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It was a nice restaurant. A nice evening too. On the table beside mine, there was seated a couple who thought themselves handsome.

Ten minutes into his meal, the guy brings out his cellphone and blares out at the top of his voice,"
I WANNA DEDICATE A SONG FOR MY GIRLFRIEND." The girl acts a little taken aback and then simpers and smiles.
"HER NAME? WELL, LET HER NAME BE 'P'." The girl is reassured.
"MY NAME.....HMM....LET IT BE 'T'. T FOR TABLE."
"LET THE SONG BE THAT ONE FROM ROCK ON...ROCK .....THE SLOW ONE....HAA....."
"WHEN WILL I HEAR THE SONG?"

He brings out his earphones and plugs them into his mobile phone. The girl is happy. Quite a happy moment. He unplugs the earphones. Probably he was told it could be a while.

Just before they finished their romantic dinner, the lights went out. Beautiful candles were lit 5 minutes later but by that time they had finished their meal in the dark. They chose to leave.
They left their earphones though. I am guessing she never heard the song.


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I was walking along Kalighat road on the outskirts of the Kali temple. The place was milling with thousands of people who had come there to purge themselves of all sin; to salvage their lives by ending others. A melee of piety and dirt oozed out of the holy pathways. Potbellied priests and henchmen clashed magnificently with impoverished beggars. Offerings of gold made inside the golden doors while dying women lay outside. Incense sticks, holy perfumes, blood and sweat made for a odour that was both intoxicating and vomit- inducing. Lapierre said it was humbling to see the steadfast faith. I tried to agree.

A couple of beggars were clinging on the corner of my mum's sari. She had tried to shrug them off, albeit unsuccessfully. She tried to pay them off. They left, leaving 4 more hopefuls. It was amazing how 2 rupees was all that was needed to gratify them. An old woman hobbled alongside my mother. All the others had given up any hope of mercy. She evidently hadn't. As my mother seated herself in the car and tried to close the door, the woman advanced her hand and said in failing Hindi, "Ma, humko kuch de do. Gareeb ko dene se kam nehi ho jata."
I wanted to translate that. I just can't.