Cover

“What a beautiful day it is – all bright and shining. Do you see that sparrow there? It looks so full of hope and desire, ready to lend flight to its dreams and kiss the sun”

“When we stepped out this day in the year 1947, we had already secured independence for our great nation”

“Just sprinkle some more of that salt and you’ll be ready to go”

Today was Sunday, the only day they got a chance to step out in the open. Smell the air, feel the breeze, inhale some life – Sunday was undoubtedly their favourite day of the week. The rest of their time was spent locked up like prisoners in the basement of a nondescript apartment in one of the worst localities in the neighbourhood. They did not all get along well, one could clearly tell they were not of the same background – differing ideologies, interests and philosophies, not the same mental or physical age, and not necessarily speaking the same language. Some had amassed considerable experience living in multiple locations over the years, while others had been happy to just have been ensconced in one place. But they were here together not so much as by design but more due to a cruel twist of fate.

“Maslow’s hierarchy of needs begins with physiological needs at the bottom, graduating to the self-actualization ones at the very top of the pyramid…”

“…But it pales in comparison to the great pyramid of Khufu at Giza – massive, magnificent, a true test of human strength”

“strength = 強度; 他誰有實力能移山”

With their purpose of life threatened by a much stronger force, this motley crew had been shipped off one fateful night from a faraway land – packed off together, old and young, sick and healthy, rich and poor. They travelled for over twenty days and twenty nights, an arduous journey that not all of them survived, and when they did arrive, things were not as smooth as they had imagined. With some greasing of the palms to avoid any mention of the questionable paperwork, they made their way to what was presumably a facility managed by their local handler. Here they met many more like themselves, some from their own land while some from this foreign land as well, all in search of a new life.

Every Sunday was their chance to shine, to interact with the outside world, something they would eagerly look forward to all week. They wouldn’t be let completely loose, mind you. The handler would ensure that they were kept under check - like the multiple occasions when he would deal out blows across their faces, including one this very minute

“According to Newton’s third law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction”

“There is not a righteous man on earth who continually does good and who never sins”

“I wish we could use that time machine I was telling you about and just fly away from here. Dr.Secondae will have it operational by later this week”

“Deutschland ist weltweit führend in der Technologie - es ist kein Spiel für die Produkte, die wir Machen”

The handler asserts his authority by kicking a few of them while ruffling up a few others - he is clearly in no mood for mercy

“But unbeknownst to him, a hand slowly makes its way towards the ground”

“Is it a bird? Is it a plane?”

“Winter is Coming”

“This person: dark circles and eye bags – limited sleep; small satchel – doesn’t look very interested; unbranded pair of clothes and dishevelled appearance – must be…”

“How much for this?”

“Which, this white one? 50 rupees”

“Make it 30 and I’ll take it”

The handler flips the Sherlock before waving an okay to me. And with that, I make my first purchase at the second-hand book bazaar.

Paro

Alumni Reunion 

You are invited to come to campus on the 15th November 2014


When I read this email a couple of months ago, it brought back memories of the wonderful time I had spent in college a year back. The last minute assignments, the presentations, the group outings, the late-night discussions, friends for a lifetime... and Paro... Those 2 years spent in campus wouldn't have been as beautiful had it not been for her. I had decided that come what may, I'll make it to the meet. And now, as I was entering the campus, I couldn't help waiting for the moment when I could see her again.

I still remember the monsoon evening when I had the chance encounter of first meeting her. It was a week since classes had begun, and I had come back drenched from my local guardian's place outside campus. She was sitting on the table near the dhaba with her friends Ruchi and Priya, who I later realized were the perfect complements to her calmness. I waved to my friend Vidya who was interacting with her, and went for a quick chat. Paro looked warm and inviting, those tiny black moles made her all the more pretty. Vidya introduced me, and I was sure I heard violins playing in the background.

We begun bumping into each other more often then - at the mess, in class, in the hostel, during practice sessions for the cultural fest. A quintessential Delhiite, she easily made friends, in fact almost everyone on campus had interacted with her within a couple of weeks of being there. I was the polar opposite. With others, I generally spoke sparsely and preferred keeping to myself. But with her it had always been different. She couldn't speak. So I drove the conversation, telling her about this place and that, how I wanted to do so much but life was so short, and kept talking about obscure things that I found interesting. There was no way to judge whether she actually listened or gathered much, but there was a sense of calmness in her being that soothed my nerves.

As I now stood waiting to register my name for the meet, I reminisced how Paro at times took ages to get ready. That was especially irritating when I wanted to take her out, but I couldn't blame her entirely for it, for there were so many people at her home that it was always a busy place. Many of these cousins that I met over time were all unique characters, but none as interesting as my Paro. On some rare days when she would be with me in a jiffy, I would relish the additional time I could spend with her. She wasn't perfect, no one can be, but then she tried being consistent in whatever she did. She had that great mix of earthiness and exuberance that drew me to her, and her soft-natured goodness was acclaimed by everyone. Far from extravagant, and liked to keep her appearance as simple as possible. I could vouch for the fact that she truly believed in the inner self, and that was something I loved the most.

I was now walking through the campus, greeting the teachers, meeting juniors, acknowledging the security guards and soaking in the whole atmosphere. I crossed the TT room where we must have spent umpteen evenings exercising our eyes. The CCD counter where we mocked people buying overpriced stuff. The steps near the classroom where we had sat many times before an assignment was due. The stone block near the car park where I had first confessed that I liked her.

But then some things, especially the good ones, don't last forever. See, we come from a traditional family, where your parents had the final say. They were coming to my graduation ceremony, so I thought I would introduce them to her directly. Which I did. But it turned out exactly as I had imagined. My dad, who was rushing off to his cardiologist's conference after the ceremony, started finding fault with her then and there, and blamed mom for giving me too much freedom. What did they know of Paro in one meet that they could judge her? I just told her not to take it to heart, and went back to my room sobbing. But things were never the same between us again. The relationship was strained and there was no going back.

As I now sat at the dhaba near the back gate of our campus, chatting about the good old times with my classmates, my mind was elsewhere. I continuously kept looking out for her, despite a couple of them confirming that she hadn't arrived yet. Just when Nikhil was the only person laughing at the lame joke he had just cracked, I noticed a tap on my shoulder, and turned instantly

"Sir, your Aloo Pyaaz Parantha, with butter"

There she was finally, my Paro. I'll have to check whether the dhaba guy has Ruchi (mix veg pickle) or Priya (mango pickle) today :)

Bittersweet

“One plate of garlic bread, one medium Veggie Delight pizza, and a bottle of Coke”

“Apple pie with icecream!” one of the kids shouted. “Mummy please order the apple pie, please!”

 “Alright alright! One of aunty’s apple pies as well. Yes, that’ll be all, thanks”

In the quaint little town of Rajpurgaon, Uncle’s Pizza was a legend of sorts. It was set up in the early 90s by an enterprising gift shop owner, Chhoturam, and had been serving the city’s populace for close to 20 years now. The idea first occurred to him over dinner with a few friends with whom he had recently been on a trip to Delhi, and that was the first time the small-town man had ever tried Pizza.

“This thing is good, and shouldn’t take much to prepare too” he came back and told his wife. Mrs.Leela Chhoturam asked her cousin in Mumbai to send across pizza buns, and bought cheese from the one shop in the whole of Rajpurgaon that stocked the small Amul cubes. Ketchup was used instead of the usual sauce for the base, and over 6-7 attempts, she started making a decent pizza. Everyone at home loved it, and when she shared with the neighbours, they were delighted as well. Chhoturam, who had been contemplating opening another gift stop in the plot he had next to the lake, shifted his focus on opening a small restaurant instead.

“We’ve been making people happy with gifts, let’s try it with food now” he thought

Response wasn’t very encouraging at the start, but that was just how Chhoturam had anticipated. In a town where Daal-Roti and Samosa were staples, why would someone want to pay considerably higher for a bread with some vegetables on it? But slowly the curiosity factor and the changing generational preferences worked in Chhoturam’s favour, as did the brilliant location next to the lake where people came to relax in the evening. Word spread about the new eatery and it’s “phoren” offerings, and crowd started trickling in. Some other small eateries also set up shop adjacent to the lake, and it began evolving into a tourist location.

Over the years, Uncle’s pizza established a strong presence in the hearts of the city’s populace. Many families were regulars on Sundays, the who’s-who of the town drew up their Mercedes’ to have a taste occasionally, the place was used frequently for birthdays and celebrations, and there was hardly a visitor to the town who wasn’t advised to pay it a visit for “the best pijja in India”. Chhoturam, who was referred to as uncle, made it a point to treat his customers as family, and checked on each and every table if they were satisfied. The gift shop was managed by one of his sons now, and though there was clearly an opportunity to open another restaurant, he was against the idea for fear of not being able to maintain the USP.

On one of the mornings when there were a few regulars having coffee and Chhoturam was sipping tea next to the billing counter, he noticed a half-page ad in the newspaper announcing the opening of Robobig café in the lake area next week. Robobig, an international café chain that started in the USA, served continental cuisine; pastas, pizzas, paninis and the like. It had been doing brisk business in most of the Indian metros since it entered in 2005, and was now looking to grow by riding on the ambitions of the tier-2 towns. Six ads followed the first, one each day upto the inauguration of the café done by a local celebrity, and the last one even announced a free mini pizza to anyone who brought along a copy of the ad on the first day. Within a couple of months of its opening, Robobig was already a rage. It was the newest destination in town, and people went there to be considered in touch with times. The plasticky cutlery and the dismal self-service facility were overlooked because of the cool quotient, and everyone in town was talking about whether they had tried the huge variety of options on the menu.

Robobig’s flagship lake store was twice the size of Uncle’s pizza, and it obviously hurt Chhoturam’s business. With his volumes, he could not match their prices or deals, and with people moving to where their friends went, Uncle’s pizza began losing the game. Chhoturam started doing home deliveries, but then the investment in bikes didn’t seem to be yielding much result and was distracting his son from the gift shop as well. Over time, his restaurant began to be visited by only hard-core loyalists who went there for old times’ sake, but even that number seemed to be diminishing at a fast pace. Business was beginning to get from bad to worse, and the situation wasn’t at the least encouraging.

“Papa, Gupta uncle called yesterday. We need to pay the rent by next week, it’s already overdue by 3 months” Chotturam’s son mentioned on his way to the store late one evening “And a couple of tables at the restaurant have been giving way, we need to replace them.”

“Things are really falling apart, aren’t they” Chhoturam surmised.

The next day, he consulted his wife and made the decision. It was painful, the restaurant had become so intertwined with his life, but then it had also become a burden that he couldn’t afford anymore. He put out an ad in the papers that Uncle’s pizza will be shutting shop after three days, and till then he would be offering all items at a 50% discounted price. There was a brief buzz for the next three days, with people coming and trying to show their concern for the store. Regulars took photos on their favourite tables and promised to keep in touch, and on the last day, the Chhoturam family went home with mixed feelings, sad at the closure but satisfied to have touched the lives of so many around them.

The owner of the Robobig franchise in the town, Mr.Sharma, seized the opportunity and opened a couple of more stores at the other ends of the town. He also sealed a deal to open a store of Cookie-Cutter, a confectionary and desserts chain that was a sister concern of Robobig. Some weeks later, one evening when Sharma’s ten year-old daughter got back from school, she was beaming.

“How was your day, beta?”

“Great dad! Today we had a minister as a chief guest for one of the functions, and the principal introduced me as the owner of the biggest fast food chains in the city. I felt very good!”

“That’s quite nice of her”

“You know, I have an idea to make our restaurants even better!”

“Sure, go ahead and tell me” Sharma indulged her “But have some of this chocolate cake first, I’ve just got it from our store”

“Dad, all of our shops look and feel so same, everything is so standardized! When we went to the Robobig cafes or the Cookie-cutter stores in Bengaluru and Kolkata too, it was nothing different, it’s just how it is here” She took a spoonful of the cake “For example, Uncle’s pizza place was quite nice, with uncle always remembering his customers and being there to amuse us. If we add something unique to our cafes, like a memory board that they had or a special dish like aunty’s apple pie, it will be nice no?”

The cake didn’t seem all that sweet anymore.

Horizon

One of our Alumni Mr.Darpan Tekadia is looking for an intern for his projects. He wants someone who is a fresher, is interested in marketing and has a background in computer science. This will be a paid assignment and will have the added incentive of direct mentorship by him. Please apply through below form before 23:59:59 today

The email from his student committee interested Atul. He hadn't had much luck accumulating the prized commodity that CV points are, and this seemed like an opportunity suited for him. What more, it was a paid project, and cash was always welcome! He applied.

"Who is this Darpan guy", Atul wondered, and though his LinkedIn profile did list him as an alumnus of their college, the Destiny Institute of Management and Business (DIMB), it was very sparse otherwise; not many connections, not much detail. His current job description was that of a freelance consultant.

Atul was lunching the next day when he got the call. Tekadia told him that his credentials seemed suitable, but he would want a commitment of 3 hours a day and end-of-day reports on the progress. The assignment was to carry out market-sizing for a new software that could identify online impersonation, and to generate client-leads for the same. Tekadia was willing to pay Rs.15000 for the work, which seemed pretty good. But given his own laidback attitude and the seriousness in Tekadia's tone, the idea of reconsidering his application crossed Atul's mind.

"Look, if you've applied for easy money, this is not the place. It'll involve some effort but you'll learn a lot. I believe that whenever you see two roads diverging, take the less trodden path. That'll make all the difference"

A reference to Robert Frost's poem, his favourite, or rather the only one that Atul could manage to remember through his entire schooling life. Something deep within urged him to sign up.

From the very next day, they began making a strategy on how to approach prospective clients and how best to create a positive impact of the product. The learning curve was very steep, as Darpan was very hands on and made sure Atul never slacked. The project was well on track, and slowly but surely, he began taking interest in Atul's other activities as well.

"Your student committee elections must be coming up right? Go apply"

"But I don't think I can put in all that effort. It requires a completely different mindset"

"Just imagine how much you'll be able to evolve as a person if you are part of it. The interaction, the arrangements, the respect and the satisfaction, it's a great platform for anyone to shine. I think it's a challenge but it's worth it, and you won't regret taking it up."

Five more minutes into the conversation, and Atul began filling the form. Not only this, Darpan changed his outlook about a lot of things. He started participating better in class. When earlier he considered regular meals outside or a party an unnecessary waste of time, now he began rewarding himself with them for good work done. He considered himself shy and an introvert, but started making the effort to meet people and network. Over the next couple of months or so, Atul could notice a gradual but effective change in the way he began approaching things. He started raising the bar in whatever work he took up, and volunteered for a lot of activities that he might have considered completely out of his league early on. Darpan kept giving him inputs at various points in time, and continued the association by giving Atul another project. Increasingly Atul had begun to sound confident in his interactions and had started to deliver work at a much more efficient pace. Darpan was also happy that rather than becoming completely reliant on him, Atul had begun to only bounce off critical ideas.

Then one evening while he was just getting out of his Mandarin class, a subject that he had discounted earlier but something that now fascinated him, Darpan called.

"Hi Atul, I'm having to move base for an assignment that requires my immediate attention. I won't be available on call anymore, but you can always email me"

"Oh Sir" Atul stepped out of his group to a corner, "I was looking forward to doing some more projects with you. I have a request, can I please meet you once before you leave? You've been such a great mentor that I would like to thank you personally."

"Uhm, that might be difficult actually", Darpan's voice gave away his hesitation.

Atul was polite enough not to press further. "That's fine sir. If you don't mind me asking, what is this assignment of yours' related to?"

"Well, how do I explain it to you... Let's just say that it's a futuristic concept" Darpan let the words hang in the air. "I'll send you an image in a while, maybe that'll give you an idea"

"Okay sure sir, I'll look forward to it" Atul was now curious "Thank you very much once again for all your help and guidance. I hope we can keep in touch and that you will be kind enough to respond to my requests as you have always been"

"I'll try my best. And you don't need to keep thanking me, I was just helping out the both of us. Take care!"

Ten minutes later, Atul found an email from Darpan with a photo that looked just like himself but atleast two decades older. Oddly, it was titled You/Me

A Spirited Trip

“Why is everyone so silent? Let’s talk something!” said Vidya, eager to start discussing anything that would break the lull of the moment. She wasn’t called GD (Group Discussion) Queen in her B-School for nothing!

This was Visakhapatnam (or Vizag) grandly described in its Wikipedia page as the Goa of the east, and a jewel beside the Bay of Bengal. The city was small but had some picturesque locations around it, and Likhita whose hometown it was, wanted everyone to have a gala time while they were here. So a cab had been booked and it was now returning from the mysterious and eerie Borra Caves. Having stalactites and stalagmites formed many eons ago in its bowels, the caves were full of bats and gave one the feeling of walking out of a live Indiana Jones movie! After a hearty lunch and a stopover at Chaparai, a scenic valley with a stream flowing through it, everyone was happy but a bit tired as well.

“I find the quiet quite comforting actually” Akruti chipped in, and went back to doze off. She could sleep given any circumstance, and even here her entry was only to say that silence was golden. Catfight on the cards? I was excited!

“Let’s play some songs, whatsay?” Kanu suggested, and looked around for her mobile phone. “Mr.Golesh Gola, you can look at your pics later! Give me the phone”

“Who knows a supernatural or horror story? I’m sure these woods would make a good setting for one, won’t they?” With the haunting Noorie track playing in the background, Vidya’s words seemed well-timed. And Likhita took the lead.

“I’ll tell – there was once an old washerwoman who died one day, and got back her life the very next day, claiming she had been to heaven, met the god of death, who realized it was a mistake and sent her back, telling her the exact date of her death. Suprisingly, the old lady passed away the very same day that she had predicted!” Likhita ended the last word with her trademark dragging-the-word style. Vidya gaped, Kanu’s eyes rolled, Hanif was non-plussed, Akruti was still in slumber, I was feeling bored, while Golesh got ready to share something he had probably experienced.

“Apparently Chaparai is a haunted place. Atleast that’s what I heard the locals say. A couple of centuries back there had been a mass murder at the site, and it’s said the souls haven’t achieved salvation as of yet” he said in a somber tone. I concurred with a nod.

“Yeah my mom said the same thing. But if we have a bath once we’re back home, the supposed evil effect is said to be washed away” Likhita added

“You know, we had once gone for this college fest and were put up in a deserted bungalow. The seniors there had an Ouija board, and going with the prevailing mood, we tried calling spirits” Hanif was ready with his supernatural story now.

“Really? Did someone actually turn up?” Kanu was all ears

“Nah, one of them tried acting like the small girl we were trying to summon, but we obviously found out” Hanif finished, just as Akruti stirred from her sleep to check if the car had reached its destination, and since it hadn’t, she went back to dreaming.

It was beginning to get dark. Almost everyone had dozed off by now, and the others had their earphones plugged in. I tried to make my presence felt by starting to narrate a suspense and horror story that I had heard from my grandmother. About a poor man who goes from rags to riches by getting to know the next day’s news a day in advance, but ends up knowing about his untimely death as well. And despite trying to cheat death, he fails miserably. I thought it would be a clincher, but sadly the effort fell flat… No one paid any attention! I went back to guessing whether the next turn would be a right one or a left.

And then all of a sudden, we heard a loud blast. The car suffered a heavy jolt and came to a gradual halt, stopping right next to a ledge overseeing the forest.

The left front tyre of the cab had been punctured. Nobody could understand how, and even the driver had a confounded expression on his face when he got down to see that the immediate halting was due to serrations all through the tyre. It looked as if the road was layered with spikes that cut through the rubber, but there weren’t any such spikes to be seen for some distance. We got down so he could get working on replacing it with the stepney and went to stand a few footsteps away. A cold wind was blowing in our direction, adding to the chill of no streetlights or any population in the vicinity with only the odd vehicle passing by. We were relaxing next to the Banyan tree when Akruti got a light but firm tap on her shoulder. She turned and gave a sharp shriek. An ash-smeared, saffron-robed pundit, bent over a small stick and looking old and craggy, seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Too taken aback to say anything, she just mumbled something loudly to gather everyone’s attention.

“Alak Niranjan!” was all that was comprehendible, for he then started speaking in Telugu that Likhita translated for the group. Taking his place in the centre of the circle, he said “See there, on the pathway a little up the hill, there is a temple of Kali Mata” Everyone turned their attention to the small set of lights about 200m up the hill. It looked eerie. “I am the pujari there. Come and pray to Maa Kali while your car is getting ready. It is said that the hills bear many spirits. Maa Kali will protect you!”

“Let’s go, the place looks exciting. We might be able to get a few pics taken” Golesh was all gung-ho

“But how can we trust this person? I’m not too sure I like the look of the place. And what about the tyre burst and this guy just appearing suddenly? I don’t like the feel of things. Moreover, we have no signal reception on our phones, and in case something happens, we won’t be able to contact anyone as well” Vidya looked visibly concerned

“Oh come on, there are so many of us and he’s just one guy, I’m sure this can be handled” Hanif countered. Some agreed, some didn’t. The pujari spoke up again, saying it was time for Aarti and it wouldn’t be right to be standing at Maa Kali’s doorstep but refuse to come up there. Finally after a bit of deliberation, Likhita decided that the group would go, but stay only for the Aarti and rush back immediately to the car. The baba started chanting as he lead the path, which everyone navigated using the lights of their mobile phones. On reaching the temple, we realized that the statue of the goddess was actually placed in a cave no more than 5 feet tall at its entrance. It had a bell hung outside alongwith with the 2 lamps that shone from the road where the car stood, and the pujari beckoned everyone to come inside the cramped area. Someone commented that the Goddess looked quite scary from up close, as she had many slaughtered heads in her hands. The pujari lit the prayer lamp and started the Aarti. Once, twice, thrice he moved the ceremonial plate around the statue of the Goddess, and started chanting his mantras that were mostly in Telugu and not familiar to most of the group.

I was standing just next to Golesh when all of a sudden, he started making weird noises. Kanu noticed this first and was startled, and her otherwise unruly and stubborn hair actually stood on end. The sound could be something between a grunt and a roar, but I guess soon everyone realized it wasn’t natural. The pujari stopped the Aarti, and stared at him. His eyes had became blood-red. It was as if he just wasn’t himself. Something had come over him.

“WHY ARE WE HERE? WE SHOULD BE IN THE FOREST” he seemed to say in a loud and guttural voice, while moving his hand to grab Hanif.

“I told you this wasn’t a good idea” Vidya clutched Likhita s hand, while Akruti caught hold of Kanu. Everyone was petrified and had no clue as to what was happening.

“TAKE ME TO THE FOREST, I WANT TO BE ALONE THERE”. Hanif was trying to free himself from Golesh’s grip but was failing miserably in his attempt to do so. The pujari brought out a broom and started hitting him, chanting out verses saying that probably he had been possessed by some spirit. Golesh would not budge, now leaving Hanif but grabbing hold of the pujari’s head. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, BEHAVE YOURSELF” he thundered

And then as unexpectedly as it had started, the show seemed to end. Golesh freed his grip on the pujari and slumped to the floor for a minute, before regaining his senses. He got up and looked around to see what was happening, but till then everyone had already rushed down the pathway and to the car. When he reached no one spoke, but Golesh didn’t seem to have any recollection of the event. He tried convincing them that it must have been some freak occurrence and he was alright now, but everyone remained visibly scared. The car made its way downhill back to Vizag, with him sitting in the front seat and everyone wide awake, expecting the unexpected to happen any moment…

Huh, these human city-dwellers I tell you, should’ve known when I boarded their car at Chaparai! Talking of horror stories and all that, but I possess one of them for a while and they get scared so easily. I thought they’ll take it in the right spirit! I’ve anyway erased their memories now and made it appear like the whole incident never happened. Yeah, I have a big heart, thank you. But just let me pass the Special Powers of Omnipresence Knockout (SPOOK) test next year and be eligible for taking various forms out of thin air, that’ll be fun! You thought the shadow of exams and tests ended in your world? Nah, they creep into ours' as well. And if I wasn’t getting late for my coaching class, I would’ve continued the drama for a while longer. And Shhh! No stupid jokes of me already being LATE!

Lost in the crowd

Have you ever felt unique but still being lost in a crowd? Having no idea of what to do in life? I have. In fact, my life has been one such story. Let me tell you about it.

To start off, I was born in a small town in Tamil Nadu. The area had huge paddy fields all around, with farmers toiling hard to sow and reap the fertile lands. They called me Rupa, a reference to appearance that is beautiful. The state as you must know is famous for it's temples, movie-stars and food like idlis and dosas. My town was no different, and I thought that perhaps I would also find work in a home here and settle down to a quaint life. But during the early days of my childhood itself, I realized that my life's path wouldn't be decided by me.

Over the years, a lot of my predecessors had left the small town to go to various parts of the country and had achieved success there. And me, along with a group of other similarly talented individuals, were earmarked to follow in their footsteps.

Initially I was filled with mixed emotions about this development. The city was an enigma; I had never been there, and those who did had never returned but settled there. I had also heard that some from my town had even gone abroad, to foreign lands. I imagined what it would be like there. The people, language, culture would be so entirely different. Would they like me and my abilities? Or would I be discarded as one that is not fit for their standards?

But our mentors had planned the transition well, and because of that, my childhood went zipping past almost in a daze. We were always under strict supervision so that we never err and adhere to the norms that would befit someone wanting to make a mark on the bigger platform. The quality of our performance was reviewed  at different times and assessed by a wide variety of measures. From the initial large pool of talented individuals, there were instances when some had to drop out as they were unable to handle the pressure of such stringent training. I proudly wish to state that I survived.

After the powers-that-be were satisfied with the level of our preparation, our contingent was gifted a nice jacket that would help establish our unique identity. We bade goodbye to everyone who had helped shape us as strong, determined individuals, and looked forward to the new life that lay ahead. We carried their hopes and wishes, and we wanted to prove them right. It was decided that we would go to Mumbai, the so-called land of dreams. Would we achieve our dreams there? Only time would tell. For now, we poor folks hardly had any money to afford decent travel, and so sat crammed in a 2nd class railway compartment. The journey was hot and humid with hardly any ventilation, but then on the way we also bonded well as a group and calmed each others' fears and apprehensions.

But trust me, the day I landed in the city, I was scared. It was so big that it seemed very easy to get lost! And then the crowd was mind-boggling! How did so many people manage to live so close to each other? Colourful signboards, neon-lights and horns blaring everywhere, the conditions were vastly different from my monotonous town. Relax, someone in our group spoke up. He recounted his cousin's friend's cousin's first visit to the city and reassured us that it is not as scary as it seems. In any case, proper arrangements had already been made and that very night we made our way to our workplace.

And so here I wait day in an day out, trying to introspect and find out life's meaning. I am not complaining about the facility - it's beautiful, I almost never have to do any running around and there's an AC working all the time.

But now almost a year has passed. You can complain that I've told you so much about my journey but nothing about my work. The truth is, there isn't much to say. Tell me, can there be anything as boring as boredom itself? Sitting in the same place all day long is easy, but it's also very tiring. And when there are thousands of us with similar abilities vying for people's attention, it gets so difficult to stand out. Even if I did, my friends who are in close vicinity might overshadow me. There is not much to differentiate us, and forgive me for saying so, but in a dog-eat-dog world, to be ahead in the rat race, though you need the wisdom of an elephant, it won't serve your purpose to be as slow as a tortoise because you need to be as nimble-footed as a cat. Yes, I'm really bad at analogies, and worse at combining them. It's like adding cornflakes to a slice of bread layered with jam. Ah, just forget it!

Hey, hold on, I think someone finally noticed me!

"So I've taken this Rupa vest for your dad, now which shampoo did you say was good?", a mother asks her son, somewhere in a Big Bazaar store in Vikhroli.

Yes, triumph! The lady picked me, I'm finally on the way to satisfy my life's mission! It's sad to leave my friends behind and I'll miss them, but when life calls, you've got to move on...

Constraints

With the temporary glitch in her system's functioning, Rohini stared into the darkness all around. It was engulfing and all-encompassing, filling her with gloom and dismay. Was it really so or was her mind playing games? She reflected, taking some time to introspect on a feeling that was beginning to grow in her for some days now. Was this what she had bargained for all her life?

The monotonous job she was doing was completely unlike what Rohini was - bubbly, vivacious, always looking to unleash her creativity. She was independent, willing to explore, looking to scale new heights and touch the sky. Right through school and college, she loved to travel, see new places and be in the thick of things. That didn’t mean she wasn’t liking being of assistance to people, another intrinsic part of her nature. Her life currently was intertwined with that of hundreds of others – a worker might be getting a promotion today, another would score well in an exam she gave, someone might meet the love of his life, a sudden illness might be forcing another to rush to the doctor... This sense of belonging or oneness with others helped justify her role, gave her a feeling of importance, of being of use, of a pseudo-caring for the others. But they would never know her, never come in touch with her. She was here, far from the crowd, completely detached, not a single person knowing how many sacrifices she had made to play a role in their lives. Could there be any irony greater than that - your wanting to be one with the others and making an impact, but not being able to even feel their presence?

Agreed the pay was good, and she needed to support her family, but couldn't Mohan, her elder brother, ever begin to take up responsibility? Why did he have to live a life of laziness while she slogged in this most boring of exercises. This current conformist and duty-bounded nature of hers was killing her, slowly eating away at her soul. Could she ever get out of this situation? Or was she too trained to go elsewhere? She had to apply the brakes at some point in life and take control. The question was – was that point now?

"Rajiv Chowk. Station. Please mind the gap" boomed the in-train announcement.

The Delhi Metro glided onto the platform, with the same effortless precision that had won her the best driver award two years consecutively. Rohini looked out to the bustling traffic, and made up her mind. She would do some plainspeak at home today. She had finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel...