The thing about love.

I had thought I was never going to write about love on this blog. Its a topic thats been beaten to death by everyone. But this is probably the last of the many ‘nevers’ that I have had to eat my words on over the course of life.

My five year old is truly, deeply, madly in love with this girl. Its been a year now. The girl is about six months older than him so graduated out of daycare last year. Things are pretty serious as my son has already proposed the girl to marry him. The proposal was crafted in a very creative, beautiful card made by him. It felt a bit weird when our son’s first written words were not ‘I love you mom or dad’ but ‘Will U Marry me ___’. Its been a year that she is gone from the daycare and we thought he might get over it, but distance is making the heart grow more fonder. “Does the girl feel the same way?” you may wonder. Well, she did when they were together. It was another weird funny conversation we had as parents of two toddlers in love. I don’t know what the distance has done on the other side though.

When we eventually came to terms that our (then) four year old was truly in love, in the true sense of the word, it was very enlightening to see the purest forms of love without any ‘chemistry’ that comes with the grown up variety.

Now as a very protective mom who knows the world is a cruel place and this may not be the ‘ever after’ my son is assuming to be an ‘eventuality’, I keep throwing hints about how she may find someone new or maybe he may fall in love with someone else.

One day, both of us were watching this beautiful Marathi movie about two people who are disappointed in their respective first relationships, and find it hard to let go but eventually fall in love with someone else more compatible. I thought this is perfect!

My son doesn’t understand the language very well but understood what was going on. Was very intrigued. After the movie was over, he was quite for a bit, which is when I know the microprocessor is processing.

"So why do people stop loving someone, after falling in love with them?”

I had to think for a second, “I think it is because sometimes people grow out of it and may feel that they don’t get along anymore with the same person.”

“Did you love someone else before you met papu?”

This time five seconds, “As a matter of fact I did.”

“Then why did you not marry him?”

“I think he didn’t want to.”

“Did it hurt?

I did hurt a lot at the time.

“Did he not love you anymore?”

At this point, I was really taking my time, because a) I was talking to my five year old and trying to gauge if this conversation is just an animated toddler conversation or if that steady empathetic gaze in his eyes was to be respected and reciprocated with a genuine adult response; b) I had not really answered that question for myself, ever. It has to be one of my most vulnerable moments.

I thought about it and I said, “Either that, or he never loved enough or he never loved at all. Arhaani, I am really not sure but it has to be one of these three.”

He put his hand around me and said, “Mamu, I love you more than that guy or any guy could ever love you.”

Its been a few weeks since I am processing what happened that night. The gashes and bruises in life, heal. They might leave some marks, but that’s about it. If you have not drowned, you will swim to the other side. The thing they say about ‘time healing everything’ is absolutely true. But sometimes, god steps down from heaven and wraps his hands around you in a warm embrace that takes you back to that moment as little kid in your mom’s lap where no pain in the world can touch you. 

You really don’t need any healing. It may be nice to have someone comfort you when the chips are down but you really don’t need it. What you really need is that warm feeling… the word ‘love’ seems very inadequate to describe it.

When you become 'Them'

I really don’t if it is just us (me and my brother) or this applies to all children, but growing up, even before we were sure of what we wanted to be, there was one thing we were very sure of – what we didn’t want to be. My brother at age 7 kept a notebook of all the lunch-box foods he would make sure his kids do not get. I had some radical ideas about how to make kids study and ‘learn’. Between him and me we had a very comprehensive list of things that could make a difference in the world of parenting.

Now don’t get me wrong. My father towards the tail end of his army career started commanding these National Cadet Corps regiments (read platforms for grooming future army men/women). Every time he would get posted out, girls and boys of our age would bid him teary eyed, heartfelt adieus. He ought to have a heart that others could see. For us, these episodes were so hard to comprehend that my brother couldn’t help himself once and quipped, “they are CRYING for him!!” We turned 18, we passed college, we got jobs, got married, had kids but the man has not changed. He will cringe at that one stray hair, that spec on our shirt, something on the floor we overlooked and did not pick, that last crinkle on the bed, the sole of the shoe we didn’t polish, that 1 micro millimetre of grown fingernail (yes as a girl too). I will give it to my old man though that he never hit us, although I suspect it was only because of fear of killing us.

My mother on the other hand, did use her hand (and other household equipment) very freely early on and can’t remember when she stopped doing it. It was probably when she saw we were famous in the cantonments for having a fierce mom. Again, if you saw her tiny and fragile frame you would think she could not harm a fly; but those bones hurt! But when she stopped hitting she bombarded us with her reminders, lists, to dos, quirks that never end. Quirks mostly. For example, we could go without food and water in her house but not the birds and squirrels and her endless variety of plants (she even talks to them).

Now it has been a while since we left the nest. These days, by the end of our long vacations with our parents, both parties have had enough of each other and we the son and daughter, head back to our respective abodes to keep the love intact.

The other day I skyped by brother and asked what’s new with him. He showed me his little balcony garden full of flowers and crotons. He showed his ‘Krishnakamal’ blooming at midnight with a childlike excitement that I have only seen once before! Meanwhile he tells me how sad he is about leaving his plants behind since he is moving to another city soon. I could not sleep that night! Life pulls these wicked ones on you.

Anyway now that my comrade has buckled in and I can’t bring him back living a million miles away, I get on with my life. My friend's two year old is coming home for a playdate and I am so looking forward to it. Her parents drop her and soon the house is about to come apart. I notice my son’s nails,  bring the nail clipper and get rid of the new moons. My eyes now fall on these bear claws! The two year old recognizes the look in my eyes and tears are turned on immediately (her folks have told me how she HATES getting her nails clipped). I distract myself and watch TV with the kids, but somehow my eyes keep twitching. I pick up the nail clipper and put it back in the drawer.

On that fateful evening, I grabbed my friend's two year old, wrapped my arms around her snug and tight and declawed her amidst a lot of drama. She howled for the first two and then caved in because she realized there was no escaping. Her dear old auntie had turned into someone else!

Working Mom

Never thought I would ever become an advocate for gender equality or a women’s rights activist. Because I felt I really didn’t have to deal with a lot inequality growing up, or in school or even at work, to be a true representative. In fact growing up, I didn’t have the ‘darling daughter’ life that other friends enjoyed. We siblings were constantly questioned on our life survival skills by our dad. Being dependent was not an option from a very young age. At school I was a teacher’s pet. At work, and this is the strangest thing, I have never had a bad boss!!! Yes, not even my Principle during the dreaded Articleship. Yet, as I saw more I can see there is a different world out there for most women.

But this is no activism, but just an observation. So at my work place guess who are the three most technically respected subject matter experts, the ones who get projects done, or the ones who people bring in to get a rotten project streamlined – ‘three working moms of toddlers’! I appreciated that even more when I became one.

A toddler’s mom is on her feet till that little blob of energy finally sleeps. She wakes up every morning with the little monster pulling her out of the bed. She’ll get lunches fixed, kick hubby’s butt to get the bugger and himself ready to make it to work on time. And having reached, she knows she only has 8 hrs to get things done. There are no leisure hours at home at night, to make up for lost hours from that coffee/lunch break that ran over due to a heated debate about who’s hottest. She is the master of ‘Scheduling’. Even a 10 min update discussion goes on the calendar. You do not stop by the desk to ask random questions and hang around till you’ve talked about your MIL visiting or your sick dog. She will cut you off and go back to work if you did not have anything worthwhile to discuss. Everyone’s health on the team and personal commitments are key to her job getting done, so she notices everything around her more than anyone, that sneeze, that engagement/wedding, that soccer game, that exam, so everyone loves her. Since she feels strongly about efficiency and how hard she works at her ambitions, she is constantly encouraging, pushing the team to work hard, to push a little harder. Being a den mom comes easy now. And she will show you how its done without wasting tons of time. Quality is of utmost importance as she does not like to waste time in back and forth. She pre-empts needs and be prepared as she likes to avoid any requests for last memos that are needed “right away” at 6 pm. Decisions are not procrastinated upon, as she hates surprises at work. Beware you elusive superior, she will hound you down for an answer. This is not fluff, this is real and happening at my workplace and this is “Public accounting in a Big 4”, known for its ungodly hours, rough and inhumane work environment.

And yes, they do not look tyrannical, men-like or forget to put on make-up and comb their hair. In fact, they are very beautiful, very feminine, and love shoes, shopping, jewelry and that glass of red wine like every other gal does!

So now, every time I will see situations where employers avoid hiring working moms, I will think, either 1) these guys are ignorant or 2) they are insecure that these ladies would outshine them. Back home in my country I know 1) is very true as people have not hired and seen the difference a lot. When I am back I have promised myself to shine the light on this wonderful phenomenon called the ‘working moms’. It is just beautiful to watch!

PS: This post will be incomplete without mentioning the other halves. These are guys married to ambitious women and have let themselves get swept in this strong current of a woman in action; and are very secure and confident about themselves to take pride in their woman’s work.

It’s my Birthday!!

A decade ago these three words would probably be written in bold, underlined and put up as signs everywhere a month before the actual D day. I had even realized what a futile exercise it was for my friends to spend hours buying me a gift with a paltry teenager pocket money allowance. So I would come with a wishlist, cost it out and split it up for them as well. I got what I wanted, they could stay in their budgets and everyone was happy. The midnight hours calls were sacred. There was one time when our phone (the good old landline) died on the eve of my birthday and it was going to be the year of doom, but that night miraculously it rang at the midnight hour… oh yeah... Ring it did! You would not dare to look me in the eye if you were a friend and didn't wish me on my birthday!

Ten years later I look back and can’t help but notice life happen between these years. I feel humbled and grounded. A dear friend who lost her mom on the same date as my birthday when we were in school, remembers her mother fondly and never forgets to wish me every year just as dearly; I see the magnanimity in her gesture. The mother in me almost forgets her birthday in the morning mad rush trying to pack lunches and getting the 2 boys out of the door; I feel dwarfed in front of time. A few friends call up and ask very poignantly about when I would visit next and I am unable to make up a good answer; I feel helpless in front of distance. Thanks to the internet the messages, blessing and love doesn't stop flowing from near and dear ones; I feel intimidated and wonder if I have done enough to deserve it.

I wonder what changed in ten years that it doesn't feel right to be the ‘Rockstar who jumps off the stage into the crowd’ on your birthday and thinking instead about ‘how much more there is to do’, ‘how miniscule I am in the grand scheme of things’ and ‘there goes another year’! Mid-life crisis anyone?!

The Marriage Advocate

Last night I met the very person who invented marriages. My two pence, "he had to be the most insecure and low esteemed SOB I've ever met". Now who takes the most beautiful thing in this world - Romance, and attaches the clause of 'Commitment' in the most austere and legal manner and scares the hell out of people. We got into a discussion and I said to him, "a true blue romantic (like me) would have stuck to a person  forever, simply by the virtue of the fact that he/she was in love. But you scare the life out of the person with the whole deal of 'making a life time commitment'...."

In the most annoying drawl he says, "Well! you would have stuck with him anyway, all we are saying is that you have to say it aloud and sign a legal document".

I fought back, "You got to be completely out of your mind. Do you know the whole premise of Romance is to pine for the person of your dreams? There is a whole body of literature in a million languages around the world about wooing the love of your life, singing their praises and expressing the yearnings of aching hearts? The moment you take that away, you've stripped away the very essence of love. Why do you think Shakespeare wrote the story of two lovers struggling to be with each and not about they living happily together and making a perfect family portrait?"

"Well! Not everyone thinks like you, we got to protect our people who are vulnerable and can be taken advantage of. Someone can play with their mind, body and souls and decide not to stay on forever."

"You DO NOT WANT to stay with such a person forever!!!"

"There are other things too. Some people (and with a smirk at me, he says), "especially girls" like to know where they stand in a relationship."

"You are right, but those people need to learn something about accepting reality. If there is a doubt in one's mind about a relationship, you know which way its going. You are taking away the most important lesson in a person's life - Letting Go!"

"Whatever! Why do you care anyway? I see that you dont have to do any wifey like things in spite of being married. You don't wear your ring or mangalsutra. You still have your last name. You are free in your mind as you claim, so what is the fuss all about?"

"Don't you see? I miss being 'coveted'.

Whats so funny!

Sorry this is not even a full blown blog, but thats not the point. Here is the thing. So one has been working non stop, with no breaks, no weekends and sleeping for probably 5 hours at night. (I feel almost guilty for sharing this, because there are colleagues who are sleeping less than this). Add to the misery a harsh winter, where you are ploughing a foot of snow every other day; add to that your husband and your one year old are a million miles away and gone for months; add to that your apartment building catches fire and you are camping at your friend's place for two nights; and this is after they assure you that it will be just one night before you can get in, so you rush from office the second day to the nearest mall before everything shuts down, to buy some clothes to make it to work the next day and just when you are relieved and catching a breath that you got back into your house for your birthday and at least your loving friends didn't leave you alone and took you out to your favorite place... your husband calls you up to tell you that the kid had a bad fall and had to be taken to a hospital because the nose won't stop bleeding.

2 - 2.5 months later you are still looking up at this huge mountain of work and now you are trying to cram everything into 3 days before you can catch that flight to India for 2 weeks just to see your son. You also have to take care of the shopping list of life saving material from the US of A sent by near and dear ones; arrange a stock pile of documents I need to carry for a visa interview on my way back and pack one week of office clothes, because I fly straight into a week of out-of-town training.

In times like this you start having these moments when you are looking at the screen for hours and trying to accomplish something, you haven't blinked in days, but lo and behold, nothing happened! You see this divine light in the form of facebook beckoning you to indulge. You open your profile and browse through random links and there you see this picture!!! You transform from an atheist to a believer as you realize there is a genius of galactic proportions gracing this earth who came up with such a mind blowing cartoon (judge for yourself)

You jump in joy as if you hit a jackpot and post it. You think the world (ok I am lying, just my friends on facebook) will think the same way and you are staring at the 'like'o'meter' in anticipation to see it start buzzing like a mad bee!!!! And NOTHING happens. 2 hours nothing happens. After 4 hours there are 2 likes. One from a person who likes every link that anyone posts, he may even like a post that may deserve a condolence. The second comes from a person who I see and say 'Ahh! he got it'.. until he messages me about it and I realize he has missed the point!

So now I dare you to explain what you make of this. Do you understand the joke? I want you to explain it and kill the effing joke here! Pelt your interpretations at it and stone it to death!!

PS: Do not be taken aback by the contents of the first two passages. I have survived. My life has always been this way. I have taken an auto rickshaw ride from a Lakme salon in Whitefield to Indiranagar in Bangalore (about what feels like 15 miles) with mehendi on my hair, covered with aluminium foil, with no duppata/scarf as I wore a shirt and trouser to work that day. That disaster and many like that could make up a book!

How will you ever change the world lady?

To be honest, I did not want to write about this. And it was something that struck me months ago. And it takes me days to get over things like these but I did and then it happened again.

I have never been a champion of 'Feminism'. Simply because I think respect has to be earned, power has to be won and rights have to be fought for, irrespective of you being a man, a woman or just queer. For every 10,000 examples of 'the oppressed', you will find 1 person who earned whatever he/she wanted against all odds. One may not get something as easily as another privileged person but then there are privileged people who could not make use of what they had. It evens out. I think in this whole process one is driven by the self esteem they have for themselves. Ones with lower self esteem will try to seek patronage and the ones with higher self respect will fight everything and everyone to achieve what they want. But I thought everyone has it in them even if not in same degree. Days ago I was shocked and disturbed when I learnt that this may not be true.

This was when the Delhi-rape case happened and we were discussing this among friends. And a friend who is born and raised in the city said, "Oh, I am so glad I don't have girls, girls are so hard to raise." To which another friend responded, "Yes, after this incident, I would not want to have a girl." Two dear friends, one used to be a women's rights activist in Delhi and one is a bright IT professional and both women! In those two lines without realizing they trashed their whole existence and acknowledged the huge responsibility they presumably were on their families when they were born. Boys get raped too. And there are men who feel ashamed that a man did this to a woman, but I have never heard a man trashing his own existence over it. 

It got me thinking, it must have taken centuries of cleverly designed societal practices and that too world-wide to belittle the female of this species; to an extent where they themselves feel lowly about themselves. It makes me wonder if it was indeed men who oppressed women in the first place. Think about it... mothers raise their sons instilling in them the special privileges they earn thanks to being males. You would think a woman whose self respect and ego was trampled at every stage of her life would end up raising her children doing it the right way but guess what happened! Men never think too much, mom says I don't do dishes, 'Great'! But in that one small lesson, he was taught, all work is not equal, all work is not dignified, you can expect some else do things for you, especially if it is a female. Your mom can be bigger to you in age, relation and respect, but she will still do your dishes! And I will bet my bottom dollar that a man will ever reconsider this after he grows up. It's us women who have the boon & curse of thinking too much, not them.

Next time lady, when you plan to raise those placards against the oppressions of the male-dominant society, do give two pence to the fact that maybe you are barking at the wrong tree. Maybe it was always in your own hands.

Crossing the t's and dotting the i's

Does anybody use a notepad (the one that has real paper) and a pen anymore? Do you feel a little romantic when the ink flows beautifully on a smooth sheet of paper? Maybe not.

I grew up with a love for writing. No, not the creativity, but the sheer act of forming beautiful letters on a piece of paper. In my initial years in school, handwriting wasn't something I paid attention to. But one evening, in fact 2 days before the final exam of my fifth grade, my mother made me rewrite an entire year's worth of school work because she did not like what she saw in my notebook. According to her, handwriting and writing itself spoke a lot about the person. That was an 'aha moment'.

Since then I wrote! It was my second hobby (besides reading). What did I write? Anything... I filled diaries with poems, anecdotes, things that I read and liked. In fact scribbling was such a bad habit, I would have scribbled in almost every single classmate's notebook by the end of the year. People saved their special notebooks from me, because I would just mindlessly scribble something on them. There was a bright side to it too. Since I had a good handwriting, all teachers would ask me to write their journals, students grade records, even report cards! Yes, you read it right...I knew the class results much before everyone else in school. I was privy to very confidential information simply because of my handwriting. :) I wrote banners, my school projects, my brother's, cousins', nephew's. If there was something to be written, I was the go-to person. I still use a notebook in office/home to plan my days, my engagements or to simply write for the love of it.

Off late it felt like I was an artisan of a dying traditional tribal art form called 'Cursive'and I was coming to terms with it. But the other day I heard Sugata Mitra (of the NIIT fame) talking very convincingly about how reading was more important in today's education than writing; that how writing was totally redundant in today's life and I realized its just a matter of time! Cringe I may at the difficulty with which the new interns in my office hold their pens and write those barely decipherable disconnected alphabets to make them look like a word, but they are here to stay with their tablets and smartphones.

So for the millionth time I am going to read all those hand written notes from friends over the course of years. From a four year old neighbour to the one from a dear friend who was leaving town for further studies, observing the curves, the lines, the sweat of their palms on the edge of the paper and once again appreciating how their writing indeed spoke so much about them and what they thought of me; noting that probably those are last handwritten notes I would ever receive from someone in this lifetime.

The danger of a single story.

I love stories! And there probably couldn't have been a more obvious statement I've ever made. I haven't been writing for sometime, which is not out of place for the readers of this blog. However, I stumbled upon something which I am trembling in excitement to share. I am positive that this talk will bring that one whiff of an unknown fragrance in a spring morning that finds a permanent home in your memory. Hope it does to you, what it did to me...

The danger of a single story

Miracle!

It was a daily ritual that began with the first ray of light that falls on the snow caps of Kanchenjunga and streaked into his room. He never needed an alarm clock to wake him, that streak woke him each morning ever since he got posted in Sikkim. For a young man with a lot to do in the cities, Sikkim was a quite place with very little activity. It had been a year since he had been living in Gyalshing. Indian Army has a strong presence in Sikkim and people are used to seeing them all over the place. People are friendly and have a strict way of life. Living on high altitudes is not easy. The first couple of months of his stay drove him crazy. He wished he didn't wake up early so he would have lesser hours to kill but that streak of light was trecherous. One evening he fumbled upon this book about Houdini at a local shop. It was funny how he found it. He had bought something to eat at a local tea stall and a little kid packed his snack in a piece of paper. As he was eating out of that piece of paper, his eyes fell on the oil stained words. By the time he was done eating, he was intrigued. He called that little guy and asked him where he got that paper from. The kid brought out a half torn book. Almost half of the pages were gone. But he wanted it. The little kid at the tea stall was amused to see the fauji (Hindi for 'Soldier') going crazy over a tattered, not-even-a-book. Houdini lead him into the fascinating world of magic.

He learned some basic card tricks and tried them on the village kids. He enjoyed the look on hand cupped faces. In the village where he moved around like a zombie to the locals, the mutually exclusive co-existence was melting into recognizing looks and friendly smiles. He was the jaadugar fauji (magician soldier). One day the little kid from tea stall saw him showing his card tricks to the kids in the village. He saw him with great interest and watched closely. As all the children were thrilled after the show, the boy from the tea stall just walked away all with a quizzical expression. Next morning as he was getting dressed for work, he heard a knock on the door. It was the little boy!

He had a pack of cards in his hands. He kept his kettle down and placed the cards on the table. And one by one he showed all his tricks back to him with the most smug smile you can find on a child's face. All his tricks came down like a pack of cards. The boy gave him some tea and went away.

For a week the jaadugar fauji was not to be seen in the village. The kids were getting edgy. After a week the jaadugar emerged with new tricks. Better than the cards. The kids were delirious but he was waiting for the little boy to see him this time. The boy came again and watched him intently. The following morning, jaadugar kept waiting for the knock on the door, but no one came. He had a funny sense of triumph, as he set out for the day.

However, it didn't last long. The boy came next morning and like last time the tricks were all exposed. This turned into a routine. Every week fauji came up with something new and the boy saw through it. The competition turned into a friendship. The fauji was intrigued that, for a boy his age, he somehow wasn't fascinated by the magic tricks. When all the other kids in the village eyes looked at him reveringly as if he had miraculous powers, for this boy these were all tricks. How did he know the difference?

One evening the fauji was out on a night reconnaissance. This wasn't a dangerous area, but it was a routine recce. The worst one would expect was poachers in the jungle, but no one usually wanted to go near a military vehicle. He did his usual round and was returning to the base when he heard a gun shot. There were definitely poachers around. He stopped in a clearing and asked the driver to turn off the lights. They heard a vehicle coming closer, but couldn't see anything through his night vision device. Suddenly, the oncoming vehicle stopped and he heard another gun shot and in about a few seconds, he felt some cold liquid running from his right ear down his neck. As the pain surged he realized he was shot in the ear. The driver quickly drove him to the base and he was flown out to the closest military hospital after a tincture iodine dressing (which is not nice!). The whole village knew that the jaadugar fauji was shot.

He came back after a week to the base and still didn't start going out in the village yet. One morning after he got back, there was the knock on the door in the morning. He knew who it would be. He opened the door and the little boy walked in. He saw on his face what he had always wanted to see, the astonishment! He thought, so this is what it took. He spoke to the boy for the first time, "are you looking at that hole in my ear? it looks funny isn't it? Don't worry, it doesn't hurt anymore. I am fine." and smiled.

The boy looked at him and said, "they told me someone shot you in the dark. Do you see where you were hit? Just one inch on your left and you wouldn't have been standing here right now! Its a miracle!

Its still a ritual, the way his day begins. But when he looks out at that glistening snow capped peak of Kanchenjunga, he sees the miracle!

Love you and Miss you!

This was written in spring, but never posted...

Its spring time and there is pollen all around. If you come back home after a short walk outside, you could dust off loads and loads of green stuff from your clothes. Thankfully this lasts only for a month or two in a year. But its spring time for 'Love you's and 'Miss you's all year round. You could dust off as much as you want, but you'll be showered with tons more.

If you're staying away from your social circle, be prepared for astronomical proportions of this stuff. And maybe its the 'in-thing' in India, just like there are other million things that people say when they open or close a conversation, that have absolutely no sincerity. Incidentally, its the female species who is infected by this phenomena severely, although you would see an occasional male mouthing these frivolities too! The quintessential aunt, the cheesy girl friend, the long lost school friend, the college-mate who you never spoke to in college, an ex-colleague who you knew, hated you from the gut! All these are the primary carriers of the pollen.

But sit down and think about how many times your mom or dad said, "I love you my child and I miss you. Although, I am immensely proud to see you doing so well wherever you go, but there is not a moment when I wish you were here by my side." They never have to say it and you do your best to prevent them having to say it aloud. Or think about how many times your closest friend says to you, "I miss you because every time there is something I have to tell you, I hold it inside me is because I don't want to bother you, since you are far away!"

Sometimes, there are things you rather not say. But yesterday a dear friend of mine messaged and said, "hey there, whats up! Study hard and get those exams out of your way. Btw heard your favorite song on the radio and remembered you. Missed you! :("

How was this different from the green dust? I have no answer, but I thank god that I have learnt to differentiate now!

Cheer Up - Yourself and Everyone!

Frankly, this was going to come a little later, probably when the story would actually have come full circle, but I couldn't hold it any longer. Now, if you poke a kid with a secret in his chest a couple of times, the tight lips curve into a smile. One more poke, and the story spills, complete with the colorful sparklers in the eyes, making it quite a show!

It was a winter noon when I was supposed to go for a job interview. Usually, I am quite in control before I go for one... I can see some eyebrows going up, saying, "oh yeah, so you are saying you are never nervous before one? you are so good huh?"... No, I am nervous, but not to a point where I am smelling like a rotten onion, before I reach the office! Lets put it this way, I believe, there is a job requirement, and there is a skill set I possess, and what an interview is, is just a way to find a match. Its not a judgement on me. Don't worry, I wasn't this smart since I was born. I did mull over this one interview, where I blew it up on a very simple question. I realized what a blunder it was, by the time I was in the parking lot. And I had this huge urge to go back up and tell the guy, "don't give me the job, but don't judge me on that stupid answer". Finally one day I killed the beast and said to myself, "Women, you didn't do it right that day, and thats all that is to it." Since then I was liberated from the fret fits.

But this interview was different. It came after a year long sabbatical for various reasons and studies. It came from one of the most coveted organizations in my line. It came in a market swarmed with unemployed/ underemployed high skilled, local competitors. And not only did they have to like me, they had to like me enough to take the trouble to do some visa related paperwork.

This really was the first time I was meeting an employer, otherwise I was at the mercy of recruiters of all shapes and sizes. Who weren't sure if I would be able to bean-count in America, since I was bean-counting in India all this while. Once a recruiter asked me, "so you have a Chartered Accountancy certificate, but do you have a Bachelors in Accounting? Because this client is specifically looking for someone who has acquired at least a Bachelor's degree in Accounting." There were some who even took an unannounced written test (2 hours of it, by the way), they were stumped by the results. Had to be, they gave me an exam on basic accounting and I have been doing this for past 8yrs of my life. So now I was a classic case of Catch 22. I couldn't get an entry level job because I was overqualified and I couldn't get a job matching my capabilities because I hadn't worked in America previously. Calls after calls, mails after mails, all I was getting good at, was guessing the reason for a 'No' for a particular application.

Having gone through this frustrating ordeal for a long time, this really was that one opportunity I had to grab. A perfect recruiter, a perfect job, a perfect profile, the impossibility of getting another opportunity like this, my desperation to grab it; in all, it was a perfect recipe for a mess-up. And like a cherry on the top, I was well aware of this too.

Anyways, I call for the cab. Dressed in a dapper suit (cringing inside, at the bomb I had to shell out on it), an overcoat on top, fully loaded I get into the cab.

"So where are we going today miss?" asked the cab driver, in his cheerful Jamaican accent.

"Asylum Street, Downtown" I replied. (Thats just the name of that street, I haven't hit the asylum yet)

"So you have a job where you can work from home and go to office anytime of the day?" He asked.

"Oh no, I am not in that kind of luck. In fact, I am going for an interview. Wish me luck!" I said, smiling back at him; and that was just the cue he needed.

"There is no way you are not getting that job lady. Just give them that beautiful smile that you gave me when you got into the cab, there is no way they won't hire you." Suddenly, I took a liking to this old gentlemen, the stereotypical, jovial, Jamaican.

"So what profession are you into?"

"I am an accountant."

"So you have to get some certification to work as an accountant right?"

"Yes, I have my certification from India."

"An accountant, and that too from India, thats impressive. You shouldn't worry then, you have what it takes." Now a lot of it was coming out of the fact that I was a "female", and I should be taking it with a pinch of salt, but honestly, it was irresistibly pleasant on the ears.

"I hope they think like you too." I added.

"Well, let me tell you something miss. The good old English education (referring to the Brit influence here) keeps us in good stead. We people have strong fundamentals, and these guys know it. They have the technology, they have the presentation, which is all very nice. But that cannot overshadow fundamentals. And as long as you are confident that you know your subject matter, there is no reason why you should be nervous." I was all ears!

"The problem is, our guys know everything, but they cannot talk. And out here, even if they don't know anything, they talk. All their parents teach them right from childhood is talk talk talk. Whereas, our parents told us to shut up. Speak only when its necessary, or only when you know something. Don't make a fool of yourself. Our parents messed up with us big time. But when we get talking, these guys understand that we are good. So remember, whatever you do, don't stop talking."

Just as he finished his 2 minutes speech, we arrived at the office. He had unknowingly or knowingly, given me just the thing I needed, motivation. I couldn't find the right words to say to him then, so I paid him, exchanged courtesies and smiled. And he said, "See! Thats what I am talking about. You've got it, I am telling ya."

The person who walked into that office at that moment was not me. It was someone, who could only think of what skills she had, what all she could bring to the table that day and who was a compulsive smiler. The two penny suit was worthless in front of the person wearing it.

And its a cliche that all inspirational stories have a happy ending. But cliches are cliches because there is a reason why they are overused.

When I got the offer, I was telling my dad about this little incident and how I wished I could call this gentleman to tell him, how he touched my life that day. And my dad said, keep your eyes open, maybe you'll bump into him some other day, but more importantly, be nice to people. You can never even imagine, which deed of yours touches someone in which walk of life.

I know the Paulo Coelho fans would jump and say, when you want something, the whole universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. Its a good thought, but for every success, there are hundreds of failed attempts. And I don't want to say, stay motivated all the time. I think thats not possible. Those failures are as much a reality as the successes. But be hopeful, for yourself and for everyone. Hope will find you your motivation when the time comes. Each moment is different, each attempt is different. Just like every match/ game is different. If every team walked in to the ground with just their stats, there won't be anyone cheering the bottom rungs. There won't be those magical moments when the underdogs win and the ones when deadbeat teams win their first trophy in their history.

And most importantly, keep smiling! :) This one works like a beauty!

PS: Now the deal is, I have an offer, but they are completing the paper work, background checks and the HR blah blahs. If everything goes smoothly, my new year will start with a bang. Even if it doesn't, it won't break my heart 'coz then its not my doing. I meant to post it in Jan, but then- What the heck? :P :P But yeah save the congratulations!

Faith & Belief

6.30 am on a lazy day, way before any youngster opens his/her eyes to the day, and maybe is in the prime of his/her favourite dream, Ruhi's phone rings!! "DAMN this phone... but I didn't put it on alarm...who is it now?"

"Hey Ruha, I am off to my exam, wish me luck!" - This cheeky moron is me, and its a real life story. No fiction today!

"You idiot, I wished you last night, you are such a pest... (other expletives cannot be written on this forum!)

Ruhaa, has been my lucky charm for about 7-8 years now. She is one of the major reasons why I have passed the numerous cumbersome exams that I have. There are indeed some papers where I have not studied enough (...something like, things that require 2 months of dedicated studies, I have just about done something in 10 days), and I have managed to pass such papers too, thanks to my lucky charm. The most difficult exams, have turned out to be easy, some gruelling interviews have been a cake walk, and many more. And like you give a present to your God, when some task is accomplished, I give her presents too whenever I accomplish something. I am that serious about it!

Maybe, this is what the seers tell you about. And since everyone cannot have a Ruhaa, there is God. When you really believe its gonna work, it just works. Sometimes I even know its crazy, the way I am superstitious about this, but trust me, even then it works. Not to say Ruhaa is God for me, but maybe thats where my Faith is, and once I've assured myself, however illogically, that this can be done, it gets done.

Maybe all the knowledgable ones wanted people to benefit from this faith within and conjured up 'God' who can do anything. But why would God do something for you in particular out of a zillion people? So then you do something special, and what that special is... is some special ritual, or a chant or offer. To me it looks like a series of lies to cover up one small lie. And the lie is that there is 'One God' catering to everyone. Well maybe for once, one can even believe it, given the amount of mess there is in the world and it could only go so wrong because there is only one person on the helpline.

But I think you have to find your Faith yourself and see what works for you. Its more about something inside you, rather than elsewhere.

I am someone who in common parlance would be called an atheist. I don't like to follow a religious calendar to pray. In fact, when someone asks me to pray because its an 'xyz' occassion, I hate it. Its this childish resistance, that when someone asks you to do something, you don't like it. Its the most excrutiating thing to stand infront of god, when deep down you know that here you have to put up your best behaviour, and instead of that you are getting irked because you don't believe. Lack of belief, not in God, but these rituals!

I am quite a believer in fact; in God (if thats the favoured name), in a cosmic power and a hidden power within. But rituals, I abhore. I like to go to a temple when I feel like. I like to have that 'me time' within the sanctuaries of that divine power. There is no better place to channelize your senses than a temple, church, mosque or a gurudwara. There are days, when you do land up in a sacred place serendipitously, and thats when I feel God wanted to see me, I feel elated about it. That to me is the true connection to him. Someone once said to me, always compare God to your parents. The relationship between him and you is for you to decide. My mom hasn't defined any days, and manners in which I can hug her, or even words that I am supposed to say to her. But, there are days when I borrow more ornate words from a card, which truly reflect what I want to say to her, or sometimes I say 'I love you', or sometimes, I don't want to say anything. But thats between us, its on no calendar. Treating God like that makes sense to me, rather than praying in a particular order, muttering some chants without understanding them, and with the a fear that if you don't do it right, it will make him unhappy. Isn't it dichotomous to credit such shallowness to someone, who you pray to because of his magnanimity?

Why this sermon? Well I am expected to pray, in a certain way, for some odd day marked on the almanac! But this is definitely not to hurt those who follow rituals, maybe thats where they have parked their faith! Just don't stone me because I can't place my faith there!

What would you choose?

'Life' for one is a very tricky word. You can use it to describe your routine, or your general state of being, your surroundings. It may also encompass a lot of things which you don't think of, off-the-cuff, your passion for something or maybe your utter abhorence of something. Different people have different lives. You and me are no one to judge whose life is more meaningful and whose is not.

Life they say is the most precious gift given to you and everyone who has one. Isn't this what was taught to us when we were young?


Tired after a long day of office and classes, we CA students would just crash land into our homes. For Ruhi it was one extra lap. She had to wade through an insane stream of traffic for an hour and a half till she could call it a day. Monsoons in Pune are beautiful but only on the days you aren't working. We two-wheeler mounted rangers almost had to carry a change of clothes or a sturdy raincoat to spend 3-4 hours of a day riding on the roads. It was quite a crazy life, running between college, classes, office, clients, classes again and then home, each and everyday.


One night I recieved a call from her. She still hadn't reached home. Classes were over at 8 pm.


"Deeps! Where are you?"


"I am home, why what happened? Where are you?"


I am in Poona Hospital.


"You what?! What are you doing there? And how did you reach there? Its not on your way home?"


Hey I am alright. But can you come down? I've called home and told them I am stuck in extra classes.


"Yep! I'll be there in half an hour."


I couldn't make sense out of it at all. I grabbed my raincoat and just rushed. It was 9 in the night, the girl hadn't reached home and she was completely in the opposite direction from her way home. Mom was alone at home so at first I thought, I'll take her with me, but then I just didn't know what was it about, so I just told her some story and went. Pune roads are somewhat safe till about 11 pm in the night and I wasn't hoping to stay beyond that anyways.


I reached in about 30 minutes and entered the hospital with a pounding heart. I looked around and there she was. All wet, unruly hair, she was wearing her denim jacket but her kurta was soaked in blood. This was crazier than I expected, I made a dash at her.


"What the hell happened? Whats all this?" My mind stopped working.


She had stopped at a corner shop to get some notes photo-copied. This guy was on his bicycle. Another guy came recklessly from a connecting bylane, braked at the junction, and since the roads were wet, he lost control and rammed into him. The man on the bicycle was thrown off his ride, his head hit the pavement and he fell unconcious. Everyone rushed to the scene. The biker stood up limping. In no time, a crowd had encircled these two. Ruhi also ran towards the scene. The biker tried to start his bike and go. A couple of people held him, slapped him, but he somehow managed to get his bike started and sped off.


The bystanders stood around the unconcious fellow, but no one was ready to pick him up. For a few minutes, Ruhi thought someone will go ahead, but no one did. What are these guys waiting for? She heard some murmurs of 'a police-case', 'he is not going to survive', 'hassles' and no one was ready to come forward.


She decided to take this man to a hospital. She asked an autorickshaw driver to help her. He was ready to help on the condition that he would not enter the hospital door with her. They both put him in the rickshaw, someone accompanied him to hold the guy in the back seat and brought him to this hospital.


He had lost a lot of blood and it was a head injury. The hospital staff had already called the police. The doctor came by and looked at me. He had asked Ruhi to call someone from her family and he was not very amused to see me, I could see. He turned to me, "Listen you girls, this is going to be a police-case. The cops will come any time and your friend will be listed as a witness. Its going to be a big hassle which a respectable girl should not get into. Police stations aren't a place for a respectable girl. I wanted someone from her family to come and take her away. We can take care of this guy and register a complaint with the police." Sounded like a sensible thing to me and I turned to Ruhi.


I am not going home till I've report the bike number of the guy who did it.


"What?" "There is no need, its none of our business."

Then it wasn't my business to bring him here either.

"Its not as simple as you think. You will have to give a statement to the police and then maybe even go to the court to testify. This can go on for years, you know how court cases work in India."


So whats the big deal? Firstly, I am not the one who has hit him so there is nothing for me to fear the police. Secondly, all I want is to bring that *AH* to books, who thinks who can leave a man dying on the road and get away with it. A couple or 100 rounds of testifying maybe, versus, this guy's life! Whats heavier on your scale?

You have saved his life already, now you don't have to screw yours over it. You don't even know what kind of a guy that biker is. 8 of 10 chances are he is some messed up guy. I mean, who rides a bike recklessly in a crazy weather and then runs away leaving this guy on the road. He can be dangerous. Better still, he'll just bribe some people and get away.


I am not fantasizing about the fact that my testimony will put him behind bars. But I am more than convinced that this guy has to be identified and he should be ashamed of what he has done.


I think you are getting carried away with a surge of emotions right now. Its not as simple as you think. Lets go home.


Listen! If I was dying on the road like this man, I would be hoping with even the tiny wisp of life left in me that someone rescues me. And moreover, if there is a guy who did not care about another human life for the love of his maniacal bike rides, he needs to be checked.


You have brought him here and helped him enough. Do you think the man you brought here, would take the trouble to do all this for you, if he found you lying bleeding on the road?


I don't know! But what I do know is, if I stand up for him today, he would from now on! Let me see how much trouble I can get in, for helping an accident victim legally. Even I could have brought him here, thrown him at the door and gone away. But then I would be no different than those who were scared to bring him here, so much so, that they would rather let him die.

-------------------------------------

This one comes out of a heated discussion on the back benches of my 11th std classroom, on a leisurely afternoon. I was quite idealistic in my school days and I was the one who was on the Ruhi-side-of-the-debate. Strangely, I was the only one who thought that way. And like a recurring dream, I play this over and over again in my head, as to what would I do and how far would I go to help. I still have no clue what trouble I could get in.

It was 12 yrs ago. I thought maybe growing up and pragmatism would change me for the better, but unfortunately I still don't see why I should be scared of helping a dying man on the street for the fear of something as lame as legal hassles, hospital hassles and police cases.


Maybe, it was indeed that complicated to take an accident victim to hospital 12 yrs ago, and hopefully there is a little more awareness in people today and hopefully it would only get better from here. But the worth of a human life has been and will be the same, always.

Even a herd of animals running from a predator, do make an effort to save that one member who gets caught. Given that becoming a beast's meal is quite an ordinary form of death for them, they shouldn't really bother. But they still put up a fight for that one team mate.

Maybe I am just romantacizing here but... shouldn't our struggle to fight or withstand the system, be more rigourous, instead of choosing to ditch life?

The Don Quixote!

"Madam! I want a leave tommorrow!"



"Why, what happened?


"My friend is getting married. He and his girlfriend have eloped, and I am helping them out."


Babu was this character I came across while working in this small time business after college. He was our office boy, cum receptionist, cum delivery boy, cum office administrator, cum cleaner and much more. It usually never happened that you told him something and it didn't happen. However, like a chinese gadget he could ditch you at some crucial moments every now and then. But then the novelty of services that you get for the price at which it comes, you overlook the reliablity quotient of your chinese gadget.


In first few days itself I saw he was running the whole office administration in his own way. The coffee machine vendor, the EPBX maintenance, the AC maintenance guys, everyone was in his pocket. The cash strapped, near-its-death organization that I was working for, had not paid vendors for 6-7 months and still these guys came and worked. All thanks to Babu. You would think he must be this real street smart guy, glib with words but sorry to dissappoint you. Maybe people just couldn't say 'no' to him.


Our Babu was this lanky guy, with a freestyle moustache covering the upper lip. A strong smelling oil was put on the task of keeping the thick wavy hair in place, but the oils gave up by evening. He wore his office uniform which his mom washed daily with oodles of soap I guess, 'coz an unsuspecting guy would assume he was using Rin (Detergent cake in India) as deodorant. There was a tattered polythene bag he carried everyday, everywhere and protected as if it was his life's saving. He claimed that he had passed 12th grade. We never bothered to verify this claim, because if he had, those teachers need to face a firing squad. He was about 20-21 years of age I guess. His Hindi, was picked up right from the stevedores of the bombay port. He couldn't speak English for nuts but whenever he was jobless you would find him sitting with the english newspaper trying to put sense into the faintly familiar alphabets from his schooldays. Ocassionally you would hear him flaunt some English words over the phone, caring two hoots for the muffled giggles that followed after that.

Out of his many quirks, talking and walking in english were his pet dreams!

"Madam, there are only three nose remaining of this case of bottles." This was the first time he knocked me out with his english.

"Three nose??????"


"Yes Madam, three nose"


"Whats nose? Kya bol rahe ho Babu?"


"Arre Madam, aapko nahi maaloom kya, woh inventory ki list pe likha hota hai na 'nose'" (He almost ridiculed my ignorance about this nose on the inventory list)


"Kidhar likha hai dikhao?' (I asked him to show it to me)


Babu came with the list and I saw units in "Nos." Goddammit, whoever came up with that notation for writing 'numbers' as 'Nos.

Once in a while he would even sit infront of a computer, trying to figure out what the fuss was all about. He never touched the keyboard nor the mouse, just stared blankly into it, as if sitting there will make him a computer pro one day, just like that.

He liked bike rides too. One random day, I happened to give him a pillion ride on my scooty too. He was going out for some errand close to the place where I was going so he asked me to take him. He came along mumbling what he had to do, down the stairs...I started my scooty...he took two minutes ...and hopped on. Somewhere in the middle of the journey I caught a glimpse of him in the rear view. Babu was wearing these black goggles with a THICK GOLDEN frame and looking all around as if he was the prince of Persia. I twisted the life out of the throttle and drove at neck breaking speed to reach my destination, lest someone catches me with this specimen on my scooty, in my hometown. I cursed myself for not wearing the helmet that one time. When we reached back, he took off his goggles and put them back where they belonged- his treasured tattered polythene bag.

He asked me to help him with learning English, which I unhesitatingly accepted. Thats when I realized, the easiest way to lose your face as a teacher is to start teaching english. Why is 'tion' pronounced as 'shun'? Why is 'gone', gawSSSn and 'tone', tone and 'done', dun? I never give up on my student when I am teaching. But I have to say this time, he didn't give up on me; even if I sounded absolutely absurd. There was an occassional 'are you sure?' from him, to which I said, 'thats the way they taught me', trying to retrieve as much lost credibility as possible, blaming it on others.

Anyways, coming back to his leave! I was still sizing up whether he was cooking up some story for leave or was he serious.


Thier parents don't agree because the girl has just completed her graduation and my friend has not passed 5th standard even. They have come here from the village and I have to look for a job for him too. Why do parents have to create such a ruckus when two people want to get married and are happy with each other?


No matter how hopelessly romantic I get, I can't imagine nor understand why an educated girl would fall in love with a guy who does nothing, who isn't educated and is not going to grow up with age any further, and how long will that love last. So I tried to make some wise remarks on practicality and the realities of life. But having already lost my credibility thanks to the asinine rules of English language, he gave this back to me...


"Madam, just because my friend cannot read or write doesn't make his love less worthy. I understand that to fend for themselves here in the city without an education is difficult but its not impossible. They truly love each other, and love overcomes everything."


Of course it was mindless and had no remotest affinity to commonsense, but something in those fanstasizing eyes just broke my heart. I should have told him, "Babu, realities of life are far more different than what you seem to have figured out. All these dialogues on love look good only in a bollywood masala flick, not in your friends' life." But I somehow the words didn't come out.


Here was Babu living in this dream world of his, right in the middle of the chaos and madness called 'The Reality'. He may get lucky and meander along his entire life happily in his eternal dream, maybe this Don Quixote will find a Sancho Panza too. I guess Cervantes got philosophical and wrote Quixote because of this same wierd heartbreaking feeling one gets after seeing someone so lost in his own world, that its impossible to bring him out.


I did come across a couple of other Babus like him afterwards. Fool's Paradise is quite a crowded place. There are occassional vacationers too. I am intrigued as to how do they remain so untouched in the humdrum around them. Every now and then I even wonder, who is unfortunate, they- who can't see or us- who can?

To The Pen Weilders!

There is a secret society of writers from all over the world and that's 'Blogosphere'. And I have to admit, on some unsuspecting afternoon I get lost in that world, hopping from one page to the other, from one story to another. Sometimes enchanted, sometimes amused or intrigued or baffled by their beautiful thoughts, imagination, humour, intellect or simply perception! And then a thought struck me, what is a writer's reward? For a musician or a dancer, its the enchanted and enraptured audience; for an actor its that five-seconds of stillness before the auditorium starts roaring with applause; for a magician the baffled look of his spectators. But whats in it for a writer? This about the millions of small stars in the milky way, who are not the Siriuses, the Canopuses or the Rigels but they do have light, however tiny it may be.

Pondering for a few days over this, I bumped upon someone in the attic of my mind. I wiped off the dust from that box of memories. And wondered how long it has been (almost 10 years) and how I had completely forgotten about this someone!

Disclaimer: This can be longer than you expect.

Ravi Rajeev is this guy. And he used to write a column called 'Good Morning Pune'. He wrote an article every alternate day about anything under the sun. It was published on the 3rd page of the local supplement, not a very big deal really.

The newspapers had just begun to show first signs of aging. Only a few nerds like me, went beyond the current affairs and looked at the editorials and side supplements. (Actually I like the editorials more than the news). It was a thing of wonder as to what it is like to write on a daily feature of a local newspaper. Won't someone die of curiosity as to how was the article received? Did it hurt, if you saw someone eating bhel-puri on a parchment with your own article on it? Would you crane your neck in a public place watching people read a paper, and cringe if they pass over your page? You write everyday for a newspaper for heaven's sake, but you are still no celebrity. You don't even know if people like you or hate you; or even worse, don't know if you exist as a speck in this universe. But surely, there is some powerful urge inside to go on writing every other day for all those who read. Nothing like today where people just come on your article online and thwart you mercilessly or leave a gracious compliment then and there.

----------------------------------------------------

"....Forgiveness, my scriptures tell me, is a virtue of the strong. Be it. Maybe I am not strong, that I can't forgive and forget easily. Never on earth did forgiving someone give me the satisfaction of being strong..... I wanted a tooth for a tooth, a nail for a nail and that was strength for me. To be able impart justice was strength to me........... But today I have been forgiven by someone, and I know how devastated I would have been, if I wasn't."

That last line hit home like a strong sudden gush of wind that blew off the closed window of my reverie! I wondered, did that hit just me or there are others who perceived it the way I did?

"....this kid says to me, "Dada whats the big deal about an interesting job? Its all about money. Of all the kids that do an MBA, how many of them understand its importance? Its like a Bachelor's degree now, you just have to have it. Whatever job I get, I will eventually develop an interest in it to survive. And now a days everyone cribs about what they do and their bosses anyways, so what difference does it make?" ..........I am wondering, if I am a fool to write here just for the love of writing? ....................Something is not right some where. Its about time that kids get out of this rat race. Unfortunately, its a self created trap and I feel its ruining the spirit of our children................. What a pitiful generation it would be who doesn't understand the word 'Motivation'."

It sure was a scary thought. After this one, every time I have to make a choice, I ask myself, how long can I go on doing this for no reward? Decisions became less regretted upon, since then.

"......when saying good-byes, the pain of separation drives us to doing two things- allow ourselves to feel the pain and respond accordingly; or shut out the pain and simply say 'OK! bye then'. You would notice that, you wouldn't want to do the latter unless you want to make the person feel as important as last night's dinner, but surprisingly, majority of people choose the feeble second option! If there is a sense of finality its even more difficult; though people who believe in rebirth can always says, 'See you in Barista, after 80 yrs'........ You always want to say something profound, but more often than not it sounds stupid.........................I'll never forget you? You will live forever in my heart? This is just so-long and not farewell? .............All I know is before the person parts, you have to let that person know how much he/she mattered to you! And if there is an antithesis to the phrase 'better said than done', its the last good bye.

In a lighter vein, it said a lot. My reaction to this article was just a smile back then. I had forgotten all about this article but when I have dug it out of the archives at this point in life, its even more resounding.

"The ganpati immersion in Pune is a adrenaline junkie's delight...... Just for an experiment go into the city and listen to the drums.....slowly you'll feel yourself drawn into the beats, like a swimmer caught in the undercurrent of a giant wave.....you will see yourself moving to the waves of the crescendo and slowly the beats are not outside, they are within you..... the more I see it around me, the more I am convinced that the cosmic mystery of being is encapsulated in Rhythm & Music..... The heart, the breath, everything beats in a rhythmic tune.......the only thing that travels unquestioned between Indian and Pakistani borders is music..... Napolean said, "let me write an anthem for a nation and I will decide its morality"...... As a saint said, "A man who sings, prays twice."

I could never agree more! And yes, you have to witness a ganpati procession to truly experience the magic. There are waves of drummers beating their dhols in unison. There are young girls in white kurtas and turbans in the band too. Its sheer adrenaline.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were many more of these kinds and each time they made impressions. Of course, even my own age was impressionable that time. Every feeling, every emotion, every reaction is amplified when you are crossing over to the 20s. The only quality thats required in an idea to attract you is 'Novelty'.

Years later, one evening sitting in this typical youngsters' hangout called Toons, I walked over to the bar to get another drink. A gal and a guy on the stools got into an animated conversation. The guy said, "yeah used to write part time, just for fun."

"Cuhmon!! writing in TOI is not small time writing! What did you write, were you a reporter?"

"Nothing much, I wrote a daily column in Pune Times, no big deal."

"Really! Whats your name again? Lemme see if I've read you?"

"Ravi.... Ravi Rajeev"

I turned around. Right in front of me was Ravi Rajeev. Its weird to meet someone you have pictured in your imagination already. A genie who is just black ink to you, suddenly turns into flesh and blood. The admiration that comes out so freely for that person in his absence, maybe because of that absence, suddenly becomes a confused reaction for a second. Nevertheless, I stole him from that chic and brought him to our table; introduced him to another friend of my who loved his work too. Toons is a tiny place so you are inadvertently drawn into everybody's conversation. Somebody in the next table liked him too. And then the word went around as to what the buzz was about. Quite a few came up to him and shook hands!

He turned out to be quite a guy. The one thing about writing is it never betrays the writer in reflecting his true self, no matter what he writes about. He doesn't write now, I couldn't even find a blog in fact. But even if the people who met him that evening were the only ones whose thoughts he must have stirred, it still must have done something in his heart. I wonder what.

That evening, he didn't ask, he didn't expect and didn't need those hand-shakes. Nor were they relevant to him anymore. But if there is undiluted pristine joy, this must have been it.

Taste of Triumph!

After a lot of kicks, here I am. Although couldn't think of a story, but yes, there is something which I always thought I'd write someday. It is an incident, from my childhood. No moral at the end, no message to give. But somehow, its stuck in the head! This one has to go under the bedtime story stack, but go ahead and be a kid this time!


I have grown up with this bunch of 3 guys. My brother (6), who was the tiniest of the lot, the baby we all had to take care of; Sanju (7), who was a year younger to me, but another privileged younger one; and Anna (9), who was the eldest of the lot, and like me (8), he was the elder sibling who got whacked for his mistakes as well as the younger brats. His woes were a little more than me, because unfortunately he was the eldest among all four of us too!


The dynamics of the group are very important for army kids, because most of the times, they have to manage things without their parents. Dads are away which everyone knows, but Moms have all these responsibilities of welfare of the families of the jawans in the regiment, and other functions, which to a non-army person would be beyond comprehension. So when Moms were away, Anna led us. Which wouldn't have been so bad, had we been good kids.

Time and again me and Sanju would break into fights, where my hair came out of my plaits and Sanju's nose would start bleeding. So we had to clean up the floor and go the aunty next door and get my hair in place before our Moms came back. All four of us, could be hungry at erratic times, and the only thing Anna could make was tea. Once we finished off the whole jar of tea-leaves, a big jar of Andhra pickle, every packet of cookies and munchies in the house when Moms were away for 2 days. I don't want to get into the details of what our Moms did to us when they got back. Well they had made veggies and chapatis and rice for 2 days, but we gave Anna a hard time eating any of it.


Once we even beat cows at grazing! There are these deliciously sour leaves and a purple flower of a weed that grows just about everywhere. One Sunday afternoon we saw, there is so much supply in our own garden. So all 3 of us looked at each and smiled. ATTACK!!! We started from one end of the garden and by the time we reached half way, we had grazed to our hearts fill! Washed our hands, dusted off our clothes, everythings cool before Moms came back after 2 hours. Next day, Sanju's mom calls home almost in tears, "Sandhya, I am scared, I don't know whats wrong, Sanju has loose-motions since morning, and its all green. He is completely dehydrated." And my mom on this end, "I was just going to call you, Deepa and Dushyant are vomiting since morning, and its all green." Sanju's Mom turned to Anna. Next day is another black day in our childhood history.


Those days were just something else. We used to take turns and stay up at night just to see the Jackal that howled under our window everynight. We would walk down in the jungle full of crazy tribes, wild elephants, ULFA militants who kidnapped people in broad daylight every second day, and threw their bodies in the Dihang river for police to find them. We would walk with excitement and fear into those jungles, just to see how far we could go. Scared at the same time of losing our way, getting caught by the tribals, and sometimes just the eeriness of the jungle. All in all life was adventurous and everyday was more exciting than the last.


Then next year Anna turned 10. Which was alright, but suddenly he had new friends now. The big boys. He exchanged comics with them and read all big-boys stuff like Phantom and Super Comando Dhruv. Now he would get bored playing with us. I really had to pull up my badminton game, just so that I could play with him and the big boys. Dush was a kid so it hardly hit him. But me and Sanju knew Anna was not interested in us anymore.


One night he told us a ghost story! All three of us were frozen with fear in our bed. This was it, something had to be done. Me and Sanju decided, we have to so something to be recognized. Something to prove ourselves. We simply can't be passed off for small fries anymore.


One afternoon, after lunch, both of us came out to play as usual and set out for the jungle. Just the two of us, that too from a different side. And by the way, dropping pebbles on your way only works in fables, so we decided walk straight ahead not turning anywhere. We walked on. Every now and then, we looked back to see where we came from, and kept going ahead. We were looking for an Elephant.


It must have been around 3 pm that we left, and it was starting to get dark. After an hour, moms would start looking for us. But we still had not found the elephant. The day ends early in Assam, so you could hear the birds flying back to their homes. At times, we would stop just to make sure that the rustle of the leaves was only because of our steps and not someone else following us. When you live close to a jungle, you would understand how critical it is, not to step on any wierd looking creature's tail, however small it may appear. Carefully and watchfully we kept walking. Suddenly we came to this small opening in the forest with 3-4 round huts! We froze right there. Right infront of us, were the tribals. The clothes, the looks, completely fitted the description. One angry man said something we didn't understand. All the scenes from the movies where the jungle tribes capture people and tie them up, started dancing infront of our eyes. Both of us held our hands just ready to run, when Sanju mustered his courage and said to him in Hindi, "we are looking for an Elephant". The man said something pointing further towards the jungle and then told us to go back, in Assamese.


Scared to death, we were turning back, when we saw the Elephant with a mahout, coming from the side that man had pointed. We were delirious with triumph. But in the next moment we realized it was running towards us. We ran for our lives from where we had come. But wait, we can't go back after finding the Elephant. Nobody would believe our story. So we went back, this one last time. It was already twilight, we knew we were going to have a tough time back home, but this was our chance to fame. The guy sitting on the Elephant spoke Hindi. We told him to come with us to our colony. He said his Elephant was tired and it was already getting dark. He promised to come the next day in the morning and give the kids an Elephant ride for 10 bucks per kid.


We signed the deal and walked back home, with our chests full of pride. Thankfully, the kids were still playing in the ground. Anna and everyone else were looking for us, and we told them about the Elephant.


Next day morning was a bright Sunday, and all kids came out looking for the Elephant. There was none to be seen. At 10 am, me and Sanju were already outside our houses waiting for our friend. An hour went, no sign of the Elephant. By 11.30, our adventure was turning out to be our embarassment. But both of us were quite convinced, that he would come. The other kids had just started to nudge us. "So you two met the tribals and an elephant in the jungle huhh", said the meanest big boy, who was also one of Anna's new found friends. Crestfallen and dejected, both of us knew we had found an Elephant and we had been brave enough to venture that deep in the woods, and here we were being ridiculed by a guy who was just a stupid bully. What if that Elephant never came?


Then at 12 in the noon, we see our Majestic Elephant walking into the colony with the mahout. We ran to him. And infront of all the children he said, "I was looking for you two. So all your friends are ready?" That afternoon, everyone got to sit on the Elephant, and me and Sanju were proud as hell. In the evening when he left, we had forgotten all about why we did it, but the only thing that remained with us was, we set out in that dark jungle and found what we went looking for.


In the evening, all that was left was accomplishment in our hearts, and elephant-dung all over the place.


Fast-forward! 15 years later, on a cramped street in Pune City. I saw something on the road and said to my friend, "Looks like an Elephant passed from here!"


"This is Laxmi road you fool. Even humans don't find a place to walk here and you are talking of an Elephant? Are you going crazy?"


And there down the road was an Elephant walking in gay abandon, towards a Ganesh temple at the end of the street! Elephant dung you see, I'd recognize it anywhere!

The Story That Wasn't!

Since I have started studying and all, it gets difficult to write stories. No breeding grounds for new tales! The mind is occupied by literature from the books I am reading lately, which is turning out to be scorching sun for any sapling of ideas that sprouts up.

But one opinion on the law makers-I am never gonna blame Indian law makers and Accounting Standards Board in India anymore. Even if they suffer from mild dyslexia for English, they are very organized and structured. Americans on the other hand are so so poorly organized. Dudes just remember, these things that you write, are going to be referred to again and again by some mortal folks like me. The important conclusion here is, you may sit on the fence and look at that 'oh-so-reachable- greener pasture', on the other side, but the bitter truth is... the moment you jump on the other side, you'll see that the side you jumped off from, was a tinge greener!

Anyways, today's story was bubbling in the head since ages but the guilt of bunking studies was holding me back. But now I realize if I don't get it out, I am never gonna be able study peacefully.

Recently, we met this guy Arunesh in our social gatherings. Arunesh is this very typical Indian techie in US. He has these hard cemented ideas about right and wrong. He is here to make money and thats all he is concerned with. Nothing wrong with this really, he has the right to be himself. He is single and his folks are looking for a bride for him. He is quite clear in his head as to what he wants; she has to be a beautiful girl, an amazing cook, loving, caring, courteous, with very high moral and family values, well-educated and from a good family. And as if to resound his determination to find someone fitting that description, he himself demonstrates all those qualities, (except ofcourse the beautiful looks and good cooking part).

But again guys! Don't start judging him already, he is a nice bloke. He had just moved in the neighbourhood, but he was already every bhabhi's pet here. You need something from the groceries, you want someone to carry that extra laundry bag to the laundry, you want someone to pick your kids from play-school, he'll be the one you can ask without any awkwardness and he'll do it with a smile. Don't think he is a douchebag, he genuinely is helpful. Aparna & Nikhil are his immediate neighbours and Aparna bhabhi dotes on him. He has become the younger brother she never had. Infact, thanks to Aparna and Nikhil, that we all know Arunesh.

It was one of these get-togethers where Arunesh first met Karuna. He noticed this girl who was sitting in a corner observing everyone quitely. She didn't know anyone except Aparna & Nikhil. She sat for sometime then got up to help bhabhi in the kitchen. She got up, moved slenderly across the room, smiled at someone sitting in her way and apologized for upsetting them. Arunesh couldn't help but notice how graceful she was. She was standing in the kitchen next to him, and he observed how she cut the salad so beautifully with the knife in her slender fingers. Aparna bhabhi probably noticing something, just hinted with her eyes at the ring on her finger. *CRASH BOOM BANG*

As days went by Arunesh saw her more often and had met her husband too. Karuna was not so quite afterall, she was a good conversationalist and had a good sense of humour too, but she still held something back at all times. Her husband was completely the opposite sort of personality. Gregarious, high-spirited (pun intended), party animal. Not that Karuna didn't drink, but Arunesh had this gut feeling that probably its Rohit (her husband) who had got her into drinking socially. Together they made a good couple, she loved her husband the way he was and he cared for her and it looked picture perfect. Karuna didn't mingle too much with the ladies around, except in these get-togethers so people didn't know much about her. And every party would end in the same way. Rohit would be singing, telling jokes, the drinks kept going in and finally Arunesh would help Karuna take him back home. It killed him from inside to see her talking to Rohit in a drunken state, trying to comfort him and reason him out, keeping his head on her laps and running her fingers in his hair....the same slender fingers, with that solitaire.

One day he came back early from office and went straight to Aparna bhabhi. There was this thing wriggling in his head. He knew something was wrong somewhere, but he didn't know what to do, because he wasn't called for help! The trigger point was this incident. He and some friends from work decided to go for a drink after office, last Friday. And there he saw Rohit with a gang of some guys and girls drinking and having fun. Rohit was as usual the epicentre of the buzz. Arunesh was wondering if he should go up and say hello; and after deciding he should, he started walking towards him. Just when he reached close to him, this girl caught hold of Rohit's hand and was pulling him towards the dance floor. Rohit turned around and saw Arunesh and was a little taken aback. In that one moment, Arunesh felt so many emotions at once, hatred, pain, sympathy and helplessness. As if to salvage the situation Rohit tried to introduce his office colleagues but Arunesh just walked away. He faintly heard Rohit saying to his friends, "whats wrong with this guy?"

Arunesh narrated this whole incident to Aparna bhabhi. Now even she was sorry for Karuna. But what did Arunesh have in mind? He didn't know either. He was thinking, it is so difficult to find a girl like Karuna in the first place and this guy who already is blessed with a wife like that, is taking her for a ride. Karuna on the other hand, loves her husband blindly. Should he tell her? Probably she won't even believe him if he said something to her. What if she decided to leave her husband? If she did, where would she go? He didn't know if he himself was falling for Karuna or was it just sympathy, but he wanted to do something for her so badly.

Aparna bhabhi and he sat whole evening thinking what to do next, and just then Nikhil came back from work. He was surprised to see Arunesh at home. Aparna told him something briefly and he said to them, "I guess you don't need to worry any more, they are moving out from here to another community. Rohit called me to invite us to his place this weekend." For Arunesh this came as another blow.

That weekend it was probably the last time he would see her. She was looking tired and exhausted after a few days of packing and moving, or was it something else? He was very quite the whole evening and Rohit said to him, "Hey dude! Hope you are keeping well, you were walking like a zombie in the club the other day." It stung Aparna bhabhi. She was astounded at his audacity. "Thank god these people are moving out, Arunesh will forget all about these wierd people once they are out of sight."

Arunesh thought he will get over this soon, but it wasn't working. Aparna bhabhi made sure he was never alone for dinner. The couple took him out with them to cheer him up. But there are some moments where you are just all by yourself, you just can't get away from those. And those painful memories came back. He didn't know what was hurting him, the fact that Karuna's life was messed up, or the fact that she didn't know about it, or maybe the fact that Rohit didn't deserve her?

Then one day, he sent her a 'Friendship request' on a social-networking site. She accepted it. He happened to go though her profile. There were some testimonials written by her friends.

Ryan: Guys think ten times, no ten thousand times, before you decide to buy her a drink. She is a bottomless pitcher. The only woman I know who can still walk straight after 3 Long Island Ice teas. An awesome dancer, a complete rockstar, and mera sabse jigri yaar (the ultimate and authentic 'tomboy' I have ever known).

Gauri: This woman is the worst cook I have ever seen in my life. The only thing she can do well in the kitchen is probably cut salad. Her only hope for survival is if she marries a guy who can cook.

Dilip: She may come across as this quite, dumb and clamped up girl the first time you see her, but she is as bubbly as the beer she's sipping ones she starts enjoying the company. An out and out party freak. Dotes on her friends. And combined with that, she is very intelligent too, you would know from her marksheets if you studied with her. I wonder what was God thinking when he made her.

...and a couple of more to that effect!

Its good to have hard-wired ideas in your head, but the pitfall is, you may become judgemental about people who don't conform to that set of rules. There are a million kinds of people, a million ways of living and you just know one, your own. Thats not the bad part, the bad part is you not realizing this fact.