Spirituality, Sanctity and Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar

In the Animal kingdom, the male lion is considered the ultimate ruler of the land. A typical lion pride consists of two males and a dozen females. Yet, when the all-powerful males are challenged by young nomadic males, the erstwhile rulers of the land are forced to abandon their territory and are injured and cursed to a slow death. It is no doubt cruel, but that is how nature is meant to work.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar has always been challenged. For the last twenty years, he has been challenged by the stalwarts and the gullible alike. They tried to dethrone him time and again, but lost and then simply moved. From the time civilization flourished, there have been stories of awe and inspiration where mankind has defied the limits defined by the Almighty and embarked upon a journey to achieve a place amongst the Gods. The Gods of course, don’t want a mortal to share their same cult status. But when a man revolts, awakens, inspires a nation of a billion, the power of love in a billion hearts results in a resonating frequency of oscillation which eventually renders even the Almighty impotent. This was not how it was meant to be. He was to retire after playing for a few years and then lead a happy family life with all the money earned. But some people challenge destiny, and when they have the courage to do that, they often succeed.

It is not often that both atheists and theists from different religions, witness Godliness in its purest form and that too, emanating from a human. God cannot be defined universally. He is the omnipotent, the creator, the destroyer, the planner, the executor, the controller or simply free will, faith, or destiny. For the more practical atheists, Divineness is the feeling when you lose yourself in meditation or when you are sloshed in your addiction or when you go through an orgasm or when you love someone unconditionally or when you overcome the boundaries of the society and speak or act from your soul and you find yourself surprised. At such times your energy level escapes the levels credited as sane in everyday life and you experience a tangible feeling which to date has never been explained satisfactorily by science.

Confine yourself to a dark room. Close your eyes. Think of the perfect stance, the perfect grip, the perfect man. Think of the bat hitting the ball, the sweet sound it crackles, envisage the ball rushing through the covers, the straight drive, the upper cut, the hook, the pull, the leg glance, the flick off the pads, the charging down the wicket, the graceful back lift. Experience the wave of tranquility travel from the head through the spine, to the toe. This is the true manifestation of spirituality - to reinvent, rejuvenate yourself. And the one who helps you attain this bliss is The Holy Guru.

India was a very different country in 1989. Deprived, Dependent, Deplorable, Distressed, Depressed. One man took on the mantle to change that. An average Indian returns to his home after yet another oppressive day at work. Then he watches the legend play live on TV and he forgets the unyielding day that just went by. Now imagine this with a billion people, over a period of 20 years. Today, in 2009, we are an optimistic nation. A new generation has been woken up, lead from a state of despair towards hope and beyond. One man has been as much influential in the spiritual progress of this nation as any other in the history of mankind.

For twenty long years, he has held his own. Human memory does not even stretch itself to such a long period. Can everyone even appreciate ‘twenty years’ objectively? It is one third of India’s age. Yet, the same passion, flair, flamboyance and panache are on display, every single time he takes the field with a willow in hand. How difficult is it to fight against a tiring, fragile, broken body with just your mind and will power. Not very, if you have the mental strength to face a deadly Waqar Younis on a fast Karachi pitch with a bleeding face. This after getting hit on the face on your debut match at the age of 16. We must have been in Kindergarten, crying over a broken toy or some crap when the genius had taken his first few steps to glory. And today, after experiencing the joys of yet another masterpiece from the great showman, the country is again overwhelmed and awed by the power of human achievement. In fact, ‘Indianness’ would never have been the same, but for him.

But reality, much like life in general, is a great leveler. The Law of Balance states that ‘When you have the adroitness fit for the Heavens, you often have a bane of unexplained failure. Even the ‘Destined One’ can do only so much. He has been blessed with unfathomable grace, unimaginable talent, unmatched commitment, uncountable records, unparalleled passion. And yet, he has this one chink in his armor – of not being to conclude things, of not being able to win important matches or World Cups, which lesser mortals easily accomplish. It will haunt, torment him, his teammates, his countrymen, his fans around the globe. Aptly they say ‘Sach is Life’. Yet, this very tragic aspect of his game will make his story an epic in the years to come. Victory is not the purpose of sport; the Quest for Heroes is. And there are not many who have attained a status as magnanimous as his.

Yet again we lost a Sachin v/s Australia match. As Australia won and India lost, one man towered over mundanely mortal creations like countries and borders. One man won in a field of Twenty-Two. Tragedy often has an idiosyncrasy associated with it which aids in savoring the jubilation of the impending heyday. Thus, the 5^thof November 2009, forever will be remembered for the magic created by a certain Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar in what was an exemplary spectacle of humanity knocking the gates of Godliness and ultimately swooping past it altogether.

The sky is often at its romantic best just before the dusk. As the sun slowly sets in the distant horizon, luxuriate in the Sanctity while you still can..

SACHINIZATION [Sa-ch-inai-za-shen] - noun

1. The act of redefining an art as it was previously known to mankind.

2. The process of converting from Atheism to Monotheism.

Bombay Dreams And The Raj Nightmares

Mood: Outraged

Song: Salaam BOMBAY

'Mumbai ka don kaun?' growled Biku Mhatre in the movie Satya. But sometimes the problem is that, an ant living in a mountain hole forgets what it really is – a tiny ant. When people give it undue importance, the ant starts growing in arrogance and mistakenly assumes that it can represent the whole mountain itself..

Komal Johar recently apologized to me and other residents of Mumbai because he agreed it was criminal to call my city ‘Bombay’. KJo showed the world that even he can be ‘straight’ sometimes by saying “I have genuinely committed a mistake. I apologize for it.” Bravo KJo, it indeed takes courage to stoop like this.

Being straight was never his/her (still confused) cuppa tea. Dobby Barling recently suffered a broken heart. No, it was not coz Akshay Kumar refused to star opposite him/her, but coz his/her new found love interest was not returning his/her calls and messages. Who? Munaf Patel. All doubts about Love being blind are cleared now! Ewww…

Taj Rhackeray has upturned the politics of Maharashtra recently. Everyone awaits his next circus with bated breath, be it his followers or his adversaries. Nobody wants to upset him; a post-poll alliance with him might work wonders for self. Such love is of course enviable, only that Nazism also appealed to the Germans back then.

Coming back to ants, did you know the Queen Ant mates with several males at one go and then uses the stored sperm at her own will, throughout her lifetime! It’s tough being a male in this world; only one babe and then you die after the first hit. Thankfully humans don’t work that way!

The phenomenon called RT has managed to draw so much media attention to himself in the past several months, that he’s now got the ultimate coverage – He’s on Harryfication now! Successful leaders have always been great manipulators. They conduct a thorough SWOT analysis of the situation and act accordingly. Much like Hitler, RT manages to provoke his audience through his carefully worded speeches. He instigates the natives of this state who have been left behind in the progress of the past decade. Quite simply, it is a brain wash that captures the imagination of the less-educated, deprived and thus a violent class of residents. It often works wonders coz the target population can not think for itself.

The ruling DF Govt. has been woefully pathetic in addressing issues related to industry, agriculture, farmer suicides, etc. The Sena-BJP opposition has been equally spineless. With the Sena being weakened with an ailing mass leader, the charismatic RT has managed to rise over his rather subdued cousin. People like him are opportunistic by-products of a collapsing system in which there is just no development for majority of the local population. People from outside have come, seen and conquered, while a few natives have been left behind in the process of watching others. When a channelized route appears for this discontent, it simply spills over.

Though I would prefer Mumbai, if calling this city ‘Bombay’ can be an insult to ‘Marathi pride’, it indicates a fractured line of thinking. Marathi pride goes much deeper than merely spelling out names. It can be truly experienced in the way the state remembers its heroes, the way it celebrates its zillion festivals throughout the year, the way it honors its artists, poets, etc. Native Maharashtrians have given this city the spirit of tolerance and resilience which is unparalleled in any other city (read my next blog!). Therein lies the uniqueness and true pride of Maharashtra. I don't need authoritarians to tell me what my state is all about.

If RT was genuinely interested in the welfare of the people here, he would have been fighting for the rights of suicide-ridden farmers in Vidarbha, not ransacking movie halls or beating helpless daily wage workers. Shake Up & Wake Up Raj!

Quick Note: If anyone doubted my capability of writing short posts, the first 5 stanzas are 55 word fictions by themselves. Just did it. Tick!

In The Name Of The Holy Swine - The Hysteria..

Mood: Sarcastic, Analytical

Song: Wake Me Up When September Ends!!

Pandemics are nothing new in a world, which has lost nearly 10% of its population in the 1918 Influenza (Spanish flu) outbreak, and 25% of the the 14th century population during Europe’s ‘Great Death'. Back home, the seven Cholera Pandemics, most originating from The Ganges Kumbh Melas have killed millions. The ‘Third Pandemic of Plague’, the Pandemics of Small Pox, Syphilis, the epidemics of Measles, Malaria, Dengue, etc have all wreaked havoc at will. Binding factors in all these cases have been the high mortality rates of 10-20%+ and the lack of any medication.

In the past few years, the WHO has issued warnings for SARS, H5N1 (Bird Flu) and now the Swine Flu. The WHO simply follows a template in each case stating that there may be 150mn deaths in the next five years, in the worst condition. The world media which was waiting with bated breath for some news other than Obama or Osama, laps it up conveniently skipping the 'worst condition'. Govts are forced to act more so for the media than the actual situation. While some countries efficiently follow the protocols of prevention of a contagious disease and contain the disease, it gets funny when it comes to countries like India. We cull a million poultry only to discover later they were not infected with H5N1 in the first place! At the Mumbai airport, we have a single sweet screening question, “Are you suffering from cold or cough?” For the record, even we have these airport checks, just like they have in other countries.

What is more shocking is that, while Bird Flu mania was gripping India, with zillions of chicks being put to sleep (ahem..ahem..) and advisories against non-veg food in full gusto, at exactly the same time, there were 1400 child deaths with a fatality rate of 25% within four months in Uttar Pradesh. The media could not care less. Prime TV-viewing cities Mumbai, Delhi had nothing to do with this. And more importantly, no American importance had been attached to this. The western world was least interested in these ‘inconsequential’ Indian deaths, albeit it outnumbered the entire fatality count of Bird Flu. Our print and digital media often blindly carry forward the sensationalization from the western world, even though it might not be justified here, leading to paranoia and hysteria.

Aah, Swine Flu now! It’s actually been in existence for decades now. The current variant has been named by WHO under the H1N1 strain so as to distinguish it from the original virus. But for the media, ‘Swine Flu’ sounds a lot cooler than ‘H1N1’. (Note: I will use ‘Swine Flu’ here for the same reason) India has been a very late target for the virus. No, it is not because God is biased towards us Indians, but because viruses can not thrive in hot temperatures. Our summers are a natural repellent for all kinds of flu. This also explains why North India is even today virtually isolated from the country in catching this flu. Probably by September end, this ‘pandemic’ will disappear for a while. Good for you and others, but bad for the entrepreneur in me who was planning to sell the Rs.5 mask for Rs.100 tomorrow. On another note, more over N95! The new N97 is here, and it is proven to keep Swine Flu at bay if you promise to lock yourself up in a room for 5 days with one of its kind.

Most of the deadly pandemics have been of first-time discovered diseases which were unique in nature. Plague was as different from Cholera as Shoaib Akhtar is from Britney Spears (Eeeks). Whereas H1N1/H5N1 are just forms of normal influenzawhich gets cured on its own. H1N1 is completely curable with Tamiflu/Relenza and often no medication is needed. In fact, of the 800 people who have been infected in India till now, 600+ are cured completely and are currently selling their stories to media houses and reality shows as you read this. For all the recent madness in Pune, if you were to be born a Thousand times with Swine flu, you will die 7 times from H1N1. In comparison, you will die 293 times from Heart Ailments, 64 times from accidents, 48 times from AIDS, 15 times by suicide and so on. So as of now I just sit and wonder why the world is so obsessed with Swine Flu rather than malaria which has killed 175 times more people this year.

The WHO has predicted 33% Indians will be affected in the next 2 years. Not improbable. But vaccinations are on the way. Besides the human body adapts quickly to viruses in the air. Apparently, we breathe-in an insane lot of viruses, but the human body has grown used to it over a period of time. This is purely nature’s way of maintaining equilibrium. Crap..This Small Pox virus guy just entered through my left nostril.

Going back to the WHO, the worst case scenarios in their warnings are likely only when the virus mutates and also stops responding to all antibiotics. Even so, it can change to either a more dangerous variant or a totally safer variant. The chances of it mutating into a mass-killer as it is made out to be are as ‘strong’ as a lizard suddenly mutating into a Godzilla from Japan’s nuclear waste. So if you are afraid of dying in a Swine Flu pandemic, my Logical Reasoning argues that you should also be equally afraid of encountering a Godzilla on the way back home! (Ok..Sometimes my Libran Logic can go haywire)

Btw why can’t we simply install ourselves with an anti-virus and keep downloading updates every time a new virus goes on a rampage. I tell you, these medical research guys are way too slow compared to our techies at Symantec :|

Quick Note: Being stuck in pandemic-frenzied Pune, I will avoid crowded places, follow guidelines, etc. But not with the fear of desperately wanting to save my life from a dangerous, incurable illness, but to protect myself from an irritating bout of yet another variant of normal influenza.

It Rained That Day..

Mood: Into Dumbledore's Pensieve

Music: Shadow Of The Day

December 21, 2000.

It was 9pm. A little girl was crying. But she did not understand why she was supposed to cry. Her mother was unconscious, lying next to her. That was probably why. There was a small crowd in her chawl today. Most were talking in low murmuring voices. The girl clung on to her mother. She had always been told by her that if she did not eat properly she would hand her over to the cops. And today there had been lots of them in her little house.

In a high rise flat not far away, another girl was laughing merrily. Even she did not know why. She was being made to feel special today. Her mother had cried and hugged her in the evening. Her grandmother had said something about her father now resting in peace. Her aunts and uncles, neighbours, everyone from her jewelry shop had been flocking to their place since evening. Her innocence did not allow her to understand much. But she was smart to sense the happiness in the air.

Ten hours ago; Harish was preparing for his Tenth Prelims. Bored of by-hearting the names of different types of Sheeps reared in North India, he closed his Geography text. He was staring pointlessly through his room window and watching the landing airplanes disappear behind the Powai Hills. Suddenly his Libran Lethargy was broken by a sharp sound. A white Omni had stopped in front of his society main gate. A man in his early thirties jumped off it and ran towards the gate. The car sped off on the main road. Seconds later, two more vehicles entered the society. A third one traced the path of the Omni. The wail was missing but the flashing lights on top were unmistakable.

The gunshot was loud and clear. But it missed the target. The man was now trying to jump the fence and dash into the nearest building. But the specialists were too quick for him. The first hit was in the left leg. He collapsed. But his instincts told him to fight for dear life. He managed to get his revolver from his pocket but the second bullet to his right hand made his efforts futile. Now there were 7 cops surrounding him. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer, hoping to be captured alive. But the chances were grim he knew. It had simply never happened before. Still the thought of his pregnant wife and his 4 year old daughter gave him hope. Hope, that was all he had, now that his smuggled Chinese made revolver lay far from him.

The men in casuals had already started congratulating each other on yet another success, except two of them. One was busy picking the next bullet and handing it to his superior while the latter was busy testing his aim on the fallen man. The third shot hit the helpless man fair and square on the chest. His body went into a bout of fits. He remembered his kill a month ago; the jeweler had gone into a similar state at his hands, much like the 7 others he had killed before that. The cop did not seem satisfied with his aim. Another casual selection of a bullet and another playful trigger of the gun and this time the body was stable.

It was a busy day for the otherwise peaceful colony. First the Police Commissioner inspected the scene and congratulated the cops, then the local media reporters went into a frenzy, more cops arrived for the formalities and finally the Ambulance arrived after a good two hours. Local news was already telecasting the police Inspector describe the incident. "The Chota Rajan gang member was confronted acting on a tip-off. On being asked to surrender, he fired at the police. In self defence the police fired two bullets at his legs, one of which mistakenly hit him on his chest. Immediately an ambulance was summoned and he was rushed to the nearest hospital, but he was declared dead on admission."

By 6pm all that was left was the red stain on the road encircled in white chalk. The colony folks dreaded thinking of the same path to be taken the next morning to work, the path they had been so used to travelling everyday. The marks would make them remember the cold blooded murder each time.

It was Ramzan that day. God or Destiny, whatever you believe in, had it all planned out. The cold December Rain washed off more than just the stains in everyone's mind. Astonishingly, In Mumbai, It Rained That Day..

Quick Opinion: In the year 2000, my society witnessed three encounters, all executed in the same chilling manner. Should I crib about human rights violations by the Mumbai Police..?

No. I will Never.. At the same time, I do feel sorry for the family of the killed ones, particularly the innocent children.

Sometimes Life Is Meant To Be Harsh For No Fault Of Yours..

The Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

Mood: Disturbed

May 19, 2009

Mysore, India.

                 Sr. No.  Emp. No.  Name  Location  Dept.

                    13                 92xxx   Harish Thangaraj              Pune           CMED

I was ecstatic right now. I punched my fist up in the air. I was looking at the posting location portal. After all these months I had finally got my desired posting location today. Now I could travel to my home in Mumbai every weekend. Yes!! You know, I had postponed trimming my hair by 3 weeks because I was so confident that I will get Pune as my posting and then I will be able to visit my favourite salon in Mumbai. So many little things I confidently postponed, taking for granted that I will get Pune at all costs even though the probability was less than 0.2! Paulo Coelho's 'The Alchemist' reminds me, 'When you want something badly enough, the whole world conspires to give it to you.' I couldn't agree more. They say that the cosmic world and the human mind interact in ways still not understood by humanity. Aye, Aye.

Here I am today, standing in this paradise called [Infosys Mysore], having cleared my intense training of 7 months with a CGPA of 4.97. Life here has been nothing short of a spectacular dream. I have made some of my best friends here. A usual day here is anything but that. How many times must I have walked down to my hostel block at 3am and then rushed back to the main GEC building at 7am again. The after-dinner CounterStrike sessions which went well into the wee hours of the morning, the cycling around the campus with friends at 2am, the back-to-back free movies in the multiplex on weekends, I will miss them all. Maybe even the irritating tri-weekly online exams. But the most missed will surely be my batchmates. Never have I interacted so much with non-Mumbai folks. The girl from Roorkee, the guy from Dehradun, from Jaipur, the Punjab Engg Coll grads, the lot from Delhi, Dhanbad, Varanasi...never thought such varied cultures exist and yet, astonishingly, we all think alike.

The bus to Pune was to leave the next day evening. It was midnight. I went around the campus one last time on one of the thousand bicycles. Played Counter Strike till 3am. Then had a quick game of Badminton. Kissed goodbye to the pool table. Played cards with the usual group. Got up early at 7am. Went around with my college folks door to door to bid my fellow batchmates goodbye. Some cried, some hugged and some clicked photos. I did all of these. 'Fear from death shows the intimidating part of Goodbye' says a friend's blog. I can't agree more. As the clock ticked away to 5pm, we sat there trying to freeze time and pondering how much these memories will mean to us in our lives. 

The bus left the campus at 5pm sharp from the Reception Building. I had seen how previous batches moved out of the campus in a similar way, but somehow the feeling today was totally overwhelming.  I held out my N82 and recorded the length and breadth of this wonderland campus from the moving bus. My batchmates in the bus, 43 in total watched in silence as the trees and landscapes whizzed backwards, away from us. 'Summer Of 69' played in my ears, only that, it was signifying the summer four decades later. The Volvo raced out of Mysore in no time and the mood in the bus was now turning slowly vibrant in anticipation of an exciting new phase of life. This Sunday, finally after a break of 7 months I will be back home. I have never been away so long till now. I missed my friends like crazy. Wow, life is indeed being kind to me. Just recently, I had saved 10k in flight fares by not going to Mumbai while all my other friends had gone. For, I was so confident that in a fortnight I will anyways get posted to Pune! Why even think negative. What Rhonda Byrne talks about in his book 'The Secret', is true to the core.

We entered Bangalore around 8.30pm. I swayed to my I-Pod's 'One Step Closer To The End'. Majestic Bus Depot was as chaotic as Dadar Station. Suddenly I remembered how I had first met her at Dadar Station. I will get to meet her now in less than 4 days! Yippieee..! Dinner was to happen now. My lot decided to check out the KFC across the road. After a delightful filling of crisp Chicken, we hopped onto the bus again. My roommate, next to me was already asleep by the time the bus left the city. Linkin Park was now yelling 'In The End'. My thoughts rushed to Pune. It had promised me so much already. Will it deliver all of that? What about the famous [Dome buildings] of Infosys Pune? Will I be lucky enough to work at one of the two Domes? Can I expect bench for atleast a couple of weeks? How will I fit into the corporate world? Too many questions went around in my tiny mind. I simply smiled and thought everything is already decided, destined somewhere up there. Tomorrow morning I start life afresh. The last song in the playlist was 'Stairway To Heaven'. I closed my eyes.

May 22, 2009

Mumbai, India.

A father closed his [newspaper]. Tears rolled down his eyes. His wife lay beside him on the floor. The boy was weeping onto his crossed arms. He remembered the last time he had seen his brother, 7 months ago. They had fought over something trivial and since then they had not been on proper talking terms. He remembered 'The Kite Runner', where Rahim Khan tells Amir, 'There is a way to be good again'. Is it always the case?

[*Newspaper]

5 Infosys staff die as bus overturns

TIMES NEWS NETWORK 

Belgaum: Five new recruits of Infosys were killed and 37 others injured when a KSRTC Airavat Volvo overturned after the driver of the vehicle lost control while negotiating a curve on the outskirts of Nippani town. 
Infosys Technologies head (HR) Mohandas Pai told The Times of India, “A KSRTC Volvo bus taking 43 of our fresh recruits to our Pune office to resume work after the completion of a training programme in our Mysore facility met with an accident at Nippani town.’’ 
Reports say the driver attempted to turn at a high speed and lost control, and the bus turned over. Three persons died on the spot, and the other two at the hospital.

Quick Note 1: I thought editing this post will alter the emotions I experienced when I heard about this tragedy. So I didn't. Also, my fellow Infoscions will relate more to this particular post. 

Quick Note 2: Sometimes we wait for tragedies to happen and then repent our silly grudges. Forgive And Forget. Life Is Always Too Short For Human Mistakes. (Personal Experience...)

The Revenge (555 Fiction)

Mood: Been There, Written That

It was one in the night. He had just returned from work. These IT companies literally suck out the last drop of blood from us, he thought. Tired and exhausted, he flung open the door and pushed himself in. She was no where to be seen. But he seemed too bored to even think about her and headed straight for the bedroom. It was empty. He changed quickly and collapsed onto his bed, fast asleep within seconds.  

It was then that she came out from the kitchen. Stealthily, she entered his room and approached him from his back, hoping to give him a surprise. She placed a peck on his cheeks. But he slept as if he hadn't been touched. She lingered around him vying for his attention. But she got none, for he was purely oblivious to her presence. Another kiss to his lips and this time he seemed to stir. Half asleep, he signaled at her to get away. The previous night's affair was all too fresh in his sub-conscious mind. He wanted to be all alone after another grueling day at work. But it didn't matter to her for she was in mood for mischief tonight. Again...

The lights were off and she was getting into her best. He lay there trying not to get into a situation again at this time of the night. But one fuss too many and then, he could take no more. He got up cursing, but she just managed to hide behind the curtains. Sleepily he shouted at her to come in front of him, but she always had this habit of playing around with him. After all, he looked so innocent when he was mad at her. Cursing, he rolled the blanket back over himself.

It was now three hours into the new day and she again got back to her game. She approached him, this time from his side. She whispered to him that he could satisfy her all night. But he just changed his stance, uninterested. She switched over to his other side now. How he knew she would! She buzzed that he seemed cuter and sweeter than usual. But he had planned out the next turn of events. Out of thin air, he slapped her, fair and square with his strong hands. She lost her balance and fell. Blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. The job was done. She wouldn't disturb him again tonight. She lay there sobbing and too hurt to respond or react. The guy whom she liked so much had hit her. How many times must they have locked lips...And now, he had slapped her. It was all over, she knew. Least bothered, he was already asleep.

Two weeks later: I woke up. It was the sixth time I was dreaming of this. Like a ghost, I had again travelled back in time and witnessed that night's turn of events.

I knew it was just a matter of time now. I was dying. Dengue was now in the advanced stages. I could hear a knell somewhere. The ringing was getting closer and closer each passing minute. Suddenly, I heard a high pitch laughter and then, Revenge Is Oh So Sweet, said a chilling voice, that of the female Aedes aegypti mosquito I had killed a fortnight ago...

Quick Note: This was my attempt at the now-famous 55 word fiction. I just changed it a ‘little’ to suit my lengthy writing style. And, Eureka!!  It turned out to be a 555 word fiction. Always happens with me..Duh..! 

P.S. Please leave a comment if this font is too uneasy to read. Thanks.

Nine Years Later...

Mood: I-don't-want-to-stop-writing.

He logged into his blogger account. There was a comment waiting to be approved. The name spelled ShAiLi - written the way he had always known it. Now he was staring at the screen, frozen and numb. The comment read:

“Hey Nikhil…Heard u r here..Call me. 041743xxxx. And yea, don’t publish this comment!! ;) ”

Nikhil’s mind raced into a flashback. The last time they had talked was 9 years ago, last day of their 12th Board Exams back in Mumbai. He had been searching for her on orkut and facebook for the past few years now. None of Shaili’s friends had her current number. She had probably kept herself out of contact with everyone she knew during those days.

March 12, 2000.

Hotel Ambience, Mulund, Mumbai.

He rushed into the hotel, sternly looking at his watch. “Sorry, I am late.” She blushed, "641 sec to be exact. How could you, Nikku!"

She herself had just made it seconds ago. But of course, she wasn't going to tell him that. She couldn’t let go of this opportunity for some mischief. She pretended anger, hoping to draw a few apologies from him.

But he didn’t seem to be in that mood today. For, he had come with a purpose. He couldn’t let her sweet talk get to him. Not this time, never from now on.

“I want to tell you something Shaili”, his voice drained off. "I think the time has come for me to take the decision, albeit tough. We cannot go any further from here. You don’t realize how much you have impacted me ever since we have met. All I can do is keep thinking about you. Now, I have screwed up my exams. My career has got affected, if you can ever understand what you have done to me.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to see if others were looking at her. In fact all that had ever mattered to her in this world was him, and him alone. They sat in silence. She stared at his deep eyes. The next time she would be doing this would be nine years later, in a far off place.

He continued, “I won’t get a good engineering college here for sure. I will probably move to my uncle's place in Delhi. He has contacts over there. That’s my best chance. And please don't try contacting me...Please.”

Her tear-filled eyes twinkled from the reflection of lights flashed by the vehicles outside. He had expected a reaction here, but got none. He was irritated now. First, she spoils his exams, and now she acts as if she is not at all at fault. He got up. She didn’t change her guard.

“Do you want to say anything?” His voice was now as harsh as any all evening.

“If you have decided what needs to be done, Nikku, do you leave me with any choice? I am just an outsider in this, right?” she whispered in a sarcastic, but shaky tone.

With one hand swirling his Nokia 7110 and the other placing a 100 rupee note on the table, their eyes met, one now lined with rage and the other swelling with tears. And then he turned around and walked.

Over the years, he had consciously lost contact with Shaili and her group of friends. All this while, he had made his career. Professionally he now was all he wanted to become, when he had left her. He was now working in a MNC in the Services sector which returned a handsome pay. Currently he was in Sydney on an assignment for a short term That was when he read this message from his Shaili. He wanted to call her, but couldn't muster the courage to do so. All he did was to leave a voice message. Minutes later he received a text with the location of the biggest Coffee Club outlet in town and the time of the meet.

March 12, 2009.

Coffee Club, Park Street, Sydney.

He was running now. He was late. “Sorry I’m late.” She was already there, “It’s ok Nikhil. I myself came in just now. Sit down.”

He ordered for both of them and then checked her out for a quick second. She hadn’t changed much, very little for nine long years. Of course, she was more beautiful than the last time he had seen her. She wore a white tee and blue jeans. He himself was in the same colors. Then they looked at everything around, the furniture, the TV, the waiters, the vehicles on the road, everything, except each other’s eyes.

“How are you Shaili?” He initiated the talk.

She smiled, “I’m really doing great. I’m completing my Masters here. Just about done now.”

She paused, “It feels so strange to sit in front of you again! I never thought I would get to meet you ever again and that too somewhere far away from Mumbai.”

“Oh it surely is strange. But somehow I always felt we were destined to meet, talk again, atleast one more time in life after all these years.”

They sipped their coffee in silence. She looked into his eyes, the depth in them. It looked more troubled than the last time she had checked them.

She tried to be cheerful, “So, How’s life? How’s Aunty? Girlfriends?” she winked.

“Mom is no more..seven years now. Girlfriend? You really think I could have one, Shaili?”

Preferring not to answer the latter part, all she could say was “Oh, I’m so sorry about your mother.”

So he had no one in his world now. She got lost in a memory of a certain incident with him when he suddenly brought out what he wanted to, all these years..

“I am so sorry Shaili. I was an idiot back then. I was too immature to handle a girl. It should not have ended the way it did. You were no where at fault. I understand I hurt you a lot. Men do that when in love. But believe me, I was struggling myself. You were the only person who ever understood me properly and to-date you remain so. It pains to feel that I could trouble such a person. It has pained every single day throughout the last nine years, Shaili…” His voice fell silent.

“It ok Nikku. Relationships do go wrong. Nothing one can do about it. Somethings are just destined to happen.” She maintained eye contact - with the coffee cuppa.

“No Shaili. I watched my heart die all these years. And now you suddenly come along. There’s got to be a reason for this. Not everything can be left to destiny. We have the power to change things. I can change everything. Can’t we try again…!”

She looked at his face. She could sense intense pain. “It is too late now Nikku. I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Allow? Wow, what a word to use here! And why is it so?”

“Somethings should not change, Nikku. I know how I felt when you left me. I know how much I struggled to get over you, to get you out of my life. It took me 2 years to do that and looking back now, those 2 years were probably the most important period in my life. Pain that doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And I did emerge bruised, but a lot stronger to face my future.”

“Nine years is a lot Nikku. Situations change, things change, people change. You have to change yourself. Don’t keep holding on to likes and dislikes you had years ago. Cause they are just not worth so much time of your precious life. If you couldn’t get them on day one, you will never get them, no matter what. The person you love the most also has the power to hurt you the most. It is bad initially; but slowly the hurt turns into anger. You realize that life is yours and you should live it your way. Time heals, and one fine day the anger goes off and you realize that person just doesn’t affect you the same way anymore. And life just goes on!”

“I remember every moment we spent together, every second I had thought of you. I don’t want to forget any of that. I never can. That’s the thing with memories. They will always be the same, never change, no matter how much the people involved in them change. I love my life the way it has been, I will love it in future, no matter what, cause I love myself the most. And then life is always fair.”

Men do cry. He wiped his tear. She was too engrossed to do it for herself. “Did you find someone after I...I…left you?”

“Please Nikhil…” She paused, “I actually was never interested after that." 

A painful silence followed; one which could have easily lasted their lifetime. Finally she broke it, "Anyways, it’s been long now. My God! 3 hours since we started! I thought I had a better sense of time after all these years!”

He was staring at her eyes now. She kept herself unnecessarily busy with the handbag.

“Forgive me”, whispered one heart to the other. “Forget me” was all the reply it got.

She stood up, “Love we knew can never die; not this moment, never in the future. All the same,  here’s my wedding card. It’s an arranged one of course. Due for next month in India..Do attend...” She could say no more.

With one hand swirling her Nokia N82 and the other placing the card on the table, their eyes met, both now swelling with tears. And then she turned around and walked.