90. Empowering

I can sit in a chair, in front of men, they can’t.
I can have expensive clothes, they can’t.
I can travel in a car, they can’t.
I can take a photograph with a digital camera, they can’t.
I travel to different places (states); they have not visited even the neighboring block.
I have a mobile phone, they don't have.
I can read and write, they can’t.
I can spend money, they can’t.
I can speak English, they can’t.

From the point of view of the women, the list has no limits. For them I do not belong to their world, so, whatever I speak is not applicable to them. I understand and appreciate their feelings. But I know that the truth is much broader than this. Truth has many more sides than are apparent to us.

I am in the midst of Kotwalia women. Out of the 15 women I am interacting with, only one has studied up to 8th standard, rest of them never went to school. All of them are married. They live in a small hamlet of Village Chindiya in Tapi district of Gujarat.

Kotawalia is one of the Primitive Tribes in India.

While walking through the hamlet, I see one bicycle and casually ask women whether anyone of them can use that. They all naturally laugh at my question. One man is sitting under a tree and tells women something in their tribal language, at which they again laugh loudly. I ask them what the man said. The man seems to have told, "Tell her that you know bicycle riding. Why tell her that you don't know something, when she has no means to check it?"

Clever man indeed.
His approach in a way is right. Why share one's problems and weaknesses with a stranger?
I smile.
During the meeting we have talked a lot about their life. Now I begin to elaborate my life, which generates the other kind of list.

They (the Kotwalia women) can milk a cow (actually cow rearing is not their traditional livelihood, they have learnt it in last two years!), I can’t.
They can make cow dung (gobar) cakes, I can’t.
They can go to forest alone, I can’t.
They can fetch buckets of water from a handpump, I can’t.
They can speak Gujarati, Hindi and their tribal language. I can speak Hindi well, can manage with Gujrati but cannot speak Tribal language.
They can cook on Chulha, I can't.
They can produce a basket from bamboo, I can’t.

I go on speaking about the things which they can do and I can’t.
This list too is has no limits.
Now the women are enjoying the list and they keep on adding more aspects of 'what I cannot do'.
They can dance, I can’t.. (I really cannot!)
They can sing, I can’t. (I really cannot!)
They can identify various plants, I can’t.
They can cook fish recipes, I can’t.

Now the discussion is funnier for them. They realize that urban women, educated women lack certain skills which they themselves are good at.

What factors influence the differences in our lives?
Is it education? Is it class? Is it caste? Is it ethnicity? Is it religion?
Is it the present or the past? How does it direct the future?

There are questions without answers.
But the interesting part is at the end of the discussion we all feel empowered.

Though empowerment is about living according to one’s choice (freedom of choice is what ultimately matters!), understanding our own strengths is necessary to make the right choice.

I think we all reached that positive understanding at the end of the discussion. It is not that only I have given them a new IDEA, they too have given some points to me to think more about. They taught me that life is not all about what you can do (and do it well), but also about what you think of those aspects which you can't do!

Empowering each other is the least we all can do very easily.
*

89. Cause

When Pune based Ecological Society announced a ‘Bird Count in Pune”, I decided to participate in it as a volunteer. I keep on traveling and hence generally miss such events. Though I was unable to participate in the first meeting on 17th May 2010, I was determined to join. The count was to take place from 6th to 8th June.

A week before the actual bird counting took place, I received two calls. One was from Janaki and the other was from Tanmay. From them I learnt that we three were supposed to work together. Being total strangers, we naturally did not know anything about each other. In the first call we discussed about which area we stay, where we work, when we can meet and where etc.

For prior selection of appropriate spots (where birds are ‘seen’ in large numbers) we had to explore different routes. Tanmay had some meeting in his office, so Janaki and I decided to meet and search for some spots. We exchanged our two-wheeler numbers with its colors. Janaki even elaborated the color of her dress and chunari so that I could easily identify her. At a common spot – in front of a dairy – we met at 6.00 in the evening.

I am very poor in many things – Geography is one of those areas. Because of her knowledge of local geography Janaki initially became my leader. Within next half an hour I learnt that she is an ornithologist! I am just an amateur enthusiast, so I continued to work and learn under her leadership. Janaki knew someone in a nearby apartment and we parked my two-wheeler outside the compound of that apartment. Then we went on by Janaki’s vehicle.

We identified couple of streams where we could visit early morning following week. Then we went into a small lane and suddenly found an open space along with a pipeline in a ditch. The place looked deserted but we went inside. And to my surprise there was a Grey Hornbill sitting on a branch of a tree. With closer look we realized that the Hornbill was feeding its baby in the nest. I was ready with binocular and wow, how beautiful that bird looked from such a short distance! I was very happy.

We took a U turn at Simhagad road and came across number of trees at the left side. We entered the gate of the society. After few minutes we saw a young boy coming from the other end and stopped to inquire about ‘where the road leads or whether it is dead end’. He was curious and asked us what we wanted. When we explained our purpose he informed, “Please visit Saurabh. His house is at the left hand end of the road. He knows a lot about birds.”

So we went to Saurabh. When the bell rang, a woman in her 50s opened the door. We inquired about Saurabh. Saurabh's mother asked us to come inside. When we explained the ‘bird counting’ exercise, she was happy. She told us names of many birds she regularly watched in her backyard. Then she offered us a cup of tea.

Sitting there in a well furnished bungalow, with two strangers, enjoying a good cup of tea. I was amused.

This amusement was to continue for the next few days. When we went to a spot on early Sunday morning, we were greeted by Spotted Owlets. Though they are labeled as inauspicious by many, I just love them. . Tanmay’s parents and his two year old dog joined in the excursion. During next four hours we watched as many as 36 different species of birds and noted their number. Here is a Rose Ringed Parakeet that we enjoyed watching for more than 5 minutes.

At the end of the first session of bird count, we were comfortably sitting in Tanmay’s kitchen and were gulping the hot breakfast his mother had specially cooked for us. I was again amused that I was enjoying food with strangers. In the evening we met again at another spot. Here my two-wheeler was punctured. Tanmay negotiated with the 'puncture repair' man and saved my hundred rupees. And when Tanmay was negotiating on behalf of me (I did not request him to negotiate. But in these matters I am so naive, that he must have felt the need to take the lead!) I was smiling with amusement.

On the way we all talked to each other about many things, life in general, work specifically. It was as if I was talking to some old friends. Actually I shared with them many things which I have hardly shared with the people around me. How I felt when we visited Chakrata in Himalaya, how I lost my binocular during a house theft, what is my dream about bird watching, which birds I watch regularly and so many such things!

Meeting strangers is not new for me. I have worked as a Full Time Activist for more than twelve years, so meeting strangers has always been part of my life, my work. Even today, every month I interact with hundreds of strangers. Though people do not know me as a person, they know the organization I represent, so a common bond is generally created.

Similarly a bond was created between three of us, because we were connected by a common cause. Yes, ‘cause’ is the core of relationships. When there is a common cause, I build relationships with strangers in an instant. When there is no common cause, even those whom I meet everyday all my life, remain strangers to me.

I realize that I am surrounded by people with whom I do not share a common cause. There is nothing common between us. We do not dream together and we do not work together. For them I am an entity, a working machine and for me they do not really matter. That is why sometimes I feel alienated.

What I need is the creation of ‘common cause’ – howsoever trivial it might be! If there is no common cause, there are no relationships and I become stranger to myself.

88. Hidden

“What were you like when you were a child?” Deepika asks.
Shweta smiles at the question.
“Oh! I was just like you,” she tries to assure her daughter.
Deepika is not satisfied with the answer. She is grown up and not a child. Only last week she has celebrated her fifth birthday.

“But I am so small and you are so old, where was I then?” is Deepika’s next question.
“Oh, just somewhere around,” Shweta is worried where the discussion is leading.
“Was I in the sky, with the stars?” Deepika asks.
Shweta nods.

For a moment, there is a tense silence. Suddenly Deepika’s friends loudly call her for a bicycle ride and she runs away. Shweta is relieved. After every such conversation, Shweta realizes that the time is running out. For how long the truth could be hidden?

Whenever Shweta faces such weird questions from Deepika; she invariably remembers her own childhood. She too used to ask so many questions, not to her mother but to her father. The only difference was: Shweta never asked questions about her past. She had an inner feeling that it was difficult for her father to answer questions about past. Shweta always posed questions about future. “Daddy, what will be I when I grow?” “Baba, which city I will be staying in?” – and all such questions. Grandmother never liked Shweta asking too many questions and tried to restrain Shweta from throwing those. Grandmother always found fault with everything that Shweta did. However Baba always smiled, and appealed grandmother, “it is not her fault, don’t punish her for her innocence’.

As Shweta grew up, from occasional pieces of conversations of her relatives, she could understand few things. But she never was sure about the truth, as some pieces were completely missing. Her father never encouraged the idea of inviting relatives or visiting them. So, such occasions of ‘relative gossip’ were rare.

Shweta did not dare to ask anything to Baba. Grandmother might have told the truth, but she had died without revealing it. Shweta stopped asking questions. Shweta had to do it deliberately. Somewhere she had a feeling that future was not independent of past, they were closely connected. Shweta had experienced that speaking about past was stressful and painful to her father. Shweta stopped asking questions, though she could never stop thinking of those.

Did Shweta miss her mother? Not really. Watching her father, she had realized that she was different from him– not only in looks but even in habits, likings and choices. Was Shweta like her mother? – She did not know. Once she dared to ask this question to Baba, and was struck by his answer “I do not know, baby”. How could he not know? Was he telling a lie? Was he hiding something from her?

Deepika rushes in. Her face is reddish, her eyes are swollen. Tears are flowing down rapidly. She is frightened. She holds Shweta with such a force; that makes Shweta understand Deepika’s feeling of insecurity. “Ma, did you purchase me from the doctor? Roshani says that I am not your daughter. You brought me from somewhere, from someone. Everybody laughed at me and started teasing me. Is it true? And all my friends have Papa, where is mine?”

Shweta is unable to speak. She tries to console the child by patting her, by hugging her, by kissing her. But the child is really angry. Love is not the need of the moment; truth is the need of the moment.

Shweta feels helpless. She does not want to hurt Deepika and she knows that reality is too harsh for Deepika. Shweta wants to protect Deepika but is unable to protect.

Shweta looks at her father who is standing silently in the corner of the room. He is old now, but is still very active. He and Deepika is all that Shweta has. Shweta needs support from her father to console Deepika.

Baba is strangely silent. He is looking at Shweta and Deepika with all tenderness. He wants to say something but is just staring at them. “Baba,” Shweta tries to call him very softly. For a moment Shweta is worried because he is watching them but is not really ‘seeing’ them. He is standing in such a way as if he has some different scene in front of him. He is stressed, he is concerned, he looks worried, he is shaking, and tears drop down. What is father remembering?

“Shweta, my dear child, never bother about what they say. I am here, I love you”, Baba says as if in a trance.
Why is he addressing Shweta instead of Deepika?
Shweta shudders.

Another piece of truth, which was successfully hidden for so many years, is unknowingly revealed at last.

87. Systemaniac

(1)

I enter into a Shopping Mall. While keeping my office bag at the reception counter, I pull out a cotton bag. The security person objects and informs me that I am not allowed to carry anything in the Mall. “I do not want plastic bag that your store gives, so I am using this cotton bag. You can check it. ” I explain as if I am guilty.

“No madam, you can’t take it inside.” He is adamant.
I speak about pollution, Municipal order against carry bags etc. but to no effect.
“I am sorry Madam, but rules are rules. We have strict orders.” The security man says.
Next moment I am out of the Mall.

The Mall it neither bothered about losing customers, nor about pollution; it is worried about its Rules.

(2)

I am staying alone in a Government guest house. I go to the Dining Hall for dinner. As I have late afternoon lunch, I just want a cup of milk. I know that they serve milk in a big glass. So, I specifically order for ‘cup of milk’ and add that I do not want ‘glass of milk’. The waiter comes back within a minute and informs me that menu card does not have ‘cup of milk’. I smile. I have traveled and talked a lot during the day, I am tired. I do not have energy to discuss the issue.

I tell him, “Ok, you charge for a glass of milk but give me only a cup of milk. I do not want to waste milk.” He nods.

He comes back and tells, “No madam, we cannot give you a cup of milk. You will have to take a glass of milk. ”

Why? Rules are Rules.

(3)

“I would really love to kick you out of here,” my reporting officer says coolly.
“Did I do anything objectionable?” I ask, feeling confused and of course insulted.
“You don’t follow the systems,” the reporting officer is happy to bring out the ultimate weapon.
“Can you give me some example?” I ask politely.

The reporting officer quotes one incidence, conveniently forgetting that I had taken written permission in advance; not from anyone else, but from the same reporting officer. I know how much of system people follow, I am not stupid. Only thing is they don’t say anything against it – they just break it. On the other hand, before I take any action, I communicate to the concerned. In a way I am an easy target.

“However, I cannot kick you out, because your work is indeed excellent” laments my reporting officer.
“ Ok, I will submit resignation.” I try to be helpful. What is the fun if the reporting officer does not want you and that too because you are excellent?
“But that won’t give me satisfaction of kicking you out,” reflects the reporting officer. I admire the honesty.

The conversation is only one way, linear, hierarchical. It can happen only in this way because that is the Rule. The System gives one way power to some and makes many others vulnerable. One’s insecurity is another’s power.

(4)

System.

That is the buzz word. That is the most powerful word in the era where ‘Survival of the Fittest’ is the Mantra. Recently I read that Herbert Spencer who coined this term admitted later in his life that ‘fittest always may not be the best’. People can think about philosophy only when they stop participating in any kind of race. If one is competitive, one cannot really grow on the level of ideas – is my experience, I am sure that is yours too.

Most people love systems, either because it gives them a position of privilege or a comfort of stability. Some love systems just by habit and some others because they can’t think of any option. What is a system and what is a good system are subjective definitions. They keep on changing. Even a persons’ perception about the system changes as the person experiences it differently at different times.

I have nothing against systems. When many people are together, rules and regulations are necessary. A system is supposed to be a rational one, no space for emotions and personal favors. I generally follow systems if they work for the advantage of more.

But I am not ‘systmaniac’ like all the people I mentioned earlier. I am aware that certain aspects flower only outside the given framework. Having such moments and freedom in life, where one can cross such barriers is an ultimate luxury. Each one of us has the potential to blossom beyond the stereotypes we are taught to accept, live and expect. But these moments are rare; rest is to be brought into the fold of a working system.

If is only when the soul of the system is lost, when it starts destroying individuality beyond admissible limits, I rebel against the system. When people become maniac about the systems, someone has to demonstrate the futility of that system. Verbal rebellion is not much effective. One has to give up the benefits of the system to make a change. One has to take a stand – intellectual, moral, and social – whatever it is. It is not easy. One just wonders how all those ancient ones who brought changes in the systems had the courage to stand against the tide. One admires the people all around who are in the business of ‘making a change’ – at whatever level micro or macro!

Changing the systems to keep their relevance is not only an intelligent task; it is also creative and exploratory journey. The failures lead to new directions as one gains insights.

When one starts treating RULES as GOALS, that is a sure sign of a systemaniac.

There is very thin line between follower of a system and a systemaniac. We need to be aware and keep asking questions to ourselves – that strengthens immunity against systemania!

86. Connection

What one thinks is long forgotten, suddenly rushes in, without warning, without indication, without any premonition.

That is what I experienced today evening.

It was 5.30 in the evening; I was in the crowded Laxminarayan chowk. The road coming from Gultekadi area is bit narrow. I wanted to go towards Mitramandal area so at the signal I moved to the left of a water tanker. The indicator showed green and without having to take a moment’s stop at the signal I rushed forward.

For a second, I smelt diesel, must be coming from the tanker, I thought.

And suddenly it reminded of a small village. The village adults were excited because a new railway line was being installed in the village. There were suddenly too many new people in the village with hundreds of vehicles. The workers and their ‘sahib’ were staying in newly built homes called ‘quarters’. It was like a city. A city was shaping within a village.

We see small trucks. There is a miracle. With one single action the driver pushes the backward portion of the truck in such an angle that it drops the stones and the soil without any human intervention. When the material is completely dropped down, with a single action the driver brings the portion back to normal. It is a magic for us. However, we (the children) keep away from it. There is a fear: a fear of unknown, a fear of strangers, a fear that someone is destroying our world and a fear that everything is going to change suddenly. All of us are attracted towards that vehicle called ‘dumper’ but we keep away.

We children gather at the lake. We have a serious discussion at hand. Now to think of it, it was indeed a small lake, but for us then it was the world. “Now they are going to dump all that soil in this lake, what will happen to our fish?” one worries loudly. We look at the water. We look at the fish. They seem to be happy and careless as usual. “Hmm, they do not know what is coming to them,” adds another one very philosophically.

‘What is this railway like? And why are they bringing to us? Where will we all go?” is the third query. “And who is this Sarkar they are talking about all the time? When he comes to our village we will throw stones at him. Then he will have to run away with his railway,” fourth point of view is expressed.

“I don’t know why the elders are treating these people well. You see how much tea they drink, even there is a tea shop there,’ fifth mystery to be solved. “Let us run away from this village, my mama’s village has a lake, there are many fish and there is a school too. Let us go there,” that is the sixth option. Questions follow each other without any way out.

Someone laughs at us. We are frightened. We tightly catch each others’ hands.

The truck drivers have come for a stroll at the lake after long working hours. They are listening to our loud discussion and can’t help laughing at us.

“Do you want to drive a truck?’ one of them asks smilingly. Without knowing what it means, I say ‘yes’. My group looks at me as a traitor. But I do not want to miss the adventure. “Come all of you. Will teach you to drive the truck.” one more invitation and that is enough to tempt rest of them.

We rush towards the dumper. Now we are excited, we are shouting, laughing, and teasing each other. The five of us are in the dumper along with the driver. He pushes the key and suddenly there is an unknown smell, very strong and very peculiar.

That was the first time I smelt diesel.

When did it happen? In the antiquity, I guess. I was six or seven years then. I left the village at the age of ten and never went back there. I never remembered this incidence.

But today with that one second of diesel smell, everything came back to me in a crystal clear way. I could smell the dumper, I could smell the lake, and I could see the clear blue skyline disappearing behind the tress. I could hear the laughter of my friends; I could feel the fear of all of us. Though I do not have any contact with anyone of them, they are there with me. Not just the friends, but the place, the earth, the sky, the water, the ‘me’ of that time.

It is strange that there is such a strong connection within the subconscious.

Whether I am physically connected to a place or not does not matter because the subconscious connection exists. That is actually stronger than the physical connection.

Some day in future, my present will become my past. What I will remember then probably will be only such intense moments. If I live superficially today, I will have nothing to remember tomorrow. For making the future connection, I have to live passionately in the present.

The connection of how I live will remain forever for me!

85. Escape

It would be wrong to say that Ashwin woke up with a start.
Actually, he did not sleep even for a minute last night.
But as it happens on such occasions, he finds himself in the state of doubt.
Is he dreaming?
No, in a flash the horror comes back to him.

With a quick bath he is ready. It is just 6.30 in the morning.
“Have a cup of milk, Ashwin. Eat some biscuits. Even yesterday you did not eat anything, it will be very late for lunch,” his mother is pleading.
Ashwin tries to hide his disgust. With full knowledge of the situation how can she talk about food?
He just nods indicating emphatic ‘NO’.
“I will be there around 9.30, once Sharadabai finishes her work. I think it will not be late. When is Rajesh reaching?’ Mother asks.
“No idea. I will find out.” Ashwin is wondering what all these utterances mean
‘And she is worried more about the housemaid completing the work rather than …’ he thinks bitterly to himself.

He had been to Shantanu’s house a thousand times before, almost every day. But today it is different.

From playgroup to 12th class, they studied together, and only few months ago were separated by their academic interests. But every evening, whether it was 10.00 or 11.00, they met without fail. Constant SMSs, chats, emails were of course no alternative to this face to face meeting. There was absolutely nothing in Ashwin’s life which was not shared with Shantanu and Ashwin was sure that the same was true with Shantanu.

Now there will be no more sharing, no more fun, no more jokes. No more crying on Shantanu’s shoulders.
Because, Shantanu is no more.
The accident was fatal.

Ashwin still remembers those earnestly looking eyes of Shantanu. What was Shantanu thinking? What did he want to say? What happened to all those feelings, dreams, and experiences of Shantanu?

Hospitalization, Police inquiry, Coma, Life Saving Drugs, Ventilator and finally the lifeless body of his best friend …all this happening within 48 hours.

‘This can’t be true, I am having a bad dream’, Ashwin is trying to console himself.

But he remembers what happened in full daylight. Shantanu was driving Ashwin’s new bike and Ashwin was sharing a joke with him. Ashwin painfully recalls every detail - right from the moment that Red Maruti car suddenly raced towards their bike to doctor’s declaration of Shantanu’s death. Could he have done something different to save Shantanu? Every second was combination of hope and horror.
Miraculously, Ashwin does not have even a scratch on his body; he is feeling guilty for that.

Ashwin looks at the sky, ‘Where are you Shantanu?’ he cries to himself.
Is there life after death? - Ashwin wonders. Will Shantanu share it with me? – He wonders.

Ashwin reaches Shantanu’s home, the door is open.
“Come”, uncle says in a listless voice. He has grown years in one night, thinks Ashwin.
“Oh! Ashwin, you come very early indeed,” Raghav, Shantanu’s brother in law indicates an empty chair to Ashwin.
“Rachana, Ashwin is here, bring some tea for him,” orders uncle.
Ashwin is aghast.

Shantanu’s body is lying in the hospital. Rajeshbhayya is coming from Saudi, and then the funeral will take place. How could these people coolly talk about a cup of tea as if nothing has happened? Have they forgotten that Shantanu has passed away? Ashwin looks anxiously at them. For a moment he wishes Shantanu would come and they would move around, may be after a cup of tea. Realizing the truth, Ashwin sighs.

Aunty comes out. Her eyes are red and swollen. She does not look at Ashwin. She just sits there. Everybody is silent. No words spoken. No eye contact. Just sound of breaths of so many people.

Raghav picks up ‘Times of India’ and starts reading sports page. Ashwin is shocked. How he can read newspaper now, thinks Ashwin.

“When is Rajeshbhayya reaching?” Ashwin wants to say something and says so without knowing it.
“Oh! Due to that volcano eruption in Iceland, the flight schedule is completely disturbed. Don’t know whether Rajesh will be able to reach or not. Will wait for his message for few more hours and decide about the funeral around 10.00,” one relative informs. Ashwin nods without knowing what else to say. Someone is talking about the police report and someone else is talking about funeral arrangements.

Rachana comes with cups of tea. She smiles at Ashwin, a sad smile indicating her sorrow.

Uncle takes a sip and calls Rachana. “I need more milk in the tea, have you forgotten?’ he is not scolding Rachana but the unhappiness is clearly expressed.

Ashwin’s head is spinning. That his mother talked about food, he could understand to some extent – she is happy because her son is alive. But Shantanu’s parents and family members apparently not affected by his death is something with which Ashwin is unable to cope with.

“Whatever was to happen has happened. God prefers young and innocent. We cannot go against wishes of God. But the rest of us have to continue with life. The human body has its own cycle and it will demand food and sleep. Aunty suffers from diabetes; she should eat and not wait for the funeral. Uncle suffers from hypertension, he too has to eat something before his morning tablet.” Someone is talking in hushed tone to someone else in the now crowded room. Ashwin can not help hearing it. He is speechless. ‘I am useless;’ thinks Ashwin, ‘I cannot remind them of my best friend. How easily they forget the person after he passes away’ …

Ashwin places himself in the situation from a different angle.
Suppose, he was dead and Shantanu was alive. What would be the situation then? May be, the set would change, different actors would be involved but the scene would be almost the same. Then may be his father would want more sugar in his tea and aunty would visit his home after Kamalbai finished with her work! What would Shantanu feel? What would Shantanu do then? Would Shantanu laugh? Would Shantanu feel like he is feeling now?

Ashwin wants to run away; to run away from everybody who is associated with Shantanu. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to sleep. He wants someone to understand his pain. He wants to take revenge. He wants to rip apart everything, including himself. He wants to fight. He is getting violent. He is absolutely frightened. He wants to be consoled. He wants Shantanu back.

Ashwin wants to close his eyes and wants never to open it. He wants to die too. The realization that ‘Shantanu is dead’ hurts him again, shatters him completely. Ashwin is helpless.

And Ashwin realizes the futility of relations, the meaninglessness of feelings, the temporariness of achievements, and the shallowness of connections. The moment clearly shows him the core selfishness of human beings. The realization transforms Ashwin, it matures him.

‘It is after all just a drama’, Ashwin is thinking. ‘You play your role, the exit and entry of others does not really affect you. All pain and tears for loss of others is just a momentary feeling. Life moves on as they say and rightly too’.

Ashwin has a lump in throat; tears engulf the world around. He is in an infinite vacuum. His body trembles.

“What are you thinking Ashwin? Your tea is getting cold,” aunty reminds him softly. Ashwin was always impatient with Shantanu’s habit of drinking ‘cold’ tea. Ashwin avoids stare of Shantanu’s mother.

'You are lucky, Shantanu', Ashwin says to himself. 'Mate, you died in ignorance, which is indeed good. You escaped the reality that nobody is yours, you are born alone and you die alone… rather you live alone too without knowing it…Good for you man. I am happy that you did not have to suffer from this reality.'

Ashwin feels very lonely. He has to live with this wisdom and loneliness forever.

No escape for Ashwin.

84. Good Around

I am at the office of Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited. It is 1.45 in the afternoon. I have a dial up internet connection at home and for months I have wanted to get Broad Band Connection. I access BSNL site and the online application facility seems to be dysfunctional. So, I have no alternative but to physically visit their office. So, I am in the BSNL office.


“It is lunch time”, the moment I park my two wheeler, the security person declares. “Oh! I thought the lunch time is from 1.00 to 1.30”, I say. It is of no use saying ‘I think’ in such moments, but by habit I say so and feel sheepish the next moment. The security man smiles understandingly and does not comment.

“What do you want madam?” another man appears at the entrance. I tell him that I want an application form for Broad Band Connection. “Go to the ground floor right hand door,” he orders me. “But it is lunch time?” I try not to show any hope. The man says, “They are still to start their lunch. Tell them I asked you to go there if someone asks,” he adds. I do not know who this man is and whether the people inside would take this argument – many people might be using it everyday. “That much we need to do for customers”, the man is telling to the security person as I walk in.

There is certainly a door at the right side of the ground floor. It is closed. I open it partially and see three women and one man working inside. The room is full of huge machinery – about which I do not understand anything at all. “Sorry, I know it is lunch time. But I was told to meet you, can I come inside?” I ask politely.

To my surprise everyone is smiling. This is a welcome change – otherwise at government offices they constantly make you feel guilty without cause.

“Madam, please have this,” the only man in the room offers me a glass of sugarcane juice. I am surprised. This is totally unexpected offer. I was expecting a bark, a shout and instead I am getting an offer of chilled sugarcane juice. I try to refuse it politely. “Oh! No! Thanks, I just had an ice-cream,” I share information which is absolutely not necessary. I tend to share unnecessary information (when I am not writing blog ) when I am caught off guard. Then I see that everyone has a sugarcane juice glass. It is 42 degree Celsius outside; naturally everyone wants some cool fresh drink.

I smile and ask whether they are celebrating something. Now it is their turn to smile. One of the staff members has offered the juice to all his team, for no apparent cause. So, everybody is in a good mood. Then we discuss trivialities till I wait to finish them their juice.

I ask for Broad Band Application form. It is available upstairs. I go there and find the window and the room empty. This group must be taking lunch. The official lunch time is from 1.30 to 2.00. That means I will have to wait for another ten to fifteen minutes. I decide to come again as I have to catch up with some other work.

The woman from the ground floor has come to the first floor. I tell her that I plan to come again next week. She says, “Don’t go. I realized that this group has gone for lunch. Wait a second and I will give you the required form.” She gives me the form and with me she climbs down for her lunch.

For me this was one more amazing experience. If people who know me behave well with me, there is no surprise, because there is always a prior experience and expectation. It is sort of give and take – if someone helps me, I am supposed to help when my turn comes. If I don’t help, the other person would not help me next time.

But I am always amazed when strangers help. Yes, to provide forms to customers is the duty of the BSNL staff. But during lunch hour? But when that is not one’s duty and somebody else’s? And to take extra efforts for that? And to not shout but offer sugarcane juice when someone intrudes during lunch hour? Oh! Times Change and BSNL too is changing!!

I still smile when I remember that episode.

Sometimes I meet egoistic, power hungry, immature, non-cooperative people. I have my share of ugliness in life. However I can take that smilingly, because I have such BSNL type of experiences too.

After all it is my choice to allow certain experiences to shape my life and my attitude. I feel lucky that I meet so many good people everyday around that even if I want, I can’t be bitter about life. Along with cruelty, wickedness, selfishness, there is lot of good around. What is needed is to see it, enjoy it and reciprocate it!