Some glimpses from my new book -The Lost Hour

Chapter 9.The Bull You didn’t tell me, before coming in my dream Nobody tells; but you should have. For you are real Me, my, you, ours ,all I suppose is a dream But I’m not real, me-these lines Is one of your dreams; for you are me And I’m not real I met her in the meadows; she was walking towards the Bull, where the three men had spent their night.I asked her whether she liked to ride the horse. The pacing steed has always been my passion.

Chapter 12.Thames We came in sight of Reading about eleven. The river is dirty and dismal here. One does not linger in the neighbourhood of Reading. The town itself is a famous old place, dating from the dim days of King Ethelred, when the Danes anchored their warships in the Kennet, and started from Reading to ravage all the land of Wessex; and here Ethelred and his brother Alfred fought and defeated them, Ethelred doing the praying and Alfred the fighting……-Jerome K Jerome, Three Men In A Boat

Later I met Kamala on a red evening at the Thames valley at Reading, A town south of England, half way between London and Oxford. The town was red even without the evening sun. It was three days after I lost an hour in life; I went back to my life as a student. When I used to hate the boring lectures and skulk the classes. May be this is a reaction to all the bunked hours. The Big Ben suddenly marched an hour forward without telling me, it shall march backward but only in winter. Who knows where I am in winter.litereally I have lost one hour in life. Next is spring. And as Porter calls it, ‘spring comes when it comes’. I want to see the flowers blooming in bright sunlight, before I leave to my village 4322 miles away from Reading. Reading hadn’t changed much since the three men had left. It remains the same. The same as it was. But she made the town brighter. All I saw was her blue fingers. The winter had caused damage to her fingers. She looked pleasant and talked all the good things in the world.

Chapter 13.The Bombay Girl Kamala was from Bombay,one of the biggest towns in west India.. Until she was 14 the maximum a vadapav cost was two Rupees. Nowadays ‘Remix’ vadapav can cost up to four Rupees. Having spend so much time in London she knows how to dress superb for a presentation and attract the ladies make over, still words like pakav and apun glue to her tongue. She is a charming young lady who still remembers that the day was navami, the birthday of legendary Indian king Ram. Kamala called her friend Vidhu and told her that the day was Navami and Vidhu was excited.Vidhu was married to Prasoon.Kamala had come over to Reading in search of the Hindu place for her worship where I met her.She had her finger in her right hand wrapped over a white cotton cloth as it had turned blue due to non circulation of blood.Raynaud's syndrome. She had some of her other fingers also on the verge of turning blue. Finally we found the place of worship in the 7,Whitley Street in Reading, where we spend almost 3 hours.There were all kinds of people and all gods of worship. It was a big hall converted into a Hindu place. People were singing Bahjans in the name of Lord Ram. After some time we left the place to reach the Railway station. It was almost 10.30 in the night. Bracknell,where both of us lived was five stations away from Reading. Prasoon had promised her to give a drop to her house from his place.He lived near the Railway Station like me.But I never had a car. We reached Bracknell by around 11 pm. Kamala was tensed as any other women from India would be. The place was empty.Wind was blowing towards us .We walked fast to Prasoon’s house.I told a big thank you for the memorable evening with her before we reached the place as I was sure I wont be able to say so in front of them.

Chapter 14.The Pork Lady Vidhu opened the door. She was a beautiful young lady. She wore light colored dress opposite to Prosoon who wore full black. The main attraction in their living room was the staircase which led to somewhere which I couldn’t see or imagine as I was new to English houses.The silver staircase mostly of aluminium fabrication reminded of my family house back in India which hade huge stair of brown wood which led to nowhere but heavy darkness. A laptop had been left open near the white sofa on which we sat. In a sudden glimpse I could read S-A-S on the Laptop. Exactly on the right side of it was a fireplace with burnt carbon and I could see a small painting kept as if laid unattended by no one on the floor near the fireplace.. But the painting was beautiful and I could make out a river and some boats. I was wondering who the painter was in the house. Kamala was terribly worried about being late and sat as if she wanted be at her place as early as possible. Vidhu was voracious about Sharookh Khan,the Indian actor's show Kaun Banega Carorepathi.To my surprise, there was a question from Kamala “did he wear the Denim Jacket?” she asked, Vidhu said “no it was yesterday”. I said to myself ‘Sharookh,you need to really be careful about your attire and you are a talk even within these women in a remote town in the UK called Bracknell,Berkshire County’. Vidhu was upset over the Pork she ate despite Kamala reminding her that it was Ram Navami. Vidhu was so nice that she kept on asking whether we needed some peena –veena until we stated off in their small car towards Kamala's place.