In conversation with a Narcissist...

'8 pm it is then' I finally managed to seal the deal after days of convincing him to spare some time for me. Its hard to believe he is the same guy who 5 years back appeared so lean and slender that he could be easily blown away by a waft of air. We would often resist the strong urge to bully him around. And what might be the reason, you would ask? - He was the quintessential academic topper he has been always; and we needed him to help us around during exams. Of the four years that we were in the campus turning ourselves to engineers, we spent more time watching movies and gossiping inside canteen premises than the number of hours that we spent in the classrooms combined. With an almost 6 foot long skeletal frame and hardly an ounce of muscle in his body, he used to walk with stooped shoulders and appeared naive, meek and vulnerable all the time. Wearing almost half an inch thick moustache, he would never fail us for he also knew that we were capable of making his living life hell in the campus. So, it was a win-win relationship for us. 

In 2009, he achieved the unthinkable. And we couldn't help but marvel at his sheer perseverance that finally led him in to the hallowed portals of one of the finest academic institutes in the world. But after years of riding the peak in academics, he soon fell down flat on his nose there. It took all of 9 months for him to stare down the barrel - Shudder at the very thought of not finishing amongst the creme de la creme of his batch in one of the toughest PG courses designed ever. For a guy used to winning all the time, this was a first. And he certainly struggled to cope up with it. But then he managed to survive and for the next 11 months that he spent in the institute, he was back to his true elements.

It is 8 pm on my watch. And as promised, I am on time. Few seconds later, I am welcomed in with a glad smile. Still in his track suit, he's perspiring and is nowhere close to being ready for the 'interview' I was here for. With a glass full of milk that he gulps down in a jiffy, he finally settles down in front of me on his bean bag. Offering me a cup of tea, I take a few seconds to observe his demeanor. He's a changed man. With a fairly athletic frame he appears fit; clearly no longer the 'lean nerd' we have known him as, back during our engineering college days. And after the initial greetings and reminiscing about those memorable days spent  in ragging juniors and harassing our professors, I started the process of knowing the Beta 2.0 version of my friend here. 

'So what's with you and working out in the gym? No one told me that you have gained so much muscle' I asked him, exaggerating a little about the whole 'muscle' thing. 

'It all started back two years ago when I was doing my MBA. Academically, I wasn't performing to my potential. Frustrated, I finally needed something to take my mind off the fact that I was failing time and again. So, I started working out and focused on my health. And that kind of helped me cope up with what I perceived as failure' he stated. 

Philosophizing never suited my friend. But he was always prone to it - Something he had long back acknowledged as the reason he struggled to connect emotionally with his girlfriend and most friends who were girls. 

But I was here to know about the book he has written and is now trying to get it published. I was curious to know how he could write a 250 odd pager (at least that's what my sources confirmed till now) while working as a Senior Manager in a big Indian conglomerate at the same time. And then he revealed it all!!

'Four months into my first job as a management professional, I realised I wasn't cut out for this. And that was also the time I was having a hard time dealing with what many now label as 'Identity Crisis'. I had begun to question my decision of pursuing MBA whereas my peers were already doing worthwhile for themselves and my country. Someone was helping senior scientists build ICBMs whereas the other was doing cutting edge scientific research on rats and zebra-fishes. And then there was this 'four letter word' you are well aware of. So at a time when people around felt nothing bad could happen to me - now that I was earning well and financially secure, I felt otherwise. And just like that, I would be frustrated with little things in my daily life as the monotonous routine got into my head' he paused when his cell phone rang and excused himself. 

Just when I think I would elicit responses pertaining to only his book, I find him beating around the bush. So whoever it was who called him up, certainly was a welcome relief for me!! Alas, it was to be short lived. 

'So where did I stop?' he interjected my thoughts. 

'Ohh...yeah...hmmm...you were talking about how frustrated you were' thank heavens, I recollected.

'Yeah. One fine day after a particularly satisfying workout in the gym, I was all feeling good for no reason. And out of thin air, the thought of maintaining my own journal stuck to me. So, I did' he stopped and I looked at him with my brows raised in anticipation, expecting him to complete his version of how he ended up writing the book. 

'So?'

'So what? That's how I ended up writing this book' he said poker faced.

He had me completely befuddled. How could he turn his own journal to a full fledged contemporary romantic fictional novel? Turns out he allowed his imagination to run wild, like letting loose a rogue wild elephant out on the streets (not exactly the best of analogies I have made till now!!). The chaos that followed is now what he is trying to get it published. 

'Then how can your book be termed as 'fiction'? I asked him, by now clear that a part of him was also present somewhere hidden inside.

'Well, it's not exactly fiction for some aspects of the story are clearly inspired by what happened with me. But then, all the characters in it are fictional. Doesn't that make my book a fiction?' He made his point.

I could do nothing other than simply nod. So what's his book all about? 

'It's an autobiographical account of a guy who thinks he is an emotional sissy' is the only response I manage to get from him. 

'Are you the guy?' I ask to confirm. He's for once, definitely an emotional sissy. 

'No, certainly not!!' he catches me unaware with that one just when I was expecting an affirmative.

So how's been his experience like, working on a book for about 16 months? 

'Phantasmagoric!!' is his one word response.

'What the hell does that mean?' I ask him totally foxed beyond my senses.

'Doesn't matter. Well, it was a surreal experience. I could write whatever came to my mind. Build a world of my own, where I could do whatever I have always wanted to do and create life out of thin air. It was nothing less than magical' his childlike enthusiasm brought a bright smile to my face. No wonder he is a 'Harry Potter fanatic' and has an unending crazy crush on 'Emma Watson'. 

Refusing to divulge details further citing the fact that he is yet to get it published, I could sense that he was also getting restless and impatient. Why? His manuscript got rejected by the major publishers and he for once is known to be poor at handling rejection. And just when I remind him that even JK Rowling and Amish had faced multiple rejections before they eventually succeeded, he cuts me politely with a 'But I am not them buddy. I am me!!'

I don't know what to make of it. But it's very clear that his book is his baby. And I am pretty sure that if no one publishes it, he will then eventually get it e-published. In his own words, he admits that his style of writing is as simple and plain as it can be - Nowhere close to the bright colorful fabrics that some of his peers weave out of words a layman could never have heard of. And he does clearly state that his book is not for the intelligentsia (Although I reckon he wouldn't mind if they read his book!!). 

When I ask him what his strength is then? 'My strength lies in the fact that I let my heart tell me what to write. And my weakness is my vocabulary. I am yet to reach the literary standards set by Shashi Tharoor who is one of my all time favourites. Have you read 'The Great Indian Novel'? I am having a tough time comprehending it!!' he muses. 

Sensing the fact that he has only spoken about him and his book till now, he switches gears and asks me about me. I tell him that my job as a photo-journalist and an active blogger continues to give me good reasons to stick to the same job; in a clear attempt at banter. 

Somewhere in this conversation, it felt as if his unpublished (hoping it is published soon!!) book was indeed his baby he wasn't willing to let go so easily. He wants the best for it and that's why despite the evident impatience written all over him, he is willing to wait for the right publisher to present it in the best possible manner. That's almost narcissistic, isn't it? But then sometimes, it pays to be one!!

I happened to chance upon this extract from his untitled novel that goes like this:

‘Of course, what else?’ she responded. So, I straightaway went to Abbas Bhai to order breakfast for us. Within the hospital, there have been only three people apart from Lahari I have had the most interaction with. One was Dr Atreya, who would be quite wary of me and my blackmailing antics. He apparently had an affair few days back with the head nurse, whom the staff popularly knows by the name Savitha Ben. Of course there was Kamini who would always like a dedicated reporter feed me with juicy gossips and scoops on whatever scandalous that would be happening within the hospital. And then there was Abbas bhai, the ever smiling guy who was so down to earth that every time I had a chat with him, he would either tell me how lucky I am to have Lahari as a soulmate or talk about Allah and the ‘karam’ he has on his devout devotees.

‘Salaam wailaikum Abbas bhai’ He was counting cash in his cash box when I greeted him.

‘Wailaikum as salaam Varun ji. Badey dino ke baad Eid ka chaand chaandni ke saath nazar aaya hai. Mashallah!!’ he complimented as I blushed again.

‘How are you miyan?. How are things at your end?’ I asked.

‘Bas, sab Allah ka karam hai Varun bhai’ Whenever I asked him how he was doing, he always had the same trademark response to offer – ‘Sab Allah ka karam hai’.

‘Kya, bhai? You always say the same thing. Don’t you have anything else to say to me? It kind of gets boring you know’ I shrugged.

‘I am what I am because of Allah. If I am fine, it is because his grace is on me. And the same goes with you Varun bhai. After all we are nothing for you and I have to leave this world and eventually reach the great Lord himself. Tab tumhare karam ka sab hisab kitab hoga. Kya jawaab doge tum?’

Love knows no boundaries - 2

Continued from Love knows no boundaries Part 1

‘Actually I have been thinking of donating a part of my salary to an NGO. And that day I saw you entering this institute and I thought...’ I stopped with my eyebrows raised, waiting to see how she would respond.

‘So were you actually stalking me that day?’ she snapped.

‘No, no. I just happened to see you entering this institute. I work as a marketing manager in Nagarjuna Constructions’ and then showed her my ID.

‘Just chill Mr...’, she paused and then began to laugh at my nervousness more than anything else.

‘Oh! I am Srivats’

‘Yeah, Mr Srivats. I was just kidding. Anyway you definitely don’t look like a stalker or a roadside Romeo to me’ she giggled again.

‘And may I know your good name?’ I asked her politely this time gathering some courage, finally that she smiled.

‘I am Aaliya and I teach mathematics here at the primary level’

Whenever she smiled, I felt the cupid himself strumming up the Harp nearby for me; celebrating the fact that mere dil mein garden garden was happening.  

‘So, Srivats. You will have to fill up this form and sign a declaration. Your donations will be non taxable under Section 80 D’

After all the formalities were done away with, she took me around to a tour of the institute. After the tour, I did what later turned out to be the best decision of my life.

‘Can we go out for a cup of coffee?’ I signalled coffee with my hands while asking her out.

‘Sure. Let’s go to the canteen’

I wanted to take her out to the Minerva in my car and possibly savour moments of timeless romance. But the moment she uttered ‘Canteen’, the dream then and there shattered to smithereens.

‘I guess you are one of the many corporate slaves in this city. I have met many who spend all their lives working for money. But money isn't everything right?’

That was out of the blue. Here was I, thinking how to start off the conversation and she wasted no time opining about my profession. I felt this was the right moment to impress her.

‘Yeah that is what I feel sometimes. And this donation is nothing but an attempt to break away from the monotony I have been experiencing for the last 4 years.’

She smiled at me. I had to always look at her while speaking so that she could read my lip movements. But at the same time, I was also looking at her eyes as well. I could sense a lot of loneliness in them, but she never gave an impression that she was one. I don’t know what she saw in me but I sensed that she must have gone through a lot of struggle and pain. So much so that even the tears have now dried up, leaving only the smile behind. May be she had realized that clutching on to optimism was the only way she could survive in this cruel world now.

‘So where do you live?’ I started the process of knowing her more.

‘Oh! This is my home’ she referred to the institute. ‘We have the hostel right beside the church where I live.’

‘And your family....?’ I hesitatingly asked her though I never wanted to. I was an orphan myself.

‘I never knew who my parents were. I was brought up here and this is my world where I have dedicated myself to’, she gently added this time in a low serious tone.

There was a brief moment of silence before the conversation resumed again.

On the pretext of donations, I began to visit the institute every month. Slowly and gradually the frequency of visits began to increase and there came a time when we started meeting every weekend to go out for dinner and shopping. She was unofficially my girlfriend now. But she never acted like one would do - Be demanding and ask the guy to shell out and burn their pockets(Of course, not all girlfriends are like that but then....). She was a woman who was supremely assertive and yet gentle in a nice strange way and treated me like a friend. I was able to be myself with her. Despite her happy go lucky demeanour, she also managed to listen to me and advise me sensibly whenever required.

Every Sunday I would meet her in the church. I started loving it inside the Church where I found solace in the silence pervading all around; something which I was craving for a long time. Inside the Church, Aaliya would be a totally different self; calm and serene like a silent Himalayan lake. I was feeling good now that I was contributing something for the children at the institute. I started accompanying Aaliya to her favourite places like the Sultan Bazar, where she often bought books for the institute and then we would go and have Pani Puri at Gokul Chat or have tea at the nearby stalls, though I hated the fact that they were never hygienic to my ultra-posh standards. People around would stare at me when we communicated using signs. But we both were always oblivious to the surroundings. Or at least I managed to pretend that way!! I could sense that she was comfortable with me and so was I. But she never expressed her feelings for me and in her words our status was: ‘WE ARE SPECIAL FRIENDS’. I absolutely hated this part as I was in love with her.

SMS was the only way we could communicate whenever we were not together. One fine day I was typing an SMS which read ‘I will pick you up at the institute by 6pm’ when the office peon commented, ’Sir, these days you have been messaging a lot. What’s happening?’ stressing on the last word with a mischievous blink.

‘Dude, this is the only way I can chat with her’ I blinked and smiled back.

‘But you could call and talk to her right? Why stress your fingers on the keypad?’ He was obviously confused.

‘You won’t understand’ I replied nonchalantly.

The word ‘understand’ brought back the fear and anxiety I was facing all these days. I was seriously pondering on how to propose her for marriage. And then I would think of what her reaction would be. This kept happening since the last three months and never once was I able to gather the guts and utter those three magical words to her. I left for the parking lot in a hurry and saw that I had only thirty minutes to manage the Hyderabad traffic and pick her up at 6. Unlike girls I have been with, she would always be on time and there was never a moment when I waited for her. It was probably because she was never the one to rely on cosmetics to enhance her looks. And even without that, she looked absolutely gorgeous to me. God! I was so in love with her!!

‘You are 20 minutes late!!’ she announced with a stern upset look on her face.

I immediately presented her a ‘5 Star’ chocobar and all her anger vanished into thin air. She absolutely loved chocolates and I used it as a secret weapon to calm her down whenever she was upset or angry for any reason. The mere mention of the word ‘Chocolate’ would lighten her up. So, it wasn’t surprising that we were a regular to Monginis to have chocolate brownies together.

‘So where are we going?’

‘Just wait and watch’ she winked and put her hands on my shoulders. It was always a special feeling whenever she did that and I wanted her to do that for life.

She asked me to drive to Ohri’s. I looked at her in surprise.

‘Arey keep driving na. I will tell you when we get there’

Twenty minutes later, we reached Ohri’s and sat on a table that was reserved. This wasn’t cool and happening for me – Especially the chivalrous part of me was feeling very embarrassed. Usually it is the guys who reserve tables and arrange a date. But here I was; so helpless that I chose to be silent, wait and see what was in store for me.

‘Happy birthday Sri’, she announced with a thousand watt bright gorgeous smile that made me yet again go weak in the knees. Immediately a band of musicians made their presence felt  and started playing my favourite song ‘Har ghadi badal rahi hai roop zindagi....’ from the movie Kal Ho Naa Ho. It all happened in a flash that I didn’t know how to react. Or rather, I was dumbstruck at the suddenness of it for I never expected such a lovely surprise from her. While I was enjoying the song, here was Aaliya who could never experience the mellifluous feel of those musical notes the band was playing. But she nevertheless enjoyed all the way. 

‘Thank you so much Aaliya. This is my best birthday ever’

The next moment she hugged me and then I realised that losing her would be indeed very painful. I decided it was time to propose. But then again like always, I couldn't!! Was it my ego or the fear of listening to a NO from her? I don't know. We had dinner and spoke of all the things we did since we met.

‘You are indeed special to me Aaliya. The world around me has changed since the day I met you’

‘It is not the world that has changed silly. You have changed. The world doesn't care what happens to you or me. Life goes on’, she said philosophically.

‘And believe me, even I have come out of my shell. The institute was all that meant to me, but now I have seen and experienced lots of other things. Been to malls, movie theatres and coffee bars and have had the time of my life. All thanks to you’ she further added.

‘Oh! I guess we should stop this mutual admiration society now’, I said blushing. And we both had a hearty laugh. But still I couldn't utter those magical words. There was something that was suppressing my urge to express my heart out to her.

Three days later, I got an SMS which was alarming in its tone. It was from Aaliya and read ‘Come quickly to the Lakdi-ka-pul station. I am alone here waiting for the MMTS’. What was she doing at the station all alone at 11 pm in the night? There were no buses running that day as a scheduled RTC union strike was on that week. So I reached there in about half an hour driving at the maximum speed possible. All this while though, my mind kept imagining things horrible beyond belief and my heart was threatening to implode with the heart beat at its peak as adrenaline surged through my blood vessels.

When I reached the platform, I noticed her frozen in a tensed state facing two huge guys. They definitely appeared like someone who could have easily pulped me black and blue had I tried to act smart like a hero. I knew she was in trouble and so ran towards her like there was no tomorrow.

‘Yeah Aaliya. Wassup? Shall we leave now?’ huffing and puffing, I was hardly able to catch my breath, but I nevertheless asked her pretending as if nothing had happened. Along with her, I wanted to escape from there unscathed as soon as possible.

She was silent, clearly too scared to even mutter. One of the guys then interrupted me.

‘Is she your wife?’ he interrogated

‘Yeah she is my wife.’ I was panting heavily and in the silence of it all, it could be clearly heard.

‘Is your wife dumb or what? We were asking her the way to Necklace road and she wasn't even looking at us. Teach her some manners dude!!’ the other guy added in a condescending tone.

Now this was getting into my head but moments later, both of them then went away to oblivion. I managed to stay calm as I held her hand and led her towards my car. She was shit scared and I was lost in thoughts. It was total silence all the way till the moment I burst out all agitated. 

‘What were you doing at the railway station at this point of time?’ I was gesturing vigorously through signs by now.

‘Stop the car Sri’, she said softly. I was shell shocked. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss her off?

‘What happened Aaliya?’

‘Stop the car’, she said sternly this time raising her tone as well.

The car stopped. The next moment, she held my hand in her palms firmly. And then she uttered those words that went on to define the best moments of my life.

‘Stupid!! Why didn't you propose to me till now?’ she questioned me.

Tears rolling down her eyes, I began to stutter!!

'Ohh...Yeah...Hmmm...I was...you know...I felt....' 

‘I love it when you stutter. I love the time that I spend with you. I love the way you care for me when we go out. I love the way you look at me in the Church. I love the way you readily agree to accompany me to all those stupid little places I have wanted to go, those tea stalls and countless fancy emporiums. I love the way you listen to my demands when we are hanging out (Whatever little she demanded compared to some of the girls I have known!!). I loved the way you came running, huffing and puffing all the way for me at the railway station. I love the way you have pani puris with me even though you don’t like them’ she was in a very excited state and all this while was also gesturing what she was saying vigorously through signs; something which she rarely does when she is with me. 

I opened my mouth wide open, pleasantly shocked at the suddenness of it. But the next moment, she pinched me in the arm. I yelled.

‘This is not a dream you Dumbo. I love you. Will you marry me?’ she came close to me and gently whispered those magical words in my ear.

I looked back and forth. The roads were still and empty. There wasn't a single soul. This was definitely not a romantic place to propose. But who cares when I am with the love of my life? I emerged out of the car and started yelling loudly and crazily danced in elation. It was sheer utopia. She started laughing heartily on seeing how crazy I was now. Out of the car beside the door, she waited patiently for this crazy maniac-like celebration to be over with.

After this stunt was over, I went to her and lifted her up in my arms. Looking at each other's eyes, I could hear her breathe and smell her distinct scent. But then she was too heavy for me to  have held her in my arms like that till till eternity!!. So moments later, I had to put her down. Then I took my cell phone out, typed something on the keypad and showed her this

‘I LOVE YOU TOO LIKE CRAZY. Yes, let’s marry J’

The next day we married in the Church with the blessings of all the students and nuns in the institute. 

Love knows no boundaries - 1

The best and the most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart – Hellen Keller

It was about 5 years back that I came to Hyderabad. I was working as a Marketing manager with Nagarjuna Constructions back then. That day I didn’t take my car out for I found it’s tyres punctured. So, I took the crowded bus, on the way to office when I saw her in the seat right in front of me. The perfume she carried tore through my senses and there she was, laughing her heart out. The way she was talking and giggling with her colleague gave me an impression that she was someone who loved herself and was an eternal optimist. The conversation was completely one sided as her friend was dead silent most of the time, preferring to just 'Hmmm' her way out. It was her radiating smile that finally swept me off my feet. She bid her friend bye leaving the seat next to her vacant. So I promptly sat beside her.

‘Hi, I am Sri’, I introduced myself.

She didn’t look at me. I thought she couldn't hear me amidst all that Hyderabadi clutter and so I again greeted her. Busy typing an SMS on her cell phone, I thought it was very rude of her to ignore me like that. Did I just make a fool of myself? A few minutes of silence later, she woke up ready to alight the bus as her destination had come. I was angry and upset at having been ignored in such an ignominious way. But still I couldn’t help but notice that she was entering an institute and wondered was she old enough to be a teacher there? The bus conductor then announced loudly ‘Hellen Keller’.

I ignored the commotion that followed in the bus and started pondering. Why didn’t she even acknowledge my presence when I greeted her? It was about ten minutes later that I recalled the conductor having announced the name of the bus stage as ‘Hellen Keller’. And then everything began to fall in place. There was indeed a ‘Hellen Keller Institute for Deaf and Deaf Blind’ and I was now sure she entered the same. Questions began to crop up and I answered them myself.

Is she deaf? No

Is she dumb? No. I clearly heard her talking with her friend.

Is she a teacher? But isn’t she also young enough to be a student? Let’s find out.

Unfortunately, I had to make a presentation the same day to the board. So I decided to check her out the next day. But, it wasn’t until 4 days later that on a fine Saturday morning, I finally managed the time to visit the institute. The watchman at the gate stopped me. I showed him my ID and started walking on the beautiful pathway surrounded by  lush green lawns, admiring the Gothic architecture and the serene ambience of the institute. Suddenly a boy emerged, huffing and puffing his lungs out after running all the way to me from nowhere. He was curiously checking me out and obviously wanted to find out who I was. Looking at him, I guessed he was old enough to be in the fifth or sixth standard. Using the sign language, he asked me what I was looking for and then I realised he was like many others in the institute, both deaf and dumb.

So, I took out a piece of paper and wrote down ‘Lady Teacher – Long hairs!!’ I took my chance for I was yet unclear as to who she was - a student or a teacher. To my surprise, he led me directly to a class where she was teaching Mathematics to the second standard students.

It was a pretty weird way of teaching mathematics. Abacus was extensively used and everyone in the class used the sign language for communication. A typical maths class is characterised by decent amount of decibel levels, whereas this class was totally silent. I decided to wait outside till she was done with the class; utilising this free time to prepare myself and conjure up ideas to start off a conversation with her. Is she also deaf? Something deep inside me was refusing to believe so. I was absolutely sure she was not deaf. Fair complexioned and round faced with sharp eyes and a jawline that reminded me of Scarlett Johansson, she was dressed in a chiffon pink saree, tall and slim enough to look absolutely stunning and smelt the same way she did that day in the bus. It was mesmerising to say the least.

‘Hello. Aren’t you the one who sat beside me that day in the bus?’ she started off straightaway with a question that was interrogative in its tone.

‘Yes. I had also greeted you then. But I guess you were busy messaging someone’ I wasn’t looking at her when I said that.

‘Did you say something now? Sorry I am deaf’ How could she be so nonchalant while declaring that? I was shell shocked. Then she locked her eyes with mine, looking directly at me.

‘Ok. I am deaf. But I know lip reading. So whatever it is, talk while looking at me and make sure I look at you as well’ she instructed with a hearty laugh at the end.

I was clearly shaken enough to be not in the right state of mind with her anymore. But I had no other option but be myself, lest I offend her. It was pretty clear to me that she was a supremely confident assertive woman and didn’t like people showing any signs of sympathy towards her. I couldn't gather the guts to tell that I came all the way to meet her. The alibi I conjured up earlier came in handy. We were now in her room and she promptly asked me to take a seat.

‘So how can I help you?’ she asked.

‘Hmmm...yeah...Actually......’

‘Are you fine? Shall I get you a glass of water?’ she enquired clearly amused at how I was beginning to stutter. 

Love knows no boundaries Part 2

Life of a Soldier...

Some people are destined for greatness (Actually they inherit superhuman genes from their progenitors!!). Others write their own destiny. He is one such soldier and this is his story.

Once upon a time in the sunny month of May, God decided to send him to walk the path called life in a sleepy town somewhere in a state called Andhra Pradesh in India. That was the time when India was having a tough time dealing with China on the East and Pakistan on the West. That was also the time when Jawaharlal Nehru was criticised and banged by the media and people in general for his failure to properly deal with the arrogance and might of the Chinese. (A little digression I guess!!). 

Anyways, he grew up amidst people who were mostly illiterate and probably were of the opinion that Black Pigs are more loyal to humans than Dogs. You can’t really blame them for their ignorance as the whole town was and is still infested with lots and lots of Pigs. (I don’t know why some people still find Pigs cute!!). His father earned just enough to afford spending on his education. Mind you, at that time in India, studying in a school was a luxury only a few could afford. Spending most of his time playing in the streets, he soon grew up to an age where most of us now ask ourselves ‘What am I going to do with my life? Will I become an Engineer or a Doctor?’ After struggling to clear his Intermediate studies, he plunged into the identity crisis mode. That’s when one of his dear friends advised him to join the Indian Air Force. Despite resistance from his parents, he decided to participate in the fair – a fair where youngsters try their luck to make it into the Armed Forces as a Non Commissioned Officer.  

Now the story of how he qualified to be stamped as ‘Fit for Induction in IAF’ is by itself an interesting one. The minimum weight one ought to have to qualify was around 48. But he was only 45 then. Alarmed by the fact that he would soon be rejected, he secretly gobbled up enough Bananas (luckily available at the fair then!!) to increase his body weight to 48 and scraped through the final medical round. (If gaining weight is so easy then why am I working out so hard in the Gym??) Thus, he began his career in the IAF at the tender age of 19. His parents were unhappy with his decision, but he stuck to his guns. Now whether it was his desire to experience the real world outside, the passion to make a difference by serving his country or to land up a government job is something that is unknown. Nevertheless, he flew off. 

At the training institute, he had a tough time adopting his frail body to the physical and mental rigours that one is made to go through. So much so that he tried to escape and return back home. But life had other plans for him. He finally made it through the rigorous training period, learning to shoot with a ~3Kg 303 rifle and running around the huge dusty grounds holding the heavy rifle ‘Shoulder up’. (Reminds me of Karan in the movie Lakshya).

The transition from civil society to a life in the Military Barracks was never going to be easy, for he was gullible and trusted people easily. His first posting was in Srinagar where he was welcomed by a gang of thieves. They posed as Inspectors of the CID and on the pretext of checking his luggage, stole cash and other valuables kept in his suitcase. That was life’s way of telling him ‘Welcome to the real world dude!!’ Soon enough he married the love of his life. She was his childhood sweetheart and they first met when her family started living as tenants in his house. Soon, they began to love the time spent with each other, chatting all the way whenever they had free time after school and college. There were no mobile phones then, so they had to physically meet to catch up and enjoy sweet nothings (That is why I hate Mark Zuckerberg!!). Sweet friendship then blossomed into love and when he finally declared his love for her at home, he was chided for reasons best known to him and his parents. Nevertheless, he managed to convince them and eventually exchanged marital vows with her - the woman he knew he couldn’t live without.  

With his soul partner supporting him all the way, life in the armed forces became a smooth journey he traversed effortlessly. Hopping around places every four to five years, he became an Indian in the true sense working with dedication for his country as well as his family. Along the way, he also became a father to a son and a daughter and that made him complete. But all wasn't hunky dory yet. His dedication to his country was something his immediate family back in his hometown couldn't fathom at all. And that probably isolated him from all things and affairs happening in his hometown. It hurt him. A farmer and soldier are two people who are experts in expectation management for they are in a very thankless profession. He moved on for he was a soldier. Along the way he saw his colleagues die in air crashes and in freak inexplicable accidents for the Armed Forces were still not modernized to international standards. Working overtime to ready the majestic SU-30 MKI's, MIG-29's and Jaguar's for wartime, he witnessed the death of his seniors and colleagues from close quarters during Operation Vijay. But he also made some friends who later went on to become his ‘Friends for Life’. He educated his children in the best possible way, giving them whatever they asked for and not compromising on their education and attire. And yet also managed to save enough to later buy a flat and become a proud owner of a home. His wife went on to become the reason he managed the finances within an income that is now ‘measly’ if not anything else. 

Living life by his rules, he happily chose to retire after 20 glorious years of service to the country; because he wanted to provide his son and daughter the best possible avenues for higher education. It has been ten years since he left the armed forces. But one can still feel the discomfort with which he is constantly trying to adapt to the whims and fancies of the civil society. Transition back to the civil society was much tougher for him for he had a wife and two children to take care of as well. But he managed everything with gusto. Guess everything else is a child’s play for a soldier who has spent 20 years of his life amidst guns, bullets, jet engines and roaring fighter jets!!

In a few days from now, he is all set to complete 30 years of service which includes 20 years as a non-commissioned officer in the IAF. And whenever I have admired him for his patience, will and dedication to his work, his humility has made me realise I am being a sissy when I whine about work in a corporate setup (I am a chronic complainer nevertheless!! By the way, I am going to retire right after cutting my 45th Birthday cake). Post retirement from IAF, his life has been a relatively smoother ride compared to many other thousands of Ex-Servicemen who are still struggling to earn a little respect and dignity from the civil society. If I tell you I am lucky enough to have seen how soldiers literally work their asses off, come no matter what; then that’s an understatement!! 

This post is dedicated to him – A truly obedient son, a lover who fought for his love, a loving and loyal husband, a father who became a living hero in the eyes of his children and above all a Soldier who with the utmost sincerity dedicated 20 years of his life serving his country. This post is dedicated to all such soldiers who sing along ‘Ab toh humein, aagey badtey hi rehna....’ 

“May God bless all the Soldiers”

signing off,

taureansandy

Is Facebook a Parasite or a Virus?

Hi Folks,

Is Facebook a virus or a parasite? Based on the dictionary meaning of both the nouns ‘Virus’ and ‘Parasite’, I infer that it is more like a parasite than a virus. It has diffused through our minds via the Internet and derives its nutrition from our irresistible urge to know what is going on in the lives of our peers, friends and acquaintances.

Now you might be wondering why describe FB in medical terms all of a sudden. Call it the fascination with medicine and everything remotely to do with biology these days. It is because, of late quite a lot of action has been happening in my life with a direct link to FB. And then, I  am beginning to wonder whether I have become a FB addict of sorts or not. Let me restate some facts before I proceed further:

• If Facebook were to be a country, it would be the third largest populous country in the world
• According to an official study done by Facebook, 190 is the average number of friends each one of us has in it
• People now spend more time on Facebook than the time they spend daily on personal hygiene!!

Given these facts, I now have a disclaimer to make. Unlike the past, when I made sure not to hurt any sentiments through my blogs, this time I am going to be blunt and straight. So it won’t be a surprise if you as a reader don’t agree with some or all of the points and statements that I am going to make. Read further at your own risk!!

It was only yesterday that I read ‘Mark Zuckerberg marries his long time girlfriend Chan’. My first reaction was – So what? Then today, it was reported that Facebook’s stock is down after the IPO. It actually failed to ‘outperform’ and even the underwriters JP Morgan & Morgan Stanley couldn’t do much despite dumping an additional 84 million shares later. Though it was bad news for the thousands of retail investors, it was sheer music to my ears. I share a love-hate relationship with Facebook, but of late I have started wondering whether I would get rid of the addiction to it or not. And so, I am beginning to wish and pray for a divine intervention that would stop FB on its tracks and stop it further from playing havoc with my life.

If a fifth grader would ask me what ‘Facebook’ is all about, I would tell him one or all of the following depending on his ability to understand what I am trying to say (That Facebook is a bad place to be in!!)

• Facebook is a country where people (including yours truly) don’t mind their business and instead are interested in other’s lives!! (Pun Intended)
• Facebook is a country where people speak only three words ‘Like’, ‘Comment’ and ‘Share’
• Facebook is a place where a simple status message put up by a decent girl would attract infinite ‘Likes’ whereas the same is not applicable to a boy/guy
• Facebook is an institute that can teach even an introvert the ‘art of flirting’ with girls/guys/gays (Read Section 377 of the Indian Constitution)
• Facebook is an addiction

It is not as if I abhor FB completely. I love it for the following reasons

• Facebook enables me to stay in touch with all those fellow Facebookers who have literally forgotten the fact they have something known in common parlance as a ‘Cellular Phone’
• Facebook lets me dump my stupid thoughts and opinions through a feature known as a ‘Status Message’ (Otherwise, I would have definitely become a nervous wreck not knowing what to do with the useless thoughts my brain conjures up time and again!!)
• Facebook is the source of all the minuscule traffic that I ever manage to get to my blog and is also a marketing medium where I plan to potentially bombard you readers with requests to read up my upcoming untitled imaginary book (God knows when it will be published!!)

But I hate it more for reasons that are countless. Given the spatial constraints and the need to not piss Mr Mark Zuckerberg off, I shall list only a few of them

• Facebook is the only way my relatives constantly keep track of my activities. So I can’t use words like ‘Love’, ‘Engaged’, ‘Single’ and ‘Committed’. Using these words is a strict no-no for them and is a sign that I am turning to a spoilt brat!!
• My niece’s are also in FB. Come on, they are still kids for god’s sake!!
• FB increases the expectations that you have from your friends and peers. I am expected to hit ‘Like’ or ‘Share’ to every photo or status message uploaded/put up by dear friends/relatives even if I don’t like them
• FB is also a place where my messages and comments are misconstrued and where I also sometimes end up misunderstanding other’s comments
• I have to constantly filter out people from my friend’s list and put them in the ‘Custom’ category under the default privacy option
• Wherever I go, FB follows (Geo tagging and tracking)
• When I log in, FB almost inevitably shows me status messages from people I want to ignore or forget (Does Mark Zuckerberg hold a grudge on me?)
• And what the hell!! Do I care about how many points X has scored over Y in a game Z? Naah!!
• The ‘timeline’ feature initially seemed very sugary but now has become so bitter that I feel like having a little honey

And the list goes on. Is there a cure to Facebook addiction? I don’t think so. In my case, it has reached a critical mass (Read 650+ friends, half of whom I barely know!!). I desperately want to get rid of it but can’t understand how to. Can you help me? Of course, I know where there is a will there is a way out as well. But the addiction has reached to levels where I now have a widget of it on my android phone. So I urge you readers to suggest some practical solutions so that I get de-addicted without having to delete my account for good.  

One of my colleagues doesn’t have a Facebook account. In fact, he doesn’t have any account in any social networking site at all. I was initially shocked. But later I realised that probably it was one of the best decisions he had made in life – Not to have any presence in the virtual world. This blog post is dedicated to him; a guy I want to be like, content and very happy like the people from Bhutan!! J

signing off,

taureansandy