Life at the centre of the crowd

Have you ever stood beside a busy road teeming with traffic?

Have you ever looked closely as a mob of strangers passes by, going about their lives completely oblivious to your existence?

You will never set your eyes on some of them again, while many others will whizz past you every day and it would still not matter.

There is a small boy balanced precariously on the lap of an elder, his face all scrunched up, as he tries to make the best of whatever small space he has been allotted, while trying to shield his eyes from the sun. He is waiting eagerly, for this journey to end, simultaneously longing to become old enough to command a seat of his own in this small family car catering to the 8 members of this middle class family.

Suddenly our eyes meet. He seems curious, as he momentarily sidelines his discomfort and smiles at me. I look away as the old Maruti 800 speeds past.

I scourge around for my next target.

There is a seemingly well-to-do and successful gentleman sitting in the back of a Honda City obviously being driven around by his underpaid driver. The driver doesn’t seem to complain, or perhaps he doesn’t have a choice.

A small girl is being driven back home by her mother from her school on the Activa. She seems happy. It reminds me of the school days. Suddenly, an unruly biker scares her by his excessively loud honking. Her mother is way too experienced to let that affect her as she nods her head disapprovingly and moves out of the way. The girl spots me in the midst of the crowd and looks on quizzically as they too speed past me.

The children are more aware and observant than the elders.

After a minute or two, an old man, pushing his laari selling nuts halts in front of me, out of breath from roaming around in the scorching sun. He looks on expectantly at the crowd on the bus-stop, his gaze lingering over me a moment longer, what with me staring at him.

I look away, again.

I am hygiene conscious.

That is a polite way of stating that I don’t consider what he sells or eats as edible.

I make a silent vow to help such people once I start earning on my own. Deep inside, a part of me doubts the sincerity of that commitment.

The old man looks around, sighs, and resumes his unending journey.

Suddenly a crowd of people starts converging onto the main road. The bus has arrived. Thus, ends another uneventful day in the life of India.

Ambition, Prosperity, Flexibility, Poverty and above all, Indifference. That is India for you.

Nishkantos and the Merry men Part-I

In memory of the erstwhile PAT/VAWT Boys...:D

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to a real lively person/persons is purely intentional...:D

Once upon a time, there lived in the Ancient realm of the West, four legendary warriors, Nishkantos, Sagaricus, Pajax and Hershules. They enjoyed an enviable reputation throughout the lands for their skill, knowledge and dedication in the field of Warcraft. They had defeated many an evil warlord on their numerous journeys through land and seas. With their strong camaraderie and mutual respect, they had been an inseparable band of brothers, and local folklore sang paeans to their friendship.

The warriors roamed to far and distant lands in order to acquire more knowledge. On the way, they used to utilise their skills to help and protect the needy and the oppressed.

One day, on another one of their journeys passing through a dark and frightening forest, they came across an old inn. They decided to call it a day, and rest in that inn. They knocked on the door.

There was no reply. After sometime, they knocked again.

“I am asleep right now; come back after two hours”, said a voice from the inside.

The warriors looked at each other in confusion. Pajax knocked again.

“Hello, dear sir, we are warriors from the West. We need a place to rest for the night.”

The door flung open immediately.

“Warriors ! Ah, welcome, welcome, do come in. I apologise for my behaviour. It is not everyday, that one receives proper warriors in such far off places. Most of the time, it is either the lunatics or the henchmen of evil warlords. By the way, I am Avidius, the innkeeper.”

“Hello, sir, I am Nishkantos, and these are my friends Pajax, Sagaricus and Hershules. We are warriors from the West. We need lodgings for the night.”

“Of course, my friends, there is plenty of food and space for all of you. I will prepare for your dinner shortly. Make yourselves comfortable”, said Avidius.

That night, the four warriors enjoyed a hearty meal with Avidius the innkeeper.

Early in the morning, they bid Avidius farewell and continued on their journey. They had walked hardly a hundred yards when they heard a shrill cry from the other side of the forest. They looked at each other. At a distance there was a sharp noise of doors and windows being shut by the old innkeeper.

Sensing trouble, and deciding not to leave their friend, the innkeeper in such a dangerous situation, they headed back to the inn and knocked.

There was no reply. They knocked again.

BAM !!!!

Avidius slammed the door open. He had a shotgun in one hand and a dagger in the other. On seeing the four warriors, the innkeeper heaved a sigh of relief.

“Äh, it is you again”, sighed the innkeeper.

“Whom were you expecting?” asked Sagaricus.

“But the werewolves, of course. Do you not know? This forest is infested by a pack of werewolves. I thought that was the reason you came here in the first place.”

“So, that is the reason why no one lives around here. But, then why do you continue to run your inn at such a place?”

“Hahaha, because someone must. Someone must put up a stand. There was a time, when I was a warrior myself. Me and my friends were travelling through this place, when we were divided, and murdered by these werewolves. I was the only survivor. On that day, I took an oath not to leave this forest until I avenge my friends.”

“And we shall help you in fulfilling that oath”, said Nishkantos.

The other three nodded in approval.

“Thank you, my friends. I am sure, that with your help, we will be able to rid this land of these cursed creatures.”

“So, how many werewolves are there, exactly?“, asked Hershules.

The pack consisted of 30 werewolves when we arrived here. I have already killed 12. That still leaves around 20 of them.

“Hmmm..But there is one problem Avidius, we have never faced a werewolf before”, said Sagaricus, to which the other three warriors nodded.

“Fear not, my dear friend, for I will teach you how and with what to hunt them with”, reassured Avidius.

Over the next few days, the four warriors worked tirelessly as Avidius taught them the correct way of killing a werewolf with a silver dagger and silver bullets. Together, they made an infallible plan to rid the land of werewolves forever.

On the fifth night, Avidius accompanied by the four warriors scourged the forests for werewolves and killed them all, thus making the forest a safer place for humans and animals alike.

The news spread like wild fire across the region. Avidius’s business started booming, and he decided to stick to his inn, and perhaps even expand to neighbouring areas. The forest was bustling with life, again.

Thus, enriched with new knowledge, the four warriors bid Avidius farewell, and continued along their journey into the forest.

Unbeknownst to them, Sandikrates, sheriff of a nearby village, followed them into the forest.

The Natrium Trials : Part I

Author's note: I wrote this piece 6-7 years ago when I was still at school. Found it today out of sheer coincidence...Now, I plan to make a series out of it :D...So, here goes...

To

Mr. Sodium Natrium,

s-block,

I Group,

III Period,

Modern Periodic Table.

Date: 22 Sept. 2005

Dear Sir,

It has come to our notice that on 21 September, 2005, under normal conditions, 1 bar pressure, and a recorded temperature of 300.6K, you unprovokedly and illegally attacked Mr. Dihydrogen Oxide (Director of the international confederation of important chemical compounds), also injuring several hundreds of atoms of Mr. Nitrogen, Mr. Oxygen and Mr. Argon in the process.

You are, hereby punished under sections 369, 321(II) of Modern Periodic Law and suspended pending enquiry from the International union of reactive metals. You will be kept under the custody of Mr. Kerosene until your hearing for safety reasons. We seek your full cooperation. A copy of the charges against you has been attached.

Have a nice day.

Xenon Xe,

Elemental law enforcement,

Zero group, VI period,

Modern Periodic Table.

ATTACHED:

The charges leveled against you are:

• A deliberate suicide attack on Mr. Dihydrogen Oxide.

• Injuring 1260 molecules (2164 atoms) of Mr. Nitrogen, Mr. Oxygen, and Mr. Argon.

• Severely disturbing the entropy of the system.

Endless Possibilities...

With the end of the final year, many of my friends have been overcome with feelings of sadness and nostalgia. Almost every day I see a new sentimental message on Facebook, with a number of others liking it. A slew of photo albums invariably titled the by now clichéd expression “Clg Life” have invaded the facebook. It seems like an over-extended "Ekta Kapur Cry series". From the other end where I stand, they all seem way too attached to a place, trying desperately to hold onto something which we always knew was a temporary preparatory phase for the real thing.

What is college life? It is like when a tourist on one of his vacations goes to the Alps, sees a particularly magnificent and beautiful view and hopes that that moment never ends. So, he stands there, clicks photos, and even after going back home can’t get those moments out of his head; but don’t forget; living in the Alps, looking at the wonderful scenery isn’t going to earn you 4 lakhs a year, to have a life, a family, to contribute to society and development of mankind.

Similarly, college life is like a vacation each of us takes, we learn something, we find something beautiful (I am just being metaphorical here :P) and worth remembering, but real life lies ahead, where we work as engineers, scientists, designers, teachers. That is the point of our existence. Not to appreciate the Alps, they are just a diversion, a break, a small sub-chapter in the larger subject of life. The point is to experience each and every aspect of society and mankind and move on to the next, until, there is nothing more left to see.

To me, it is going to be the beginning of the best time of my life. I may seem like a "Cold-hearted bastard" and maybe I truly am one. It has already happened to me twice. On leaving school, I was way too happy to get emotional like my other friends. This is because, I have always wanted to be treated as a mature adult, to have a job, to engage in discussions related to politics, economy, and work over dinner at parties, just like adults do. Until now, people have never taken me seriously, which makes me regret my present status as a student. So, each transition makes me even more excited.

Likewise, there are two ways of looking at what we have had in the last 4 years. One is that we keep looking back at the path and end up tripping ahead, or take a final glance, smile, and move on. Personally, though it is a hard choice, I prefer the second option.

To top it, I have found that "moving on" comes naturally to me. I do not get emotionally attached with people. Except for 4-5 of them, I rarely talk to any of my school friends; that after having studied together for 12 straight years. I actually feel rather uncomfortable around them, since I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to talk about with them. I have only returned once to my school of 12 years, just to obtain my leaving certificate. I am pretty sure that I may never return to SVNIT.

This is not to say that I will completely cut-off this phase of my life. I will remain in contact with some of the best friends that I have made here. But for all of my friends, my only advice is to remember me as I am right now, and cherish those memories. It is inevitable that I will be a changed man the next time we meet, as all of us will be. The point is to not forget the person you originally befriended. If you do that, it will clear you of unnecessary anguish. If you are the overtly touchy-feely type, well bask in your misery.

So, dear tourist, even though it is beautiful, you will eventually get bored of looking at the Alps. So stop holding on to that memory. Learn to let go, because the real beauty of life lies in its endless, unpredictable possibilities. Embrace this fact. May you all, Live Long And Prosper.

Darkness....

He is on his daily late-night walk. Alone. He likes it this way. Suddenly, all the street lights around him go out. It is one of those rare power failures. The whole world around him is engulfed in...

Darkness...

Absolute darkness.

So serene, so comforting. A surreal feeling of nothingness. It consumes everything, uniting all in a dark black globe.

Darkness doesn't distinguish between anything or anyone as does the light.

To him, Darkness is the apostle of calmness. Darkness is soothing to the eye.

In the realm of darkness, there is no right or wrong, no truth or lie.

Darkness symbolises impartiality. It symbolises God...

(Hits a street light while typing all this on his mobile phone and walking in the darkness simultaniously. Angry. Irritated. Very irritated.)

But darkness is ignorance. It conceals information, it hides facts.

Darkness is stagnant. It quells change. It is constant. Forever stationary.

Darkness is ominous and ever-present. It is ubiquitous.

(Electricity is back. The world lights up. A feeling of happiness, combined with a sense of loss engulfs him).

Light signifies knowledge. It is invigorating. It encourages innovation.

Light ushers in change.

Light tears through the darkness as if challenging its supremacy.

Light brings in enlightenment. Light is a beacon of the Gods for one and all...

(Impartiality instinct kicks in)

Darkness dims the brightness that light brings to the universe, bringing a sense of order; as if controlling an organised mob of photons from working up a riot. It promotes rationality. It urges for patience.

Each is opposite of the other like fire and ice. Neither is or does signify good or evil. Both come together, weakening each other’s influence, to form a Grey universe. All are grey. None is absolute.

So what is the point of all this?

Precisely.

There is no point whatsoever.

It is up to your discretion. Your imagination. Your sub-conscious. Your own Grey world.

How the Lizards made an enemy out of me...

I have not always detested lizards. There was a time when we were ... friends. The hostility that I harbor towards them today is a natural instinct that was born out of a certain untoward incident in my childhood.

Before that day, everything was "hunky-dory" between us, as to say. We were in a state of peaceful co-existence. I even used to include them in my paintings on occasion during my drawing classes. Sometimes we would even enjoy meals together, myself enjoying "Chhole Puri", while they gorged on all the delicious mosquitoes and other insects. There was just one unspoken rule. We never used to enter the other's territory; that is, I would never crawl on the walls, and they would never crawl on my bed. Very simple and straight forward.

I was all of 8 years old on that fateful night. Like the good boy I have always been, I finished my homework at 9 PM and prepared to go to sleep (those were the days when Ekta Kapur had not hijacked the "after-dinner prime time television", people slept early, and woke up early). I put my notebooks in my schoolbag, and put my pencils in my "Arabian Nights" pencil box (which by the way I own and use to this day). I switched off the tube light, and went to bed to sleep.

It must have been 15-20 minutes since sleep engulfed me, when I noticed something on my bed, below my pillow. Still very much in my sleep, I took it in my hand and felt it. It seemed like a rubber (eraser). "Oh, I must have forgotten it on the bed when I was packing my bag", thought I. So, I rose up from the bed, and promptly switched on the light to put the rubber back into the bag. As the tube light flickered before finally getting steady, I realised, to my horror, what was in my hand was no innocent and inanimate rubber, it was in fact, a big slimy lizard. Just as realisation struck me, the lizard promptly leapt from my hand on to the bed, and started roaming on it from one edge to the other, as if trying to make a point, that the lizards now owned the whole place. That I had become a refugee in my own territory. I was both furious and afraid at the same time. It is difficult to put that feeling into words. I called my mother, and together we encaged the over-ambitious lizard, in an empty bucket. I wanted to kill the little guy for its audacity, but my mother pacified me, and we finally eased it outside our home.

That night, I had a troubled sleep. My territory was under siege by a species more than 10 times smaller than me. Over the next few weeks, the Elder lizards came again and again to apologise for the unruly actions of that rebellious lizard; they reminded me of the peaceful relationship, and the camaraderie our empires once enjoyed, but I wouldn't be talked into resumption of peace in any way. Finally they gave up.

And thus, till this day, we have been in a state of cold war. I have experimented throughout the period of my school days, the impact of various materials (such as cold water, compressed air) for loading into weapons against lizards and certain sonic and/or visual arrangements that tend to scare them away. They on their part have encroached on my turf on countless occasions and continue to do so to this day.

Since my childhood, I have turned into an infinitely mature, patient and peaceful person, but put a lizard in front of me and the dormant violent streak comes to the fore...

Note: This post is a pat of the continuing "The Incidental Criminal" Series.

Why they fear the Lokpal ???

When the teacher asks the eternally troublesome kid in the class to solve a tricky math problem to put him in his place and restore order, the way the kid goes about the assigned task is very interesting; guessing something here, writing something there and gauging the teacher's face and those of his classmates every now and then, looking for some hint, some leakage of emotion to ascertain if the guess was satisfactory and decide the future course of action. He may, in the process utter vague and meaningless words hoping to confuse his audience but everyone including the kid knows that he is just trying to delay the inevitable, perhaps hoping for the school bell to ring a bit early, and rescue him from the difficult predicament he got himself into.

It of course becomes difficult for the boy concerned when the teacher is as strict and adamant as the infallible Anna Hazare, who has made a hapless kid out of the whole Indian government. It is almost comedic to see this government's functioning in face of the mass agitation that this septuagenarian has whipped up.

Absolute chaos and uncertainty had become the rule for the present government for the past few months as it dodged and ducked sustained attack in the parliament, the media and the courts, but quite expectedly it has encountered a tremendous roadblock in the form of Anna Hazare and his Band of Merry Men.

So why do they fear the Lokpal?

For one, the Lokpal with the limitless power at his disposal combined with the popularity and support of the urbane and the educated as well as the almighty media may become the most influential man in the country; in certain aspects more powerful than the Prime Minister himself. A man who has the authority to pull up the prime minister, his cabinet, the Chief justice of the Supreme Court cannot be taken lightly. As he goes about his task of cleansing the system, he may be rewarded with even more powers and authority by the amenable civil society. Overtime, as the hero of the civil society hauls out deep-buried carcasses of corruption, the public may start warming up to the idea of having him as the Chief Executive of the country. When that happens, where will these thousands of Oldies (read politicians) go with no other acquired skill or source of income?

So, our ministers, having guessed what might be in store for them in the future, are scampering around on the stage, hoping for some divine intervention to strike this organised movement and divert the public's attention from their filthy hands.