To hell and back

Around 11am Ramesh was called in the cabin of manager Srivastav ji. Whenever this happens most people become alert wondering about reason of the meeting. It could be bad sales, complains about product or sometimes even a new order. Bad sales could mean delay in salary or even pay cut. Product complains means someone has to be sent to the factory to inform them, which is a horrible job. There no one listens to you and you come back with message that ‘message has been conveyed’. Ramesh emerged after 15 min with the hint of a smile. Everyone reacted to that and wanted a piece of good news.

“A new company in Shahjahanpur has decided to purchase 120 chairs and 20 tables from us.”

A wave of happiness spread among all 11 people. Lata gave a look to Ramesh and a thumb up. She asked quietly when do you leave. He showed his stop palm meaning, wait, will tell. Just then the phone rang. Peon Tripathi picked it, ”Ramesh ji, for you”.

Yes! Who is that? I see… After so long. Where are you? Hmm… I don’t think it will be possible. I need to be home by 6.30 after office. Mother is old and unwell. I… frankly it’s very difficult… I know that big hut. I have also heard about Lala ji… this is embarrassing… okay… so today bus depot 8pm.

When he placed the receiver down Ramesh was visibly tense and sweaty. He headed to the washroom. After he shut the door he clutched his head and waited for a bit, then rested his head on side wall. My god! How the hell did he appear again?

He knew Satish from college days. He was a very tricky person. Not violent but almost dangerous. Because of this Ramesh barely spoke to him. He would borrow money from anyone and not return it. Then threaten the person. Perhaps he was looking for short cuts to success. Satish also had tried his luck in getting friendly with Ramesh’s sister Pushpa. He borrowed a cycle once and returned it after 3 days…

After Ramesh left the office, he started walking in opposite direction. Lata asked,  “what has happened, why aren’t you going home?”

“I have to meet someone at bus stop at 8.”

“8! Who will inform you mother. She will be so worried!”

“I know. But can’t help. It’s an old friend.”

“I can take a detour and inform them if you want.”

“Can you do that? I hope it doesn’t put you in trouble in your own house?”

They parted. Both wore extremely worried look.

He purposely walked slowly. Bus stop was hardly 15 min away. But at this time that area starts getting deserted. Bus stop appeared. A bus was idling. Conductor was waving people to get in fast. He reached the place. The bus drove off, leaving a translucent mountain of dust. He noticed the hazy light of cigarette shop through it. Waving his hand in front of this face he reached the shop. Half an hour to go! He remembered he had refused a smoke earlier in the day, but now it is required for two reasons, one is to wait for a person who he hates and second to kill the killing tension.

“Four square small”. How expensive these are! But there are people who carry packets of them. He lit it with the end of a hanging rope, dragged once, looked around; country liquor bar came in his vision. He walked up, looked inside casually through the torn curtain. How in the hell people drink the stuff which smells so foul! He looked at his watch. Still 10 min to go. He walked back to cigarette shop and asked the man, “does the last Saharanpur bus come in time.” Man started with, ‘hmm’ and was getting into the mood of starting a chapter to explain it. Ramesh walked away.

He saw approaching lights of a bus. Kids selling snacks got active with their wares. He came to know the bus goes back after 20 min. So he realized that would be the maximum time he will have to tolerate Satish. But it was already so late. He thought he will stand and talk near this shop only. In case he plays foul; people can see. Bus stopped. Soon Satish emerged. He recognized him after so many years. He had to, because all others looked simple people. He got off with a flourish. Panned his look and found Ramesh. He walked briskly to him, “come” and moved as briskly to the bar. He walked in smoothly, as though he is a regular. Ramesh thought about the idea he just had about the bar. Satish pulled him inside by the hand and took an empty table, got it cleaned and ordered, “two ilaichi with soda.” I am not having”, Ramesh protested sharply. “don’t worry. I am there na. I will need it for my return journey. One limca”. He told waiter. After his first sip he relaxed. Ramesh asked him, what did he want. “Wait”. He said. After cold drink arrived and waiter left, he leaned forward and said, “I need a packet to be delivered to Lala ji. The one who lives in the big hut at the end of Teli lane.”

“Packet? What’s in the packet?” Ramesh had to be very alert. He knew he could get entangled in some very undesirable situations.

“Nothing big. My company owes him some chemical material for a process. I will pick up the product myself when it is ready.” He opened his brief-case and took out a palm size packet wrapped seriously in brown paper, then packaging tape. Few rubber bands also crisscrossed the packet.

“Looks like wad of money to me.” Ramesh said.

“If it was money I wouldn’t give it to anyone to deliver.”

He gulped his drinks and Ramesh emptied Limca. Satish paid at the counter and outside they parted. Ramesh bought some peanuts for his walk home. Soon bus reversed and started its journey.

In a while, he decided it was too late to deliver the packet to Lalaji at this time, although it was on the way. He should be going home soon. He was eating peanuts and thinking, what to do. Should he give it now or tomorrow? Then he realized crookedness of Satish. No, I wouldn’t like to take this damn packet home. Mom will ask hundred questions and hearing Satish’s name she will freak out. It’s already late, so might as well…

He started towards the hut. Outside a long haired man sat quietly. He wore a shirt that was perhaps a bed-sheet earlier. It had huge checks. He was sitting on a bound heap of garbage. There were more such heaps all around. Hesitantly Ramesh reached, stopped and approached him. Man became alert. He looked at him with questioning eyes.

“Lala ji? Have to meet Lala ji. Is he in?”

“You want to meet him? No body meets him just like that. What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. Satish has given a parcel for him.”

“Who Satish?”

“From Saharanpur. I met him at the bus stop.”

“Wait here.” Man got up from the garbage heap. He himself seemed garbage personified. He had a heavy limp. Ramesh thought he was like Shakuni Mama. Oh god, so he too is crooked! Man parted the layers of heavy gunny bag curtain and entered. Ramesh could see little of inside the hut as there was a bright bulb. But things were kept systematically, not like outside. Then the curtain fell. Ramesh finished packet of peanuts and tossed it aside, contribution to garbage, he thought.

Soon the limping man emerged, “do you have any message or any other thing?”

“No. Nothing.”

“You can go. He will get in touch with him.”

“I want emphasize that I have nothing to do with Satish. I just helped him to deliver this parcel.”

He reached home to two desperately worried women. His mother without asking any question served him food. Pushpa got a glass of water. After washing up he sat down. “Don’t ask anything. We will talk tomorrow.”

In the morning he did not give anyone a chance to talk and cycled quickly to the office. He was bit early. Staff started coming in. Soon all were inside. Srivastav ji also entered and sat in his cabin. Peon gave him a glass of water and newspaper. He received a call on his personal number. His face changed. He pointed to Lata to come in with her assistant. As she went in, he asked her to sit. She said it was fine. He disconnected the phone and said urgently, “pick-up your shooting equipment and crew. There has been a blast nearby. In fact in Teli lane. Go and get as much footage as possible from all angles… I mean you know all that. Our news agency has called. They heard about it from their own sources. We can get a lot of benefits if we send them exciting footage.”

“Yes sir of course.” And she came out of the cabin. Ramesh hinted, “What happened?” She showed him the stop sign as though she was in a tearing hurry. She picked up all the equipment and left.

Now the part below here has been ‘reproduced’ painstakingly from my memory. I just did not feel like writing all this all over again. But somehow I dragged myself to it. Moreover there was someone who really wanted to see how it ends and that made the reason strong enough to take it to its logical end.

In a minute Srivastav ji came out and said, “Lata has gone out urgently to shoot a story in Teli lane. There was big blast there.” Ramesh’s jaw dropped and heart sank down to the depth of hell, “Oh my god!” Everyone else wondered, how come a blast in this sleepy town! Who is so important or rich to be blown up? From this insignificant area if anything would appear on TV was, only when Neelkamal Ad Company sends their video report. This is the only company that does it.

At the blast site the big hut had been completely blown into tiny bits. Both the persons had died. Body of Lala ji was in shambles and man with bed-sheet shirt was lying up aide down. Ambulance staff was preparing to take them away. A police party was working, clicking pictures of various suspicious articles. Officer asked them to not come closer or enter right inside the hut, in case there is another charge. Gradually crowd from locality collected. They started questioning.

“Where do you stay? Did you hear the blast?”

“I stay at the other end of the lane. I heard a big sound, but did not know what it was. I thought some truck might have dumped coal in the iron factory. They keep doing that.”

Chai wala appeared from the close-by stall and started offering tea to cops. Sirens were heard and police officer dispersed everybody away. A senior officer was expected from the head quarter. Police jeep stopped near the crowd. Someone shouted everyone to get back. Cops looked at the destruction and perhaps made mental notes.

They might have got a lead on the gangs operating from another state and Lala ji was on their radar as assembler of crude bombs. Soon all the action got over. All inquiries by cops ended. Lata was shooting all this continuously. She went on the roof of opposite house and panned the camera across entire area to get all the details. In the end of the shot camera caught a crumpled paper that Ramesh had chucked, before he spoke to the man outside the hut.

After lunch Srivastav ji wanted to view entire footage before sending it off to agency. They were making a copy to send. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the monitor. As soon as Ramesh saw the peanut packet, he was shocked and ran to the washroom. Lata was surprised at his sudden action. But she kept her mind on work.

Ramesh shut the door and puked instantly. He was feeling shattered. What now! These people are sleuths. They will find everything. They will pick that paper and figure from where it came. At 9pm very few shops are open. That will lead them to bus depot. The cigarette shop will identify him… God! Oh my god! Nothing is left for him to look forward to. Life with Lata, his mother and sister! When they will know that he delivered that bomb to the big hut!

Office door opened and two police men waked in. They had seen Lata shooting the blast location. They watched some of it and then said, “we will need a copy of this right now. It has to be sent to higher ups. Srivastav ji said, “It is still being done. I will bring it myself to police station.” Ramesh got extremely nervous knowing cops had entered the office. He stayed in the washroom holding the fittings to avoid collapsing. After cops left, he came out and tried to behave as normal as he could. Lata instantly knew there was something drastically wrong with Ramesh. After the copy completed Srivastav ji left to deliver it. Lata loaded another tape to make a copy for agency. While leaving Srivastav ji announced, he will be going home after this. It is quite late. And everyone should come tomorrow on time.

Lata told Ramesh, “You carry on home. I will take some time. Last night also you reached late.” He agreed, picked up his things but looked back at her from the door… he felt this might be the last time he is looking at her.

Work at office finished an hour later. After the copy was completed Lata called agency and walked out. Peon shut the door from inside. He would stay there today.

Ramesh kept usual light hearted conversations on with two women. They ate in time. Spoke little about the blast. He made it sound unimportant. So many bigger blasts happen all over. You forgot about Mumbai? What is this; nothing, in front of Mumbai.

Pan wala saw Ramesh walking to the office. But he felt there is something different about him today and didn’t call out to him. He pushed the door and entered. Around 10.30 everyone was there. Srivastav ji came out of the cabin and addressed everyone. “Late last night cops have arrested the real culprit. Their links are with someone on the border of Nepal. One man called Satish died of a crude bomb blast in Saharanpur.” Oh! Saharanpur? Thank God! Did Ramesh suddenly step on a cloud?

“Ramesh you are going to Shahjahanpur to execute that furniture order. You leave tomorrow by 9am bus, return same day. Here are your tickets. Lata you have to interview SP at the police station tomorrow at 11am.” He went back in the cabin.

Bus to Shahjahanpur was to leave in 5 min.

Ramesh has taken his window seat.

Lata is happily chatting with him.

In Teli gali the blast site had been cleared. Someone is sweeping the area. An insignificant crumpled paper was seen getting swept with other rubbish.

In original version Ramesh just sits in the bus; feeling very relieved, and a faint smile appears on his face.

Reason to smile

Ramesh is a simple, hard-working youth. He is a Marketing & Accounts Clerk in Neelkamal Ad Co, Rampur. He makes very little money, just enough to support himself and two more, the old and frail mother and a young sister. He wants to save enough for his sister Pushpa’s wedding. Three of them live in a simple home, and possess old and rusty things. They cook simple food and lead a very basic life. Only kind of expensive articles with the family are two bicycles.

Sick! Isn’t it? So boring. But I did try to add some spice in my language and tried to make the family’s financial situation more tragic. When people are younger and their entire life is ahead of them, that’s the time money should not fall short, for boys and perhaps more so for girls. Everyone young girl wants to dress up and look nice, go out once in a while, perhaps see a movie, have an outing with friends etc. But Ramesh couldn’t afford to indulge at all:

Panwallah: saab finally today you want to spend one rupee on smoke?

Ramesh: Hmm I thought I may be getting some overtime in the office, so might as well relax a little.

Panwallah: very good idea. I know you do scrounge for the sake of didi’s marriage.  But sometime you should relax. How can one cigarette in two weeks harm your savings?

I have added a suspense angle in the story, when Ramesh is waiting for his worst friend at a bus stop at night. It was 8.15pm. Ramesh is always home by 6.30 and by 8 he is through with his dinner and sleeps off by 9.30, reading a book. But his unannounced delay had put his family in a deep state of worry:

“Subhash placed his briefcase on the table and looked around, then a second later he opened it. He withdrew a fat brown paper packet, its contents held toghether with two rubber bands. Ramesh could guess its contents only as a lot of papers. A glass of country liquor some Pakoras had arrived. He had a swig and offered him the Pakoras right into his nose. Ramesh found it quite aggressive, he picked one any ways. Subhash said, I want you to deliver this to Lalaji, of that big hut at the end of Teli lane. Ramesh was apprehensive. He hates Subhash and also had not heard good things about Lala.”

I hope I am able to really complete “Reason to smile”. Not that it’s a great story; but only that I started writing it in a very strange way. I had no plot in my mind, no characters and no idea about its genre, comedy, tragedy, love story or suspense… I just started punching the key board:

“Ramesh was walking to his office.”

Ok. Now what?

“He seemed a bit tense today. He was walking a bit more briskly than he usually did. He did not stop at the ‘paan wala’ and not even waved at him in usual daily namaskar Mishraji.”

Well it seems that Ramesh will be the lead character and he is tense right now. So, situations have to be created in the past that have made him tense in the present. Also the situations have to be good enough for him to ‘not’ turn towards his friends and wave at them. And more importantly they have to be strong enough to be included in the story. I was not in a mood of adding villains or fights with his family. So I decided to add that he received a phone call in the office and he went into his shell after that. I had no idea what the phone conversation was going to be:

“Phone rings. Peon picks it and points to Ramesh, “You have a call.” Lata and Ramesh both are confused. Who could be calling him on office number? Hesitating, he gets up and takes the receiver. Hello. His face distorts. He looks at heaven, stunned. He only listens. Then a yes, hmm, very difficult, it’s too far. I don’t even have a cycle today. Sweat appears on his forehead. Finally he says ok and hangs up.

“Who was that”, Lata asks.

“An old college friend”, he says.

“College friend, but then why are you so worried?”

I had introduced people in the office where Ramesh works. Lata was one of them. She and Ramesh are good friends, you know what I mean. Then I named the town the story is set in, Rampur. Now to match the small town Rampur, everything becomes small in size and status; office, business, people, their conversation, topics, salaries… but what doesn’t change are friendships and love, its intensity and spice that goes with it. Ramesh and Lata have been seeing each other without anyone seeing them, seeing each other. They have to work real hard to not bump into any familiar person around them. In a small town it is a near impossible task. But no one can fight what a young heart demands. A telephonic conversation between them is here as I end this last part of ‘Tragedy…’ with this:

Lata on phone, “is our evening plan still there?”

“Yes, 6.30, Mahatma Gandhi park.” Ramesh has called her from a public phone.

“Umm, but it is too bright at 6.30pm.”

“7.30 then?”

“Better. You know how this town is. Last Sunday we nearly bumped into the office peon in the park. It is not Bombay, you know.”

“Huh, as though you have been there. Listen should we try to take a bus a little out of town today?

“It will be too late to return.”

“That is true, it will be late. We could find the last bus time and go next time.”

“We can plan that when we meet now. See you then. By the way, are you wearing the shirt I gave you?’

“Yes, I am and are you wearing that what I gave you?”

“Shut up.”

Reason to smile? Hardly; but for a small town like this, may be.

Stress teaches calmness

‘Hello sir, the master (HDD of a TV episode) will leave office in 10 min.’
‘Ok, it is 3.30 pm right now so let us hope by 4.30 the work will start?.’
‘Yes surely.’
Ok, when your runner calls me, I will leave according to what he says.’
Runner called at 4.
‘Sir, I have given the disk to the studio on the first floor.’
‘Are they starting the mixing soon?’
‘Yes they will start now’
‘Ok then I will speak to someone and find out’

Gautam had planned to see a play at 9 pm. He knew the mixing takes about 4 hours, thus he will be able to make it to Prithvi just in time. He waited for runner’s call… but the phone did not ring for next one and a half hour! Tired of waiting, he called editor back.
‘What happen? The runner didn’t reach…’
‘No sir, actually the channel (TV channel) sent another set of feed backs, so we are stuck with them. We have informed the studio to wait until further signal.’
‘Oh god!… Ok fine.’
5 mins became 90 mins! He saw his play fading away into the oblivion. Gautam was getting waves of mild shocks of anxieties that were fading away as they were appearing. It became dark.
Gautam had an early dinner at 8, thinking the dinner time will definitely be when the mixing will be on and eating then will be not be practical. He any ways liked home food than to order snacks from restaurants. He is not young any more to eat outside stuff often.
Dinner over, gautam relaxed. He knew now, it was going to be well into the night, like any other tough day; err night. If it is inevitable it was no point worrying, he thought. he spoke once more to the editor and got a vague reply. Now he relaxed…
Call came at 10.30.
‘Sir, I have given the hard disk on the second floor.’
‘Ok’ gautam said, ‘but inform the office what time the work will start.’
Gautam reached the studio at 10.45. He calculated even if the work started at 11 it will be 3 am when it gets over. He entered the first floor first and asked who was going to mix it. They said it will happen on the second floor and the new engineer was going to mix. Gautam’s heart sank. His strategy has been to work with experienced people so that he does not have to be on high alert always. More over experienced people can contribute with their ideas to the episode much more than raw ones. He reached the second floor. The episode had been copied and tracks were in place. At 11, it rolled. The guy was doing fine. It fact he was quite alert about the dialogue quality and was very comfortable with software. After 13 mins of program was done, suddenly some guys barged in and started discussing another serial.
‘There is mistake and it has to be corrected. Telecast is tomorrow.’
‘How long will it take?’ Gautam asked.
‘Half an hour’
Gautam gave in. But it is always a problem to spend that spare time. In that sense that studio is a very boring place. he did not want to sit and watch another program. None of them were his type. He decided to take a walk in the long corridor. At 12 midnight he entered back in. But there was more bad news for him.
‘Sir the episode has to be remixed.’
‘Oh ok. and how long will that take?’
‘One hour’
Giving up gautam sat down on the sofa, then he put his feet up, soon he reclined and finally lied down.
‘Sir you can sleep for a while’
Gautam shut his eyes and mind from their conversations, program sounds and the discomfort that had fallen on him. He rested his head on his arm. Strangely today he was much more patient and relaxed…
And that helped him to take his ‘work seat’ at 2.30 am!
Now all the time was theirs. They put their heads down and worked till 6.15 am and did a decent job of it, in spite of being pushed around from 11 pm to 2.30 am. Stopping work for three and a half hours in the middle of the night! It was not funny.
Just about three months back gautam would not have taken this kind of incidence lightly. He would have made many calls and made a lot of noise at the unfair practice at the studio. But he knew it was nobody’s fault, except the channel to some extent.
In the end gautam thanked the engineer and left. In two minutes he was on his way home in an auto rickshaw. He was thinking that he was the worst sufferer in this case. He is also the oldest person in the team. But surely he got the maximum benefit from this night. He got a real practical lesson in how to keep cool.
Mulling over past few hours, he realized that no incidence in the night raised his heart beat or made him tense. He felt very good noticing his cool inner panorama. He needs it at this age and especially as he grows older – inevitably.

Train Salesman

The other day I was traveling by Mumbai local, returning to Andheri from Grant Road station. I had gone to see a film for my work. Train was a bit crowded but luckily I found a place to sit. Soon it was going to be very crowded, since it was a Virar train.

Suddenly I heard a voice trying to say something. Initially I felt he was pleading for people to give him place to move in so that he could come in. May be he was going to last station. You know some young guys block the entrance to get the breeze on their face. With a little struggle owner of the voice reached well inside. Then I realized he was a salesman. He was asking for place but not how a co-passenger would ask for. These people are licensed vendors, who carry their ware in large bags. When they find adequate space in the compartment, they display their ware and start doing special vocal tricks, which means introduction to the product. They have to attract people’s attention with a witty sales pitch. They all have made up their own dialogues, which they speak in a very funny and attractive way. They all are a bit of actors. They must make the passengers look at him, then look at the product held in his hands lastly they must find the price of the product surprisingly cheap.

So he started:

“Ladies and gentlemen, please look this side.”
“Friends just a minute, look this side.”
“Thank you. Here are Samsung earphones in the original boxes.”

These days everyone owns a mobile phone and most of them own a smart phone. Out of hundreds of passengers some ten may be in need of changing their earphones. So it is a good chance that in one compartment, four or five people will end up buying one.

“Dear friends can you guess the price of this good looking piece? If you go to a shop, store or a mall you will pay not less than 200 or 250 for this. (Actually he under quoted the price. Price of an earplug in a shop would be around 400 or 450) But our company (he carried on) due to its business deal is selling it for not 200, not 100, but only 50 rupees. You can see it. Hold it in your hand; even check it on your phone. No cost for seeing or checking. Please confirm that it is working and you like it, before you pull out your wallet.”

In an open challenge and trust, he held out 5 boxes to unknown people, out of which 3 people bought the product.

So, I realized his business works on smart talk, a working product and below reasonable price tag.

Janmashtami

In the middle cell of a high security prison, in the end of moon’s waning 15 days cycle, a woman delivers a baby boy in the middle of the night. She was delivering her baby in a prison because the king was scared of her children. All her babies were born there. It was predicted that her seventh child would kill the king. So the reasonable King was scared of woman’s every child. How could he take chances with his own security? He had killed earlier six babies of his own sister, Devaki, right after birth. This was the seventh one. He must be killed without doubt.

To save this newborn’s life, his father was furiously thinking of ways to smuggle him out of the jail. But for this he had to pass right in the middle of armed guards, carrying the baby. Guards knew this was the most dangerous baby for the king and had to be killed as soon as he was born. And for the mother this was yet another fading hope to see her child grow up. Bitterly sobbing mother placed the baby in a cane basket, in the middle of trash for disposal and covered him with a dirty cloth. Father was to carry the basket out of the jail. Hopelessly he looks around him. As he makes up his mind to take the risk of his life, he notices that the guard near his cell is sleeping with the keys placed on the table. The man extends his hand to grab it. The bunch falls on the floor, but man quickly pads the floor with a cloth. Guard does not move. Now baby’s father opens heavy metal door of his cell, just a crack. Carrying the basket, he places the keys near the guard and moves out. Mother Devaki lying in a dark corner.

In the middle of a deep royal crisis, every guard in the jail was asleep, leaving the all the gates open. Father quietly goes out of jail. It is raining heavily. He picks up some leafs and covers the baby. Crisscrossing the lanes of town he reaches the banks of river Yamuna. He has to go across to another small town for child’s safety. River is swollen. It is mid night. Sky is clouded. There is no moon. There is no light. All the boatmen have gone home. A few are sleeping soundly under covers in their anchored boats. Situation is hopeless. But the river has to be crossed. The child has to be saved.
Man takes a strong mental decision. This has to be done. He puts the basket on his head and steps into waters of swirling Yamuna. He tries to judge the depth by keeping one foot in front. He is able to find the shallow part of river. He is in the middle now. He can feel the ground but the water is beginning to rise. He is surprised. Water is up to his neck. He keeps moving ahead. Water rises further. His nose is getting splashed by waves. His concern is the child. To raise the basket further up, he raises his arms heaven wards. Yamuna rises further. Suddenly the child stirs and his right foot dangles out of the basket. Man stands on his toes, but a huge splash of wave rises covering the man’s head. Uncontrollable waves spash on the child’s dangling foot… and suddenly, in the middle of swirling floods, father notices that level of water has started going down. Man is shocked but he is too tense to analyse it. Soon he steps on land and walks swiftly towards his friend’s home.

Outside a large mud house there are hundreds of cows and buffaloes. He walks in the middle of numerous resting kettle and reaches already ajar wooden door. He knocks and walks in, shutting the door behind him. He brings the basket down. He calls softly. A calf moos. The baby turns. An elderly man appears. His wife too walks up sleepily… Through the sleeping town, same feet start tracing the journey back to the prison. He hears his baby crying and soon a woman pacifying him.

Baby’s loud cries wakes up entire household. They know he is hungry. Woman breast feeds him. He is still howling. Someone goes to milk a cow. It is too early. All the live stock gets disturbed and a din starts. Sun is rising. Hungry baby is crying. Everyone is awake now. Baby eyes a pot of butter hanging high up in the kitchen. Everyone is busy. He crawls to the kitchen, pulls himself on a settee, stands on a platform and grabs the pot.

To pray or not to pray

Many years back I read a book titled, ‘The Energy of Prayer’, by spiritual leader Thich Nhat Hanh. The book starts so perfectly with, “urge to pray is universal. We know of no culture, past or present, in which prayer does not occur… ” The book managed to start a frantic inquiry in my mind.

Without meaning any disrespect to the book or to the prayer, I would like to put my own thoughts on this point, meaning importance of prayer. My religion allows me to have my own intellectual interpretation of religious rules or tweak the religion according to my own analysis, intelligence and needs. Well, I feel sometimes prayers work and sometimes they don’t. There are no rules that it will surely work, just like no one can claim that it will never work. But millions of people pray in different religious ways. Some people quietly drop loads on money, gold and precious jewels into the temple donation-boxes. For them this too may be a prayer. Getting rid of hard cash keeps them safe from robbers and income tax. But also their prayers are answered with more cash and even more diamonds in return. So are their prayers working? Most people in this world do remember God, mostly as a natural instinct. When I yawn I migth say ‘ooooh god’. I don’t mean to remember god, it is just a reaction. For people of all faiths, speaking out the name of their God has been a habit, part of psyche, and genetics for centuries. In my opinion prayers too fall in the same genetic habit category.

The book tells a story of a young kid losing his pet white mouse, who has walked into a hole. Kid prays for 2 hours, but the mouse does not emerge. Kid is upset. He derives prayers do not work. Later the moral of the story is revealed, ‘since the kid was not praying for the wellbeing of the mouse; but was being selfish to get his friend back and that is why his prayers did not work’. Well isn’t everyone attached to various things and people around them and pray for the welfare of those. There would be no reason for anyone to pray unless there is something to pray for. But as soon as you have something to pray for it becomes a selfish motive. Asking God for upturn in your fortune, good health of a friend, getting a son, getting admission in IIM… is asking God to run errands for you. Praying with benefits in mind is reducing God’s value…
Let me analyze my own life as a sample case. I do not pray to anyone or any God. I am not a praying type, period. I believe in science and logic and thus do not find prayers logical. Praying is no way to get results in life. I cannot depend on prayers for success. In my younger days I too wished, prayed hard and worked hard to get so many things, but whatever I wanted never came to me. On the other side whatever I have got in my life has fallen in my lap on its own. So, prayers did not come in the picture. It is a simple law; ‘you get some, you don’t get some’. As the Urdu couplet goes, ‘har kisi ko muqammal jahan nahin milta, kabhi zameen to kabhi aasman nahin milta’ (people’s wishes do not get fulfilled entirely, sometimes the earth and sometimes the sky is missing)
So if you want something in life, use all the faculties God has already blessed you with like intelligence, strength, cunning, will power, smartness… and what have you. Just use these and get your piece of cake in life. You don’t need to pray for anything. Getting results on your own merit makes you more content and happy, than struggling on your knees and then getting it. People always have more respect for things they earned the hard way. If you have received a gold medal in a field, you would value it much more than all the expensive gifts that family receives every X’mas or Diwali. No one will ever part with any medal; but all the easy coming gifts are hauled away into a dark loft, to be lovingly gifted to other praying mantis, later on.
In recent times there has been only one occasion when I prayed desperately hard to get a certain result. It was because the nothing was in my hand, neither the action nor the result, only prayer was. But I did not pray to any usual, run of the mill known, but unseen and unfelt God. I chose to involve real entities like mountains, rivers, sun, moon, rain, sea, wind etc. I asked for their strength. Well, the result did go in my favor. If I want I can easily call it as my victory; but I don’t want to. It could have gone the other way too. It was only a matter of chance. Logically I doubt the effectiveness and dependability of prayers. For example ‘if you prayed for something and you got it, can be one part. But there is no proof that if you didn’t pray for it, you will not get it!’ For this you have to repeat the scene with same and not similar situation. It is not even a take 2. Take for example a Sikh couple in Punjab prays hard for years, to get a son as their first child; and they get it. Now to complete the experiment there has to be another but same situation. Same couple has to be used to determine the sex of their first child, but this time without prayers. It is impossible to do it. And that is a lacuna. There is no way to check both sides of the story; unless of course we ask the superman to turn the earth around in reverse direction and take the couple back in time, before the wife conceived for the first time. Prayers are a way to keep oneself content and happy, especially if things do go wrong. We can say, ‘we did pray hard for this but hard luck.’

Here I will narrate an incidence that happened in my family. Long ago an astrologer told my aunt that her son, Suresh (name changed) had a fatal confluence of planets in his birth chart. Obviously everyone at home got worried. Astrologer recommended a full course of ‘Maha Mrutunjay Yagna’. It was sincerely performed at the earliest available date. Years passed, after his education Suresh joined Indian Air Force. He used to enjoy flying and he was good at it. Soon he got married and had a daughter. In due course he was promoted to the rank of Squadron Leader. One day he was taking his wife and the baby girl for an outing on his motor cycle, when a speeding truck driven by a drunk driver smashed into them. Sunil died on the spot and other two thankfully survived. If I take astrologer’s true reading as a ‘constant’- which means that the accident has to happen.
The lesson that I learn from this story is that if ‘Maha Mrutunjay Yagna’ (prayer) was not performed and same accident would still happen; then the entire family, especially the parents would have never forgiven themselves till eternity. But performing it, kept them away from the guilt and scare of the eventuality, until the very day, it happened. And even after the accident, they would not feel guilty; since they did, what was in their power to do.

With every passing day this planet will go on becoming harsher and less inhabitable. Day to day survival will depend on your own strength, alertness and reflexes. You may find this statement entirely nonsensical, since today no one is ready to think this way. All the religious blabber has been so ‘politically correct’ for centuries. But after a century we will say, ‘who needs God, I have to do it myself ’, or ‘you can sit on your bottom and pray; but I am going out and getting it done.’
Obviously the world will grow less dependent on prayers, gods and religion; until a day will come when the ‘Word’ would have lost its significance… and forgotten. (Collection 2008)

To Capital by Rajdhani

Arun is going to Delhi for his niece Mishu’s wedding. He has been packing his bag since yesterday. In the morning he kept it on the bed and kept pushing toiletries as and when their use got over. He has decided to wear Indian clothes, like Kurta, Pajama and Dhoti for this wedding. His wife got one maroon Kurta, another one he borrowed from his son and rest he had. Arun thought, departure time of Rajdhani (4.40 pm) was very convenient. You get enough time to pack, have lunch and leave the house when everyone is ready for a siesta.

He sat in a taxi just before 3pm to go to Mumbai Central. Other than his small bag he was carrying two gift packets, one from his family and another from a friend. But for these he might have traveled to Mumbai Central by local train. At 3.55 pm he was at the station. His e-ticket was confirmed; but he had no idea about the seat. There was a huge crowd hovering around the reservation charts. It was a difficult task, as he had to take care of his 3 baggages and try to find his name. There! Without too much trouble he saw it, B2/72. He sent an SMS in Hindi to his brother Satish, ‘B2 dibbe ka aagman 9 baje hoga.’

Leisurely he walked down to the compartment, placed his bags on top berth. He felt the comfort of air-conditioning. Mumbai had become quite hot, he thought. It is April of 2008. He was taking so much trouble to reach an even hotter place- Delhi. A dog passed in the passage. It was very unusual, but Arun shrugged it off. Behind the dog, 2 cops were in toe. Now it was all normal and made sense. Sniffer dog got off the coach and went into the next one. Arun, kept his camera ready. When it came out again on the platform, he clicked his pictures. It was a fawn Labrador.

All the seats were not taken. There were 4 people for 8 seats. In front of Arun sat a young boy. Long hair, MP3 player, earphones and a cell phone that rang every now and then, ‘yeah mom, I am on my seat. No it is comfortable. I spoke to papa’. ‘haae, yeah man! Just imagine going to Delhi all alone. I hate it. Can you imagine I will reach tomorrow at 8.30 in the morning? So many hours in this train! I have never done it. Ok dude, bye. You take care.’ ‘Yeah mom they gave snacks and cold drink. OK I will call, when I get there.’ ‘OK papa, which uncle is coming to get me? Fine, but I could go by myself… Ok, I will wait for him. Train has just started.’

Arun surveyed the surrounding further. An oldish retired looking man by the window and an oldish woman in blue Saree opposite him. Woman makes a call. ‘Haan main Rajdhani mein baith gayi hoon. Kal 10 baje pahunchoongi. Station par jaroor aajana. Theek hai bhaiya? Didi kaisi hain? Theek hai, kaat rahi hoon.’ A waiter approaches, ‘veg/non veg?’ Old man says, ‘non-veg. continental.’ Arun is surprised, ‘continental?’ Is he mad? May be he is an ex-army types. He thinks he is in his officer’s mess. Arun tells the waiter, ‘Dinner veg., breakfast non-veg.’ Mr. Continental asks the waiter, ‘Dilli kab pahunchegi?’ ‘8.30’, waiter said. Woman in blue is worked up. She calls her brother again, ‘haan didi, train 8.30 baje panhuchegi. Bhaiya ko keh dena station par jaroor aaye. Theek hai haan, 10 baje nahin 8.30 baje.’ She fishes out a cone of Menhdi from her bag, sits comfortably and starts putting Menhdi on her left hand. The train is shaking a lot, so her crude design is getting cruder. Whenever she looks at her hand, Arun finds her smiling. Old man has taken out a book and is reading. He does not seem to be interested in making any friends. He doesn’t even want to have a conversation. Arun wears his glasses and steals a look at the title of the book. It is a P G Wodehouse. Oh, so old man has got some literary taste.
Train is at Surat at 7 pm. Old woman dusts off the dried Menhdi, takes out another cone and starts decorating her right hand with the left. This is worse. Wrong hand, moving train and shoddy patterns, all point in the same direction- ‘ugly designs’. Young boy was trying to look at Arun from the corner of his eyes, because Arun was doing the most weird thing, writing! He was doing so in fits and starts. Boy noticed Arun’s paper seemed have run out. He is using the back of his e-ticket print out.

Conductor starts supplying beddings to all. Arun has forgotten to bring soap. Luckily a small packet of paper soap is supplied to all. Old woman is sleeping. Her palm is turned upwards to dry the Menhdi. Boy is listening to music. His head hangs low. His hair has covered his face. Mr. Continental PG Wodehouse is still reading. Arun watches everyone and after a few moments, starts writing. Train has left Surat. Dinner is being served. Arun is waiting to see the surprise that is stored in food tray of Mr. Continental. He is opening a paper bag. He is going to blow his fuse at the sight of Continental Parathas. But no. These are toasts! Other cases have boiled chicken with peas, baked potatoes, curds… Arun is happy he did not make his feelings public. His head would be hanging in shame. Arun could not finish one of his two Parathas. He liked Arhar ki Dal that he ate with rice. He also liked the dessert. It was Lauki ka Halwa. Too sweet though. He leaves half of that too. Mr. Continental has cleaned up everything in his tray systematically, of course with knife and fork. He keeps his tray down, picks up his worn out toiletry bag and exits. Woman did not wash her hands before eating. Mr. Continental PG Wodehouse may be thinking, how dirty she is. She kept scraping the dry Menhdi right where she was sitting. Arun too keeps his tray down and goes to wash up.

Arun has picked up Midday newspaper, supplied by train staff. He reads cartoons and then glances at the ‘horoscope’. First sentence under his star, Libra is, ‘a long planned journey will materialize.’ He finds it spooky. He tears off that part and keeps in his pouch. Someone mentions name of Bahadur Shah Zafar. This kicks memories of two Rafi songs in his mind, ‘lagta nahin hai dil mera’ and ‘na kisi ki aankh ka noor hoon.’ Arun hums both songs almost entirely to himself. He realized he can not sing well now. At 9.15 Rajdhani is at Baroda. It is only 4 min late. Arun does a few stretches on the platform to relax. Signal turns amber; he boards the train, but doesn’t want to go to his seat as yet. He strikes a conversation with attendant, ‘how do your duties rotate?’ ‘I go to Delhi, then return by the same train in evening and reach Mumbai at morning. Then I get 2 days off.’ ‘Where is your family?’ ‘In Mumbai only. We have railway quarters for us.’ Arun says, ‘that’s not bad. You get a lot of rest time for about 40 hours of work.’ Attendant agrees.

Passengers have started making their beds. Next stop will be Ratlam, which will come very late at night. Arun has kept Mishu’s gifts on his berth itself. He does not want to put them down. A large Gujarati family is making a lot of noise. The kids are screaming but no one is controlling them. Everyone is busy talking themselves. Arun is clearly getting upset. He shouts twice, ‘shut up’. No one heard him. He takes out his forecast and reads again. Last part says ‘you should acknowledge feelings that obstruct your spiritual and emotional growth.’ He thinks about it and feels better. Everyone is on the verge of dozing off. Kids are shouting softly now. Every one of them feels that saying those words before sleeping is most important.

Arun is back from the loo. Old woman goes to the loo. Young boy does not go the loo. Old man, Mr. Continental Wodehouse has been to the loo and is now in his Lungi. His worn out bag hangs above his head. Arun covers with the sheet. His fits his legs in the narrow space next to the gift boxes. He stares at the ceiling. Some lights go off. More lights go off. All lights go off…
Arun is turning in his bed often. It is dark. Train is fast and unobtrusive. It is doing its job well. Only one person is snoring. Surprisingly it happens to be the young boy.

Arun is seen getting down. He seems drunk while walking to the toilet. It is nearly 5am. In another 3 &1/2 hours he will be in Delhi, he thinks. He wants to avoid a queue outside toilets, so he brushes his teeth, has a wash and comes back to his berth. It is 5.20am now. Lying on his berth, he looks at the large open window. He sees smoothly changing patterns of trees and rails on the other side of the window. He notices that exterior is soaked in a faint natural light. He seemed to be awed by the pre-dawn, soft, uniform, cool and peaceful light.

Mad ideas start entering Arun’s head. Or perhaps his head is generating them. He thinks about that he has been travelling with his legs towards the engine. That means during this journey his beard wouldn’t grow too much, as the speeding train will keep it pushed in, to some extent. He wonders what would happen to his spinal disks? Would they be relaxed due to being pulled away rather or will get squeezed together. He is confused. Yes, a lot of blood will go the head that may enhance intelligence. But if his head was on the same side as the engine then beard would have been longer due to being pulled out of his cheeks. And whatever happen to his vertebrae pulled or sqeazed, he would be a shorter or a taller man when he gets off.

It was getting brighter by the minute. There is a bottle of water at the window. Arun watches the window behind the bottle and fleeting landscape behind the window. He takes out his camera and shoots a few videos of the action without actors. 6am bed tea. He refuses it; too early for him. 7am breakfast is being served. Even this is too early, he thinks. Old woman is again dusting dry Menhdi right near her. Mr. Continental is having his breakfast. Young boy is too tall for top berth. He eats up with only his head raised a little. Arun is not tall, so he sits tall and eats. Mr. Continental is back to Wodehouse. Young boy has gone to sleep again. Old woman straightens her legs on the berth and lifts her blue Saree above her knees. She looks up at Arun and turns towards the window and again does the same. She applies a cream on her legs and starts massaging. With every movement of her hands on her knees she does ‘aah, aah’. She ‘aahs’ for a few minutes and then closes the cream bottle. Smell of eucalyptus oil is hanging in the air. She is looking at Menhdi on her hands and smiling softly. Arun is wondering, perhaps she can not see too well. Good for her. She can at least appreciate the Menhdi she worked so hard to apply. Rajdhani halted at New Delhi station right on time. Arun is carrying all his stuff by himself. He is softly refusing help from coolies. After a whole lot of in-activity, some exercise would be good for him; he thinks.

Hundreds of thoughts that Arun thought about, have exited his head. They now exist only on small little pieces of paper; legible – perhaps to him only. His phone rings. Anil and Shyam are waiting outside the station for him.

Ever Pink Mumbai Flamingos

Recently one of my very old wish, got fulfilled. I don’t remember when, I had read in a news paper that Mumbai gets migratory birds every year. Since I have also been a keen amateur photographer, I was very excited. But I was a little puzzled too. I thought this city seems far from a sanctuary for delicate migratory birds. I could not imagine where would they perch, what would they feed on and where would they lay their eggs? If it happens by the seaside, then where? Or is it in the forest area of Mumbai like the National Park? Of course Mumbai was not like this always, but presently entire sea coast of the city is polluted and the forest has so much encroachment and other disturbances. Much later I came to know that birds are Flamingos and they land near Sewri. Sewri? I thought! It is so industrialized and there must be so much oil spilled around due to the refineries…

Well just a few days back a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to go to Sewri to watch the Flamingos with him. I immediately said yes, of course! He suggested that it was better if I stayed the previous night at his house, in Bandra since we were to leave home at 5.30am. I agreed, no hassle. If a dream was coming true after so many years, anything was ok. It was important to be there before the sun rise. All was done as required and as planned. Our car rolled out of the gate at 5.30am and we were at Sewri area by 6.00am. It was our first visit to the area, so we had to ask for directions and proceed slowly. Gradually we rrealised that the mud on the edges of the road was getting blacker. The smell too changed. And the air felt a little heavier. Driving slowly and looking around we finally reached near the landmark that was told to us, the blue ‘Colgate’ building. We parked right at the edge of the slushy sea and got off. There were four security guards sleeping on a platform under a tree. I am a little wary of security guys. I had no idea whether it was allowed to be so close to sea or if we can click pictures with oil refinery in the background.

It was still dark. We were carrying a pair of binoculars. Looking through them my friend suddenly said excitedly, ‘there they are! My god, there are thousands of them!’ With my old bare eyes I too concentrated but could notice only thousands of out of focus pink dots scattered over the sea bed. As the light was still very low, I could not see them very well. So I put my specks on and then, saw them very clearly. All of them were walking about by themselves, looking down and constantly picking up something from their beaks. Obviously they were picking up food. I can only think it might be either small shells, baby crabs or fish stuck in the shallow due to low tide. I took the binoculars and realized the view was absolutely fabulous! As now I could see them very clearly and in group of 4-5. Most of them were entirely pink in color. Some were white and some had geometrical designs on white feathers. Their beaks were large with the tip turned in.

The clouds hanging over the silhouetted refinery structure in the distance were beginning to get hit by patches of flaming red color. In a while a part of the sun peeped out from behind a hill. I kept clicking away with my digital camera. Sometimes I was using full zoom to get a small patch of shimmering pink on the sea bed. We soon realized that there was no way of us walking closer to these great birds as entire sea bed was very soft to walk on. What a pity, we thought and started thinking of finding another place to get a little closer. I hid my camera as we reversed the car and drove off leaving the soundly sleeping watchmen without even a stir. Now I noticed a fleet of oil tanker trucks parked all along the road side. We moved slowly and found a tea stall from where we could watch the end of the road into the sea. I asked the Chaiwala if we could go to the end of the road to see the birds. Of course, he said.

It was a good cup of Mumbai’s famous ‘cutting Chai’. We parked the car well before the end of the road. Ships were berthed on both sides of the road that was actually a jetty. It was a strange site. So many people were exercising and doing Yoga right on the edge of the jetty, overlooking the distant sea and the Flamingos! I thought what a difference in life.
Here I am who has struggled so hard and waited for many years to watch these birds and here are some people who are engrossed in themselves right in front of these amazing birds.

By this time the light had come up and I could see their activity more clearly. I took a lot of pictures until I was happy. I am very fond of the ambiance of ships and shipyards and also trains and their associated atmosphere. I shot pictures of those ships tied to the huge pillars with giant sized ropes. Due to low tide ships had no life in them. They were totally still. I sometimes wonder, why visuals and sounds of trains and ships excite me so much. Last but not the least, there is (actually was) this little known ‘Sewri Fort’, right there. It is not a very large fort, and it is certainly breathing its last. Nothing is right about it. Its walls have crumbled down. Trees have grown on walls that have not yet broken. There is a lot of garbage dumped all around. The fort has been encroached upon from all sides. Slums have come up everywhere. Worst of all, all those slum dwellers use the fort as a toilet. From top of the roofless fort I could watch the sea, the Flamingos and the drab blue structure of Colgate factory.

Flashback

As I kept my eyes glued on the birds I got lost in thoughts. Slowly, I noticed that distant structure of Hindustan Petroleum refinery, started fading away. The ships and the jetty were gone. As I turned my eyes away from sea, I realized blue Colgate building too had vanished and entire area looked bare but green. I had no idea where I was. Suddenly I heard stern male voices in typical British accent.

As I looked in their direction, I saw many British soldiers adjusting canons through the peepholes of the fort. Some of them were watching the sea through large binoculars. I am very scared of security guards, so I was worried in case someone noticed me. And one guy in red uniform did! I froze. He started moving towards me. I nearly wetted my pants. I shut my eyes. Crisp sounds of his metallic soles passed me and went away behind. I tried to wipe the sweat off my brow. I could not feel it. I looked at my hand, there was nothing. There was no me any where. For miles there was only green earth and blue sea with thousands of shimmering pink dots.

2 Drinks 2 Much!

I don’t drink alcohol any more. I started in 1971, as trial or experiment, then more tasting, enjoying, offering friends, on the verge of addiction, and finally to 2 drinks of social drinking… but after 27 years I gave it up suddenly in January of 1998. Jan 25, 1998 to be precise. I have a great will power, so I did not have to reduce it gradually. On Jan 26, I announced loudly, ‘cut’ and the role of liquor in my life was over. ‘I have had enough of it – for life’, I said. I had enjoyed it, hated it and suffered it too. Some thought I was a fun chap after a few drinks, but I know after booze, if someone tripped on my toes, it made me mad and following scenes would be ugly. One fine day I felt responsible for one of those ugly scenes and decided to give it up for ever. That day, I think I was going to earn the ugly tag of ‘not a nice chap’. So in spite of really loving my drink, it was far from painful for me to call it a day. Interestingly raising of my first glass of alcohol too had not been without serious pains…

Background of this lies in the fact that for generations nobody had ever consumed alcohol or ate non-vegetarian food (including eggs) in my family. Some time even ‘Tamasic’ garlic was not allowed in our house. I had never seen a bottle of booze even in a shop nor had I seen anyone carrying it or drinking. I had seen only villains in movies ripping the chicken legs. Many years back as kids, we would slyly point to a house from far and say ‘you know they cook non-veg or one old man in that house, drinks!’

First time I saw someone drunk was when I was 11 years old. We were in a small town called, Bhagwanpur. My father had taken me on his bicycle for shopping. In the market he met an acquaintance, also with a cycle in the market. They both stopped and started chatting. I noticed that man’s face was red and he was not steady on his feet. I found him looking like a dangerous criminal; perhaps like a dacoit. I was trying to hide myself behind my father. Just as they finished talking the man bent towards me unsteadily saying, ‘so this is your son’ and my breath got filled with an unbearable and unknown stench. He almost dropped his bicycle, while bending towards me. I freaked. My father was holding my hand tight, in case I run away…

Ten years later when I was 21, I found myself picking up my own first glass of an alcoholic drink. I was studying in Poona, far away from my family. I remember it was in the hostel room of an editing student, Madhu Sinha. There were 4-5 students huddled in a dark moodily lit and smoke filled room. I don’t think in that group anyone was well off. So it was very difficult for them to offer some of the precious black rum to me. I saw their faces; they were clearly giving me dirty looks, because I was over staying in their room with a definite purpose of bumming a drink, my first drink. Finally I was given 1mm of rum in a glass and it was topped up with tap water. After glasses stopped clinking and everyone finished whispering customary ‘cheers’, I brought the glass rim to my lips and… sipped it. I knew it was not going to be pleasant; but I had no idea that it will be so horrible. I looked away to hide my disgust. Slowly I kept sipping it and kept eating lot of salted stuff right under their dirty looks. I was happy that I got a chance to experience this horrible tasting stuff. It helped me reach an important decision right there- ‘I was not going to drink again’. Another thing that I was working on was, to find its effect on me. I could not discover anything, then. But soon I realized that I had stopped talking. I would answer everyone with a nod and sat there with a smug smile pasted on my face through out. After others finished their much larger drinks, my glass too got empty. We all split for dinner.

I watched their body language. They all had turned much louder and aggressive. It was a way of telling the rest that they have had the privilege of having a drink. So don’t mess. I did not want be a part of that group. I don’t like aggression that might get physical. I came out of the hostel and decided to take a walk on the path. I was concentrating hard on studying the effect of that tiny drink on me. I was delibearately conscious, too conscious. My arms in place of swinging normally; were fixed by my side. Anybody would understand that I was trying to be steady by mentally shackling myself.

Next morning I got up and headed for the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me- a dress code for students going to bathe. Someone passed by me giving a strange look. Then a friend stopped in front and said what has happened, your whole body is red! I looked down at my stomach… legs, my arms. They were all deep red. I was shaken up to the core! I went back to my room, picked up the small mirror and did detailed checkup. I was red all over, on my back, behind the neck, except my palms, soles and face. My heart was beating hard. I had no idea if this was permanent or what. I might have to go to a doctor and will have to admit that I had a drink. I thought that horrible ‘rum’ was the biggest mistake I had made. That was my life’s most disturbing day. I am supposed to be here for educational purpose, on my father’s hard earned money and I have committed a sin. That is how I have been brought up.

Well, I picked up courage, wore an old shirt and went for bath. As I poured water on me, I got a shock. The feeling of flowing water over my body had changed drastically. I felt as if my skin had thickened with some rash and the sensation of any touch had changed totally. It was strange kind of a pain. Enduring the pain I soaped myself and used as little water as possible. Worst was yet to come. As I used the towel to wipe my hair and neck, I felt my skin was getting peeled off. I just sat down in pain and shock. Slowly I touched the back of my neck to check for the blood. It wasn’t there. I started dabbing myself softly to dry and gingerly come out. Wearing clothes also was a pain and then while walking to my class, trousers and shirt rubbing against skin too was horrible. I knew that I was in deep shit. I had to tell my friends that it is the reaction of a drink and I was never going to drink again. It does not suit me…

I did not go to any doctor and took no medicine. I couldn’t. It took ten full days for the rash to subside on its own. Few months later I entered my final year. I was very tense and had been studying real hard. I friend of mine asked me to share some beer with him. I said no way. He said don’t worry; beer is not a hard liquor. I had that beer and next morning my skin again erupted with the same violent reaction. I cursed myself for having to face all that discomfort all over again. But I noticed this time the skin condition got cured in 6 days.

In my heart I was encouraged, but I thought it was not worth it. My studies-schedule was very tight, but I friends cajoled me to have a small drink, on and off. I too was checking if my body was getting accustomed to alcohol. If it was, I thought it would be a good sign. The skin reaction time kept falling from 10 to 6 to 4 to 2 days and finally it was all over. It took almost a year to achieve this…

I remained a faithful friend to alcohol for 26 years and then respectfully parted company; for good. Now sometimes I would sniff an open bottle of a good whiskey or a red wine for an appreciation purpose only. I have a lot of respect for a good drink and for people who respect their drink. Even the doctors say that having 2 drinks is healthy at my age. But since I have totally detoxed myself, I would not like to complicate matters once again. So I feel I will be fine without those 2 drinks, even if doctors are fine with it.

Keep Walking

In life when we all move ahead to achieve our goals, be it just reaching the office or improving the bottom line of a manufacturing unit, we come across various obstacles.
As a person moves ahead on a certain path, he meets so many obstacles or doors that are shut, breaking his progress. Obstacles have to be overcome and the doors have to be opened in order to move ahead in the direction one has chosen. So what do we do when see a door shut on our path from a distance itself? Do we stop in out tracks right there, or reach the door then see what happens, or may be slow down the speed and watch if the delay helps or just move with confidence? And finally when we reach the door do we just push open it if it is still shut or find an alternate route without even touching it?
The kind of decisions that we take tell a lot about our attitude to life. We could be a pessimist, optimist, unconfident, over confidant, scared or couldn’t careless types. There is no denying that everyone’s life has challenges, obstacles or if nothing, tricky situations. And if anyone has to get anywhere he has to keep moving in the chosen direction.
What I do to go about in life could be considered between optimistic and reckless. I must be having it from my childhood. I remember when I was just 12 years old I used to cycle very fast. I was in Allahabad, which is fairly a big city. I had to cycle about 5 km one way between my home and school. I had to cross many heavy traffic zones. Although there were mostly bicycles, cycle rickshaws, few cars and scooters, but I went fast right till the point I met the real stop point. My reflexes were good and I was confidant of myself. But what I realized that mostly I went through the traffic in the same speed, because I found some gap that got created by the time I got there. That was an attitude of an optimistic to the point of being reckless. It is also true that I would have definitely braked if I was going to bump into something in front. So somehow I got trained into acquiring that attitude in life.
No sensible person really would kill himself on purpose. There is no way through the two head lights of a truck, obviously. After all of us are carrying a lot of responsibilities, of our family, work, our health and social ones. But the attitude of always playing safe can eat into the height our success could have reached, if we were a little bold.
I feel most of my decisions have gone right. I jumped into studying films without knowing the consequences. I was just so excited. Living so far from Bombay, I had never thought that movies could ever be my career. I was fascinated. I never imagined that I will be making money from those stars, whose films I would not be able to watch because I had no money. I only dreamt about them day and night. Even when I got my admission in the film school I was not sure where I was headed, after I finished. But I went ahead, studied hard and when I reached Bollywood, the doors just opened. Now I have been around here since 1972 and did fairly well too.
I am not trying say that this is the attitude to be followed. I am also not saying that all of my decisions have been right. I am only trying to put across that if someone does not walk with a resolve of finding the doors open by the time he gets there, then a lot of his time and valuable opportunities may be lost. Perhaps one should consider the doors and obstacles in your path more like illusions rather than reality and just keep walking.