A culture i was proud of…

A journey that started in the month of June 2011 has ended now. And as I say good bye to Deloitte with a distressful mind, uncountable memories flash through my mind. The heart manifests a bittersweet feeling. Sweet- because it was my call to leave this guarded nest of obligation and fly freely subjectively. Bitter- because… Well, in case you’re a Deloittian you are the reason i don’t want to leave this place.

When i look back, i remember an extremely cautious guy entering a gigantic hall of more than thousand professionals, all are polished in expensive business formals. At first he finds the atmosphere a bit clumsy but soon he realizes it’s exactly the opposite. As he converses with the other newly hired professionals, he finds each one of them genial and the whole session now becomes an auspicious one.

That’s right- this was I in Welcome To Deloitte (W2D) and as the session progressed I had pictured myself playing the game of Consulting in the corridors of this amazing workplace. By the end of W2D, I had seen the brightest and the most ingenious minds. They all were here, they all were the part of this big entity – Deloitte.

One year and five months- that is my experience in Deloitte and of course in corporate world. It passed too quickly like the blink of an eye. But during this time, I have learnt ample things and created invaluable memories that will accompany me forever no matter wherever I go or whatever I do.

One of the greatest(and probably the only) lessons that I have learnt here is that- people are the greatest assets of any organization. And each one of them is significant no matter what position they hold. Treat every individual with great respect and dignity. If you’re only licking your Boss’s shoes and showing no or little affection to those who are at same level or below, you are in deep trouble. Networking- the term I heard almost every day but never really understood its importance until today. The networking thread of Deloitte had so many unique gems tied to it in a special way. The more gems you add to the thread, more valuable you become. Remember this- without others, your existence has no purpose.

There are unlimited opportunities in this lucrative entity. It’s up to you how, when and in what manner you make use of those opportunities to climb the corporate ladder. Smart work and not the hard work will be the key to solve the mystery of growth as a professional. If I were to summarize the crucial ingredients of successful corporate career in Deloitte- talent, hard-work and brilliance will not make in to the list. Leave these terms in your respective schools and colleges. Networking, smart-work, enthusiasm, team-spirit and people management skills will be the key ingredients.

Today, I feel optimistic about my flight in the world of uncertainty and dreams. This is what Deloitte has given me in the last one and half year- Attitude. An attitude to conquer my fears, to see dreams and dare to make them true, to connect with every individual around me and to be proud of myself who I am today. I will always be thankful to Deloitte for teaching me great lessons of life through good and bad experiences and in the end they all added to an enriching journey which has ended now. The ending as it always does, has made me sad today.

JTHJ Review- 10 Steps for a successful Bollywood Recipe

In order to make a successful Bollywood movie it’s very important to understand the mindset of the audience. Indian audience are quite lazy and don’t like to use their brains much in a movie. They already have numerous other problems in their lives to think about. So let’s make a movie which is far from reality and take our audience to a dream world. The steps are given below:

1. Pick up a good novel and ask your script-writer to modify it enough so that it looks different. In our case, we are going to pick “The End of the Affair” by Graham Greene. I expect our writer to do this small job nicely, just like Mr Pritam and Mr Anu Malik. They have been twisting the music in a similar fashion. For that purpose we can use simple bollywood tricks like- girl diving in to a lake without any reason, reading someone’s diary and getting emotional, etc etc.

2. Research is a sin in Bollywood. Never ever do it. Not even the basic research like- how can one possibly  become an Army Officer at 28. Don’t worry, as mentioned earlier our audience are not going to think at all.

3. Choosing the star cast is not a tough job. Since we have only 3 stars who can give us 100-200 crores revenue and the fact that SRK has been with us(Yash Raj Productions) for long, let’s go with SRK. As we have chosen SRK, we have to highlight the romance factor in the film.

4. The actresses’ role is anyways not crucial in Bollywood. We will have two actresses in this movie to match SRK’s romance skills. As one of our female character is confused about her decisions, Katrina is a perfect choice. And now as we have Kat, we have to show London and use her elegant accent in the story. Wow! it’s a nice twist in the movie. Anushka comes as a free package with our productions.

5. Do not hesitate to copy scenes from here and there. Let’s pick one scene each from my favorite movies- Rockstar, Kites and Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna.

6. The lead character of the film has to have all the qualities. He is a perfect singer, guitarist, dancer, chef, electronics repairer and as our story demands he has to defuse bombs as well. Talking of which, our hero will be able to defuse every bomb no matter which wire he cuts. However we will have at least one scene where the bomb actually blasts, but we have to ensure that its only effect would be to push the heroine in hero’s arms.

7. Since it’s an Indian film, we have to include God also. It’s important to show the power of almighty and his role in carrying the plot. We have Kat as lead actress (and our heroes aren’t religious), we have to go for Sir Jesus. Oh that reminds me, we can use the term Sir Jesus in the movie.

8. Intimate scenes are necessary but we have to present them carefully. A few kissing scenes and couple of instances where the hero and heroine are wrapped naked in a bed-sheet will be sufficient.

9. Make a happy ending and audience will be happy. They will forget all the crap that you have shown before the climax.

10. The film is served with extravagant publicity and hypes. That brings record initial collections. By the way, the film is dedicated to Uday Chopra to give him a lesson about life, which is – If you are a loser today, doesn’t mean you cannot succeed ever.

Malala Yousafzai – A ray of hope

October 9, 2012– Swat Valley, Pakistan: A group of girls were going back to their homes after taking an exam at school. Suddenly a gunman entered in to the bus and started asking – “Which one of you is Malala? Speak up, otherwise I will shoot you all.” Everyone froze in terror. No one spoke anything. The man kept shouting. A young girl stood up like a flash and said, ” I am Malala”. There was no fear in her eyes. The masked gunman went closer, pointed the gun at her and shot… The bullet went through her head, neck and ended in shoulder. After the attack, she was airlifted to Peshawar and the treatment began. After a three hours operation, the bullet was removed but it had affected her spinal cord and left her in coma.

The Taliban took the responsibility of the attack soon after the news spread. On 12 October, a group of 50 Islamic clerics in Pakistan issued a fatwa against those who tried to kill her, but the Taliban reiterated its intent to kill her and her father, Ziauddin.

In the following days, she was moved to Armed Forces Institute of Cardiology in Rawalpindi where minute symptoms of her survival appeared. On October 15, she was taken to Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham in United Kingdom. It was two days later when she came out of coma and was allowed to meet her family. She was able to stand up and recollect few memories of the past. But doctors are still skeptic whether there will be a smooth recovery or not which will be clear in the next one year. Since the left part of her brain was damaged, there is a possibility that the right portion of her body may show some problems in future. 




But who is Malala Yousafzai? Why the Taliban in Swat valley is after her life? What has she done wrong? She is just 15, too young for most of us. But her story remains an inspiration. 

January 14, 2009– Mingora Town, Swat Valley: Ziauddin turns his radio on and his daughter Malala who is sitting besides him listens to the announcement carefully. The announcement was from Taliban, who were unofficially ruling the Swat valley. It said that no girl child would be allowed to the schools from the next day onwards and whoever dared to go against it, would be punished by Taliban. And the punishment by Taliban was cruel. This was the time when one could often see a beheaded human body on the roads or Talibanis beating someone openly those who went against their rules. The influence of governance and law was negligible. 

In this situation, Malala decided to go to school with her friends. They didn’t wear the uniform though.  This would not let Taliban know that girls are going to school- they thought. Later that evening she read a local newspaper which carried the story of Swat valley from the excerpts of BBC blog; the identity of the author was kept confidential due to security reasons. Malala however smiled secretly while reading it. After all she had been writing this Blog for quite some time now. Her father Ziauddin had asked her to write the diary for BBC when he could not find anyone in the town who had the guts to present the real picture. 

BBC Blogs: Initially Malala had daily conversations with a BBC reporter where she talked about everything she observed at the school and outside it. Later she started writing on the same on regular basis. She was just 11 years old at that time yet her observations clearly presented the harsh realities of Swat valley. Some of the excerpts from her BBC blog are as below:

“On my way from school to home I heard a man saying ‘I will kill you’. I hastened my pace and after a while I looked back if the man was still coming behind me. But to my utter relief he was talking on his mobile and must have been threatening someone else over the phone.”

“People do not leave their homeland on their own free will – only poverty or a lover usually makes you leave so rapidly.”

“It seems that it is only when dozens of schools have been destroyed and hundreds others closed down that the army thinks about protecting them. Had they conducted their operations here properly, this situation would not have arisen.”


In the next couple of months, situation in the valley turned even worse. The women were no longer allowed to go outside. In May, the government launched its operation against Taliban in the Swat valley. Mingora was evacuated and Malala was sent to her relatives in countryside while Ziauddin went to Peshawar to protest against government’s inaction that had led to serious problems in the valley. Malala who spent time with a number of relatives was bored with the refugee life and often missed her books. She played a lot of cricket but the joy of studies and school was different for her. The military operation soon got over and by the time July came, the Prime Minister had announced that the Swat valley residents could go back to their homes.

July 24, 2009 Malala reunited with her family as they went back to their home. There were news of most houses being looted in the valley and therefore they were expecting a lot of damage. But contrary to that, their house had seen no damage while Malala’s school was slightly blemished. Later some clues suggested that Pakistani army had stayed in the school. Malala was relieved when she saw that her books and all the study material were safe. Yet looking at all this, she could not stop herself and cried. This was the time when she decided to become a politician and change the system. She said there were number of crises in the country and she wanted to eradicate them. 12 years old Malala who admired people like Nawaz Sharif and Imran Khan for their leadership was on her way to bring a change in the Swat valley and probably in Pakistan too.


During this period of Taliban’s rule and her refuge, New York Times reporter Adam B. Ellick filmed a documentary on Malala which brought her to fame, not just in Pakistan but worldwide. She was interviewed by several Pakistani news channels where she repeatedly talked about female education and stood against Taliban. I remember in one of those interviews she talked about the possibility of a Taliban person meeting her. She said she would beat them with Chappals. These small statements were enough for Taliban to do terrible harm to her. But she didn’t fear anyone. Ziauddin and Malala both were getting threats from Taliban but they chose to continue their fight against the extremists. 

Malala was soon appointed the Chair of District Child Assembly Swat. In October 2011, when she was nominated for the International Children’s Peace Prize, she became a celebrity in Pakistan. Two months later when Pakistan started a new award National Youth Peace Prize and Malala was the first recipient of it. Since then she has been an activist fighting for women’s rights, education and peace. 

On November 10, 2012 the world observed Malala Day in honor of Yousafzai who escaped the death by centimeters. The whole world is hoping for her full recovery. In another news, Malala had asked for a book from her father and was talking about going back to Pakistan. She still has the courage to fight for a right cause and she has proved the world that it doesn’t require a strong body but a strong will to stand against evil. There was a lot of talk in the last few days about the possibility of giving Nobel Peace Prize to her. But i guess that’s not important. The important thing is that a fifteen years old girl has shown the world a right path towards peace, education and human rights. She has and she will bring a change in the lives of millions of people around the world. And even if it caused a slight fear in the minds of Taliban the young girl has done a great job, way beyond the government and the military. Salute !

Angrezi and the Indians

Most of us are often awed by English speaking people – a trait that many Indians share. And if the fluency and accent is appropriate, that awe often gets converted in to worship. Why don’t people appreciate it when a person shows eloquence in Hindi, Urdu or even Punjabi? A question i keep asking myself.

A simple thought tells us the reason. Towards the end of the twentieth century, as we saw more globalized world and more jobs coming in from outside India, English became an important criteria to get a decent job. There’s no point denying the fact that English has indeed created more job opportunities for Indians, and not just in our own country but outside as well. Knowledge of any other language could not have produced the similar results for an average Indian. But this is the only truth which justifies the hype of this foreign language. There are numerous other things that happened and changed our society with the advancement of English language in India.

First and foremost, the hype itself creates a problem. Whether it’s a job interview or a practical viva, a formal speech or a bunch of boys trying to impress girls (or vice versa)- everywhere it makes people conscious. It might not be the case with you but think about millions of other Indians. They are not so good in English but struggle everyday to prove that YES THEY CAN SPEAK ENGLISH, to the people who can understand Hindi. One can see the lack of confidence in an individual if he or she struggles to communicate in English. So many institutes are coming up these days to teach English. I wonder why…

Secondly , it has created a divide among the people. Today we have three classes in our society- Not upper middle and lower but English speaking, Hinglish speaking and Hindi (or regional language) speaking. And that has in turn divided our schools, colleges and organizations. Further the organizations and institutes have different group of people belonging to these three sections and prefer to stay within themselves and not with other section. There is nothing wrong in that but i am worried about the fact that it is similar to the caste or creed system and that can never be a good sign for a country. When we say our forefathers were wrong in creating caste system, we are doing the same for future generations but of course in a different way. The simple fact that Non English speakers are hesitant to talk to English speakers because of some sort of inferiority. The feeling of superiority on the other side is equally there. The irony is that most of those English speakers understand and able to talk in Hindi (or regional language) but they prefer not to. English has connected itself with style and modernism which remains a typical mindset of many youngsters.

Thirdly, it adversely affects the productivity of our country. I have closely observed two sets of organizations – one where people try to impress others with quality English and the other where work is given priority and not the so called cool style. Think about it- Does it really matter how good or bad the English language skills of Sachin Tendulkar, Lata Mangeshkar, Anna Hazare. There is a language in which we think and that is our mother tongue in most cases. Since English is an acquired language and not native it is not possible to think in this language unless you are brought up in a family where only English is being spoken. The gap in the language of our mind and tongue may lead to lack of excellence, specially in the creative fields. Of course when we talk about the corporate world, English does matter a lot but again the question is that how many of us in our lifetime going to interact with the people who understand only English. Not more than 10 percent in a country of 1.2 billion people. Yet the majority of our students are forced to commit themselves to English, and is given priority over innovation.

Luckily in the age of internet when English has become a necessity, the language has adapted itself beautifully to suit everyone. It’s simple and easy. Even a fifth grader or a naive like me can work with it comfortably. Yes, I feel English is an important language and in fact it is the only medium through which i am able to share my thoughts with you. But i do feel that it should never be the criteria of judging an individual, nor it should be preferred over innovation and hard work. A language is a tool, let it be a tool. Equally important are other languages. It is a high time to preserve them too, else they might blend themselves in to English.

A Disquieted Night With Her

“India has won the world cup” – the news spread with the same speed as it would have transmitted from the radio station. Everyone clapped and cheered. It was a wonderful time to be there- June 1983, i loved it. It was not common in my world- the celebration. The atmosphere was further boosted by the chants – “Kapil Dev Zindabad… Bharat Mata Ki Jai”. Cricket connects this country so well and even while sitting in a remote place like Barot in Mandi District of Himachal Pradesh, i felt the belongingness to this great nation and i felt proud. The irony is – i am not an indian. 

To add more to our pleasure, two goats were slaughtered in the name of Bharat Mata and its success. There were at least thirty people and i was doubtful whether two lives would be sufficient to satisfy our appetite. After presenting it to Devta, we all had our share and i got more than what i was expecting. My stomach was full with Meat-Rice. I also had some local wine. Which made me wonder how would i be able to walk all the way 3 km uphill to reach home? 

I live alone in a two room house which is at the hill top. I came here to work from Nepal when i was a kid and never left thereafter. I don’t even know what my age is, but i guess i am around 18-19. I have never seen my parents and i often wonder why i was abandoned. Now in this foreign land, i am more used to the name Bahadur and it’s been a long time when i was called by my original name- Prem. 

Next to my house lives Shankar with his wife and two sons. They are a happy family, though i don’t deny the fact that his wife had never tried hitting on me. But i never responded. In fact there were times when she was all alone in the house when she called me, i never took advantage of it. And looking at my track record, i have started to suspect if i am a celibate. 

I work in a Kiryana Store- the only one that is there in Barot. They pay me enough to live a decent life. I had worked as a servant for an old couple who died in an accident two years back. Satisfied with my work and also the fact that they didn’t have any children,  they had left the house in my name. Rest of the property, they had donated to charity. Had they been more kind to me, i would have been a rich guy. But it’s not bad i guess. I am living a happy life. I don’t even belong to poor class. I am one of the few people here who own a radio set.

As i started to walk, i realized it would take good effort to reach home. The overeating and the drink have started to show their effects. My Laltain was showing me the path, as it had always done. The path was narrow and was surrounded by a dense forest. I took quick steps as i was trying to reach as early as possible. I needed sound sleep. I had walked only a kilometer or so when i heard a whisper from behind. It said something i didn’t understand. I fainted for couple of seconds. I turned back, but there was no one. The combination of fear and cold breeze gave me goosebumps. I started to walk really fast this time. As i made my way through the dense forest, the Laltain was put out by a sudden blow of air. I reached my pocket for matchbox but it wasn’t there. Guess i had forgot it in the shop. Damn!




I heard a shout this time. I stood still as i heard a sound of bangles and anklets. My senses told me that there was someone who was moving towards me. I looked back quickly. A mid aged woman was walking hurriedly, whom i had never seen before. She looked worried. And in a way she scared me. I didn’t know why but she did. 

“Who are you?” i asked in a firm voice trying to hide my fear and i guess i succeeded. 

“Namaste ji, i have come from the neighboring village. My in-laws have been torturing me for quite some time. Now they have threatened to kill me. I had to leave the house, but had no place to live. I want to go back to my parents but they live very far.” There was a pause. “I will go to my parents place tomorrow morning. But i can’t go anywhere now. Please help me. Can i stay with your family tonight?” she pleaded. My heart melted. Plus i have the inability to say No which at times troubles me. I preferred to tell her that i lived alone in the house. She didn’t seem to have any problem which looked odd to me.

We headed in the dark night, through the forest. As we walked along, I became more skeptic about her identity. Or probably she was just being impulsive. But i was sure about the fact that she was a poor woman. And poor never hurt anyone- life had taught me this. 

As we reached i signaled her sshhh to stay quiet before we had entered the house. I didn’t want my neighbors to know the fact that i had brought a woman over. No matter what the reason would be, they would always doubt. I haven’t seen the world beyond this village but i suppose neighbors everywhere are same. 

I made the bed for her. And though it was June, still it was quite cold. I took out all the blankets i had, some of them smelled really bad. I asked if i could make some tea for her. It was mere a formality but she said Yes. I gathered some wood and lit the fire in the Chulha. 

I asked her to join me. I looked back at her. Her color had changed. She looked blue. God! what was happening.


To be continued…

A confounding culture – Bittersweet Indianness

The election fever is at its peak in my home state Himachal Pradesh. Luckily, I got some time to spend with local politicians and that helped me in getting meaningful insights of the election campaigns – in simple words – how to market an individual or a party and increase the vote share. I also got a chance to witness a BSP candidate’s rally where the candidate appealed to the people of lower caste to vote for his candidacy, thereby strengthening the lower castes. Similarly, a candidate from another party talked about preserving Hindu culture and work only for Hindus. It’s sad and equally depressing. But the reason is not politicians’ cunningness, but a common man’s ignorance. And looking at the current situation of Indian politics, thrashed by a series of crises, lambasted by almost every individual of every society, it seems that the problem will continue. Now amidst all this, one thing that continues to act as a hindrance to the progress of this country and one thing that prevents people from bearing rationality over emotions is, our cultural boundaries. For that we need to understand what this Indian culture is all about?

It is true that India showed the path of spirituality to the world through its rich cultural heritage and intellect of many great souls. But it is also true that the India where we live today, never existed then. A country which is 80% Hindu, must have a culture dominated by Hindu customs and traditions and it has. But the culture has evolved as it should and what we see today is the evolved version of Hinduism coming from the ancient civilizations and modified by many foreigners, some of them brought new languages and religions along with them. In fact the idea and practice of Hinduism started long before the word Hindu was invented by the foreigners as a reference to the people of Sindhu valley and not for the people of a particular religion. It’s the common history that unites the Hindus and not the common rituals and common Gods. Because in Hinduism every form of God is possible. There is not a single school of thought in Hinduism, there are many, one of them also talks about absence of God or atheism. Rigveda- the ancient indian scripture in its tenth chapter Nasadiya Sukta says –
Whence was it produced? Whence is this creation?
The gods came afterwards, with the creation of this universe.

Culture never remains steady. It constantly evolves, accepts new traditions, and keeps moving with its new appearance. An important part of our culture is its languages. And we can see how our languages have changed over thousands of years from Vedic to Sanskrit to Hindi to what we use today which is a combination of Hindi, Urdu and many other languages including English. But is it bad? Certainly not. Change is necessary, else we wouldn’t have even gotten out of stone age. Therefore, those Pundits who talk about Indian-culture and how-modernization-destroying-it, must understand what culture is. There is nothing more constant about a culture except the fact that it keeps changing, and it changes every minute, every second.

The idea of India is also like its culture. The idea has evolved over the centuries and a common history of its people unite them in certain way which lays this idea. If India has rich culture, which it certainly has – there’s nothing wrong in preserving it but things must change with time. There’s a reason for this change. Every custom, every ritual was created at some point of time in history. God never invented them. Those were formulated as per the requirement of the society and time. It’s very much possible that those customs make no sense to modern society. Sati Pratha was one such example. But there’s not just one, but plenty. Amongst all – the caste system is very crucial.

There’s not much talk of caste system in Vedas except one reference to the Varnas. However, we must remember that Varnas and Jaati(caste) are two different concepts. While Varna is the idealised four-part division envisaged by profession and qualifications, Jaati (caste) refers to the thousands of actual endogamous groups prevalent across the subcontinent. And if we talk about Jaati, most of the scholars believe that Jaatis came in to existence only 1000-1500 years back. Which means they are the invention of relatively modern world, and there’s no point of including religious sentiment in to it because Hinduism existed long before that. Even if we consider Varnas, the discrimination on the grounds of birth is not justified. Bhagavad Gita says that the Varna of an individual is not defined by his/her birth but by their Karmas. If we go by Indian mythology and ancient scriptures, there have been multiple instances where the Varna of an individual was changed because of their education and deeds.

Secondly, if we really follow those ancient scriptures like Manusmriti or Chanakya Niti Shastra which strongly recommend Varnas, the same scriptures also talk about women being weaker section of the society and men’s property.These ideologies seem to be fallacious and make no sense in today’s world.

Today we are in a situation where we don’t understand our ancient culture nor we are modern enough to match the western societies. This is specially true for Northern India where due to repeated attacks and loots by foreigners, and the so called cultural heritages were demolished from time to time. South India has been relatively peaceful and has accepted new cultures while preserving the old dynasties. But the caste discrimination has remained in the blood of most indians no matter which part they belong to.

Arrange marriages within same caste is a strong tradition in this country and I am not particularly against them. However, I feel that cultural diversity is important for every society and therefore inter-caste and inter-religion marriages add a lot of richness to the diversity and therefore I am in favor of them. The reason that I am emphasizing more on marriages because marriage is a platform which clearly indicates whether or not is there any discrimination or prejudice against a section of society and in India’s case – yes there is.

If we want to move forward as a society we need to overcome these caste barriers. Notice that our culture had been growing for tens of thousands of years and it grew a little ever since this caste system was introduced and more unnecessary rituals were invented by upper classes specially Brahmins, in the name of Gods. If we could overcome these barriers, only then we can prevent our politicians taking advantage of our divided society. Only then we can strengthen our culture and rediscover our ancient values. And when we rediscover them, it’s not necessary to follow them all in today’s world but to learn from them and grow further.  Remember, we are a nation which represents Unity in Diversity. 

If it’s love, it’s never too late…

Note: Based on a true story
There’s something special about it. It’s like a horror movie which gives you butterflies in the stomach, but you enjoy them in certain way. It’s good, it’s scary, it’s attractive, it’s appalling. Ah teenage love! So many colors you have. Today I am able to express what it is like. It was not the case in 2001 when I was 17 and a completely different person than what I am today. Let me tell you straight away – I never went to school. Now you might be wondering how the hell I am writing in English, which is the only criteria for being educated in this country. Well, I will tell you that and more about my life. By the way, my name is Salman.
Neha – my first love and so far the only one. She was beautiful and attractive. I fell for her ever since the first time I saw her. I am sure you’d have felt the same had you seen her then though I would hate if it had happened. I and Neha lived in the old part of the city. Our homes were not that far. I started roaming around her place, sometimes alone, most times with my best friend- Shahbaaz. He was someone I could always rely on. He was the one who told me that what I felt for Neha was love or a true love if I use his words. But he would often discourage me saying, “Bhai, don’t get too serious about her. You-Muslim, she-Hindu, there’s no chance of Band-Baja.”
“I am a Muslim, doesn’t mean I always have to love my first cousins.” I said every time he brought up the religion issue.
Once Neha saw me. I was stalking her and fortunately I was alone that day. Fortunate because if she had seen me with Shahbaaz, she wouldn’t have dared to come and talk to me. But she did.
“Why do you keep following me?” she asked in the highest pitch I had ever heard.
I had no answer. Her eyes were desperately asking for an answer and to be honest there was some corner of my heart already regretting that I liked her.
I looked away pretending that I was not interested in answering her question. Suddenly, I saw a cricket ball flying towards her and I jumped instantly.
Next moment I remember, I was in hospital. I was lying on a bed and my large family was all around me. Next to them was – Shahbaaz. He was smiling. When everyone started enquiring about the injury on my forehead, I never told the truth.
But the accident did more good than harm. Next time I saw Neha outside a Kiryana Store, she passed a smile. I was confused whether to smile back or not. Was she really considerate, or was she trying to mock? In all these confusions, I was standing right next to her.
“You know, you are an idiot.” She said to me.
Before I continue, let me tell you a simple fact about girls. If she calls you her best friend, don’t trust her. Most likely she is going to use you and give expectations of a possible relationship which will never happen. She’ll keep searching for her Mr perfect and will forget you once she finds him. But… But, in case she calls you an idiot – you are her Mr Perfect.
Neha didn’t tell me that she loved me and all. But she left her notebook there intentionally. It was in English and I couldn’t read it. I put in my bag. I ran like anything to Shahbaaz’s place and asked him to read. It took him two hours to read the whole notebook and translate to me. Turned out that it was only last page which was relevant, everything else was her English homework. But that last page was truly special and unforgettable. It said:
“Someone who can risk his life to save mine, I owe him the most beautiful gift. And if there exists love in this world, it will be my gift for him.”

Below this, she had written Salman and Neha inside a heart.
I looked at Shahbaaz when he narrated all this and asked him to read it again and again. 25 times, I remember. Later that night, I tried to imagine Neha’s sweet voice saying those words but all I could hear was- Shahbaaz’s harsh voice.
I don’t remember when exactly we started dating but we did. I didn’t even know it was called “dating”, Neha only told me. When I told her that was illiterate, she didn’t look upset or angry as I was expecting. Instead she said I was a better human than most educated people. That comforted me a lot. If her love was blind, mine was insane. Every time she praised me, I started singing and dancing.
November 7, 2001- the day that changed my life. I was on my way to home with Shahbaaz. It was 9:30 pm and was dark, no street lights in that part of the city. Suddenly, two men grasped us from behind and started shouting –“You mother fuckers, we will show you love and aashiqui.”

I was tightly grabbed by that bastard and I couldn’t even move. They started beating us. I heard a shout from Shahbaaz and I really got scared. He sounded in deep pain. I gathered all my strength and lifted my right leg and kicked backwards. It hit that bastard on his balls. His grip loosened and I rushed towards Shahbaaz. I was shocked. The other guy had stabbed knife in his stomach. The blood was flowing out too fast. The guy with the knife turned towards me. I looked down and saw a brick on the ground. I picked it up and smashed it against that bastard’s face like a bang. He fell down. But I kept smashing it until his face ceased to exist. The other bastard ran away holding his balls.
Shahbaaz had lost his conscious. I shouted for help but no one responded. I carried him on my shoulders to the hospital but the only thing that hospital could ensure was – my arrest, not Shahbaaz’s life. When I was taken to the police station, I was charged for killing Shahbaaz and Aakash. Aakash – who was Neha’s elder brother.
The case proceeded while I remained in prison. The slowness in our judiciary proceedings was a relief to me as I was always scared of the verdict. And two years later when it came, I was sentenced for seven years of imprisonment. That was how I entered my twenty’s. We didn’t go to the upper court as my family had already spent all their savings on advocates and all.
I was not too disappointed with the verdict. There was one thing in my mind- to utilize this time in best possible way. I made use of the free education in jail and studied really hard. I was quick in learning and that’s how I learnt English. I read a number of books in the next couple of years and started writing as well. Other prisoners used to call me- Salman Khan and I sort of liked it. That was a good time I spent there.
It was surprising how quickly seven years had passed and I was out again. Although my family didn’t accept me but the jail had given me enough surviving skills than any education system could have.
On the same day I went to Neha’s house but there was no one. The neighbor told me that Neha’s family had left the house few years back. He said that the new family which lived there could tell me where she was. But they had gone somewhere. I decided to wait for them and the wait stretched to 24 hours when they showed up next day. And I finally got Neha’s address. It was of an NGO.
As I reached the place and entered the NGO office, the first person I saw there was Neha. She hadn’t changed much. She was playing with kids when she saw me entering.
“Hello. May I help you?” she asked in amazement.
I kept looking at her unsure about what to say until an old lady behind her asked me to come. I went there and she told me the story. Neha and her family had met with an accident two years back where she lost both her parents and her memory. She didn’t remember a single thing from her previous life. I looked at Neha, laughing with those kids. And I cried.
I went up to her and asked, “Friends?”
February 14, 2012: We got married- A dream which I saw eleven years back. And when I told her the truth and all the series of incidents, she wasn’t angry. She says she loves me even more now. True love comes late, but once it comes it never leaves. 

Little Moments of Happiness

That little moment of happiness
When i partially wake up ten minutes
 before my alarm clock
and relish the tender feeling of comfort, before
someone actually wakes me up with a stroke.

Fleeing the bed is not as simple as it seems,
I look at the calendar with one eye closed,
while the other gleams.
“Sunday it is”- quietly i realize, and find
the happiness in small surprise.

That little moment of happiness
When I am walking in a busy market.
Everyone looks so happy and i wonder
Where to go with my empty basket?

As i cross a shop, a mirror catches my sight
Suddenly the crowd disappears, my image appears bright.
“You look good”- i tell myself, and walk across route 04.
World hasn’t appeared so perfect, ever before.

That little moment of happiness
When my best friend understands my facial expressions,
i don’t utter a single word yet she recognizes
All the confessions.

And when we are in a group of many more,
We talk so much less, but our eyes talk so much more
From inside i feel the joy,
the joy of friendship and true world.

That little moment of happiness
When the girl with brown eyes and fair skin,
Walks by my side, and looks at me with
that pretty grin.

Neither i understand the reason, nor i want to…
All i wish is to be there in the moment of ecstasy,
And find the real delight in this world, Or
In my world of dreams and fantasy.

Bombay To Goa – an altered story

The morning couldn’t have been any better when the Mandovi Express left the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. The fresh air coming through the window also brought the hints of debris spread near the station. The Indian railway stations are well known for their unsanitary surroundings. And the interiors of the trains are equally bad if not worse, specially in a general compartment. I could say that because i was inside one at the moment.
Travelling in a General Compartment was going to be a different experience- probably a strenuous one. But when i looked in the eyes of the kids who were sitting next to me, i got some courage. Children- I love them, and i hate them. They can be most lovable and irritating, both at the same time.
When i was a kid, i was obsessed with the idea of travelling. Children around me grew up with dreams of becoming Doctors, Pilots, Cricketers…Well, most of their dreams were inspired by the TV and other media sources. And so were mine. Ever since i watched this movie Bombay to Goa, the only thing i dreamed about was to travel in this route. But unlike that movie, i wanted to travel in a train. I have always loved the trains, more than anything else i love the feel of railway stations and the crowd there. Beggars who are reasonably good singers, lower middle class families with more problems than their luggage, higher middle class people who tend to show off, and those bearded gentlemen with their Beghams – they all make a typical railway station crowd. Inside a general compartment, though the diversity is not that much but the atmosphere is quite filmy and the entertainment value is guaranteed. It wasn’t wrong of me to expect a fun filled journey to Goa, where my friends would be joining me. But sitting in the train when i thought about the saying- journey is better than destination, i found it absolutely non-sense. This chaos in train could never turn out to be better than Sunburn in Goa.
I wanted to sleep for two reasons – i hadn’t slept well last night and i really wanted to get rid of the smell present in the compartment which was probably due to the foul body odor of the common men of this country. I turned my head towards my underarm area. It smelled far better, even without a deodorant – perhaps that’s relativity. Thankfully the passage of air coming through the window, helped in drying my sweat.
It’s difficult to travel in the month of May anywhere in India. The crowd checks your patience and the heat tests your fitness level. Talking about fitness, i have got varied opinions on my fitness. My physical education teacher never went beyond or below “B”, my mom always found me skinny and requested me to gain some weight, my girlfriend always commanded me to keep my tummy inside every time we were hanging out. Least important is my own opinion which keeps telling me- it’s all about survival. Till the time you are able to survive you’re fit enough.
The compartment was totally occupied. Lucky I was, I had a seat but like all other passengers not enough air to breathe. The congestion was at its best. Occasionally i could smell the gaseous product of non digestive systems of my fellow citizens. I hated the pledge i took long back in school- i love all indians. Couldn’t kill someone you promised to love, no matter you really loved them or not. I tried to give harsh expressions so that the culprit could realize his act.
The train slowed and slowed and finally stopped. The station had arrived. I did not put any effort to check the name of the station. I was hungry and quickly rushed in to a shop. Outside the shop there was a poster saying – Love can wait, hunger cannot. I liked it instantly- Great man whoever wrote it. I bought one burger, one packet of biscuits, and one bottle of flavored milk. That was probably the best i could have for breakfast in a railway station. By the way, every time i buy milk it reminds me of my friend who says this phrase  whenever he is drunk: Real men drink milk, loners like me drink alcohol. He’s the one who made it up. I am not sure what milk he talked about, nor i bothered to ask him.
As i hurried in to the train, i saw my seat had been captured by a lady who appeared to be in her late twenties. She handed over my bag to me with a broad smile. She thought she looked really nice, i could see that through the arrogance on her face but i did not think so. Or probably, in this filthy compartment she was the best looking woman. Oh ! relativity again. I told her that it was my seat and asked her to get up.
“Oh i am really sorry” she said in a nasty voice, “But i am really tired and can’t stand for this long.You can sit here if you want” she shifted to her right making some space for me. But that space didn’t look enough to me. So i thought of sitting on the bench above where people keep there luggage. There was already a man lying over there. I asked him to move a bit, so that I could also fit in there. But he refused to. He asked me to sit with the girl. I wondered why? This time i requested the girl to shift again so that i could sit. Somehow i managed myself to sit there. As the train started, more people entered and it seemed that entire mankind has confined itself to small space of this compartment.
It happens sometimes when you sit too close to others, you tend to feel even their slight body movements. And specially when the person is of opposite sex, the closeness can ignite a spark inside your brain. It gave me goosebumps, in just a matter of few seconds. I got a feeling that she also felt the same sensation, my sixth sense told me that, though i have no logical argument or evidence to prove that.
I thought for a while and finally decided to make a move. It was a gamble. Had i succeeded-i would have satisfied my sexual desires, Had i not – people would have thrashed me like anything. Well as they say – doing nothing is the biggest risk that you can take, i was ready with my move.
I rubbed my feet against her’s and i did it quite secretively so that no one else could notice. She didn’t resist as i continued my indecent act. Which meant- i had a shot there. Having that in mind, my hands continued the act now. My eyes focusing on each and every person around, and then accordingly my hands progressed.
I could feel her waist now. She was wearing a Saree which was an added advantage. As my fingers crept along her waist, i felt a tingling sensation all over my body and certainly she felt it too. I could see it from her expressions. I pressed my hand firmly now, which made her groan and i moved it back realizing the fear of getting caught.
It went on for another hour or so and by the time i realized that i could do some talk as well, her station had arrived. She was collecting her luggage, but she kept giving me that seductive look again and again. There was something inside my head that told me that i should get down with her. And then there was some sober guy left inside who pleaded not to do it. There was a discussion. And as it goes, in the fight of your rationality and desire, the former never wins, so . . . i got down. The station was – Ratnagiri.
She passed a relaxed look as i got down on the station as if she was expecting me. It was the first time i talked to her.
“Hello” i said.
“Hi” she smiled and stood next to me. Now i had to continue the conversation. I didn’t know what to say.
“Where are you going?” i asked after a long pause.
“It’s my place. Rather i should ask you the same question.” she said in such a naughty manner, i instantly realized her intentions and the fact that she had understood my intentions too.
“I was wondering if i could have your company for more time, you know…” the desperation in me was proving its presence. She did not say anything but she did not refuse the offer. We started walking outside the station.
“Let’s just stay in some hotel.” i asked her but it came off more like a request. It was too straightforward and unless she was a prostitute, she could not have agreed upon it.
She laughed. I looked at her closely. She was definitely older than me, i thought- at least 3-4 years older. And she was definitely a prostitute, i was almost sure now. I looked at my wallet and muttered – Poor you.
“Do you even know about the place?” she said and laughed again.
“I will. If you will show me more of it.” i replied tilting my body towards her.
She looked convinced and we took an auto-rickshaw towards the main city. The auto wallah took us to a hotel. He looked like a nice man. I paid him the auto fare along with 20 bucks as tip. I was so happy; it’s not very often i pay tip to anyone. Next, we entered the hotel.
The receptionist was a middle aged man who looked more like a shopkeeper. The way he explained the tariff, i wondered if he had been in a retail store. I paid him 500 bucks in advance and we walked in to the room. The woman looked more excited than me.
As i locked the door from inside, she came closer to me. She bit her lips like those old heroines to express her cravings for sex. The way her Saree was partially displaying her body, it seduced me without any effort. Plus she exactly knew how to seduce  a man. She pushed me on the bed and climbed over me. Our lips touched each other and the feeling was out of this world. The next moment, my hands were all over her body. And she was all over me.
And the next moment i remember she stabbed me with a knife. I was in such an awkward position that i was helpless. First i thought she was joking or she was trying some role play as they show in those videos but it wasn’t fun anymore when she punched me hard straight on my face. Then she hit me with something, i couldn’t recall. I lost my conscious.
When my eyes opened, she was laughing, in her so very nasty and loud style. I could not understand the reason. I saw three more men in the room- receptionist, auto wallah, and the guy from the train. They all shared a big laughter adding more to my worries and sadness. I was ashamed and broken. I gave up. I cried. Their laughter was accompanied by some music. I tried to see what it was.
I opened my eyes, carefully this time. My alarm bell was ringing in highest possible volume. And it saved my life again. Ah! these dreams- sometimes they give me a heart attack.

A lot can happen over coffee

A lot can happen over coffee

I am on my way to Cafe Coffee Day. On a Sunday evening, reading a book and sipping a cup or two of Darjeeling Tea — well, I call it a perfect life.

As expected, it’s almost a full house and it took me a few seconds to find a spot. I grab a corner table which is not-such-a-bad option, considering the fact that I have to focus on 50 Shades of Grey (yes, that’s the book I am carrying) and not on the gossips at the adjacent tables.

But…

I do want to make a confession here that I eavesdrop a little more than just sometimes. It’s a natural human tendency to sneak-peek, and being a normal person (at least I think so) with a reasonable curiosity about society, I have no regrets in doing that.

I order a Darjeeling Tea, before the waiter even bothers to exchange the usual pleasantries.

“Sorry Sir, we do not have tea today,” he replies with an innocent face, as if it was his mistake that they were out of stock.

“It’s okay. Let me see…”

I envy all the waiters in this world, for a simple reason that I find the job too fascinating. If someone wants to understand human behaviour, then I can’t think of a better job than this. Suddenly I start missing the time when I wore the same dress (and smile) in the summer of 2009, in Chandigarh.

“Sir, would you like to have a coffee?” his soft voice interrupts my thoughts. He, too, is carrying that pleasant smile.

I stare at the menu for a while and decide to order a cup of Irish Coffee. He notes it down and says in a polite manner, “Maybe you should try coffee more often. After all, a lot can happen over it,” and leaves.

“Everybody is trying to be a smartass these days,” I think to myself, “what a smartass world!”

I start reading the book, flip through the first two pages and instantly like it. You know why, don’t you? In the meantime, the coffee has also arrived at my table. I add a packet of sugar and have a sip of it.

Nice!

Although I miss the tantalising aroma of Darjeeling Tea, but I guess, I should focus on things that I have instead of those that I don’t. Story of my life, I tell you. Anyway, coming back to tea, rather coffee, more than taste, I enjoy the aroma. I close my eyes — only briefly — to appreciate the flavour, and when I open them, I see a girl entering the cafe. As the girl catches all my attention, for the first time in my life I experience the feeling of deja vu.

“Where have I seen her?” I try to remember, but I cannot. Surely, I have, somewhere. She sits on the other side of the cafe, alone — is that a sign? This reminds me about what the waiter had said earlier: a lot can happen over coffee.

I take another sip of coffee and read a few more lines before I glance at her. Even from this much distance, say around 15 feet, I can see her eye-make-up, which is so precisely (and appropriately) done. Girl, o girl, thank you for adding such value to aesthetics. Oh! she caught me staring at her and… i freeze.

It takes me a few moments to recover and pretend to be looking at the TV behind her, but, I suppose, it’s too late now. I notice, though, in that moment of childlike embarrassment, that she is chuckling. How stupid I feel in this moment, I can’t tell you.

What do I do next? Well, two things decide my next course of action. One, I have been blessed with a great deal of impatience; and two, I have been a big fan of Bollywood movies, especially those mushy ones.

The waiter initially refuses, but he gives in to the bribe I offer. The next minute… he is at her table.

As he hands over the napkin to that girl, I close my eyes. Of course, I want to see her reaction, but only if this is not going to be a problem. And I am not so sure about it now. She is about to read those lines which I have just written on that napkin.

Oh yes, I have seen you, or probably I have not…
Those angelic eyes look familiar, or is it just a thought…
I wanted to ask, but I am afraid to…
Here’s a simple Hello from me to you.

I could not look up until I realised that someone had joined me. Yes, she is sitting right next to me, eating casually from the plate, and I am wondering what kind of trouble I have gotten myself into. I look at her in what generations of boyhood would describe as an act of courage, still unsure about what to say. Turns out, I don’t have to. She starts the conversation.

“Good guts, I have to give that to you. But… sorry to break your heart, it’s a waste of time,” she says in such a melodic voice that I end up focusing more on her voice than the content of her words. She looks even better at such a short distance, despite those chubby cheeks… no wait, it’s because of those chubby cheeks..

“Why?” I find myself asking.

“Because,” she shows me her hands, “this finger is going to get a ring soon, next month, in fact. Now you have to be stupid to still go on with this.”

“I am not stupid. If I were, it wouldn’t be you in that case.”

“Aha?”

“And with all due respect to your relationship, a friend of mine says — and this is entirely about football, mind you — that a good striker scores a goal in the presence of a goalkeeper. Without a goalkeeper, anyone can score.”

Damn! why would I say something like that? I curse myself for being such a jerk, along with my roommate who had given me this mantra, the night before.

There was silence for the next few minutes. The background conversations and the usual chatter took over, thank goodness. The waiter has been curiously looking at our table. The excitement on his face does not make me feel any better.

“Are you serious?” she says, after I am done looking at the waiter. “Why would you say such a thing when we barely know each other?” she says. It’s a good sign, I wonder. At least, she is interested in carrying on the conversation.

“Umm,” I hesitate. “Okay tell me, if I was not being silly, would you have walked up to my table?”

“No.”

“See, in that case, I must congratulate myself.” I sound much more confident this time, although, not sure how long I would be able to carry this confidence. “You know, you didn’t have to use that being-in-a-relationship excuse. It’s a perpetual fish story girls often use.”

Now she smiles and takes my breath away. I had to smile too, in order to showcase my gentlemanship.

“I am sorry, I didn’t ask you,” I say, “would you like to have a coffee or something?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for asking,” she turns and waves at the waiter who seems oddly interested in our table. She asks for a cappuccino, while the the waiter and I kept looking at each other.

“What a strange thing” she says, “We are having a coffee together and we don’t know each other’s name.”

“I am sorry,” I respond, “I should have introduced myself earlier. My name is Rishi and it was a pleasure to meet you… Farah.”

She gives a suspicious look and asks, “How do you know my name?”

I stay quiet, only smiling and enjoying the hurried expressions on her face.

“Tell me, how the hell you know?” she sounds anxious. I am loving these moments of mystery.

“Well,” I say, in a serious tone, “I have been following you for a while now. I saw you a few weeks back and since then it’s just been an obsession.”

She doesn’ look comfortable at all. Her face, especially her eyes, seems to express the fear that has taken hold of her now.

I lower my gaze and say, “All I want is, your body. I don’t believe in things like true love. What I believe in,” I pick the book, “is this.”

She is definitely panicking. Her heart rate seems to have gone up in distress. What do I do?

She is about to get up and leave, when I say, “Do you always carry a keychain with your name on it?”

She stops and looks at it too.

I burst out laughing as I see her slowly coming out of the trauma. She laughs too.

“I hate you,” she says, her eyes still expressing angst. I have never seen such expressive eyes.

“But I don’t…” I say and we both laugh.

After we have got out of the cafe and bidden goodbye to each other, I realise that I should have asked her number. Maybe her full name? O dear lord! I always make such mistakes and I always curse my luck. I should get used to it now.

***

It’s Monday evening and I am following my usual time-table, i.e., going to the cafe. But the cafe is almost empty today — except that Farah is sitting on the same table, probably waiting for me, the eternal optimist in me informs. Yes, they are right, a lot can happen over coffee. And yes, this time I am going to tell her my real name.

Express Yourself, But Don’t Look at Me…

I remember the time when i was a kid- very shy and introvert. And people around me would encourage me to be more expressive. Few years later, i wasn’t shy anymore. This time people encouraged me to be more artistic. And now when i see the artists around me trying to express their thoughts, i feel obliged to keep my thoughts to myself or express in exactly the way people want to hear them. Why do people get offended so easily by someone else’s point of view? Sometimes it’s because of a particular idea which creates controversy but more often the way with which that idea is expressed offends them more. Let’s go through a series of examples to understand this problem.

Few days back, a cartoonist- Aseem Trivedi became a celebrity overnight. And the whole country entered a debate on freedom of expression. It was interesting to see how the cartoons made by him which showed rape of Mother India and Kasab urinating on indian constitution brought a bit of fame and lot of hatred for him. This thought is essentially the same that most indians carry and we hear so many times, from almost everyone, and almost every other day. Therefore the question here is- how does one justify themselves when their words, expression or creation offends certain people? Or do they really need to justify?

Innocence of Muslims- a video which was uploaded on YouTube earlier this month, and costed few Americans’ lives including their Ambassador to Libya. The worldwide protests by the Muslim community, which were quite obvious, again heated the freedom of expression debate. The video portrayed prophet Mohammad as a fool, a philanderer, and a religious fake. Keeping it simple, the case here was about few people from a religion cursing some other religion and people of the latter group ended up killing few from the former. Let’s come straight to the point. It is absolutely right that Muslims have faith in their religion and stick to their beliefs. It is also right that Muslims protest against discrimination whenever and wherever they experience it. However, it is absolutely wrong of them to demand that- their belief system should be immunized against criticism, irreverence, satire, even scornful disparagement.

24 years back, Salman Rushdie– indian born British author was in news when his then forthcoming novel The Satanic Verses received outrages by the Muslim community. The novel was banned by the Finance Ministry of India under section 11 of Indian Custom Act. That was just the beginning of the hatred from Muslim world for Rushdie. On 14 February 1989, a fatwā requiring Rushdie’s execution was proclaimed on Radio Tehran by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, the spiritual leader of Iran at the time, calling the book “blasphemous against Islam”. The fatwa for Rushdie is still valid; ironically the person who had issued it, died in same year -1989. 


The issue comes again and again- in movies, news channels, print media – almost everywhere. And the problem is sustained. Freedom of expression – is it just a statement in our constitution, or an idea which is on papers but our conservative society quietly shies away from it. Policy makers in this country had tried their best to provide the necessary freedom of expression in the context of law. The right to freedom in Article 19 of Indian Constitution guarantees the Freedom of speech and expression. However the law also has certain restrictions on the grounds of – security of state, public order, decency and morality, contempt of court, defamation. The point here is that even though the law makes sure that individuals get every right to express their views but at the same time it also ensures the sovereignty and integrity of the nation. However in most cases, even though the accused person hasn’t done anything unlawful yet the controversies erupt because the person has hurt the sentiments of a group or community. 

There are two things that every one of us need to understand when such controversies arise. First is – need of an open society. When we talk about open society- it means we need to take the criticism and humor in a positive manner. If something hurts our sentiments, we need to take the shelter of law. No one gives us the right to take the action without considering law and order. It’s also important to understand that just because we find something offending doesn’t make it so. There are a lot of things that we do everyday can and they do offend certain people. How positively does one respond to such mockery, shows the freedom of their thoughts. If a religion is threatened by a group of atheists trying to ridicule it, the religion is weak in itself. Coming back to Islam’s defamation by YouTube videos, burning few men will not add to the glory of the religion. It will however continue to carry the notion of violence and terrorism associated with the religion. A silent protest could have had a much better impact. Disagreements are important for well being of a country and similarly protests. The clash of ideas help societies to grow further and develop new cultures. But how does the clash take place, that’s important.

Secondly, it is important that no one takes the advantage of the weaknesses in our society or system. What if Salman Rushdie’s bodyguard was right and Rushdie had actually written  The Satanic Verses to create controversy and get fame out of it? What if Aseem Trivedi’s only purpose was to get popularity and nothing else? How do we keep a check on it? The answer lies on the same lines- let people speak. Do not make an issue about it. If an artist creates a work which might not be suitable for minors or a section of society then it is not artist’s problem. This is a natural situation which any society would face and only with dialogues such problems can be resolved, not by cutting artists’ hands. The day we learn and implement this tact, there won’t be any fame crazy artist doing such things. We don’t want people like Rakhi Sawant to become stars just because they say and do stupid things to come in headlines. 

The world would be a far better place if we leave our egos and prejudices behind and give everyone around us – a freedom to express themselves. Then only we can better differentiate between what’s right and what’s wrong.

THE HIDDEN TEARS- from the diary of a school girl… !

The alarm bell rang at 6:00 am. I am trying to get out of bed but that’s almost impossible. I love to sleep in the morning hours. The last minute sleep is wonderful. I have started to hate morning walks. Not because that i have to get up early but the simple fact that ever since we have shifted to the new colony, i don’t like the way few neighbor guys look at me when i go out for walk. It makes me feel uncomfortable. So i dropped the idea of getting up early and going for a walk. Mom sometimes scolds me for lying on bed in the morning hours but i can’t explain her the reason. Or may be i can but i am afraid to. I am little confused, as always. But i love myself- the way i am. Priya– as my name suggests i am beloved, most times by myself.

Life is simply beautiful when most part of the day is being spent at school. I enjoy every day there. You know the best thing about school life- you just have to hang on there, things will take care of themselves. But i am in eleventh standard. School will end in another one year, mind you i am trying to be optimistic here.

My English teacher says every accomplishment brings a good news as well as a bad news. The good news here is that after one year or so, i won’t have to study this SCIENCE CRAP anymore. I never took science as my major. Mom dad did the job, probably the only favor they did for me. Amit Bhaiyya, my elder brother was a brilliant student in science. He completed his schooling few years back, i don’t even remember which year. But he certainly did. He is now an engineer. And just because he is making a hefty salary, i am forced to commit my life to science and maths. That introduces the bad news in my case. Seems perfectly logical, rational and sensible. That was ironical, in case you didn’t understand.

As i entered the school, i felt a different type of energy- positive energy about which some bearded guy in the TV talks quite often. Although i still have to discover my best friend, but i guess Ruchi and Sahil are almost there. They are not perfect though but as i said -almost there. Perfect best friends, i don’t think exist anywhere outside those stupid movies. Talking about movies, i just hate them. They take you to dreamy world and give rise to unrealistic expectations from this world. And of all things i hate, i hate expectations the most. Parents’ expectations, then teachers, friends, relatives’ and most of all- my own. Expectations, i so hate you. Even more than periods. My god! the list of things that i hate, is growing. Not a good sign.

After a boring lecture from our Chemistry teacher, the next class is physical education – a subject i chose over Computers because i love sports, much more than games. My favorite sports is Basketball, and i am very good at it. In fact given the level of girls’ participation in sports in our school, i can confidently say that i am the best basketball player among the girls. However, that’s not what my dream is. My dream is to compete with boys and prove them that girls can also be good players, at least i am. And not just in themselves, but they can challenge boys as well, at least i will.

But better said than done, it’s been a long time that I have been telling myself the same thing. Every time i tried to prove that, i got caught in the being girl trap. I remember playing with boys team, where i was the only girl. And i played really well. But the irony was- after the match, i got more comments on my skirt and how my legs got revealed during the match rather than my technique and skill. Even Ruchi advised me not to play like that. Not sure whether the whole world is like that or just my school. My experience tells me all the boys are like that. They keep noticing girls skirts all the time. On a day when it rains, they keep staring at your wet shirts. What a shame.

Sometimes i feel like falling in love with someone. But i suppose i am too young for that. Girls around me have already done that and have spent weeks crying at their broken hearts. I am smart enough to know that Sahil likes me. By the way any girl would know that if her friend liked her. The exact formula, i shall not explain here. It’s right up here, in my mind.

Let me make a confession here, i like him too. But i don’t think i am ever going to tell him that or anyone for that matter. The truth is – i don’t want to get in to a relationship. You might consider me naive at this point of time but i tell you, i am just being reasonable and matured here. I know just like my present, my future is in the hands of my parents. They will decide the perfect match for me, i am not sure he will be perfect or not but he will be the one, the one chosen by them and another forced decision on me. I know i am sounding too phony here, but that’s the way things work here, in India. I don’t want to hurt Sahil, that’s why i will never tell him my feelings. I wish i could.

It was a fun filled day at school. I am on my way back to home which is not very far from the school. I prefer to walk with Ruchi, she also lives nearby. She has been blabbering too much about Sahil. Looks like she is also interested. And suddenly i don’t like her. Wait a second. What the hell did i just say? I shouldn’t be saying that. Thank god, we reached her place. I couldn’t listen more about Sahil from her.

My colony is just few footsteps away. And still it’s a sort of challenge to reach there. The rickshaw walas on the way are scariest creatures for me. The way they look at me, scares me to the death. I could see their eyes scanning my body. I wish i could rip their eyes off. Wearing skirt to school is not a crime, then why do they keep punishing me every day. The sad thing is, i can’t do anything. Mom says- guys will keep staring at you, get used to it. Sorry Mom, i can’t and i probably won’t.

It’s evening time and i have to rush to the market to get some vegetables. The market is crowded, just like any other day. I got the vegetables and reached home on time, yet i had to listen to usual “You are a girl, you should have come back early”  complaint from Mom. Now i am supposed to help her in the kitchen. And i have absolutely no problem in that provided they don’t expect me to do well in studies. And then help her in the chores too. Dad doesn’t ask me to do anything. But very often he also lets me down. For example – If i talk in loud voice, he rebukes instantly. When he does that, i quietly walk in to my room, because i am not supposed to shout back- I am a girl. No such rules exist for my genius brother.

Tonight i am happy and i am sad; both at same times. I am proud to be a girl and whoever i am, i love myself. That’s why i am happy. Sad because i feel the world could have been much better, much better for me and for million other girls. And in spite of the fact that the tears from my eyes are on their way, i still believe that we girls are strong… Strong enough to face this cruel world.

 

Love at First Sight…

As She walked by my side
Unintended change was there,
 in my stride…
Gazed in to her wide open eyes,
Was amused but appeared a fool
i did realize…
She smiled at me, i am not sure
Why?
I managed to smile, my face was sweaty
my throat was dry…
She came closer and 
waved me “Hello”
Kept standing in amazement i was
a nervous fellow…
She held my hand and silently
she winked
Somehow i got a feeling our hearts
are linked…
You don’t need words when eyes
say it all
To those for whom our heart
does fall…
You live in dreams whether it’s
day or night
Such is the power of Love
at first sight…

it happened one summer

The story will be continued in my second book. I really want to thank you all for reading and making it a hit. I am very hopeful that once the book comes out, you will enjoy it. Till then, keep smiling.

it happened one summer #5

Writer’s Note: If you are reading this story for first time, please check the older posts for the previous episodes. The new episode is published every week on saturday at 6 pm. Thank you for your time. Enjoy reading.

“Hi”. It was a short message from Dev but it was all he could think in the last two hours. After finishing his dinner and avoiding conversation with his parents about JEE , he had locked himself in his room. He had had a small conversation with his younger sister Shikha. And again it was not about JEE, but Isha. Shikha was someone with whom Dev could always share his personal secrets. For a boy, having a sister is always a bliss; You can share your secrets, make her do all the work like a servant yet she would do it happily; And the best part is that you are always her hero.

Isha smiled again, and then again. That’s the beauty of teenage infatuation. Even without the exchange of mushy-gushy words, they express the true feelings of a person. Isha also had the butterflies flying inside her stomach, one of the reason she did not have her dinner tonight. She was staying as a paying guest and skipping a meal there wasn’t that regretful. She had talked to her father over the phone but the conversation did not last for more than two minutes. It was not unusual and it was not unexpected. A father who had been responsible for her mother’s death could never be loved by any child. Her father never talked about it. She had heard it from her maternal grandmother who never talked with her father after her mother had left. Isha used to meet her often, almost every week even though she lived in Kullu, which was 40 kms from Isha’s house. She never called it a home, house was appropriate she thought.

It was one of those visits of Isha to grandma’s place when she learnt about her mother. She learnt how her father had left her mother in their house when Isha was coming to this world. It was their neighbors who took her to the hospital but it was too late then. Isha came to this world but the woman who brought her, left. Every time Isha thought about it, she blamed herself as much as she blamed her father. But she had to live and live happily, to make it worthwhile- the struggle and sacrifice of her mother’s life. She always considered herself as a part of her mother. She would see the photos when Mom was young, then see herself in the mirror and smile for the simple reason that they resembled a lot. And the Mom  was beautiful, so was Isha.

Dev had checked his mobile at least fifty times in the last five minutes. Still no reply. Few more minutes passed and then his phone beeped. He jumped to see it. His heart was racing. Yes, it was from Isha. Ah! Thank God.

“Hey. I was thinking about you only.” he jumped again while reading this.

“About me? How’s that even possible.” He was almost blushing when he typed this message.

She smiled while reading it and replied, “It is possible. Very much possible.”

Dev thought for long before he could reply. In the initial stages, people are always careful about what to say to the opposite sex. They choose their words very carefully, make zero grammatical mistakes and present it beautifully.

“Years later when i will look back, I will think about it and will tell myself- it happened one summer. Good night.” He texted after good ten fifteen minutes had passed. Although the reply from her was a simple Good Night with a smiley, and the conversation ended there but Isha was far more interested than it appeared from her message. She had read his last message more than a dozen times and yet she felt like reading it again. She was not able to sleep that night and neither was Dev.

In the next two-three days they exchanged dozens of text messages and shared many things. But no one called the other. They found texting a convenient and more appropriate way to converse.

It was thursday and Isha had to leave for Manali. Her father had come to Chandigarh to take her with him.  The old WagonR that she could recognize from a mile even though she never wanted to see it. It would come near her and a devil would appear from it. The devil had appeared again and it was the time to go back to Devil’s house. She was ready with her luggage. He helped her putting the luggage in the car. She sat on the back seat and looked away though the window. She did not want to see his face. They had not had any conversation since he had arrived. They rarely had any conversations except those few mandatory ones which they could not avoid in order to live in the same house.

Isha kept looking through the window for some time as the car raced through the busy roads of Chandigarh. She noticed that a cycle was also racing near their car in the busy traffic. Due to the morning traffic, cycle could easily manage to keep itself at the same pace as those of the WagonR. Isha looked carefully; It was Dev. He smiled, she smiled back. Once the traffic had cleared, Dev slowed and then stopped. Isha could see him waiting for her. She felt little pain of going away from him, but she had to. She was sure she would come back and he would still be waiting for her in the same way as he was waiting now.

Dev knew she would come back soon but he could hardly wait for three months. He wanted to see her again in this summer, he did not want to wait till the rains.

it happened one summer #4

 Writer’s Note: If you are reading this story for first time, please check the older posts for the previous episodes. The new episode is published every week on saturday at 6 pm. Thank you for your time. Enjoy reading.

Dev was still pleading to the policemen who seemed more like heartless monsters. He was worried about the embarrassment that he and Isha were facing. There was a good probability that they were going to face more of it in the next few hours. Dev looked at Isha who was still crying. Suddenly the jeep stopped in a strange place. The two policemen turned to Dev and one of them asked-“How much do you have?”

 “What the hell.”- Dev mumbled. He immediately realized that the policeman was asking for bribe. However he did not have much choice.

“Sir, I have five hundred rupees. Please let us go.” Dev was almost begging now. He took his wallet out and handed five hundred rupees to the policeman.

“Is that all you have? Show me your wallet.” the policeman asked in an acrimonious voice.Dev passed his wallet to him. There were forty rupees left in it but the policeman showed his kindness, whatever he had and did not take that money.

Isha and Dev got down and the jeep paced somewhere else, probably to harass other innocents-Dev thought. Luckily there was no one around who could see them coming out of the police jeep. They sighed a relief. Isha walked few steps and sat on a milestone. Dev looked at her, she appeared pale. He could see few drops of tears on her red cheeks. He wiped the tears with his hands. She did not react at all.

“I am sorry Isha.” Dev said, “It all happened because of me. Please forget all this crap. Now please smile.”

Dev kept looking at her while she was still expressionless. “I will keep staring at you until you smile.” he said.

She smiled and said “thank you” in a low voice. Her hands were shivering.

 “Come on. We should probably go home now.” Dev said. Isha responded quickly and stood on her feet. They looked around for an auto-rickshaw but could not find one. None of them was sure how far they had come from Sukhna lake. No one remembers how long was the nightmare, they just wait for it to get over and forget quickly. They started to walk with a pinch of hope they would find an auto-rickshaw on the way.

It was 4pm and the weather was slowly turning pleasant now. They had walked around one kilometer but nothing appeared. This part of the city was isolated and not many people frequently visited here. Suddenly an auto-rickshaw appeared from behind. Dev waved his hand in order to stop that and it did stop.

“How much for Sukhna lake?” Dev asked.

“Sir, sixty rupees for two people.” the auto walah replied.

“I have only forty rupees. Please don’t overcharge us.” Dev tried to bargain as he knew he had forty rupees in his wallet.

“Wait” Isha interrupted, “I have fifty rupees.” She sat on the seat. Dev also joined her.

“He could have agreed for forty.” he whispered in to her ears. She smiled gently.

It took them fifteen minutes to reach Sukhna lake. No conversation took place in those fifteen minutes. They were pissed with the police drama that just happened and therefore wanted to reach home as soon as possible. Dev paid sixty rupees and Isha started to walk towards the place where her bike was parked. Dev was walking behind her. This was a different Isha he was seeing now- so much quiet, so much stable. Isha took the bike key out of her pocket and asked, “Where should i drop you?”

“I will tell you. It’s near sector 35. Let’s just leave from this place.” Dev said.

The bike propelled so fast which really scared Dev. Isha was frustrated and Dev could closely feel that. In fact he was the only victim of her spoiled mood, he thought. The worst part was that he could not even touch her or hold her even when she was riding above 80. At least the bike had given up. They reached sector 35 market in just few minutes.

It was a bittersweet feeling to say good bye. They had had the best and the worst experience in a day. On one side both of them wanted to go home early, on the other- they wanted to stay with each other. Few more minutes, exchange of few more words, few more smiles -those who have been in love would know the meaning of it.

Dev gathered a lot of courage and asked, “Isha can I have your number? It would be great if we could talk once you reach Manali. Isn’t it?”

Isha smiled and said, “I would love to talk.” She gave her number and he saved it in his phone. He was quite excited about it and could barely hide his excitement. This is inherent to all the teenage guys-Once they get a girl’s number they think there’s no one stopping them to impress that girl. Dev waved her good bye and started to walk. Isha shouted, “Will see you again buddy.” He was glad to see her back in her original form.

The night was special for both of them. They had forgot everything about the JEE and had their own memories about the day. Dev was constantly thinking about her and was desperately hoping to see her again. Isha on the other hand had liked him too. She loved his company and was wishing for more of it.

It was 11:30 pm when the Nokia tone rang in Isha’s phone. It was an SMS and as she was hoping, it was from Dev.

to be continued…

it happened one summer #3

Writer’s Note: If you are reading this story for first time, please check the older posts for the previous episodes. The new episode is published every week on saturday at 6 pm. Thank you for your time. Enjoy reading.
 

“Give me the key.” Dev asked Isha as they approached her bike(activa). His words sounded more like a command and she was not a kind of girl who would obey somebody’s command.

“Shut up, you fat mouth and sit on the back seat.” she said in a high pitch. 
“No way.” he almost shouted this time, “I have never sat like this before. It looks so gay, when you are sitting on the back seat and a girl is riding the bike.”
“Calm down, you faggot.” she said with a beautiful smile extending her lips to the maximum and then continued to speak very slowly word by word-“Doing something for the first time is fun. Come on debutant.” Girls are very skilled at convincing the opposite sex. In most cases just a smile does the trick; in others, they may have to enunciate few sweet words. 

 Dev silently walked and sat on the back seat. He smirked and said – “In couple of hours you have named me with half a dozen slangs. Don’t do it now.”


“Oh! you are such a baby.” she said in a sarcastic tone. Dev had started to enjoy her blithe nature now.

So there he was-sitting behind an eccentric girl who was riding rashly on the beautiful roads of Chandigarh on a day which was probably the most important for students from education point of view.


It was 12:30pm when they reached Sukhna lake. Isha parked the bike in the  no parking area, which Dev was already expecting. The crowd was small compared to other days in Sukhna lake. It was a hot day and quite obviously, not many people would have preferred to go outside.


“Ice cream?” Isha asked Dev as they walked by the ice cream parlour. He agreed instantly. She went over there and asked for two ice creams. Dev was standing few yards away and for the first time he observed her carefully.

 Her face was fair and chubby. She was wearing a light green top and a skin tight low waist blue jeans which perfectly suited on her medium height. She had a reasonably good figure but what Dev closely observed was her style of wearing jeans. Dev always loved the way a typical Chandigarh girl wore low waist jeans. They put it at such a waist height that it caused the gazers to remain in a state of intimacy or as Dev and his friends used to explain it- Not too high, not too low, you girls are crazy, make us dazy from head to toe. 

 “I scream, you scream for ice cream” Isha said waving the ice cream in front of his eyes while he was still lost in the previous thought. He smiled, took his ice cream and they ambled towards the lake. They kept
walking silently for some time.



“You know, it’s kind of funny that we are hanging out together and we do not know much about each other.” Isha started the conversation.


Dev glared at her for few seconds and said, “Isha, do you even listen to the other person? How can i tell about myself when you keep blabbering all the time?”. She looked down in resentment.


“Hey, don’t be sad. I did not intend to hurt you.” he added in order to comfort her. She giggled and it did not take him long to realize how easily she could fool anyone, or at least him. He laughed; that’s all he could do.


“I am really sorry for annoying you so many times today. Now please tell me about yourself.” she was sounding serious for the first time in the day. 


Dev smiled and said, “I live in sector 35 with my parents. I was born and brought up in Chandigarh and i really enjoy living here. One of the many things that i love is to play guitar and one of the few things that i hate is to study maths.”


“This is something common to us, i mean the second part-hating maths. I would like to hear your guitar someday. I also tried to learn it once and i failed terribly.” she laughed while telling this. She continued, “I am originally from Manali. I have been residing here in Chandigarh for the last two years with my relatives.”


“So now, will you be staying here or going back to Manali?” Dev asked curiously.


“I am leaving for Manali, next week. I will come back here on my birthday in July. I want to spend my birthday with my friends here.” she replied.


“And not with your family.” Dev interrupted and said, “Are you a cancerian too?”


“You also?” she exclaimed. They high fived. Sometimes we don’t realize how small things can make us happy. 

 “Isha, i envy you since you will be spending your summers with solitude in a beautiful place like Manali while i will be trapped in the heat.” Dev said to her once they had stopped laughing.


“You should not. There is a difference between solitude and loneliness.” suddenly she paled at some thought and Dev was almost sure that she was going to burst into tears.


He was right. She took a few steps and leaned over a tree. She covered her face with both her hands and cried. Dev approached her;he was not sure whether to talk to her or leave her alone. He kept quiet for some time and then asked, “Are you all right Isha?”


“Hmm” she said in a very low voice, wiping her eyes simultaneously.


He walked even further towards her and hugged her gently . 


“Dev, you don’t even know how to hug a girl.” she chuckled.


“Yes i know that i don’t know about it.” he said and looked in to her eyes. She looked happy now.


“What’s going on here?” suddenly there was a loud voice. They looked around. There were two policemen who were walking towards Dev and Isha.


“What’s going on?” one of the policemen repeated the question. “Young blood is dancing with desperation and thirst.” the other one said in a harsh tone.


“Sir, please don’t talk like that. What you are thinking is not true at all. We are just friends and came here after our exam got over.” Dev pleaded. Isha was completely frozen. She did not even know what was happening to them.


Dev kept appealing but none of them listened to him. Cops everywhere around the world are unemotional but in India they are irrational too. That can cause serious troubles sometimes. They clasped Dev and Isha’s arms and forcibly took them towards the police jeep. People were giving weird expressions to the teenagers as if they had committed a crime. Dev was shouting while Isha appeared to be in a state of prostration. She could not even cry anymore.

The policemen put them in the jeep and headed towards the police station. It all was happening on 
the day of JEE.

 to be continued…

the idea of Education!

It’s a very common sight people talking about the next door kid being intelligent because she has scored highest marks in the class. Is this the only definition of intelligence? In our society, definitely yes. I have never seen in my life someone calling a person intelligent for any reason except academics. There are intelligent sports persons, intelligent artists, intelligent dancers. Why don’t we acknowledge their intelligence as often as we do in case of academics? It is a question that has been on my mind for a long long time. The answer to this question lies in our education system.

We all understand that any education institution helps us develop an attitude towards various aspects of life. This is the most important attribute of that institution that we carry throughout our lives. All the knowledge, facts and information that we gain during our education are less important in this ever changing world. There are two reasons for that- first is because of fast technological changes today what we learn today might be irrelevant tomorrow. At that time we cannot go back to school and learn the new concepts again. What we need is more adaptability rather than information. Secondly, in today’s world all the information is available to and can be accessed by everyone. There’s no need to remember anything. Now in this scenario, our education system should teach us how to do the things rather than telling us what to do. One key aspect of our education is that it enhances our basic problem solving ability and which is really very important. Most of our education revolves around these two things- remembering facts and solving problems and we assume that our education has prepared us to the challenges of life. My only concern is -the kind of problems that we solve in our classrooms and the way we solve them, does that really nurture our talent? If not, then the way we define the intelligence which is based on the results obtained in this education system cannot be right.

 Let’s talk about the real life, the life after our formal education gets over. Most of us go in to the different walks of life and very few become scientists – ironically most of us were prepared for a scientist career during our education. Only theory… No one ever taught us how to deal with the pressure of work load, how to manage our time, how to come up with new ideas, improve our imagination. There are so many other things they could have taught at school yet they focused more on Bell curve and schrodinger’s equation which were of lesser relevance in real world. When we are starting our career, many of us do not have much idea what we are getting in to and that’s not a problem. We learn as we work along. The problem is that the whole point of getting a degree comes to get a job and then unlearn all the things which we have learned over the years because they were pretty much useless. This is a very serious problem and it’s the main cause for the inflation in education. The same job which required high school certificate twenty years back now requires a college degree and so on. There’s a race everywhere to get higher degrees but no one cares about a good basic education and therefore suffer, in spite of all these degrees.

Now some of us might wonder -what is wrong with this. People are studying, they are getting jobs and that’s the way life is going. Fair point, but we need to understand how a bad education system affects our society and our day to day lives. Indian society for that matter can serve as the best example to illustrate the effects of poor education system. We see a number of unlawful, immoral and unethical acts around us everyday. From people spitting everywhere, road rages, domestic violence to  rapes, crimes and similar serious issues. The right education can prevent people from getting indulged in such acts and make them a better citizen. This is one aspect. Another aspect is that the right education also prepares us for difficult situations in life and how to face them. It not only prepares us for a 9 to 5 job but numerous other things where we really need to use our brain, our knowledge and preparation. A person who saves others lives during fire is not just foolishly courageous but equally or more intelligent than the one who solves lengthy calculations.

I am coming back to the point where i started. What is intelligence? Is it confined to the logical part of our brain or it also includes the creative part? We all know the answer but we hesitate to accept it and bring it in our lives. Somewhere in our minds, lies the image of a scientist as the intelligent person but this is the time to accept the reality. We know Einstein was intelligent but so were Mozart, Shakespeare, Beethoven, Gandhi and many other people. The major problem that we are facing today because of this mindset is the fact that people are rushing to only few careers which they feel are suitable for their intelligent children. These careers are mostly related to science and its applications and are more about secured jobs. No doubt we certainly need intelligent scientists, engineers and doctors but at the same time we do need intelligent cooks who can create new dishes, intelligent players who win games through their presence of mind, intelligent directors who make well researched movies, intelligent drivers who can avoid accidents and the list goes to infinity. This is the time for a change. We all need to make small efforts to shift the mindset of the society so that every one of us can achieve his or her best potential and enjoy our lives.

Take care, stay happy 🙂

it happened one summer #2

Dev started walking towards the girl who was making different faces and expressions in order to tease him. He had never seen such an impudent girl and he liked her naughtiness. Both of them started heading outside. The noise level was high in the corridors as students’ endless discussions were at the peak.

“Why are you panicked? You were not going to clear JEE anyway.” she said to a random boy in the corridors, who looked upset.

He looked at her in dismay and so did Dev but she had walked few steps before the boy could respond.

“How could you be so mean to him?” Dev asked her. They were still walking in the corridors. The poor boy was left somewhere behind in the crowd.

“That’s who Isha is…” she replied and rushed towards the window.

“Isha, who Isha?” he murmured. She was already playing with a puppy near the window before Dev realized her name was Isha.

She picked the puppy up in her arms and turned towards Dev. He was closely observing her hands as they inched across the puppy’s ears.

“Hello Dev. I am Isha.” she pretended as if she was talking to puppy.

For a moment Dev thought that she was trying to ridicule him but he could not control his laughter. She was funny and he had to accept it. He still had to figure it out what kind of person she was but at the moment, he was enjoying her company. Finally they reached outside near the sports ground but it was the time to go back for Paper II. The break was coming to an end.

Dev was walking straight, lost in his thoughts until he heard Isha chanting something. He looked at her and listened carefully-

This lovely day will lengthen in to evening,
We’ll sigh good-bye to all we’ve ever had,
Alone where we have walked together,
I’ll remember April and be glad …

He loved her expressions when she was singing, not so her voice. She stopped singing and looked at him. “Nice song it is. I love it. By the way, this is April too.” she said and smiled.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” he asked. For the first time his voice appeared confident.

“No. The flirt would be if I ask you to skip the Paper II and go to Sukhna lake in this beautiful weather.” she replied quickly. Certainly, she was smart, witty and irresistibly appealing.

“You cannot be serious.” Dev replied. His eyes were widened.

“Yes, I am.”

Both of them gazed at each other for few seconds, picked their bags and started running towards the exit gate. They shouted- “We will remember April…”

it happened one summer #1

As Dev unfurled the question paper, a feeling of nervousness and fear traveled through his mind. Not because he had even slight expectation of clearing the exam but because of the simple fact that it was JEE-2009. The words IIT and JEE are enough to cause distress in the growing minds of this country. Without any delay, he started reading the questions and simultaneously solving them. It was dead silence in the hall now. After solving few questions, suddenly Dev looked at the ceiling and thought- “Ahh crap. I won’t make it.”

He smiled secretly and started drawing his favorite smiley faces on the question paper.

“No one in this world expects me to get in to an IIT, then why should I?” he said to himself and put his pencil on the desk.

He heard a laughter and looked back. A fair girl with red cheeks and a mysterious smile was sitting behind him.

“Sshh” there was immediate reaction from the invigilator. He looked exasperated.

There was silence again. After five minutes, Dev turned to his right and asked the girl in a low voice- “What was so funny about that?”

“Every single fool on this earth makes me laugh.” she replied and cleared her throat.

“Excuse me!” Dev exclaimed. His voice was slightly up. This time the invigilator walked up to them and warned them.

“Do not utter a single word now.” Dev said to her, once the invigilator had left their desks.

The girl chuckled and Dev passed her a rude look.

“Hey” she said and paused for a while until Dev whispered-“Now what?”

“When we know we are not going to get selected let’s just get out of this hell.” she said.

“We can’t go outside before the schedule, don’t  you know bimbo? ” He was eagerly waiting to say something bitter to her.

She chuckled again and Dev enjoyed it too. She was not that rude, he thought. He looked around. Everyone was so seriously focused on the paper.

Time just passed and Paper I got over. There was a short break before Paper II would begin. The invigilator collected all the papers and everyone walked outside the hall. Most of them were discussing the questions. Dev looked at the girl with a smiling face. She glanced at him, stood up from the desk and starting walking outside mumbling something. He was awkwardly staring at her. She stopped at the door, turned back and said, – “Come on. Still want to stay in the hell, you dumb ass? “

To be continued…