AN EXCERPT FROM 'BACK SEAT' BY ADITYA KRIPALANI. Vijay lay sleeping in the front passenger seat of the car. He'd made the chair recline almost to a. Back Seat book. Read 2 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. PDF Download *** Suck by Dee Aditya eBook PDF nvrehs.info Suck by Dee Aditya [PDF] Back Seat A Mumbai Tale by Aditya Kripalani. [PDF] The.
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And she always scratched her blouse vigourously under her thinning breasts, right in the middle of the class, while speaking to the girls and boys. Everyone made fun of her for that during the break and after school. What she could do, she thought. They were all so silly, talking about Hindi film heroes and heroines all the time.
What a waste of time they were! And so Asawari said nothing. She found Jaai really silly at times; with the way she swelled with pride, like a prized monkey each time a boy asked her out for kulfi. She had completed the full first level of the game. Now she had to stand, her back to the game ground and throw the stone in such a way that it would land in any one of the numbered boxes.
Then, that one would be hers and she would have to put her initials in it and do a full round, hopping on one leg without stepping in that one particular box. Asawari quickly and steadily wrapped up the game, speeding through this next level, winning hands down at the end with six boxes while Jaai had just got through with her first level, making Asawari the clear winner!
The hopscotch game ground was always created on the flattened sand which was wet and very close to the waves. The tide was coming in and so it was good that they had finished, otherwise nature would have finished their game for them midway. He was always angry when out of the water and at peace only when inside it with the waves lapping at his ankles. A few little boys were teasing him. He was furious and started cursing them with the choicest expletives which only egged the boys further on.
Asawari hastened towards the boys. Aaani tu pan, Vikas! Jaai Back Seat 1 17 had also caught up with her. Then he calmed down to stare at the sea. He did this set of movements once every ten minutes and no one knew which part of his childhood this had settled in from, into his fragmented, torn mind.
Jaai pulled Asawari away and they walked towards the Jog home leaving Damle Veda in the sea. Just before entering her home, Asawari looked over her shoulder at the game ground and watched as the first wave crept over the box with a house marked in her name.
The next day was the most important day in the calendar of Ratnagiri, Ganesh Chaturthi, and the day of the birth of lord Ganesha. People from all over the village kept coming in and out to meet Shanta and Shekhar. Shanta looked lovely in a six yard sari which was a dark green with a thick golden border, supposedly made out of actual gold threads.
Shekhar looked resplendent in a pure white kurta with chikan work all along the collar and a white pyjama to match.
Asawari looked on as he laughed and thanked the people for coming. For her, he was the epitome of good looks. In the morning the rituals began with the sthapana in which the newly brought home idol was kept in its place with a piece of cloth covering its face.
Then the sthapana was done and the Bhatji, who was characteristically late, performed the pooja after which the face of the idol was uncovered. This symbolized breathing life into the statue. Now a naividya of 21 modaks was chadhaoed for the idol and an aarti was performed twice in the day, once in the morning and then in the evening. This went on for five days after which the time came for the Jog family to bid goodbye to their favourite God. Asawari sat about ten feet away from the idol. Many a time, by the time the idol had to leave, the rain would become violent and the sea would give it company.
She loved his massage. Everything in the Jog household was steeped in tradition. Kaahe ghabraye? Shekhar sang each and every stanza and with it came along his entire repertoire of techniques of massage which were well structured and stretched over an hour. Shanta was passing by as she hurriedly made arrangements for the Ganpati Visarjan later in the day. The day went by almost in a blur as even though there was a flurry of activity, the Jogs had now almost gotten used to this enlarged sense of life over the past week.
It was evening now and it was time for the visarjan. Outside his house, on the beach, stood Shekhar Jog with his Ganpati held high in his hands, placed on a platform supported by three other relatives. They supported the platform with their shoulders. The rain beat the sand which was already completely soaked. Even in that wet state, each thick round raindrop split the sand and scattered tiny fragments as it hit it.
The overall sight was breathtaking as this phenomenon happened on every square inch of the sand for miles across the beach. The waves in the sea had risen to a height of eight or nine feet and the sea had a new tinge to its regular blue hues. The new colour was green which, like a fast spreading poison, was taking over the colour palette of the sea. The sea even smelled different now. The sound of the waves was deafening.
Even the foamy backlash of the waves made a deafening sound as swarms of thick white froth rummaged about the clear water underneath, waiting to be lashed at by yet another giant wave.
Five of the houses in the same line as the Jogs had decided to bring out their idols and place them together to do the final aarti. They all stood there getting pelted by the rain. As the combined aarti was performed, Asawari and Shanta joined in the festivities.
Then the fruits kept at the feet of all the idols were distributed among the five families, the Bhaves, the Jogs, the Bhats, the Pais and the Kulkarnis. Now it was time for the statuettes to be sent in to their watery abode. Asawari watched as Shekhar ventured forth with three of their relatives, walking slowly but surely, into the green embrace of the sea as the froth lapped at his sides and the rain beat down hard on him.
The golden Ganpati statue, perched on the platform above the shoulders of the Jog men, looked ravishing as it was swathed in patches of water, partly from the lashing waves and partly from the enveloping rain. But the rain and waves made even its normalcy appear beautiful and special. The five Ganpatis carried by their respective families went deeper into the sea, rocking, as on a boat.
They looked like an army of half men half elephants marching slowly into the large mass of agitated water. Asawari looked back at her Ganpati. The weight of the five feet tall Ganpati was beginning to tell on the faces of the four men carrying it. They were all in water right up to their shoulders but they still trudged on.
Shekhar being the tallest, stood a few inches above the rest. When Shekhar himself was in right up to his shoulders and the others almost up to their necks, they turned around with the Ganpati.
The statue now faced the people on the beach. Asawari looked at the curves on the idol which almost fused into each other, the gold looking marvelous in the water and mist. Just as the four were about to go for their first ritual dip into the water with the idol, the tallest wave yet began to form behind them.
As it formed a huge wall behind them and moved onto them from behind, they all had to prop themselves up so as to bob with the wave instead of getting submerged beneath it. They quickly performed the first dip, waiting for a few seconds under water before coming back out with the idol.
Then another wave began to form behind them. Shekhar could feel the under tug beneath the water now which this area of the Konkan was famous for. He had learnt in his childhood from his father who was a national level swimmer that if the under tug pulled you in, you must not resist it but let it take you in and then swim along the shore for a while till it relaxes and then in a diagonal line, come swimming to the shore.
He dug his feet into the sand beneath. The second wave was even larger than the first in its monstrosity. Regaining control with difficulty, the four steadied the heavy statue again and quickly performed the second dip in much the same manner as the first.
Asawari and Shanta watched. Then the four came up and battled yet another wave which rose up from behind and 20 1 Aditya Kripalani crossed over them.
This one was about ten feet tall and it completely submerged the entire troupe, including the head of the Ganpati itself as it passed over them, to raise its snake-like head at the watchers on the beach before it stung and then died down. The four now performed their third and final dip.
Asawari saw Shekhar go down with the statue on his shoulders and then all the four were lost for a few seconds. Suddenly a huge wave suddenly hit them from behind, forming itself out of nowhere with amazing speed. When the three of them came up, the troupe had lost the Ganpati as was the practice, but.
Realizing what had happened, they immediately began to search frantically for him in the water which was getting more and more turbulent by the second. Shanta began to scream hysterically! Asawari stood transfixed with her stare pounding the space where her father had been, just a few moments ago. Wives of the other men in the water began shouting at them to get out as the sea turned another page in its rancour.
The shore was a sight of mayhem now with more men rushing in to get the ones in, out. Asawari shut her eyes and the sight vanished into blackness.
She put her fingers into her ears and squeezed hard to block out the sounds of the beach till they faded into oblivion. She stood there, letting herself feel only the warmth of her tears which were swept away and beaten by the rain which lashed her face. Her father, her God, was no more. None of the houses had any numbers on them. Most of the inhabitants of this town fell into this bracket. Kumar had come home, his toothbrush in hand, for some morning conversation and had left only around nine.
Why did people have to socialize so early in the morning? Vijay sat with his lanky frame doubled up over a textbook of Organizational Commerce or O. Thin, lanky, with short-cropped frizzy hair which almost looked like a softy ice cream which has received an electric shock, Vijay, now 21 years old, was preparing for his T. He sat frowning over his textbook. To help find the initial finance for the company. To guarantee minimum subscription. To gbhtuhtg uuthogunh oihr llkr lihrfk; rf.
This is too much! When am I ever going to start a company of my own? It threw light on the textbook but more importantly, it threw light on the small table clock lying on his desk. He looked at the Staedtler pencil his father had proudly bought for him from the market. He then smelled it.
The wood scent was exquisite—the reason why he loved to write with Staedtler and the reason why his father bought it for him—though it was pretty expensive. He took another deeper breath, then looked at the pencil lovingly. Yellow and black, like those taxis in Bombay.
He then felt her calm hand on his shoulder. He turned back and looked at her with his most innocent boy look. I just cannot finish it.
She had worn a sari, as usual. It was a cotton floral printed one. She wore a pair of thin gold bangles and her trademark mangal sutra. The fingers of her hand were soft but their tips were cracked from too much of kitchen work. Cracked but clean. But after that, finish off this work anyhow. Bimla quickly moved towards the door. Using this chance, Vijay too shut his textbook and switched off the light.
Then realizing that it might be his father, he went back, quickly switched on the light, opened his textbook and sat down on the table as if he had no clue about the doorbell being rung. He perpetually had oil on his hair, as he did even today and always wore cotton short-sleeved shirts, preferably in solid shades of off white or cream and cotton trousers.
Prateek Choudhary came in and Bimla immediately pulled the pallu of her sari above her head, covering it. She looked down. Her freedom suddenly seemed to be lost.
All of a sudden, she resembled, in body language and movement, a meek little dog! Prateek came ahead into the house and behind him entered Prakash Jha, his friend from the college. Prateek was a professor at the local college where his own son studied. Known for his strictness, he looked like a man who could inflict pain and Bihar was a place where teachers physically punishing students using a scale or stick were as common as buffaloes in every courtyard.
The students were afraid of him and their manner was not very different upon his entry into class, than that of Bimla when he entered their home. He was accustomed to treating this as his domain. It was after all his home and he was the man of the house. Bimla immediately nodded her head all the while keeping her eyes on the ground.
Moving towards Vijay who was still in the act of looking like a serious student completely lost in his studies and oblivious of everything else, he walked right over to him. He knew there was trouble ahead in ways that only boys can sense when their fathers tower over them.
He suddenly felt a knot in his stomach. He began to look at everything around to catch some meaning in anything and somehow kick off this feeling, but to no avail. He tried to find his voice which seemed like a distant boat on the horizon, sailing away to an unknown land. Vijay winced in pain. The pain shot up his ear into his head. He could feel it burning like it was on fire already. He should have been strong enough, but it still pained as if for the first time.
Eight functions which are main and sixteen sub functions! The scene in his house was different as his wife wore the pants in the family and on many occasions, though he guarded these facts with his life, lest they leak out, his wife had thrown a glass of steel or two at him and even shut him out of her bedroom at night.
She was a lady with a lot of meat on her bones, as Prakash would himself describe her after one of his drinking rituals with friends at the local pub. If he wanted to get her in bed, with his thin, weak frame, he had to listen to her. His wife knew that sex was the only way in which she could, at least to a certain 24 2 Aditya Kripalani extent, get him to listen to her. So Prakash enjoyed the torture of someone else who was meek and weak.
His face worked into a thin smile as he looked on. Then the punishment stopped. Raat ko main phir se check karoonga. Go inside! Prakash took this as a cue to begin his banter. After all, the daily folk play that had unfolded itself before him in this house was over. Such a learned man, baba, wasting his time here in this small place! He began to wolf them down and Bimla was pleased that at least something would keep him quiet and out of the affairs of the house. Vijay is not going to eat till I take up his studies!
Bimla was looking at the floor, but the disturbance was evident in her eyes. Later that night, Vijay sat on his small bed with the same reading lamp from the table now arranged near it. He half sat, half lay down, reading from his book. His face was red on one side, an all too telling sign of what had happened post dinner.
He touched the skin slowly and tenderly. Then almost as if he had touched a burning pot he pulled his hand back. The sound was made using his tongue and lips together. After reading for a while he turned to his left where his Walkman was kept on the bed. He picked it up and was about to keep his book down, but then on second thought kept the Walkman aside instead.
He got back to his book again.
A few pages into the book, and he felt thirsty. On his way back from the place where the water was kept in an earthen pot, Vijay passed the area where his mother and father slept.
As he was passing it he seemed to be very cautious and careful as he plugged his fingers into his ears. He seemed to be anticipating something. Then he heard it. The sounds of his mother groaning and crying, at the same time. Then he heard the slap. The groans and slaps grew louder. But the slaps went on as she cried and groaned.
Prateek groaned too as he thrust himself into Bimla while she lay on her stomach. He beat her and shouted at her. Every night Prateek forced himself upon his wife and made her comply with all his sexual desires while she resisted like a rabbit resisting a hunting dog. This pain was obviously more severe than the physical pain of the ear twisting.
He quickly walked across that area and sat on his bed again. But the sounds grew louder and louder. He had witnessed this problem for years and he had withstood it using his fingers or cotton or by rolling up pieces of paper and then stuffing his ears shut with it.
Ye dor koi kheeche, teri or liye jaye. The breather was long overdue.
Just leave, I tell you. Bombay is the place. Bhagwan jaane kahaan hoga! Right then someone from behind gave Anand a tight whack on his head.
That was the hint for them to shut up unless they were ready for some curses and a thorough beating by the janta who came here everyday to forget their lives. License to mil gaya. Does it ever start? Rigorous trials of the indigenously developed Train Collision Avoidance System. Using 60 kg rails, meter long welded rail panels and improved flash butt welding technology.
Induction of crash worthy LHB coaches with anti-climb feature. Rehabilitation of identified 17 distressed bridges over next one year. Provision of comprehensive fire and smoke detection systems. Use of fire retardant furnishing materials in coaches. Measures initiated to deal with elephant related accidents.
A workshop for repair and rehabilitation of motorized bogies at Misrod Madhya Pradesh. A new wagon maintenance workshop in Kalahandi Odisha. A modern signaling equipment facility at Chandigarh through PPP route.
Setting up of 75 MW capacity windmill plants and energizing level crossings with solar power. Deployment of new generation energy efficient electric locomotives and EMUs. More usage of agro-based and recycled paper and ban use of plastic in catering. Progressive extension of bio-toilets on trains. Provision of concrete aprons on platforms with mechanized cleaning facilities. Provision of announcement facility and electronic display boards in trains. Providing free Wi-Fi facilities on several trains.
Upgrading another 60 stations as Adarsh Stations in addition to already selected. Associate voluntary organizations for providing first aid services at railway stations. Introduction of an "Anubhuti" coach in select trains to provide excellent ambience and latest facilities and services.
Affixing Braille stickers with layout of coaches including toilets, provision of wheel chairs and battery operated vehicles at more stations and making coaches wheel-chair friendly.