Good times and Blood times!!

night_and_day_2_by_seph_the_zeth-d6usqht

 

I sometimes wonder if I am the exceptional case because I’ve heard that guys have the inherent ability to sometimes just sit alone in a corner and think of nothing. I mean just blank and empty mind. That is never the case with me.My mind is like a driver less steam train chugging on an imaginary rail track.I need to constantly think of something innovative so that my steam train doesn’t run out of track and wreak havoc in my social life. It’s a monster that I created whom I have to feed every minute with thoughts,no matter how stupid they are. Nonetheless my mind gives me courage,strength and all sorts of ammunition demanded by me. Socrates once fought with an entire conclave of scholars who held that courage means sticking to your post even in danger. Socrates simply asked,what if good strategy demanded that you leave your post. The baffled conclave then agreed to the definition proposed by Socrates which said”Courage is the ability of our mind to do what seems right even in the darkest of times.”

I still remember the incident a few years back when I wanted not only courage but hope too; and guess what I got both and that too from unexpected quarters. I was preparing for my 12th examinations then and me and my friends decided to stay till late in our college. I was 17 then and now when I look back I understand why people say that teenage years are the most volatile years of your life. As usual our group study in our college classroom was more of a group chat than study. We didn’t have Whatsapp and android phones then and maybe that’s what made those years, one of the best years of my life. Everything was hunky dory when suddenly my old Nokia phone rang. It was my mom’s call and she sounded a bit different from normal. She spoke like she was reading out of a script. She asked me to come home immediately. I asked her if everything’s alright. She reiterated her message and hung up the call.

My mind warned me that something’s definitely wrong. I boarded the earliest train to my destination. I was home within 20 minutes. As soon as I reached home, I saw my mom and my sister seated on the front porch. Their faces looked terrified and were constantly staring at a distant wall. I thought my mom just had a huge fight with my dad and she’s apparently still mad about it. But I couldn’t find dad anywhere so I silently asked mom”Where’s Dad?”. Mom said with a firm but sad voice “He just had a low blood sugar attack. He collapsed on the floor and had to be immediately admitted to the hospital.” I could have bet this was the worst thing that could have happened to me. Luckily it was nothing serious and all my relatives rushed to the hospital . Mom came back home to arrange something for Dad to eat after she was convinced he was fine.

I thanked God that I never got here an opportunity to show my courage because anyway why would I ask for a perilous situation.Better to stay away. So, since my dad was a government employee, I was supposed to travel to the Government Health Scheme Office to reimburse the medical bills. My sarcastic mind said that finally my Dad gets to actually avail the benefits his job gave him. Anyway, I was travelling in a local train and it was quite a long journey. As my destination neared, I stood near the door just to get some fresh air. As usual,a coach ahead I could see some assholes were doing stunts waving their arms out. I quietly ignored their stupidity and let the two assholes do their stunts.

The next thing which happened, happened so fast that my awesome brain couldn’t  process that much data within seconds. Apparently, the assholes thought they were an exotic Russian ballet and were gracefully waving their arms dodging the railway poles. The pole dodging continued for a while and the fun ended when one of the asshole forgot to lower his arm on time. The impact of the incoming pole on his arm was so huge that it shook his body like Shakira and he collapsed. Physics laws say that a fast-moving train creates partial vacuum under its wheels, so as per the laws the pole-hit battered asshole collapsed and got sucked right under the wheels. The next thing I witnessed, a six feet tall guy turning into mayonnaise. Blood splattered all over the outer body of the train compartment along with a few droplets on my jeans.

It was my turn to shake like Shakira. I moved away from the door and sat inside trembling like anything. The blood droplets on my jeans were too few to be noticed but at that moment I felt like tearing off my pants and running back home naked. None of my philosophy on courage seemed to work at that time because life had just thrown at me the worst day one could ever have. I couldn’t sleep for the next few days which were really gloomy. Somehow the streak of bad days were just not ending. The following week my college office called me up asking me to come to college immediately. I obliged and went to college.

I was called in the principal’s office along with my friends. My friends told me that some documents were missing from the office and principal suspected that one of us stole it. Now to start with, we were the only guys in college last week when it all happened but we were nowhere near the office. Anyway why would we even think of stealing some worthless documents from the office. But the principal was an Indian version of Adolf Hitler and he ruled the college with an iron fist. So he pulled up everyone who was in college at that time. My class professor who knew me and my group came in to interrogate all of us. For some reason, my friends were perspiring and trembling as if they were the perpetrators. Me on the other hand was just confused and a bit embarrassed because this was my first meeting with my principal and that too for an interrogation. I just convinced myself that this was just one of those bad days and I have no option but to suffer in silence.

My class Professor called me in the principal’s cabin and it all started. Both the principal and Professor were looking daggers at me. I was supposed to be scared at that time, but I just maintained eye contact with both of them. Maybe that is what courage is, my mind said to me. Professor without asking me a single question turned towards principal and said “I know this boy well. I don’t think he has committed this crime…”. To my surprise, even principal nodded and asked me to leave.  I left the cabin with a blank expression. My mind blacked out in the same way as it did when I witnessed the accident a week ago. The only difference was that this time was smiling  and wondering what just happened. A professor who just taught us a few chapters and a principal cum dictator who probably never saw me, just looked at my face and gave me a clean chit. My brain tried a lot to think analytically and then established the fact that my face looked innocent.

Nevertheless the past two weeks made me learn a lot about how complex life can be. Everyone goes through bad times or ‘blood’ times as in my case ,where so many bad incidences occur that you just lose hope in everything. But just when you have lost all faith, a ray of hope arrives from the most unexpected quarters. All you need to do,as Socrates said, is stick to your post no matter whether you’re facing good times or ‘ blood times’……

 

The Festival of Smiles!!

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You sleep at 5 pm, wake up at 8 pm, realize that you’ve got just four more hours to study and you don’t even know the syllabus. This might seem like a common plight for every average student. Now imagine that you’re studying at this juncture and outside your mom is making ladoos, dad is putting up a lantern on the window and your sister is flaunting the Punjabi dress she just shopped from the mall. That is when you lose all your interest in studying. Preparing for exams a few days before Diwali is the harshest punishment one could ever get. I started getting a feeling that this is gonna be those ‘not-so-good’ Diwali year.

Next morning I woke up and realized I didn’t have a clean shirt to wear,which was basically my mom’s lookout. The burden of study combined with this situation made me so angry that I left without having a breakfast. I shouldn’t have done that but sometimes you just cannot control your life no matter how hard you try and I knew its going to be a bad day.

Luckily the paper was as easy as eating a pie. I felt relieved that at least something good happened today. As I left college my friend met me at the gate and asked me to share a cup of coffee with her before leaving. At the table we were both sitting with our heads lowered. I tried to lighten up the atmosphere by describing how my crush smiled at me today(.. true story..) My friend was a hostelite and due to exams she couldn’t celebrate Diwali at her home with her parents this year.Sad. So, basically we were both sipping coffee going through similar situations. One thing was noticeable though, she kept talking about how pompous Mumbaikars are when it comes to celebrating Diwali and while talking she had a distinct smile on her face as if she loved that feeling to her core. Maybe my mind was too occupied about exams that I wasn’t looking at the brighter side. While leaving the restaurant I waved her bye and continued on in my own world when she called me”Hey, Listen!!”. I stooped. I looked back and there she was waving her hand,smiling and wishing me “Happy Diwali to you and your family”.

Its exam time. You are miles away from home. You are missing all the festive pampering of your relatives and you cannot do anything about it. Yet you find peace,happiness and a sense of belonging in an unknown city’s festive spirit. I just couldn’t figure out how my friend could do it but somehow she was smiling and that meant everything. Diwali is indeed a festival of smiles.

People have been shelling out money on crackers since decades with a difference being that earlier it was about buying the loudest cracker and now it is about buying the most colorful cracker. During my childhood I was so crazy about crackers that I used to look at my father as if he was the Mighty Zeus who showered blessings on us siblings. There were even a lot of violent fights between me and my sisters for the biggest share of crackers.I was smiling like an idiot,walking on the street having all those thoughts. Suddenly I saw a few children who were probably from the nearby slum gathered at a point looking up somewhere. I was already a self proclaimed idiot, so even I stopped and started looking curiously towards whatever the poor children were looking at. On the terrace of the opposite building, there were some kids bursting colorful crackers and it was indeed one hell of a view. But then I looked down at the poor children. Their gaze was fixed at the blooming colors and the flashing lights and the most noticeable thing in them. They were all smiling.

I relish coffee with my friends while these children pick up rags,toiling at such a young age just to have two square meals to eat.  I used to fight with my sisters for that costliest colorful cracker while these children haven’t probably yet held a cracker in their tiny hands. Still even after suffering so much there were giggling and smiling. Diwali is indeed a festival of smiles.

This incident inspired me to do something good this festive season. Even I wanted to make someone happy, but how?. I remember the last Diwali when I made my cell-phone thief happy by being careless, but I didn’t wanted to do something like that. I thought maybe I could buy something for my mom as I hurt her in the morning. The anger was long gone and instead of taking an auto I preferred walking through the bustling and crowded market just to see a lot of happy faces. I peeked into a few shops thinking maybe I could buy my mom something, but considering the fact that she would prefer a gift that was a long lasting one rather than an exotic gift,I had to go through a lot of options. In a corner of the busy street stood a guy who was selling brooms. I had a weird idea that if I buy mom a broom, may be I could score a few brownie points on the long-lasting criteria.

“One broom just for 70 rupees” said the broom seller. I had no idea whether this price was justified or not but I was on a “Make Happy Mission” and  I was bound to buy it. I shelled out 70 rupees when he gave me another offer. “Sahabji, take away five brooms just 300 rupees” said the broom seller. My MBA mind lit up thinking that I was gonna make a 50 rupees profit but still I gave him a cold look and said “Buy five brooms and do what. Distribute it in my society as a Diwali gift.” The broom seller didn’t say anything. He looked at me and then looked at his four year old son sitting near him holding a toy gun.

Poor guy. If I did buy this madness maybe the broom seller will have a few more rupees  to spend this Diwali. Maybe his son will have a few more crackers to burst or mithais to drool at. Maybe he’ll think of buying something for his wife at least this Diwali. Maybe. So without thinking any further, I gave him 300 rupees and bought the brooms. I wanted to click a picture of his jolly face saying “Bhaiyyaji Smile!!”

When I came home and opened the main door,mom was standing across the hall looking confused. Why wouldn’t she be?. Her son left home fuming with anger without having breakfast and now he is standing at the door holding a bunch of brooms like a lunatic. I knew exactly what mom was thinking when she asked “Beta, are you OK?”.

Exams, tension,anger all these seemed too small now. The feeling of ‘against all odds,we never stop smiling’ had engulfed me. The spirit of Diwali was in the air. I was full of smiles that I collected on my way back home. I hugged my mom and said “Happy Diwali !!!” .

 

P.S – Need Brooms??…anyone…??

The Devil’s Advocate..

images (2)The best thing about travelling in a local train is that you’ll always find yourself among a sea of unknown faces.No one knows you. No one gives a damn if you had a bad hair day or you just got promoted and if you are a daily traveler,you definitely belong to a class of people who unwillingly travel in jam packed trains because the only thing that is floating in front of their eyes is the ‘late’ mark on the attendance register. Things get even worse if you are a woman traveling in a ladies compartment. As a male, the only unprejudiced reason I can come up with would be that each and every woman has some sense of insecurity or claustrophobia in-built in her which creates trouble for others for no reason. Combine that with a hundred women with their thousands of insecurities in a packed compartment and what you get is chaos. Fortunately this issues are rare in gents compartment and it gives me a great relief when I can easily swim through a sea of passengers to light at my station without creating a ruckus.

When I look into my phone contacts I find contact number of guys whom I don’t even know and whom I probably won’t even remember a few years from now. Their names appear on my phone-book only because they travel with me everyday at the same time,in the same train and in the same compartment. I don’t think this kind of unusual train-friends concept exists anywhere else on this planet.My train-friends group consisted of a few middle aged office going men, about three people nearing their retirement and a new entry guy who hailed from North India looking to make a future in this bright city. I was teased as the only adult who was already 24 and was still studying in a B-school instead of earning. It sometimes felt weird when people use to stare at me while I read the brown shaded Economic Times and the others held their usual Times of India in their hand.

One fine day,the headlines of newspaper flashed the verdict of the highly publicized Delhi gang-rape case. It said that one of the convicts who was under-age at the time of committing the crime was sentenced to just three years in a remand home. The use of the word ‘just’ in the newspaper column indicated that even the media fraternity was not satisfied with the verdict and so was the whole country. Everyone was demanding death sentence for all the convicts. One of the senior traveler in my group Mr. Gupta said “Now,even our judiciary can’t be trusted. How can they let off a devil with such a soft punishment”. The other senior guys showed their support by nodding their heads and this became a hot topic of discussion. One of them expressed his views by declaring that a person committing such a heinous crime must be declared a maniac and should be publicly beheaded without considering his age. One of the middle aged guy even joked that the part of the body which commits the crime should be chopped off immediately to curb crimes. Everyone had a good laugh at it while I just kept listening to their conversation. After a while Mr. Gupta looked at me and said ” What do you think,beta. Haven’t you read the news?”.

It was as if I was waiting for my opportunity to speak amongst the so-called law makers that I raised my voice a little bit,looked at the senior guys and asked “What could be the lowermost age for a guy to commit a heinous crime such as rape.17….15…13…12..?” The law makers who were initially having a candid conversation now looked shell shocked. The jinx was broken. I went against the public opinion and somehow no one could oppose me. Maybe they got confused by my question or maybe because most of them had a son who was almost a 12 year old. I had unknowingly started a conflict within their minds. Mr. Gupta said “But upto a certain age limit we must know that a guy is ..”. Suddenly I cut in between “Ok, so now we are talking about age limits. In a country where we do not even provide proper sex education to our children, we expect our kids to understand the difference between consensual sex and rape. Yet whenever a juvenile is convicted of rape, we just blindly demand death sentence and to whom, an uneducated teenager. How does that make us different from a ‘khap’ panchayat. “

Everyone around me was staring at me as if I was a ghost. I declared that my station has arrived and I alighted at my station. I do not know what they must be thinking. I wish they think of me as a hero Mumbai deserves. But not the hero Mumbai needs right now. I am a silent guardian. A watchful protector. The Devil’s Advocate.