The Coward!

Mr Mehta picked up two crimson apples, polished so well that they shined under the light of setting sun. The sky, above him, was inundated with soothing amber and mauve. A cool breeze was caressing his hairs. He felt the same amount of serenity and tranquility insinuating his conscience. He asked the fruit vendor, for the price of apples and paid the amount to him without bargaining for a few rupees. For the first time, in years, he felt contended with life. He chose not to take a rickshaw home like everyday. But today it was not to save the extra money, but to enjoy the walk home. There were no regrets of the past and fears of the future. A very subtle feeling of happiness flowed inside his heart. He kept on smiling while looking at the people and their love for each other while they talked or walked hands in hands. Arrival of a new goon as a political leader was a hot topic discussed among the elders. For him, there were no expectations about future. “All this time I was wasting my time and energy on all these things; these stupid ideologies, verbal brawls and intellectual masturbation”, he contemplated. How feeble and futile these things seemed to him today. Looking at the innocent faces of kids, glowing under the streetlight, while they played, brought a smile on his face. “How ignorance can prove to be a pure bliss sometimes”, he thought.

After reaching home, he turned on the television, and put his favourite movie on. It took him to the memories of his past, when he used to sit and enjoy his evenings with his wife, and release all the tiredness of the day. He took out a pen and a paper from his bag and wrote a letter to his wife; something he wanted to do since long but could not gather enough strength. His heart was flooded with immense grief and he started crying profusely. With trembling hands, he finished his letter, folded it and put it aside. The pain evaporated swiftly and he was calm once again. It did not matter how she would react to that letter or if she is going to believe him or not.

His concentration shifted back to the movie. He ordered his favorite cuisine from one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Money was not a problem anymore. He stuffed himself in his cozy sofa, picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds, a sharp voice said “Hello”.

It was overwhelming for him to talk with his best friend after a long time. He felt a sudden conflict of emotions while he talked. They both talked for hours, about college and old memories; how their lives turned and things changed. His friend asked if they could meet up sometime but Mehta told him that he was getting transferred to a different location for some work. They ended the conversation with gentle smiles on their faces and promises of staying in touch. He went back to his ruminations, thinking how precious these memories of the times spent with his friends are. How he had obliviously annexed so many things to cherish and be thankful for.

He was grateful for all the things and all those people, he never realized were an important part of his life. Suddenly, he felt appreciative about little gestures and acts of affection people had bestowed upon him in time. He yearned for a single chance to just thank them and tell them how special they are to him.

Love, life, friendship, they all seemed so meaningless at this point of time. It all seized to make any sense. They were not the things to be understood. It was something which sprouted in the soul and grew without any control. Hatred, jealousy, anger never affected the other person. It was affecting him in the worst manner. It was peculiar to know that people always saw him or perceived him, the way they wanted to or the way they could. Perhaps, nobody ever saw him or regarded him in a way in which he thought he deserved. It was an eerie feeling to know that nobody ever understood him perfectly the way he was and how he wasted enormous time in impressing others, trying to achieve a formidable task.

The doorbell rang and he was snapped out of his ruminations with a jerk. He shrugged and stood up. It was as if all the strength was sucked out of his knees and the whole weight of his body was transferred to his head. He reached the door, bobbing and wobbling. A boy in his teens was standing at the door, carrying a permanently painted smile on his face. He paid for the food and went back to his sofa, carefully locking the door.

The food smelt like heaven but his appetite had come to a naught because of the weariness. “Eating a lot was not a good option before going on a long journey” he said to himself and giggles. He put the food aside and took out the apples he had purchased on his way home.

He brought the sharpest knife from kitchen and very slowly and gently cut the apples into small pieces. With the same attention, he picked up the pieces and put them in his mouth, one by one. Carefully observing and enjoying the savory taste of the fruit, in order to calm down and relax his mind again.

He then sat down with the knife in his right hand and his left hand stretched out, resting on his left thigh. His head hung low and heart beating faster than ever. A series of events from his past kept flashing in his mind. He gasped, blew out with force. He then looked up, closed his eyes and cut himself swiftly. Blood poured out of his left wrist. His eyes were blinded and he fell back on the couch. The journey, for which he was preparing himself, began.

It took a lot of courage for him to become a coward.

A note was found in his pocket, soaked in blood. It read, “I am not quitting, neither have I lost the will to persevere. I just believe that I have done all I could wish to do in life, I don’t need no more. I chose death over life, happily and peacefully.”

Nawalgarh Diaries!!!

Having been born and brought up in Delhi, I never thought that I will get a chance to experience living in a village. After completing my graduation, I was confused about what I wanted to do next. Glad that I did not opt for an MBA or CA, but ended up being a part of an organisation which introduced me to this place called Nawalgarh. Talking about the small town situated in the Jhunjhunu district of Rajasthan state. Yes, even I had not heard about Jhunjhunu until I got placed there. Coming from a metro and working in a village was an incredible experience. It was as if my whole life had flipped. A lot of things changed. Some really beautiful changes like sleeping under the stars, breathing fresh air, sipping tea on roadside stall, and nonetheless squat toilet. But it did not take much time to adjust with village life because of its simplicity.

After working there for 16 long months and enjoying every aspect of living as a villager, the journey ended before time and I came back to my birth place. Not after very long, I visited the place again. After travelling all night, I reached there at 5.00 in the morning. The mildly cold breeze took away all the tiredness of the journey in a moment. I picked my bag up and started walking. It was a strong feeling of home coming. I did not feel the same when I came to Delhi after 16 months that I had when I went back to Nawalgarh after 16 days. There is no comparison between massive, intimidating flyovers and the small village roads. Even the roads, the streets, made me feel connected. The most amazing attribute of a small town is that you get to know each and every nook and corner of the place. The one and only movie theatre, where I saw some really good movies with only my friends present in the entire hall. Never mind the torn and broken seats, tobacco spit and poor sound quality; the place still managed to score more points than any luxurious multiplex of Delhi. None of those facilities can surpass the comfort of sitting in that hall. Not to forget the most exciting part of village life; sitting at a tea stall, chatting, eating samosa and obviously sipping tea. CCD, Barista and Starbucks; they all are amazing, but sipping tea during sunset complimented by the slow village life, where everything shuts down after 8, is just out of the world. As I mentioned, how even the streets or roads extend a feeling of belongingness; there is no doubt about how the innocent and simple people make you feel. It seems, even the nature resides there in its pure form, unlike cities, where even the sunlight, the rain, early morning breeze also appear fabricated.

If you want to know the true meaning of hospitality, you should definitely visit an Indian village. Their face exhibits, how true and honest their hospitality and love is. I will definitely miss having tea and ‘chhachh’ forcibly, whenever we were invited to someone’s place. This place has given me so much that I will never be able to pay it back. Innumerable memories, beautiful relations, and huge amount of love and affection have been showered on me. Before this episode, if someone asked me about my native village, I would say I don’t have one. But now, I will very elatedly say that I have a native village; my second home, and that is Nawalgarh. I might get many chances to visit multiple other villages but the amount of affection that I have annexed for this place will always be on the top.

A heartfelt gratitude for all those people who introduced me to this place, who walked beside me in this journey and all those people I met in Nawalgarh. I am overwhelmed. J

BE FULL OF LIFE!

Be an open book to everyone, yet become an unsolved mystery.
Be madly lost in your own world.
Irritate people; in fact annoy them beyond the limits, obviously with love.
Let people talk shit about you, let them hate you from the core.
You are anyway not going to be loved or liked by everyone.
Try it, and you will fail miserably.
Be what you are. Now don’t try to find out what you are in order to be it.
Instead, learn to live with all your shortcomings.
You were not supposed to be perfect. You were not supposed to always be awesomely well behaved.
Be a rebel in true sense. Fight for what you believe is right.
Probably you are going against the usual.
Sometimes even your brain says you are wrong. Listen to your heart instead.
Maybe you are the change, so be it. Have not all the systems and institutions evolved since the beginning?
You are as special an individual as anyone else on this planet, prove it.
Do whatever you want to do. ‘Whatever’, that doesn’t hurt others.
Be a maverick. Don’t let others dominate you.
Don’t try to dominate others. Inspire instead.
 Make mistakes, do blunders. But, try not to repeat them.
Even if you do; remember not to be overly critical about yourself.
Become a mirror. A mirror which reflects the way every soul out there wants to live. Show them the freedom they want to see.
Make that visible in your eyes.
The world is going to think you are crazy. They might think you are spoiling your life. Don’t feel bad about it. Don’t think they are cruel.
After all, they themselves are the victims of this same institution. Rise and shine.
As rumi says, “If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished?”

Be full of yourself. BE FULL OF LIFE!

THE OTHER SIDE!

It was a long road; long and narrow. A few people were standing on both ends of the road. They were furious about something, I don’t know what. Blood was flowing in their eyes; their hearts were definitely wrecked, I thought. On one side, there were slogans of “jai shri ram” and on the other side “allah-hu-akbar”. It was scary; very scary, to see clubs and spears in their hands. The group on the right proclaimed that someone who belonged from the opposite sect had demolished their temples hundreds of years ago. The other group said that their families were tortured and tormented in the past. Both of them feared that the other group is trying to appease them and that their future was in danger. They got more furious with every passing minute and started pelting stones at each other. Some of them even used bullets and bombs to get rid of their enemy. Perhaps, they were right in their ways. They wanted to make peace through war, I guess; for they all said that they believe in peace and equality. Perhaps, it is wise to avenge the actions of our ancestors by acting exactly in the same manner like they did. Maybe our next generation will enjoy peace and not fall into the same cycle of revenge by killing each other. Yes, they were doing right. But the sad part is that their stones, bullets and bombs never reached the other side. It ended up hitting a pool of thousands of innocent people standing in the middle of the road who had nothing to do with these acts of violence. They had already achieved peace and harmony by choosing a different path i.e. ‘forgiveness’. There was a state of chaos among all those innocent people as the arson spread and the bullets rained. I was standing in the centre, looking at the scene with deep morose. I could manage see a couple of people standing on the dais on both the sides. They had an evil grin on their face and their eyes reflected satisfaction. A bullet pierced through my chest and escaped from my back. Everything turned mute in a second and my eyes were blinded. There was ultimate peace and tranquillity, mixed with pain. I think I saw ‘allah’ and ‘ram’ crying; before I collapsed on the ground and found peace.  

The cup of friendship!

It was a lazy Sunday evening. The sky was colour of mustard with the clouds forming a wall of black smoke playing around the setting sun. It had stopped pouring and the earth was drenched in water spreading a pleasant smell all around the busy place. Mr. Salunke was sitting in a coffee shop on a red coloured table placed in the corner near the glass door and despondently watching people entering and leaving the place. It was painted in yellow and red, and some amazing photographs gave a captivating look to the walls. He turned his gaze towards the chair across him, lying vacant, and gasped. 

Mr Salunkhe was an aristocratic man in his late thirties. He had been sitting in the same place for about an hour now, lost in thoughts about the past. He took out his ID card and placed it on the table. It read, Mr Sachin Salunke, M.D., Sunrise corporation pvt. Ltd.

 A 23 year old guy wearing a black uniform with a red cap which had the logo of the coffee shop printed on it, approached Mr. Salunke. It was the 7th time he had come to take an order but had found no way to bring Mr. Salunke out of his reverie.

 It had again started drizzling intermittently. As a young couple entered the coffee shop, the wind brought in a few drops of rainwater which found its resting place on Mr. Salunke’s right hand. The cold water spread a sudden rush of current in his whole body and he was snapped out of his musings. He looked at the boy standing in front of him.

The boy asked- “what would you like to order sir? “

Mr Salunke replied in his state of stupor- “a cup of friendship “. The boy was bewildered by the statement and replied politely- “sorry sir, we do not serve any such beverage here, would you like to order something else? “.

 He got up with a blank look on his face and left the coffee shop. Outside, street urchins were busy playing in water and mud. Fruit and vegetable vendors carried on with their errands as usual. He was feeling a little dizzy and heavy in the head. The refreshing breeze was not helping him feel any better. For a few seconds he kept looking into vacuum and then started walking slowly.

Mr Saluke turned right and walked inside a silent narrow street that was just adjacent to the busy road bustling with cars and bikes, running in a panicky fashion. The moon was full and radiant, looking like a pearl glowing in the dark sky and giving it a colour of dazzling silver. The gentle breeze wafted with it faint smell of the flowers. The path was muddy with trees protecting it from both the sides. He could feel the softness of mud beneath his feet which drifted him away towards the memories of his past. The sweet smell from a myriad of flowers, lying crushed on the ground, made him revisit the times when he was a young and enthusiastic boy of 11.

He belonged to a small village on the outskirts of the city he was currently working in. He could still picture the whole map of his village and his childhood memories. There were about 50 families in the village and most of them earned their bread through farming or working for a daily wage.

Salunke’s father used to run a small tea shop located in the middle of the village. It was a small thatched hut with space just enough for 2 people. In front of the shop, there was a huge tree with a round concrete platform around its bark. The hut was located on the side of a road which connected the village from the city. This was a resting point for all the fellow villagers and also the place where males from the villages got together for some merriment. It was also the place where all the important issues about village were discussed. Salunke’s home was just a few minutes walk away from the shop. It was a small house made up of red bricks with a roof covered by metal sheets.

Life in the village was simple yet full of contentment but Salunke had his eyes towards the sky. A good thing, only if his feet remained on the ground.

It was the year of 1988, when “Chhotu” joined Salunke’s tea shop. He was a dark skinned, thin boy; maybe the same age as that of Salunke. He looked starved and destitute but this never failed to rob him of his vibrant smile, which went from ear to ear.

In no time, both chhotu and Salunke became friends. Salunke would share his day in school and all his lessons. Chhotu was intrigued by all that but was never envious of him. He always had the hint of tranquillity on his taut face.

Salunke taught him english during the free time. They both played in the fields until the stars emerged in the sky. The friendship and the bond kept on getting stronger with passing days.

One hot evening during the month of June, when both of them were resting under a tree after playing for hours; Salunke got to know about chhotu’s journey. Perhaps, it was the amount of love and comfort chhotu had received from Salunke and his family that overwhelmed him. Or Maybe, he just wanted to narrate his story to someone he could trust; that he could consider as his own. His story came out in one breath, all the time avoiding looking straight into salunke’s eyes.  Thereby succeeding in hiding most of his pain, otherwise reflected in his eyes.

Salunke accidentally hit a stone with his right foot and wobbled. The pain he felt by the collision was nothing compared to the amount of pain he felt because of the burden of these memories. He was feeling giddy; so he sat down on a large rock that had been lying patiently in the woods since years. He heard a noise of crumbling  leaves behind him, as someone came rushing out of the bush. He stirred violently out of fear, trying to open his eyes as wide as possible to cover the maximum view. The look in his eyes changed from horror to contempt, when he saw a young couple in their teenage coming out of the bush. He shrugged and turned his head in opposite direction. An eerie silence invaded the dark in a few minutes and Salunke again dipped into his musings.

Since the day, Azhar, for that was chhotu’s name, had shared his life with Salunke; they both felt more connected to each other. Salunke thought of Azhar as his own brother. Both, his father and his sister were happy to see them both together and dreamt of their bright future.

Years passed by, and time flew by in a blink of eye. Salunke had passed 11th class and applied for a number of colleges in the city. He was a bright student and had scored good marks. He got admission in a renowned college and started planning to leave his village for higher studies. His father was old and sick but he did not worry about him, as Azhar was there to look after him. He had also taken responsibility of the shop. Salunke’s sister had married a decent guy from surrounding village and was happily living with her new family.

He left his home and started living in the college hostel. Soon, he made new friends out there and the city life took control over him. He was engrossed in this absolutely different lifestyle but never forgot to visit his home from time to time. His father was exhilarated to see his son aspiring to do something big in his life and working hard for it. Salunke would sometimes bring his friends along to his village. All his friends knew about Azhar and their friendship. Though they tried to act normal, Azhar could sense that he was looked down upon by them. He chose not to say anything regarding it to Salunke. He thought that maybe he is getting it all wrong, and moreover, he knew that Salunke would never feel that way for him.

Time passed and after a year Salunke’s father met his end. Both Salunke and Azhar cremated their father’s body,crying  profusely.

After a few days, both of them regained their strength and moved on in life. Salunke went back to his studies and Azhar got busy with the shop. Now he was the only one left in the house. He would always tell Salunke to finish his studies and return home. It was a tough job for him to look after the property which did not belong to him. But he did not want to abandon it because it contained the memories of salunke’s father and the precious times they all had spent together in that house. On the contrary, Salunke thought of getting a suitable job in the city and settling there. He started supporting his expenses by doing a part time job in a BPO after college timings. Salunke’s visits to the village ebbed with time. He would bring his friends along most of the times and they all would drink and smoke all night. Azhar was not comfortable with it and his tolerance collapsed after he anticipated that the situation was going out of control and something had to be done about it. He spoke with Salunke and told him whatever he was doing was not right and he was disrespecting his father by allowing all these things to happen in this house.

Salunke was irritated as he thought that Azhar was crossing his limit. Infuriated by the interference, he yelled at Azhar and told him to stay away from his personal matters because he was just a mere servant who was looking after his property. Azhar was devastated by the words. He did not mind that Salunke scolded him in front of everyone but what struck him was that he was being despised by the person he loved the most. It felt as if someone was trying to pull a dagger out of his chest. The pain was trying to escape from his throat but he gulped it down. He tried to maintain his calm but spoke with grief in his voice “ Dear friend, I was a servant to your father, not you. I looked after this house because I loved him but I think, now that my beloved master is no more, I shall find a new job for me. I will resign from my work as soon as I find some other job. But if you want, I can leave as soon as possible.” He felt like he was orphaned once again. Tears managed to come out of the corners of his eyes. He turned his back towards Salunke and left the house.

Salunke was standing there, with his eyes full of shame as his face turned red. He wanted to apologize to Azhar but the presence of his friends resisted him from doing so. He felt as if his ears were on fire and his knees so numb that he would collapse on the ground any moment. The clock showed 2:00 in the morning and everybody decided to sleep. The night was long and painful for both of them.

After a month, whilst Salunke was coming out of his college after attending the classes; he saw Azhar standing in front of the gate. Their eyes met and they both smiled at each other. They shook hands, avoiding each others eyes. Salunke had already anticipated the purpose of Azhar’s visit. He asked him, if he would like to have a cup of coffee. Azhar refused but Salunke compelled him to join.

They both sat in front of a red, round shaped table.

All the memories about the past, the pranks, the laughs, everything was flashing in front of his eyes. His heart felt heavy as a stone. The silence was broken by a boy in black uniform. Salunke asked Azhar as to what he would like to have. Azhar looked at the boy with innocence and doubt in his eyes, then he moved his gaze towards Salunke. With trembling hands he reached for his bag and took out a long, thin glass out of it. It was the glass they used at the tea shop. Salunke was confused and asked Azhar for what it is.

In a low voice, he replied, “I could not afford an expensive gift for you, neither I had enough money to buy something suitable; so I thought I would gift you this cup which is going to remind you of our childhood memories and the place where we first met. Here take it. This, my friend, is a cup of friendship.”

They never met again.

काश इन्सान समझ पाता .

एक परिंदा नीले आसमान में,
पंख फैलाए,
देखता है धरती की ओर,
इस सोच में की,
कितना घिनौना है ये इंसान।

क्यों लड़ता है ये ,
मरता है ,
काले और गोरे के फर्क पर,
बड़े और छोटे के तर्क पर,
धर्म पर,
जात पर, रोता है,
अपने ही बनाये हालात पर।

रंग रूप,
कद काठी,
जो है कुदरत का दिया हुआ,
उस पर भी क्यों इतना इसने,
अभिमान है किया हुआ?

इतने में,
आदमी  ने उपर की ओर देखा,
परिंदा डरा,
और,
कही दूर उड़ चला,
उड़ते परिंदे को देख, आदमी बोला ,
क्या खूब,
कितना सुन्दर है ये परिंदा।

काश वो समझ पाता। 

Carpe Diem-Seize The Day

Couple of days back I saw a movie named “dead poets society” from which I took this quote ‘carpe diem.’
Although I did not like the movie much but the overall concept of the movie was interesting. It was
about how our education system is creating machines and not human beings and how we all need a
push to just be ‘ourselves’ and live our dreams.

Unlike many other college graduates, I chose for me a totally different path; working here at
Government schools of a village as a Gandhi Fellow. I will not say that I am working here to bring a
change in the society because I never thought about doing such work in past. But I can very strongly
say that I am here searching for the answer to a very important question,i.e., who am I?

And this is not probably because I am working here, but just because I am doing something which I
want to do. I agree that we all want a comfortable life, decent salary package, etc, but is it fair to
sacrifice your own self, your aspirations and your desires; to learn and to explore, and just get a
degree by studying something you are least interested in? You spend years of your grad in misery,
always asking yourself why exactly you are doing it and maybe, the answer is an obvious one- to
survive in this fast-paced world that that is possible only with academics. But is it, really?
I wonder why choosing a not-so-common path for your life has become a taboo. Why parents think
their children are not smart enough to think wisely for their future?
We all want our children to live with morals, like helping others, staying away from bad deeds and all
that theoretical shit. But when I am working here and finding it satisfying to help underprivileged
children of Government schools in getting what they deserve, then why on this holy planet should I
think about studying further so as to get a degree? or find a good job? Why is money becoming
everything for everyone? Obviously I do not deny that money plays an important role in our lives,
but there are hell lot of things which matter a lot than this piece of paper.
Learning about your own self, about the world you live in, finding answers about yourself is, I
believe, much bigger a thing. And that is what I am getting by choosing a ‘different’ path. What’s
frustrating is when, at times, you can’t convince others about it.

This is the first time I’m writing and this is just an effort to put my point and thoughts forward.

The second most frustrating thing for me is when people want you to believe blindly in an invisible
thing called GOD. And when you say that you don’t believe in his existence, I wonder why others
think that we are from an immature generation. They just don’t understand that we do not want to
follow blindly what our parents told us. Instead, we want to follow what we really believe in. Also,
not believing in God does not mean that there is god but I reject to believe in him, but it means that
I do not believe that there is something called God, at all.

I respect all the historical characters like Rama, Shiva etc, and I also respect books like Gita, Quran
etc. Also I have been reading philosophy lately and have started reading Quran. But it does not mean
that I have started believing in God. I would rather choose to follow what we learn from these
characters and books.

Unfortunately, maximum no. of people are just busy praying and singing and banging their heads in
front of these idols, something that I may call ‘blind following’. I think rather than doing this, they
should follow the real teachings of these characters.

For example, I hear these lines in Punjabi “awwal allah nooh upaya kudrat ke sab bande, ek noor se
sab jag upjeya kaun bhale kaun mande”. I don’t know the exact meaning of these lines but I
definitely know what their essence is. It says that this whole world has been created out of one
consciousness or energy and that everyone is equal. I wonder how many of us really follow it. Accept
the sad reality that we all differentiate on the basis of caste, religion, etc.

There are just so many examples I can give but I would rather keep it for the future because I know I
need to sit down, take help from others, articulate my thoughts in much better way. Then I would
love to write much more than this because while I am planning to finish this, I somewhere feel that I
have not expressed everything that I wanted to just because this is the first time I’m typing down my
views.

Before ending it, I would like to raise the last point about ‘Dharm Gurus’ or whatever these people
are called. I believe in the power of meditation and in single consciousness and I have my own
definition of God. I also read numerous spiritual and philosophical writings by different people but I
just don’t start following them blindly. We all have the capability to attain spiritual enlightenment
and to be more precise, in my view we all are God; we all have the capability to become a similar
entity.

I would like to conclude by sharing a line by Osho, “ never believe in a teacher or master if he
expects you to be his slave or follower because you can also become a master someday”

Om, omkar, amen!

I know there are people much more smarter than me. Thus, even if you don’t agree with my opinion,
please send me a feedback. I would really appreciate it. For parents, I’d suggest them to let their
children seize their lives and have faith in them. Friends, let’s make this generation an example of
change, to bring a change in the thousand-year old blindly followed thoughts and conditioning.

THANKS TO SAURABH SAHNI FOR EDITING :)