This part is dedicated to two of my PM readers, Bhavna and Sabina-thanks for encouraging me about my writing.
To all my Muslim friends who are fasting, 'Happy Ramadan!'
I realized that I don't have too much time with my other commitments, so I decided to cut my chapters into half from now on, sorry guys, they are not longer, long updates. My apologies.
Part 1A
Restless Youth
- By Squad Five O
They call us problematic, they can call us what they will.
They don't understand the way we feel.
Call us hopeless, call us restless, go ahead now, call us tools.
But this time we've got their number, and something to prove.
Most of our lives we've been out of place.
All our scars can't be erased.
They just don't vanish without a trace.
This time we're gonna stand our ground.
And there ain't nobody gonna hold us down.
Cause We're restless, yeah baby, restless youth.
Here and now we won't back down.
And there ain't nobody gonna turn us around.
Cause we're restless, yeah baby, restless youth.
We got one chance left to make it, one last chance to fight.
And we'll face the odds together, said 'It's all right.'
Take a chance, say a prayer, take another now if you dare.
Together we got nothing, nothing to lose.
They're not as strong as they appear.
All their scars don't disappear.
And they have wounds that never heal.
Don't let this moment be forgotten.
Or else our struggle is for nothing.
I know it's hard to believe.
All these scars and casualties.
Our memories, out hopes and dreams.
I'm nothing but a restless youth, ain't nothing but a restless youth.
Ram and Shyam were getting fed by Jagdish Bali with his own two hands, his tender gaze touched them as they grazed the food lazily. He mixed the diet of grams, desi ghee and mustard oil seeds, the best food for nurturing the animals with protein and strength. He boasted to the villagers that he had three sons, one of them was a human weakling, the other two were his Rajasthan Marwari prize bulls he purchased at the Naguar festival last year. He had been raising them with pride and patience, the bullock cart race was coming up soon, and he was going to beat the Singhanias this year.
The Singhanias may be the rich and powerful clan in Ram Nagar, but he was not called the Babbar Sher of Punjab for no reason. He had moved to Mt. Abu a few years ago with his wife Baljeet Kaur, otherwise known as Biji and his son Aditya Bali. To his contrition, he had lost the race last year, the first year he had participated. He was ill prepared for the race that time; this year, he was more than ready for the race.
The races consisted of manned, animal driven carts made to cover an uneven track, over the levies of the lake, and on the top of the agricultural farmland, between the mango orchards, for about 10 miles. Several carts participated one time, and there were no holds barred. He knew that the owners lashed the animals with their whips indiscriminately, flagrantly. He hated it; Biji always told him that he was a softie behind the stern face.
He could not understand how they twisted the tails of the animals, bit them, introduced black ants into the ears, handled them roughly with the restraining ropes, yanked brutally at the nostril cords causing them to bleed. They even drugged them (Nashabandhi) He didn't have the stomach for it. But he knew how to win the race with his love; he nurtured his prize bulls with tender, loving care and trained them every day. He sat at the helm of the bullock cart, himself. The bulls listened to him like slaves to the master. The cart was specially made for his larger frame, he stood in person while the ironsmith soldered the axles and put the nails in the wooden wheels. Every one knew it was vitally important that the wheels did not come apart in the long race.
He knew several of his friends who were participating in the race, they bred the Brahms, Ongole, Halliker, Gir, Pahari, Rajasthan Marwari bulls – took time from their farming, because this was the ultimate race that every one wanted to win.
He looked at his son sitting on the parapet wall idly, biting his nails and laughing at his friends' jokes. Aditya was 21, just passed his degree and was looking for a job. He had spent four years at the house of Udai and Krishna Walia. Krishna was a close friend of Biji and promised that Aditya would be treated just like her own son. Jai Walia and Aditya got on well together even though they were four years apart.
But now that Krishna Walia is dead and Aditya finished his degree, he was back in Mt. Abu. He had no job and had no intention of looking for one. Biji and Jagdish were unhappy about their son's lack of ambition and happy go lucky attitude. To top it off, he invited his three no good friends, rich boys from prominent Bombay families - Aparajit Deb, Mohan Khandelwal and Tarun Sablok to spend their summer with him before they went to their higher studies or other family owned businesses.
Shobhana Sharma, billo as Biji fondly called her, sent a message saying that she would like to send Jigyasa and Jai to Mt. Abu for a few months, because her father-in-law had taken ill and she needed to take care of him.
Biji looked forward to taking care of Jai and Jigyasa. She liked Jai Walia - the boy was too mature for his own good, an introvert who was more passive aggressive in nature than his sister, who was openly aggressive and slightly cantankerous. Biji knew that he was very close to his mother and things were not working out between the father and son after her death. The girl was stubborn and had an attitude but the girl saw too much, what with an ill mother and a father who flirted with every young thing that he came across.
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Jai sat in the train, the passenger train was dirty and noisy. He cringed with distaste as someone spit the paan, the red liquid spurting angrily on the side of the train. He closed his eyes to shut out the noise and dirt. All he could do was remember the confrontation couple of weeks ago with his father.
"Get out of my house, Jai, before I get the security to throw you out!" Udai Walia looked coldly at his son.
"Don't worry, dad! Now that my mother is dead, I wasn't planning to stay with you and your mistress in the house" Jai sneered at him angrily.
Udai clenched his fists in frustration. "Since you made your intentions clear, get out and don't come back until you are willing to apologize to my guest!"
"Is that what you call them these days? I thought they are called wh*res, or pro**itutes, in Hindi they are called Baazaar ki aurat." Jai had no intention of backing down. His overgrown, uncombed hair curled around his nape, and he brushed the errant locks on his forehead impatiently. "How the bloody hell do you expect me to keep quiet when you take that woman into my mother's bedroom?" An angry tear slipped without his consent.
"I am marrying that woman, she is expecting my child" Udai delivered without an expression in his face.
"Damn you, dad! How could you? Mom's grave is still fresh, it hasn't even been six months since she died, couldn't you put your zipper on until at least the mourning period was over?" He had never talked back to his father in the last seventeen years and today, he let himself go, the grief and the anger could not be contained anymore.
"That's enough, Jai! I think it's best if you keep your mouth shut right now. I called your mother's sister in Chandighar, she is expecting you and your sister, I have asked her to take you in for a few days." Udai's voice broke slightly. He turned away so that his children didn't see his distress.
Jai turned around to see the back of his father from his superior height. "That would make it easy on you, won't it? So you can run around with your mistress who is just a few years older than your daughter without guilt?"
Udai leaned heavily on to the wall and didn't turn back. "Just go, Jai – I have asked the driver to take you both to the station. Your maasi is expecting you." He walked into his bedroom without looking back at his son or daughter.
Jai watched him leave, his impotent rage needed assuaging but his adversary wouldn't even stand and fight him like a man. Jigyasa touched his shoulder uncertainly…this was a Jai he never saw before. His rage, his rebelliousness, his frustration... They were some thing she encountered for the first time. Suddenly she felt that he was the older and she was the younger. She admired his outburst with their father.
Together they stepped out from the house that never seemed the same since their mother died and sat in the cream color ambassador car. As the car ate the distance, Jai refused to look back at the house while Jigyasa stared at the house disappearing until she could see it no more.
Maasi asked no questions, she fed them, pampered them and finally extracted information from Jigyasa about Bernali. She was appalled at her brother-in-law. She covered her disgust and tried her best not to poison the children's minds against their father. But Jai was 17 and Jigyasa was 19, they already judged him for what he was. There was nothing she could to change Jai's mind about his father. They still needed to go to college after the summer holidays. Jai had just finished his secondary school while Jigyasa was eager to dropout from college and get married to some one, any one to get away from her home.
She needed to show these kids a way where they could live independently, with their head held high, preferably far away from their father. She worried about Jai, the angry, morose boy who acted more adult than his age and Jigyasa who had no real sense of pride or confidence in herself, and looked at others to hang on to.
Unfortunately her sasur-ji had taken ill, and since her husband passed away, she took care of him. She didn't hesitate before sending a note to Biji, Krishna's close friend. And here they were, traveling to Mt. Abu from Chandigarh. It seemed like they were traveling nomads, with no house to their name. Jai's mouth twisted bitterly, his anger rising again at his father. For the first time, he felt reckless, wild and hopeless.
Painting of a thatched bullock cart, the ones that are used for racing are open and don't have a thatched roof.
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The initial part is based on a theme with Bullock Cart Racing, Kite Flying and Cock Fighting. Where I grew up these were part of our summer activities.
Also this FF is some what different, because I am using the Singhanias as characters.
Hope you enjoy this part, please leave comments.
Edited by Sheena_Row - 18 years ago
CID
