I was searching for the small magazine shop near Shyam Talkies but could not find any trace of that shop. This shop had been my main supplier of magazines when I used to live in this town and whenever I visited for a few days. There was chaos all around, with undecipherable changing patterns made by rickshaws, motorcycles, cycles, and pedestrians all around me. The half-constructed flyover, a result of botched construction work and in the same unfinished position for the last three years, has changed the face of Motijheel. Shops have been shifted, roads have become muddy, and all the places such as Sindhi Chat, the pav bhaji shop near Town Thana, and the music shops, which once used to be the main attractions for many visitors, have lost their sheen. Muzaffarpur has had its face disfigured. I did not feel like visiting Motijheel or that part of the town unless forced by unavoidable circumstances. The same was the case with Chandralok Chowk and Dharmsala Chowk. The only solace was the hope that sooner or later these construction works would be over and these places would get a new sheen. I cannot say that it would match the charm of the old days, but at least it would not be blotted like it is today.
I am in Muzaffarpur for my vacation . Yes, this is not the typical place where you would like to spend your vacation but this is home. The electricity supply is erratic, roads are only suitable for pedestrians, and there is no place where you can go and spend some time in the evening. The internet connection sucks (yes, even the hyped broadband data cards do not guarantee that you can feel connected to cyberspace); there is no coffee shop (I think we do not even have a single decent coffee shop in the entire state), and if you want to grab a decent read for your leisure, your best bet is the AHW shop at the railway station. In a nutshell, nothing here can make you think of spending your vacation. But who cares about all these things — my family stays there and I spent most of my significant past here. Nothing else matters. I am still very much the small-town guy. Frequent power cuts are not unusual for me; I can adjust myself on the front seat of an auto with four other people along with the auto-driver; I do not mind having tea at the roadside tea stall with half a dozen expectant dogs eyeing your tea glass and other edibles. The conversation surrounding me gives me a pleasing déjà vu even if the five-minute conversation had more profanity and cuss words than all of Vishal Bhardwaj’s past and future movies combined. I am not complaining.