18 when he died

It all started when i bumped into a childhood friend of mine after 7 years. I said 'Hi! Whats up?'. She said ' Dude, know what? I'm getting married!'.

Yes. Marriage. Something which is associated with grown-ups. Something which people do when they're done experimenting with their lives and want to settle down. An agreement which requires the masculine party to have a 7 digit salary, two professional degrees and a house to be able to get a good deal. Something which a guy seriously starts to think about when he sees his hair-line receding. A sweet deal which can ease the EMI payments on the housing loan procured earlier using two and not one salary (this one came from a married man in his 30s.) And now, people who are my age are doing it!

I tried convincing myself that the system works differently for men and women. Women in our society are married off early when compared to men. So i figured i have a good 8 years before i get tired of living and take the leap. I convinced myself that i was still young. But fate conspired. My parents found a girl for my brother.It feels like only yesterday that my brother kicked me on my balls and locked me up in the terrace under the scorching sun over an under-arm cricket match . Now, he's getting married. Even though it's great news that my maa's wish of having a daughter is finally going to get fulfilled, it turns out i am actually growing old.

I looked at my class XII group photograph and i saw an innocent kid in myself, so caught up in his dreams that he hardly paid attention to the people around him.(I found someone in the picture whose name i couldn't recollect for a bit!) I saw a kid who was filled with optimism that one day after he is long gone, children will study about him in their text books. I saw a testosterone-driven teenager who wanted to make-out with Sharon Stone. I saw a cricket fanatic who idolized Harsha Bhogle and wanted to become a Cricket Commentator. I saw a child who'd tell his mother everything he did. I saw a dreamer who wanted to eradicate poverty, adopt children and stop old people from begging on streets. A kid who dreamed to change the world. And then he grew.

He realized that the world can sometimes be a rough place. Sharon stone is 50 and she looks different from Basic Instinct. The text books kids read today have stuff about Sania Mirza. He no longer wants to be on text books. He doesn't know if he can tell his maa everything. He no longer feels the lump in his throat when he sees old people on the street. He has understood the dynamics of the society and has no hope for a positive change.He also notices other people in the XII std. group photo and quietly smiles to himself.

Where did the innocent dreamer run off to and where did the Seeker step in? Why can't i watch Test matches and read Cricket columns with the same vigor as he used to? Why can't i still think about changing the world for the better? Why can't i lie down in my bed and watch sitcoms the whole day? Why can't my brother come back from college and yell at me for lying down on his side of the bed all over again? Where did all the innocence go? Why can't i be like him?

Swami Gilamananda.. really?

Yesterday, television broadcast hit a new low in Tamil Nadu when private video footage of a certain God man and an actress of yesteryear was aired in a private News channel. People have been YouTubing the man like never before.( I wouldn't be surprised if was Googled more times than Megan Fox in the last 30 hrs!)

Angry protesters are setting fire to banners while fuel prices are going up. They're shutting down his 'ashrams' and 'retreats' because they don't have day jobs. Petitioners have filed a case against him under Sec 294(b) IPC(which relates to obscenity!) because there aren't enough cases pending in courts already.

Who aired the video ? What obscene act did the 'Swami' indulge in publicly? He scored an actress because he has the money and power to do so. Or perhaps he is even in a serious relationship with the woman. He should be the one filing a case here.He is being made scapegoat because we are too proud to admit we were stupid. It is a breach of his personal space and privacy. If it was a journalist who came up with the idea of wiring his bedroom,he must be sued!

Do any of us practice what we preach? More specifically,in this context, is it possible for any of us to practice abstinence(unless enforced)? Won't you bite the cake and eat it too when you get the chance?

All of us are hypocrites in one way or the other. We want our country to grow, but we don't pay our taxes because we want more! We crib about the system being corrupt and bribe the traffic police constable. We have change to fill hundials inside temples but have none for the old beggar outside. We associate ourselves with religions and philosophies which we don't follow, yet we fight for them. From fake smiles to our everyday prayers I can fill this entire page with our pretentiousness.

And when someone amongst us humans claims to be all that we cannot be as a species, we believe him. We shower him with largesses and worship him . Why? It is because we believe he can give us something that we don't have. We submit to his will and remain servile. Till one day when his humanness is exposed. Holy crap on my prashadam! The guy is HUMAN!

A friend told me that our religion stipulates Godmen to practice celibacy and be 'pure'. Well, our religion stipulates a million other things which we conveniently reject. The guy became a Godman because we believed what he said. Had we not believed in the first place, he would've probably become a successful Insurance salesman or a medical salesman. Instead, look what we did. He is going to jail and can't sleep with the actress for a while before he buys out his imprisonment.

Time waste money waste :(

Wanderer

On a lousy Sunday evening, a few months back, I was sitting on my couch watching the 8th Season of Friends for the 800th time. Mathew wasn’t funny. Jenifer wasn’t hot. I looked at the clock and it seemed like someone was dragging the minute hand back when it tried moving in front. The walls of my house were closing in on me. There was absolutely nothing going on in my life which remotely excited me. The walls of my house seemed to get smaller by the minute. I had been reeled in by a meaningless routine which systematically destroyed my peace. I wanted to get out.But I didn't know where to.

I wore my sneakers, took my i-Pod and headed out of my house. I hadn't been to Elliot's Beach in a really long time. And before i knew it I was standing by the shore. With my earphones on I couldn't hear a thing around me. I looked around and saw that I was in the company of total strangers in the twilight.

You're in control, is there anywhere you wanna go?
You're in control, is there anything you wanna know?
The future's for discovering
The space in which we're travelling
From the top of the first page
To the end of the last day
From the start in your own way
You just want somebody listening to what you say
It doesn't matter who you are
It doesn't matter who you are

With the music blaring and the waves rising up till my thighs I felt alive. There was peace and calm. I felt the cold sea water on my feet as the waves receded. I wanted to dissolve in the water and flee. The water made love to my feet and I relished every single movement. I closed my eyes and the first thing that flashed in my mind was the Besant Avenue road. And without even putting a thought to it I was on the road once again.

Walk on, walk on
What you got they can't deny it
Can't sell it or buy it
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on

Bono's song supporting Aung Suu Kyi's struggle in Burma suddenly seemed like a carpe diem written out to me. I kept walking. The long road leading into the darkness of the night opened my eyes to the fact that in all these years of living in Bessi I haven’t once stopped to see the beautiful trees on the side of that road. The cool breeze sent a chill down my spine. (I also noticed a small idol on the side of the road and wondered who on earth placed it there!)I still wasn't sure where I was going or what I was going to do next. But my feet kept moving and the music kept playing.

The day can never happen waiting for the hurricane
If we look to far ahead today is gone
You will always miss the moment waiting for the hurricane
Cause the fear of future hides the sun

If you can`t seem to find new oceans and a little bit more
Slowly we will fall if we lose sight of the shore
In the race to be the better or best
Don`t miss it, the joy of being, or you will never rest

So unchain your mind
Unchain your mind

Before the voice faded out I was near Malar Hospital en route to Vidya Mandir. Why? No reason.

Yeah, I know nobody knows
where it comes and where it goes
I know it's everybody's sin
You got to lose to know how to win

Half my life
is in books' written pages
Lived and learned from fools and
from sages
You know it's true
All the things come back to you

Sing with me, sing for the year
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good lord will take you away

After about 2 hours I came back home all drenched and high on life. I was in a state of meditation. I had discovered something I love doing. Wandering.

' Dude what's the fun in walking to some place pointlessly?' That's the point! The pointlessness!'

I get a kick out of wandering to some place. I rediscover the beauty of places I have seen already. While wandering I can listen to music on a completely different level where my mind, body and senses are in tune. It makes me see beauty in things which people see every day but can’t appreciate. I live the moment and feel so much more alive.

Let the music never stop.. Let the road never end..

Source -

Song Lyrics in the order of their appearance in the post

1.Square One- Speed of Sound

2.Walk on - U2

3.Waiting for the Hurricane-Enigma

4.Dream On- Aerosmith

Hero

The bus rocked to a halt on the dusty road. A handsome man in his early thirties appeared from within wearing a proud smile on his face and a uniform on his chest. As the dust settled down and the smell of wet mud greeted him the story of his life played in his head. Born into a peasant family as the first of five children, he lived a life filled with pain and strife. His family lived in abject poverty. He had even seen abba attempting suicide at one point when the family was under a pile of debt.

Being the eldest son, it was incumbent upon him to rescue the family in its hour of crisis. His idea of a steady income was a government job in the army. For a poorly educated 6 footer with broad shoulders and the heart of a lion, joining the army as a sipaahi didn’t take much. A couple of physical exams and he was in.

With the little money they received every month and privileges the family subsisted. Initially, he visited them once in a year. It warmed his heart to see his family in a better place than before, because of him. He was a proud son, both of his house and the country. But one question he couldn’t answer for himself was whether, being a sipaahi in the army was a service to Hindustan or a profession. If it were a profession why wasn’t he looking out for something which paid better? If it were a service to the country why was his family’s welfare involved?

Years drifted by and he found himself married with children. The days were long and he literally counted down days left to meet his children. The idea of ‘service’ seemed more like a delusion which the exuberance of youth had cast over his mind. He wanted to get back home to his family. He’d much rather do what his father did for a living than live his life. But the government had other plans for him. He was commissioned to fight the war. There was death all around him. His buddies had been killed. They were his brothers in all the years that had gone by. He felt a rush of blood in his veins. The will to serve his nation drove him day and night. He fought bravely among men who were ready to face death head on. He lived to see the enemy slain. But all did not end well.

Euphoria over the victory soon died down and the shine of the badges on his sleeve began to fade. He decided that life needs a change for the better. Leaving a part of himself behind, he packed his bags and bid adieu to the institution which parented him through his youth.

A shrill noise brought him back to his senses. It was the bus driver honking. He dragged his bags down the steps and pointed to his seat. The bus conductor reached under the seat and took out a pair of crutches. The cripple balanced himself on the staff and set out towards his village. A young boy stuck his head out of the bus speeding past him and waved at him crying ‘Hero!’

This post is inspired by an incident a friend narrated.

Ava Illa Illa Neruppu Thaane Nenjila

Prologue

Life as a grown-up sucks big time! That too when you are working and living alone there is a certain routine which you get sucked into that is the exact opposite of fun. My life is a boring routine. I have only one thing to tell my maa when she calls me in the evening and asks me about work. 'Work is work'. Both of us are so tired of that answer that she wants me to quit and get the hell out of this shit-hole. ( Pardon the profanity)

Since I cook my dinner and painfully wash vessels afterwards i find it impossible to get out of bed in the morning.The worst part is that if i miss the company bus in the morning i will have to take two autorickshaws to reach my office. It is particularly difficult during winters because the weather will send a chill down your body which is difficult for a pure-bred Madrasi (so to speak) like me to me to handle.

The Story

A couple of days back i woke up as usual. By 'as usual' i mean that i had enough time to brush, get dressed and leave the house so that i can board my bus. (Notice the distinct absence of the word 'bathe') As fate would have it the entire ordeal of having to get out of bed was yet again trivialized by us missing the bus. And by 'us' i mean myself and my roommate.Every time we miss the bus i get pissed off with him. To be honest the poor guy does no harm. But i get so annoyed with him that I'll blame him for all my woes.I wonder why.I also wonder if he'll ever read this. I hope he doesn't.

Just as i was imagining sitting next to a short man covering himself with a dirty blanket and smoking beedi in the auto, magic happened.

At a certain distance along the road a woman dressed in traditional attire appeared out of the fog cover. It was as if the universe was telling me that she was the one. She was the goddess who could dispel the cloud of cynicism and anger over all my thoughts.Darkness was making way for light.

She was so fair that you could miss her feet in the fog and imagine her to be an angel floating. I noticed she was wearing a scarf and all one could see were her eyes.Her hair was tucked into the scarf.All except a few strands which caressed her cheek.Her geometry would make the palms of sculptors itch for their tools.I can't paint. I wished i could at that moment.

As she approached me i got this strange feeling in my abdomen,which i thought had died forever.I felt a strange warmth which soothed my body in the morning cold.She calmly stood next to me and i was about to be pushed over the edge. I was one glance away from getting down on one knee and telling her that the sight of her that morning was by far the brightest moment in the past few months. I wanted to hug her in the most decent manner possible. It was the moment that i fell in love with, not her.

But before i could even close my mouth which was wide open, a man in a leather jacket on a Pulsar stopped next to me. She hopped on, hugged him and they zipped past me.

Ava enna thedi vantha anjala

Ava illa ippo neruppu thaane nenjula..

One man's gain...

I am a ruthless capitalist. I believe in aggressive business strategies. Capitalism is along the lines of Darwin's 'Survival of the fittest' . If someone has to over-power, exploit or even eliminate in order to profit in a business venture one should do so without any qualms. An environment which harbors incompetence and laziness such as communism will destroy man's urge grow intellectually. The urge to compete which makes us human (and animal at times) is what drives our lives. Life should be a challenge willingly accepted. Clearly i have always been against egalitarianism. And then i took up a job.

Today (even as i am writing this post in my cabin at work) a strike has been declared in my company. There are angry workers downstairs who are protesting for an increase in wages. An average worker earns Rs 4000 per month with a minuscule increase per year. The manufacturing sector is notorious for drastically underpaying workers. It is common place to constitute a majority of the workforce with contracted labors and have only a few permanent employees. The funda being that permanent employees are entitled to pay hikes and other perks whereas contract laborers are eligible only for flat payments. .From the company's perspective that is a lot of money in the bank.

In the last few months of living alone and fending for myself i have realized how difficult it is for a man with an average salary to survive. The cost of living is sky-rocketing and basic requirements for living are difficult to fulfill. It is impossible for a family to survive with only one earning member and a sum of at least Rs 20k is required per month. I have friends who struggle to make ends meet with their salary and it is quite saddening to see them depressed all the time.They fuel a machine which feeds on them and there is no way out.

So here i am, torn between what i have always believed in and what i am seeing first hand. I am neither the inflicter nor the affected. Will things always remain that way? Should one man's gain really be another man's loss?

Bittersweet Home

It has been a month since I left Chennai (the greatest city on Earth) for a job in Gurgaon (read Gud-gawn) and the city has already put me through a whirlwind of emotions. Being a spoilt Chennai vaasi the distinct flavor of the North was appalling at first. The common man’s bladder sets off at the sight of a wall. The lack of color is made up for by the salivary coat of paan and tobacco. I do not deny the existence of such artists in the South but I haven’t seen as many. If you have travelled in a share auto you’d imagine that, logically, the maximum allowed capacity of the vehicle is 8.But I have had the opportunity, misfortune rather, of travelling with 15 other co-passengers! The guy who smokes his beedi no matter who is around, the woman who has three children and is barely in her twenties and the ‘chick’ who sits on your lap are regulars in the auto. Traffic rules have been done away with and the roads have descended into complete anarchy. Road accidents and the fights ensuing them are a common sight. Pollution levels are so high that a stroll on the street will result in the deposition of a thick black layer of dirt on your clothing. These glaring imperfections irked me for over a week and I was sinking deep into a state of depression.

And one evening when I was hunting for paying guest accommodations (which was, back then, a part of my routine) my entire perspective about moving to this crazy city changed. An old couple, who ran the paying guest accommodation which I wanted to enquire about, coaxed me into having dinner with them without asking if I was going to move in or if I was even interested !All this because, I’m far away from home! I knew for a fact that they were not feigning to lure me into taking up their accommodation, because they are very well to-do. Due to other circumstances we couldn’t move into their place but that meal opened my eyes to the fact that no matter how disparate North India and South India are the undeniable truth is that we are all part of one large country with common traditional values. All the time when I was cribbing about how wonderful Chennai was and how different Gurgaon is from Chennai I had been overlooking the fact that we as people are the same. We have always welcomed our guests with open arms. (We overdo it by extending the hospitality to terrorists and refugees but that is a different story) I realized that people define cities and not its infrastructure. Of course there are a few people here who are unpleasant but practicality suggests that it is better to be grateful for the good and ignore the rest.

So, the city now seems to be a lot cleaner. The share autos are not crowded; the way I see it, they’re running at ‘optimum’ capacity to save fuel for our future generations! And everyday I have pointless conversations with total strangers because I’ve learnt that people here love to talk and are totally uninhibited, which I personally love.

There is always home away from home. We just have to look for it.