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.