164. Irony

Sometime in 1980:

I pull five two rupees notes from my bag. I count them twice.

Last week, I have received the scholarship amount. My friends have asked for a party. It is supposed to be a lavish party. We will be having Cream Roll with cup of tea. A cup of tea costs twenty five paisa and Cream Roll costs about twenty paisa each. There would be nine friends with me. I calculate the amount. Five rupees would be sufficient. However I am keeping additional five rupees. I come out of room and my mind starts asking questions. Should I not carry more money with me? If by chance someone wants to eat Idlee or instead of tea wants coffee, I will need more money. I run upstairs. There are only coins. I count five more rupees; lead my friends towards the hotel in the corner. My pocket is heavy with coins and heart happy to be able to treat friends.

All these nine are my good friends. I know that if I need a loan of a rupee or two, one of them would certainly oblige me.

Sometimes in 1990:

I am leaving Mumbai. I have submitted statement of accounts to the office. I have no personal bank account, so there is no question of clearing and closing the account. One of my friends had bought a train ticket for me which will take me out of Mumbai. But I don’t know how I am going to manage my expenditure. I have to certainly start from scratch, but where does that particular spot lie I am not sure.

We are at Dadar station. My train leaves at 8.00 in the night. Many of my friends have come to see me off. The train moves slowly. One of my friends hands me an envelope through the window. The train has gained speed, so I don’t have time to ask what the envelope is for.  It must be a farewell letter – I think. I sit quietly – thinking about Mumbai and thinking about clueless future. After an hour or so, I open the envelope; there are grand new four fifty rupee notes and nothing else. I smile. At least, I don’t have to start from a scratch.

2000:

I can tell you story after story.

2010:

However, I am aware that your story might as well fit into this narration.

2012:

Now I carry ATM cum Debit card with me and don’t have to carry cash. But still one never knows whether the ATM would be functional or not. So, I still prefer the old way. I check my wallet; there are few five hundred rupee notes. I don’t know whether amongst strangers if I need help, will there be someone in these strange parts of the country?

I sigh. And I withdraw some more money – just to feel secure and safe!

I won’t say that with lesser money I was happier. But the converse is also not true. I mean, I am not happier because of more money! I was not unhappy because I had no money  - for me happiness and money were never really related. 

I have realized that many of our happy moments have nothing to do with money. In the midst of happiness, one does forget all such things as money, possessions, relations, success… The moment of happiness is very peculiar and it is not bound by any such material aspects of life.

For that one moment, we all strive to do our best in material life (that is making money) – that is the irony, which amazes me. I am sure it will always amuse me.  

163. World of JH

Oscar is a socialite. He likes to attend various social meetings in the town.

When the door is left open, Hamish runs away from the surgery and sits patiently waiting after reaching home.

Judy the nurse, dutifully watches everyone. She is always there to attend the ill.

Gertrude gulps two gallons of beer.

Bobby is a picture of massive muscle power.

Skipper is stunned by the death of Jingo and almost gives up his life too, only to be revived by presence of another young one in the family.

She is hiding her new-born baby.

What am I talking about?

Last few days, after reaching home from, I did not do anything but spent my time with those whom I have mentioned above.  

It does not matter that Oscar is a cat, which was found by a girl and brought to surgery.

I forget that Hamish is a Dog of a retired school teacher.

I have not mentioned that Judy is Eric Abbot’s sheepdog taking care of ill bullock and small chickens.

Gertrude is sow who has is just not allowing her newly born baby’s to come near her. The baby’s would die if it the mother continues to behave so.

Bobby is a splendid horse belonging to Mr. Mount.

Skipper and Jingo are two dogs.

There are not only cats, dogs, cows, horses, pigs.

There are interesting human beings as well.

Who would forget Tristan’s pranks? And his brother Siegfried?

The benevolent Mr. Barge with his Soothitt; Mr. Hollin the farmer with traditional wisdom; Mr. Mount with probing grey eyes; the overconfident Mr. Seth Pilling who had to eat his words; Mrs. Ridge who was happy even when her car was stolen because her dog Joshua barked at the thief; how lonely James feel along with number 87 of Mr. Blackburn; Paul Cotterell who appears so strong and James thinks that nothing touches Paul deeply.. how he commits suicide after his dog Theo had to be put to rest;    how blindness of dog Digger helps Andrew to come out of the dark phase of life…

There are stories after stories. Enchanting stories of the world of Darrowby .. World of Yorkshire.

As seen by James Herriot.

162. Confusion

I had two interesting conversations today.

In the office early morning, the peon brought me a cup of tea.

 I smiled. Generally he smiles and moves away.

But today he did not move. He is a young lad – maybe in his 20s. He works on daily wages here. Not much of education and being on his first job, he does not have much exposure.

I realized that he was standing there. So, I asked him, “You want anything?”

“Madamjee, can you give me a suit?” he asked.

I was baffled.

“Suit?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“A set of your old clothes”, he explained nervously.

I was still confused.  It took time for me to understand what he was saying. But why did he need it?

Then I asked, “Do you have a young sister?”

“Yes”, he was happy that finally I had been wise enough.

He needed one set of my used clothes for his sister.

I said, “I will give it to you tomorrow.”

He smiled and went away.

**

In the evening I went to see a very senior government official. After 35 years of service he retired today.  We sometimes used to chat and many times I had asked him to write memoirs 'after retirement'. Our relationship is not ‘boss –subordinate’ type; but of mutual respect.

There were many people in his room. He was obviously busy. But still he smiled and said “Hello” to me.

I sat on one of the chairs and enjoyed the conversation regarding his financial arrangements.

I wished him happy retired life. However,  I knew he was taking on another assignment – a high profile one.

I asked, “Where are you going, Sir?”

He was confused. He looked at me and then looked at his watch. It was almost 6.30 in the evening.

Then he smiled and said, “I am going home.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. I clarified, “No Sir, I mean which job you will be taking now?”

“Oh, that is what you are asking!”  He laughed and told me.

**

Two conversations.

With two different human beings.

With difference in age, education, experience, social status ….

I have different relationships with these two – though I claim those to be egalitarian; the understanding of the term is different for both these persons.

But confusion was common.

Why?

Is confusion integral part of  me? Does it reside within ME? 

Do I tend to use words without touching its depth? Do I use words superficially?

Is it better to be silent than to speak or write constantly?

Somehow, I feel that silence always (almost always) creates more confusion especially when the topic is very trivial. Better to speak out even when I need to clarify …

In critical matters, words create more confusion – there silence works better.

But how do I decide what is trivial and what is critical?

The confusion remains. 

161. Queue

“Are you in this Queue?” he asked.

“Yes and No” I answered.

He frowned. At least I thought so.

Today I was in Nasik.  Even before we started our work, people asked me whether I wanted to visit Tryamabakeshwar temple. Someone called me from Mumbai and suggested me to do so.

I have visited this temple many times and it is one of my favorite places. So, in the evening at last, people were able to convince me and thus we were there.

There was lot of crowd. One of the trustees was visiting temple then and so there was much more discipline than what is usually observed. As always, local people tried to arrange for some kind of special treatment for me – that in most of these religious places means avoiding standing in the queue. I don’t like to break the queue when so many people are standing there. If I want to visit temple, I should follow the standard procedures. If I don’t have time, well, no God needs me.  We have a mutual understanding about not needing each other.  We respect each other and let live other in peace.

I told the people around me not to bother about breaking the queue. I added that one should approach God by leaving aside material achievements – because they do not matter in the relationship with God. As the security guards did not allow ‘special entry’ today, people around me had no option but to follow the queue.

For last two days I had overworked. Lot of travel, no food on time, many challenges in the work I was supposed to monitor and had to be very patient to make people understand the next steps that were essential. I was completely exhausted and needed time to relax and refresh. Looking at the length of the queue, I said, “Ok, it looks like God does not want me to visit him today. Let us go back.”

On my casual remarks, the team around me panicked. They immediately started searching for some higher authority of the temple, with whose permission they could get me through easily. I had no energy to discuss rationality with them. My views on God are bit weird and it needed special efforts from me to communicate those to others. I realized that if I don’t stand in the queue, these people will continue to feel uneasy and they will keep on trying some or the other way to take me inside by the shortest possible way.

The only option for me to stop them was to stand in the queue as if I was really willing to visit the temple. It was hypocritical of course, but at times I have to be so – not for my own wishes, but to satisfy others.

So, I was in the queue physically and was not there at all emotionally or spiritually. Hence this:  ‘Yes and No”.

And then I kept overhearing others. Two people behind me were discussing some Rural Development Scheme of Government and were sharing secretes about ‘how to get included in the beneficiary list’. A woman standing in front of me was reading an English book but her 10 year child was not allowing her to concentrate. A woman in her 30s was chanting Shiva stotra – she broke suddenly and shouted at her 8 year daughter for some kind of misbehavior. A group of youth was planning about what they should eat in the evening. An old lady was explaining her knee-ache to other lady.   A young man was looking dreamily at some tree in the temple courtyard. A girl in jeans and sleeveless T shirt was sentimentally watching her plate in which flowers and other material for worship was kept. A group of children tried to bypass the queue and got a big scolding from elders. One elderly gentleman started his sermon on how the next generation is getting worse. I was wondering why nobody is using mobile and clicking and realized that mobile phones and cameras were not allowed inside temple premises.

The queue kept on moving. As it was a zigzag queue on every turn I had different people on my left and on my right.  I kept on hearing different versions of life – mostly material.

Nobody in that queue was willing to give up material aspects of life even when they cherished to see the God, even when they were in the presence of God.  I was not different from them as like a sponge, I was taking everything that was around me.

Was I in the queue?

Not really.

“If you are not in the queue, you are not in the queue”, again he spoke.

I was surprised.  Then I smiled.

I said, “This remark is very absurd, specially coming from you.  It is more like Zen.”

“Well, if you are not in the queue, sometimes you are also in the queue,” he added thoughtfully. I cannot imagine him smiling, but I guess he was smiling.

“Decide for yourself,” he said and disappeared.

I am still tired.

I have yet to get some nourishing food – simple but nourishing.

Who was he? What did he say? Why did he say it to me? Did that conversation really happen or as always I was just dreaming with eyes open? Why it always happens to me? Is there any seed of truth in what he said or the fatigue is getting over me? Why can’t I stop thinking?

Lots of questions. There is sort of queue of questions.

Yes, somehow, I am always in one or the other queue.

(Nasik, Maharashtra)

160. Search

I could not help smiling even though I was little stressed.

The reason for stress was simple – Air India pilots went on strike  - once again – and though the reports said that they have joined duty – I did not know whether my flight scheduled today afternoon will take me to Delhi or not.

But anyway, there is no point in thinking too much about things which are beyond my control.

So, I was taking my breakfast with leisure.

The restaurant was such that I could overhear conversations around without any effort. The usual tourist conversations are not very interesting – so I was not paying attention to those.

Then a large family appeared. The way they came in different pairs attracted my attention. One of the pairs was a woman in 70s and a young man in 20s.  The other family members had already started their breakfast and this pair had arrived little later. They probably were grandmother-grandson.

“What would you have grandma?” the grandson asked obediently.

“Nothing” declared grandma. Then on a second thought she said, “Just bring me a cup of tea.”

Then she probably heard other members talking about various dishes available on the buffet counter.

By the time the cup of tea arrived, grandma wanted a piece of toast.  She said that as she had to take medicine, it was better that she ate something first. Initially she wanted plain toast and  then she ordered for jam. The moment the jam was offered to her, she wanted butter too.

After a minute or so she said, she won’t mind a piece of paratha and then of course she wanted some pickle with it. When pickle arrived, she asked why curd was not served. The curd came.  By the time I left the restaurant people around her were telling her how good the puri-subjee was and I am sure that would be the next order of grandma.  

I was smiling.

I guess the behavior of that grandma was not unusual. We all do the same on various occasions. All new- year resolutions are of the nature of grandma’s resolution of ‘not to have breakfast.”

Why do we get tempted? Why are we not sure about ourselves? Why do we get influenced by what others are doing? Why can’t we take decisions for which we have enough capacity to practice those? Why can’t stand to our resolutions? Why do we get carried away by our desires?

We all search for these fundamental answers. Those who get it, cross the barriers. Those who don’t are caught in the same net again and again. We never know when the search would be over. The key is to keep on searching.


(Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh) 

159. Not Enough

When I entered Mumbai office, the first thing I noticed was that poster. Nobody remembered from where it came from, but it was there.

A young man was jumping from a hilltop into the deep sea and the poster said, 'One Life is Enough.’

I liked the poster.

People around me thought that the poster gave a contradictory message to what the organization and everybody around stood for. They wanted to remove it and I stood for it.

My teammates believed in re-birth. My team argued with me about this ‘One Life’ concept. Well, I don’t mind dreaming that in next birth I would be this and that. But I know: then I won’t remember this birth. So logically, in each life there is only one life. We should live this life fully as if it is never going to come again and that is why I liked that ‘One Life’ approach.

Moreover, I do not know anything about ‘Life after Death’ or that ultimate ‘Truth’. Many scriptures and saints have said so much about that ultimate Truth – I do respect them. However it is their knowledge and experience they are talking about; until I have that experience, I cannot talk about Ultimate Truth and series of life etc. – though I know many theories.  I am not ashamed of declaring that ‘I do not Know’.

We kept on arguing. Once when I returned from a week long tour, I found that the poster was removed and was replaced by something else.

Well, majority wins – almost always wins.  In democratic set up, one can argue and one can try to convince others, but one can’t always win. Fair enough.

Days, months, years passed by.

Now-a-days I feel that life is moving too fast. There are many things which I need to do and need to learn, but there is no time.

I would like to study Mathematics again. If time permits, I would like to spend some time on excavation site. If I get some time, I would resume my association with flute and/or harmonium. If I have some spare time, I would like to read many books. There are places to visit and there are people to converse with.  

I have an ever-growing ‘to do list’ and somewhere deep within I know that I won’t be able to all that in this one life.

Indeed; One Life is not Enough!


(Delhi) 

158. Protest

Protest I must now, with all my powers;
The silent suffering stretched beyond limits

Has shattered me into pieces,

I wake up to the reality with tremendous confusion.

To this shameless situation, I must Protest.

All your customs and traditions, smiling an inch hypocritical;

Attack aggressively every minute.

I look at them affectionately,

But even for a moment, I refuse to be caged by a single one.

You misunderstand, misinterpret, mis-construct the truth;

Your authority I must Protest.

The mighty wings have a great potential to migrate

(Like I did in the past)

But surprisingly I prefer clinging on to this Earth

-        ----   Aimlessly, just by habit

To my inaction, inefficiency, desire binding me to the world,

I must Protest.

With all unguarded actions-reactions, meaningless at its core;

The world is created again and again, to which I do not belong.

The sharp sword of latent wisdom separates every moment from other.

I do not know why this alienation scares;

To this fear, I must Protest.

Of course, you are always there; with your tender and  loving heart;

However, you seem to be unaware that like a breeze and joyous rain

You are triggered by distant realities (I have nothing to do with them).

There needs to be a vacuum within me to attract you.

This ‘proactive’ness to seek you my dear; I Protest today.

Written sometime in October 2004 (Delhi)
(Delhi)