C U 2MROW @ 9 (July 27, 2016)

If only one cardiac muscle and only one neuron of yours makes you think that God is the ultimate doer of all good, one day He will surely make you a believer. The morning star of Mannu’s new real world up ahead and the smile on his face was back again. The wind was warmer and the heat much more intense.

The ditched city streets of the Pink City, Jaipur, inclined the auto rickshaw three times towards the left and five times towards the right. The sunlight penetrated in and out the dark shed of the auto. As a child welcomes a guest at his home by smiling and peeping from behind his mother’s back, the same way the sun peeped at Mannu, in and out, from the motherly skies. He was enjoying this welcome. The trip had been uneventful as Mannu kept on sleeping for the whole journey. Only once did he open his eyes to produce the ticket and identity proof to the TTE. Visit to the toilet had become a compulsion but he resisted facing the darkness around. He woke up at around 6 in the morning when the calls of chaiwalla disturbed his imagination. His heart said that he was one step closer to his forever love. He tried calling Mrs. K, but the call didn’t connect. With a diary and pen he took a window side and started writing. Drowsiness had still not left his eyes.

Every city has its local taste. The Pink City too, had its own flavour. After driving several 100 metres one had to save the vehicle’s front tyre from the gates of a mandir and the feet of the pujaris. Mandirs seemed more crowded than cafeterias and food parlours. Truly, God asks nothing more than a Rs.1.50 laddoo . The local auto driver, considering Mannu a guest, named every structure of the city as it passed which included the choti chaupad and the badi chaupad. They were much more a leisure island for the cows of the city rather being a chauraha. The auto passed the Hawa Mahal. Temple bells near it heightened the confusion around that place. A queue of worshippers made the traffic come to halt. Bangles, traditional decoratives, dresses, foot wears were being sold around. Pink had be friend several other colours. The shops were surrounded by foreign faces who were mesmerized by the architectural and monumental beauty of Hawa Mahal and the artistry of objects being sold. Their hanging jaws, loud expressions added another speechless compliment. Every other local man had a sense of simplicity on his face and an aura dipped in Krishna’s bhakti.