Alive Mumbai

For days we were waiting for some action…some event… some signal to tell the world that we are not a bunch of stupid citizens who take every bit of the dastardly attacks inflicted upon them, lying down….That day came soon enough, exactly a week after every Mumbaikar spent his night glued to the news channels and helplessly seeing his innocent fellowmen succumbing down to the bullets fired by some unknown brutes.

Never in my life have I made a plan with my friends and been hundred percent sure that it will work out as it was planned to the T… This time it simply couldn’t go wrong…there were to be no excuses, no late comers, no absentees…We had to come together because each of us had made an unspoken promise to our beloved city on an unforgivable night.

Calls and messages started flooding in even before the clock struck 6, the stipulated time to start the protest march to Gateway of India. The area outside Regal was ‘crowded’ in the real sense of the term…you could be standing right opposite a person and yet not see him…Maybe that is what must have happened because we were just not able to spot most of our friends in the rush. The networks were jammed so the only option we had was to go ahead with the flow and make new friends on the way. And trust me, it was quite a sight to see complete strangers coming together to make their strong yet bottled opinions heard.

Moving forward, people started screaming out slogans; some very innovative, some funny and some outright silly…definitely didn’t agree with the people who were echoing chants of ‘Ek do Ek do…Pakistan ko Todh do’…because I for one had come to protest against the inefficiency of our own countrymen and not to shift the blame on to some insecure country, which time and again gets jolted back to reality about its inadequacy to bring India’s might down…To hell with those opportunists, guys let’s take care of our wonderful politicians first, Pakistan’s despicable efforts will automatically bite the dust then.

But there was a lot to keep me from pondering on that particular issue…The colourful posters held up by proud Mumbaikars was a welcome distraction…Let me list a few
1. Mr Terrorist – you wanted us in large numbers na….here we are!!!
2. Dear Chief Minister, Instead of taking RGV to Taj…you should have shown the terrorists RGV Ki Aag, they would have definitely killed themselves then.
3. Bring the bar girls back…They might be able to protect us better.
4. RGV made two Sarkars and helped bring down one.

Mannn…if I had an advertising agency, I would have definitely hired these guys…they were just too good. Secondly it kept pumping up the enthusiasm into each individual who was forced to walk at a snail’s pace, thanks to the overwhelming crowd.

For the first time we didn’t see people complaining about how overcrowded Mumbai is... There was a glint in everyone’s eye which came from knowing that they are doing something worthwhile for the city in their own way. Everyone secretly congratulated each other for turning up and being a part of this once in a lifetime event which we would remember even 50 years down the line. I completely agree with my friend who said, “I have never seen so much crowd in my entire life yet I can bet that there won’t be one single case of the crowd getting out of hand or misbehaviour. That’s the power of tonight.”

That’s the moment when the Taj came into sight…a structure which was already a legend but now it shall be remembered with the gory details of the massacre that changed the life of every individual who takes pride in calling himself a Mumbaikar. Anger, frustration and God knows what all welled up inside me at that instant and I could sense that everyone around me felt just the same.

Moving further, we saw a bunch of people, distributing water, snacks to the people in the gathering for free. Wow…that was thoughtful and something I had least expected, somehow. We also passed people whom we had seen on our way to the Taj. They were still screaming aloud slogans, against the politicians and about the unity of Mumbai, with the same enthusiasm that they oozed one hour ago.

Then we lit candles on the pavement, clicked a lot of snaps of everything around us…after all we wanted to take home every inch of this proud moment.

Before ending this post, I would like to add that the significance of the protest march was heightened when all the radio stations came together and without any need to outdo one another jointly played the song ‘Maa Tujhe Salaam’ on all the radio stations, sharp at 8. Talk about a magnificent conclusion to a breathtaking night…Let’s just hope that the conclusion to the cause we came together for will also be equally bright

Jai Hind!!!

Predictable – Naah

Often heard parents complain that they can’t understand their children. “My kids are straying away from me and act more unpredictable by the day” and other types of rona- dhona that comes out effortlessly every time they want to make themselves sound like victims. My royal foot…on the contrary it is the parents who happen to be the most unpredictable and complex species on the face of earth. You just can’t say what makes them happy or sad and when!!!

I’ll cite a personal example. The other day when I wrote a good story for my column in Mid-day, my father, out of the blue, came up to me and said “You have my support no matter what happens, pursue whichever line of career that makes you happy”. Mannn… I felt so nice, he also added a line which made me immensely emotional….It requires a little background here…

I actually had joined this horrible class for MBA entrance exams called TIME, last December…it sucked more than anything I had ever witnessed, I would have given anything to escape those Maths sessions at 8’o’clock every Sunday morning.

I attended it regularly for 5 months inspite of the knowledge of how badly it killed my Sunday morning plans. But then things changed, the boredom got worse and my lectures in college shifted to 4-8 on Saturday evenings clashing with my MBA classes. That meant that I had to miss 50% of my lectures in TIME i.e. I go only on Sundays and skip the Saturday evening lectures. The other option was to change my MBA batch altogether making it 2 hours every weekday from 7-9 in the morning. For Pete’s sake that was difficult, even getting up in the morning and studying had never worked for me so going to class that early wasn’t even considered as a feasible option.

So I thought and thought and thought a little more. Finally I reached the conclusion that I am wasting my time doing MBA anyway. I wanted to be a journalist; MBA wouldn’t have helped me become one. I needed to get myself a PG degree in Journalism…ya that would be the wise thing to do. So I dropped out of the MBA class feigning much regret. But deep down inside I did feel extremely guilty as I had wasted 20 thousand of my dad’s money on those stupid classes which even while it lasted didn’t benefit me in any way.

Only if I had thought about this change in the career plan six months ago, I would have been 20 thousand richer and minus the monstrous guilt that kept soaring by the day.

Anyway coming back to the point…My father told me ‘Don’t feel bad about the 20 thousand you wasted on MBA classes…atleast now you are clear about what you want to do in life. I feel so proud whenever I see your name in Mid-day.” That last line was killer dude… nearly made me cry. Actually my father is just like me when it comes to suppressing his feelings and emotions. We’ll pull each others leg, fool around but just can’t talk about how we feel from inside infront of people, even close ones…and I felt nice that he was atleast making an effort. So I was on cloud nine for the next few days.

Recently the Diwali vacations started and I told him of my intention of joining a salsa class to pass time. The reaction was totally unexpected… “I am not giving you permission to join any class, I know what you did when you joined that MBA institute, wasting 20 thousand, do all this once you start working and have a fixed schedule.”

Working as a journalist and having a fixed schedule!!!…stumped me, I was always under the impression that the two terms didn’t go together. So I intended to fulfill all my dreams and desires for learning new skills before I fell into that full-time-work trap because people generally don’t have a fixed schedule or free time after they started working. At that time I stood up to him and made my point clear about how dumb his theory sounded, but subconsciously I was just recovering from the effects of what he said especially about that MBA classes, because I still felt guilty about it.

One hour later I was in double minds about whether or not I should go ahead with the salsa class against his strong wishes (read immature). I was in my room when he came in and said very thoughtfully, “You know that dance class seems like a good idea. You must always learn new things in life, after all this is the time to learn, later on you shall be loaded with responsibilities.”

For a moment I thought that maybe he was on drugs. Otherwise why would he contradict the very statement he so confidently made just an hour ago? Then I realized no, definitely no need for drugs there, this change of mind comes naturally to him. After all that’s the way all parents are and have always been, ‘totally totally unpredictable’

Proud Survival

It was one of those mornings when i nicely slept through all those healthy abuses that my mom lovingly hurls at me when i dont get up on time. After acting as a loyal companion for 12 long hours, sleep finally disowned me at 12.55 but it was too late.....i was late for college again.

Skipped a bath and marinated myself in perfume to avoid causing a class genocide before rushing downstairs. Just when i thought that i might be able to make it for the lecture on time i glanced at the road which was practically empty. After running a good mile to the railway station, thanks to unavailability of autos ( nothing new there), i finally managed to jump into the 1.20 local. On seeing me slip into the prized fourth seat, the other three ladies didnt seem too happy. More so, when i asked them to shift... what the heck i wanted to sleep people.

But naah...the wonderful fruitsellers in the train didnt want me to miss out on any action in the train so they happily kept appearing from left, right and centre, forcing me to change my position from time to time to allow their movement. I made a mental note to ask my professor who taught us 'Reporting' if there was a legal act which restricted the entry of these annoying hawkers in the train because I for one wasn't exactly enjoying their presence. More so because it forced me into the fat woman sitting next to me twice .....For goodness sake, I definitely didnt deserve that disapproving expression she dished out at me on those wonderful occasions.

I looked around for some source of entertainment...damn nobody was fighting that day. What had struck these ladies suddenly? I was thinking about this boring inaction when I happened to see a charming kid in the train with lovely eyes and a naughty smile ...

One look at him and a big smile lit up my face too. He was selling a stack of notebooks. He kept screaming “das ka ek das ka ek”. After flashing one of those ‘See I have the best book in the world’ types look he tried to bribe me with that extra sweet smile of his. Though I proudly claim that I am not one of those softies whose heart melts at a wink, I think I had falsified my own claim that day. Never been the kind to shell out money from my own pocket to buy something which can be even remotely useful yet, I couldn’t help buying one of those notebooks, which the boy carried as if it were treasure.

It was only a moment later that it struck me that in a way the books were his treasure. After all he didnt have to live at the mercy of others or even beg for that matter, only because of the heavy bundle that he carefully balanced between his tender hands.

At that very instant the amusement that I initially felt changed into respect for the child. I felt good all of a sudden, here was a mortal who was capable of taking care of himself, his young age not being a deterrent, his poverty was his biggest shield because in a way it helped him in becoming self-dependent.

I looked at myself, I had everything that the child could only dream of, a home to call my own, parents who take care of me selflessly, good health, education and much more than the basic necessities of life. Yet I keep cribbing all the time.

But with a quick glance at the beaming child infront of me, I decided, Cribbing –not any more.

The Shift In Life...

There was a time when we would run all the way upto school, sleep throughout the morning assembly under the pretext of being deeply involved in the prayers and then wait for the fun day to begin.

The temporary seating arrangements would keep changing by the week. But one would constantly keep hoping that one of the days we would accidentally get to sit next to our crush in the classroom.

Incessantly chatting with the teachers. Trying your level best to make sure that they favor you over the rest.

Making friends with all the dons of the class, for help during Pangas

Eagerly waiting for the P.T period and cursing the lazy teacher when she wouldn’t let you go play, conveniently claiming that it is pouring outside.

Taking good advantage of your prefect title whenever you are in a mood to bunk.

Slipping out of the class right under the nose of the teacher when you simply can’t stand her boring lectures

All along making her believe that the prefect is out to do some good for the school.

Seeing a fellow student being thrashed by the principal with a weapon as lethal as the school handbook.

Suppressing the big nasty smile that appears on your face when your friend gives a funny sounding reply to the teacher.

Teasing the teachers for their funny accents, linking them up with each other and making fairytales out of that.

Making place for your partners in crime in the school loo which serves as a fantastic hiding place when a dangerous class test is under progress.

Running helter skelter when you get the news that the principal is on her way to your secret hideout.

Purposely taking part in extra curricular activities so that you get a good solid reason to stay out of class during the Marathi lecture.

Tactfully including all your favorite classmates in the dance events just to have a gala time during the never ending practices.

Crying your lungs out when you get your first bad remark

Praying that the pen mark would miraculously get erased by the time your parents get hold of the calendar.

Dreading the Open-day which your teachers eagerly look forward to.

Hoping that atleast this time the teacher wont start comparing you with your brilliant sister infront of your mum dad.

Hitting the closest mall in the city with your gang each time the exams get over.

Shrugging off the ghastly looks passed by the mall employees when you march ahead with your jhingbang with the clear intention of window shopping

Yet waiting at each counter with an expression which says that you are too keen to buy the expensive looking product at hand when all along you know you have nothing but a 100 rupee note in your pocket.

Going down to the old and reliable (read cheap) McDonalds at the base of Crossroads and hogging on a Chicken McGrill and a McSwirl.

Waiting with bated breaths to see as to who amongst your group members is kind enough to pay the bill this time.

If people have surpassed that kindness long ago then getting out all your chillars and pushing it out on a plate much to the waiter’s disgust.

Hopping into a bus and buying tickets for twelve. Muffling the horrified scream that escapes your lips when a super intelligent friend absent mindedly tears off the tickets right infront of your eyes.

Praying with all your heart that the TC’s are on a strike that day and scanning the bus stop from a distance for signs of the blue clothed man.

Loving the adventurous day spent with your group and wondering how you all would do without each other in the times to come

Shrugging off the idea of separation after school, promising each other that the group will remain intact, the meetings and outings and the fun part will not evaporate as time passes by.

But then the time does pass by, best friends who could not live without each other’s company learn to face life all alone.

Maybe they become so independent that straying away from your older lot becomes the most natural thing to do....

But yes there are some weirdo’s like us who can’t help but cling on to those very memories which we consider as the glorious days of our lives.

And for us poor souls, rewinding and forwarding the cassettes of those memories in the tape recorders of our minds, becomes the chief key to leading a pleasurable life ahead.