Discover Me

One of those days

2012-01-08T15:40:00.000+05:30

Thisentry is a part of BlogAdda contests in associationwith Zapstore

Love, Adventure and Miracle; Thehappening of any one of these three leaves us with a catchy story to narrate.Most of the times we aren't that fortunate to be blessed by thesimultaneous occurrence of these three but sometimes, maybe once in a lifetime,lady luck smiles. And afterwards we just wonder for some time, and later takeit as a never to forget lifetime incident. I too have one.

I was young then. My eyes shined morefrequently on nuances, my heart made its presence felt everyday and every nightI dreamed and remembered it the next morning. It was the month of June and Iwas leaving my home for the first time, for a stay in a hostel. I had bagged aseat in an engineering college. Sitting on the window seat of the train andseeing my Dad purchase mineral water bottles from the station vendors,I glanced on my watch. 15 minutes more to go and then I'll leave myhometown for straight six months, I thought. Who knows how I will return afterthose six months. Not the same, that was for sure. Was that the place fromwhere I’d go on to become someone else? From a son to a friend, from a boy to aman, from a dreamer to an achiever? With a lot buzzing inside my head I heardmy Dad's voice. I leaned a bit to see him chat with Pathak Uncle of our locality.He was there with his daughter. And before I could think anymore I saw themapproaching.

'Yes same college. She got that lastminute wait-listed call. So we had to hurry through our proceedings’ PathakUncle expressed his last minute comments before bidding goodbye to herbeautiful daughter. I had secretly wanted a friendship with her when I was inclass 8. And then in class 9 I heard about her affair with a boy from herschool only. I was the vagabond of a Government Boys high school, so I alwaysscored less in these matters compared with the co-eds. My father always wantedme to crack the engineering entrance exams and as such continuous monitoring ofmy deeds was done. When my name had flashed on the computer screenas ‘selected’ I thought I had seen some tear drops in the corner of his eyes.And that had made me cry too while I was taking a bath that afternoon.

‘Not a problem. I’ll talk to the TTE andmake their seats together’ Pathak Uncle said. The next five minutes went inaccommodating us together, shuffling around other passengers and finally whenboth of them were convinced that we won’t be facing any more hiccups in thejourney, the train whistled. I saw both the middle-aged man stand side by sideand suddenly from where I don’t know an uncanny thought whizzed inside myhead. They looked better as in-laws than just neighbours. Ismiled at this weirdness and tried to wipe off the thought. But that was enoughfor her to notice.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Nothing’ I replied.

‘Something’

‘Nothing’

‘Okay’

Moments of silence and then she spokeagain, ‘so which branch have you opted’.

‘Mechanical. And you?’

‘Electronics’

‘Great’

The train passed through small and bigstations, hills and valleys, fields and rivers with equal moderation. There wasnothing extraordinary in the whole juxtaposition. Somewhere I was happy thatnow I would get to see her more frequently but at the same time I knew she waswith someone else. The mere thought of it made the whole feeling bland.Conversations went on and around studies mostly, and whenever her mobile pingedfor a sms I doubted it to be from her boyfriend. She was carrying a normal gpshandset of Motorola, but its farce and recurrent ringtone outreached my nimbleand very less frequent ringing Nokia-C5. She got busy in her smses and I playedwith the navigation map application on my mobile. She listened toher Apple i-pod and I gazed through the window. And times when we both didn’tdo anything we chatted, but as I said, only on studies.

Evening 4.30 we reached our destinationstation and I helped her with her numerous baggage. We had to travel a coupleof hours more on road to finally reach our college. We decided to hire a cabagainst my father’s strict advice to go by bus. I needed to soften theatmosphere around her; bus would have been a rough one after a day long journeyin train. Boys like me think in these lines but the sad part is girls like herhardly have an eye for this compassion. They look for adventure.

We hired a cab. The driver was aruffian. Just didn’t settle for anything less which he quoted. I agreed.Although I knew I was getting harsh on my pocket money. But that was a longdesired togetherness. To smooth my inside turbulences I consoled myself withthe thought that she may be with someone else, but then and there she was withme. This feeling of living completely in the present brought me back to thefrequency where I could have started behaving in a way that would have pleasedher. And who knew then what was in store for the future?

The road journey was definitely better,because after sometime it started to rain, accompanied with lightning. I hadseen several movies where the heroine draws closer to the hero on the strike ofa lightning and then for the rest of the movie they keep singing romanticduets. That was the age where such thoughts meant nothing less than reality.The bad weather added to my bliss as she wasn’t receiving the mobile signal andthe constant ringing stopped. Fortunately I was still receiving the signal.

‘Are you sure he is taking us in theright direction?’ she questioned after sometime, sheepishly, so that thearrogant driver shouldn’t listen.

‘Yes, I guess so. But not sure.’

‘I doubt this guy’

‘Wait I’ll check in navigatorapplication on my mobile that is he taking us the right way or not’

I started the gprs navigation on myNokia C5 and could figure out the source and destination. It took some time toconnect but then I was taken aback. The driver had routed us to a completelydifferent direction. And we had already covered some 30 kms in the wrongdirection.

‘Where are you taking us?’ I askedstrongly.

‘What happened?’ he stamped back firmly.

‘See I know you are diverting us to thewrong way. Don’t think we are newcomers. We know the route’

To this he got so much terribly annoyedthat he stopped the car in a jerk.

‘What happened?’ she asked in a frenziedway.

‘Get out’ the ruffian exclaimed.

‘What?’ I stammered back.

‘Get out of my car. I am not going anyfurther.’

There was a brief altercation afterthat. Brief because he just didn’t listen to any word of ours and because wepaid him also. The moment our last bag dropped out of the car on the wateryroad he turned his car and speeded away. That was a sort of jungle. Sort ofwould be a very gentle way of putting it. That was a jungle. And it was rainingcats and dogs. Moments earlier I was enjoying that same rain and then it hadbecame just the opposite. We dragged our bags and ourselves under the shade ofa tree, totally drenched from top to bottom and with no clue what to do next.It was almost getting dark and till then we both were just silent. Maybewaiting for a miracle!

She spoke first.

‘Wow! This is so thrilling’

I looked at her, stared in-fact, forquite some time and then disgustingly turned away my face. Now you must knowwhy I said that girls-loving-adventure thing.

It was almost an hour and when it wascompletely dark, the rain too had subsided and there was no sign of anyvehicle, I spoke.

‘What should we do now?’

‘How would I know? Why did you speak tohim in that way? Maybe he was taking us through a short-cut.’

‘It’s not a short-cut. Wait, I’ll showyou’

I took out my mobile to show her ourpresent location, how much diverted we were and to share the trouble that tillthen I was holding on my 17 year old shoulders and to drive out some of heradventure love.

The navigator started and within secondsthe mobile beeped and went off.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘Low battery’ I said and kept the mobileback.

‘Now what should we do?’ she asked andfor the first time her voice sounded perturbed.

‘How will I know?’ I replied dejectedly.

‘Wait, I’ll call my dad and figure itout’

‘How would you? Your mobile has nosignal’

She took out the mobile and turned iton. Amazingly a couple of tower heads flashed. ‘See it’s there’

‘ohh!’ I sighed, ‘so now again yoursmses will start.’

‘cmmon! That I was playing with myfriend Shikha’

‘Shikha? Who Shikha? I mean okay…wasn’tit Rahul, I was thinking….’ I said in a breath.

‘Rahul? Who Rahul? Are you talking aboutmy batch mate in school?’

‘Yes, yes. Him only, you both are intosomething right?’

‘Are you nuts? With Rahul? Oh c’mmon, mydad would kill me if he finds something like that’

‘So what was that I heard about youguys?’

‘That was just a rumor. And isn’t that avery old rumor. Why are you still holding on to it?’

‘So this means you are single?’

‘Of-course I am. I am yet to establishmy career. How could I? And to be frank I haven’t given a thought about thisaspect till now. But why are you asking?’

‘Nothing. Just like that.’

I turned my face to the other side andhigh-fived myself in imagination. My answer also made her silent, which Inoticed a bit later. But then I didn’t know why she went silent. Today I know.

And just then her mobile pinged. It wasa sms from the college authorities regarding contact numbers of admissioncommittee. The sms was a miracle. As the first thing we did on its arrival wasplace a call to the number and inform them about our debacle. They promised tosend a cab within 30 minutes and the promise was kept.

In a couple of hours we were inside thecampus and while unloading her bags in-front of her hostel, she said, ‘Takecare.’

The words felt like melted honey in myears and I smiled back.

And just when I was about to leave, shesaid again, ‘Pick me up tomorrow morning while going for the induction’

‘I will. For sure’ I replied.

My shop called 'sarcastic counter'

2011-11-10T22:04:00.001+05:30

I run a shop that was once called ‘sarcastic counter’. The shop was reasonably famous.It got people from every corner of the world. I held myself considerably gentleto them. Even though the shop's name contained sarcasm, but I never allowed itsshadow to fall on my business, some rules I followed. I treated my customersas God, prayed for them that when they use my product, they shouldn't getsarcastic. Instead, I wished them to laugh, to think, to delve and if nothingthen make it a memoir and keep it in one of their showcases at home. Then this happenedwith me, a very interesting story, I shall tell you now.

The lane was called Bhutwa-Gali, at the end of which I ran myquiet little shop. A famous astrologer once had said that my shop had ademi-Godly presence, he called it ROS. I asked about it, but he said onlytime would tell. I guess he was right.

That was a Saturday night, and I was as usual making mysarcastic ‘philvotica’ for the Sunday, the day when customers came to shop in largenumbers. I would clean my show-table and arrange all my sarcastic ‘philvotica’,of all shades and textures, which they could touch and feel and if satisfied thenonly buy. I am still open-minded in these manners. I don’t ditch my customers.

It was quarter past ten in the night when I heard himapproach my shop. He was in his late thirties, wore dark colored jeans andwhite shirt, his neat shave and well trimmed hair posed elegance, his proximitytold he must have used a very costly perfume. He told his name as Blogspot andthat he was a close relative of Google. The name was familiar and so I gazed onmy memory lane a bit to accustom myself more. Google those days was called the businessman of thecentury. His sharp eyes could search it all. He had this habit cultured sincehe was a kid. Well, by then he was the master of all.

Blogspot had a proposition for me. I would have to hand overall my sarcastic ‘philvotica’ to him and in return he would guarantee me a goodshowcase and even better customer base. The deal sounded attractive and Isigned the agreement.

Just some days back, I heard about him. He was found dead onone of the servers. There was a huge hue and cry from all whose products he hadtaken. I too got anxious. So I went to see his office. There I saw a mess.People were fighting over products, some were even abusing and hitting others.In the midst of all I saw one of my ‘philvotica’ lying on the floor. I pickedit up with care and started to move out. Just while I was coming out from theoffice, I thought of finally visiting his personal cabin. I went there and sawhis photograph framed and poised on the wall. I neared it with an injunction I didn’tknow. And then suddenly I saw him wink! Yes, the photograph winked at me. Istared onto those eyes for a moment and again, he winked again. This time hegiggled too! My head was going all awry and I thought of leaving the place. Iturned back and just when I was about the keep the first step, he spoke. Yes, Iheard him very clearly. I didn’t had the courage to turn back, but I heard it all. He said, ‘I am not dead. I am hiding; because of the fear ofWordpress. He is searching me everywhere with a naked sword. He is even killingmy apps mercilessly. His faster and slimmer page loads a lot faster than mineand that’s how he has been erasing my presence from the market. Things haveworsened to the extent that now he can directly hunt and finish me. Even myrelative Google didn’t help. And I will tell you one more thing. It is all because of Google only. How? Well, these are the inherent relationship drabs that slowlyforces one to break out. He took the first step. One more fact that I havenever shared with anybody else, Google is spying! Think over it. Okay I haveto leave now. And yes, your ‘Philvotica’ were really amazing.’

The whole return journey I kept thinking about what he said.Finally, when I reached home I made up my mind. I took all my ‘Philvoticas’ andburned them. The ashes I flowed in the dirty drain in my backyard. I wasreviving. ‘Philvoticas’ were no longer genuine. They were mashed and blendedwith Google’s spices. They were not my products anymore. I was sad but at thesame time happy as well as motivated to do something else, something moregenuine. I re-painted the shop’s name as ROS Store, and my products as ‘SaturnRings’. I did it the same way, but I was happy being alone, not being societal.I created better ‘Saturn Rings’ than any ‘Philvotica’. In the night I had asound sleep, satisfied and calm. Of course the day was yet to come, but I was prepared.

In my dreams, that astrologer came and said, ‘I told you.Your shop has an ROS. And all this happening has got a meaning, whichyou could have never understood in the flashiness of Life’s bizarre games. Youhave to play, you don’t have a choice, but you have to do it your way. You aren’tmade to collate. You will have to move alone. You will always search for happiness, something that stayswith you only, much inside you, in your aloofness. You can rise in freedom;rise in satisfaction, but not in fame, neither in popularity. You will makewhat your heart wants to, not what the world demands. And someday you will beknown for this. That would be fame, but not something that you have been runningafter.’

On my way to the rooftop

2011-10-30T00:26:00.002+05:30

I am an old man in my sixties. Not that old, but yeah....

These details are never counted in my memories, when the sea shells are maculated, when the morning wind is tiresome, when the rain is gusty yet lull, and when you are gone. A dream is best if it eludes the pain, as for a man there aren't much options to handle the ball. He will try and then fail, or try and then succeed and then forget. But for a woman, it all ends in one thing, and that is stained patches. Yeah by that way it never ends for her. Opening a bibliography to understand women would be the silliest thing to do in the world because words that cannot fit, cannot withstand and cannot sprout, are the words that matter. But then, words matter a lot. For men, it's mostly unsaid.

For me, a day is when I would again begin the story. Perhaps the morning is bad, maybe the afternoon too, evening is lost and the night, oh yet to come. I will keep scratching the floor like a mad cat, so can that improve my writing by an iota? It will emaciate, just like my health, with every new day helping me to discover one more bone of my skeletal system. I am this complex skeleton, I never knew. Especially when I was young. I thought I was all muscular, just like my masculine smell which she thought was me. And I thought she was madly in love with me. Gosh, was I nuts?

So tonight, I will climb the rooftop, see the moon, well, if I am lucky, and then jump into the flowing river that flows turbulently in the night. The water would be so cold. I would fill my lungs with it and feel just like the river. I would try to flow with it, with its current for the whole night, and wait for the morning. I would hit the bank then and climb out. She will be there. And then she will say, 'Oh you look young, so young!' But I wouldn't smile because then I will be faking it, wasting time actually. Instead, I will tell her how the moon looked when I was at the rooftop.

My new friend

2011-06-23T20:15:00.002+05:30

Prelude: This post is specifically meant for a person. And the person is you or not, you know that very well. It contains special coded language, woofs and meows, which only that person is capable of comprehending. So if you are not the one, I would request you not to break your head over this piece of writing and do other good things in life like scrolling the mouse button. There are other curious posts waiting for your attention. You may ask now that if this post is not meant to be read by all then why the heck have I posted it here. Well, then I would say, it’s my blog. :D

So, it all had culminated with a decision; a realization that I would never be able to maybe live, yes that's the word, my inner self. But I guess life is still like the jumping frog. The rain has arrived and its droplets in the dark rainy night has waked me up. God knows why? And 'seriously' I don't want to know. Because I am happy.

'Seriously' I used to wonder, many a times, that maybe nobody thinks the way I think. Yes we all are different. And that's why with great apprehension and pre-testing I used to open up. Very few persons in this world actually know the person I am. And amazingly in the past few days, I discovered one more.

And she will ask, were you always like this. To which I would answer, no, but now I know I always was.

Small moments of joy and cherishing them time and again, with different creative inputs, and then again laughing like never before, I had never met someone like you. I had started to believe that 'seriously' there's more of 'seriousness' in life, till you came that day to meet my boss. I don't know why I am really goofing this up, writing this something out of everything, maybe because of that moment when for the first time I found that I wasn't sad after sharing a secret with you. I named it as 'I got over'.

Or whatever, but having seen relationships fade, today I would like to share this piece of writing with you with a promise that if ever things go wrong between us, which we both don't want, come back and read this, and remember all those times of our June'2011.

The world isn't a better place. Or is it?

2011-03-04T17:29:00.006+05:30

Those daysI was in the 2nd year of my engineering and I was always hungry. Why? Askany student who eats in a hostel mess. Well, hungry I still am, for food forthoughts, but those days were different. So it came up with an opportunity thatwe just couldn’t miss. Blood donation! The only reason enough to convince uswas the fruits, the pancakes, the shakes, the sweets and all that we would begetting after squeezing 300 ml of blood from our veins. Maybe the Rotaract clubpresident knew what it needed to be told to us. They had organized a blooddonation camp and we were going for it.

It was aSunday and just like a picnic, the dozen comprising our gang, boarded theinstitute bus for the hospital. We reached in a half hour and were greeted bythe hospital authorities. Greeting means, if you don’t know, serving usunlimited amount of fruit juice which we gulped down till our bellies bloatedenough to be seen beneath our shirts and then we realized that we haven’t keptany place for the rest of the stuff.

We werecalled for the donation in groups of three and the process went pretty fastthan I expected. We came out and heard one of us had fainted after givingblood. Who’s the one? We ran on our top speed to ward number 14 where he wastaken. We reached there to find that the rest had already accumulated in there.Saurabh was laid on a bed and a doctor stood besides examining him.

“He is justfine now. Sometimes it happens after a blood donation”, the doctor remarkedafter the check up was over and walked outside.

We allhuddled across his bed on which he royally laid with his legs spread with aquirk but remarkable smile on his face.

“What thehell happened?” Abhishek asked pushing him aside and making a place for himselfon the bed.

Saurabhdidn’t answer but his smile got wider.

“What?” Iasked.

“Actuallythe ward boy was saying that they give double the food packets when you faint”,Saurabh replied.

Seconds ofsilence and then we all roared to laughter.

“Hey, Ithink I love her”, Sandy said with our laughs still on.

“Who?”Abhishek asked.

“That onewith those big eyes and a beautiful smile”, Sandy replied as if dreaming her inhis arms.

“Who? Who?”Abhishek continued impatiently as if he had missed something really important.

“The onewho was in my ward. Didn’t you all see her?” Sandy said.

“Thedoctor? But isn't she a bit older than you?” I asked.

“Not thedoctor. The other one” Sandy replied.

“I got itguys. I got it. Sandy cannot tell who she is” Kunal exclaimed.

“Why? Whois she?” I asked.

“The sister.And Sandy cannot call her by that name” Kunal declared.

We allroared to laughter again.

“Excuse meboys” the doctor said and we all turned back.

“Someonewants to meet you all. Please come”

We allfollowed him to the reception where we saw a turban clad dark man. Along withhim a woman in orange stripped cheap cotton saree and a kid who was busysneezing-in his running nose.

“This isBiluwa and his woman Ranjo and this is Aru, their son. Both Biluwa and Ranjoworks at a construction site where they together make some 100 rupees a day,most of which goes for the medicines of Dinu, their elder son who is admittedhere for an anemia'ic disease. Blood which you guys have given will go a longway in curing Dinu. So when I told him, he wanted to meet you all”

We allturned to face Biluwa. He stood speechless with his arms folded and tearswelled up in his eyes. His eyes said it all. Little Aru, completely unaware ofwhat was going on, shy’d away from us hiding behind his mother.

Everythinghad suddenly changed. I kept watching Aru and suddenly it felt that the packet Iwas holding got too heavy to carry. I stretched it to him. He peeped insidefirst and then looked towards his mother and then slowly took the packet frommy hand. His eyes shined while he carefully wrapped the packet inside hisshirt.

“Go on.Have it” I said.

He smiledand shy’d away and whispered something to his mother.

“He istelling that he will share it with his brother when he gets well”, Ranjo said.

Yearspassed and a few days back, amidst a client meeting along with my bosses andcolleagues I got a phone-call. It was from an unknown number. I didn’t take it.It was followed by an sms. It read, “Sir, I Lakshman. Your office sweeper. Myson got accident. Need blood. Please help. Ramachand Hospital.”

And then Iheard all the other mobiles ringing, the same sms. Who is this Lakshman? Icould rarely figure him out. I started to get up but then my boss said me towait. I waited till the meeting ended.

“Sir didyou get the sms from Lakshman?” I asked.

“Yeah. Heis that temporary fellow, very lazy in his work. Anyway what are doing for theweekend?” he asked with a flat baritone voice.

“Weekend?Sir, I think we should go to Lakshman” I said.

“Don’t bean emotional fool Chakraborty. People will rope you like that. You see thereare risks. Blood donation is no child’s play”. He walked away.

I turned tothe others.

“What guys?Anyone coming?” I asked.

“HeyChakraborty, you heard what Boss said. There are risks my friend. You are stilla child, huh?” one of them answered. They rest nodded their heads in support.

“Go and enjoythe weekend. It’s been a long week” another one said.

And all ofthem drifted away from the room in herds of similitude.

Maybe theyare right. Maybe I shouldn’t risk it.

I took thebus and headed for my home.

I read thesms again and again but just couldn’t decide what to do. Why do we grow up?Just to realize that this world isn’t a better place.

The busstopped near a construction site. Workers had built tents and outside whichkids played in the dust. I gazed them and little Aru floated before my eyes. Itook out the mobile and placed a call at that unknown number.

“Hello.Lakshman? Ok, I am coming”

I reachedthe hospital and found Lakshman standing outside.

“Saheb-jee,Blood arranged”

“How?” Iasked.

“Sir, whenno reply from anyone, I think no one will come. So I approach this nearbycollege. And you know what happen. The whole college comes to help. But thehospital accept limited units blood. So only some donate”

“How’s yourson?”

“He fine.You want to meet? Come.”

He took methrough the corridor where I heard a roar of laughter. And suddenly it feltthat I recognize it. We were passing by the room where those college boyswaited.

“Sir, Theseboys donate blood”

I sloweddown and peeped inside the room. A dozen of them had huddled around a bed onwhich one of them laid and they all laughed and laughed endlessly.

I wonder how ants find traces of sweet from nowhere

2011-02-05T21:23:00.007+05:30

"That'swhy I wonder how ants find traces of sweet from nowhere", Professor Ramansaid as he finished his 10 minute speech and the hall roared into claps fromevery corner, which till then had been hearing him like never before. That wasthe last day for Professor Raman in the university where he had been teachingfor the past 25 years.

He wasturning sixty. He knew what his wife would be cooking for him when he would goback to his home. He had been a good husband, more good a father, as peoplesaid, both his sons were well settled in the States. Professor Raman, as peoplecalled him, his students, his neighbors and everybody else, sometimes his wifeand sons too were heard calling him by that name.

RecentlyProfessor Raman made history when he made an invention which scientists acrossthe world are yet to understand. He was called at a conference at Geneva andthen at NASA, but people are hardly understanding his theory yet, as what hesays. Even his students in the college, many a times were heard talking aboutthe infeasibility of his invention. Well, this clearly makes sense that any inventionis never paid the credit in the same generation.

But there’sone person who had been assisting him all through, a student of the university,his favourite as people said, and maybe the only one who apart from ProfessorRaman is heard saying that he believes in the invention. But that day he didn'tcome for the farewell ceremony. Nobody had seen him either.

After theparting-off tea party, Professor Raman made his way to his chamber, where maybethe last time he was entering. He pushed the door and stepped inside. For amoment he stood silently and gazed around, the clock on the wall which was justlike him, always awake, the desk over which some hundred papers were scattered,the dozen book shelf with all the titles of astrophysics and the half-openwindow, through which he had seen the rain clatter on the concrete, the earlymorning sun rays, the cold winds in long winter nights, day after day, yearafter year.

His chair,which was more than a chair for him, he knew. A part of his life was spent onit, for those nights when it served as a bed and the days when he just waitedthere thinking for the idea, which however finally did arrive. And then he sawthe chair on the other side of the table. It reminded him of Raghav, thestudent who had been more like a shadow to him, working day and night behindhis project till it could be finalized as an invention.

Raghavhadn't turned up for his farewell ceremony and Professor Raman's eyes had beencontinuously searching him when he stood there before the rest of thecollege, speaking for an hour. Raghav had been more than a student, afriend, who forsake'd his call from an US university just to work onProfessor Raman’s project.

ProfessorRaman opened the drawer of his table. His drawer was almost empty becausethings which he used to take out once never found their way back inside andthis very much told the story behind his table’s disheveled look. Inside he sawa half-crumpled paper with something scribbled on it. He took it out. It wasRaghav’s handwriting. He had a very bad handwriting but Professor Raman couldread it even with his eyes closed. Professor Raman hurried for his spectacleswhile trying to flatten the paper so as to read what Raghav’s has written forhis dear Professor.

Dear Raman Sir,

I know it’s very awkward for me to callyou dear, maybe for the first time I am calling you so, but I don't rememberwriting to you before, so thought it would make you something but happy. Youmust be thinking on my absence today but after you have finished reading this letteryou will come to know.

Sir, before I tell you about anything,let me clear a few things, which came up to my mouth several times before, butI never spoke.

There were times when it was very difficult for me to even sit before you andstop my tears from rolling out. Times when you scolded me like a dog for mysilly mistakes, especially the one I made in that differential equation, orwhen you didn't even see me for the whole day when I came 15 minuteslate, or when I wanted to leave for my hometown but you didn’t allow.

And there were times also, like when youconsoled me after my parents accidental death and how you promised to pay myfees in the college, how only you in this world remembered my every birthdayand how we two in the middle of the night celebrated my birthdays, how you keptpatting me for hours when I proposed that perception concept which till date Ithink was very obvious.

Sir, there has been numerous moments whenI had hated you like anything but many more when I had loved you more thananybody else. The day you forgot your son’s birthday and sat with me to hear mychildhood stories, I realized that we have come far and it’s something morethan a teacher student relationship between us. Although you spoke less, but bynow I was dexterous in reading your eyes and so were you, I guess.

But it all changed the day we arrived onthe conclusion of our project. The project that was more than anything for us,for which we toiled hard day and night till that eventful dawn when suddenly weboth realized how near we are towards an invention.

You went to Geneva and then to NASA, allover I heard people talking about you, but did you ever in the midst of allthose think about me? I sacrificed my Oxford’s call just to stay with you andcomplete the project. But when it got completed, you simply forgot me? Butguess what, I took that as well, as your love.

Then I heard about your retirement andthat you wouldn't be coming here anymore. Did you ever think what would thisstudent of yours do without you? And then the day before yesterday when youcalled me in your chamber for the final time, you told me to look for someother Professor for my doctorate. Now I ask you this, was it all a doctoratedegree that I have stayed with you?

I can sacrifice my name for the project butcan never accept the fact that I wouldn't be seeing you around. Because theonly home I know is your chamber and maybe the only person I know in thisworld, it’s you. This unexplained feeling, through which I am going now, nobodyelse but only you, can understand.

Sir, do you remember, you always said, “Iwonder how ants find traces of sweet from nowhere”, that was your favoritepastime quote, which then I never understood. But today, let me tell you thistoday that I have found the answer.

Sweet for me today, is Death. Maybe theonly answer left for me. And I am sure by the time you will be reading thisletter, I would have found it.

ProfessorRaman was motionless. The letter slipped down from his hands. A drop of teartrickled down on his cold face behind his thick glasses. His face was still andhis hands trembled. The silence was broken by a phone call.

Withtrembling voice he picked up the receiver and said, “Yes”.

“Raman Sir,this is the Principal. Sir, some good news for you…the retirement gift you wanted?It has arrived. Yes just now I got a call from the Patents office. They haveagreed to name the invention as Raghav’s effect. Also the patent would becopyrighted against his name. Isn’t this wonderful? It was difficult but it wasonly because of you that it happened. Okay, now I guess you would like to sharethis with Raghav. So I won’t take any more time of yours. I just wish he shouldhave been there when you spoke only about him for those 40 minutes, and evenabout your favorite quote on how you used to puzzle Raghav with that.”

That was allmeaningless now, Professor Raman knew. He kept the phone and slowly picked upthe letter. There was something more written in the footnote. He read aloud, “Tell me Sir, how'sthe afternoon, how it looks from your favourite window? Is the sun shining overthe green leaves?”

Sitting by the canal side

2011-01-23T20:44:00.005+05:30

Kanai-dawas somewhere in his eighties when the last time I had seen him. Hewas older than my grandfather but that was what everybody in my village calledhim. People said he had lost his family in a flood. I remembered him sittingmost of the times beside a canal under a banyan tree. My summer vacationsbrought me a trip to village, for which I eagerly waited for the rest of theyear. Running around paddy fields, plucking wild berries and fishing in theriver, with my friend Budo, the days were full of adventures, which later Ibrought to share with my school friends.

It was thatfirst time, I had come back from village and unlike other times, I had nothingto tell. Friends asked, to which I shoved away, and to surprises and strangereplies, I made a somber face. Maybe I was growing up and no more it made senseto rant stories of my village adventures to my city friends, who maybe, couldleast, have understood the emotions which I tried to convey. But that time itwas something else. Something happened and to which till date, I questionmyself and try giving different answers at different times.

Kanai-daspoke very less. Most of the times I had seen him sit on the bank ofthat canal, gazing through his deep buried eyes towards the oblivion. Hispresence was so much taken for granted that many a times people didn’t even knowthat he was around. He was unmoved to teases of children and comments ofelders. It was only in the night that he went inside his hut and the nextmorning when I was out, plucking berries or riding the bullock cart, I saw himsitting in that same place. Once I was inquisitive and asked Budo about him.That was when I came to know a bit about him.

That wasn'ta different afternoon and after gulping down my lunch I came out to play again.Budo had promised to meet me after lunch to finish a game of marbles. But hewasn’t there yet. I waited under the shadow of bamboo shrubs when I sawKanai-da coming from a distance on the aisles of a paddy-field. He came up tome and stopped.

“Are youthe grandson of Bhola?” he asked. His deep throat voice made me believe onething, that he wasn’t what some called him, mad.

“Yes” Ireplied.

He smiledand for the first time I saw him closely. His face was all covered with beardand wrinkles, but his eyes, very gentle eyes they were, like blessing the wholeworld through them. He turned back and started to go away.

“Why do yousit by that canal?” I asked hurriedly.

He turnedback and came close to me. I moved a couple of steps back.

“Why do youask kid?” he said.

“Because Isee you there, all the time, and no one knows, not even Budo” I stammered abit.

“Budo! Thatrascal” he smirked.

“He is myfriend”, I replied firmly.

“Yes, I seeyou both, all day, aiming pebbles at the berries” he said, his smile got wider.

“At-leastwe get to eat them. What do you get sitting idle for the whole day near thatcanal?” I asked in a bit agitated way.

“You arenot that age to understand”, he replied and suddenly his smile vanished.

There wassilence, except the bamboo squeaks and dry leaves rambling over inanimatecorners.

Days laterI was returning back to the city with my father. A two hour bus ride to reachBishnupur from where we will get a train to reach Ranchi in 6 hours. Last nightit had rained heavily. The narrow concrete over roads had vanished under brownmud. Whenever some other bus came from the front the driver had a tough timekeeping the vehicle on the road. It went on about one hour till that horriblemoment came.

I wasalmost asleep when there was a sudden and massive jerk, something stroked thebus from beneath and when I opened my eyes I saw it had tilted, almost to anangle of 45 degrees. Screams filled the air. I looked around. People hadalready started clinching onto their seats. My father tightly held my hand andwith the other he tried clasping the seat. Seconds continued with screamsgetting louder till it went all blank for me. And when I regained, I foundmyself hanging by the window outside the bus. I saw from the corner of myeyes, there was a sharp trench over which the bus was dangling and can toppleover any time. My ears were back and so did the screams. I didn’t know where myfather was but I thought, amidst those screams I heard my father also, callingmy name. He was still inside the bus and because of my size I had slippedoutside the window. I felt my hands were trembling; sweat covered my foreheadand mind was all blocked. Strength wasn’t ample to climb myself upwards insidethe bus.

Somemoments later I felt to let it go and then I heard my father again. I saw hishand coming out but still there was a distance to reach. I recovered myleftover strength and tried to climb but failed. I tried again and failedagain. My hands were terribly shaking and I knew the time was near when I wasgoing to leave the fight. And just then, I clearly remember just then, someonewhispered in my ears.

“I sit bythe canal because I wait for it, to come and take me to my family”.

And thensomeone pushed me, which enabled me to get inside the window and finally reachmy father’s hand. I clinched on to my father and closed my eyes. I heard peoplewere gathering outside. They had roped the bus. We waited motionless till theyrescued us.

Hourslater, when I was sitting close to my father on a hospital bench, andmotionless, a thought was continuously squirming inside me. I recognized the voiceand also knew who pushed me.

“How didyou climb that?” my father asked his voice was shaky.

I wassilent and then I spoke, “Kanai-da pushed me”.

“What!” heexclaimed and then said, “Okay” as if he understood.

But I wasyet to understand something.

In theevening Father called up the village panchayat-house where my grandfather wasalready waiting for the call.

“Yourgrandfather wanted to come, but I said we will be leaving in an hour”, myfather said, after the phone call was over. “And the thing you said aboutKanai-da…” he continued.

I looked upand saw disbelief and comfort in his eyes, both at the same time.

And then hesaid, “Kanai-da passed away this morning. Today morning farmers found him lyingdead on that canal bank”.

Many yearshave passed, but till today, whenever I remember that incident and try to judgeit by my educated reasoning, somehow I tend to believe against what many have saidwas nothing but my hallucination, my delusion. And I know Kanai-da was thereand that now, when I write about him, he is still here.

Dark Forest Chocolate Cake

2010-12-17T19:24:00.007+05:30

Mumbairains, I had heard about it many times over news and from friends that itdevastates a lot and suddenly the dream city doesn’t give any kind of dreamsanymore, except the havocking rains. And somewhere inside my crazy heart Ialways wanted to witness the ongoing. God knows why! So guess what? God does listento any such wish and there I was, July 2009, I was in Mumbai for my summerinternship. I was staying at the IIT Mumbai hostel, my office inChhathrapati-Shivaji-Terminus was some 45 minutes travel in the local trains.Local Trains, the other name for lifeline of Mumbai; because when it stops,Mumbai stops. And I had heard that Mumbai never stops, even in those wee hours.But I wasn’t aware that it does, on those occasions, one of which I was yet toknow.

It was aFriday, the last working day of the week and since afternoon Rain God wasblessing the city with all his hands. Very much unaware of what mumbaikars do when it starts to rainlike this, I stayed late in the office, as usual, and expected the rain to gomilder. People had started to move out a lot early today and by the time, maybe8:00 pm, the office was all empty, when the security guard came and asked me,“Sir, aaj aap idharich rukoge?” (Sir,will you stay here today?)

I looked athim, completely clueless about what he was saying.

Sensing mynaive look he said, “Aise barish mein, sab band ho jata hai. Train, bus...sabhi” (In times like these, everythinghalts, train, bus, everything)

Still nothaving made the cent-percent of it, I asked, “Kyu?” (Why?)

My questionbrought a smile to his otherwise rigid face.

“Pani bharjata hai na saab” he said. (Waterclogging Sir)

Okay, sothis was one of those few occasions when Mumbai stops. And that night it hadnot only stopped but had got lost amidst tiny rain droplets that had amassedover relentless pouring for hours to bring this coastline beauty drowning underits might.

“Kuch tomilega bhaiya?” I asked, expecting a positive reply. (Will I get something?)

He stayedsilent for a while, maybe thinking on what to say and then said, “train to bandhai, udhar koi bhi chance nahi, lekin aglee nakee mein bus ya fir auto milsakta hai. Lekin auto mat lena, risky hota hai aise time par…. Sab jagah panibhara hai na…. bus milne ka kuch-to chance hai….koi chala raha hoyega to”. (Train is closed, no chance there, but inthe next crossroad you may get a bus or an auto. But don’t take an auto, itgets risky in these times, its water clogged everywhere...some chance ofgetting a bus is there, if somebody is still riding one)

Then Ishould be moving now, I said to myself. I quickly shut down my computer andstarted to pack things inside my bag. Seeing me in action he left, switchingoff the remaining lights.

I signedoff in the attendance register kept at the reception and left the building.

The roadthat connected our building and the group of similar other buildings to themain naaka, from where supposedly I was hoping to get a bus or an auto, wasnever that silent and shy. It looked like a grown up girl all drenched in waterand trying to hide herself from the eyes of the world, the world of then wasonly me. Trees which were lined up along the road were kind of happily swingingin the wind, which was becoming harsher every minute. River like muddy watergushed through the corners of the road. To avoid it, maybe flowing along withit, I was walking in the middle of the road. There wasn’t any sign of humanity andthat ever lively and busy road had turned down to a silent rainforest path,where the only sound you hear is the one you make. I wasn’t carrying anyumbrella and covering some 100 mts in that vociferous rain made me all wet. Theshower was falling inclined due to the wind and I saw that in the yellow hue ofthe street lights, which looked brighter than other days. In one corner of theroad a street dog was teething onto a wet sack and was pulling it with all hisstrength, fighting with the current of water which wanted the sack to flow withit. A smile creased on my wet face. Even animals know, maybe better than us,what they really need in hours of extremity. I covered some more distance inthe same spree and saw the nakaa where lights were glowing even brighter. Ispeeded up my steps.

The naakalooked no different, except it was some more lighted as well as water-clogged.A few taxis and autos left haywire by their owners, randomly scattered inleeways of roads, waited and faced the nature’s plight. The naaka was themerger of three similar roads that came from three different directions. Thebus stop was on my right, on the other side of the road, over which a denseshadow of the nearby tree made it look dark and gloomy. I thought of moving andtaking a shelter under it. While crossing the road I saw a pink umbrellafluttering in the wind and behind it a gleaming blue duppatta, managed from notgetting wet. I came on the edge and climbed a step over to reach under theshade. By that time I was totally wet.

Intentionscan never be explained in times of monotone. Yes, that was one such time. Rainwas the monotone and my intentions were unclear. But I wanted to see andexplore my surroundings. So while shoving hands over my wet hair, I tried tocatch a view of the one behind the umbrella. I saw curls and locks of waistlength hair, mostly drenched. Of course it was a girl, I said to myself.

I turned myhead and started looking on the other side of the road. But it wasn’t long Icould keep looking that way. I turned my head again and this time I tried tosee her face.

And itseems she also was interested to look at her hapless counterpart. Our eyes metand there was a massive thunderbolt. I had seen such things in movies but neverknew it happened in real life too. And suddenly the havocking rain and the badclimate started to look something different. Maybe it was one of those timeswhen things happen and you just have to be there, witnessing each of it. It wasshe who first unlocked the sight. I followed. For the next couple of minutes Ididn’t see in that direction and knew she wasn’t either. Some moments passed andtimes returned to the normal. The rain again started feeling cold and the windgot harsher, and till now there wasn’t any sign of a bus.

“Is thereany bus expected?” I heard a faint voice, so faint that it could have been myflirting ears, and it almost got mixed with the sound of the rain drops. Amoment later I heard it again, “Excuse me!” but it was louder this time. Iturned.

“Yes? Areyou saying something to me?” I sounded like those perfect gentlemen who neverunknowingly jumps on remarks that are thrown near them. And the next moment Irealized I have goofed up myself.

Inresponse, she looked around, as if saying, do you see any other living creaturearound to whom I can ask about a bus. Without making it look obvious I quicklyjumped on the reply and said, “Yeah, I hope so” and returned a smile in spiteof being proven the silly one. She smiled back in a very natural way.

Ok, wait,that wasn’t something natural, it was different, generally girls, and speciallythe beautiful ones, makes faces after making a point on something and thenalmost with a jerk turn their heads off. I wonder why they never get a sprainin their neck. I tried it once and for the next 3 days my neck was aching likeanything. I needed to see her closely; maybe I got interested to know whethershe really smiled back or made some face. But how, was the question. Should Iapproach her with the half eaten biscuit packet lying inside my bag? Well Iwould have done that if I was some years younger. Generally boys take time to attainmaturity. Growing up is like a bonus package that many a times don’t arrive forsome unlucky ones.

I kept thinkingand looking on the falling rain drops on the street and suddenly a genius ideastruck me. Just when I was about to turn my head I heard the same voice again,“Excuse me!” this time very clearly and distinctively.

I turnedback. She was standing a foot next to me. It almost startled me and I shifted astep backwards.

“Yes” Ireplied with full curiosity in my voice.

“Where areyou up to?” she asked. And for a moment it felt I heard ‘what’ instead of ‘where’?Correcting myself on what my ears really heard and not what my stray machineryof thought process prompted me to, I replied, “Vikhroli”.

“Ohh, I amalso going that way only” she replied with a timid sparkle in her eyes.

And for thefirst time I saw her closely.

In thehalogen hue of the street lamp her oval face shone like a stone amidst dustyrocks, not dusty but wet, few strands of her hair disengaged and dangled overher forehead in a magical way, thanks to the harsh weather, and those pair ofbrown eyes in the yellow light looked browner.

I wishedthe moment could have stopped, really, not in some literal way, but much likethe ‘statue’ game which kids play and saying a word ‘statue’, everybody goesstatue!

Anyway,staring further could have really sent some weird signals and so to break thejinx I said, “Ohh really!”

She keptlooking towards me expecting I would continue with something but then hearingnothing she said, “Not very often you see Mumbai like this, isn’t it, even inthe heavy rains people are still out there?”

“Yes, it’salways like some battlefield” I jumped on the reply like a monkey over a bananaand then thought, what did I actually say? Battlefield? From where did thatcome, and why?

“So… how dowe plan to go?” she inquired.

Wait! Whatdid she say? I actually didn’t hear anything after the word ‘we’. And that wasenough for me; I could have stood there for rest of the night just to hear thatword. Oh! It sounded so delicate. But then I suddenly realized I shouldn’t beoverwhelmed because it shows from your eyes. I had heard my friends say thatgirls generally repel from guys who easily give signals that they are fallingfor them. And here I was not only falling but was toppling over at the sametime.

Suddenly inthat pause I realized that she had asked something and to which I haven’treplied yet.

“Yes….maybesome bus… or we may also take some auto…if you like…”, very skillfully Iincluded the word ‘we’ into my reply giving a hint that I have accepted the‘we’ thing.

“Hmm…..butdon’t you think there’s a bit shortage of that today” she mocked and a quirkbut remarkable smile formed across the corner of her lips.

Yeah,becoming dumb before the damsels on this earth is the most fulfilling thingthat can be done because the rewards you get in return has no comparisons. Someof us do it intentionally but then the magic is lost and just then I had thefortune of some natural bliss.

“Yes true.So do we have any options other than waiting?” I said in a bit firm and manlyvoice and sounding kind of confident for the first time. To this she wentsilent and returned a smile. Girls know this very well, whenever in doubleminds or with no answer they use this as a tool to grant them some time tothink upon. A man when does this, looks nothing but a freak!

By thattime rain was falling stronger and chances of any bus coming got fainter, andso I did wished. For the next couple of minutes we stood silently, side byside, waiting and hearing the rain drops clatter on the mortar asbestos roof ofthe bus stop.

“Don’t youthink it would be a good idea if we go and sit inside one of thoseauto-rickshaws?” I asked. She stared at me for a while, maybe telling throughher eyes, I know why you are asking that, you pervert! Sensing this I made a facelike I didn’t say anything.

“Yes, let’sgo” she replied.

“What” Isaid almost in a surprising tone.

“Are youasking me or are you saying that” she said with again that same grin. Well,enough, it wasn’t funny anymore. Enough of being the stupid one!

I took fewseconds and then replied, “Whatever, but what matters now is we should go andtake shelter in one of those auto-rickshaws”.

I stamped backand said the rest in my thoughts, I am going even if you are not coming.

To this shegot a bit repelled, as her eyes told. Maybe the dumb one she was expecting meto be, I turned out to be something else. She didn’t say a word back andstarted to walk with me towards one of those stranded auto-rickshaws, whichmaybe were waiting for us only.

We figuredout one which was a bit less drowned under the flowing river like water. She firstgot inside it. I followed. It was definitely more cozy than standing at the busstop getting continuously wet and also maybe because the distance between us reduced.I could feel and smell the soft aroma of lavender through her wet clothes,which she was pressing to squeeze out the extra water. She released herhair-clip and the locks of wet hair dropped loose on her shoulder. Some ofthose droplets landed on my face as well. She got busy doing something or theother with her clothes and hair and I got busy doing just one thing. It wasn’tlong before she understood that I was ogling her.

“Excuseme!” she said and I knew why she said that.

I replied“What?” like the five year old when asked about nuclear fusion.

“What areyou looking at?” her voice a bit stronger this time.

“Nothing” Igave the usual answer in the usual tone.

To this itlooked as if she got the answer. She turned some degrees away from me to hidefrom my eyes and started the process again.

Well, theseare the unsaid moments which say a lot and the best thing about it is you knowwhy you are enjoying that.

After sometime when she got settled she said, “This is one of the worst nights I couldever have.”

“Why? What’swrong with the night?” I asked.

“Can’t yousee what’s wrong? It’s 10 in the night, it’s raining like crazy and we aresitting inside a damp auto-rickshaw with almost no hope of getting back to ourhome.”

“Oh yes,that’s very much wrong, yes”

“So what wereyou thinking?”

“Nothing”

“See let metell you one thing. I know when you boys say that word-nothing. It actuallymeans a lot which probably you are not saying because you think she might notunderstand or maybe because you are afraid”

“Afraid? Ofwhat?”

“Of usdefinitely”

“Why?”

“Maybebecause you think that she may hit you back”

“Hit meback? Sorry, for what?”

“For sayingthe thing which you shouldn’t say”

“So that’swhy we don’t say”

She gotsilent, thought for a moment and then muttered, “hmmm…yes, maybe”

“So what’syour point”, I asked.

“Nothing,just leave it”

“Now see,who’s saying the word?”

She laughedand for the first time it felt that girls really become more beautiful whenthey laugh. Something else felt too, but I didn’t pay much attention to that.

“So what isthat you do, I mean, apart from saving beautiful girls from the havockingrains?” she asked and giggled.

I thoughtfor a moment as to why she said that ‘saving’ thing, but then couldn’t make outmore.

“I am doingmy mba internship. What about you?”

“I am aninteraction designer.”

“Interactwhat?”

“A designerto be precise”

“Yes butwhat is that interaction about?”

“Hmmm… It’slike when you are designing a website you should know how to make it interactiveso that it is easily picked up as well as liked at the same time by its users”

“Yeah, Iget it, you are a web designer”

“No No,web-designing is something else. It’s more on the non-technical side ofdesigning. I gave the example of a website because it’s easy to understand butnow that you are not getting it…” she giggled and continued, “it’s likedesigning any product should have the pre-information of how it is going to beused, in more technical terms you say that how it is interacting with theusers.”

“Okay, Ithink I am getting it now” I said and almost convincingly nodded my head butmore over laden with the question that why did she giggle and that too twice.

“Okay can Iask you something?” I said.

She wentsilent as if I was going to propose her or something and I could see her eyesgetting a bit bigger.

“Don’tworry”, I giggled, this was my turn, “I just want to ask why you giggled?”

Thequestion released her tensed eyebrows a bit and she said, “That’s like natural,can’t help it.”

“Can’t helpwhat? Giggling on the person who saved you in a night like this”

“Saved me?Hello Mr mba, what did you do to save me?”

“I mean, Idon’t know maybe you needed a company, or maybe like...” I was stretching mywords in search of a convincing answer, “okay, but this is only what you said somemoments ago right?”

To this sheagain laughed and that same feeling returned, this time pretty strong. To avoidit I turned my face on the other side.

By thistime the rain had got milder and our hopes of getting a bus again started torise.

“I amfeeling hungry. Aren’t you?” she asked.

I didn’tknow what to answer and then remembered I had half a packet biscuit lying in mybag.

“I havesome biscuits with me if you like” I said.

“Well,taking biscuits from a stranger is not wise but then it’s better to trust astranger than die with hunger” she replied with a prominent grin.

I laughedand started searching the packet inside my bag. Just when I got hold of it Iheard a horn.

“Hey do youhear that, I think some bus is coming. I knew it would, the rain has gotmilder” she said like a chirping bird.

“Yes, Ihear that” I said in a somber mood.

We got outof the auto-rickshaw and quickly made our way to the bus stop. The vehiclehorned again and now we could see the two headlights from a distance. It approachedsome more and we saw it was not a bus but some private vehicle, much like asuv.

“Hey. Not abus!” she exclaimed.

The carstopped in front of us.

“Where”,the driver yelled from the car.

We bothpeeped inside. It was full of men and women of different age and differentbackgrounds.

“Vikhroli”she replied.

The drivershouted dejectedly, “Get inside soon. I must be a fool that I am still drivingin this season. C’mmon get inside fast, I don’t have much time”

“But where,there’s no place at all” I said.

“Make placeand get inside, otherwise I am leaving. One of them will get down at dadar” hepointed to a half aged man who nodded in confirmation.

We againpeeped inside, there was definitely no place for two of us, if somehow managedat most one could get in.

I looked ather; she was desperately trying to find a place inside the car. I knew this washard for her to stay outside her house for a night and that too in a night likethis, unlike me, for whom the auto-rickshaw was enough.

“You go ahead.I’ll wait for a bus or some other vehicle” I said.

“Not doing.We both are going together” she replied.

“We bothcannot. See there’s no place at all. At the most you only can fit in. you goahead.”

“Are yousure?” she asked and I saw in her eyes, maybe somewhere in them she wanted meto say no, don’t go away, I’ll take care of you for the rest of the night.

“Yes. Sure”I replied.

“What! Are youpeople coming in or not?” the driver’s voice was becoming scratchy.

“Yes wait”I said.

She gotinside and made place for her in the rear seat of the car. She looked at me, Ismiled but she didn’t smile back. The car started.

The carmoved away and I stood there watching it go. Suddenly I realized something. Iclinched my fist in desperation. Should I run and call her back and ask for hermobile number. No it definitely wouldn’t look sane. So what should I do? ShouldI just let her go like that? I saw the watch, the last one hour was definitelysomething that wouldn’t come every day and in the end I really turned out to bea fool. At-least I should have taken her e-mail id.

The rainhad again started back in its usual spree and so was it raining inside me.

I lookedback. The auto-rickshaw was still standing at its place but it didn’t look thesame as it was a few minutes before and moreover, now I didn’t feel like goinginside it. Now I also want to leave, maybe one more vehicle should come andI’ll accommodate myself in it. Now I don’t have to make place for someone else.It’s only me that I have to carry. So I can carry that. Now even the biscuitpacket doesn’t needs to be shared with anybody else nor do I have to soundinteresting all the times. I can be what I am.

But is this fun? No it isn’t.

The car wasappearing puny by now and was almost about to disappear round the bend. And whydoesn’t the car speed away, I asked myself? It was visible still and somethingwas hurting inside me. Seriously man, why isn’t the car moving. Hey wait! Isthe car moving at all? I squinted to see well. Yes, the car had stopped. Butthere was no other passenger waiting to get inside. So what happened?

And thenwhat I saw I can definitely say as one of the happiest moments of my life. Thatblue duppatta! Oh my God, she was getting down. But why? Never mind, it’s not atime to question, I should rush, maybe run. Yes, No. The car speeded away justafter dropping her. She started proceeding towards me. I really don’t knowwhether I was running or walking, just somehow I wanted to reach her quickly. Iguess the same was for her because I saw her steps speeding up in the last 50yards.

“Hey, whathappened?” I asked from quite a distance before I actually reached her.

“Why areyou running?” naughtily she asked.

“Am I?Forget it. Tell me what happened?” I asked.

“Justthought that it won’t be a wise decision to miss those biscuits, as even if Ireach home, which is actually a PG where I stay, the dinner time is over now,so I have to starve myself till the morning” she said in a breadth.

And thenstealing her eyes from me she said, “Do you mind that?”

I didn’tknow what to answer.

I said,“Ok.”

“Just anOK?” she asked.

I againdidn’t know what to answer; maybe my dumbness was at its peak.

“You are adumbo” she said. Her words felt like liquid chocolate dripping on a dark forestchocolate cake and for the first time, which I never knew before, the word dumbcould also sound so good.

“Auto-rickshaw?”I asked.

“Mmm..hmmm”she replied.

“C’mmonnow! I really meant that thing about the biscuit” she said while we againadjusted ourselves inside the auto-rickshaw.

“Ohh yes” Isaid and opened the zip of my bag.

“There yougo” I offered her the half opened packet and she grabbed it immediately.

“Hmm…pineappleand cream and Good-day, my favourite” she exclaimed while giving her firstbite. Seeing her relish the biscuit like some Italian pasta I too got somewhathungry.

“Can I haveone?” I asked.

“Let methink” she said mockingly and then took out one and pushed it inside my halfopen mouth.

“It’sunusual but I still don’t know your name by now” I said while chewing mybiscuit. It tasted sweeter.

And justwhen she was about to reply there was again a massive thunderbolt. This time itstartled her completely, the biscuit packed shook from her hand to pop one ortwo out of it and she completely crawled near me. Her face was hardly somecentimeters away from mine. I looked into her eyes, she tried to smile butsomething made her smile to become an untouched innocence, which through hereyes she manifested like an unspoken feeling of relentless charm. The feelingthat I had been avoiding twice, then returned and then not paying attention toit or turning my face away from it or doing anything else was just not possible.Like a magical spell my lips neared hers and she closed her eyes. She tasted likethe pineapple and the cream and the dark forest chocolate cake and somethingelse too, something that I just cannot describe.

“Hello….Hellobhaiya! Uthiyee bhaisahab” (Hello..Hellobrother. Get up bro..) a strange and unusual voice got me up from my dream.I opened my eyes slowly and wishing that what I saw shouldn’t be a dream. I waslying on the rear seat of an auto-rickshaw like a crippled child somehowadjusting myself to fit my legs inside it. I looked up and saw a five footbearded man with the uniform of an auto-rickshaw driver standing outside andwith many a question in his eyes. I sprang up and got outside.

“Kyabhaiya? Kaisi rahi raat?” (What Bro..howwas the night) he asked and without waiting for my answer he got inside onthe driver seat. I stood there speechless with disheveled hair, round eyes anda muddled face to see the auto-rickshaw mix with the rest of similar others.

Minuteslater I was having a chai (tea) atthe nearby hotel and was still puzzled.

“Kitnahua?” (How much) I asked afterfinishing two cutting chai’s and feeling a bit fresh.

“dus”(ten) the tea vendor replied.

I placed myfingers inside my shirt pocket to get a ten rupee note and along with it cameout a small note. I didn’t recognize the note. What was that?

Well, I sawit and in a moment like one of those thunderbolts my eyes shone. On it was scribbleda ten digit number and beneath it was written, “Give me a call dumbo.”

In the flick of that moment

2010-12-13T18:06:00.005+05:30

In the distant haze of disappearing greenery of splendid curls of mountains, there I could see a small hut. The train is now at its top speed and almost sailing like a whale amidst the morning dew. It is not often that you get a chance to travel in third class of a train when you are one of the renowned figures in Indian politics. The travel agent almost fell upon my feet last evening when he couldn’t get me a first class seat. His face, pale and yellow at the same time, fearing the onslaught that he and his agency might face. With closed hands and trembling voice he repeated his inefficiency to compete against that new travel agent and how he is eating up his share of tickets and market. Once in a while he also made me remember the free benefits he offers me to prevent my mind from shifting to the new guy. I silently heard him rant for minutes till my fellow party helpers dragged him away out of my sight.

The berth in-front of me is all covered by my costly luggage bags, most of them I haven’t purchased, some I don’t even remember who gifted. The old ceiling fan which had ceased to move, maybe some years back, was yesterday forcibly made to come out of his grave and turn. For a couple of hours I heard it cry and then for the last time it screamed with a long screech and stopped forever. This is November and thank God it is, otherwise I would have bathed in my own sweat. Long back I have stopped living outside the air-conditioning actually, now even the slightest stay in normal atmospheric conditions gives me a hell like feeling. Years back I know, I used to travel like this, when I was an active member of our national party. Along with other party helpers, we used to travel in 3^rd class without tickets to Delhi to attend the elating speech of our visionary leader, whom then I considered as God. Today I know, there is nothing called God.

From the adjoining berths, I could hear children crying, mostly in hunger, as I can recognize the voice. Mothers humming them helplessly and patting to somehow make the innocent creature understand that she hasn't got enough money left and neither her breasts are filled. Fathers, mostly asleep, totally deaf to the child’s pangs, snoring deep because the coming day would be herculean, somewhere on the pavements of the shining city making it more shiny, or some construction site building a 100 storey house for people like me or in some low lying areas where the police visits a lot, not for grabbing the illegal but for grabbing benefits both in kind and cash.

I have not slept the last night due to a foul smell, in-spite of the strong air-fresheners around me. But amazingly, I recognize this smell. This comes from people who suffer from a disease called poverty. I know because I have also seen it and suffered it sometime in my life. my childhood in-fact was never different than this.

I open the windows for some fresh air to let inside my thoughts. I saw green hills, birds flying in groups and herds of cattle graze on grass laden troughs of mountains. It feels like standing on the verge of heaven and hell. Maybe the same I was when I was given a chance to become the president of my party and I had opted for the greener pastures to graze on them for the rest of my life.

Suddenly a strong urge rises inside me. The green mountains and birds can no longer attract my attention. I deflect from the window and my ears are listening to those cries once again. I am a leader, a leader of the public who should do something for the public. So is this what I am suppose to do? Even now, travelling in the third class, conditions have been refurbished to my ease so that I shouldn’t have the slightest of inconvenience. Of-course travelling in an ac compartmentalized bogie would never bring out your attention from those mountains and birds but here I was, very much amidst of what was happening around me. Maybe some of those ailing nearby have been standing for the whole night, as the valuable place that could have been occupied some 20 of them, now is occupying their leader and his costly luggage bags. And suddenly I realize that my country is very much the same. Separated by concrete boundaries we drink and eat differing in quality and quantity.

This is the moment, I thought, that makes a man really what he is. Leaders of pre-independence era used to walk with the crowd, sit with them and eat with them. They were one among us not above us.

But what about me, I remember I was the same. Sometime back when I dreamt of leading an independent political party, I dreamt on the same lines. I thought this country is great, because it offers us the thought process to think for others, and given one chance I will surely serve the country as it needs to be. Years have gone by and now those visions and dreams seems to be lost somewhere in the corners of my eyes behind curtains of slog and dark politics. I remember them, no doubt, talk on them for hours but when fate really places me in the spot, then I behave very much like my idolized leader, my godfather in politics who gave me this position I am in today.

This is the moment where I can deny standing on the green side and tell others that yes I am you, not any different. I stand up. A strange adrenaline rushes inside me, similar to the one when for the first time I got a pat from my godfather. Then I believed in principles, which very quickly changed and took the shapes of crooked and horrendous tactics.

I try to move ahead and the train passing over a bridge makes a sound that vibrates my inner core. I tremble because my legs shake, the train is dancing over the bridge, almost taking off its rails and I grab the nearby hinge. I tilt and try to see the green mountains, but they are nowhere, instead a thick grey smoke has covered and filled the view from my window. Restlessly I try to find my green mountains back, my eyes desperate and tired of this small stint of reality. And in that mist, I see new age politics taking over the old one, my godfather, the leader I idolized like God, strangulating to death under the hairy and massive grips of my own arms.

He too had screeched like that ceiling fan but then my hand didn’t shake at all, by fame and glory of position and determination by hunger of power, pressed his old neck till it wrecked. He died in my arms and the next day I carried his corpse over my shoulder in front of the whole country. I did what he taught me. I was his child.

Tired and helpless, I close my eyes and collapse down. The moment has gone and once again I have made the decision. To continue grazing on the green pastures.

The Elitist

2010-11-12T20:08:00.007+05:30

Once upon atime there lived a boy called Shinko in a village called Aanto in China.Shinko, an orphan from birth used to live in an orphan house run by the villageschool authorities. Unlike other orphans, even though ill-fed most of thetimes, he was a boy with dreams that told its stories on his bright face.

Everymorning Shinko used to run to Silto, the river outside their village where noother villager went because they said there lived a ghost called Darko on thebranches of a big banyan tree called Barko. Shinko every night dreamt of Darko.In dreams he saw Darko sitting on the branches of Barko and calling him withgifts to offer. And as soon as his eyes opened in the morning, he used to runto Silto thinking he might get lucky.

Surprisinglyrather naturally, where other kids of his age were very afraid of just the nameof Darko, Shinko didn't feel any fear. Instead, he questioned himself, why arethey afraid of Darko when they haven't seen him yet? Sometimes he even used toask the old men of the village about Darko. But most of them shoved him away, scoldinghim not to talk about Darko. And some of them told all fearful stories abouthow once Darko came to their village and scared away all the kids till Kimoto,the wise sage, came to their rescue and finally bound Darko onto the branchesof Barko forever.

Days wentby and Shinko’s desire of meeting Darko kept strengthening. He thought andplanned for his tenth year when he will be allowed to sleep in the outside, inthe open gallery from where he can easily slip out in the darkness of night tomeet Darko. By the time it is dawn, Darko can no longer be seen. It is only inthe night when it’s possible. He told none of his friends about his secret planand kept waiting for his tenth year on earth.

Finally theday arrived when Shinko turned ten and was allowed to sleep outside. His firstnight outside, under the starlit sky, he remained awake and waited till all theother kids were snoring deep. In the midnight, when the village clock rung forthe 12th time, he decided to move. He slowly got out of his blanket,slipped into his long jackets that hung till his ankle and hided his face undera dark cloth. Slowly with trembling steps with the fear of getting caught, hestarted approaching Silto.

Silto wasflowing silently in the night unlike morning when it can be heard from quite adistance. Shinko neared Silto and he could clearly see Barko’s dark structure standinglike a giant in the middle of the night. Occasional wind made the leaves rubagainst each other and make sounds that Shinko had not heard before. In daytimemany a sounds are not heard which one can hear in the night when everythingaround is sleeping.

Shinkoreached under the dark shades of Barko and looked up. The moonlight that hadbeen so far guiding him was no longer with him. The dense leaves of Barko createdits own world beneath. For a moment Shinko thought of running back, not becausehe was afraid but if someone sees him there at that hour he will be thrownoutside the school and then he won’t get food to survive himself. He gazedaround. The dim moonlight can hardly figure out someone only if it is notmoving. And at that hour no one in the village would dare to come near Barko.So he decided to stay and look for Darko.

Somemoments passed and Shinko stood there waiting. And then suddenly along with thewind and the rubbing of leaves he heard a faint coughing sound, of an old man,from the other side of the bark. Shinko got frightened thinking someone fromthe village had come. He will go back and tell others about this. He quicklyducked himself and then slowly peeped towards the other side. In thealmost dark, which by now Shinko’s eyes had got used to and the moonlightoutside the shades of Barko looked like daylight, he saw an old man sitting.But his face was not visible. Shinko tilted some more to see his face and thensuddenly a cold rumbled palm grasped his hand. Shinko almost shrieked when asimilar one clamped his mouth and forcefully pulled him towards the other side.

Shinkoclosed his eyes in fear and started shivering. He could feel the old man’sbreath upon him, his rustic smell like the ones who travel countries and haltsin his school, when they pass by his village. He again coughed and this timeharder. Clearing his throat, the old man said, “Open your eyes”. His voice hada strange familiarity, like the one Shinko had heard before many a times. Itmade Shinko a bit curious and he slowly opened his eyes.

“Who areyou?” the old man said, his voice huskier this time. Shinko stood speechlessand stared on his face. All bearded with most of them grey and it didn’t seemthat those words he only spoke. Unlike his pale face the voice was stronger.Shinko could not see his eyes. They were just two dark cavities. The light wasnot enough but he could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, wrinkles allcovering his temple and long beards that told that he had been out ofcivilization for quite some time. Clothes were all rags and mostly natural treeskins and leaves.

“Who areyou?” he repeated, this time with authority.

“I amShinko” in a trembling voice Shinko replied.

“What areyou doing here?”

“N…Nothing”

The old manneared his eyes to Shinko’s. Shinko looked harder this time into his eyes butthose dark cavities only looked darker. “Don’t lie to me. I know why you arehere”, the old man almost whispered to Shinko’s ears.

Shinkomoved his face backwards and tried to make some room for him but couldn’t move.Those tights wrists were still holding him and of which he was unaware tillnow.

“Leave me!”Shinko squirmed and muttered.

“Why? Youdon’t want to meet me?” the old man said in a cockier tone.

Shinko keptstruggling to get loose from those clamps. “Please let me go”, he pleaded.

“How canI?” the old man said and busted in laughter.

“Why? Whycan’t you?” Shinko quivered.

“Because Ihave been calling you for so many days and so many years! And today you havecome”

“I…..Idon’t know you. You n……never called me” Shinko stammered.

“Yes Ihave. And you said you will come once you become ten years old”

Shinkoceased to move. Those words resounded in his ears. He became still. How he knewabout it, I never told anyone, Shinko thought.

“I don’tknow you. I came to meet Darko, the ghost”, Shinko replied.

“So meetme, I am your Darko, the ghost” the old man said.

“You?Darko? No No”, Shinko reverted back.

“Why? Whynot?”

“Ummm….BecauseI have seen Darko in my dreams and he is different. He is not like you. You areold and dirty and ruthless and baa….ad”, Shinko said in a breath.

“Yes I am.So that is what ghosts ought to be. We cannot be good”, he smirked.

“Why? Whyghosts cannot be good? I know Darko is good. But why I am telling you this. Youare not Darko, I know”, Shinko said.

“I am verymuch the so called Darko. And if not how could I know that I have been callingyou and that you would come once you are ten years old. Tell me”, the old manasked.

Shinkostood silent and speechless. He felt a strange sense of uneasiness. It wasgetting too much for him for the night. He wanted to go back to his school andfall asleep. He thought it was better in his dreams only. He turned back andstarted to go.

“What?Where are you going?”

Shinkodidn’t reply and kept walking away.

“Would youcome tomorrow, huh?” the old man paused a bit and then again said, “Gifts?”

Shinkostopped, he confirmed himself on the last word he heard and then turned back. Aswoosh of cold wind blew past his face. The branches of Barko danced and the oldman was nowhere. Shinko hovered around Barko, here and there but the old manwas nowhere.

“Hello….oldman. Where are you? Come back now. Hello sir…. Mister…..Old man….” Shinko’svoice echoed around the banks of Silto but no reply came.

Shinkowaited for some more time near Barko and then slowly started to retrace back.After walking for a minute he turned back. The dark demonic Barko stood the wayit was. Was the old man really Darko, Shinko thought. How could he tell allthose which only I and Darko know? No doubt, he was Darko only. But now what,he is gone.

With adisheartened tone Shinko said “Where are you Darko? I don’t want gifts. I justwant to meet you”

“So meetme, I am here Shinko” the husky voice echoed along with the wind from thebranches of Barko.

Shinko’sface shone. “Darko!” he exclaimed and ran towards Barko.

Uponreaching Barko, he found Darko waiting for him. He looked better this time buthis eyes were still not visible.

Darko said,“Come Shinko, I was waiting for you”. Shinko was eager and went forward and saton the lap of Darko.

Darkobegan, “You know Shinko why you have always wanted to meet me?”

Shinkonodded.

“It’sbecause there is a secret I want to share with you. It is actually me whoalways wanted to meet you. I only gave you those dreams so that you should comeand meet me”, Darko paused and looked on Shinko’s face. He was puzzled butsilent.

Darkocontinued, “Won’t you ask me anything?”

“Yes….Maybe”, Shinko replied.

Darkoremained silent and allowed Shinko to catch up. After a moment Shinko said witha confused tone, “Maybe this is a bit foolish to ask but may I know why youreyes are not visible. Even when now we are sitting in the moonlight, still Icannot see them. Let me see your eyes.”

Darkoremained silent for a while and then said, “You really want to see?”

“Yes forsure”

“Thinkproperly because later you cannot change your decision”

“Ohh..Yes.What the most will happen if I see your eyes?”

“Fine. Thensee”, saying this Darko lifted his head towards the moon and then slowlylowered them towards Shinko until their eyes met.

“No!”Shinko screamed and stood up. A stoned chilled air ran within him. He wasstanding dumbstruck with his eyes wide open.

After a fewmoments regaining his breath Shinko gasped “No… No…. It can’t be true. It justcan’t be true”

“After thatwhat happened grandpa”, I asked. My grandpa was silent with a slight smirk onhis face.

“Guesswhat”, he asked.

“Okay...” Isaid, “You are Shinko right?”

“Yes,that’s obvious. But what did I see in Darko’s eyes?”

“Hmmm….maybeno eyes at all because he was a ghost” I replied.

“Then Iwould have been scared and ran away, would not have stood there dumbstrucklooking into those eyes”.

“So…maybethe eyes were very dangerous, not like human eyes, maybe or some…..I don’tknow”

Grandpasmiled and waited for my eagerness to rise until I again said, “Tell me please,what you saw?”

“My deargrandson, what I saw was my own eyes! I saw nothing but myself. Darko wasno-one else but me” Grandpa replied with a louder tone and after a while hecontinued, "I am the elitist who saw my own ghost".

From 'Foreign' to 'Phoren'

2010-03-28T14:30:00.002+05:30

“Son, where you want to get an admission?”, the father asks.

The Son thinks for a while puffing a cigarette. He is a current year pass out of class 12^th with some 42 percent marks and is now thinking to get an admission to an engineering college.

“How about MIT dad?” he asks after thinking a bit.

“Forget about MIT and the oxfords. I told you to fetch some more marks. If at all you would have got some 60 percent I could have tried, but now there’s no chance for it”, the dad replies.

“But dad, all my friends are going to MIT”.

“I told you, I can’t help. Why don’t you think about the IIT’s? They are also the premier institutes of India”.

“c’mmon dad. When I can get an oxford or mit after my name, why think about something that has Indian written on it. No IIT’s. I will only study if you get me to MIT, otherwise forget it”.

Dad looks helplessly, devoid of words, towards his spoilt son who this time lights another cigarette and walks away.

Amazed? Yes this is India, not now but some / many years after the bill of foreign universities coming to India passes and becomes a law. So does it mean that it shouldn’t pass? No. it should. After all calling oneself globalized can only be realized when it is on all fronts. And education is one of them.

But the aspect to think is what is in store for the future? Sure the universities will come; seats will increase manifold and the crunch that is being currently felt on the shortage of seats particularly in the higher education segment will fade away. But will that help the nation as a whole?

A question to ponder which we have already left behind issues such as how the reservation will come into play in the foreign universities, how the government will keep an eye on them so that they follow and abide by the central rules of running an university and finally how powerful people will again find a leeway inside the system to get in their wards popularly known as the management quota in India.

We Indians are quite capable of deviating and futzing around. Being an Indian I know this. We start off with targets that very few can think of, identify the problem but somewhere in the middle we get lost amidst self made vagaries.

I will give you one example. Just few days back our renowned bestseller novelist chetan bhagat wrote an article about this issue in the form of a nicely framed short story that touches the heart once you read it. He wrote it for people to read and realize where we are going wrong.

As always, to create a hype which our celebrities know very well, self-marketing some call it, Bhagat too as now he is no less a celebrity himself, with the help of new and fast growing networking platform twitter, tweeted it to his thousands of followers who then re-tweeted it to their million followers and friends.

As a result the news spread like a jungle fire that chetan bhagat had written a wonderful short story on Hindustan times. Hindustan times which have its own large readership base of course made it reach to much more. Almost all the youngistan, as we call it, read the story and then started to praise chetan bhagat for writing such a wonderful story and touching the hearts of Indians once again. Chetan bhagat too completely forgot for what he had written it and got busy in replying with words like thanks, keep the support etc.

In the whole fall of events something got very badly hit and that was the real issue.

It’s not a question that whether foreign universities will take away our shortcomings of not being able to provide good colleges to the millions but rather it is a question that how are we going to adopt it. It’s actually the opposite way which we are thinking, i.e how those universities will adopt us.

Moreover universities move very slowly unlike the opening of the economy when one fine morning our local businessman started to get stiff competition from foreign brands which have overnight spread itself over the whole market. If you really want to serve each student with a good college then combining the whole universities of the world may even fall short. Its just going to improve the percentages a bit. Its somewhere around 2 percent now and will grow to a 10 percent max. So then what about the other 90 percent like we talk about the other 98 percent now.

Just giving the universities a space to set up their buildings in India will only result in becoming them from foreign to phoren. Nothing else.

p.s : Do you see a comments link below this. Ok. Click it and type your comments.

One Life | Index

2010-03-27T12:14:00.003+05:30

1. Prelude Click here (Right Click. Open in new window)

2. Some eight years before (a) Click here (Right Click. Open in new window)

3. Some eight years before (b) Click here (Right Click. Open in new window)

4. First Night Click here (Right Click. Open in new window)

First Night

2010-03-27T12:11:00.005+05:30

“Take this jar of chawanprash also”, my mom said and started to find a place for it in the already overfilled bag with half the belongings that I have never used but now when I am going out of home, I was carrying them. Chawanprash too fell in the same category.

“C’mmom Maa, I will buy one if I need. Why to carry it from here”, I said in a pleading way which I knew fell on deaf ears.

“Ok. Almost everything done. what else? You took the toothbrush right?” mom inquired. “Maa. You are asking this for the fifth time now. See this is it”, I said pointing towards the toothbrush. “and if you want I can take the other new one also kept in the rack”, I continued in a slight irritated tone.

“Oh yeah. I forgot completely. Why are you taking this old one? Wait I will bring it”, she said while approaching the rack. “Maa…please”, I said with my voice getting a bit louder.

“What?”, she turned back towards me.

“Nothing. Just tell me when it’s over”, I said and left the place with rapid steps.

“Done with the packing” my dad asked. He was sitting in the drawing room with yesterday’s newspaper.

“why yesterday’s paper. Todays?”, I asked.

“I think today the hawker didn’t come at all. How far is the packing”, he asked again.

“I am done many hours before but I don’t think maa will be done for the next many hours also”, I said in a monotone.

“Make it fast! We are leaving after the lunch”, he said.

We reached NIFFT hostel and it was already evening. My mom had packed yet another bag and now the total count became six including the bedding and the two big bazaar bags meant exclusively for food stuffs. Even the guys going to the arctic pole for trekking do not take this amount of food with them. I could survive for my whole Btech without even going to the mess a single time, I thought.

I opened the room and found it to be a descent sized one. My room partner had not arrived yet. Two cots lied bare faced, two wooden almirahs embedded in the walls, two tables and two chairs. Dad checked the fan and the lights.

“Take this side of the room. Here you won’t get the direct sun from the window”, my dad said. He had already started examining the room. I thought if my mom would have come she could consult me on the vaastu part as well, if she had any. Of course she would have.

“Baba, I think you should leave now. You won’t get auto after this”, I said as it was getting quite dark by the time.

Dad left after some more adjustments and changes he could incorporate so that his son is ever comfortable as he feels at home. But he didn’t know of the storm that was coming. Completely unaware of the fact that his son has now been stranded in a place where bloodhounds in the form of maverick seniors come for their prey, the poor juniors, when it is dark, much dark and where no dad or mom can come for their child’s rescue.

I went to the water filter and saw the guy who sat beside me in the counseling. He recognized me at once and passed me a smile.

“What is your name”, I asked.

“Amit Sinha”, he replied. A tinge of rural background was still on his tongue and told the whole story and the place where he came from the moment he spoke a word. Dark complexion, round head, hair sticking to the skull, carbon frame glasses and behind those two big eyes, belly hanging a bit and a descent height of about 5’10, he wore a checked blue shirt and stitched pair of dark brown trousers. The fitting told that they have been with those legs for some time now, may be some alterations to fit the increasing waist had been done too.

“Hi. I am Saikat”, I stretched my hands. He was more than happy to shake hands with me which probably until now he had only seen in the TV’s.

I knew he was uncomfortable with English, so I continued in hindi only, “where are you from?”

“Nadiyawan”, he said as if it was the capital of India.

Clueless for some seconds I asked back, “Where exactly?”

“It comes in lakhisarai district”, he said very convincingly as if the name lakhisarai is enough. I still didn’t get the exact hang of the place but ya as I have heard the name lahisarai before I didn’t question further.

“And where are you from”, he asked assuming I too will name some village.

Ranchi village comes under Ranchi district; I thought and said, “Ranchi”.

“Ok. So you are a localite”, he said nodding his head a bit.

I thought it takes some 2hrs in an auto, only if I had travelled in a train and reached this place after some 1 hr journey I would not have been called by this name. Somewhere the name stung, don’t know why.

“Yes, I am”, I replied.

“So lucky, you can go to your maa and baba very often. I can only go in the long holidays”, he gasped.

Lucky you, I thought.

“And even you can run away from the ragging too”, he continued.

My ears heard the word and sent a signal to my brain, which then told me that, not a good news son.

“What ragging?” I asked.

“Yes you are coming today right? That’s why. We are here for the past 2 days and have already faced them twice. They come after 12 in the night”, he said thrusting on each word.

“And then?” I asked.

“Stuffs. They make us do stuffs. They take ragging. You don’t know ragging”, he said.

I thought to ask, did somebody with the name bhaiya came looking for me but I didn’t.

“How many of them come?” I asked and started to forecast the pain that was waiting.

“Varies. The first night about 10 of them came. The second some 6 or 7. Some common face in both of them”, he said taking his time and modulating the tone.

“Will they come today?” I asked.

“Yes they will. Yesterday they were discussing something like tomorrow the localites will also be here. So they must come in a large number I guess”, he said.

“What? For localites even a greater number. How many localites are there in our batch”, I sounded quite troubled.

“I don’t know that”, he replied.

“Ok. Let’s go back to our rooms”, I said.

“Why? You won’t take your food? Its mess time”, he said.

Food reminded me of the two bazaar bags that my mom had packed. I thought if somehow I could bargain those in return for not being ragged, at-least today.

I said, “Yes let’s go”.

Food was indeed horrible and the words of the guy whom we met on the mess table on the counseling day resounded in my ears.

“Meet him, he is Kamlesh Ji. My room partner”, Amit brought a similar looking guy, a shorter version of him. And what was that Ji thing?

Anyways I said, “Hi, I am Saikat”. Kamlesh extended his hand and gave a warm smile.

“He is from Lakhisarai, proper, from the city”, Amit said.

Is half the batch from Lakhisarai, I thought.

Kamlesh smiled again. So a city guy, huh? I thought to ask him, dude what about the night life of Lakhisarai. It must be a rocking place for sure.

Kamlesh in his carbon frame glasses though didn’t enjoyed the statement and he knew the difference between Ranchi and Lakhisarai. He kept quiet and continued indicating Amit to shut up.

I met some more from the Metallurgy branch. One of them, Navneet was also a localite. He too was in his first night in a hostel. May be it was his face but the fear clearly told stories going inside him. I thought, maybe I too looked similar.

Mine was the Manufacturing branch, the only other branch apart from Metallurgy. Both Amit and Kamlesh were of my branch.

“Amit Ji. Do you want some more roti?” Kamlesh spoke for the first time. And I knew why he didn’t spoke uptil now. He had this gifted voice that if you hear him on phone you surely can bet that you are talking to a girl. And again, what is this Ji thing? Both of them addressing each other with Ji. We even didn’t said Dilip Uncle, Ji when our cricket ball used to fall in his campus which was always prowled by his two Doberman dogs. A Dilip or a max of Dilip bhaiya was what we used to shout until he appeared and threw us our ball back. And here two similar aged guys are addressing each other with Ji. Where are they from. Ok Lakhisarai, they told, I answered myself.

“Saikat, you want any?” Kamlesh asked with that same smile on his face but with no Ji after my name. I felt a bit lowered down.

“No, I think I am done”, I said, thinking that it’s not a better idea to eat too much. Before the drill one should eat the less he can.

Our rooms were on the second floor of the ADC (Advanced Diploma Course) hostel, a different hostel allotted to first year’ites to avoid their ragging. But it seems the senior were a valiant lot and the distance didn’t mattered to them a bit. ADC hostel is the oldest hostels of NIFFT as originally many years before NIFFT used to run ADC course only. Almost all the ADC batch was filled with Bankura-Bishnupur bengali’s of the West Bengal who loved piling up their mess plates with rice mountains and needed a peeled onion dipped in mustard oil to gulp down each handful of rice and daal mixed with the mess tarkari. ADC and Btech maintained a war that ranged as long as the history of NIFFT went. Although a much fewer lot and all the times victim of Btech hooligans they still didn’t submit to the Titans. Btech’s called them Titans. However their only skill, to play flawless football overpowered the Titans most of the times. Besides ADC hostel, we had the M.Tech hostel where we went to fetch water from the only water cooler in that 1km square area. M.Tech hostel always remained silent to the power infinity.

We reached our floor and my room was just on the verge of the stairs that went straight to the mess. AmitJi and KamleshJi moved on speaking something to each other with many ji’s in their sentences. I heard them till they entered their room.

“Hi Saikat”, a matured voice said from behind.

I turned back. A five foot, thin and geeky looking structure stood there.

“Hi. And you are?” I asked.

“I am Sandeep. Call me Sandy. Your room partner”, he said and attached a grin that stretched his already opened lips towards one side of his face. Surely not malnourished, I thought, but then definitely had not utilized those carbohydrates and proteins he had consumed till now to make some fat that was highly needed to suffice that skeletal structure.

“Ok. So when did you came. I was in the mess actually”, I said.

“ya heard it from the nearby guys that you have arrived, actually the supervisor ain’t there so I couldn’t get the keys. All my belongings are lying here only”, he said.

“Where are they? I mean where the luggage is?” I asked.

“Ya, I had kept them on the ground floor only. Actually need some help to lift them up to here”, he said with that remarkable grin again.

“Ok. Lets go”, I said.

There were some 10 in total, small plus big bags waiting to be pulled for some 100 odd steps. He was one step ahead of me, I thought. Anyways we carried them to our room in three go’s.

“Are you also a localite?” he asked after settling on the side where sun would come directly from the window, as told by my dad.

“Yes. You too? From where”, I asked.

“Doranda. And you?” he asked back.

“Jail road”, I replied.

“Aren’t you guys ready yet? They will come early today”, a guy briskly came inside our room. He wore such thick glasses beyond which his eyes could hardly be seen. If you go by the looks then definitely a scientist in the making, he was pale much like Sandy but was taller than him. He wore a plain white shirt all buttons tied and duly tucked inside his grey trousers and formal shoes well polished that even the bulb in our room looked fainter before its shine.

“Oh yes. Hey this is Jeetendra. And Jeetendra he is Saikat”, Sandy introduced us.

“No time for intro guys. You can give it to them. Get ready quickly. I heard Ashok Roy is coming today”, he said and went away faster than he came.

“What did he say”, I asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out”, Sandy said.

“You don’t know Ashok Roy?” a guy said and broke to laughter, much dressed like Jeetendra but 180 degrees different in looks. He was of the dude category, the ones for whom the girls can fall for in the first sight.

“He is a terror when it comes to ragging. I was there in the first night when he just came for some 5 minutes and boss…”, he stopped to catch breath, “he almost did it to one guy”.

“What he almost did?” Sandy was curious.

“That you will come to know today”, he said, “and by the way I am Abhineet”.

We introduced each other but hardly my mind was there in the introduction. The terror of ragging was rising eponentially inside me. What did Bhaiya said his name, Ashok Roy? I gazed for some moments trying hard to recollect but wasn’t able to. What the hell is this and why I am a localite, I started cursing me and the place.

Meanwhile Sandy was learning how to get dressed for the forthcoming party.

“Ok. I got it but what to do about the hair. You can’t cut them now?” Sandy was busy with Abhineet trying to understand the party wear.

“Right. Ok, we will get ready then”, Sandy concluded his important discussion and tapped me on the shoulder and indicated me to dress up.

It was 11 pm and we waited dressed in our room. Full sleeve formal shirts along with formal trousers, shirt tucked inside, formal polished shoes, and hair combed with ½ litre coconut oil so that it starts trickling down from the sides. But Sandy and I both failed on one front, our hair wasn’t trimmed like the west-indies players.

“Room 105. Move it fast”, said a tin faced thin guy and went away to other rooms.

“Was he a senior”, Sandy asked with a whispering tone.

“How would I know? Come let’s move before he comes back”, I said.

We started to move towards room 105 inside which havoc was falling upon the first year’ites. Voices kept rising as we approached the room, slaps and sobbing could easily be heard. A husky voice kept dominating and did most of the talking. I tried to recognize the voice but it wasn’t Bhaiya.

We went till the door and stopped. I and Sandy looked at each other waiting for the other one to take the first step. Some seconds passed and we kept standing on the door.

“Why you basterds are still here? Need an invitation to enter the room or what?” said the tin faced guy. He was returning after informing all the rooms to gather at 105. I looked at Sandy saying, yes he is a senior.

“What are you looking at? Don’t you know the rules? Hey wait, I am seeing you for the first time”, he said bringing his face near to mine. He smelled of fresh cigarette. “Come inside you need a proper introduction”, he took me by the hand and pulled me inside the room. Sandy followed me.

The room was choked with cigarette smoke. I stole a look into the room and saw almost half the guys standing naked. They looked like a herd. Most of them I was seeing for the first time. The first time you see a person and see him naked, what goes inside your head. It felt as if I was in the stone age where I need to do aaabbbbaaaa……aaauuuu..auuuuu…..to communicate with them. Amit and Kamlesh also stood in one corner, naked with their heads down. Their dark body was looking even darker now.

One senior, sitting on the nearby chair said, “Hey who is this new chick?” pointing his cigarette towards me.

I tried looking at him, following the line through the pointed cigarette and then reaching his face. He was a fat guy, much fat that I pitied the chair he was sitting on. Sandy almost was hiding behind me all this time and the tin face this time pulled him out and make him stand beside me.

“These are the bloody localites”, the husky voice said. One thin guy with a black t-shirt and blue jeans and posing the ever dirty smile he could manage approached us. He came right in front of me. I didn’t look into his eyes. He lit a ciggaratte some 3 inches away from my face and looking towards me he said, “Tell these nasty ones the rules. Who will tell?” he said and looked behind to find his guy. All were silent, heads down as if someone had spell bound them to statues. One of them moved a bit, may be some macchar bit him.

“Yes you, what’s your name?” he asked pointing towards that guy.

“Ajit sir”, he said in a meager voice.

“What sir”, he asked again.

“Ajit”, this time he was a bit loud.

“Yes, tell these localite monkeys the rules. Fast and dare you make any mistake”, he commamded like the hitler commanded his army.

Ajit started like a six year old, being said to recite the tables he had just learnt a few minutes back. “Never look towards a senior. Always look towards your third button. Always be in formals. No jeans, no t-shirts. Hair should be chopped down to the size of 1 cm and should be always oiled. Whenever see a senior wish him. And…..” he slowed down towards the end trying hard to remember something he was missing.

“And what else? You forgot? How dare you. Come I will make you remember”, the black tshirt said and started to approach Ajit with a plan to plant some slaps on his face.

“And always remember the NIFFT anthem”, Ajit somehow recollected it in time.

“Yes. Never forget that in your life”, he said and laughed like the Ravan in the Ramayan serial.

“Yes you, little dwarf”, said the chair guy, puffing some dozen cigarettes at a time. His face completely invisible behind the cloud of the smoke he had formed.

A guy came forward from the naked lots. They all looked the same with no clothes on them, just that some were fair and some were dark.

“Name?” he asked.

“Abhishek”, the poor chap replied.

“Recite the NIFFT anthem”, the chairperson said.

Poor Abhishek started immediately after hearing the order like the Brahmans of ancient times reciting a shlok.

“We the first year’ites take this oath that we will always bend before the masters, the guru’s, the real mentor of ours, the seniors. Hail seniors. I hereby promise to abide by the fresher rules and completely devote myself to seniors and whatever their orders are. I am extremely happy to live under his mercy till I am baptized”, he said in a single breath.

“Did you hear that”, the tin face kicked Sandy from the back.

“Yes”, Sandy replied, his voice had already started shaking.

“Only yes?” the black Tshirt said.

“Yes….sir”, Sandy corrected himself.

“And now you”, pointing towards me he said, “Give your intro”.

I waited for a moment trying hard to recollect what Abhineet had told about the sequence of things you need to tell in your intro. And just when I started to speak the black tshirt said, “It’s your first day rite? So introduce yourself the way you want. Just one condition. With every sentence open one of your clothes. And dare you finish your intro before you are completely naked. Fine? Start”, he said as if I was a veteran in shedding my clothes in front of 30 odd guys.

I stood as if I haven’t heard him. I somehow wanted him to forget what he said just now. I thought why Mr Einstein didn’t invent the time machine. We need them so much, actually.

“Yes. Heard me right? C’mmon start and don’t waste my time”, he repeated. The other two freaks giggled. The tin faced said, “Hey see, he’s feeling shy like a girl”.

Girl or boy, everybody wants to be covered, my dear senior. Do boys feel proud when he is forced to get naked in front of a mass crowd? Molestation is never easy to take, be it a boy or a girl.

I stayed silent and didn’t move a bit. I saw Sandy through the corner of my eyes. He had already started looking towards the other corner. He didn’t want to see his room partner go naked just after some hours they have met.

This time the heavy weight champ who had been stress testing the chair all this time, stood up. And came up to me and without any prior notice slapped me. His hard palm thrashed a million bacteria residing happily on my cheek. The sound echoed in the room. I looked up to him in disbelief that what he did is really what he did? He slapped me again, this time harder and on the same side. I felt my cheeks getting warm and I knew it had turned red. I saw the herd; they all stood with their heads down

“Don’t you hear what he said?” he said this time shrieking near my ears that I felt my eardrums would almost collapse.

“Ok”, I said and thought it’s either way round, either lose your dignity by getting naked or lose it by getting slapped.

I started with my name and began shedding my clothes. I stopped a bit before it was the last one left on my body but then saw the other naked ones and thought not a big deal and dropped the last one too.

My intro was not even complete and they started to laugh like the villains in south Indian movies. What happened dear sir, saw some space animal?

“It’s ok. Get dressed”, the tin faced came and told in my ears.

I quickly started picking them up.

“What?” the black tshirt asked the tin face.

“His first day yaar”, he replied.

I heard the reply and the thing that had not happened yet started to happen now. In the midst of atrocities when you see some sympathy for you, the biology of our body becomes active, human emotions are one thing that humans cannot control until he is a master of it. I wasn’t a master. Drops of tears accumulated in the corner of my eyes.

Seeing it the black t shirt said to the fatso, “Let’s leave”.

The three of them left and for a moment we all stood there as if it was not over yet.

We gathered in Kunal’s room. Kunal and Saurabh were room partners. They had been before too when they together prepared for entrance examinations.

“Drink some water”, Kunal said with sympathetic voice. “That guy Ashok Roy is a moron”, he continued.

“Which one?” I asked.

“That black tshirt”, Saurabh said taking over from Kunal. “They do it like this only. The first night was even horrible. That night they did it for 3 hours and some 10 of them came”, he continued.

I looked at him, a cool looking guy and sounded reasonable. He meant that if you wanna do engineering then face them, no option. Right he is, I thought.

Meanwhile Abhineet and Abhishek, both room partners also came and sat. I was meeting Abhishek for the first time, so Abhineet said, “Ya, meet him, He is Abhishek”.

“I know him, he taught us the NIFFT anthem”, I replied.

Abhishek smiled. I tried to, but couldn’t. The night had become too heavy on my nerves.

Sandy left for sleep and I met some more new faces, Animesh, Mukesh and Vivekananda.

I came back to my room. Sandy had dozed off to sleep. I saw the room, it looked different some hours before, I thought. I switched off the lights and went to my bed. The ragging was still vividly floating before my eyes. Something happened, not the slaps, not the shedding of clothes and not even the tears but something much bigger. I remembered the night I promised to keep myself motivated. I told myself, “It’s just a phase it will pass on. Keep the faith”.

Some eight years before (b)

2010-03-26T00:07:00.007+05:30

We returned home and my father started narrating almost everything he could recollect to my mom and sister.

“The college looks fine. We even got a very cooperative boy of 3rd year. He seemed to be a very modest guy. He answered all our queries. We even asked him about the placements. He said that’s not a thing to worry if your son is studying at NIFFT. I think we have finally got a good college for him to take admission. And you know the main building……”. He didn’t stop.

My mind was running somewhere else. In the midst of which Dad got a bit louder and I heard him saying again about Bhaiya, the modest guy. I thought to say, Dad wait, the modest guy of yours did a very terrorizing thing to your only son. And Placements. That will only happen if your son is able to survive the ragging from Bhaiya. And ya lastly he is not Bhaiya anymore.

Mom somehow noticed my silence. Taking her away from Dad’s narration she asked me, “what happened? You are so silent”

I said “Nothing. Just a bit tired”

The next few days were good for my dad and mom as they had a lot to discuss; within themselves and with others. In the evening Dad used to return from his work and talk about the things people said when he shared the good news about his son. “Today I told my boss about it. He said yes NIFFT is off-course a good college”, dad continued.

I wondered what it could have been if I had cracked IIT-JEE.

The day of counseling came very quickly and I and my Dad reached the institute on the day, well before time. A banner put up on the gate said, “First among equals, second to none”. Dad explained me the meaning and praised the institute once again.

Other similar faces had turned up with their parents. They all looked relaxed, more the parents, not like the ones I used to see during the exam days, troubled and petrified. The same face changes when it is standing on the other side of the crowd; very ironic, I thought.

However among the faces I couldn’t see the type of face which generally an 18 year old boy gets interested in. c’mmon now that I am already an engineer got to think about future settlement also. Won’t it be better if someone of the very same profession becomes your partner? Well, but where are they? I thought and kept waiting. Some half an hour passed and the number had multiplied by times. But still there was no sign of civilization. With a heavy sigh I concluded that I need to work for it outside NIFFT. No easy takeaway’s here.

We were said to assemble in the auditorium where one by one our certificate verification was done. Verification was over and a 2nd year senior announced that we will be given lunch in the mess of Btech hostel. The name sounded familiar. Yes that was the place Bhaiya was taking me. Btech hostel was quite confusing and we almost lost while finding our way to the mess.

Lunch was good, in fact way above standards of a hostel food. Well, I had never been to a hostel and this information we gathered from a guy who came with his father and said he had been to hostel for many years and he knows the quality of food that is served in hostels. I didn’t believe him completely and neither my dad did. Anything that could go against NIFFT now was not taken; except a fact which I had already taken.

The counseling started thereafter. We were called for interaction with the Chairman of Academic Affairs and the Course Coordinator. We entered the room and found two old persons sitting on the other side of the table. We were called in a group of five and were made to sit as per the rank. It was a sort of reverse interview where we had to ask them questions regarding the institute. The real meaning of counseling I got to know then and there.

They started from the other side and the question the first guy did was, “How is the placement here?” The two oldies smiled and looked at each other and then the Course cordi gave him the last year’s salary figures.

The next guy asked, “What are the companies coming here for placement?” The two of them again looked at each other but this time they didn’t smile. Again the cordi replied with some names which I heard for the first time.

The next guy asked, “Any international placements?” This time they seem to get a bit offended and didn’t look at each other at all. The Chairman answered him in just one word, “No”.

Now it was the turn of the guy sitting next to me. He seemed a bit nervous from the time he heard that he has to ask a question. He was getting uncomfortable with each question getting answered as his turn kept nearing. In the mean time when the cordi and the chairman were busy answering questions, he was rehearsing something to himself; maybe he was preparing the question itself.

“Yes, your question?” the chairman said to him.

“Yes Sir”, he said squirming a bit, “Sir, I…” he stammered.

“Yes. Yes, go ahead. Ask your question”, the cordi said.

He stayed silent for some seconds and looked at us. The other three guys were sitting on the right of him and I was on his left. He thought it was better to face one than to face three. He kept his head tilted towards me.

“What happened?” the cordi asked a bit sternly.

This time he tried again but couldn’t utter a single word.

“What’s the matter boy?” the chairman asked. The rest four of us exchanged strange glances.

“Sir. No English sir”, he said faintly in a colloquial tone and then hanged his head in shame.

The corner guy giggled. The chairman gave him a stare. He stopped. The rest of us remained silent.

“So what if you don’t know English son. You will learn it here right? You have four years”, the chairman said in a consoling manner.

He looked up and this time he said with a quivering voice, “Sir. Higher degree. Mtech sir”. There was a silence in the room. The cordi and the chairman looked at each other for some time and then the cordi turned to the guy and said, “This is the place son. You are in the best place. Don’t worry. Just work hard and study honestly”.

The Chairman extended his hand and tapped him. The guy looked up and this time he didn’t hang his head.

Now it was my turn. The cordi said, “Yes your question?”

By this time I was so busy observing the rest of them particularly the guy next to me that I completely forgot what I had to ask. I saw them getting annoyed on placement question. So what should I ask? Should I ask them about NIFFT, but then those questions bhaiya had already answered.

Unable to make out anything, I asked “where should I submit the admission fee?”

Both of them again looked at each other and then after a short pause broke to laughter. Seeing them laugh the guys started laughing too. The guy next to me just smiled. Seeing him smile I smiled too.

“Good. Yes that’s the most important question”, the cordi said after his amusement was over.

We returned home late that night after completing the hostel allocations too. A week more in home and then I will be leaving for the hostels. At night in my bed I couldn’t sleep till late. The past one year of cutoff from social life has come to an end now. Now an altogether different life will start. On one hand I have to face bhaiya and on the other I have to fulfill my dream of studying engineering. I thought it doesn’t matter that I couldn’t get into IIT but I will make it big from NIFFT only. I promised myself that whatever comes I am gonna take it with full spirit and enthusiasm. I slept in dreams of me solving engineering problems and at the same time tackling bhaiya from getting ragged.

Some eight years before (a)

2010-03-25T08:59:00.007+05:30

"Wake up! Your NIFFT results are out. Check the newspaper", my Dad said in a not so sober mood. The ghost of my recent failure to secure a rank in the merit list of IIT-JEE is still haunting him.

My Dad, although keeps his cool most of the times but when it comes to the career of mine, he is damn serious. Most of the times he ends up hurting me with his not so good words which I know are for my betterment only but still I wish to get over this present time. I want to grow up now, quickly, because it is getting too much for me to listen to him anymore. I hope he won’t continue scolding me once I get in his shoes. However that is a hope only.

Recently, I had a nightmare with the word called hope. The ghost that I may have got over by now, but on the outside I had to show that am still disappointed. If I don’t, serious repercussions may follow. And my dad has surely not got over it. I can feel it from his words, his actions when he is at home. You get to know what is going inside a man when you live with him for some days. I had been living for the past 18 years with him. Women on the other hand are much difficult to make out. I exactly don’t know what goes inside my mom’s head regarding my career. Off-course she is concerned but surely not the way my dad is.

My sister is still in her school and for her passing the matriculation with good marks is in her priority list. Matriculation seemed to be a cake walk for me. I remember that I studied for just 2 months before the exam and that fetched a score to make me the topper of the school. My school was good, no doubt, but never the students had this dream that they would continue their education after matriculation from there only. May be because the students and teachers knew each other very well, teachers knew the knowledge base of students and vice versa.

I have seen this change rather phase shift in students that when they are kids they just emulate their teachers like anything. I remember my sister playing teacher-teacher in home after her school hours. And just after some years when the kids think they are not kids anymore, they start thinking. The first thing about a teacher they make out is: They know nothing.

Matriculation fetched me many accolades that I am surely a bright student. Teachers and friends inspired me for cracking IIT-JEE, the exam which is considered to be the toughest one when it comes to utilize the grey matter in heads. It inspired me to such an extent that I even dropped one year after +2 to devote myself in the preparation. Just a few days back IIT results were out and I couldn’t make it. IIT was gone and so were my dreams of becoming an engineer from the most reputed college of India. And so were my dad’s. When it came to the word ‘reputed’, no one stood alongside IIT. But still taking no risk I had appeared for some more engineering entrance exams and one of it was NIFFT. Today NIFFT results are declared in the newspaper.

“C’mmon! Get your admit card and check your results. Fast!” my dad was getting impatient.

It took me some time to recollect where I had kept my admit card if at all I had kept it. You suddenly wake up a sleeping person and ask him his name. You may get different answers at different times. Don’t believe me? Try it. So was the condition of mine. The first reaction was why they had to declare the results in a newspaper. Can’t they host them in some website? At-least then you can check them at your ease and also don’t have to wake up in the middle of a night.

Anyways I got out from my bed, pushed some books and shoved some files kept on my table which gave an indication to my Dad that I was up. I took the admit card and went to the drawing room where he was sitting with the newspaper; the result page was already open. I needed to check the list of roll numbers and tell him that I was not selected, after which an extended silence will follow till the evening. Then he will slowly start opening up and do a SWOT (Strength-Weakness-Opportunity-Threat) analysis of mine, more on the weakness part. I had started to hate this whole process actually.

Chances were heavily bleak, NIFFT had some 70 seats and for that they conducted entrance examinations with centres ranging across the whole country. Lakhs of aspirants applied, most of them because of the low application fee, lowest among all the engineering entrance examinations I had filled. Even if you don’t make it you only lose some bucks not many. On the conversion part it was complete insanity. Each of the exams had their conversion ratio, some had 3%, some 2.5% and some student friendly ones with even 10%. But what about this? Was it even worth to calculate? Even the questions were at par with IIT-JEE that means the toughest you could expect. But questions didn’t become a part of the discussion, as easy or hard, the competition remained stiff in both the cases. In any case the best will only sail through. Rest will keep listening to their dad’s.

I decided to go from bottom to top in the list. Because a higher rank I could never dream about and it is better to shelve off air castles the faster you can. The more I crawled towards the up the lesser was the expectation.

So many similar numbers I thought. Just some shift in the digits and you are selected. What if there’s a misprint and somehow my roll number appears there. I crawled till the third last row to finally stop at a number more familiar. I checked the admit card again. I read aloud the number. My dad who was reading some other page got interested. “What?”He asked. I said, “I think it’s there. Rank 22”.

“Check properly”, he said. I confirmed again and yes it was no mistake, no cataract in my eyes. Although spotting those eight digits was for sure no less than an eye test.

My mom who was in the other room sensed the things happening and came out. Sister too followed. “His roll number is there in the list. Rank 22”, my dad said. I saw his eyes. I thought I saw a drop of tear in the corner of his eye. Tears welled up in my eyes too. Somehow I controlled the emotions and started to go through other information. “They have also mentioned the date of admissions, and the fees and….”, I kept on speaking.

“I am going to the temple”, my mom said and left in a hurry.

My sister came and started to pull the paper from me. “Let me see, where is it?” she said. “Wait! Let me see all the details first”, I said. She nagged and snatched the paper from my lap.

After a while my dad who was a bit silent till now clearing his throat said, “Read the information carefully and make a note of all the things to do”.

“Yes”, I said and said for the first time to similar statement he had made numerous times before which I never used to reply.

Mom returned after a while with sweets and flowers. Telephones to relatives started and like a jungle fire the news was spread. Some relative heard that I got a job. Some less informed ones asked what is engineering. And the knowledgeable ones started teaching me engineering over the phone only. A greater number of calls than that made in the whole month happened in just some hours. If someone in the telephone department could have been observing this in their control centre they would have surely gone anxious about this sudden traffic. Suddenly everyone forgot about IIT-JEE.

“Why don’t we go and visit the campus? It’s hardly far from Ranchi”, my dad said. “ya, some place called Hatia”, I said. “Well, I think I know the place. I had passed it once while going to chaibasa”, he replied.

We did a sweety breakfast. Bengali’s are the frontrunners when it comes to consuming sweets. For every occasion, small or big, sweets are a must. And today was off-course no less a big occasion. I was going to be the first engineer in my family. Since my childhood my dad has said this infinite number of times that he could not do something big in his life just because of lack of money. But I should because there has never been a single occasion when he had denied me for money. Although for education related matters only. During the childhood I used to plead my mom to buy me cricket bat linking it somehow with studies. Today I felt like asking my Dad, whether he is happy or not? But I didn’t because I saw that in his eyes.

We reached NIFFT after travelling some 2 hrs in an auto rickshaw. We entered the gates after making an entry in the register. It was a green campus; Very mesmerizing in the first glance; and definitely held an awe of technical excellence. Within minutes i had fallen for it. May be because this was the first engineering college I was visiting.

We approached towards the main building and saw the same list had been put up there also. As per my dad’s order I cross checked the roll number once again. It was the summer vacation time and that’s why we could not see many students in the campus. We moved from one building to another taking our time to analyze and observe everything we could.

“Are you looking for someone?” a security guard asked us. “No. actually my son has got selected here in the entrance examination and that’s why we are here just to visit the campus”, my dad replied in a comfortable manner.

The guard was hardly moved as it was nothing great for him to see a boy who has just cracked something called the NIFFT entrance. All the boys came there after cracking the same thing; and had been cracking year after year.

“So why don’t you ask that boy. He is a student here, 3rd year”, he pointed towards a boy who was moving away from us.

“Hello, bhaiya”, I called him. He didn’t hear. “Excuse me Bhaiya”, I called him again. He turned back.

“Yes”, he said.

“Actually I wanted to know……”, I stopped and was unable to gather words.

“He has got a rank of 22 in the entrance exam”, my dad intervened.

“Ok. Congrats”, he said looking at me. “Thanks”, I said.

“So we just wanted to know about the college”, my Dad said.

“What do you want to know”, he asked.

For the next 20 minutes he answered a dozen query of me and some multi-dozen query of my dad. We were quite convinced about everything and were ready to leave when our new friend said to me, “Come I will show you our hostels. Uncle can wait here”.

Why uncle should wait here, I thought and then I saw his eyes. I felt something wrong. Ok, hey wait now. Is he trapping me for some ragging stuffs. An Engineering college and a so gentleman senior, I doubted it from the beginning.

“Yes go ahead. I am here”, my Dad replied.

“Well….” I said, “I don’t think there is any need to visit the hostel. After all am coming here only after some days”. My dad looked into my eyes and read them.

“I think we got to move now because we won’t find any auto rickshaw afterwards”, my dad said giving a consoling look towards me.

“Ok. Fine”, Bhaiya said.

We waited for some minutes for the auto rickshaw after which we got one. It stopped before us and my father started to get in when Bhaiya spoke something in my ears which I cannot forget my whole life. “Hey Kid, know something called Ragging? You didn’t ask anything about that? And I am no Bhaiya. Come soon we are waiting for you”. He said and left hurriedly.

I got up in the auto. My dad asked, “What did he say”. “Nothing” I said.

One Life | Prelude

2010-03-22T23:32:00.010+05:30

Some more steps to go and I will be in my room.

But it’s rising fast now, faster than it was 1 hour before. I had never felt this way before.

Will I fall down? May be; and yes; there I go...My head after taking a full swing of the sky above me and my body following the trajectory, goes down. Bang !

My head hits the cemented floor with a dull thud.

But where is the blood? And the pain?

And then I realized it was a reverie. A trance. I am still on my legs.

Now I could see my door, hardly some 10 steps away. I started to move. I was walking or crawling, I don’t know. They knew it better. Those who were calling me, I suppose were calling me only.

I heard their voices; some I did recognize but who they were, I could not remember now. It felt as if their voices were travelling miles to reach me.

I stopped and turned back in a whiz. I saw them but was hardly able to make out who they were. Only some shadows waving at me. Maybe they were asking something about my present state. I was disinterested and turned back, this time towards the door, I thought. But what is this?

A big wall stood in front of me. I was aiming for my door. So how this wall came in the way?

I was hardly able to make out what was going on. And by then a lot had started to buzz inside my head. It felt as if it will explode and explode soon. The rum and then the vodka, a couple quarter of both, this time had got on my nerves.

I don’t remember exactly how I got inside my room. Yes I do remember that I was searching for the keys of the door.

You came to me when I was there. Dangling and sagging in front of my room. Tired and drunk. Waiting for you; waiting to die; wanting to die. You came and you told me something. But I don’t remember that too.

But yes. I remember you looked beautiful; the way you always do.

I hope I had the desire left for the time we waited. Hours now seem to droop and that ray gets bleaker. Now when will this dream end?

Get me something to drink, or a place to hide, or the person to meet...

I woke when it was dark and found I got this mark on my face, a prominent one. Now how do I hide this? Or as they say, how should I play with this?

It even got darker; and then bigger; I kept gazing them talking aloud, I heard them laugh that I was the one who was ought to be victimized.

I stayed silent in pain. I was crying in vain. Dogs kept howling and that night had no end.

You never returned, may be because you had never gone, may be because you are still hiding and some day I shall find you; and you will smile and say it is over now, and then I will get you those drops of dew and those frozen dreams.

I kept walking alone up and down those streets. And I ate something. And then I ran.
I had seen those lights before but now they look so indifferent. Tell me how will I mend this? How will I live this?

The business of Banking. Part 3.

2010-03-14T19:50:00.007+05:30

http://blog.blogadda.com/2010/03/16/gudi-padwa-special-tangy-indian-blog-posts

...continued.

After waiting for some 15 minutes and watching the crowd go mad in the place I saw someone enter the cabin. I quickly made my way towards the cabin and started to go inside. The peon sharply stopped me and told me that I can’t meet him now.

I asked, “why”?

He told, “He has just arrived, so he will now take tea, read newspaper and do various other important jobs. After that I can meet him after taking an appointment”.

I cursed myself for waiting for this moron and also showered some curses on the person who gave me this pay-order instead of cash money.

“So, how should I take his appointment”, I asked.

“Give me your application in a plain paper”, the peon said.

“What the…”, I stopped and took out a paper and scribbled something in the form of an application and handed over it to him.

The peon scrutinized the application as if he was proof reading the thing that whether it qualifies to get submitted onto his boss’s table or not. No wonder I was expecting that he would make me write the thing again as by now I totally understood the whole setup. But anyhow, maybe he didn’t understand many a things in the application; he took it inside and kept it under a paper weight without even telling the manager.

When he came out, I asked, “hey, why you didn’t tell him”?

He said, “don’t worry, he will see to the matter”.

Matter? Is this a matter now? Maybe when someone applies to manager of a branch stating his problem and desiring to meet that becomes a matter.

Ok, after waiting for some 15-20 minutes the peon called me.

He said, “sahib is calling you”.

I went inside. He didn’t offer me a chair but I sat down.

“So what is your issue”, he asked.

I said, “Sir, I have this pay-order and I want it to get encashed”.

“Then go to counter no. 2, why you are here”.

“I had been there, but they won’t give the money until I have an account”

“Yes, that is of-course needed. How can we give you cash money”?

I thought of asking that is this a trick to get new customer accounts as they are losing customers. But then thought they are not this clever, if they had they would have done it way before.

“But sir, the iit branch told me that I will get the cash from here as it is a pay order”, I said. This time a bit more affirmatively.

“Yes we do give cash for pay-orders but then for it you need someone who has an account in pnb”.

I thought if I get into this account thing now, they will argue till evening and won’t hand over a single penny until I open an account or bring someone with an account in pnb.

I thought to change the discussion tone. Until he sees me as any other customer he won’t do my job. So where should I deviate him. How to deviate him? Ok, one area where he surely will fall, chances are high, where many parents fall, parents of aspiring iit candidates. Yes I should I use my brand name, at-least someday it should come to my rescue.

“You see sir, we have this huge load of studies here in iit and we live in hostels. We bring limited amount of money from home and have to continue with that for the whole semester. We don’t go for these opening of bank accounts and subsequently maintaining them. You know how much time goes in that. See just today I had to miss my class to get this thing encashed as I really need money now”.

The last line made him look towards me raising his head from the files. He gave me looks that seem to ask, “Are you telling the truth boy. Are iit guys this over laden? Then why every alternate weekend you have these events and what not happening in the campus. Who all does these, the profs, I guess not. C’mmon! Stop fooling me and fill this account opening form”.

But he didn’t say anything to me and called mr prakash over the intercom. “Hey, what is the issue of this iit guy? No no, yes yes. Ok, right”.

“Go and take your money”, he told in a rush.

What! I said to myself. I was like jumping from the inside. Controlling my emotions I asked with the same tone, “from where sir”.

“Counter no. 2”, he said.

Ok now let’s see who stops me from taking my 5000 bucks out of this god forsaken bank. I have the direct orders from the manager of the branch. I came out and got in the queue. This time it took less time to crawl up to the counter. The person already knowing me took some mere seconds to hand me a metallic token.

Now what is this? Where is my money? He said, “This is the token. You have to get the cash from counter no. 6”. “What”, I said. It’s not yet over pal, I said to me. Ok I went over to counter no 6, saw some 25 men standing, I became the 26^th.

Some 20 minutes later I was counting the ten 500 rupee notes handed over to me by counter no. 6. Although the counter guy counted it some three times, two times in the machine and one time manually. I thought is this worth it? Not the money, but the counting, fourth time that I made.

The business of Banking. Part 2.

2010-03-14T18:54:00.005+05:30

Keeping all this in mind and expecting a long to-do list, I approached the pnb branch in our campus. On entering the branch I asked in a counter. He pointed me towards a table. I went there and came to know that this a pay order of b-t-gunj branch and hence will be done from there only. I asked if something could be done from here, and got a reply that this is banking and not a joke that you can deliver cash just like that to anybody. Suddenly I felt that this instrument in my hand and my name written on it does not even establish me as the rightful owner of it.

Anyways I headed for b-t-gunj branch and arrived there after 30 min by taking a rickshaw. On entering the branch it looked nothing less than a fish market. People were moving here and there, most of them looking confused, so was I, long queues in front of counters and in most of them no one sitting on the other side. Well, by now I was getting a hang of the thing. I simply went to one of them who looked a little less busy and asked where can I en-cash a pay order. Without even raising his head from his file he murmured, “Counter no 2”.

The counter had some 50 people standing, most of them middle aged. I thought it will be better if instead of wasting some couple of hours standing in the queue and then coming to know that this counter is not meant for this job, I went straight to the counter. I asked him once. He didn’t reply. I thought he didn’t hear. I asked him again, this time a bit loudly. Same response, he didn’t reply. I didn’t know what was going on. So I asked him again. This time he raised his head and gave me a stare. And then went back to his work.

But I didn’t get any reply apart from the stare. Now what should I make out of this? I thought, either it is not his job and I must head for some other counter. Or it is like, ohh my god one more customer, what is happening today, everybody who is entering the bank is coming for my counter only. The stare was confusing and I badly needed a word from his mouth, yes or no, to confirm anything.

In the midst of all this, a gentleman from the queue says, “why don’t come by the queue”? And then one more gentleman in front of him repeated the same words but with some angst filled in it. Unable to make out anything I went back and got in the queue. I asked an elderly looking person standing in the queue, thinking he must be an old customer and would be very well knowing about the counters and what they did. He replied affirming that yes I am in the right queue. I felt a bit relaxed that at-least the first stage of the process is complete, that is to find the right queue.

Ok, about an hour passed in the queue, I crawled for about 5 meters to finally reach the counter. I handed over the pay-order to him, thinking that 5000 bucks are now some seconds away from me. After inspecting the instrument for a minute he asked, “Do you have an account in pnb”?

I replied, “No”.

He asked, “Do you have any acquaintance that has an account in pnb”?

I replied, “No. and Where can I find a person now, who has an account in pnb”?

He said, “Then it cannot be done”.

I said, “Why”?

He said, “Because you need to have an account for demand draft to get en-cashed”.

I said, “But it is a pay-order”.

He said, “It is one and the same thing”.

I asked, “then what”?

He said, “I already told you”.

I said, “But I have my identity proof”.

He said, “That won’t work”.

I said, “Then what works here”, a bit angrily.

He heard only the last word.

And he said, “Next”.

A fat person from behind shoved me out of the line as if he was waiting for this word to utter. I was out of the queue. After standing for an hour I was looking like a fool to have not got my job done. I tried approaching him again but this time, the persons in the queue were not gentlemen.

Seeing no way out I headed for the exit. Just before the exit a cabin and a nameplate on it came across my eyes.

Mr. Vishwesh Thakur.

Branch Manager.

I peeped inside the cabin, there was no one.

I asked the peon sitting outside the cabin that where has he gone. He replied that Manager saheb hadn't arrive yet. I asked when is he going to come. He said, "Its time. now he will be here anytime". I looked at the watch, it was 11.25. Already i had missed my 11 to 1 class. So no point in heading towards hostel. I thought to present my problem to manager saheb, he must have a way out. I decided to wait.

Read the Part 3.

The business of Banking. Part 1.

2010-03-14T18:41:00.004+05:30

What is a banking business? Be it anything but at the end of the day it is a business. At-least today we know this, although we have been saying so for ages without actually knowing it is a business. Today the value of a customer to a business is appreciated.

The private banks have taught the way how banking is to be done, the way which SBI is clever enough to catch up and emulate. Just because of it being a psu, the mindset change will take time. Not because psu people can’t emulate and change but because they are large in number. They broadly comprise of various strata’s like the top officials, the middle managers and the peons unlike in a private where each one is counted in a single workforce. Each of these strata needs a different approach to make them change.

Although still being the largest bank of India, sbi has realized that the good old days are over and if it is to survive the competition it should learn to play in the changing market scenario. So it seems SBI is on the right track. But what about the numerous other psu banks in india. Are they too catching up? I think no, not all of them.

So why aren’t they getting rooted out? Just because they are psu’s? Well, not long from now a time is surely arriving where we shall see the larger chunk of banking business being done under private heads. The government will surely safeguard the interests of psu banks but they will continue to lose business in the form of shifting customer accounts to private banks. This will directly hit the retail banking over which most of their turnover rest.

It is not much before from now when we were kids and our parents occasionally took us to a bank. After taking the token we waited for our turn to come. On calling, we went to the counter where the gentleman always seemed so furious. Not only him but rest of the staff too behaved in a manner that they have been forcibly called for some charity work.

Just visit a icici or hdfc now. Banking which was predominantly thought to accompany a lot of paper work like filling up various yellow green forms, updating pass-books, clearing cheques etc now look so much paperless. And even faster. Why so? Aren’t the icici or hdfc keeping records or are they that casual to carry out a business in such ease that gives the whole process a feel that it’s a child’s play. But I have seen this attitude difference; don’t know why, but when I ask my parents to operate an icici or hdfc they don’t go for it. They still feel that banking should encompass enough paper works without which the authenticity won’t come.

Talking about today, we are moving one step further. Cashless banking. Yes the information age buzz-word on which even the mobile operators like idea is banking upon; it shows in one of their ads that every petty purchases are being done by the mobile banking service saving a lot of paper that goes in making the currencies and hence the trees are growing in numbers. So is this what is going to happen in the future? May be exactly not, but something very similar.

So if this is it, whats the problem. The problems are in-fact many, actually countless. And one of them is we need to vitalize our psu banking because we know when it goes to private hands something called financial crisis et al happens. Although that doesn’t mean that corruption should keep resting in peace in the government banks. Like what happened in the case of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. And then such crisis will keep happening.

Corruption is just one thing but the bigger thing in our Indian perspective is the attitude change. It is the biggest problem that is currently plaguing our psu banks. Here is one account of a self-experienced happening that will make clear how we still operate in a psu bank.

Recently after winning a prize in a market survey questionnaire competition, I was given a rs 5000 demand draft of pnb as the prize money. Although I asked for an account transfer but due to some norms I was finally handed over the instrument. Very naïve of what to do with it I asked my dad about how should I en-cash the thing. He told me if it is a pay order you need to get it encashed from the branch it has been issued. He also made me aware of the many formalities which I need to do before I can realize the money in my hand.

Read the Part 2.

One of my favourite song

2010-03-12T12:37:00.025+05:30

This is one of my favourite song. It has this amazing lyrics that I just couldn't stop from putting it here. This song is from the famous American Rock band of the 70's, "Jefferson Airplane". The song goes like this

The summer had inhaled and held its breath too long

The winter looked the same, as if it never had gone

And through an open window where no curtain hung

I saw you, I saw you, comin' back to me

One begins to read between the pages of a book

The shape of sleepy music, and suddenly you're hooked

Through the rain upon the trees, that kisses on the run

I saw you, I saw you, comin' back to me

You can't stay and live my way

Scatter my love like leaves in the wind

You always say you won't go away

But I know what it always has been, it always has been

A transparent dream beneath an occasional sigh

Most of the time I just let it go by

Now I wish it hadn't begun

I saw you, yes I saw you, comin' back to me

Strolling the hills overlooking the shore

I realize I've been here before

The shadow in the mist could have been anyone

I saw you, I saw you, comin' back to me

Small things like reasons are put in a jar

Whatever happened to wishes wished on a star?

Was it just something that I made up for fun?

I saw you, I saw you, comin' back to me

Chamu and his interesting inclination towards Sardars

2010-03-11T17:55:00.007+05:30

Well, ok before you make any “wild” assumption, here are the factoids. Shashi is one of our dear friend, we call him Chamu. He has always amused us telling something hilarious, rather comments on sardars. Not to offend the community as such, but his jokes, some of them are so innovatively funny that even today I can recall them and laugh for minutes, non-stop.

After passing out from the same college we shared the same flat while working for a company in Pune. The short stint of 8 months has always been my favourite and one of it is majorly accounted to Chamu. I did something very honestly for handful of those days. That was to laugh. Laugh my heart out. Laugh while at work, Laugh while not at work. It didn’t matter to us what it mattered to others while they saw us giggling and laughing in corners, escaping with a sly grin.

In the company, I clearly remember, it was our so called training time. We were really finding it hard to keep standing for the long hours. Yes, in a shop floor you need to be on your toes, literally, and supervise the work, at-least that what it was for an engineer in that company. Supervising meant keeping a close eye on the workers, to catch them taking an extra nap out of their tea breaks, to continuously nag them till they finish their daily targets and if in the line then monitor them over the deliberate and non-deliberate faults they committed.

Ok, coming over to the fun part. It was our training time and as such we had no direct responsibilities. We just needed to understand the process and so we did. We four of us used to assemble at the not so common places, not so visited by people, generally such corners and places you tend to find when you are in a dire need of passing time and in a factory you find them very easily. And then jokes and silly comments on each and every thing, bursting with laughter at each and every other sentence, time just flew past. Today I simply fail to recollect what it was that made us laugh so much. Nothing in particular I guess but then leaving nothing as well on which we didn’t laugh.

Meanwhile we discovered that Chamu had a great affinity for sardars. Whenever he used to see a sardar, he used to raise his eyebrows, the max he can, as if he had seen some out of the world creature. God knows what used to happen inside his head. Every day, he used to unload his hundreds of sardar jokes on us. No doubt some of them were good, really good, but like the good things in life are too few, his quality jokes too were few. On most of them we were made to laugh, laugh on the way he told the joke, the way he himself laughed on it on completing the joke. But whatever it was, it kept tickling the funny bone till the last day I was in Pune.

I still remember my Pune to Mumbai trip from where I was to catch a flight for Bangalore. The whole time I was thinking about turning back to Pune, to the place where life truly arrived, the time when may be for the first time I lived, where it was happening, something very vividly. But anyways, like any other sane individual I too didn’t follow my heart. And still today I think if I could have dared that.

Chamu still calls me even though I am very irregular in maintaining long distance friendships over the phone. And guess what, he does the same thing till date. Recite silly sardar jokes. The thing I love about him the most.