna get through the storm

Because I cannot live alone forever

I need you in my dorm

Now, more than ever.

A story so common.

There wasn’t a waking moment when she forgot. Or forgave. The unexpectedness of his decision to leave her was what she couldn’t get over. No signs. No warnings. No hints. Nothing. Or if Rohit had been scattering them round, Aparna had completely missed them. Sure they had had their squabbles but she considered the stray storms perfectly normal.

For a person who didn’t forgive easily, she forgave everything where Rohit was concerned, leading to an establishment of pattern that suited them both. He erred – she forgave. It was taken for granted that all differences were to be settled in just one way – his. And each time they fought, it was Aparna who was left feeling rotten and vaguely guilty as though the whole thing was somehow her fault; that it was her intensity that came in the way and spoilt everything; that it was she who expected too much; demanded too much; that men weren’t supposed to be a hundred per cent honest or sincere; that it was unrealistic of her to hope that from Rohit. Wives, she often heard, were better off being somewhat indifferent. Husbands preferred to have an obsessive interest in their lives. Curiosity. Questions. Learn to overlook details, she was told. Don’t pry. Block out. Ignore. She’d tried. Trained herself to keep quiet even when it killed her.

One morning, Rohit asked for his usual coffee and while she showered, he casually packed. When she emerged from bathroom, she found him dressed and ready to leave. She towel dried herself and asked unsuspectingly, ‘going somewhere?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, lighting his ciggie.

‘You didn’t tell me. Baroda again?’ she continued.

‘Yes,’ he said coolly.

‘How long?’ she asked looking for something in her wardrobe to match her dress.

‘For good,’ he replied picking up his bag.

She turned out, jokingly threw her towel at him and continued, ‘Ha Ha! Like its that easy.’

‘It is,’ he said ducking. ‘Watch me while I leave.’

And with those words he’d picked up his Samsonite and walked out of her life. No explanations. No apologies.

Rohit was a selfish man. She knew that before they were married. Selfish and vain. But Aparna believed all the men to be the same. All the men she’d known were both selfish and vain. Including her handsome father. It wasn’t Rohit’s self absorption that bothered her as much as his ruthless streak. He had a grand design for his own life – people either fitted into it or didn’t.

Aparna still seethed when she recalled that horrifying moment. How foolish he’d made her feel. Oh God! How desperately small and foolish. Years later, she still didn’t know why or where she’d failed. Yes, the failure was hers. That’s what he’s managed to convey to her without saying a thing.

- Snapshots by Shobha De.

"True" love story.

Love Story: It’s definition (I googled) is “a tale of lovers”.

But, that’s not my concern. The idea for this blog randomly struck my mind when I saw the words “true love story” and it got me wondering. True love story, as such, has no definition.

Who decides though? Which love story is true and which is untrue? Romeo & Juliet, Cleopatra & Mark Antony , Laila & Majnu, Salim & Anarkali and some more tragic love stories are few that are considered to be ‘true’.  The stories with sad endings. And then there are movies depicting the unconditional love between a couple where one partner is diagnosed with some terminal disease eventually or the ship they are travelling in hits an ice berg and sinks.

As much as I love sappy sad stories, I hate how our notion of true love stories has now become the very idea of someone sacrificing their life either waiting for ‘the one’ or devoting their life to a dying loved one.

"True love stories never have endings."

And then there are these quotations which frame such very notion of true love in our brains.

Whatever happened to our childhood when true love meant our parents fighting ever second day and then making up to each other the next? The constant nagging and arguments followed by “ladte wo hi hain jo pyaar karte hain”. Rather, our grandparents. The time when the women in the house wore a pallu over their head and had meek expressions with eyes that never met their husband’s (atleast when they were not alone). That was also love, true one for that matter but only in a way now alien to us.

Fortunately, I haven’t seen the tragic ones around me. But when I see an old couple walking together at a market or a mall, I look at them and think that is true love. I see my parents, and there I see true love. I see my friends who sometimes fall out of relationships but I know their love was true, only it just didn’t work out. Because sometimes it’s not meant to work out. And sometimes, true love stories do end.