I will never forget this day. God! it’s only you who I share these things with. You know, my son Ari, I’ve always been worried about him. Perhaps of late I found him to be somewhat different than what he used to be. Previously, he was such a bright kid. But since he has started going to college, I think there’s something wrong with him.

Some 2 months back, late at night, i was passing by Ari’s room. I told myself ‘My son is growing up!’

Then on another night, i found a condom in the garden, right under his window. I and Ari’s mom have stopped making love 2 years back, I realised it’s used by Ari. But didn’t know what to say, just told myself, ‘My son is growing up!’

Then it became quite regular, so i stopped going to that corner of the garden. None of us stay at home during the day. Ari can easily bring someone at home and perhaps this is what today’s kids want to be like this! God knows what will happen – what else could i say?

Then last week, Ari came late at night. He was trembling a bit. I was reading something in the drawing room. I asked, ‘Where have you been so long?’ He started at me and took the stairs. But he fumbled, i rushed to seize him. Alcohol! I smelt alcohol in my Ari’s mouth! He threw my hands away and went up. I was standing helplessly. What could i do? Just told myself – ‘My son is growing up!’

Today i didn’t go to office. I was standing by my table and staring at my little Ari’s photograph – smiling it wide inside his mother’s arms. It was taken when he got 1st division in his 12th board exam. Such beautiful days. There was a big celebration. I was away in Pune that time due to office meetings, could not be there. But wished so much for my Ari. My Ari. What has he become these days? With these thoughts tormenting inside, i went upstairs and entered into Ari’s room.

Everything was messed up there. I know it’s not right, especially when ‘my son is growing up’, yet, i couldn’t stop myself from searching his room. The drawers of the table was filled with empty packets of cigarettes, the entire smell of the room was different. seemed like i was at a new place, yet it’s one of the places of my own house. There were bottles of whiskey inside the almirah. Then i found ‘that’ – under the pillows, Ari’s Diary – the blue diary. I opened the diary... rough handwriting... few English songs are written, few good quotes, few slang and then that page came... i went on reading...

        ‘Who the F*** should i follow? There’s none, bloody none or nothing i call get any hint of life. Everyone is ugly, everyone is gay! The country runs with pure hogwash. Singers copy, writers mock, players cheat, cops fool, teachers lazy, friends use, academicians trade, corporate make black money and politicians are all gay! Nothing is going anywhere! TV sucks! Papers lobby! Where do i have to outside? Is my house in place? My sister... How old is she? 25? Works in a small PR company and Drives a Santro? Huh! As if i don’t know she has become a professional slut now! My mom? Oh my sweet mom? She sleeps with Bakshi uncle. She thinks i don’t know that? I’ve seen in though my own bloody eyes! And my dear dad? Dad doesn’t even know what’s going behind him, rather he doesn’t want to know! He doesn’t care at all. He’s not talking to mom for last two years! Perhaps he’s also.... whatever! He’s what? A bloody mid-level civil engineer? That too a Govt. job. What can be his salary? 22 thousand at best. But look, he bought two new cars. We’ve moved in to this brand new house, that too in such a posh locality... 3 storied building! That too with a garden at south! He bloody takes bribes! Yet, he used to read Gandhi!? Huh!...........’

I couldn’t read the rest, couldn’t tolerate anymore!

I told myself, ‘My son is growing up!’ No, ‘My son has grown up!’

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She happily comes back, waits for a while and tries his cell. Out of reach! She sends her an sms, ‘Whr r u my hero? Missin u... Love u...’... it shows, UNDELIVERED! ‘Stupid!’ she utters and puts on the TV....

10 KILLED IN BOMB BLAST AT THE HISTORIC MECCA MASJID, HYDERABAD

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

15:10! Nandigram! The psychiatrists and the fellow journalists were interviewing the villagers who lost their family members who fought to protect their lands. The agony was heavy in the air. People were talking – with fire in their words, tears in their eyes and revolution in their hearts. The Rainlover was sitting aloof from the lot. His duty was to read between the lines, so he preferred to be economical with his words.

His eyes fell upon a little girl (9-10yrs) who also was standing away from the group. Her expression was quite strange, ‘numb’ perhaps. She was trying to make a shape by her right leg’s fingers on the mud floor. Head upright, hands on the waist and legs busy in making uncanny shape – Devi Durga came in the Rainlover’s mind. He thought of talking to her.

So he got up and went to her... she was staring at his face, her expression wasn’t ‘numb’ anymore, but it was quite uncanny though! The Rainlover stoop forward, put his palm on her head and asked, ‘What’s your name, Angel?’

She went on staring... the Rainlover found it awkward, but didn’t let that strange feeling to take him over and went on smiling, a gentle one! He repeated the question, she replied this time, ‘Supriya!’

‘Supriya? Wow! That’s a good name.’ the Rainlover smiled.

‘What’s good in that?’ the Rainlover hadn’t expected his straight question, so he simply said, ‘Well, your name means a loving friend, so can we be friends?’ Supriya didn’t change her reaction, simply took her eyes away. So the Rainlover thought of confirming... ‘You don’t want to be my friend?’

‘No’, she replied.

‘Why?’ he asked.

Her lips were dried, she rain her tongue over the lower lips once, breathed heavily, sighed and didn’t turn her face at all... The Rainlover didn’t know what to say next... But the intriguing reaction of the girl disturbed him a lot. So he touched her forehead and asked, ‘Tell me dear, why wont you take me as your friend?’

She threw his hands away and tears burst out through her beautiful little eyes... before the Rainlover could say anything, she fired back, ‘You can’t be my friend, ‘coz I eat up all my friends... My best friend was Deepti... we used to go to the same school, do you know what happened to her?’

‘No?’

‘They raped her.’ She whispered these words... ‘See, I ate away my friend.’ She was looking mysterious, and before the Rainlover could say anything, she started running... She was going away and the Rainlover was looking at her...

The Rainlover was ‘Numb’!

Friends, I’m sorry for being irregular. I believe I shouldn’t write about things in Nandigram. Just one thing I want to say – I feel pathetic when my own countrymen (/women) ask me, ‘Why did you go to Nandigram? Where is that? What’s happening there?’ I don’t know what to answer them, but if the same question is popping up in your mind, all I can say is – ‘IT’S AN ORGANISED BUTCHERY OF HUMANITY.’ God Bless All.