Palika Bazaar and LEL, A Story

**Note - This is a pure work of fiction, any resemblance to real life characters is a co incidence** Maaa mein nikalrahahoon, screamed an angry Music. Where are you going beta? Its only 6am and you don’t get up this early, shouted back his mother. Music had a penchant to dream, day dream, and always dream. This was different. His thoughts were vivid and wild. A cyclist himself, he held out against all odds and cycled and ran hard. He fell, helped those who were responsible for his fall, exchanged numbers with them and moved on with a smile. A persevering soul in his early 20's, he was enroute to being an Entrepreneur in Chikpete. A bevy of young girls would turn their necks while he passed them with such speed that it snapped and caused an injury. The local orthopaedic, Doctor Basavaraju, benefitted quite well by his charm. He was helpful to the needy, honked so hard and rode so fast, no cops could catch. Guyssssssss was his cat call and he screamed his lungs out to get attention. Each girl worth her marwari charm and whose name ended with a Jain, was aged 19 and above and less than 22 but in many cases also in their 30's, 40’s had a penchant for Music. He was their Adonis. It was also the reason...why he spent that 10001 in Palika Bazaar…. Having woken up and woken everyone in the house and almost being slapped hard for disturbing their sleep, music got dressed and left. He ran to majestic and with all his might got his tickets. He was off to Nizamuddin station in Delhi. LEL it was....and Payal Jain was riding. A fine young woman in her 20's payal rode a 50 kms almost every day in the by lanes of Udaipur. Sporting spandex in the city of princesses, she turned many human and animal heads at 5am. Cows paused midway being milked, the hen stopped cooing, the zamindars tilted up during their ablutions in the fields. Payal zoomed in her roadie and left a trail of fine Rajasthani Dust. He had found her in his youth wing, charitable causes unit. She cooked brilliant and fed the needy kids. She sat them on her lap and fed them each mouth and by her pretty hands. Upon seeing this , he teleported to being Ronaldo and for a moment dreamt of kicking those kids out afar and being fed himself. He was smitten. She had eyes that vibes an energy only he could understand. It was her, her lap and a ladle of daal kichdi to be fed. This was to be his aim. A Life with Payal and no more he decided that AM. They exchanged messages, they smiled, laughed and were silly. Over a video call, they smiled. Eyes met each other and they decided to be each other's BAE. A message at 2am woke him up. I'm attending LEL BAE, she said. Will you pray for me? Would you do me a sacrifice a deed? I need to finish the 1600 km, Snap came his response. I will clothe 16 impoverished kids he said , he left to Delhi and to Palika bazaaar. The rest is history as they say. He haggled with his voice so loud, they gave him 16 pairs at the cost of 30. He now wakes up each morning and dreams of being seated on her lap, being fed by her hands. Being silly, though he already is. He feeds kids on his lap, clothes the needy, stands in ration lines for the elderly. Will Payal finish 1600 kms? Will Music's prayers help her in the endeavour...? Let’s stay tuned to find out in the sequel... A Short Story by Arvind Dwarak

A Cycle , Coconut and a Dream come true

**Note - This is purely an act of fiction and all characters are imaginary ** A few years ago Govind took up cycling seriously, he was doing back to back long rides and climbs. He eventually realised yoga and stretches would help him improve and get him to do multiple brevets. He went from pillar to post, searched on Facebook , Instagram , Deccan herald classifieds allll in vain. Finally he sat in Hesaraghatta looking up to god for a solution. Visited a temple and broke a coconut . Then….. a piece of that coconut bounced , hit his head sharppp and he started bleeding.. Ayyoooooo he screamed, There was no one around except the sound of peacocks . Writhing in pain he sat dejected at how life had treated him , he almost gave up. Then suddenly he heard the Jhalak of Payals,the clinging of bangles. Someone touched his forehead with care and suddenly he saw a pretty face come from the side,the pleasant waft of jasmine flowers and her Jhumkis froze him in this stance. He stopped reacting ……he just stared at her like we all had stared at a bottle of fine Single malt post lockdown … in Amazement … a Lucid interval As if in a dream.. She said sir … you are hurt … I’ll treat you … Govind was spellbound, speechless and had a fixed gaze mesmerised.. Over the next 30 minutes he was given first aid and spoken words of care…. She suddenly got up to leave and then he said madam….. I’m GoGoGoGo vind….. She said Hi, I’m Joyce, I teach yoga ! His eyes lit up ! Waves stopped midway ., the peacocks froze in their dance ….. the temple bells started ringing in unison …. He heard Mozart’s "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik" play in his mind aloud. ! Govind cried in Joy ……Joyce had arrived in his life …. Over the next few weeks she taught him Yoga …. Over the next few months he rode many a brevets …. Govind was happy , content and crying in joy every night . Joyce suddenly had to leave back to Australia … He vowed to move with her … she refused … he pursued …. They are now together …. The End… Sequel to come in time .. A Short story by... Arvind Dwarak

A Coconut, A 70 year old woman and her Luggage

A coconut, A 70 yr old woman and her Luggage. It was a Saturday noon , I was dropping off my father who was travelling to coimbatore in a double decker train to wish an ailing aunt good health . As I sent him off , I was tempted to spend a few moments noticing life pass by. The bogies has been transformed into a billboard for the hit movie Vikram. Each bogie had Kamal Hassan’s face in various emotions and the colors were vivid . A coolie animatedly dashed with the passenger behind and aghast, wondering if they would make the train ., the coolie’s neck seemed to have vertebrae made of steel carrying bags seeming many a kilos heavy . They would haggle on the fare later but the coolie did help reach coach C9 on time ! A lady in a hoarse voice kept announcing arrivals of trains in various languages and none made sense. She needs training, I thought aloud. A sense of urgency came upon me and I couldn’t explain why but I started walking away . It was hot , humid , maybe london was callign and I was hung over . I stopped to shoot a few pictures of trains in their tracks, spent more time trying to edit and post it for many a Instagram likes and a few comments of ‘Hey that’s a nice shot’, to keep my photographers ego going high for a few days. Around the corner a lady unmistakably in her 70’s gingerly walked down the flight of stairs. A bag seemingly larger than her torso rested on her head and she carried another on her hand. My suspicions proved right when I offered to help and she replied with an accent striking of a village resident , "Please Son , do take it off" . I suddenly was transported back to my gym where I felt I was clasping an Olympic barbell in my hands with fancy weights on either side . This bag which was on her head weighed a mighty 20 kilos . I know the weight I carry very well, mind you ! I carried both her bags in either hands and set her free ., she felt relieved and I was happy at that sight. We made small talk and she said she hailed from Tiptur and was visiting her children here. She carried coconuts and coconut oil from her farm as a gift to her grandchildren . Now that! Was the 20 kilo culprit ! I had to pause every hundred metres to take a breather., while she earlier had carried it nonchalantly on her neck. It brought me shame thinking of our mutual levels of fitness . Her son who's hands were full walked a few metres ahead and seemed much older than his mother who was mostly a farmer from her younger years . She said they were taking a bus and I decided to carry her bags till the bus stop. We made small talk., she asked where I was from , I said Bangalore and then she said where in Bangalore ? I said Malleshwaram . She said oh okay., come home when you visit Tiptur! I don’t know if I’d ever go to Tiptur and if I ever did, I would never know her house nor her name but the Invitation sounded warm and I responded a , “Sure I will” We continued our chit chat while we walked out the rather unpleasantly maintained railway station into an underground which leads to the bus stand . We saw many a vendors selling bags, mobile covers and footwear at a steal of a price ! I was tempted to buy but kept walking , stopping , taking a break , a breather . The Majestic bus stop is large and after much enquiry we finally found her bus. A sigh of relief ! Yes! I could take off 35 kilos off my hands . I walked up the steps of a bus decades later and found them a seat at the far back. Having settled them all , I turned to leave . There she stood in the way , locking her gaze into my eyes . She didn’t thank me , nor did she say bye . She just took a large , perfectly round coconut out of the same bag I carried. It was from her farm ., she thrust it in my hands and said here son take this. I protested and said no please give it to your children . She did'nt reply but continued staring into my eyes with a warm smile with the coconut in her hands and a heart filled with gratitude. I bowed in respect and left , taking in the life around me and wondering why her children didn’t come in a cab to receive her . Why no one knew her pains. What parents do to their children out of innocent pure love . The love that children brush off and take for granted . I walked back the same way I came , this time spotting more life around me . Transgenders were around the corner posing as escorts to earn a living . All forms of labor have dignity. Each human being is special and unique . I kept staring at the big coconut in my hands. I had received a gift out of love . The coconut now sits in my drawing room next to my God. To the lady , I wish her a pleasant stay in Bangalore . That coconut , the 70 year old woman and her luggage. Brought me a smile as I drove back home . A short story by............ Arvind Dwarak