2 states, The Red book

I am sorry. I mistrusted Chetan Bhagat. I thought he would write another story which will end in style and glamour, asking for a Bollywood transformation. Even my cousin, who read it the day it was published, said the plot is perfect for a Bollywood movie. So, I almost decided that I will not read the book.
But my father, who read all the three books of chetan bhagat, couldn’t stop himself buying the book. When he told me about it, I was reading The Godfather. Two days before, I completed The Godfather. And was getting dubious which book to start first, White Tiger of Arvind Adiga or The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown. Incidentally, I took the red book and thought to give it a try. So, I started reading it. And then I read it, I read it, I read it. Till I reached the epilogue. And I accepted my defeat as Chetan again proved that he is a genius and a very marvelous writer.
The book is a story of Chetan’s marriage, with the detailed description of every character and every incident. All the incidents are closer to reality, which is the reason I liked it. They are purely from the heart and shows the actual scenario of the marriages. Dowry, Ego, Love, Parental affection, Fear, Spirituality and many etc. I must make a note here specially. Chetan’s wife is a real daredevil, and the guts she carries amused me the most. Even if Chetan says that the book is a work of fiction, but the previous sentence is a reality. That’s because I had the same feeling when I read his “One night at the Call Centre”. It also has some daredevil incidents of her wife(maybe).
We have a sentence in hindi which was my reaction after I read the book. “Mazaa aa gaya”.

That Day

It took me two buses and a rickshaw to finally reach to the company’s office. Not that the company is some far place off or my home is situated at some backward area, but somewhat the path I chose was the most convenient and inexpensive for me. I could easily have taken a metro till South Delhi and then taken the bus, but that would have been a time-spending affair.
It was my interview that day. After working with Samsung for a couple of months, I thought to change the job and expected a nice raise in my salary. No, I wasn’t from a poor family and I was the sole bread owner, but just for my own personal satisfaction and to prove myself that I can do bigger, I was sitting for this interview. Samsung was a nice start for me after my B.Tech from a not so famous engineering college, which too situated at a place in Delhi anyone hardly has a hint of. I was surprised when I was recruited in an electronics core company when half of my friends were either getting a software job or getting interviewed for various MBA degrees. Maybe, this was my dream. Maybe, this was my destiny.
My family is a middle class family. I am the youngest of the three. I was still studying when my brother and sister started working. My father was a government bank official. So, I was never a concern in my family. My mother told me that I could do anything in life as there was no pressure on me. So, when an offer in the company came to me, I thought to start working rather than spending two more years studying MBA because I hated to study from my school. It isn’t that I was terrible in studies, its just that I used to get bored with the same words and numbers everyday. It seemed like a monotonous chore for me. I hardly enjoyed it.
As I entered the office, the receptionist welcomed me with a nice warm message she repeated umpteen times from the morning.
“Hello Sir, How can I help you?”
“I came here for an interview of a job.”
“May I know your name, Sir?”
“Rahul Mukherjee.”
She pressed some keys on her keyboard, giggled something to her mate sitting right beside her, and then told me.
“Sir, you can sit in the conference room. It’s in the right corner.”
I thanked the lady and went where she directed me. As I entered, I was stunned to see almost sixty people like me who were sitting tensely on their chairs and talking to themselves. Some were busy filling a form while some were even vibrating in the chair with a small book of Hanuman Chalisa in their hands. I couldn’t figure out how could Hanuman help them in getting through an interview. I wondered which God wrote the Mahabharata.
I searched the whole party and saw a person sitting on a partly banked portion of a side of the room, with a desk in his front.
“Excuse me, I came for an interview.”
He was busy doing something in his mobile. He hardly took a notice of me and handed me a paper lying in his front.
“Fill this form, submit it and wait for your turn.”
I took the form and was unsure whether I am supposed to fill it or not. I was not a fresher from a college waiting for a job. I was experienced guy who worked in an Electronics Company. I was expecting a warmer welcome and a direct interview. But due to my subdued nature, I profusely accepted the form, took the nearest possible seat available and filled my form. I completed filling all my details in it, even the crappiest details which hardly kept any relation with the matter. I submitted it to the mobile guy and sat back on my chair. I later realized that a fresher sat right beside me who had even more finest details to discuss.
“Hi, I am Vikas Sharma. Fresher. Have done my engineering from U.P.Tech. Just passed out. You?”
I wasn’t in the slightest mood to talk to this person. But just for the sake of goodness, I replied.
“I am not a fresher. And I am not a UP Tech alumni.”
“Ok. Is this your first interview? You know this is the farthest I have been in a recruitment process. Really worked hard. They used to disqualify me in the group discussion round only. This time I have cleared that round and come up here. Now I am quite confident about my selection.”
“Excuse me. What did you say? You are through the first round?”
“Yes. That’s exactly how we all are here. See that guy sitting over there? We became friends that day. He was so nervous last……..”
“Ya its fine. I understood how he felt. Now if you please excuse me.”
I left the seat and went straight to the guy with the forms and asked him about the washroom. It was a nice relief as the fresher was getting on my nerves.
So, it wasn’t that bad. My experience did have some value as I was directly called for the interview round. A start at a good company didn’t go in vain.
I didn’t have to wait too long when I was called for the interview. Three people welcomed me inside. They looked like hungry bears ready to eat you up with a smile on their faces.
“Good morning Sir.”
“Good morning Rahul. Please sit down.”
“Thank you.”
“So Rahul, how are you?”
“Pretty nice sir. Even the weather is very supportive today.”
“Definitely. So, Rahul, how was it working at Samsung?”
“Quite nice Sir. I got to learn some new stuff. Had some nice experiences working for the profit of the company. Getting associated with new projects.”
“Then why you left the company?”
“Well sir. I worked there for six months and I wanted to try new prospects.”
I think that was a nice answer to such a mundane question. Every company asked such questions to me when I went for an interview. This was the eighth interview I was going to. I felt lousy to get up every morning and search for jobs in the computer. Most of the time, I ended up playing computer games or reading ebooks. My parents got quite concerned with their child sitting unemployed after engineering. But any company that I picked didn’t like me eventually. It wasn’t that my interview goes bad, its just that they didn’t like my attire or my outspoken nature.
But this time, it didn’t go that bad. Actually it went very good. The interviewers looked contented watching my resume. They complimented me for my dressing sense. (well that they only murmured among themselves and I overheard). Looking at their smile, I could easily infer that this time I was going to be selected.
………………………………………….
“Hi!”
“Hello sir. How may I help you?”
“I gave an interview last week for a job. I wonder I didn’t get a call from you.”
“Let me check sir. May I know your name, please?”
“Ya. Its Rahul Mukherjee”
The receptionist again murmured something to the girl sitting beside her and clicked some keys in the keyboard and replied generously.
“Sorry sir. You were not selected.”
“Whaaaat….. Oh sorry. I mean, can I know the reason why wasn’t I?”
“Sorry Sir. But we don’t have such information.”
“Ok. Thank You.”
I found it worthless to howl at the receptionist. I find it very odd to howl at anybody who is not at all directly related to your reason. So, I called my friend with whom I hardly talked and who was working in the same company and told him if he can take the pain to know the reason of me not selected. Surprisingly, he said yes. Already disheartened, I thought to take a walk instead of taking a metro home.
And my friend called me within few minutes.
“Hey Buddy. I just asked the management. Seems like the interviewer was my boss. He told me that he called your previous company, Samsung I think. And they confirmed that you were fired from there due to excessive leaves. Sorry buddy.”
“Ya its fine. It’s cool.”
I hung up the phone. I didn’t want to talk anymore and listen to his consolations. I was bored of all such evictions, that too for my past doings. It’s true that I took little more holidays than normal. But I worked hard too. I spent many nights there just to complete my projects. Seems like that didn’t keep a tally in their registers. They just kept records of the holidays I took.
Ya, I did take some holidays. Because I had a thing participating in the cultural activities happening around. I liked to invest some part of my time directing plays and dance shows at the local Durga Pujas at our society. I started it all when I was in second year of graduation. I was eager to do some acting and not a single person was organizing a play. So, I took the initiative myself and directed the play. To my surprise, it proved to be a huge hit and all the people came to me and asked me to continue the trend. Hence, I started organizing and participating in plays as well as dance shows. I remained very aggressive and satisfied with it. This year too, I took holidays to give the script human form. My brother once told me to take this hobby seriously but I knew I wasn’t going to take the riskof doing it professionally. But after my eighth eviction, it looked like I couldn’t do anything professionally. I was tired. I didn’t want to go back home, sit on the internet and find new jobs, give interviews. I was tired of all this. Answering questions of my parents everyday, listening to my friends’ achievements. I was tired of all this
I couldn’t take it anymore. I sat on the footpath of the roadside. I was not in a mood to do anything. I walked again. I saw a building. I saw a board. It read NATIONAL SCHOOL OF DRAMA. I stood in front of it. I went in there.
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“And now, after six years of satisfying hard work you are seeing me in my state Delhi, inside a gigantic set, of a movie directed by Farhan Akhtar.”
“Thank you Sir for such a wonderful interview and taking out time from the busy schedule. Can I ask for an autograph?”
“Oh sure. Absolutely.”
Best wishes for your life
Aryan Mukherjee
“Is it fine?”

Kaminey..... The Faaaadu movie.....

I promised myself. I promised that I would never write a movie review in this blog of mine. But I couldn’t stop myself from writing this review. Because it is such a strong and tight movie with commercial touches that I saw the same movie twice in a movie hall, never in my life. And I liked it the same as I liked it the first time.
Since now everyone are more or less aware of this movie, I will play a spoiler in telling you the story.
Two brothers, both played by Shahid Kapur, one lisp other stammers, hate each other. Charlie is a gangster and works with 3 bengali brothers, working as a bookie in a race course. The other, Guddu gets in love with Sweety, played by Priyanka Chopra, but she is the sister of a corrupt politician, Bhope Bhaau. Also, comes in the scene three more characters, Tashi, Lobo and Lele. And since then, each of their roads coincide over a thing, the guitar.
The story is so fast paced that if you miss a scene, you may miss the whole funda of the movie. Each scene is perfectly executed. Acting is perfect. Even if Shahid lisps and stammers, it doesn’t sound even a single time funny.
Completely dark movie, I think the whole industry and the people will need some more years to understand and make such kind of films. The second time I went to see this movie, most of the people were there for the second time like me. And also I have asked many who didn’t like the movie a bit. I can say, it is a movie either you will love or you will hate. There is no midway. This way or that way. I recommend you to watch it atleast once. You will feel you have seen something different something unusual in Bollywood.

Angels And Demons - Dan Brown

Digital Fortress, a book which relates the science growing into a massive power. Filled with unknown and rare science miracles.
The Da Vinci Code, a book purely religious. It was the best seller book and still the book is famous. I read the book and I thought no book can be any better than this.
Then, a friend of mine recommended me to read Angels and Demons, and as he promised, my thinking was about to be devastated.

And now I tell you and maybe also to Dan Brown, that he made a huge mistake releasing this book much before The Da Vinci Code. This book is a fusion of both Digital Fortress and Da Vinci Code. This is the fusion of Science and Religion. Again Robert Langdon gets involved into a certain series of events, which get worse time after time. But he gets more suffering in this novel, more beatings, more blood. And it is violent too. But the events are as twisting as possible. Till the last moment, you keep guessing who the sinister is. Dan Brown is a champion when it comes to unfolding parts with suspense and thrill you to the core.
But sometimes it felt that Dan Brown was explaining a bit too much of the history than he should. I like history, specially after reading Da Vinci Code, but maybe I am not used to so much of complex facts thrown back to back. So, sometimes it keeps messy.

And yes, on my decision whether Angels and Demons won the fight with The Da Vinci Code, I am still undecided.

Its Dusk, Its time to go

I sit on my chair, I see the kids.
They enjoy the ball as the wind blow
Soon they end their game and return
Its dusk, its time to go

I play with my friends, I see my father
He comes from his office, tired and low
I wrap my game, I ask my friends
Its dusk, its time to go

I drive to home, after a long tiring day
I see a farmer, walking the road slow
I stopped the car as he crossed the road
Its dusk its time to go

It rained last night, my crop dripping water
And today the sun shone with usual glow
As the day rolled, the sun went west
Its dusk, its time to go

I see a boy, sitting on his chair
Listening to songs, sweet and mellow
But the horizon is near, i cant watch him anymore
Its dusk, its time to go

The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho

Finally, the book I heard a lot of. And it thrilled me more than the first book of his I read, the Zahir. I started this book with not much amusement. With very simple elements, a boy and some sheeps, the story started but ended with a style that comes naturally to Paulo Coelho and a reading delight for me.
And it offers some of the greatest words of spirituality and philosophy that you are bound to think about the happenings again and again. I am used to such philosophical talks but these books really help me giving words to my own personal findings. I was so amused by the sentences that I finally decided to update my status in social networking with them. I sometimes think that Paulo Coelho should have been a spiritual leader. But he has decided to send his messages in novels rather than in journals or boring speeches. A medium most will understand and enjoy. No doubt I will read the remaining novels by him also.

Somewhere She Is

There is a stream
that comes in my dream
The water flows
the time slows

I look up the other end
where the stream slowly bend
there within a mile
i saw you smile

joined you by your side
Talked and laughed like i never did
You were happy, smiling too
I realised this is what i need

Then a droplet touched my palm
wondered as the sky was composed and calm
Closely, i looked in your eyes
Drenched, they were reduced in size

I asked, what bothers you,makes you cry
You said tomorrow, its time to say goodbye

My sleep broke, my eyes woke
and the dream vanished , with a sigh

The dream never reapproached
Still miss that night worthwhile

But miracle do happen, i got you back
Not in my dreams, in reality with a smile....

Digital Fortress - Dan Brown

Although I am new in reading novels and still fighting to make it a habit, ther are some writers of whom I have read novels one after another, so it is evident I have learnt the styles of these writers. For example, Mario Puzo is a underworld writer. He gives life to the least respectable people of the world. Chetan Bhagat is a fiction writer who tries to make them as real as possible, relating them to true incidents of his life. Dan Brown is writer who does a lot of research before writing a novel and hence, his novel may or may not has some useful information about the secret societies existing in our land.

Digital Fortress, is a software. A software ready to make the Translator of the National Security Agency, NSA, a agency many have unheard of. Translator is everyday decoding many crypto, foiling the plans of many threats. Some people within it are upset by the very method of decrypting anyone’s private messages. So, one of them come out with a solution with the Digital Fortress, and hence threatening the existence of the Scientist’s Marvel.

When you read a Dan Brown, get ready to know some out of the world possible facts. I never found out how many of them are exactly true, but the commitment with which he describes the story that you can’t ignore and hence, start believing the facts. Still, I would say that The Da Vinci Code is the best.

The Family - Mario Puzo

The Godfather. A huge hit of all times. Marlon Brando and Al Pacino, not to forget Robert Di Niro, it is one of the classics of Hollywood. My brother bought me a DVD of the movie and asked me to watch it. But I couldn’t. Because it was a little tough English spoken in an unusual accent of Marlon Brando. But I watched it after I got some subtitles and enjoyed every part of it.
Many may not be aware that the creator of the Godfather was also a novelist and has depicted the life on many dons. I have read his novel, The Last Don and liked it a lot. But the recent novel I read of Mario Puzo, left me speechless. It was the Last novel written by him before he expired. And as his friend Carol Gina, who was responsible to complete the final parts of the novel told that it was his novel he wanted to write for almost thirty years. He started writing its parts before The Godfather but nothing materialized.

The Family, a book based on Rome during the Renaissance Period. Pope Alexander VI, or Rodrigo Borgia was a Spanish who was made the Pope of the country. He had three sons, Caesar, Juan, Jofre and a daughter Lucrezia. Rodrigo wanted to unite the Rome as well as the other states and provinces. He gave his sons important positions in the church, and dealt with the non-surrendering states with different tactics. But during all these years making a united kingdom, he made many enemies, some of whom were distressed by him made the Pope, while some were dissatisfied with his ways of governing.

But what really amazed me is that he made a tyrant ruler look a good human being. I searched the internet when I got to know that these characters are not fictions and got to know that they are depicted as the worst rulers of those times. For all those who know about these and have a perception as the same as the web, I would tell them to read this novel. Although, Rodrigo Borgia made some strict and inhuman decisions, you won’t find his life cruel or insensitive.

The Blank "Face" (Part III - Last)

“The Bar is closed, Sir. You can come tomorrow.” As I saw, the bouncer was dealing with two thin men wearing absurd cloth.
“Move your ass, dude. You don’t mess with the junkies. Do we look like we are taking a permit?”
“Vanish, you bloody bastards.” The bouncer pushed them as they fell to the ground.
“What the…”
The messy guy took out a sharp tiny object and pricked it on the bouncer’s eye. The fat guy went down in a second. But the messy guy didn’t stop pricking his needle in the bouncer’s body. In a minute the bouncer was on the ground crying in pain. Both of Junkies paced away hurriedly.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
It has been seven days I am in this cell. It stinks like rotten egg. Light touching the walls from a small opening of the top of the right wall. Every day when the light shimmers on the walls, they enter, tie me like dogs and take me to the torcher cell. I don’t know for how long it continues, because after few minutes, I lose my conscious and the pain overtakes my body and mind. Why? I don’t know exactly.

“Accept. Accept that you are responsible for the murder.”
“I …… I told you officer….. that I didn’t do any such act. I am innocent”
“Listen guy, I know you did it. I have got enough evidences and witnesses to prove you guilty in court. Now it will be intelligent for you to accept it to save you from further torture.”
“What are your profits in this whole process?”
“Whaaaaatttt????”
“I asked…… What are your profits in this process? I am sure they have given you a hefty amount to prove my guilt?”
The police officer didn’t say anything for few moments. Then he took out a sharp needle from his pockets and jammed it in the open wound on my neck.
“Listen you smart kid, Aevinas Maelhottra. I have worked for twenty fucking years within these corridors. And I know some pretty nice ways to prove what I am supposed to. And I will make it sure you don’t leave these walls for the next coming years.” Saying this the officer walked away through the door. I was taken back to my enclosure.
For three days, I was beaten. Hanged naked from a roof, baseball bats and sticks were thumped on me for hours. Then they packed me naked in my enclosure with salt all over the floor. I don’t even remember the last days of my torture. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t sleep properly in my cell. My body laid there like a lifeless zombie.

“Sign it here.”
“Don’t you know his fingers are broken you fool? Take a thumb impression of his right hand.”
I was already in my subconscious mind. My brain went through some series of shock treatments just before the signing.
“Here sir, please give a thumb impression.”
“You foolish chaps. Who gave you an entry in this Department?”
The officer straight came towards me and lifted my right hand. Then took a thumb impression on the paper. I couldn’t resist because my body already stopped responding to the nervous system many days before. They threw me back in my chamber, with my clothes on. Maybe their job was done. There was no court case afterwards. The case was closed. Next mornings, I was taken from my cell and cleaned with a hose pipe. Food was given twice a day. And there was no other sound in that big cell, no movement, just the high walls and light striking the roof for few hours. I used to think, what happened that day and why did it happen. What went wrong between me and my cousin. I remembered my mother, my sweet mother and my father. I missed the days I was free and talked with my friends. I missed the sunlight and the dark chocolates. I missed everything. But as time passed, the thinking was ceased too.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Violent, that what came in my mind when I saw this act. I couldn’t watch the whole incident and started walking on the other side of the road. The people were screaming and crying out loud nearby. But I saw something which astonished me completely.
A guy was standing below the street lamp in a brown overcoat. He was wearing his hat but still a light was illuminating his face. He was not looking a native European but his complexion was too whit to deny that. What stunned me was his immovable face. He was completely lifeless, his expressions completely blank. He was witnessing this incident with absolutely no emotions.
The screams continued but this guy walked after few moments, as if the show of the night was over.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
I entered today with a tired look in my eyes but ready to rock and free my body from all the tiredness of the week. I went straight to the bartender and took my favourite drink as a starter. A mix of vodka and breezer with a tinge of lemon juice. Refreshing it was, when I saw the same figure of that night sitting beside me.
“Hi! Aren’t you the same guy outside this club last Friday?”
The guy gave me a stern look convincing me that he is not ready to talk with strangers. But still, I continued as my eagerness was increasing for this person.
“Hi, I am Sandeep. You can call me Sandy. I am here for a project assigned by my company.”
“You an Indian?”
“Yes. Of Course.”
I don’t know whether my origin helped him to demystify the distance between our communication. But that night, I actually saw his blank face opening up showing some expressions I suspected of. I don’t know how much time passed talking to this guy, but when we completed, it was six in the morning and the guy took a leave from me.

“Excuse me. I actually didn’t ask your name.”
“Avinash Malhotra.”

The Blank "Face" (Part II)

It never remained closed. But that day, there was some maintenance work going on, and we were informed in advance. I was thinking of some other plans for the night. After much discussions in my mind, it decided to go to an Indian restaurant nearby and have the dinner. I was out of my home on my usual time and walking down the street, when I saw a crowd encircling the front of the Aqua Club. Street Fights are not common in London, so I rushed to see what was happening.
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I was having my evening nap when some loud noises broke my sleep. It was coming from another room and from the voices it was evident that my father and my uncle were fighting for some reason. It is not the first time this was happening. But something struck my mind and I tried to listen to the voices.

“This is the third time you are committing the same errors, Abhi. We have not seen the profit from your side for two years now. Already closed down two firms because of your mistakes. If you don’t do know how to correct them, don’t take the responsibilities.”
My father was silent during this. He rarely spoke when his brother was frenzied.
“This was the third time I gave you the chance to improve yourself but you failed miserably. My son understands business again than you.”
“I just tried to show some profits by negotiating with the distributors. They were asking for huge sum of money for continued alliance. I asked them to reconsider the figure, but they quit.
“What happened to the new companies I arranged……..” I couldn’t hear much after that. My hearing muscles were strained by the continuously concentrating to the low frequency sounds. So, I refrained myself from further and went back to my studies.

It was two hours now that I was in my room. And the water bottle was also empty. I stood up to take a healthy break from my studies and refresh myself. But as I passed through the hallway, I heard my father screaming with fear behind the closed doors. I went near the door to listen what was happening.

“I worked hard, day and night to help this company reach this feat. When your Father left it for us, it was hovering with loan of millions. I gave this company my twenty years. This company belongs to me. You were a piece of shit when you came to me begging for money. Everyone expected me to handover my businesses to my son but I believed you and gave you another chance. But….”
“There is no need to enumerate him all this, Dad. This person doesn’t deserve a place in this world. I think I know a better place for these rotten suckers.
“Pleeeease…. Don’t do this. I can…… explain. I admit. I admit. Please don’t pull the trigger. Brother, give me a chance to explain.”
“The time for admitting is gone my brother. There is little you can do now. Just pray for a good life in your next encounter to this world.”
“This……. was…. a …… mistake…. I admit. Please forgive me. I don’t want to die. I will leave everything, just now. Please stop your son, brother. Please stop him. My son, please don’t do it. You are a very good talented boy. Please don’t commit this crime.”
“What do you think? I will commit this crime. Think again old snake.”

I was gasping air in my body. My body grew cold. I had to hurry in with all my efforts.
“Dad…. Dad… open the door.. Dad….”
“Let him in, father. He should atleast witness his crime.”

The door opened. My father was lying on the floor, pale. My cousin was holding a gun pointing straight on his forehead. As I moved forward trying to stop the incident, the bullet was shot. It was too late.

The Blank "Face" (Part I)

It takes me few steps to reach the Club Aqua, it is just two blocks away from my building. And remaining busy for the five days of the week, Aqua is the perfect place to wash away my tiredness. I have many friends here and we make it a point to meet every Friday evening to share life. And today, it is even more important because it is a fortnight I visited the bar. It was closed last Friday.
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“Drunkard”, that’s the first thought that comes in my mind when my friends ask about my Father, A.Malhotra. Not because of his drinking but the incidents which followed after he was not in his senses that made me abhor him. Many of the times he used to take his whip and blast on his wife, my mother. Many a time, I was on the receiving end. And the scars still burn on my chest and my back. “Businessman, my father has his own business.” I tell them after giving second thoughts.
This is the third time I am changing my school in this session. I am used to it as this has been a routine in my life. Earlier I used to hate this because I had to make new friends whenever I changed my school but now it has become a routine in my life. I never understand what kind of business my father does. And nor I asked him ever as he is a short tempered bloody being who treats the others like shit. I sometimes tried to ask my mother, when she was alive, but she was rather rhetoric than candid. What I was able to learn was that my grandfather used to own a big business spread over various countries. After his death, it was divided equally among his three sons. My father was the youngest and a spoilt brat of his parents. No doubt how he grew out of a human being. But what surprised me was that we change our dwelling faster than normal. Nowadays we are in Manchester.
“How did your first day go?” a hoarse voice enquired as I entered the room.
“Who cares?”
“What kind of answer is that? And who taught you to speak to your father like that.”
I pretended not to listen and slipped into my room and shut the door behind me. I heard my father clamoring but I inserted the earplugs of my Ipod to listen the soothing music of Beethoven.

It is Sunday Morning and my mind is filled with some peace. My uncle, Aadesh Malhotra was visiting us. He is a good human being unlike my father. Nicely built, six feet tall, he had all the nicest manners possible in a human being. He always visited with a gift in his hand for me, and it didn’t even stop later till now as he more often comes to our place. His son also comes to our place but he is no less than my father. He used to bully me when we were kids since he was always healthier than me. As we grew older, he stopped doing pranks with me as he grew mature, I think. But his detest for me is still alive in his mind since we rarely talk.
That day, Uncle came to me to give me a packet of chocolates, as I still loved them even if growing of age. His son also came but moved away in other room without greeting me. My uncle asked about my studies and my life and then went away wishing me luck for my exams. He never liked to disturb students busy in studies. I asked him about his plans for today and he confirmed that he will be here the whole day. I smiled because that gave me a relief. My father never showed his berserk nature in front of his elder brother. But his brother was totally aware of his scorning nature. Many times, he saw the scars of my face but never said anything.

The Rider of the Knight

“Team meeting in 10 minutes.”
The skipper gave us a call to the meeting room after an hour chat with the coach. We have already lost 6 out of 7 matches with only 1 win in the first match. The batting has been poor with the skipper loosing his form from the last year’s IPL. Bowling has been worst. No magic from Sharma or Dinda this year. Dropping catches in South Africa has become a fashion and we are no different from them. Only Dada has shown a new promise diving at almost impossible catches and winning a few.
Me, well, due to many stars of the team, I had to sit all throughout these 7 matches. Just like many other players who are waiting for a match to play, I also see too little chance for a luck reversal. Even if I don’t get a chance, it is always gold when you can share the dressing room with big geniuses of cricket and bollywood. I mean, only few people of our country can imagine a big actor like SRK giving you much needed cheering for the next matches. Well anyway, after some minutes, we were all in the meeting for strategy-making for the next game.

Skipper, “ Guys, we have lost almost half the battle in this IPL. And we have only 7 matches left in our hands. And we have to win almost all the remaining matches to stand a chance in the semi-final. In all we were pathetic on the field, but we have to be back with a bang.”

SRK: Ofcourse guys. We are fighters and we have the biggest fighter in our team. We need to fire as a team and we will definitely. We won the previous game with Punjab and we will do it again.

Meanwhile,
Kaartik: Stop drooling young ass. It is a team meeting. And the coach gets really angry by such negligence.
Me: I am bored with all these inspirational talks. Its almost half past nine and I cant stop my eyes. Team Announcement is no surprise.
Kaartik : Don’t know all that, but please concentrate. We have a big game tomorrow.

What Kaartik said wasn’t a news for me. Every match is crucial for us now. But, it has been almost a routine by our skipper and owner to cheer us up from a bad loss. Our team needed some real energy boost by winning some matches. So, I was sitting in a corner trying to stop my tired eyes to stop closing and concentrate on the proceedings.

Coach: We have some changes in the team for tomorrow. So, I will announce the playing 11 for tomorrow. Saurav Ganguly will open with Brendon McCullum. Then, we have Brad Hodge, Yashpal Singh, David Hussey, Morne Van Wyke will keep the wickets. For bowling, we have Ishant, Agarkar and Kaartik. And we have a replacement for Dinda. Mashrafe Mortaza will be bowling tomorrow. And will probably open the bowling with Ishant. And another inclusion is of Abhishek Mukherjee. He shows promise and can be a good help in spin department. Good night boys. Have a nice sleep because we have a big day ahead.
(Claps went loud in the room)

“Ohhh…. What happened, did the meeting end?”
Before I could react, Dada came and congratulate me. Then Skipper followed.
Skipper: Have a blast tomorrow. Good night.
When they all went out, I asked Kaartik of what happened.
Kaartik: You went off when the team was announced? Damn, you are fool Abhi. You are going to play tomorrow. Now go and sleep on your bed now.

Whaaat…. Is it true? That’s the reason Dada congratulated me? I asked Murali again while we were passing down the hallway. He laughed out loud and told Ishant of my irresponsible act in the room. Both of them laughed and kicked me on my back. Getting kicked by two persons when you have a match tomorrow is not good. I almost moved two or three steps faster when Dada scolded from behind, “Mmmm…. Go to sleep now. Don’t injure the baby before he gets a ball to play.”
Another cheer roared in the hallway and everyone went to bed smiling.

But my day started only then. All my sleep was gone. I went to bed as told but got up within few minutes. It was tough for me to stick my back on the bed. I was feeling to go on the practice area and bowl the wickets out. My hands were going out of control to hold the bat and hit some imaginary sixes. So, I decided to take my bat and do exactly the same in the little empty space of my room. I went straight to my kit and took out my bat. I went to an end of the room and started hitting the bat on the floor.
Off the bowl goes and left. The ball was just outside the Off stump and I left it giving it much respect.
Again hitting on the floor, the next ball bowled.
Huge one, getting out of the crease, straight up for a huge six.
Happily, I started hitting the bat on the floor much harder.
Next ball on the offside and beautiful cover dri... oops.
The bat went straight up in the air touching the roof. Then , it came like a steel rod hitting the glass table right in the middle. The table glass, being very strong didn’t break into pieces but a huge crack followed to the corners. The flower vase, which was also glass, couldn’t bear the vibration of the table and started rolling on the table. And before I could react to it, it went straight down on the carpet and pieces.I moved slowly to the table to pick up my bat, put it back in the kit and went straight on the bed. My day was finally over.

I slipped out early in the morning to escape the chaos in my room. Today, I pulled in extra efforts in the practice. Bowling spin to various batsman with changing pace. Then, had a chat with Coach and skipper. The coach gave me some important tip to hold the nerves when bowling and the skipper just told me what he expects of me. Dada patted me when I had a successful fielding drill. Finally, it was 3.30 pm and it was time for us to be ready for the match.
The skipper came in and told us that it is a nice batting pitch so we gonna pile up 170-180 runs in 20 overs. And ours was batting as the day started with the Toss win. Now, every player started to get ready. Dada and skipper started padding up. I have a habit to bath before I go out, so even after much denials and anger from my teammates, I went for a shower. It really helps me to be cool. Till I came out with my golden jersey and my kit to the field, the game was about to begin. Umpires were on the field and the fielding side was getting set. Yuvraj was making some last minute changes and the ball is given to Pathan.
And here goes the first ball of the innings.


Its 75-5. 14 overs gone. Van-Wyke comes back and settles on the dug-out. He had a brief partnership with Dada at the other end, but the runs seem hardly nearer to what skipper told us. Agarkar just went to play with Dada, and the bowler, Piyush Chawla is looking very confident after taking 3 wickets already.

That’s high, very high. There is a fielder under it. And he takes the catch. Yuvraj has a safe pair of hands and he takes it easily. That’s the sixth wicket of the innings and Knights are in big trouble.

“Abhishek, go.” I was already padded up but I was least expecting to get batting. I walked in the field and have to face the ball. It was a maiden over by VRV Singh, the last ball of which went high in the air for a catch. It was 75-6 in 15 overs. As I went in, Dada came to me, “Just give me the strike, u don’t have to worry.” Pathan came in as Yuvraj wanted to finish off things early. He has started his run-up and…..

1: Slower delivery. Little outside off-stump. Full swing of the bat. And off the ball goes to the Leg side for a huge six. Got the meat of the Bat finely and went away in the crowd. KKR 81-6.

2: Straight one. And down the ground, straight shot. No one there. Full strength transferred to the bat for a six. KKR with back to back 6’s on 87.

3: Bouncer, but Abhishek gets down and moves the bat with the ball, touches it in the end for huge six over the third man. This man is really ticking the scoreboard fast. KKR 93-6.

4: What is this going to be? Slower ball again, hits the ball towards the mid-cover and it agggggaaaain goes to the crowd. Oh my god, another DLF maximum. KKR 99-6.

5: Huge one. This time on the off-side. And it travelled the whole stadium. Out of the ground. This boy is really on a roll here. 100 comes up for Kolkata Knight Riders and its 105-6.

I was living a dream. Another six and I would be sharing my name with Yuvraj Singh. The ball was lost outside the stadium so the umpires are yet to come up with the new ball. Dada came up to me to keep my cool and not rush up things.
The new ball is here. Yuvraj is getting the field set with Pathan. And here he comes.

6: Abhishek walks down the pitch. Pathan senses it. Bowls a slower bouncer. But it didn’t stop Abhihek to pull it over leg. The ball goes high in the air and……….


The mobile vibrates twice and my sleep gets a stop signal. I get up on my bed in my home. My head has grew heavy and it is morning and time to start a new day in college. It is 7 am and the kids are already out with their ball and bat. I looked towards the window recounting the moments of the dream. Really, the ninth straight loss has really got on my head yesterday.

No Turning Back

Ramsingh, where is my coffee?
Coming Sir. In a minute.
I don’t have a minute. Oh, I have to rush.. Ramsingh, leave the coffee. I will have something in the office. Oh, I don’t like these last minute rushes. Have to follow some strict rules from tomorrow.

Well, that’s my life. Fast, busy, Deadlines, meetings and almost every word that is used in the life of a Manager. Tough life, that’s what my friends say when they see me. But I love to be where I am. I get irritated with the same monotonous life my friends survive. A 9 to 7 job, coming to home, eating, sleeping, and then waking up the other day with…. ohhh the same schedule. And when the kids join in, the schedule gets even better. “Better” because, my friends, in unison, think that raising a child adds much more enthusiasm missing from your life. Even some of my friends have started taking the parenting classes to increase the enthusiasm. I don’t know how much has that thing added in their life, but of course, the crap chattering has multiplied of which I am least interested. I am single and am having a great time with myself. Some of my female friends keep giving me advices to get married and how it helps increasing your life’s scope but I try to escape such discussions saying, “I am busy. I hardly get any time off from my work.”

When I was a teenager, I used to think like this only. A good home, a beautiful wife, a simmering coffee, a nice chair and a computer. My projects will come through mail and I would work online to complete them. Why need to go to office when you can work from home. Simple living, high thinking. But once, I was sitting in home for almost 3 months or so. All day, I used to sit in front of computer, play some game, chat with friends, eat, play game, chat with friends, eat and sleep. Next day, same itinerary with only the timings changing. I continued the two months like this but then I started getting bored. It continued for some days till I realized that I should do something and take some measures to mend my art of living. I sat in the corner with a paper and a pencil and jotted down some points. I don’t remember what the points were, but within an hour, I discovered something buried deep inside me. In the next few days, I tried to do some things I decided in the paper and found I was much more happier than before. What were the things? Well, nothing great but many things in a day. I did almost every new things I surfaced and kept myself busy. At the end of the day, I got damn tired but my mind remained satisfied because every day, I had some new challenges to meet, some new works to do, and hence started my taste for this busy life.

I am the MD of a multinational brand with a high package. And even if I didn’t fancy the money much in my whole life, what kept me stick to this profession was the diversity of works I did for the company. In a day of work, I attend meetings, seminars, lunches and sometimes parties. I go for recruitment trips and sometimes to fix the deal, not in our country but foreign locations. I meet a hell lot of people with hell lot of ethics. And not that I am just profession minded. I am also a lead guitarist for my band, Spectrum for three years. WE meet every week, we perform at local concerts and we make music. Now all this happened so fast in my life because….. well, I don’t know because I couldn’t ever give it a thought.

Now, the only problem I face in my life is that I don’t have a routine in my life. I get up in the morning when my training instructor buzzes me. I run with him to the park, do my daily drills of exercises, come back home, have a nice shower and have go to office. I manage to get some breakfast Fast in the car because that’s something my trainer warned me to do. I reach office, I do some homework before going for meetings. I have lunch with my colleagues and sometimes my bosses. Then I attend some more meetings till the day ends up on my cozy bed for the night’s sleep. Routine? Forget it, my life is a routine changing every day.

That day, I had a meeting early in the morning. I had a bad headache last night and the night’s sleep didn’t vanish the enthralling effect. I asked my trainer to give me a day off and slept on my bed when I was supposed to workout. And the next moment, I got up it was quarter past 8. I was supposed to be on a restaurant at 9 sharp with one of my clients in a morning breakfast. So, I was hurrying up. I went to the shower straightaway and dressed up in a rocket speed. Then I rushed to my car and asked the driver to rush to Coffee Place in half an hour. Till then I would sit in the back and look quickly to the daily headlines. It is really interesting to see the previous days happenings consolidated on a piece of paper sitting behind in a AC luxury car. Truly speaking, we are in the age of nanotechnology with broadband and highest speed all around but this newspaper has never lost its charm one bit. It is the same as it was a century ago.

“Screeeeeeeeeeech….. Whammmmm…..”
“What happened? What the fish? What did you do Ramesh? Have you gone out of your senses?”
“It was coming from the wrong side of the road.”
“You should have looked it. If this is what I had to face, I would have never hired you as the driver.”
“Should I look what happene?”
“Are you mad? I have a meeting in 10 minutes. Quick, reverse and flee from the spot right now. Come on, fast”.

The Car reversed and moved forward at a much high speed jumping the next two or three red signals. The spot got invisible in seconds but I got worried of what happened back there. I reached the meeting in time and the day’s work compelled me to forget the incident much easily. Next day, I specially gave instructions to my driver to drive cautiously. I searched the whole newspaper for any headlines of yesterday’s incident but nothing. Clearly, the incident got unnoticed by the newspapers. Later in the office, I learnt that a local hindi newspaper had a small column of a Mercedes Benz- Tata Indica Collision, but nothing specific. I was sure enough that i am out of any controversies. Days passed and the incident got hazy and out of my mind. My life continued the same as it did.

I was in the mall today at noon. It was a rainy Sunday and I like to spend Sundays lazying around the city checking out the new stuff around. So, the rain didn’t spoil any of my plans. I rushed to Malad to the new Inorbit Mall inaugurated the same week. It was said to be Asia’s biggest Mall so I planned to check out this Mall. I was sitting in the Cafeteria eating my pizza and chicken wings from the famous Smokin Joe’s when i thought that my eyes searched someone familiar. I couldn’t remember but I have seen this guy somewhere. Yes, atleast the face has some similarities with my memory. Couldn’t recognize the lady sitting besides him.

“Yashad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah”

“Goodness god, man. I am Saraansh. Remember me?”

“ Mmmmm…. Oh yeah. Saale, itne din baad mil rha hai. Kahaa hai ajkal aur kya kar rha hai?”

“Abe main to yehi rehta hun, what about you? You were in Hyderabad, right?”

“It was long back Sir. I lived in Hyderabad 10 years ago. Now I live here with my family, meet my wife Sandhya. Sandhya, this hero is my school time friend, Saraansh.”
“Hello bhaisaab. Yashad has told a lot about you.”
“Well no surprise, we were best friends back then. Aur kamine, shaadi kar li aur bulaya bhi nahi. Aur ye kya haal bana rakha hai yar. Lost weight, lost your spectacles and what happened to your leg?”

“Nothing man. Tough luck. Met an accident long back. My car crashed with a Mercedes Benz. Next I remember, I was on a hospital bed with my feet plastered. Left leg bones broken. But now I am fine. Doctor replaced it with steel rods. Just have little pain while walking. Else I am fit as a fly. What about you?”

…………………………………….

I don’t remember what I talked after that. Maybe nothing, because I was almost choked. What I remember that I rushed out in ten minutes, drove back home and slept out till the next morning buzz of my trainer.

The Enrique of the Arizona

Arijit is never good with girls, not even today. In a nutshell, he is scared of them. He never accepted this fact, but I have seen him standing silent and timidly in front of any girl talking to her, even a girl six to seven years younger to him. And the other contradictory fact is, he is the most likeable guy in our society. Never for a second, we saw him away not surrounded by girls, whenever we had a public meeting. All the boys, including me, used to envy him for this only fact. And his ingenious quality was even more responsible for the greater coefficients of invidia in our minds.

Arijit was a marvelous singer in our society. He is my friend for fifteen years now. Right from the age of seven, he used to sing at the Durga Puja, our Bengali annual cultural fiesta, in the school and later in the college. I also used to sing in chorus with him but at the age of twelve, I had to leave singing due to my voice changeover. Not only me, but many children left it except Arijit. My aunty says that Arijit’s voice is god-gifted. I still remember his solo song at the age of thirteen in a New Year eve event in our society.
“Kahi door jab din dhal jaae..
Saanjh ki Dulhan Nazar churaaye, chupke se aae”.
I don’t remember how much applauding he received. But I still remember a middle-aged married man in his forties sitting beside me, who was actually sleeping till then, listened the whole song and clapped too. Such was the magic of Arijit. Many a times, we pleaded him to go to the Indian Idol, the annual mega event held by Sony Entertainment Television. We told him that voices like him need recognition in the world. But he never got much serious about it. Actually, Arijit was never serious taking his singing as a profession. He was very good in academics, was doing his degree in computers from Delhi College of Engineering. So, all he concentrated was taking a good job and help out his family in financial crisis. Maybe, he was scared of the risk involved in singing profession where success is momentary.

I also loved music, so after my brief stint with the singing, I switched over learning the instruments. Today, I can play guitar and violin. And we have a small group, band to be specific. On Saturdays, we meet and make some music. Arijit comes out with all the lyrics of our composes and is also the lead singer of our Band. We even named it, “The Vague Sound”. It has been three years we are together, and we are famous in our Bengali society. For three years now, we are allocated one hour in the starting day of Cultural Events. We play some original composes, as well as other songs, and the audience loves it.

…………….

It has been two years now our band has stopped performing. I have stopped playing the guitar and don’t even remember the last time I touched the strings. Ritwik has also stopped being at the drums. Vivek doesn’t play the keyboard and has taken job with a multinational company in Mumbai. And Arijit, well he expired in a bomb blast at the Connaught Place.
We were sitting at the Central Park, when Arijit went to the hawker to get some “Chana zor garam” and the dustbin near him blew off. Smoke and panic prevailed. When we ran to the spot, Arijit was lying fifty metres away, bleeding. We rushed him to the hospital in the havoc, but he was declared brought dead by the hospital officials.
We still miss those Saturdays, but sadly never talked about it when we meet.

Magical Venom of Doctor Asthana

Dr. Asthana was renowned and only doctor of our village. There was no such disease he was unaware of and didn’t cure us. Typhoid, Malaria, Jaundice, Diarrhea, name it and Doctor Saab is ready with his medicine and an injection. Whenever he inserted that magical pin in us, we felt safe. Not only that, he almost knew all the members of the village personally. I was sometimes bold over by his amazing memory because he enumerated all the symptoms of a disease almost instantly with the prescribed medicines and the proper prevention of such disease. He is in our village for almost 15 years now and I don’t even remember the first time I visited him. He was the god of our village. He was famous among the people, for his magical venom. Once in your body, it will work the same as the snake bite for the Bheema, one of the five Pandavas. He is one of our family. Everyone used to share his or her life with him. Dr Asthana, a patient listener and also a good philosophist used to give his important advice for life also.
Ramesh Babu often tells the story behind the Magical Venom. Dr Asthana was a kid when he visited this village. Soon after he came, an epidemic followed the village. There used to be no hospital around our village, the nearest being 40 kilometres from here. Dr Asthana single handedly saved the whole village with his injections. There were times when he travelled in his Bajaj Chetak all the way to Saransh Hospital to bring his supplies. Within a fortnight, the disease was a myth. After that, every single villager is fan and owes him a part of their life.
Me also was obliged to him. I used to suffer from stomach troubles in my early ages. But Dr Asthana cured me. I was treated for almost 12 months for the complete cure of my stomach. Not only this, he even helped me to complete my higher education from the city. When he asked my parents to send me to the city, they were reluctant but knowing that Dr. Asthana will take a complete care of my well-being there, they couldn’t refuse. But Dr. Asthana told me, that I should come back to my village as serve it, because there is no other good deed than helping people. As promised, I came back after completing my course and taught the future generation in the school. My mother as well as Doctor Saab himself were very happy.

6.45pm. Seven hours already. No sign of Dr. Asthana.
My mother suffered from an heart attack this morning. I was about to leave the house when my mother collapsed. I called him and he rushed to our home. Then he made a call and asked me to drive the car. We took my mother to the Saransh hospital, no, not 50 kilometres from here but 5 kilometres away. Thank the God it was shifted very near and us with proper travelling connection. We reached in 7 minutes and my mother was rushed in the operation theatre. From then till now, Dr. Asthana was in there. I didn’t, specifically I couldn’t sit for a second on the chair but moved to and fro around the OT. I knew my mother was getting old, but not once in my life, I saw her getting sick. She used to laugh at my rate of getting ill. Never took a medicine, she looked perfectly fine for her age. I lost my father early in my life, so my mother was my everything. She was my companion, my preacher, my teacher, and my friend. There was not a single stuff of me she was unaware of. Even after I grew up, she listened to all my talks patiently. I felt alone in the city so much that I used to call her twice almost every day.
During the last seven hours, I didn’t stop praying to the God for once. I was hoping for a good news from Dr. Asthana.
The OT door opened finally after eight long hours. Dr. Asthana walked out towards me.
“Your doctor’s magical venom has worked again, Your mother is safe and sound. You can meet her as soon as we transfer her to the ICU.

The Zahir - Paulo Coelho

I have heard of The Alchemist almost a million of times. But have never read it. Actually I was not much in reading until one day, I felt that I have got bored of almost all the things occupying my life, so I thought to switch my interests. I went to the oldest and hopefully the only library each member of my family has been to, and took a membership paying for the highest option available. Soon, I started searching for my first book. Its not that I am so detached with books. I have read all the three novels of Chetan Bhagat and The Da Vinci Code, The Last Don. But they are the one of the few books I ever read in my 19 years of lifeterm. So, I would like to term this my first book as in terms of seriousness.
After a lot of searching, I found a book written by a writer I have heard of. Although I didn’t read any of his books, as heard from my guardians, The Alchemist is a must read book. I didn’t get the Alchemist. Since it is a bestseller, you expect it to be always issued. So, I took The Zahir, another novel written by Paulo Coelho. I took the novel because I knew the word, Zahir but in terms of cricket. Nothing beyond that. And this meager relation between the book and me compelled me to take the book. So, as you must have guessed, as the librarian was busy making my cards, I thought to sneek peek through the book. For me, the book’s first impression is definitely the last impression. I find it to hard to read a book if the first 10 pages aren’t sounding interesting.
But the book caught my involvement on the very first place. I studied the first 10 pages, and when I looked the clock and the page number, I got to know that I have already reached the 20th page of the book. And I didn’t stop reading it until my metro reached my destination and I had to change for a bus in which I was standing.
The Zahir, is a story of a novel writer, who doesn’t write novels. I mean that he dreamt of being a novelist, but is satisfied with the small articles and comic-strips he is asked to fill. Until one day, he marries a girl who asks him to follow his dream. With much quarrels and blackmailing, the writer starts his novel which becomes to be a huge hit. But his life changes magnificiently by a series of events. He finds his wife missing one day, probably gone. Then the story describes the search by the person for his wife and for his oneself.

The Zahir doesn’t has any proper definition but as understood by the various lines in which this word is used, it can be termed as a passion, a madness, and a strong feeling for something you like to have. As the story advances, the Zahir increases in the novelist and he tries hard to get back to it.
There are many parts of the story which are based on true spiritualism and philosophy, something which needs a out of the world understanding. As my first book, I enjoyed every part of it because I am myself some kind of philosophist, eager to give speeches and help whenever needed. And those of my friends who know this quality of me, take the full advantage

The Plight

I have never been on the other side of the prison. I have always chosen to be on the safe side of the life avoiding the unnecessary risks. But recently, I have been getting a nice spanking from my boss due to the declining position of our company. I assured that this decline is short-termed and inevitable, but he doesn’t seem to care. Today again he started raging on me when I was driving the car home. My mood was totally off after a hard day’s work and the fury caught me. I jumped two red-lights and almost ran over a pedestrian before the traffic police caught me. And my madness was not over yet because I slapped him hard before he could slam me with any charges.
So, my car was confiscated the same moment and I was deported to the nearest police station on charges of Rash Driving, culpable homicide and hitting of a police officer on duty. I was sitting in the prison and it was my worst day of my life. My morning started with a quarrel with my wife, then with my boss and now a police officer for all the wrong reasons. I was not fancying a dirty room filled with all the disgusting criminals, so I preferred standing aloof at one corner.
‘You are here not by will, are you?’ I was startled by a voice speaking English in the room but I chose not to answer. I looked around and no one seem to me enough capable to speak such a difficult language. Difficult because it took me 6 months of intense practice and hard work to master this language. And all this because I had to clear the CAT examinations on the same year I completed my graduation to save my family from an economic slump. Today, I am the youngest happily married successful manager in my company and many people envy me for this very reason.
‘You don’t seem interested in talking with anybody here.’ I looked around and saw a person in tattered clothes speaking English as fluently as possible. It was amazing to see a human so good with literature involved in crime.
‘I don’t prefer talking with criminals. You don’t deserve to live on this earth.’
‘Hmmm…. Frankly speaking I am not angry with what you spoke just now. Come sit. These words don’t suit you as you are on the same side of the world as me.’
I don’t know why but some part of me pulled me to that persona. I sat by his side.
‘So, why are you here? Inspecting the scenario from inside?’
My eyes was meanwhile scrutinizing this guy. Medium built in his thirties or early forties. Scars all over the body, wearing stale prison clothes but carrying a glimpse in his eyes.
‘May I ask you a question?’
‘Sure. Shoot.’
‘What made you land here? You don’t seem to me that foolish to do something you are not supposed to.’
‘Do you think we are all here by choice? We don’t choose this life, it chooses us. And the person making this choice is always left with one option.’
‘We always have options in life, on every field, on every moment. What matters is our wise decisions at that moment.’
‘Is it? I was a senior manager at the Lehman Brothers, USA for almost eight years. And my life was most luxurious of all my friends I grew up with. A green card holder, with a 3-floor home at Nariman Point, happily married. I was on a dream ride. But in September, all my dreams crashed with the company. I had to come back in India with no work. I tried to start a business in here but the economic slowdown in the world also twitched my business. All my savings were lost. I had to sell the my house at Nariman Point in not so good price and which could support my family for three months only. The life couldn’t get worse till my wife was detected with a stomach cancer. I was helpless. I went to banks, for a loan, but wasn’t allowed. None of the companies in India offered me a job. My friends refused to help me in my time of crisis. My life showed me the best and the worst in a moment. My wife’s health was deteriorating. I could devise no other method to save my world but to step into a robbery. I raided a bank to loot some cash but couldn’t. The police caught me midway and I was arrested. For three days, I cried in the jail, pleading the officer to get me to my ailing wife, but was beaten to pulp. On the fourth day, the officer came to me to inform that my wife lost her breath in the hospital. I was allowed to come out of the jail to go for my wife’s funeral. I was standing with just the security officials accompanying me, no friends no relatives. Today I am helpless with no friends. No one likes to be a friend of a outlaw. My lawyer is fighting hard to reduce my sentence to the least as possible. But you know what, I don’t want to get back. Outside, I will be alone fighting with the souls carrying innumerable questions with no answers. And my inner self will haunt me doubting my abilities to do was I was supposed to.’

‘Aaditya Raajan. Aaditya Raajan. Come, you are being bailed.’
My brother was standing. His eyes were asking me reasons. I couldn’t speak a word with him and moved out.

And the Award Goes To........

I wanted to write this for a month now. But I stopped myself till the Oscars, not because I was unsure of him, but I wanted the people to believe too that he is a gift to India.
A.R.Rahman, the great musician of India, found his way to Oscars from Slumdog Millionaire and proved that India is way more advance and diverse than the west for its art. I was tiptoed till they announced his name for Best Original Score and Best Original Song, and after he got it, I was happy that India brought two more Oscars home, just to know that Resel Pookutty has already won one.
There were three nominations for the Best Original Song, the other one was of Wall-E. It was prudent that Rahman will take the Golden Lady home because the other song was not up to the standards of what our Indian has created. And when you have two nominations in the same department, you leave no questions unanswered, the winner was all clear from the start, and I think, Thomas Newman also knew it.
In a previous blog, I tipped of an incident when I was in a debate with my friend about Himesh vs Rahman. Well, I reminded him the incident telling him, “ab dekh, kaun kiska baap hai.” And he denied of any such incident.
Later in the news, I was watching Mika giving an interview boasting about his bodyguard, who was a part of Slumdog Millionaire, the hunk in the Javed’s Gang. When asked if he wants to get nominated for Oscar, he said surely. I thought in mind it would take him a new birth to make such sensational music.
The song, Jai-ho, was a song originally for Yuvvraaj, the musical debacle by Subhash Ghai. Maybe Subhash is thinking that the song would have given him a hit, but I think he did the right job, else Rehman would have got only one nomination. And also, I think the song is one of the OK-OK song of Rehman. I never thought it is upto the mark of Oscar, although I thought that O-Saya would definitely win. That is because we. Indians have listened so much of A.R.Rahman that Jai ho doesn’t count in his best songs. I told my mother that if Hollywood listens to the compositions of Rehman, I am sure they are gonna give him the Golden Lady after every song they listen.
For us, A.R.Rahman is a god of music already. I have read and heard interviews of many Indian music composers, and all of them have Rehman in their top rival. This Oscar will give Rahman the global recognition. And it has taken them 20 years to find him out.

The Smoky Art

“And as the camera moves backward to take a long shot, Vishal will go towards the door and open it. Cut. Like the idea?”
As my friend was explaining the shot to the DOP, two cigarettes were consecutively lighted and puffed out. Later in the day, I asked him the reason to finish the two packets of Marlboro in two hours and making three black spots on his lung, he replied as started to open with another packet, “This provides me with an amazing sense of intuition. All this work won’t be possible without the smoke.”
I didn’t say a word after that, as I thought it would be worthless to tell the bad effects of this habit to a person who finishes 4-5 packets in 24 hours. And most of the time, the person smoking knows almost all its ill-effects but a addiction is very hard to leave, when you start believing that it is helping you to pay your bills. I have come across a lot of such persons who smoke to create a new idea. And even more than these times, I have thought how come a smoked mind can create something which needs a lot of assuidity and presence of mind.
Well, to understand the philosophy behind this universal logic, I tried it myself. Although, I am strictly against it knowing its bad effects, I still wanted to puff out of my mouth. Many a times, I have seen my favourite actors burning the cigars and looking damn cool. The cigarette getting lighted, a deep breath inside and off goes the white fumes from the nose and the mouth going up in the air. My childhood friend once asked me to try it in the college, but I refused giving him a long speech on “why not to drink cigarettes”. He stopped me midway and went away. But since, my profession wanted me to do anything I was asked, i was helpless.
The cigarette was lighted and held in front of my mouth. I asked my friend to give it between my fingers, he refused as he said I am still novice to hold it between my fingers. I touched the end with my lips and took a long breath inside and…
“Acccckkkkhh…… Auckkkkkhhhhhh…. Accckkkkhhhh”
It continued for one minute supported by the snickers by my colleagues. My windpipe was choked to the lungs and asking for fresh air. The smoke looks white outside but filled with black inside me. I was yet to settle down when my friend held it again for another shot. I was reluctant but my friend’s utmost confidence held me up. Another puff and some more.
“It will continue for one more shot. Here. Now you are ready to hold it between your fingers.”
I finished the cigarette in few minutes and my breath was back to normal. But as I was finishing, my brain started to feel the heat. I went dizzy for the most of the day and when I returned to my senses, I was in my room. As understood, the three shots scheduled for that day weren’t executed.
As I sat on my chair recollecting my dialogs, i recalled my friend asserting in a group chat.
“Creativity is all the game of our subconscious mind. We tend to think something nicer, bigger and better when we are doing something else. All you need to keep a piece of pencil and paper with yourself to jot down the ideas.”
Then the whole puzzle came clear to me. As the smoke went inside me, it played a unprofessional role in converting my mind from a conscious to sub-conscious state. When you are in a creative field and your work is constantly expecting you to produce new ideas with novelty and uniqueness, you need some external agent to do the work for you. And then you can constantly create marvels. But sometimes your principles come over your profession and you have to choose between the two, I chose my principle.
Next day, there was back to back five shots involving me. I gave my best for all of them and also for the next one month. The film was a huge hit with overall gross breaking all records.
Well, sometimes you just have to believe in yourself than the white roll to be successful.

Man in a hurry

“Train towards Dilshad Garden is going to enter the platform number 1. Please stand behind the yellow line.”
That is the one of the numerous announcements made at the Rohini West Metro Station everyday in my long commute. And there is not a single day when I don’t see any person obeying to this simple rule, one of the many rules penned by the Metro staff for the safety of, well, the very own “us”.
Going in a metro is a chore for me when I head towards my college everyday. And from the very beginning it has become the lifeline of Delhi. I still remember on the very first functional day of the Delhi Metro, the newly automatic systems our people have ever seen, got plugged by men rushing in huge numbers, unaware of the world-class commute. And standing behind the yellow line are one of the many ground rules decided by the Metro. And this is the one of the many rules Delhi is delinquent of. I everyday, see a lot of commuters, crossing the yellow line on the platform trying to see whether the train is coming, as if the train would vanish from the tracks and would reappear in the next station. Or the DMRC(Delhi Metro Rail Corporation) has made it so small that you can’t even see it if it is coming or passing by.
The daily commuter is always in a hurry. In such a hurry, that he doesn’t even give a damn on his own life for reaching in his office. He just nudges around to get in first even if he has already spent most of his travelling time sleeping in his couch. Not only in Metro, there is an intersection near my college which remains clogged for the maximum part of the day. Every single vehicle, let it be a cycle, auto rickshaw, cars, motorcycles and even the thelas stop a little to let the other pass. Getting a little space means heaven for them, as if getting 5 centimeter space will make them save 1 hour of their precious time. And this is the scene in almost every busy intersection of the world, be it London, New York, New Delhi. As soon as the light gets green, honking starts from the end of the road. It seems like their honking will produce special types of creatures in the air who will vanish the whole lot of cars in front of him.
Human being is a restless person. He hates time being wasted waiting on the platforms, standing at the signals, or getting his passports ready. He can fight with every bit of him to get in first, and this very attitude brings chaos in the society. And he may never understand that some waits are necessary and worth in the life. And talking of hurry, I am also a captive of this very nature, because I couldn’t stop myself writing this in the middle of my semester exams, when I am supposed to study. 

The 2-Minute Wish

Kriiiiiiiiiiing kriiiiiiing…… Kriiiiiiiiiiiiing kriiiiiiing………
“Hello”
“Is Prateek there?”
“Speaking”
“What happened to your voice?”
“Weather changes.”
“Anyway, Happy Birthday man”
“Thanx”

I never wished my friend like that because I always call on the mobile which has the maximum chances to reach its owner. And like anybody, I don’t start with the wish on the first place. But it is always a fun to call right when the clock strikes midnight. And there is also a point of exuberance when in a crowd you know that you were the first person to get connected with your friend on his birthday, as if that is the only call on which your friendship stands.
The Birthdays are always special. This is the only day no one gets on you, everyone behaves nicely with you. Even your parents don’t get angry on you. So, in short that’s the only day you can probably do whatever you want, whenever you want.
The first call is always special. I remember once I called my friend 15 minutes after midnight, and the very first thing he said after thanks was, “why so late?” I was least expecting this but I managed to explain him my forgetting nature. He didn’t say anything but I again said sorry that day we met. Then he told me that he was even more furious over another friend of my group because he not only forgot but later he just messaged and didn’t call. So, my friend remarked this as “cheap”.
On birthdays, if you don’t call just at midnight, it is very difficult to connect later as the lines go busy. So, you won’t get the line free after 30 minutes or so. I get so happy when my ring reaches within few minutes of 12 AM as if I have got the line for “Kaun Banega Crorepati” (“Who wants to be a millionaire”) contest quiz. And the same happens when it is your birthday. Many friends and relative calling at the same second, some getting connected, others are waiting. Many a times, I can’t listen what the other end is talking about except the wish because the call is constantly interrupted with beeps of the call waiting. Moreover at midnight, my mother, who is not used to such type of practices and is in sound sleep, gets annoyed by such rings. She said, “What’s the matter with your friends calling at midnight? Don’t they sleep?” I asked her to sleep saying that it is my birthday, so my cell is expected to receive such calls. I didn’t tell her that in college, sleeping at midnight is termed as ill-practice.
Calling and receiving birthday wishes in midnight is always a fun. But I ensure that the wish lasts for maximum two minutes, thinking of the endless callers waiting for their call get connected. Atleast they must also know that they are the pretty second to call.

Smell of the Nature’s Gift

It is bit unusual to see the roads getting drenched at the right time of the year in Delhi. More or less, it rains when you least expect it too. Last year, it was during the summers of May and June, when the sun is expected to be at its full rage. Although for Delhi, the situation is different. Even the Meteorological Department of Delhi is unable to track the weather. I have been seeing this for almost two years for now, that the nature is making fun of this department constantly. And the department almost everytime finds a reason for the unheralded change of weather.
It is month of February and just the season when you can the maximum greenery of the year. But as the world temperatures are changing, I least expect this season to be visible enough. Most of the time, it’s the summer and the winter season taking the count to only two out of four.
As I was sitting on my pc working on my Telecommunication project, the air gushed through my window with a lot of dust going into my mouth(I just started to yawn as I was tired pressing keys back2back). Only then, my mother asked me to pick the clothes in the balcony. As I entered in the balcony, I smelled what is, I think, the most sensational, smooth and complete fragrance of my life. The smell of the drenched dust. It is just awesome, that’s because I am unable to define it in words. I decided to pick the clothes and keep them in the room, and I again came back to the balcony to spend some time outside.
As I stood at the corner of my balcony, I took a deep breath and the fragrance filled each single part of my body with energy. It diminished the tire in me, although my eyes were still hurting by the constant exposure of my monitor. I sat down and closed them so that they could also get some relief before getting worked up again. The dust settled down chilling the mercury down. The breeze was rejuvenating.
I love to get wet in rain, but somehow it rains whenever I am in my home. Many a times, it gets cloudy when I am on the road. But as soon as I enter in my house, the water starts falling, as if it somehow gets the idea not to soak me up with even light rainfall. For those who don’t like rain may find it lucky, but for me its very boring. I think rain has a sense of romanticism in it. And since I belong to India, our Hindi Film Industry also believes this. I don’t remember one romantic song which didn’t end up in rain. It may sound pathetic as a lot of water drains up but the formula still works.
I was waiting for the rain to start, my mother called me for dinner and again the wish was left incomplete. As I sat on the table to gulp up the rice, it started raining, quite hard. My mother closed the door I left open hurrily.

Mathematics vs.

It is the most dreaded subject of our generation and will be the most in the coming years. But it never haunted me in my life. I always loved to solve each and every question of the subject and dreaded almost every existing subject except that, specially literature. I have always been the poorest in literature, and you can understand if you have read my first blog. And Hindi was the worst. I know its not good to disrespect my national language, and with full respect, the Ka, Kha, Ga… language scared the hell out of me. And in a way, it is normal as I am a Bengali, so I am not used to this type of language in my home.
I am a teacher. I teach students. It is a good time pass, a good pocket money and the foremost, it gives me a lot of satisfaction when I spread my learnings to someone. But I also get the most angry when someone says that Mathematics is the most worst subject of the education. Till today, I have met only enumerable students who experience the same passion as I do when I get a new question of Maths. I think that Mathematics is the most easiest because all it requires is to remember the 10 numbers and the simplest sign, + and -, nothing more. Even the basic English has 26 alphabets and god knows how many in Hindi.
Everything in Maths started with just these few numbers and the two basic signs. And the reason it is easy is that it is constant, never increasing like Literature. I mean to say, every day there are numerous words getting invented in English, all more or less similar to the main word. And still it is not stopping to increase its word-list. I was reading a book for English Vocabulary, and I had a word list of 2500 words, starting with High Frequency words, Medium Frequency words, and Low Frequency words. As I went through all the words summing up the count, I saw some more words waiting for me. And it included all the words of other languages adapted by English and it included Spanish, French, German, and Yiddish. The last one of which I am still unaware of. In short, it is a never ending affair.
But Maths has an ending. It has a very limited use, not extendable like any other subject. It is required just to the extent till science requires it. And I am saying this statement because in higher classes, just like me, you have no subject like Mathematics. It is only limited to class 14th(12+2). And by that stage, you learn almost all the mathematical tools and concepts.
And after I have discussed this with many of my students and watching them attempt easy problems and getting headache, I realized that most of the students dislike it because it needs certain kind of efforts from your side with zero mugging up. A person can only memorize the formula of a question but after that, Mathematics is purely about your skills of understanding. And a Mathematics question can’t be solved by just watching the question, until you are Albert Einstein or Rohit of Koi Mil Gaya(remember the 10th grade question he solved watching, although I also solved it in my mind after 4 years). You need to write and make an effort to solve it, use your pen and apply it on your page to solve a question without thinking whether it is heading on the right road.
So, any of you students who are still going to face the Maths paper, make an effort from your side to solve the problem without thinking whether you will correctly do it or not. Because, when you are practicing it, in your home or in you class, there is always a scope of redoing it. And my teacher once rightly said, “Even if you solve a question after the 100th attempt, you are on the more profitable side than the person solving on the 1st attempt, because now you know 99 ways of How to not solve it”.