Here I am

A whiff of you, in my every breath
Survived the storm, cheated death
So far I traveled, seas seem modest
Nights and days, across many a forest

Drench my forlorn soul, in your caring grace
Solace I seek forever, in your warm embrace
Unscathed by anything, here I stand now
So firm was my love, even death took a bow

Skies along the horizons, asked me on my way here
How far will you go, till when shall you steer
I smiled and looked away, kept walking along
What does they sky know, of cozy warmth

As I stand here at last, survived to see you smile
A place in your heart I ask, I've walked many a mile

- Deepak Karamungikar

Alone

Unfathomed by his own, alone he suffers,
Bereft of warmth, quietly he dithers,
Unsung songs, linger on his lips,
To the tunes of gloom, his heartbeat slips;

Unspoken melancholy, obscures all hope,
Silence of solitude, despair beyond cope,
Sliding into sadness, one moment at a time,
He closes his eyes, as memories chime;


From one horizon to the other, the sky unfurls,
Memories from the distant past, the mind hurls,

Desolate, forlorn, he sinks into the mire,
Sorrow rains that night, hope burns like fire;

Alone he walks this earth, alone he departs,
Love is not a choice, nobody gets two hearts;

- Deepak Karamungikar

You.

Echo of your tinkling anklet
Charm of your disarming smile
Magic of your enchanting fragrance
Warmth of your comforting embrace

Sparkle of your bewitching eyes
Shadow of your flowing hair
Comfort of your giving lap
Bliss of your loving caress

Disquiet of your wandering breath
Calm of your endearing silence
Tranquility of your engulfing aura
Magnanimity of your forgiving heart

Ecstasy of your immersing presence
Mastery of your bewitching grace

- Deepak Karamungikar

The Indulgence

My new short story - 'The Indulgence': http://scentofthenight.blogspot.in/2012/11/the-indulgence.html


(IndiBlogger is yet to register the the above blog, so sharing the link here. Do not worry - it is safe.)

In the Lord's yard.

In 2002, I had gone to Tirupathi for darshan of the Lord with a friend of mine, his elder brother and two of his friends. I had an overall budget of Rs. 1000/- which included an onward journey reserved ticket. The journey went well, except that one of the guys with me, who had an immense reputation of being an absolute idiot, lived up to it. That apart, it was a great trip. I was going there for the first time after 16 years, and hence was very excited. We landed in Tirupathi and climbed up the hill on foot. It was extremely tiring, but was very exciting. After a five hour trek, we reached atop the hill at about 3 in the afternoon. The next two hours were spent in finding accommodation, lunch and enduring that nincompoop.

 At about 6.30 pm, as we lay tired in the cottage, one of my friend's friends, who lived in Tirupathi, showed up after we had called in the afternoon. He came with a letter that allowed us for a special darshan where we didn't have to wait in any queue. He asked all of us to get ready by 8.00 pm. At 8.00, I wore a white shirt and formal trousers and was ready to go. We entered the temple premises through a gate which was usually closed. It was unlocked for us and we crossed many a empty corridor to merge with the main large queue about 20 meters from the Lord. The moment I took darshan, all my tiredness vanished into emptiness, a wave of energy engulfed me. Before I could think anything, my mind went blank. Soon, the guard pushed me and I left. It was an extremely satisfactory darshan. 

Once out, I found it hard to express my joy to my friend. He was in the same state of mind. We all came out and sat on a platform that ran along the long wall of the temple. In about two minutes, this notorious human being, gave me a plastic bag, and said, 'You wait here, I'll be back in 10 minutes. Don't go anywhere' and took his friends away with him. I was now left only with my friend. He and I were too overjoyed to speak anything. Just then, his friend, who had us take an earlier darshan than planned arrived. They left for some shop close by. I refused to go, because that was the meeting point and none of us had cell phones. The temple yard had a divine aura to it. A devotional song played in the background as the temple bathed in HIS glory. I was enjoying my moment of peace, alone, on that night abounded by hazy orange and white floodlights, when I turned right to find a man about 50-years-old sitting by my side. 

He wore thick glasses with old fashioned dark brown frame. He hadn't shaved and had a two-day-old white beard. I smiled at him before he struck a conversation with me. He asked, 'Where did you come from?'
'Hyderabad,' I said. 
'What's your full name?' he asked. 
I told him my name, and he was quick to shift the language to Marathi.
'Came with your friends?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said. 
'My son is a little older to you, but you remind me of him,' he said. 
'Oh, is it?' I said. 
'Where did you come from?' I asked, wanting to know more. 
'I came from Nagpur, alone. My son was a drug-addict. He has been to the rehabilitation clinic thrice, but he started off again. But I don't know what happened to him, last year, he quit drugs and concentrated on body building. He has a good body now. He still smokes cigarettes,but that's ok. At least he is away from drugs,' he said. 

I was beginning to get uncomfortable with the conversation. But he continued, 'My son doesn't listen to me at all. He doesn't respect me.' On one hand, I was a little repulsive to his approach as a 19 year old, but on the other hand, I was beginning to feel sorry for him. 'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,' I said. 

'I came here last night, when I arrived, my bag was lost in the transit from Tirupathi to Tirumala and no one has found it yet,' he said. 
I began to guess where this was going. Obviously, it was going to be money. I remember very well that my secret pocket in the front had a Rs.500 note, my wallet has a Rs.100 note and a Rs.50 note in my shirt pocket. I became a little protective about my money and turned slightly left. The next thing that man said was, 'I currently have no money. I have called my people, and they are arranging for some money. I have not eaten any food either.' The last sentence struck my heart and I quickly gave him the Rs.50 note I had in my shirt pocket and said, 'I am student, and this is all I can afford to give you.'

He took the money, put it inside his shirt pocket and said, 'Thanks.' I turned left to see if any of my friends were coming and turned right again. There was absolutely no one sitting beside me. I looked in the front, the left, and scanned the whole place properly. I found no trace of him. The next people on that platform were at least ten meters away and the yard, that day, was surprisingly uncrowded. If he had walked, ran or jumped away from where he sat, or I thought he sat, he wouldn't go unnoticed.


I am 200% sure I gave the man the money and before I could turn my head back, he was gone. In this lifetime, I will not forget what the man looked like, the words he spoke to me and the look of a helpless father on his face. If I try hard, may be I can still remember his voice. Did the man actually exist and I failed to see him leave, is a question that is open for individual interpretation. But interpretations are not explanations.

- Deepak Karamungikar

The Flutter

Drenched in her love, he sought no respite
Her hair danced on him, in the dim light
Enslaved by her eyes, he held her in his arms
Thought he'd resist, but gave in to her charms

Little did his smile say, little did her eyes
So close they lay, hearts spoke in sighs
Tears hung in her eyes, but she hid it in her smiles
Waiting to smell his breath,quietly she shies

Curled in his arms, she felt safe as a shell
Their breaths met, God had cast his spell
Hunted by his eyes, becharmed by his touch
Arrested for life she felt, his magic was such

Love rained that noon, her lips romanced the flutter
Draped herself in him, she sought him forever


- Deepak Karamungikar

Sweet Lour

Hiding her smile hard between her lips
She ignored his eyes but slowly her heart slips
She looks away from him as he steps closer
Silence was the music, his breath, the composer

Enchanted yet unfazed, she ignored his pleas
Pretense was evident, nothing hid her ease
The urge for his warmth had reached its brim
Yet, a fence of sweet anger kept her from him

Joy behind her frown was hard to conceal
Cheer in her eyes prevailed over her veil
She sought guilty pleasure as she pitied his chase
But Inside her heart, she longed for his embrace

He then gave up and held the moon in his hands
Finally she smiled like cold rain on desert sands

- Deepak Karamungikar 

Games memory plays.

Some road trips leave a mark on your memory. Forever. One such trip was to Pocharam Dam, an abandoned dam that was built during the British regime. It is about 100 kms form Hyderabad. The earlier day, my friend Durgaram had purchased 2 kgs of fish and had them marinated overnight. In 2005, none of the friends in our circle were comfortable, except Easwar, who had just returned from Germany. He had brought a bottle of wine, of which, we had only heard. The rest of us, filled in petrol in our bikes and had about 5-600 each for expenses. There was Suresh, Easwar, Easwar Babu, Durgaram, Srinivas, Pradeep and Me. Three of our other important friends couldn't make it. 

With a film-roll camera, we set off on our journey on a not so hot day towards the end of July. We stopped for breakfast at a roadside hotel near Medchal. And when done, a friend loaded the roll into the camera and the first picture was taken. Soon after the picture was taken, we realized that the two packs of cigarette and the matchbox were on the table and would be clearly visible in the photograph. Durgaram began to panic as it was his camera. 'Chutiye ho tum log,' he said to everyone. And after a while, he calmed down as we zoomed into serenity in the interiors of Medak district. At about 1.00, we were still a little far away from our destination. We found a roadside dhaba to suit our plan. We gave him about 2 kgs of fish and asked him to fry half of it and make curry out of the rest. We also took 1.5 kg of country chicken and asked it be to cooked. It was a great place with a fenced backyard and chairs. We downed two beers each and at about 2.15, the food was ready. At 2.30, we all started again, towards the dam. At 3.00 pm, we were there.

Hunger was killing all of us. We found a nice place by the lake and opened the wine. The taste sucked. I had never tasted wine before. However, extremely aromatic fish curry and fry made our taste buds orgasm. We spent a lot of time just praising the Dhaba cook. At 4.45, we decided to take a walk around the dam. It was full on one side and water was extremely polluted. But then, we all took turns to get photographed. I remember very well, that there were five of us, who sang the song 'Dil Chahta Hai, Kabhi naa beete...' for four-five times. We had a great time. At 6.30, we decided to return.  On our way back, we were happy to have spent a day enjoying. Food was great, company was greater. Everything rocked.

In 2009, I was going through an album at a Durgaram's place. I found that photograph which we had taken with cigarette packs on table. Luckily, it was hiding behind a glass and only professionals could identify. I laughed and showed it to him. I turned the pages and found that photograph which we had taken near a tall wall near the dam. All seven of us were present. I looked at it and smiled. Those were the days, I thought. All friends now don't even meet once a year. But then, another thought puzzled me.  I very well remember that, while reaching the place, the last human I saw was about 3 kilometers away from the dam. That day, there was absolutely no one in that place, in all the 3-4 hours we spent there. No chance. The question was, who took the photograph? No, there was no self-timer in that camera. It was too ancient for that feature. Then suddenly I asked my friend, who all had gone that day, apart from me and him. Even he ended up naming seven of us. Easwar, who had come from Germany, was with Easwar Babu, I remember this very well because we had named the bike Double Easwar Bike. I remember Srinivas was behind me. I quickly called Suresh and asked him, who was riding pillion with him that day. He didn't remember. Neither did Pradeep. But everyone agreed that they were with someone or the other. So, if there were four bikes, and everyone was riding doubles, then there was some name we were missing out. Also, who took the photograph?

Later, we were informed that the location is very famous for small time thief gangs, robbers and murders. The area is also infested with foxes. Glad we didn't know all this before going.

Today, in 2012, I am in touch with all of them online, except one or two. I have never lost touch with Durgaram. He continues to be my best friend. Every time we meet, we discuss this topic. Who was the eighth friend who had come with us? The photographs have nothing to say. All friends are still damn sure that there was someone with us. They have no doubts. Also, the biggest proof is the photograph. It was taken in such a serene place that there was no question of any humanity whatsoever. 

Memory sometimes cheats you. May be sometimes it also plays games with you; I still remember the four bikes that we traveled on. I also almost remember what clothes everyone wore. I remember what we drank and ate. I remember we had a hard time opening the wine bottle with everyone trying a new technique. I remember the argument with the Dhaba owner over packing the parcels. I also very clearly remember what each of the seven friends spoke. But who was the eighth guy? I and Durgaram are so tired of discussing and guessing that we don’t bother anymore. But the question remains.

- Deepak Karamungikar

(Reconstructed from true events of my life)

A New Freedom

Lush meadows spread into the horizon
Blue skies entice me to fly
Freedom once I had heard of
Has embraced me in its arms

Imprisoned I was, deep inside my mind
Chained to darkness, enslaved to ignorance
Thank God, for that ray of light
Forever in your debt for this way of life

Along the meadows I tread a new path
Wander I don't, for I know where to go
I look to the sky, let the clouds pass
Happy I am, and will outlive my woes

Fool I was, I saw the light late
It's all a game you play, we call it fate;

- Deepak Karmamungikar

The Beginning

Eyes set on her man, quietly she shies
She blushes pink, swallows her sighs
Sweat on her brow, wetness of her hair
Sparkle in her eyes, madness in her stare


Dusk descends the earth, as new hopes dawn
Joy engulfs the new bride, for he'll never be gone
He looks into her eyes, hers' refused to meet
Whelmed by his charm, she looked towards her feet


He held her in his hands, looked inside her deep
They swam across seas, climbed mountains steep
She rest her head on him, longed for his embrace
He held her like a flower, engulfed in her grace


Gently a tear flows, he feels it on his shoulder
He whispered into her ear, not anymore dear


- Deepak Karamungikar

The End

Cold evening under the tree on the hill
Together they sat brooking the wind's chill
Moon shied away behind the dark cloud
Never to fall apart, they had vowed


For one last time, she lay in his arms 
Memories from past, those magical charms
Days so beautiful, had come to an end
They will survive, but to live, they'll fend

Strange at times, are the ways of the Lord
He was all set to separate, sea from the fjord
Past engulfed him as he asked God 'Why?'
A tear flowed from his, and fell into her eye


This life was done with, it was the end of time
But she held his hand, him another lifetime 


- Deepak Karamungikar

Memoir of a lover.

I have always loved writing, especially writing about love. This, for me, is a new experiment. If I ever write for movies, and have to write a monologue for a man whose love was snatched away, it would be like this:

A vast dusky horizon unruffled by the winds, bids adieu to the red sun and to the east, rises the moon and reminds me that for a few hours more, I'll have to endure my madness. Every night that comes, brings me memories of those luscious lips that have left timeless impressions on my cheeks. How could I ever put in words how I feel when your hair covers my blissful face and I breathe through your skin. In the silence of our oneness, I'm sure you've heard my heart beat to your tune. I loathe that force called time, that doesn't stop while your breath sings into my ears, the sweetest of tunes and your skin warms my soul. 

As the sun sinks, leaving darkness behind in the sky and in my heart, I have little to say but a lot to express. If you were here, looking into my eyes, you would've known, that these are nothing but a playground for your memories. And if you look close enough, you'll see your own world in them. As I wonder why this night that puts us apart has arrived, like I do every day, I do remember how you played with my hair with your sleek little fingers and gently kissed on my forehead while I was half-asleep like a baby in your arms. 

That's it. It is dark and nature has conspired against my heart. The moon has arrived, pretentiously trying to convince me I'll not miss you in its presence. But damn the moon, being a man who has made the moon sleep in my lap a hundred times, I would hardly even look up into the sky. I am chained to your thoughts for the night and in your absence, I feel as nurtured as the desert which has never seen rain. 

As the chirr of the crickets in my yard resonates with the haunting of your giggles from your memories that play like a movie in front of my eyes, I don't even have the choice to close my eyes, for I'm sure with closed eyes, it pains more. 

- Deepak Karamungikar

The Walk

He looked into her eyes as her hair danced to the breeze
Fragrance of the rain kissed earth, heart's hardly at ease
Impatience in her breath, impishness in his smile
A hundred years there would've seemed like a while


Moonlight flickered on her face as the branches swayed
Such was her fragrance, that his conscience strayed
In the silence of the dazed evening, he caught her unaware
A flutter ran through his soul, as he touched her hair


He held her hand in his, walked the moonlit street
As they took lazy steps, he tried to match her feet
Conversation had begun, but words were yet to flow
He put her to his left, he took it nice and slow


They walked into the night, into each other's arms
The moon shone bright, enthralled by their charms


- Deepak Karamungikar

Time changes everything.

Last week, I accompanied a friend to a bike mechanic shop who he knew very well. A lot of workers were doing different jobs in the workshop while the main man spoke on phone on his desk. I looked around and saw that in one corner, a man, slightly overweight, chewed gutkha and was cleaning a carburetor of a bike. In a flash, I remembered seeing this man somewhere and within seconds, a very clear picture of this man emerged in my mind. His name was A.

In 1999, like many of us, we had to wait at the Rathifile bus stand, Secunderabad for a 37 or a 24E or in the worst case, a 16A to get home. Every afternoon at about 1.30-2 pm, there used to be a set of boys who specialized in eve teasing. Girls used to fear their stupidity. I know of a girl who stopped taking the bus from the bus stop after the eve-teasing became unbearable. 

Although I had never seen anyone, there were rumors of civil dressed policemen secretly observing these eve-teasers. In order to be extra careful, I and my friend who usually accompanied me, took the first bus that came and never waited for too long or hung around for more than what was required. And honestly, even looking at girls had become difficult, because of this threat. 

One afternoon, I clearly remember two boys acting extra smart, started teasing a girl who regularly got into 24E. They passed lewd comments and started making passes at her. Those two boys were ugly beyond imagination and their dressing was pedestrian. One of the boys, started singing "Aati kya khandala" song and lit up a cigarette which was usually banned and socially unacceptable inside the bus complex. I was watching from a not too distant staircase. 

The guy who was singing the song, took steps closer to that girl. And like they show it in the movies, blew smoke on her face and said, "Naatho matladava?" (Won't you speak to me?) in a tone so rash that she started crying. The moment the girl started crying, people who were observing, gathered to see what's wrong but none of them dared to question the anti-social proceedings. The smoker, shamelessly, caught her ponytail and pulled it and said, "Chooskunta enni rojulu matladavo..." (I'll see how many more days you won't speak to me). The girl started crying very loudly. Anger filled inside me, but very honestly, I was a lean, timid boy with no guts to confront. I kept quiet and watched. 

I wished something would happen soon, and just then, I heard a loud thud. A uniformed Army man had bitch-slapped the trouble creator. And suddenly there was a public outrage. A few people joined the Army man. In 5 seconds, there were so many blows that the guy fell on the ground. A series of kicks followed. He was beaten up badly and his clothes were torn. The beating continued for 10 more minutes. After which, a policeman arrived. He dragged the boy along the platform and everyone watched. Blood oozed out of him in drops and trickles. An arm, and probably a jaw was also broken. 

The other guy who had accompanied him, vanished. Suddenly, his absence was realized when someone said, "Veeditho inokodu edi" (where's the guy who came with him?) but everyone looked around. Today, 13 years have passed. I never saw that girl again. Neither did I see the other guy who escaped. At the mechanic shop, the guy who chewed gutkha, Mr. A, was the one who was beaten up that day. I stayed on and looked at him for a few seconds. In a while, the owner of the shop came and signaled to him with his hands and asked him to go and eat. There was an unusual silence that prevailed before I asked the owner, "What is his name?". He said, "You don't know him?". 

"I seem to have seen him somewhere," I said. 

"His name is A," he said. I knew that. But there was something he didn't want to tell me. Just then, my friend observed our conversation and said, "Wait. Keep quiet now". I said OK and kept quiet. 

Half an hour later, as we had tea, my friend told me that Mr. A was a very famous criminal of a bygone era. Very famous for hitting people for money, eve teasing, property damage and creating nuisance. But one day, a famous rowdy once kidnapped him for about 40 days and he was beaten everyday. They also cut off his tongue. After that day, he was never heard of in any case. He stayed indoors for about 6 years. After that, his brother's friend spoke to this mechanic friend and got him employed here. And now, he works here in silence every day. 

As my friend took the last sip of  the tea, he said, "I also heard that some 14 years back, he was beaten up very badly in Rathifile Bus Stand". I looked at him, picked up the cup and sipped tea. 

- Deepak Karamungikar

Poetic Rovings

In poetry lies my heart. Here's a compilation of my two liner poems which I wrote on Twitter. Consider this, Shayari in English. Hope you like it! 

• O star that twinkles in the sky, the clouds may obscure you for a while,                      Shine on, for that one smile, I've walked many many a mile. 

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• O half moon when will you rise, for the lake awaits your shadow,                                        and there's loneliness in the skies...

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• ‎'Trouble' she says but hides her smile,                                                          Trouble he hides and sees that smile.

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• In her smile, he'd rejoice, in her eyes, he sees life;                                                      Trifle here and trifle there, he gathers joys for his afterlife.

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• Time may take you away from me for a while,                                                            but worry i'd not, for i survive by the thought of your smile.

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• Like the cloud that obscured the sun moves on and the sun shines...                               Like the longed rain on parched land, she smiles

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• In the dark of the night, he hid his tears                                                                          and when it dawned, he ran out of them

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• Of what shall I tell you and where do I begin,                                                                                  little will people believe my story, love it is..and it will win

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• On all bright days he slept in the dark corner,                                                                                 but when his turn came by the window, it snowed. 

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• Your dark hair runs over my face, your breath warms it,                                                                                  I'm trapped in your eyes..let me live here forever, this is it

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• Who'll call you kind with these eyes that pierce the soul,                                                                                     But scarce did i know there's such joy in this pain. 

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• Draped in you, I look around, this world is nothing, but a means to get to you.                  

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• He looks on, not a soul he sees; green shadows of the hills in the river, fragrance, breeze and peace.

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• Engulfed by your fragrance in the shadow of your dark hair, I'm inside you and you're searching everywhere.

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• He never escaped, for her aura was his prison.

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• Arrested by her eyes, he sought a life sentence.

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• He cried in pain, he wails in vain...he looks to the west, there's no one left.

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• Standing by the shore, eyes upon the horizon, slowly the ship vanishes, sun lights the sea golden.

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• Lost in her fragrat maze, he searches for the way out., when he finds his way, he walks back in.

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• You woman in maroon, did you just cut across my soul as you walked past me this noon?

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•  He sang that which she longed to hear, Alas, he sighed, If only you were near

(c) 2012

Deepak Karamungikar

The Wait

He looks to the west, for a millionth time
Inside his heart, her memories chime
An era had passed since he last smiled
He waited in hope, like a promised child


Distant winds remind him of her presence
In every breath, he searched for her fragrance
By the gates of the town, he waits on his knees
He longs for her, but she’s far across the seas


He searches for her in every palanquin that stops
Hopes she’d step out of one when the veil drops
And when it turns dark, he searches the skies
When moon and stars give up, quietly he cries


Hope keeps him alive, for he knows she’ll return
But until she sets foot in town, his heart will burn


- Deepak Karamungikar

The Night Journey

In 1997, on a winter night, S started for a village about 135 km from Hyderabad. The next day was his cousin's wedding. The whole family had left and he was the only one yet to go. One had to get down at a place called Ekhelli and there was a 7 km journey that had to be taken to reach  this village. He thought he would get down in the early hours of the next day as the bus usually took 4-5 hours to reach. But that day, he met a friend who was going to Bombay in his car and he offered to drop him. Unexpectedly, his journey time was cut down by 3 hours and he landed in Ekhelli at around 1.30 in the night. 

His friend dropped him on the highway and the car zoomed into darkness. He looked around and saw no trace of any life anywhere. He walked into the bus stop and put his bag down. The only light came from the half moon that wandered in the sky. In one corner, he saw a beggar sleeping. That apart, the only sound he heard was cold breeze whizzing past his ears. He knew that it was too late and probably too early to head towards the village, on way to which, as a child, he had seen many a snake. Soon he realized the silence which had trapped him, both from inside and from outside. 

He sat in the bus stop and with nothing to do, wanted to sleep. But it was too cold to sleep and he, was too scared as he had some cash and gold on him. He lit up a cigarette and blew out smoke. He realized that it would be a better idea to visit another cousin, who lived in Ekhelli instead of sleeping in the bus stop. His cousin was a government employee in Ekhelli and lived in staff quarters. But the challenge was, he had been there only once and he didn't remember the route too well. 

At 1.45, he started walking towards the staff quarters. The only sound he heard was his slippers rustling against cold sand.  He speculatively walked through lanes and bylanes and took countless turns. At one point, he realized that he had reached the end of the village and all he could see was only dark melancholic emptiness. For the first time that night, he was scared. He knew there was no point walking any further. His heart beat like a German  made automobile piston and he began to sweat. He had walked for about twenty minutes and was extremely tired. He pushed back his bag which hung along his shoulder and unzipped his pants to relieve himself. Once done, he sat down on a rock and cursed himself for agreeing to take that lift which transported him early, but into deep trouble. 

As he wiped his sweat, he saw a light approaching towards him. It was a two-wheeler. As they came a bit closer, he also heard a whistle. They were cops. He saw a ray of hope. He stood on the rock put his bag down and waved both his hands and screamed, "Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir...". As they came closer and noticed him, they screamed repeatedly and the driver accelerated like hell and they sped away. S went clueless. He wondered why policemen were scared and they ran away from him. When he got down and picked up his bag, he realized he was standing on the grave of one Mr. Shantaram John. He screamed again and started running towards the village. To his misfortune, three dogs started running behind him. He started screaming as he ran. He stopped in front of a small house that was decorated with lights. The dogs, somehow left him alone. He saw there was a tent put up in front of the house and a few people slept under thick sheets. 

An old woman sat at the entrance of the house chewing tobacco. She saw him and said, "Who are you? What do you want?". He told her that his cousin is the Govt. officer and he was looking for his house, the staff quarters. She said, "What are you doing at the graveyard at this hour? Are you a Sorcerer?". He tried to explain that he was not, but that day, he wore a black shirt. And as a habit, he had applied large amounts of vermilion on his forehead. This scared the old woman. She said, "You are lying, wait I'll wake my sons up" and screamed aloud. Her sons woke up and held him. They gave him two minutes to speak. Fortunately, one of them was the peon working in his cousin's office and he understood everything. 

At 2.45, the peon escorted him to the staff quarters. His cousin opened the door and welcomed him. He didn't speak much. He drank many glasses of water and as he was about to sleep, his cousin asked, "So, how was your journey?". S looked at him in the dim light and said, "Don't ask". 

15 years have passed and even today, S doesn't travel if he has to reach at night. 

- Deepak Karamungikar

Hungry!

Hunger is a universal phenomenon. Some people can stay hungry for a long time and yet act normal. But this is about someone I know who has never controlled hunger in his life. Let's call him S. S led a lavish life as a business man. He never allowed hunger to strike him and given his taste for great food, he had tried everything that's there in Hyderabad, well almost. 

In 1995, One day, a cousin A visited S for three days. On one of those days, he asked S to take him out to Abids because he had some work. They started at 9.00 am. In a hurry, S wore a trouser that was available in front of his eyes and started off. After reaching Abids, he realized that all he had in that trouser's pocket was Rs. 2/-. And 10 notes of Rs.100 and other change were in another trouser's pocket that he wore the previous day.When he realized the truth, he was already at the office of a person they had gone to visit. It was about 9.40 and they had not had breakfast. 

While A and S waited for the man to arrive, S started feeling hungry. By 10.30, he was very very hungry and there was no trace of the man yet. He wanted to find the first way out to a hotel, but then, he had no money except the Rs.2. So, he patiently waited for A to finish his work and decided to ask him later. At 10.55, a peon arrived and informed, "Sahab aaj 2 baje ke baad aate". S let out a sigh of relief and was happy that he is finally getting to go out. S said to A, 'Come, let's go home,'

A said, 'Now, it is 11.00 already. Just a matter of 3 hours, let's watch a movie in Santosh theater and by the time the movie is over, this man will be back,'. S agreed readily, given his craze for movies. S said, 'But first, let us eat something,'. A said, 'Wait, let us buy the tickets first,'. S patiently said, 'ok,' and waited patiently.

They waited in the ticket queue for 10 minutes and by the time they got the tickets, people were being allowed inside the hall. A hurriedly took S inside. S was feeling so hungry that he could've eaten anything. The first thing S did on entering the theater was look towards the canteen. It was locked. Since it was the morning show, no one had arrived yet.  This angered him a lot. S tried to get out of the theater, but A said, 'Hey come, movie is starting!' 

S, with a very sad face entered the hall and sat down. All he could do, was wait for the interval. If only he had not forgotten the money, he would have been in Taj Mahal hotel right across the road. He suffered through the first half of the movie and then, interval happened. In the interval, A took out S to the canteen and said, 'Tell, what do you want to eat?'. S looked around and found that the only thing that could fill his stomach, at least temporarily were Samosas - small ones. S said, 'samosas'.

A asked, 'How much?'. The hawker said, '2 rs. mein chaar'. A took out a Rs.2 coin from his pocket and said, '3 samosa dena'. He took the 50 paise back put it in his pocket and three samosas and offered it to S. S was now so angry that he wanted to slap his cousin. By the time S took one samosa and ate it, A finished both the samosas and was on his way back to the hall. S almost cried. He was now so depressed that his hunger had died. Also, he was so sad that he didn't even want to buy 4 more samosas with the Rs. 2 he had in his pocket. 

The movie ended at 2. They went to the office, met the man, got the work done which took about an hour. S was swimming in a sea of depression. Also, reluctance to ask for money from his cousin, given his self-respect had led him into this situation. Only thing S could think of at that time was food. His stomach burned. He knew home and food were only 10 minutes away. 

When they got home, it was 4 pm already. He stepped inside his house, changed, washed his feet and sat down in the kitchen and screamed, 'Mother, food'. She understood what would have happened and served him. He ate till 5.00 pm. When his stomach was full, he had tears in his yes. When he came back into the hall, A was watching TV. S tried to control his anger. But more than anger, he pitied him for living the whole day without food. He asked A, 'When will you eat?'. A said, 'I ate 2 samosas, I can stay till night'. S didn't know whether to laugh or cry. 

The next morning, A woke up early. While S was still in bed, he looked at him and said, 'Today, let us go to Begum Bazaar!'

- Deepak Karamungikar

Hitec City Rage - 0001