Restless Morning

It was actually a 15*30 feet hall presented as a studio apartment. With huge window towards west which covered almost 70% of the wall, slab adjacent to the window covering space between north wall and window. Slab was not more than 4 feet long and 2 feet wide. There was an induction cooker, few spoons on it and a sink in the north-west corner. Few utensils were kept in a lower shelve while the lowest one was occupied with some readymade food items.

He usually smoked near the window, so that alley just outside his door, which served as entry for all 4 tenants and it was just above courtyard of the landlord’s house, won’t stink of smoke and the landlord won’t notice it. It was not that he was worried about the impression he was going to give, but he cared about the neighbors who were nonsmokers, as far as he knew. He would sit there near window, smoking a cigarette and trying to hide behind the curtain so that people across 15 feet road won’t see him. He didn’t know why he had to hide but that’s what he used to do.

He woke up at 4 on Sunday morning, cursing the dialogue of a movie from last night. “It’s a beautiful Sunday morning,” – the girl had said. Here it felt nothing less than 45ºC. Whole night was same or may be worse, he was laying on the ground after spilling three buckets of water on it just to feel a bit comfortable. Kota, a town in Rajasthan, is weird. You can say this whole town or whole area called Hadoti is made of sand stone. In summers it burnt good enough to melt the sole of a sport shoes, in winter it was damn cold and in monsoon the rivers around it didn’t slow down without claiming lives.

What he could do at 4 in the morning? Sleep back may be, or smoke a cigarette in comfort, without worries of neighbors smelling it, without fear of old lady looking at him like he was a sinner. He sat on the chair near window. The wind outside was cold. Then why the hell the inside of his room felt like an oven? But it was not this heat that was burning him, he sat there feeling like a skeleton, feeding on his soul with every drag of cigarette. He thought about life, death, humanity, destruction of civilization, recreation of it, and modification of it. He couldn’t go back to sleep, it was too damn hot even for taking bath. Even at 12 in the night tap water would be boiling. The best place to be was out of the house and he couldn’t resist the temptation of riding his bike at dawn. Chasing the Sun, he wanted to reach some water body before sunrise. His fascination with sunset and sunrise near water bodies was as old as his memories. Took a bag, put his bike papers, pack of cigarette, lighter, one knife, wallet without cash and some cash in his jeans. Like any other ride these were the mandatory things that he carried along. It’s always better to be safe in an unknown territory. Though Rajasthan was safe, but you cannot forget that it’s Kota. The town is on the bank of Chambal, the infamous river of central India. Chambal is famous for harboring Dacoits, and Kota was no different, before it became an education hub.

Go 40 km any side – and you will be somewhere in the jungle. Not necessarily surrounded by big trees or animals, it may be a jungle of bushes and stones, small wired trees with lot of leaves while their neighbors would be bald. But one thing was guaranteed: the jungle would be there, and it would be beautiful. He took Rawatbhata road and by 5am he was somewhere in the Darrah National Park. Normally you need a permission to enter it but no one really cares when you go at 5 o’clock in morning. He was riding on a rocky path which was made by passing tractors of villagers. No car could go there and none were allowed. Sanctuary did not attract any tourist either; the only people who were going through those roads were either villagers residing there or traffickers carrying ‘afeem’ to avoid main roads.

This whole jungle area used to be royal hunting ground for kings around Kota. It served as a pass for many armies going towards Madhya Pradesh that gave it the name Darrah (in local language means pass). It served as asylum for few armies too including Marathas and Rajputs but now few leopards, antelopes, spotted deer and mainly monkeys rule it.

Early morning was time for none but Monkeys to roam. He had seen on map that there was a water body inside the jungle and he wanted to reach there before sun becomes bright. Monkeys were blocking the road but he just couldn’t let it happen, bunch of monkeys couldn’t block his road, he used his clutch and rotating accelerator to make his bike roar and scare them off, but things don’t always happen as you expect. Monkeys were not in a mood of tolerating some mechanical sound. They were enjoying the morning breeze before their asses were fried by damn sun and hot rocks below. They chased him and the man made a 180 turn on bike, first time in life. He did not even know he could do that. He had done it, but damn what a spectating crowd he got there. Not even one of the spectators was impressed and they didn’t stop chasing.

There is one good thing about monkeys, they warn you that they are not in funny mood, they show you their teeth and make sound “khee-khee-khee”, and if you don’t listen they just bury those yellow teeth inside you. These black faces slap very hard too. As a kid he was slapped by one while guarding his mango tree from monkeys. The leader got angry and slapped hard on his face. This time he wasn’t kid and wasn’t walking in shorts, he did better than the monkeys.

He was riding at 10 km/h on his way here but 40 km/h on the way back. Bike was jumping as if it was mountain bike. He admired it all on his ride into jungle. That changing color of sky from dark blue to grey, orange , light blue so on. He could smell sunrise. Noticed diversity of trees, few with broad leaves while many without leaves at all. Fresh dung was sign of few animals nearby. He wasn’t expert of animals but they were antelopes for sure or goats may be, but that early in morning it was highly unlikely of goats. He thought of antelopes or spotted deer because they had pooped black pearls, yeah, fresh poop were shining like pearl and they had shape of that too. Patches of grass here and there, he even found grassland amid bald jungle, it was bliss for eyes. He realized it was damn swamp only after bike got stuck. Jungles can be cunning, especially when you find beautiful grassland amid jungle where grass always struggle to grow.  On the way back he could notice only one thing, cow or buffalo’s skull hanging from tree. That too when he was far from monkeys.  That’s what fear does to you, it makes you notice ugliness.

Bravo. The guards were already on the gates by the time he reached the main road. He hadn’t planned to be back by the same road, so facing the guards wasn’t on his mind. On other side of the jungle there was Jhalawar road, and a lot of paths with no gates and no guards leading to that. Damn, the day had started after a frying night! First thought of the day was destruction of civilization and now chased by monkeys towards fucking police as guards of jungle. No one really wants to face police here.

Just like monkeys, police guys were not in funny mood either.

One of them asked

“Nam kya hai, aur jungle me ke kar riya ma hi chudawani ke?”

(What’s your name and what are you doing in this part of the jungle, motherfucker).

He had no option but to reply as they ask but he just didn’t like the tone, any way the man needed a break, he was having  bad day.

“Pahli baat, bina gali k bhi baat ki ja sakti hai, shayad apko iski adat nahi hai,

Aur ha nam Dhawal hai aur jungle me ghumne gaya tha.”(First of all, you can talk without abuses too, but I think you are not used to it and yes name is Dhawal and I was just riding in the jungle.) –  Dhawal replied.

Second guy must have been his superior and he wasn’t in that foul mood or they would have whipped his ass then and there. It was wrong to go inside jungle without permission especially when guards are not there.

“Nagar sahab chai banao gussa se hi ubal dena, aur isko mere pas betha jao.” (Nagar sir, go make tea, boil it with your anger only and leave him to me) – He spoke firmly but politely.

“Haji beta ji kya karte ho? “(Yes, son, so what do you do?) – asked the policeman.

“Aji bank me naukri karta hu, dimag thoda ghum raha tha aur Sunday hai socha mai hi ghum leta hu” (I work in a bank, mood was swinging and its Sunday so thought of riding somewhere.), – replied Dhawal.

“Beta eise jungle me ghumoge koi janwar kha gaya to hamari naukri chali jani hai, chalo chai pio fir ghumate hai gasht par jana hai.” (Son if you go on exploring jungle alone, some animal will eat you and we will lose our job. Anyway, let’s have tea and show you the jungle; we will go on a patrol.) – informed the policeman.

But sunrise was gone and he had no intention of going back there now, had enough of today, and the day hadn’t started yet. It was only 7.30 in morning. He bid farewell to police guys after tea. And Nagar said “Sahab agli bar ana to to akele mat ana koi dost sath le ana safe nahi hai aur han number le jao bata k ana to ache janwar dikhaunga, pata kar lunga kidhar hai.” (Sir, when you come next time, don’t come alone bring some friend along, it’s not safe and inform me beforehand so that I will track some animals and show you.)

You might be wondering why this change of tone all of sudden from Nagar?

Because he came to know that Dhawal worked in a bank as a manager, and bankers have respect in small towns and villages, unlike big cities, where all of them are same – slaves working for money who are just supposed to do their job. And people reminded them daily: you are here to do the job and not to be respected.

It was time to head back to his floor, lie down on it and sweat. No more rides for the day.