The wall - A short story

Prologue:

“It is very difficult for me to be alone for an entire day. Let me at least teach mathematics to children in the evenings. This severe headache is because I am giving absolutely no work to my brain” 

Mrs. Rajeshwari spoke in almost muted voice. 

“Mom, it is all in your mind. Just get out of the mindset that you are alone. Trust me, your headache will vanish. There are thousands of mothers who are alone and they do not complain. I am meddled with my own problems in and outside of this house. Do you want me to quit job and be with you just because you feel lonely? You are alone for a couple of hours for a day. But you are not outcast or abandoned…. Are you? After all, what have we not done to you? There are hundreds of those Bhajan CDs that you like. There is TV. You have newspaper, novels and what not. I dunno what is stopping you from exploring all these” bellowed Ajay, who was in a hurry. As he picked up his laptop bag and was about to leave, he felt that the holler was unnecessary. He felt pity and tried to console his mother.

“Maa… Sanjana has already cooked breakfast and lunch. Eat on time, take your tablets without fail and take a power nap. Watch TV for some time. She will be back by 5PM. You’ll be alright mom. Don’t think too much” 

He kissed his mother good bye, got up and walked out of the house. Sanjana was already waiting near the car.

“What is it”? She admonished

“Arghhh! The same old make-believe solitary confinement of mother”

Sanjana gave an unpleasantly prominent look. Ajay tried to ignore and a few seconds later the car zoomed out of the gate and the couple left for their daily chores….

Chapter-1

For Mrs. Rajeshwari, life had turned one-eighty after her retirement. Her husband’s early demise had forced her to take the lead at a young age. On one hand, after decades of serving as a high school teacher, shaping other kids’ lives, taking responsibilities and driving her own family, she was expecting a sense of relief that she will get to live the life that she wants to. On the other hand, her own son and daughter in law were not realizing that she had just retired from work, not from life. They made it implicit that she had struggled all these years and now that she has retired, all she needs is rest.  Not that they were apathetic. They took her for periodic medical check-ups, never forgot her birthday, facilitated her pension and gave it to her without fail. She had the luxury of TV, internet and so on. Sanjana took care of all the cooking at home. Shanta Bai visited every day to clean and do the dishes. But involuntarily, they were not receptive to her genuine feelings!  So even beyond all these comforts, there was a sense of privation which always bothered Mrs. Rajeshwari – Loneliness.

Back in Mumbai, where she had spent the major part of her life, she had so many friends. After her husband’s early demise, she had moved to a house in Bandra west. R N Podar school where she was a teacher, was just 10 minute walk from her house. In the evenings, the verandah of her house was packed with kids. She was a brilliant mathematics tutor. She had that zeal to teach mathematics to kids in simple methods. Students she tutored consistently scored high marks in mathematics. Among the kids who secured a hundred on hundred in mathematics in Maharashtra board exams, majority were Mrs. Rajeshwari’s students. Vernacular newspapers called her century teacher. At the prime of her life, she was energetic, lively and led a meaningful life. 

Sanjana, a bank manager now, was once her student. By virtue of her profession, there were frequent transfers. And this time, she was transferred to Nashik. So Ajay had to resign his IT job in Mumbai and had joined the only software company in Nashik amidst the wine and other small scale industries. Without an option, Mrs. Rajeshwari too unwillingly had to relocate to Nashik. That is where her age of loneliness crept in.

For years, the fast paced life of Mumbai had pushed Mrs. Rajeshwari to limits. The city offered a frenzied spiral of dreams; it had given a new life to her; it had given her success and fame. Her burgeoning dreams were synonymous with the city’s haste itself. But Nashik was totally conflicting with what she had experienced in Mumbai for 30+ years. For unexplained reasons, she just could not embrace living in Nashik; not because of its tempered lifestyle, but because she started to experience a sense of solitude. Within months after her arrival in Nashik, she had developed the perception of being alone and isolated. With nobody to even talk to, locked in between the four walls was something that had disturbed her to a very large extent. 

The doorbell rang and she was sure that it is Shanta Bai.

“Come in Shanta Bai… At least you are there to talk to me. Why are you so late today?

“Arrey Maaji, in the next road, just behind your house, there is a lady; just like you Maaji. Husband died, Son and daughter in America. She had arthritis. So they operated and they put some metal knee for her Maaji. Some modern operation which cost her lakhs of rupees. But the surgery was not successful only. Her knee pain increased after operation. Now she cannot even walk outside."

Paap teni! She was talking to me about her pain and loneliness Maaji. That’s why I got late”

Instantly, there was a ray of hope, a sort of glimmer in Mrs. Rajeshwari’s face. She imagined the neighborhood lady's and her own life to be like two peas in a pod. She thought that if she can befriend the lady that Shanta Bai is talking about, it’ll definitely help both kill their boredom. She thanked Shanta Bai that the almighty himself has sent this opportunity and asked for more details.

“What is her name?”

“Sundara Bai”

“Where exactly is her house?”

“Very Next Street. Exactly behind your house maaji. If you go to your balcony and she comes to hers, you both can actually talk to each other. Ha ha ha”

This idea appealed to Mrs. Rajeshwari. She gave this a lot of thought overnight and decided that she herself should strike a conversation after Sanjana and Ajay left for office. Even the thought of getting to talk to someone sparked a sense of excitement in her. She could not sleep the whole night. The next day morning, as usual, Sanjana and Ajay left for office. Shanta Bai came and finished her chores and left for the day. Mrs. Rajeshwari came to her balcony and stood there, facing the seven feet wall. She waited until she heard a feeble noise. She spoke in a loud voice:

“Hello, Sundara bai… I am Rajeshwari. Your neighbor”

“Hello. Are you talking to me? How do you know my name?”

A 30 second pause. *What if Sundara Bai gets back inside and fails to hear what I am saying. Oh no! This should not happen* Mrs. Rajeshwari raised her voice as much as she could.

“Shanta Bai told me about you. I am alone at home. Are you alone too?”

 “Hmmm. In today’s world, only people who are aged like me and you will sit at home”

Both of them laughed.

“Did you have your lunch, Sundara Bai?”

“Hmmm. In the beginning, I used to eat whenever I was hungry. Nowadays, I am eating to just keep myself alive. Doctor has told me that eating on time will help you get good sleep. So I forcefully eat something”

“Yeah. Same here. Eating just to be alive”. How many of you stay here”?

And so started their friendship. Over a period of time, they became very good friends. They enjoyed their varied conversations. They spoke at length about their families, their childhood and their college days, their post marriage tantrums, about their responsibilities as parents and how their kids had gotten busy in their own lives abandoning them. Their mutual conversation eased their pain and touched their mental wounds with a warm and tender acquaintance. For them, it was not just exchange of words. It was an everyday colloquium. At times, they forgot the seven feet wall between them and the tête-à-tête continued for hours together. This everyday conversation was the medicine that kept Mrs. Rajeshwari and Sundarabai alive and away from their otherwise secluded lives. 

A couple of months passed by. Ajay and Sanjana did take notice that the mother had almost stopped whining. Mrs. Rajeshwari informed Ajay and Sanjana of her shenanigans with Sundarabai at the backyard. Ajay thanked god that the rewarding effects of this talk became a compelling incentive for his mom to stop being lonely. He told his mother that she can talk to her neighbor at her will and that he or Sanjana would never object it. He also promised to check if he can do something to the wall so that they can have direct face to face conversations. Over months, it improved the psychological and social functioning of his mother on its own. In other words, it was a natural recovery for Mrs. Rajeshwari from the solitude.

It was Mrs. Rajeshwari’s birthday. Like every year, they decided to make her birthday, a special day for her. Ajay and Sanjana thought of surprising mother by coming home early, celebrating her birthday and taking her out for dinner. They left their offices early, purchased cake, sweets and savories from the famous store and reached home. As always, Ajay opened the doors with his keys. As he entered, he heard Mrs. Rajeshwari’s feeble voice busy in a conversation. He suddenly realized it could be Sundarabai, love thy neighbor, who was a blessing in disguise. A thought spontaneously came to his mind; Inviting Sundarabai home on mother’s birthday would make both really happy and that it would also put an end to their month long acquaintance. He thought this is also the best opportunity to thank Sundara Bai.

As he moved towards the backyard with his mind reasoning on how to strike a conversation with SundaraBai, he noticed something very unusual. That strange, bizarre and a totally unexpected scene freaked him out. He halted abruptly. 

“I tell you Sundarabai, you should really visit my Bombay once…”

“I like the way you say ‘My Bombay’. Rajeshwari, you miss Bombay very much. Don’t you?”

“Yes. Every day! I wish you could walk. I would have asked Ajay to take both of us to Bombay one day”

A chill ran down Ajay’s spine. Facing the seven feet wall, Mrs. Rajeshwari, herself was doing the two sided conversation. There was no Sundarabai in real. Sundarabai was a character created by Mrs. Rajeshwari in her mind.

… To be continued

Love, life and other impediments - Part-2

Please click here to read part-1

I could not fathom why a police officer would call me on my mobile phone. If it was any official matter, my legal advisor would inform me of the forthcomings. Why would the police have to chase me; that too with an arrest warrant? I sensed something was fishy. But I could not understand what it was.

“Officer, My name is Samarth Irrinjalakuda, I am the…..” Oh Forget it. “I don’t understand all this. What have I done to get arrested?”

An accompanying constable spoke “Saar, you don’t see TV ah? Your girlfriend is there no. She has made all your personal life public saar. Better means you only…”

“Hmmmm…” The police officer gave the constable a blatant look. The constable, with an implicit gaze, stopped talking.

“Officer, can you please tell me what is happening?”

“Mr. Samarth, your girlfriend has taken your extra marital affair to media; the taped call recordings and dirty talk, pillow talk or whatever you call it; your sexist conversations, everything is being aired on Times Today news channel since noon. She has also produced before the media, recordings of your anti-feminist views on sex, your cynical views on women centric society, etc.

WHAT?

Are you really surprised, Mr Samarth? With my experience in cybercrime and CID, I could confidently say that those recordings were not forged. It was not you. Really?

Silence

Mr. Samarth?

Silence

Constable spoke again in a varied tone “Hehehehe.. Saar… in his silence wonly answer is there no saar”

I was totally flabbergasted and couldn’t utter a word. After a long pause, the police officer spoke again.

“Mr. Samarth, there is lot of furor out there. The women welfare associations have gathered demanding your arrest. It is quite a commotion in front of the police station. Since evening, all major national media is reporting your story. Social Media is abuzz with posts against you. The hashtag #HangSamarth is still trending on twitter. There is widespread protest in the national capital too. We have orders from the CMO to nab you. Women and child development minister Monica Gandhi has ordered an inquiry”.

His words terrified me. With a fretting temperament, I opened twitter app on my mobile phone. He was true. I had 6730 notifications and my handle had 4500+ mentions. I did not dare click on the hashtag. Fear crept inside me like the ghost patterns did to a horror movie watcher. For a moment, I thought of the consequences and I was hounded by the fear. I had no idea what to say.

Police officer continued. “As your well-wisher, I can give you a serious advice. Avoid media confrontations completely as much as possible. Talk to your legal advisor immediately and try for an out of court settlement with your girlfriend. If you go to court, media will create sensational news out of nothing, your family will be dragged into this unnecessarily, your wife will come into scene and then it leads to alimony and what not. These will rip you apart Mr. Samarth. I hope you know what happened to film star Rithvick Rohan in Konkona Rounit’s case”.

Oblivious to Tania taking it to television and the chaos that ensued, I tried to connect the dots. But everything seemed like against the odds. I could think of just two things. Was there someone else who was playing the cards from behind? I had no idea. Were Tania and my wife both involved in this? That seemed very unlikely. Probably Anita could be as clueless as I am right now. Suddenly something inside my mind was wide awake. It didn’t take a genius inside me to guess that. Now it was all in place. Oh dear lord! I just couldn’t fathom what mess I was into.

A.N.I.T.A. is T.A.N.I.A.

I recalled all the conversations with Tania. Salman Rushdie, euthanasia, medieval economy, matriarchy – all were topics of my interest! It was a perfectly planned decoy! Anita had executed the plan so flawlessly that I was just wheedling the response tailored to her trap. And I couldn’t realize a wee bit. A chill ran down my spine. As the halogens of the Police patrol shot two separate beams into the road’s slowly settling dust, I was confounded with what had just happened in my life.

When I first met Anita at MIT sailing pavilion, we both were students. I was at the Sloan School of management and she was pursuing her masters at MIT School of engineering. She was an impeccably beautiful girl with a brilliant academic record. After her bachelors from NIT Kurukshetra, she was pursuing her Masters in Structural Engineering, a domain which itself had inclined towards male dominion. She was the perfect concoction of beauty and brains I had ever seen so far, in a girl. I had fallen in love with her instantaneously at our very first meet. After my convocation, I had proposed her and she had accepted it. As soon as we both came to India, we spoke to our parents and they overwhelmingly accepted our love.

Just like me, even she wanted to rise and shine in her domain. Back in India, her project on constructing energy efficient buildings was critically acclaimed. Her design had won ASEAN center of energy green building award for 2016. A white paper “Structures with seismic viscoelastic dampers and energy dissipation devices” published by her had given her international recognition. Many state governments invited her to be the designer of their new construction projects. Her rising fame was recognized by the United Nations and she got a call by the UN Secretary General to serve on the United Nations’ High Level Advisory Group on Sustainable structures (HLAG-SS). For this, she had to be in Belgrade, Serbia for a period of three years.

Anita’s rising career aspiration was countered by my ego and my parents’ social norms. My parents wanted a bahu just to keep the family bloodline from extinction. Nothing more. But Anita always argued that India had the most overeducated wives in India and that if something that had to be changed, it was my parents’ attitude. My parents always saw her as a girl from middle-class family who did not understand the north Indian family dynamics. To be frank, I too was intimidated about her success. I could not get accustomed to the fact that she was professionally more successful than me. This always enraged Anita. She wanted to go to Serbia. But my father believed that daughter-in-law staying away from home for three years was a sort of premonition. And my mother always blamed her for breach of harmony at home.

The existence of this patriarchy in my family was something I had hidden from her even after marriage and this enraged her. She often felt cheated. Owing to patriarchal stress, even though I wanted to help her, I did not. Succumbing to family pressure, I could not keep even a single of the armada of promises I had made her. Whenever this came up to be discussed, I was totally taking my parents’ side and worse, I was always going against her. I tried to convince her; but she refused and was hell bent on going to Serbia.

My father and I discussed a wicked idea of forcefully putting my child in her womb, so that she is left with no options but to stay back. What followed it was obvious. A few months later, she told me that she was gestating. I was so meddled with the plan’s success, that I did not even make an attempt to congratulate her or even feel great about the news. Now, for all three of us, she was just a medium of fulfillment. More than the happy news, we celebrated that we overthrew her; we partied that her professional career was coming to an end. We rejoiced at her helplessness.

By the time the baby was born, her professional career was totally doomed. She came back to my home, only to be ill-treated by me and my parents. Doctors termed it as postnatal depression and told her it was very common after delivery. The more she resisted, the more she was tormented by us. She couldn’t manage without popping 2 anti-depressant pills a day. I made sure that media did an extensive coverage of what had happened to the most famous structural engineer this country had ever seen. Although, no one got close to the reality, every media house ran its own version of her doomed career. Anita’s condition had disrupted her family’s reputation too. Her sabotaged career aspirations were quoted as examples in the TED talks on Women’s career. For outside world, she suffered from postnatal depression of level 3 severity. But in actual, it was something else; something very different and something more intense.

As the jeep entered police station with the siren ON, hundreds of activists pounced on the jeep, screaming and raising slogans against me. One woman I caught my eyes with, took a rotten tomato and threw at my face. From being a lover, being heartbroken to being a felon, I was in a varied mood within last 8 hours. As the police officer escorted me inside, I was falling deep down, preparing myself for the long wait. I wiped off the rotten tomatoes along with the anticipation from my face. I knew my life had slipped very deep to insurmountable levels of despair. I knew my life will never be the same again!

I was charged for sedition, hatred speech and acts intended to outrage the feelings of women. The case was running in court. The same media houses which I had asked to cover Anita’s story, covered my case with specifics of every hearing in detail. One day, out of the blues, Tania had absconded and the hence case was dropped. But the damage had already been done. I could not think of undoing it even in my wildest dreams. The same media which had assisted me to put an end to Anita’s career had branded me the ‘Bad man of the Corporate World’.

Outside the court, the police escorted me to the jeep. I had clear instructions by the police to avoid media. I saw Anita at the far end of the court’s corridor handing over something to another person. As the jeep turned right and approached the corridor, I caught a glimpse of the other person. My eyes instantly recognized her. She was the same woman at the police station, who threw rotten tomatoes at me! As the jeep increased its turbulence and vanished into the traffic, I saw the woman doing a Namaste, with Anita clasping a 2000 Rs note in between her palms. Standing next to the woman, smirking, was my car driver.

Epilogue:

True realization of self in a man’s life arises when he encounters something in his life that staggers him into the need for self-examination and self-explanation. In the conference hall, I was sitting alone, at the far end of the corner, in the last row, which was away from the entrance. On the podium, one of the board of director was reading from the script:

“On behalf of the board of directors of Accel Ventures Inc., I take immense pleasure in announcing that Mrs. Anita Irrinjalakuda, will take over the responsibility of Chairman and Managing director of Accel ventures. The members, the statutory auditors and the shareholders of this fifteen million dollar enterprise have unanimously……”

As she entered the stage with her daughter, she threw an askew glance at me with a malicious grin. She had given me a taste of my own medicine, with a dose I would remember for the rest of my life.

Love, life and other impediments - A short story

Prologue:

“A very lovely welcome to you on our prime dating call services.  Are you trying to find love? Your search for respite ends here. Share everything on your mind, at the comfort of your mobile phone, sitting right there. Our services are available 24/7. Call charges at Rs 7 per minute.”

To continue in English, Press 1

*beep*

If you are looking for a female soul mate, Press 1

*beep*

If you are an unmarried Male, press 1

*beep*

If you are aged between 25 and 30, press 1

*beep*

If your height is above 5 feet, press 1

*beep*

If you have a fair complexion, press 1. If you have a dark complexion, press 2

*beep*

“Thank you for your inputs. Please hold the line. We will now connect you with the love of your life. She will be online with you shortly.”

A sweet girl’s voice replied: "Hello Sid. My name is Tania"

“Hello there”

“Heyyy Hiii… How are you doing today?”

“I’m good. Thanks.. Ummmm. Ummmmmm - How old are you?" I blurted out.

“Never ask a man his salary and a woman her age." *congenial giggles from both ends*

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to...Ummmm..."

“It is okay Sid. Let us just say, I will be sixty five in 2050."

I quickly did the math. Impressive! Hey listen.. your.. your voice is very sweet”

“Huh? I take that as a compliment”

“So errr… errr.. are you single”? *congenial giggles from both ends*

“I…  

****Honk Honk Honk. Honk****

Arghhh! The cry of goose from a truck behind my Audi Q7 brought me back to my senses. My driver gave me that “not my fault” looks. Damn! I said a quick goodbye to her and unwillingly pressed the RED button on the MMI High 3G rear seat entertainment display. When the 7 inch TFT displayed the call duration of 31.44 minutes, I was surprised that we spoke for more than half an hour on the very first call. It felt like it was just 5 minutes ago that I had handed over my phone to my driver and had asked him to connect Bluetooth and route it only to the rear cabin infotainment system. I was all shaky and nervous for the first time. I spoke in a brattish way that the girl on phone would have thought of me as a contraband thug. But I loved it. The conversation was refreshing. My mood was bear aloft. The evening seemed truly pleasant after a long time. I cherished how technology has become omnipresent with the modern society. The proliferation of the internet, the cell phones and their subsequent integration into everyday commerce and more importantly, our personal lives amazed me.

My presence in the 21^st century, the last decade in particular, an era that has perfected the art of annihilation in every walk of life, is weirdly impressive. Perhaps the experiences of my life so far as an entrepreneur, my connections and involvements with start-ups and their success stories, have given me a tremendous amount of real-world success and fame. Today I am one of the most buoyant venture capitalists of south Asia. Majority of my ventures have made it big with a unique product or service with a very strong competitive advantage. Few of them have made it to the S&P 500 list and a few others are merged and acquired by Fortune 500 companies. I am the founder of one of the top venture capital firms of India. I take pride in saying that I have built Accel ventures from nothing to a multi-million empire of start-up incubators. To put things short, today I have an important role in creating new businesses that is capable of fueling the progress of our country and the world.

You may imagine Entrepreneurs to be highly intellectual and resilient people who pounce on problems, determined to find solution. But it is only partially true. In reality, you have to give up a lot of things to get there. My B-school taught me only one thing; that you cannot expect full time results with part time effort. In fact, none of the b-schools enlighten you with old school philosophies like “Work to Live. Don’t live to work”. Consequently, in the quest of my professional success, I joined hands with more and more business partners, but could not find time for my own life partner. I concentrated on husbanding more resources into my ventures, but neglected being husband of a beautiful wife. My relationship was Hit-and-run by my professional self-esteem and ego. Obviously, the consequences were huge!

Coming back to my professional life, after the huge success of Tinder in India, the current venture that I had taken up was funding of an online dating call service, in association with mobile service providers like Airfone and Vodatel, the first of its kind attempted in India. And as a VC for this project, I myself was trying to validate the business operations only to see how this can be invalidated by the users. So I registered myself with an alias only with the intention of exploring business.

After completing all my evening calls and meetings, I went down to my cabin, took out a new bottle of Green Killer IPA, a Belgian Beer, which a dear friend and CEO of a renowned software company had given me. I took a sip and checked my mobile phone for any messages. To my surprise, there were 3 missed calls on my personal number. Very few close friends and business partners had my personal number. I dialed back. And a vaguely familiar sweet voice answered

“Hello Sid”.

It didn’t take me long to realize that it was the same lady from the dating services I had spoken to, earlier today. I cursed myself for dialing from my personal number. Damn these dual sim phones!

“Good time to talk?”

“Umm. Yeah. Of course! I was.. umm. Just watching TV. What are you up to?

“I was reading"

“Pretty good! Reading what?"

“I have 'Shalimar – The Clown' in my hand"

“Heyyy, *excited* By any chance, are you a Rushdie aficionado?”

“Yes! But what do you mean “by any chance”?

“Actually, isn’t it very rare that you come across a Rushdie fanatic?”

*I told myself that last time I heard someone saying I am a Rushdie follower was my wife*

“You know what. Me too! Totally” I am a huge fan of his narration. In fact, I’ve read all of his books, some even more than once! Now I am reading Padma Lakshmi’s autobiography “Love, Loss and what we ate” just to understand why he is such an ass in real life.

“Ha ha ha ha! If Padma Lakshmi is to be believed, he is indeed a maniacal ass”

"You’ve read that too? Impressive!"

“What do you do for a living?”

“I am… ummm.. a businessman”

“That is cool!”

“And you?”

“I am a school teacher”

“Ah! The noble professional”

“Not really a passionate teacher. I do it to keep myself occupied. It is so hard to sit back and do nothing”

“True. Everything passes, but nothing entirely goes away. Isn’t it?”

*Long silence*

*In unison* “Soooo”

*In unison* “Hahahhaahah”

*In unison* “You go first”

“Pretty woman first…”

When I woke up at 8 in the morning, I realized that I had slept on the couch itself. My neck was aching as if it was tightly tied to a yoke for an entire day. I checked my mobile only to realize that I was talking to her until 2:30AM in the midnight. After quickly fortifying myself with a bowl of Cornflakes with milk and a hot shower, I got dressed and left for work. All the way through the drive, I could not stop thinking about my conversation with her. En route to office, I gave my phone to my driver and just nodded. He gave an indicative agreement that he knows what to do. I dialed her number again:

“Hello. Good Morning teacher”

“Hey Sid. Very good morning to you”

“Is the teacher busy?”

“Absolutely not! Today is a holiday”

“Oh wow! What on earth for”?

“Valmeeki Jayanti”

*frowning* Bloody hell. “I wish I was in your school too”

“Businessmen are usually bad teachers”

“You think so?”

“Yeah! Why do you ask?”

“I remember once my professor telling me that I would be the worst businessman ever…”

“Ha ha ha ha. So you proved him wrong?”

We spoke until I reached office. I said bye to her and she wished me a good day. Within days, these phone calls became a routine. I was constantly telling myself that I want to make it absolutely clear we are nothing more than acquaintance. But at once, there was a huge undercurrent of feelings arising inside me for her. I was trying to figure out what it really was!  The more we spoke; more often I wanted to talk to her. She was different. With every subject we discussed, I felt there was an instant connection in the way we spoke. There was something about her that impressed me. I felt it was since long time I was asking myself “what are you searching for” and that all seeking had stopped and I was suddenly become aware of the fact that I have found the right answer.

In between our professional errands, our virtual encounters on WhatsApp and phone calls continued. Day by day we dropped all our defenses and got very close. We spoke for hours together on topics like euthanasia, medieval economy, sex, Gynocentrism etc. At times, she would give me suggestions and sometimes I was concerned about her wrongdoings. On certain topics, we debated so much until we got bored of the topic. There was a sense of caring and compassion in our talks; I could feel it. It was like we both enjoyed with pleasure, the slow, hand in hand revelation of both of our lives, to each other.

As days passed by, the bonding grew even stronger. By now, we both were well aware of our personal stances. One fine day, we decided to end this virtual intimacy and get real. We both were skeptical that our virtual identities were not bona fide and we had discussed this long over. We both promised to each other that when we meet, we’ll reveal our true identities. I invited her to meet up at an informal venue on a pleasant evening and she agreed. I had started talking to her only to explore the business behind the on-call dating services. But this had gone absolutely beyond that. And here I was, exposing my deepest feelings to a woman who I have just started speaking to, a few weeks ago. I had read somewhere that only with love, one’s inner conscious will be eager to accept the peril that lies in front of him. This was my worst fear. I was hit by both apprehension and excitement, a pleasantly baffling experience, which I could not express to anyone.

I was happy that my personal life was getting a second chance and I considered myself very fortunate. On that day, I wore my favorite charcoal gray suit. It is a date. I am not going to discuss business. And the summers were really unbearable of late, thanks to El-Nino. I was sweating even inside my room with air condition running. I changed to a casual wear. It looked simple and courteous. I took out Annick Goutal’s Eau d’Hadrien perfume and dabbed it several times onto my chest and the base of my throat. Then I confirmed that it was not dousing and felt everything was perfect. I picked a random watch from my watch cabinet and wore the Casio Pro Trek PRG600 watch, which was gifted by a friend. I stood in front of mirror, changed orientation and I convinced myself that I looked elegant.  I decided to drive myself and had already asked the driver to take half a day off. 

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to pick a nice gift to her on the way. But in real, I never believed in gifts. I always saw them as a sort of social construct. So I decided against it. I was the first to arrive at the venue. I sat on the table that I had reserved for us. I could not wait to see her and talk to her. A strangely complex apprehension occupied me. A few minutes later I called her. The subscriber you are trying to reach is currently not reachable – I waited for 30 more minutes. She did not turn up.

When she did not turn up even after an hour, I got restless and tried calling her at repeated intervals. But I got the same message.  A couple of hours passed but she did not turn up. I was deeply disappointed. It was hard to accept that she did not show up. I picked up the newspaper that was nearby and started glancing through it. According to some astroswamy’s column, it was an ill-fated day for me today. I turned to the next page. The quote of the day said that when someone disappoints you, there is nothing that can be done but to accept it. *Fuck* It certainly was not helping. I kept it aside. Inside, I was deeply in despair.

With an unwilling mindset, I got up and decided to leave. As I entered the restaurant’s corridor to enter the parking lot, my phone rang. Without even seeing who the caller was, I answered the call and uttered “Tania, where are you. I’ve been waiting for you since 2 hours… I was…” and a callous voice from the other end cut me through;

“Hello! Sub Inspector Surya Narayan speaking”. Before he could finish saying that, he appeared on the other end of the corridor, facing me, with his phone still clung to his ears.

“You are under arrest”

To be continued….

Nuances from my family WhatsApp group

WhatsApp for sure has taken the tech world by storm and has given its users, true power at fingertips. But one thing that the founders did not foresee was the pain and agony that thirty something tech savvy men like me have to go through being part of Indian family WhatsApp groups. Thanks to my aunties and uncles in the group who have just retired and have decided to spend the rest of their lives spreading (spamming) the gyan which they think has the potential to change the world… or our family, at the least.

I can understand their excitement. For people like my uncle who come from the era of post cards, in-land letters and telegrams, the idea of instant messaging itself is a fascinating thing. And even I, a couple of decades ago, have seen a single landline telephone at home being used by the entire neighborhood for emergency purposes. So even after years of using WhatsApp, this “instant messaging” thing has never ceased to excite our senior folks in the family. At times it is good. Those photo quizzes, sharing a few lighter moments, celebrations and wishes are all feel good factors. But there is also another side to it which is very much annoying and frustrating at times!

I am receiving at least 10 Sai baba pics every day of which I am asked to forward at least 5 of them to avoid bad luck, some of them within 7 seconds. Now I am forced to know what breakfast every damn member in my family had; after a family gathering, every member in the group shares all the awkward selfies that they have taken. Impromptu video call from Realiance Jio empowered uncle is cool. But definitely not pleasing when you’re in the loo. Not to forget the often “Oops.. Sorry by mistake sound recordings of 0.2 seconds each. Wait… That is not it!

While one aunt, everyday emphasize the importance of Sudarshana Kriya by Art of Living Ravishankar, the other aunt is always busy preaching about all the 33 crore Hindu gods, one per day. That uncle who forwards the same old RaGa joke thrice doesn’t even realize that it is too cliché. And we have a dedicated public sector members in the mid-40s who are active only when there is change in pay commissions, Dearness Allowance hikes, HRA changes and so on which are non-existent in the corporate world. And one category of people presume they are educating the world by forwarding only  intelligent spams like “the employee who had HIV and his blood has spilled into Frooti”, “Messages sent and certified by CNN/NASA/BBC”, “Some weird math-magic day of a month which appear only once in 821 years”.. Uff! This category is the most irking of all. The excitement reaches heights when there is a new baby born in the family. Every now and then, the aunt promoted to granny starts sending videos of the baby doing everything. I mean “literally everything”! The baby’s first poop video in full HD and what not! Gimme a break.

All my cousins from the younger generation have a separate group so we don’t talk much here. I know there is mute/uninstall and may other tweaks to avoid this. I tried muting it once and to my surprise I started getting calls as to why am I not replying to any of the messages in spite of being online. Smart phones you see! I was caught red handed. So we still have to be a part of the group to answer any unexpected questions which may be directed at us like “Why is your dad not picking calls? Or how is your mother’s sugar levels now?” We all cousins decided on a mass exodus one day only to realize that we were added back to the group by evening. Thanks to the uncle who takes pride being the admin. In the midst of all these, a few good morning messages and thoughts are really genuine and feels good. The only blessed thing is that we are almost an entirely right wing family (no personifications please) and I am only happy to be exempted from the Modi v/s Kejriwal discussions.

I used to get irked in the beginning. It used to bother me a lot! I always wondered if I am taking all this too seriously. But now, for my own good, I have decided to have an air of easy unconcern and take everything that happens in the group on a lighter note. With much thought, I have been able to understand; have been able to grasp and comprehend what is keeping my family WhatsApp group alive and kicking. I guess tolerating such things is a possibility only with people you are comfortable with. 

After all, Love for the family is an excuse to be stupid.

Does Amma deserve sanctity?

My mobile flashed. “She is dead and this time it is irrevocable”; said dad’s pun intended text message. After all the media tantrums about Amma being dead and coming back to life several times, dad finally confirmed that she is really dead. The only little perks of dad being in the press are that I get breaking news a little earlier. Since yesterday evening, the way media is fostering her accomplishments and her life, her path to righteousness and so on, I’m pretty sure she’ll attain sanctity after death. But does she really deserve it?

Even Superman is Amma fan!

I don’t know much about her past and since I grew up in the early and late 90s, I’ve been hearing/following her only from the past decade. If she has done very noble deeds in the pre 90s, by virtue of which she is getting this sainthood, then probably I am off beam. But I don’t believe that is any true. She was never a great admirer of democracy. I have always seen her narcissistic conduct in front of media, in party meetings and many other public forums. Not just common man, she made even the ministers in her own cabinet fall on her feet “literally” and receive blessings. Although my TN friends tried to convince me that they did it out of pure respect for her, I fairly disagree to it. Oh! Come on. In a democracy like India, there are lots of other ways to show benevolence to your superiors. Amma in locket, Amma in wedding ring, Amma’s picture in wedding card instead of bride, I mean that is ridiculous! Above all, Irony committed suicide when O Panneerselvam kept her picture in the Chief Minister’s armchair during her prolonged illness and he sat next to it giving public statements that Amma is still the Chief Minister and that I am just following her orders. Her dictatorship made Tamil Nadu a totalitarian state which in other words is a great blow to democracy.

O Panneerselvam taking blessings from Amma

Coming to her arrogance, the whole world knows about it. It was like she always flaunted arrogance and displayed it, carried it with her in forums where it was totally uncalled for. That stance of her only showed her self-importance. I do not know why people called her voice of aam aadmi and sensationalized the whole interview when she ruthlessly ill-behaved in a TV interview with Karan Thapar. I’m not a Karan Thapar admirer. But according to me that was a premeditated way of winning confidence of certain section of the society; an opening that gave her secured access to votes of particular class of people and nothing more. She was accused of changing ministers in her cabinet who was against her strategies and ideals. I’ve also heard from many that Nepotism was at peak in entire TN State during her tenure as chief minister.

Amma is in supporter's heart!

She openly accused Marans and DMK of corruption but herself had few cases against her. Among them, funds misappropriation and disproportionate asset cases gained national importance. When she was acquitted, she came back with more power and egotism and she used it to further her authority in the state and national politics. My memories of how public life was thrown out of gear whenever she visited Bangalore for case hearings with Z grade security is still afresh in my mind. When Chennai had severe floods and relief material was sent, her supporters stamping every relief bag with stickers of Amma spoke volumes on how much power hungry and autocratic she was. Her conceited image was actually celebrated by many subordinates and followers across her state.

I believe even for the native Tamilians and their economy, she has done more harm than good by giving freebies to secure more votes. Every Amma supporter in the state of Tamil Nadu state today has a color TV, mixer grinder, Laptop and many more things to lead a comfortable life and they even get a sumptuous meal for just 10 bucks, thanks to Amma canteen. But on the other side, in the name of freebies, TN’s debt has increased to more than 2 lakh crore. Currently TN’s fiscal deficit is at 40,000 crore.

Ksheerabhishekam (milk bath) for Amma by her supporters

But why media is sensationalizing her death by calling her “Iron Lady”, “Lady who broke Gender barriers”, Revolutionary leader” and so on? If death can obliterate all the terrible deeds of 60 years of one’s life, what is the difference between a true saint’s life and hers?  Does she really deserve it? It is for us to decide. This whole thing reminds me of a saying which I read somewhere:

Death changes everything… Time changes nothing!

Image courtesy: ThUnrealTimes and Indiatimes