Dheeraj Kalgutkar

Around 11am today when my first meeting (online) was over and I was out of my house, I came across a group of not less than twelve men standing at the dilapidated gate of an abandoned plot by Kali river. Each one of them knows there is a lockdown, a national curfew. Just days ago on one night, there was a vehicle roaming on street with a loudspeaker announcing ‘hereby people are informed not to gather in a crowd of more than five, to maintain a distance of at least six feet, not touch each other’ so that COVID-19 (a type of coronavirus) does not spread. I was curious about what they were discussing and what was really happening. What was so important that these people thought to gather like this against the advice risking not only their life but also of their families. I was just looking and one man from the group walked up to me. Before he walked over, one of them had asked me to bring a pen and paper — I had rather rudely ignored the request and just moved into my house then. T...

That’s just a random picture of crowded Delhi. Photo by Fancycrave on  Unsplash         Bus rides are joyful experiences. To travel peacefully on a window seat staring quietly at the passerby's, looking at people on bikes and cars hurrying themselves to reach someplace quicker, buildings by buildings of varying sizes passing like a film via the window glass. And then if you are lucky you meet a nice fellow passenger, you both talk and somehow in its own small and strange ways, you become part of someone’s life who was stranger a while ago. Aha. That is if you are lucky. But I was with no luck in my pockets. I did not get a fellow passenger to talk to. I did not even get a seat to sit forget the window one. I was standing in a crowded bus near the back door of this public transport vehicle with my travel bag. Not big but not too small either. The bus had moved few stops from where I had boarded and had just stopped at another stop. Of the many people who...

Okay. I promise I will make this quick and short. A few days back, while getting on to my train, I hugged someone rather in a strange situation. I got the hug which I needed but I couldn’t really hug back how I wanted it to be keeping in mind the slowly starting train and also a dozen eyes ever pricking on our embrace. Also, there was this whisper in my ear, “When will you reach?” 6 in the morning, I quickly replied. And got back on the train. There was so much that happened on the train which I least expected but will save it for another day. This is just about one part of a long tedious trip. Mid-way through the journey, somewhere past the midnight I opened my cell phone to check if I had the network. Luckily there was. I quickly browsed my way back to the train info page to check where my train exactly was. Hey! the night is dark and full of terrors… I had no idea where I had reached! And to my surprise, my train was moving fast...

It not only takes your right to question the second occurrence but also opens a cycle that is hard to break.   First things are always the first. How lame a sentence, isn’t it? But seriously; Good, bad or ugly, firsts set the precedent and it’s always important to make note of them. When an error, a mistake, a crime, an event where norm or law is broken for the first time, it is important to stop and question it then and there. However small or insignificant it may seem at first, it needs to be called out for what it is. A mistake. You don’t ignore it because it doesn’t matter and not affect your flow of work. It might not affect you now but believe me it will come to haunt you tomorrow and then you will have nothing to do about it except to regret. That’s exactly what I did last week when I went home.  I had marriage of a family member to attend to at one side of Goa, a small Indian state famous for its pristine beaches, old churches and Portuguese era ar...

The bus conductors across India have problem of their own, from chewing pan to indecent language to not-so-warm behavior. But this one was not so cut-out for that definition. Most of my traveling across the stretch of India which I have stayed and moved has been by bus, mostly public and sometimes private. Rarely on train and more scarcely by flight. Most of Indians will relate to this except for those staying in Mumbai for them bus can be replaced with local train! And this is where I have met people from different hues of life, old, young and those not-at-all charming end-of-the-world-loud babies. It’s great experience where you throw yourself to unexpectedness. But there’s one person you have interacted regularly while traveling by bus, ticket collector or bus conductor. Recently, few women have started to apply for the job of conductor and take up the challenging work which otherwise is a man’s world to move from one side of the (most of the times) crowded bus to other si...