My blog has become a poetry blog -- and I don't particularly like it that way. I have been meaning to write since long but just when I make an endeavor to put pen on paper, the ink seems to dry up.
The truth is I do not know where to begin from: I have too many stories to tell. Some of them are happy and exhilarating while some meander around loneliness and an existential crisis. When I think about starting from what's going on at my office these days I think about writing on how am I spending my days in Bombay. When I feel like narrating how I got the job I find myself pondering over how I survived in Bombay when I'd come here for a post-qualification training. The day I most remember is the day in Bombay when I'd come to know I'd cleared my CA Final exams.
I was in the local train, traveling from Dadar to Mumbai Central. I had two huge carry bags -- one on my shoulders and one in my hands. The train was packed with second-class traveling human flesh and bones and limbs. I was going to my relative's place to keep my luggage and later leave for home that day. The swine flu exaggeration had shut down Mumbai for a week. There was no use staying in the city; I did not have a lot of money in my bank account. Home would've been calm, safe and cheap.
The Chartered Accountancy exam results were expected that day. I wanted to pass. I knew I would not. I was desperate. The journey through the CA course had been long and painful. Despite my non-belief in God, I was reading a Dua in the train for the whole time. God is Hope's backup.
My brother called. He told me, "Bhai, congratulations, tu pass thai gayo." You've cleared the exam, Brother.
I was standing with the two bags in that train, in the middle of some 50-odd people. I choked. The lump in my throat ached and made it impossible for me to speak. I kept the phone down. 'Pahuchi ne call karu chhu,' I said finally. I'd call up when I'd reach there.
The lump in my throat ached like a spherical cactus was burgeoning inside. I kept looking at everybody sandwiched in the train. I wanted someone to come and hug me. I wanted to jump out of the train. I wanted to shout. But I stood still.
The train stopped. Mumbai Central Local. I stepped down. And did not care anymore. I started crying.
I could imagine my face that day. It was blank, not an expression one can name, not a single facial muscle flinching. But tears were dripping down from my eyes over to my blank face. Like ceilings leak in unbearable monsoons. One word kept echoing in my head. Over. "It is over, Hussain, over," I kept saying to myself. "It's over, it's over, it's over, it's over, over, over, over ..."
I cried as I walked, I wiped my face as I walked, and kept crying as I walked. I reached outside the station, hired a cab. I cried till I reached Mohammad Ali Road. I stopped the cab and walked the road. I called up my family, told them it'd be wonderful to come back home. I called my friends. My friends were very happy for me. They knew this was the light at the end of the tunnel. My friends are folks I have loved and they have always loved me back even more -- this fact makes me sad at times.
I went home that day. Relieved. That it was over. Over.
The truth is I do not know where to begin from: I have too many stories to tell. Some of them are happy and exhilarating while some meander around loneliness and an existential crisis. When I think about starting from what's going on at my office these days I think about writing on how am I spending my days in Bombay. When I feel like narrating how I got the job I find myself pondering over how I survived in Bombay when I'd come here for a post-qualification training. The day I most remember is the day in Bombay when I'd come to know I'd cleared my CA Final exams.
I was in the local train, traveling from Dadar to Mumbai Central. I had two huge carry bags -- one on my shoulders and one in my hands. The train was packed with second-class traveling human flesh and bones and limbs. I was going to my relative's place to keep my luggage and later leave for home that day. The swine flu exaggeration had shut down Mumbai for a week. There was no use staying in the city; I did not have a lot of money in my bank account. Home would've been calm, safe and cheap.
The Chartered Accountancy exam results were expected that day. I wanted to pass. I knew I would not. I was desperate. The journey through the CA course had been long and painful. Despite my non-belief in God, I was reading a Dua in the train for the whole time. God is Hope's backup.
My brother called. He told me, "Bhai, congratulations, tu pass thai gayo." You've cleared the exam, Brother.
I was standing with the two bags in that train, in the middle of some 50-odd people. I choked. The lump in my throat ached and made it impossible for me to speak. I kept the phone down. 'Pahuchi ne call karu chhu,' I said finally. I'd call up when I'd reach there.
The lump in my throat ached like a spherical cactus was burgeoning inside. I kept looking at everybody sandwiched in the train. I wanted someone to come and hug me. I wanted to jump out of the train. I wanted to shout. But I stood still.
The train stopped. Mumbai Central Local. I stepped down. And did not care anymore. I started crying.
I could imagine my face that day. It was blank, not an expression one can name, not a single facial muscle flinching. But tears were dripping down from my eyes over to my blank face. Like ceilings leak in unbearable monsoons. One word kept echoing in my head. Over. "It is over, Hussain, over," I kept saying to myself. "It's over, it's over, it's over, it's over, over, over, over ..."
I cried as I walked, I wiped my face as I walked, and kept crying as I walked. I reached outside the station, hired a cab. I cried till I reached Mohammad Ali Road. I stopped the cab and walked the road. I called up my family, told them it'd be wonderful to come back home. I called my friends. My friends were very happy for me. They knew this was the light at the end of the tunnel. My friends are folks I have loved and they have always loved me back even more -- this fact makes me sad at times.
I went home that day. Relieved. That it was over. Over.