Lonely Together - A Short Story

It was a full grown day with clear sky after yesterday's rain. The Sun was at its peak in the mid afternoon with slow and cool wind blowing around. Dr. Seema Sarthak was sitting in her cabin which was near the elevator on the 9th floor of the hospital, giving a clear view of the city. As she examined the reports of Pooja who was sitting across the desk, she kept juggling one report over other, intermittently revisiting some reports which she had just pushed aside. She sometimes observed Pooja and gave her a fainted smile. “Something is wrong” Pooja was assured from doctor's reaction, however she was not amused. She was at peace and kept looking out of the large glass window. Some pigeons were playing on the window pane. And a pair was lost on its own world. The male pigeon would suck rice from the ground and gave it to his partner to eat. He kept repeating it for a long time. 'That's love' - Pooja looked intently at them, smiling and wondering how lucky they were.

“It's serious Pooja. We can't delay it further. We will have to operate immediately” said doctor with visible nervousness in her voice, though she tried to sound assertive with strong pitch. Pooja simply looked at her for a while knowing well that there was no point arguing, and asked, “What do I need to do, Dear?”

“We will start at sharp 5 PM. Pooja, listen to me....I don't want to hide anything. Chances are 50% - 50%. I would suggest you talk whom you want to and better call your family here immediately.” replied doctor. “You can stay in my cabin till then” she added. She rang the bell to call the staff members and started instructing them to make arrangements in the Operation Theater.

“Hi Diiiiiiiiiii....how are you?” replied Pooja's younger sister Samitha on her mobile from the other side.

“I am good. I need a help if you are free.” Pooja could only complete this much when Samitha interrupted, “Didiii...actually I am going for Ranil's convocation tomorrow. I need to prepare for it. Hai naa Diiiii.....time flies........it seems just yesterday that he was born and see tomorrow he will be a graduate. I am so happy. I am so excited. I can't explain.” add Samitha. Pooja was surprised. Samitha had not told her about Ranil's convocation. He was most close to her in childhood and it was she who had looked after him in those years, and Samitha didn't even inform her about his convocation earlier.

“Di...kya hua?” asked Samitha.

“Ohh..nothing baby…you go ahead. I was joking...I had called to just check about you guys. Take care....and give my blessings to Ranil, my darling. Do send some pics of convocation if you can” instructed Pooja.

“Diddddddddddduuuuuu.........my Diduuuuuuuuuuu....you are so good....love you..........muaahhhh. One more thing Di...we are planning to celebrate Ranil's graduation. Can I borrow your home for the party? You know naa...my house is so chaotic these days. You can stay at my home during the party” asked Samitha with a giggle.

“You can. Bye” replied Pooja and cut the call and took a heavy breath. Doctor Seema, who was working on some reports, looked up and she could see tears in Pooja's eyes. She had been a family doctor for a very long time and had now become good friends with Pooja. She had, sometimes, tried to persuade Pooja to think about herself, give herself some attention and time. She had an intuition that Pooja understood as well but preferred to ignore so she kept quiet and didn't pursue it any further. Pooja sipped water from the bottle kept on doctor's table. Before doctor could say anything, she dialed another no. from her cell phone.

“Hi Shikha, Pooja here” she said on phone.

“Hi Pooja…Kaisi hai tu? Long time yaar...come over some time. I have so much to talk to you” replied Shikha.

“yeah yeah..I will. Listen...I need some help. Where are you now and what’s the plan for today?” asked Pooja.

“yaar....sorry........not today. I have come with my daughter in law to meet a gynecologist. There is a good news on its way. Yahi to batana tha tujhe. I am going to become a daadi soon. I am so happy yaar. This is the best moment of my life” exclaimed Shikha.

Shikha and Pooja were colleagues. They had shared some good and bad moments together, but off late Shikha got busy with her personal responsibilities and they were not in touch much.

“Congratulations yaar....I am so happy for you. Take care...I will call you later” said Pooja and pushed the phone on table.

Dr. Seema, who was busy on compute so far, understood the situation and rang the bell. She instructed nurses and office assistants to make arrangement for sufficient amount of blood. She asked them to keep some people on note for any emergency. She instructed them to put the requests on some blood donor’s websites as well.

“Pooja let us come....we need to make some arrangements. Operation will start at sharp 5 PM. You have some hours. Do you want to relax? I can get a room done.” asked doctor.

“No..its ok here” simple replied Pooja with a fainted smile.

“Yaar wo Hrehan Roshan ki movie aa rahi hai month end pe. We will go together after your operation. He looks just like his father Hrithik” said the doctor to cheer her up. Both of them had a good laugh over it.

“Acha Seema...I will go out for a while and return in some time” informed Pooja.

“Where...but do come by 4 PM. I have called a panel of doctors. They need to examine you before the operation” informed Dr. Seema.

“You know where....I want to see him, maybe for the last time” said Pooja, collecting her phone and bag from the doctor's desk and left towards the parking where her driver was waiting in the car.

Pooja pushed in the large gate and entered inside. The gate was very old, the paint had long gone but it still looked very imposing. It was lush green inside with big trees lined all around. She moved slowly on the narrow lanes and reached the right most corner where he was resting. She sat on the ground and moved her hands over him, like she has done years ago for so many times. She wished him to roll over and embrace her in his arms. But it was not to be. As she removed the weeds which had germinated all around after the month full of rains, the area around and stone was cleaned. She put the flowers and kissed the stone. While she rested in his embrace, 'Mayank (1980-2020) – unto the infinity' became visible on the stone. Wind was blowing her hairs away and she would tug them time to time while she remained still. Mayank would unravel her hairs whenever she was in his arms, and she would warm him to keep his hands away. Though he would leave it for a while but would be back after a while.

It started raining suddenly. Pooja remained resting in Mayank's embrace. Then it thundered loud....she was coerced into the reality as if someone had pushed her aside. 'No...not now Mayank” she murmured. Mayank had pushed her aside and walked away slamming the door some 30 years ago. It started pouring heavily, Pooja stood still. “Go away......go away” seemed as if he was shouting from the grave with each stroke of thunder. She kept looking at the grave, with tears flowing down her cheeks till it met with the rains losing both its purpose and identity. “Mayank.....not now.....I am coming to you” she said with a deep breath. It thundered again. She shivered.

“Madam....Madam....chalo ab....it raining heavily....Doctor Sahiba has been calling continuously over your mobile in car.” informed the driver while bringing her back to present. He had brought the umbrella over her.

She touched the grave, her tears flowed over it, and suddenly turned back walking away from him. She sat in the car looking into the imposing gates of the cemetery. She pushed herself a little back, keeping her head on head stand, looking up onto car's roof, lost in her own world, it seemed to happen just yesterday what had happened 30 years ago. “Kaha chalna hai Madam”, driver interrupted.

“Maalum nahi” she replied, still looking up, lost in her own thoughts.

Good Bye Madiba - A Tribute to Mr. Nelson Mandela

There were moments of despair. Moments when he would have questioned his decision to join public life, during his years in jail, in midst of loneliness and separation from family, his strength might have eluded him. Interestingly he too had some good time before that ‘long walk to freedom’ – some flings, courtship with one of the most desired ladies, his second wife Winni, and a flourishing legal practice. Yes…as it might look…it all started like any other normal life, but then he learnt and evolved along the way. He failed time and again, but continued on his path – finally leading to a life which today is no less than of a saint.

However in his own words “I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.” You might have got it right by now. I am talking about respected Nelson Mandela who died last week.

This blog piece is my tribute to him, one of my personal icons. I once accidently caught hold of his biography, though it is disputed to be ghost written, named ‘Long Walk to Freedom’ and for next two weeks I lived his story till the book was complete. Each event of his life is inspiring. He lived a full life - of good careless childhood, of satisfied marital bliss, of successful career, of separation and arrest, of moral rise and evolution of statesmanship. A full life, worth every bit of it.

His act of reconciliation and path on which South Africa surged in his presidency is exemplary. Two incidents from his life will always remain with me. Sharing below for you:

Once at Robben Island where he spent 18 years of his 27 years long jail term, guards ordered Mr. Mandela to dig a grave shaped trench in the prison yard. He thought that this was his end. But instead as he stood in the grave he had dug, they urinated on him. Years later, when drawing up the list of the select group to invite to his inauguration as president of South Africa, Mr. Mandela insisted on inviting his former jailers and guards.

And other incident is about his active participation and support for springboks rugby team during rugby world cup 1995. Springboks was predominantly a white team with huge fan following amongst white community. He used the event carefully to convey the message of peace and unity thorough the path of reconciliation. His shared the poem ‘Invictus’ with the team to inspire them before the final. Mr. Mandela read it time and again to seek strength during his oppressive stay at Robben Island. I conclude my tribute to Mr. Mandela with the lines of Invictus. Rest in Peace Mr. Mandela!   You life is an inspiration. It’s a challenge for all of us to imbibe even bits of the values you lived with.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For your unconquerable soul

Good Bye Madiba!

watch the adaption of the poem in a movie with the same name: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=1dSFhM2X-V4

Sachin, Arjuna and the Gurus who stood behind!!!

Sachin's Guru Shri Ramakant Achrekar
with his brother.

Two incidents of last week, one real and other in reel, caught my attention.  Yes, I am talking about Sachin Tendulkar’s retirement. Each of us had a personal story to tell and no doubt my facebook newsfeed page was full of posts about Sachin from friends. And simultaneously new channels kept playing old Sachin’s tapes, discussions and then there was the LIVE match. It was the last hurrah of the man, though I personally pray and wish that his best is yet of come, maybe out of cricket field, out of those 22 yards that he mentioned in this farewell speech. Sachin received a farewell which he truly deserved. He once again brought happiness, joy and yes....tears on the faces of his countrymen. In midst of all this, we saw a fragile man in red shirt being driven on wheel chair into the stadium. Man, who had driven Sachin on his scooter to different fields, was driven on wheel chair on that day to watch his pupil’s last run between the wickets. You got it right I am referring to Sachin’s guru Shri Ramakant Achrekar. That very moment caught the essence of a guru shishya relation. If sachin didn’t forget the contribution of his teacher in his success, guru acknowledged the contribution of pupil in his own name and fame. They both contributed to each other. If a pupil/mentee is successful it’s the teacher/mentor who is credited as well. In all these celebrations, this beautiful message was lost somewhere.

The other incident was in a teleserial. I am a great fan of Mahabharat. It keeps fascinating me, and each episode of it is a new revelation no matter how many times I watch it. So understably I was super excited when the new Mahabharat started on StarPlus. In one of the episodes, after Guru Dronacharya asked for Eklavya’s right hand thumb in Guru Dakshina, Arjuna confronts him. The conversation happens as below: (watch the full conversation @ http://www.startv.in/episodes/arjun-rescues-dronacharya-from-a-crocodile/55858):

Arjun: Gurudev! Don’t you have faith on me? Can’t I become the best archer by my own hardwork?

Drone: Don’t you have faith on you Guru? Do you think I am biased towards you to make you the greatest archer?

Arjun: then why did you ask such a guru dakshina from Eklavya?

Drone: It’s my right to decide what I want in Guru Dakshina from which of my pupil.

Arjun: But why such a Dakshina which becomes an accusation?

Drone: I understand, my dear Arjun!.....Dhitrashtra sons would accuse me of biasness.........not only they....even the generations to come would accuse me of biasness. But I was bound by Dharma, my dear Arjun. Eklavya was a Magadh Kingdom’s citizen. He would have used my teachings against Hasthinpur where my duty lay. I was duty bound.

Arjun: Is teaching also bounded by the boundaries of kingdom, Gurudev?

Drone: No! But a teacher is bound by his commitment to a nation.  I survive on alms provided by Kuru Nation Hashtinapur. My commitment is for it. If Eklavya would have become the greatest archer by teaching from some other Guru, I would have been happier.

Arun: But how would you absolve yourself of this accusation, my dear Guru?

Drone: There is a way son. You prove it, without any doubt, that you are the best archer in this world. Better that Eklavya, better than even your grandfather Bhisma. Go and prove it to the world, my son! Go and prove!! If you could do this, none would accuse me. I would be absolve of this paap.

Mesmerising.....such an intense conversation between a teacher and pupil. Both these events stated the unstated: importance of a teacher/ a mentor in one’s life. In today’s time, when we seek the best of the facilities for our daughters/sons, do we seek the right teacher? I went back to my school days, and came forth the image of two wonderful teachers I had early in my life, which made me capable enough to make my living today. But what lies beyond this, I seek...I plan.....I fail......I wonder will I find a mentor at this stage of my career? Setting aside, I bow to Guru Drone and Shri Achrekar!!!

(Images used above are from Google Image Search)

The Truth – A Short Story

This story has already been published by YourStoryClub (An Online Publisher) @ http://yourstoryclub.com/short-stories-social-moral/short-story-the-truth/

“What would you like to order, Sir?” asked the waiter, carefully pouring water into the glass.

“Masala tea with toast for me and what would you have Mihir?” replied Sam who was sitting at the preferred table of his favourite cafe. This table was at the farthest corner from the entrance, having open terrace at one side while the city traffic bustling on the road on the other side of it. Glass window provided the needed separation between the two worlds – AC cooled, peaceful, coffee smelt interior from the hot and humid, dusty and dark outside.

“I will also have masala tea with toast. Bring in two” said Mihir, signalling the waiter to leave.

Sam sipped some water from glass, looked at Mihir and said with a smile, “You know Mihir…I might not be a very lovable and popular manager, but I have always delivered the goods. Never ever in my career, I have missed any deadline and nor would allow my team to miss any at this stage of my career. I might be ruthless, but I am effective. I have built my reputation within the organization on this strength. This is my last lesson for you as a manager – never lose sight of the goal i.e. deadline”

He paused for a while. The pride in his eyes was visible, his voice got hard and confident. He continued, “And if it is a deadline and someone in the team will have to die. I mean…will have to work till he is dead…..do you understand?”

Sam laughed loud. Mihir could only match it with a fainted smile.

Sam was Mihir’s manager for last five years. He had now been promoted to senior manager position and was asked by organization to handover his responsibilities to Mihir. He had been grooming Mihir for some years and after handing over most of his responsibilities in last six month, was invited by Mihir for coffee at Sam's favourite café.

“Sam..but where is the line between me as person and me as an employee? Can I allow organizational needs to spoil my personal relation with colleagues?” asked Mihir.

“Aahaa…there you go. Remember….Mihir cease to exist the moment you reach the desk. He is the employee of the organization and should do whatever has been asked by the seniors…whatever is good for the organization” replied Sam.

Waiter had brought the tea and toast, and left after putting it on table. Sam pushed one set towards Mihir and continued after taking a bite of the toast, “You know Mihir…on this very table…I have given termination letter to more than 20 of my colleagues. Do you remember Saurabh? I was very close to him personally but I had to terminate him because organization wanted me to do so. But to control such incidents to some extent and to relieve myself of depression, I made the separation smooth, for all of them, by doing if outside the office with a parting coffee at my favourite cafe…at this very table. That was the only luxury I allowed myself while dealing with my colleagues.”

There was no sign of remorse on his face. Stone faced, he continued sipping tea.

“I understand Sam. But why should an organization lay off an employee who has given his best for years to it. We are a family. If the organization is not doing well, if external business environment is adverse……..other alternatives could be found out like reduction in salaries, or job rotation rather than terminating the services.” countered Mihir.

“It’s easier said than done Mihir. Employees’ salaries are the largest operating expenditure for the organization and it is the first thing we should be controlling. Those who are laid off are not the under performers all the time. Sometimes they are the well paid ones whom company can’t afford in the times of distress.” added Sam.

Mihir had, meanwhile, finished his tea. Sam signalled to the waiter to bring the bill. They walked towards parking after Mihir had paid the bill. Mihir brought out one envelope from his bag and passed it towards Sam, saying "Kiran (senior of Sam) gave it to me to pass on to you as he is outstation at the moment".

“What is it?” asked puzzled Sam and looked at the envelope. It had the seal of the organization with ‘Confidential’ marked in bold red font over it. He tore it apart and immediately his eyes caught the subject line ‘Termination of Service’.

“How can they do this to me? I was promoted just 6 months ago and have I got so expensive in these six months that they can’t afford me now. I had given my blood and sweat for this organization…literally……..I have sacrificed my personal life. And see what did I get in return? “thundered Sam.

He was visibly shaken up. Never did he imagine himself facing such a moment even in his dreams. However hard he might have tried to control, tears were visible in his eyes. He stood still, looking at the car which he has brought on loan some months ago.

Mihir gave him a soft pat on the back, held his hand for a while, and suddenly turned back and walked away, like Sam had done on Saurabh and 19 others.

__END__

Becoming of a Hopeless Nation

I was standing in the queue for speedpost delivery at a non-descript post office in the National Capital Region. There was a long queue for registered and speedpost delivery, while other windows for stamp sale, passbooks and railway reservation were relatively free. Being an Indian one can’t afford to dislike queues. I stood patiently waiting for my turn. Suddenly some people in the queue starting ‘protesting’ and asked the post master to start another window for registered and speedpost service. He first ignored but when the ‘protest’ turned loud he rudely starting counting his own problems like inadequate manpower, lack of facilities and unplanned rush on Saturdays. The verbal duel continued for some time but led to no solution. Post master went back to his seat and we in queue kept waiting for our turn in front of the single window for registered and speedpost services. Then happened another incident, a girl standing suspiciously near the front of the window, kept trying to enter the queue. Others in queue ‘protested’ again. Another tussle erupted, but neither the girl moved nor did our turn came quickly. This experience was different to what I had experienced in my childhood in government offices. Such incidents did happen in those days as well, but we seldom protested. Standing in queue that day, there came the realization that India had finally found its voice.

2012 has been a year of protests in India. We protested against corruption for the larger part of the year. Ramlila Ground to India Gate to Bandra Kurla in Mumbai to smaller towns and villages, we protested against corruption! After a gap, we protested again in end of Dec’12. This time the protests were against the crime against women when the gang rape of a medical student in Delhi became the ‘tipping point’. We, meanwhile, protested against some ministers in the central cabinet, we protested against opposition leader, we protested against black money…and we protested strongly…yes, it is evident, we have found our collective voice. This voice in collaboration with 24*7 media becomes a heavy cocktail. Media gets its story and we romance with the idea of serving to the call of the nation. In this heavy cocktail, we, media and us, have both lost the plot. And add to it the arrogance of those in seats of power, like the post master and ministers, who cushion their arrogance in disguise to save democratic principles and institutions. So finally all of us need to ask ourselves what have we achieved of these protests? Has there been any reduction in corruption or crime against women, which were the main aims of these protests? 

The ruling class also needs to introspect. What’s wrong if people ask for control on corruption and crime against women? Are these unjustified demands or against the constitution? These were the issues over which all political parties could have come together. This could have enhanced the stakes of politicians in eyes of people.  But they failed. They failed miserably. The ruling class off their cocky ignorance saw the public demand and protest as intrusion on their right. Directionless opposition kept shuffling from one side to another for want of immediate gain. Where political class failed, the so called civil society also went into different ways leaving the whole movement into lurch. So as we stand today…people protest, aspiring to live in India of 2050…..politician sleep, still in dreams about India of 1990s………and the civil society, confused and collapsed, needs urgent oxygen.

A solution is reached when both sides reach to a common point. But where is the middle way here? Where is the solution to these problems? In this hoo hoo gulla of protests, arguments, discussions and mud sledging….the whole plot is lost. The basic issues for which we protested are lost. As we hold our heads down in frustration, the elusive light fades somewhere away at horizon. Where is the hope? This is becoming of a hopeless nation.