Chapter 13 Arising from the ashes

 

 

On our way back home the next day, I couldn’t shake the energy off my mind, I didn’t want to. I had wished to return to normalcy, but I had got more than I could bargain for. My thoughts had evolved manifold in the past 24 hours. I was raring to go home; I had plans to make, goals to set, places to go.

It had hardly been a few minutes since I got home, but I got started on my plans. I wanted to get all this progress down on paper, who knows how long it would last! I was in cruise control; nothing around me was affecting me. I started reading articles about depression, reasoning that prior to the trip- it was depression that had made me feel like a total loser. It was startling to find it listed as a clinical disorder that quite often required therapeutic treatment. Being idle seemed to be the major reason of depression. Let hours pass by without any work, and depression would gladly fill in the void. I planned work throughout the day, making sure I was always on my toes. This was my second chance at a good life and I must not take it for granted.

 

With my plan in place, I began the next day at 5:30 in the morning. I had scheduled a workout regime for the next hour and started with an unseen energy guiding me. Throughout the month, I took up mini programming projects for each day and completed them. Everything that had always interested me found new attention. I dedicated 2 hours each day to learn new things; things that always fascinated me, new technologies, anything I could get my hands on. Spirituality was an aspect I had always neglected, but I spent a few minutes each day in that aspect as well in the form of meditation. Journaling, articles, and music- you name it; I was doing it all.

Sure, there were bad days. Certain days came to pass when I felt like I was going back to the pathetic form. Each time that happened, I recalled the person I could become, and silenced the voice in my head that pushed me to procrastinate. All days could not be as productive, but I made sure that I gave every ounce of energy to each day. Irrespective of the consequences, I would always end up satisfied, knowing I had done my best that day.

 

I applied to jobs religiously, sometimes even 8-10 job applications a day. My resume now glittered with my programming projects and all the hobbies I had acquired. I took my personal life to a new level as well. House chores, bills, and every bit of work I could do. I spent time with my parents each day at dinner, and they loved this new change in me. All the scornful looks from neighbors and relatives had disappeared. Either that or I was too busy to notice them.

I had some work to do on my friends circle as well. The reason they seemed to be distant to me was because I stayed aloof all the time. I was too afraid to commit to a relationship, not knowing how it would turn out. I raised my commitment to make my friendship work; I called friends frequently, met up with them on weekends and kept in touch with all the people I wanted to retain in my life. Unsurprisingly, they were shocked by this sudden change, because the progress was very slow. I stuck with the plan though. Eventually, I made some headway and my social circle was resplendent.

 

A few months passed on like this. I was feeling really fit, and happy with the way my life had veered into this path. The progress I was making was good, but I still had a career to build. The recession wave had subsided, and the industries were getting back on track. All the job applications were finally paying off. I received many interview calls, and now had the choice to pick a job I would learn to love. I had been working on my basics for a long time now with the mini projects I had taken up, and therefore, most of my interviews went well. There was a new found confidence, and the fear of failing had been vanquished.

After several job offers, I picked one which intrigued me most. EduToys was an innovative startup that specialized in study aids for schools and colleges. Toys, board games, software based aids, were some of the products used to make teaching innovative, and they were really making progress. It was the brainchild of a few imaginative minds, and recession had made entrepreneurs out of these minds teeming with ideas. I could not say what it was that drew me to this job, but I wanted to be a part of something like this. I wanted to make sure that my work would mean something more than just a mode to pay my bills. The pay was substantially low as compared to the other offers I had, but I knew that this job suited me best.

 

Fate it seems has a way of standing by the brave. EduToys emerged as one of the largest educational consultants in India, amassing contracts from institutions all over. The innovations found praise in international magazines and journals, and in no time, overseas contracts were flying in. I was as happy as I could be. I was doing good work; my management skills helped me in securing a position involving substantial decision making power, and all this within a few months of starting work. Meanwhile, I kept my schedule in line with the priorities I had made, taking good care of my health and having loads of fun, at work and outside as well.

 

Today, I’m sitting in my balcony, sipping a cup of coffee; carefree and grateful for everything that life has given me. The vermillion sun across the skyline shone one last time, like a gentleman would top his hat on taking leave. I sip on the coffee, drawing on the warmth of the cup to fill me with a sense of satisfaction. I recall that eventful meeting at the coffee shop with Ketan Dev that had transformed my life. During the past few months, I had mailed him often, telling him about the progress I had made since we last met and the work I was doing, but did not get any response. I had reasoned that he must be quite busy with work or that maybe our meeting was not as eventful to him.

There are times when a simple action could lay all your doubts to rest without a word accompanying it. Last week, a parcel for me was delivered at work; there was no sender address on the parcel, and I was still in two minds whether to open it. All my questions had been allayed when I opened it. It contained a pair of leather gloves, similar to the ones I had wanted to buy in Oonad that day.

As I now hold on to the empty warm coffee cup, I smile in reverence at the tide of time. A poem composes itself in my mind, and silently the words fall into place-

“The fires of time hath burnt me in its hold,

A hapless soul for Hades to devour,

But the boldest of fires temper iron into gold,

From the ashes I arose, a resilient power.”

 

…

Chapter 12 History over coffee

 

 

The next morning, I woke up really late; the others were already getting their bags ready for that days outing. It was our last day in Oonad, and we would be heading back home the next day. My hands were still reeling under the effect of the previous days ‘hangout’, so I decided not to push my luck today.

“Guys, I’m not feeling all that well. My hands hurt a lot, I’m getting a little feverish; I think I’ll stay in. You guys go ahead.” I told them.

“Come on Andy, don’t be a spoilsport!” said Akki.

“Look, if it’s really that bad, it’s okay; we don’t want you to get ill on a trip. Relax here dude. We’ll meet you here by evening.” said Abhi.

“Yeah, you can chill here. In the evening, we can all go out for some ‘hot’ drinks. What say?” remarked Rags.

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Yeah okay guys. See you later.” I said, heading back to bed.

 

Only a few minutes had passed since the guys left, I was already wondering if I made the wrong decision. I mean, I would only get bored being here all day. Anyway, it was too late now. So, I would do the next better thing to lying down and watching TV. I thought I’d go to the city market a few kilometers away and get some brunch, and do some shopping maybe.

I caught an auto at the stand near the hotel and reached the market in less than five minutes. I had always wanted a good set of leather gloves, and I started looking for them immediately after a light breakfast. One shop I happened to pass by had beautiful leather gloves for display. I stood looking there for long, wondering if I really wanted them. Typical Andy behavior; I had gotten used to it.

“So are you planning to buy them or are you just a window shopper?” asked a familiar voice.

 

I turned around and froze. It was Ketan Dev.

 

“Hello Sir. I was just…I think I’ll pass. Leather gloves were just something that fascinated me since I was a kid. These ones are impressive, but a bit expensive.” I said, almost happy to find someone I knew, “Are you shopping too?”

“No, not really. I’m leaving this evening. So, I thought I could buy a memento for my colleagues but nothing is really interesting here.”

“Hmm.” I said.

“So, how’s your hand holding up…Andy, am I right?” said Ketan.

“Yes Sir. It’s fine; just pains a little now and then.” I said. He remembers my name, even if it was only a vague memory.

“Good. Are you in the mood for some good coffee? I know this great place close by.” asked Ketan.

“Sure Sir.” I said.

 

He led me through a maze of streets to a rustic, but rather spacious coffee shop, The Jungle Stop. The name didn’t really make sense to me, considering it was in a hill station and not a jungle, but I didn’t complain. Maybe the ornamental plants around the hotel were supposed to indicate a jungle of sorts- I don’t really know, but if Ketan Dev was recommending this place, maybe it was worth trying. We were seated in a hut-like hotel with a big balcony, overlooking the beautiful mountain ranges of Oonad; greenery sprawled out over as far as the eye can go. A few sips into my coffee, I realized that I had underestimated its value from its name. This was by far the best coffee I’d had in ages. Great coffee, nature’s lap and one of India’s top CEOs for company – I suddenly felt a sense of confidence radiate in me. I was beaming with pride at this moment, when my train of thought was broken by Ketan.

“Our last encounter was a bit abrupt, don’t you think? You told me a few incidents from your life and I probably did not respond in a manner befitting them.”

“No sir, it’s quite alright” I said. I was feeling quite magnanimous in this ambience.

“History does repeat itself Andy, but I find it ironical that I am sitting face to face with it” he said.

 

It was probably the first time that his sage like calm had disappeared to give way to a dreamier look. He was reminiscing, from his own past; I presumed.

“When I spoke to you yesterday, I felt like it was another time period altogether. Do you know the story of how we founded Dev Technologies?” he continued.

“Yes Sir, but in bits and parts.” I replied, wondering where this was leading.

“Well, ‘bits and parts’ are all that the world knows. Dev Tech was a dream that I did not know would get fulfilled some day. I was like you at one phase in my life. I must have been 25 then.” said Ketan, as I ordered another round of coffee.

He continued, “I got a job within a few months of graduation, and I always thought that once I got a job, life would be set on track. It’s funny how things turn out though. How have you been feeling since you lost your job?”

 

“I think ‘devastated’ sums it up. I feel like a loser, like nothing I do was ever good enough. Someone around me was always doing better at life, and I am stuck in a rut” I said.

“My sentiments exactly! I lost my first job too, and I had done nothing wrong. It was not downsizing like these days, but the company I worked for made a few bad compromises and the employees had to bear the brunt; 12 of us were left jobless when it shutdown.” said Ketan.

“It still didn’t bring you down, right? You weren’t letting one bad incident drag you down.” I said, rather enthusiastically.

“It was not just one incident Andy, and that is why I relate seeing you with history repeating itself. I was once in love with a girl, and we had planned to marry after I settled down. Losing that job had lead to many bad things, and losing her was one of them. She married someone else and today she’s probably leading a happy life with her family somewhere. The toll it took on my family was worse. My father was a government employee, and his retirement and my joblessness had coincided in a way I cannot quite describe. I applied for jobs in lots of companies, but there seemed to be a bias against employees of a corrupt organization, no matter how blameless we were. I felt so helpless that there were literally times I planned to end my own life.” said Ketan, lost in thought.

 

I just sat there awestruck at the proceedings. I could relate so much to what he was saying, and could now see why he was telling me this.

“I don’t know what stopped me,” he continued, “maybe it was the prospect of accepting defeat which I did not like, or maybe it was hope. For many nights at a stretch, I would sit in thought, and brood over the things that had happened. One day, after several rejections, I just decided I’d had enough. There was a need to streamline my approach to life. I planned really hard on how I would do that. I also worked relentlessly in getting approval from like-minded friends for investing in a venture I wanted to start. They were skeptical about it first, but the idea was so well planned that even they found it hard to refuse. Everyone invested small amounts, and helped me setup base. From a small shed with a few PCs and a few programmers, Dev Tech was born. Today, it has evolved to where it is now.”

 

He beamed in delight as he spoke about his journey, and I couldn’t help getting inspired on a great level. His focus shifted now to me as he sighed and started, “Listen Andy, if there is one lesson worth learning and learning early, it is to treat your disasters as your ally. Your response to them decides the course of your life. Don’t just react to things that are going wrong, learn to respond to them. You are a bright young man and have a great future ahead of you. Use this opportunity to learn from your problems, and grow from them. I know how this phase feels, but the only way to come out of it is to simply come of it – period. You just have to decide what the solution is, rather than brood over the problem.”

I nodded fervently. Every word he said was making an impact on me, and I wanted to make something out of my life as well.

“Put your career as a priority and work hard to making it great. Everything else- money, love, and happiness will follow. Plan well and execute to perfection. You will definitely succeed, Andy.” he concluded.

“Thank you Sir, I will try my best to walk the path you have shown me.” I said, too moved to say more.

“I’m leaving in a few hours, so I’d better get moving” he said, rising from his chair. “Here’s my business card. Mail me about your progress Andy. I’ll try to respond whenever I can.”

“I’ll surely do that Sir. Thank you so much for everything.” I said, shaking his hands.

 

For the first time in a long time, I had experienced something like this. On a random trip with friends, I met a man who not only rescued me but also ended up becoming my mentor. I contemplated asking him to help me out, but then decided against it. Somehow, all this seemed to be a divine plan to bring me out of this pit I was stuck in. I felt stronger and more confident from that very moment. I quietly left for my hotel, knowing that I had much work ahead of me.

 

…

Chapter 11 Guardian

 

 

“Ketan Dev? Of Dev Technologies?” I blurted out.

“Yeah, that would be me.” he replied with a mischievous smile.

“Oh God! I knew I recognized you from somewhere Sir. I’m Andy. Thank you so much. I had almost resigned to death back there” I said, with an unusual energy level for a guy who has just had an encounter with death.

“It’s quite alright. You were lucky I saw your camera at this ledge. I looked around and saw a pair of legs hanging across that shrub there. You see it?”

 

I looked down the ledge carefully to the far end of the slope, where a shrub was barely visible.

“Yeah, I do. God! That was really quite steep. Thank you so much again.”

“Don’t mention it again; I mean it” he said, and gave me a stern look.

 

I was taken aback by the sudden serious overtone. Suddenly, he smiled his old devilish smile again, and tied up the ends of the bandage. What a time to bring humor, I thought.

“So, what brings you here Sir? It’s not every day that one runs into a CEO and founder of a major software company, especially so in a place like Oonad.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a sheepish grin, “I take a break from work every few months when I’m stressed out. Oonad is not crowded at this time of the year, and trekking is quite rare too in this season. I come here often. There’s something about the beauty and adventure of this place that simply makes all the effort worthwhile.”

“I agree Sir.”

“So, tell me Andy. What brings you to Oonad?” he asked, while putting his first aid kit back into his bag.

“Honestly Sir, I just came to this trip to forget my past.” I said, and immediately asked myself if I should have said that. Too late, as usual.

“Past, huh? If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” he asked, while carefully dressing my wounds.

 

Should I tell him? This is ideal for me really. I get to say everything that has happened to a neutral person, and it will probably relieve me of some of my burden. He may offer me an unbiased feedback and something positive may come out of this.

I started telling him about how I got fired from my job, my current status, living at home with my parents, and so on. After some initial hesitation, I told him about Maya, our past and how that one eventful day had been the precursor to everything bad in the recent past. He listened intently, nodding at times, and asked me questions as well.

At nearly the end of my story, he started laughing. “I can’t believe this…I really can’t believe this.” he said.

“I’m not lying, Sir” I shot back, a little disappointed with that reaction.

“I never said you were, Andy. Never mind. Have you come here alone?” he asked, after a short respite in my story nearly at the end.

“No, my friends have come with me. They are on the opposite side of this place.” I said, still not comprehending the laughter.

“I think you need to get back to them. I have a little further up to go, and then will head back. Where are you staying?”

 

I was a bit disappointed though. I really thought he would offer some insight into what had happened and tell me how I could improve it. I hoped for a few words of advice at least.

“Hotel Hillview, at the base of this route.” I said, rather morosely.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Well, nice bumping into you Andy. Take care of yourself. Bye.” he said as he started to leave.

“Goodbye Sir, and thanks again”

 

He raised his hand in acknowledgement as he walked away. I did not know what to make of this ordeal. It had taken me to a near death experience, sent Ketan Dev to rescue me, I pour out my woes to him and the man walks away like it was nothing.

I shake off my thoughts, pick up my fallen camera and head back to where I’d left those careless buggers. It’s nearly been half an hour since I left there and they were not even curious as to why I hadn’t returned.

“Andy, you’re back!” said Rags as I reached the other end.

“What happened to your hand?” asked Abhi.

Glad you could notice guys. Really.

“I had a fall at the ledge; some guy helped me up and bandaged me.” I said, underplaying the severity of what had passed.

 

I did not want to ask them why they had not come looking for me, nor did I want to tell them the details of what had happened. I just wanted to get to the hotel and get some sleep. We headed back, this time slower and more exhausted than ever; or maybe it was just me who felt really tired. We had spent almost the entire day on that hillock, and I started to wonder if this was what I had asked for. I shuddered at the thought of hanging by that shrub, and thanked my lucky stars to have made it through that ordeal. I should be really grateful for being alive, above all else, I told myself. As I gulped down the last mouthful of dinner and headed to my room to sleep, I could not help but remember Mr. Dev who had been sent down to give me a new life. He had pulled me out from the jaws of death. He was my guardian today. I whispered a silent prayer and fell asleep, knowing not what tomorrow had in store for me.

 

…

Chapter 10 Wake-up Call

 

Yesterday’s travel had left us weary and drowsy, but our spirits were high as ever. For today, we had planned a morning trek at a nearby hillock. So, we set out after breakfast with our backpacks, filled with water, food, cameras and a few warm clothes.

If God was an artist, Oonad was his masterpiece. A hill station situated at 6 hours drive from Mylapur, this was an ideal locale to forget our miserable worlds and find serenity in nature at its finest form. The view from our hotel was magnificent. Mist capped mountain ranges beckoned the brave, while serenading waterfalls across the mountains robed them in pristine beauty. On one hand there were green pastures that stretched out into kilometers of land, and on the other ragged trod paths invitingly lay in wait for adventurers, promising them unfelt thrills.

 

We set out on a path suggested by our hotel manager, which started a few hundred meters from the hotel. The trek was something we all looked forward to ever since its idea was announced, and therefore, no one complained of the freezing cold, or the lack of good sleep. As we made our way through small huts on the trek path, we spoke about the beautiful local dames who passed us every now and then. I tried to keep my mind on the trek, considering the fact that every dame I have seen, for a few months now, has reminded me of Maya. We planned a pit-stop for every half an hour of trek, and considering that it was a 3 hour trek, we had a long way up.

 

Slowly and steadily, our breaths started getting heavier, partly due to exhaustion and partly due to the thin air. It was therefore, no surprise that Rags started screaming “There is a God! There is a God!” when we spotted a tea stall nearly about 2 hours up into the trek. This being a trek route used frequently by tourists and trekkers, an enterprising Oonadian had set up a decent tea stall up here. We relaxed at this stall for quite some time, feeding on the local veggie burgers and biscuits with a big glass of ginger tea. There is nothing better for the limbs on a cold trek like this. With each gulp of tea, we felt warm bits of life trickling into our extremities. After stretching a little, and grabbing a few veggie burgers ‘for the road’, we began our last hour of trek. This shop was the last sign of civilization on this trek route, so we made sure that we were well stocked up and mentally prepared for what lay ahead of us.

 

There are times when a man realizes what he’s made of. This, as we painstakingly found out, was one of them. The last hour of trek made us pant and puff all the way up the hills. The rocks were getting slippery; there was no clear path for us to follow as we made our own way up the track. There were some grumbles about whose brilliant idea it was to put a 3 hour trek on a vacation that is supposed to help us relax, but they died down soon, probably due to exhaustion and futility.

After what seemed like eternity, we had reached the topmost point, rightly called Palintop. We unpacked some our cameras and set out snapping. Akki and I are both photo enthusiasts. While he was a people person and tried to put people in every photo possible, I was more of a nature freak and avoided any people in my photos. In the end though, we would always have a good compilation of shots from both our cameras. I moved a little away from the group, following the mist that had moved towards the east. I wanted a few scenic shots with the mist as the foreground and the high surrounding ranges in the back.

 

My enthusiasm has always had the better of me, and this was a not-so-gentle reminder of that. Standing on a ledge trying to get a few shots for a panorama, I slipped violently, going headfirst onto the cliff facing the ledge, dropping the camera at the ledge. It was uncontrollable, I could not hold onto anything, and I could see the deep gorge below me. I was slipping down the cliff with a gut feeling that this was certain death; I was going to fall into the gorge and shatter into a few hundred pieces in a few seconds.

As I slipped, at one edge of the slope I saw a crevice, from which a short shrub had grown. I impulsively grabbed onto the shrub with every ounce of strength in me. Unfortunately for me, the shrub had thorns on its stem, and I could feel the searing pain though my fingers. I held on with all my might, braving the pain for as long as I could. My only hope was that my friends would find my camera at the ledge and bring help for me.

 

The thorns in the shrub had begun to sap my strength, and I was slipping fast. I wanted to give up. I mean, wouldn’t it simply be easier if I just died? It’s not suicide; at least no one else will think so. My problems, my current position could all be done away with in one blow. My parents- well, that’s something to think about. They’ll cry and mourn for a few days, but they have Dave. He’s their perfect son – he’s obedient, God-fearing, employed and not a total screw-up like me. What else? What am I missing here? My friends- they won’t miss me much either, their work will keep them too busy for that. Maya- as if she’d miss me. Maybe she will, maybe this can be a reminder to her for losing out on a guy like me. Letting go right now is the easiest thing to do. The gorge must be nearly a hundred feet deep, death is almost a certainty with a drop from here.

 

My thoughts seemed to signal my body likewise, because the more I thought about letting go, I could feel my hands slipping and tearing against the shrub. I knew it was only a matter of time now, no matter what my decision was.

 

“I don’t want to die,” I told myself “not like this. Not as a failure. I’ve been through a lot, and I am not letting all that pain go waste. I want to survive. I want this to be the new beginning, the new life I was looking for. Help me God; I want to make it through today. I will succeed, and make more of myself than people expect of me. I will prove all my critics wrong. I need your help God. Please”

I have never felt a divine experience in my entire life, and this I did not know if this was one; but right that moment, I felt warm and wonderful. Even at this place, hanging for my life by means of a shrub that was eating away at my hands, I suddenly felt a surge of strength within me. I looked around for anything I can use or hang onto; anything that could save my life. Suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar voice call out to me.

“Hello there. Just hang on. I’ll come and get you, but just hang on tight.”

I have never been happier on hearing a human voice; ever.

“Okay. I’ll hang on.” I called back. It was not like I could do anything else.

 

I could not see the man who called out to me, but I could hear sounds of clanking tools. He was probably hammering a rig to pull me up. I looked up in anticipation, and heard the sound of boots against the rocky slope. Slowly and steadily, a man reached me and extended his hand. He was not very old, but there were random streaks of grey hair on his head. What set this man apart from many other men his age was his eyes. I could not help but notice the gleam of wisdom and content beaming from his eyes. It was like an encounter with a Buddhist monk crossed with James Bond.

“Buddy, you ready to go?” he asked me, seeing that I did not reach for his extended hand.

“My hands… they’re bruised… I can’t hold on much longer.” I mumbled.

“Okay, just relax. I’m going to tie this rope around your waist, and we’ll get out of here. Have you ever done rock climbing before?”

“No”

“It’s okay. I’ll lead, you follow. We’ll go slowly; step by step. Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

I watched as the man led his way up the rocks, hammering pegs onto rock crevices and tying my rope onto them. He spoke to me gently, guiding me on how to grip a crevice and how to move from one point to another. I climbed up gingerly; my hands were on fire, but somehow, there was a surge of strength from within me. I found myself neglecting my pain, and simply pushing myself to the limits of tolerance. He reached the ledge first and helped me as I climbed across. I collapsed at the ledge due to exhaustion.

“You’re quite strong, kid. I didn’t really think you could make it all the way up.” he said.

I looked up, too tired to say anything smart.

“Are you feeling ok? I’m Ketan Dev, by the way. Let’s have a look at your hands” he said, removing a first aid kit from his bag.

He cleaned the wounds with some antiseptic and started bandaging my hands. I looked up and saw him again; his face seemed so familiar before. Oh, my God! It is him!

 

…

Chapter 9 Beginning

 

The d-day had arrived. I was so psyched about this trip that I hardly slept a wink last night. At 6 a.m., the rental car pulled over at my house. Half-sleepy friends greeted me with hugs as I got in.

“Whoa Andy! Nice belly man! Never took you for a guzzler.” said Rags.

“No guzzling here dude. Just practice regular lack of exercise and you can get to where I am now. You have to work at it, but you’ll get there someday!”

Everyone burst out laughing. I felt good already; and the trip was only getting started.

 

As the car gathered ground, I kept looking out the window across the paddy and cane fields. Slowly, the sight began to get hazy. The fields of crops danced frivolously with the downpour, as I began rolling up the window. There’s nothing more lovely than a summer rain; and at a time like this, for a guy like me, this was godsend. I watched in awe as olive crop fields turned ripe green across as far as the eye could go. The windshield had gathered a few droplets too, as the wiper began coursing its mundane sweep across its confines. Music from the stereo was just right; mellow tunes lilted through the car and something stirred in me. Moments like these are magic, and I wanted to do something about the way I felt. Without much thought, I took out my cell phone and started typing a few lines.

“Fragrance in the air rises from aground,

With fallen tears from the skies above,

No soul unstirred by its sobbing sound,

For pain now felt at the hands of love.”

I don’t really know if it was the rain or the pain, but I felt liberated. It was as though a rock once tied to my heart had been cut loose. One moment there was gloom, uncertainty; and in the next, hope and an unprecedented clarity. I do not know if I shed a tear then, but I knew something in me had changed that very moment.

 

Our car prods along the countryside with fair speed. Several moments had passed since that magical one and I had started falling asleep. Suddenly, I felt the car pulling up by the roadside. It was official- only a few hours into the trip and we had a puncture, thankful in no small part to the rugged roads. The rain had ceded too, and we all stepped out onto the road. Abhi and Rags decided to take this opportunity to attend nature’s call, while the group in-charge for ‘publicity stills’, Akki decided to take some photos. I had no interest in either, and instead gazed at the sun that seemed to take a break from work, cavorting with the maidenly clouds.

As I looked across the lush green fields, I saw a woman carrying a basket on her head, walking across the fields. A man, who probably was her husband, was working in the fields. As she called out to him, he raised his hand in acceptance and waded through the field. As they meet under a peepal tree, both of them exchanged a silent smile. She laid out the food she had brought for him, as he washes his hands. They both sit under the tree and have their food, sometimes exchanging a few words, but usually just a few silent glances.

“Beautiful.” I said to myself.

 

It seemed to be God’s conspiracy to get me to see and feel these things like never before, or maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Nevertheless, I had never felt this way before. Clarity I had never felt before, despite the fact that I still did not know what I should do. It felt reassuring that the best moments in life are not in our hands, and in that they were the best because we could not change them by will or chance.

I would have stood by longer, but the tire had been replaced and we were ready to move again. As I slowly made my way to the car, I looked across the fields once again to catch a final glimpse. My mind had been silenced and I took this calm with me even as the car started moving.

 

…

Chapter 8 The road ahead

 

 

It has nearly been a month since that dreaded night, and several things have turned on me. It seems to be life’s way of letting me know that all things, good and bad, come in multiple small packages, and eerily, all at the same time.

I always found that the best way to fight off misery is work. I could strain myself completely at work and make sure that I forget everything that has gone wrong. Somehow, fate had a different stick to poke in my meandering spoke. A couple of weeks back, when I was still on my leave, I got an email from my company. Talks of recession had been loitering in company circles for quite some time now; I had assumed it to be a phase that would simply pass over. Naïve, as usual. It didn’t. I had been asked to take two months pay and quit my job. Same for all other employees who joined this year.

It has become the worst tragedies young men like me have to face. Stepping out independently into this world for probably the first time, and we had already stumbled head first into the ground. I don’t know if this is a phase everyone will have to phase, what I’ve come to describe as a ‘mid-mid-life crisis’. To make matters worse, I’ve very little saved up from my earnings, and therefore in this period will have to live with my parents. It is one thing to live with them for 21 years, yet another feeling altogether to do that when you’ve lost your job.

 

Some of my friends suggested I look for another job. At turbulent times like these, there isn’t much out there for people like me who have just stepped out of college. To be honest, I didn’t really try. I’ve had my fair share of failure for some time now, and any more in this ensuing period will only break my spirit more. I waited, without work, without love and without anyone for guidance- for a sign. Some signal from the gods, letting me know that now I will have to make a move, that I will have to make plans and get out of this place I’ve got myself into.

 

Meanwhile, I look haggard, it’s been weeks since I last shaved and I can’t really recall if I took a bath recently. I had acquired a rather scornful belly that seemed to drag me deeper into the hell I was already in. I was aware of my situation and yet, it was status quo. Nothing changed around me, I changed nothing about me. People’s looks were starting to annoy me, even the ones that seemed to have sympathy for a guy who’s just lost his job. I started doubting my decision to stay with my parents. It’ll only make things worse for them when neighbors and friends start asking questions about my extended stay.

 

I needed something that could dissolve this pain. Alcohol seems to be a good solvent. I gave it a try. Not my cup of tea. Not my peg of whisky rather. A few drinks and a few days later, I realized that I didn’t like it all that much. Besides, I was running out of saved up cash and could not afford more of this ‘solvency’. The grapes were sour alright. Nope, whisky was not for me.

So, I tried something else. Cigarettes- they were cheap, the effect lasted a while and it was readily available at common stores. I personally cannot come to see how someone can like smoking. I tried, I really tried to like smoking. It would give me something to do and would temporarily help me lilt my worries out with a puff, or so I thought. Any relief was but temporary, and I had to go back to it again, for shorter intervals between puffs or for a stronger brand. This was not helping too. I’d officially landed at a place where nothing I did, could ever change the things around me. Meanwhile, the wait for the signals from the gods has intensified with growing impatience, and haunting loneliness. I had started speaking aloud with myself, lost track of time when I sat down to think, and would start playing an old compilation reel of memories in my mind whenever I could.

 

I was crumbling, more now than ever. Life as I knew it had done a “Maya” on me and officially turned its back. I realized recently that people can be associated with actions much like verbs. Although this discovery was startling and enlightening at the same time, it didn’t really provide much to chew on except for a few minutes of self-proclaimed brilliance.

 

Then it happened. On a day that I can’t recall, just like other days, when I was sitting and brooding over my misery with numerous mail checks and online job-loser forums, I got a call.

“Hello”

“Hello! Andy! What are you up to bro?” asked a familiar voice.

“I’m ok”, I mumbled, forgetting the question asked, “I’m sorry. Who’s this?”

“It’s Abhi. What’s wrong? You don’t seem well” said the voice.

“Abhi! So sorry! I have a bad headache since morning, can’t seem to shake it off. What’s up?”

“I’ve got the cure to your headache my friend. A road trip! Rags, Akki and I are planning a 4-day road trip beginning next Thursday. We’ve got leave for some public holidays and the weekend all clubbed together. We’ve got lots of places in mind. Are you free?”

There are times when I lose my faith in the human intellect, this was one of them. Of course I was free. What else would I be? I’m jobless and ergo, free.

“Yeah, I’m free. I’ll come.” I mumbled again.

“Great! I’ll mail you some of the other details; we can plan the places to span out the trip online.” said Abhi audibly enthused.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Bye, Andy”

“Bye.”

The call ends. I’m still holding the phone trying to make some sense of what had just happened. My friends, who I’d presumed had forgotten me, just called me for a 4-day road trip. They were getting a respite from work, and someone among them had initiated this brilliant scheme. I did not know whether it was a good or a bad plan, but around here, any kind of news had ‘good’ written all over it, for it meant change.

Several mails were passed among us. A week or so later, some headway had been made. The date had been decided, the places marked out, the rental car had been booked. Excitement for the trip was on par with the very first time one drove a bicycle over a certain distance. It was new, it was fulfilling, you felt like a grown up with the excitement of a kid all rolled into one movable package. The others were itching for a break from work; I was itching from the recent lack of hygiene as well the prospect of spending time away from my drab routine.

I did not know what to expect from this trip. All I knew was that I wanted to leave my present self on the road somewhere on this trip. I wanted to come home to normalcy, to life as I knew it. This trip, I hoped and even prayed, would do that for me.

 

…

Chapter 7 A walk to remember

 

The party seems to be drawing to close, which really was something I did not want. As much as I loathed coming here and attending this party, these few hours I spent with her would probably last me a lifetime and I wanted them to extend for a few more. Families are wishing my parents for today, as they make their way to the car park. Mom was probably tired from the entire ordeal, because her ever cherubic smile seemed to be waning. Dad was giving the old man-to-man handshakes to all his buddies, and there seemed a large loom of satisfaction on his face for a get-together that spanned out well. Surprisingly, Dave seemed to be missing from all this action. Not that I tried looking for him anyway.

 

As for me, I had temporarily left Maya’s side to help with some of the pack-up work – settling some bills, yet another bribe to a few constables for the long line of cars on the road, and so on. Maya told me that she needed a ride home and was willing to wait till I finished here. I couldn’t really fathom what was going on, it had been a weird night. No, weird was a gross underestimation of the night that this was. Nevertheless, I completed most of the tasks at hand, and returned to her. Maya. Each time I call her name, even without a purpose, it seems to bring a rush of blood to my heart.

“Maya” I called out, bracing myself for the rush.

“Hey…Ready to go?”

 

To the end of the world with you, I wanted to say.

 

“Yeah, sure” I said instead. “I’ll go get the car.”

“Andy, I’d prefer it if we walk. It’s hardly a few hundred meters from here.”

The night was getting weirder.

“Okay, sure” I said, brushing the weirdness aside.

I have to admit, ever since we moved away from each other, I longed to spend time with her like today; even if it was just for a few hours. Today however, I did not know how much longer I could take any of this. There were literally times when I felt like getting down on my knees and asking her to give us another chance. Somehow, the end result did not seem very optimistic.

“What a night!” she exclaimed, as a distant owl eerily resonated sounds through the empty streets.

“Yeah, it was great. I mean, it still is.”

 

The streets of Mylapur were magical, especially with her by my side. The roads were reflecting the street lights as a favor for us, as it seemed like we were walking on a silvery path. The trees swayed humbly with the gentle breeze, as if they were in awe of us. With each breeze, a strand of her hair flew across her face, as she resiliently tucked it back in place. I silently watched as she plucked a drooping flower from one of the trees and tenderly stroked it. There was now a silence amongst us that had not been there until a few hours ago. We walked on for several meters without a word between us.

“I have something to tell you.” she said, breaking the silence yet again. Not that it bothered me anyway.

“Yeah? Go ahead.”

Right that moment, a chill ran through me that almost made me shudder in thought. What if she still felt the same way as I did? What if all the things she said earlier tonight was a cover-up and that she could not hold onto it much longer as well? I gazed into her bubbly, brown eyes with bated breath, awaiting something phenomenal to happen.

“Look, I know you’ve not been able to move on from us. Honestly, I know how that feels, because I’d been there for a long time.” she started, as I noticed a small sigh escaping me.

“Last year, when I started working, I met this guy at office. His name is Anirudh. We met in one of the team meetings and hit it off well. We’ve been seeing each other for almost a year now. He’s really sweet and simple, and I’m in love with him. He loves me too.”

 

I was too shell-shocked to say anything. I just nodded quietly, as I transferred some of my rage to a pebble on the street. It clinked against the light post and I watched where it lay. I’d become numb, almost to the extent that I did not know she was still saying something to me.

“I know it is tough for you, it’s tough for me too, which is why I came today. I wanted to make sure that we parted as friends. We’ve been through too much to simply walk away from each other completely. Andy, are you listening?”

“Yeah, I am” was all I could say.

“Are you okay with this? Can we be friends, please?” she asked me in a tone and look that reminded me of a pup.

I couldn’t help but realize that the girl I had been pining for had moved on, and it was time for me to do the same as well. It was the inevitable truth and it hit me real hard. I mustered my strength and said, “Yes”.

 

I’d rather have her in my life like this, than not have her in my life at all. Sure, I’d struggle to come to terms with this and that dumb Anirudh, whoever he was. At the end of all this though, it would only make me stronger. That has been my golden rule for every obstacle I’ve ever faced- it is helping me get stronger, so I will endure it. Endure, I will.

Before I could see her shadow moving towards me, Maya embraced me in a tight hug. Silence prevailed for a long time. I think I heard her sobbing on my shoulder, as I fought really hard with my tears to keep them away. She was the first to pull away from the embrace, as I came to terms with myself over the last few minutes.

“Let’s go, it’s getting late. I will drop you home and head back home too.” I whispered as she pulled away.

There was a dead silence between us the rest of the way. Nature seemed to respect that, because apart from our footsteps, I could not hear a single sound anywhere. After what seemed like eternity, we reached Maya’s house.

“I don’t think I can ever forget this night. Goodbye Maya. Take care.” I said as I headed back home.

 

It was abrupt, even for my standards. She did not reply. I did not wait. As I walked away, I sensed that she was still at the gate watching me leave, but I did not have the courage to turn back and look at her. I would not be able to stay in control for much longer, even if I wanted to. So I kept walking.

A few meters away from her house, my cell phone rang out. In the silence of this night, it was one sound I did not want to hear. I picked it up anyway, because the name on the screen read ‘Dave’.

“Hey, where are you?” Dave blurted out as soon as I picked the call.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I said.

I disconnected the call, without waiting for his response. Silence prevailed yet again, as I walked through the streets, this time alone.

 

 

…

Chapter 6 Love and Monsoon

 

December 2007. What a cold month that was. The open air theatre facing the Kuhalli Lake was freezing over. Yet unsurprisingly, it was packed to the brim with enthusiastic youngsters, waiting for the youth fest to take off. I recall being this gawky looking kid from college who was writing and directing a play in what was being considered a new genre for plays in youth fests. Multiple characters, several stage settings, and lights usage for different sequences- I had been planning them all for several weeks now.

The D-day was upon us. After several other small plays from other groups, our group was called on-stage. We called ourselves “Punarvidhi”- which was a term we coined to indicate the recurring effect of fate on us. Quite rightly so, because it was fate that had brought together a group of 20-something youngsters into a common group, it was fate that had kept us together through many years of enacting plays, and it was fate that would decide where this group would head out from here.

I had always had this fascination for writing about rain; I reasoned that it simply made me write better than any other subject did. Today’s play is about a love that blossomed in the throes of monsoon. Unlike my other plays, this was a romantic tragedy and was so for a reason. As it turned out, this would be the last play we did as a group from college. For me, it was an offering to Maya. She was watching this play, and I wanted her to know this was written for her. A lame attempt to try and win her back, no doubt, but it was the most prominent thought on my mind when I started penning the play.

 

The story talks of monsoons that see both love and tragedy. In one such season, our main protagonist, whose name I can’t seem to recall, is walking through a rainy day trying to wash away his problems against the grinding rain. Head bent low, a hunched back, he is just trying to make his way home putting aside all his failures and all the bad memories that seem to haunt him every day. Quite unlike other days, on this bleak rainy day, his head and his crushed spirit are lifted by the voice of a girl singing and dancing in the rain. She is not without problems of her own, but simply put, whenever it rains, she lets it all out with dance. She forgets her pain, forgets her problems, as she dances and sings with gleaming joy. This moment is all that matters to her. Maya- that’s what I named the girl, which was for obvious reasons.

Each day of this rainy season, it rained; and our hero would forget all his troubles temporarily, just to watch her dance. He never said a word to her, ever. He just silently stood at a distance, and gazed at poetry in motion. Beats that would move him as he stood there still, grace that would earn the envy of light-footed gazelles, and a spirit that kindled the cold spirit he housed within. After several days of his unseen ardour, one day he gathers his wits and goes up to her to tell her about his love for her, about how he pined for her dance each day, about how ardently he prayed each day for rain.

 

Slowly he walked towards her, hesitating as to whether he should do it today or await tomorrow. Before he could make up his mind, a distant call turned his attention. A strapping lad about his age was running towards the girl, probably calling out her name. Before he comes to realize what has passed, the girl embraces the entrant and rejoices in joy. It was he who was the reason for her romance with the rain; it was her way of spending time with her loved one who was away from her due to important errands.

It was a sad day indeed for our hero, who resigns to fate and walks away silently, whispering a silent prayer for her happiness. A deep sigh escapes him as he turns one last time to look at the happy couple, and slowly and steadily fades away into the shadows.

 

Curtains fell. Applause roared through the theatre, probably because there is something that everyone can relate to in a story involving love or heartbreak. Our group went onstage and took our final bow, as my eyes kept looking for hers.

I saw her walking away on the aisle; and somehow, I know that my offering had affected her. Without saying anything explicitly, that day I had conveyed my undying love for my Maya. And she had walked away.

 

…

Chapter 5 Aftermaths

I’ve always maintained that there is a limit to the amount of insanity one person can bring to the table. What I seem to have neglected is the effect caused by multiple insane people gathered under one make-shift roof. Not only was I at my wits end with all the people chattering incessantly over the joys of bonding, but the few ‘friends’ that I’d invited to this party had decided to stay away. So, here I am, cornered, alone and angry.

It therefore should come as no surprise that when she walked into this picture, I could not help myself from looking up at the gods in silent reverence. Maya. Suddenly colors began to look lively again; the music that once seemed drab now seemed to follow her in beat. With each step she took towards me, the beats got louder. It did take me a while to recognize the music my own heart made.

“Maya! What are you doing here?” I blurted out with an opulent energy burst that made a few odd heads turn this way.

“Hi Andy. It’s nice to see you too.”

“Sorry.” I said, recovering from the initial shock. “It’s just that I’m a little shocked to see you here after...4 years is it?”

“Well, I met Aunty last weekend at the market. She invited me here, and I’d been planning to take a few days off work as well. So it all came together and here I am.”

“Good good.” I mumbled, wondering if the earth around me was caving in.

“So how’ve you been? Aunty told me you were working at Whitefield.”

She had always been the initiator. So calm and unfazed by this weird conversation that seemed to bury me as I stand. There’s something really scary about a girl who looks calm. I’d never observed that before.

“Yes, I’m at Whitefield. Work’s good, work’s good”

That sounded bad, I heard myself saying it again. It sounded really bad.

Amusingly enough for me, a lot of pleasantries were exchanged- Work, life, friends and so on.

“Hey, do you guys still have that big swing on the balcony?” she asked.

 

Was that a trick question? I mean, unless I’m getting it wrong, she plans to ask me to escort her to a rickety swing on our balcony, away from the crowds.

 

“Yes, it’s still there” I said, rather eager to know what she would say next.

“Good.” And she stopped.

An awkward silence came between us. For what seemed like eternity, she stared at the hanging light behind where I stood, while I had a few options between looking at my shoes, which had not been buried, yet, and also at the nearly empty cocktail glass in my hand.

There are times when a man will shut his mouth and hold onto dear life. As I came to realize much later, this was definitely not one of those times.

“So do you want to see the swing?”

Did I just say that? Did I just say that?

I was going to ask myself a third time, but she quickly replied, “Yeah sure”.

 

With those reassuring words, I led her through the maze of overly happy people, noticing that my parents were cajoling some of their old friends onto the stage. I don’t know if this is how people feel when they wade through large crowds, but right this moment, as I made my way through this crowd, with her behind me, I felt a surge of power within me. It was as if a giant had been woken, a wave risen, a peak conquered. Well, you get the picture.

We reached the balcony which was well lit, thanks in no small portion to my ideas for lighting it up. As I imagined a hand patting my back for a job well done, Maya took a seat on the old swing.

“So how’s everything else? Find your girl yet?”

Is that supposed to be rhetoric?

“Not since you left. No”

I was surprised I said that. Evidently, so was she.

“We were young and immature, it wasn’t love Andy. We had merely let an infatuation grow.” she said.

I stood silent. I guess I did not know what to say to something like that.

“We did the right thing you know” she continued,”It was time for us to move on with our lives. You had to get into college, get a job and so on. I had plans of my own. It simply wouldn’t have worked out.”

“It’s not like we really tried anyway” I said, irked by the theory she was selling me.

“God! You’re impossible! I’m just trying to have a conversation with you after so many years and you’re jumping at me like it’s entirely my fault.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.” I said, realizing it probably hurt her.

There was another long awkward silence. This time she didn’t break it.

“You remember that play I wrote for the youth fest?” I asked, trying to get her to change thought.

“I surely do. The only romantic play you wrote in college. Mr. Andrew Adams, playwright. I used to love the plays you wrote.” she said, deep in thought. ”The stage sessions by your group at the open air theatre, you remember those?” lighting up her brown eyes once again.

 

Remember? I could never forget those days. One of my lesser known traits at home, that of a playwright; a side of me that surprisingly, even I had loved. Memories of a stage that lit up on evenings, with stories that people cried over and laughed with. Of lights that told a story of their own, curtains falling and rising. Of “Love and Monsoon”.

 

…

Chapter 4 P-A-R-T-Why?

 

I’d have to admit that I’m not one of the social “butterflies” who flit from gathering to gathering, raking up friends en route. Despite this obvious social ailment I so gladly suffer from, it simply makes no sense to miss my parents’ anniversary. For old times’ sake. The least I can do for them is show up, right?
While the house had been going gung-ho with phone calls and people dropping by, it is hard to believe that there’s a good 6-7 hours for the party to start and nothing seems ready as yet. A makeshift stage has been set up in the porch, which is not even close to completion considering a head count of a hundred or so flitting butterflies will descend in a matter of hours. Food seems to be magically descending from a distant magical land, because I see no signs of food or even caterers.

Of course I’m a bit jumpy considering it’s been a long time since I’ve ever been a part of the organizing committee. Dave on the other hand is a pro. One moment he’s sharing what look like happy thoughts to random girls on the unfinished stage, and the next he’s running pillar to post getting the chairs in place.

As for me, I’m on lighting duty. The place seems well lit up, adequate for a gathering of this size. I also did a couple of practice runs of the light sets and everything seems alright for now. I recall some Christmas parties we used to have at home. Almost every year, despite every sane attempt to make sure the serial lights are in good working condition, they always fail on Christmas Eve. Luckily for my poor self, God decided not to remind me of those attempts today.

I’m guessing though, that He wanted Dave to remember them. Not so much in terms of the lighting, but the caterers. An hour before the guests start pouring in and they were not here yet. Despite how calm and composed he tries to be, today I think I noticed a throbbing vein on his temple.

“How hard can it be to keep a deadline? All they have to do is bring food, put on their uniforms and serve!” said Dave. I just noticed the throbbing vein getting bigger.

“Relax. They’ll be here. Did you give them a call?”

“An hour back. They said they’ll be here on time…”

“Then they will be here… Tell you what, I’m done with the lighting work here, so I’ll go see if they’ve left. Just hand me the car keys and their address.”

I’m no do-gooder. I needed the break. I’ve been here for little over a day and I’m bored already. This was the much needed getaway for solitary drones like me.

“You’re sure you want to do that?”

“Mm-hmm”

“Okay, here you go.” said Dave handing me the car keys and the caterers business card.

There are few places in the world you feel invincible. Mine was definitely behind the wheel. Mylapur is robed in great looking roads and driving at twilight here is a feeling quite incomparable. If I did not have the self-imposed task of locating the caterers shop at hand, I would probably have enjoyed the scenery around Mylapur, would have taken in the sounds and sights like I usually do.  Or at least read the speed limit sign.

In what seems like divine intervention, a traffic policeman promptly signaled me to stop a few blocks away from the caterers. It seems divine because I’ve come to believe since now, that speed limits are probably a divine way of imposing upon us the fact that no matter how invincible you feel behind the wheel, you’re still human. It’s only fair that you are reminded this by a poor policeman on a public holiday, on an empty road, on a rare day when you are actually in a hurry to get somewhere.

Just about when it seemed like this day had reached its own speed breaker, Dave calls me to tell me that the caterers had reached home. So had Jane.
I could pretty much guess that his vein had now disappeared back where it chose to come from with the former piece of news. The latter I imagine had brought a smile broad enough to leave a few permanent marks on that smug face of his.

Jane Fernandes was no ordinary girl. I may not think much of Dave as a person otherwise, but when he told us that he was going steady with Jane, I think he earned a few brownie points as a neat guy. Jane’s family had practically lived next door to us our entire lives. Except for a couple of years when they moved to another city, they have always been our neighbors.

Now here’s the icing on the cake. My parents dote on Jane. She’s intelligent, pretty, and well-mannered and she seems to have a soft corner for Dave. As does he, but what he feels is probably just too large to be described as a corner. I can see it coming. The day when Jane Fernandes will become Mrs. David Adams. It’s all like a love ballad waiting to be written.

As much as my brother’s love life intrigues me, I have a gathering to get to. Ideally, I’d choose not to pay any heed to both, but realistically, I know that is not something I can do. So I hurry back home, only this time watching carefully for any sign boards on the way. It would be a shame to be caught by workers of divine intervention twice on the same day, despite how thrilling that may sound to some.

...

Chapter 3 Love

 

 

 

It is with utmost valor or stumbling stupidity that one usually manages to impress a girl. I was no different. The first time I saw her holding her mother’s hand and walking into school, I knew that this was not going to be easy.

Opportunity is a gift from the Gods. I received plenty of such gifts that day; I decided to unpack one of them. She was quietly sitting under the big neem tree in the school yard with a book in hand. Girls and books. I simply don’t get the attachment. Venturing bravely where no chicken-hearted school kid had ever gone before, I walk up to her trying to make some small talk.

“You’ve already started on the homework?” I ask, with quite a bit of charm I recall.

She looks at me with those big brown eyes of hers. I expect sparks to fly, magic to transpire. Miracles have a weird way of happening at moments when you least expect them. This was not one of them. She bends her head and gets back to her book.

I never realized the latent powers of invisibility bestowed upon me. She can’t see me. As I walk away from her, I realize my invisibility is not real after all. For a bunch of my friends are standing by the park, giggling and motioning towards me. I’d just been spotted approaching a girl trying to make small talk. This evidently small, stupid act of mine led to weeks of name calling and howling for both of us.

 

Like I said, miracles have a weird way of happening at moments when you least expect them. One day, several months after my seemingly innocuous act of small talk about homework, Maya walks up to me with her math book.

“Could you help me with factorization problems? I can’t seem to get any of them right.”

I could never forget those words. Heck, I was no math whiz myself, but when Maya Dev approaches you for help, you don’t say ‘No’.

“Sure”.

 

Just that one word; and a bond was formed. After several such small talk sessions about study topics that never really mattered, we had gotten really close to each other. I recall days when I would talk to her in our school bus all the way till her home, and then run home to call her to talk for a few more hours. Innocent love. Who really ever thinks of consequences from such trivialities?

Evidently, Dads do. As I soon found out, phone calls are really expensive. Not only do you get a earful, you end up in a financial crisis of your own, with critical pocket money being cut off as well.

Endurance is the quality of the strong hearted. We were evidently among the blessed few with a really strong heart. For we endured years of cut backs and grounding, to establish a relationship that lasted nearly 8 years. It therefore, isn’t really a surprise that when Maya decided to ‘move on with our lives’, ‘examine our options’ or in simple words, when she decided to break up with me, it wasn’t really something I took very well.

 

I look back on some of those years and ask myself questions like- what would I change about my high school? Given another chance, will I let myself fall in love again? Or would I be the kind of student I was expected to be?

No question really has an answer that lasts for long. None of these questions had any lasting, lucid answers as well. As I now tear the photo, the silence of the basement room is broken only by the resonating crisp sounds of a memory that was.

 

…

Chapter 2 Celebration

 

 

My glorified arrival at Mylapur was for two perfectly valid reasons. First, it was my parents’ 25^th wedding anniversary, a silvery celebration of years of toil and togetherness, of years spent tolerating each other for reasons beyond understanding. Clearly, for some folks like me, marriage has always been beyond normal comprehension. Anyway, the second reason was my brother’s confirmation ritual. It is a ritual in Christianity which signals the acceptance of people into their fold. Or so I think it is.

 

Being the elder one, I was always considered to be the first one to undertake this ‘acceptance’ ritual. My parents had what you can call a ‘nervous breakdown’, when I first told them about my decision not to follow any religion. I think they seemed content with the fact that at least Dave is going through with it. It gives them the satisfaction of knowing that they did in fact raise their kids well.

“So what’s the plan for the anniversary party?” I ask Dave who seems lost in a space created by flowers, lights and glazed paper.

“Huh? Oh the party… yeah, lots of things on my mind right now. You mind getting that chair for me?”

“Sure”

“You know, Ma seems pretty upset that you renounced your religion. How does one renounce his religion anyway?”

Cheeky little bugger.

“Let’s not go there, alright? Here you go”. I signal to him the completion of my grand task.

Dave and I work at different IT firms in the same city, a couple of hours from Mylapur but we hardly ever meet each other. I’m largely to blame for that; the poor chap calls me often to meet up in the evening.

“So are you performing anything today? There’s going to be quite a gathering you know.” said Dave visibly excited.

“Are you serious? A performance? Like a stage show? Count me out”. I shudder at the very thought of embarrassing myself in front of complete strangers.

“Suit yourself.”

I intend to do just that my friend, I tell myself. Suddenly, my soliloquy is broken by a loud thud. Dave had dropped an old box from the attic.

“Oops! Clumsy me.” said Dave smiling wryly.

I saunter over to help him with the box. His smile had now started showing a marked radiance.

“Look at this”, he motions to me showing an old photo of us together in our uniforms.

“First day of school, we look like dweebs”.

“Hey come on. Ma maintains that this was our cutest phase”.

At this point he’s holding the photo like a doting parent would hold his newborn.

“This is her isn’t it?” Dave asks me mischievously wagging another photo.

I freeze when I see the picture in his hand.

“I can’t believe they have a copy of this!” I scowl, snatching the photo from him.

Maya. It is ironical how life can come to haunt you at any time it sees fit. This sadly, was one of those times.

 

…

Chapter 1 Coming home

It’s been a good two hours since I parted with my comfort zone to get onboard this train. The Indian Railways have always had a weird sense of humour. An express train...or so they call it. After what seems like an eternity of chugging and pushing, the iron wonder screeches to halt at Mylapur. Home at last.

No matter how much one hates travelling, or people, or even ‘express’ trains, one cannot but love the feeling when one sets foot in his home town after a long time. That reminiscent smell, these familiar looks from eyes that seem to know you, the sounds of clinking bottles in the early morning dew. As I recall memories of my own, drawing from these sights and sounds, nothing seems to have changed here. It is maintained that pensioners would find themselves at home here. Idyllic, calm and untouched; this place has always been a haven to live in.
I brush aside my nostalgia and move along the jostling crowd to make my way out. Holidays always bring an influx of home-comers, many of them settled in jobs at distant cities.

Today is no different I realize, cursing myself for not planning to get here a day earlier. There’s an incredible achievement that every Indian makes without ever realizing it. We stand in queues for nearly a year of our lifetime, maybe more. This wonderful enlightenment occurs when I reach the rickshaw stand- the sight of serpentine queues that only seem to grow with time. The pre-paid rickshaw service has found many a taker since my last visit.
As much as I hate to admit it, I simply love this town. A well-planned city that only seems to gain more grace with age, Mylapur personifies the adage ‘Old is gold’. The rickshaw brakes at 62, R.K. Nagar. Before I realize what’s happening, an overly excited voice runs towards me.

“Andy!! You’re home! Oh my God, I don’t believe this! “.

After a certain number of cliché exclamations, Mom finally returns to ground state. There is this peculiar warmth to a mother’s hug, its inexplicable; but it is right then that you realize, you’ve reached home.

“Come on ma! It’s not that big a deal. Can we just go in now?”

She gives me one of her many wise looks and we get in the house, tottering with luggage in hand. Even our old house seems to inherit her genes from the town herself. For nothing seems to have changed. Same old sofas, Mom’s flower arrangements adorning the hall and Dad with his morning paper on the arm chair.

“Andy, you made it huh? Good, good. Wash up and come to breakfast soon.”

Same old Dad.

As I head to my room, I seem to somehow hear guitar sounds. Unless it’s my schizophrenia acting up early, that must be Dave.

Meet David, my younger brother. Loathsome little bugger since as long as I can remember. We never did agree on a single issue. Ever. Here he is, sitting coyly in his room strumming sweet melodies with that rusty old guitar of his.

“Andy!”

What’s with everyone? I know my name! You don’t need to keep reminding me every few minutes.

“ Dave,” I acknowledge with a nod, “ When did you get here?”

“Last night. Thought I’d run into you at the station. You’ve changed your number yet again eh?”

“Yeah, I had to. Complications. Anyway, Dad’s waiting for breakfast. You coming?”

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

Typical Dave.

We were born only a year apart, but our ideas for life seemed to be from different planets. I quietly head downstairs for the much anticipated holiday breakfast. It is a custom at our house, a large table with loads of goodies for the holidays. That poor family table has borne the brunt of many a family gathering, often carrying loads that would make even Atlas smirk. Atlas smirked. Nice title for a book, I smile invisibly, loading up on the morning quota.


..

Love, Recession and other tragedies

Love, Recession and other tragedies - This is the title of my book. This book tells a story of a boy who's about our age. He is pessimistic, hates tradition, loathes family bonding and is a bit of a smart alec. I'm sure many of us can relate to that.

Over a period of a few months, he undergoes tremendous change due to the course of events in his life. Their impact on his life as a whole, his journey and evolution as a person are the main stay of this book. I had great fun writing this book, hopefully you will enjoy reading it as well..


Aashith Gaurav