G to the C

Just sitting here on a lazy afternoon… doing what I do best, watching a movie on the telly, ‘The Producers’, all about producing a broadway play!

I remembered the time when I acted on a stage in a play.  The venue was my school, class XI and the occasion was a farewell party to the final year students.

The entertainment program was completely organized by Class XI students… which would be us. So, a great idea was to put up a stage show, a bollywood style play with a dashing story line of romance, action, drama .. emotions.. you name it, we had it… even had a song with hero-heroine dancing around a fake paper tree ..

The story was simple, girl meets boy, both like each other, villain likes girl and takes her away, boy fights and they live happily ever after.

The story even had a Muneem ji… if you ask me, who would that be, I highly recommend watching a Hindi movie from 70s and 80s era, pick any movie with your eyes closed and look for a character with bent back, a black/white Gandhi cap, a pair of glasses barely sitting on the nose and tied to a string going around his neck, a black vest with white dhoti and an umbrella in his hand… just in case if it is too hot or rainy.. and we had just the right person to do it.. Ashish!

Asif, a buddy of mine wrote the script and I got a role of the hero… yup, I always knew I had it in me…, found a villain in Faisal, another buddy of mine… and the talent hunt started for the heroine…. After all, I needed someone who would be as dashing as I was to act with me (Ahem!)… so we couldn’t find anyone… Finally, we got a girl to agree to act after lot of convincing (read begging), now forgetting her name very conveniently…. And the practice began…we practiced for 15 days every day.

Now acting and dancing was one thing, singing…. while acting and dancing was another. Especially in the age when a boy’s voice box is trying to decide if it wants to be a heavy-voice voice-box or if it wants to sound like a girl.. so every now and then there were these sudden slip of the pitch from Flat G to the E… in other words, like someone just hit a donkey and it shrieked… so we decided to use the ‘tape recorded’ song from the movie and not actually sing it live …. Good move!

After 15 days of practicing, we felt pretty comfortable with the dialogs, the action scenes and the dancing… two days left from the D day and we started working on the props…. I still remember the moment when this happened. We were in a class room with all the chairs pushed aside and trying to figure out how to keep that fake tree precariously balanced on a small wooden chair… quite a task in itself, if you ask me…. Walks in the girl, the heroine, and says, “I can’t do it!”. It suddenly felt like that earth stopped revolving and there was no air in the room (later we realized the fan was off!) and the sweat came rolling down right by the ear… Asif, started getting angry and but was kept under control by brute force by the rest…. The tension in the room was such that if it was loaded on a spring and shot up, we might as well have landed on Moon.

I don’t remember exactly what happened for next 30 – 45 minutes, but when we walked out of that class room, there were few changes in the casting…. For some reason, when we walked out of room, Asif was playing the hero and I ………… ended up being the heroine! I still don’t know how it happened… (Was it my shrieking voice during singing? Or was it Asif’s heavier moustache than mine?) Nevertheless, it happened!

Now, the script was not a problem, Asif was the director, so remembered all the dialog, and so did I as I made everyone to learn their parts and memorized everything myself too.

Then came a question about costume… I was scrounging for a girl costume to my sisters, and when she didn’t agree, ‘borrowed’ a skirt and a top from her closet (It’s still borrowing if you return it back). I dressed up as a girl, vehemently denied to shave my legs and my freshly seeing its first-few-days-of-life moustache (A Rajput’s moustache is his Respect; well it was that until I went to college and shaved them off), even when my friends begged me to do it.

Finally, the D day arrived…. Faisal brought me a hat from somewhere and asked me to hide my face as much as possible behind it on the stage…. I really didn’t see the point how that’s going to help in people not noticing that the heroine is actually a guy… if not my moustache, then my hairy legs would have given it away… the skirt only came down to the mid-calves, didn’t have any stockings (didn’t think about that until the last moment) and socks didn’t really do the job to cover those babies on which I proudly stand. And even if that went unnoticed, for few could have confused me still with the non-male species of this planet (I humbly apologize for mentioning this, but in my college years we believed that if the girls (non-males) in our college were sent off from planet earth, the average beauty of earth would increase exponentially)… as soon as I’d have opened my mouth, it was all over.. I mean… one would have to be blind and deaf to not know that I was a guy wearing girl’s costume… and I was really hoping that at least one person in the audience would be just that!

The play began, and we already knew the result… the audience looked like just want to see when we ran leaving the stage so they can laugh on us… but we waited them out, once we started, we didn’t stop… and the time came when the heroine (I) entered the stage. I still remembered that moment, I stepped up on the stage from one end and I was supposed to walk to the other end and say ‘Pitaji main college ja rahi hoon’ to my play-dad. I wore the hat at an agle so that my face was hidden and walked across looking away from the audience into the back wall. I looked like a Victorian woman with the big summer hat, top and this long skirt (with my shoes.. couldn’t get my wide feet in anything else), and I am sure eurpoean as well (thanks to my hairy legs). My heart was beating at a pace that even Stuart Little would say, eh! Take it easy…. woman!’. While walking across the stage, I heard a whistle from somewhere in the back of the audience.. poor guy didn’t know what was going on.. or may be I found the blind guy I was looking for… but Alas! the silence prevailed as soon as I spoke…. One can’t get everything in life I guess, I was really hoping him to turn out deaf.

Rest of the play I don’t remember, but when the ordeal was over and the audience completely forgot about the play when they saw the dance program that followed.. we were sitting backstage contemplating what just happened.. No one ever talked about the play again who took part in it, but some of our ‘good’ friends never let us forget it too!

After all these years, when I really thought about it.. I think it was Asif who planned all this… he could have just asked me … I would’ve gladly given the role to him. And now that I think about it… the whole play!!!

Nonetheless, that was the end of my acting career and I moved on to bigger better things in life… playing harmonium and singing qawwali on stage.. which lasted …. Once!

Its summer again! Not officially, but definitely feels like it. I am wearing my half sleeve shirts and finally washed my car myself yesterday evening, which suddenly became a suitable spot for a bird flying over it to go through its daily morning rituals. I just wish the birds knew the concept of diapers like that astronaut did. Oh well….

People are out-n-about doing things that we all should do. While Coming back home, I saw kids riding their bikes, and the young ones trying to learn how to ride one. A pretty site, I must say, nonetheless, bringing out the fear of any car driver. No matter where you park the car, those little angels (yea…right!) covered to the teeth with their armor and their weapons – the bikes, skate boards and inline skates, are determined to make your heart skip few beats every now and then by coming so close to the car I wish my imaginary girl friend would be to me.

However, I am not going to write about my car, the birds, the kids or even my imaginary girlfriend. Looking at those kids riding on their highly suped-up bikes reminded me of the time when I first started learning to ride one myself.

In 4^th grade, when I was about 1 size shorter than a 4^th grader, and my big brother was in 9^th grade, I was finally going to get my hands on a bicycle. I dashed out so fast to the Chawla uncle’s shop, a bicycle fix and rental place, that even Ben Johnson couldn’t have caught up with me. Once there, I waited and waited and waited some more for my brother leisurely walking down the road gazing at the girls waiting in line for their turn to speak on the phone at one of the newly redesigned P.C.O. booth, which now had tinted see-through glass on 3 sides, giving you the illusion that no one could hear you. Half and hour later, everyone knew about Radha aunty’s daughter Charu will be meeting Haidar Ali’s son, Nadir, day after tomorrow.

Finally, when my brother reached Chawla uncle’s shop and got a bike for the whole 2 hours at 2 rupees an hour rate, I was on the top of the world. Since, Chawla uncle knew my dad; we didn’t even have to pay the security deposit. This red colored bike was the best thing I ever laid my eyes on. It was not more then 2 and half feet tall, with no training wheels, one pedal broken, rusted chain, no stand and no mud guard. The red color was fading so passionately from front to back, it looked as if the color couldn’t keep up with the speed of this two-wheeled rear wheel drive mechanical beast. The balancing act of the seat on the top of the frame would have even left my gym teacher in dusts. It was beautiful!!!!!!

Now, all I could think about was when do I get on top and live the life in fast lane. But my brother wouldn’t me. He stopped me and said, “Let’s get to Tilak Park first!”. Tilak Park, essentially a rectangular field boxed by walls all round, not bigger than a swimming pool. With two strong gates on each side to stop anyone crossing it without permission, which would have worked great if the holes in the boundary walls were patched. There was everything in this park, including a “Peepal” tree on one corner, which stopped all the kids in the neighborhood to go in the park after dark. According to, I don’t really know who actually, its widely known that peepal tree hosts several ghosts and they wake up as soon as it gets dark. There was hardly any grass left on the ground as all day kids would play anything from cricket to “gulli-danda”. An unfinished well from the last elections was also there in one corner. The candidate promised to refinish the park and make it as beautiful as it looked on government papers. He won the elections and 1 week later work on building a well was started, and another week later, stopped. Since then, the loose soil had become the burial chambers for anything that was smaller than dogs. I myself, had buried a sparrow there once, which I think deserves its own post.

So finally, I get to the park, with my rental bike, and my brother, and with his help, started riding it. After about 30 minutes in riding, my brother let go the bike first time, and I was free!!!! Driving by myself was the best thing in my life! and then it happened!

…..I didn’t know that I was keenly observed by a young, in human life one would say a teenager cow. She was sitting right next to the burial ground and was enjoying the loose soil, soaked by water coming from a hand pump nearby. After looking at me and my brother and my fierce red beast for that long, she decided to scrutinize the matter further by looking closely. Renouncing the cool ground at the same moment my brother let go of the bike with me on the top of it, she charged towards me. I had no idea as I was going in the other direction, but my brother saw the whole thing. He ran towards me too….

….So there I was, first time in my life riding a bike all by myself, feeling so proud with the biggest achievement that I felt like I was flying in the air… and I looked down I really was flying in the air, but my bike was not, so I tried to grab the handle bars even tighter refusing to fly away without my bike. At that moment I felt something else other then the familiar feeling of bike seat on my behind. It was my brother’s hand picking me up from the bike while running at the same, seeing me grabbing the handle bar even tighter, he told me to “let go and RUN!!”. I didnt know what was going on, but knowing my brother, I obediently did what he told me to do. I ran…
We didn’t stop until we were out of the gate and on the top of a ledge in front on “Dr. Saxena’s” Clinic. From this raised platform, I could see the whole park and the fallen Red Beast, merely by a teenager cow. It looked more like a piece of rusted metal with spokes, covered in dust. The victorious cow, not satisfied with complete demolition, went back to its old spot and sat patiently, probably waiting for another victim. I was devastated and so was my brother, he felt so moved by the whole event that he did not let me touch another one for a whole year, and then let touch Luna Super (number plate UVM422) for another 3 years and Bajaj Chetak scooter (UP15 C-4173) for 4.

Remember the first time when Nintendo and Atari hit the Indian cities?

Big arcades always had these machines, rows and rows of them, with the fabulous looking smooth shining consoles and shimmering lights everywhere. I always felt like I entered into a spaceship from one of those 60s movies, whenever I went in one of those arcades

But the revolution came with the small Nintendo and Atari units, and with that came the surge of corner-shops loaded with 2 -3, and sometimes 10 TV screens screwed inside the wooden box frames, with two buttons, red and blue, and one yellow shift knob. Sometimes they would come with a pair of knobs and buttons… double the fun.

After reading “Nagaraja – the snake shooting super hero”, “Doga – the dog faced batman style hero”, “ TMNTs – translated in hindi”, and many many other comics, what else a kid in 6^th grade could ask for? Those mini paradises were like oasis in a desert, all prayers answered in the form of wooden boxes for someone like me.

Contra 1 thru 4, Mario 1 thru 3, jungle, circus, Ultimate fighters, a knock-off of mortal combat and hundreds of other games. Laser beams, machine guns, laser rings, super fire, split fire, rolling gliders.. high jumps, spring jumps.. Frankly the things I learned in those 5 minutes (read 2 hrs according to the clock in my house, which never could see me having fun and ran faster) visit to Suresh’s shop taught me more than I learned in a whole day at school. I knew the right combinations and sequences to trick universal soldier to jump, shoot and land on a moving truck.. and thousands of other things..

My brother, on the other hand, was far away from video games. He never could understand the pride and glorious feeling when a 10 year old, in shorts and a sleeveless vest or wearing a shirt with flowers print on it, probably made by Haidar Ali, the tailor and owner of “Good Luck Tailors” in the neighborhood, or “Eagle Tailors”, his competitor, holding an overly colored melting orange ice-cream in one hand bought while coming to the shop just outside the door for 25 paisa from a stall, and a 50 paisa coin in the other hand, looks at you with awe and deference that can only be felt and compared to the moment when you either witness a miracle or see the video game console first time in your life. In that little sweaty room with one window and no fans, I was the idol for that 10 year old kid, I was the envy of my age 12 year old kids and I was the shame in their faces for older kids. I was the winner…  I was invincible!

My brother, on the other hand, didn’t care for video-games; he would waste his time playing cricket with his friends, going to movies, preparing for the medical entrance exam and trying to get his life together….what a waste!!

If I didn’t play video game any day, I felt like I wasted the precious time that has been given to me on this earth. Any chance I got to get out of the house, first thing would be to play a game at Suresh’s and then get the task done. Now it was ok in the beginning, when I was not good at it and Suresh was also happy about me spending so much money, however, after-a-while I became what Suresh use to call the best players, “The Terminator”, who are killing his business by playing for so long with one coin. So one day, Papaji sent me to Wakeel uncle’s house with some important papers and he said, “Look son, it is important that you take these papers right away to Wakeel uncle, do you understand?”, I said “ yes, papaji. I do”. And off I go on my bicycle, but the winner in me said “One game! One game! One game!”. I don’t know how this happened, but the next thing I knew, I am at Suresh’s shop playing the ultimate fighter.

10 minutes later (read 2 hours 30 minutes according to that dreaded clock in my house) and after beating an opponent who came too close to beat me, I was celebrating my victory with shouting and jumping and giving high-fives to everyone. I turn around and see “Papaji” standing right behind me looking at me with the eyes so red (I can’t remember any other way) that I could feel the heat of that gaze on me. Failing to put it in the words of my own, I am just going to write as it happened.

Papaji: “Do you know how late it is?”

Me: “no”

Papaji: “Did you go to Wakeel Uncle’s house?”

Me: “no”

And then it happened. It came out of nowhere, all I could hear was the sigh of other kids in the room followed by their running steps, and my dad’s hand going back to where it was just a second ago….away from my cheek. A day later, TV in my my left ear turned off by itself and 2 days later the finger print was almost gone… Also, icecream treats from dad really helped me and the freeloaders (as in my brother and two sisters). However, I can still feel that stinging on my left cheek when I think about it….

That was the end of my career as “The terminator” at Suresh’s shop and that was the last time I saw the inside of that room, and I was back to the Nagaraja and Doga and translated TMNTs and others.

Last time I checked that shop, it was still there, owned by the little 10 years old kid, who happened to be Mahesh…Suresh’s son, still wearing a shirt made by Haidar Ali, with a fake Nike label patched on it bought next door, and that little video game room now is home to hundreds of Hindi and English (dubbed in hindi) VCDs for rental. I could still smell the sweat from 15 years ago.