God's own Kamasutra...

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(DISCLAIMER :- Characters are real,and have solely been used to disseminate my views and not with an intention to harm any person's feelings or self-image,and if I have unintentionally hurt anyone through this piece,I beg your pardon from the deepest of my heart,most sincerely at the very outset..)







One





Few more minutes,and I finally reach KBS. God!! Today I am going to get late...



Ahh,finally...

Ohkay,lets better get moving fast and grab the nearest bus to college...



He waits behind two guys,wearing kurta and carrying bags. They have the cap on and grown their beards. Both seem to be strong,lean and fit. Probably in their 20s...



It can be this moment,with whatever is inside those loose vests. It could happen to me this moment,and all thoughts, all plans would go with me,into the dust... Shit! Do not think like that... It is not right...



Now he remembers those classes where he studied "The telephone Conversation"...



What was it that Soyinka had termed it as... Forced Good Breeding...



He shuts out further thoughts feeling guilty to think in such a way at all...



It could be this moment... This could be the last,and I wouldn't even know... It would be so easy for someone here to do such a thing... Barely any security,and crowds in hundreds,if not thousands... SHIT! Shut the fuck up,you're not supposed to think like that!



But...



They get down,and he follows suit. Swiftly crossing through the multitudes of crowd and incoming buses,he makes his way through the platforms to the other end to catch his next bus. Completely forgetting the incident...



*A FEW DAYS EARLIER*



"A great many forms of prejudices exist, for one in America it might be of colour and there it wouldn't be much of consequence if you are a hindu or muslim, but it would be a big deal if you are coloured, or so has been the case," Mr.N tells the half interested crowd which stays inside the class for basically the want of attendance.

"This poem is about the poet,who is black,as is apparent and is seeking an apartment for rent from a white lady,and the course of their conversation is described in the poem. Poem contains ironical references to racism."



I think most of us here,either do not understand or might not appreciate fully what racism is... It might be only understandable once you know it,or experience it... But I can imagine...



"Mark the words,forced good breeding," says his friend, "interesting usage,isn't it?"



He nods and smiles... So many out there who still believe in stuff like KKK and Nazi wasn't a one man army either,was it...? Prejudices work on the strength of people who believe in them... But how can I blame them? Thats what they see and know... It is not like most of them are educated Ph.D holders... And policies invariably piss off one section or the other... And even most educated people love to pass the blame for their incompetence and shortcomings across the table...



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Two



Oh..!! Thank God! Direct bus to college,guess I will reach in time after all...



There is a really old lady,small and probably shrunken through her time,sitting right in front. She looks up,is it apprehension in her eyes...? as though this urban boy is going to snatch away her seat where she is resting her long toiled body. Her face might have as many creases as the months she has been here,with us...



*A Few minutes pass*



Great! A seat! This is a good start to the day...!



He sits across her,mildly interested,but takes out his earphones and plugs himself into the music. Then he notices,she keeps turning back...



Oh...the old guy is her husband,I suppose...



There is an old guy sitting a couple of rows behind the woman,he is at the edge of the seat,and amidst the sea of legs of the standing morning crowd,in the bus, he notices an earnest face,which keeps watching the woman anxiously... He seems to be pretty toughened,one can notice that from his face. Beard and hair on the slightly balding head have a ghostly whiteness to them,but he also looks as shrunken through the years as does his wife. Her saree,her face,her starved look,her anxious face, all telling a story of long, harassed and miserable life which no words can describe.



I better look away...



In sometime I'll meet people who think the world is as rosy as it can get...

The irony of it all...

I'm glad I come by bus...





There is a slightly obese middle-aged person who sits right next to this lady. With his saffron mark on the forehead to his gold-plated watch,dressed in a dull white checked shirt and a brown cotton pant with sandals. A thick moustache. A phone diary and a single jet pen in his breast pocket. Probably some notes and few papers added to the bulk in his breast pocket...



Another one of those dull working middle-class... How can one forever exist and bear the monotony of such dull existence? What purpose does he have? What happens when it is time for him to go? Will he regret what he is...? But then again,there are more people like him,too many than what I might like... Just well oiled outdated machines with as much elements of life as sheep...

"Hmmm"....



Well but then,he might have already done what he wants,wouldn't he have? A house, a family, few kids and a wife... Attend occasional family get-togethers on special occassions and just thus,get on with life...





*A couple of days before*



(In the Mother tongue)



"A few words in English,and people act as though they know the world. They don't realise,our basic necessity is to bring our family up. If we do that much,it is enough. If life gets settled and shows a positive improvement,that is enough. But youngsters these days think that we who have seen the whole life are fools,we don't know what life is. They think they,and their fancied examples are only right. They don't understand the reality. Immature lot,few years and everyone will come to their positions,trust me."



Seen life? Yeah right!



Practicality? Thinking one is a loser or should be a conformist for societal norms based on class divide is being practical?! Then practicality,my arse...



God! When am I getting out of here?!



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Three





He has such an intellectual feel to his face. Pity he seems uneducated. Or are they covert operatives? It is not entirely impossible that such people can be amongst us,now can they? And am I observing well? Well,maybe, maybe not... *Dude! You're watching and reading too much of this shit...*



He looks out of the bus window and smiles.



They noticed me looking at them... They are talking now,what is it that they are talking? And the blind guy,is he really blind? Why does it feel that he is looking at me?

CREEPY!



His kurta is so dirty... A good observer can note all the details remember? Spots near the right waist area, a black protrusion midway on his staff,bag torn near base on the right side... Wonder whats inside?



This could be my last moment... Shit! Not again! Stop thinking that way!

Well,I guess this is all terrorism is about,lesser explosions but more fear of explosions... Am I really to blame myself for thinking this way?

Or is it how things are being conditioned from various channels of information?



And if I think this way,can I really blame a religiously prejudiced person of being prejudiced?



Shit,What exactly is right anyway?!



Should I give my seat to this person who apparently is blind and is quite old?

What the hell is stopping me from doing so?!







*A Few minutes later*



The person sitting beside him leaves,as his stop comes,and he helps the old fakir to sit down beside him and smiles.



Maybe a small size retribution for my initial unkind behaviour...



Now,they are smiling while looking at me. Thank God!



There is something wrong... Guess I am giving in to the stereotyping going around...

But I never feel this way with my other friends who belong to the same group of people...

Probably its got something to do with what they wear... But it is wrong,I know it...



I should stop getting worked up whenever I see such people...



But honestly,those two standing there,they look so intellectual,why aren't they educated? So many like them,I suppose,intellectual by birth,but deprived by circumstances. Pity,as things could've been so much more different...



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Four





*An Year Earlier*



(In their most commonly used language)



"This Govt is a bunch of liars,they have stirpped us off our lands. They persecute from amongst us,and they don't allow us homes,don't allow us peace and don't allow us our tongue to sing praise for our Lord. They are all from that Saffron land,they only like people who believe in Saffron colour and worship what they worship. We are the deprived,we are hunted as though we are thieves and treated like vermin," and an old religious man goes on like this...



He is sitting beside the old man...



If an old common roadside fakir can say so much,which can be so instigating for the uneducated, what about those hardcore propoganda experts from amongst the ranks of extremists. God! Scary thought by itself!



Only people with narrow minds can think this way! I feel sorry!





*A Few Months Earlier*



Why are these people so much against what their own people are doing? It is not like Govt wants to be bad,but it is compelled...



Suddenly he is quite taken aback when he finds out that his own friends have opined against the Govt.



Is the nation-state concept on its death row...?





*Now*



Guess,now I should feel sorry for myself for thinking that way... But I can also see the point of those who are prejudist now... But the sorry part is,it only adds to the confusion... Who is wrong,who is right? What is wrong,what is right?



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Five



*An Hour passes in the bus journey*



The old man comes and sits beside his wife,in the bus which is by now completely empty...



She takes out an handkerchief from her bosom and starts unfolding it beside him,as soon as he comes and sits beside her...

He is looking at her act as is the other guy sitting in front,facing the old couple...



Well,guess he gave her some money just in case they get separated... Wonder how much she is carrying in that handkerchief...



She opens and takes some money in her hands, hundred rupees on the outside,wonder how much inside that note,stacked...?

Well....



She opens the Hundred Rupee note and gives it to him... He asks her to keep it,but she insists,almost frenzied looking at the note,as though it is a scary voodoo artifact...



What... Just 100 rupees...?



He carefully folds the note and keeps it inside his pocket safely and looks at the guy who is intently watching the whole scene.



They don't look like they are urban folks;she just had hundred with her?!

And I get it for what...two days...!



Some inexplicable guilt and despondence gets to him...



*A Day Ago*



"Hey dude,nice haircut,where did you get it done?," he asks,looking at one of his friends who had just got a new hair-cut done. "And nice colour too!"



The other friend smiles,"I got it done from L and well the haircut was just 300 bucks,but together with the colour,the whole set came around to 1500.."



"300?! Thats it?! Not bad dude,thats quite reasonable! Nice man!"





*Now*



What is reasonable? What is right and what is not?

God,things just don't seem fair!



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Six (Epilogue)





This world is really a fucked up place...



But wonder why can't God (or life) fuck us all in one single way,rather than coming up with so much variety...?



Then again I am reminded of Kamasutra...



And wasn't God supposed to be REALLY creative...?



(And I guess best way to watch it is in the bus...)



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© Karthik Adithya Singaraju