Just Another Story

    This obsession with coffee is something that Vishwa and I haven't been able to conquer. But then, everybody has their own indulgences. So, we don't mind. I don't think anybody else should also! We were sipping coffee in Ramu's at our usual table. The latest songs blared on the radio in Ramu's.
"You know something?" Vishwa started. "The system and society in which we live in is not at all right!"
"Who said it is? No system is perfect. It has to be made perfect. We can never be all perfect, can we Vishwa? If we were, we would be gods. But who are we? Mere mortals. Mere specks on this vast canvas of life" - I replied using all that I had listened to and learnt from a religious discourse the previous night. I had been forced to attend it with my family. They had organised it and invited the speaker - someone from one of the numerous orders in the city.
"Stop speaking like some aged philosopher! There is a flaw in our social makeup. Let me tell you what I mean.
 I was in Bengal on of my vagabond journeys. I deeply wanted to go to Dakshineshwar and visit the Kali temple. I hired a cycle rickshaw. A few minutes into the journey, the rickshaw-wallah started talking to me.
"Babu, would you mind if I tell you a story - so that both of us do not feel the journey?" he asked me in Hindi. Till then, I had narrated stories to many people. But here, I found someone who would narrate me one! I, of course, agreed.
"Babu, the story is set in a period some 20-25 years back. The protagonist of the story is a Muslim ladka. He is a very smart guy - a degree holder. During that time, you know, a simple degree meant a lot! It meant, with Allah's blessings, he was eligible for government jobs and go on to become big Sahebs. His parents were very proud of him. They decided to arrange for his nikah.
However, our hero didn't want to get married without getting a proper job. He didn't want to start a family without money. He offered stiff resistance - until he saw the girl! The girl was so beautiful that all his resistance melted! I have to add that this incident about his supposed resistance became the talk of the town and caused much embarrassment to the boy during nikah - everybody made fun of him! He took it all in his stride. Why wouldn't he? He was marrying such a beautiful girl!
At the time of his marriage, he hadn't yet found a job. However, he was confident of finding one - so was everybody around him. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to find a job soon. Around the same time, he learnt that his child would enter the world in a few months time. With happiness, renewed determination and energy, he set out to find himself a job. He drew a blank everywhere - all jobs were either "sold" or given to those with influence and recommendations!
His child was due any day. Then, a disaster occurred. A man-made one at that. The Babri Masjid was pulled down! Shock waves were felt all around the country! There was widespread communal violence. The families started evacuating and moving to places dominated by their own religion.
But our hero could not move to safety - his wife went into labor. All facilities were hit. He wasn't able to move his wife to the hospital in time. She delivered at home and died during childbirth. The child, however survived.
The troubles increased for our protagonist. There was no one to help him cremate his loving wife - beautiful even in death! There was nobody to take care of his child. Everybody had already moved out. So, he was all alone. There wasn't money to find supplies for his child. Even if there was, nobody wanted to help him - he was a Muslim! The baby cried endlessly and fell into sleep - tired! His heart went out to the child - but he was helpless! He then decided to do something that he would not even dream of in other circumstances - to steal money and go to some far off shop and buy something for his new-born child. He didn't want to let the flame of his family die out! As you might expect, he was caught in the act! Even after he told them his heart-wrenching plight, they were unmoved. They promptly handed him over to the police.
The police slapped charges of inciting communal violence on him and the court sentenced him to prison for 5 years.
Within 2 days, he received news - his only child had died!". The rickshaw-wallah stopped his narration.
I had tears in my eyes. "Babu, Dakshineshwar" he said and stopped the rickshaw. I got down and paid him money. Before leaving, he said "Babu, the story I told you all along, was mine. I am the protagonist of the story". I stood rooted for sometime."
Vishwa dabbed his eyes with his kerchief. I had tears in my eyes too.
"You tell me. Had he been given a job on his merit, would his wife have died? Would he have taken to stealing? Would his child have died? Why did the police have to frame him just because he was a Muslim? Didn't those who caught him have hearts to understand his plight? Ultimately, why did somebody have to demolish some stucture? And why should that affect somebody else living hundreds of miles away from that place? That's what I mean by there is a flaw in our social makeup" - Vishwa asked me, in a voice of anger and frustration.
I had no answer.
The songs still blared on the radio in Ramu's. 

ಮನೆ ಮಾತು

ಅರ್ಪಣೆ: ಈಚೆಗೆ ಹೊಸ ರೂಪ ಪಡೆಯಲೆಂದು ಹೋದ, ಆತ್ಮೀಯವೂ ಆದ ಮನೆಯೊಂದಕ್ಕೆ!

ರಾತ್ರಿ ಹನ್ನೆರಡು ಗಂಟೆ ಇದ್ದಿರಬಹುದು. ಸಧ್ಯಕ್ಕೆ ಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಗಡಿಯಾರವೂ ಇರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಇವಳು ಮೆಲ್ಲಗೆ, ಬೇರೆಯವರ ನಿದ್ದೆ ಹಾಳಾಗದಂತೆ ನಡೆದು ಮನೆಯ ಹಜಾರಕ್ಕೆ ಬಂದಳು. ಕತ್ತಲಿಗೆ ಕಣ್ಣು ಒಗ್ಗಲಿ ಎಂದು ಸುತ್ತಲೂ ಕಣ್ಣು ಹಾಯಿಸಿದಳು. ಅಲ್ಲಿಯೇ ಇದ್ದ ಒಂದು ಕುರ್ಚಿಯ ಮೇಲೆ ಹೋಗಿ ಎಲ್ಲಿಯೋ ಕಳೆದುಹೋದವಳಂತೆ ಕೂತಳು.

"ಏನಾಯ್ತು? ನಿದ್ದೆ ಬರಲಿಲ್ವ?" - ಯಾರೋ ಕೇಳಿದರು.
ಯಾರೆಂದು ಇವಳು ತಿರುಗಿ ನೋಡಿದಳು. ಅವಳ ಪಕ್ಕಕ್ಕೆ ಇದ್ದ ಗೋಡೆ ಇವಳೊಂದಿಗೆ ಮಾತಾಡುತಿತ್ತು. "ಇಲ್ಲ. ನಿದ್ದೆ ಹತ್ತಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಅದ್ಕೆ ಬಂದು ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಕೂತೆ. ಹೌದು, ನೀನು ಮಾತು ಯಾವಾಗ ಕಲಿತೆ?" - ಕೇಳಿದಳು
ಗೋಡೆ: ಮೊದಲಿಂದಲೂ ನನಗೆ ಗೊತ್ತು. ಆದರೆ 'ಮೌನ ಬಂಗಾರ' ಅಂತ ಸುಮ್ಮನೆ ಇದ್ದೆ. ಹೇಳು - ನಾಳೆಯ ಹೊಸ ಆರಂಭದ ಉತ್ಸುಕತೆಯಿಂದ ನಿದ್ದೆ ಬರ್ತಿಲ್ವ?
ಇವಳು: ಇಲ್ಲ. ಬೇರುಗಳನ್ನ ಕಿತ್ತು ಬೇರೆಡೆ ಕಸಿ ಮಾಡಬೇಕಲ್ಲ ಅನ್ನೋ ದುಃಖ, ಆತಂಕ...
ಗೋಡೆ: ಯಾವತ್ತಿಗೂ ಮುಂದೆ ಧೈರ್ಯದಿಂದ ನೋಡಬೇಕು. ಹೆದರಬಾರದು.
ಇವಳು: ವಯಸ್ಸಾಗಿದೆ. ಮೊದಲಿದ್ದ ಶಕ್ತಿ ಇವಾಗ ನನ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಇಲ್ಲ. ಆತ್ಮವಿಶ್ವಾಸ ಕೂಡ ಕುಗ್ಗಿದೆ. ಜೊತೆಗೆ ನೆನಪುಗಳು ಭಾರವಾಗಿ ಕಣ್ಣೀರು ಉಕ್ಕುತ್ತೆ.
ಗೋಡೆ: ನೆನಪುಗಳು ನಿನಗೆ ಜೀವದ ಪಾಠಗಳನ್ನ ಕಲಿಸಿ ನಿನ್ನ ದಾರಿಯನ್ನ ನಿನ್ನ ಕಣ್ಣಿಗೆ ಕಾಣೋ ಹಾಗೆ ಮಾಡಬೇಕು. ಹೀಗೆ ಕಣ್ಣೀರಿಂದ ದಾರೀನ ಮಬ್ಬಾಗಿಸಬಾರದು.
ಇವಳು: ಏನು ಮಾಡಲಿ? ಮೂವತ್ತು ವರ್ಷಗಳ ಕಾಲ ಇದ್ದ ಮನೆ... ಇದನ್ನ ತೊರೆದು ಇವಾಗ - ವಯಸ್ಸಾದ ಸಮಯದಲ್ಲಿ ಇನ್ನೆಲ್ಲೋ ಹೋಗಿ ಬದುಕಬೇಕು ಅಂದರೆ ನೋವಾಗಲ್ವ?
ಗೋಡೆ: ಅಲ್ಲಿಗೇ ಏನು ಶಾಶ್ವತವಾಗಿ ಹೋಗ್ತಿಲ್ವಲ್ಲಾ...ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ದಿನಗಳ ಮಟ್ಟಿಗೆ ತಾನೇ?
ಇವಳು: ಆದರೂ...ಮತ್ತೆ ಬಂದಾಗಲೂ ಮೊದಲಿನಂತೆ ಇರುವುದಿಲ್ಲವಲ್ಲಾ...ಎಲ್ಲವೂ ಹೊಸತಾಗಿರುತ್ತೆ. ನೀ ಹೇಳಿದ ನೆನಪಿನ ಪಾಠಗಳು ಮಾಸಿ ಹೋಗ್ತಾವೆ.
ಗೋಡೆ: ಖಂಡಿತ ಇಲ್ಲ. ಹೊಸ ರೂಪದಲ್ಲಿ ಹಳೆಯ ಚೇತನ ಇರುತ್ತೆ. ರೂಪ ಬದಲಾದರೂ ಆತ್ಮ ಇರತ್ತೆ.
ಇವಳು: ಹೇಗೆ ಸಾಧ್ಯ? ನಾನು ಈ ಮನೆಗೆ ಬಲಗಾಲಿಟ್ಟು ಬಂದ ಘಳಿಗೆಯನ್ನ ಆ ಹೊಸ ಮನೆ ನನಗೆ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿಸಿ ಕೊಡತ್ತ? ನನ್ನ ಮಗನನ್ನ ಅವನು ಹುಟ್ಟಿದ ಮೇಲೆ  ಈ ಮನೆಗೆ ಕರೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಬಂದ ಕ್ಷಣ ಮಾಸದೇ ಉಳಿಯುತ್ತಾ ? ನಾವು ಪಟ್ಟ ಅದೆಷ್ಟೋ ಸಂಭ್ರಮದ ಕ್ಷಣಗಳನ್ನು ಮತ್ತೆ ನಮಗೆ ನೆನಪು ಮಾಡುವ ಏನಾದರೂ ಸಂಕೇತ ಇರುತ್ತಾ?
ಗೋಡೆ: ಕಣ್ಮುಚ್ಚಿಕೋ! ನಿನಗೆ ಬೇಕೆಂದಾಗ ನಿನ್ನ ಬಾಲ್ಯದ ಕ್ಷಣಗಳು ನೆನಪಾಗುವುದಿಲ್ಲವೇ? ಈಗ ಆ ಕಟ್ಟಡಗಳೂ ಅವಶೇಷವಾಗಿ ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಬೇರೇನೋ ಎದ್ದು ನಿಂತಿರುತ್ತದೆ. ಆದರೂ, ನೆನಪು ಮಾಸುವುದಿಲ್ಲ. ಇದೂ ಹಾಗೆಯೇ.
ಇವಳು: ಅದು ಹೇಗೆ ಇಷ್ಟು ಸಲೀಸಾಗಿ ಮಾತಾಡ್ತೀಯ? ನಿನಗೆ ಏನೂ ಅನಿಸಲ್ವ? ಮಾತಾಡೋ ನಿನಗೆ ಭಾವನೆಗಳು ಇದ್ಯೋ ಇಲ್ವೋ?
ಗೋಡೆ: ಭಾವನೆಗಳು ಇವೆ. ನಿಮಗಿಂತ ಹೆಚ್ಚಾಗಿಯೇ ಇವೆ. ನೀವುಗಳು ಮಾತಾಡಿ ಅವನ್ನ ಹೊರಹಾಕ್ತೀರಿ. ನಾನೇನು ಮಾಡಲಿ? ಇವತ್ತು - ಇಪ್ಪತ್ತೊಂಬತ್ತು ವರ್ಷ, ಆರು ತಿಂಗಳು, ಹದಿನೈದು ದಿನಗಳ ನಂತರ - ಮೊದಲ ಬಾರಿಗೆ ಮಾತಾಡ್ತಾ ಇದ್ದೀನಿ. ನೀ ಹೇಳಿದ ಎಲ್ಲಾ ಘಟನೆಗಳಿಗೂ ನಾನೇ ತಾನೇ ಮೂಕ ಪ್ರೇಕ್ಷಕ? ನೀನು ಬಂದದ್ದೂ ನೋಡಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ನಿನ್ನ ಮಗ ಬಂದದ್ದೂ ನೋಡಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ನಿನ್ನ ಸೊಸೆ ಬಂದದ್ದೂ ನೋಡಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ಯಾವ ಮಾತೂ ಆಡದೇ, ನಿನ್ನ ಮಗನಿಗೆ ಕ್ಯಾಚಿಂಗ್ ಪ್ರಾಕ್ಟಿಸ್ ನೀಡಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ನಿನ್ನ ಮಗನ ಮೊದಲ ಬೌಲರ್ ನಾನೆ. ನಿನ್ನ ಮಗ, ನಿನ್ನ ಗಂಡ ಕ್ರಿಕೆಟ್ ಆಡುವಾಗ ಕೀಪರ್ ನಾನೆ. ನೀವು  ಖುಷಿ ಪಟ್ಟಾಗ ನಾನೂ ಖುಷಿ ಪಟ್ಟಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ನಿಮಗೆ  ಬೇಜಾರಾದಾಗ ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಬಾರಿ ಸಮಾಧಾನ ಮಾಡಲು ಮುಂದಾಗಿ, ಆನಂತರ, ಮಾತಾಡುವ ಹಾಗಿಲ್ಲ ಎಂದು ಸುಮ್ಮನಾಗಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ನಿಮ್ಮ ಕಷ್ಟ, ಸುಖ, ಜಗಳ, ಮನಸ್ತಾಪ, ಬೈಗುಳ, ಸಂಭ್ರಮ - ಇವೆಲ್ಲಕ್ಕೂ ಸಾಕ್ಷಿಯಾಗಿ ನಿಂತವನು ನಾನಲ್ಲವೇ?
ಇವಳು: ಸಾಕು! ಇನ್ನು ಹೆಚ್ಚಿಗೆ ಹೇಳಿ ಮತ್ತೆ ನನ್ನನ್ನ ಅಳೋ ಹಾಗೆ ಮಾಡಬೇಡ! ನಿನಗೆ ಮಾತು ಬರುತ್ತೆ ಅಂತ ಮೊದಲೇ ಗೊತ್ತಾಗಿದ್ದರೆ, ನನ್ನ ಗಂಡ-ಮಗನ ಎದಿರು ಹೇಳಲಾರದ ಕಷ್ಟ ಸುಖಗಳನ್ನು ನಿನಗೆ ಅರುಹಿ ನನ್ನ ಭಾರ ಇಳಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತಿದ್ದೆ.
ಗೋಡೆ: ಎಲ್ಲಕ್ಕೂ ಕಾಲ ಕೂಡಿ ಬರಬೇಕು ಅಲ್ವ?
ಇವಳು: ಅಲ್ಲ, ನಾಳೆ ದಿನ ನಿನ್ನನ್ನ ಒಡೆಯುತ್ತಾರೆ  ಅಂತ ಭಯ ಆಗಲ್ವ ನಿನಗೆ?
ಗೋಡೆ: ಭಯ ಯಾಕೆ? ಹುಟ್ಟಿದ ಮೇಲೆ ಸಾವಿಗೆ ಹೆದರೋಕ್ಕೆ ಆಗತ್ಯೇ? ಯಾರೋ ಮಹಾನ್ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿ ಹೇಳಿದ್ದಾರಂತೆ "ಅದ್ಯಾಕೆ ಸಾವಿಗೆ ಹೆದರಬೇಕೋ ಕಾಣೆ! ನಾವಿದ್ದಾಗ ಅದು ಬರಲ್ಲ. ಅದು ಬಂದಾಗ ನಾವು ಇರಲ್ಲ." ಅಂತ. ಹೀಗಿರೋವಾಗ, ಚಿಂತೆ ಯಾಕೆ? ಕೇಳು - ಬದುಕಿ ಸಾಯೋದು ದೊಡ್ದದಲ್ಲಾ...ಸತ್ತು ಬದುಕೋದು ಇದ್ಯಲ್ಲಾ - ಅದು ಸಾಧನೆ ಅಂದ್ರೆ!
ಇವಳು: ಅಬ್ಬಾ! ಅದೆಂಥಾ ಮಾತು! ಅದು ನಿಜ ಆದರೂ...
ಗೋಡೆ: ಹೋಗಿ ಮಲಗು! ನಾಳೆ ಆರಂಭವಾಗುವ ನಿನ್ನ ಹೊಸ ಜೀವನಕ್ಕೆ ಹೊಸ ಹುರುಪಿನಿಂದ ಕಾಲಿಡು. ನನ್ನ ಆಶೀರ್ವಾದ ನಿನ್ನ ಜೊತೆ ಯಾವಾಗಲೂ ಇರುತ್ತೆ! ನಾನೂ  ಇರ್ತೇನೆ! ಫೀನಿಕ್ಸ್ ಹಕ್ಕಿ ಹಾಗೆ  ಭೂತಾಯಿ ಸೇರಿ ಮತ್ತೆ ಹೊಸ ಚೈತನ್ಯದ ಜೊತೆ ಆಚೆ ಬರ್ತೇನೆ! ಹೋಗು...

Another Love Story...

Vishwa & I were walking along the streets of our locality the other day.
We stopped by a bench and sat on it - having nothing else to do that day. We were discussing and gossiping about all random stuff when Vishwa asked me "Tell me - how do I look?"
"Shall I tell you the truth or the lie?" I asked.
"Lie to me. Let's see how well you can lie and let me deduce what the truth is" Vishwa said.
"O.K...let's see. You are not too good looking. You do look older than what you actually are. That apart, you look quite fine to me. Now, this lie apart - which even you know is far from the truth - why do you ask me? Has any lady approached you with a marriage proposal? Vishwa, I would say it is never too late. You aren't that old and you don't even look old. Why don't you accept the proposal?" I said all this in a single shot, without giving him any time to react. God knows why I was so excited that day. May be, I should go to the doctor someday to get my blood pressure measured.
"Relax, my dear friend! There is nothing of that sort. I was just looking for a prelude to what I am about to tell you now. Let me tell a story today - with a shade of love" Vishwa tried to calm me down.
However, the mention of another love story got me excited all over again! I was eager to hear what Vishwa had in store.
Vishwa began - again, in his inimitable style....

"You see...This story may seem to be right out of a Bollywood story board. But, let me tell you - I don't steal stories. I may exaggerate my experiences but never create them. The problem is - whenever someone is narrating a story or 'creating' it, he thinks that it is he, who for the first time, is doing something unique. What we need to understand is, in this huge universe of ours, there is nothing called a unique, creative story. Whatever we create at this point in time would have been experienced by some other person(s) in some part(s) of the universe in some point(s) of time during the millions of years that we - humans - presumably, have been on this planet.
"Ah! I seem to be drifting away, don't I? What I meant to say was - the people in Bollywood may think they are creating the story. However, it would have already been experienced by at least one person. And what I shall tell you now is my experience and not a plagiarized version of a Bollywood story.
"Where do I begin? I was on one of my aimless tours throughout the country. I was travelling by a train. It was sometime in the afternoon that day - might even have been morning. I was standing near the door of our coach. The train was about to flag off and I wanted to look at that station - don't remember which city it was in - for the last time in the next few days, months or maybe years. I don't even know if I ever went to that city again.
"But, what did I see? A young, beautiful girl was running towards our coach with a seemingly heavy bag in hand. I, as you expect, wanted to help. She threw the bag at me. I caught it and placed it inside. She stretched her hand for me to help her get into the coach. How could I say no?! I, obviously, took her hand and helped her into the coach.
"Call it coincidence. Call it Fate. Call it luck. Call it what you want. This lady's seat was right opposite mine in the coach. We went and sat inside. After exchanging names - don't ask me the name. I hardly pay attention to those details. After exchanging names and a few formality-sake-questions, we became engrossed in our own worlds. We didn't talk much for quite sometime. Then, both of us had tea together. That's when - if I remember rightly - she opened up.
"She told me about herself in great detail. Strange isn't it? I remember all this, but not her name. I am always amazed by the ability of our brain to remember things in the strangest manner possible! She hailed from a common, middle-class family. She didn't look it. Again, we must remember the age-old, time-tested saying -'never judge a book by its cover'. Her family could only afford necessities and not luxuries. Like the millions of the middle-class folks in our country, to which you and I belong too, academic excellence was their only hope to outgrow their social strata. She was quite good at it too. A distinction-holder throughout. She also had a multifaceted personality - or, that's how I remember her telling me. Somebody told her that one way of quickly outgrowing her present strata was to get into the Civil Services. That somebody also told her that she "possessed that caliber". Believing in the words of that somebody, and maybe herself, this lady decided to go to Delhi - in pursuit of her ambitions.
"I remember all this and also the fact that I couldn't take my eyes off her!! She did most of the talking - for I was quite lost for words ever since I saw her! I punctuated her narration with quite a few obvious questions - just to show that I paid attention to her talking also! We had dinner and slept.
"The next morning, I found the seat in front of me empty. Where could she have gone in the middle of the journey? Delhi was still far off. And she had said that she was going to Delhi for her Civil Services dream. I found a letter tucked under my makeshift pillow. It was written in a graceful, feminine hand. It read:
'Dear Vishwa,
Ah! See...I already use "dear" while addressing this to you. I liked you the very moment you offered me your hand. It increased when I saw you up close. I fell for the way you patiently lent me a ear - something that I haven't seen often in people I have come across. But let me make it clear - I don't love you. Or, maybe I do. I don't know. "Love is a stupid thing", I have heard others say. Yet, here, it is making a stupid out of me. You know why I am getting down in the middle of the route and taking another train to Delhi? Had I spent a little more time with you, I would have ended up accompanying you to wherever you go and not pursuing my dreams. Thanks for everything...
                                                                                                               Yours or maybe not yours'
"I shall never know whether she was really headed for Delhi or that station where she got down. There is nothing to verify the truth of her statements. But then, there is nothing to doubt her as well. All I wish is she succeeded in her dreams of Civil Services, if she ever appeared for them.
"Come. Let's go. We have spent quite a bit of time on this bench" Vishwa said, getting up to leave.
I followed him wondering how could all such diverse experiences happen to one person alone. Then I remembered Vishwa's words that there were quite many people in the world who had similar experiences.
I am still waiting to belong to that "quite many"....

Thus, A Love Story...

It was a day like any other - a usual Saturday. Vishwa and I met in the evening at the familiar Ramu's to discuss the various happenings across the world. Vishwa's insights had helped me form my own insights over several issues. So, I was all ears whenever Vishwa and I discussed anything. He had mastered the art of articulation!

I do not know what motivated Vishwa that day. He spoke to me at length about the magic of teenage - the veil it can cast upon reality and make everything around seem either very beautiful or very crooked! Then, all of a sudden, he drifted into this narrative:

"I don't know what makes me so nostalgic today - nostalgic especially about those few days of my life. I shall tell you something that I nobody else apart from me knows. 

It happened years back - I was in school...college maybe. I don't remember exactly. Forgive me - for I have seen so much in this world that I tend to forget such trivial stuff! Am not boasting when I say I've seen much in life. Oh! let's get back to the track....

Where was I? Yes...Take it that I was in college. It was there that I came across that girl in class. Very beautiful she was! She stood out from the rest of the group - or at least to me, she did. Mind always sees what it wants to see, right?! It is a very beautiful object - the brain. But does the brain house the mind?! Very intriguing! 

Ah! She held my attention ever since the moment I saw her. I observed her in class. Every act of hers was filled with grace! Or, again, maybe I felt thus. The way she walked, the way she talked, her smile, her style - I admired every bit of it! I do not know and do not care whether others in my class also felt the same. All I know is she was weaving a web of magic around me. And I found myself being willingly trapped in that web of grace and charm!!! 

Maybe she observed that I was love-struck. Maybe others in the class played Cupid's messengers. I do not know. After a few days, she would sometimes turn towards me in class and find me staring at her - admiringly. Tell me - which girl does not like admiration? Of course, every single being of the female species wants to be admired! And this lady here deserved it! Can you imagine the joy I experienced that very first time she smiled at me! It was as though I had conquered the entire world! Yes - I had conquered the entire world - for, ever since I had set my eyes on her, she had become my world! Do I sound melodramatic? Forgive me, if I do. 

After that day, every day, every class, every few minutes - she would turn around and throw a magical smile towards me. And me - I would be waiting to grab it, as though a dog waiting for its mistress to throw its favourite biscuit towards it!! I did nothing in class apart from waiting for her to turn towards me and smiling, I also maintained count of how many times she smiled at me. Do you now understand why I dropped out of college education and never continued it?! Yet, I must say - dropping out of formal education system has its own advantages - I have learnt a lot by moving about the whole place and meeting all people from all walks of life. Life is the greatest school and experience is the greatest teacher, you see. It has taught me what nobody else has or nobody would probably have taught. 

Let me get back to the narrative. Finally, we neared our farewell - "A New Beginning" as they called it - they believed that all of us would get into universities, study well, land in great jobs, earn big bucks and "settle" in life. Hence the name. Though I personally never satisfied any of their criteria, it indeed was a new beginning for me too. To discover myself and also to discover the world - through me! And I can say that am more "settled" in life than any of my batch-mates. All of them went in search of comforts while I found comfort where I was. Well, let's not get into the debate of what "settling" in life means.

 She was there of course. And she was prettier than usual. Again, she threw a smile at me which I readily grabbed! We had a great lunch - organised by our college. There were tears, hugs and photographs. Then, it was time for us to leave. As we passed through the gates of our college for one last time - I turned back to look her. She saw me too. She smiled....I smiled back...

Ah! That was the last time I ever saw her. I liked her back then. I like her now. But does it ever qualify to be called love? Was it mere infatuation? Was it mere admiration? I shall never know.I do not care to know. And what is her name? I don't recollect. Why should I? She was just another person in this long journey of life. Yes - she was a little special. Then, again, "What's in a name?".....

By the way, why did I tell you all this?" Vishwa said at the end.

I just shrugged my shoulders........

ಟಿ. ವಿ. ಬಂತು ಟಿ. ವಿ.

 ಅಂದು ಶನಿವಾರ. ರಜಾ ಇದ್ದ ಕಾರಣ  ಸ್ನೇಹಿತರೆಲ್ಲ ಒಟ್ಟಿಗೆ ಕುಳಿತು  ಹರಟೆ ಹೊಡೆಯುತ್ತಾ,  ಕಾಲ "ತಳ್ಳುವ" ಪ್ರಯತ್ನದಲ್ಲಿ ಇದ್ದೆವು.   ಮನೆಯಿಂದ ಹೊರಬಿದ್ದ ಅನುಭವ  ಹಸಿಯಾಗಿಯೇ ಇತ್ತು. ಮಾಡಲು ಬೇರೆ ಏನೂ ಇಲ್ಲದ ಕಾರಣ ಮನೆಯ ನೆನಪು  ಕೂಡ ಮರುಕಳಿಸುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. ಮನೆಯನ್ನು ಮರೆತಿದ್ದೆವು ಎಂದಲ್ಲ - ಆದರೂ, ಮನೆಯ ನೆನಪು ನಮ್ಮ ದಿನನಿತ್ಯದ ಕೆಲಸಗಳಿಗೆ ಅಡ್ಡಿಯಾಗಬಾರದು ಎಂದು ಬೇರೆ ಕೆಲಸಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ತೊಡಗಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತಿದ್ದೆವು.

"ಎರಡು ವಾರಗಳಾದವು. ಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿದ್ದ ಯಾವ ವಸ್ತು ಆಕರ್ಷಣೆಗಳು ಇಲ್ಲದಂತೆ ಆಗಿದೆ. ಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಇದ್ದಾಗ ವಾರಕೊಮ್ಮೆ ಸಿನೆಮಾಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ. ಹೊರಗಡೆ ಹೋಗಿ ತಿನ್ನುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ. ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಬಂದ ಮೇಲೆ, ತಿನ್ನಲು ಅವಕಾಶವೂ ಇಲ್ಲ, ಆಸೆಯೂ ಇಲ್ಲ" ಎಂದು ಗೆಳೆಯನೊಬ್ಬ  ಹೇಳಿದ. ನಾವುಗಳು ಕೂಡ ತಲೆಯಾಡಿಸಿದೆವು.  ಕೆಲವೇ ದಿನಗಳ  ಅಂತರದಲ್ಲಿ ನಮ್ಮಲ್ಲೇ ಆದ ಬದಲಾವಣೆ ಕಂಡು ನಮಗೆ  ಬೆರಗಾಯಿತು. "ಕಾಲವನ್ನು ತಡೆಯೋರು ಇಲ್ಲ" ಎಂದು ಯಾರೋ  ಹಾಡಿದಂತೆ ಭಾಸವಾಯಿತು!

ಇದ್ದಕಿದ್ದ ಹಾಗೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಆಲೋಚನೆಯನ್ನು ಕತ್ತರಿಸಿ ಬಿಸಾಡುವ ರೀತಿಯಲ್ಲಿ  ಕಿರುಚಾಟ  ಕೇಳಿಬಂತು. ನಮ್ಮ ಎದೆ ಝಗ್ಗೆಂದಿತು. 

  ಯಾರಿಗೆ ಏನಾಯಿತೋ ಎಂದು ಹೊರಗೆ ಓಡಿದೆವು.  ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ಕಾಮನ್ ರೂಂನತ್ತ ಓಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು. ನಮ್ಮ ಗಾಬರಿ ಇನ್ನೂ ಹೆಚ್ಚಿತು. ಹೋಗಿ ನೋಡಿದರೆ, ಕಾಮನ್ ರೂಮಿಗೆ  ಒಬ್ಬ ಹೊಸ ಅತಿಥಿಯ ಆಗಮನವಾಗಿತ್ತು. ಹೊಚ್ಚ ಹೊಸ ಟಿ. ವಿ. ಬಂದಿತ್ತು!

ಅದನ್ನು ನೋಡಿಯೇ ಅಷ್ಟು ಜೋರಾದ ಕಿರುಚಾಟ ಆರಂಭವಾಗಿದ್ದು. ಅಷ್ಟು ದಿನಗಳಿಂದ ಟಿ.ವಿಯಿಲ್ಲದೆ ಇದ್ದ ನಮಗೆ ಅದನ್ನು ಕಂಡು ಆದ ಆನಂದ ಕೂಗಾಗಿ ಹೊರಬಿದ್ದಿತ್ತು! ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ತಮ್ಮ ಸ್ನೇಹಿತರಿಗೆ ಕರೆ ಮಾಡಿ, ಬಂದು ನೋಡುವಂತೆ "ಆಹ್ವಾನ" ನೀಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು. ಕೆಲವರು ಮನೆಗೆ ಕರೆಮಾಡಿ ತಮ್ಮ ಆನಂದ ಉತ್ಸಾಹಗಳನ್ನು ಫೋನಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಧಾರೆಯೆರೆದರು! ಅವರ ಮುಖಗಳನ್ನು ನೋಡುವುದೇ ಒಂದು ಸಂತೋಷವಾಗಿತ್ತು ನನಗೆ. ಅತಿಥಿಯೊಂದಿಗೆ ಸಂದರ್ಶನದ ಭಾಗ್ಯ ಇನ್ನೂ ನನಗೆ ಲಭಿಸಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ - ರಸ್ತೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಒಬ್ಬ ಕ್ರಿಕೆಟಿಗ ಅಥವಾ ಸಿನೆಮಾ  ಬಂದಾಗ ಜನ  ಕಿಕ್ಕಿರಿಯುವಂತೆ ಜನ ಕಾಮನ್ ರೂಮ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ತುಂಬಿದ್ದರು. ಸೆಕ್ಯುರಿಟಿ ಮೊದಲಾಗಿ ಎಲ್ಲರು ಅಲ್ಲೇ ಇದ್ದರು - ಆರತಿ, ಪ್ರಸಾದದ ವಿನಿಯೋಗ ಒಂದೇ ಕಡಿಮೆಯಾಗಿತ್ತು ಎನ್ನಬೇಕು! 

 ಮಧ್ಯಾಹ್ನ ಊಟದ ವೇಳೆಯಲ್ಲೂ ಟಿ.ವಿಯದೆ ಮಾತು. ಅದರ ಅಂದ-ಚೆಂದ, ಅಂಕು-ಡೊಂಕುಗಳ ವಿಶ್ಲೇಷಣೆ ನಡೆಯಿತು.  ತಮ್ಮ ತಮ್ಮ ಮನೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಇದ್ದ ಟಿ.ವಿಯ ಹಾಗೂ ಇಲ್ಲಿಯ ಟಿ.ವಿಯ "ತುಲನಾತ್ಮಕ" ಚರ್ಚೆ ನಡೆಯಿತು. ತಮ್ಮ ತಮ್ಮ ನೆಚ್ಚಿನ ಕಾರ್ಯಕ್ರಮಗಳ, ಧಾರಾವಾಹಿಗಳ, ನಟ-ನಟಿಯರ ಚರ್ಚೆಯೂ ನಡೆಯಿತು. ಆದರೆ ನನಗೆ ಏಕೋ ಆ ಉತ್ಸಾಹ ಮೂಡಲಿಲ್ಲ. ತೆಪ್ಪಗೆ ಊಟಮಾಡಿ ಹೊರಬಿದ್ದೆ. 

 ಆ ದಿನ-ರಾತ್ರಿಯೆಲ್ಲ ಎಲ್ಲರು ಕಾಮನ್ ರೂಮ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಜಮಾಯಿಸಿದ್ದರು.  ನನಗೆ ಇನ್ನೂ  ಸಂದರ್ಶನ ಭಾಗ್ಯ ದೊರೆತಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಕೊನೆಗೆ, ರಾತ್ರಿ ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ಮಲಗಿದ ಮೇಲೆ, ನಾನು ಹೋದೆ. ಟಿ.ವಿ ಮಹಾಶಯ ಅಲ್ಲೇ ಇದ್ದ. ನೋಡಿದೆ - ತೆಳ್ಳಗೆ ಇದ್ದ. ನಾನೇ ಸಣ್ಣ ಎಂದರೆ, ನನಗಿಂತಲೂ ಸಣ್ಣ ಇದ್ದ! ತನ್ನನ್ನು "ಎಲ್ ಜಿ ಎಲ್ ಇ ಡಿ ಎಂದು ಕರೆಯುತ್ತಾರೆ" ಎಂದು ಹೇಳಿದ. ನಾನೂ ನೋಡಿದೆ.  ಅದ್ಯಾಕೋ   ಯಾವ  ಭಾವನೆಯೂ ಮೂಡಲಿಲ್ಲ. "ನೀ  ಯಾರಾದರೂ ನನಗೇನು? ನೀನೇನು  ನಮ್ಮವನೇ? ಎಲ್ಲಿಂದಲೋ ಬಂದಿರುವ ನೀನು, ನನಗೆ ಯಾಕೆ ನಿನ್ನ ಕುಲ ಗೋತ್ರ  ನಾಮ ನಕ್ಷತ್ರ ಹೇಳುತ್ತೀಯೆ?" ಎಂದು ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಖಾರವಾಗಿ ಪ್ರಶ್ನಿಸಿದೆ.

 "ನೋಡು - ನೀನು ಯಾರೆಂದು ನೀನು ನನಗೆ ಹೇಳಿಲ್ಲ. ಅಡ್ಡಿ ಇಲ್ಲ. ಆದರೆ, ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಇರುವಷ್ಟು ದಿನ,  ಹೊರ ಜಗತ್ತನ್ನು ಇದ್ದ ಹಾಗೆಯೇ ತೋರಿಸುವ ಪವಿತ್ರ  ಕರ್ತವ್ಯ ನನ್ನದು ಎಂದು ನನ್ನನ್ನು ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಕರೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಬರುವಾಗ ಹೇಳಿದರು. ಅವರು ಹೇಳಿದ್ದನ್ನು ಪಾಲಿಸುತ್ತೇನೆ ಅಷ್ಟೆ. ನಿನ್ನ ನನ್ನ ಭೇಟಿ ಎಷ್ಟು  ಬಾರಿಯಾಗುತ್ತದೋ, ಯಾರು ಬಲ್ಲರು. ಇದ್ದಷ್ಟು ದಿನ ಒಳ್ಳೆ ಸ್ನೇಹಿತರಾಗಿ ಇರೋಣ. ನೀವು ಮನುಷ್ಯರು "ಯಾಂತ್ರಿಕವಾಗಿ" ಲಾಭ-ನಷ್ಟಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಯೋಚನೆ ಮಾಡುತ್ತೀರ. ಆದರೆ, ನಾನು ಹಾಗಲ್ಲ. ಇದ್ದಷ್ಟು ದಿನ ಸಾಧ್ಯವಾದಷ್ಟು ಒಳ್ಳೆ ಸಂಬಂಧ, ಗೆಳೆತನ ಇರಲಿ ಎಂದು ಆಶಿಸುತ್ತೇನೆ. ನಿನಗೆ ಒಪ್ಪಿಗೆಯಿದ್ದರೆ, ನನ್ನೊಂದಿಗೆ ಸ್ನೇಹ ಬೆಳೆಸು. ಇಲ್ಲವಾದಲ್ಲಿ, ನನಗೆ ತೊಂದರೆ ಇಲ್ಲ. ಹೇಗಿದ್ದರೂ, ಬೇರೆಯವರು ಇದ್ದಾರೆ. ನಿನಗೆ ಯಾರು ಇಲ್ಲ ಎಂಬುದು ನೆನಪಿರಲಿ" ಎಂದು ಮಹಾಶಯ ಹೇಳಿದ. 

 ನನ್ನ ಒಬ್ಬಂಟಿತನದ ಅರಿವಾಯಿತು. ಯಾಕೆ ಅಷ್ಟು ಕಟುವಾಗಿ ಮಾತಾಡಿದೆ ಎಂದು ಪಶ್ಚಾತ್ತಾಪ ಉಂಟಾಯಿತು. ತಲೆ ತಗ್ಗಿಸಿ ನಿಂತೆ. "ಬಾ. ನನ್ನ ಮೂಲಕ ಹೊರಗೆ ನೋಡು. ಆಮೇಲೆ ನಿನ್ನ ಒಳಗಡೆ ನೋಡುವೆಯಂತೆ" ಎಂದು ಟಿ.ವಿ ಮಹಾಶಯ ನನಗಾಗಿ ಹೊಸ ಜಗತ್ತನ್ನು ತೆರೆದ. ಬಹಳ ಸಮಯ ಅವನೊಂದಿಗೆ ಚರ್ಚಿಸಿದೆ - ರಾಜಕೀಯ, ಕ್ರೀಡೆ, ಇತಿಹಾಸ, ಮನುಷ್ಯ ಜಾತಿ, ಮನಸ್ಸು, ದೇವರು - ಹೀಗೆ ಹಲವಾರು ವಿಷಯಗಳ ವಿನಿಮಯ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಂಡೆವು. ರಾತ್ರಿ ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಹೊತ್ತಿನ ಬಳಿಕ ಬೀಳ್ಕೊಂಡೆ. ಟಿ.ವಿ ಮಹಾಶಯ ನನಗೆ ಅದೆಷ್ಟೋ ಹೇಳಿಕೊಟ್ಟ - ಎಲ್ಲರೊಂದಿಗೆ ಪ್ರೀತಿಯಿಂದ ಇರಬೇಕು, ಸಂಬಂಧಗಳನ್ನು ಕಾಪಾಡಿಕೊಳ್ಳಬೇಕು, ಯಾಂತ್ರಿಕವಾಗಿ ಬದುಕಬಾರದು ಎಂದು ತಿಳಿಸಿಕೊಟ್ಟ. ಹೊರಗಡೆ ಕಪ್ಪಗಿದ್ದರೂ, ಆ ಮಹಾಶಯ ತನ್ನ ಒಳಗಿನ ತೇಜಸ್ಸು, ಬಣ್ಣ, ಸೌಂದರ್ಯಗಳಿಂದ ಬೆಳಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದ. 

 ಹೋಗಿ ಮಲಗಿಕೊಂಡೆ. ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಹೊತ್ತಾಗಿತ್ತು......... 

 ಇದ್ದಕ್ಕಿದ್ದ ಹಾಗೆ ಬಾಗಿಲನ್ನು ಯಾರೋ ಬಡಿದಂತಾಯಿತು. ಸಮಯ ಮಧ್ಯಾಹ್ನ ಒಂದು ಗಂಟೆಯಾಗಿತ್ತು. ನಿದ್ದೆಯಿಂದ ಎದ್ದು ಬಾಗಿಲು ತೆರೆದೆ. ಹೊರಗಡೆ ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ಕುಣಿಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು. ಏನಾಯಿತು ಎಂದು ಕೇಳಿದೆ. "ನಮ್ಮ ಕಾಮನ್ ರೂಮಿಗೆ ಟಿ.ವಿ ಬಂದಿದೆ. ನೋಡು ಬಾ..." ಎಂದು ನನ್ನ ಸ್ನೇಹಿತರು ಕಿರುಚುತ್ತಾ ಓಡಿದರು..... 

A Page from a Journal!!!

16.8.2013, 11.30 PM

Never have I mentioned the time while writing my journal, have I? Then why did I do it today? Maybe to convince myself that nobody else is awake while I am writing this. My roommate is asleep. My friends have also gone to bed after a tiring day. My hands are trembling as I write this down, but I have no option left. I have to put it out of my system somehow. I just don't want them to know that I am feeling as I am feeling now - it's difficult to express THAT feeling in words!

Let me get to the point - I TASTED NON-VEG TODAY. For the first time in my life - ever! That is why my hands are trembling as I mention it. I don't know why - from the moment I tasted, I have been feeling guilty. My friends tell me "Arre! It's O.K dost. Most of us here eat non-veg. So, all we say is 'Welcome to the league'. You'll enjoy it. Veg khana doesn't have that "dum-n-khadar", you see. You get used to eating this and you will never want to eat 'boring' vegetarian stuff again." What they don't seem to understand is that my upbringing, tradition and values don't allow me to eat non-veg. Personally, I have never wanted to eat non-veg. But then, the vegetarian food here doesn't taste good. During lunch or dinner, whenever I see my friends relishing either chicken or fish, I felt that I was missing out on something.

 And today, something within me - an inner voice! - told me "Go and taste it, my friend. Family is 2K kms away. You can eat non-veg, flush it down the drain tomorrow and pretend as if nothing happened. Nobody will ever get to know - except your friends around. Moreover, they shall support you - your friends." With that green signal, in that moment of "weakness" and "temptation", I ordered a chilly chicken! Even as I took the chicken piece towards the mouth, my hands were trembling. My friends around - all non-vegetarians - were laughing at me. "What kind of a man are you? Scared to taste non-veg...Come on buddy! We are with you" they said. The laughter continued. It grew so loud that almost the entire canteen turned towards our table. The spotlight was on me. The news that I was tasting non-veg for the first time spread throughout the canteen. People joined in the laughter. 

My face turned red with humiliation - I could feel it! My ears became hot. I thought 'I need to put an end to this. I need to show them that I am not weak - by tasting non-veg! This is my chance to show them what I am made up of.' With that, my right hand - with the piece of chicken - reached my mouth.

What a feeling it was! It was soft. It was hot. It was spicy. For the first time since my arrival here, I tasted something that was so spicy! My tongue relished it! I enjoyed the initial feeling. I didn't even drink much water - just to let the taste stay! However, guilt took over soon. 

I was and still am worried about what the reaction back home would be - from my parents and all the other relatives & friends - when they learn that I tasted non-veg? Thoughts of me being disowned by the family crossed my mind more than once. How will I be treated back home? Will I just be teased and taunted? Or, will I have to face something harsh? Will my orthodox family understand my plight here - the condition of the canteen facilities here? Or, will they restrict themselves to their narrow field of view and abuse me verbally with the choicest of terms(which, sometimes, I feel I deserve for this act)? Will they understand that survival is important? Or, will they say that how we survive is important?

I might have digested the chicken I ate during lunch some 10 hours back. However, I am yet to digest the fact that I - being from the kind of family I am from - tasted non-veg! How am I supposed to break the news to them? I fear the prospect of telling this to them. Should I tell them at all? Maybe I shouldn't. But then, that guilt will prick me throughout my life. I will lose my self-respect and self-esteem due to that guilt.

I didn't tell my parents when they called tonight. I shall have to decide whether or not to tell them & if yes, how to tell them. All that I can say now is that I am in for a rough night and tonight is surely not going to be a good night! 

Feeling tense...worried...guilty...scared...

ಹೀಗೊಂದು ಶೌಚಪುರಾಣ....

ಒಂದು ಮಾಮೂಲಿ ಬೆಳಗ್ಗೆ... 

"ಗುರು, ಒಂದು ಕಿಂಗ್ ಕೊಡಮ್ಮ" ಎಂದು ಅವನು ಹಾಲಿನಂಗಡಿ ಮಂಜನನ್ನು ಕೇಳಿದ. 

 ಮಂಜ ತನ್ನ ಬೆಳಗಿನ ಗಿರಾಕಿಗಳಿಗೆ ಹಾಲು ನೀಡುತ್ತಾ ಹಣ ವಸೂಲಿ ಮಾಡುವುದರಲ್ಲಿ ಮಗ್ನನಾಗಿದ್ದ. "ಒಂದು ನಿಮಿಷ  ಇರಿ ಸ್ವಾಮೀ! ಮೊದಲು ಹಾಲು ತೊಗೊಳ್ಳೋರು ತೊಗೊಳ್ಳಿ. ನಿಮ್ಮ ಕಿಂಗು ಎಲ್ಲ ಆಮೇಲೆ. ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ತಡೀರಿ!" ಎಂದು ಮಂಜ ತನ್ನ ಕೆಲಸದ ನಡುವೆ ಉತ್ತರ ನೀಡಿದ. 

" ನೀನು ಹೇಳಿದ್ದು ನನಗೆ  ತಿಳಿಯತ್ತೆ. ನನ್ನ ಹೊಟ್ಟೆ ಕೇಳಬೇಕಲ್ಲ?! ನನ್ನ ಕಷ್ಟ ನಂಗೆ... ಬೇಗ ಕೊಡಯ್ಯ!  ಸಲೀಸಾಗತ್ತೆ!" ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಅವನು ಮಂಜನ ಮುಖದೆಡೆಗೆ ದುಡ್ಡು ತಿವಿದ. 

"ಬೆಳಗ್ಗೆ ಬೆಳಗ್ಗೆ ಎಂಥ ಹೊಲಸು ಕೆಲಸಕ್ಕೆ ಬರ್ತೀರಯ್ಯ! ತೊಗೊಂಡು  ಹೋಗು ಮೊದ್ಲು" ಎಂದು ಮಂಜ ಮುಖ ಸಿಂಡರಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಅವನಿಗೆ ಒಂದು ಕಿಂಗ್ ಕೊಟ್ಟು ಸಾಗಿಹಾಕಿದ. ಅವನು  ಖುಷಿಯಿಂದ ಅಲ್ಲಿಯೇ ಇದ್ದ ಪಬ್ಲಿಕ್ ಶೌಚಾಲಯಕ್ಕೆ ಓಡಿಹೋದ. ಹಾಲಿನಂಗಡಿಯ ಬಳಿಯಿದ್ದ ಜನರೆಲ್ಲಾ  ಅವನನ್ನು ನೋಡಿ ನಗುತ್ತಾ ಹೋದರು. 

ಅವನು ಅಲ್ಲಿದ್ದ ಒಂದು ಶೌಚದೊಳಗೆ ಹೋದ. "ಥೂ! ಅದ್ಯಾವೋನು ಬಂದಿದ್ನೋ ಮುಂಚೆ! ಹೊಟ್ಟೆಗೆ ಏನಾದ್ರೂ ತಿನ್ಲಿ! ಹೋದಮೇಲೆ, ನೆಟ್ಗೆ ನೀರು ಹಾಕೋ ಬುದ್ಧಿ ಬೇಡ?! ಅವ್ನ ಮನೆ ಹಾಳಾಗ!...ನಾನೋ! ಸಿಗರೇಟು ತಂದೆ. ಬೆಂಕಿ  ತರೋದು ಮರೆತೆ! ನನ್ನ ಜನ್ಮಕ್ಕಿಷ್ಟು ಬೆಂಕಿ ಹಾಕ!" ಎಂದು ಸ್ವನಿಂದನೆಗೆ ಅವನು ಮೊದಲುಮಾಡಿದ. 

"ಓಹೋ! ನಮಸ್ಕಾರ ಸಾರ್! ಬೆಂಕಿಪೊಟ್ಟಣ ಬೇಕ?" ಎಂದು ಪಕ್ಕದ ಶೌಚದಿಂದ ಇವನು ಕೇಳಿದ. 

"ಹೌದು! ಕೊಡ್ತೀರಾ? ತೀರ ಅರ್ಜೆಂಟು!" ಎಂದು ಅವನು ದೈನ್ಯದಿಂದ ಕೇಳಿದ. ಬೆಂಕಿಪೊಟ್ಟಣ ಗೋಡೆ ಹಾರಿ ಬಂತು. ಅವನಿಗೆ ಹೋದ ಜೀವ ಮರಳಿ ಬಂದಂತೆ ಅಯ್ತು. 

"ಆಹಾ! ಇದು ನೋಡಿ ಸುಖ ಅಂದ್ರೆ! ತುಂಬಾ ಥ್ಯಾಂಕ್ಸ್!" ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಅವನು ಸೇದಲು ಶುರು  ಮಾಡಿದ. 

"ನೀವು ಎಲ್ಲಿ ಅವ್ರು ಸಾರ್? ಏನು ನಿಮ್ಮ ಕಥೆ?" ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಇವನು ಮಾತು ಶುರು ಮಾಡಿದ. 

ಅವನು ತನ್ನ  ಕಥೆಯನ್ನು ಶುರು ಮಾಡಿದ. "ನಂದು ಇಲ್ಲೇ ಕನಕಪುರದ ಹತ್ರ ಹೊಸಹಳ್ಳಿ. ಬೇಸಾಯದ ಕುಟುಂಬ. ಅದ್ಯಾಕೋ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ -  ಕಳೆದ ಎರಡು  ವರ್ಷಗಳಿಂದ ನನ್ನ ಭೂಮೀಲಿ ಸರೀಗೆ  ಬೆಳೆ ಬರ್ತಾ ಇಲ್ಲ.  ಏನೇನೋ ಮಾಡಿದ್ದಾಯ್ತು. ಮಂತ್ರ ತಂತ್ರ ಹೋಮ ಪೂಜೆ - ಎಲ್ಲವೂ. ಏನೂ ಪ್ರಯೋಜನ  ಅಗ್ಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಪೂಜೆ ಮಂತ್ರದ ಹೆಸರಲ್ಲಿ  ಪೂಜಾರಿ ಜೋಯ್ಸಾ - ಇವರುಗಳು ನನ್ನ ಸುಲಿಗೆ ಮಾಡಿ ದುಡ್ಡು ಮಾಡ್ಕೊಂಡ್ರು. ನನ್ನ ತಂದೆ ತಾಯಿ ಹೆಂಡತಿಗೆ  ಇದರಲ್ಲಿ  ನಂಬಿಕೆ ಜಾಸ್ತಿ. 'ಬೆಂಗಳೂರಿಗೆ ಹೋಗಿ  ಬೇಸಾಯದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ತಿಳ್ಕೊಂಡಿರೋರನ್ನ ಕೇಳಿ ಕೆಲಸ ಮಾಡೋಣ' ಅಂದ್ರೆ ದುಡ್ಡು ದಂಡ ಅಂತ ನನ್ನ ಮನೆ ಇಂದ  ಹೊರಕ್ಕೆ ಬಿಡ್ತಾ ಇರ್ಲ್ಲಿಲ್ಲ. ನನಗೂ ರೋಸಿ ಹೋಯ್ತು. ಇವತ್ತು ಬೆಳಗ್ಗೆ ಅವರುಗಳು  ಏಳೋ ಮುಂಚೇನೇ ಎದ್ದು ಮನೆಯಿಂದ ಹೊರಟೆ.  ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ  ಬಂದು ನಿಮ್ಮ ಪರಿಚಯ ಅಯ್ತು. ಇದೇ ನನ್ನ ಕಥೆ. ನಿಮ್ದೇನು ಕಥೆ?" ಎಂದು ಅವನು ತನ್ನ ಕಥೆ ಮುಗಿಸಿದ. 

"ನಂದೇನು ಹೆಚ್ಚಿಲ್ಲ ಸ್ವಾಮಿ! ಇಲ್ಲೇ ಎದರುಗಡೆ ಬ್ಯಾಗ್ ಪರ್ಸು ಹೊಲಿಯೋದೆ ನನ್ನ ಕೆಲಸ. ಸುಮಾರು ಇಪ್ಪತ್ತು ವರ್ಷದ ಮುಂಚೆ ನನ್ನ ಊರಾದ ಮದುರೆ ಇಂದ ಓಡಿ ಬಂದೆ - ಅಪ್ಪನ ಜೊತೆ ಜಗಳ ಆಡಿ. ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಬಂದು ಬ್ಯಾಗ್ ಹೊಲ್ಯೋದನ್ನ ಕಲ್ತೆ.  ನನ್ನ ಹೊಟ್ಟೆ ತುಂಬ್ಸೋ ಖುದಾ ಅದು.  ಹೆಂಡ್ರು ಮಕ್ಳು ಇಲ್ಲ.   ಬಂದಿದ್ದು ತೊಗೊಂಡು 'ಅಲ್ಲಾ ಕೊಟ್ಟಿದ್ದು' ಅಂತ ಆರಾಮಾಗಿ ಇದ್ದೀನಿ" - ಇವನು ತನ್ನ ಕಥೆ ಮುಗಿಸೋ  ವೇಳೆಗೆ ಹೊರಗೆ ರೇಡಿಯೋದಲ್ಲಿ ಹಾಡು ಆರಂಭವಾಯ್ತು - "ಬದ್ತಮೀಸ್ ದಿಲ್..." ಎಂದು. 

"ಲೇ! ಯಾರೋ ಅದು! ಕನ್ನಡ ಹಾಡು ಹಾಕ್ರೋ !" ಎಂದು ಅವನು ಅರಚಿದ. ಕೂಡಲೇ "ವೆಂಕಟೇಸ..."ಎಂದು ಹಾಡು ಬದಲಾಯಿತು. 

"ಹೌದು .. ನಾವು ಯಾಕೆ ಹೀಗೆ ಜನ್ಮ ಜಾತಕ ಹೇಳ್ಕೊಂಡ್ವಿ? ನಂಗೂ ನಿಮಗೂ ಏನು ಸಂಬಂಧ?" - ಏನು ತೋಚದೆ ಅವನು ಕೇಳಿದ. 

"ಅದೇ ಸ್ವಾಮಿ ಜೀವನ. ಯಾರಿಗೆ ಯಾವಾಗ ಯಾರು ಎಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾಕೆ ಹೇಗೆ ಸಿಗ್ತಾರೆ ಅಂತ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಗೊತ್ತಿದ್ರೆ,  ಖುದ ಅಗ್ತಿದ್ವಿ. ನಾನು ಹೇಳೋದು ಸರಿ ತಾನೇ?" - ಇವನು ತನ್ನ ಫಿಲಾಸಫಿ ಹೇಳಿದ. 

"ಪರವಾಗಿಲ್ಲಯ್ಯ - ಬ್ಯಾಗ್ ಹೊಲ್ಯೋನೆ ಆದರು, ಚೆನ್ನಾಗಿ ಮಾತಾಡ್ತೀಯ" - ಅವನು ತನ್ನ ಮೆಚ್ಚುಗೆ ಸೂಚಿಸಿದ. 

"ಏನೋ! ನಿಮ್ಮಂಥ ಜನ ಮಾತಾಡೋದನ್ನ ಕೇಳಿ ಕಲ್ತಿರೋದು. ಸರಿ ಸ್ವಾಮಿ! ನನ್ನ ಕೆಲಸ ಅಯ್ತು. ನಾನು ಬರ್ತೇನೆ. ಅಲ್ಲಾ ಒಳ್ಳೇದು ಮಾಡ್ಲಿ ನಿಮ್ಗೆ. ಮುಂದಿನಸಲ ಮುಖಾಮುಖಿ ಭೇಟಿ ಮಾಡೋಣ. ಸಧ್ಯಕ್ಕೆ ನಂಗೂ ಹೊಲ್ಯೋ ಕೆಲಸ ಇದೆ. ಶುಕ್ರಿಯ!" ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಇವನು ಹೊರಟು ಹೋದ. 

ಅವನು ಯೋಚಿಸುತ್ತಾ  ಕುಳಿತ - ತನ್ನ ಜೀವನದ ಕಥೆ ಎಲ್ಲವನ್ನು ಮುಖವೂ ನೋಡದೆ ಯಾರೋ ಒಬ್ಬನಿಗೆ ಹೇಳಿದ್ದು ಯಾಕೆ? ಆ ಇನ್ನೊಬ್ಬನೂ ಕೂಡ ಎಲ್ಲವನ್ನೂ ಹೇಳಿದ್ದು ಯಾಕೆ? ಹೆಸರನ್ನೂ ಕೇಳಲಿಲ್ಲ... 

"ಸೂಪರ್ ವೆಂಕಟೇಸ...." ಹಾಡು ಕೇಳುತ್ತಲೇ ಇತ್ತು. 

 ನಿಜ - ಜೀವನದ ಎಲ್ಲ  ಆಗು-ಹೋಗುಗಳ ಅರ್ಥ ತಿಳಿದರೆ, ಅಂದೇ ಆ  ಮನುಷ್ಯ ಭಗವಂತನಾಗುತ್ತಾನೆ.  ಆದರೆ, ಜೀವನದ ಸಾರವನ್ನೇ ಅದು ಕಳೆಯುತ್ತದೆ ತಾನೇ? ಯೋಚಿಸಬೇಕು...