Installed desires - Part 10

शाम की गुनगुनाती सी तन्हाई. और तुम ठीक वैसे ही याद आये जैसे तुम मेरी ज़िन्दगी में आये - अचानक, एकदम से.

रित्विका ने अपने आंसुओं को रोकने की भरसक कोशिश की. उसने सबकी सहमति में खुद की सहमति को आरोपित कर दिया था. धृतिमान को हाँ कह दिया था. किस लिए हाँ कहा था - यह तय कर पाना मुश्किल था. हाँ स्वीकारना भी होता है, समर्पण भी, समझौता भी, सुलह भी, समाधान भी. कई बार मौन विद्रोह भी होता है एक बार बस हाँ कह देना.

धृतिमान ने बड़ा अचकचाया सा प्रश्न पूछा था. "क्या तुम मुझे खुद को सौपने दोगी? मैं तुममें खुद को तलाशना चाहता हूँ. एक तलाश भर की ही चाह है. स्वीकारोगी मेरी तलाश को?"

प्रत्याशित यह था कि वो पूछे, "क्या तुम मुझे अपनाओगी? क्या तुम खुद को सौपोगी? मैं पाना चाहता हूँ तुममें अपने आप को."

तब शायद आसान होता उसके लिए. एक असमंजस सा भाव उमड़ आया था रित्विका के चेहरे पर. सहम सी गई थी वो. पता नहीं क्यों एक ही झटके में सब कुछ टूटता सा, टूट कर बनता सा नज़र आ रहा था उसे. वह निर्णीत नहीं कर पा रही थी खुद को. यहाँ जिम्मेवारी थी. पहली बार प्रेम की स्वतंत्रता को छीनती, प्रेम में बंधने वाली आजादी थी. पता नहीं वो तैयार हो भी पाई थी या नहीं. और इसी ऊहापोह में, शाम की उस पारिवारिक पार्टी के एक ज़हीन से कोने में जब चुपके से धृतिमान ने उसे वाईन थमाते हुए पूछा था, तब स्तब्ध रह गई थी वो.

रित्विका ने गौर से धृतिमान की आँखों में देखा. कोशिश की कि पढ़ पाए कि उन में क्या कुछ समेटा, उनसे क्या कुछ बिखेरा जा रहा रहा है. प्रेम का जो स्वरुप उसने विहंस में, विहंस के लिए देखा था उसमें और इसमें वो उलझ कर रह गई थी. शायद अपनी अपूर्णता को विधिसम्मत करने का जरिया था विहंस के साथ उसका रिश्ता. उसमें अपेक्षा थी, इसलिए आंसू थे, हैं भी. उसमें टूटने की चाह थी. समेटा सब कुछ बिखेरने की तलब की. अपने स्वत्व, अपने अपनत्व, अपने सारांश को एक धुरी पर केन्द्रित करने की चिर संचित अभिलाषा थी. कुल मिला कर एक पारस्परिक अन्योन्यता थी.

इस अंतराल में धृतिमान ने रित्विका को जिस तरह चूमा था, उसमें चाह कम, समर्पण ज्यादा था. उसमें एक निराश सी, मायूस सी आकांक्षा थी कुछ ढूँढने की, कुछ ढूंढती सी. ऐसा लग रहा था मानो सब कुछ भूल कर एक रिश्ता बनाना चाहता था वो. रित्विका के मन में अजीब सी उधेड़बुन थी. एक तरफ उसकी चाहत थी और एक तरफ उसकी चाह. दोनों के परस्पर द्वंद्व से उत्पन्न इस स्तिथि में उसने धृतिमान के आलिंगन में स्वयं को डूबते देखा. पता नहीं वह स्पर्श आश्रय ढूंढ रहा था या तलाश. ठहराव चाहता था या नई खोज. इन प्रश्नों को वक़्त के हवाले करते हुए रित्विका ने धृतिमान का हाथ पकड़ लिया और धृतिमान ने हलके से रित्विका के बालों को सहलाते हुए कहा, "पार्टी ख़त्म होने तक बात आज बात लोगों तक पहुंचानी है."

रित्विका की आखों से आंसू थमने का नाम नहीं ले रहे थे. शायद वाइन का खुमार था, शायद पहली बार किसी की तरफ जिम्मेवारी का एहसास था. शायद पहली बार एक बंधन में स्वतंत्र होने का निवेदन था. शायद एक बार प्यार करने की नहीं बल्कि प्यार पाने में सुख ढूँढने का निर्णय था. शायद एक बार फिर कुछ खोने, कुछ पाने का एहसास था. जो भी था, अभी इस वक़्त धृतिमान के कंधे पे रखा सर, आँखों से बहते आंसू और उन दो आँखों का स्नेहिल, मादक स्पर्श उसे बार बार बिखरने को उकसा रहा था. रित्विका ने कांपती आवाज़ से, हलके से 'हाँ' कहा. और फिर मानो यथार्थ ही बदल गया.

उदास सी खुशबू

एक उदास  सी खुशबू ने आज अनायास  ही झकझोर दिया. आज की बेशर्म सुबह भी कल जैसी ही थी, परसों जैसी ही. कुछ भी तो नया नहीं था. लेकिन उस बासी हो चुकी खुशबू ने पुराने अरमानों में मानो आग लगा दी.

सुबह की ओस अभी गीली ही थी. भीनी भीनी सी धूप हौले हौले - दूब से, पत्तों से - ओस को चाटती पसरती जा रही थी. अपनी ही दुनिया में मस्त मेरी महत्वाकांक्षाएं, मैं खुद, बस खानापूर्ति के लिए नंगे पाँव घास पे टहल रही थी. तभी वह उजास सी खुशबू, कुछ उदास सी खुशबू मुझे हलके से छू गई. मुझे पता चला भी. यही तो दुःख का कारण है. 

वैसी ही खुशबू कल तक अपने गाँव में हुआ करती थी. मिट्टी की, गोबर से लीपे गए आँगन की, गरम चूल्हे पर डाले गए पानी के बूंदों की - ठीक वैसी ही खुशबू. हो सकता है बारिश हुई हो. या हो सकता है बारिश होने वाली हो. कौन जाने कहाँ से प्रेरित होकर आई यह खुशबू.

लेकिन इस पार्क में इतनी सुबह इस खुशबू का औचित्य समझ नहीं आया. डियोद्रेंट की तेज़  महक से, पेट्रोल, डीज़ल  की तीखी गंध से छिपती-छिपती, बचती-बचाती ये खुशबू न जाने कैसे एक बार तैर गई?  या हो सकता है मेरे खोजी दिमाग ने अब अनायास आई चीज़ों को लेना ही बंद कर दिया है. हर वक़्त कारण-परिणाम सम्बन्ध खोज पाने की होड़. पर यह खुशबू थी बड़ी ज़बरदस्त. लेकिन उदास.

छोटी सी थी जब बाबा के कन्धों पर चिपटी, दादी के हाथों से दूध का चम्मच मुंह में उड़ेलती थी. थोड़ी बड़ी हुई तो चूल्हे के पास बैठकर गरम गरम रोटियों पर मक्खन लगा कर मिसरी और बादाम के साथ सुबह का नाश्ता करती थी. थोड़ी और बड़ी हुई तो अलसुबह उठकर उसी चूल्हे पर बाबा के लिए कड़क चाय बनाती थी.

अब सब ख़त्म हो गया है. महानगर के इस कॉन्क्रीट के जंगल में हरी घास बस सुन्दरता का प्रमाणपत्र भर लिए पार्क में फैली होती है. मिट्टी सिर्फ बालकनी के गमलों में एक-आध कैक्टस के पौधों को समेटने में लगी रहती है. मैं भी क्या कम हूँ? पता नहीं क्यों, बिना किसी बात के चूहे की दौड़ में शरीक वो सब भूल कर  न जाने क्या पाने में लगी हूँ?

यह बस कल्पना मात्र है. कहा न कल वाली ही सुबह है. कल वाली ही बात है. दिमागी फितूर है ये सब. जो लौट गया, जो बीत गया, वो आता थोड़े ही न है. यही समझती, खुद को नकारती, मैंने खुशबू को खुद में समेट लिया. ऐसा समेटा की अब बस उसकी उदासी भर ही बच पी है. नेपथ्य में सब ख़त्म हो जायेगा. सब कुछ. न रहूंगी मैं, न खुशबू....रह जाएगी बस एक उदासी...एक रिरियाती सी कामना. 

Installed Desires - Part 9

धौंकनी सी धूप बेतरतीब फ़ैल चुकी थी. छत पर अजीब सी शांति पसरी थी. शायद मिथ्या के जाने के बाद की, अपनी नियति की स्वीकृति जैसी शांति. पिछले सात सालों का बोझ उतर कर नए रूप में हावी हो रहा था. कौशल समझ कर भी मानना नहीं चाह रहा था की मिथ्या जा चुकी है. शायद हमेशा के लिए.

उसने चिट्ठी खोली. उसके सिरहाने रखी थी. मोबाइल के नीचे. इस तरह से की उठते ही उस पर नज़र पड़े. और इस तरह भी की अनजाने में भी नींद के दौरान कहीं कागज मसल न जाये. लापरवाह सावधानी के साथ. वही सपाट से किन्तु रोचक शब्द. लेकिन इस बार उनमें तल्खी थोड़ी अधिक थी. या शायद आज कौशल को ऐसा लगा.

"तुम जरूर ग्यारह बजे के करीब जागोगे. कांता जब घर की सफाई कर ले, उसे पैसे दे देना. मैंने फ्रिज के ऊपर रख दिया है. दूध का पाकेट मंगवा दिया है. इस महीने बिजली का बिल मैंने जमा कर दिया है. केबल वाले को देने के लिए पैसे बचे नहीं थे. उसे दे देना. घर की चाबी भी फ्रिज के ऊपर है. तुम्हारी दवा ख़त्म हो गई थी. मैंने फ्रेश स्टॉक रख दिया है. तुम्हारी टेबल पर है. बिष्ट जी के घर जो शाम की पार्टी है उसके लिए गिफ्ट भी पैक करवा दिए थे. मेरे आलमारी में रखा है. आशा है कि कोई परेशानी छोड़ कर नहीं जा रही. अगर कुछ हो भी, तो संभाल लेना. अपना ख्याल रखना. कोशिश करना सिगरेट थोडा कम पियो. कम्पलीकेशंस बढ़ सकती हैं."

कौशल ने समय देखा ग्यारह बजकर पांच मिनट हो रहे थे. मिथ्या कि फ्लाईट जा चुकी थी. समय सात साल के इतिहास और वर्तमान में फैला गंभीर बैठा था. कौशल ने सिगरेट सुलगाई और छत पर जा बैठा. एक अजीब सी मुस्कराहट तैर रही थी चेहरे पर. वह खुश था या नहीं यह समझ ही नहीं पा रहा था. शायद पिछले कुछ सालों में संवेदना का कोई स्वर उसके अन्दर फूटता ही नहीं था. "बेस्ट बिज़नसमन ऑफ़ द इयर" के ख़िताब को लेने समय जो भावहीनता उसके चेहरे पर थी, वही भावहीनता तब भी थी जब मिथ्या ने वकील से तलाक कि बात की थी. कुल मिला कर कोई भी घटना उसे अब उद्वेलित नहीं करती.

उसने ऑफिस फोन किया. सेक्रेटरी को कह दिया कि घर पर ही फाइल्स भेज दे. खाना आर्डर करवा लिया.

बाथरूम में जाते ही उसने महसूस किया कि जितनी जतन से सफाई कि गई थी कि मिथ्या का एक भी अंश, उसके यहाँ सात साल रहने के प्रमाण लगभग हर कोने से मिट चुके थे. न आईने पर उसकी बिंदी के निशान थे, न उसके साबुन, शेम्पू, परफ्यूम कि कोई भी महक, कोई भी बूँद. एक बार फिर एक हलकी सी मुस्कराहट तैर आई. चेतन मन से की जाने वाले ये तमाम कोशिशें एक बेहद भौंडे रूप से अतीत को परोसती हैं. बहरहाल, स्तिथि यह कि मिथ्या जा चुकी है.

कौशल ने चिट्ठी में लिखी बातों के अनुसार सारे काम किये. दवाइयों को सहेज कर बेड के पास रख लिया. चिट्ठी कूड़े वाले के डब्बे में डाल दी. अपने फोन का सिम बदल लिया. एक बार मन हुआ कि पूछ ले कि वह रित्विका के पास पहुँच गई है या नहीं. पर फिर एक सिगरेट जलाई और छत पर खड़ा हो गया.

सड़कें सुनसान थी. छत पर कपड़ों की तार ढीली होकर लटक रही थी. मन हुआ कि काट फेंके उसे भी. पर फिर....शायद यह एक अंतिम सा प्रमाण है उसके रहने का...फिर वही मुस्कराहट. कौशल सोच रहा था कि मन से कैसे निकाल दूँ ये सात साल? कैसे काट फेंकू वो सब कुछ जो जैसे भी रहे, थे. उनका अस्तित्व भी उतना ही सच है जितना कि यह कि मिथ्या और कौशल एक साथ रह नहीं सकते. और अब एक दूसरे को देखना तक नहीं चाहते. एक शादी जो वक़्त के थपेड़ो के साथ सिर्फ एक साझापत्र मात्र बन कर रह गई थी. एक रिश्ता जो होकर भी नहीं था. कौशल ने आज की पांचवी सिगरेट सुलगाई.

उधर मिथ्या ने एअरपोर्ट पर उतरते ही कौशल के ऐशट्रे को कूड़ेदान में डाला. और आँखों में थिरक आये आंसुओं को झटकते हुए काले चश्मे को पहन लिया. आज से वो एक नयी शुरुआत करेगी. वैसे ही जैसे उसने एक बार कॉलेज के दिनों में अनुवंश के साथ सोचा था. आज वह आजाद थी. न कोई अनुवंश था, न कोई कौशल. न वाधवा खानदान कि बहू और न ही आहूजा खानदान की बेटी. वह मिथ्या थी. एक झूठा सा दिखता सच. एक सच सा दिखता झूठ.

Installed desires...continued 8

Dhritiman and Ritwika were meeting frequently by the time Mithya landed in Delhi. Dhritiman generally used to catch up with her over lunch and they ended up discussing lot of random nonsense on life and things mundane and dull, otherwise. The possibility of anything further than talk was perhaps sabotaged by the fact that they met only and briefly over short durations unless Dhritiman asked her out to check out his business venture at Noida. Once while he was passionately discussing the possibilities of private entrepreneurship and government coming up together to build up a model plan on augmenting the economy to better heights, Ritwika had shown her interest at that time and for the first time in how Dhritiman wished to work on the same. And today he had asked her to accompany him. Which meant around four to five years of being together on an otherwise free Friday for Ritwika.

She liked he guy. He was sensible, mature, a visionary and above all an honest soul. But she kept thinking if she really deserved a man like him. Ritwika was a very contented soul. She did not seek many ambitious plans and successes from life. She desired a happy, small, calm home for herself. She did picture a man in her life. She did see the possibility of a caring and loving home maker in her but she could never really relate to this 'i-will-present-a-great-model-to-the world' game in life. For her simple things in life mattered more. Like eating at least one meal with the family together. Having a cosy, warm bed to come back to after each day's work. She did not dream of ten plots around India and one in Bali. She was more of a girl still stuck in the great tradition of the great Indian middle class dreams. When she heard Dhritiman talk feverishly about investment ventures and vulgarly associate the whole to the circular flow of money in an economy, and therefore augment the entire rung of the socio-economic classes towards greater mobility and development, she felt sick and tired and drained. Not that she did not like the drive in him, she was merely preplexed at how people could actually live and believe in a world so naive that they build for themselves? About how people actually saw life as this balanced chemical equation measured and quantified in proportions as precise as these? About precisely how they could manage to be so immaculately innocent in their hypocritical optimism?

"Hey, is everything ok?"

Dhritiman asked Ritwika after ten minutes of this silent drive.

"Yeah..yeah i am. Just that...mmmmm...leave it."

"Tell me Rit..can i call you Ritz?"

"Yeah. All my friends call me the same."

She smiled.

"Ritwika, all i wanted was some hours with you. I want to know more about you. I want you to know more about me."

"Dhritiman, have you already begun to love me?"

At this he could merely look at her for a few seconds without saying much. The next thing Ritwika realised was Dhritiman leaning over to caress her hair spread over her eyes and say, "If you think, i shall kiss you over, i would not, despite the fact that i am tempted to. Does it answer your question, lady?"

Ritwika could merely smile at this. They drove to the plush design of a corporate office half-made.

"We got this land long time back. Maa and Paa got it only to invest in some cash. But when i got in here, i realised that this can be put to use in a lucrative business idea. I don't know why the fuck did i care to sit for civil services?"

"Because you wanted to have the ease and comforts of luxury with power is what you told me. Is there more to it?"

He laughed at this and added, "It was also ego. And lot of it. The Bihari in me did want all of that but that was not enough. It was more of this sense to prove that i am still one among the leads which kept me going. I was pretty young and flushed with energy then. Trust me, had they posted me somewhere in a remote corner in Andhra, i would not have joined. But as luck goes, i am here to stay."

Ritwika abstained from saying, "This is what i like about you. Your honesty." But she did not.

"May i ask you a question, Ritz?"

"Yeah sure."

"Do you like me? I mean i get this feeling that you do. But then you never seem to not like anyone. You seem so stoic and calm that it is difficult to discern why you actually turn up for these hang outs. I mean, i ask you, you never refuse. You never deny me any will. But you never ever want to take call, even once. Not that you are you are rude ever. But you are not here despite being here. You are as sweet as you were the last time i met you. So how then do i know?"

"Dhritiman, what do you wish to listen?"

"Whatever you wish to say."

"You just said that i do not have anything to say to you or anyone."

"Do you know that you are irresistible? But then at the same time, you offer no resistance to anyone who wishes to succumb to you. Sometimes i wonder if you can be owned by anyone ever? And i wonder if i should every try doing that to you."

Ritwika laughed.

"Dhritiman, what are you talking? How did this business guy suddenly turn philosophical? I don't know what you mean, but i guess we should have something to eat. I am starving."

He joined her in her laughter and then the rest of the day went - he explained the designs and plans of the venture and Ritwika managed to add a couple of intelligent questions here and there.

On their way of return to the city, Dhritiman asked her, "What if i proposed to you tonight, Ritz? You look lovely right now."

He inched closer to her and smelt her hair. She let his fingers touch the contours of her neck. He kissed her on her lips. She did not move even an inch. It seemed as if he could do anything he wanted with that beautiful body and leave without regret.

"Damn you, Ritz! If you love someone else, i deserve the right to know at least."

To be continued....

Installed desires...continued 7

"Hello Aunty! How are you?"

It was Mithya's call from the US. Ritwika's mom had picked up the phone.

"Arey Mithya Beta, such a pleasant surprise! We are good. How are you doing?"

"We are very good Aunty. Wanted to talk to Ritwika. Is she around? Her phone is unreachable."

"Oh! Right now she isn't. But i shall i ask her to get back to you when she returns."

"Thank you, Aunty. And take good care of yourself. I am coming to India on the 22nd next month. See you around then."

"Alright beta. Will cook your favourite Malpua then."

Mithya could chirpily add a "Love you Aunty" before she hung up.

Mithya and Ritwika were the closest buddies in college. They shared this beautiful chemistry of understanding each other's state of mind by just hearing each other's voices on phone. They were the most daring among the gang when it came to taking up challenges on 'Truth and Dare' and the most out-spoken of the lot when it came to abusing those Romeos on road who tried to act too fresh for their age. However, this 'we-are-so-outspoken-unless-we-are-home' image that they boasted off with elan was a shared fakeness they had inherited in their individual lives. Harshika, on the other hand, was this dreamy, introspective girl with ideas to see herself change the orders around her, move out of the luxurious comforts of her inherited South Delhi life and do something 'meaningful' with her life. Each one among them was learning to search and hunt for 'their' meanings, their definitions, their adjustments before time parted them yesterday.

Mithya could not fight it out enough. She agreed to marry the NRI in US after she broke off with her guy. It seemed like Anuvansh and Mithya loved each other a lot. But as the romance post-college life dies at the first whiff of reality, so did the chemistry between them. Further, the strict decorum of the Ahujas who sold their souls in promises and alliances made were too strong for Mithya to break.

And anyway, love is all about a safety nest, all about a comparative degree of mental, psychological, emotional compatibility of an individual with the other. Things like romance, depth of feelings etc etc follow once the guy in question is rich and mature and the girl sensible and sexy at the same time. This manufactured romantic love is more often than not a fidel slut who tries to be virginal each time a new, true affair falls in place unless the tiredness of the same old things repeated all over again makes love a boring exercise to be fulfilled. If at all there is an emotion it is respect, and nothing fancy and dreamy beyond that. Anuvansh taught Mithya to love but the subject of her love for the rest of her life socially and culturally was to be Mr. Kaushal Wadhwa, a leading entrepreneur in the NRI community settled in the US.

Harshika finally broke off from her comfort zone. She moved out of Delhi, lived a few months in Chhattisgarh and saw lives at the Salwa Judum infested areas, a few days in the Kashmir valley, wounded and festered with the hoarse cries of 'hum kya chahte, azadi' and a few more in Manipur, waking up each night with the shrill cries of the bullets and women. It was then that she decided she would work in the education sector. She joined an NGO and had been working as a sahayika in various part of the country ever since.


Ritwika settled for the first central government job she got in the education sector. She desperately needed to settle with a career to shut up voices pitching out from all fronts criticising her family's moves to allow a girl to study so much. She had seen her parents being so passionate about her studies that they left their society, relatives - almost everybody they called their own, at the cost of even snapping up familial links with some to stand firm on their passion and resolve. Ritwika owed a job to them to help them answer some of their well wishers.

Vihangam could not fulfill his dreams of getting into lecturership because at the time of his PhD degree he was hinted to grease the palms of the HoD to assure a seat in college. He was this principled man who believed in merit and did not compromise on renting it out on lease. In front of his own eyes he saw his brother-in-law, Neena's brother, Chkradhar Pandey rising up the educational business ladder by shelling out a couple of rupees to get into lecturership and later grab the position of the HoD. He even married the daughter of his guide in lieu of the strong favour the latter did in setting up favourable contacts for Chkradhar in the department of sociology.

As it turned out, his guide was of the same 'illustrious' brahmin caste who was pretty jihadist when it came to settling twin scores - one with his romance-stung daughter and the other with a bloody bhumihar who could dare date a brahmin girl. Apparently she had run away with a Bhumihar guy and married him. How could his daughter decide for herself who she wants to marry? He had already maimed one of them when she got pregnant with one of his students,a brahmin guy again.

But the very fact that a girl could decide for her own self was too much for his male ego to take. The prof along with this favourite(brahmin) student of his searched and hunted the couple and asked the student almost at gun point to marry her. In turn, he assured him his job and thesis as done things with lots of dowry and property around the fast developing areas around the university. Chkradhar Pandey, the brother-in-law, could ask for nothing better in life.


So when Ritwika gained a position in DU as a lecturer, it was like Neena's answer and a tight slap to her natal family who had for long jibbed at her and her status as the wife of an unemployed researcher, merely a school teacher. In that part of Bihar, a person who isn't in government service is unemployed and socially poor, however accomplished he might be in terms of his intellectual capital stock or however sound he or she might be in their entrepreneurial ventures. Nothing except a 'lal batti wali gadi' is the best for them. Ritwika's parents too suffered from vestiges of this colonial and feudal hangover but thankfully, to her relief, were not as drunk as his other relatives were.

After college, life took complete U-turns for all the three girls. Between years in experiments and observations and inferences they could merely figure out one thing. Life was too short for any stable relationship. There was always a time to move on and out with bondings and emotions. And so did they in their own individual ways. On her bachelorette, Mithya spoke all she had festered inside her for so long. The gin and vodka had taken out the honour about the Ahujas. Harshika had talked teary eyed about her own harassment by her own brother at her household. Ritwika had broken down at her own accord realising how lucky she had been being the only child and having had the luxury of a small and modest building that she could proudly and safely call a home.

Life moved on and so did theirs. All that was left for them were aromatic whispers of these memories they shared inside. Ritwika was returning to India after seven years in the US.

"Hey Mitthu! Waasup ya? Maa said you called. How are you? When are you coming? I need to talk Mitthu. I will go mad with the vortex around me."

"Hey hey hey! What happened, Ritz? You are so not ok. Are you alright?"

"Mmmmmm...ahaan! Yeah i am. Just that was too happy to hear you would be back. Could not control myself."

"I might shift base to India."

"What? As in? Oh my Gosh! You guys are coming back Mithya? To settle here."

"Well, i am."

"What do you mean?"

"Ritz. I need to talk. This is just not working out. I tried for so long. But as it goes, i failed."

"Oh honey! You sound so miserable. Of course things are not ok. But what is it?"

"Ritz, i am coming back on the 22nd. Meanwhile, can you arrange for a job for me? I don't want to stay with my family. I do not even want to see them."

"Mitthu you come first. Job and such like are secondary issues. Looks like we really need to catch up."

"Take care, Ritz. And just hold on till i am there."

"Yeah. I will have to. I am so so lonely Mithya. There is none i can talk to and share all of this. You too take care."

They hung up. While Ritwika wondered if Dhritiman was as good as he appeared and if she deserved someone as good as him, Mithya wondered if it was wrong for a woman into seven years of an abusive marriage to call it a day? What was to happen to the commitments she had made for her own self regarding monogamy if Mithya walked out now? Divorce and a society to answer to? How will they take it? How will Mithya justify this to her past now? Is there a language the world could create about explaining things like these to a soul already wrenched apart to different calls of value systems? Is there no balance at all?


To be continued....

Installed desires...continued 6

It was a warm Wednesday. After a two hours long lecture on her favourite poet, Keats, Ritwika was unwinding with her coffee on the parapet. Vihans walked upto her and asked her if she had anymore classes for the day. Ritwika could merely mumble a no. He asked her if she wanted to accompany him to Humayun's tomb. She looked at him with a questioning air. He merely gazed at her for an answer. In a helpless yet careful response she said she had to meet Dhritiman, her new suitor. Vihans nodded and gave her a squeeze on her shoulder.

They sat there sitting for hours on a stretch. The sun had cast a soporific opiate on the senses by now. In the yellow, red, orangish, brick vision of the grass from the parapet one could see the February sun melt and mould the morning mist on the blades of the grass into a moistened expanse. The college was busy with the annual fest. The parapets were abandoned in want of serious mugging up sessions during exams. Vihans sat with Kafka on his lap while Ritwika drank the dewy wine of the nightingale's voice in the Keatsian ode. She looked up to find Vihans immersed in his world. May be he was looking for K or searching for a meaning in the Kafkaesque prelude of the funnily ordered universe. May be he had already mounted on his existential sojourn into the hundred years of damned love/lust/affection/romance. The stubble on his gaunted cheeks looked green and inviting.

Ritwika leaned in and said. We can go for a short drive around the city before i meet Dhritiman. Vihans nodded and they moved out of college. In the car neither of them spoke. The song 'Bawra mann' floated around this strange yet familiar air between the lovers(once?). Each word in the song seemed to mock and tease and tempt and cajole the girl sitting near the window. Her kohl had spread around her almond eyes. Ritwika could only feel her incessant tears wet her face. She did not know for how long she had been crying. All Vihans could say was a sorry. On descending down the roads on the outskirts of the city, Ritwika gently pulled him towards herself and kissed him on his lips. With each delicious touch of her tongue on his skin, he could almost feel her detach herself in these intense and passionate gestures. Each nibble on his chin and each caress on his bare hands and shoulders make him almost frightened by her insanely cold conclusiveness. It seemed as if in each of these deliberately calculated moves she was articulating a finality, signing a good bye note.

This woman at once seemed too unfamiliar to him. Vihans had once told her that each word she breathed became a delicious feast in her mouth. He said her voice had that velvet, silken quality that lisped and relished each word to articulate all she wanted to convey in her deftly controlled intonation. At the moment, in the here and the now, he could almost see that savoury language unravel itself to him. But when have words been fidel to what they ever wished to convey? Ritwika spoke and unspoke at the same time. The hot flush of blood on her cheeks, the thin, almost translucent veins on her wrists, the crevices on her neck and shoulder blades drew Vihans in and by the end of their passionate love today, he was convinced that Ritwika had made up her mind in this act of her allownace. He was convinced that he had lost her in the very act of possessing her like this.

He kissed her and asked her to take care of herself. He said he would wait for her as always, and that he was always there for her, mumbling a sorry yet again in a choked, apologetic voice. Ritwika could merely give a mirthful, full throated laugh.

She said, 'Vihans, you were an awesome lover until today.'


It was already past two when Dhritiman and Ritwika met at the UCH in Connaught Place.

To be continued...

Installed desires...continued 5

The long drawn college holidays seemed to jolt Ritwika out of her complacence. Yes, she was professionally settled. But could she actually rest in peace? I mean, yes, she taught batches after batches, year after year(if she would continue to) of the elite families of Delhi, by and large, how patriarchy has been to women what economy and state have been to the proletariats and some such surface analogies but is this what she had set out to do? Did she have even the requisite drive in her to leave this comfort zone here and set out to discuss the same theories, say in the very same land of Vidyapati whose enormous oeuvre she had proposed to explore for her research? Could she take that risk? Would she do that? Isn't she not an elite by the very fact that she has two decent meals on her platter everyday? Who is a feminist? She who is succumbing to the pressures of her family to marry a guy of her parents', and by extension society's choice, or her maid who ran away with her boyfriend to conclude her romance very amicably in a musty, dusty government's office?

While these questions continued to haunt her, the very same questions made her resolve to search and add meanings and layers to the lives she had cursed herself to embrace. This was the day when Dhritiman and his family were expected. The D-day when she will have to become an object of scrutiny for the guy's parents and the guy for her parents. How she had hated this entire business! But it was really sensible on the part of her parents to not involve any of his masis and buas and what not to come over and be a voyeur to this quasi-drama.

She was still sunk deeper in reading the poems of Mithilanchal when her mother announced her usual panic stricken mode.

"Ritwika, why can't you just dress up in something presentable enough for the family to come? I mean you do know, don't you, that they are expected at lunch? It is already past twelve thirty. They can be here at any moment now."

Ritwika moved out of her slumber, nodded a yes and promised to join Neena in another ten minutes.

"And what are you wearing?"

"Maa, stop fussing. I shall not be downstairs in a pair of shorts and spaghetti. Better still, you choose which kurta i should wear."

"No Beta. Wear a saree. How pretty and elegant you look in them."

"Maa, that is your problem! You always tend to get overboard. I shall come over in a churidaar and kurta. That's it. No saree and all. And please, go now."

Neena could just smile at her half-triumph at looking at Ritwika's not so vehement a denial with the dress up thing.

"What! Now why are you smiling? Look, don't goad me into taking a drastic step downstairs. Now go!"

Neena aksed her to hurry up and shut the door behind her, almost laughing by now.

Ritwika and her gang were the most careless one's in college when it came to dressing up and acting pretty. No, they were not tomboyish and did not try their hands faking up an ultra cool image of being like 'one of the bindaas guys'. They were sensible dressers and one of those who made liberal fun of faked up, made up girls and dandyish guys in campus. The branded chiknas who made a conscious flaunt of casual wear by allowing their Puma butt to struggle to peep through their Adidas jeans, the ultra sexy sirens who were carefully careless to allow their bra straps to sneak out of their slinky Madame top were their constant source of bulk entertainment when they moved out to have some fun at Chatel Pest and Akmal Nagar, the students' favourite and nearest hangout zone. How much fun did they manage to have at the crowd's expense was beyond any recollection now! Half of the time they were together, this is what they did. Experiment, observe and infer - the three cardinal rules they were taught in school science laboratories. Experimented at talking out to random strangers regarding random things, observing a mix of emotions on the random faces and inferring that everyone including them were a crazy bunch of lunatics in their own special ways.

Ritwika could not suppress a smile while she recalled that iconic episode where she was asked to do the 'dare' of walking upto the guy who had a crush on her for some time and asking him to kiss her. And all this was to be spoken in hindi. She denied first, hurling the best of abuses on her gang but later finished it off with elan. She walked upto the guy sitting with some weird friends of his(please remember the 'breed' that kept falling for Ritika!)and cornered him. She asked in chaste hindi to give her a 'chumma' with a very straight face and a very very strict expression. The guy was shocked. He could merely mumble, "Kya hua?" when she raised her voice a little further looking straight at him with blood curdling looks. The guy apologised for his 'emotions', confessed to having stalked her with unknown numbers and promised her that he would not repeat the same. Ritwika walked back, somehow controlling her laughter and the gang burst out in explosions hearing the dramatised version of the same.

Ritwika picked up a maroon kurta and a black churidaar, fixed up her hair in a loose bun, and moved down.

"No jwellery? No make up? And look how carelessly have you done your hair! Beta..."

Neena was about to explode into her 'you-don't-have-to-embarrass-us-like-this" mode when Vihangam pitched in.

"It is okay, Neena. Our daughter looks lovely the way she is. We don't have to show off anyway."

He looked at Ritwika with a knowing smile, immediately extolling himself as a saviour for the appreciation starved Ritz at the moment. Ritwika flashed her teeth in a deliberate grin and hugged her dad.

Dhritiman looked like a miniature business tycoon with his his spectacled looks in a suited affair. He resembled less of a bureaucrat than an entrepreneur from a corporate world. She was to learn later that the guy was a pass out from IIM after his engineering from the prestigious IIT (yes again!) who wished to contribute towards policy making in the government and do some good for his beloved country at large. Till date, Ritwika could never understand why did engineers realise it so late in their lives, after almost 25 springs of their lives, that they wanted to serve their motherland via the corridors of power which anyway made them more powerless than the opposite. To leave the potential of moneyed entrepreneurship to optimistically hope for a personalised revolution - funded, guided and 'practically' almost forced policy implementation and execution seemed more of an optimistic hypocrisy for her. And in this case, that Dhritiman's parents were already high up in the bureaucratic ladder and that he had already planned to set up a fashion store in Noida, made things almost clear to her. However, she still gave the guy a chance.

Ritwika had so much tried to avoid this Bollywood drama when the guy's mother chimed in. We saw a beautiful painting hung on the front wall of the entrance. Dhritiman is very much interested in art. Where did you get it from? Mrs. Trivedi neither missed the clue to ask Ritwika to make him look at her collections nor the opportunity to brag about her daughter's very refined, very sophisticated tastes in music, sculptor, paintings...almost anything which makes a lady more feminine and softer with her creative skills.

Ritwika led Dhritiman to her room. Before she could utter anything, Dhritiman said, "Ritwika, look, i like you. But this life being discussed is ours and not just mine or yours individually. Please feel free to ask or discuss anything. There is no need to being formal."

Sensibility Quotient: Plus One

Ritwika said to herself.

"Mmmmm...and what makes you think i shall be formal? It is you anyway, who has dressed up as an upcoming tycoon?"

Dhritiman flashed his comeliest of smiles, poised and controlled.

"You know how family matters are! But you look casual and fresh. I so envy your comfort at the moment." He said.

"Oh please! Feel at home. You can remove your coat if you wish to." She offered.

"Well, i don't wish to be spotted as undressing on the very first occasion of meeting with a prospective."

It was time for Ritwika to smile. At some other occasion, with some other company, she could have hit on the statement with her wit and panache, but all she could feel was a warm blush descend on her already flushed cheeks by now. She asked if he was happy in the government.

"When money speaks with power, there are few who would resist its potential. Ritwika, i am not a greedy guy. But i like luxury. I am being honest about it. You may ask me why not stick with the high package elsewhere. The obvious reason in my case being ease. My dad's there. My mom's there. I have connections. I will rise up soon. And if my fashion store works out well enough, it shall benefit the masses in the long run too. There is enough room in entrepreneurship to augment economic benefits to the lower rungs by the trickle down effect. So, you see, it is part comfort, part money, part satisfaction, part social responsibility."

Ritwika had major issues at what was just said. Still...

Honesty and clarity : Plus three

"Hmmmm...i see the critic in me trying to deconstruct the theory. But i can't deny there is a strong argument in what you said. Though must say, i liked the honesty there."

She smiled her genuine smile for the first time.

"Thanks lady! May i take the opportunity to fix up a coffee for our discussion later sometime?"

He grabbed the chance like a pro.

Ritwika could not but laugh at this and breathed, "Good going Dhritiman! Damn! You are a smart chap! Yeah sure! Without making intiatives harder and opportunity-based for you, here is my email id and my contact number.

They both got down to join the families and later followed a typical departure session of the guy's family, fresh out of some blingy episode from a daily family soap.