RADIO CHAOS

A STORY ABOUT AN AMERICAN YOUTH IN INDIA

BY ANIRUDDHA BANHATTI

FLAT 102, HARMONY, PADMA HOUSING SOCIETY, BIBWEWADI, PUNE, PIN 411O37 INDIA

PHONE 02065270908 E MAIL : anibani@rediffmail.com

Dedicated to my dear wife

MANJU

RADIO CHAOS. ONE

Gondhal? John asked, What does it mean? John had come to India with Narendra. They were classmates when Narendra was studying at the Stoneybrook University. Both of them had just graduated in Computer Engineering. Narendra was stinking rich. He didnt have any scholarship like John. He was fully paying the huge fees of the University, rather, his father was paying. Of course he was above average and smart enough to score sufficiently well in GRE, TOEFL so as to qualify for the admission. During the four years of the engineering education they had developed a very close friendship. And because Karan Johar had publicized The Great Indian Marriage in his films so much that when he finished his graduation, Narendras father sent the Royal Command to Narendra to come back to India, as a bride was chosen for him and he was to get married, John decided to accompany him for seeing The Great Indian Marriage in reality. He had planned to spend his own money and had planned to do some tourism prior to the marriage on his own, but when His Highness Sardar Hambir Rao Deshmukh, i.e. Narendras father learnt that John was also coming with his son to India, to attend the marriage, he issued another Royal Command to Narendra, See to it that John should not spend even one cent of his own money. So as the result, without spending a single cent john toured India lavishly, and for the last few days was attending the incredible marriage ceremony. John could never imagine that a man can spend so much money for someone unknown, for a stranger, for a foreigner, but to his utter amazement, it had happened. What does Gondhal mean? John asked again. After some thought Narendra said,

It means chaos. Waaw! Wandaful!Waandaaful! John said, Like that Roger Waters album ---- Radio Kaos? Narendra looked at John in surprise. He himself had never co-related the Gondhal of Goddess Ambabai with the Chaos of Roger Waters album. When John made that connection the song immediately started playing in his head: Radio waves he hears, Radio waves Radio waves The atmosphere is thin and cold Yellow Sun is getting old And the ozone overflows with Radio waves He hears Radio waves Radio waves ----Narendra looked at the tall, knobby figure of John, with his slightly crooked nose. With the latest expensive, very slim Sony handycam in his hand he was shooting and capturing everything since his arrival. It was a truly grand wedding, even more splendorous than those shown in Hindi films. And why not? Narendra was the only child of Sardar Hambir Rao Deshmukh. Hambir Rao Deshmukhs ancestors were awarded with vast areas of fertile land in and around the town Wai, near Satara, during King Shivajis regime. And now even if much of the land was swallowed by politicians and Government in the name of development, Sardar Hambir Rao still remained very, very rich. He had left Wai and settled down in the posh area of Koregaon Park in Pune. His bungalow was surrounded by acres and acres of rolling parklands. Once you entered through the gate and drove along the driveway, which twisted and turned through the length of about two kilometers, you had to pinch yourself to make sure that you

were still in Pune. And after the driveway came the mansion! It was really a palace, but very modern! All this area was now decorated tastefully. In the night it was lit up in a really good neon artwork, neither garish nor gaudy but very classy and artistic. The grounds were crowded with the relatives, guests and friends of Sardar Hambir Rao. There was constant activity going on night and day. Twelve electric golf carts specially hired for the occasion were serving the guests wherever they wanted to go, inside the grounds! It appeared like Disneyland, but no, thought John, Disneyland was very drab and insipid with its dull pastel colors and earth tones in comparison with this thing which was very lively with the bursting, vibrant Indian colors and drowned in the huge combined noise of the crowd. John looked at the fantastic mlange of purples, reds, greens, yellows and blues and shook his head in satisfaction. He flagged a passing waiter with a tray held aloft and got a squat, cut-glass tumbler of scotch and took a deep swig. Now you go to your room and rest for 2-3 hours, Narendra told John, Once the Gondhal starts it will go on for the entire night. It is called Jagaran or Night Vigil. After your rest come to the main hall at about ten- ten thirty. Okay!, John said and went to his room.

TWO
John flopped on the bed and threw the camera by his side. He sipped the scotch, kept it aside and without any particular thought of watching TV, just aimed the remote at TV and pressed a button. In the continuous swirl of the marriage ceremony, in all that celebrating and eating and drinking, forget about TV, John had not read even the daily newspaper for 3-4 days! John got startled watching the news. It was breaking news from the U.S.A.! From Binghamton, New York. American Civic Association building under terrorist attack! John remembered Martha Aunty. His distant relative. Not distant by the Indian standards of this marriage which he was attending but distant by American standards. Martha Aunty worked as a clerk in the American Civic Association. Fifteen Americans killed. Terrorists fired while entering the building. Baitullah of Taliban claimed responsibility. But FBI says his claim is false, and he is taking unearned credit. This attack is definitely by Israelite terrorists. Then there were other headlines. Sharad Pawar sitting on the fence again. Another bomb blast in Pakistan. Near Jinnah supermarket. John changed the channel. Day before yesterday, there was a program called Sangeet in the marriage ritual. The song which was a hot favorite dance number during Sangeet was now playing on this channel: Dekhi lak lak paradesi girls, mujhko pyari laage desi girl, desi girl, desi girl------John yawned, shut the TV and as he stretched on the bed, his eyes closed automatically. *** John aimed his camera on that man. He was having both his hands in the sack hanging from his neck. He was the chief Gondhali, the chief chaos maker. The chaos or the gondhal was about to start. The fellow suddenly took both his hands out and threw two fistfuls of turmeric powder in the air with great force. John was delighted. There were two huge explosions of bright yellow in front of his handycam lens. The four women standing in a circle behind the main Gondhali suddenly broke into vigorous dance. The players with drums called Sambal abruptly started their rhythm of taang taang taang taang taangtad tad dham dham, and the chief Gondhalee started singing ina very high pitched falsetto : Ambabai chya navan, mandla gondhal mandla gondhal; Ticha khandoba malhar kasa gondhal kasa gondhal;

Bhandara udhaluna, raati gondhal raati gondhal; Ambabai chya navan, mandla gondhal mandla gondhal. (In the name of goddess Ambabai, this chaos was started. Her consort Khandoba, what a chaos what a chaos! Throwing this turmeric, the chaos will be all night tonight. In the name of goddess Ambabai, this chaos was started.) Then the four dancing women and the two Sambal players converged on the main singer and everyone threw a fistful of turmeric powder in air and at the same time called out in chorus together : Yelkot yelkot jay malhaar Yelkot yelkot jay malhar! Then they again dispersed and danced like lightning and the main singer sang : Aai ude ga Ambecha mukhada kasa shobhato. Hiravya shalut ga sojira gojira watato. Kakana koparaparyanta, saubhagya chudaa chamakato Ude ude ga Ambabay, Khandoba wata pahaato. (Mother Amba, how her beautiful face shines. In green silk sari how beautiful she looks. Green bangles up to the elbow, how her married status symbol shines! Rise, O Goddess Amababai, your consort Khandoba awaits you!) Behind him were dancing the four beautifully agile girls clad in nine yard saris, offering to Johns handycam very interesting forms of female beauty. The two Sambal players with their Sambal drums hanging from their shoulders in front of them, beat the drums with their crooked Sambal sticks looking like question marks with rare gusto. Between the stanzas, everyone converged on the main singer and with explosions of yellow turmeric in the air, there were shouts of Yelkot yelkot jay malhar in chorus, joined by all the seven artists. John was ecstatic shooting all this intensely colorful goings on and the repetitive tune had started to cut a groove in his already addled brain. *** At eleven thirty or so, the songs paused temporarily. All dancers and the singer and the Sambal players went inside some room to change clothes for the next performance and for resting a

bit. Thick milky coffee with lots of nutmeg was being served everywhere. Narendra called John with a hand gesture and John, letting go of the handycam, so that now it hung around his neck with the soft nylon leash, went near him. John, Narendra whispered as if divulging a secret, Just follow me discretely, we shall have some wild boar, like in the Asterix comics, you know! John followed Narendra without making it very obvious. They went to the northern part of the mansion. In that part was a staircase which was hidden in such a wonderful way that only those who knew that it was there could access it. It was behind a tall awll built as if it was abandoned halfway due to changes in the plan and was not demolished due to forgetfulness. Climbing this hidden staircase with Narendra, John went on to a concealed terrace. This terrace was not visible from any other terraces of the mansion. From the main terrace, all other terraces were visible, but not this one! Waiting on this terrace were two of Narendras school friends from Wai, Chandrakant Shivre Patil and Bhaskar Kolse Patil, along with two more of their friends. When Narendra was in India, the three of them used to go together for hunting in the jungles surrounding Wai. Now, two thre servants managed the things on the terrace. Three mattresses with spotless white sheets were arranged touching the parapet wall. Bolsters and piloows were kept for sitting in comfort. In the corner were lighted two huge spirit stoves of the British era, on which was boiling the wild boar meat in shining pots giving out most deliciously spicy and appetizing aroma. Near to this another servant roasted chops of raw wild boar meat on burning charcoal in a huge iron wok, and the smoky smell added to the piquancy of the situation. A turbaned servant with a huge moustache served them glasses of scotch. I killed this wild boar, Bhaskar declared proudly, Yesterday afternoon, there was no ceremony, and gett ing bored of sitting idly, I took the jeep from here and went ahead of Wai, and at the base of Panchagani jungles, I caught this wild boar. Ya, Chandrakant said, He took me, too! And I didnt fire a single bullet, you know, killed it with the spear.

 Like the picture of Tipu Sultan we used to have in our history books, Do you remember? The three friends went nostalgic over the stories of their past hunts together. The gravy and the thick bread called Bhakari. Raw wild boar meat simply roasted, with lemon, red chili powder and salt applied on it afterwards. And the dry shepherd special preparation of the same meat. Raw onions and green chilies. That was the menu. Their nostalgia was flowing in Marathi, so John didnt understand. But the food overwhelmed him. He had travelled to Africa, had gone to the Carnivore restaurant there, but compared to that rather bland food, this food was supremely tasty. The smoky taste of soft, succulent meat with such a flaky texture that you could feel the flakes separating in your mouth. And since he ahd developed the immunity to eat the too hot chili food during the last fortnight, he was crumbling his Bhakari in the red gravy dish and eating the mixture with his hand making the obligatory slurping noise as good as a native! He was savoring the dry pieces of the roasted and salted meat, and in between, he was also shooting this mini feast which was arranged impromptu during the Gondhal. Again the scotch had started mounting to his head. Last three four days it was going on like this. The events of three four days had all fused together and it was indeed difficult to tell which day was which! At quarter past twelve, suddenly the song from the main hall became audible in the high pitched falsetto. Come, lets go. The Gondhal has started again, Narendra said, finishing the last sip of his scotch and taking a final dry piece from the plate and tossing it in his mouth. At twelve thirty, all of them finished eating and drinking and went down the hidden staircase and walked back towards the main hall. The remaining servants now began their party on the hidden terrace, and within a short time all of the scotch and wild boar was totally finished! *** When John again returned to the main hall, the Potaraj program had started. Yelkot, yelkot, Jay Malhaar..Yelkot yelkot jay Malhaar! Swish-swish! Slap-slap! Swish-swish! Slap-slap! John was startled seeing Potaraja whipping himself on the bare torso with a thick whip made of jute rope. Suddenly he remembered the albino from Da Vinci Code who flagellated himself and then wore the horse-hair shirt on the bare, lacerated body. But that he had read in a book

and this he was actually witnessing. Also this Potaraja was not depressing and grey like the albino. He wore a colorful skirt and revolving around himself, sang, danced and flagellated himself. Yelkot yelkot jay Malhaar, ..yelkot yelkot jay Malhaar! Swish-swish! Slap- slap! Swish-swish! Slap-slap! Now Narendra and his wife were sitting on two golden brocaded chairs decorated like thrones. Yesterday they had got married. Tonight was the night for the over night vigil for Goddess Amba and day after tomorrow, they would be leaving for their honeymoon to Malaysia. Johns mobile rang. He let go of the handycam- it was the latest model, six by four inches and hardly one inch in thickness- which hung around his neck and took out the mobile from his pocket. Oh! Hello, Lucy! Ya! Ya, ya! The great Indian wedding. Will send you some clips tomorrow. Yup! No?? Really?? Suddenly, he sounded serious Okay, go to Martha aunty. I havent seen any news for quite a long time. This great Indian wedding and its shooting is taking up all of my time. Buy! Take care! Then began the Lamp-dance. The lights in the hall dimmed. The chandeliers were all switched off. And then the dancers entered with the lighted lamps called Samai in their hands. And then those trees of light with small golden flames started swaying rhythmically round and round in the darkness. First slowly, maintaining balance , in a leisurely fashion. But as the tempo of the music increased, more and more rapidly. And in the end it became a bit difficult to focus the eyes or the handycam on the swift movements of the flames floating and whirling in the velvet darkness. Then all the dancers came together centre stage and the tempo again slowed down and at last stopped moving at the centre of the hall forming a huge sunflower of flames instead of petals. There was a loud applause and the lights and the chandeliers were switched on again one by one. Now it was 2 a.m. in the morning. Narendra was now in the throng of his relatives. He and his wife Sujata were surrounded by their relatives, his old relatives , who were now lewly acquired relatives for Sujata and vice-versa. After the marriage Narendra had touched feet of 122 persons. Had bent down 122 times.! My God! John had actually counted while transferring the video clip onto his computer from the handycam. Now john thought that he should go to his room and transfer all the video clips he had shot today on to the laptop and make the memory of the handycam again blank for further recording. He also wanted to watch TV. Lucy had told

him that the attack on American Civic Association was quite severe and Martha Aunty was inside the building at the time of the attack! But fortunately she had escaped with just a few scratches on her arms. He turned to go when a fellow with great handle-bar moustache called him. O Mister John, please come here. He was pulled in the throng of people. Mister john, how come you always shooting something with that damn thing? Oh! Ive never seen nothin like this I wanna preserve this for memories ! You, a documentary film maker? No, but with this material, I can make one! Naren, the mustachioed uncle had said to Narendra, He shooted all your wedding- shedding, now take him to your honeymoon! He will shoot that also! Some of them laughed. Stunned with surprise, Narendra looked at his uncle. Suddenly, there was silence. First her ears and then Sujatas entire face went red. She got up from the throne and said, Excuse me, Naren, Ill come back in a moment, and went to some inner room. Nobody talked with the mustachioed uncle. So at last through his scotch induced haze he too became aware of the embarrassment he had caused and went away. As soon as he left, everyone laughed heartily. All the tension melted away. John saw, Narendra had inserted the ear-buds of the i-pod into his ears. What are you listening to? he asked. Radio K.A.O.S. Oh ! You made me remember that album in the evening, and I remembered that wild Ecstasy party at Sanders room. So I downloaded the songs from i-tunes. Okay, now let me listen.

Narendra pressed the button. The music was audible in a tinny tone out side, too: :--- this is live rock-n-roll at K.A.O.S. where rock-n-roll comes out of chaos. And now, a song called ------ The powers that be, the powers that be, the powers that be---------They like a tough game, no rules------- they like order, make-up, lime-light, power, game shows, radios, star wars, TV, They are the powers that be The powers that be If you see them come, You better run Run You better run on home. You better run on home. With a gesture, Narendra told John that he was also going, and he went away. John also started for his own room. He felt like changing his clothes which had become yellow with all the turmeric powder thrown around. He was going through a corridor, when suddenly there was the sound of someone running behind him and the jingling of her silver anklets. Sir, Sir. Stop Sir. I speak in English Sir, saying thus, came Kamali wearing an electric blue sharara and stood blocking his path. She was a servant in the mansion but was very fair, with golden complexion like a kewara leaf. She had tattooed on her chin three green dots in the form of the mathematical symbol of therefore, i.e., one dot at top and two dots at bottom. Right from his arrival, she had started flirting with John. She had made him video-shoot her dance for the song Ring ring ringa, ring ring ringa from the movie Slumdog Millionaire She twisted and turned sensuously and said, I want to see Sir! How English do. John burst into laughter, said, I am American, not English. Same Sir,

Kamali said, doing the action as if she was cutting her chest with a dagger, I want to see how you do! Seeing that John was very much excited. He suddenly lunged forward and held the elbow of her hand rubbing like a dagger on her chest, put his other hand around her waist and making her walk rapidly with himself, said, Come then, I will show you! John took her in the Northern direction of the mansion. He took her to the hidden terrace by the obscure staircase difficult to find about which he had learnt only tonight. He always had two - three condoms in the secret pouch of his wallet. Both of them came on the terrace. Now there was nobody there. All the pots and pans had also gone. But mercifully, to Johns delight, the three mattresses abutting the parapet wall were still there in the same position. On entering the terrace, John carefully closed the terrace door, sliding the bolt in place, and hugged Kamali tightly. He put his lips on her lips, fragrant with cardamom. The moonshine thickened like condensed milk. He made her totally nude and observed her incomparable beauty bathed in the moonlight. At that time also, he was to remember later on, he found her talk slightly strange. She was babbling away incessantly in her broken English picked up from the guests at the mansion. Saying it was the last thing she was doing. Saying she had loved John at the first sight and wanted to be his, like this. Under the open sky, enjoying the bliss thrice with Kamali, who was loath to nothing, said goodnight to her and coming to his room, when John sprawled on the bed exhausted, it was four in the morning. Just like that ,he pressed the remote: Breaking news--Swat valley captured by Taliban, revival of Islamic laws. A woman appeared on the screen, buried in the ground up to her waist and two Maulawees were whipping her with thick, leather black whips. Their eyes were ablaze and they were drooling at the mouth. The crowd was witnessing this spectacle silently. Of course it tallied with what John had read in The Kite Runner- that the Taliban take extreme care that not a single person remain absent during the public floggings and other punishments. Disgustedly, John shut off the TV. He could not sleep. He called the room service- yes, for the marriage ceremony, Sardar Deshmukh had made this special arrangement of phones in all the rooms for 24 hours room service from the caterer in each room, -so he called and asked for coffee, no, no, not the filter one, but Nescafe, without nutmeg, no, not black, but with a little milk, say half milk half water. Then he took the laptop out of the cupboard, transferred all the video from today afternoon onwards to the laptop and again made the memory on the handycam blank for using the next day. By that time, the coffee came. Then he burned all todays clips on a DVD. With a DVD marker, wrote India-23 on it and kept the DVD back in the pouch. It was a pouch of 24 DVDs. Now only one remained! What all

he had shot! Right from getting down at Sahar, dharavi, mombai local trains, people hanging out from trains, four policemen with tremendous bellies beating a thin, helpless undernourished man on the road in broad public view, breathtaking greenery at Lonavala and Khandala, the boat ride in the river Yamuna between two steep canyons of white marble at Bhedaghat, waterfalls, rivers, beggars, what a variety of different type of beggars! Marriage processions, Dilli clips, parathe walee galee, Agra, Tajmahal. He had come 25 days before the marriage for tourism. Narendra had arranged for him a bit of the itinerary, but he had chosen on his own also. Valley of flowers, jaisalmer and goa. What afantastic experience each place was! Hrishikesh, an ashram there Narendra had warned him that he had to go there. And now after coming to Pune, all this marriage ceremony at close range, as an insider! Mehandi-haldisangeet-marriage-and now this gondhal! Chaos! Radio Chaos! ..the powers that be, the powers that be, .when they come near to you you better run you better run on home John lovingly caressed the DVD pouch. What an expansive canvass of culture this was! And how variegated! And the Gods own country Kerala? How could he forget that? The Ayurvedic experience there1 Wow! Such pleasure! What an incredible amount of pleasure! John kept on remembering the swami from Hrishikesh. He had told John What world? which world are you talking about? All the world has already happened. It is dead. That sun, you see it, and you say that the sun is there. But really speaking, the light starting from the sun takes eight minutes to reach you. That means that the sun was there eight minutes before. A star which is one light year away was there before one year. Your own hand, it was there before some nanoseconds. That means there is only one point in yourself which actually is. And that is your consciousness. From the point of your consciousness all the universe becomes more and more stale, more and more dead in all outward directions. Your consciousness is the only point in the universe that actually is. Rest of the universe was. And what is the definition of a point? It is an entity without length, breadth or thickness, without any dimension! So does the universe exist or does it not? Or is it an illusion spreading outward from the point of your consciousness? Spreading out in the past time? This universe, it is in existence or was in existence? John couldnt answer this question. He only asked, Swamiji, how do you know English so well? What do you mean? You dont know?, Swamiji had said with a twinkle in his eyes, I was a mathematician and a programmer before I came here and became stable.

While saying goodbye, Swamiji had said, One day you will also understand the purpose of the point of your consciousness in this universe. Then all the confusion will end, all the chaos will end. It will be the moment of knowledge for you. And then only you will be free. For true knowledge always liberates, rest of it is just information. John had thought much on this. And much of his confusion had gone away. After coming back to Pune, he had discussed Swamiji with Narendra, and Narendra had laughed unrestrainedly. I was twelve when my father first took me to him. He proved logically to me that all this universe exists because we breathe. It expands outside of us when we exhale, and disappears inside us when we inhale. But dont be so serious. Swamiji doesnt like seriousness. Just enjoy yourself. And learn to love life. Learn to love this universe. Once you actually feel the goodness of the universe, you will feel that you yourself are also good. And then all dissatisfaction will evaporate. Aint it? John said nothing. But really speaking, this was his exact problem. He was becoming totally disinterested in life. But after coming to India, he had suddenly come alive. The noise, shouting, colors, smells, tastes, crowds, people, food, simplicity, blatant corruption yes, even corruption! But how? Corrupt to the core! All these were signs of life itself, the signs of being alive! And under the hypnotic spell of the Swamijis reasoning, how everything fitted together like a solved jigsaw! And how it had become euphorically complete! At least till the spell lasted! In a sudden whim, John took out DVD no. 5 of Kerala and watched the blue magic of Kerala and got lost in it. In his head the song played incessantly : The powers that be the powers that beif they come near to youyou better runyou better run on home.. Suddenly, there was the high pitched falsetto and the drumming from the main hall. The song in his head stopped abruptly as if a switch was pressed. He shook his head and came to the present. He closed the laptop and then with the handycam memory fully empty, went to the main hall with a jaunty step. It was nearing five in the morning. The gondhal was going on. At six, the sun rose and within minutes the sunrays touched the feet of the idol of Goddess Amba, established there for the gondhal ceremony. The night vigil was over. Ambas hymn was sung and then very soft pistachio rolls prepared in pure ghee were distributed as Prasad. John wolfed one down and thinking- I need to sleep now and nothing else- went to his room, closed and

bolted the door carefully, threw off the handycam which had almost become an extra organ on him, and fell down on the bed and immediately was sound asleep.

THREE
John awoke as someone was rapping on the door. He got up and opened the door rubbing his eyes. It was Narendra! Oh ho!, John said, sitting on the bed and taking the wristwatch out from under the pillow. It was eight o clock in the morning. Narendra closed the door and sitting in the easy chair said, John, something terrible has happened. You know Kamali? She has committed suicide by jumping in the lake. She took the boat to the centre of the lake jumped in the lake there. In the morning the caretaker of the boathouse came saw a punt floating at the centre, with its rope untied. To bring it back to the shore he went in by a motorboat and saw that Kamalis corpse was floating near the punt. John was dumbfounded. His face got a greenish pallor. What happened?, Narendra asked, looking at him in surprise. Slowly, bit by bit, John told the entire Kamali episode to Narendra. Dont worry! Narendra said, Dont tell any of this when the police come. Okay. Dont panic. You didnt force her, did you? Then you have nothing to fear. Nobody will touch you. Dads got terrific influence. Okay. Police Inspector Vairagade interrogated John quite thoroughly, and for a long time. All the other guests were asked perfunctorily, but the servants were interrogated for a long time. It was past ten. John slept again. He was feeling terribly guilty. He thought that he had made a mistake in giving in to the temptation. Due to this he had some very weird dreams. Kamali shouted his name and rose out of the lake. She grew rapidly and was transformed into the statue of liberty, as the lake was transformed into sea. Then an aero plane came hurtling, struck

the statue of liberty from one side and came out through the other side. The statue collapsed like a pack of cards. The skyline of New York changed once again. Then he saw inspector Vairagade looking at him very suspiciously. He woke up and in spite of the air conditioning being on, he was sweating. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands and mouth, brushed his teeth and went out looking for Narendra. He immediately spotted Narendra sitting under a colored umbrella on the lawn and taking breakfast. When John came near and sat at the table, Narendra said, I have booked the ticket for you. Arranged it somehow. the flight is at ten tonight. A car will come to take you to Sahar at four in the afternoon. You be ready. Okay. Thanks, John said listlessly. Still he could not stop thinking about Kamali. And one more thing, Narendra said, Kamalis post-mortem report came. Can you believe? She was pregnant. Two months! And the father? Our own servant Heeru! She was pestering him constantly to marry her, but he was refusing. He should have married her! He is also right in his own way, because she was carrying out with a car driver called Bharat also! And still they are thinking of it as suicide, and I also think the same, but may be she was blackmailing both of them! And she might have hooked you as another safety net! John hitched up his lower jaw which was hanging open and said, Oh My God! And how I was thinking myself guilty! What I think is she decided to die, and got her last wishes fulfilled by you! After much thought, john said, Ya! Seems like that! Then he thought of something else and said,

Oh! Narendra, give me that i-pod of yours to listen to during travel. I wanna hear that Radio Chaos. OK. Ill bring it. *** In the lounge of Sahar airport, John looked at the TV : Breaking news Taliban attacked police Training Institute in Pakistan and killed fifty trainees. But now he was going home. He increased the volume of the i-pod. Suddenly he remembered the lines from the Gondhal Ala ghari ala Khandoba Jejureela, Gula paanee dei Ambabai Malharala. (At last came home, Khandoba to Jejuree. His wife Ambabai offers him jiggery and water.) He increased the volume further: Could be Jerusalem, could be Cairo, Could be Berlin, or it could be Prague. Could be Moscow, could be New York, Could be Lanelli, and it could be Washington, Could be Warsaw and it could be Moose Jaw, Could be Rome Everybody got somewhere they call home! Everybody got somewhere they call home! Then he shuffled and the album started from the beginning : This is K.A.O.S. and you are listening to chaos in Los Angeles. Radio waves, he hears radio waves