I know you will bring it.
But am not sure if its going to be one or two.
(At this moment am not getting into the debate whether we really need the US to acknowledge our talent.)
I know...
I know you will bring it.
But am not sure if its going to be one or two.
(At this moment am not getting into the debate whether we really need the US to acknowledge our talent.)
Freedom Regained
I’m not a product of my environment; My environment is a product of me. This or something very close to this is the opening line of The Departed. But in real life I have not heard many people say that. However, I very strongly feel that most of us have such a thought, consciously or underneath. After all, who wants to be controlled? I too am one of them. I do not believe in God of any form; not yet. I do not openly believe in destiny. I have always maintained that destiny is a creation of losers to rationalise their past. I rate my freedom as one topmost thing in my life. Probably that is why my father hesitated when I told him of my decision to take the UPSC Exams. He felt, apart from being very low paying, the Government jobs also did not offer one space; freedom. I did not heed his advice. But today, after spending quite a considerable time (by my standards) with the Government and more than three weeks at the National Academy of Direct Taxes, Nagpur, I have concluded there is a supernatural force; a power that is omnipotent; an overwhelming strength. There is no escape from it. That force torments me throughout a major part of the days here. I’m no more a free bird. I did try and still trying hard to overcome it, but I’m still on the losing side. One of my friends asked me to be sincere during our early morning yoga sessions. “That will help you”, he said. I took that advice very seriously and moved from my usual last row to the very first row of the yoga sessions; forgoing much of my freedom. But even after that I have not seen any progress in my fight against that Force Supernaturale!
One another friend, an intellectual, said, “Try moving from the last bench to the first rows in the lecture hall”. I thought about it for 48 hours; but did not try it. That was beyond my risk appetite. I was finding out other ways to overpower my enemy and take charge of my life. One of them was to take two ball pens – one blue and the other one black – and keep myself busy by underlining the key terms and take down the learning points in my brand new register. By the end of the day the plan produced something very strange. My register had a few pages of bi-coloured scribbling. It looked like that of an infant’s first-ever attempt with a pen. I felt more ashamed. In the attempt to ward off sleep and keep awake in the lecture hall I had lost control of my handwriting too!
Yes, that force that has thrown my life out of gear is – sleep.
Over the weekend I’m hoping to find the best possible game-plan against sleep during the lecture hours. Usually interest and attention go hand in hand. The more we like to do something the more attention we show to the job. (Forgetting other extraneous variables like incentives, salary, food etc.) But I genuinely feel my sleep is not due to the scarcity of attention arising out of a total lack of interest for the subjects taught. I like the IT Act, just like I love other things in life like playing saxophone, scuba diving, double trap, rock climbing, blind-fold chess etc. And I owe full allegiance to my job here.
Okay, let me take stock of the terms that have gone into my mind over the past four weeks here. Well...IT Authority, firm, search and seizure, heads of salary, exemption, Shaw Wallace, immovable property, junior artists, previous year, basis of charge, HUF, vigilance case, four corners of law....Oh! Good! The list goes on and on. I never even imagined so many things could have entered that soft, light thing in between my ears. Hmm...I think have acquired something special; probably the exceptional ability to exist in the two extreme states of consciousness, Stage IV NREM sleep and being fully alert – at the same time!
I’m excited! I really don’t know when I got this ultimate gift of life; anyway it does not matter now. Am happy I got it!
I did a bit of google to find out whether such a case had been reported earlier or not, if someone else too possessed this special and unusual control over his/her conscious or not. As usual the result had thousands of totally irrelevant web pages. But I was lucky enough to spot one source that gave me the precise info. (But I’m not sure if that is authentic) And I’m quite elated now, as the only person who had a power something near-similar to what I have is – Arjun. No no... not the one in politics or cinema. But that one Blessed by none other than Lord Krisha himself. It is said that Arjun can sleep or be awake even for years together as per his own wish.
One another friend, an intellectual, said, “Try moving from the last bench to the first rows in the lecture hall”. I thought about it for 48 hours; but did not try it. That was beyond my risk appetite. I was finding out other ways to overpower my enemy and take charge of my life. One of them was to take two ball pens – one blue and the other one black – and keep myself busy by underlining the key terms and take down the learning points in my brand new register. By the end of the day the plan produced something very strange. My register had a few pages of bi-coloured scribbling. It looked like that of an infant’s first-ever attempt with a pen. I felt more ashamed. In the attempt to ward off sleep and keep awake in the lecture hall I had lost control of my handwriting too!
Yes, that force that has thrown my life out of gear is – sleep.
Over the weekend I’m hoping to find the best possible game-plan against sleep during the lecture hours. Usually interest and attention go hand in hand. The more we like to do something the more attention we show to the job. (Forgetting other extraneous variables like incentives, salary, food etc.) But I genuinely feel my sleep is not due to the scarcity of attention arising out of a total lack of interest for the subjects taught. I like the IT Act, just like I love other things in life like playing saxophone, scuba diving, double trap, rock climbing, blind-fold chess etc. And I owe full allegiance to my job here.
Okay, let me take stock of the terms that have gone into my mind over the past four weeks here. Well...IT Authority, firm, search and seizure, heads of salary, exemption, Shaw Wallace, immovable property, junior artists, previous year, basis of charge, HUF, vigilance case, four corners of law....Oh! Good! The list goes on and on. I never even imagined so many things could have entered that soft, light thing in between my ears. Hmm...I think have acquired something special; probably the exceptional ability to exist in the two extreme states of consciousness, Stage IV NREM sleep and being fully alert – at the same time!
I’m excited! I really don’t know when I got this ultimate gift of life; anyway it does not matter now. Am happy I got it!
I did a bit of google to find out whether such a case had been reported earlier or not, if someone else too possessed this special and unusual control over his/her conscious or not. As usual the result had thousands of totally irrelevant web pages. But I was lucky enough to spot one source that gave me the precise info. (But I’m not sure if that is authentic) And I’m quite elated now, as the only person who had a power something near-similar to what I have is – Arjun. No no... not the one in politics or cinema. But that one Blessed by none other than Lord Krisha himself. It is said that Arjun can sleep or be awake even for years together as per his own wish.
The Black Van
It is not usual for Manikumar to get woken up by his alarm; even on the days of his exam it was always due to his mother’s nudging or a splatter of water by father that he got up – quite irritated and hesitant or directly jumping out of the bed – depending on whether it was his mom’s or dad’s day. But today he is fully awake at 5:55 AM. He is lying in his cozy bed, waiting for the alarm to go in another five minutes. It was exactly 7:20 AM when he reached Malai Mandir. The last time he had come here was on the New Year day – January 1st, 2009. He was with his two other flat mates that day. The three had the hangover of the previous night’s party. Mani drinks occasionally. His New Year resolutions – 1) read one big book a month 2) save Rs.250. Looking at his track record I think “big” is anything above 35 pages, it included Filmfare also.
By the time he reached the idli shop at Munirkha it was almost 8:30. The sambhar here reminded him of his very old granny back at Pollachi. He makes it a point to visit her during every trip down South. Though they quarrel very often, they both bonded like school pals. It was his granny who taught him fishing, during his school vacation many years back. The local ponds over-flowing after a lavish monsoon have always fascinated the little boy. He learnt swimming in one of those numerous ponds that dot the landscape surrounded by mountains and coconut trees. It was also his granny who rescued Mani from his father who almost killed him when he had come to know about Mani’s smoking habits. I think Mani would have started his smoking career with beedis. But his last stay at her home was not something to remember for both of them. In fact Mani hurled the watch she gave him to the corner of the verandah and vowed that he would never meet her again, before rushing to the bus stand. I think the watch he is wearing now is that injured watch, revived. Do watches also have nine lives?
It is almost 10 o’ clock now. He has a brief talk with the Pollachi granny before saying “Sari” and hanging up the phone. He has an appointment with his former colleague Ranga, in some time. Ever since Mani’s first day at his earlier office Ranga has been his FPG. “Sorry Mani..got tied up with the routine stuff”. It was five minutes past 11:00 when Ranga met Mani near the Central Park. Mani wanted to lunch with Ranga today but they had to settle for a brunch. It seemed Ranga had some major work lined up at the office. “Success is not about winning, Mani – it is about fighting when you have almost lost”, Ranga said looking directly into our hero’s eyes. It was almost 1:00 pm by the time they both reach the Rajiv Chowk Metro station. In the last two hours or so they both had jumped from Satyam scandal to their old sadistic boss to Delhi winters to Katrina Kaif to elections to Taj blasts to the next table babe to Shimla trip to poor food to Sania to crazy fathers to many more places until they reached APJ Abdul Kalam. It was at this point when Ranga closed the topic with that punch dialogue. Mani returned Ranga Rs.1600 and the mobile phone he had taken from him two weeks back, before saying “Bye”.
Mani rushed to the PVR nearby and managed to get the ticket for the 1:30 PM show. He had watched the Tamil Ghajini more than four times; the last two times being a back-to-back show in his flat-mate Gopi’s laptop recently. Mani regarded Asin as the most charming lady on earth. He had been waiting restlessly for the last two weeks for Aamir Khan's Ghajini. It is different matter that he did not understand Hindi beyond “Teek hai ji”. “Why are you so late?! I don’t think they will allow now”. After much coaxing Dr.Selvam got the staff accept one unit blood from Mani. In many government offices the only policy followed is closing the work exactly at the fixed office hour. 9 AM to 5 PM means – a possibility that the staff will be present anytime after nine; certainty that nobody stays even a second beyond five. Even the blood donation counter at this medical college hospital is no exception to this rule. But Dr.Selvam has always had the reputation of finding his way out. They were back benchers in school. Mani had boldly written a love letter to their tuition friend Banumathi, who also happened to be the daughter of the most famous chartered accountant in their town. And he took this great risk – just for a plate of chicken biryani and a bottle of beer. But for Selvam’s diplomacy Mani would have ended up getting killed by his own father! It was 6:30 PM when Mani walked out of the hospital. He looked exceptionally satisfied and fresh. He was also happily holding Selvam’s wedding card in his right hand.
The auto rickshaw meter read: Rs. 42.60. Mani handed over a fifty rupees note to the autowala and started to walk towards the internet café without turning back. He had got three new mails – two offering him tips to reduce the waist line without cutting down on sweets, and the third one was from Banu. She had sent a forwarded mail having some funny photos, as usual. He replied “:-)”.
Shining soap bubbles. Stuffed giant elephant toys. Couples sitting beyond the reaches of light. Pink-coloured-cotton candy sellers. Young men running behind their two feet tall kids. Glowing mini-parachutes landing on the dark lawns. Bunch of teenagers commenting on the oversized aunty in red saree. Helpless children selling masala tea. Impeccably dressed defence men. Bhel puriwalas doing a brisk business. Transgenders continuing with their harassment. Photographers promising a print in 10 minutes. Amidst all this was standing the imposing structure – India Gate. Mani is not someone really patriotic or interested in picnics. But a mere visit to this place inspires him like nothing else. I don’t know why. The crowd looked highly under-sized for 8:45 PM, Saturday.
“I will be there by 10 at the PCO down the street”. Before Mani could hang the phone he heard Gopi saying impishly, “Someone is waiting for you here, be fast”. Mani tried calling a number. He dialed twice. I think the number was out of reach. Or was it the other person did not pick the call? He looked a little gloomy while paying Rs.2 to the man at the booth.
“Welcome my king!” Gopi excitedly said while opening the door. Mani got a little uneasy on hearing that. “What’s wrong my dear? Everything is ready!! It has been a very long time since we had a...guest!” Mani disappointed Gopi by giving vague reasons like head ache, mood out etc before getting inside his room. “OK..leave him”, the third person told Gopi, who still looked greatly puzzled at Mani’s strange behaviour. “Ok…take this at least”, Gopi barged into Mani’s room with some rice and chicken pieces on his plate. Gopi was again confused by the way Mani hugged and thanked him. “So much courtesy for a plate of food?!” Gopi wondered before getting lost in his world. He had shelled out almost five hundred rupees for the guest.
The next morning. Old habits die hard. Mani did not wake up to the alarm’s call at 6:00AM.
It was around 10 o’ clock when the black mortuary van arrived.
It was a nylon rope.
By the time he reached the idli shop at Munirkha it was almost 8:30. The sambhar here reminded him of his very old granny back at Pollachi. He makes it a point to visit her during every trip down South. Though they quarrel very often, they both bonded like school pals. It was his granny who taught him fishing, during his school vacation many years back. The local ponds over-flowing after a lavish monsoon have always fascinated the little boy. He learnt swimming in one of those numerous ponds that dot the landscape surrounded by mountains and coconut trees. It was also his granny who rescued Mani from his father who almost killed him when he had come to know about Mani’s smoking habits. I think Mani would have started his smoking career with beedis. But his last stay at her home was not something to remember for both of them. In fact Mani hurled the watch she gave him to the corner of the verandah and vowed that he would never meet her again, before rushing to the bus stand. I think the watch he is wearing now is that injured watch, revived. Do watches also have nine lives?
It is almost 10 o’ clock now. He has a brief talk with the Pollachi granny before saying “Sari” and hanging up the phone. He has an appointment with his former colleague Ranga, in some time. Ever since Mani’s first day at his earlier office Ranga has been his FPG. “Sorry Mani..got tied up with the routine stuff”. It was five minutes past 11:00 when Ranga met Mani near the Central Park. Mani wanted to lunch with Ranga today but they had to settle for a brunch. It seemed Ranga had some major work lined up at the office. “Success is not about winning, Mani – it is about fighting when you have almost lost”, Ranga said looking directly into our hero’s eyes. It was almost 1:00 pm by the time they both reach the Rajiv Chowk Metro station. In the last two hours or so they both had jumped from Satyam scandal to their old sadistic boss to Delhi winters to Katrina Kaif to elections to Taj blasts to the next table babe to Shimla trip to poor food to Sania to crazy fathers to many more places until they reached APJ Abdul Kalam. It was at this point when Ranga closed the topic with that punch dialogue. Mani returned Ranga Rs.1600 and the mobile phone he had taken from him two weeks back, before saying “Bye”.
Mani rushed to the PVR nearby and managed to get the ticket for the 1:30 PM show. He had watched the Tamil Ghajini more than four times; the last two times being a back-to-back show in his flat-mate Gopi’s laptop recently. Mani regarded Asin as the most charming lady on earth. He had been waiting restlessly for the last two weeks for Aamir Khan's Ghajini. It is different matter that he did not understand Hindi beyond “Teek hai ji”. “Why are you so late?! I don’t think they will allow now”. After much coaxing Dr.Selvam got the staff accept one unit blood from Mani. In many government offices the only policy followed is closing the work exactly at the fixed office hour. 9 AM to 5 PM means – a possibility that the staff will be present anytime after nine; certainty that nobody stays even a second beyond five. Even the blood donation counter at this medical college hospital is no exception to this rule. But Dr.Selvam has always had the reputation of finding his way out. They were back benchers in school. Mani had boldly written a love letter to their tuition friend Banumathi, who also happened to be the daughter of the most famous chartered accountant in their town. And he took this great risk – just for a plate of chicken biryani and a bottle of beer. But for Selvam’s diplomacy Mani would have ended up getting killed by his own father! It was 6:30 PM when Mani walked out of the hospital. He looked exceptionally satisfied and fresh. He was also happily holding Selvam’s wedding card in his right hand.
The auto rickshaw meter read: Rs. 42.60. Mani handed over a fifty rupees note to the autowala and started to walk towards the internet café without turning back. He had got three new mails – two offering him tips to reduce the waist line without cutting down on sweets, and the third one was from Banu. She had sent a forwarded mail having some funny photos, as usual. He replied “:-)”.
Shining soap bubbles. Stuffed giant elephant toys. Couples sitting beyond the reaches of light. Pink-coloured-cotton candy sellers. Young men running behind their two feet tall kids. Glowing mini-parachutes landing on the dark lawns. Bunch of teenagers commenting on the oversized aunty in red saree. Helpless children selling masala tea. Impeccably dressed defence men. Bhel puriwalas doing a brisk business. Transgenders continuing with their harassment. Photographers promising a print in 10 minutes. Amidst all this was standing the imposing structure – India Gate. Mani is not someone really patriotic or interested in picnics. But a mere visit to this place inspires him like nothing else. I don’t know why. The crowd looked highly under-sized for 8:45 PM, Saturday.
“I will be there by 10 at the PCO down the street”. Before Mani could hang the phone he heard Gopi saying impishly, “Someone is waiting for you here, be fast”. Mani tried calling a number. He dialed twice. I think the number was out of reach. Or was it the other person did not pick the call? He looked a little gloomy while paying Rs.2 to the man at the booth.
“Welcome my king!” Gopi excitedly said while opening the door. Mani got a little uneasy on hearing that. “What’s wrong my dear? Everything is ready!! It has been a very long time since we had a...guest!” Mani disappointed Gopi by giving vague reasons like head ache, mood out etc before getting inside his room. “OK..leave him”, the third person told Gopi, who still looked greatly puzzled at Mani’s strange behaviour. “Ok…take this at least”, Gopi barged into Mani’s room with some rice and chicken pieces on his plate. Gopi was again confused by the way Mani hugged and thanked him. “So much courtesy for a plate of food?!” Gopi wondered before getting lost in his world. He had shelled out almost five hundred rupees for the guest.
The next morning. Old habits die hard. Mani did not wake up to the alarm’s call at 6:00AM.
It was around 10 o’ clock when the black mortuary van arrived.
It was a nylon rope.
Happy 2009
At last, after 12 months of exams, doubts, love, hate, fun, hope and life am back at where I belong to...at least for the time now.
(Probably, the IT Act and the Rules is not the best way to wish someone a happy new year, that too with a week's delay.)
(Probably, the IT Act and the Rules is not the best way to wish someone a happy new year, that too with a week's delay.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
The Queen’s Gambit (Review)
(Glad that my review got published in Readers Write - Thank you so much Baradwaj Rangan! ) Streaming on Netflix and consisting of seven epi...
