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If we like them, they are freedom fighters. If we don't like them, they are terrorists. In the unlikely case we can't make up our mind, they are only temporarily guerrillas.

War and peace

I have heard of this book for long but did not have the guts to pick up something this heavy.  Finally, I picked the ebook and started reading it.  The book is fun to read and it has many wonderful things to say.  Somewhere in the middle of the book I started noting down some of the cool lines from the book.  This capturing went on for a few hundred pages.  

Marshal Davout was one of those men who purposely put themselves in most depressing conditions to have a justification for being gloomy. For the same reason they are always hard at work and in a hurry. "How can I think of the bright side of life when, as you see, I am sitting on a barrel and working in a dirty shed?" the expression of his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure and necessity of such men, when they encounter anyone who shows animation, is to flaunt their own dreary, persistent activity

A Frenchman is self-assured because he regards himself personally, both in mind and body, as irresistibly attractive to men and women. An Englishman is self-assured, as being a citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and therefore as an Englishman always knows what he should do and knows that all he does as an Englishman is undoubtedly correct. An Italian is self-assured because he is excitable and easily forgets himself and other people. A Russian is self-assured just because he knows nothing does not want to know anything, since he does not believe that anything can be known. The German's self-assurance is worst of all, stronger and more repulsive than any other, because he imagines that he knows the truth - science, which he himself has invented but which is for him the absolute truth.

Pfuel was one of those theoreticians who so love their theory that they lose sight of the theory's object — its practical application. His love of theory made him hate everything practical, and he would not listen to it. He was even pleased by failures, for failures resulting from deviations in practice from the theory only proved to him the accuracy of his theory.

Sometimes—when there is not a coward at the front to shout, 'We are cut off!' and start running, but a brave and jolly lad who shouts, 'Hurrah!'—a detachment of five thousand is worth thirty thousand.

What science can there be in a matter in which, as in all practical matters, nothing can be defined and everything depends on innumerable conditions, the significance of which is determined at a particular moment which arrives no one knows when?

Not only does a good army commander not need any special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence of the highest and best human attributes—love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly convinced that what he is doing is very important (otherwise he will not have sufficient patience), and only then will he be a brave leader. God forbid that he should be humane, should love, or pity, or think of what is just and unjust.

"So others are even more afraid than I am!" he thought. "So that's all there is in what is called heroism! And heroism! And did I do it for my country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes? And how frightened he was! He thought that I should kill him. Why should I kill him? My hand trembled. And they have given me a St. George's Cross… . I can't make it out at all

A doctor's usefulness did not depend on making the patient swallow substances for the most part harmful (the harm was scarcely perceptible, as they were given in small doses), but they were useful, necessary, and indispensable because they satisfied a mental need of the invalid and of those who loved her—and that is why there are, and always will be, pseudo-healers, wise women, homeopaths, and allopaths.

Dron was one of those physically and mentally vigorous peasants who grow big beards as soon as they are of age and go on unchanged till they are sixty or seventy, without a gray hair or the loss of a tooth, as straight and strong at sixty as at thirty

He had managed people for a long time and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no suspicion that they can possibly disobey.

At the approach of danger there are always two voices that speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably tells a man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of escaping it; the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too depressing and painful to think of the danger, since it is not in man's power to foresee everything and avert the general course of events, and it is therefore better to disregard what is painful till it comes, and to think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man generally listens to the first voice, but in society to the second.

Such magnanimity and sensibility are like the magnanimity and sensibility of a lady who faints when she sees a calf being killed: she is so kind-hearted that she can't look at blood, but enjoys eating the calf served up with sauce. They talk to us of the rules of war, of chivalry, of flags of truce, of mercy to the unfortunate and so on

"If there was none of this magnanimity in war, we should go to war only when it was worth while going to certain death, as now. Then there would not be war because Paul Ivanovich had offended Michael Ivanovich. And when there was a war, like this one, it would be war! And then the determination of the troops would be quite different. Then all these Westphalians and Hessians whom Napoleon is leading would not follow him into Russia, and we should not go to fight in Austria and Prussia without knowing why. War is not courtesy but the most horrible thing in life; and we ought to understand that and not play at war. We ought to accept this terrible necessity sternly and seriously. It all lies in that: get rid of falsehood and let war be war and not a game. As it is now, war is the favorite pastime of the idle and frivolous.

Most of the people at that time paid no attention to the general progress of events but were guided only by their private interests, and they were the very people whose activities at that period were most useful. Those who tried to understand the general course of events and to take part in it by self-sacrifice and heroism were the most useless members of society, they saw everything upside down, and all they did for the common good turned out to be useless and foolish

Krishna rambles

Long time ago, when humans wasn't there only apes, I just for fun thought apes used to do what we do now, but they don't talk. So there used to be a city in idta (India) which was called neingai (Chennai) there was a man in neingai called driska the greatest musician
of all in that time.He got a letter 1 day for the first time,opened it and read it aloud to himself "you,son of geanga meet me at miplo cafe,in 4 minutes from when you got the letter." When he finished reading the letter he thought who is geanga,and who everhe is.

In memory of

I received the news late one night.  It was shocking and unexpected.  In most cases, death comes as a shock for friends and family.  When unexpectedness is added the shock increases.  For a few minutes, the news stunned me.  Soon the phone calls started and everyone discussed what next.  A few hours later, I was sitting besides a freezer box which contained the mortal remains of my uncle.  His friends and family stood around with sadness.  A few of them had tears running down their face. Everyone looked at the immobile face in disbelief.  Many of them had talked and seen him a few hours earlier but now he will not be heard and in a few hours not be seen either.

My uncle was a principled person and almost everyone who came in contact with him ended up respecting him.  He helped his friends and family to the best of his ability.  He was a pillar not just for his immediate family but for many of us belonging to the extended family. We looked towards him for help and advice.  I don't remember a situation where he has refused help to anyone.  For him, relationships were more important than almost everything else (many a times his own self).  He also talked his mind and so many of us had no confusion about his thoughts and intentions.  I remember him recounting an incident, which displayed his courage to speak out his thoughts.  He worked in the North for many years in a Government organization.  Some people of his organization came to him to collect money for the Dusshera celebrations.  He refused to pay them saying that both he and Ravan come from the South and he will not support the burning of a South Indian's effigy.  

Such instances of courage and love will not be seen or heard anymore.  The person responsible lay frozen before us.  Many people came and all of us waited as long as we could.  As the evening gave in to darkness, wails were heard as he was taken away from his home.  A few minutes later, flames enveloped his lifeless body and he remained only in our hearts and mind.  We walked away, with the grief settling in and the everyday happening burying it slowly.   His family would support each other and grieve for the next few days.

On the fifteenth day, a ceremony was conducted on the shores of a river to ensure that his soul would be in peace.  The inability of rationalism to explain everything that happens around us ensured all of us to took part in the ceremony wholeheartedly.  The priest's calm voice and lucid explanations enabled us to envision the transcendence of his soul.  In a way, the ceremony is like the closing of a chapter.  The contents of the chapter will remain with us.  Its impact depends on the quality of the chapter itself.  

At the end of the day, the little grandson who had taken part in the ceremony turned towards his father and said "What a fantastic day! So many new experiences and learning.  I now know what to do when you die".

Listening Station - a new blog on music

Let me branch of here and add a Listening Station

Dread dreaming

List of Characters
Mika:        Main Character (the original I).  Being the author of this piece, he has assigned himself the role of main character.  In reality, he is always the supporting character
Karma:     Character A.  The finance guy in the Mika's company.  Only makes a cameo appearance here.
Anoka:      Another Character (the I in dream). Though the author has assigned himself as the main character, Anoka is the protagonist of the story.  His character lives up to the Anoka name though.
Yaksha:      Yet Another Character. Many think he is a saint in probation and hence called Yaksha,
Leka:          Lady character. Though a character on her own right, she plays a minor role at the end.
Mrs.Mika:  Mika's wife makes a brief appearance.

SCENE 1

I is sitting in his office staring at the mobile.  He shakes his head and shifts his focus to the laptop. He plays around with the touch pad and keyboard and then stares at the screen.  He shakes his head and goes back to the mobile.  He throws the mobile on the table and holds his head between his hands.  A few minutes later, he picks up the phone, dials a number and waits for the response.

I: Karma, why is bank balance in the negative?

Karma: Sir, your last credit card payment pushed it to the negative.

I: Oh! Is that allowed?

Karma: Our account allows overdraft.

I: How much more can we push it to?

Karma: Another 1000 rupees sir.

I: Only another 1000 is it? How come we have not received any payment?

Karma: Which payment are we supposed to receive?

I: That customer.

Karma: Which one sir?

I: The foreign one.

Karma: We received it last week Sir.

I: We are in negative still?

Karma: Yes sir.

I: God save us.  Ok.

I cuts the phone and takes his head back to between his hands.  From the corridor, the excited blabbering of Anoka can be heard.  He walks into the room continuing the conversation with some one outside.  Once inside the room, he addresses I.

Anoka: I had this terrific dream early this morning.  You gotta hear it.

I: Early morning dreams come true.

Anoka: I don't know if I will be happy or sad if this one comes true.

I: Ok. I am all ears.  Tell me.

Anoka: Let Yaksha come.  He has to be here too.  Ah! here he is.  You have to imagine this as a drama.

Yaksha: Like all those Shakespeare stuff.

Anoka: Yes, like Shakespeare.

I: My life is a melodrama already.  I don't need any more drama in it.

Anoka: Come on.  This will be fun.

I: Alright, go ahead.

SCENE DREAM

I am entering the office...

TERMINATE SCENE DREAM

I: Hold on, hold on, hold on. I cannot imagine a drama in the first person.

Anoka: Meaning?

I: It has to be done in third person.
Anoka: What does that mean?
I: You cannot say I am.  You should say Anoka is

Anoka: I don't think that is true.

I: Well, I am not interested in your dream if you cannot do that.

Anoka: OK FINE.  If you want third person, you get third person.

Yaksha: What is this first person, third person?

Anoka: Never mind, the dream is more important.  ACTION.

SCENE DREAM

I is hurrying into the office in a state of excitement.  I walks into Yaksha's cabin and announces.

I: Yaksha, I heard that Mika has had a heart attack.  I think he is dead.
Yaksha: What nonsense! I saw him in his cabin sometime back.

The two of them walk towards Mika's cabin and finds it empty.
Yaksh: But he was here just a moment ago.
I: Impossible. He is dead.
Yaksha: Just shut up.  You always come up with these wild thoughts.  Remember the last time.  Mika's grand father had an attack and you went around the place telling everyone that Mika had a heart attack.
I: What nonsense! It was you who informed me that Mika had a heart attack.  I only informed others.
Yaksha: It was not necessary for you to inform the whole world.  Anyway, let us call him.

Yaksha takes out his phone and calls Mika. The phone rings but is not picked up.

Yaksha; There's no response.

I: Let us go to his home.

The two of them get out of the office and go to Mika's house. On reaching his home they see a crowd around the house. But the house itself is locked. The people are murmuring among themselves.

Murmurer 1: How can they not be here in such a time?

Murmurer 2: They should be home in such a time. But career is so important for people today. What is the point of working so much when they cannot take care of themselves?

I: What happened? Where are they?

Murmurer 3: All this running around for what? Family and peace of mind is more important.

I: Is Mika alright? Where are they?

Murmurer 1: They should have been here. Very irresponsible.

Anoka: This is pointless. Let's go to Mika's wife's office.

Yaksha and I reach Mrs.Mika's office.  They found her standing outside the office drinking tea.
Yaksha: Is Mika alright?  Anoka said that he has had a heart attack.
Mrs.Mika: What nonsene! Mika is sitting in the reception,

They walk into the reception.  Mika is sitting in the reception pondering into a newspaper.
Mika: Hey! Whatsup!
Yaksha: What are you doing here? Anoka is going around the world telling people that you had a heart attack.
Mika: Hey! Only people with heart have an heart attack (guffaws).
Mrs.Mika: Its about time you thought of something different and original.  People are getting tired of you stale jokes and statements.
I: But I am sure you had a heart attack and you are dead.
Mika: That guy Anoka is watching too many movies. Must be some leftover imagination from Race10.
Mrs.Mika: There is a level and limit to his jokes.  Anoka cannot get so heart less.
Mika: Hey! I am the heartless one here.
Mrs.Mika: Oh shut up Mika.  You are more brainless than heartless.  How can Anoka joke about someone's death?

I: But I am sure he has had a heart attack and is dead.

Yaksha: He is sometimes quite insensitive.  Ok, gotta go.  See you later.

Yaksha and I walk out of the office with I muttering this and that constantly.  Yaksha seems to ignore I and soon they reach the office.  They see Leka sitting in her cubicle.
Yaksha: This Anoka freaked us out today.
I: No I did not.
Leka: What happened?
Yaksha: Anoka said that Mika had a heart attack and he is dead.  We went to his home and then to  his wife's office.  We saw Mika at her office.  He is alright.  His wife is furious.
I: But he had a heart attack,
Leka: This is terrible.  How can he say such things?
Yaksha: Insensitive fellow.
I: Why don't they listen?  I was not joking or telling a lie.  Screw them all; I am going home.

I leaves for home.  When I gets home, I sees the place is filled with people.
I: What happened?  Why are you all here?  What is wrong?  Why are you not answering me?

I walks into his house and is shocked to him lying on the floor dead.

END SCENE DREAM

I: Is that it?

Anoka: Yes. Terrific right?

I: You have wasted 15 minutes of my life with a useless rehash of Sixth Sense.

Anoka: Why sixth sense?
I: What do you mean Why Sixth Sense?

Anoka: What is the sixth sense part in the dream?

I: Don't you know Sixth Sense. I can see dead people...

Anoka: You can see dead people?

I: The movie Sixth Sense.

Anoka: Oh is it?  Don't you know I don't watch English movies.  This is my dream, original dream.

I: Dreams are always inspired by real life occurrence. So it is inspired by something you have seen or experienced.

Anoka: My dream is original and I am going to make a movie out of it.

Yaksha and I laugh as Anoka storms out of the room.

END SCENE 1

... AND EVERYTHING ELSE

Some more on death

BBC travel has a write up on how thinking about death at least once a day helps one reduce fear of death and avoid anxeity attack.  The people of Bhutan are expected to contemplate of death at least five times a day.  It is similar for sadness too "We fear sadness. It’s something to get over, medicate. In Bhutan there’s an acceptance. It’s a part of life.”

http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20150408-bhutans-dark-secret-to-happiness

 The BBC travel also has an article on destinations that hardly seem real.  The article helped me realize that there are a set of island called Faroe island above between the Arctic, UK, Scandinavia and Iceland.  The islands have many such incredible locations.  Of the locations shown, I had the good fortune of seeing one.  

http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20151113-destinations-that-are-so-magical-they-hardly-seem-real

Of daughters

The year had been merciless on the couple so far. It was only six years old but the experiences seemed equivalent to six years. The downs dominated the ups and were leading by quite a margin. The running around from place to place was at an all time high too. Of the six weekends only one Sunday was spent at home and that too on cleaning and other chores. They looked yearningly back at their early days of marriage; weekends spent watching the complete Bond, Lord of the rings and Matrix series. At that time such weekends were laden with guilt - a criminal wastage of time. But with the growing years realization dawned that their marriage probably lasted this long due to those lazy weekends. The coming weekend seemed one such lazy weekend. No planned event and hopefully nothing popped out of nowhere. For him, the Friday evening threw in a challenge and he had to stretch the day till 2 AM to ensure a movie, biriyani and burger weekend. It was 3 am when his head hit the pillow. But the thought of the relaxing weekend ahead put him to sleep almost instantly.

She was woken up the next day by the ringing of her mobile. At first she ignored it but the calls kept coming. She finally gave up when it rang for the fifth time in two minutes. She picked the mobile and noticed that the call was from her ex-classmate. The only response she got for her "hey" was a series of sobs. She got worried and started enquiring the problem. "He had an accident and is in the ICU". Her friend sputtered the details in the next few minutes.

By then, he was up and standing besides her.  The two of them did not say anything to each other for a few minutes after the call. She started crying and unlike the usual times he did not try to pacify her. Finally she said "let's go". " What about him?" He asked pointing at their daughter. "We will leave her with my parents" she responded. A coffee later they were on their way to her parent's house and ultimately to the hospital. They had not informed the parents about their coming over and her father was surprised to see them. But one look at his daughter's face turned the surprise into concern. The next few minutes were spent in recounting the happenings and expressions of concern. Her phone rang again and her friend pleaded them to get to the hospital immediately.

She spent most of the journey to the hospital in silent prayers. A few sobs and sniffles were also heard intermittently. He tried his best to focus on the road. Their minds had got out of the initial shock and related excitement. It had moved on to the future and was looking at it with dread. The friend had not mentioned why her husband was in the ICU. Questions racked their brains - Was it an accident or did he get a stroke or attack? They discussed briefly and reached the conclusion that it's probably an accident. The guy is a health freak and there was no way he could get an attack or stroke. "Hope it's not too serious" she prayed. He did not feel so hopeful and looked ahead with dread.

The hospital was considered the best in the city and hence was crowded. It was so crowded that day that one could not stand anyplace even for a moment. As in the case of the Bombay trains, the crowd pushed you out of the way. The two of them were familiar with the hospital and aimed for the stairs. The ICU was on the fourth floor but there were too many people waiting for the elevator. Everyone waited patiently in the queue till the elevator doors opened. Patience and queue then decided to take a stroll and all indulged in pushing and shoving. Even patients were not given the priority. The attenders used techniques from American football to get the patients into the elevator through the pandemonium. The staircase was also crowded and it reminded them of the darshan queue at Tirupathi. As the couple reached the fourth floor they sent out a desperate appeal for their friend's well-being to Venkatachalapathy.

They realized their prayers did not reach the gods the minute they saw her friend. They had met her only a week back but now she looked many years older. Her hair spread out in all directions from her head. Her tears had created valleys on her face and they were flowing still. The two friends cried volubly as they held each other. Neither of them asked or said anything but continued crying. He wanted to desperately know what happened and on looking around saw her father-in-law standing by the ICU door. They shook hands and he started recounting. Being a well known story teller, he started from the beginning - the beginning of the day that is. But he could only get through a few words before our friend cried out "But it is only a gas problem. Why are they complicating it?" Her father-in-law got to the point by uttering "he's had a massive heart attack and is struggling". The matter of fact manner in which he said resulted in a stunned silence for a few moments. Then the two ladies burst out crying. The two men looked away to hide their tears from each other. An attender sushed vehemently and added "please be quiet madams".

A little later, the friend stopped crying and said "Papa!". Everyone looked in the direction she was  looking. A tall and elegant man was walking towards them. The friend stopped crying and looked at the gentleman with a mixture of awe and fear. The couple and the father-in-law had expressions of discomfort. The wife tried to hide behind her friend. The man ignored the rest and went directly to the friend and took her in his arms. She broke down in her father's arms. The wife now moved towards the husband and tried to hide behind him. The father-in-law started a conversation with the hospital attender.

The newly arrived gentleman let go of his daughter and said to no one in particular "it is sad I had to hear this". He paused before adding "from a stranger". The wife shrank further behind her husband but the gentleman looked towards her and asked "how are you Malathi?". She came out of her cower and mumbled "amo k nkle". He walked towards the father in law, shook hands with him and started questioning about his son-in-law's condition. Malathi and her husband walked towards them and listened. The situation seemed grim. Malathi walked back to her friend and held her. They sobbed on each other's shoulders.

A doctor walked out of the ICU. He intimated the sad news with a somber expression. Though the dread of this possibility had intermittently raised it's head during the past few hour, everyone had maintained varying degrees hope in their hearts. The shattered hopes took some time to express but then exploded with cries, sobs, tears, faints, falls and shouts. The person responsible for this sadness was soon brought out. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. For a minute, Malathi's husband thought this was some kind of joke. Their friend threw herself on the stretcher and pounded his chest with her hands crying. He did not wake up or show any reaction. It was not a joke. Everyone other than Malathi's husband had gone incoherent with grief. He got busy in completing the required processes to get out of the hospital. Two hours later, the ambulance started its journey from the hospital. The friend's focus shifted to her daughter. "Oh god! What will I tell Maya. She will never see her daddy dear. How will she take it? What am going to do?" Through the journey she kept moaning such questions. Malathi tried to comfort and quieten her but to no avail.

Maya was studying for her exams when the ambulance pulled in. When she heard the commotion outside, she went out to check it. She was shocked to see her father being brought out of the ambulance on a stretcher. The first things she noticed were his closed eyes and cotton in his nostrils. Many would have considered her too young to understand death but she belonged to the movie and serial generation. The many serials that her grandmother watched had informed her that burning the in fire stage followed cotton in the nose stage. Her daddy would be available in photographs and videos only from now on. She let out a loud cry as she ran to her mother.

"Mommy, what happened to daddy? What happened to daddy?". The mother did not answer. They held each other and cried. Her grand father took her hand and held her. She looked at him surprised and asked " Grandpa! You here! What happened to Daddy? " "Nothing my dear" answered the grandfather. "You are lying Grandpa. Daddy's dead." By now friends and family started pouring in. The suddenness of the incident and the tearing up of the young family saddened everyone.

From the early days of civilization humans thought of death as a comma, rather than a full stop, in life . To ensure that the part after the comma went well they brought in many customs. The primary objective of these customs was to ensure that the person undertook the journey of death in comfort, meaning food and cloths. This continues even in today's rationalist and meta-physical world. Unfortunately, this results in one spending a lot of time in close vicinity of a loved one who has turned rigid and cold. It is very painful to see and touch a grotesque version of a loved one who a few hours earlier had made you laugh or even cry. It is made sadder by the thought that this form is definitely the last one sees of him or her.

The priest who was brought in for the ceremony was not the sensitive type and conducted it elaborately. His matter of fact manner seemed too harsh for most people. Some of the older and wiser members reminded the need for such ceremonies to ensure the happiness of the dead man's soul and the family. The house was not large enough to conduct the ceremony and so it was conducted in the verandah. Malathi held her friend, who had run out of tears, in her arms. Her friend's father was sitting inside with Maya. The ceremony was handled by the father who was in a daze and would have like to exchange spots with his son. Malathi's husband stood in a corner questioning God on the need to kill a friend to spoil their weekend.

Unlike a usual house of death, there were no shrieks and cries in this house. The mumbling of the crowd, the instructions from the priest, a constant stream of sobs and sighs were the only sounds to be heard. Since the whole neighborhood was present at the house, the neighborhood was also quiet except for an occasional bark, caw and chirp. At the house, the constant mumble between the grandfather and granddaughter was heard. The girl's words brought sadness to the people close enough to hear but the grandfather's words brought comfort. The ceremony had nearly come to an end and it was time for the entire family and friends to offer water and rice to the dead person. His mother moved his brother, who had sat holding his lifeless hand, back into the house. As he moved away, he complained "his hands are cold, cover him".

For the next thirty minutes the house did seemlike a house of death. Maya's grandfather was no longer able to comfort her. He stood helpless looking at her and his daughter. His shy and usually quiet daughter cried oblivious of the crowd. Their cries reached a crescendo when the body was taken out. That truly was the end of a loving son, father, husband, brother and friend.

Maya's grandfather did not go to the crematorium. He chose to stay with Maya and her mother.  The cries and weeping subsided to silent sobs and glum silence.  The friends and relatives cleaned the house.  Maya lay down with her head on her's grandfathers lap.  He talked about various things - fate, karma, destiny, life goes on, tragedies, two sides of a coin were part of his monologue.  It is not very clear if Maya understood everything that was said but she seemed to listen intently.  The day had made her tired and her grandfather's soothing voice took her to sleep.  He let her sleep for sometime with her head on his lap.  He looked at her for a long time with an affectionate yet sad smile in a corner of his lips.  Soon he put a pillow under her head and walked out of the room.

"Saroja, get up, get ready.  We are leaving" he said to his daughter.  Everyone in the house looked at him shocked.  Saroja attempted to protest but her father cut it short with a look.  Her mother-in-law did not take heed of the look and said "This is a death house.  She cannot leave now."  He looked at the mother-in-law sternly and said "they are coming with me".  He directed Saroja to get ready. Saroja did not move but stared at her father.  He took her hand and pulled her up saying "let us go Saroja".  A little while later, Saroja, her father and Maya walked out of the house. Saroja's father-in-law was just returning from the crematorium and asked "where are you going?" in confusion.  Saroja kept silent but her father said "I am taking them with me".  "No, not now.  That is not right."  The three of them did not respond.  "Sir, they cannot go out till the 16th day" protested the father in law.  Saroja's father glared back and said "Its too late to bring in customs now.  You should have thought of it earlier".  The three of them got into his car and left.  Saroja looked out of window and cried.  Maya was sitting in the front besides her grand father.  She did not look back or cry but looked ahead.

Malathi's husband walked to her and asked "why did you not stop him?" Malathi glared at him as she said "Stop uncle? No way. I was not even able to look at him let alone talk".  "But how can he just take them from here?" "That's uncle. I think we should talk to uncle and aunty and leave."

The drive back to Malathi's parent's house was a silent one.  The events of the day and the dramatic end had made them tired.  They decided to sleep at her parent's house that night.  Next morning his daughter's attempt at strangulating him with her love woke him.   Malathi was not in the room.  She was talking to her father and mother about the previous day's events.  Soon after lunch, they left for home.

On reaching home, Malathi and her husband decided to take a short nap.  Their daughter decided to stay awake.  "Alright, but no watching TV".  "Awwww come on".  They woke up a couple of hours later and found their daughter looking at them bright eyed.  "What did you do?" "Go look in the kitchen." "My God! Did you wash all those vessels?" "Yes" "Nice".

Things moved towards busy days and tired evenings. Saroja, Maya and their misfortune slowly moved to the background. Mundane issues started occupying the foreground. The daughter seemed to have been bitten by the cleanliness bug.  Whenever she saw something out of place she promptly rectified it.  One night, she decided to clean the vessels again; her parents looked at each other and smiled with pride.  She went into the kitchen and a few minutes later ran into the bathroom.  When she came out she was holding a red scrub.  "Why are you taking that scrub dear?" asked Malathi.  "Mama, I don't like that green scrub.  I want to use the red one".  "No! That is used to clean the toilet.  Put it back. Did you use that scrub on Sunday to clean the vessels?" "Eh. I used the red one Mama".  "What!" "No no no.  I mean the green one, green one, green one".

Some thought on "Love side by side"

I had seen Partha Sarathi Sen Sharma at a conference in Chennai.  He was the lead speaker and from the talk I thought he is a no-nonsense and to-the-point person. Coincidentally, he was my boss’ ex-colleague and I heard a little about his fascinating journey to become one of the top bureaucrats in the state of Uttar Pradesh.  A few weeks later I heard that he has published a novel.  For the past few years, I have dreamt of writing and publishing a book. I had even made a few attempts unsuccessfully.  I always blamed it on my career but this book has proved me wrong.  It teases me with "if you have the will to write, you will write". 

Will is the central concept of this book.   The story is driven by the will and decisiveness shown by the central characters.  Each character in the book have made their decisions on how to live their lives and are not ready to compromise their position even for love.  This is in contrary to what is usually seen in our movies and books.  The book brings in practicality rather than divinity to the concept of love.  It is amazing to see the practicality is displayed by all the central characters.  They know how and where they want to lead their lives; love cannot dictate this.  This is contrary to what is shown in many of the popular movies and books today, which influences the upcoming generations.

The book describes the choices faced by the three central characters in their twenties.  It deals with the clash between their life and career choices.  While reading the book, I tended to prefer one character over the other but thinking back I realize that none of them are more right than the other.  At that age, many of us went through similar choices and our selection was more based on our feelings than logic.  The book brings this out well and strikes a chord with our own experiences.

The love aspect of the book is only a catalyst – a medium of sorts. “What should I do with my life?” is the central question.  Love is only a part of the question.  This question and the thought that life cannot be split into right and wrong is an important lesson that the book provides to the generations stepping out of their childhood.  As we grow the way we think changes and hence our priorities change.

The writing style of the book is simple and easy to read.  It is something that most of us can identify with.  We have used such language while talking to friends and family.  Many a times, it seemed I was reading a letter from a friend.  A letter that I wished had some more pages and did not end so soon,

On the whole, I am so glad to have come across Partha and this book.  I hope this inspires me to write a book (a novel to be precise) in not too distant future.

Eggscape

The shopkeeper took the 20 rupees and said he does not have the change. He was requested to give an egg instead. The shopkeeper agreed immediately. The walk back to home was spent thinking about the day ahead. The plastic bag with the egg and other stuffs swayed from the hands. On reaching home the bag was placed on a window sill. The car seemed dirty and needed dusting urgently. The process consumed 20 minutes. Twenty minutes of further thinking on the day ahead.

When the bag was picked it seemed lighter. Something was missing - the lonely egg. It had not fallen off the bag. But it was not in the bag either. Instead the bag had a hole which was big enough for the egg to fall off. A re-inspection of the surrounding confirmed that the egg had not fallen off. But a crow picking into a paper wrapping was noticed. The wrapper seemed to be in the shape of a egg. The damn crow had taken advantage of the opportunity to tear the bag and take out the egg. It took the egg to a safe height before tearing into the paper, breaking the shell and drinking the egg's content.

On finishing off the egg it gave a few contented caws before flying away. The questions it left behind included 

1. How did it identify the egg?
2. How did it take it off without breaking it?
3. Was there a hint of amusement in the caw or was it just satisfaction?
4. How can the recent desire to have egg for breakfast be satisfied now?

First excursion with friends

His first trip with friends. Staying two nights away from home at a hill station. Trekking, rock climbing and other exciting activities planned for the three days. The school had sent a long list of items to be packed. The buying and searching for items itself seemed an activity. The excitement reached a crescendo the night prior to the travel. He was up on first call at 4:45AM. It seemed he had not slept at all. He was ready to leave within 15 minutes and had to be held back for another 15 minutes.

It had seemed that he would be the first child from school to board the train. But everyone had arrived by the time he got to the compartment though he had reached on time. Excited voices of children filled the compartment. The parents looked through the windows with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Most of them were first timers and many questions crowded their minds. Some of the experienced parents tried calming down the anxiety. The train started moving and waves of goodbye filled the air. The parents started their journey back to their usual lives when it seemed pointless to look at the passing train. They did not have much to talk to each other.

For the second time in as many months, mobiles could not help in getting instant information. By the end of day, the parents were calling each other to get some information. Time dragged on and by the end of day two, the desperation reached its peak. One of the parents called the school and received the information "they are fine". This turned out to be the most shared item on the parent's Whatapp group.

The day of arrival finally arrived. The parents did not feel too relieved. They had to wait till 10:30 PM. Two days had passed with no information other than "they are fine". It was not like they doubted the school's ability to take care of the kids. But the "what if" worried them. The day dragged on. The most boring and mundane activities seemed boringer and mundaner. For the first time in many years, determining the current time seemed a very important activity.

Most parents reached the platform 15 minutes prior to the arrival time. They smiled at each other sheepishly and indulged in disinterested small talk. Finally the train arrival announcement was heard. The parents craned their necks to get a first look of the train arriving. The announcements were rebroadcast two more times before the headlight of the engine was seen at the other end of the platform. The light grew constantly and transformed into an engine soon. The  engine passed a little later. The first set of compartments rushed by.

The train stopped and the parents looked into the compartment eagerly. The children and the parents spotted each other. Happy faces waved and greeted each other. The children weighed down by their bags tumbled out. They ran into their parent's arms who seemed relieved and surprised by the children's happiness. In a matter minutes the parents and children were on their way back home bundled into their respective cars.

He did not boisterously share stories and experiences from the past three days but was quiet and only answered in monosyllables. He seemed tired and his voice hinted an affliction of cold. He suddenly mentioned that that he had not taken bath during the excursion. The "why' question was pointlessly responded with a "Gneaah". On reaching home, he removed his pants and ran to the toilet. "Sit down. What's the hurry?" protested the parents in unison. "The toilets were very dirty" came the response. "So?" queried the parents. "I did not use it".

Dog - Dead on ground

The rain had turned into a drizzle by the time I decided to leave.  I ran through the light drizzle towards my car.  The downpour had resulted in many puddles across the road and I was not successful in avoiding them.  By the time I reached the car, my shoes had sucked in most of the water.  I got into the car, removed my shoes and socks.  As I started the car, the stereo blared out something loud.  I shook my head back and forth as I started working on the pedals and wheel.  It was nearing midnight and way later than I had planned.  Sunday nights had to end by ten but this evening my insistent friend extended it 2 minutes to midnight.

The roads were empty this late on a Sunday night and it took only fifteen minutes to reach my apartment.  I got out of the car and walked towards the gate.  I searched for the key hole in the dark.  I angled the lock towards the faint beam of light coming from a distant street light.  It helped; I inserted the key and turned it but it did not go the necessary full circle.  I tried again with similar results.  I was getting desperate now.  I continued turning the key insistently and forcefully.  A few turns and curses later, the key completed the full circle and lock clicked open.  I removed the lock and chain from the gate and pushed the rickety gates open.  As the gates opened, the key fell out of my hand.  I bent down to pick the key.  When I looked up I saw one of the gates rushing back at me at alarmingly rising speed.  I pushed my head back to avoid it, lost my balance and my backside hit the ground with a thud.  As pain shot up my back, I heard dog coming towards me barking.  When the dog reached closed by, it recognized me and started wagging its tail.  I looked at it annoyed.  It seemed to have a surprised look in its eyes.  I shoo-ed it away and walked back to the car.

As I was driving into my usual parking spot I noticed that my neighbor's car was not parked in its usual spot.  There was a dog lying there instead. I parked my car, got out and was walking towards my home when i remembered the dog. I turned around and saw that the dog had not moved a muscle. All the noise from the parking, opening of the door and banging it shut had no effect on it. I walked towards the dog to inspect. When i got close i saw that its eyes were only half closed and its mouth was half open.  Though not an expert on the topic, I realized that it was dead.

A dead dog near my house was disturbing. I did not feel bad for the dog as I was going through a phase where death seemed a welcome change. I inspected the dog visually to find the cause of its death. I saw tyre marks close to its head but did not notice any injury. I looked around for clues but found none. I gave the dead dog a last look and walked towards my home.

Disturbing thoughts of a decaying maggot infested dog lying besides my house hounded me as i got into my bed. Even these thoughts could not keep me awake for long. But the sleep was not peaceful. I went through experiences that seemed real but were too absurd to be real. I remembered these distinctly when I woke up but now the details seemed to have slipped into some unreachable corner.

I woke up some time during the night due to some noise from outside. I heard people talking right outside my window. A few of them were crying and others howling.  I got up and decided to find out what was happening. When I opened the door I saw that the street lights were still on and the sky seemed dark. I walked out of my door and saw a number of dogs standing around the dead dog. The talking stopped as soon as the dogs saw me. They stared at me with varying levels of passion. 

Soon they ignored me and their focus turned back to the dead dog. Some lamented about its early demise. Others talked about the dog's acts of kindness. A few protested about humans being responsible for the dog's early death. I tried to say something but could not. I don't remember what happened next but think that the scene continued for sometime.

Nothing untoward happened but there was something very disturbing about it. Though the dogs were crying and talking there was a kind of terrifying quietness. Though it had seemed dark when i woke up, it was not exactly dark outside. Instead some light from the horizon made the thick clouds every where else red, orange and yellow. It seemed like a storm was about to blow in.

Like most nights I was relieved to wake up. Some days i remember my dream for a few minutes after waking up. But soon the memory fades and only a vague impression remains. But most of the days I feel relieved to get out of a dream.

I searched the web to determine how to get rid of the dead dog. I found the Corporation call center's contact. I called up and was attended to politely. They said some one will come by and clean up. Soon I met my neighbours who informed me that they found the dog dead in the afternoon. It seemed to have died naturally. They had informed the local corporation guy to clean up.

An hour later, I gave the dog a last look as I was driving out. I received a SMS from the corporation at around noon that the carcass has been removed. That evening I parked my car in peace. The dogs who ruled the streets went about their business as if nothing had happened.  The dead seemed forgotten.

The waiting game

As I was entering the apartment complex, my mobile informed me the arrival of a message.  I saw the security personnel directing me to the right to park my vehicle.  I chose the farthest spot and steered my vehicle into it.  I snapped off the seat belt, switched off the car and got out.  I saw the security personnel coming towards me, waving his hands and calling out something.  As he came closer the words became clearer.

“Sir, you should not park here.  This is for the fire department only.”
  

Irritation and anger started working its way into my head.  “But you are the one who asked me to park here” I protested. 

“Sir, I said the first spot and not the last spot”. 

I was angrier now “You did not say that.  You waved your stick to the right and I have the parked my vehicle on the right”. 

“Sir, but this is fire parking”. 

My frustration had reached its peak.  I was supposed to meet my friend a good 20 minutes back.  This security guy was delaying it further.  The head of security had walked into the discussion by then and reiterated the point that I had parked my car in the parking for fire engines.  I informed him that it was his subordinate who directed me to park there.  Besides, I cannot find any difference between this and the other parking places. 

“Sir, this one has the red lines and others have yellow lines.  So this is fire parking” came the informed response.

“Oh is that so!  And I am supposed to have known that!  Red means fire; yellow means normal is it?  Tell me, what do you park into this fire parking?”

“Fire engine sir” was the incredulous response.

“Fire engine is it?  That parking place would only fit a car.  How do you expect a fire engine to get into that place?  I have definitely not seen a car sized fire engine.  Besides, this parking place is a good 300 metres from the building.  So why should the fire engine stand here; shouldn’t it be closer to the building?”

“Actually this is for the ambulance during fire Sir” interjected the junior security personnel.  The senior one turned towards the cause of interjection, stared at him and barked him to go away.  He turned back at me and said “I don’t know Sir.  That is the rule; you cannot park here.  Please move your car to the first spot”.  By this time, I was 30 minutes behind schedule. I decided to stop the argument and do as asked.  I reversed the car with a tremendous squeak, and caused plenty of commotion as I parked the vehicle into the first spot.  I got out and slammed the doors hard.  I stared at the security guys mouthing silent curses as I walked away.

A little later I reached the lobby and walked to towards the elevators.  The two elevators had already started their journey skywards.  So I pressed the button and waited.  One of the elevators was going up from floor two and the other from floor three.  For sometime, the numbers incremented steadily.  The first elevator stopped at floor seven and a little later the second one stopped at floor nine.  They held these positions for some time.  Elevator one was the first to move, it shot up from floor seven but did not cross floor ten, where it got stuck for a long time.  By this time second elevator went up to floor thirteen and stayed there for what seemed like an hour.  The two elevators continued to hold their respective position long enough for me to look away in frustration. When I turned back I was gladdened to see that the elevators had changed their directions.  But my gladness did not last long as the traversal down turned out to be slower.  I tried to intimate the elevators my frustration by pressing the button a million times.  They took no heed of it and took their own time to get to the lobby.  One of the elevators was empty and the other one had one person at whom at glared viciously.

I got into the elevator and started my journey skywards.  It took less than a minute for me to reach my destination.  I rang the bell and waited.  There was no response and so I tried again.  The result was the same.  I rang the bell a few more times in quick succession with no change in result.  I cursed and took out my phone.  There was a message waiting for me.   It was from my friend and said “Sorry man, running late.  Hang around, will be there soon”.  I think I cried out something much worse than “Bloody hell”.  All this haste had turned into a waste.  I could have extended my siesta another 30 minutes.  I called my friend; he picked the call and mumbled – “In traffic man.  Terrible jam; I will be there in 20 minutes”.  He did not let me utter a word.  Now, I had to find a way to spend 20 bloody minutes.  I went back to the lift and saw that they were many floors away and hence decided to use the stairs.

I walked around the apartment complex and soon came across the children’s play area - the only open space the complex provided.  As I walked toward the area, I chose to ignore the fiery glares from the security guards.  I sat down on a bench by the play area, which was a sandy patch with a few swings, slides and see-saw.  None of these were occupied though the area itself was full of girls.  They were standing in a circle with a girl in the center talking animatedly.  This girl was explaining the rules of some game.  It seemed a complex game with two sides of 5 people each.  A member of one team throws a ball to a member of the other team after calling out the catcher's name.  If the catcher does not catch the ball then the thrower’s team gains a point and so on.  These rules seemed simple enough but they were made complex by the presence of a few stones on the ground.  The girl in the center said something about the throwing and the stones on the ground.  As the girl explained the rules others shook their heads in agreement.

The teams took their assigned places and the lead girl threw the ball to one of the teams. She then stood at the centre . The girl with the ball called out a name and threw the ball. At the same time the girl at the center ran towards the throwing team. One girl from each team picked a stone and ran towards the centre. Both reached the spot at the same time and claimed victory. In the meanwhile, a girl from the catching team caught the ball. Both teams were gleefully claimed the point. Soon both teams were protesting the other team's claim.

A scene of commotion ensued with leader being mobbed. The girl tried to explain the result of the situation but no one listened. The chaotic scene continued for a few minutes. Finally the leader got the situation under control and went over the rules again. Every one shook their heads in agreement again till she gave the point to the throwing team. The catching team screamed "Cheating". Pandemonium and chaos were back. The catching team started walking off field when the leader suggested "Zero zero ok?" 

The two teams were back in their respective positions. But before the game could start, one of the girls in the catching team wanted to change sides. A couple of girls in the throwing team cheered but all others objected. Everyone were now back in the centre and screaming session continued. A gloomy silence settled when the three girls walked off. The remaining girls decided to continue the game. As they took up their positions, my phone rang. My friend was back. I got up and walked towards the lobby. As I reached the lobby, I heard another round of screaming from behind.

Pappu's password

My colleague had said something about Pappu a few months before I met him. I did not remember it when I met him at the reception of the hotel I was staying in. He was sitting on a couch staring into his tablet seriously. Pappu looked up at me with a smile when I called his name. The hearty handshake he offered nearly crushed my palm.  He asked me to sit beside him on the couch.  Pappu’s huge frame had already occupied three fourths of the couch and I could fit into the remaining space. By the time I settled down Pappu's focus went back to the tablet. He typed something into the tablet, waited a moment and cursed. He threw the tablet into his bag and informed me that the cab was waiting.

I spent most of the day in the rear seat of cab stuck between Pappu and an equally large colleague of his. One of the cabs was a Maruti Ritz and during that journey I a few of my cells must have fused into each other. At the end of the day, I got a good understanding of the phrase “tired to my bones”. Through the day Pappu repeated, many times, the routine of staring at his tablet, entering something, cursing and finally throwing the tablet into his bag. Though curious about this routine I chose not indulge in any unnecessary conversation with Pappu.

When we reached the room, Pappu’s equally stout colleague questioned him on his routine. Apparently Pappu had forgotten the tablet’s password and was attempting to find it. He had not used the tablet for a couple of months and now had to get some data out if it. He thought the password was admin123 but it did not work. “Did you take care of the caps lock?” asked the colleague. “I have been on this from the morning and have done all that shit” was the annoyed response. The colleague took out the tablet from Pappu's bag and extended it towards me saying “you are the techie; you solve this”.  One more instance of people abusing me in the name of being a techie.

I switched on the tablet to find that it was Windows 8.1 tablet. I sheepishly typed admin123 box and was instantly informed “wrong password “. I saw an option called “Reset password’ under the password box. I clicked it and a window popped up requesting me to insert a USB stick. I took out a USB stick and inserted it into the tablet. Pappu informed me that the process will not work. Sure enough the USB did not contain a password utility that the operating system required. I called a friend and explained the issue. While I waited for a response from my friend, Pappu grabbed the tablet and started typing into it furiously.

I received a mail from my colleague with a link to download a utility to crack password protected Windows 8.1 devices. I clicked the link to start the download. The hotel network was patchy and I had to press retry a few times. Finally one of the attempts went further than the earlier ones. When the download reached 80%, Pappu stretched out the tablet towards me. He had succeeded in logging into it. For a minute I did not understand but then I realized he had broken the password. Pappu was looking at me with a victorious smile.

“I tried many passwords but they did not work. I got frustrated and typed gotohell but it did not work. I then typed jaisriram and it worked”. I was not sure if I was annoyed or amused. I terminated the download, shut the laptop and informed the two of them that I planned to sleep.

When I recounted this incident to my colleagues, one of them identified Pappu. They had attended a meeting at a large MNC. As they walked out of the office after the meeting Pappu had noticed the life-size name and logo of the company by the security cabin. An excited Pappu exclaimed “time for a selfie”. As he readied for the selfie, one of the security personnel came running and requested him not to click. Pappu responded with a “come on yaar”. The security guy did not come-on. “Just one selfie yaar.  No one will see” said Pappu.

“No sir. It’s not allowed”.

“Come on yaar. What is wrong with a selfie?”

“Sir, it is not allowed.”

“Hey no one will know. Don’t worry.”

“Sir I will lose my job.”

“I will find you a new job.”

“Sir pleeeease” pleaded the security.

“Ok  ok. I will go” said Pappu walking away.

Grumbling through Jammu

“Why Jammu?”

“Untapped area my boy.  Lots of potential projects there”

“As far as I know we have one big customer on whom we should focus. We should not go fishing in unknown waters.”

“Stop acting smart. You are stuck in Delhi this weekend anyway. Visit Jammu and find out for yourself”

“Will the army be there to protect me?”

“Stop this nonsense!”

“What nonsense? You know how it is in Kashmir.”

“Yes. That’s Kashmir and this is Jammu.”

“They are different?”

“Yes, they are different”

“What should I do there?”

“Call Vinay. He will tell you.”

“Oh no! Not Vinay. I have a big problem in understanding him. Every time he calls me he talks for an hour but at the end of it I have absolutely no idea what he said. “

“Boss, you have to learn to work with people. You cannot pick and choose the people you work with. Learn to work with anyone.”

“I have no issues working with anyone other than Vinay.”

“What about Sunil?”

“Oh yes! Sunil's annoying.”

“And what about …”

“I will talk to Vinay and go to Kashmir”

“Not Kashmir, Jammu”

“Good bye”

I cut the call and searched for the name Vinay in contacts. I looked at the name for a long time, took a deep breath and pressed the call button. Twenty five minutes passed and I found myself telling “Hey Vinay, I am in Delhi too. Why don’t we meet someplace and discuss face to face?”

“Good idea yaar. Why don’t you come over to Gurgaon? You can take the metro.”

An hour later, I got out of the metro and called Vinay to find his location.

“Arre yaar! I live very close to the Metro station. Why don’t you come home? I have made some paalak samosa. We will have them with tea and discuss.”

I was gnashing my teeth as I disconnected the call. He had warned not to pay more than 60 rupees for auto. As soon as I got out of the station, I was mobbed by auto drivers. I announced my destination and immediately got a 100 rupee response. I responded with half the value. The guy walked off in disgust but another guy jumped in and said OK. I walked towards the auto when another guy enticed me with a 40 rupee fare. I looked at the auto for moment but the high morals instilled in me forced me to refuse the offer. The ride was eventless and as I got out of the auto, I saw a grinning Vinay walking towards me with a “How much is he asking?” “He gave back a surprised “that’s it eh?” for my response.

I prayed to all the gods I was aware of as I walked into the house. An hour later I realized that the gods had forsaken me. I had thought I did not understand Vinay on calls. I now realized I did not understand him. I thought it had something to do with his accent but the issue was the content. He talked about things he did not understand. His talk jumped from one statement to another unrelated statement.  In between he put in a few lines about how unfairly the world treated him. The distractions compounded the general incoherence to make the session seem like a new age European art movie. In desperation, I still had no idea what I was supposed to do at Jammu but tried to summarize it anyway. He responded with a “have another samosa”. Paalak samosa is not an appealing dish but out of politeness I already had three samosas. One more and face would have started turning green.

The flight from Delhi to Jammu went on to Srinagar too and was packed.  Many of the passengers were young couple probably off to their honeymoon. I toyed with the idea of having breakfast in the flight but decided to wait till I got to Jammu as I wanted to try the local cuisine. Jammu airport seemed like a make shift place with a lot of construction taking place around it. As I walked into the terminal and picked my bag the mobile announced the arrival of a call. It was from one of my talkative colleagues. The call went on for 30 useless minutes and in this time I made four unsuccessful attempts to end the call by saying “OK man…”. Finally I had to resort to “Hey I am getting another call. Will call you back”.  

By this time, everyone from the flight had left and the airport was empty. I looked at my messages to determine the location of my meeting but found the message “Vinod ji I will reach Jammu by 2pm. Why don’t you pick a cab and visit the Ragunath temple and other temples till then?” I loved visiting places but not when there is something to be done.  If there is time after work, I like going around but not prior to it.  Even then I really did not care visiting temples unless there is some tremendous history attached to it.  Unfortunately in the north most of the historic temples have been destroyed in invasions.  Hence one has to be satisfied with new age temple built on historic sites.  So with very little interest and choice I decided to visit the famous temples of Jammu.

The prepaid taxi counter was empty. There were two other counters inside the terminal. One was a Vayadooth terminal, which seemed to have been empty for a very long time. The other was a helicopter terminal promising to take people to Vaishno Devi, which was filled with security personnel. I asked one of them very politely where I can find a taxi. He looked at the gun by his side and then gave me a “why are you asking me a may I help you type of question” look. I took no heed of the look but stood there with a firm south Indian lost in north India expression. The guy accepted defeat and gave an intelligent “check the prepaid taxi counter” response. I had expected that response and instantly went back with a “but it’s empty“. My response was an expected response too and he retorted immediately “try the one outside “.

I walked out of the airport lounge into near emptiness. A few security personnel were walking around, their guns hanging by their sides. The prepaid counter outside was also empty. I looked around and found a person sitting in a booth with “may I help you” board. As I walked up to the booth, the person gave me a “why are you here” look. I ignored it and asked him where I can get a taxi. As expected he responded “at the prepaid counter “. “But its empty” was my protest. He walked out of his booth and looked across to the prepaid counter. He took out his mobile, dialled a number and put it against his ear. I did not hear him say anything into the mobile but a moment later, I saw someone walk into the prepaid counter. I thanked the “may I help you” man and walked up to the other counter. I was invited with a “why are you here” expression again. When I enquired for a cab, he said I will find one outside the gate at the taxi stand. I thanked him profusely for the help and walked towards the gate.

Outside I saw a young couple waiting. They seemed to be waiting for a taxi and I joined the queue.  The guy turned around and looked at me suspiciously.  I stared back at him defiantly and he stared back at me vehemently. The vehement stare reminded me of the prepaid fellow’s instructions to take a left from the gate.  I looked left to see a prepaid taxi shed just outside a petrol bunk. I walked up to the counter and asked for a cab for half a day. The stand was run by a Sardar who was busy writing something into a book. He looked up after a couple of minutes and asked “what do you want sirji?”

“I need a taxi for four hours”.

“Oye Sukhi!  Will you go for a four hour package” shouted the Sardar.

“Of course” responded the driver Sukhi Sardar.

By the time I paid the rent for the cab Sukhi was walking towards his car with my luggage. When we got into the car Sukhi started groping his pockets and the store spots in the car’s dashboard. He kept mumbling something through the search. He gave up after a few minutes. He looked at me and said “some bastard has taken my key, let me check at the counter”. A few minutes later he came back and started the car.

“Oh! Was it at the counter?” I asked stupidly.

“No sir. This is the duplicate. One of those bastards is playing the fool. I will kill him when I find who it is. Sir, can we have some tea before we go?”.

 “I would like to have lunch. I have not even had my breakfast.”

“Would some simple food be okay with you? “

I assumed simple food to be some type of dhaba food and accepted. Almost immediately he parked the car and stepped out. When I got out of the car I found that my understanding of simplicity was not simple enough. The dhaba was a nameless road side shanty with a few chairs and a table. As I walked in I realized the place was not dirty but only rundown. The table seemed to have come from the 1800 and did not seem strong enough to stand the load of a plateful of rice. The chairs seemed to be in the same state as the table. I requested god to take care of my spinal chord and hip bone as I carefully placed my backside in one of the chairs. It took my weight undauntedly and did not let out some as a creak. I looked around and noticed a pair of eyes staring at me. Like in most places I have visited in recent times here too I was a misfit. When they saw I had seen them staring at my misfitness, they averted their eyes back to the television screen. The all important final day of the India South Africa third test was taking place and in compassion an odd misfit attired in a blazer, formal shirt and trouser can only be of so much interest.

The owner of the restaurant informed that the menu consisted of phulka with vegetables and rice with rajamma. I chose the phulka combination but like a long lost uncle the dhaba man informed me that he will throw in some rice and rajamma too.  I gave him a thankful smile. When the food arrived I was disappointed to see that it was not very appealing; the vegetable dish was too vegetablish and too few rajammas were swimming the sumptuous swimming pool. As soon as I started eating I felt relieved. The food was so devoid of taste that it had to be healthy. No oil and no salt. The dhabawalla had added some delicious chilli chutney. I mixed it with every other dish on plate and gobbled it in. When I was nearly done the long lost uncle offered more rice, which I refused politely and asked for some tea instead. I don’t remember how the tea tasted. There is good chance it was as miserable as 90% of tea served around the world. 

By the time, I got up the cab driver had come back from the stand. He had gone back in search of the key. When I asked him about his search, he gave a sad shrug and hurled abuses at some names. As soon as we got into the cab, I asked Sukhi to take me to the Ragunath temple. For a moment I felt surprised by my enthusiasm to visit a temple. I only had one or two phases in my life when I visited temples regularly but the credit for that lay with others. The current enthusiasm should be attributed to the necessity of spending a few hours in Jammu, which had nothing other than temples to offer and the possibility of a new God helping me through these tough times. The route to the temple from the airport was fairly nondescript. I found Jammu was nothing like the places Shammi Kapoor pranced through in Kashmir Ki Kali. I realized that Jammu was not Kashmir.  It seemed like any other crowded Indian small town. In retrospect it seems like a hillier version of Salem.

As I travelled through the city, I saw that many of the residents were Sikhs. Sukhi said that the Sikh population was spread across Punjab, Himachal and Jammu.  He went on to say that the residents of Jammu are different from the Sikhs of Punjab. He did not detail out the differences but mentioned that they had come to Jammu at the time of King Ranjith Singh. He then went on to describe the frustrations of the Sikhs post the gruesome 84 riots. “Sikhs are highly energetic and patriotic people. We were an integral part of the Independence movement. Once the country became free, we joined the army to channelize our energy in the service of our nation. But the incidents of 84 have doused the fire of patriotism and these days Sikhs look towards the west.  They prefer expending their energy to live a good in countries like Canada and UK.”

All through this discourse, Sukhi's focus kept flitting from the road. His driving was inconsistent and this made it difficult for other drivers to keep track of his varying speed. They honked, cursed and stared at him but Sukhi seemed oblivious of the annoyance directed at him.  He crawled inconsistently through the Jammu traffic, which was as chaotic as in many other Indian cities. At one signal, I saw a Maruti driving reverse at great speed on the wrong side (which is the right side) of the road. The car was nevird by a Sardar and he travelled at about 40Kph for a good 200 metres. 

As we reached the temple, Sukhi started cautioning me “Do not look at anyone or talk to anyone. Go pray to God and let not the crooks there loot you. All these Pooja-vooja are waste; just pray to god from your heart. I will drop you here; give me a call when you are done. Remember! Be careful.”

From the outside, the temple did not look like the ones I am used to in south. Gopurams and sculptures did not invite me.  Instead the entrance was a door in a plain yellow wall. Devotees cannot carry in anything other than their wallet and money. Even the leather belt had to be removed. I walked in through the entrance hall into a courtyard. The temple was at the far end of the courtyard. I walked towards it looking around. The place looked more like an ashram than a temple. As I got into the temple, lord Ram with his consorts invited me.  I stood at the railing separating me from the Gods and stared down at the neatly arranged notes of 100 and 500. A priest walked over, held me by my shoulders, asked my name and started chanting prayers for the prosperity of poor soul.  Despite Sukhi’s warning I was trapped. I gave the plateful of notes a worried look.

Most of my life, religion and I had maintained a respectable distance from each other. My early years were influenced by the movies and I looked at the clouds get a glimpse of the gods. After two decades of living, science started impacting my thought process. I did not expect seeing Gods when I looked up at clouds. Even then I hoped Gods existed somewhere beyond the stars. In a few years, I let go of these hopes too and I labelled self a rationalist.  But being a rationalist was not easy. Not having someone to take care of your problems made it difficult to live.   Around this time, I ran into the term agnostic and latched on to it as it seemed to describe me perfectly – too confused to decide. Even this phase became shaky when I ran into through a very tough phase a few months ago and I had to give into god and his/her religion. But the results were erratic and my visits to the temples and prayers to God reduced dramatically.  And then the month of November struck me...

November turned out to be a month of upheavals and events of the month weighed on me heavily as the priest chanted the prayers into my ears. The 100s and 500s on the plate mesmerized me further. Ram temples are not common in the south and I don’t believe I have visited one for a long time (if ever).  I wondered if like a new medicine, this new god has a cure for my recurrent bad times. Would the 100 rupee version of this medicine be sufficient or did I require a 500 rupee one? All these thoughts and questions were pushing me back to agnosticism but the priest’s iron grip of my shoulders was coaxing me to drop in a 500 to wash away my worries. By this time, the priest was running out of his mantras and I believe he had already requested Ram Prabhu to make this worried soul a karodpati thrice. He started nudging, tapping my shoulders and using his head to point at the plate. I shifted my eyes from the plate to the idol of lord Ram who gave me a “so what are you going to do” expression. The priest put in some urgency into his nudges and was forced to mention “place your offering and move on son”. I took out my wallet and opened the smaller notes section. I looked at the 10 rupee note and then at the plate. I opened the larger notes section and pulled out a 100 rupee note. As I took the note towards the plate, the priest’s left hand snatched the note and the right hand shoved me away. Within seconds his focus was on large family entering the temple. I gave a final “don’t forget my offerings, prayers and me” look at lord Ram and left the temple.

As I was back towards the exit, I heard a voice informing me to offer prayers to the sun god. The sun god resided in a dark room that had a single door to enter and exit. I did not dare to enter the room.  The voice warned me about the ineffectiveness of my prayers and offerings if I did not visit the sun god’s chamber. I did not pay heed but walked on briskly.  I prophesied that lord Ram would force the sun god to rise in the west if he meddled with my prayers. I am glad to see that the sun continues to rise in the east – lord Ram is working on my prayers.

I got out of the temple complex after paying a 10 rupee tip at the free slipper stand and called Sukhi. As I entered the cab, Sukhi asked “did you get cheated?” My response was truthful.  Sukhi wanted to take me to he will take me to another temple but I refused.  “Ah! Then we will visit the palace” said Sukhi.  As we were driving to the palace Sukhi started recalling event from his life. “I was a hunter.  We used to get into the jungles and kill birds and animals.  One day, I heard Maneka ji and decided to change.  I went from being a hunter to being a conservator.  I now work towards the conservation of birds.  But I am afraid that the change took place too late.  There are hardly any birds left.  When I was young our homes were filled with different types of birds.  Today only the pigeons and crows are left.  There are no other birds.  You see the place on the left.  It used to be filled with deer and birds.  But there are no deer and when we get into the forest there’s only silence.  No chirping of birds at all.  Even pigeons and crows are struggling these days.  Many of their young ones are born with defects and soon after hatching we are forced to end their lives.  We prick them with a needle dipped in cyanide.  Death for such deformed birds is much better than living.  Even the common and hardy birds are unable to survive the radiation from the mobile antennas and pollution.  I tell you sir; we are coming to the end of our times.  Soon a big catastrophe will take place and most of us will die.  90% of human beings will be gone and everything will start all over again”.

I interjected a few words to this monologue.  I brought in the topic of sparrows that have gone missing from Madras (in fact Madras itself is missing; we are now forced to live with its poorer cousin Chennai).  But these distractions did not create much of an impact to the monologue.  It ended when we turned off the main road and went in through a gate into the palace grounds.   The way to the palace was blocked by security personnel and as we approached it Sukhi asked me to tell them that I had come looking for a room in the hotel.

“What hotel?”

“The palace is the first building you see on the left.  Beyond it there is a hotel.”

“But why can’t we just tell them that we are going to the palace?”

“I think the palace is closed.”

“What!”

“Not to worry sir, the hotel is just like the palace.  There are some very good old photographs there.  You should see it.”

Jammu is not a place for sightseeing; it is a plain Indian city that gets crowded in the winter as the Government shifts here from Srinagar.  It is the gateway to Vaishno Devi and by itself did not seem to have any character.  Sukhi was trying his best to keep me amused in such an unamusing place.  But his conversations were more amusing than the place itself.  We reached the security block and Sukhi informed that I was looking for a room at the hotel.  We passed the palace en route to the hotel.  It was built in European style and did not create much of an impression on me.  The hotel had a similar structure.  I got out of car and went in.  I was more interested in using their restroom than in seeing the place.  To not look like a sightsee-er, I enquired room availability for that night at the reception.  I was sure rooms were not available as the hotel was decked up for a reception of some sort.  I got the expected response.  But instead of walking away I gave in to my curiosity got better of me. I asked the taboo question – “What are the charges for a night?”  The lady at the counter gave me a “that’s who you are” look and said 35K.  I smiled and walked on to the backyard, which had a big lawn with tables and chairs.  It overlooked a dry river bed, which I later learned is the Tawi River.  I would not say that it was a sight to be seen but it was pleasant enough to take a selfie (which will stay in my mobile and laptop forever). 

I got out of the hotel after a quick visit to the wash room (I wish I could use the word toilet – all these rest and wash room makes it seem more than what it really is).  Sukhi’s first question when I got into the car was “So did you see those beautiful photographs?”   This time, I lied in response. 

 “So where do you want to go?  There is nothing else to be seen in Jammu?”

“I want to buy some sweets and dry fruits.  Take me to the best sweet shop in Jammu”

This resulted in Sukhi taking me through a number of rights and lefts.  At some places he had to back off due to the incessant traffic from the opposite direction.   Sukhi talked about a number of things, which have all grown faint in my head.  He talked about a famous old theatre that is now closed due to some political pressure.  He said that the area around the theatre used to be a jungle when he was young but now mankind has turned it into a concrete jungle.  In the process, he informed me that he is much older than me.  He continued his dooms day prediction for mankind.  He talked about how the current government in the centre has increasingly sidelined the minority and thus has increased the feeling of insecurity for all.  He informed that the auto rickshaw could explode anytime; we can never be sure.  The mood was, in general, black and bleak.  I bought some sweets and dry fruits from the most famous shops in Jammu.

I decided I had enough of negativity for the month and wanted to go to my meeting place.  I called my contact in Jammu and he asked me to “go to Sector 8”.  I asked “Sector 8?” I received an annoyed response “Sectariat”.  I passed this information to Sukhi who in a matter of minutes dropped me at the location and sped away without a proper farewell.  The next few hours were spent in waiting, confusion and frustration.  I did not meet the person I had come to meet.  But I reached the planned destination and met someone else.  I got out of the office complex at 4PM. My train to Delhi was at 7:40PM. I called my contact person person at Jammu.  He asked me to take an auto and come over to a place that he would SMS me.  Soon I received the SMS that said “Please Come To Digiana Ashram Gurdwara”.  I hailed an auto and asked him to take me to “Dijiana ashram gurdwara”.  He asked “where” and I repeated the name of the place.  I repeated the name of the place a few more time before he responded “Oh! Dighiana ashram gurdwara”.  The guy took off and made me realize that Jammu was a bigger place than I thought.  He sped around for a 30 minutes before he informed me that we had reached the location.  As I looked around without really knowing what I was looking for, I received a call from a numberI did not know.  The person at the other end said he was sent to pick me and asked me where I was.  I handed the phone to the auto driver who spoke for a bit before handing back the phone and speeding on.  It was 5PM and I was not sure if I would be able to make it to the station.  He stopped the auto a few minutes later.  He pointed at a car parked on the other side of the road and informed me that the car would take me to the destination.  The auto guy demanded a hefty charge that I had to pay.  I crossed the road and got into the car.

The driver took off but instead of going straight he made a near 360 degree turn and got into a narrow gully that was right behind the car.  In the process he nearly ran over two or three two wheelers.  The car proceeded into the gully at great speed.  What followed was a series of head spinning rights and lefts executed at a great pace.  I was reminded of the scene kidnapping scene from Roja.  The big difference in this case was that I got into the car on my own and I was not bound or blind folded.  But the differences did not matter when I sitting in a car with strangers speeding through narrow unfamiliar streets in a place that is not exactly know for its safety.  Five minutes into the ride I was convinced I was getting kidnapped.  In the current sorry state of our finance, I thought my family, friends and colleagues could only manage to get back parts of me rather than the whole.  I was not sure if there was any use of calling out to God for help.  I closed my eyes and attempted to fall asleep or induce a heart attack.  I succeeded in neither by the time the car reached its destination. 

The car was parked outside a large bungalow.  It was surrounded by small houses on all sides and seemed completely out of place.  I walked towards the bungalow on a path running through a lawn.  “Could this be the easiest kidnapping ever?” was the thought running through my head.  I was shown into a room with a fat man drinking tea and eating nuts, kachoris and samosas.  I smiled at him but his focus did not waver from the food.  I hoped this is not the person I had come to meet and waited.  Soon a large man in kurta pyjama walked in.  The meeting itself did not go on for more than 10 minutes.  Much as I would like to share the learning from that meeting, I am forced not to.  I walked out relieved at not being kidnapped and at same time disappointed at the pointlessness of the whole trip.