“You return home tired and your mind plays tricks on you. Once again you slip into thoughts that take you nowhere. Its like quicksand. You think and you fall deeper into thoughts. Thoughts that lead you to other thoughts and the train of thoughts goes on.
You are living in a void. A world that has been created for you. Everyday you carry out your routine like you are an integral part of a never ending algorithm. You feign respect for people you absolutely loathe. Its not out of manners that you do it. But you are scared. Scared of the consequences. You are scared of going against the “”convention”". You think that better sense should prevail. But who decides what is good? And hence the comparison of what is better is something that has been fed to you over and over again, since time immemorial.
You are living your life like a robot. Your actions and your thoughts have been molded by an excellent potter. You do what your master – the potter – tells you to do. And who is your master? It is not a single entity. He is rather an entity that has been created by people over the years. By men who have had power. By men who wanted to impose upon the world what they thought was right. By men who wanted to gain control over people’s actions and their minds. Serfdom never ended. People were made to believe that it had ended. You are the serf working for your “”master”".
You are given an occasional freedom to keep you happy. To keep you from rebelling. Somewhere along the way you lose sight of what you always wanted to do. You get trained along the pre-defined lines. Defined by “”those”" men. Your “”master”" decides your fate and you accept it. You are like grains of sand, passing through the hourglass waiting, patiently, for it to turn and guide you back.
You say there is no point complaining about things when you are not willing to do anything about them. You want to do something to break these chains, but you are burdened by responsibilities. But then, who creates these responsibilities? Aren’t they simply chains created by love? You have created this world for yourself, you want to give back to people what you have taken from them. It’s only your pride and nothing more, that compels you to think this way. Life is a sum-total of all the good and the bad things that you have done. But who decides whats good or bad? You believe that you decide the difference between good and bad, but then is it not social conditioning that alters your perspective? Maybe all these thoughts are just a product of your conditioned mind. Maybe you are trained to protest once in a while to maintain the servile sanity. The world needs to balance itself. Through all these thoughts maybe you are only acting as a counter-weight.
Once again you remember that you are just the grain of sand, destined to pass through the hourglass. You will only think, but not act. You will only breathe but not live. You shall sing but not “”the song”". And in your lifetime the only regrets will be simple things such as these. When you are lying on your death-bed, your “”master”" will leave you stranded, wondering, about how you devoted your life to “”him”", about how you could have done what you were born for.
And every night your head is muddled with thoughts such as these. Your sleep, muffled by silent screams. Your appettite, destroyed by the hunger for a new dawn. And then it all goes dark… like it always does.
“”Nothing in this world is harder than speaking the truth, nothing easier than flattery.”" – Fyodor Dostoevsky
Note: The subject line is a quote by Fyodor Dostoevsky from the novel “”The Idiot”"”
The worst thing that could happen to anyone would be to settle down in your life with a job that pays your monthly bills and keeps you comfortable. Day after day passes by and you stop feeling guilty about not living your life the way you wanted to. The simple joys of academic life. That one rollicking night you spent with your girlfriend when both of you got drunk.
The thing is, simply put, you become a phony once you settle down into your job. The sub-conscious dies down. The so-called responsibilities over-burden your shoulders with the truth of life. Those long cherished moments with your friends are forgotten. The night you spent on the roof of your hostel staring into the dark winter night, stars looking down upon you dreamily, cold beer by your side and most importantly, your friends to give you company. These are the pages that get lost in the book of life, like a moth in a candle-flame.
What occupies your mind, now, is how you’ll make more money. More money than you could ever imagine. More money than you could ever use. What pressurizes you are the mortgage payments. The credit card bills to be settled next month. Those long walks down the road on a lonely winter night are long forgotten. Crumpling dried leaves on the way to the football field. Those wild nights when booze used to flow like an unstoppable river. Those road trips through the beautiful country-side, cruising along on your bikes.
One fine day you realize that you end up falling in love with things more than people. You wear a mask so tight that you forget about the life you once owned. That’s the day when you find yourself alone in the walk of life. The day you want to kill yourself. The day which, you hope, should have been the first of your life. The day you blow the dust off from that old Pink Floyd CD, which’d got lost among the things you used to own and love.
Life starts today. Again.
She was like a mystery to me. I was never able to unravel what lay beneath those pages of foreboding. She seemed to be intangible whenever I wanted to touch her, talk to her. Then she would come down like rain on a cold winter night, beautiful yet surprising. She never seemed to amaze me with her sheer timing. Its just like giving that last extra tug to someone falling off a cliff – to pull him up. And yet I long for her, every day, every month, waiting, breathing hard at the impending doom, only never to meet it. The hours in her company seemed to compete with my shadow, never leaving me, still distant. Untouchable.
Her life changed, completely, the day we became God’s pawns in the game of chess. Mine continued on its course. Two pawns seperated by the checkers of life. Patience is a virtue, and so one of them was taught. Hope is a virtue quipped the other. Yet I knew, I would see her again. So what if we were being played on in this game. So what if each one of us had to guard our own sqaure. Some said, life goes on. In an existential sense of the word, yeah, it does go on. But yet, I shall never live again.
And I still lurk in her shadow, breeding on her virute of hope, patiently.
The pentograph was cutting the full moon at bizarre angles as the train sped by on a Sunday night. The wind had been left damp and cold by the surprising November showers. I was returning from a friend’s place after a rejuvenating weekend and the local seemed unusually empty till I realized that it was a Sunday.
On weekdays while on our way to our offices we all fight for a place to sit or stand comfortably, but on a Sunday the equation changes. The whole compartment is empty but you don’t feel like sitting. I just walked over to the door as the train made its way past the crowded Dadar station. The cool breeze started hitting my face as it threatened to drown out my music player which was running at full volume. I realized the weird mix of sound that is created by the rushing wind and some amazing music in your ears. It sounds wonderful.
As I stood on the very edge of the door, a smile just crossed my face much to the amazement of the co-passengers. I realized that time sure flies. It wasn’t more than six years back that we would travel by the same locals; me, Uddhav, Narain and Sudarshan, four of us on our way to our junior college in town. Hanging out at the door everyday by choice rather than reason. The days we spent scanning the platforms, looking for ‘hot girls’ or as we would call it then – bird-watching.
I remembered the first time I tried boarding a running train when my bag got caught in the support rod and I got dragged all along the platform. We all laughed our asses off after that incident. But soon enough we got the hang of it, quite literally. I remembered those times when Uddhav used to run on a mid-station halt to a tea-stall for a glass of water and we screaming at him to get back.
When you are traveling in Bombay, half of your time is spent on the locals everyday. We never regretted even a minute of it. Because when you are with your friends time sure flies! Important discussions took place at the door while screaming at each other to be heard over the roar of the train. We figured out the signaling patterns, knew exactly the bends where the train lurched outwards. I still remember, Uddhav trying to figure out the name of the long distance trains by timing and we teasing him to no end.
Things have changed now. I still travel by the local everyday, but alone. Consultancy sure takes the joy out of your life. The other three are in the US, trying to make something out of their lives too. The struggle continues, in a different way. But this Sunday evening while I stood at the edge of the door, I could hear our voices echoing in the very same compartment. In many of these locals, our voices would be hidden somewhere, waiting to come out and greet us the day we all travel the same way. If at all. But the echoes will never die, every time I’ll hold that door handle, the smile will cross my face. Don’t worry Mr. Passenger, all is fine in the locals.
“It was just another day till it trudged into a gloomy evening. The worries at the back of my mind were like natural allies which have supported me through the daily works. I just knew that this time it was different, but didn’t expect it to be so soon. I had been walking around like a zombie for as long as I knew and ever since I had heard about her. The train back home seemed to take much lesser time that evening. Or maybe it was just my thoughts that had travelled the world.
The confines of my home could not depress me further that evening. Nothing could. The zillion thoughts never stopped as I furiously wrote on my scratchpad. I used to do that in those days just to get my thoughts out and to scream out aloud. Maybe paper was the next best alternative to a person. They are the same words which get spoken. It was just a matter of what came first. I didn’t know if I would ever see her again. Or would I ever see anyone again for that matter. And I thought:
“”Heaven’s a lie and we all lie at some point of time. Truth lies in the darkness that never betrays you. It makes you realise that you really cannot see. What you have been looking at is an illusion. You hallucinate everyday. Its a natural thing. The mirror lies, the birds pretend. The sun never does shine and its always too dark see the moon. Nothing lasts beyond the time you want it to. Not even people.”"
“”Cut!!”", shouted the director dramatically, as I heedlessly flicked the channel, smiling at the stupid but well-timed intervention. The Gods must be crazy. During all the tensed moments in my life, I have been blessed with remembering movies and lyrics that depress me further. I always liked it. Life with her now seemed like a winter night’s sky. So clear, so dark, yet never unravelling the ultimate truth. What lies beyond? Maybe no one knows. No one ever will. My mind plays tricks with me again. I was told, I am the Devil. And a voice played on:
“”The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was to convince the world, he didn’t exist. And like that *poof* he’s gone.”"
One of these days….”
“The match had just ended and so had our two hours of furious drinking. Portugal had lost. A little sad at the defeat and anxious about the ensuing adventure we set out. Three out of five. The other two were already in seventh heaven. We were pretty sobered up by the time we reached the car in the parking lot. Darkness enveloped the dead of the night as the parking lights jumped off the car in myriads of directions as the silver body gleamed. Wearily I lit up a cigarette as the realisation of having cut 120 kms just a few hours back dawned upon me. My body almost ached, but the desire for an adventure is always overpowering.
A quick glance at the watch revealed that it was already 2:30 am. The Johnny Walker simmered in my head as the engine of my Zen sputtered to life. I made sure everyone who was supposed to be seated was seated. Doors were secured. The speakers lazily spurred when i inserted the Pink Floyd CD. Put down the hand brake. Slide the gear into the first. The alcohol wasn’t too much, but when the weather inebriates and best friends are there for company, theres just no defending.
Hill stations are like owls. They would never seem their original selves in the light of the day. Given a choice, I would always visit a hill station at night. Its like making love when the lights are out. The same roads that were teeming with life and traffic, which they couldnt handle, seemed happier accomodating us at night. I swerved to the right off the highway to the road that leads to Bushy dam and then onto Ambi Valley. There was not a soul in sight for miles and miles. The moon had retired for the night. Soon we drove past the first settlement at the foot of the hill arousing no one but the dogs who indignantly barked at us. As we sped past they went back to sleep satisfied with their work.
The ghats of lonavala are not too steep to climb except in a few places where the road suddenly curves upwards in a ‘U’, almost absent mindedly. As we started ascending up the slopes we passed the INS and AirForce offices, where a few weary guards sat around a small fire which threatened to die down at any point. After that it was nothing but us, the road, Pink Floyd and the wind howling at us prohibitively, mocking our late night escapade. But determined as we were, we drove up the slopes at furious speeds wherever the road allowed us to, careful at other bends. Soon it became a game of one upmanship with the winds bringing in an ally. The fog tried to change our mind, but we were not to be deterred. We continued with the headlights shining bright as ever cutting through the fog. But we had taken a hit in the game. We had to drop our speeds until we were cruising lazily at 30 kmph. We would fight till the end. We braved our way up a few kilometres when Pink Floyd started off with the chimes and one of my all time favourite, High Hopes. It seemed like the wind was conspiring with Pink Floyd.
The fog soon became way too dense to see. The visibility dropped to about 1.5 feet from the bonnet of my Zen. Consequently we dropped our speed to 10 kmph and drove on for a few more kilometres where the slopes heaved a sigh and came to a level ridge with the valley on both the sides, felt only by the sound of the wind-it was not to be seen. We turned on the parking lights and stepped out to be greeted by an ecstatic wind as if hugging us to celebrate its victory. And we stood there as Ashish echoed my thoughts when he said, “”Just what are we doing back there in our offices everyday?”" I suddenly felt claustrophobic while standing in the middle of nowhere. A feeling of helplessness engulfed me when the flash of Manish’s camera brought me back to reality. I realised that we were really standing in the middle of nowhere. We couldnt see anything but our car and that too because of the headlights.
We stood there and enjoyed the true beauty of Lonavala, as the hills braced themselves to be swarmed by people oblivious of what they were missing. Half and hour must have elapsed when we smoked the day’s last cigarette and slithered slowly down the slopes as the fog gave us company till the AirForce office as if afraid of the civilization and bid us adieu. I sighed under my breath, “”So long my friend….”"
Addenda:
Its funny how you can always find a reason to drink. There can be different excuses for drinking. I’m feeling happy, so I’m gonna celebrate with some booze. I’m feeling sad, I’ll drown myself in alcohol. The weather’s awesome, lets drink. Well then, I say if you wanna drink you drink. There’s no two ways about it. More about this on some other day.”
It’s another tequila sunrise
Starin’ slowly ‘cross the sky, said goobye
He was just a hired hand
Workin’ on the dreams he planned to try
The days go by
Ev’ry night when the sun goes down
Just another lonely boy in town
And she’s out runnin’ ’round
She wasn’t just another woman
And I couldn’t keep from comin’ on
It’s been so long
Oh, and it’s a hollow feelin’ when
It comes down to dealin’ friends
It never ends
Take another shot of courage
Wonder why the right words never come
You just get numb
It’s another tequila sunrise,this old world
still looks the same,
Another frame, mm…
– Tequila Sunrise (The Eagles)
“To,
The entire Alumni Community of IITs and IIMs
Is the new generation responsible for the atrocites laid upon a certain section of the society, on the basis of caste, several decades ago? Should the generations to come suffer from the same fate that the section of society called OBCs suffered then? If this is not “”Divide and Rule”", then I do not know what is.
I write this letter today because I feel deeply grieved that the country’s future is being held to ransom by corrupt politicians who can even kill to get their votes. CNN-IBN asked a very apt question yesterday. Can any politician in India afford to be anti-reservation? The Opposition in the Parliament, as an unwritten rule, is supposed to oppose anything and everything that is proposed by the party in power. And they do so religiously. But this time around, when it has come to reservations, they know that doing so will jeopardize their vote-banks. Not a single squeak has come from the Oposition.
I write this letter today not to elaborate more on the sorry state of affairs in the Indian Politics, but as an appeal to all the giants in the industry, to look at what is happening to their alma mater. IITs, IIMs and all the other major institutions in India are being held by the scruff of their neck and forced to go down the path that will surely lead to degradation of their value as an institution. When merit is killed, there is absolutely nothing that can save an IIT or an IIM or any other institute for that matter. And what has the government done? It has been succesful is making every Indian conscious of who they are working with. Today everyone who is not in a reserved category looks at the person sitting next to him and has only one question. Is he an OBC?
For several weeks now students have been on a hunger strike. Several students have been injured in the merciless police lathi charges. All the students have screamed their throats dry to make their voices heard. But what did we get in the end? The government has stabbed every student in the back by its decision to implement quotas by 2007 even after appealing to the protesting students to have faith in the government.
Several bright students are being denied admissions to prestigious institutions only to fill the votebanks of the politicians. Undeserving students who are fortunate enough to have troubled forefathers in the form of OBC/SC/ST laugh their way through these colleges. And what happens in the end? Either they drop out or they manage to scrape through, thus reducing the quality of the output from these colleges.
I am not against quota if it makes sense. I am not against any reservation carried out on the basis of some logic or some figures. But why should we all take the decisions meted out by the government as they come? Why shouldnt we all oppose illogical decisions which are politically motivated? Mr. Arjun Singh in an interview with Karan Thapar from CNN-IBN was clueless when he was asked basic questions on which the decision should have depended. Our honorable minister was not able to answer a single question.
Its an earnest appeal to the complete alumi community to come out in the front and help the students. You are ultimately helping save the future of the country and of your companies that recruit these bright minds. Let the government know that their decision has major repercussions and that they have hit the wrong chord. I am not appealing to you to take decisions based on emotions, but on the basis of facts and figures available in the public domain. The government is not helping the lower classes by giving them reservations, but on the contrary pushing them deeper into the abyss.
Regards,
An ex-IIT KGP student.
Update #1: The quota row is reaching the doors of Rashtrapati Bhawan.
A 22-member delegation of striking medicos met President Dr A P J Abdul Kalam and appealed to him to not sign the Bill proposing to bring 27 percent reservation for Other Backward Classes (OBC) in elite educational institutions.
“”We have said that if this law is enacted we will commit suicide after seeking permission from the president,”" a student, Kapil Mishra said. (Source: IBNLive.com)
Technorati Tags: IIT :: IIM :: Alumni :: OBC :: Reservations :: Arjun Singh”
“These are the old days,The bad days,
The all or nothing days. They’re back.
There’s no choice left…
…. Its blood for blood and by the gallon.
And thus goes Marv from Sin City. If only the same would apply to the situation here. Maybe it would if all were to wake up. The people of India have waited long enough and hard enough to withstand these corrupt politicians who won’t even think twice about selling their own mother for two pennies if they are getting a hundred votes. The talks of which party is good and which party is not are over. Everyone’s been there, done that and ruined India along the way.
Lets take the case of the recent controversy of reservation which is blowing hot and is threatening to engulf the whole nation. It all started when one petty politician, who wasnt in the news enough before and wasn’t in the good books of our firangi leader Sonia Gandhi (seems like we have finally outsourced politics also) wanted desperately to ‘change’ things wherein he hit upon a jackpot of an idea to divide India on casteist lines.
Little did he have a clue about how it will backfire (Read all about the background here). It has backfired and quite badly. Look at the unrest everywhere. Students from all fields, medical, engineering and every other branch have revolted against this. And how?!!!!
Corrupt police officers have been caught all around accepting bribes and the levels of their frustration are increasing. It all shows in the merciless thrashing and caning of the doctors/engineers of tomorrow. These students who will be the future of our country are being whacked for no crime of theirs. Evil breeds evil. I won’t be surprised if some of these get involved in organized crime at some point in their life. Grudges like these can never be alleviated.
India is poised for a civil war. Winds of change are blowing and its perfect weather to launch a counter-strike against the government. India needs a dictator. Maybe not someone as fanatic as Hitler, but someone who can control the whole country and hit these politicians where it hurts the most. Their livelihood. But first we need a civil war. A war that will destabilize the entire administration. Its bound to happen sooner or later.
I remember a quote in Outlook Magazine many years back which was something as follows and which is very apt for the occasion:
In this world order,
Sovereignity has no border,
Yankee Doodle has his way,
No one else can have a say
Technorati Tags: Reservations Arjun Singh OBC”
My flight landed at the civil terminal of Bagdogra at an hour considered unearthly for someone travelling to Bhutan. It was 3:30 PM and all the buses for the day had left. So I had no choice but to pay through my nose and spend Rs. 1800 on a taxi to Bhutan. Little did I know it will be worth every penny of it. The road is a winding one from Bagdogra-Siliguri-Birpara-Jaigaon and finally on to Phuentsholing. With a detour in between due to a broken bridge, the journey got extended from 4 hours to 5 hours. I reached Bhutan at a time when no more vehicles were allowed inside, but the friendly guard let us in. I settled down in the hotel in Phuentsholing. The small town sleeps very early. By about 9:30 all the shops close down and the streets are deserted. It was time to hit the restaurant in my hotel and have a few drinks. The best whiskey available in Bhutan is called Coronation Silver Jubilee.
Day two started off with the work commitments I had. It was completely different interacting with the Bhutanese Government officials, when you are used to the Indian babus. Work got over by noon and it was time for a quick bite and cool beer to enjoy the afternoon. Had 4 hours off when I decided to go trekking up the highway that leads to Thimpu.
A dog gave me company as he walked up several kilometres with me, sitting in between at times to admire the magnificent work of art. I sat there for several minutes enjoying the beauty and the cool wind. Finally it was beginning to get dark when I decided to head back. There was one thing I always wanted to do. Hitch-hike! So I stood at the edge of the road and got a lift from a passing government official on his bike. He wore the traditional Buddhist robes like all other Bhutanese government officials.
The next morning I woke up early to see the beauty of Phuentsholing when it rains. It had rained overnight and the clouds had come right down to greet us (me and the fellow Bhutanese). The last walk to the bus stand was as breath-taking as the rest of my journey. Plans are already in works for the next un-official trip to Bhutan.