Dum Ghutkuu

Sitting in the darkness, trying to get cozy in whatever cold the Pune winter has to offer, I conclude: this January has brought about an unprecedented turn of events. Period. Sitting eyes closed against the wall, with Arif Lohar and Meesha Shafi serenading within my newly purchased earphones (bragging rights earned), looking back at the last two weeks. With every reverberating beat of the electro-drum there is a pinch wanting to get me to write this, Dum Ghutkuu.


If The Pune Side of the Pastures was all about getting into the corporate world, and experiencing a plethora of new, candid, cherished, look-back-able moments, and rendezvous’ with new people; Dum Ghutkuu is about the inevitable fallout. It's the point where beginners luck begins to end and when it’s time to board the flight back to reality after a six month long ‘the-honeymoon-period’.

The Diwali week-off was a welcome break, and once we got back, on the job front, things were moving reasonably comfortably. On a personal front, life was on the ascendency on the sine curve it follows. Our daily room cricket matches, trying out endless option to satisfy our bellies, making the most of the weekday times we had, even tried hitting the gym, scavenging in autos and Pune’s much-more-look-forward-able bus service, Saturday cricket matches, Sunday house cleaning jobs and pretty much the Traveller-loads of bakchodi we carried on non-stop for a month to follow. With Shiela, Munni and STD, things were looking nice and bright.

Sometime in November, the four of us had our first spat – over cricket. That was a historic moment, because it hadn’t been experienced before, though, in retrospect, we did handle it nicely then, a lot to do with the senior statesmanship of Munni. Sometime then, as everyone was waiting for Sachin Tendulkar’s 100th hundred, we got to our first (and only) century in our home turf. Then the trip to Alibaug happened. And all fell back in place together. Needless to say, the Alibaug trip was indeed really awesome (So was the Matheran trip). Sometime then we also had our massive KFC gorge, before Munni pledged to give up chicken (for 2 months); and soon got deported from Lavish. Geesh that was one chicken farewell for my man!

Munni’s departure from Lavish in December was sad, though pretty much expected. His cricketing, and seniority mantle was handed over to Machau, as was his share of paying the rent. Among many incidents that transpired in the following weeks, one particular phrase is ever lasting. Once, while trying to make sense on a good yet economical meal for dinner, Machau questioned us, “Hum kama kis liye rahe hai?” A question that left us equally dazed as empty in the wallet; but yeah, well loaded in the belly.

In the mean while, Shiela and STD were fidgeting about prospects of their job postings. The part when they bitched and butchered almost everyone, I knew of, in the relocation-ing firing line, was hilarious. New Year’s Eve came by and after a classic case of health issues, auto issues, quarreling issues; the gong struck 2012 when I was in the company of 3 of the 4 best people I could have wished to be with in Pune, in the best place I could have been; and it was a pleasant experience.

Needless to say, the peak point of this period of the Pune Side of the Pastures was the moment I got my new bike’s possession. It was legendary. The GS150 had me spoilt, pampered and obsessed beyond anything I had experianced in Pune till date.

Shiela also came of age, and got a date for himself (herself). In the dying moments of his stay in Pune, before the relocation, he got his cherry on the piece of cake. STD was at his Cassanovic best, and I was well, let’s leave that for now.

The Fallout. A missed flight. A missed opportunity to make someone special feel really special. Sid’s Delhi departure. And the Order on Mukul’s relocation, like a shot of lightening, within 10 days, left us in a spate of shock and drilled in sensibility of what the demands of the corporate world are like. The original residents of Lavish were being pushed out, one by one.

In hindsight, I might not think too much about this a few months from now, but the wrenching feeling it left us in will last for quite some time. The one week how STD tried to make sense from the not so seemingly good looking opportunities he had and make a decision was a great learning experience for us.

Sitting here, in the dark, in whatever cold the Pune January has to offer, with STD trying to get a sound sleep, Arif Lohar and Meesha Shafi continuing their serenading, and with the wrenching feeling fading as sleep takes over, there is one conclusion that we talked about over dinner today; that pretty much summarizes this side of the Pune Pastures, Dum Ghutkuu: Never take a decision in a moment of extreme happiness or in a moment of extreme shock / sadness; because you are more likely to screw yourself up than when otherwise.

Oh! And did I mention the phone call that changed the Pune perspective al-together? (Scanning the draft) No, I didn’t. There was this phone call, on one fine Sunday evening, that caught me alone on the roads in this crazy city, which when I answered blew the wind out of my lungs. Needless to say, that’s when Dum Ghutkuu began.