GMCS 2 - Affil Forever

Rarely does it happen that a sequel is as great as the first. And if that isn’t the case, those who have not seen the first part will not appreciate the second. But here, all norms have been broken, habits shattered, the successor exceeded the predecessor by unequaled proportions and… It was LEGENDARY!

I explained all the GMCS stories to my friend, and this is how he understood it. “So, GMCS is nothing but a normal 4 year college life – with the stress, worries and sorrows thrown away, the joy, laughter, fun and love filtered out and bottled up into a 15 day package?” To all the Chartered Accountants who asked us the question – What is GMCS? This is the answer!

It was perhaps everything that we missed out in our life. As we face another burden loaded onto us every day, this was a stress buster. For we felt lonely at times, we were showered with love. If we felt scared, we were given support. “Come forward and sing from your heart, who cares if you sound like a peacock!” All of it happened in that classroom. Mockery was replaced by encouragement, prejudice and jealousy was replaced by care and affection. I could indeed see traces of the utopian world. I saw the flaws of the world outside me being corrected.

And the most important thing – I fell in love. Yes, I fell in love with a handful of people. Not the love that somebody has for chicken, but the true love with all its desi flavours in the evergreen romantic package. As I read the messages on Whatsapp I fall in love. As I see the photos on Facebook I fall in love. And when I read my slam book… It feels as if I will never again feel sorrow in my life. I can touch the affection that my friends have for me. And what more, the firm resolve to be with them forever, only grows stronger.

Words falter me as I recollect my emotions. Do you know something? There have been millions of poems and stories about romantic couples. But how many stories have there been about the bond between a mother and a child. How many poems or songs or paintings describe that? That is because emotions as powerful as that are difficult to express. Right now, I am in a similar predicament. There are so many things I want to say – Like how much Team Sixers means to me! When somebody said that I will become a great writer, how deeply I was touched. When I was asked to write this blog as early as possible, how it moved me to tears. When I was told that I will be missed, how much I missed them. But… can’t paint them in words, I am sorry…

What about the Sun who shined upon us throughout this journey. The amazing soul who gave us so much to learn, so much to love and so much to enjoy. The real VIP of our GMCS – Mr. Suncy Varghese, we are forever indebted to. There are teachers who tell us about teamwork, who tell us about time management. But in which management course in the world do they tell us, to go to the person standing next to you, and say that I Love You! Suncy Sir, you have made us all better persons. And I promise to you, what you have given me, I will give back to the world.

When we all were in the brink of tears, one of our friends put it in the best possible manner. “I don’t understand why everybody is saying bye? As a matter of fact, this is the time to say Hi. This is a new beginning!” GMCS is not reminiscent of the love that has been poured over us. It is a promise to love you all – For a 1000 years or life, whichever is longer!

A new beginning! Let us begin each day with the same energy that we carried for those 15 days. Let us take up each task the way we played our games. Let us spread the enthusiasm that each event of Pegasus gave us. Let us spread the Love that we got over here, to the whole world. And the two most important things of all, read the newspaper everyday, and never stop laughing. Because I, Ramon Dharma Rajan, will always be there with you, with a Newspaper game and a million Chalus!

Love 

Herenow

Jayant could see the media frenzy at its top as he stepped out of his Mercedes. “Will your party finalise its candidates in this meeting sir?”, “What are the decisions expected to come out of this meeting sir?”, “Mr. Sinha is having a personal meeting with you first, what is the purpose of this meeting sir?”, “Sir, are you going to become the next Prime Minister?”

In response to all the flashes, the leader only said, “You will be informed after the meeting is completed… I cannot tell you anything right now!” As he walked into the fancy hall of his party head-office, Jayant smiled and said to him-self, “Everybody knows what is going to happen. Yet, you make news out of it, when somebody says it.” Statement of fact…

That day was to be the culmination of Jayant’s glorious political career. The party leaders were to meet ahead of the Lok Sabha elections and the call for the next Prime Ministerial candidate would be made. He knew that the party wanted him to take the lead – the people wanted that, the nation wanted that… He wanted that. Like a fairy tale, he had carried the dream all the way from school to college, from college to the Party’s student’s wing, then on to the head of the youth wing, MLA, state committee leader, Chief Minister and now… All by the age of 42. Nobody questioned that spectacular rise. Jayant was indeed a formidable leader, just, honest and ambitious.

“You wanted to meet, sir?” The Party’s grand old master, and Jayant’s political mentor was saluted inside his room. “Welcome comrade. Welcome, welcome… Very big day indeed, huh? Come sit…” Mr. Sinha greeted him. Jayant could barely sit. Like a little boy, his face was all lit up, hair all over his body stood upright, so did he. He was about to hear the news from his own mentor, the man who made him what he was - the very same master was about to crown him.

“You are not going to be the Prime Minister!”

… “What?” Jayant’s brain tried hard to delete the word ‘not’ from that sentence. But the Master was clear, and specifically clear about the word ‘not’. The reaction on Mr. Sinha’s face was in cognizance with what he had just said. “I don’t understand”, Jayant actually didn’t.

“Son, I understand your pain. But you have to understand that this pain, this is the very reason I cannot let it happen. You have to trust my wisdom on this as you always have.” Sinha ji was 80 years old and was the Founding leader of their party. The frail looking man, wearing a loose kurta was the Master who had taken the party from its incubation, all the way to becoming the Single Largest Political Party in the World’s Greatest Democracy. And most importantly, he took the party to every patriot’s heart. “Why?” the master’s child asked, anger and agony spluttering in his eyes.

“Because you want to…”, Mr. Sinha gave a deep sigh and said, “The one advice I keep giving you… Tell me Jayant, what is that one phrase, one word I keep telling you?”

Jayant looked at him confused and mumbled, “Be honest? Be true to the people? Never let your voters down?”

“No, no, no… I stopped giving all that advice ages ago… You have followed it so obediently after all. But there was one thing, only one thing that I have had to repeat? Tell me child, what is it?” Mr. Sinha always looked like Oogway in Kung Fu Panda, and now he started speaking like that.

“Be herenow!” Jayant said looking at the small man who was standing next to him. Mr. Sinha put his arm on Jayant and said, “Exactly!”

***************************

“Hey, did you know? Jayant will not become Prime Minister”, Ashok’s wife told him over phone as he signed the attendance register at office. “The meeting got over so soon?” Ashok enquired, quite interested in the subject matter, but unable to devote more than a fraction of his mind to it. “No, but Vidya Akka just called me. Apparently Jayant had a personal meeting with Mr. Sinha before the Party meeting and Mr. Sinha asked him to step down. Jayant called his wife right away, obviously! Akka is very upset by it”

“But Mr. Sinha’s word is not final, is it? I think the other leaders will still want Jayant to take it up. Who else is there?” Ashok pulled out the laptop from his bag, set it on his table, occupied his chair, and pulled out a file from the shelf behind him. But he did not open the file, the telephonic subject matter had finally caught his full attention as his wife started speaking, “But Jayant does not want to -”

“WHAT? Anu, I have known him for quite a few years now. It has been his Ambition since forever. That is what makes him breathe! What is he crazy!?”

“Vidya and I felt the same thing. But - Jayant will not keep one step ahead of Mr. Sinha’s word. And it seems Jayant Bhai was rather convinced about the decision. He will take up the responsibility for the election campaign. He is not bothered about Prime Ministership for the moment.”

“God save him!” Ashok cut the call and opened the file. The Balance Sheet of Balram Automobiles Ltd was to be signed that day. Just another cursory look at the numbers and he would place the file on the Partner’s table to get it signed. “Share Capital… Reserves… Long term…” He whispered to himself, but not a single digit registered in his mind. “Non-sense!” He slammed the file on the table and rest his head back on the chair, “I am the one who is to sign this Balance Sheet. Me!”

Ashok had been the Senior Manager at Hariharan & Co, Chartered Accountants, for over 8 years and Partnership was just an arm’s length away, eluding him year after year like God’s cruel joke. His career dream, for some reason remained so – a dream that throbbed his head with agonizing pain every time he sat on his chair. Rubbing his forehead with closed eyes, he pulled out his phone and called his wife, “Anu… Did Vidya tell you why Jayant decided to step down? What did Mr. Sinha tell him?”

“Vidya told me something, but neither of us understood. Mr. Sinha said, ‘Be herenow’”

***************************

Vikas entered his house, tossed his shoes away, walked into his room and slammed the door shut behind him. Anu barely noticed her son enter the house. Half an hour later, Gita’s scooter stopped outside the house and she rushed inside, “Sorry madam, got 5 minutes late. Was a little busy – “

“Don’t worry Gita”, Anu told her son’s tutor, “Vikas just reached home, some half an hour back I guess. And he seemed a little upset I think, why don’t you go and have a look?” “Oh sure!” said Gita and carrying her bag, which was rather heavy for the slim figure, entered Vikas’ room in the first floor.

“What’s up kid?” Gita taught maths, but she was so much more than a tutor to every one of her students. Just 24 years old, fresh out of college, pretty and always wearing a smile which people could rarely see in a metro city, this teacher was loved by boys and girls alike.

Vikas who was lying with his head down on his table, got up to Gita’s voice, rubbed the tears off his face and returned Gita her smile. “Ummm… terrible day!” The boy was wearing the football jersy, so Gita deduced it had something to do with the school team selection. She pulled chair next to him, held the boys tightly by his arms and said, “Tell me…”

“I had been attending soccer classes for the past three months – Everyday”, he started sobbing and his words were not audible. Like re-tuning a radio, Gita patted the boy and he continued speaking, “You know how much I love football. I don’t miss a single game – EPL, ISL, whatever it is… There is nothing that makes me as crazy as football, and to get into the school team, it was my dream every since I joined school. I tried two years back, didn’t even make it close. Tried last year again… And this year I took special classes. Every day, three hours of training after school – and again!” the 13 year old boy burst into tears. He continued, “My knees hurt so badly everyday. I don’t even have school bus after training, I have to come by cycle, after that. And then all the homework, and preparation for exams. I haven’t even watched TV for 3 months now, because I have no time. I am also controlling my diet to stay fit, no chocolates, no ice-creams, for the past three months! All this pain and still…” Vikas burst out again. “Next year I will be in 9^th Standard. I don’t think mom and dad will allow me to play. I wanted to make it to the team so badly. And I played so well… I HATE THAT COACH!”

The young teen turned around to look at his teacher’s face which was staring at him in… “So?” That kind of look! Vikas didn’t understand her expression and Gita started explaining, “Mokku Fellow! Vikas, I can’t understand what is there to be upset about this? You are not a good player and hence you didn’t make it to the school team!”

Vikas widened his eyes in disbelief! “Listen kid, learn this mantra very carefully – Be Herenow! Here’s the trick, if you want something, don’t want it. Don’t even think about it! Focus on the game, love the game and don’t you dare think about the team. Don’t discontinue your soccer classes. Go on, play the game, play the game without wanting to make it to the team. And trust me, you will!”

“Yeah right! Anyway, thanks for the lecture sis. Shall we get started, I have wasted enough time with football, haven’t prepared a thing for my tests next week. None of this will work Gita!” He told his tutor with a smirk. “I finish this class and walk out of the room. And at the hallway - you will believe in me”, Gita announced and started the class.

One and a half hours of Mathathon and the exhausted student-teacher duo walked out of the room – student would drop any minute and the teacher was jumpy as ever. Vikas walked his teacher to the door and at the hallway, his parents announced, “Gita! Congrats!”

“Oh! Thanks sir, thank you Ma’am” she turned towards them and said cheerfully. Vikas looked stunned. “When did this happen?” Ashok asked – “HOW did this happen?”

“Uhmm.. I have been around for a lot of social activities and charity and all that. A few months back one of the Party leaders saw me give a speech at the Agriculture workers and Environmental Activists seminar. He asked me if I would like to volunteer for Party work – you know, they do a lot of socially relevant activities. So I joined, I put forward my own initiatives also and… some of them very quite impressed it seems. It was totally unexpected though, I was glad with the work I am doing right now!”

“A ticket for the Lok Sabha election! That is big!” Anu exclaimed.

“Well, as I said Maam, I never wanted any of it. I was happy doing my work… Well, I guess you get only the things you don’t want huh?” Gita gave her student a wink… Ashok made a long face at that comment.

“So, will you continue classes?”

“Oh yeah, I will. Till the exams get over! Anyways, I have to start! Bye!”

Love     

Bloody Blundaleomite – forgot two things. One, to say that and two, to wish my dear friend a very Happy Birthday!

Memoir

Day 1

I rushed to the cell-phone to call him up, but as I opened the flap of its cover, “11.55” glared at me on the face. Bloody Blundaleomite, what now!?

George – my childhood buddy and my best friend – We were always there for each other. He would do absolutely anything for me even at the darkest hour of night, and I had no shame in exploiting that right. Yesterday too I called him up at 11.30 pm to ask if he had read any review of “Happy New Year” and we ended up conducting a 2 hour virtual convention of the history of “SRK Cinema – How it fares against the rest of Bollywood”, accompanied by guest lectures on “How to succeed even if you have no talent” and “Why you fail even when you are bloody talented!” Yeah, the talk was a vulgar waste of time – But! the point is that I can use him like how an Iphone owner uses Siri. Well, the consequences did follow today morning.

My class starts at 6 am. I woke up at 6.10.

I remember very little of what happened today morning, just a few fragments of memory. Like, I remembering running outside my house and slapping my forehead when I reached the main-road – only then did I realise that I hadn’t brushed my teeth that morning. I also remember jumping, Literally Jumping into the first auto rickshaw that came my way, shouting “Mylapore! Quick! Take whatever you want!” Trust me, the most stupid thing you want to tell an auto-rickshaw driver in Chennai.

But from the second I reached class, each memory is as clear as crystal – unmarred by even the lightest finger-print. I stood outside the door peaking inside to know where I could find place to sit. Classes are usually full by 5.55 itself – Translation, “I was DOOMED!” I tenderly walked inside the classroom, squeezing myself between the desks, looking for the slightest gap in farthest corner and finding absolutely no luck. Within 4 minutes I had completely run the teaching faculty off his patience. A shockwave passed through my body as I heard, “Aye! YOU!”

Slowly, helplessly, I turned to face my guru – not such a good sight. But he was a nice man, before I could come up with a story he shouted, “What do you think you are doing disturbing the class and spoiling my lecture! Settle down!” As if I didn’t want to. I looked around frantically, Somebody? Anybody? Help?

“Aye! Come…” Oh no! “Come and sit here.” He directed me to the chair that was literally under his nose. A drop of tear ran down my cheeks… the last time I cried before that was when Dad refused to buy me a water-gun. And if sitting in the front bench, in front of the entire class that stared at me continuously for 5 minutes as I walked to the front and settled down, wasn’t bad enough, I also had to listen to a lecture – not the normal ones, but the really Angry ones, the ones you don’t want to hear. A lecture that ran for one full hour about being “On Time”. I felt a thousand fingers point at me for each word he said.

Today morning I had learnt, the hard way, that I cannot afford to stay up a minute after midnight and swore to repeat it never again. Until the clock ticked to 11.55 pm. I had to make the call…

I stared are the cell for 4 minutes. I had my classes, I had a promise to keep, a reputation to hold, an embarrassment to wash away – there was no way I could be late again.

But… but… the clock struck 12, and I made the call…

To be continued…

Love

Renaissance is coming...

Flowers! The walls adorned by it all around, the stage curtained by it all around, the floor carpeted by it all around. Decorations that were truly unmatched. The feast for the eyes was indeed unending as guests kept pouring into the wedding function, all carrying an exquisite aura of beauty with them. Designer sarees (sometimes too flashy), glamorous jewellery (sometimes too heavy), modern salwars (sometimes too light) and just the right amount of make-up (no comments). But no amount of sarcasm could steal the ambience, for if the make-up irritated you, the magnetic rhythm of wedding music gave you a smile, the non-stop supply of snacks made you giggle and the splash of children all around made you laugh.

The more poetic version of myself would have added that - the entire idea of two souls coming together to share a life-time was in itself such a bliss. The opportunity to be part of such an event, to soak in yourself some of that air that couldn’t be filled with more love – that itself was equal to a hundred thousand reasons to be merry. The delicate romance that added so much beauty to the flowers; it was enough to make the moments I spent at the wedding worth cherishing.

However, that poetic version of Aravind, your humble narrator, will never surface because of one atrocious, ridiculous, cruel and merciless aspect of such functions – socializing. Every time my parents spotted me, they would call me over to get the blessing of some grey head whom my grand-parents held in great regard. Or to say “Hi” to some aunty and uncle who had last seen me when I could barely walk.

Just as another bunch of draconian possibilities passed through my head I felt a pat on my left shoulder. “Thank God you are here already. I was wondering what I would do all alone over here.” I turned around and saw the only reason why I didn’t say an outright “No” whenever my parents called me to attend such functions – my first cousin and my best friend – Pooja.

“Hello Uncle! Hi Aunty!” I greeted her parents. “Hello Aravind! How are you, where is your father?” Pooja’s dad asked in single sentence. I directed them to my parents and Pooja joined my to the safe spot I had identified, a place where my parents couldn’t see me.

“Had you been late by 2 more minutes and I would have slit your throat – “

“Sorry, sorry”, Pooja cut me. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not much, just 5 minutes… I was starting to suffocate!”

“And what were you planning to do?”

“I knew you would come soon”, I sat down and pulled my cell-phone out of my jeans. “Would have listened to some songs till then.” But that wasn’t required. Pooja had come to my rescue!

I don’t know how it happens, but my cousin and I, without the slightest effort, can manage to weave a conversation that can last for an entire day. Much more if you ask me, but we have never given it a shot.

 

“A real loss man. Almost cried when India missed it by 3 runs yesterday”, our conversation began over lunch this way. Wait! Now the narrator is confused, should I tell you about the conversation first or the lunch? Obviously lunch!

Having such a heavy meal was another part of marriages that I abhorred as a child. But 3 years of CA Articleship coupled with bachelor life has taught me to make the best out of a meal – Especially when it is a free meal.

The leaf was place on the table and 11 colourful dishes were served in quick succession and in bright contrast to the green leaf. I managed to eat up the lion’s share of the side dishes even before rice was served, so the waiters had to bring me another round of those 11 side dishes. Sambar was poured and before I was done with it I had taken in 3 pappadams and one glass of payasam. As rasam was served, I requested for another round of curries and one more pappadam and at one point of time I found waiters standing guard for me for 5 whole minutes. I even recall Pooja saying that she noticed the event manager direct his men to depute someone exclusively for my service. I was unperturbed by any of those developments – as a matter of fact I would be indifferent even if the CA Final results had been announced at that very moment, as long was curd was served on demand.

“I don’t know why that useless captain waits till the last over. Why does he want to slog it till the end?” The sentence was followed by swears for Dhoni. Pooja gets extremely frustrated when a match is lost, and she ensures that every single thought inside her head is outside her mouth then and there.

“Look at that! He loses one match and all of a sudden the nation turns against him!” I made the more reasonable comment and my cousin concurred.

“But the point is, nobody is a Dhoni fan. We are all fans of team India! We rejoice when India wins. And we are upset when India loses. The people responsible for it will be blamed, no matter whom.”

“That is a contentious comment Pooja. I guess we do adore the players more than the team.  Sachin, Yuvraj – Big names! It is them that we love.”

“Maybe, may not be. And I don’t care about the rest of the world”, Pooja began. “I am a girl who cried when my history teacher explained the story of Jallianwallah Bagh. I am a girl who jumped up in joy as I was taught about the Quit India Movement. And I am sure you would not differ with me over here either would you? We had resolved selfless commitment to the service of our nation in second standard; remember?” I nodded with a smile.

“The sense of patriotism is rooted within us too deeply. And little has changed over time as far as I am concerned. Mera Bharat Mahan”

 

The bride and groom were seated on a swing and their relatives were engaged in a musical concert that timed with the swinging couple.

“Do you remember that APJ Abdul Kalam had said that a revolution is going to come in our country? That India will become a developed nation by 2020?” Pooja asked. I hushed her before some of the elders would turn around to give us a glare.

And that is how Pooja is! Absolutely unaware of what goes on around her, what others think of her, how others perceive her. As a matter of fact she could be the only girl who had come to the marriage with absolutely no make-up on. No extra jewellery. The most simple dress one could wear at a wedding. Simple yet elegant. She says whatever comes to her mind with the least sense of regret. Once when we were in 9^th grade, the teacher said, “Get out of class if anybody is not interested!” This girl stood up to give the teacher a 5 minute lecture about how boring the class was… And the look of innocence on her face after the lecture was over – Unbelievable! She simply did not understand what wrong she had committed. The entire class was entertained by Pooja’s tirade against our teacher, but the expression on her face at the end was truly the highlight of the century.

“Yes, I remember!” I whispered back to her question.

“Do you think we need a revolution?”

“Well…” I did not pause to think. This was one question that had come to mind over a million times. “We are not in a situation like Egypt or Syria”, I began. “We are a developing nation, there is a lot of development in our country and we are growing at a steady pace. We have a strong political system, stable government, efficient military and all that.

“But India was once the golden bird of the world. The country of peace and harmony. The nation of riches and happiness. The state of glory! The place where poverty did not exist, where crime did not exist, history is witness to an era where India was utopia! And I feel…

“And I feel that a revolution must come… A revolution will come… A revolution that will take us there!”

 

Our conversation about a revolution went on and on and reached the conclusion of the wedding. Few of the close relative of the bride and groom had stood up to speak a few words about the young couple and bless them.

“Religion continues to split us”, I spoke and Pooja nodded. She was full of spirit and spoke vehemently.

“You are right. It would be so much better if everybody was one. If all the religions merged! Maybe… maybe… Like through marriages!” She exclaimed

“I think we have heard enough speeches from the previous generation”, the bride’s father announced from the dais. “Now why don’t we hear what the next generation has to say about this wedding. Would any youngster over here like to speak a few words please?”

Pooja turned around and raised her hand – and I slapped my head as hard as I could. This could only mean trouble. “Pooja DON’T!” I shouted, but she had already stood up and the bride’s father announced. “Yes, Pooja! My daughter’s childhood friend, so many memories you would have to share… Please come on stage and speak a few words.”

“I would like to wish my dear, dearest friend Keerthana, and her loving husband Dev, a very happy, prosperous, joyful and wonderful life ahead!” She began. I crossed my fingers and prayed that she would end it with that.

“I have been a friend of Keerthana for such a long time, maybe as long as I can remember. And we have been together in every step of our life. I was right there with her even when her parents had posted an ad in the matrimonial website!” She said with a smile and I knew that the volcano was starting to erupt. It was all over.

“And as I looked into the website to see her ad, I was amused! I was amused at the way the website was built and how her ad was posted. ‘Tamil Brahmin Girl from Kerala!’ And the website allowed people to choose a bride from their same caste and even sub-caste.

“Since school days I have been taught that it is this worm that is destroying our society and culture. Caste and religion. For the past 70 years it is dividing the nation again and again and again, in various forms. The greatest impediment to a dream called ‘A United India’

“How to unite people? How to convince the world that we are all one? One and the same! How to bring everybody together?” She paused for a second and uttered the one word I kept praying she wouldn’t say, “Marriages! Youngsters should come forward and be brave to marry someone from another religion. Parents should be broad minded and try to choose an alliance from another religion. To create a new World!”

Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, “Once again I wish this couple a Happy Married Life! And I also wish every couple to come in the future, from whichever religion, from whichever caste – A Very Prosperous Life!” She bowed and walked from the stage. I saw the elders seated in front turn red. Old ladies mumbled amongst themselves, and as Pooja neared me, the buzz of gossip chat had turned intense. Pooja and I received notorious glares from all around. Pooja’s father quickly rushed to us, “Let’s go!” and walked away with his wife, his head bowed down, her mother’s face covered in shame.

 

“I have seen you give a lot of stupid speeches in life but this was beyond all limits!?” I shouted at her over the phone that night.

“What did I say wrong?” Pooja asked me over a sob.

“Pooja... what were you trying to do? Create a revolution? HOW CAN YOU BE STUPID?” The anger in my voice reached a fever pitch. At the other end I could hear only a mumbled sob. As if she was trying to say something but the tears gushed out and choked her voice.

“Pooja…” I regretted my anger. I tried to console her but she broke down. I could hear her cry breathlessly.

“Pooja, I am sorry… It’s ok, it’s ok, don’t worry…”

“I… I wasn’t trying to create a revolution…” She spoke over her tears. After a pause, she brushed away her running nose, steadied her voice and continued slowly, “Aravind… you are wrong. This was not a revolution!”

Pausing after each word, taking deep breathes, she spoke slowly, “Maybe I thought I could have created a revolution. I still think I can create a revolution. The revolution that you spoke about. But what happened today… That was not Revolution…

“It was Renaissance… I said what I had to… and I earned the curse of 400 people sitting there. I can hear it, each and every person present at the marriage is cursing me right now. But I am sure Aravind…” Pooja’s voice turned deep. The sobbing was replaced by conviction, a very strong sense of purpose. I could feel it seep into my body, the intensity in her voice! “I am sure, that one youngster sitting there would have agreed to my speech! Maybe a hundred would have laughed at me, but one of them agreed with me. I can feel it Aravind, and I know that she will concur in action. She will marry someone outside her religion and one day she will give a speech! And her words won’t be chided like mine!

“Her words will be heard by a hundred. And those hundred will inspire a thousand.

“All of us have ideas… thoughts, imaginations, ambitions, passion, solutions, dreams… This generation is special! And this generation has the fire. Spread the ideas, speak out your dreams…. This generation is going to sow the seeds… Aravind –

“Renaissance is coming…”

Love

The Water Bottle

            Probably the most abominable character in a human being is the attitude of looking at nothing but the fault in another. And in most of us the attitude is so developed that it has evolved into a skill. By sharpening your focus on ‘him’ and ‘her’ one turns a blind eye to their own flaws. And if your senses are not so sharp, no worries; by having gained knowledge of the wrongdoings of every other soul in the society, you are fully justified in saying, “He does worse things. When compared to that, there is absolutely nothing wrong in what I am doing…”

            Probably this is what makes preachers take austere measures. “Do not resort to violence”, says him. “Then why does our country have an army? Then why do we have weapons?” Now what kind of answer do you have for such idiotic questions? Yes, questions of equivalent idiocy are being raised in the attempt of defending or covering up a crime. A crime - including anything from watching a pirated movie to littering the streets. Add on to that the shameless dialogue, “When is our country going to become like Singapore or UK? Any idea how neat thing are in the US”.

            Such is the irony that lies ahead of our nation. All of us are hell bent on demanding our rights and pointing fingers. Politicians are the front runners in the game as the incumbent party blames the opposition and vice-versa. But wait, there are scenes more hilarious than that. When you want to see it, just look at yourselves blaming the politicians for everything that is wrong in the nation! Look at yourselves blaming those in power for blaming each other and not doing their job. Look at yourselves making claims over the hard earned tax-payers’ money, as we go about doing just about anything to get our hands on first opportunity of a tax break. “NO! Never!” you say? So you will say a no if I offer a 50K worth mobile for 40K. The ones without a guarantee or a bill…

            Such is the idiocy that has infected the nation that even your humble blogger has taken so much time and effort in making a shamelessly hypocritical jibe at his fellow citizens. I feel embarrassed.

            I am guilty of pointing fingers. I am also guilty of committing every other crime as aforementioned. But this voice does not merely scream in an attempt to pass on the blame. This is the voice that represents the hope of those who want to change the nation. I am not talking about those few hundreds who are desperate to create a revolution, but I speak to that part of the heart of every youngster in this nation of a billion who aspires for a revolution!

First they ignore you

Then they laugh at you

Then they fight you

And then you win

            So if you ever intend to drive a message to the world, a blog like this will never suffice. Neither will a thousand speeches or sermons or prayers or any of that. Go on a fast for a week and then people take notice, that is, they no longer ignore you and start laughing at you. Go a step further and they might fight you. What must you do to win? I don’t know… the question is wide open. But as a first step, you can stop pointing fingers.

            Oh, and by the way, why such a title you ask me? My friend tossed a water bottle into the river. And when I chided him for that he was quick to respond, “You were the one who bought the plastic bottle in the first place. Buying it bad enough, I just disposed it. You are at fault!”

P.S. Many Many Birthday Wishes to the person who made me as I am today. To the person who made me, literally actually! And not to mention, the person behind the signature of each blog, I have been reserving it in this post for the right moment, and here it is. "Bloody Blundaleomite" - Happy Birthday DAD!!!

        And a thousand wishes to that person to whom a part of my heart has been given on permanent lease and the monthly rentals couldn't be more irregular. Anyways, don't ever tell me you didn't get a birthday gift, this one is exclusive! Birthday Wishes Machaane!

Love

Rated 10 on 10

MANY MANY HAPPY RETURNS OF THE DAY TO MY MOST BEAUTIFUL SISTER WHO CELEBRATES HER BIRTHDAY TOMORROW! Normally birthday wishes occupy the post-scripts in my blog but for the person, who might be the only one who has read all my blogs and continues to read each and every one of them the day they are updated - sis, without you Writer's World might not have survived. Thank You! Here is a little story with a special dedication to you.

"It's the Best", "Never seen anything like it", "DUDE! You are an idiot for not seeing it yet!", "You shouldn't be living in this world for not watching the movie!", "That movie.... that is the meaning of true love. You CANNOT miss it man!"

ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! Ughh.... Do any of you know that feeling? Of being the only person who hasn't seen a movie and that happens to be the best movie ever!? Have you been through that trauma where literally everyone - no exceptions, no ifs or buts, no conditions at all - Everyone gives the movie a 10 on 10 rating! And you haven't seen it yet.

And what's worse, I am an out and out movie buff! I am the kind of guy who makes it a point to catch every movie, and that too on the date of release itself. I am the kind of guy who enjoys any kind of cinema irrespective of the amount of masala smothered over it or the level of dehydration it has suffered under the excuse of "Art". Notwithstanding all the sarcasm, I enjoy and appreciate and love all the movies, even the ones hated by all. Yes, hated by all! I come out of the theatre, emerging from a crowd which is almost suicidal for having been through the kind of agony the film had to offer and still walk around with a smile - There is no "bad movie" in my dictionary. And now this movie comes out... Which is LOVED by all, loved my meters and measures that drive me nuts and I HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET!

And what's worser? It is a love story. Alright, why this little piece of information makes me excited is another story - a little flashback. There is this girl in class.... whom I really like... and.... don't get irritated guys, there are certain things that even a writer struggles to say. Anyways, I really like her and want to propose. But ofcourse, the worstest disaster struck me. She put her arms around me, pecked my cheek and said, "I love you so much. You are like a big brother to me!" I got BRO-ZONED!

Yes, you are right. It is officially the worst thing that can happen to a guy, much ahead of polio, cancer and even AIDS. Jokes apart (a crude one - sorry), I really really like her and I feel that the romantic content of this movie can change her mind. *What an idea sirji!?*

Alas! God and his cruel jokes! Why o why? Why is the world so mean? What ‘mean’ you ask? Day 1 - Booked the ticket. But mom wanted me to go to the temple with her and it was a command I couldn't disobey. Day 2 - Booked the ticket. Minutes before college disbursed, our professor announces the last date of project submission and arghhh.... Movie Concelled. Day 3 - Booked the ticket. Her mom wants her to go to the temple and apparently it was a command she couldn't disobey. The saga continued till day 11! You feel angry reading this blog? Imagine the plight of the writer who had to LIVE this!

Now all this might seem bad, cruel, unjust, unfortunate and all that. But when it comes to The Destiny tournament, do you know what the most atrocious rule of the game is - Good luck strikes only when you hit rock bottom! Only when you have exhausted every swear word in and out of the dictionary does college declare a strike and my love "happens" meet a generous friend who gives her two tickets to this movie. I mean seriously God, you could have saved yourself from so many curses had my love met her friend a couple of days back. And you would have saved me from all this guilt! Sometimes I wonder who even made God in charge of everything?

Yeah, yeah, I am not complaining. Moving on... 

After 60 days I walk into the air-conditioned comfort of Escape, staring at the big screen playing up-coming trailers which freeze me instantaneously. I hold her hand and watch the trailer a couple of times till she pulls me into the theatre. I make a small detour and pull her towards the... what do you call it? The food section or whatever... and gape at over-priced french fries, over-prices soft-drinks, over-priced icecreams and over priced water and order one of each. She says, "No need of all that!" but I insist. Our first date after-all.

Gutka Suresh does his job (For those of you who don’t know Gutka Suresh, he is that guy who appears in a No-Smoking ad before every movie), the lights are turned off, the AC is soothing, her hand is next to me and the screen turns on the magic. There is music, an intro-scene followed by the credits that is accompanied by the same music – enthralling. The entire theatre is glued to the screen, watching with unwavering eyes, capturing every micro-second with such rapt attention that it makes me wonder – with half this concentration in class you can so easily clear CA.

*Umph* I hear a groan behind me. *Ugh*Ugh* I hear a very peculiar sound, it kind of sounds like laughter but there was something odd about the noise. I swear at the unknown source of the weird noise and focus on the movie. The male and female protagonists had just been introduced, the story was moving at an increasing pace, totally gripping. I held on to the seats, anxious about every next scene, hilarious comedy, heart-breaking tragedy, all of it had been wrapped up into such a fine mixture, so delicate in its composure that it pierces into your heart like the thinnest of knives and leaves a scar which one can carry forever. The movie didn’t have an interval (for a change), the heroine were just about to – “Arghhh!!!” Bloody Blundaleomite, I heard that voice again. I is it creating disturbance at such a crucial moment. My necks snaps backward showing a face flushed with and see a boy sitting with a girl… talking to each other… in signs.

For a moment my eyes flicker between the screen and the couple. I notice the hero dive into a building that’s on fire to save the girl stuck in the 17^th floor and I look at the young man narrating the story to his deaf friend. As the hero burnt himself, the deaf girl cried in shock, and as the girl in the movie screamed for her man, the deaf girl bore a glow in her face. And her friend tirelessly narrated each and every word uttered, each and every sound that came out of the movie. I tap my friend's hand and show her the ‘side-track of the movie’.

“The hero is waiting for his lover’s call. He is mumbling something under his breath, cursing his girlfriend for not calling her until finally he hears a ring in the phone. He pounces at the cell to pick it up, only to find that he was shortlisted for a very exciting post-paid offer from customer care”, the boy explains a scene in the movie to his friend. And the girl reacts…. Priceless! My friend and I watch the scene in awe. Not on the screen, but the one being narrated by the boy. The reactions of the girl who cannot hear anything what’s happening in the theatre, who is oblivious to everything but the signs shown by her friend, and the joy she derives from watching a movie through his hands… let me just tell you, the joy I derived out of watching her reactions was simply out of this world.

“They are many a times. Life – so much more fun around us that on the screen!” My friend tells me and leans on my shoulder. The movie gets over, everybody gets up to applaud the cinema and my head is still turned around looking at the young couple. I see the young girl, so childish in her cheers, and her boy-friend, so mature in his efforts. They hold hands and walk out of the theatre.

Love