E.T. @ E.T.

We at Entertainment Today have always reported extraordinary events occurring in the outside world to you. But today something extraordinary happened right inside our office! Reportedly, at about 10.45 a.m. (time changed), a woman (gender changed) barged into our office claiming to be an Extra-terrestrial or an Alien, as known colloquially, and demanded to be interviewed by us.

Here are excerpts from the extraordinary interview that ensued:

ET: Hello, Please give a brief description about yourself..

ET(allegedly): Hi, my name is Natassha D’sousa (name changed) and I am a Milkman (profession changed) at Sri Bhargava Institute of Technology (college changed), Nuamundi (place changed)..

(We are really trying to keep his identity under wraps you see..)

ET: So you claim to be an Extra Terrestrial, or I should say.. an Alien?

ET: Please.. Don’t use that A-word.. Even an Indian in USA is an alien.. what’s so special about that.. Being an Extra Terrestrial?? Yes.. that’s a special feeling..

ET: So… what made you think, or rather believe that you are an ET?

ET: Well.. I saw this TED video on my laptop.. which talks about the baffling phenomena at work that facilitate the process of creative genius, and it stressed upon a surreal, indistinguishable voice, which tells us what to do. When people listen to that voice and follow it word to word, they are automatically branded as Genius. I also heard such a voice and thought it’s best to inform the public through a respectable and highly credible medium such as yours (éclat changed).

ET: So what do these voices sound like? Where do they come from? What do they tell you?

ET: Well.. to tell the truth they are as indistinguishable as the multiple questions you are simultaneously firing at me right now and if I had been a lesser mortal, I would have been entirely discombobulated.. but the fact that I am not, serves as a proof that I am indeed a superior form of existence (various profanities deleted). Coming to your questions, the voices are like radio signals, invisible yet clear enough to be discernable. And it’s quite obvious they are transmitted by an alien ship hovering above our earth… What they tell me.. is.. well.. a complex issue to address..

ET: Could you please elucidate for our readers convenience?

ET: Yeah sure.. that’s why I’ve come here.. I only said that to catch some breath.. see.. it all started three nights ago…

Now, before anything, let me tell you.. I am a thoughtful guy by nature, but I do all my thinking during the day. Nothing should interfere with my beauty sleep and hence I am generally a sound sleeper, without any family history of insomnia or somnambulism etc. But that night I just couldn’t sleep.. it was as if my mind was in overdrive mode and was being flooded with infinite quantities of information coming from an unknown source. I tried very hard to fight it and get back to sleep but I just couldn’t.. I just couldn’t! Hence I woke up, took a chair and sat in the verandah. There I sat motionless for three days and three nights, without as much as a bathroom break, and finally established contact with the supernal forces of nature.

ET: How are you so sure that it was from aliens and not just a figment of your imagination?

ET: Once again.. alien is a pejorative term and I wouldn’t like you to use it. Anyways, earlier I was myself confused as to what are those strange voices inside my head and tried to fathom them.. but they were just random words and basically..

ET: (interrupting) What were those random words? What did they say?

ET: Well.. random things.. no particular theme or string of thoughts.. just very random stuff like..

ET: (interrupting) Like Mission to Mars? 2001: A Space Odyssey? Planet of the Apes?

ET: You forgot War of the Worlds.. but yes it was a forgettable movie anyways.. (he didn’t really say that.. but you know.. its Entertainment Today after all..). Well nothing like that.. the voices just kept answering whatever questions were popping up in my mind for the entire three day period.. (long pause) you know random questions.. about life, faith.. love… family… you know.. India.. life.. oh I just said that.. sorry.. please edit that out.. okay? And you know that kinda’ stuff.. questions that bother us middle class people (class changed).

ET: So what were the questions that it answered? Could you cite a few?

ET: I knew you would ask that and hence I had an ace up my sleeve.. the voices answered all my questions.. ALL.. just the fact that they kept me busy for three long days should tell you that.. and they empowered me to answer any question that any normal human being could possibly ask. So here’s my ace.. why don’t you or any of your listeners.. (mild interruptions).. oh this is not being broadcast live? Oh.. sorry sorry.. please edit that part too.. so.. why don’t we switch places and I become the interviewee and you become the interviewer and ask me any question you want.. and I’ll answer it (triumphant smile)

(mild interruption).. oh is it? We are already following those roles.. really sorry.. please edit that entire segment.. three days is a long time you know.. causes mental fatigue and all.. anyways.. you ask any question and I will answer.. and you studio people can participate too.. it’s an open offer..

ET Team: Sir, what is the purpose of life?

(brief pause)

ET: We have so many entrance exams in our country.. even I failed (accomplishment changed) one to become a part of my college.. Life is also an entrance exam to determine who gets to achieve supreme enlightenment..

ET Team: Can you define ‘Supreme Enlightenment’ more intricately? And what is the purpose of achieving it?

ET: Well supreme enlightenment is the state when all your questions are answered and there is nothing left in life for you to ponder upon. Life, which is full of struggles, is the test that determines who deserves to get the gift of enlightenment. The thing is… you need to impress the Extra-Terrestrials by showing them you have a lot of perseverance and grit and are a respectable candidate to be endowed with such an alarming quantity of knowledge and wisdom. All these little difficulties in life that you face everyday are like the individual questions in an exam, each contributing towards determining whether you clear the exam or not. See the basic reason why you need such a lot of grit to be gifted that knowledge is because the entire purpose of being endowed with it, is that you can convey it to ordinary, non-gifted folk. And you need a lot of grit for that coz when you tell the lesser humans, the startling facts of life, they would ridicule you, chide you, jibe you and tirade you… but when they understand what you said was the ultimate truth, they would worship you. Just like Buddha… the only difference is that he attained his enlightenment under a banyan tree.. I attained mine in a balcony..

ET Team: So you mean to say this exclusive knowledge is contained by the Extra-terrestrials and passed on to some very special people so that they can become prophets one day?

ET: Absolutely.. and thanks for putting my verbose answer in a nutshell..

ET Team: So give us some examples of that hallowed and precious knowledge.. give an answer to say.. you know.. Why is there so much suffering in the world?

ET: I already answered that.. suffering is a part of the entrance test..

ET Team: (interrupting) Yaya.. got that.. tell me why do people fall in love when they know it would remain unrequited?

ET: People don’t fall in love.. nobody can fall in love (makes weird face).. falling is an instantaneous activity.. happens in a snap.. like this (snaps fingers).. love doesn’t.. I mean its love.. not 2-minute noodles ki button dabaya aur ho gaya.. its generally fondness that people mistake as love at first sight when they meet someone affable.. the movies and songs and greeting card companies are to be blamed for creating this disillusionment in our heads.. and making us trigger-happy when it comes to labeling any sort of feeling as ‘love’… but the fact remains that love takes time and it is often a conscious decision.. there is always a return path..

ET Team: Okay fine.. “Love Guruji”.. you said you asked about India too? So tell me.. when would India become a superpower?

ET: India is already a superpower.. look at the number of MNCs’ who have established their offices here. Undoubtedly, this process has brought in a lot of revenue in our country, but now it’s time to use this revenue to create our own.. it’s time to create an era where indigenous multinationals are spawned.. after all, a country is not branded a superpower based upon the number of MNCs’ whose work it outsources.. A superpower is one which has many home-grown businesses which turn into MNCs’ one day…

…And that is the biggest problem here.. Lack of Entrepreneurship.. and I am not talking about your neighborhood tea-stall or Convenience stores.. they are entrepreneurs in their own right but not the ones I am talking about.. India has lots of budding talent.. it’s just not given the right impetus to grow or the environment to incubate.. it’s like.. what do you need to convert a 20 Rs. Per liter milk into a 100 Rs. Per kg Curd? Just three things.. half a teaspoon of curd, the right temperature and some time. Similarly if the government shells out a little curd to every bowl of milk in India, gives it sufficient time to incubate in the right environment.. it will produce an uncountable quantity of curd to continue the cycle…

…But our government has been doing that isn’t it? Encouraging entrepreneurs through National Entrepreneur Development Cells? But there’s a problem there.. what happens if you add more than the required quantity of curd in the milk? It will go sour, become unpalatable and lose its value. That is exactly the problem with our government.. when they give out funds.. they do so in extremely large quantities.. and the budding entrepreneurs are so ambitious that they want to utilize all the money at once and get a break-even in the shortest possible time. They want to establish multi-million businesses overnight.. but just like you can’t take nine women and create an offspring in a month.. you can’t create a successful business overnight.. it takes time and it also needs careful monitoring of fund allocation..

ET Team: Okay one final question and that would settle it.. answer the most universal and timeless question of all.. why did God, if there is such a thing, create this world?

ET: Well firstly, God very much exists.. You think Newton’s Three laws run this Universe?? Please…Gimme a break… (shuffles in his seat) He was the one who created the Extra-terrestrials and to wit, we humans are not Nature’s finest creations, they are…

…And to answer your other question, I think… no wait... I believe.. please edit out that ‘I think’ part.. I believe that someone as divine as God would never create something so chaotic and repugnant as this world.. it’s obviously the work of some lowly, demented creature…. (stares blankly into space) God didn’t create us.. he couldn’t have..

ET Team: So who did it? Aliens??

ET: Once again that word.. anyways I pardon that.. Yes.. your so called ‘Aliens’ are the creators..

ET Team: Why the heck would they do such a thing? What would they get out of it?

ET: I would answer your question with another question.. Why do we create Rube Goldberg machines? What is the inherent joy we get from creating something complex and yet so futile? It’s all about getting a high and proving your expertise at creating something.. isn’t it? It’s all just a way of saying that “I am above you losers.. I am creative and I created such a complicated machine that you couldn’t even imagine.. and just to rub it in.. I made it completely useless.. haha!”. Similarly.. Our world is just another pretext to satisfy some bloated extra-terrestrial ego.

ET Head: Well.. It does seem that you have certainly had some divine intervention in you inherent ideals, but why did you turn up for this interview? Do you want media attention?

ET: No.. not at all.. I don’t want to get any media attention and strictly request you to keep my identity under wraps (gestures with a finger on her lips).. my aim behind this extraordinary* interview was most noble.. just wanted to spread the word.. I don’t want any popularity by virtue of media coverage.. No Sirrr (waves both hands).. Actually the problem is that when you start getting a lot of Media attention, you are no longer a heart or a soul.. you are just a face that speaks.. And I certainly don’t have a face like this to deserve so much media focus (takes out photograph of KRK ; published below)

*(he actually used the word)

*****Inspired from actual events

The Necklace

This is not going to be a story, article, poem, speech, excerpt or any of the other literary contrivances that this blog has attained the notoriety of nurturing. Instead for once, it’s going to be more like other ‘normal’ blogs, where people express their thoughts and emotions in a very direct manner and not enveloped within morally upright and righteous tales conjured up for the purpose of creating the aberration of a scholarly delivery. Infact, the theme of the following meandering string of words is going to be simple..

“How to live the life that awaits us after we graduate”

I know it’s a very hackneyed topic and many a bloggers blog about it, year-after-quotidian-year, by getting all worked up and nostalgic about the fact that they are about to leave the place they spent four unforgettable years in. Well don’t worry.. it’s gonna be nothing like that.. especially because it comes from no one else but me.

The round of self-appraisal apart, the reason I emphasize the uniqueness of this post by virtue of my ingenuity, is because it’s not going to have any of the standard elements of an about-to-leave-college-approaching-a-delayed-puberty-blog... viz.

• Cheesy quotations from novels and movies (inarguably read & seen during this period)
• Mention of crappy little insignificant incidents
• Use of ‘hip’ words, smiles’ or textese in an attempt to connect with the audience
• Sense of gratitude towards the four year period of seclusion/reclusion
• And.. finally.. Nostalgia..

*

The world is a brutal place (No I haven’t faced its full brunt yet, but whatever little I have, has always pointed to this conclusion). Now when was the last time you heard that? Quite often, if I consider that you belong to the class of first generation engineers in your family and I presume there are a lot of those, especially because, before the IT boom facilitated the creation of engineering colleges in even the remotest of locations, engineering was considered to be a highly technical and specialized course. But the great rule of democracy didn’t spare this walk of life and now almost everybody can say that they are the proud owners.. oops.. parents/uncles/aunts/childhood neighbors of an engineer from an obscure engineering college (Anyways, what’s in a name, it’s the pay-packet that you receive at the end of the four years which matters, isn’t it?).

So after digressing enough from the original topic as your patient (sometimes loyal) readership would allow, let me get back on track. The world is a brutal place. What does this mean? It’s nothing like the idyllic and serene setting of your college. And to further impart lucidity to the statement, lets break it up into bullet points..

• The world doesn’t give a damn about what you think.
• The world doesn’t give a damn about your knowledge.
• The world doesn’t give a damn about what you dream.
• The world just doesn’t give a damn. Period.

Most people are used to being coaxed, apologized to, and basically getting things done pretty much the way they want them to be done. Which explains the frequent mess strikes, the rallies for taps that run dry, the languid daily routines, et al. It’s not entirely wrong to go about your own way, after all it incubates ‘leadership skills’ inside us, something we can proudly flaunt while tearing apart our own friends in GDs’ for a company. The moderator is quite impressed by the obvious ‘I’m-the-leader-of-my-pack’ attitude, isn’t it? Well, such is the widespread acceptance of this misconception that it has attained a hallowed state of being-obviously-wrong-but-presumed-to be-correct by popular opinion. And if at any instance you do acknowledge this fact, then scroll up a few lines and refresh your memory as to how much the world cares about you..

Done?

Great. Let’s move on.

The reason why the HR heads are impressed is not because of the supposed tenacity and grit and valor shown while framing up inconsequential sentences in a bid to be proven the most outspoken and enlightened amongst the group, but what they love is seeing a brutal dog-fight (which is actually banned in most countries.. Hah!), an earnest representation of the environment they themselves thrive in. The dog with the most brutal bite and highest moral flexibility is picked up by the dog pound. The entire point of this exceedingly verbose description of the brutal world was to tactfully state (read: so as to appear entirely in context with) the following point:

“The set of morals which we have followed all our lives, those which were so tenderly passed onto us by our loving parents, count for zilch in the outside world”

Oh I know what you must be saying in your heads.. this is such a pessimistic post, why am I even reading this.. well to tell you the truth, there were many a college lectures which you could have easily bunked without any repercussions, but yet you didn’t, for some unfathomable reason. Think of that unfathomable reason for an instance and carry on reading. I promise you will get your due…

Anyways, getting to the point stated above, that if our innate morals count for zilch, then what should be our code of conduct? We can’t behave like uncouth savages can we? So there is a need for a new set of carefully tweaked morals that make us adept at handling this brutal world. Sometimes need is the mother of invention. And sometimes there comes so powerful an invention, that it creates a need for itself to be adopted (as an example of which, you need not think beyond the mystical iPod). Whichever is the case here, you are the best judge of it. I won’t intervene. Seriously.

And without further ado, possibly causing anticipation (maybe even agony) here’s the Necklace. (Necklace?? It’s actually a poetic expression you see.. pearls of wisdom are strung onto a string of sentences.. anyways forget that..). I’d like to call it the three-Bs’.

• Believe in coincidences:

Einstein said “God doesn’t throw dice”. What he meant was nothing in this Universe is left to chance. Now just like Darth Vader said that every person has a bright side and a dark side, this overtly simplistic statement can be canonized into two connotations as well.

1. Everything’s predestined. Your life has been scripted by some unknown-all-knowing-force and you can’t change it. You just need to play your part as best as you can and then one fateful day, die.
2. If you plan carefully enough, and give the subject matter enough sincere thought, you can actually put up a spectacular fireworks display with the dampest of squibs.

That apart, the best thing you can do is to believe in coincidences. Illogical, irrational, unpredictable coincidences. Whenever something unexpected happens, think of it as an outcome of some mystical coincidence. Coincidence can be best defined, as the occurrence of two mutually conjoined events you hadn’t anticipated. Actuarial purists who swear by the laws of probability would argue that the number theory takes every possibility into consideration, hence ruling out any anomalies such as a ‘coincidence’. To further drive the point home, their predictions are backed by fundamental mathematics. Well, all I can say is, mathematically, one plus one equals two. It’s an irrefutable law of nature. Put one apple beside another apple and you have two apples. But put one apple beside an orange, and you have a fruit salad…

Not logical, isn’t it? Ditto for life.

• Be the idiot:

Some wise guy once said “Education is learning what you didn't even know you didn't know”.

Meaning?? What our infinite hours of education have given us is only material knowledge. You can put it down in black and white (just like most teachers do so effectively via class-notes) and transfer it through this particular media only (once again like most of our teachers). But can you transfer that bit of ‘education’ to a layman or an eight year old without the aid of any tangible media. Can you utilize figments of your imagination to actually transfer an idea from one head to another? If yes, skip to the next ‘B’, and if not, you are no more educated than the man for whom the alphabet ‘A’ is just a queer assembly of three sticks. Quite a bitter pill to swallow ain’t it? That’s why the best thing to do is to swallow it immediately. The longer you keep rolling it around in your mouth, the greater the bitterness that would impinge your tongue.

Hence in many situations in life, it’s imperative to be the idiot (it’s actually harder and more rewarding than it sounds). You may feel being an idiot is the easiest job in the world. But beware, ‘idiot’ here doesn’t mean throwing your arms up with complete disregard for education. It’s all about highly selective idiocy.

Suppose, you are completely oblivious about say.. Soccer. And you need to know about it for something important and deterministic. So you approach any self-professed soccer fanatic and chat him up. Somewhere in the conversation you throw up a highly contentious and debatable question like “Who was the greatest soccer player of all time? ”

(Now a bit of advice. This practice gives maximum benefits when carried out in a group of 3-4 people sharing a common interest, but who are at complete loggerheads with one another.)

Everyone would have their own opinion, and you have your own (preferably the most ostentatious and outlandish one). Everyone would ridicule your choice and try to prove theirs to be better than yours. That’s where being the complete and absolute idiot, and also making it obvious to others, helps so much. They would all give out statistics, achievements, awards etc. earned by their heroes to prove themselves to be above you, and in a few minutes, you would be inundated with information which would have taken you hours to gather, if you had opted to be the ‘smarty-pants’ instead.

As a fact, this is the quickest way to learn about anything. Be an idiot in front of a group of people knowledgeable enough in a particular field, and argue until they are raring to punch you in the face.

Plus, it’s mutually beneficial for everyone. You’re happy about the fact you collected the data expeditiously. The others would satisfy their bloated egos by thinking they bashed up an idiot real good.

Everybody gets the largest piece of the cake. Genius…

• Be honest with your parents:

God (however omnipresent he’s supposed to be) couldn’t be everywhere, hence he created Mothers. Mothers had certain complicated issues in their heads. So He created Fathers to sort them out. And sometimes, when mothers and fathers were together in congenial conditions, they created us. And hence, they passed a little piece of Gods’ purpose of creation onto us. But it’s human nature to forget. We conveniently forgot we were created for a purpose. And squandered away our existence in pursuit of illusive objects of status like a girl/boyfriend (or both.. whatever turns you on), a dream job, bank balance, and not to forget the most illusive of them all.. happiness!

“Oh this is just a load of bollocks.. who doesn’t want happiness in life and what’s wrong in being happy” you say? I’ll tell you.

Picture this: You get a ‘dream’ job from campus. You work real hard. Get a raise. And consequentially the love of the person you admired. You rent a home. And a car. You marry. You are (supposedly) happy but not satisfied.

Now picture this: You screwed up at work. You are fired. Your boss won’t take you back. Neither your spouse. Nor your friends. Your cars’ mortgage is too much to pay and you sell your apartment off as compensation. Helpless and exasperated you call your parents. They ask about your health, your job, what have you been eating, when would you be visiting, etc. You blatantly lie by saying you have taken a week off just so that you can be with them. Oblivious to the truth, they tidy up your childhood room, prepare plans for the magical week ahead, call in relatives from all corners. You show up with a suitcase and a laptop and say you have quit your job (obviously, which lunatic can fire the embodiment of sheer genius that is you). You cry in front of them. They cancel their own plans. Get you out of it. And just like they taught you how to walk so many years back, they get you back on your feet so that you can go far away to create a lucrative bubble for yourself once again. All they ask from you, their only unjust demand from you in return for all this is: “Whatever you do, please stay happy.”

What I am emphasizing here is, how much our sustenance, our non-blood relationships, our bank-balance and yes, not to forget, how much our happiness depends upon whether we have a job or not. All these things we pursued for so long can completely vanish the moment we are sacked. And maybe a lot of us realize this, which is actually the driving force behind people working their butts off at work so much. Come to think of it, how much is it worth? Is this acquired happiness more valuable than the inherent sense of satisfaction obtained by the assurance that whatever we do, however badly we screw up, there are at least two people who earnestly believe in us and are always there for us? Those two people happen to be our parents.

Lie to them as much as you want. You’ll reap what you sow.

*

That’s pretty much it. Accept it, denounce it or report abuse against it. Hardly matters. It’s entirely at your discretion. But, don’t just forget so easily about that brutish, and nauseous feeling that overcame you while you were reading it.

Love Story 2020

“Cold feet. I think that’s what they are called. And right now.. I have two of those. I’m sorry.. I just can’t do this. Bye..”

I wrote these words on the back of an envelope and slid it under her door. And then I ran away. Where? Why? I couldn’t have missed the final match of the series.. could I? I had booked my tickets over the net and cut the payment of the light-man instead. That explains why no one saw me fleeing from the scene of the marriage. She isn’t my first love.. Cricket is.. coz, I dunno why.. she gets kinda’ boring sometimes.. but Cricket nevverrr does..

So like I am sitting here in my club-house seat like I had always dreamt of.. Plush upholstery, spectacular view, great music, conditioned air, cheerleaders dancing a few feet from me, another spectacular view, et. aliae. Till now, I had only watched matches seated in the back alleys. I was actually living my dream today!

All’s set and the match begins. First ball.. batsman flicks it to his leg and mid-on gets hold of it with a brilliant dive, but can’t save a run from being taken. The entire club house nods in acknowledgement of the outstanding effort and some even clap.

Next delivery, ball swings away, a hit and a miss.. another round of “Awww”s and “Ooooh”s.

Next delivery, the ball swings back in and that’s all I can see before my phone begins to ring and I have to frantically search my pockets so as to turn it off. One guy points to a little sign that says “Please switch off your mobiles. Thank you.”

I am rather flustered and almost blushing with embarrassment when I notice that the entire crowd is outraged and infuriated with something. That inswinger had wrapped the batsman on his pads and he was given out LBW. Shit! Coz of my stupid phone I missed the first wicket. “Who the heck was it”, I thought, and saw that she was calling. I turned my mobile off and looked at the scoreboard with a touch of dismay.

1/1.. Why does that sound familiar? Oh ya.. I remember, it’s her birth date.. the 1st of Jan. the day (or was it night) when I had ran into her at Toscas’ and met her for the first time..

Anyways.. What a silly coincidence.. she calls and just then, a wicket falls.. maybe that’s why they make you switch off your phones in here.

The captain decided that he wanted to utilize the powerplays to the hilt, and sent a pinch-hitter up the order. The guy hits a four the first delivery, a six on the other and then takes a single to retain strike.

12/1.. The second time we met.. I was giving a guitar demo at a music store and she was out there buying ‘Coldplay’. She loved my voice, took my number and autograph on the CD- “A Rush of Blood To The Head”. Oh Boy! It sure was!


The pinch-hitter resumes, it’s an outswinger, runs it down to third-man, takes a single. The other opener is a seasoned campaigner. He understands that the pitch has some bite in it and plays with considerable amount of caution. He pushes and prods for the next three deliveries and on the fourth, plays it with soft hands and takes a quick single. The pinch-hitter on the other end has been patient long enough, he throws caution to the winds and heaves the ball miles into the sky. The keeper gloves it, and the scoreboard reads:

14/2.. Oh.. my.. god.. Valentine’s Day.. The day she had called me up and said she was quitting her job. Now that would’ve been an absolute tragedy.. coz as hard as I find to admit it, she gets a heavier pay-packet than I do.. way heavier.. I ran to her office.. called her down, took her to the nearest cafe.. tried to talk her out of it.. but she wouldn’t budge. She kept saying “It’s just too demeaning a job for me answering stupid calls all day..” Not knowing what to do, I just picked up the guitar hanging on the wall behind her, and sang “The Scientist” for her.. and ending on “You don't know how lovely you are..” I proposed to her.. she agreed.. and I understood, she wasn’t quitting..


The batsmen changed ends, another pinch-hitter sent, a four was struck, another rash shot and caught at third man.

18/3.. the day I met her parents over dinner.. the day they shunned me from ever laying a foot in their house until I got a ‘safe’ job. The day she almost cut her wrist.. I mean she did, but not completely.. and I had to run half a mile carrying that bleeding angel in my arms..

Play resumes… A stunning Yorker.. another wicket..

18/4.. after working for a month as an attendant at a music store I showed her parents my first paycheck. And they agreed. Maybe it was or was it not.. I don’t exactly remember.. but it was pretty close to being labeled as the happiest day of my life...


The captain walks out.. carefully examines the pitch, makes a few marks and he is set. Defends the first, and takes a single at the second delivery. The umpire raises his arm half way along his side. It was a No-Ball. Free Hit. The crowd goes berserk. The batsman makes room and gives the ball a mighty thwack! FOUR!!

But a free hit is like a heady shot of vodka.. it doesn’t come without a hangover. He tries his luck once again, but this time, caught at mid-wicket.

24/5.. The day I found out about her previous affair.. a very serious previous affair.. the day I almost regretted meeting her..


The captain is facing now. Another veteran at the other end. They strategize and decide to play safe. Keep running it down to the third man or into the gaps and take singles on each delivery of the over. The last delivery.. veteran tries to steer it down to the third man.. gets a slight nick.. keeper lunges forward and takes a good low catch.

29/6.. the day we went to get our engagement rings.. and had a huge fight over the size of the diamond she wanted on hers.. the fight was huge enough to almost make the entire point of buying the rings, pointless. Insecurities were revealed, money matters tossed up, pasts unearthed, and things like “just coz you earn more doesn’t mean you have to show it off by buying a costlier ring for me” were said.

I was almost in tears now. I took out my phone and switched it on. It bleeped 12 times as numerous messages flooded my inbox and were waiting there to be read. I opened the images folder and checked the date when we had got engaged.

31st July.

Of all the events that had occurred all through the year, this was one you could never miss. 29/6 was what the score board read and my heart was pounding so hard now, that it almost threatened to break my rib cage apart and leap out of my chest. The bowler bowled a full-toss and the batsman hit it from absolutely the sweetest part of his bat. The sound almost sent me into a trance and I thought.. “Hah! 33/6.. their aint’ no date like that, is it!”

That was when I saw, that the sweeper cover had covered an unbelievable amount of distance and had actually stopped the ball from crossing over. And then seeing the batsmen crossing over for the third, he cannoned the ball to the wicketkeeper who effortlessly collected it and clipped off the bails in one smooth, swinging motion. It was obvious the batsman was short of his ground and hence the 3rd umpire was beckoned, to decide whether the ball had crossed the boundary or not. The replays showed.. it didn’t. The fielder had made a clean stop. The score now.. was

This was going off limits.. I lost all my senses and hollered “BLOODY HELL!” and seething with outrage, I kicked the chair in front of me real hard. An old man was occupying it and he fell down by the force of the impact. I didn’t know it then, but he was actually the CEO of the firm organizing the series. People ran in from all corners to help him get up, and two guards rushed and grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. The entire box was looking at me in horror, and one portly figure dressed in a suit walked up to me and asked.. “Do you have the faintest clue who this honorable Gentleman is?”

I shot back: “He might have pimped your mom but that’s all I care ‘bout him!” and impulsively or I don’t know why, but I spat on his face.

That was it. The tempers that were already flaring because of the imbecilic performance of our team, got incensed and almost everyone present there, without exception, tried me out as a kicking or punching bag. I had absolutely no idea as to how long they kept kicking me, although I do remember.. that my phone was lying an arm’s length away from me, and amidst those hovering legs and ankles, I could see her name flashing on its screen.

Now here’s a slice of life for all of you who have never been through a public beating, or never had any form of brain-numbing pain inflicted upon you.. Initially, the pain increases, then it peaks, and just when it reaches a point where you feel that every single blood vessel in your body is gonna’ burst open, you suddenly rise above the pain.. all these mundane things that we scurry after in life lose their importance, and only the realization of your real pain remains..

I had always dreamt of becoming a cricketer one day. I had heckled my parents to get me into cricket coaching since I was about eight years old. I always cursed them for not providing me with premium sporting gear. I had never understood the fact that they were going through a severe crunch back then and just so that they could arrange my school and coaching fee, they had aborted my would’ve-been-brother. I could never achieve my dream. I had decided as a kid, I would never forgive them for it. I kept punishing people for it all my life. Actually… I was never very good at cricket. But there was one thing that I was indeed good at.. and that was always thinking ‘I’, ‘I’, ‘I’ and ‘I’. Never ‘You’, ‘They’, ‘Us’, ‘He’ or ‘She’. Always ‘I’ is what comes to my mind the instant I wake up in the morning. And all because of this, maybe I deserved what had happened to me today. But did She??

That was when I realized that there was another thing which I was good at… and that was keeping her happy by singing her favorite songs for her… Maybe from now on, I should stick to doing the things I am better at, than worrying about those which I’ve no control over.

A few minutes after everyone had settled down, I picked up my phone and texted her “Please wait for me… I’m coming as fast as I can..”

Albert Pinto ko Gussa kyon aata hai?

This is the story of a man.. a man who swam 43 kms to save his life.. and then give it all away..

***

He wasn’t a man made for India. But then, he was exactly the kind of man made for India. You know, how all these Indians in the US, who have studied there, worked there, earned there, lived there.. get all nostalgic one day after hearing Rehaman’s poignant voice urging them “Ye jo daess hai tera.. Tujhe hai pukara..” and decide to return to India?? Now they are Indians, rest assured, but they have girlfriends, have dates and have sex, just like Americans do.. they eat, they sleep and they clean their shit, just like Americans do.. they laugh, they talk and they swear, just like Americans do.. they think, they read and they jibe at India.. just like Americans do.

They are aware of India: a land overrun by poverty and the rampant political malice billowing each passing day, the labyrinthine alleys infested with these disease ridden degenerates and maniacal terrorists, the swarthy local population which works longer hours for lesser, almost measly wages in order to eke out a living, and the ‘upper class’ whose every waking moment and conceited effort is aimed at proving themselves to be ‘different’ from the ‘others’.

But, they also know the truth of the land: the mystic natural beauty, the reverence and spirituality, the innate family values, the docile and virgin women, the higher intellect and lesser vanities, the shoddier but more value-for-money movies, the ebullient religious festivities, the docile and virgin women, the innate family values, and the virgin women.. all of it, allures them, tugging the invisible umbilical cord stretched across the seven seas, by which they are still attached to their motherlands…

They are warmly welcomed back and receive a hero’s reception… their families are exultant… they are flooded with marriage proposals, and are inevitably married in plush banquet halls of some overpriced hotel. Slowly, they start realizing the actual truth about the land: Why the things that they treated with such contempt were the prized possessions of the people, and why the enigmatic idiosyncrasies that aroused such intimacy, were the bane of the land.. They realize that the people, consisting the swarthy middle class, secretly take pride in the surging population of beggars and hawkers, as by dishing out an insignificant sum of money as alms, they give them a chance to flaunt their mercy and altruism.. they secretly admire their unscrupulous politicians, marveling at their edacity and how they convolute the law and loot the masses.. they look at the lepers and scurrilous goons and thank God that at least their children are not like them, and throughout their lives, they strive to be one amongst the ‘upper class’ and if not them, at least the ‘upper middle class’. If they indeed manage to do so, all the envy they had for their superiors, manifests itself in the form of supercilious contempt for the hoi polloi, a flock, which they were once a part of..

The natural beauty they had so deeply admired turns out to be blatantly polluted, the spirituality turns out to be a great big sham, contrived for the sole purpose of instigating communal violence with utmost convenience, the innate family values and respect for the elderly lasts only till they are financially productive, and disappears completely the day they retire, and are then onwards treated like defunct furniture, the docile women are the real miscreants who create rifts and rows amongst the kins and pester their husbands who are unaware of the diabolical schemes cooking up in their heads, the low-on-vanity people actually turn out to be prize idiots, usually the average gullible voter, still harping the image of the ‘Golden Bird’ in their hearts, the movies happen to be just a mechanization that captures the inherent fantasies of the divested, which in turn runs the biggest and most profitable industry of the world, which in turn facilitates and finances the underworld which in turn produces more of the militants that rampage this land.. and the ebullient festivities, are a time when the tired and downtrodden can forget all the turd that blotches their lives and take the time off to cleanse it under a deluge of hooch...


He experienced the same resounding truth and inevitably felt like a stranger in his own land. He tried to stick it out, but in the end frustration got better of him.. and one fine morning, while brushing his teeth, he looked into the mirror and repeatedly spat on it, on his own reflection, and then, he did what every celebrated coward does.. he ran away.. he thought of taking an exile and settling down in the mighty Himalayas, just like the countless sages shown on the ‘Incredible India!’ Booklets.. he went upto the not-so-mighty Shivaliks and realized that he had underestimated the biting cold. Then, devoid of money and any aim in life, he travelled south.. no, not to the Andamans.. rather to Haridwar, Banaras, Gaya, onwards to calcutta.. he lived like a hermit.. came in contact with various ‘learned’ people and not-so-learned people along his meandering journey and carried on his meaningless life by doing odd jobs on the Ghats of Ganges. After a significant number of years, he came back as ‘Miracle Baba’: a Tall, fair, stone faced, English speaking, rosary draping man, who always had a limerick or a quip ready as an answer for any question of infinite complexity..

He would fast for people he didn’t know, eat burning coals, break glass with his genitalia, pour red ants into his eyes and cover them with mud.. you name it and he would do it.. he was a man seemingly without any fear, or any religious affiliations (not intended to mean that the latter gives rise to the former, just a mere remark, actually) and the most amazing thing about it, was that he did all of it, for public welfare.. no particular cause or effect as such.. he would just get up, let in his followers one-by-one, listen patiently to their grievances, collect his paraphernalia, and get on with his mind boggling gimmicks.. He even offered his services via SMS and if you cared to give him a ring, you would be greeted with Mukeshs’ plaintive voice inquiring “Duniya banane waale, kya tere mann me samayi.. Kahaeko duniya banayi??” (O creator of this world.. whatever came over your mind.. Why the heck did you create this world..)

The media loved him, and People worshipped him, because strangely, his apparent thaumaturgy allayed the sufferings of his woe-stricken followers..


He was all over the place.. not to say that he was omnipresent.. but some secretly believed that he was omnipotent..

*

One fine day, after a flood had struck an obscure village in the country, a follower came running up to him and said the people in his village were beckoning him during their last hours, as an overwhelming number of crocodiles had infested the water that had deluged their village. People were being sucked in by the rampant stream and not even their remains could be recovered due to the fear of these crocs.

He rose, told his guy to arrange an emergency helicopter, got on it, and after reaching the village got off on top of a water tank. Then he proclaimed “My words may sound queer.. but I do not see any crocodiles here.. all I can see.. is water.. pure and clear.. and to you it may so appear.. that the crocs consumed your near and dear.. but actually.. what ate them up, was their inherent fear..”

And then, just to prove his point, he nonchalantly jumped into the water and slowly circled the entire village.. in full knowledge of the fact, that his death was trailing him wherever he went..

But miracles of miracles.. he swam in there for about four hours and came out untouched. Then, standing on the top of that water tank, he spoke..

“Whatever we have is given by god.. nothing is absolutely ours.. it’s only in our minds that we make boundaries, partitions… impressions of big and small, rich and poor, great and lowly…. mine and yours.. And these boundaries, partitions and wonted impressions are what rule the lives of us Indians, day in and day out… India is a tumultuous land gingerly balanced upon the presence of two kinds of people: the greedy rich and the gullible poor. If any one of them fizzes out, the balance would be disturbed, and hence the policies and contrivances of our government are crafted with the sole intention of forever maintaining this delicate balance. But what if the rich realize their wrongdoings and the suffering their endless oppression causes? Or if the poor realize their fundamental rights and actually demand them for once, with persistent unity amongst themselves? What happens when the balance is disturbed? Well exactly what happens when a landslide or a great flood occurs.. EQUALITY! And I’m not talking about some communist idea or a leftist propaganda.. this is equality to the core of its actuality.. And that’s where the true genius of this system lies.. it keeps the rich oppressive and united in greed, and the poor gullible, and divided in servitude…

Tell me.. why is it that our history books are conveniently tinkered with, and the legacy that we all so proudly inherit and pompously pass on to our progeny, is manipulated?

To make it more palatable for the hundreds of intolerant religious sects??

To throw light only on the most relevant and glorifying aspects??

NO.. well that’s exactly what they would want you to think.. but the truth is.. it’s meant to condition your mind since your very inception, that the world we live in, is stereotypical.. that if you emulate the actions of some random ‘Great’ personalities then you can actually attain divinity and one day, become a great leader or an industrialist or a social activist or a movie star or any similar such reprobate, that slavery is the first step towards liberty.. that good always conquers evil and light conquers the darkness… But if you hark in your mind, any of the above impressions.. even a single one.. then you belong to the millions who have been very conveniently duped, just like their forefathers, by this great big fraudulent system… What does this system thrive on? Two basic premises: That the working class maintains strong morals and ideals of “High thinking and simple living” and secondly, that the ruling class constantly resorts to unscrupulous means to gain the maximum profit out of the labour of the working class. And what keeps the cogs and the jewels of this system meshed together and working in perfect harmony like clockwork? The force of synergy: The middle class… the people who are the real spiders.. who with their sycophancy wish to one day attain the status and riches of their provider and for it, they are ready to hound and backstab almost anyone. They keep waiting and waiting and lead discontented lives and die miserable deaths and are then quietly cremated, only to add fertility to this land.. if not in life, then atleast with their corpses..


I have travelled many a mile, working as a coroner along the Ghats of Ganges, and seen many corpses being returned to their true mother. Each and every one of these corpses.. with its aghast expression, has told me the painful story of its life.. either death came too early for it.. for it never got time to gather enough money to pay off a debt or the daughters dowry.. or it came too late.. only after its unrewarding life had broken down the person, now manifested into this corpse, to its very soul.. Being a coroner is no easy task but it’s really the most rewarding of all professions.. coz while most others teach you the nuances of life.. it teaches you the nuances of death..

Hence, on this momentous occasion, I pay full reverence to my adapted profession and proclaim, that my death would be the final gift for the people of my country, and my death would be my revenge, for the morbid system that plagues it.. and I can say this with absolute certainty, coz of my unflinching belief in the media, who I am sure, would keep the memory of this melodramatic suicide, fresh and alive in the mind of every person of this country, by repeated telecasts, expert analyses and celebrity debates.. ”

Then, he winked and jumped back into the same croc-infested waters from which he had risen a few moments ago, while every single camera present there, captured the consternating scene of his gory death, frame-by-frame..

TnP

Testosterone: A white crystalline steroid hormone, C19H28O2, produced primarily in the testes and responsible for the development and maintenance of male secondary sex characteristics.

Progesterone: A steroid hormone, C21H30O2, secreted by the corpus luteum of the ovary and by the placenta, that acts to prepare the uterus for implantation of the fertilized ovum, to maintain pregnancy and female secondary sex characteristics.

Testosterone and progesterone, fancy talk apart, are basically the key ingredients that keep a man manly and girl girly. Now manliness is generally associated with courage, valor, audacity, valiance, gallantry, etc.. while girlyness brings the following terms to mind: timid, coy, panicky, edgy and maybe even weak (no offence dear lionhearted sHE-MANs’). But sometimes, I wonder if it’s really so….

***

I was just as nervous as any interviewee would be just before appearing for his super-dream-star (whateva) company. Every would-be MBA dreams of and also dreads this moment… one interview which stands between shattered dreams and a seven figure salary. I cleared my throat, checked my hair, fine-tuned my tie and stepped into the interview room, only to find that it was vacant. I was later informed that the panel had gone for a tea-break, which meant I had to wait for fifteen more agonizing minutes before I got my chance. I began sweating was so profusely that I could see dark sweat-rings forming above my arms on my shirt, the light color of which, only accentuated the contrast.. Damn these dress codes!

In an attempt to keep my mind uncluttered for those 15 miserable minutes, I kept thinking about various random things: the proceedings of the recent G8 summit, impact of NGOs on today’s economy, the band night of our fest, my messed up room, the shocking election results.. wait a minute.. MY ROOM!! Did I lock it or not? Or did I just casually put the latch and actually forgot to lock it? That.. lemme tell you, is the most gut wrenching thought that can strike anyone just before an interview. You want to run over and make sure its locked.. but what if the darn interview starts and you nowhere to be found, only to turn up 15 minutes late.. all sweaty, coughing, wheezing and panting?? Man.. that was sheer horror. I was losing it totally and that was when I felt a strange but familiar tingle in my well-creased trousers. I checked my cell and saw Mom has sent an SMS.. “All d bst sweetie..”

Well.. I know it sounds overtly clichéd.. but my Mom is the best mom in the world.. and for more reasons than one. As I was replying to the msg.. I saw a man in the distance.. dressed in a pristine grey suit.. tall and fair.. and I don’t know what that little bald spot on the back of your head from which all the hair seems to spiral-out is called.. but just by looking at that spot.. I felt I knew this man. It was such a strange feeling. I kept staring at him in a desperate bid to discern his identity and unknowingly I stood up and started walking towards him. It was quite obvious he was one amongst the panel, but who exactly was he, still remained a mystery. I was only about ten feet from him when he suddenly turned around. That was it. Seeing him made me forget everything about the interview, about my nervousness and about my possibly unlocked room. All that crossed my mind then, was the image of my Mom, the hard working single mother, who had painstakingly brought me up amidst all odds, even when her home run business was in shambles and even when her husband had left her during the most critical stage of her life. The guy in the grey suit was my Ex-dad…


The two of us were standing face-to-face and one fleeting awkward moment later, in which his face had expressed a gamut of emotions ranging from shock to disbelief to shame and pity to surprise and affection, he recollected himself and briskly paced into the chamber.

I felt numb inside and my heartbeat seemed to have gone missing. I wanted to strangle that man in front of his colleagues and ask him where the hell had he disappeared without leaving behind even a piece of paper or anything at all, that would reassure us that he would return one day. But, doing that would surely have screwed all my chances of landing a job and that’s not what I wanted. But more importantly.. that’s not what my Mom wanted. I remained calm and poised and gracefully stepped into the room. There was another guy with him in there, wearing a brown suit, who looked well into his fifties. Maybe the flavor of the elaichi tea he’d just had was still lingering in his mouth or something, coz he had an unassumingly pleasant expression on his wrinkled face. I greeted the panel and looked towards the guy in the grey suit. It was clear. He wasn’t trying to hide it. He knew who I was and he knew that I knew who he was. There was a hint of pity visible on his face apart from which he looked completely aghast. The silence lasted for a fraction of a second after which the usual colloquy ensued:

Brown Suit: So.. Tell me something ‘bout yourself..

Me: Sir, I am a very friendly guy. I can strike a conversation with anyone and at the same time identify if they are genuinely friendly or faking compliance. According to me, the ability to pick out pretentious behavior is something that is very important for being a successful investment banker.. coz only then can you strike deals which are cent-percent infallible. That apart, I believe I can accomplish anything that I set my mind to, as that is something that I have got as heritage from my Mom.

B.S.: So what is it that you have accomplished in your life that can validate your statement?

Me: Sir, I have been raised amidst incessant bankruptcy. All my life, Mom had to run the household and her business with absolutely no money but still, like every other Indian parent, she had dreamt that her child gets the ultimate job insurance there is: An IIM-A degree… And as far back as I can remember, all my studies have been funded by the government in regard of my excellent academic background. The very fact that I am sitting here in front of you without ever taking a penny out of my Mom’s purse for my education, is by far the greatest achievement I could have dreamt of.

B.S.: It seems you hold your mother in very high regard..

Me: Yes Sir, she has been the most influential person in my life. She’s part housewife, part entrepreneur and a part time teacher.. I mean if anyone..

Grey Suit: (interrupting) So, why do you want to join this company?

Me: If you don’t mind Sir, I wanna share a little story to answer this question…

India, as we all know, is a land of dreamers. People young and old dream alike, of one day making it big and scripting an extraordinary rags-to-riches story that serves as an example to the entire world. My parents were no different. Born and brought up in a middle class environment, both had nurtured similar dreams and had even refused seven figure salaries to start their own little venture. My mom, incidentally had got a job offer from this very firm and had always dreamt of having a fat paycheque, a car, a big house, her own chamber.. the works. She was never the entrepreneurial types.. but it was my father’s enterprising vision that changed her mind and she took his dream as her own. But as luck would have it, even after years of conscientious efforts, their diligence bore no fruits and whatever startup money they had acquired, had been invested in an endeavor trapped in a vicious cycle of loss. As time passed, the constant struggle against all odds just to stay afloat, sapped the optimism out of my father and he got attracted towards the comforts of a secure, well paying job. Hence, he left us to join some foreign bank, leaving my mom to wage a lonely war against the tide of time, like trying to steer a sinking ship caught in a torrid storm..

Hence, it’s actually my Mom’s dream that I wanna fulfill by joining this company, so that I can give her everything she had always hoped for all through her life…

G.S.: But then, why did your mother not abandon her sinking ship and get a job as per her abilities?

Me: Well.. to tell you the truth, she actually did think of ‘abandoning her ship’ once. I remember the day quite well.. I was eight then.. She had finalized the sell-out over the phone and I was sitting right beside her. After hanging up, she took a deep sigh and looked towards me incoherently. She told me that she had quit her failed business forever and sold it off. I stared at her for a while and then asked.. “Mom, if I fail at school, will you leave me too??”

She looked into my eyes, whacked her head with her hand, hugged me tightly and immediately called the deal off. From that day onwards, whenever someone asks her ‘bout it, she says that she has two children. One with the four limbs and one that is ‘special’.

I mean, even a godforsaken monkey, carries its dead child with itself in the hope that it may be revived one day… We for once, are still human beings Sir!

B.S.: (after a prolonged silence) Well.. since asking any further questions seems pointless, I just want to ask one final thing. What would you do if you are not selected here today?

Me: First thing I would do is get a blood-test done. After all, I am my mother’s son.. there is no way I cannot get selected.. hehe..

Grey Suit: It’s been nice meeting you, thanks for coming..

Me: The pleasure is all mine.. Sir.

***

I was woken up next morning by a deafening noise outside my room. It sounded like a mob outbreak and an outrageous number of people were hysterically banging on my door. I opened up and was greeted with loud cheers and hugs. It was official now.. I had been selected.

Shortly after, in true-blue IIM-A fashion, my room got mobbed by juniors and batch mates alike, all of whom kept asking inane questions ‘bout the selection process and the experience of making it through to the most sought after profile in the entire country. Some guy actually brought a camcorder and started a mock interview of sorts, making sure that he used the word ‘Sansanikhez’ repeatedly. I gave the usual mundane tips for preps and then, when everything had settled down a bit, I dropped the bomb… I told I’d be rejecting the offer and instead, join my Mom full-time to revive her disconcerted enterprise. Rest assured, my candid decision caused quite an uproar and the mock news reporter found only one word suitable enough to describe the turn of events: ‘Sansanikhezz!!’

After praising my resolve and questioning my sanity with equal certainty for sometime, I was asked to give a final word of advice to all the wannabe IBs’. I thought about it for a while and then said:

“It really doesn’t matter what you are like in the outside world.. inside the chamber, you should be the reflection of the man who you wish to be ten years down the lane. Always look the interviewer in the eye, be confident and remember, the guy sitting in front of you, is just another insecure person, like the rest of us..”

A MILITANT’S MEMOIR- PART II

……..Contd.




“What is your name?” was the first thing that the youngest one asked me the next morn after I got up.. I thought it would be unwise to tell them the truth and said.. “Did you know how your father and I became friends??” They all returned blank expressions to which I replied.. “Your father had once received a letter.. but it was no ordinary letter, it was a love letter from a girl expressing her deepest and most intimate desires in the most affectionate way humanly possible. This news spread like wildfire in our regiment.. that confined in the insentient and estranged expanses of a deserted land an unsung war hero had garnered a secret admirer. With time.. the news reached my ears and even I was interested to find out more about this Adonis present amongst us.. and when I did get to lay my hands on the coveted letter.. I found to my amazement.. the addressee was none other than my fiancée.. and the reason why the letter had reached the wrong hands was coz your father and me might not have shared common love interests but we did share the same name! That was when our friendship blossomed and slowly transformed from companionship into camaraderie.”

..By the time I finished this contrived recital of self-redemption, I found I had managed to capture the puerile fantasies of all three kids.. and even their mother, who knew the actuality of it all, couldn’t help but suppress a quivering smile from appearing on her somnolent face…

After a few days.. we moved to another town, where by virtue of the military certificate, we got a permanent residence and with time I settled into this docile way of life… working as a clerk during the day, telling bedtime stories in the night.. and in between, helping their mother out with other mundane household chores..

Quite amazingly.. with each passing day now.. the immensely garroting feeling of remorse in me had slowly started to subside. I felt that penitence was the only reward for my transgression and by committing myself to their well-being and tranquility, I was absolving the sins I had committed, by dropping in uninvited in their placid lives. By then we had made a world of our own.. five souls who had discovered unparalleled bliss in ignorance, with countless questions to ask from one another.. but still refraining from quenching their anxiety, due to the fear of upsetting the unassertive sustenance round which their lives revolved..

But even in this serene way of life.. there was one disconcerting thought that would often pass my mind.. The image of Her.. waiting in the rain, waving her hands in a lovelorn adieu, her bedewed eyes betraying the smile on her face.. lips quivering in a silent farewell… all of it haunted me and slowly.. all my waking hours were consumed in the reminiscence of that fleeting moment of separation.. and in my sleep.. I would hear her voice, her laugh, her murmurs, her whispers, that faint tune which always adorned her lips whenever we were together... My entire life seemed to be devoted to her memories and the incessant yearning for a moment of togetherness.. became an obsession of sorts....

And one fine morning.. this realization struck me.. that I had not written to her even once during my prolonged subsistence in this alien land.. how long was it since the unpropitious night of the plane crash.. I had no idea and there was no way I could inquire and find it out..

I decided then.. that I would write to her.. tell her about my fateful experiences and ominous trysts with destiny.. how I had missed her all along and ask her about how she had been, all these days. That night.. I sat down to pen down all these fleeting thoughts that choked my mind, making it incapable of contemplation.. and only envisioning how she would react upon reading this letter..

I wrote down every single thought that had crossed my mind, describing every silent tear that I had wept in her longing, how desperately I wanted to see her puckered smile, to feel the warmth of her gentle touch, to hear her sweet voice.. and I don’t know when.. but unknowingly, I fell asleep under the silver moonlight.. unaware of the time.. and was engulfed in a deep paradoxical sleep.. lost in a time when me and my beloved were walking down the country road.. hand-in-hand..

When I woke up.. the clamorous din of thunder ringed in my ears and I saw that it was raining maliciously.. and what was more starling was the fact, that the front door was open… I stepped out and saw in the scanty moonlight a sight I had never imagined.. their mother was walking along the desolate road.. walking all alone in the rain.. like a lost soul lamenting the loss of a beloved.. yearning for a sense of purpose in a lovelorn life.. I ran up to her.. held her arms.. and found her weeping most uninhibitedly..

Just as I attempted to console her.. she put her hand across my neck and rested her drenched scalp on my shoulder.. with tears trickling down her ashen cheeks.. the warmth of which I could feel even through two layers of woolen robes..

I wondered what could have been the cause of such agony that made this woman, with a heart as robust as steel.. deluge her silent tears frozen in time, on a night as sinister as this.. I tried to take her to shelter but she wouldn’t budge.. she just kept weeping and then, almost after an eternity had passed with the two of us drenching in the downpour.. she slowly raised her brow and rolled up her eyes.. enough for me to get a clear view of them.. but angled in a manner that they could in no way meet the sight of mine..

“I’m a sinner” she said.. “I’ve sinned..”

“What.. what sin are you talking about?”

“I’ve sinned.. I destroyed your letter..”

“My letter? WHY??”

“Actually.. all letters posted from our country to yours are reviewed by the police under the behest of the military. I thought of warning you but then reading what you had written.. made my heart ache.. and being a woman.. however stone hearted at that but a woman nonetheless.. I can understand the agony of one waiting for the return of her beloved.. when everyone else has forgotten all about him.. But letting you post it would have meant that we’d be arrested on counts of treason and so before this letter made me change my mind.. I destroyed it..”

“But still.. I mean it’s not such a big crime that you think it to be.. it was just a piece of paper.. I can write it down again…”

“That’s what my crime is.. I don’t want you to write it down ever again..”

I was taken aback by her reply.. and as my mind raced to think of any possible rational reason for her answer.. she spoke.. “I don’t want you to leave us the way my husband left me.. I have come to love my life the way it is and the truth is that your uninvited entry in it has in fact brought me closer to my daughters.. the very daughters whom I had hated, thinking of them to be the reason why the love of my life had deserted me.. but your arrival has given me a purpose.. to keep fighting for them.. to make them strong and able enough so that no spineless bastard can abandon them in the death of night and leave them weak and helpless.. and You.. you are that very source of providence and righteousness for them whom they look upon so ardently.. and if you leave.. my life would lose purpose.. my daughters would lose their guiding star and I.. would once again lose any hope of finding love in the face of adversities..”


As I stood there that night.. dumfounded by the woman’s reply.. amidst the torrential downpour and the pallid moonlight.. I could think of no better way to respond.. and I kissed her… and doing so.. brought back memories of the times I’d shared with my beloved and looking into her eyes.. I knew.. that she too felt the same way..


I then decided to settle down with them and to never think about her ever again.. but the devil we all so fondly know as Love.. had other plans.. I just couldn’t stop thinking about her and every agonizing day that passed.. increased my desperation to unbearable extremities.. and going against the unsaid promise that I had made that night.. I wrote to her.. saying I am fine..

I repented my action thereafter and would often have nightmares in which the military would invade our home and hold us all in custody.. but as the days passed.. all such speculation in my heart died down and I forgot all about the matter..

Then one afternoon, I heard a knock on the door.. it was a mailman with a package for me.. when I opened it.. I was amused to find a white card in it.. and as I was scanning it further.. my eyes stopped on a spot where Her name was written, along with that of another man.. she had sent me her wedding card with a little hand written note saying “I’m getting married..”

I don’t know how long I stood there like that.. reading those words again and again as my heart refused to accept the truth.. I still thought it was some conspiracy or a misunderstanding.. although I knew fully well that every single letter on that note.. was written by her hand..

The whole evening I kept thinking of a way to stop her from getting married and could think of no better way than to go back and tell her how much I still loved her.. but then, I thought of the children and their mother.. what about them? But still.. I had to go and finally.. I ran away.. in the death of the night.. to forever become a forgotten memory.. lost somewhere in the depths of their broken hearts.. while they slept there peacefully.. dreaming blissfully.. unaware of the torment that awaited them the next morning..

..I kept running and while I was crossing the border.. I was spotted by the guards, who after warning me repeatedly.. shot at me and the next thing I remember.. is waking up in this interrogation cell… And this is my true story officer.. nothing but the truth.. I am not a spy or a terrorist or a militant.. I’m just a man in search of his destiny…”

There was deathly silence in the room, the officers stood there stunned and speechless. A while later, a senior looking officer stepped in, he looked at me for a moment and then asked me to follow him..

As I stepped out of the dimly lit room, I saw in front of me a limitless expanse of barren land, with just two fences running at parallels through it, like the two banks of a river. The officer kept his hand on my shoulder and spoke.. “Our lives are all like the pieces of a puzzle.. all of them having protrusions, concavities and irregularities, some more irregular than others but all of them.. irregular nonetheless.. And it’s a fact.. that no single piece is complete in itself.. it needs other such supplementary pieces to attain completion. But, it is also a fact that no single piece out of the hundred others can complete us and only along with two, three or maybe more such irregular pieces.. can another such piece be completed. But.. of all these numerous pieces that complete us.. there is one special piece.. which fits in so perfectly.. which is unique.. is irreplaceable.. and recognizing that piece, is the very essence of life.. Each and every one of us has it, just like every one of us.. is that one special piece for someone else..”

“If you want, you can return to your motherland or go back to where you came from and I promise you.. not a single bullet would be fired.. the choice is yours.. your Destiny awaits you..”