Rain

In spite of the chilly weather, I was soaked in sweat. I had just completed my weekly quota of running (though this is not the word that will come to your mind if you happen to be in the jogging park and see kids half my height and god knows what part of my age speeding past me). My body was emitting hot vapors, which only I could feel. Too exhausted to take a napkin out of my pocket, I cleaned the sweat on the brow with my shirt sleeve. I stepped off the cement jogging track on to the grass lawn so as to stretch myself and with it finish my weekly ritual. I always looked upon this jogging park with people, and in particular the oval shaped lawn as a green oasis in a concrete desert. With the kind of tall sky scrapers that surround the park, I should probably stick to the common usage of ‘concrete Jungle’ but again from where I am stationed, I can hardly see any life in them, its only closed windows and LG air conditioners that catch my eye when ever I lift my head to exercise neck. These sky scrapers surrounding the park, eleven and still counting in number, are very close to each other and almost look like a cricket team in hurdle. At twilight they even make me feel claustrophobic.

The abundant supply of water from the past week’s rain turned every plant in the park lush green and I would have almost missed noticing it but for the abnormal thickness of grass under my feet. Once I am on to the grass plot, I tried to persuade different parts of my body to stretch and after fifteen minutes, satisfied with the number of them that listened to me and ignoring those that didn’t, I decided to head back. I started walking slowly but steadily towards the exit, maneuvering through the traffic (read joggers) that has grown exponentially as the evening progressed.

I hardly covered a couple of meters and it suddenly grew very dark, as if somebody has turned down the brightness knob. As a mocking imitation of life outside the park, rain drops started falling hurriedly and noisily on to the leaves. All of a sudden walkers started jogging, joggers started running and runners started disappearing and in no time the track looked almost empty. Blame it on the exhausted body or re-kindling of childhood fantasy, I further slowed my pace. All those fanatic pleas asking my mom to let me out into the rain quickly crossed my mind. The breeze picked up and rain drops began to ‘Hit’ my face. I started to enjoy the cold raindrops falling on to my heated body. I didn’t feel the chill, I didn’t fear my health, all I felt is a momentary bliss. Instinctively I stretched my hands even risking the possibility of looking like a heroine in rain song. And then all of a sudden, just when I was starting to soak in the moment, the rain stopped. More than disappointment, I felt cheated. There were countless times, when I wished it wouldn’t rain and it rained and now as if to summarize the irony that life is - the rain stopped just when I wanted it to go on. Not left with a choice and with a feeling bordering that of dejection, I quickened my pace and headed in the direction of the exit.

The Devil

(The below piece was inspired by the book "Of Human Bondage" - i know somerset Maughm wouldn't approve !)

I can’t believe I have taken this path again. How long has it been since I last travelled this way? Not very long. How many times has the devil made its appearance? Almost every single time. Then why do I take it ? That’s it this is the last time. Nothing in the world can make me do this again. I have had my share of disappointments, learnt my lessons; there is no way I am going to take this bait again. O wait ! no this cant be ! Am I beginning to feel THE THIRST again ? how can this happen? Am I so helpless that I can’t even choose the direction of my step?

This thirst, it sabotages my mind. All of a sudden, it looks as if the mind is programmed to only find ways to quench this thirst, everything else seems insignificant. I know I would meet the devil if I take that path, but still I had to quench my thirst. I feel meek; The demons are fighting in the head. Thirst VS Pain. Time always sides with thirst, it weakens the power of pain, and eventually thirst wins and I take that path again.

This devil, it never leaves me, it doesn’t matter, whatever precaution I take, it makes its appearance. Is there no way of getting rid of its presence on the route. Am I supposed to always have a rendezvous with the devil? What makes the devil show itself up, all of a sudden? Did I summon it? I don’t I know, I am not sure. But if there is one thing I am sure of it is - The pain eases, thirst returns, I will tread the same way and meet the devil. Its all written as in a movie only thing that differs is the form it takes.

Times when thirst returns before the pain completely eases are the worst. I start searching for it so I am doomed right from the first step. When there is only thirst, I at least get to enjoy the country side until I meet the devil. The habit of walking sometimes makes me go ahead on the path even after the encounter, but then once you encounter the devil, life is sucked out and its plain torture. There are times when I meet a devil in the form of an angle, but then this is the worst form of devil, for it makes me take the path more often.

You can never be sure how the demon got summoned or at what point it made its appearance. The events preceding are almost always pleasant and rarely give an indication of whats about to come. Actually, I am mentally very exhausted. I can hardly recall the flow of events and cant even vaguely remember the cause. Though I don’t like to believe, I know the devil wouldn’t come without me summoning it. Times when I faintly recall the reason I summoned it, I feel like a moron, how could I have summoned the devil for such a daft reason. Sometimes I realize my mistake immediately after summoning the devil, I feel like pleading it to go away, I should have pleaded it go away, but then, the egoist that I am, I can never bow my head, I am only habituated to banging it once the devil leaves. Am I afraid that I would loose my ‘supposedly superior position’, which is again just a figment of my imagination and totally meaningless in the larger context.

Can I ever break free of this web or should I just resign to myself thinking that this is how it is supposed to be ?

Life

These are the cards dealt,

This is the game I play.

Other Side

All my life i yearned to see the other side,
The side which hasn’t been showed to me,
I yearned to experience it,
Dreamt of living it,
Not always because it was being superior,
But because it offered me hope,
Hope that all is well on the other side,
Hope that there is life on the other side.

The Few times i have managed to squeeze experiences out of the other side,
I have been disappointed to the core.
Am I always blinded by my eagerness to escape?
Escape this side, that I never saw the obvious,
That Life is not a cube, but a sphere with only one side.

Lonely Trip

On the eve of 2008 New Year I told a hapless being called “My room mate” that I took a resolution. After pausing to gauge his reaction, which was dismissive to say the least, I proceeded to tell him that I have decided to go on a trip to one of the many tourist destinations around Mumbai, all alone. His ears elongated a little, the moment “all alone” passed through them. He being my room mate for the past couple of years would automatically qualify him to enact the “roll on the floor and laugh his heart out” act, for - the monumental laziness I have shown from the time I passed out from collage would make this resolution (look like) a Joke, a Big Joke. Instead of making use of his privilege, the generous person that he is, encouraged me with just a skeptical glance. Buoyant by this better than expected reaction, I assured myself by quoting Paulo Coelho “Resolutions are like stars in the sky, you may not reach them but they will help guide your path”. With this I unknowingly removed the obligatory clause of the resolution, as I always do.

The first real good opportunity to make a lonely trip came my way sometime in the second week of April. If you had even remotely know me or any of the thousands or may be lakhs of BAH fraternity (Bachelors Away from Home) in India, you would have wondered what the hell was I doing all those weekends before that without embarking on the Mission. True I haven’t done anything worthwhile, anything that could be put here. If a cow which doesn’t give milk, ever had a human form it should have been me in the weekends; yes I am its alter ego. I un tiring repeat the “day cycle” of a cow - wake up, go in search of food and then go back to sleep again – at least four times during a weekend. One of the beauties of Bachelorhood (I am not trying to make it look noble by adding the ‘Hood’) is that you can actually choose (pains included) what you want to eat. As a matter of fact, the difference between one weekend and another disappeared from being delta last year to epsilon this year.

Anyway, my point is even though I don’t have anything better to do I didn’t venture to go until this particular weekend not because it is auspicious but because I didn’t want to add one more “weirdo” stars to my shirt. Even in this short span of life (surprising how at 13 you feel you have seen enough life but at 23 you feel you havent seen much) I have done enough things to be called an specimen / Weirdo. I didn’t want to add one more badge (sometimes the badges become really heavy) by making a lonely trip when I could have had an exciting trip with a group. So I waited for a day rather for THE Day when every one I knew would be out of city and this trip would look natural. I always felt that you would have done at least half the things you haven’t done, had you been sure that no one would notice (Mind you I am not talking about Freud ian things like murder and rape).

Since I am not a person with any social, economic and political stature, I didn’t know many people, but even then I had to wait for four months to find a day to say “All the people I hang around with during weekends are out of town so I‘d better go out of town to escape boredom”, where as the truth is I could have said the last half of the sentence on any given weekend. The second week of April is one such ideal time and I have decided on Wednesday April 9 i.e. two days in advance, to go ahead and fulfill my New Year resolution on the following weekend.

For a person who claims to be agnostic it is surprising how often I have placed faith in the uncertain and went ahead unplanned to the trips. But somehow this time it was different, I have planned the trip for two days. I bought a travel bag and some packaged food (mars bars, biscuits and chips) a day before the journey. I even found out train and bus timings, cost of tickets and accommodation details from the internet. In fact this was the first trip for which I have managed to put all the three essentials - blanket, towel and toothbrush in the bag. May be the thought that I was going there all alone was in a way responsible for this more than usual behavior.

As the time for my departure approached my thoughts began to waver. I have traveled alone but I have never stayed alone in a new place, in which I don’t know anyone, in which I have no purpose and most importantly in which people speak a language that I don’t speak nor understand. All of a sudden pessimistic thoughts began to fill my mud bag (read mind). What if I get robbed? What if I don’t find accommodation? What if I met with an accident? What if my health deteriorates? These thoughts began to take their toll on my confidence levels. I began to search for reasons to stop going ahead with the journey. I hoped somebody would call me and say that they are coming to see me over the weekend or that I would get a call from the office asking me to work over the weekend. I even hoped that I would not get the ticket since that’s one thing I kept till the last moment. But all this while even when the pessimistic thoughts have taken over my mind, something in me told that “if its not now then it’s never”. Now if i think back i realize that its the thought of missing the state of comfortable numbness, that i experience and got so used to during the weekends, that resisted the journey and not the demons of insecurity in my mind.

In life, facing the events that precede a situation is much tougher than the situation itself. you cant agree more, had you given a viva or a speech at some point in your life. This was no different and when the moment finally arrived, i was actually excited about the whole idea of traveling alone; I left early from office and got to the designated place of departure well before time. i got the first taste of reality in the form of late arrival of the bus; The bus which was scheduled to arrive at 9:45 Pm arrived at 11:45 pm - late by a whole two hours. This event at any other time would have made me glum and moody but as i said this trip was different and i remained cheerful and almost unconcerned, all the while i waited for my journey to start. The fact that there isnt anyone to listen to my tantrums must have made my choice, of being cheerful, inevitable.

I was one of the last ones to buy the ticket and was promptly given a seat in the last row, which made my journey a little painful as there isnt any reclining facility. The moment i settled comfortably in my allocated seat, i noticed a foreign couple sitting in the corner of my row, hand in hand and deeply in conversation with each other. This was probably the only moment of "weekness" that i experienced over the whole trip. This indescribable feeling is very close to the one you experience when you hear a melancholic romantic song. a moment when heart yearns and mind warns, a moment when heat is careless, mind is thoughtless and you helpless. Just before my glare turned into a stare, i turned my head 180 degrees, an exaggerated turn to show my indifference toward them. I looked out of the window for the next sixty to eighty minutes, without any particular thoughts in my mind. This act of sustained staring made my eyes heavy and mind sleepy, and it didnt take me long to slip into sleep. I slept well though i cant claim it to be a sound sleep, as i woke up almost, every time a vehicle passed by honking.

It was 6'o clock in the morning by the time i completely woke up. As i looked out of the window i realized that the bus was traveling along a beautiful gorge with a creek for company. Even when the bus crossed over a bridge to the other side, it was still accompanied by the creek, like a faithful companion. The hills are completely covered with greenery and the water in the creek almost still - the whole sean looked like a wallpaper. The sun which was just starting to come out from behind the hills added a little dark brown tint to the whole scean. In fact it was as if i was seeing through a brown glass. This gave a rustic and demure feel to the whole surroundings. A scean straight out of a Maniratnam movie. I opened the window a little and let the chill air inside. Morning freshness, holiday mood coupled with scenic surrounding and topped with freshness of dawn and chill air - Just when i was being transported to a world that i always yearned for, the bus in its attempt to muscle its way up the hill roared loudly bring me back to the world i belong, a world of cacophony.

The bus reached my destination at around 8 in the morning. I got down the bus and followed the people in front of me, without really thinking and with an air of confidence; for I already know from a tourism website that the whole place lies in less than 3 Km radius and the chances of me getting lost are remote. I was following a group of five students, who were constantly joking among themselves and gave me an impression that they are having lot of fun. That made me remember, some of the trips I embarked on, with friends during my college, when the thought of going on a trip with friends itself gave me so much joy that the happenings of the trip didn’t really matter. Those guys are in one of those moods when “a group of words”, not necessarily a sentence, would have them in hysterics. After a few minutes the group ahead of me, stopped to get their breath (I guess the metabolic activity is more when you laugh than when you walk) and as I walked past them, I gave them one of those “Been there, seen it looks”, which for some unknown reason made me feel great.

This is not a fairy tale it’s a travel tale, so how can everything go according to plan ? After walking for five minutes along the road after crossing that “Not in this world” group, I reached a junction of three roads, the one I walked and two leading into the habitat. The three roads are actually like the three arm s of a bisected 60 degrees angle, I kind of walked along the base (Sometimes the engineer in me just pops up and I just can’t help it). I picked up one of the roads out of hunch and went ahead trying to find out a place to stay. As always is the case, my hunch was wrong. There is no vacancy in any of the hotels. This being an extended weekend on account of holi, half of Mumbai has come down. I thought I was the only one cashing on the extended weekend, how naïve (If somebody else was writing he would have found “lack of common sense” more appropriate; that’s one reason why I prefer autobiography over biography, not that somebody would be willing to write mine). Interestingly no one said “its full” or “no vacancy”, instead they said “booked completely”, which sounded like “you should have booked before, you fool”. I started getting the same replies from the hotels on the bisector (I mean the other road). Just when I was loosing hope, I came across the best hotel in the place (I have already seen enough of the place to come to this conclusion), i thought everything has a reason, I didn’t get a hotel because I was destined to get the best, I was already tired and couldn’t really bother about the price. I went to the reception (yes this hotel actually had one, unlike others) and asked for a room. The receptionist paused for a moment and said something which would change my life for ever – “sorry sir, the rooms just got filled; you are late by five minutes”. That’s it - that is the moment, life changing indeed, when I told myself that I will never follow my hunch. I have decided that I had enough fun with them, and would do exactly the opposite of what I felt like doing (after all statistics speak for themselves). Before I left the reception, I called myself all kinds of names, for following my hunch. Had I taken this road I would have been relaxing in a comfortable room. I checked out a couple more, with the same result and all of a sudden the situation became desperate. I started hoping I will at least find a place to fresh up. I reached the end of the road and still didn’t find a place to stay. At the end of this road I again found two ways (its like a perpendicular on to a straight line). This time better sense prevailed and I asked one of the bystanders, if I could find any place to stay. He pointed at a battered building. I doubled up to the hotel and asked for availability and got a positive from them. The decrepit condition of the building and ready availability made me skeptical, and when I did see the room I almost blurted out “How much does this warehouse with bathroom cost per day?” Knowing very well that I don’t have the luxury and energy to say “No” he said 700 and for the very same “luxury and energy” reasons I said “I am fine” aloud and “with the dungeon” in a murmur. I was almost nauseated by the stale air inside. With great effort I opened the windows and let the fresh air in, which calmed me a bit.

With a feeling that the worst is already over, I quickly freshened up and left for the beautiful shores of Ganapatipulle.

Suffering

"Perhaps i know best why man alone laughs; for he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter" --- Friedrich Nietzsche

I suffer, therefore I am. I wonder why I suffer. Is it because i don’t know any other way to lead a life?

Its only suffering that comes to my mind when i sit back at the end of my day and think about this mundane life.
I suffer even before the day starts! Every moment i am conscious in my sleep i suffer thinking that the alarm can ring at anytime.
Every moment i lie on the bed after the alarm rings i suffer looking at the dissonance that has developed between my mind and body called laziness.
I suffer every moment I spend getting dressed up thinking that i might miss the pickup cab, which comfortably drops me at my office.
At office, I suffer coz the work is either not up to me or I am not up to it.
I suffer thinking about my short comings, when people don’t rate me high and when people rate me high, i suffer from trying too hard to prove them right.
Every time I order something of my choice when I go out for a dinner, I suffer feeling that I am imposing my choices on others and when I don’t, I suffer feeling deprived. Alas when I go all alone I suffer from loneliness.
I suffer everyday waiting for the weekend. I suffer in the weekends knowing that they won’t last for ever.
Every now and then I suffer thinking about the disorderly life of mine, without proper eat, sleep, wake up timings. But then again I resent whenever my mom try s to put it in order during my stay at home during vacations.
In the night, when I reflect upon the day gone by, I suffer thinking about the things that should have been done and on rare occasions when I do manage to do something; I suffer thinking that they should have been done differently.
When I prepare myself for sleep so as to escape suffering, I suffer from insomnia. Eventually, when i fall a sleep, it’s only suffering that I can dream of.

I suffer from companionship as it makes me an imposter. But then being my true self doesn’t give me the necessary relief coz I realize that I have the same society defined immoral qualities like selfishness, jealousy, hypocrisy, attention seeking, back biting...Etc . I sometimes feel, I act as if I am caring and this thought makes me suffer even more than what I suffer when I act.
I suffer because people’s perception of what my choices should be, defines my choices but then the knowledge that I lack the strength to make my own choices doesn’t help me either.

I try to think out of suffering, but at the end of every thought there is only suffering. I suffer when I think about people because I miss them. I suffer thinking about either sides of today; past and Future, coz I haven’t done anything worthwhile nor plan to do anything. I wonder if i don’t know what to think other than about suffering. I knock many a doors to overcome suffering, but a door opens only because there is suffering on the other side of it. I ring many a phones so as to escape hearing the voice of suffering in my head but it’s only suffering that I hear every time the ring stops. I try to immerse myself into a book to escape from suffering, but cover to cover it covers only suffering. I think of travel to escape suffering but i suffer realizing that travel in the real world is different form the travel in dream world.

At times when these sufferings become unbearable, I try to think of the omnipotent, but then again I suffer from lack of faith. I know I suffer but I still can’t cry out my heart and relieve myself of the suffering coz more than the causes of my suffering, people knowing that I suffer gives me more pain. Is it their perception – that I am week or display of sympathy that I despise?

Two Lives

Scene 1:
I wake up from a disquieted sleep much before the alarm in my cell phone goes up. I half open my eyes to see the bright sun light unapologetically illuminate my room. (or is it I who need to apologize, for the laziness). As if to compensate for the annoyance of alarm, the vehicles on the road blared their horns, more as disapproval for something that’s going on, on the road than as a plea, asking for a way. I aimlessly search for my cell phone lying somewhere on the bed, partly to find out if I got any calls or messages and partly to find out the time. On finding the cell phone, with squint eyes, I check for missed calls and time. What I see next will subject me to two contrasting emotions, and defines the two ends of my emotional spectrum on a normal day.
The moment I see that there are no missed calls, a feeling of dejection creeps into me. As this feeling starts to seep in me, I look at the time and realize that I still have sixty full minutes of my allotted time to sleep. I readjust the blanket, pillow and prepare myself for that one last hour of tranquility before the cacophony of the world strikes back. The feeling I have, as I wrap myself in the blanket is the best I have on most of the days, though I don’t realize it at that time. A feeling you have when you start the contest knowing that you have already won that.

Scene 2:
I hear a gentle sweet voice calling my name. “Raja Raja…wake up”. I ignore it, fearing that the lullaby like sound would stop the moment I answer. It was more an earnest plea than an order. (Its surprising, how often you realize that intentions speak more than words). Just when the voice is making a transition from being a plea to an order, I put my head out of the blanket. Wondering if the change in tone has brought about an unpleasant start to my day, the gentle tone reasons out, in an apologetic tone, for waking me up, “The breakfast is ready, wake up, so that you can have it before it turns cold”. And suddenly out of now where I hear a little loud and harsh voice calling my name, luring me with a folded newspaper, to wake up. There is a contiguous shhh in a gentle tone and the harsh voice subsides into the silent backdrop. In a moment I hear the sound of curtains being drawn and immediately, as if to compensate for the long wait, the sunlight hurries to fill up the room, giving the whole scene a gay look. Sunlight makes opening my eyes a little easy and inevitable. I slowly open my eyes, trying to make sense of what’s happening around me and it takes me a few moments to realize – a clear sign of sound sleep. Relieved that I have finally woken up, mom and dad leave the room to continue with their daily chores. I finally manage to pull myself out of the bed, pick the newspaper lying beside me and drag my body all the way to the brightly illuminated corridor. As I go through the newspaper, soaking in the sun, I realize that, there is certain languor about the moment that I feel like freezing it.

PS: What’s your guess about these two disjoint scenes? Two different lives (like Dus kahaniya) ? Or dream and reality (like Vanilla sky and every other English movie I see)?
These are two parts of the same life, my life. One, the life I lived; other, the life I am living. One, the memory of which, keeps the other going. One, the life I left, to pursue the other. Still wondering which is what ?

The Hypocrite

I was reading a book The Alchemist by Paulo Coleho. After going trough a couple of chapters i realised that what he was saying makes sense . i was overwhelmed with joy and exitation. the same feeling s a child meets when he is given a new toy. it made me feel that from the very next moment after reading this i wil be a better (read enlightened) soul . remember this was after i read jus TWO chapters.then suppresing my exitement i started to read again . this time half my mind is reading it and the other half started wandering . thoughts began to raise suddenly and simultaniously ." i need to take a photo copy of this and post it to xyz " . " i need to show this book to all around me "." i need to remember (rather byheart) these lines so that i can lecture people (hapless people)."i suddenly stopeed again after a couple of paragraph s for, i became aware of my thoughts (for the first time ).i put down the book and started to "see instantly whats going on " (in my mind ) --- my ego or self what ever it is , wants to satisfy itself by projecting itself as a 'erudite' (a person having special knowledge) person . a erudite person who has a special taste for philosophical issues - a person who can lecture on 'HIGH FUNDA' things like awareness and conciousness etc .jus as i am becoming aware of "these things " my ego got the better of me , and thoughts originated " i need to put this on paper ; i need to write a blog (the result of which is this) ", again for the same reason , satisfying my ego by projecting myself as a erudite person .then suddenly a feeling of chill ran through my spine for i realised that these thoughts are ' not within society 's standards of acceptable behaviour ' shortly called as immoral behaviour .i finished the article wondering if we( sorry i ) are really different from egoistic , attention seeking self centric people whome we loahe without realising that in our inner depths we too have the same feelings .

Tribute

Raja was waiting at the school gate for his dad to come and pick him up. his rickshaw driver was ill that day so his dad had to pick him up. He can see some of his friends' parents come and pick their kids after the school, he can see them come on bikes and in cars, he can more importantly see them not come on a cycle, which his dad will invariably come on. Being an obedient kid that he is, he would never say this to his dear father but he would love to see his dad come on a bike and not on a bicycle. He would prefer anything, even an old moped to the bicycle. For some weird reason he never understood why his dad didn't didnt buy one. His dad would never be late for the after school pick up, but today was an exception; he had some work to attend in his workplace. raja actually preferred it this way, being picked up late so that no one could see him go on a cycle. None of this friends would say anything, too matured for the age of eleven, but he would see something in their eyes that would say it all or was it just his imagination ? Now that it has been almost twenty minutes since the final bell rang, the traffic before the school thinned and he could see his dad coming. Seeing his dad raja became conscious, conscious of the fact that he would be going on the cycle. He became uncomfortable. he felt as if he was caught doing something wrong. He started looking down so that his eyes doesn't meet with anyone he knows. As soon as his dad stopped the cycle before him, he quickly got on to the back seat of the cycle. His dad always insisted on him sitting in the baby seat in front of him, so that his legs wont fall in the wheel. But raja felt he was a grown up now and that sitting in the front 'baby' seat would make every one think he is still a baby, which he thinks is unfair, given that he is already 100 cm tall. He expected some resistance from his dad for sitting in the back and is all ready to back answer. He badly wanted a reason to get back at his dad for insulting him before the entire school by coming to pick him up on a cycle. But that didnt happen, may be the look on his face said it all to his dad or may be his dad felt that he need to pacify raja for being late. His dad asked him the usual questions on the way back home. He asked him if he had finished his lunch box and other things concerning his health but nothing related to the academics. This further instigated raja, for he does reasonably well in the class and would have loved to brag about his acheivements in the class. About how he answered the social questions or about how he solved the maths questions. His dad fell silent after the initial couple of questions and now raja has to wait untill his mom finishes her house hold work to brag about his acheivements, this further raised the boil a couple of inches. The rest of the journey was pretty uneventful, with his dad making a couple of general remarks about the people passing by, as raja spent his time sulking and trying to get his displeasure across, with out much success. Reaching home and the thought of cricket made him quickly get rid of the things he had been carrying for some time; books, lunch box and the misery of coming back from the school on a cycle. He forgot this 'insignificant' problem or is it the problem of being insignificant as soon as he was faced with much bigger problems, the problems of bat, ball, wickets and runs and by the time he came back after his daily dose of cricket he was his usual self.

Seven years after that incident, raja was sitting in a chair watching TV. He can see the helpless face of his mother from the corner of his eyes. Though his eyes are watching the pitchers on the screen, nothing is getting registered in his mind. His mind went blank some moments ago or rather full, full with the thoughts of rage, anguish and self pity because he had an heated argument with his dad. he is in the first year of his graduation and like a typical adoloscent, wanted a bike to vroom in the streets but was flatly declined by his father. His mother,like all mothers do, in those circumstances, took his side against his dads, but in vain. After the first round of 'argument match' his dad gave his mother one of those looks without words which made his mom quit taking sides. raja never understood what tacit agreement will be reached everytime one of these looks are exchanged, irrespective of the source. Once his dad left the room after pronouncing a justice chowdary like final judgement, "what ever be the extent of sulking a bike will not be bought", his mother tried to pacify him with some conforting words and logical arguments. An emotional person can rarely be logical and no logic is going into emotinal raja's mind. He can hear his mom's repeated murmors, the essence of which is, that he actually doesnt need a bike as bikes are not allowed in his colleage and that he willl be able to use it only when he is in his home town during the two month summer vacation, and that it is not worth the effort and money. Instead of having a postive effect, this further stired up his rage, for, now he felt that even his mother is not able to understand his feelings - The way he feels when he needs to go to the theatre or to a friends house on a cycle. Though he never realised nor remembered, its the same feeling he had way back in his school days when his dad came on a cycle to pick him up.


Time flys by whenever a person is on the right side of the age and before he realised raja passed out of the colleage, well equiped with a well paying job to face the cruel face of life. After six months he came back to his house, for the first time since he joined in the job. Corporate life took its toll on raja and he spent most part of his vaction sleeping. It was towards the end of one of those seista's that he overheard a conversation between his parents. His dad is explaining to his mother that he would buy a second hand car instead of rennovating the house as it was his dream to own a car. Raja can guess from the passion in his voice that he always wanted to buy a car/vehicle but had to postpost it to accomodate for his studies. Though raja didnt let the disappointments affect his relation and attitude towards his dad, he still remembered them. Occasionally wondering how it would have been to sit/ ride a bike or car. Now he got the answer: his dad buying a bike would have ment that he didnt go to the best school and colleage. He felt shameful remembering the way he behaved with this dad when he refused to relent on the bike issue. jus as he was diving even deeper into the thoughts, he heard the sound of gate open and the sound of his dad pulling down the cycle stand signalling the end of the conversation and his pretention of sleep. He got up from his bed, not streaching his body but by streaching his mind to quickly find a way to execute the thought he just got. He has already made a list of the things he need to do once he goes back to his work place - which includes bargaining and zeroing on the best deals given by banks.

Habit

"Wait for ten minutes". The moment i heard this from the lady at the reception, i ran towards a round table with the only vacant chair available in the whole bank premises. Me running away from the receptionist at such pace is not a true indication of the beauty of the lady at the desk nor is an indication of lack of stamina in me to stand for the prescribed amount of time, though the later is debatable. The only reason why i made a dash towards the table, is i want to get hold of the crumpled newspaper lying unattended on the table. Its the same newspaper that was delivered to my room that morning, its the same newspaper on which i already spent two hours in the morning and decided that there is nothing worthy to read, its the same newspaper which gives me daily dose of health tonic in the form of sports news and celebrity gossip. yet i made a 'head turning' run to the table to get hold of the newspaper, so that i can escape rather shy away from the excruciating process of thinking. I almost feel like saying - Thinking is such a pain. If you wont believe, look at the details.
i always start off thinking about the so called "useful" stuff like academics (or job related); after all i am a guy who gets his priorities right. but i am also a guy with limited interest in academics, so my thoughts about them wont carry on for more than a couple of minutes. If i am honest with my self, i would attribute this inability to think about things i do/ need for living to the lack of depth in knowledge. I then try to think about relations and people. all the people i deal with are pretty straight forward people and cause little trouble to me, to really make me think for reasonable amount of time, which again results in my thoughts reaching a dead end with in a span of five minutes. Since i am left with no choice i start thinking about myself, The same self which i have been living with for the past 22 years, yet which is as alien as any other self. I am not one of those persons with an eligibility for St. at the beginning of the name and hence these thoughts inevitably leave a bad taste in mouth as i typically end up making self disparaging remarks about my self . If not i think about things that have been done and are done wrong or things that haven't been done but should have been done, which is not such a pleasant exercise. I some times even enter the forbidden lands of "what should i do in life" which never fails in giving me a bout of depression. This is precisely the reason why i desperately want to read that piece of crumpled newspaper; so that i can shut my mind before it turns idle and inturn into a devils laboratory, generating all kinds of depressive hormones. I strongly feel that pharma companies can boost the sale of their anti depressants by just making people sit idle for fifteen minutes.