Driving slowly on his bike he felt the first chill of winter air on his face, pandals passing by, and people dressed in their best enjoying the festivities. The sound of dhaak playing in the background, he thought was making the entire setting utterly romantic.

Romantic, he suddenly stopped! He felt happy to have found another meaning of the word, it was a feeling free from any - one relationship, it could be any where, and it could be within. While he was defining new meanings and finding a few answers to unknown questions, he didn’t realize that he had turned towards the busy Cannaught Place, for once though he enjoyed the frenzied chaos of the heart of Delhi.

He turned his bike towards that lane he had heard a lot about, but had never dared to enter, it was a part of many jokes and fantasies, he was in Delhi’s red light area.

Like a shopper unknown of the brands shopping purely on the feel, he stopped infront of a Sign that said ‘Seven Star Paradise’. As he parked the bike rather casually on the road side and looked up at the neon light which read the name of the place, he wondered why it was written in blue and not in red. Choosing not to scratch his brain more on the color, with an already fast pumping heart he took the first step of a rather steep staircase. There was a pattern in the place; everything there belonged to the place, nothing out of place. It was an extremely peaceful setting, very few would agree, but Rakesh was feeling it with every step he took.

The stairs opened into a cramped dimly lit verandah full of girls dressed in atrocious attires and loud make-ups. He wondered how any one of them actually looked without that make-up, he had no clue. He had come to a brothel for the very first time in his life, yet he was not intimidated, but he wasn’t sure, and Monalisa could see it. As he walked past them one by one, he did not know what to do, Monalisa suddenly took him by his hand and led him to a gallery which had a row of tiny doors on one side and a noisy sprinkler of an Ice-cream factory on another side. He again felt romance, and he smiled at the idea. He didn’t feel awkward about being led into a room not more than the size of his bathroom, by an unknown girl. The last time something like that happened to him was in Palika Bazar, where a shop keeper wanted to sell him pirated CDs.

Monalisa switched on a single small bulb in the room. It was a rectangular room, probably five by eight in size, no windows, the only two openings were a small door, Rakesh had to duck under it to enter, and a small exhaust fan on the opposite wall. The layers of paint on the walls were peeling off and it looked like it was painted not less than a decade ago. It had only three pieces of furniture, a small bed, a chair, and a scary looking pedestal fan. But strangely it smelled of a very expensive perfume.

‘Ye khushboo kahan se aa rahi hai’, Rakesh said.

Monalisa smiled and said, ‘Maine lagaya hua hai, Cannaught Place se khareeda tha, Ralph Lauren’

‘Tum Ralph Lauren ka perfume lagati ho to yahan kyun rehti ho?’ Rakesh asked.

‘Tum mera, interview lene aaye ho?’ she giggled.

Rakesh felt stupid to have asked the question.

‘So!’ Monalisa said fixing her eyes on Rakesh. He felt nervous for the first time and didn’t know what to say.

‘Pehli baar aaye ho?’ she asked, to which Rakesh said, yes. She asked back, ‘kyun?’ Rakesh retorted, ‘tum mera interview lena chahti ho?’ and they burst into laughter.

Rakesh was standing all this while, and Monalisa was sitting comfortably in the chair, she stood up, brushed past Rakesh to close the door at his back.

‘Yahan hansne pe koi rok hai kya?’ Rakesh questioned.

‘Yahan kisi cheez pe koi rok nahi hai, yahan hum wo karte hain jo humara mann chahta hai!’ Monalisa replied with a confident smile that made Rakesh jealous. He didn’t know how true that statement was but he didn’t feel too good about his own status.

She went back and sat again, ‘khade kyun ho, jaldi hai kya?’ she asked. ‘Nahi’, and he sat at the edge of the bed, he felt a thin mattress under him. ‘Tumhara naam kya hai’, Rakesh asked. ‘Monalisa’, she said. ‘Tumhara?’, ‘Rakesh’, he answered.

‘Tum Monalisa jaisi bilkul bhi nahi lagti’, Rakesh said, thinking the name didn’t suit a girl in such a profession though he felt stupid about the entire thought later on.

‘To kaisi lagti hoon? Champa jaisi?’ she queried back. ‘Aur kaisi hoti hain Monalisa waise?’

He was shocked at the counter question, not by the way she retorted but by the sense of awareness in her, about who she is, where she is and what she does. He felt respect for her, and thus chose to keep quiet. His eyes in the meanwhile surveyed her all over, in a way he had never done ever before. She was wearing an orange color salwar kameez, without a dupatta, she was wearing far lesser make-up than the other girls he noticed outside. She was not beautiful, he felt, but had some attraction, may be it was her eyes. She had beautiful eyes, Rakesh felt.

She got up again to switch on the fan; it was a noisy pedestal fan, very aptly branded ‘farratta’ right in the middle of the front grill. He got his first chance of looking at her, without her staring back in reply. She turned and stood right infront of his face. He looked up, startled; she kept her hands on his shoulder and said ‘sirf baatein karoge?’ He suddenly felt bad about the idea of going there; he was enjoying the conversation, but acknowledged that it’s her job. He really felt bad now.

The next thirty minutes, Monalisa & Rakesh, spent on that small bed barely accommodating the two bodies, into each other. All this while Rakesh’s mind kept judging Monalisa, she had given herself completely to him, he felt really strange at that. The submission was beyond comprehension for him. He wondered if she did that to all men, or she liked him.

The feel of body head and rattling music of the fan reminded him again of romance. He felt love for her; he smiled at it, and kissed her for the first time. She smiled back and said ‘english style!’, he looked at her startled by the comment and kissed again. Rakesh was reminded of his girl friend; he had a break-up a year ago. He wondered what reminded him of Shivani.

‘Kahan kho gaye?’ Monalisa asked Rakesh, almost like waking him up. ‘Eh, kuch nahi yahin hoon’, he stood up, took a full view of her naked body for the first time. He felt unsettled. Dressing up he reached for his wallet, Monalisa, got up, not caring to dress up, held his hand and said, ‘you needn’t pay’. When he insisted to pay, she said, ‘sometimes I have fun too’ and giggled. Rakesh was shocked at hearing her speak English so fluently. He was about to ask her when she kissed him, and hugged him, he felt a tear in his eyes, which he very smartly wiped off. He didn’t know why he got that tear. Rakesh sat on the chair while Monalisa dressed herself; he wanted to ask so many things but did not know how. She opened the door, and left. Rakesh kept sitting there for a while; he thought she would probably come back. Another couple came in sometime and he was asked to leave. He got up wondering where she disappeared.

Rakesh did not ask anyone about her, and came straight out of Seven Star Paradise. On to the road, the air felt chiller than before, he took a deep breath of fresh air and started his bike. Till the end of the turn he kept looking at the Seven Star Paradise in the rear view mirror.

1. I don’t write the diary anymore, but I buy one every year.
2. I have a lot to say, a lot more than ever before, but I don’t seem to love myself as much I did before. I know that’s tough to explain but that’s what it is.
3. I don’t seem to read anymore, though my thirst for reading and knowing about the world has increased, much more than ever before, I still don’t read, but I do buy books.
4. I feel emotional and nostalgic about things, places, people, but I have no association with them any more and I am not trying hard enough.
5. I keep having humble realizations about myself everyday, that gives me peace, but I haven’t slept well for a long time.
6. I realized that I have no fantasies of being an inventor, I am happy being a discoverer, but the kick off is taking far too long.
7. I tried loving the world, but the world doesn’t love me the way it used, it’s been a long time now.
8. While I was reminiscing in the memories of my past, of the awards and glory, of the tough times and learning, a girl was taking her dying father on a rickshaw, she didn’t have tears in her eyes, just hollowness.
9. I never thought before that the city did not have space, now I find it hard looking for space, my space is no more.
10. I have started enjoying the little things, the little things now are not the little things of then, yet little is still big, it still satisfies; it still makes me feel good.
11. I loose temper, I don’t have the same commitment, I don’t remember things, and my to-do list never ends because I never do anything.
12. People don’t pick up calls, answer texts or reply to chats, I am no different.
13. I don’t feel bad about talking business.
14. I don’t want to befriend all, yet I don’t like not being one.

It’s been a really long time, and I wrote all of this, it seems that it has been ages since I started to write.

Life doesn’t have that too many spells of such ‘long times’, I know this, my discoveries are waiting, I have to pack my bags and catch the train.

Come be a part of my journey, coz I don’t like to travel alone.

कुछ सपने, कुछ आशाएं लिए मुन्नी अब पिया के घर में आई थी
पर वहाँ भी सासू माँ नें उसपर वही बंदिशें लगायी थीं
यहाँ तो उसे बंदिशों में ही रहना होगा
परिवार कि इज्ज़त पर सर्वस्व कुर्बान करना होगा
घर कि बहुएं तो परदे में ही अच्छी लगती हैं
बड़ी कि आज्ञा से ही देहरी के बहार पाव रखती हैं
सासू जी कि सीख से मुन्नी कि अखियाँ भर आई थी
पर अपनी गर्दन उसने फिर भी स्वीकृति में ही झुकाई ही
दीदी कभी बनी थी, अब तो बन गयी थी है वो दादी
पूरी ज़िन्दगी उसने घर कि चारदीवारी में ही बितादी
और दादी बनकर आज वो जब सोंच रही थी
बैठी हुई अतीत के पन्ने जब खोल रही थी
सोंचते हुए उसने केवल इतना ही पाया
कि भगवान ने क्यूँ उसको एक लड़की बनया
इससे तो अच्छा उसको चिडिया बनाया होता
ऐ काश! उसने अपनी मर्ज़ी से उड़ने का अधिकार तो पाया होता

कुछ शब्द दिल के खालीपन में डूबे रहे
कुछ शब्द सहमें सहमें से अपना वजूद तलाशते रहे
कुछ शब्द कौंधते रहे सुबह-शाम मेरे दिल-ओ-दिमाग में
और कुछ शब्द आईने में अपना अर्थ ढूँढ़ते रहे

सोंचता हूँ की आखिर कब तक छुपे रहेंगे इस तरह कुछ शब्द
कब तक मेरे सीने में हलचल मचाते रहेंगे कुछ शब्द
कब तक मुझको मुझसे ही लड़ते रहेंगे कुछ शब्द
कब तक तेरी यादों के नर्म साए कि याद दिलाते रहेंगे कुछ शब्द

हाँ ये तुम ही तो हो जो मेरे थरथराते होंठो पे शब्द बनके मचलना चाहती हो
तुम ही तो हो जो चेहरे पे मेरे मुस्कान बनके बिखरना चाहती हो 

कुछ शब्द तुम्हारी यादों में ढलते रहे, और गर्म सांसें तेरी खुशबू में थिरकती रहीं
तुम प्यास बनकर गले से चिपकी रही, और लहू बनकर रगों में दौड़ती रह
मैं तुम्हे नज़रंदाज़ करता रहा और तुम मुझे शब्दों कि उलझन बनकर छेड़ती रही
मैं तुम्हारा गुनहगार हूँ
चीर दो मेरे सीने को ज़िन्दगी के खंजर से और निकल फेको उसमें से बनते बिगड़ते, कुछ शब्द

I can’t forget the eyes of two women in their 40s or may be more, not choosing to leave the stadium when everyone was doing it as India lost to Australia in Hyderabad. The way they held each others hands and prayed for some magic to happen and India to win. The look in their eyes was heart warming, the urge for someone whom you call yours, to win, in this case its team India. The visual has stayed with me for the past five days.

I can’t forget the kids whom I saw at Juhu beach today, who were playing with the sand, had those plastic saw, trolleys and lots of other such stuff, which looked expensive, and the urge in my heart to provide my kids with that kind of fun, that affluence, which I never had. And then there was a realization of parents living dreams through their children. And almost immediately it gave me an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my parents. They have provided me with everything they could only dream of during their childhood and youth. I can never do enough for them, and I can’t shrug it off by saying that it is every parent’s responsibility because what they have done for me has not been anything short of extra ordinary, considering the kind of childhood they had for themselves.

I can’t forget another kid on Juhu beach, who was shivering with cold and barely had clothes to cover himself up, and looked with a lost silence at those kids I mentioned above. He knew he could also make castles with sand, but his hands could not match the efficiency of the spade, he knew he could also make a moat around that castle but he knew that he had no trolley to take the sand he digs away from the structure and the hold of his palms was insignificantly small. He knew if he fought hard and persisted he could still manage, but then there was no one to provide him with juice after all the efforts he has made, or at the least hug him and say ‘good work’, there was no one for him and he knew, and I can’t forget.

I can’t forget the puja three years ago, the way it changed my life and my association with festive. The way I used to get all pepped up as soon as navratra was there, and how that one month of festivities used to give me all the positive energy I required for an entire year. The same puja today seems to depress me and add on to it the pink weather which makes me all the more vulnerable. It gives me a nagging feeling, a restless heart, an unsettled mind.

I can’t forget a girl who tries to commit suicide after she lost the guy she loved almost madly, immediately after her engagement. Her cries, give me a feeling of standing in an endless graveyard. It makes me feel sick.

I can’t forget my cousin whom I could never know close enough, and news channels say committed suicide due to an unrewarded love. I can’t forget another cousin who as I write this is battling for life at a very young age. I have never been close to them but they make me sad, I feel like going in front of the sea and cry loudly. Because I feel for them not as their cousin but as a stranger, what happened to them was unfair.

I can’t forget when my friend says that her life is giving her a choking feeling; it chokes me too to realize that I can’t do anything about it.

I can’t forget that I can’t do anything about so many things in life.

I can’t forget how I have lost friends in front of my eyes and I only watched helplessly even reluctant at time to win them back.

I can’t forget how I have been lying all my life so much so that those lies have become a part of my life but they still are lies. How I have kept lying to myself, I am afraid of loosing respect in my own eyes.

I can’t forget when Aditya said, he can never be easy with the fact that one can date someone who has been with someone else before and that too for a long time. How many of us can really accept someone with those credentials, can I do that. But that is the hypocrisy, if I can’t accept someone like that, who will accept me. It’s a man’s world and we the men of the world think from our perspective all the time.

I can’t forget that I wanted to write so much more and I am absolutely not satisfied and at peace, but I just cant carry on. May be some other time. I really miss my diary. I want to get back to it, but something has been stopping me from doing it.