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About myself --------------When people write about themselves they usually begin with their hometown.Which city should I call my own? Born in Gwalior, it was in Lucknow I cameto my senses only to lose them a little later in Aligarh. In Bhopal Isharpened my wits but it was in Bombay that I really came alive. So whydon't I just go into a small flashback, it will be easier for you to readand for me to write my story.City-Lucknow... Characters: My maternal grandparents, other relatives and I.I am eight. My father is in Bombay and mother in her grave. The day is spent playing cricket with my younger brother in the courtyard. A fierce lookingtutor comes every evening. That he is being paid Rs 15 a month is a fact Iam reminded of every day. Each morning I get a half anna and every eveningan anna to spend. In the mornings I buy coloured sweets from Ramjilal, theneighbourhood grocer and in the evenings the one anna gets me chaat fromBhagwati the hawker from across the road. It's a wonderful life! School hasreopened. I am admitted in class six in a well known schoolof Lucknow-Calvin Talukadar College. Once upon a time it was only the sonsof the aristocracy who could study here but now mere mortals like me alsocan but still it is an expensive school with a monthly fee of Rs.17 (a factwhich is..well)! Many classmates have wristwatches-they come from wealthyfamilies. They wear beautiful sweaters.One even has a fountain pen. Thesekids buy eight anna chocolates during recess (Bhagwati's chat is notappetizing anymore). Just yesterday Rakesh announced that his father wassending him to England to study. And yesterday my grandfather chided,"Atleast pass your matriculation, you may find a job stamping letters in a postoffice." At an age when boys dream of becoming engine drivers, I had decidedto become rich when I grew up.City Aligarh... Characters: My Aunt,other relatives and I.My younger brother continues to stay in Lucknow with my grandparents. I have been assigned to my aunt who has come away to Aligarh.Obviously one familycannot be burdened with two orphans. In front of her home beyond a sprawlingground ahead is my school.Aged fourteen I am in class nine. In Aligarh'swinter is for real. The school bell strikes at seven. I am on my way there.Razor sharp wind-chill cuts across the face sniping at the nose and ears.School is another story. Somehow I manage to pass. My uncle had remarked tomy teacher the day I was admitted to this school, Minto Circle,"Be watchful,this lad has more interest in film songs than his studies."I have so far seen Dilip Kumar's "URAN KHATOLA" and Raj Kapoor's "SHREE 420".I know a lotof film songs but no one is even allowed to listen to them at home forgetabout singing them.So I sing aloud while returning home from school (Excuse
 
me but the early morning chill on way to school would have permittedwarbling of only classical ragas).Since my school is near the universityexcept for some classfellows I am more friendly with boys from theUniversity with whom I like to sit around in cafes. Often I play truant andthe school authorities complain and I get a hiding at home though it doesn'tmake much of a difference. I don't care for school books but love readingnovels inspite of being reprimanded at home. Whenever there is a contest of Urdu poetry at the University it is I who represents my school and win prizes. All the boys and girls of the university can identify me.I am happyat this recognition more so by the girls....I am fifteen and growing up. For the first time helped by my friend BiluI write a letter to a girl. I encounter the girl next day in an emptyBadminton court and bravely hand over the letter. It's the first and lastlove letter of my life (I cannot remember what I wrote in that letter thoughI remember the girl well). I am leaving Aligarh after my matriculation. Myaunt weeps as she bids me farewell prompting my uncle to say that I wasgoing to Bhopal and not to war. (It's another matter none of us realizedthen that I was going to war in a way.)City Bhopal...Characters: Innumerable benefactors,several friends and I.En route Aligarh to Bombay my father almost drops me midway at Bhopal. Istay a few days with my step mother but soon move out. I study at SafiyaCollege and live off friends whose list if I were to compile I would end upwith a telephone directory. I am in BA 2nd year and live with a friendEjaaz. He pays the rent, I just live. Although a student, he earns by givingtuition hence friends have nicknamed him "Master". I have quarreled withMaster and we are not talking to each other so I cannot ask him for money. Ihelp myself by delving into the pockets of his trousers hanging on the wallor sometimes he leaves behind a rupee or two by my bedside.It's my fourth year in college and I am in my BA final. I have never paid myfees and no one has ever asked.This can happen only in Bhopal.I have been given a vacant room in the college campus to live. After classesare over I pull over a few benches lay my bedding to sleep.It's quitecomfortable except for the bugs in the benches.The restaurant where I havemy meals on credit has closed down unable to sustain freebooters anylonger. There's a shoe shop in its place. Where will I eat now? I amlonely,ill with a high fever and famished. Two collegemates with whom I amhardly acquainted bring some food for me in a tiffin. Strange fools thosetwo but I'm clever by half. I hide my tears till they leave. I recover frommy illness and become friends with them. I am a keen debater in college andhave won the Rotary Club Prize for three years running. I have also wonseveral Inter-college debates and have represented Vikram University at the
 
 National Youth Festival in Delhi. During college elections two opposinggroups want me to speak on their behalf. I have no interest in elections butam keen on public speaking so I end up canvassaing for both groups. I havelost the vacant room in the campus and now live with Mushtaq Singh who earnseven as he learns andd is also the President of the College Urdu Society. Iam good at Urdu. He is better. I know countless couplets. He knowsmore. I am away from my family. He has no family. He seems to be better thanme every which way. For a year our friendship has thrived on food andclothes. He provides for both. He is a true Sikh yet buys my cigarettes for me.I have begun to drink occasionally. Mushtaq and I sit drinking one night ashe tells me tales about the partition and its horrors. Although he was veryyoung yet he remembers: In Delhi's Karol Bagh two Muslim girls were thrownin a scalding drum of coal tar and another Muslim. I interrupt him askingwhether he was trying to turn me into a Muslim fundamentalist with hishorrific tales!Every story of terror has two sides.What about the other  point of view?Mushtaq Singh smiles.What do you want to listen? "My story" or a generalaccount.Your story, I say. "We were a family of eleven. Ten of them werehacked in front of my eyes..."Mushtaq remembers a lot of Urdu couplets-I have been staying with him for over a year. I fail to understand one thing. Good guys , whatever their faith, always end up on the gallows. How was he spared? Nowadays he lives inGlasgow. While we were he were parting I took off his "kada" and have wornit on my wrist ever since. Whenever I think about him he seems right therewith these lines on his lips."You pride a lot on your failures, you areunaware about my shortcomings."City Bombay...Characters:The Film Industry,Friends,Foes and I.On October 4,1964 I alight at the Bombay Central station. This is the courtwhere my fate will be sealed. Within six days of my arrival I have to leavemy father's home. I have 27 paise in my pockets. I am happy that if I amable to add another paisa to my riches I will be the winner and life alooser.It's been two years in Bombay. There's still no certainty of either food or shelter. I have managed to write dialogue for a minor film for Rs100.Sometimes I get some work as an assistant or otherwise but often even thiswork eludes me. I go to a film producer's office at Dadar to collect moneyfor some comic scenes I have ghost written but which will be credited to afamous screen writer in the film. The office is shut. I think about the longtrudge back to Bandra. I have just enough money to either grab a bite or a bus ride. I buy some gram and start walking. Ambling past the gate of 
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