Love, Dona!

Winter 1989, Grady Memorial Hospital,

The cops drive me straight to Grady and get me admitted in a psychiatric ward where they keep me “under observation”. 

“Yahan Kaise Aaya?”

SK a new entrant to my life has come to see me at Grady Hospital.  I explain to him the events leading up to here.  I tell him not to tell anyone else that I am here. I am ok.

After taking my leave, I see SK talking with the nurses. As soon as he leaves, the ambulance drives me to a ground floor building on the outskirts of the city. Later SK informs me that he told nurses that I am talking about jumping from the building.

Why you lied? I ask him.

“Now they wont be able to deport you! “He explains.

This new hospital is full of seriously disturbed people I think I am the only sane person in this wards, OR was I? I fear for my life now. One of these “disturbing “ looking guy is going to strangle me tonight – I think…. I have stopped sleeping at night…I only sleep during daytime. ( Grady sends me a bill of $313 which becomes $13,000 later with interest. I pay $5000 in 2001to get them off my back. This is capitalism at its best!)

Steve comes to pick me up. He is my best frnd and a student at Georgia Tech.

“I am sorry you have to go thru this man.” He takes me on a long drive. He cracks jokes to make me laugh. It’s a great sight to see a friend trying to lift you up… Friendship is the best medicine in this World…it cures many ills. Years later, in 2007 Jeff Shipman would do that in my life…but that story some other time.

Winter 1989, LaGrange, GA

I meet “A” at a party that Steve invited me to. She is good looking and is fun to be with.  Even though she comes from a rural Dixie background, her ability to see beyond is fascinating. For her, I am a perfect candidate for settling down in life. I am working on my Masters at Georgia Tech and have a bright career ahead.

For me – I am in the middle of a war. Everything else will have to wait.

Winter 1989, Francis 14^th Condos

My deportation is on hold. The Judge has given me an extension to stay and finish my degree.

SK and I have moved in to fancy condos on 14^th street. I am back to focusing on my studies. He has great sense of humor. He paints. He speaks without an accent. He prays. He cooks great food. He has class and is flamboyant.  He organizes little get together in which I recite my stories and ghazals. He is yaron ka yaaar types.

The only time I have issues with SK is when his girl friend Anita comes to see him and they spend time closeted in his bedroom.

But other than that, no complaints!

Spring 1990, Virginia Highlands

Dona introduces me to Shakespeare, Mozart and Bach. Music always keeps playing in her house, even in her absence. As soon as you enter her house you are greeted by symphony no 9 of Beethoven of Mozart or Atlanta Symphony Orchestra playing Bernstein’s. She is a fan of Jimmy Carter and is a member of Jimmy Carter Center of Peace and many other such organizations.

My horizons are expanding. I used to think Ghalib, Sahir and Harivansh Rai to to be the ultimate of literature and art, now new names populating my head.  

Spring 1990, GA Tech

For some weeks now, I ma having this light headache and a feeling of nausea 24x7. I have trouble walking straight. SK says it is nothing; it is just in “my head!” Dona takes me more seriously and sends me to her neurologist frnd for a brain check up. All is well there. But the condition persists.

One day I am lying on my bed thinking about my life script.  The script that I wrote for myself was different than what I am living. My script had a 2 years stay and a degree from America. India is my Karma Bhumi. Who wrote these scenes and why? And now am pulled in different directions.  On one hand I have this great country with unlimited options and freedom to achieve any heights. On the other hand I have unanswered question and a vacuum.  On one hand I have this beautiful Blondie who wants to be my partner…. On the other hand….

Whenever SK finds me lying on my bed looking in the sky with some crappy sad Hindi song playing in the background, he would not leave me alone.

One day he comes home early and finds me in that state.

“Lets go shopping”

“Nahi jana”

We get down at Lindberg MARTA station.  As soon as we come out SK wants to go to the loo.

“Gas station main janaa”

“Nahi, they are dirty. Lets go to Cheetah 3” – SK pointing to a nude club right next to the station.

“Pagal hai. Nahi.”

“Yaar Ek minute lagegga. Tu mat janaa ..main foran aa jaoongaa”

“Nahi mujhe nahi janaa”

As soon as we reach Cheetah 3, SK buys two entrance tickets for 16 dollars.

“Arre, kiya kar raah hai?”

“Chalnaa Yaar, please, 16 dollar waste ho jayenge” SK pulls me by my hand with a mischievous smile.

Khuda Ki Panaha, is what came to my mind as soon as we enter the club. I have the poetry in my genes and we poets like things “hidden!”  We are more prone to fall for a pair of eyes or hands or hair but to see this brazen display of human body parts was too much to handle.  But I am supposed to be a man and running away at this time would amount to be being a sissy. I am a fighter and not a sissy…so I don’t run back to the door.

SK is enjoying the tamasha. He is stuffing 5-dollar bills in the stocking of these dancers. Stockings are all they are wearing. He gives me a bill too, but I refuse to stick it in her stockings. A dancer comes down the pole and approaches me for money. I am embarrassed. All eyes are following her. She gets closer. My heart stops. I feel a sudden 2000-degree heat next to me. I hand over the money as she goes away. The entire exercise takes 30 seconds or less, for me it felt longer. SK laughs at my discomfort. 

To keep myself busy I start noticing things and people. Till my eyes set on a Queen Rania or a look alike of Queen Rania, who is sitting with her frnds on the table next t ours. She smiles. I smile back. She looks khandaani. She too is like me – and does not belong here. I think.

I get distracted for a few minutes as SK whispers something in my ears.

“Who dekh, who abhi apne paas bathi thi na”

“OMG”

That was Queen Rania look like. She was coming on stage and removing whatever worldly possessions she had in front of the crowd.

I run out of the Club. SK follows.

“Dard Kaisa hai ab? Chakkar aa rahe hain?”

“Dard badh gyaa hai. Chakkr bhi. Ab kiya kareneg ye bol?”

We laugh.

PS:  A few years later, Cheetah 3 filed for bankruptcy. A church bought it. I read it that they kept the entire setup as is. They did not even remove the “poles”.

Even though Cheetah 3 changed hands from Godless people to God fearing ones, the “worship” still goes on – this time to a different God!