In today’s time I can't imagine any country more uncivilized than China. She has always been so uncouth and unpredictable. At one time as school students we were used to shout slogan coined by Pt Nehru, ‘hindi chini bhai bhai’ and China broke that trust by attacking us unprovoked. Then we would be happy seeing the B&W pictures of a chinky guys hugging and pumping Panditji’s right hand. Panditji had convinced entire country that how good our friendship with China was. The attack must have sent Pt Nehru in a state of shock. His face must have fallen badly and his image of a statesman taken a huge beating. I used to sit near my Philips radio and hear the news of how deep Chinese army had invaded inside the Indian Territory. I had no idea how far that was, but I would be very scared when chinky men in Khaki shot at me in my dreams.

I would be depressed hearing the voice of Lothika Ratnam on All India Radio, ‘Indian soldiers have lost yet another post to the surging Chinese army.’ And get a little happy if any of those posts were won back next week.

Recently during the Olympic Torch’s Indian chapter, I heard a new Chinese version of that war. A Chinese foreign affairs person said that India had instigated us by accumulating troupes along the boarder way back in 1961. So now it means that I started that war! China is sitting on nearly 25000sq km of my land and tells me, I started the war. If I started then I should be on her land not the other way round.

Then Chinese violence inside Tibet also had upset me very badly. And this is the time I decided to take revenge on that fat brag of a country for hurting those peaceful monks. Khaki Chinkies had grabbed the land and now wanted to change the life style of the only entirely spiritual land in the world.

China and Burma are the countries who do not reveal anything to either its own people or to outsiders. Everyone there is living in darkness and no one knows where their country is headed. Now at least China is doing very well financially and all its principles of socialism and communism are getting gradually buried under the mountains of money. They have never handled this kind of money, ever. That is why they can not control their tongue and attitude. They are also not used to speaking to press, because saying anything goes on record for keeps sake. They have always been hiding a million things for a single revelation.

The only time the common man enjoys is when they celebrate birthdays of their ex-leaders, like Zhou Enlai, Mao Zedong and now Hu Jintao. Here too they are forced to enjoy by dancing and singing to the party’s tunes.

Well I have been very upset with China’s current attitude, especially since I met Dalai Lama in Mcleodganj. I came to know many horror stories of Chinese army action in Tibet.

So, finally I decided that I was not going sit and watch all this injustice for ever. I started planning how to punish both these bad pennies, China and Myanmar. I thought about asking some one to give me a few long range missiles to attack deep into their region. I made stickers to paste on them with messages like, ‘This is for saying I started the 1961 war’, ‘This is for killing the Tibetan monks’, ‘This is for calling Arunachal Pradesh a disputed territory’, ‘This is for pushing cheap goods in Indian land’… I had decided to hide those missiles on my terrace until I had written more such messages. But much before the missile deal could come through one of my friends managed to throw a huge wind bomb, Nargis on Myanmar on May 6, 2008. But since Nargis was delivered from some other terrace I could not put my messages that were kept ready for it, ‘This is for the military junta for keeping Aung San Suu Kyi in prison for so many years’, ‘This is for not allowing democratic elections in the nation’, ‘This is for keeping Buddhist monks and press under constant suppression’ and finally ‘This is for not allowing foreign donation reach the needy after I hit you with Nargis’.

From the TV news I came to know of a massive earth quake in China on May 12. All the TV news channels were showing the same ‘Breaking News’. An earth quake of 7.9 power. There was a huge loss to property and life, although I am very sorry for those school kids. But it can't be helped can it? I got a call from a friend of mine who was handling my missile program saying, he had delivered an underground weapon in Sichuan. Was it enough, he asked. It was fine, I said. China suffered huge losses in property, finances and also life. But I was sad for those 900 students though. I had achieved my motive of shaking them, but sending the messages across was very important too. How would they know why they both got hit and who has been wishing for it?

Finally this is a warning to you buddy to point your nuclear missiles in some other direction than India. It may leave you directionless and nose-less, suck all your money out sending you back to the nostalgic sweet days of communism for ever.

I have just started reading M K Gandhi's autobiography. I never thought I should read it. And the reason I am reading it now too is not a great one. The other day I was at Landmark book store with a friend. He was nice to me on that day by buying me a cup of tea and some snacks. Just as we were to exit the store, I saw a stack of these paper-backs. I like to read the index before, I buy a book. It gives me a good idea of what the book is about, how interesting it is and should precious money should be invested in it or not etc. I could not believe the price on it, Rs 30 only! I checked another copy too, same. I picked up two copies; one for me and another for the friend. I told him, ‘let us both read it.’

I started reading it immediately, as I had run out of reading material. I had always imagined that it this book will be tough to read due to it’s over idealistic approaches. I can not stand such literature, which drip with generous dozes of God, goodness, truthfulness etc; but ‘My Experiments with Truth’ does not fall in that category. In fact the book is written in a very simple and conversational language; the kind I like and also write.

When Gandhi was in England he describes meeting with a person called, Narayan Hemchandra. This person, Narayan Hemchandra was a writer too. He met Gandhi in the house of Miss Manning of National Indian Association. Gandhi was introduced to Narayan Hemchandra by the host. Gandhi to his surprise realized that Narayan Hemchandra could not speak in English. Gandhi describes him thus; "he was in a clumsy pair of trousers, a wrinkled, dirty brown coat. He had long a beard. He was lightly built and his round face was full of small-pox marks. His nose was neither pointed nor blunt and he had a horse voice." Gandhi broke the ice by inviting him to his house.

"Where do you stay?" Narayan Hemchandra asked.

"In Store street." Gandhi said.

"Oh then we are neighbors. I want to learn English. Will you teach me?"

"I shall be happy to teach you anything I can and will try my best. If you like I will come to your place."

"Oh no I will come to you and bring with me a translation exercise book."

Can anyone imagine the guts of a person going to England and meets a guy and asks him to teach English! What kind of adventurism is that, that too in early 1880s? Gandhi smartly terms Narayan Hemchandra, 'as shy of grammar.' He says, 'horse' was a verb for him and 'run' a noun. But he was not to be baffled by his ignorance... certainly he never regarded his ignorance of grammar a matter of shame.

Without hesitation, Narayan Hemchandra said, 'I have never been to school like you. I have never felt the need of grammar to express my thoughts.' (ooops!) Narayan Hemchandra said, 'he knew Bengali and had translated work of Maharishi Devendranath Tagore for the Gujarati-speaking world. And now I want to translate the literature of many other languages into Gujarati. I am not literal in my translations. I only content myself in bringing out the spirit. I know Marathi, Hindi and Bengali and now I have begun to know English. What I want is copious vocabulary. And do you think my ambition ends here? No fear. I want to go to France and learn French. I am told that language has an extensive literature. I shall go to Germany also and learn German.' Narayan Hemchandra had boundless ambition for learning languages and foreign travel.

"Then you will go to America also?"

"Certainly, how can I return to India without having seen the new world?"

"Where will you find the money?"

"What do I need the money for? I am not fashionable fellow like you. The minimum amount of food and clothing will suffice for me..." so on and so forth.

Narayan Hemchandra did move to France after a few months. There he learnt French and translated some books. He sent his work to Gandhi to revise. "It was not translation, just the substance." Gandhi knew enough French himself to help Narayan Hemchandra. Finally he carried out his last wish to go to America. It was with great difficulty he secured a deck ticket. While in USA he was arrested for being indecently dressed; in a Dhoti and shirt. He was later discharged, Gandhi recollects.

He would be considered one of the most adventurous souls at that time. Landing in England without knowing English and asking the first man to be his teacher! And as soon as he learns English, he starts working on translations into Gujarati. Then he already has plans to go to France, Germany and America for similar literary projects. Amazing!

On May 17 at 6.10pm precisely, I got out for my daily walk. Sun was still quite high. I had decided to go Versova beach, which will get dark after sunset, as there are no lights there. On the way there is an entry to Seven Bunglow beach too. Just for the heck of it, I turned in. I love to take sudden decisions and check out my hitches… At the edge of the lane I realized something was missing. ‘Parekh House’! It had been demolished, obviously to make way for an apartment block. It had a sturdy stone structure and its interior had an old world charm. Parekh House had been a well known landmark and was regularly used for film shootings. I too had done many films here. ‘Aangan ki Kali’ was entirely shot here… never mind; old has to give way to new. And especially if you can't maintain something, let it go.

Last time I came to this beach, Arohi and Uchit were with me. It was their first day with us. There was a cluster of illegal huts all over. And the beach itself was full of human dirt. We had to dodge and walk. I was feeling very bad for the kids. They had come down from a squeaky clean Canada, to watch this …?  Today again I decided to take look. If it is not clean, I will walk along the beach to Versova, I thought. But surprisingly today everything seems to have changed for the better. Huts had gone and there was no dirt. Kids were playing cricket and football on the long beach.

Seven Bunglow beach is quite interesting. As you leave the road and step on the sand, you see a hump of sand going across the length of the beach that blocks the vision of water. You have to climb the dry sand for sea to reveal itself.

From top of the sand bump, I looked towards Juhu and was stunned. I had never seen so much clarity in the air. I could see Juhu, Bandra and even Nariman Point very clearly (even without my specks). It looked so gorgeous that I stopped and turned back to get my camera from home. I wanted to capture the scenes for everyone to see. I don’t remember seeing such a beautiful panorama, in my own backyard beach. But then I stopped and thought that it is a long walk home. If in the mean while, the light changes, I will miss everything. The pictures and enjoying it live too. God knows when it would look so pretty again.

From the sand hump there is a little slope down to a wide inviting beach. On the right is Versova beach, my usual walk destination. I started walking towards left. After a 500 meter walk I reached the edge of Seven Bunglow. Here a sea water channel separates Seven Bunglow from Juhu beach. The Mumbai sky line was looking even better as I came close to the edge. The stream flows towards land during high tides and goes back into the sea during low tides. That is when you can easily go across it.

Southern canvas looked like a carefully painted background for film shootings in studios. There was a uniform spread of clouds across the horizon in the distance. And under that long belt of clouds, city sky line was uniformly lit up by direct soft light of setting sun. Yet the sky on top was blue. Every known building was clearly defined. Sea Rock hotel, Taj Land’s End, TV tower at Worli and finally Air India and other buildings at Nariman Point. I could see the NCPA tower clearly. Soft sunlight was falling on entire coastal landscape and on the cloud-belt. Suddenly I noticed a white color spray of light or water near Bandra and was wondering what was it? It had a starting point from top and spread downwards left and right. Thanks to the magic of diffuser in my eyes, the secret opened after I had taken many rounds. It was the cluster of ropes that was holding a part of Bandra-Worli sea link, bridge! I thanked my memory stick, not the eyes.

Direct sun and its glare in water were making it twice as bright. I had to change angle of my walk. I took many rounds between the dividing stream and last cricket pitch. Many people especially young couples were crossing up and down the stream to reach Juhu beach. They had to hold their footwear in their hands and wade through ankle deep clean water.

Around 6.30, sun hid behind clouds close to the edge of water, making it very pleasant. Breeze had turned cool on my sweaty body. Around 6.45, I sent the sun to wake up Rimko in NY. Skyline had changed from the ‘colored’ look to nostalgic B&W. Only a splash of flaming orange remained on the edges of clouds. A Jumbo jet rose quietly from the dark left. As it moved over Juhu, it lit up warmly in fading sunlight…

Now the sky got a color that I had never seen in my life. A band of purple color was spread above the stretch of clouds. I stopped and started staring at this never seen before, color. Clouds were totally in B&W now. Purple was also gradually changing its saturation. Effect of color kept reducing as proportion of black grew in the mix.

For a few moments I was getting this weird but strong feeling that I was on a wrong planet.

I just started reading a book titled, ‘The Energy of Prayer’. The book starts so perfectly with, “urge to pray is universal. We know of no culture, past or present, in which prayer does not occur… ”

 The book managed to start a frantic inquiry in my mind. Without meaning any disrespect to the book or to prayer, I would like to put my own thoughts on this point of prayer. My religion allows me to have my own intellectual interpretation of religious rules or tweak the religion according to my own analysis and needs.

Well, I feel sometimes prayers work and sometimes they don’t. There are no rules that it will surely work, just like no one can claim that it will never work. But millions of people pray in different religious ways. Some people quietly drop loads on money, gold and precious jewels into the temple donation boxes. For them this too may be a prayer. Getting rid of hard cash keeps them safe from robbers and income tax. But also their prayers are answered with more cash and diamonds in return. So are their prayers working or the people are working?

Most people in this world do remember God, but only as a natural instinct. When I yawn I say ‘oh god’. I don’t mean to remember god, it is just a reaction. For people of all faiths, speaking out the name of their God has been a habit, part of psyche, and genetics for centuries. In my opinion prayers too fall in the same genetic habit category. The book tells a story of a young kid loosing his pet white mouse, who has walked into a hole. Kid prays for 2 hours, but the mouse does not emerge. Kid is upset. He derives prayers do not work. Later the moral of the story is revealed, ‘since the kid was not praying for the well being of the mouse; but was being selfish to get his friend back and that is why his prayers did not work’. Well isn’t everyone attached to various things and people around them and pray for the welfare of those. There would be no reason for anyone to pray unless there is something to pray for. But as soon as you have something to pray for it becomes a selfish motive. Asking God for upturn in your fortune, good health of a friend, getting a son, getting admission in IIM… is asking God to run errands for you. Praying with benefits in mind is reducing God’s value…

Let me analyze my own life as a sample case. I do not pray to anyone or any God. I am not a praying type, period. I believe in science and logic and thus do not find prayers logical. This is no way to get results in life. I can not depend on prayers for success. In my younger days I too wished, prayed and also worked hard to get so many things, but whatever I wanted never came to me. On the other side whatever I have got in my life has fallen in my lap on its own. So, prayers did not come in the picture. It is a simple law; ‘you get some, you don’t get some’. As the Urdu couplet goes, ‘har kisi ko muqammal jahan nahin milta, kabhi zameen to kabhi aasman nahin milta’ (people’s wishes do not get fulfilled entirely, sometimes the earth and sometimes the sky is missing)

So if you want something in life, use all the faculties God has already blessed you with like intelligence, strength, cunning, will power, smartness... and what have you. Just use these and get your piece of cake in life. You don’t need to pray for anything. Getting results on your own merit makes you more content and happy, than sitting on your bum praying and then getting it. People always have more respect for things they earned the hard way. If you have received a gold medal in a field, you would value it much more than all the expensive gifts that family receives every X’mas or Diwali. No one will ever part with any medal; but all the easy coming gifts are hauled away into a dark loft, to be lovingly gifted to other praying mantis, later on.

In recent times there has been only one occasion when I prayed desperately hard to get a certain result. It was because the nothing was in my hand, neither the action nor the result, only praying was. But I did not pray to any usual, run of the mill unknown, unseen and unfelt God. I chose to involve real entities like mountains, rivers, sun, moon, rain, sea, wind etc. I asked for their strength. Well, the result did go in my favor. If I want I can easily call it as my victory; but I don’t want to. It could have gone the other way too. It was only a matter of chance.

Logically I doubt the effectiveness and dependability of prayers. For example ‘if you prayed for something and you got it, can be one part. But there is no proof that if you didn’t pray for it, you will not get it!’ For this you have to repeat the scene with same and not similar situation. It is not even a take 2. Take for example a Sikh couple in Punjab prays hard for years, to get a son as their first child; and they get it. Now to complete the experiment there has to be another but same situation. Same couple has to be used to find the sex of their first child, but this time without prayers. It is impossible to do it. And that is a lacuna. There is no way to check both sides of the story; unless of course we ask the superman to turn the earth around in reverse direction and take the couple back in time, before the wife conceived for the first time.

Prayers are a way to keep oneself content and happy, especially if things do go wrong. We can say, ‘we did pray hard for this but hard luck.’ Here I will narrate an incidence that happened in my family. Long ago an astrologer told my aunt that her son, Sunil had a fatal confluence of planets in his birth chart. Obviously everyone at home got worried. Astrologer recommended a full course of ‘Maha Mrutunjay Yagna’. It was sincerely performed at the earliest available date. Years passed, after his education Sunil joined Indian Air Force. He used to enjoy flying and he was good at it. Soon he got married and had a daughter. In due course he was promoted to the rank of Squadron Leader. One day he was taking his wife and the baby girl for an outing on his motor cycle, when a speeding truck driven by a drunk driver smashed into them. Sunil died on the spot and other two thankfully survived.

If I take astrologer’s true reading as a ‘constant’- this means that the accident has to happen. The lesson that I learn from this story is that if ‘Maha Mrutunjay Yagna’ (prayer) was not performed and same accident would happen; then the entire family, especially the parents would have never forgiven themselves till eternity. But performing it, kept them away from the scare of the eventuality, until the very day, it happened. And even after the accident, they would not feel guilty; since they did, what was in their power to do.

With every passing day this planet will go on becoming harsher and less inhabitable. Day to day survival will depend on your own strength, alertness and reflexes. You may find this statement entirely nonsensical, since today no one is ready to think this way. All the religious blabber has been so ‘politically correct’ for centuries. But after a century we will say, ‘who needs God, I have to do it myself ’, or ‘you can sit on your bottom and pray; but I am going out and get it done myself.’

Obviously the world will grow less dependent on prayers and religion; until a day will come when the ‘Word’ would have lost its significance… and forgotten.

Arun is going to Delhi for his niece, Mishu’s wedding. He has been packing his bag since yesterday. In the morning he kept it on the bed and kept pushing toiletries as and when their use got over. He has decided to wear Indian clothes, like Kurta, Pajama and Dhoti for this wedding. His wife got one maroon Kurta, another one he borrowed from his son and rest he had. Arun thought, departure time of Rajdhani (4.40pm) was very convenient. You get enough time to pack, have lunch and leave the house when everyone is ready for a siesta.

He sat in a taxi just before 3pm to go to Mumbai Central. Other than his small bag he was carrying two gift packets, one from his family and another from a friend. But for these he might have travelled to Mumbai Central by local train. At 3.55pm he was at the station. His e-ticket was confirmed; but he had no idea about the seat. There was a huge crowd hovering around the reservation charts. It was a difficult task, as he had to take care of his 3 baggages and try to find his name. There! Without too much trouble he saw it, B2/72. He sent an SMS in Hindi to his brother Satish, ‘B2 dibbe ka aagman 9 baje hoga.’

Leisurely he walked down to the compartment, placed his bags on top berth. He felt the comfort of air-conditioning. Mumbai had become quite hot, he thought. He was taking so much trouble to reach an even hotter place- Delhi. A dog passed in the passage. It was very unusual, but Arun shrugged it off. Behind the dog, 2 cops were in toe. Now it was all normal. Sniffer dog got off the coach and went into the next one. Arun, kept his camera ready. When it came out again, he clicked his pictures. It was a fawn Labrador.

All the seats were not taken. There were 4 people for 8 seats. In front of Arun sat a young boy. Long hair, MP3 player, earphones and a cell phone that rang every now and then, ‘yeah mom, I am on my seat. No it is comfortable. I spoke to papa’. ‘haae, yeah man! Just imagine going to Delhi all alone. I hate it. Can you imagine I will reach tomorrow at 8.30 in the morning? So many hours in this train! I have never done it. Ok dude, bye. You take care.’ ‘Yeah mom they gave snacks and cold drink. OK I will call, when I get there.’ ‘OK papa, which uncle is coming to get me? Fine, but I could go by myself. Ok, I will wait for him.’

Arun surveyed the surrounding further. An oldish retired looking man by a window and an oldish woman in blue Saree opposite him. Woman makes a call. ‘Haan main Rajdhani mein baith gayi hoon. Kal 10 baje pahunchoongi. Station par jaroor aajana. Theek hai bhaiya? Didi kaisi hain? Theek hai kaat rahi hoon.’ A waiter approaches, ‘veg/non veg?’ Old man says, ‘non-veg. continental.’ Arun is surprised, ‘continental?’ Is he mad? May be he is an ex-army types. He thinks he is in his officer’s mess. Arun tells the waiter, ‘Dinner veg., breakfast non-veg.’ Mr. Continental asks the waiter, ‘Dilli kab pahunchegi?’ ‘8.30’, waiter said. Woman in blue is worked up. She calls her brother again, ‘haan didi, train 8.30 baje panhuchegi. Bhaiya ko keh dena station par jaroor aaye. Theek hai haan, 10 baje nahin 8.30 baje.’ She takes fished out a cone of Menhdi, sits comfortably and starts putting Menhdi on her left hand. The train is shaking a lot, so her crude design is getting uglier. Whenever she looks at her hand, Arun finds her smiling. Old man has taken out a book and is reading. He does not seem to be interested in making any friends. He doesn’t even want to have a conversation. Arun wears his glasses and steals a look at the title of the book. It is a P G Wodehouse. Oh, so old man has got some literary taste.

Train is at Surat at 7pm. Old woman dusts off the dried Menhdi, takes out another cone and starts decorating her right hand with the left. This is worse. Wrong hand, moving train and shoddy patterns, all point in the same direction- ‘ugly designs’. Young boy was trying to look at Arun from the corner of his eyes, because Arun was doing the most weird thing, writing! He was doing so in fits and starts. Boy noticed Arun’s paper seemed have run out. He is using the back of his e-ticket print out.

Conductor starts supplying beddings to all. Arun has forgotten to bring soap. Luckily a small packet of paper soap is supplied to all. Old woman is sleeping. Her palm is turned upwards to dry the Menhdi. Boy is listening to music. His head hangs low. His hair has covered his face. Mr. Continental PG Wodehouse is still reading. Arun is watches everyone and after a few moments, starts writing. Train has left Surat.

Dinner is being served. Arun is waiting to see the surprise that is stored in food tray of Mr. Continental. He is opening a paper bag. He is going to blow his fuse at the sight of Continental Parathas. But no. These are toasts! Other cases have boiled chicken with peas, baked potatoes, curds… Arun is happy he did not make his feelings public. His head would be hanged in dead shame. Arun could not finish one of his two Parathas. He liked Arhar ki Dal that he ate with rice. He also liked the dessert. It was Lauki ka Halwa. Too sweet though. He leaves half of that too. Mr. Continental has cleaned up everything in his tray systematically, of course with knife and fork. He keeps his tray down, picks up his worn out bag and exits. Woman did not wash her hands before eating. Mr. Continental PG Wodehouse may be thinking, how dirty she is. She kept scraping the dry Menhdi right where she was sitting. Arun too keeps his tray down and goes to wash up.

Arun has found Midday, an evening paper. He reads cartoons and then glances at the ‘horoscope’. First sentence under his star, Libra is, ‘a long planned journey will materialize.’ He finds it spooky. He tears off that part and keeps in his pouch.

Someone on the other side mentions name of Bahadur Shah Zafar. This kicks memories of two Rafi songs in his mind, ‘lagta nahin hai dil mera’ and ‘na kisi ki aankh ka noor hoon.’ Arun hums both songs almost entirely to himself. He realized he can not sing well now. At 9.15 Rajdhani is at Baroda. It is only 4 min late. Arun does a few stretches on the platform to relax. Signal turns amber; he boards the train, but doesn’t want to go to his seat as yet. He strikes a conversation with attendant, ‘how do your duties rotate?’ ‘I go to Delhi, then return by the same train in evening and reach Mumbai at morning. Then I get 2 days off.’ ‘Where is your family?’ ‘In Mumbai only. We have railway quarters for us.’ Arun says, ‘that’s not bad. You get a lot of rest time for about 40 hours of work.’ Attendant agrees.

Passengers have started making their beds. Next stop will be Ratlam, which will come very late at night. Arun has kept Mishu’s gifts on his berth itself. He does not want to put them down. A large Gujarati family is making a lot of noise. The kids are screaming but no one is controlling them. Everyone is busy talking themselves. Arun is clearly getting upset. He shouts twice, ‘shut up’. No one heard him. He takes out his forecast and reads again. Last part says ‘you should acknowledge feelings that obstruct your spiritual and emotional growth.’ He thinks about it and feels better. Everyone is on the verge of dozing off. Kids are shouting softly now. Every one of them feels that saying those words before sleeping is most important.

Arun is back from the loo. Old woman goes to the loo. Young boy does not go the loo. Old man, Mr. Continental Wodehouse has been to the loo and is now in his Lungi. His worn out bag hangs above his head. Arun covers with the sheet. His fits his legs in the narrow space next to the gift boxes. He stares at the ceiling. Some lights go off. More lights go off. All lights go off…

Arun is turning in his bed often. It is dark. Train is fast and unobtrusive. It is doing its job well. Only one person is snoring. Surprisingly it happens to be the young boy. One more turn and Arun is seen getting down. He walks to the toilet like a drunken person. It is nearly 5am. In another 3 &1/2 hours he will be in Delhi, he thinks. He wants to avoid a queue outside toilets, so he brushes his teeth, has a wash and comes back to his berth. It is 5.20am now. Lying on his berth, he looks at the large open window. He sees smoothly changing patterns of trees and rails on the other side of the window. He notices that exterior is soaked in a faint natural light. He seemed to be awed by the pre-dawn, soft, uniform, cool and peaceful light.

Mad ideas start entering Arun’s head. Or perhaps his head is generating them. He thinks about that he has been travelling with his legs facing the engine. That means his beard wouldn’t grow too much, as the speeding train will keep it pushed in, to some extent. Also his spinal disks would be a little relaxed by due to being pulled away rather than squeezed together. Also a lot of blood will go the head that may enhance intelligence. But if his head was on the same side as the engine then beard would have been longer due to being pulled out of his cheeks and his vertebrae would be worse off. Also perhaps he would be a shorter man when he gets off.

It was getting brighter by the minute. There is a bottle of water at the window. Arun watches the window behind the bottle and fleeting landscape behind the window. He takes out his camera and shoots a few videos of the action without actors. 6am bed tea. He refuses it; too early for him. 7am breakfast is being served. Even this is too early, he thinks. Old woman is again dusting dry Menhdi right near her. Mr. Continental is having his breakfast. Young boy is too tall for top berth. He eats up with only his head raised a little. Arun is not tall, so he sits tall and eats. Mr. Continental is back to Wodehouse. Young boy has gone to sleep again. Old woman straightens her legs on the berth and lifts her blue Saree above her knees. She looks up at Arun and turns towards the window and again does the same. She starts massaging her legs with some cream. With every movement of her hands on her knees she does ‘aah, aah’. She ‘aahs’ for a few minutes and then closes the cream bottle. Smell of eucalyptus oil is hanging in the air. She is looking at Menhdi on her hands and smiling. Arun is wondering, ‘perhaps she can not see too well. Good for her. She can at least appreciate the Menhdi she worked so hard to put.’

Rajdhani halted at New Delhi station right on time. Arun is carrying all his stuff by himself. He is softly refusing help from coolies. After a whole lot of in-activity, some exercise would be good for him; he thinks. Hundreds of thoughts that Arun thought about, have exited his head. They now exist only on small little pieces of paper; legible - perhaps to him only. His phone rings. Anil and Shyam are waiting outside the station for him.