Gusto Being Alive On a Forbidden Path

Vanshika Kasturi

Copyright © 2014 Vanshika Kasturi

All rights reserved.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, organizations and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved by author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. Published by author.

The views expressed in this book are entirely those of the author. The printer/publisher and distributors of this book are not in any way responsible for the views expressed by the author in this book. All disputes are subject to arbitration; legal actions if any are subject to the jurisdictions of courts of Kolkata, India.

ISBN: 978-93-83809-38-7

First Published: February 2014

Price: `

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Dedicated to

Each & every nation-builder, crusader and

martyr of my country

Acknowledgement

I don’t have a personal mentor. All I have is a few voices

telling me workout; never stop……… if you stop now, you

can never start again.

Thank you god for blessing me much more than I

deserve.

Radha aunty for being my first reader and for

blessing me with her valuable suggestions.

My family for their constant support.

My school and teachers for being our dream

keepers. Last but not the least my parents – thank

you dad, thank you mom, you are the best.

Welcome to a world of factual fantasy.

Contents

Prologue 10

In A Pickle 14

Shot In The Dark 19

Top Drawer 37

Enigmatic Trunk 59

Jaws Of Death 96

Parchment 117

Epilogue 132

10

Prologue

All though being in his trendy and silent office room

Pranav was distracted by the slightest noise of the antique

grandfather clock far at the dreamy entrance way and by

the mild sound of his feet striding on the Turkish nutmeg,

amber and brown coloured handmade silk antique carpet.

Pacing, he absent mindedly hit his knee on one of solid

wooden leg of the dark brown solid wooden study table. He

moaned in pain and fell into the Duncan Phyfe carved chair

running his meaty hand across his hair with a deep frown

on his face.

Although the room is chilled to bones he was beaded with

sweat. He was tapping his fingers furiously on the table

while his clever dark eyes pierced through the frame less

crescent mooned spectacles giving nervous glances at the

phone.

The climate was all gloomy for him. Satish Ahuja editor-

in- chief of creative eye, suddenly took a back, over one of

his major projects. Pranav a creative director who had been

a source of inspiration to many was shattered today. The

only hope was an acceptance by the selection board in the

on-going suddenly called meeting next door. He was

eagerly waiting for Mr Ahuja’s call about the board’s

decision.

11

Not getting the call he felt himself ripping apart. Every

passing second was like passing ages. He slightly lifted his

eyes glancing at the ballerina hand painted portrait the one

which always soothed his heart but today even it failed to

enhance his mood.

The silence was broken by the lurid ring tone of his phone

which brought him back from his remorse for dooming not

only his but also his allies career risking on this impending

acceptance of their biopic.

Sure will be there in a minute Mr Ahuja, with these words

he walked towards Ahuja’s chamber at rare end of the

floor. Seeing Pranav opening the door, Ahuja said with a

forced smile, ‘Hi come in, have a seat’.

For few seconds incommodious silence prevailed in the

room which was broken by Ahuja’s words, ‘Pranav try to

understand, your biopic was wonderful at the same time

risky and a bit unpromising to be publicized. Better luck

next time.’

‘I can’t buy your logic. Such a hasty decision in the

eleventh hour, never expected this to happen’’, bellowed

Pranav Bhandari.

‘You call this hasty, I tried my best but I am helpless’, said

Satish Ahuja.

‘May be a small decision for you’, screeched the director,

‘for us a long slogged mission. How could you do this to

us?’

Its competitive world brother, We need to bag the award at

the same time should play safe, let Arif’s team represent us

this time their documentary on ‘poverty in India’ is more

promising.

12

‘What’s wrong with our biopic on corruption?’ Pranav

Interrupted, ‘ethically we owe to display the genuine side

of our society to our viewers.

‘Ethics, genuinity! … Forget about it’, Sneered the boss, ‘if

you highlight corruption who will face the pressures and

intimidations?’

Heal the world make it a better place ….. The ring tone of

his phone interrupted the dialogue. Satish picked his Sony

Xperia Z just said excuse me and engaged in answering the

call.

Pranav gazed at him. Robust, well dressed, uncaring guy

whose ring tone, attire not matching with his attitude.

It all started six months back when Pranav and his aides

Kiran Rao and Satwik Sengupta were entrusted with the

task of preparing a documentary to be presented in the

international film festival. Despite of muggings and threats

they carried on their research on ‘corruption in India’ for

months together. After numerous interviews,

documentation and picturization at last they placed it on

Satish’s table for approval which was brusquely denied.

Deep buried in thoughts Pranav took few seconds to notice

Satish still busy in his call quivering his head screaming on

somebody. Twitchy Pranav irritably picked up the Daily

mirror lying on the table and gave a fleeting look at the

headlines not observing Satish completing his call.

What were you saying Mr Pranav?

I was saying nothing just heeding you.

I can realize your feelings but try to get my point. Will it be

wise to risk our lives Pranav?

What about the donkeywork we have done?

13

See dude we are getting nowhere with this. If you get

something more substantial than this within a fortnight I

will try to convince the management for reconsideration.

Just a fortnight! To make a world class documentary, are

you joking Satish?

Sorry but that’s all I can do at present.

Ok see you in a fortnight, Pranav got up and moved to the

door.

Best of luck bro, see you soon.

Thank you …. Pranav left the room.

14

In A Pickle

Country roads, take me home. To the place I belong …

John Denver’s Country Roads made the ambience

cheerful……..Satwik was tapping on the two seater table

impatiently for not getting a clue why Pranav’s phone was

switched off for couple of hours. Unlike other mornings at

Barista today, it appeared as if the clock got stuck and for

him every minute was like passing a year.

Kiran was equally tensed few minutes back, but now he is

busy in refining a young chap Brij Bhushan, who could

not choose from unversed A la carte.

Kiran helped him to choose cappuccino and ordered for an

Espresso Italiano for him and Oreo Coffee Shake for

Satwik.

Brij Bhushan joined them by pulling a chair from the next

table.

Introducing himself Satwik inquired ‘are you from Delhi’?

15

No I am from Nimnur, came here to promote our

Handicrafts in the Trade fair at Pragati Maidan. It is over

and we are leaving soon.

Handicrafts interesting, runs in the family?

Of course, but I am an ally not the proprietor due to some

catastrophic events.

A new plot … journalist in Kiran exited to know. ‘What

went wrong Brij Bhushan?’ he asked in a voice of

concern.

I am native of a remote village Sudhamgarh doomed with

poverty, where employments, drinking water, schooling

and hospital like basic amenities were out of question.

Alcohol, retardation made our village a dingy place

constraining us to migrate ten years ago. Our wretched

lives were saved by my uncle who arranged a career under

an exporter who obliged to trade and export our crafts and

rest …..

Before he could finish satwik’s mobile buzzed. Looking at

Pranav’s number he yelled in jubilation ‘buddy party

time’. ‘What’s up?’ he enquired. He Paused for a while,

‘Oh’ no back to square one?’ he looked beaten, the entire

colour drained away from his face. He felt dejected, this is

their first project at international level and the whole

shebang went into vain.

Reading the expression on Satwik’s face Kiran asked what

the problem is. It took him few seconds to recuperate his

voice and explain Kiran that their biopic was not so

promising and too risky, so it was overruled and they were

back to square one.

‘What’s the problem?’ Queried, Brij Bhushan.

16

Nothing bro just chill a little disquiet we have to leave,

saying this duo left the place in a hurry to meet Pranav.

*****

The trio met at the usual meeting point Agrasen ki Baoli,

hidden among the tall buildings of Connaught Place on

Hailey Rd, where they first met searching their niche.

Delighted or distressed they come here to share a bond with

the place which was beside them and will be there when

they were hurt to look back or frightened to look forward

and can see the truth and pain in them even when they were

fooling everyone else.

The trailing uneasy silence was broken when the floodgates

of Pranav’s emotions opened and he busted into tears

bellowing, ‘that hare-brained fellow left us to swim in

strange water in a jiffy’. Fortnight practically not possible,

we failed in our way to success, let us drop.

‘Come on Pranav’, said Satwik, ‘let’s not waste our time in

doubts and fears nothing is impossible, the word itself says,

I’m possible!’

He talks of poverty ………where few men who absolutely

do nothing useful to stockpile a fortune of hundreds of

billions of rupees while many men and women do all kinds

of yakka and fag all day and barely make enough to have a

wretched life. There are many who die of hunger and cold,

on the other hand some have so much of affluence provided

by the hard work and sweat of labourers and the brilliance

of scientists, but they only care dazzling, Ritzy life style.

Payola, disloyalty, villainy, double-dealing and sleaze have

cuffed the hands of benevolence, magnanimity, and

humanity in people ….. Were the words said by annoyed

Kiran.

17

‘I still wonder why poverty continued so long in human

society - how a few people could live in opulence while

billions dwelt in misery, penury and privation ……. Instead

of going into the roots of it, people are bagging awards

exposing poverty’, said disturbed Pranav.

Poverty and richness are two sides of the same coin, how

we see it that depends on us. One may be poor by his

pocket but rich by his heart, similarly a nation may be poor

by its economy but it may inherit a glorious past, splendour

culture, and magnificent civilization.

The golden bird that was plundered, pillaged, invaded,

forayed, tormented, mangled by many neither retaliated nor

attacked any other nation for its own benefits proving its

solicitude for peace. Our nation is the one that gave zero,

decimal and place value system. Sanskrit language that is

most suitable for software is an ancient language of our

nation. Nalanda the first university and Ayurveda the first

form of medicine belong to India, which also ranks as the

world’s largest democracy. Inspite looted for centuries its

head is held high, still world’s top billionaires are citizens

of this country. With good purchasing power parity our

economy is one of the fastest and largest growing

economies with substantial Gross domestic product (GDP).

Royalty oozes in the blood of the nation, from the poor

through hospitality and from the rich through money. The

millionaires rose from this soil and went to heights that

were never touched. Then, why the obsession, passion and

fashion of projecting the poverty as the only thing that of

India; we have a very rich and wealthy cultural back

ground, why not expose it instead of engrossing ourselves

in poverty and making it a world premiere.

Our lovely crackpot generously gave us a chance for

second thought but to carry on with the given project.

Do you still have hope?

18

Certainly failures are the stepping stones to success, let’s

do it.

We can’t disappoint an optimist, come on let us find a

dreary place to dump our biopic.

Dreary place …wait a minute, what about Sudhamgarh.

Sudhamgarh! What the inferno you are talking about? No

time to explain maybe it’s the apt place for our project.

‘Satwik can you find trains to Sudhamgarh online?’ asked

Kiran.

After few minutes of searching Satwik said,’ a biweekly

passenger train without any A/C coaches is the only option

which is scheduled today at six in the evening, if not, after

three days hurry up only six berths are available’.

You mean today?

That wool-gathering fellow gave us only a fortnight to do

or die.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears … our

mission poverty begin today. Let’s disperse, meet at

station; yelled Pranav….. In a dramatic fashion making his

aids laugh at such odd hours.

19

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