Maa...

As I touch the keyboard to write this blog post, tears are rolling from my eyes. I am alone in my memories to visit a bereaved mother.
5th May 2012: College life is over and everybody are busy packing their bags to leave the place where we friends spent 4 years of our life. Even though each and every moment was an emotional one, still the power of my mother was like a mighty floodgate that prevented my tears to come out. I was unaware that, shortly this emotional insulation of my mother would break down before a bereaved mother. One of our friends living in a nearby town invited us for a lunch at his house. By noon, we were jam packed in a shared jeep en-route his place. When I entered his house and touched the feet of his mother, I felt an air of unimaginable grief. Somehow I managed to control my emotions. As my friend went for a bath and his mother went to the kitchen for serving the lunch, we friends started chatting. Suddenly someone told that our friend's elder brother has passed away in an unfortunate accident few months back. After a few minutes my friend came from his bath and his mother started serving lunch. She was just about to pour mutton curry on my dish when I said - "Aunty, I don't eat chicken or mutton". With a caring tone she replied - "Don't worry beta, I didn't knew that. But how will you enjoy the lunch without mutton curry !!" Before I could say anything, she poured more rice, dal and sabzi on my plate. Her soothing voice and affection reminded me of my mother feeding me with her own hands when I was a kid. I was about to break down, but recomposed myself to finish all that she had affectionately poured on my plate even though it meant over-eating. I felt as if she is seeing her dead son within me and pouring all her motherly affection. I held back my tears as I didn't want to spoil the beautiful moment. After lunch we took a short nap. But the small child inside me was crying. The feeling was ripping my heart apart and I wanted to shed my tears. Finally, when we were leaving, I touched her feet again. But this time, a single drop of tear fell from my eyes.
Later on in the evening there was the final booze party in hostel. As they say, alcohol brings out the best of emotions buried deep inside you, people started consuming it. I declined the offer as I didn't want the emotions inside me to come out. I wanted to cry... Cry real hard... But in private. By the time the party got over, everybody was high. Many were crying recalling the good old college days and nostalgia of 4 years friendship. Unable to stay in such an atmosphere I retired to bed and finally got my private space to shed every bit of motherly emotion that I developed for the lady who had lost her child.
When I was a small kid, Maa looked after me all day. After a tiring daytime work, when she would take a short nap at afternoon, I used to pull her hairs and poke her. But she never reacted and slept as I kept on literally assaulting her with my tiny hands. Thinking her to be dead, I used to cry when she would wake up and then again console me on her lap. Reassured that she is alive, I used to cuddle her and fall asleep. As I have grown up today, I find that the world outside her lap is a really hostile place. Everyday, I face this world to fight a new battle. Everyday, my mind gets tired and injured and I retire to bed with an imagination that even though she is thousands of miles away from me, I have a part of her deep inside my heart to comfort me.
I wish one day, when the daily battle for survival on this planet gets over, I will return home... To lay my tired head on her lap... To forget all the happiness and sorrows of this life... To shut my eyes and return to the dream world forever...

Reparation - Is it Worth ???

Recently one of our political leader Sashi Tharoor slammed the empire of Great Britain in their home turf justifying reparation for the enslavement and systematic loot of Indians for over two centuries. The effect of his speech was so profound that one of the British legislators even voiced his opinion of returning back the original Koh-i-Noor diamond to India.
As a kid born in the hunky-dory 90's, I have no idea about the extremely inhuman levels of physical, mental and emotional trauma that our freedom fighters have undergone to see us as an independent nation. But, is this reparation worth ??
It is true that the British systematically looted and plundered India so that we started as a "Third World Country", still then they were better than the Rajas, Maharajas, Sultans and Nawabs. They gave us the concept of Constitution which guarantees a citizen like me the fundamental right of free expression. It is due to this right that I am able to pen down my exact thoughts fearlessly. Had India been under these Rajas, Maharajas & Nawabs, then I might have got executed for expressing my thoughts that are against the vested interests of the monarch. It is true that our colonial masters built the Indian Railways out of our looted money to suit their vested interests, but they never cared to demolish it before they left India. The very concept of a mass transportation of men, machinery & raw materials on a system of carriages running on iron rails helped us to retain our existence on the world map when we were attacked time & again in 1948, 62, 65, 71 and Kargil. The largest PSU of the nation is actually an intellectual property of our colonial masters which was way beyond the thinking capabilities of the princely states. The idea of heavy industries like Iron & Steel, Chemicals, Oil & Petroleum and Power Plants, which make the backbone of our nation are again ideas that we have borrowed from the West. The well organized organized system of IAS, IPS, IFS and related public services that acts as a vital nerve system of the country is again a brainchild of the Britishers. In short, the Britishers laid the foundation of a modern India.
On the other hand, buried deep down the pages of history books, when I read about the atrocities that the Britishers have unleashed upon us, it justifies our claim for reparation and possibly vengeance as a form of poetic justice. Personally I believe - "The best revenge is massive success.". Many of our colonial masters showed off their superiority and consistently demeaned us by saying that we don't even have the ability to produce a needle. Ironically in a recent event, ISRO's indigenous space shuttle launched 5 British satellites into Earth's orbit. This is a tight and silently resounding slap on all those who consistently demeaned our self-respect and dignity. Our colonial masters became a world power by simply plundering our resources. Yet, all their satellites and systems were unable to detect when we successfully became a nuclear power in 1998 Pokhran Test. Today, their corporate houses are running smoothly without any hitch only because of the 110 billion dollar Indian IT sector which optimizes their business processes. Their economy is stable only because India is the largest consumer market after China. In other words, those who demean us owe their very existence to us. As I write these lines, the Indian inside me has got its Reparation. Asking for anything else as a reparation would simply depict our low self-esteem and mental bankruptcy.

"When someone throws STONES at you, try to make a CASTLE out of it."

Friendship - The Way I Want IT

Every year on the first Sunday of August, we celebrate "Friendship Day". This day is marked by friendship posts on Facebook, Twitter, nice picture messages sent across WhatsApp and some awesome quotations sent across the network as SMS. People tie friendship bands on their wrists and a flurry of selfies appear in  Facebook news feeds.
As an introvert living in solitude, I see this day in a different way. May be my way of looking things is a "Perfectionist and Idealist" way, but that's just how I want it. Bluntly speaking I don't believe in Friendship Day. The reason being, each day spent with a friend is a celebration in itself. In other words, I don't need a specific day in the calendar to celebrate with a friend. Rather, I believe in making each moment of that friendship count. On this pious day, I pay my respects to the unsung hero and mythological character of Mahabharat - Karna. For me, the definition of the word "Friendship" is the immortal bond between this unsung hero and the villian of the epic Duryodhana.
For the sake of simplicity, I am removing all the divine and magical elements of Mahabharat and presenting the facts in the crudest possible way. This character Karna was an illegitimate child and was abandoned by his own mother. He was adopted by a person who belonged to the lower strata of the society. He had natural inclination towards bows & arrows and was passionate about archery. But unfortunately, at every step of his childhood he got discouragement in the form of "Log Kya Kahenge !!!". As a rebellious teenager, he decided to follow his passions anyway. He lied about his true identity to his teacher and learnt the art of archery. When the time came for displaying his skills, he was publicly ridiculed. Even the finest gentlemen of the time preferred to remain silent as they believed in adjusting with the existing social norms rather than changing it. This was more or less like "Kapoor Saab Kya Kahenge !!!" syndrome. At this crucial moment, the main antagonistic of the epic, Duryodhana respected his merit and offered him the throne of Anga province. That was the point when Karna got emotionally tied to Duryodhana. Throughout the epic, Karna was more like a brother to Duryodhana. There has been certain instances which depict the beauty and perfection of this relationship. For instance once Karna and Duryodhana's wife Bhanumati were playing dice. When Bhanumati realized that she was going to lose the game, she resigned and was about to get up. Karna held her by his hands. The grip of the fearsome warrior was so tight that in the process, the lady's beads fell down and got scrambled all over the floor. It was at this embarrassing moment, when Duryodhana entered the chamber. Karna was ashamed of his conduct and was unable to look into the eyes of his best friend. But rather than doubting his friend's intentions and wife's conduct, Duryodhana just offered to collect the beads. This absolute faith is almost extinct in today's world. Even if it does, then it is probably in the case of a relation between a human and a pet dog.
Later on in the epic, Karna is revealed about his true origins. He realizes that he is the elder brother of the very people he is going to fight in the war. He also realizes that he is the general of an army that is going to lose the war and his impending death in the process. Yet he chose to remain with his friend and fight his own biological brothers. On the 13th day of the war, he broke all the rules of war and warrior code of conduct, to cowardly disarm and murder his own 16 year old nephew Abhimanyu. He did it just for the sake of his friend. A day later, he used one of his most destructive weapons on his another powerful nephew, Ghatotkacha, as his friend Duryodhana's life was in danger. 4 days later, totally disarmed and helpless, he was killed in the war by his younger brother Arjuna. When Duryodhana knew about the death of his best friend along with his true identity, he lost all forms of interest in the throne of Hastinapur, which motivated him to wage war against his cousins in the first place. The bond between Duryodhana and Karna got immortalized when the former did not allow the latter's biological brothers to cremate their elder brother's body and himself lighted the funeral pyre.
Unfortunately, in today's world this sort of idealism does not exist. We can only see glimpses of it in movies like Sholay where a dying Jay says to Veeru - "Yaar... Koi afsos nai hai mujhe... Jeeyo toh Dost ke Saath... Maro toh Dost ke Saamne...". As I watch and cherish these ideal bonds of friendship, I realize that in my personal life, I may end up like an emotionally lonely Karna who got all the respect after he was dead. But that's The Way I Want IT.

"Akele Hai To Kyaa Gam Hai
Chaahe To Humaare Bas Mein Kyaa Nahee
Bas Yek Zaraa Saath Ho Teraa..."