Growing Up

Naveen goes to the swimming pool every morning. It's in the society's club. It's well designed - lot's of trees, flowers and grass all around the pool. The morning swim helps him clear his mind before he begins his hectic work schedule. Plus, it's the only place in Mumbai where he gets to hear birds other than pigeons and crows. The real stress buster, however, is when he sees his five year old daughter learn how to swim. While he does his laps, he keeps an eye on her.

The trainer was being a little strict with her today. It's been a week and she was still not doing the leg movements properly. She got scolded a couple of times. Naveen saw this and swam out of his lane towards them. She looked like she was about to cry. Naveen asked the trainer to end it for the day and asked her to play around in the grass.

He started doing his laps again. Every time he pulled his head out to breathe in, he looked at her from the corner of his eyes.

He noticed that it just took her a few seconds to shift her attention completely from swimming to becoming playful with the flowers. Not that he hasn't seen his daughter play around before, it was the first time he was comparing his life with her's.

"Wow! It's so easy for her. One moment she's about to cry and next moment she's all happy and playful. She has completely forgotten what happened a few moments ago," he observed.

He finished the swim. As they moved out of the club, he heard the sound of a plane flying above. He asked his daughter to look up. "Yayy!" she jumped in excitement.

Naveen saw a young man coming in to the club. He wore a white t-shirt with text written on it in capital letters. It read ..

"DON'T GROW UP. IT'S A TRAP."

It brought a smile on Naveen's face.

While coming in to the swimming pool next morning, he was still pondering about this observation. Instead of doing his laps, he decided to relax in the pool. He let his body loose, turned around to keep his face towards the sky and started floating on the water.

It was an absolutely clear sky, lit up by the morning sun. At a really high altitude, he saw a plane. It was so high that its sound was not audible. It appeared as if the plane was moving very slowly. As the plane moved through the loose vapor, it condensed and formed a streak of cloud behind it.

His eyes were above the water level, open to witness the beautiful scene in the sky. His ears were submerged, reducing the ambiance sound and distraction.

When he turned his face upwards, his attention was nowhere in particular, it was up for grabs. He realized that it was not the streak of cloud which caught his attention. It was that side of the plane which faced east. It shined spectacularly bright as the sunlight fell on it at a perfect angle.

It reminded him of the first time his dad showed him a plane flying in the sky. He relived that awe and wonder.

"Yayy!" he said.

--

The Mocking Bird

A couple of years ago, on a lazy evening, I was watching KBC with some close friends in Gurgaon. Amitabh was shooting questions to a contestant in his unique style - with humor, poise and command. The contestant was fun as well which made the watch entertaining.

Somewhere between the easy and tough set of questions, Amitabh handed over a cheque to the contestant, as he usually does at certain stages of the game - when the background sounds go up, audience applaud and contestants decide whether to face the next set of questions or call it quits.

The contestant chose to move ahead. Background sounds mellowed. Amitabh prepared for asking the next set of questions.

My friends and I were chatting along while watching the show. I asked them if they could hear the birds chirping in the neighborhood. They denied and added that they don't hear a lot of bird chirping in Gurgaon. But I insisted as I could hear it faintly.

Amitabh shot the next question: What is Bharatpur famous for?

"Guys, It's coming from the TV," I said. 

It was probably a part of the sound design - a faint background bird chirping sound to boost the aura of a question related to birds. My friends acknowledged and we wondered if it actually made any difference in the entertainment value.

--

A few months later, I was at the Bangalore Airport. It was an early morning flight. I was half-asleep. While moving out of the airport, I felt like having a coffee. I spotted a Cafe Coffee Day.

There wasn't much rush in the airport that day. It was decently calm. With weary eyes and a tired body language, I started walking towards the coffee shop.

I heard it then, the bird chirping.

"Oh! They use it at the airports too," I thought. "Probably to sooth the tired travelers," I pampered the logic. "There can't be birds inside the airport anyway," the pampering continued.

I ordered a Cafe Mocha, paid for it and waited at the counter while the coffee was getting ready. It was a neat stall with nice interiors. The coffee arrived after a few minutes. I held the tray and started turning towards a chair. And then I turned back towards the stall.

There it was. A sparrow sitting at the corner of the coffee stall.

Facing away from me. Chirping. Creating an echo of it's sound in the huge airport ambiance.

Mocking me and my unregulated lateral thinking.

--

The One Minute Rain

In the morning, I usually find some birds sitting on the small extension outside my window. They fly away the moment I touch the window pane. From my window, I see a garden below. People walk, run, practice yoga, stroll with their their pets and meditate. Behind the garden and between two tall buildings, I see hundreds of huts (a slum). Also visible is a big green mountain close to the slum. It has a temple on it's top. Every two minutes, Airplanes appear from behind the temple, in their final stage of descent towards the Mumbai airport.

On a lovely Sunday morning a few days ago, a gush of cold and moist breeze woke me up. To increase the intake, I slid my window open completely. To my surprise, I saw a pigeon sitting there who chose not to fly away. I shuffled upon some soothing songs and stood there for a few seconds.

In the garden, an uncle was practicing breathing exercises with his eyes closed. An elderly aunt's dog stared at him behind her back as she chatted up with her morning-walk buddy. She finished her chat, pulled the leash and started strolling. There were about 10 more people walking and running around, looking down all the time for some reason. Only a little girl was prepared for an unexpected shower. She carried a fancy umbrella with her as she swayed around the garden.

A few birds were flying around in the sky. As a plane appeared from behind the mountain, I observed that the sky behind it was very dark. Soon, I saw thousands of birds flying up from the slum roofs. It reminded me of the scene from the movie 300 - a storm of arrows shot by a million Persians towards 300 Spartans. "Wow!" I screamed and called my flat-mates.

It was a thunderous rain-front, pouncing menacingly towards the slum with it's downpour. As it reached the slum, big drops falling over the roof-tops produced a loud noise.

Birds have an extraordinary sensory perception. Respecting the monstrous cloud, they cleared themselves out of its way. The pigeon sitting near my window possibly had a brilliant perception too. It anticipated the onslaught much before.

Before my flat-mates could turn up, the rain-front had reached the garden. The little girl pushed the button to open her umbrella. It flipped before it could open up completely and flew away. She ran to pick it up. The elderly aunt went blank and stood where she was. The dog ran backward, pulling the leash out of her hand. It looked around for shelter while she got drenched over the next few seconds. The walkers and runners were lost in themselves anyway; they were late to react and had a similar fate. Uncle was the last one to clear the garden area.

The fast-moving clouds vanished from the crime scene within a minute, as if claiming innocence.

With no more threat around, the pigeon from my window took a stylish flight towards the garden.

"I knew it," it said to the passing cloud.

It glided down towards a boundary wall. Preparing for its landing on the drenched boundary wall, it flapped its wings swiftly to reduce its speed and extended its claws towards the wall-top.

To no one's notice and my delight, it slipped on some algae, lost balance and slid in to a little pool of water.

"Gotcha!" it heard as a reply.

--

The lucky coin

Every morning, sun-rays leaked through the fissures in the tiled roof of the small house Cheeku lived in. They tickled Cheeku's cheeks. The first few minutes of flux was gentle and snooze-able. With every passing minute, the intensity of sun rays used to grow. Also used to grow Ma's pitch of voice - "Uth ja beta."

This wake up routine was followed up by hurried preparations to school. Ma fed him breakfast as he wore the school uniform and tied the shoe laces.

Cheeku: "Kab theek karoge ye chhatt?"

Ma: "Baarish ke pehle."

Cheeku: "Pichle saal bhi yahi kaha tha!"

Ma: "Alarm hai ye teri .. late nahi ho raha tu school ke liye aaj?"

Cheeku: "He he .. waise ek baat poochni thi aapse. Sab dost school se wapas aate huye ice-cream khate hain. Kitni garmi hai, roz ek rupaya de sakti ho?"

Ma (after a pause and while tucking his shirt): "Haan, kyu nahi. Chal, roz tere bag mein rakh diya karungi. Par ice-cream hi khana us se, aur koi shaitani nahi. Theek hai?"

Cheeku (with a big smile on his face): "Haan!"

Much of the money she got from her pension was used up in her medicine bills. But how could she deny her grandson an innocent pleasure costing just Rs. 1? She started to place a coin in the front pocket of his bag.

--

On their way back from school everyday, to beat the summer afternoon, most of Cheeku's friends used to buy ice-cream. Cheeku, however, used to quench his thirst at the Pyau (a thatched water-hut) nearby the ice-cream vendor's cart-trolley.

With a coin in the bag, it had been tough for him to avoid the temptation of ice-cream. But the kick of getting to compete in the game of Lattoo overpowered that temptation. He knew he wouldn't get any money for betting in the game, so he lied to Ma.

After carefully aligning the thread around the nail and in to the grooves, you take a stance and swirl the Lattoo from one hand as you place the opponent's coin in the other hand. To win, you have to land your swirling Lattoo on the coin. If you are able to, you get that coin. Else, the opponent gets a shot at your coin. If it's a tie, the game continues till there is a winner.

Cheeku had been trying to master the art but failed and lost all his coins. One day, an opponent dared Cheeku - "Aaj Mahatma Gandhi ki photo hai mere rupaye mein. Aaj bhi harega tu!" Cheeku turned the dare in to splits of laughter at the playground - "Chashma toot gaya unka." Luckily, his top's nail landed right on Gandhi's glasses.

The next day, on his way back from school in a happy mood, King Cheeku had a coin in his bag (the one Ma placed in the morning) and two coins in his pocket (the one he'd bet and the one he'd won a day earlier). When he went to the Pyau with three coins in possession, he allowed himself to feel indebted to the operator and donated a coin from his pocket. He knew people do it. It was his turn to be generous.

After a few days, however, Cheeku started to regret his good deed at the Pyau. The only coin he'd won was not with him anymore. The day he donated that coin, he lost the other two coins in back to back games. And since then, he could not win a single game.

Thinking may be Gandhi was lucky for him, he decided he would request the operator to trade the special coin he donated with a normal coin. When he went to the Pyau, he found it shut. He inquired with the ice-cream vendor who told him that the lady who ran it was not well. She fainted and the locals rushed her to the nearest hospital.

"Aaj hi hona tha ye," he thought. To sooth his dry throat without the free water, he had only one choice. "Bhaiyya ek orange dena," he ordered the vendor.


He slurped the orange dolly and unzipped the front pocket of his bag to take the coin out to pay to the vendor. The bag fell as he lost the grip in shock.


It was the same coin.

--

The power of Music

Arvind moved to Denmark from India about a month ago. He switched jobs to earn more money. Not good at making new friends, he's been feeling lonely out there.

Bored of sitting alone at his house on a Friday night, he decided to take a walk in the neighborhood. It was snowing outside. The breeze caused the snow flakes to move around randomly. They brushed his face and lifted his mood up a bit. "Each snowflake is unique, I've read it somewhere", he recalled. As he walked further with a lighter mood, he started reflecting on his decision to move out of India and about being social.

He spotted a pub on the way. He stopped and observed the pub from across the street as he lit a cigarette. It looked like a happening pub. People coming out of it seemed happy and people going in looked excited. Everytime the door opened, he could listen to the song that was being played inside. The music was pop, his favorite genre. The song being played was also one of his favorites.

He finished his cigarette and threw the butt away. "What will I do inside alone?", he thought and started walking again. He took a few steps further but then suddenly turned back towards the pub. The DJ enticed him by playing one more of his favorite songs.

He sat at the bar and ordered drinks. He spent a couple of hours there, soaked himself in to the music, got moderately drunk, but spoke to none.

Pop music had set the mood for the party. At midnight, however, the DJ surprised everyone. He played a Bollywood song - Mayya Mayya. The song had Hindi lyrics, an Arabic feel and a global treatment to it. 

People looked at each other with amusement and started enquiring with each other about the song. Thirty seconds in to the song, many started enjoying the fresh sound. Two minutes in to the song, they started shouting "mayya mayya". They were alien to the lyrics but they could anticipate when "mayya mayya" would come in the song.

Arvind sat there smiling, observing the new body language of people. He could sense the exhilaration. "Such is the power of music", he thought. A girl walked up to a smiling Arvind and asked, "Do you know the song?". "Yes", said Arvind. "Can you please write it down for me, I have to download it", the girl requested. "Of course" said Arvind and wrote it down for her. She introduced him to her group of friends. Arvind spent the next two hours with her group, discussing about Music, India, Denmark and the song Mayya Mayya.

At around 2 am, he came out of the pub and started walking back to his house. It was still snowing.

"After all, I'm not so bad at being social", he thought.

The snowflakes brushed his face again. "They may be unique in structure, but they aren't actually that different from each other", he said to himself.

A ray of hope

Karwagarh is infamous for being prone to riots. The mosques and temples of town propagate prayers through competing loud speakers. Owing to its sensitive nature, the town is formed of clusters of houses. Each cluster has houses of either Muslims or Hindus. People try to avoid living at the peripheral of a cluster, so there is less proximity to the people of other religion. Because of the extent of divide, even a discussion between a Hindu and a Muslim is scrutinized in the town.

Amreesh and Faizal work as technicians at the Karwagarh Power Plant. They are neighbors as well - not within a cluster, but at the peripherals of two adjacent clusters. 

--

Every summer, a farmer from the neighboring village used to visit Karwagarh to run a sugarcane juice shop. The seasonal business helped him earn more out of the sugarcane he grew in his village fields. His wife and children used to accompany him to run the shop. 

The riots that broke in Karwagarh in May 1991 claimed his entire family. For some reason, he chose to stay back at the deserted fort on the hilly outskirts of the town.

--

Story

It was 1st January, 1992 - a public holiday barring the power plants. Finishing the day's work, Amreesh and Faizal were engaged in a discussion while cycling their way back home. To give their engagement more time, they started walking with their cycles.

Amreesh: "We had to work while many celebrated a holiday today."

Faizal: "What is it about the 1st of January? Does anyone in Karwagarh actually celebrate the New Year? It's a just another day for us. And that is true for all the date specific events and festivals."

Amreesh: "True. But these events are good. They can be celebrated by people irrespective of their religion. In our town, we never celebrate anything in common."

Faizal: "How can we? Even the toddlers swear by religion here."

As they arrived at the fort, they decided to park their cycles and spend some time there. Faizal asked Amreesh to notice the stone-eyed Saint of whom everybody talks about in the town. He was sitting near the huge entrance of the fort. As they passed him by:

Saint: "Over the past seven months, I've witnessed only love birds and alcoholics in this fort. Never had I imagined that I would find a Hindu and a Muslim together. What brings you here?"

Faizal and Amreesh turned back.

Faizal: "We've heard about you. (Pause) How do you know that we are not from the same religion?"

Saint (laughs): "Because you look like a Muslim and he looks like a Hindu - from head to toe. Why are you here?"

Amreesh: "We were in the middle of a discussion. If we'd continued to move downhill, we would have had to part ways before the housing area began. We wanted to spend some time together. "

Saint: "That would be an interesting discussion then. Was it about peace?"

Faizal: "Yes! I wouldn't have said peace, but it was actually about peace."

As the talkative Faizal seemed interested in the Saint, Amreesh whispered in his ears, “He’s mad. Don't you know what people talk about him?”

Saint (loudly, to Amreesh): “What do you know about me? I was a visitor. I ran a juice shop in this town. When the riots broke, my family ran around for shelter, only to find the doors shut on us. People chose not to take the risk of giving us shelter. The same people you're asking him to refer."

Faizal: "What do you mean? I have been to your shop. Are you the same person?"

The Saint kept looking at Amreesh.

Saint: "You discuss about peace. Tell me something. This is a beautiful fort. Why don't people come here?"

Amreesh (hesitantly): "I don't know."

Saint: "Because they hate their heritage. Hatred between people of different religions does not transform in to love between people of the same religion. This hatred manifests itself in lifestyles and behaviours - in existence. Deep down, people of this town hate themselves."

Amreesh and Faizal stood still.

The Saint took a deep breath, got up and started climbing the stairs that go up to the top of the fort. Faizal and Amreesh followed him. Faizal was intrigued with the discussion and continued asking him questions about whether the people will change - whether they can change. The latter ignored him. He just stood firm next to a flag and looked down below:

The housing area began at 500 meters downhill from the fort. It circled the heart of the town with a radius of four kilometers. The clustered houses were faintly visible as the whole town was lit up with night lights. It was past sunset.

The flag waved as a cool breeze started to blow from behind the fort, moving towards the town.

Amreesh pulled Faizal aside and gestured that they depart and leave the Saint alone. They left the Saint and cycled their way back to town, changing routes 500 meters downhill.

--

Karwagarh was nearing the end of a regular day. Because of being a town with a power plant, electricity made a good contribution to the construct of this "regular day". It kept alive the TV sets, the fans, the lights and the loud speakers. For Amreesh and Faizal, however, it wasn't such a regular day. Not that they haven't discussed things in the past, but their engagement level and the subsequent turn of events were unusual.

They reached their respective homes. They were reflecting over their interaction with the Saint. With no one around to discuss further, they were about to give in to the construct of the regular life. Just then, the electricity went off!

People were taken aback as their prayers got interrupted. Some were surprised of the sudden darkness. Some cursed the efficient power plant for its inefficiency. After some shock, people started adjusting to the situation. 

The cool breeze lured people up to the roof or out of their houses. Faizal and Amreesh also came on to their respective roof-tops. Ordinarily, they ignore each other in public. Today was different - they started talking:

Amreesh: "What happened to the electricity today? Last it went off was .. when? I don’t even remember."

Faizal: "Even I'm surprised! There were no issues at the plant or with the network when we finished our shifts."

Amreesh: "It's been an interesting day. (Pause) And I think that Saint had a point. The fort is our heritage, and yet, it brings no sense of togetherness to us."

Faizal: "Do you see absolutely any sense of togetherness in this town?" ....

People of the town, at this moment, were living literally in the dark.

.... and just then, the electricity came back!

It lit a smile on people's faces. Many jumped on the rooftops and many shouted on the streets out of happiness. Many whistled - in patterns - taking the town in to a state of joyful trance. People embraced the change and for once, the entire town celebrated together. Unknowingly.

The stubborn construct of the "regular day" engulfed the happy celebration in a few minutes. But it left two people out of its grip - Faizal and Amreesh.

They looked at each other and had a speechless conversation. Then they turned towards the fort and aimed for an eye contact near the flattering flag - through a ray of hope.

--

Composition

"What's the central thought, what did he tell you?" asked Irshad.

"The character wants to follow his dreams but the situations are always complex; emotionally. When he decides to listen to his heart, life ahead looks more difficult. He wants to be free now. Free like a bird. Fly. Like a bird," replied Dileep.

"Hmm .. the journey has to have some uncarved and abrupt elements then, it can not be beautiful or swift," said Irshad.

"I don't know, let's figure that out," said Dileep.

It was a breezy cold morning. Irshad and Dileep were composing a song. Holding a cup of hot coffee in his hand, Dileep opened up the window-

The Sun was yet to rise. The view from the window had a depth of many kilometers. The city life was slowly making itself visible in bits and pieces. The snapshot from the window told you a story - a story of how the city geared up for the day. The noise, the tranquility. The concrete, the people. The tar, the greens.

And the birds.

"Sparrow is definitely 'the common man', isn't it? Flaps its wings all the time, keeps working and is programmed not to relax or reflect," asked Dileep.

"Yeah. It is important although. Everybody is important," said Irshad.

"I know that. Just wanted your opinion. Look at that Vulture. It's very different from the other birds, isn't it?" asked Dileep.

"Yes. Too dispassionate to pull off a Rockstar although," said Irshad.

"Hmm .. Pigeon looks like a mix. Looks unsettled like sparrows but flaps less like Vultures. Did you ever notice that it turns its neck in quantums. May be it looks at the world differently than the other birds," said Dileep.

"Good quality for a Rockstar, you think?" asked Irshad.

"Pigeon .. hmm .. can't be .. just looking at the world differently is not enough. It's life looks fair and simple enough. Situations must force the Rockstar to fly. Fly far. Again and again and again," said Dileep.

Just then, an Albatross flew from double the height the Vulture was flying at. Irshad turned towards Dileep as the latter kept staring at it till it vanished from the field of view.

"You got your Rockstar, didn't you?" asked Irshad Kamil.

"We did!" said Dileep Kumar (popularly known as A.R.Rahman). "Also, we were wrong. The journey need not be abrupt, it can be beautiful and swift," he said.

"But why did you have to find a bird?" asked Irshad Kamil.

"There isn't any true Rockstar in India, and there can not possibly be one. Who do I go to and get a feel of the journey from?" said Rahman.

http://bit.ly/sBg36v

"Let's start the song with the soul taking off and starting to soar. We'll bring in the protagonist centric lyrics later to put the song in context of the movie", said Rahman.

http://bit.ly/vBQ5NR

-x-

Lessons from life

It was a hot and humid day in Mumbai and Heena was heading off to work. She boarded the morning local for work and stood at a spot under the fan. "Good morning, it's not working," said a fellow lady passenger. Heena got annoyed by the "Good morning" part and chose to ignore the lady.

The train halted at the next station. A guy jumped in to Heena's bogie. Before the women could revolt, he turned the fan on and jumped out. All he did was that he hit the fan blade with his pen. Before jumping out, he stared at Heena and said "works every time". He looked back and she smiled at him.

She got off the train at the last station. On the platform, a kid (beggar) started tapping her knee, asking for money to be placed on his palm. She ignored initially but got frustrated as the kid refused to let go. She was about to shout on the kid. But, a guy came from behind and gave the kid a biscuit packet. "Hi, I'm Vikram. I am the reason you are not sweating at the moment," he said.

Heena: "Oh! Yes. How come you are.."

Vikram: "Well, I thought I impressed you with the fan trick. So I boarded the train and kept looking for where you would get down. You know, in such situations, chances are that I would end up asking the girl out for coffee and she would not say no," he said.

Heena: "Ha ha. You know, I don't know how to tackle these beggars"

Vikram: "Tackle is a wrong word. Say face. Tea?"

Heena: "So how come you had a biscuit packet with you"

Vikram: "I have lots. I carry the Rs 2 Parle-G packets with me all the time. It helps me face the beggars. I don't want to give them money and I also don't want to use my judgment in choosing which beggars to help out. Actually, it's easier for girls to practice this, you all carry bags with you all the time, right? .. anyway, do you like Tea with Parle-G?"

Heena: "I do, but no. And hey, thanks for tips"

Vikram: "No problem, these fans will help me someday, for sure". He winked and left.

Heena ended up having a good start to the hot day. She started walking to her office and kept thinking about the guy and his tips & tricks. She stopped at a small shop to buy a cigarette. The vendor denied having change for Rs 10. She happily picked up 2 packets of the small Parle-G instead of the change.

The 2 packets got exhausted on the same day. Heena liked the feeling that she wasn't ignoring or tackling the beggars anymore. "Simple yet profound thought," she felt. She started practicing this habit and also told her friends about it.

-x-

A few months later, Heena was travelling to her native place which was a few hours of train journey from Mumbai. She placed her luggage below her berth in the train and went out to roam at the platform for some time. She had her iPod on and waited at the platform for the green signal.

She shuffled upon the playlist to listen to her favorite song "Sweet child o'mine."

"She's got a smile that it seems to me ..

Just then, a little girl came and tapped on her knee with a steel glass. Heena was surprised at the timing. She looked at the smiling little girl - blue eyes, fair, a tattered t-shirt, a dirty pant with pockets hanging out and brown dusty hair. The black tear marks on her cheeks made Heena feel pity. She checked her bag. One biscuit packet was there. She offered the packet to the little girl.

One hanging pocket went back in.

The little girl raised her glass to tap again but Heena turned towards a small shop to buy a water bottle. "Fifteen rupees," said the shop owner. "It says twelve on the bottle," said Heena. "And I say fifteen," replied the shop owner, without any change in his facial expressions. She took the headphones out of her ears and started arguing.

The little girl kept following Heena. She started tapping on her knee again. Heena looked at her and told the shop owner - "look, I do not have biscuits left in my bag .. you give me one packet .. I want to give it to this beggar .. you will still save one rupee". The shop owner gave up and handed over one packet to Heena.

The train honked as the green signal was given. As the train was about to leave in a few seconds, Heena handed over the packet to the little girl and rushed in to the train. She sat on her berth, opened up her water bottle and looked at the little girl from the window. Both pockets were in now. She smiled. The little girl, however, had confused expressions on her face.

Heena put the headphones back to her ears. Her favorite song was nearing its end. She took a gulp of water and placed her bag on the seat. The train began to move.

When she looked outside again, her eyes widened. As the train started moving slowly, she kept staring through her window -

The water tap on the station platform was at a certain height. The shop owner was filling water in the little girl's steel glass. The little girl took the water to her father, a crippled boot polisher, who worked at the station platform. She wasn't a beggar.

A tear maneuvered through Heena's cheek, depositing the black mascara on its sides, leaving a black tear mark. A permanent one.

.. where do we go now?" .. the song ended.

-x-

Mama, I'm coming home

The mid-term college break is on and Vikram is on his way back to his hometown. The train is about to reach the station which is at the end of the town. Vikram loves the last few minutes of this journey as he signs out of Facebook, shuts his laptop and stares through his Side Lower seat window.

It's drizzling outside. He observes the hometown run past his eyes. The scenes amuse him -

Poor people in huts near the railway tracks waving at his black window, hoping there is someone inside waving back.

A girl carrying on her head an earthen water pot. Visible behind her is the sex doctor advert at a distant wall.

A chameleon looking up to the rainbow in the sky, wondering if it could adapt by seeing.

A number of factories at the cheap outskirt land. The homeless yet costly outskirt land.

He found one of the scenes very intriguing - a group of children playing cricket. He has seen children play cricket before. From a moving train, although, it looked different and profound, as if the moment carries hidden emotions and beauty, which is not observable otherwise. "Which is a more appropriate phrase - 'Point of View' or 'Position of View'", he thought.

It is the feel of such phenomenon that makes Vikram take a tour inside his brain. Time stops and his stoned eyes are flooded with flashes from memory which could prove relevant in deciphering the phenomenon.

-

The train arrives at station and the crowd rush breaks his thought process. He packs his luggage, gets out of the station, stops a cab, opens the cab door, sits inside, opens the laptop and signs in to Facebook. He then watches a video shared by many of his friends -

"Sir, zindagi mein bahut haar ka saamna kiya hai, toh confidence kam ho gaya hai", says Sushil Kumar (a computer operator and an IAS aspirant from Bihar) while chatting with Amitabh Bacchan. Sushil then went on to become the first person to win 5 crores at KBC.

Vikram liked the video. He scrolled down to check more videos and updates from friends. "Mama, I'm coming home", he updated his own status while logging out.

Vikram has never heard this song. He has just seen his friends put up this status before they go home. So he thought it would be cool to do the same. It helps him feed to the personality he thinks he has among his peers.

Vikram is scared to express what he feels. He does what others do. His thoughts are no good, he is taught by the dominating plastic world. In return, there's a writer the living world left unnoticed.

Sushil Kumar, on the other hand, was courageous and went through the trouble of getting a shot at the KBC Hotseat. He was down on confidence but not on faith.

If only Vikram had liked the video for the message it actually carried.

--

Have faith, Mama's boy. Be yourself!

--

Bunty aur Bablu

Bunty starts his day with Ramdev Baba style belly dancing yoga. He has been doing it for the last few weeks. As a result, his vital stats have now receded to 40-50-60. Because of the respectable 40, he uses a small mirror while brushing his teeth, so he only gets to see what's above his stomach. The mirror is placed at the balcony on the first floor of his house. He stays at the first floor so he could catch hold of some juicy stems from the Neem tree growing in front of his house for brushing his teeth. He rents the ground floor to a Syndicate bank branch.

Syndicate bank's logo is the longest a dog has ever lived on earth. Neighbors relate the dog to Bablu, the old watchman of this thoroughly faithful bank. Bablu has been working for 64 years as a watchman of this branch of Syndicate bank. Bablu was the one who planted the Neem when he joined the bank. He has watered it for 64 years. He loves to rest under the big tree. From the past few days although, he prefers to stay away from the tree. He wants to avoid the medicinal spits and the mermaidising belly dance show going on on the first floor.

Bunty thinks he owns the bank because he sublets the ground floor to it. He loves the ATM of the bank the most. It gives him money whenever he wants and there's free air conditioning which comes in handy too. Bablu gets tired as Bunty visits the ATM every time he feels hot, which is a lot of times. He always expects Bablu to come and open the gate for him. Bablu believes that while most of the people go in to the bank to deposit money, Bunty only visits the ATM, to withdraw. What he can't think of, is where Bunty deposits his money.

Bablu has seen a lot of ATMs in the city which don't work effectively. He believes that a watchman needs to be proactive and hard working for smooth functioning of an ATM. Earlier today, he thought all his efforts of maintaining the ATM result in only one man's joy, who he hates. Enough is enough, he realized. He took a cardboard and hung it on the ATM machine. He wrote over it what he saw in most of the city ATMs - "Machine kharaab hai". Bunty came down in a while and stormed out of the ATM red-faced because of this dis-service from the bank he owns.

Bablu was not sad about being unethical to his dearest bank. Sitting under the Neem, he reflected on what he did.

He is now packing his bags and heading towards Delhi, where he is going to join Anna Hazare. For he wants to know where Bunty deposits his money, for he wants to question the small mirror, for he wants to take the revenge of the spits, and more so, for the sake of the sweaty 64 years he contributed in growing the tree, silently, since 1947.

For he is the face of the common man who now gets to see the reality at the first floor.

-x-

The Time-Travel Airlines

"The environs are aesthetic and it’s a cool place to work" - this is what prompted Rajeev to opt for a job at the Mumbai airport. Lately, he has been questioning the worth of his job. "Am I really creating any value?", he thought. Giving boarding passes & allotting seats isn't too productive, he felt.

He is a well read person with a keen interest in general knowledge and politics. Rajeev has the habit of reading life journeys of successful people. He has been a big fan of Nandan Nilekani among the other corporate honchos and Dr. B. R. Ambedkar among the political heroes.

He stayed positive and tried to be aware of his daily chores to figure some worth out. One day, an idea struck him. It made him realize that he can be a perfect Puppet Master! That he can produce conversations that otherwise would be left to chances.

He can make a Muslim sit next to a Brahmin, a Priest next to a Model and a 5 year old next to a rock star. He tried this for a while and just imagined the possible discussions which might have happened in the flight. Like he made Mr. Ajay Joshi and Mr. Ashraf Khan sit next to each other and wished that they would constructively discuss about the religion and caste systems in India. The conversations happened, but however interesting they might have been, they could not reach him.

The idea, however, took a safe place in his mind.

-

Sleeping one night, he had a weird dream. He worked for the Time-Travel airlines, which sends people in the past to revisit their life. The good part of this dream is that the conversations did reach him, or rather, came through him.

Mr. Nilekani, appeared as a passenger in Rajeev's dream. Mr. Nandan Nilekani (Born 1955) approaches Rajeev to collect the boarding pass of a long flight, going in to the past, from 2010 to 1955. The flight took off. Jon Stewart met Nilekani (in 2009) to discuss about the talk show episode; Dr. Abdul Kalam met in 2006, who congratulated him for the Padma Bhushan feat. Narayan Murthy appeared and appointed him as the CEO of Infosys. Then Nilekani, in his young avatar, received his degree from the then Director of IIT Bombay.

All these conversations were flashes of Nilekani's important milestones of life. But, it was actually Rajeev's knowledge about Nilekani's life history that cobbled up as a dream. The dream till this point was not left to imaginative interpretations, except for an anonymous IIT Director who appeared as a 60 year old, fat, mid-sized man.

The idea kept at the safe place sparked at last. Rajeev made Dr. B.R. Ambedkar sit next to Nilekani.

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar appeared in 1956, an year before Nilekani had to off board the flight. Ambedkar (1891-1956) was not looking well. He held the 1 year old Nilekani in his arms. He looked in to Nilekani's eyes and said "My work involved law making and policy formations. Such vital decisions are taken according to specific time frames. These decision don't hold true forever. Even Gandhi believed in this idea. I know that people will remember me for establishing caste reservations, but i do not want people to be remembered for their castes, not in the India i imagine. Don’t allow the future politicians to use caste reservation for politics, and certainly not for anything that could be a threat to the identity of a united India.”

--

Rajeev woke up and kept thinking about what Dr. Ambedkar said in the dream. A few days later, he had another dream. Nilekani appeared again as a passenger of the Time-Travel airlines. Only in this case, the flight was travelling to the future.

The flight took off in 2010. In 2011, Dr. Manmohan Singh congratulated Nilekani for the successful completion of the UID project. In 2012, Rajeev made Ajay Joshi and Ashraf Khan sit next to Nilekani. They took out their Unique Identity Cards and told Nilekani - "Sir, can you please get rid of this "Caste" section from our identity!"

-x-

L.E.D TV Ad

In a white body-fit costume, she dances with a pattern, in a style not known to many. The music is slow with a soothing treble. She makes waves with the hands and the body. She doesn't move from where she stood but does take turns. The room is dark, the floor is white and the walls are that of some shiny crystal.

She looks elegant and suave. With a distinguished jaw-line, green eyes and a sharp nose, she conveys a lot, even without any facial expressions. The dance patterns are designed to convey a message.

She revolves on the toe-tip, squints her eyes and extends her hands towards a white table. She waves her palm towards a candle placed on top of the table. It lights up! In the dark room, a ray of light from the candle passes through a prism and colors scatter through it. It happens in a split-second but is observed slowly. She dances around and waves her palm as she swiftly lights up hundreds of candles in a few seconds with her magical sleight of hand. The crystal walls are made of prisms too, they produce a color carnival outside.

From a green landscape outside, an 8 year old girl looks at the wall. Her pupils dilate. With dropped jaws, she stares admirably at the spectacle. Through a window on the wall, she sees the candle. The view from behind her zooms out. The music builds up. The wall converts in to a rectangular TV screen. The candle morphs in to the TV's power button.

The music changes and the line reads - It loves your eyes. Return the favor! ..

-x-

PS: The dancer represents the company. The dance represents the research. The candle represents the technology. The prism wall, of course, represents the L.E.D Tv.

Bhavnagar ka Kung Fu Panda

Pidilite industries have a Science Center at Bhavnagar. I went there officially to introduce Robotics at their Center. It was a Sunday but the day was spent in a completely formal way, unlike any of my other Sundays. I was preparing to leave when they introduced me to the local cable channel guy who wanted to shoot our product and ask some questions. The formal day took a sudden u-turn.

He took 5 stair steps to come and greet me. Fighting for breath after this physical assault, he said "Vinay bhai let's go to the Studio. It is at the 3rd floor." "You go and make yourself comfortable. I will take sometime reaching up," said the 5' 5", Fat, Chatterbox Kung Fu Panda.

I went up. Camera and Cameraman were in place. I waited for 10 minutes. Panda came and exhaled volumes of air. The AC sensed the temperature difference, beeped and turned on the compressor. He was seeing spots and needed time to settle down. I waited for 5 more minutes. He stood up, closed the door and switched off the fans. Fine, he's canceling the external sound before shooting, I thought.

After this point, whatever happened made my feelings hover in a 3-D space. The parameters being Fear, Frustration and Fun.

(1,0,0): He started unbuttoning his shirt. The cameraman started smiling at me. That can't be fine, this place is perfectly set for any kind of shoot, I thought. I feared for the 4th possible F parameter. The cameraman sensed the 1 I assigned to Fear and pointed towards a polythene bag. It was a bright blood red shirt. Oh! The Interview Shirt, he's just changing, I thought. This was my turn to make the AC beep. People exhale after mental assaults too.

(0,1,0): In that red shirt, he looked like the imaginary son of Bappi Lahiri and Jayalalitha. With that get-up, he gave me some facing-the-camera and vocab tips. The tips vividly reminded me of Tusshar Kapoor and Inzamam-ul-haq respectively. So now, after the Whistling Woods training, the interview started. He asked me to keep a robot in hand and shot the first question: "Is this a new kind of laptop computer?" Stumped, I decided not to answer his questions and somehow convey about the company and its work.

(0,0,1): So the interview went like a 5th standard kid blurting the table of 2 when asked the value of square root of 2. One has got to say what one wants to say! In this case it didn't even matter as his only reply to my any answer was "arey Vinay bhai, kya baat boli hai." He stopped the camera thrice during the interview as I kept hiding my smile by scratching my nose. Each time, he gave me more tips. I then vividly remembered the likes of Kamaal Khan, Dabboo Malik, Rajiv Shukla and Arun Lal.

Then I got my chance. Panda made a weird face. I couldn't figure if he was trying to sneeze or yawn or cough. Half of his face was normal and the other half looked like that of a desperate bull looking out for party cows. I grabbed the opportunity with both hands and stopped the camera. Got a kick, trust me. I wanted to do that to the Panda too.

The Panda, however, stole the show with this: "arey Vinay bhai kya baat kar rahe ho .. mera camera facing side thode kharaab tha .. main peeche wale side se hi cheenk leta"

I laughed majestic-fanatic-gigantic-ally!

-x-

The so-called Gods

Middle class small town homes witness a lot of guests. The Mishras represent a generic set of hosts. The family: Housewife Mummy, Generous Papa, The 90% Chotu and the leader Pinki

It’s evening tea time at the Mishra’s and a 1989 Bajaj Chetak is feared to appear. The Maharana Pratap rides along and sitting behind on the saddle are his wife and 3 daughters. He is about to take the last turn for the Mishra Nivas. He pushes the 3 mm diameter horn and pulls the throttle simultaneously. It’s like whipping the horse while pulling the strings. This groovy mix results in a high pitch horse neigh, which signifies Chetak. The droopy buffalo around the corner moves an ear as a gesture of irrelevant recognition.

Pratap grooves it up 2 more times so Mishras shouldn’t be in for a surprise. Mummy cracks the code and adds more water for 5 extra cups of tea. She pours the water and grunts her teeth. Tired from the daily chores, she exhales and rightly predicts Pratap’s first words - “Arey bhabhiji, 5 cup aur .. ha ha ha”. Chotu throws his chess board and rushes downstairs with his latest report card. Pinki vanishes with the 3 daughters without saying a word to Pratap and wife. Papa hugs Pratap and says “aap hi ko yaad kar rahe they”. Wife delivers the fake Aishwarya laugh yet again. Mummy exhales yet again. Visitors are Gods, they say, she can’t ask them not to come.

Then begins the conversation. Pratap complements Papa for his kindness and warm heart. He praises Mummy for the excellent tea. He shows pride over smart Chotu and able Pinki. He then talks about a spectrum of personalities varying from Ram Dev Baba to Obama. Although, he always ends up talking about money. He helps Papa invest. He has been helping for years now. He is a Bank Manager, which Papa knows and he works part time as an investment agent, which is a secret.

But Mummy knows everything. She knows why Papa is being praised. She knows that the Maharana Pratap would want to come again for some reason and will compliment even better next time. She knows that Papa is unaware - It’s a duty, a part of their life to get a stamp of goodness and character from him. She knows that Mishras are emotional fools.

She knows that Manmohan Singh has a balanced head and heart. She also knows that Pranab will show a good report card and that Chidambaram will lead smart. But she just understood why Obama praises Manmohan Singh each time there’s an Indian journalist around. She has now learnt that majority of Indians are also emotional fools - that they go gaga on such praises. Not all visitors are Gods, she knows!

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