The first thing that Bhiklu did after breathing in first whiffs of moist filth that Mumbai offered to him was marrying Sheilaa. Under the Monkey God’s auspices in a temple which bore tell tale signs of derelict austerity they shared vows of eternal companionship. Life would settle down to something smoother, Bhiklu thought. Sheilaa had other apprehensions in her agile mind.

Mumbai was like a rope full of intricate knots for Bhiklu. Everywhere he went he found glances of clean indifference or thin suspicion. Others eyed Sheilaa with a naked lust which made Bhiklu’s blood boil and feet sweat. He understood that this city belonged only to survivors and those who were maudlin or meek either surrendered to starvation or
cried retreat. He knew he wouldn’t do any of these two. He knew he had Sheilaa beside him for comfort and strength.

“It’s coming down in buckets today.” said Sheilaa as the overcast sky showed no signs of imminent clarity.

“Yaa. It’s what they used to call ‘raining cats and dogs’ in our basti.”, replied Bhiklu.

Sheilaa was busy tinkering with the utensils in her tin cup-board when she felt the sudden warmth of Bhiklu’s arms embrace her from behind. She tried to fend off his amorous advances with slight apathy and few loving curses. But as unrelenting as his father was in carnal affairs, Bhiklu saw a playful allure in all resistance. He knew Sheilaa. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would claim her and give her a completion she so grudgingly craved for all these years of courtship and canoodling.

With a sudden grasp of her shoulder Bhiklu pinned her down to the cot. With their faces separated by the width of a hair his every breath falling on Sheilaa reminded her of the fabled heat of hell. ‘Inferno’ they called it, she remembered. But now was no time to recollect. Now was a time to loose her self in his whispers and caresses and offer a prized surrender. A time to keep quiet let their love do the talking.
He would be kind and careful in the beginning, she prayed. She hoped he would be fair in division of this mutual pleasure they were to share this night. He felt his temples burst out with a throb of unknown violence. A mad rush of blood had blinded his vision and he knew he could have no more of this ‘cat and mouse’ game.

He made love to her that night. For the first time ever.

...........

“From a slum to another slum.”

That’s how Bhiklu’s life in Mumbai looked to him in the initial days. Growing despondent every day he started losing all hope of a ‘good life’ here in this Big City of million faces.
Sometimes while sitting beside busy footpaths which boasted glamorous footfalls every evening he marveled at the numerous faces passing by him. Some ex-pressionless, some listless, some littered, some joyous. He used to guess the origin of their emotions. How their day went. What went wrong. What made them smile blankly. What made their vacuum so overwhelming. What kept them going. What made them sing.

He used to pose such questions to his own rationale and tried finding suitable answers to them all. He knew the answer to his woes was hidden somewhere within these questions. Only that he needed to latch onto the answer.........to the right question.


...THis Episode was contributed by ZZ, Kush and Swati.