Musing Reminisce

  1994 BOMBAY ”Tu Maqbool ko Ganesh Visarjan mein tapka daal. Iss kaam ke liye paanch khoka mil jayenga.........” (You need to kill Maqbool during Ganesh immersion. You will get five crores for this work.......) The line went dead.  It was the call from Malaysia. The sum promised was huge. The assignment was difficult but doable. Pulling out the sim card Prakash bent and cracked it into two. Flicking the pieces into an open gutter he now proceeded to destroy the burner mobile instrument. The inexpensive mobile phone had served its temporary use. Twisting its two half foldable parts apart he threw them into different garbage bins after cracking them. It would be difficult to trace the call or the phone.  Ganpati Visarjan day was not far away. A plan started to formulate in Prakash’s mind. ----------////---------- Commissioner M A Khan was fuming. ”Maqsood is getting out of hand. He needs to be curtailed. We have to put an end to the havoc. I am getting too much pressure fr...

”Main kaun hoon?  Main kahan hoon?” With the dazed look on his face and a white bandage wrapped around his head, Chimanrao lay on the crisply ironed bedsheets of the hospital bed. A metallic frame with green cloth surrounded the bed enclosing it in an island of its own. The remaining space around the bed was  crowded with medical personnel clothed in white coats. A nervous elderly Parsi gentleman dressed in his ’angrakha’ (loose coat without any belt), loose cotton trousers, and a China silk skull cap stood on the periphery of the ring of people who had crowded. The monitors near the bedhead blinked and bleeped, each screen throwing out information indicating various levels of Chimanrao’s wellness. The stand holding the overturned plastic pouches highlighted the flow of liquids that was being injected into his arms through thin transparent pipelines of fluids.  A few minutes earlier, activity had escalated as Chimanrao had opened his eyes and given out a huge sigh. ”Main ...

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. He was tired. He wanted it to stop. All he wanted was a warm hug. A hug from his mother.  He touched his woollen sweater. It was warm. But there was a flow. It felt sticky. With shaking hands he lifted his palm towards his face.   The palm was red.  Blood Red.  Chintu realised that he had been shot.  A sigh erupted from his lips. ”Amma”                            ----------////---------- Chintu was his pet name. Over the years he and all around him had forgotten his real name. Originating to depict his short height, which was pint size, the name stayed. He was sure his mother would remember his real name. After all, she was the one who gave him warm hugs and kisses and had showered him with love and affection. She was the one that had affectionately started calling him Chintu. But she was not here today. It felt like ages back.  Back, in his hometown in the ...

Dahanu is an ancient town with a long history. Located 110 km from Bombay it is a peaceful seaside town with a sprawling, uncluttered beach of around 17 km.  Irani settlers were the first to cultivate chickoo in Dahanu. It is lined with fruit orchards and is favoured for its chickoo fruit. Many of the settlers here were Persian Iranians. Many businessmen from Bombay owned farmhouses here and its proximity to the city was a plus point. They used it as a retreat to get away from their busy city lives. Close to Dahanu was a small village Alkapur. The sun rose high overhead on the remote village as Dhakiya (Postman) Pandurang was on his routine rounds on his cycle. Strapped across his shoulders was a cloth bag that contained letters that he was delivering.  Tring Tring Tring Tring. The sound of the bell on his cycle made passerby's turn their heads. It also allowed other users of the bumpy muddy road to pave way for the cyclist. Pedalling over the rugged terrain he final...

  Shamsher Singh lay buckled up beside the shoeshine box. The brass haft of the knife poked out from between his fourth and fifth rib. The blade could not be seen as it had penetrated the anterior chest wall and gone deep into the heart on the left side of the victim. Blood gushed and the red stream gurgling from the wound flowed into the road. Flies had already started buzzing around the corpse.  There was a reason for the body being there. A reason that had a back story. Do you wish to know the reason? Let me narrate the story for you.                     ----------////---------- Thump Thump Thump Thump the sound of the thumping filled the air as Bhiku went about his routine around the corner of the street.  He was banging his brush on the shoebox to catch the passerby's attention and remind them that their shoes needed polishing. The standalone Galaxy Restaurant in Walkeshwar was located on a busy Bombay street. It did ...