Aais paais, you duffer

I threw my school satchel on the sofa, and ran as fast as I could, evading my mother’s calls, to my friend’s house. The sweltering summer didn’t dither me, neither did the closed window. I knocked his window, and after some earnest whisperings too, he opened it. I demanded, “Where is it?” Still rubbing off his sleep, he gave it to me disapprovingly. I had got my prized possession, and ran back, again as fast as I could, to my home. My mother had laid out my lunch, and I sat on the dining table, and opened it by the side of my plate. Ah! ‘The new comic’s release of Super Commando Dhruv’ How long had I been waiting for you, Dhruv.? You are great, better than Nagraj. My school mates are buffoons. They don’t realize that you, unlike Nagraj, do things without supernatural powers. Thus quickly granting victory to me, I got immersed into the comics, with my mother coaxing me to eat first and read it later.

I am smiling now while I write this. The professed sense of adulthood can’t approve it, but a few years back, those were my moments – each day. I was reliving these moments with my colleagues during our post-lunch walk a few days back. Following a discussion, we had somehow jaunted off to our childhood, and before long, we were throwing out similar, if not same, stories of nonchalant innocence. Each gushed out his blissful days in never-to-return mood. Remarkably we were all floating in the same zone.

There is this laid out field of cricket, the only difference being that the field is the lawn of some house. Leg side play is barred because the wall patrolling the leg side has some glass-pane windows, some already broken. There is a well in between, and whenever the ball is hit inside it, the batsman is admonished for being too perfect. Not only he is given out, but he also has to borrow the bucket to draw the ball out, from some hard-faced and hotheaded uncle of us.

Then there is this lukka chippi (hide and seek) being played among the half-raised walls of an under-construction house. Vivek has counted till ten. Hey see, Raj has swapped his yellow shirt with the brown one of Sohan. And Ram is sporting the now-borrowed blue cap of Gopi on his bald head. Gopi is walking with his scalp just peeking above the wall. To complicate matters, Raj is dangling the flaps of his yellow shirt beyond one corner. Poor Vivek! That’s you, Sohan. No idiot, aais paais. It’s me! Raj. Go and count till ten again, you duffer.

Also there is the clutter of kites flying around. Today instead of borrowing comics from my ever-sleepy friend, I had run straight to my roof, because I had an inkling of a kite landing on my roof. Even though I didn’t find the kite, I found the string which led me to its mother-kite, hopelessly suspended from the maze of electric wires. I rescued her, and now it is flying high among the skies. Hey, some other kite is coming. Shit, it is of big bully Kitu’s. Oh! It is gone. Hey, you fool Ron, why didn’t you sharpen our strings with the crushed-bulb mixed colloid.

Never mind, there are a plethora of other things still. Vish amrit, buddhiya kabbadi, kho kho, denga paani ….

We were just laughing; then followed the ever-consoling sigh of the days gone by. Someone looked up his watch. It is time to go now. I have a conference call to attend. We walked back, perhaps a bit differently this time, if not with moist eyes, then at least with moist feelings.

Happy New Year 2009

There ain't a new story of New Year. If ever there is, it is strikingly similar to this one:-

The Story Of New Year

Two years later, the same resolutions and denials, the same overworked (or overslept) soul, and the same moment of sleep-bursting crackers remain :)

But one thing has changed. 2009 is now the stage. So, over to you 2009. And the mandatory, Happy New Year to all.

Story behind Print and Nature

Believe me, each week is a tale in itself. My last week too was such a story, even if trifling. My office time is generally busy, so my head doesn’t work more often than not. Even if it tries to function, it usually errs on the wrong side.

So, I was not sure whether to take print-out of one of my important mails. With all the talk of environment preservation going around in my office, a certain internal vigil has taken over my every official doing. I thought, ‘The printout is a must if I want to explain my point’. Then the next moment, ‘No, it is not. A forwarded mail to him can do.’ Yes and no, no and yes, I kept dithering. Finally, ‘No’ won. As it turned out, a forwarded mail actually did the trick. I felt righteous, actually morally king-size.

The next day, again I faced this dilemma of taking printout. Oh God! these qualms about my nature-bound duties! I kept vacillating, but I knew I would decide in the negative. I had actually made up my mind; then in a swift action, I clicked on the ‘Print’ button. Before the remorse could take over, I had swooped the papers from the printer and rushed toward the meeting room. An hour later, I was glad. I actually needed those hand-outs.

It is a stupid story, naa. But for me, it is the supposed culmination of my efforts-my efforts of being savvy in my environmental duties. Ever since I have confronted imprudence of ours towards natural resources, I have made a conscientious effort to right myself at least. So, ‘no AC if heat/cold is bearable, no Heater if the water is enjoyable, no Car if the distance is walkable, no Running Tap/Tub if the effort is doable, actually so many No’s…’- I keep reminding myself. Usually I overdo or underdo these things. So, my last week’s balanced efforts do strike as an achievement for me, and re-instills my beliefs towards resource preservation. I feel extremely proud to harness and hone such feelings, because not many have done or can do that.

Whose fight is it anyway?

I had held it for so long, but I too gave it up on that day, the day when our Mumbai was burning. Having vowed never to look unilaterally, I did get overpowered. “Damn all the Muslims in the world”, how easily it crossed my mind and senses. I have not been able to reconcile myself since then.

The terrorism wrought upon Mumbai was so ghastly that it shook my entrails out. It was the death of humanness, and this is saying a lot, considering we all have been witness to many barbaric incidents in the world. My heart died each time then, and woke up in search of peace that it ultimately found in this world. This time though, my heart has been torn asunder, and now instead of looking for some comfort, it is searching answers- some sort of re-belief from life yonder. The more it looks around, the more it gravitates to the same answer, the same belief of love. But you can’t feel it when there is hatred abound. When the terrorists are killing innocent people without remorse in front of your eyes, you can’t have any other outlook save revulsion. But the most distressing aspect of all is that you know it is not the solution for all this carnage. This vicious cycle of retribution has been created by us only, give it a dimension of country- US, UK, Israel, India, Pakistan or name it in terms of religion – Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism. All have struck in vengeance, and no surprises, the penance has been done by us only then.

I am not a moderate or a coward. I do believe that these gun-tottering sick people need to be eliminated. Not only they, but also their tutors and this whole ideology, need to be decimated. Killing is not the answer to injustice. Moreover every person has a right to live, most aptly exemplified in the movie ‘A Wednesday’ – “No motherfucker in this world is going to dictate when I am going to die”. The example here may be coarse, but it derives itself from the reality around us. And you know what; we need to change this reality, first, by fighting against the terrorists and their mythos, and second, by fighting against ourselves who create these terrorists in the first place. We can bring the prevention and cure both, which can ultimately become a panacea. But are we prepared and strong enough?

No religion for me

I don’t feel human again. I don’t feel human each time I read a horrific news like this. The Hindu outfits raped and burnt a girl suspecting her to be a Christian. Damn those bastards ... and sorry for my blasphemy, damn Hinduism too, if it advocates such methods to preach itself.

A few days ago, two motorcycle riders threw a bag at a small canteen and fled away. Out of general goodwill, a child working as a servant there picked that package to return it to them. And then boom …. An innocent life gone in this fight of honour-jihad …. What honour and prestige? Ask the Prophet.

Why ask Him, ask those persons who created these jihadis in the first place. In an attack to destroy Taliban and their base, the American aircrafts bombed the Aghani civilian settlements. What price these civilians are paying for? How can the whole world be so inert to all this going on in this part of world? Instead, in return is fomented a prejudiced view on Islam. Again, a diktat from the other God?

So will people say, who are the anointed keepers of their religion. But I don’t want to be a party to all this, by being a part of any of these religions. Oh God! I only wish there were no religion for the world, or at least for me.

It is morning, God

Today's morning was not much different: of another Tuesday, of another day of office, in fact, of another 30th of a month. But it was not any other morning. Today after waking up, I did say, "It is morning, God"

Every other morning I was saying, "Oh God, it is morning". I had longed to say it the other way. But I could never muster enough enthu to say so. But today was different. Reason: I don't know, but it felt fantastic.

Kohinoor and Da Vinci

There is no co-relation between the two, however far you stretch your imagination. But I could strike one, even if in the most unusual of ways, today. I saw the Kohinoor, the diamond of immense fascination, in Jewel House in Tower of London today.

Long before entering the museum, I had set out my mind and eyes to look at it. Even then, I missed it among the other crowns and diamonds of the Queens, laid in a row. The stand containing these precious jewels is flanked by an automatically moving pathway on either side; so, if you miss what you are looking for, you can’t just stand and search for it. As soon as I reached the other side, I approached an attendant to ask about it. Before I could open my mouth, she said with a smile, “It’s there, beside the Mother Queen’s crown.” She would have answered about Kohinoor so many times, that she need not second guess what the question would be, coming from an Indian. Indeed, we Indians are so intrigued and involved by Kohinoor, that even after so much time, we consider it an Indian property, wrongfully looted by the British. The Kohinoor was given to Queen Victoria by the Nawab of Patiala in 1863 as a gift, and since then it has adorned the crowns of many Queens. At that time, its value was evaluated to be about 60% of the world’s wealth. I was simply astounded to read the same. I also read about Cullinan’s diamond, the world’ biggest diamond found in South Africa, and brought to UK subsequently by the colonial masters. I didn’t feel very highly of these larcenies by the British.

I went to the British Museum next. The entrance is free for the visitors, and it is really a welcome change from other museums which charge a lot for antiquities of significantly lesser worth. The Museum is so big that it is impossible to see and study everything in one week, leave aside one day. I went to the Egyptian section where the artifacts and antiquities, including mummies, were kept. I also saw the original Rosetta stone, the replica of which I had seen in Egypt. There are Greek and Roman sections too, containing these civilizations’ statues, writings etc. In fact, the Museum contains materials of almost all the Civilizations found till date, and you know what, most of them, if not all, are authentic materials. The British did a good job of amassing these. But still these don’t belong to them. “When I go to British Museum, I expect to see things from British culture, not things accumulated from different places.”-my accompanying friend fired this line, seemingly feeling the same. I had just moved to the corner of one section, when I espied one room, curiously secluded from other areas. I peeped inside it, and buoy, it was unexpected. There were people reading books, working on computers, writing notes etc, but all trying to look beyond the present into the past to educate themselves and the world. Needless to say, it was the library. I always had a dream about that kind of place after reading the novel, The Da Vinci Code, and I stepped into the hallowed room with excitement abound. There were materials of unlimited information, and on the basis of which, old world is unfolded before us.

There was a swift change of thoughts. If the British would not have gathered these, we would not have been even looking at them now. Lots of studies are funded by the Museum. There is always a prospect of someone finding something new here. Isn’t it a proverbial cradle of knowledge then? Ashamed a bit, I looked at the antiquities again for a while, and then quickly left. I could find the co-relation between Kohinoor and Da Vinci only for myself today; but if there is indeed one, it would be surely found out, if not today, then tomorrow- courtesy the all-embracing world we live in.