Confessions of an Unfaithful Lover

Love, unlike success, at least in my opinion, does not have a definitive moment. Is it the first sight, or the first touch, or the first sense of ownership or the first feeling of belonging? Can we point at any one moment and say that this moment was when we fell in love? Can we say that I was not in love before so-and-so moment and I was in love after that? No. it’s a gradual process, like growing up. We do not know how much we have grown until we stand against that measuring scale or, in some cases, over the weighing scale.

She came into my life during college. I had just rented a flat with my friends and was trying to celebrate my newfound freedom in every possible way I could think of. The one problem that kept dampening my spirits and messing my shoes was the torturous bus rides to college from my flat. But the day she came into my life, it all changed. I started enjoying the commute, I was among the cool dudes of my class and the envy of most of the other guys. It was known to me from the very beginning that she had once belonged to someone else. She never tried to hide it from me, rather made it a point that I accepted her with her past, which I wholeheartedly did.

She was from Haryana. Had been born and brought up there, even met the first man in her life there. Her moods, her tantrums, her carefree attitude and the wildness- it had Haryana written all over her. Right from the first time I met her, I knew there was something between us. And we got along so well. My friends loved her, came to me so that they could get to spend some time with her. She always treated them well, and made sure that she was there whenever anyone needed her, but never at the cost of my feelings. The two years that I spent in college with her by my side had so many memories.

She saved me once from getting caught in a fight with some local rowdies. Once saved me from coming under a bus because of some crazy mood swings. After my first placement exam where I had done extremely well and was confident of getting the job offer, on our way back, out of sheer childish happiness, I took off my helmet and kissed her right on her face. In the middle of the traffic with a puzzled crowd looking at me, I kissed her and then just zoomed off.  I don’t know what she thought at that point but I felt her smile.

 Whenever I was in trouble, she ensured that I was safe. She ensured that I reached home safely after my drunken parties and late night drives. She made sure that I was on time for college and for my MBA coaching classes and she ensured that I beat all other guys on our bike races on the NH7 on our way back after classes. I, on my part, took her for granted for most of the time and paid attention to her only when she, in her ever so polite ways, could take it no more. I was just too busy building my future and having a good time to acknowledge that she deserved better. Then college got over.

I joined my new job – a very good break for a fresher out of college. Money was no more a constraint and I was really happy to have her by my side since she was the one who got me there. She still was my constant companion and most of my new friends at work saw us together. But sometimes they, and some of my college friends started to jokingly mention that I was too good for her. Everyone was getting new partners and gradually she became the butt of all jokes on me. I tried to defend her and always told them that nothing would ever come between us and I was happy with her just the way she was. But, deep within, something was changing. I wanted to soak up this new life and wanted her to be just as excited about it as I was but she, or rather, “C”, was becoming weaker, older and less enthusiastic about my adventures. I was torn between my aspirations and her growing lack of passion, and this gap was widening every day.

It was at this point that “P” came into my life. She was the new one in town. I was instantly besotted by her full body, those cat eyes and that husky voice. Right from the first time I set my eyes on her, she promised a wild time and showed the potential to deliver. A creature of the night, she was all Bangalore. I was the first man in her life and yes, like “C”, she looked great in red. Very soon I found myself thinking about her all the time – even when I was with “C”. I was setting targets and goals to get her, saving money and making plans to accommodate the expenses that were due once she came into my life and then, one fine evening, I brought “P” home. I knew “C” would be shocked and surprised but I had given up on her long back. To my utter frustration, “C” never reacted. She just resigned herself to her designated spot in our house and stayed there – quietly, never mentioning a word, never asking, never demanding anything from me. I moved on, and moved on fast. “P” was everything that I ever wanted and more. She was wild yet sensible, crazy yet mature and strong yet smooth.

And thus about eighteen months passed. “C” had reduced herself to a carcass. One could barely tell by looking at her that she was the same “C” that once ran, laughed, played and threw tantrums. Much as I was happy with “P”, I knew that I had certain duties towards “C” too. I tried to find a new partner for her but she had just stopped showing any signs of life. I tried to take her to her doctor but he told me that she had no chance of revival and it would be best to just let her go.

“Sirjee aap tension mat lo. Ye to hamara roz ka kaam hai.” With these words, the bulky man and his assistant reassured me that they will take “C” to her rightful place properly. I was feeling terrible but this was something that needed to be done for C’s own good. They dragged her skeletal frame out of the gate of my house and took her into the street, casting a sad shadow of my “C” as she walked under the streetlights, taking a final turn and disappearing forever into the darkness. I broke into tears. “P” was standing in the porch but I paid no attention to her and got inside the house and went straight to sleep.

It has been more than a year since that day and I am very happy with “P”. There have been many stories and memories and P has never ever given me a chance to complain. I have loads of pictures of myself with “P” but it’s funny that I do not have a single picture of “C” with me. I could not afford a camera in those days when she was with me and when I could, I had already brought “P” into my life. But sometimes I wonder if what I did was right. Could I have done it any better? Any differently?

 I hope “C”, wherever she is, is well looked after and taken care of. And I hope she forgives me. “C”, you will always be my first one. And as they say, the first ones are the most special.

P.S. – In case the reader is still wondering, “C” refers to Bajaj Caliber 135cc – the bike I had in college, and “P” is Bajaj Pulsar 150cc– my current bike.

The Uncut Diamond

A newspaper report today said that there are over a billion undernourished people in the world. This means that roughly every sixth human being on this planet does not have enough to eat. And about a third of these people are from India. India – where there are more than 500 million mobile phone connections. Combining these two pieces of information we can roughly say that one in every five Indians is likely to be having a mobile phone, though he may not be able to afford two square meals a day. This country, just like its people, is a painful juxtaposition of many such contradictions.

I spent yesterday evening at a five-star heritage hotel sipping some fine scotch in a beautiful garden listening to a famous singer sing some sufi songs about the oneness of God and the bliss of complete surrender. There was also a whole family begging for its next meal at the traffic signal outside the hotel. I live in a city which is called the Silicon Valley of India. I come from a state which is among the least developed in the country where most of the kids never get to appear for their high school exams. The India that shines is visible to all. It is talked about in newspapers, written about in books and shown in movies. This India is truly shining. It has a fire that gives it its glow. We all see the glow, we all talk about the fire but when it comes to the fuel that powers this fire, we are reluctant to acknowledge - almost dismissive and embarrassed to admit its existence. This fuel is what provides India (the shining one), with its manpower in the form of skilled and unskilled labor to write computer software as well as to harvest potatoes, with its farmers and masons to cultivate fields and build IT parks and domestic helps for its too-busy-to-clean-their-own-home executives and housewives.

There is a huge geographic distance between these two Indias. And the distance between their developmental statuses is, well, of years and decades though it could as well be of light-years except for the fact that they both exist on the same planet. So, as they said in the opening sequence of Star Wars, “In a galaxy far, far away”, there exists another India. An India where you can still see Rajdoot motorcycles, discover what a real gulab-jamun tastes like, where women can look devastatingly beautiful in a simple salwar-kameez and where there are countless love stories that started and ended without the couple ever so much as holding each other’s hands. This is the India that lives in the small-towns. This is the lesser India that was failed by its richer brothers. This is the India that was denied what it rightfully deserved but was too humble to demand – an acknowledgement.

Among other things that the government and the electorate – and by electorate I mean the people who actually vote - has refused to see in this India, is the amazing growth opportunity. They saw the muck. They knew it’s a pain to clean it, but they failed to see what lay hidden under it. The business opportunities in each and every sector, the market for cheaper technologies and availability of resources are just too exciting for anyone to ignore, provided they take a first look. These markets are just opening up now and anyone who has the foresight to tap into this movement is bound to reap benefits way beyond one’s wildest imaginations. This India does not need philanthropists or their charity. It does not need Smart Alecs who borrow twenty thousand rupees from their dads, open a company in their garage with a bunch of friends and soon become millionaires through some smart internet idea and viral marketing. It needs real visionaries. It needs people who have the vision to see beyond the obvious problems, the belly to take strong challenges and bring about a mass movement. And it is more than willing to lap it all up. The resident youth of this India is just waiting for one such movement. Unlike the youth in their parents’ times which saw the fall from being the cultural and intellectual heart of India to  being referred to as the “sandaas” (cesspool) of India so suddenly that they simply did not know what to do, this youth has seen the difference all his life. He has lived his whole life bearing the insult, beatings, prejudices and ruthless jokes and now he has had enough. He needs the same amount of recognition that the rest of his generation get because, time and again, he has proved that given the right opportunities, he is just as capable as anyone else. It is about time that the society looked at the small-town India as the new India - the diamond that is still uncut - and saw that it’s in its own interest to develop it – for India to really shine.

बूँद...( In Hindi)

बूँद...
यूँ ही निकल गया था वो,
अनमना सा, जैसे कोई उम्मीद अभी टूटी हो ..
सर झुका था ज़रा सा, शायद अश्क़ छुपाने के लिए,
बहुत देर वो मेरी पलकों पे रुका था,
मैंने ही रोका हुआ था ज़बरदस्ती, वो तो कबसे जिद कर रहा था...
फिर पलकों से निकल के, होठों के रास्ते,
मेरे हाथों की लकीरों से होता हुआ... मेरा माज़ी भिगा गया..
या शायद वो खुद ही एक आँसू की बूँद था...

Kasturi...

The musk deer is a funny creature. It has a very strong fragrance emanating from between his abdomen and genitals that nature has given it to attract mates, but he spends most of his life hopping mad trying to figure out the source of that fragrance.

But then, again, aren't we all like that? Don't we all spend our lifetime trying to find something? Most of us spend our entire life without ever coming to know what that "something" is. And those few of us who correctly know what they want out of life, don't they too spend a good amount of time trying to figure out how to get it? We give it different names. We call it the search, fulfillment, contentment, happinness. We seek for it in the form of approval, appreciation, acknowledgement. We even confuse it with possessions, acquisitions, victories and yet, after achieving all that and more, feel empty inside. We try to look our best because we think that's what will make us happy. We try to make as much money as we can so that we can buy all the things that will make us happy. We try to fall in love because we feel having someone in our lives will make us happy. And when we get all this, we still feel empty inside. We feel we have it, but we want more of it. So we start all over again. Then, one fine day, when we are too old to run around, we sit and mourn what a waste our whole life has been.

It is not the quest which is wrong.It is the manifestation of the goal in our minds that needs to be reassessed. We need to delve deeper. The thing that we are searching all around us is within us. All the source of joy, happiness, contentment, fulfillment is situated deep inside us, and we, like the musk deer, keep searching for it in every possible place except where we should actually be looking for it. We spend our lifetime chasing our dreams and aspirations and yet feel worthless because we are chasing momentary pleasures at the cost of something much more ephemeral - the joy of being the great creation that we are. We - each one of us - with our strengths, weaknesses, abilities, imperfections are unique and beautiful in our own ways. There is no yardstick that can proclaim one to be better than the other since that is not how we were meant to be. Each of us is a marvel of nature meant to be appreciated for what he or she is and not criticized for what he or she isn't. The individual as a whole is greater than the sum of its parts because the individual has a purpose. The purpose of the individual - the purpose of our being put up in this world, is not to conquer it, but to be a part of it and add to its beauty. It is only when we think and act in accordance with this fact that we truly feel happy.
Everything else is just an illusion.

Nazariya..

Perspective. the faculty of seeing all the relevant data in a meaningful relationship.

During one of our endless chat sessions at the expense of our "billed" time, Ria showed me a sketch that she had drawn recently. The picture, among other things, had a sun in the distant horizon. when i asked whether it was a sunrise or a sunset, she said it's a sunset. i argued that it could as well be a sunrise and that would give a completely different meaning to the picture. Later, I was thinking how just by looking at a picture in a different way, (mind you i'm not making any changes in the picture per se. i am just thinking in a different way than earlier while looking at the picture) we give it a whole new meaning. We all come across text meant to inspire us in the form of forwarded mails, SMSes, greeting cards, wallpapers, t-shirt graffiti and every other conceivable medium of conveying a message trying to tell us to be positive. There is so much of it all around us that one at times wonders if it's just a clever arrangements of words structured to hit a particular spot or there is actually some truth to it.

The answer lies in the sweet spot somewhere in the middle. There is so much of it around us because it is very easy to conjure up words like hope, attitude, ants, mountains etc. and come up with something that sounds a little uplifting. Most of these permutations and combinations are, to a large extent, true as well. It might sound unsettling, especially to engineers like me and other similar logic-driven, solution-oriented creatures that one could simply solve problems by changing one's perspective. But it's true nevertheless. This is because the way we look at a problem, other than the ones we come across in textbooks, decides how we approach it. I am talking about the problems that we come across in our daily lives. The problems in dealing with circumstances, people, crises, opportunities v/s moralities, present v/s past v/s future and other similar things. How you look at something decides, on a subconscious level, how you are going to face it. That, in turn, decides your approach which to a large extent decide the strength of your efforts and ultimately gives you a result. 

It might sound easier than people find it to be but the idea is not to assess the ease, but the very truthfulness of the claim. Having a different perspective may not make your problems disappear, but it definitely lets you prepare better. You can study before an important exam hoping to pass it or you can study telling yourself that you're NOT going to fail, come what may. In the first approach, you would be making the minimum necessary effort which, according to your judgement, should be enough to help you clear the exam whereas, in the second one, you would leave no stone unturned to ensure that you do not leave any possibility of failure. I don't think I need to explain which approach has a higher probability of success.

It is this difference in attitudes that differentiates the achievers from the masses, and the legends from the achievers. It is this attitude that decides, whether it's a sunset - when things are over and it's time to go home, or it's sunrise - full of possibilities and opportunities. They are exact opposites of each other and yet, look the same, as if on purpose.  I think it's a master stroke of the Creator, done as an effort for us to look at it and decide how we're going to see it. He gave us the choice, and he told us the word - Perspective, Drushtikon, Nazariya.

Wo jo shayar tha...

There is something timeless about Gulzar. There is something in his writing that makes it so elemental, so basic, so rooted in the essence of life that it becomes impossible to restrict the meaning of his lines to a one-dimensional interpretation. Be it the universal pain and wisdom of tujhse naraaz nahin zidagi, hairaan hoon,or the happy-sad longing of chhod aaye hum wo galiyaan or the haunting Mera kuch Samaan, you are quite likely to be humming the same Gulzar song in two very different moods without finding the song not suiting the mood. Such is the man’s grip on emotions that, when he ends his poem “mujhko bhi tarqeeb sikha koi yaar julahe” with the lines “maine to ik baar buna tha ek hi rishta .. par uski saari girhein saaf nazar aati hain mere yaar julahe..” you can almost feel the pain touching you. Even after five decades of songwriting, his work is always reflection of a man who exactly knows what he wants to convey, and, I have a feeling, always smiles after finding such an appropriate expression.

Gulzar’s songs or never just a bunch of rhyming lines with some catchy, repetitive or beaten words thrown in. Every line, every word, every nuance of a dialect feels like tender strokes of a master sculptor working towards creating a greater entity without ever losing its individual significance. It’s sheer genius to be able to write songs likeBeedi and Namak from Omkara, Kallu Mama from Satya, and, I’m sure we all sang this song as kids, Lakdi ki Kaathi from Masoom.

If his songs are a treasure trove of emotions, his other creative pursuits of poetry, short stories and movies are equally poignant. Some of his movies rate among the greatest in Indian cinema. Aandhi, Angoor and Ijaazat are right up there with the greatest and the best that Hindi films have produced. In his long journey, Gulzar has shown unmatched multifaceted creative genius which has touched millions of lives worldwide. His words have been the silent lamp in long, lonely nights to some; naughty and brash youthfulness to others. From deep philosophies in simple words to funny gibberish that bring out the child in you, there is nothing that this man has not touched and, consequently, turned into gold.

It was for these and many other reasons that I decided to dedicate my first PFC post to Gulzar Sa’ab – the man who could well be the reason I got into writing. Thanks for the words Sir!

“Ik baar waqt se, lamha gira kahin..

Wahan daastaan mili, lamha kahin nahin..”

The Pyre

THE PYRE

It’s a little chilly tonight. The sky is clear, filled with stars appearing like little holes in a black sheet trying to cover a dazzling light on the other side. I am sitting next to my son, who has now stopped crying and is staring rather blankly at the fire, probably waiting for it to die too. I want to console him. But then something stops me. “Death is the biggest truth of life” I had told him a couple of weeks back. Take it as a part of life. Be a man – as I jokingly used to tell him every time he fell from his bicycle and came crying. But that was then.

It’s the same with all departures. You always have things to do, words to tell before you leave. But you leave anyway. It was the same with me. Looking back, there is so much that I wanted to do. So much that I kept pushing to the next day, the next moment. Until I ran out of them. As I sit here, I’m still worried about my wife’s health, my son’s future, my friend’s pension and so many other things. I know there is nothing that I can do about these things now. In fact I know, more than anyone else out there, that there is no point in worrying about these things. But still I find it hard to let go. All our lives we keep building ties that bind us with each other. There are ties of love, promises, duties, responsibilities which stop us from doing so many things. We keep complaining about how little freedom we have because of these ties around us in every form and yet, now that I have been freed of all these ties, I’m longing for them.

I remember my wife’s face today morning. She had been crying at my bedside all night. Her face had become pale. I have no idea when was the last time she had eaten properly. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and how grateful I was for all that she had done for me all through our married life. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was to have hurt her so many times and how proud I was of all that she had done to help me every single moment. I tried to look at her withered face. A smile on that face meant more to me than anything else in the world. But I could barely keep my eyes open. When I tried to say something, I couldn’t manage to form words. My hands didn’t move.

I had heard all sorts of interpretations about death and what follows it. To me it was the ultimate liberation. I used to think of it as a great light into which a soul would merge, like a lamp merging in the sun. it was the transition from form to the formless, from aakar to nirakaar.

As I look around, I see a few other piers too. People just waking up to the realization that their worldly bindings do not hold anymore. That they have already undertaken their final journeys without having any idea about the direction or the destination. That they are not going home this time. I hope I get to know these people. I hope I can make some fresh bonds.

There is a strange calmness that I am feeling around me now. All my life I had been worried about things. Worried about future, securing the future of my loved ones, accumulating little possessions and the protecting them but now, I have let go. My favorite watch is still showing time, but I am beyond time now. My house is still intact, but I am one with the sky and the wind now. There is something that tells me that I still have some time left before my next journey begins. I do not mind waiting now.

The fire is out. I once again look at my son. He is so much my reflection at his age. I hope he goes on to live a rich and fulfilling life. He has collected the last remains of my body along with the ashes and is preparing to leave now. With his departure, my last connection with the physical world has come to an end. Even though I know this, there is no anguish inside me. I do not make an attempt to stop him from leaving or to go with him. I do not want to change the course of events anymore. I am not becoming peaceful. Now…, I am peace.

As I think of my granddaughter, I recall the incident when I once told her that people who die go into the sky and become stars. She had, in her childish innocence, asked me if I would become a star too, and I had told her that I would. I had also pointed to a location in sky telling her that would be from where I would twinkle smiling at her. I just hope I am allowed to honor my promise.

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