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.

Of rains and a rumor

Chennai was rising from what seemed for some days to be its watery grave.  A semblance of normalcy was returning to Chennai.  People were getting back to their usual schedules, except for the school kids.  Their unexpected vacation  extended for a few more days and they were busy eating their parent's heads.  The previous week had been harrowing for almost everyone associated with Chennai.  Many houses had marooned, others did not have power and food.  The mobile revolution had come to a stand still due to the lack of power.  No one could reach across to anyone.  Only the news channel brought sensational reports from a water laden and dark city.  Other than these reports and an occasional message and call, family and friend in the deluged city were completely cut off from people outside.

I was one of the outside persons.  I had taken one of the last flights out of Chennai to Delhi.  The disastrous rain spell had started when I reached the airport.  The incoming flight could not land for sometime but a brief respite allowed the flight to land and take off with me inside.  I realized the terribleness of situation only when I reached the hotel in the evening.  I was in constant touch with my family in Chennai till the next afternoon.  After that Chennai became unreachable.  One or two messages or calls went through.  These calls and messages and the news channels gave us information about large scale flooding in the city.  Beyond that at most times I was in the dark about my family's status while they were in the dark all the time.  

I got through to my sister once and heard that my parent's house was flooded. But they were safe in her house.  I got through to a friend who was kind enough to visit our house.  She informed me that my family was safe with no instances of flooding in the area.  Late that night, I got a call from my wife and I spoke to her and my son for about an hour.  This trend continued for the next few days.  Things finally settled down at the end of the week.  

The airport and railway station were closed for the week and getting back to Chennai had become equivalent to attacking one of Chattrapati Shivaji's fort.  Since my family was safe, I did not feel the need to indulge in heroics to get home.  My two day trip to Delhi grew into a week long trip to different locations in North India. One such trip took me to Jammu.  How and what happened during that trip should be a part of another write-up (I guess).  The trip was just a day long and I returned by the Rajdhani express that night.  I had just finished my dinner and was sitting with my laptop when a message popped up in my Whatsapp.  The conversation that resulted out of this message went as follows.

SOMEONE: If any of your friends or relatives are living in Chennai ask them to leave Chennai immediately because in the next 72 hours very heavy rain is expected more than multiple level of the present rain. As per NASA Report this is not the ordinary rain. It's name is EL Nino cyclone. There is a chance for 250 cm rain. Chances are there nearly the entire Chennai may be submerged in water. Search in Google, you will understand. Somehow inform of your friends and relatives in Chennai.
Wipro announces t p. drop people to out of chennai city. Over 100 wipro buses starts tomorrow 7 am - 8.30am from Koyambedu bus stop. Please share this message to those stuck in chennai.....
Spread the news tomorrow 6 flights gonna take off from arakkonam air base. Flat rates of 1000 rs for any city in south India and 2000 for north India . Only hand baggage allowed
Air India flights to Hyderabad for Rs 1000 and Delhi For Rs 2000 only for emergency cases
Pls post this to diff.groups. Please read this.


HELPFUL CITIZEN (HC): No, this is a hoax , Someone has created this to create terror..
VICTIM1 (V1): Hopefully
VICTIM2 (V2): I'm sure that's a rumour. We'll be careful though. No worries
HC: Yes, I had looked it up about 4 hours back. It is a rumour
V2: This must be a rumour. But it won't hurt to be careful and stock up on essentials.
HC: Yes, BBC has also reported rains apparently..
V2: Shockingly, people have it in them to create panic to the extent of saying "leave the city" when it's such a vulnerable condition already
SMARTASS (SA): I quite like the Rs.1000 and Rs.2000 flat rate part. Seems to be dedicated to Chennai auto drivers.
HC: Haha..news websites are all like
VC2: Yeah. But we'll be careful. We seem to have got used to the routine now 😒
HC (vehemently): 'the message doing the rounds on WhatsApp is fake, NASA has published no such report'... 😂
SA: But this one was first seen a month back when the first spell happen. We should intimate NASA that their satellites are looking in the wrong direction
HC: Haha, NASA will be like 'whaaat!'
VC1: Or whatsap
SA: Hey NASA that is an auto not pluto.
HC: Ha ha. Tsunami scare happens every year I think
SA: Yeah every time the sea recedes
HC: Every year our exams used to get rescheduled because of Tsunami warnings..and the collector will also declare a holiday
SA: That was the Amma election time and not Tsunami Siddarth
HC: Amma election also of course.
SA: Tsunamma
HC: An epic washout that was..

The conversation ended there, I closed the laptop, pulled on the blanket and went to sleep.

sIn Now To Objectively Look at a progrEssively Rising nAtion - Creating issuEs

My grandmother is an ardent Congress supporter.  Her father had made his children promise that their families and they will always support Congress.  Her forceful personality ensured her pushing the adoration for Congress down her children's throat.  Though they did not have much have much regard for Congress, they did not bother to protest.  Soon the family grew and people from other families came into her small and secure family as in-laws. Unfortunately for my grandmother these newer entrants to the family did not have similar upbringing or political orientation.  My father’s political thoughts were formed during a period when many of the states started seeing the rise of political alternatives to the Congress.  These younger parties were spewing ideas that seemed progressive and inclusive compared to the Congress. The party had lost its sheen.  From my father's generation's point of view, Congress died with Gandhi and the cremation rituals were complete by the time the Nehru era ended.  My father's political thoughts were shaped on two concepts, namely, "Indira Congress is not India Congress" and "If you see a snake and a congress man, don't kill the snake first.  The snake attacks you only if you disturb it".  I grew up seeing these two generation and ideas in conflict.

This conflict has an effect on my political beliefs.  Obviously, I was closer to my father's thought process.  My grandmother’s view comes from the independence era which saw Kumari Kamala dancing to the tune “Mahaan Gandhi Mahaan”.  Gandhi, Nehru and Congress motivated the young blood fighting and ultimately building a new nation.  In those days, the Congress seemed revolutionary like the Communist and Dravidian parties in the sixties and AAP in 21^st century.  The country becoming independent was probably one of the most important events of her life.  Thus, she felt indebted to the Congress for life.  But with time the party changed from Indian National Congress (INC) to “Nehruvian Congress” and finally to “Indira Congress”.  She did not understand these changes.  During this time a number of disillusioned Congress leaders left the party and formed newer parties.  These leaders took away a good part of the soul of INC to the newer parties thus making the party poor of principles.  But all this was lost of my grandmother and she blindly followed her father’s words when she supported the Congress.  Though I did not have all these thoughts in my younger days, I ended up disliking the Congress in my teens.  

My political opinions are never too strong.  I believe this comes from the fact that current affairs and politics do not interest me much.  The cartoon section of newspapers captured (and continues to capture) my attention more than any other page.  So I had no idea about my political leanings.  Though I did not like the Congress I was not sure which party I supported.  I had some liking to communism but the fall of communism in the late 80's and a few pages of Ayn Rand killed that liking for ever.  I am sure how but by the time I reached the votable age, BJP seemed an attractive option.  It probably was due to the messy vacuum created by V.P.Singh (whose reincarnation, I believe, Kejriwal is).  Their leadership team also seemed attractive.  That is till Advani climbed atop the Babri issue and caused a lot of confusion and bloodshed in the country. But Deve Gowda's sleepy tenure and Gujral’s prequel to Manmohan Singh tenure removed the Babri-cal thoughts from my head.  

At the turn of the century I was very happy to see the BJP Government at centre.  A few goods emerged from the five years of BJP rule.  Only the five years of Narasimha Rao Government left a similar impression in my mind.  Unfortunately, the BJP rule lasted five years only and the Congress was back in power.  The few days after election were worrying with the prospect of living in shame under a person of foreign origin.  To out relief the brilliant Manmohan Singh was chosen the prime minister.  Five years went by and the Congress Government did not seem to perform badly – the Manmohan magic had not lost its sheen.  Around this time, Congress' own Prince Charles started flexing his muscles.  For a few days, I was misled by the idea of joining the Congress to build a new India.  At around this time, events took a disastrous turn and the Congress Government spiralled into corruption, chaos, a speechless PM, allegations of the family looting the country, the prodigal son-in-law, the mumbling–bumbling future icon of the party and many other nonsense that I cannot remember now.

Sometime in the middle of Congress' disastrous second term, the name Narendra Modi emerged.  That Gujarat man can never make it is what many of thought.  The Gujarat riots and related accusations against him left a lot of impression on us.  But with time people started talking about him and the development he ushered in Gujarat.  His followers attracted the sceptics through the videos of his speeches.  What he said made sense and he was a powerful speaker whose words seemed very convincing.  I was soon under his sway and was desperate to see him become the PM of the country.  Apparently many others in the country thought so too and soon we had a powerful leader at the centre.  He did not have the necessity to look towards people with dubious intentions before he opened his mouth.   But the bed of roses was not thorn free.  There were doubters and agitators inside and outside of the party.  The old guards under Advani’s able leadership were sulking.  Modi and BJP's RSS associations made the so called minorities nervous (Why "so called"?  How can a secular democracy have majority and minority?).  The wilting of the roses made the thorns prominent.

Most people I met were happy with our new PM.  He seemed to have the right vision for the future and articulated them well.  We expected him to indulge in bombastic and populist action. But his actions were sober and to many he seemed to take a step at a time.  He was working to bring in timeliness at the Government offices.  We heard about him terrifying his ministers with 5AM and 7 AM review meetings.   He brought out the necessity of making India clean and every family having a bank account.  These were not all talk but we saw it happening around us too.  For me, the cleanliness of Chennai central station was a big surprise.  It was longer wet and the foul.  It was not just the stations but the trains and their toilets were clean too.  But this did not extend to all places – Chennai continued to be dirty.  But I don’t think we can blame the PM for it.  The local Governments and the citizens have to take a big chunk of that responsibility.  There were instances when even the most ardent supporter of Modi was seen throwing waste on road.  Such is our attitude.  Interestingly, the PM had mentioned some place that all the talk about “Swach Bharat” is to make people think about it initially.  He does expect India to become like Singapore in a matter of months.  That surely is a well thought of plan with realistic expectation.

Soon the honeymoon period came to an end. The trouble makers started lifting their heads.  The purportedly hard core Hindus wanted to ban beef and surprisingly the whole world went up in arms.  Many people who had issues sitting on the same table as a non-vegetarian were supporting the holding of beef parties and beef eaters were now equated to freedom fighters.   The news papers and TV channels started screaming out about the sensational case of Hindu extremism – a few hard core Hindus killed a freedom loving beef eater.  Demands of apology from every Hindu right from Narendra Modi were heard.  I do not watch the cable network and so am not sure if Arnab apologized on our behalf in prime time television.  The battle shifted to the social media with people taking sides and many versions of the reality emerged.  Since then the media and social media have been trading pole-apart realities.

This barbaric Dadri killing resulted in the strong emergence of the word - "INTOLERANCE".  I think this word is primarily used to describe an allergy – “I am intolerant to pollen”, “I am intolerant to Vijay movies” and in the latest trend “I am intolerant to Hindus”. Since that last sentence is grammatically incorrect, the word extremism is added at the end.  As a result of this allergy, many intellectuals started returning awards.  Many caring citizens expressed their concern in prime time television. Soon the King-Kongs of Bollywood joined.  Shahrukh Khan cried out at the intolerance he was being subjected to.  One of my oldest friends mentioned over dinner that he was very disturbed by the growing Hindu extremism.  This happened a week before the attacks in Paris.  I was of the view that that is an instance of extremism.  I am not sure if the ISIS would quite appreciate it if we equate the Dadri killers to them.  As the word suggests, extremism requires something extreme to be done.  I am not sure if the Hindus have the capacity to indulge in extreme acts.  Maybe a sacrifice here or a stone thrown there but none of those grand “lets blast a few round of AK47s in a concert”.  Sure there are fanatical elements in Hinduism but extremism is taking it too far.  Unlike riots which are immediate and reactionary in nature, extremism leads to well thought acts of destruction as in Paris.  It is not fair to compare Alexander with Aurangazeb (I am not sure which of the two would be feel insulted with this comparison).

The Paris incident and the BJP not winning Bihar elections brought a lull to intolerance to intolerance storm.  Modi was yesterday’s hero; the press had newer one.  The ever charming Lalu, the angry old leader Nitish, the man of the messes Kejriwal, the atomic Didi and the American returned Akhilesh were the new hopes of India.  Lalu's ninth and twelfth failed sons with that hope-dope of the future were the shining stars of youthful democracy.  The media and in a few instance social media started singing praises for these shining stars of 2019.  I hope that the Mayans have missed the end of the world by few years and that the world would end by 2019.

I did not realize that I missed intolerance’s Arnold-ish “I will be back”. Coincidentally, A is for Arnold, A is for Aamir Khan and A is for that stinky place too.   Aamir Khan possibly figures in every Indians best actors list.  For a long time, he also seemed to be a perfect human being - a good and concerned citizen.  If Aamir had made that statement a few years ago, it would have made many of us reassess our thoughts.  But Aamir's personal reputation has not been the same for the past decade or so.  There were talks of affairs and a child abroad.  He separated from his long standing wife and soon got married again. I have no issues with these if I was thinking of Aamir the actor.  But these thoughts are not good enough for me to appreciate or even tolerate Aamir the social activist. Personally, I found his actions during the Narmada Bachao Andolan disappointing.  Initially it was impressive to see him sit in the dharna supporting the farmers.  He seemed genuinely concerned about the dam effects on the fate of the small farmers.  Many of us were touched and had a tear in our eyes.  A few days later, the ever vigilant media vilified today’s hero with the news that Aamir would lose some of his ancestral property as a result of the dam.  Suddenly a chink appeared in Aamir's golden armor of selflessness.  He put on the Lagaan hat and became a farmer's grandson whose genes have been tuned to understand the pain of a farmer.  Many faces emerged in the broken mirror.  It is not wrong to be selfish but to mask selfishness with selflessness is quite a cheat.  Apparently, it only takes a misstep to get to the bottom of the goodness hill regardless of how high one is.

Aamir continued his concerned citizen act with Satyamev Jayate and had the whole nation in tears.  The success of the programme and his movies made Aamir feel like a God.  He now believes he knows the ultimate truth and now can will others to utter it too.  His words seem to be the worst among all the tolerant servants of Gods.  Sadly, he does not come in and say that he finds this place intolerable to live due to all the intolerance (is that a paradox?).   He generously brings in his Hindu wife’s name and casually mentions a bedroom conversation in public.  The point to note is the Hinduness of his wife.  She finds it intolerable and that is good enough for us to realize how pathetic India is.  The country has become so dangerous that she want to move out of here.  I wonder which safe country she has in  mind when she says she wants to move.  On the day of this momentous disclosure, Russian jets were brought down by Turkey and the worry of World War III was in the air. A few days earlier, an African-American was shot 16 times by cops.  A week or so earlier, ISIS gunned down over 100 people in Paris. As a result Muslims around the world were facing many unfriendly situations.  Switzerland had banned the use of hijab in public places.  A few weeks later, a couple of Pakistani origin shot a number of innocent Americans in California.  A friend had mentioned that sometimes it is scary living in US because they are not quite sure who is going to get out a gun and start shooting.  I don’t think Mrs. and Mr. Khan are stupid enough not to know of these occurrences.  So how do they think there is a safer place than India somewhere on this messy planet?  Aamir himself was strip searched and interrogated at Chicago in 2002 as a result of his name.  The dream destination of many Indians is definitely not the comfortable place for Mrs. and Mr.Khan.

But there is something more hurtful than Khans statement!  I don’t too much about that guy’s personal beliefs and morals to take his seemingly intellectual statement seriously.  What hurts me more is the kind of support many people extend to this ridiculous statement.  While the common people on the social media have been tearing the ever selfish Khan to pieces our dear journalist and media persons continue to talk about freedom of expression and intolerance.  The statement "with great power comes great responsibility" should be remembered by all these people in power.  Aamir is a person with a lot of power and while he has the freedom to express what he wants, he should express it responsibly.  He cannot make populist statements to be a part of the intelligentsia (all of whom have decided to be journalists and media persons).  Unfortunately, we the common people of India don't have a choice but be embarrassed about being a Hindu, Muslim, forward caste, Dalit, north Indian, Madrasi and a million other things.  Some of us write, not very well, and put these words in blogs that no one reads.  Others express it much better and get noticed by many as in the case of this link.

Probably for the first time in the nation’s history, we have a PM who seems to care about the nation.  He does not have a family trying to loot the country or let the country into dynastic rule.  He has a tough task ahead of him in first attempting to change the nation's attitude.  Only then can he think of trying to achieve anything.  Not many in his party support him in the endeavor, which makes things tougher.  To complicate matters further, he cannot make enemies inside the party and at the same time has the tough task of making his party seem intelligent.  We have to support him for our country to be successful.  Instead what do we do - we indulge in absurdities, we build stories about the downfall of Narendra Modi.  We wait for him to fail.  Even if he fails, I am sure he will move on but I am not so sure about the country.  Just this morning, the news was showing how the Congress ridiculing the parliament by sloganeering in Rajya Sabha.  The reason, their beloved leaders are summoned by the court.  How dare these jokers treat their leaders like first among equals?  Can’t people file a case against these two and should they not appear before the court?  How can we let jokers with such absurd mentality come back and rule this country?  Or do we expect an odd-even prime minister for the nation?  The rest are not even worth a discussion.

When will all these tolerant intelligentsia understand we don't have a bloody choice!