A Man of Eternal Fear - Short Story

“Thou shall not fear, Thou shall not fear,
Even if sky breaks and falls on our head”

Our Hero was born in the same district as Subramaniya Bharathiyar who wrote those everlasting lines. However our hero, Ramalingam, was an embodiment of fear. If only that patriotic poet had seen the way our hero had lead his life, he would have probably turned in his grave. Oops, a cliché, but it is the characters like our hero, who force the writers like me to keep repeating clichés.

To prove to you, that I am not exaggerating the “Fear” factor of Mr. Ramalingam, let us go through a concise tour of his typical day. His usual day begins at morning four. For he believes that early morning dreams will come true, he hinders them out with the assistance of an old alarm timepiece, that has been doing this task for a long time. As soon as he wakes up, the first thing he does, even before adjusting his now half-removed Lungi, is to keep his fingers near his wife’s nose.

His wife, who had been married to this man of fear, has never known that she is being tested if she is alive, every morning by her other half. After making sure, that her lungs are still pumping out Carbon-di-Oxide and taking in Oxygen, he does the next examination, as vigilant as an expert medicinal practitioner. He checks her pulse, and makes sure that heart is still doing its function of pumping out the blood properly. At this point of time, his wife nine out of ten times turns over in her bed. Though she never wakes up, for she is such an ardent sleeper, even an earth quake can’t wake her up before seven; leave alone her husband’s minor livability test.

So our Ramalingam, having made sure that his wife hadn’t passed away, in yesterday’s sleep, will now get up to make clear his other fear’s that has got accumulated over his six hour sleep period. He has to now make sure if his material processions are safe. He first checks his safety vault, the place beneath his bed, and makes sure that his ATM Card (given by his son that won’t have more than Rs.2000 max) and Rs.5000 in cash are safe. Though no sound logic could be proposed, on how some one could ransack that amount without his knowledge from under his bed, he does fear that the money had been stolen on daybreak. But I speculate if there is any burglar who takes such efforts of breaking open a house, and then finding ways of retrieving the cash from under the bed without the knowledge of two sleepers on it, for such a scanty sum. If there is really such a thief, he wouldn’t even get CRR4, if they have their appraisals. Pity thief!

Having done that, he would then go out of the home, and make sure no one has stolen his age old, TVS 50. He will also open the gasoline tank and make sure that the half a liter petrol inside it, had not been stolen. Then he would make a walk around his house and check on his still older bicycle, that will lye harmlessly near the well. Though his wife had repeatedly told him, that no one other than an archeological undergraduate would steal that, he can’t get the fear out that his bicycle had been stolen that day.

Satisfied that no break-in had been committed in his house, the previous day, he would turn on the television. But then there are some traditions to be followed before, turning on the television. He would check the voltage thrice to make sure there are no fluctuations, and then have a peek into the clouds to make sure that there is no chances of lightening any where near his proximity that could affect his television. He even thought of buying a telescope for this reason, but only his tighter purse, after retirement, prevented him from doing that. After the customs are followed, his television would slowly see the light.

His journey of browsing the channels would first begin with Tamil News channels, to get rid of his fear that no awkward occurrence has happened in Tamilnadu, then to NDTV’s and CNN-IBN’s to make sure India is safe and sound, and then to BBC and CNN to make sure the entire human race is secure. He is still waiting for some one to start a News channel to cover news from other planets and galaxies, so in spite of watching all these news channels, a fright would still loiter through his brain, of what if some thing dire had happened some light years away, which could possibly have an effect on him.

If it had been a year before, his next step would be to telephone his son’s family staying in the US to make sure, they are safe. Since his new Gujarati daughter in law had made it clear, that any more dim-witted daily calls from him, to check if they have not died, would force her to file divorce from his son, he had restrained from making that call. However he would call his old friend of him, who is also residing in New York now, and make sure there had been no issues there. After getting a pleasing answer from his friend, he would begin reading amalgamation of yesterday’s newspapers that would have been delivered by now.

He will read and make sure he hadn’t missed any significant news (read as “News that should force him to take additional safety measures”) from a variety of newspapers ranging from ‘The Hindu’ to ‘Dhinabhoomi’. Today, he had read an editorial about how hotel foods are not good for health. His daughter, now residing in Bangalore, would be getting a free sermon today, on why she should cook every day for her children, in spite of being a Project Manager in one of the MNC’s there. Little did he knew, that she would just put the phone on speaker mode, and go on to do her household tasks, whenever he calls. She would just come near the phone, once every five minutes, to say “Yes Dad, Yes Dad”.

By the time he completes reading his newspapers, his wife would have woken up, and would bring him his cup of _______. Now what is there in the cup would vary depending upon what scientific article he had recently read. One day he would say caffeine is good for health, the next day, he would read some where that caffeine is not good and switch from coffee to some thing else. Today what was inside that cup was a cup of buffalo’s milk. It had found favor recently thanks to the “Siddha vaidhya muraigal” (Ways of Siddha medicine) manuscript he had read in the Central District Library, the week before.

The quantity of milk in the cup before him was around half way mark. An optimist would have called it half full, and a pessimist would have called it half empty. But our hero of fear would only think about the possibility of microbes in the milk and the diseases that it would cause. He noted in his mind about the need to enquire about Milk Sterilization machines available in US from his son. It could be better if that apparatus could do it specifically for Buffalo’s milk.

Let’s skip an uneventful his next one hour spent on walking, and once he returned back, he felt a slight soreness in his knees. And now it has set alight a new horror wave of thoughts through his mind. He straight away switched on the computer. Ever since his son had taught him how to use the Internet, that was Ramalingam’s place of visit, during times of panic. He goggled “Knee pain” and came out with thousands of cures, each of which will be tried out in the coming month. Meanwhile he also came up with a list of diseases whose earlier warning sign was a knee pain. That was a even bigger list than cures, and he decided to set up an appointment with doctor to make sure he wasn’t infected with any of those diseases. His instincts told him that the disease that had implicated him was the one with the longest unpronounceable Latin name in the list. Little did he knew, that the disease came only to Africans and that too only for one in one million people. Still those facts wouldn’t have made a difference to him and his fears.

Having been worn out, thanks both to his light sleeps in the night, and his browsing to find out the cause of his knee problem, he decided to take a short nap after his lunch. As he was having his lunch, of carefully selected food substances that he believed would safe guard him against various diseases; his monthly “Reader’s Digest” copy arrived. The edition had an article advising the perils of sleep during the day. Thankfully he didn’t read it before going to nap. However he would be definitely read it by evening and this would be his last mid day nap in the near future that is until he gets to read yet another article that points out the rewards of having mid day nap.

As he is sleeping, we can just skim through his memoirs to know more about his fear factor. No one knows for sure, if it was heredity that his responsible for his fear factor. As none of his old relations are alive now, we can’t find out if he had any great grand fathers, from whom he inherited this great trait. However from his friends, we could know for sure, that he was like this right from his school days, and he was born like that.

Especially his friend, Namasivayam, now a District secretary in a party run by an actor, would tell never-ending stories of his fear factor. For Namasivayam was the greatest beneficiary of it, as he would intimidate him for no cause and get pockets of ground net, slates, pencils as bribe. Our heroes parents thought he was a spend thrift. Little did they know he was actually being bullied. It would be ironical to see Namasivayam threaten Ramalingam, as the latter was actually better built. However, the fact that Ramalingam would fear for every thing right from a Harmless PT Master to the gardener on the way to school, helped Namasivayam to build up his supplies. It’s not fair to say that Ramalingam feared only Humans, as he also feared for every thing right from “Muniyandi God” in village entrance to tiny chameleons.

As he came to Chennai, to pursue his college degree, the only thing that accompanied him besides his luggage, is his fear for every thing. Chennai, then called as Madras, offered him more occasions to dread. He sat in the first row of college for fear of his professors, supplied free cigarettes to his rowdy classmates, for the fear of last benchers, but never smoked any of them for the fear of his parents. By the time he had completed his degree, he would have written more than fifty records (for almost most of his class mates), and did day to day help for half the professors who took classes for him. No one knows even for sure till today, why he even feared college watch man, and supplied him with free Beedis every alternate Fridays.

Thanks to his father’s friend, he some how landed a job at Indian Railways. There people were only too pleased to welcome him, as he show cased his fearing abilities the very first day. He did the work of almost all his colleagues, but still got the admonishment of his superior. Of course the manager could only vent his fury on a guy, who won’t report any thing to the unions, what ever he said. It doesn’t mean that Ramalingam was not a member of any union. He joined the very first day, not wanting to upset Union leaders, who looked like Tamil Film villains. However his manager knew very well, that he was not daring enough to report anything to them, so he continued to irk him.

Mean while Ramalingam feared that even looking at the girl’s features might land him in prison, and he must have been the only guy in Chennai, not to know where Queen Mary’s college was present at that time. As a preventative measure, he began to consider all the girls he knew as sisters, aunts or grand mothers depending on their year of their birth. So it meant unless his parents assisted him in selecting a good girl, he would remain a confirmed bachelor all through his life. And that’s how he was married to a girl, who wasn’t even half good looking as he was.

The girl understood the very first day of their married life; of how uncomplicated it was be in command of him. From then on, Ramalingam had one more human being to dread in his life. Though that didn’t prevent him from loving his wife, but the only concern was he didn’t know how to portray his love for her. He believed that listening to all her hysteric shouting mutely was the best way to show his love. In site of all that, they did help in increasing India’s population by two. Sooner his son and daughter also joined others in utilizing his fear.

The lowest point of his life would be when his son threatened him to sign the mark sheet, without the knowledge of his mother when he had flunked all the subjects. He obliged; and he later used the same fear factor of his father to get support to marry his Gujarati girl friend. His meek threaten of “We will commit suicide” was way too much for this feeble soul.

On the other hand, his daughter also helped herself to what ever she wants. Even now she makes sure she got half of her father’s retirement benefit, spending just a solitary tear as investment. That tear was enough to set panic waves and made Ramalingam give what ever she asked for.

As we had skimmed through Ramalingam’s biography, he had also gotten up from his nap. We could go on and on about his fear for every thing, but I think I have established the fact that he was a man of eternal fear. Hence I am no longer interested in taking you through more of his fear filled life, I would rather take you fast forwarding to the day of his passing away.

He died of massive cardiac arrest. No one knows what news brought about sudden cardiac unrest in him, but as we are sure that could have been more probably due to some inconsequential issue, we not going to be too concerned about it. In fact, we are not even going to spend time watching the reaction of all those people who had a lost a person whom they had threatened all through their life. We will rather move to Heaven to see the discussion regarding his death there, as it might prove more fascinating.


In the Heaven

“Ramalingam is dead”, said the fairy.

After being quiet for few seconds, God replied, “Send him to heaven.”

“But God, he is the lifeless soul that feared the entire life and didn’t do any thing positive. I don’t think he deserves a place in heaven”, the fairy looked offended, and began to doubt why God is having a soft spot towards him.

“Oh, you know the hell is so over booked now days. You know I need to book places for so many corrupt politicians and mean while sports authorities have also started competing with them now,” God said.

He then after a minute of silence added, “I don’t want to squander a place in hell for this guy, because with his fear, he won’t enjoy heaven any ways. So even Heaven would only be like Hell to him”.

Fairy approved and smiled positively towards God.

Nostalgia - Short Story

The End…..

Tip Tip Tip ……

The water droplets started falling on me gradually. The source of the water droplet is the drenched waste cloth that just fell on me. That waste cloth was thrown by Sreethar. He had just wiped his majestic “Royal Enfield Thunderbird” bike with that cloth and threw it over me. I felt spiteful on looking at that bike. It was standing boldly right in the middle of the veranda; the veranda that had been my place. To be more specific, that had been my place till today’s morning. To be frank, I shouldn’t be complaining that I was pushed to the corner. As an old Bajaj M80 scooter, I should be thankful, that I was not yet been sold, and at least still have a place in this corner. Actually I feared I might even be sold this morning….

Today Morning…….

“That’s why I asked you to sell this….” – Sreethar was talking in a deafening voice with his dad and my proud owner. “Don’t raise your voice. After all that was his first vehicle. How can he sell it?” interrupted Sreethar’s mother, who had always played a mediator role between them.

“No Ma, but please understand. Where will I park my bike then?” – Sreethar had just returned a week earlier from Pune; he got transfer from his office there after a mighty struggle and after bogus threats of quitting the company. I was very happy when he came back; I have warm memories of him. However my cheerfulness was short lived, as his bike followed him a weak later. It turned out to be a contender for my place.

“If you want I will leave the bike at the outside. Let some one steal it”, – saying this he stormed into the room furiously, showing his annoyance clearly towards me.

“Its okay pa. I will leave my scooter at the corner. You don’t get angry” – His Dad, slowly moved me from the veranda, towards the corner. I just lost my place of 15 years to this new bike. I could see the tear in his eyes. However I am not sure if that tears were for me or for him. Probably for both of us, as we both felt worthless now.

Today Sreethar may feel that I am useless, but I had not always been useless. In fact I had not ever been once to mechanic shop for major repair, until that fatal day. That fatal day, I met with my first severe accident.

The first accident …..

Sreethar even then didn’t have very good view about me. He was then studying in the third year of his Engineering, but had been pestering his Dad for a new bike.

“I don’t even want for me Dad. At least you buy a new one. I will use it very rarely.” – He always used to say.

“For this Clerk in Government office, who isn’t bold enough to get bribes, who had to marry off three of his younger sister’s with his salary, who had to ….” – His dad went on ranting, but the bottom line was that he couldn’t afford another bike that time. I would have rather preferred if he had said “Nope, I can’t think of any other bike when I have such a valuable scooter”, but was at least contented that I was still of use to them.

However on that day, Sreethar had to rely on me, whatever be his attitude towards me. He was watching an Indo Pak cricket match, when his friend called him. He came out with his newly brought Mobile phone outside the house, as he normally does when he doesn’t want his mother to eavesdrop his secrets. Today his face turned passionate as he listened to the communication from the other side. He right away went inside, came back wearing a better shirt and combing his hair for the first time in his life.

After a moment of indecisiveness, he decided to make use of my services. He started to murmur the then latest love songs and tried to make me go to more than 50 Km per hour. For me who was used to run at conservative secure 35 Km per hour (when his dad drives), it was little too much. On seeing his cheerful mood, I tried my best to help him out. But he didn’t seem to understand my concern, and hurled abuse at me for not moving fast. “I can never meet her, travelling in this tortoise” – he said.

Again his mobile rang, and he decided to attend the call, still trying to gather every bit of pace from me. As his attention was disturbed, I saw the car coming off from a turning at a higher speed. That was one of those rare instances in my life, when I thought “How nice it would be if I had been given a control to stop myself, when in risk.” However when I was made, the science had not yet developed so much, and I had to go and hit straight into the car, putting me in disarray and throwing Sreethar into the nearby bush.

I had to spend 15 days in the mechanic shop, whereas Sreethar spent 3 days more in the hospital. There’s nothing more to say about that incident to you; having said that my interactions with Sreethar had not always been that mournful. We have had happier moments together.

Secret Rendezvous……

It was two thirty in the afternoon on yet another sweltering Sunday. Sreethar tipped out of the house cautiously. His now much famed moustache had then just started to grow and he was then in ninth standard. I was also much younger then and more blissful. He slowly pushed me out of the veranda, careful not to make any noise. For this clandestine rendezvous with me, he always selected this time. This is the time his father would be taking his Sunday afternoon nap after having heavy meals. His mother and younger sister would have gone to the aunt’s house in the next street.

So there will be no one in the house, to warn him that he is too immature to drive a scooter. He will not start me till he reaches the end of the road, to make sure he doesn’t wake his dad up. Once he reaches the main road, he will kick start me. Normally he will succeed in third or fourth attempt. He will then proceed through the streets, where none of his relatives and his father’s friends resides.

Then within an hour, I would be back in my usual place in verandah, before his father wakes up and drives me to a Siva temple, where he will meet his set of friends. I just used to love those days.

But then it was not that Sreethar started driving me only when he was in ninth standard. He used to partially drive me, even when he was as little as in forth standard. Those were much sweeter memories.

Much Younger Days…..

The beautiful moments of when I was driven partially always happened, when Sreethar’s dad takes him alone on me to a trip to some far-flung places outside the city on weekends. Those were days, when I was very new having been just brought. It also coincided with the time, when Sreethar’s mother was carrying her second child. As Sreethar’s dad wanted to drive me as much as possible, and his wife refused to accompany him, citing pregnancy as the reason, Sreethar always got the chance to accompany him. As they crossed the city limits, and reached empty roads, Sreethar, sitting in front of his dad, was given the opportunity to control the accelerator alone. With the combination of horrified and passionate look in his face, he used to control the accelerator, driving me carefully only in thirties. He always used to listen to his Dad’s instruction of “Slow down, go little quicker” carefully, and handle me so well. Thinking back now, it must have been the most wonderful moment of my life, but then there was one more day. The day I was brought by his dad.

Genesis

That was a week before Diwali. I was just brought by Sreethar’s dad. I still remember the day so vividly. I was moved to the centre of the verandah. Sreethar, his mom, dad, and his grand dad all looked at me in awe. I was given special Poojas. Every one just adored me. I felt so proud about myself. It was then Sreethar’s dad noticed a small dust over my seat. He felt so troubled, that he immediately shouted at this wife to bring a wet waste cloth. He cleaned the dirt carefully. I was proud that I was brought by people who take such a good care of me. He threw the wet cloth after cleaning me. It went and fell on the old cycle standing in the corner. I looked at the bicycle in a degrading way. The water droplets started falling on the bicycle gradually….

Tip Tip Tip ……

Myself in 26 verbs- Part 2 (Myelf and Praying)

The other articles in this series can be read here : Introduction to "Myself in 26 verbs"
Myself and Acting

A I had started off with a Verb starting with A, you would be expecting for a veb starting with B. However I felt it’s time to astonish you. I am going to write about a verb starting with P – Myself and Praying that is; After all even Thiruvalluvar did began his work “Praising the God”; let me follow the best poet the human race ever had.

Myself and Praying:

When you are a child, your faith in God is supposed to be directly proportional to your parent’s conviction in God. I was no different. My dad was a devout Hindu – for him temples are best tourist places, and sending considerable time every day with God, chanting Mantras is a routine. I was no different too. I believed that nothing is more important that praying to God. One of the most vivid reminiscence that flashes across my brains as I think of my faith in God is the clash I had with my cousin Vignesh.

My clash with Vignesh

Those were not days of CD and DVD Players and movie downloads from Internet. If you had to watch a movie, you either go to a theatre or hire a VCD Player and bunch of videos. We very rarely go to theatre; however during summer holidays, when all my cousins are gathered at my house, my Dad used to rent a VCD Player. One such time, along with VCD player, he rented quite a few movies; few latest ones, and few old movies based on stories of God (of course acted by Sivaji). When every one wanted to watch latest movies first, I couldn’t just grasp it. “How could some one not watch movies of God fist?” – I began to wonder. I had no doubts what so ever in my mind, that God will be awfully disappointed with their stance.

That was what led to my brawl with Vignesh, as he was the most vocal backer of watching latest Movies First. It looks silly to me now, but then at that age, I earnestly believed what ever was said about God. It led me to get a name a one of the most God Fearing Kid, among my relatives. After all who doesn’t like a God Fearing Kid?

Doubting my Elders

Meanwhile it is not that I blindly believed what ever is said about God. I used to view them with suspicion, but I never conveyed it to my elders. This made them think I believed what ever they said. I will offer one instance that I can think of straight away. My Grand ma used to say, that if we keep our hands on floor while eating, ‘Bhooma Devi’ (Goddess of Earth) will take up what ever we eat. I always had this uncertainty of what will occur, if we keep our hands down while we consume Non Vegetarian food. After all Goddess are not supposed to eat Non Vegetarian foodstuff, so what she will do. However I kept my reservation with in myself, and complied with my grand ma’ appeal always. I am glad that I did that, for that helped me in developing fine sitting posture.

One more thing, that always surprised me during my numerous visits to temple with my Dad, is the relative quantity of time my Dad spent near each God. He always used to spend more time near the Major God in Temple, and less time with other Minor Gods. I can never comprehend how come there was prejudice shown even towards different types of God.

Inner Meanings of Stories

I always tried to identify the inner significance of the stories of God, rather than just take pleasure in the slaying of Demons and Devils in it.

For example, once as we were playing, one of my cousins poured sand on God, for we didn’t have milk to offer to God. One of my elder cousins watching that was angrier on me than my cousin. “You know so much about God. How can you allow him to put sand on God? Wont God be annoyed.” I could never really work out why she was so angry. After all I had grown up listening to stories, where God had even accepted pork, if offered with good intent. (Kannappa Nayanar tale) “So why would he be livid just because sand was offered. That too with good intention by a naive kid?” – I wanted to ask, but my “Never Upset Elders” mind-set made me remain quiet and also express regret to her.

Influence of my Mother and Grand Ma

Though my Dad was very God fearing guy, my mother and Grand mother were more realistic people. Both my mother and Grand Ma, used to pray/chat to God like as though He was their associate / well wisher. I liked that sort of praying to God, rather than mere chanting of mantras. More over, both of them explained the rational thought behind praying to God, and answered my regular questions of God with rational explanations.

“It is always good to have some one we can turn up to, in times of difficulty” – My mother used to say, while talking of God. “There is only one God, but we worship him in diverse forms. We also worship great human beings who had God like traits” – My grand ma said when I asked for the count of Gods.

Middle School Days

With me joining a Catholic institute in sixth standard, my familiarity was extended to other religions too; and I started saying the Christian prayers in school with the same spirituality and truthfulness with which I used to say prayers to Hindu Gods at my home. I could never feel any dissimilarity between both of them. I also enjoyed the parables in Bible in the same way I enjoyed the Hindu mythological stories. It also helped me that I had the luck of being taught by some very secular teachers like Mr. Ambrose. He used to tell about the greatness of Thiruvannamalai mountains where Lord Shiva abodes. Teachers like him strengthened my conviction that in what ever name God was called, he was similar.


Higher Secondrary School Days

I faced an authentic examination on my spiritual viewpoint during my Eleventh standard. I had a friend called Pradeep, who was Hindu by birth, but got converted to Christianity. He used to tell me all the negativities of Hinduism and his one and only purpose of life must have been to some how make me switch loyalty to Christianity. During those times, I had restless nights, wondering if I had been following an erroneous religion till then. However instead of believing him, I decided to find it out myself. I started reading a lot about religions at that time. I found out that each and every religion had its greatness and also had their short comings and Hinduism was not immune to it.

What Pradeep had done successfully was, he had only pointed out short comings of Hinduism to me. Having found that all religions are one and the same, I also decided that with lot of varieties that Hinduism offers, it is most appropriate to me. Hence I was relieved that I had been following the right religion. I continued to be good friend of Pradeep, and still believe that religious belief and viewpoint, can never affect a good comradeship. I would always be grateful to him, for he gave me an opening to explore about religions, though his intentions were different.

Though I had always remained secular; it was more obvious during my Twelfth Board Examination. I used to pray from outside a mosque near Minjur Railway station, as I start for the examination. Then I go to church near our school and offer my prayers. To conclude it I go to a Shiva temple near the school in which I had to take my examinations. Even today as I pray, I don’t to pray to any specific Gods. I always address my prayers to God (Kaduval or Andava in Tamil) rather than addressing a particular God.

My Philosophies of God and Prayer

During my college days and now during my office days, my dealings with prayers mostly involve analyzing my viewpoint of God with in myself. Whenever I do get free time, I start thinking and reading about various philosophies of God, and come up with what seems to be a perfect philosophy to me. These views and philosophies might not be original, but that fact that I found it myself and found that best to me, always gives me a sort of close bonding with these theories and philosophies. Let me explain to you few of those philosophies now; -

My philosophy of God is very straightforward. I mean, it is uncomplicated to me, but if I begin elucidating in words, it may start sounding complex. Any ways, let me give it a try.

“I am not sure if God Exist or not, but what I am sure is I could never find an accurate answer for it in my life time. However the confidence that God exists had helped me so far in life, and I am going to carry on with that conviction.”

Its like when we are childish, the mere thought that our parents are around will soothe us, even though the parents might not actually be physically present. Same way, the simple notion that the God is there to steer me and show me the light, will always help and I don’t want to ruin that belief.

I have always been sane enough to know that prayers can’t execute miracles. However what prayers can do is, help us execute our works to the best of our skill and help us to focus all our efforts and vigor at the task at our hand. That’s why I love this excerpt that says “Praying to God doesn’t make mountain smaller; but it makes climbing easier.”

Hold on. I can actually keep on going about my various philosophies regarding prayers, religion and God, but then I wont end this piece of writing. Let me write about the same some where later, but as of now, I feel I have taken you through an adequate voyage of my progression with respect to praying. So let me stop this article here.

PS: Oops, Sorry Rakesh for one more abrupt ending. Will try to end the next one better.

Myself in 26 verbs - Part 1 (Myself and Acting)

Before, reading this article, you could read, why I started writing this series here => Introduction to Myself in 26 Verbs

Even Tamil Saint Tiruvalluvar, started his work with the first letter of the Tamil Alphabet. I have decided to follow his foot steps. So here I am beginning my “Myself in 26 Verbs” with the Verb starting in the first letter of the English Alphabet, ‘A’.

Myself and Acting:


Before the commencement of this piece of writing, I want to give you a statutory advice. When I say ‘Acting’, I only mean Official Acting. This article will not speak about “Unofficial Acting”. For those who are baffled about the difference between Official and Unofficial Acting, here is the meaning from Subbu’s Dictionary.

“Official Acting is where the spectators are aware the concerned person is acting. If the Viewer is not aware that the concerned person is acting, then it is called ‘Unofficial Acting’.

Still confused? Thought so. Definitions in Subbu’s dictionary are so technical, that mere mortals like you, won’t be able to grasp it. It requires a PHD in English Literature to comprehend ‘Subbu’s Dictionary’. Let me explain ‘Unofficial Acting’ with an uncomplicated illustration, that even layman would appreciate.

Let’s say there was a Chemistry Teacher from your school, you hated the most. Now, you come across him / her as you cross the road. When they smile at you, you are expected to smile back. At that time, you will be reminded about the way he/ she distressed you in the class rooms, but still you are expected to smile back. Your inner heart will be commanding you to aim the stone lying near by at his/her neck, but still you have to disguise the feelings and grin at him/her. The teacher, oblivious of your inner sentiment, would go back thinking “What a respectful students he is! Those days students were so nice, when compared with the morons today”, totally forgetting that we were shoddier than the current set of students, when we were at school.

This is what, I mean by ‘Unofficial acting’ and the reasons for not writing about it are two fold. First is that, My chemistry teacher might actually end up reading this blog, and all the good name that I had acquired through ‘Unofficial Acting’ might fade away in no time. I don’t want to take that risk. Second reason is that, if I start writing about it, there is a danger of Internet going out of space. That is an overstatement of course; but I hope you got the point. After all writers are allowed to exaggerate a bit, so you shouldn’t grumble. If I start explaining my life without exaggeration, then my blog might end up as your sleeping medication; in the same way my engineering text books acted as my sleeping pills cum head support, during those four long years.

Okay, enough of my blabbering. Let us get back to our topic, “Myself and Acting” or to put it exactly “Myself and ‘Official’ Acting”.

Like most of you, majority of my acting was restricted to the annual day celebrations during my primary school days. I, as some of you might be aware, studied in the school run my mother from UKG to Fifth standard. (I studied less than three moths of LKG. So those of you, whose kids aren’t doing well in LKG, beware, your kid might turn up like me). There I got a chance to act in the Annual Day celebrations every year. No, don’t blame my mother for soft spot shown towards her son. You could blame my mother for many things, but showing partiality toward her son, could never be the reason for it. For her, all the kids studying in her school are one and the same.

When my mother was studying and then working as a teacher in another private school, one thing always annoyed her. Whenever there was any event, only the smartest and cutest kids were preferred to take part. Hence she vowed that when ever she starts her own school, she would give chance for each and every kid, irrespective of their brightness or beauty. That is the reason; I got a chance to participate in all the Annual Day celebration.

Now, during annual day, we were given a choice of whether to participate in play or Dance. Most of them selected Dance, for reasons I can never work out. However I always ended up selecting Drama. The official reason to who ever asked was that “I hate Dance”. The true explanation was – No your guess was wrong. It is not because I don’t know to dance. For that matter, I don’t know to act also. Fact was, in some of the dance, you could end up being asked to dance along with the girls. For some reason, at that age, I couldn’t digest the idea of dancing along with the girls. “Acting with the girls” is fine, but Dancing, it’s yuck.

Dancing along with the girls could also make me an object of fun, among my class mates, relatives etc. That is the risk I never wanted to take. However I couldn’t tell this as a reason to my mother. Hence I maintained the version of “I hate Dance”. If I had told my mother, the true reason for not dancing then, I might have got a chance to dance for a “Boys only dance”. However, I never told it, and as a result, I had to act in all the six Annual Day Celebrations in our school. The most daunting task in that, is to convince at least few of my friends to act, so that I don’t end up being the only person for Acting, whereas every one else is dancing.

However acting, didn’t stop me from getting ridiculed either. In one of the Annual Day, I had to act as a Father, taking his daughter to a Toy’s shop. The skit involved showing the performance of each Toy to my daughter. This was one of the ideas of my mother, to get as many kids to act, irrespective of their gift. As a kid, who can only recite a poem, could be made up as a “Poem Reciting Doll”, and a kid who can’t even do that as a “Head shaking doll”; whereas highly talented kids, could act as complex dolls. Nice Idea. Only draw back is that I was made fun of, for already being a Dad when I was in first standard.

Thankfully, from second to fifth standard, my mother gave me rolls, that no one could make fun of. In Second, I acted as India’s first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. My cousin Arun (Anna) wrote and gave me a big speech in English about Nehru that I memorized and recited. I remember the new Pyjama Kurtha and the rose more than that speech now.

In Third Standard, it was the comic Tamil story of Paramatha Guru and his foolish disciples. My dad even got a “Paramatha Guru” book for the same, as I enacted the role of ‘Paramatha Guru. I am not sure, if the comic play elicited any laughter from the audience, but we definitely enjoyed the show.

In Fourth Standard, I played the role of Tamil God Muruga, in the play that enacted few scenes from “Thiruvillayadal” (Plays of Lord Shiva). I enjoyed that role, though only thing that kept bothering me was the attire. The rented costume for Lord Muruga kept infuriating me. However, I enjoyed the role so much, that I even remember few of the dialogues now. My favorite being “Illaya pillay yenral yedupar Kai Pillaya” that roughly translates into “Is the younger child, less favorite child”. (May be I liked this dialogue, as I was the eldest child in my family) This dialogue was narrated as “Vinayaga” gets the Divine fruit, after coming around the parents, saying that parents are equal to World.

However the most memorable aspect of the skit was Saravanan who acted as Vinayaga. During the annual day, pomegranate was given as the Divine fruit. He, who was studying in third standard then, thinking that it was a mango, started eating the fruit along with the skin. He with his recently removed trunk, lying near by, trying to bit through thick Pomegranate skin, made us all laugh like any thing. With myself also named after “Muruga” and as I also acted his role, he became my favorite God for some time during that time period.

Then came the fifth standard, my last year at my mother’s school. My mother decided to feature a play on Sillapdhigaram (One of the Tamil Epics, where Kannagi plays the lead role.) My mother felt, one of my class mate Amuda was well suited for Kannagi’s role, and she wanted this play to be featured. I played the role of the Pandiya King, who gives a wrong judgment and kills Kannagi’s husband. It surprised many, that being my last year in her school, my mother did not feature me in a play, where I get a chance to play the lead role. However knowing my mother too well, I wasn’t even a single bit astonished.

The only major difficulty of playing the role came when; I had to remove my crown. As Kannagi proves, that I caused injustice, I had to remove my ‘Crown’ saying that I’m not worthy of it. However, when I tried to remove my crown, my wig came along with it. Some how, I managed to remove my crown alone.

As I moved to St. Mary’s AI HS School to further my schooling, and later at SRM Engineering College, I put my acting skills to rest. During those eleven years, the only time I came close to acting was when was we went for outing to Ooty during our tenth standard. We had a camp fire, and each team had to perform a play. Our team planned a nice skit; however, with mikes not working properly, all skits were cancelled during camp fire, thereby leaving, my acting skills left unnoticed.

After college, as I joined Infosys Technologies Limited, we had an intensive four months training. Once our Technical training got completed, we had a week of soft skill training organized by “Infosys Leadership Institute (ILI)”. Though many felt those sessions were boring, I for one always enjoyed them very much. In one of the sessions, each group had to represent different styles of leadership with an example. With many not ready to take up the acting role, I took gleefully the opportunity to act like an “Indian style egotistical Boss”. My team mates appreciated my performance, and I felt happy that my Primary School acting skills hadn’t forsaken me.

The only other acting chance I got so far was during a “RETL Mela Event” conducted by our Retail Department in Infosys. Our account depicted a Mime about “Railway Safety”, and I played a major part of that play. If I had not been there, that play wouldn’t have taken place. I played the role of one of the Railway Platform :)

Myself in 26 verbs (Introduction)

Every writer from Shakespeare to Jeffery Archer would have gone through this sort of phase. The “How to Write Short stories/ novels sort of books”, that I used to read, when I was in college, term this phase as “Writer’s Block” (Read it as politically correct way of saying “I had been lazy for long, and didn’t write anything). The best way to get out of this block is to write something – those books used to counsel. Write Something – What “Something”, shall I write about, to get out of this block? (By the way “Something” is not really a silly word, in fact there is even one website called www.something.com).

All said and done, I decided that I had to write about something that I know very well about. What do I know very well about? Cricket? But then there would be definitely many guys out there, who know more about cricket than me. Politics? Writing? Education? Same holds good for all of them too. I am not an expert on anything. But then there is one guy about whom I know more than anyone else. If you can’t guess who that guy is, please stop reading. I don’t want dumb wits like you to read my epic work. (Oops, now I know what my major shortcoming is. From starting to write just for the sake of coming out of Writer’s Block, now I want to write an epic, dreadful!!!)

Okay, so you might ask, “who will want to read about you”? Didn’t people want to read about an orphan in England (Oliver Twist)? Didn’t people want to read about a small petty thief in Punjab (Train to Pakistan)? Didn’t people want to read about a cruel Jew and a Kind Merchant (Merchant of Venice)? So why won’t people want to read about me. Fact is people will read about anything, as long it is presented interestingly. The catch here is only way you can find out if I write interestingly is by reading through this epic. If I could manage to write interestingly about a boring life of mine, I am sure I can write New York Times Bestselling Novels in the future. No, I don’t want to write novels that wins Nobel Prize. Even my mother won’t read my novels then.

Having decided the theme of my work, I now need to decide how I can make it interesting. I want to present it in an interesting way. I don’t want to begin my story saying “Once upon a time”. You know, how difficult it is to write a life history of a guy, who has never done anything worthy in his life. How can I write interestingly about a guy, who doesn’t even have a girl friend? Nevertheless I am going to write. If even I don’t write about me, then who will?

Eureka!!! I found a way to make this story interesting. I am going to describe myself in 26 verbs, one verb from each alphabet. What an idea!!! I can read the News York Times review now itself in foresight, “What an intelligent way of telling a boring, dull life story”. So here begins my tryst with 26 verbs. India began its tryst with destiny at midnight and has done reasonably well. I am beginning my tryst
with 26 verbs @ 7.45 pm Indian Standard Time. Let’s see how I execute it.

PS: I will try to post at least 2 - 3 verbs per week. If I don't do it, please scold me in very bad words. Let's see if at least that forces me to write regularly.

Following Our Passion

Every one of us who are reading this article is working in a Software Industry. Now guys, answer this question honestly. How many of you honestly wanted to work in a software Industry in the first place. I could hear more than fifty percentages of you shouting a big “NO”.

But then why are we working here? There could be hundreds of reasons. And I’m sure most of them are valid ones too. It is easy to say, “Go and Follow your Dreams”. But then how easy is that to follow it in reality. For a day or too, we would fiddle our minds with the thought of “Following the Dreams”. But then once our next credit card bill comes up, or when we listen to our parents discussing silently about paying the loan next month, reality would sink in.

After all just for following our dreams, it’s not fair to give more difficulties to our parents. They have already suffered enough for us, as they have taken care of us for more than twenty years. No other Animals except Humans take care of the young ones so long. Last thing, they want us to do now, is quit our safe job now, and take risks.

So how are we to follow our dreams? We don’t work 24 * 7 hours. Most of the software companies don’t work on weekends. Why can’t we use them as time to follow the passion? One might argue weekends are time to catch up with friends, both in real world and in virtual world through Face book and Orkut.

However what if you friends try to find a common passion and follow it. It helps us to serve two masters at the same time. You not only get time to catch up with friends, but you also don’t while away the time doing useless things. You make that useful, by taking one step at a time, towards a summit of achieving your passion. Face book no longer will remain as a place of useless status messages. It will be one more place for you to let other know about you and your passion. It will just serve as one more stepping stone.

These are not my own ideas, and these are not unattainable. Don’t think, it is possible only in Utopia. My friend Siva, together with his gang of friends, has just done in real whatever I had said so far in this article. His Passion is Music. He is a great Key Board player and Music Composer. And like each and every one of us, he is also working in Software Industry. And of course he can’t quit following his passion, just like most of us.

However he and his friends joined hands during weekends and late nights. They not only got time to catch up, but also found a chance to follow their passion. And follow their passion – they did with unwavering commitment. Their hard work has yielded results today. They have launched a Booksai (a combination of book and Music).

Ranam Sugam is a musical novelette that satisfies multiple senses of us at one go. The story line might be a simple love story, but it was effectively narrated and the music is also soothing to ears. This is not exaggeration guys, just because Siva is my friend – Quite a few Directors and Music Directors who got a chance to go through their work, have voiced similar sentiments. (You can know more about them at www.ranamsugam.com)

While going through their website, this thought crossed my mind. “Oops. These guys have done justice to their God given talents. Have I done the same?” These guys have kindled a burning fire in me to follow my passion. And they have showed me a way too, to do that without leaving my financial security and without completely cutting myself away from my friends.

I have not written this article to make you buy Siva’s works. I have not written this article to force you also follow your dreams. I know my writing ability is not that great to convince people to do something. However on seeing their work, my Guilty at not following my passion, nor doing justice to my talents, struck me hard. My passion is writing and I haven’t done any proper writing for some time now. I wanted to write something immediately, something that will help me get over the writer’s block, that I had been suffering from.

Thanks Siva and friends, for rekindling my passion ……………..

Sessions that saw India reach its Zenith

Having been a fan of Indian cricket team for more than fifteen years, I had to face quite a few disappointments; but then the boys in Blue also delivered Magic often, that forced me too keep my loyalty unwavering. The T20 World cup win in 2007, Dream run to world cup finals in 2003, Sachin’s amazing run in Sharjah, some wonderful chases (against Pakistan in Dhaka and England in Lords) have all made me cheerful.

But then like any other true cricket fan, I love Test cricket more than any other form. Hence now as India sits comfortably on the Top of the table, this is one of my most treasured moments. Great wars are won or lost on some crucial battles. Similarly test matches as most of you would agree, were won or lost on one or two crucial sessions.

So here is the compilation of some of the most amazing sessions of play that propelled India to this zenith.

PS: a) For its ranking ICC has considered only matches from August 2006. So I have also considered only those matches.
b) The sessions are not rated from 1 to 10. They are just sorted based on past to present.

Sree swings it India’s way at Wanderers.

Vs South Africa @ Wanderers, Day 2 Post Lunch Session



Indian batsmen have often failed the acid test in fast seaming pitches abroad. So I was bewildered when an Indian pace men dished out the same treatment to the opposition. Before this series, South African coach wanted fast bouncy pitches to test Indian batsman. However it was the Home team that danced to the tunes of the Kerela Fast bowler who loves break dance. This session saw Sreesanth take a five wicket haul and also dismiss South Africa for their lowest total (84) since their readmission into International Cricket. The session also set up first Test victory for India on the soils where Gandhi began his struggle.

Zaheer shows his class in England:

Vs England @ Trent Bridge, Day 4 Post Tea Session

After surviving the first match of the series with a draw, thanks to Dhoni and rain, India took a mammoth 283 run lead in the first innings of the second test. However by Tea on the fourth day, England erased much of the deficit (221) for the loss of just three wickets. Even Post tea session began to go England’s way, as they erased the deficit without losing any more wickets. It was then with second new ball in hand, Zaheer paid back for the Jelly Beans Joke England played on him when he was batting. In one over, he removed English Skipper and centurion Vaughan and Bell, to complete his five wicket haul. Kumble polished of the tail as usual, and by the end of the day Indian openers even began to bat chasing the modest target, that eventually gave them a win over their former colonial rulers on their 200th test match abroad.

Rookie Pacer troubles Ponting:

Vs Australia @ Perth, Day 4 Morning Session


Just one Australian wicket fell in this session. But then no sane Indian cricket fan would forget this session. It was in this session, Ricky Ponting; one of the best test batsmen in the World was all at sea facing a rookie Indian Pace Bowler at perth, known for its pace and bounce. There were edges, Close LBW shouts, near misses and what not. We have to give credit to Pointing as very few batsmen would have survived such carnage of spell for so long. Ishant was getting tired and Kumble was about to take him of the attack, when Shewag, Ishant’s Ranji team mate, asked him to bowl one more over. “haan, main karoonga” (Yes, I will bowl one) said Ishant, and Pointing edged the very first ball of the over to Dravid’s safe hands at slips, and walked back to pavilion having been sorted out by a youngster twice in the same match. Such was the impact of the spell, that it not only gave India a famous victory after Sydney episode, but has also made it difficult for selectors to drop Ishant, even when he is not delivering the goods.



Sehwag cracks Mendis mystery and Murali magic:

Vs Srilanka @ Galle, Day 1 Morning Session

In the first test of the series India scored only 223 and 138. Mystery man Mendis making his debut picked up 8wickets, while magical off spinner Murali accounted for 11 Indian men. Every one was wondering how the Indians were going to tackle the spin combo in the rest of the series. Sehwag showed them how, by adding 151 runs in the first session of the Day1 along with his friend Gambhir. In Mendis second over of the match, Shewag hit a huge six and then picked up a two fingered googly easily and cut it past point for four later in the same over. Murali bowled a Doosra on his very fast ball and Sehwag crashed it to deep point boundary to reach his fifty. He would continue to show how to handle the spinners and reach 200, but none of the Indian batsman will learn the lesson, as Mendis would once more pick six wickets. However, Sehwag’s knock did help India level series.


Defensive tactics or Great Cricketing Acumen???

Vs Australia @ Nagpur Day 3, Morning Session

Only 42 runs were scored in the session in 24 overs bowled. Only one wicket fell. Passage of plays like this separate test match fans from T20 fans. Any one can enjoy Shewag murdering Murali and Mendis; but only true cricket fans can enjoy the session that saw Indians bowl wide outside off stump with packed offside field. India lead the series 1 nil, and hence they just needed a draw to win the series. Though Indians scored 441 in the first Innings, Aussies had raced off to 189/2 at the end of second day’s play. Indians were guilty of bowling too many boundary balls, and wanted to some how dry up the runs. It was then Dhoni came up with this plan on the Third day morning. You may call it Master piece thinking or a defensive ploy that kills Test cricket, but the fact of the matter is the session helped India seize the momentum and dismiss Australia by the end of the day’s play and get a healthy lead. India went on to win the match and the Border Gavaskar trophy, and this tortoise like session did help India to turn the tables against the then World Number one side.


Sehwag delivers Knock out Punch:

Vs England @ Chennai Day 4, Post Tea session

In this test series that happened just after Mumbai blast, England won each session till Tea of the fourth day. Just after tea, as they declared setting India a massive target of 387, every one thought only two results were possible – draw or an England victory. History points out how difficult it is to chase huge total on the fourth innings in subcontinent pitches with its wear and tear and hence Indian victory was ruled out. But then there was one guy in Indian dressing room that cares little for History. He lives in the present. He sees the ball and hits it, and keeps it simple as that. In just 68 balls, Sehwag with 11 fours and 4 sixes scored 84 runs had delivered the Knock out punch: he made India believe that they can challenge any total. The next day Sachin would go on to score a memorable century and help India set history. Just like after Kolkatta test, every team though ten times before enforcing follow on against India, after this match, they will think long before declaring with this maverick opening Indian innings.



It’s Pay back time Kiwis:

Vs Newzland @ Hamilton, Day 1 Morning session

Last time India toured this tiny island, they played in a pitch that was hell for the batsman. The entire Indian batsman struggled, and Indians lost the series easily. However by the first session of this tour, every one was clear which team batsman are going to struggle this time around. By the team Indians went for lunch (back home, Indian fans awoke from their sleeps), six of the Kiwis were back in the den for just 66 on board. Indian pace trio of Zaheer, Ishant and Munaf were just too hot to handle for Kiwis. Though Ryder and Vettori would score centuries to rescue Kiwis, the early damage was enough to help India win the match by ten wickets.




It’s time to save:

Vs Newzland @ Napier, Day 4 Morning session

Champion sides not only win matches, but they also save matches from hopeless situations. Champion batsmen not only thrash the bowlers on their day, but also fight for survival, curbing the natural instincts when pushed to the wall. Asked to follow on, and having lost their skipper Shewag to a reckless shot, India were tottering at 47 for 1 in their second innings. New Morning; charged up Kiwi bowlers to level the series; India just needed to crack a bit and Kiwis would have swallowed them. However Indians refused to give in. Gambhir, the new Indian Messiah and the old wall Dravid, blocked every thing thrown at them. At the end of the session, the score card still read for 1, and Indians knew they have won the session. The session that turned out to be the stepping stone, for one of the famous Indian draws in recent times.


India reaches the Zenith:

Vs Srilanka @ Mumbai, Day 5, Morning session

Just 4 wickets and amazing Sangakkara batting on 133 stood between India and their Number one ranking. However I remembered the proverb “Many a slip between cup and the lip” and posted “I am keeping my fingers crossed till the last wicket falls, because Indian team keeps finding ways to disappoint me” on the Face book. However very first over of the day saw Sangakkara edge one behind to Dhoni, and it was only a matter of time before India reached the Numero One position. We were delighted; however the fact that South Africa could over take India soon, saddened us a bit.


Eden Post tea Magic mystifies South Africans too:

Vs South Africa @ Eden Gardens, Day 1 Post Tea session

After the convincing Innings win in the first test, South Africans needed just a draw to get back the Number one position from India. Toss helped them, and by tea they had raced to 228 for the loss of just two wickets. Amla and Kallis, the first test Heroes were still at the crease. Every one thought South Africa would just bat India out of the Match and the number one position. However when Bad light stopped play couple of hours later, it was the last wicket pair of South Africa that was at crease. In those in between overs, Harbhajan along with Eden Garden crowd had spun a magic web against South African batsman. Suddenly the Indian attack that looked a meek cat turned into a ferocious tiger. There’s some mystic force in Eden Gardens that acts on visiting teams after the Tea. It was this session that helped India drew the series and Keep their Number one Position. If not for this session, I would not have written this article.

At last - Short Story

It was a fine Sunday evening. I was browsing through the television channels jumping from “Nakka Mukka” song in Sun Music to Rahul Dravid’s double century in Star Cricket to Breaking News in NDTV to some War Film in HBO, hoping at least one of them would distract me. However my mind was constantly thinking about only one thing. Tomorrow my Girl friend, or to put it correctly, my Ex Girl friend would be getting married to that guy, described by her parents as “Nice, Handsome, High Earning Guy of our Caste”. Though I had accepted this would eventually happen, six months earlier, today I couldn’t control my feelings. Sharp pain engulfed my heart.

“Is your Dad there?” – My thoughts were diverted by the voice of our neighbor, who was standing outside the entrance of my house. “Come in Jacob Uncle, I will call my Dad in a second.” – I said trying to come up with a smile that might mask my inner feelings. As my dad came out, welcoming him, I decided to go upstairs, hoping that a walk under the evening sun would make me think about some thing other than her marriage.

As I walked past, Jacob uncle, I felt a tinge of guilt in my mind, as usual; guilt that always haunts me when ever I meet him or his son Stephen. Stephen was one of the ten new students who joined in my class, during eleventh Standard. As I found out, that Stephen’s family, were the new tenant in our near by house, we naturally become friends. We also did few share few commonalities. We both liked Rahul Dravid more than Sachin Tendulkar, loved reading Tamil Magazines, and both of our secret dream was to publish a Best Selling Novel that will also win the Nobel Prize for literature.

Besides these miniscule things, our lives were completely different though. Though my parents were not ultra rich, being their only child resulted in extra luxuries. Be it the Bicycle I needed when I was in Third, Cricket Coaching Class when I was in Seventh, I was always provided with whatever I needed. Stephen, had two elder sisters, and with his Dad always concerned about saving money for their marriage, he had to sacrifice many things, that I took for granted.

It was not only in the materialistic things that he was at a disadvantage. My parents never fought at home, and rarely raised their voices when I was around. On the other hand his house resembled a mini Kurushetara most of the times. Fight between his parents, between his elder sisters, between his mother and eldest sister, and some times fight with the neighbors, over even trivial things, meant he never got some peaceful time to study.

Whenever he comes to my house to study along with me, I would assume that he would feel envious of the easy life of mine compared to his. However I had never even seen a tint of jealousy in his eyes. “Your dad studied hard and worked hard in his earlier days, and you are enjoying its fruits today. I will also study hard and give my kids, life similar to you”, he said one day revealing his true feelings. He wanted to emulate my father and was not resentful of his success.

As our class teacher usually remarked, both of us were equally talented, but Stephen invariably scored more than me, because he put tons more of hard work. I continued to read Tamil Magazines, and enjoy Dravid’s knocks, even in twelfth, but he sacrificed them for “Greater Good”. Both of us wanted to be engineers, however the force of our motive varied. I wanted to be an Engineer, just because my Dad wanted to be one; but he saw being an engineer as a tool to fight his family’s problems.

Public exams and the entrance exams came and went. And the day of results arrived. On seeing the reaction of both of us after getting the result, strangers could be excused, if they felt I had got School First and he flunked. However the truth was that he scored ninety seven marks more than me; though we both know our cut off would not get us a seat in prominent Government Engineering colleges, as our Dads had envisioned. That didn’t bother me much, however that bothered Stephen enough to make him cry for two days.

“They are asking for 2.5 lakhs, the other guy said 2 only, but their college don’t have good placement”, my Dad was discussing with mother about the capitation fee in Private Engineering colleges.

“Why are you trying to get Management seat. He might get a seat through counseling.” –said my mother, and my Dad gave her, “What an ignorant lady she is!” look.

“He will get in some useless college in a useless department for his marks. And after four years, he would be jobless Engineering Graduate. Let us pay some money and get him a seat in good college. He will get placement by the end of third year.”

Meanwhile I was wondering about Stephen. He had gone that day to get an application form from a leading Arts and Science college to do B.Sc Chemistry. “I might get a seat in Private Engineering College seat through counseling, but my dad said that he can’t pay so much. He said if I had wanted to be an Engineer, I should have studied harder, and got a seat in Government College.” I felt guilty that he scored more than me, but I am able to do a course that he won’t be able to do.

“Dad, I’ll rather study B.Sc, than paying so much”, I slowly told my Dad, so that I won’t have to live with the guilty conscious.

“You don’t know about life, son. I will do only what is good for you.” – My dad didn’t even bother to give my request a thought. He just rejected it.

Months rolled by, and we both went for different colleges, myself to a prominent private Engineering college, and Stephen to an Arts and Science College. With me staying in a hostel, we rarely met, and one evening when we came across each other, we had so much to share.

“It seems your college has 100 % placement, and the average salary is 2.6 lakhs per annum. You might even get a new house like your Dad, with in five years you leave the college.” Stephen seemed to have more knowledge about my college than me. I didn’t ask him about the placement record of his college, but his eyes conveyed to me, his thoughts, “When you get a new house, I will continue to live in the rotten house of mine, for no mistake in my part”.

I felt so guilty, that I skipped my dinner, and couldn’t sleep properly for next two days. I always tried to avoid Stephen and his Dad thereafter, and even when I meet them, I lowered my head with a sense of guilt. Next time I met him, was during his sister’s marriage, and he was so very happy then. He had already been placed in a reputed IT concern that had recently started to recruit Arts and Science Graduates too. My guilt seemed to reduce a bit then.

However my guilt resurfaced from the bottom again, when I met him in his next sister’s marriage, couple of years later. By the time, I had also completed my Engineering, and landed a good job in a leading IT company. I began to talk without a feeling of guilt, as I felt that was a thing of past. We were delighted to know that we were both working in same Technology. However he seemed to know more than me, his work seemed to be more complex than what I was doing.

The talk turned around to salary, and as he heard my salary, he just smiled but again his eyes revealed to me the message. “You are earning so much more than me for the same technology, just because you have a better degree. And what more, you didn’t get that better degree also because you studied well.” This time, I skipped dinner, as well as next day’s breakfast, and didn’t sleep properly for three days.

After that day, I never met Stephen. With problems caused due to my Ex Girl friend, I had even forgotten about him, but my guilty feelings resurfaced, as I saw his Dad today. Assuming his Dad would have went back by now, I decided to go down. However he hadn’t left and was only just about to start.

“So you also didn’t tell us about it right.” – Stephen’s Dad asked me.

“About what” - I sounded perplexed.

“About Stephen’s love.” – He said smiling. He, as my parents were under the assumption that I and Stephen were still close buddies as we were during school days. They were not aware, that we don’t even see each other frequently now.

“Stephen is getting married to his girl friend next month.” My dad came to my assistance.

Did Stephen love a girl? And he has also managed to convince his parents, her parents to arrange a marriage for them. What studying hard, Working Hard failed to materialize, Love had materialized.

My guiltiness subsided, and my sharp pain in heart due to my Love Failure seemed to have some how subsided, as I learnt he had at last succeeded where I had failed. It’s good that there is still some thing left in the World beyond Money.

Atonement - Short Story

Atonement => It is the process of showing that one is sorry for having done something wrong, by doing a good deed as a kind of repayment or self punishment. In Tamil, it is called as ‘Parigaram’ or ‘Prayachithham’. In many religious beliefs, it is widely accepted practice that one needs to atone, if he/she had done some thing bad against God.


“This is one of the best Atonement that I have presided over. Here after, the children will receive God’s blessings without any hindrance” - said the short, fat priest with mouth full of artificial smile; he was still counting the hundred rupee notes handed over by my father in law. The children he referred to were I and my wife. We were just married a week ago; and with tons of relatives and temples to visit, we are yet to spend some private time. Today’s quota is this ancient temple built by Cholas, about hundred mile away from our home, to do an atonement, for some unexplained mistake done by Father in Law years ago.

I, to be honest, detested the whole thing, and would not have come if not for my wife’s pleading. First of all, due to new policies that my office had come up with following recent recession, we were allowed to take only two weeks of leave for the marriage. And then to make matters worse, even in those two weeks I couldn’t spend time alone with her in Mauritius or Munnar or even in local Ooty as I had envisioned; I wished I could have been more stubborn and said a strong “No” to this temple Visit

It’s not that I hate temples. Though I’m an agnostic, I love temples, for its aesthetic beauty and its sculptural wonder. I love standing still in front of God in our native village, as our village priest goes through the chanting of Mantras, sincerely believing that God listened to them. Here it was different through. In between his mechanical reciting of mantras, the priest talked about his lunch plans in his mobile, discussed Dhoni’s tactical error in the previous days match against Pakistan, and also shouted in obscene Tamil at some of the devotees.

I don’t understand how my father in law, who was such an educated man, who had read all the scriptures by heart, would believe that God will forgive his mistakes done long ago, due to the Atonement, that he believes, he did today. If at all, his crime rate should have increased in the God’s book, for he encouraged Corruption in Temple, bypassed hundred’s of waiting devotees, and gave hundreds or rupees to a priest for whom a cricketer from Ranchi seemed more important than God.

I held my wife’s hands, as we walked out of the temple. That was the only little thing that can be said at least remotely positive about this trip. She knew I didn’t enjoy this trip. She must have praying all the while that I don’t make my unhappiness too evident in front of her relatives. After we went around the temple once, we sat in the couple of staircases that lead to the “Prasad Counter”. I wished her parents and relatives would at least sit few meters away respecting our privacy. However, as I know would happen, in spite of my wishes, they swarmed us like bee.

They all talked about a “Good Darshan” they got. “Its good to know priests in big temples like this” – My father in law replied with pride, soaking in glory of arranging a “Good Darshan”. I tried to avoid listening to the conversation. My wife also wanted me not to listen to it, as she feared I might retort. I tried to divert my attention by looking at the fellow devotees. A small five year old kid was playing with his parents, and I was wondering, if I would be playing the same games as his parents, few years down the lane.

Suddenly I could see an influx of college students walking past us, all with Chapels in their hand. I have never seen such thing before; people walking with chapels in their hand inside a temple. I looked at them in amazement. “Are they carrying their chapels, inside the temple, because they don’t want to pay two rupees outside to, take care of the chapels? Or is it some form of worship?” I wondered so, but I know it didn’t make sense. There must be a more rational explanation. I looked at my wife in bewilderment, for besides me, she seemed the only rational person in the gang.

She seemed to understand my doubt. Within a week of our marriage, she seemed to understand the meanings of each of my looks. “They have not come inside the temple to worship. They are going to the college on the other side of the temple, and using the roads will take lot of time. So they take the chapels in their hand and go across the temple to reach their destination. This detour saves them time.” This seemed rational enough.


Few minutes of silence followed. Her relatives were consuming Temple Prasadams like anything, even though just an hour earlier, we had lunch. I was admiring the beauty of my wife silently. My mind was dreaming that we were alone in Kulu Manali. My dreams were disrupted my Father in law’s shouting. “They should have been chased out of our country during independence itself. See now they are polluting our temples.” Besides being a business man, he was also the district secretary of the political party that believed India is a sole property of one religion. I wondered, what suddenly provoked his anger.

A Muslim lady (the costumes portrayed her religion), in her middle ages, was walking across the temple. I am sure she was using the temple, as the same way as the college students, to reach her destination quickly. However, she was wearing her chapels, instead of carrying it in her hands, like the college students did. That was what initiated my father in law to suddenly remember what happened more than half a century ago.

This time, I couldn’t control my anger. I wanted to shout at him and say, “Wearing a chapel inside the temple was no sin, compared to encouraging corruption inside the temple”. However I was distracted by my wife as she had got up and walked behind that Muslim lady. She completely detests her father’s party, so I was sure she was not going to pick up a fight with her, for wearing chapel inside the temple.

“Akka (Sister)”, my wife called her.

“Yes ma.” Muslim lady replied and turned around immediately. She was wondering, why a stranger was calling her. The fact that she was inside the Holy place of other religion must have added to her anxiety.

“Akka, you are not supposed to wear chapels inside”. My wife said in her usual, gentle sweet voice.

“Oh! I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that.” She immediately removed the chapels, took it in her hand and began to walk. Her apologetic face clearly conveyed that she had no idea that one is not supposed to wear chapels there. Meanwhile, my father in law decided that it’s time for us also to start, so that we would be able to visit (encourage corruption) in couple more temples, before we could reach the safety of our home.

So we started walking slowly towards the entrance of the temple. I was still worrying about the fact that I was also a partly responsible for encouraging corruption. If God Exists really, then I’m sure He would punish me more for encouraging corruption in his place, than for questioning his existence. And I also wondered about the foolish Atonement that my Father In law did. The whole trip seemed to be a foolish one.

As we are about to exit the temple, the Muslim Lady called my wife. She was standing near a small flower shop, run by an old lady. I walked along with my wife.

“Can you do me a favor”, the Muslim lady asked with bit of embarrassment.

“What you want us to do, Akka” asked my wife.

“Can you give this flower to God” – saying she tried to hand over flower that she had brought for ten rupees to my wife.

My wife was trying how to say No, as we have already visited the temple, and it would take lot of time, to stand in line and visit the God again. Her father had already got into the van, in which we had come. I understood her confusion, but took the flowers from the Muslim lady’s hand.

“Sure. We will give it to God.” I started walking again inside the temple with flower in the hand, without bothering about my wife. My wife followed me, as I expected. I stood at the end of the line where hundred’s of devotees were standing. I was sure this time I will get the “Best Darshan”, and If God was even half as good as what the scriptures say, he would consider this ten rupee atonement of Muslim lady thousand times more than the one My father – In law did.

Suddenly the Trip turned from a foolish one to the most meaningful one I have ever made.

Note: This story was based on the true incident narrated by my friend Padmavathi.

Landline Phones and Friendship

“Hi Subramani, how are you. Bala said you are working in Infosys. How is your work going on? How are your parents and how is your little sister?” – Bala’s dad went on asking questions. It has been long since I had spoken to him. By the way, Bala was my best friend in school.

I started thinking when the last time was, I spoke to Bala’s dad and mum. I couldn’t recall correctly. However I used to speak to either of his parents, whenever I called him to discuss about some thing during our school days. Mostly his mother would pick the phone, and the phone would be handed over to Bala, only after she has spoken to me for some time. By this way, I came to know of his parents, and he also came to know of mine.

Our contact ceased over time, as we both went to college. It’s not that I stopped calling Bala; I still used to call him regularly to chat over variety of topics. Only thing, it’s not only the topics we discussed changed but also the phone we used. We no longer used landlines to talk to each other, we were using our mobiles, and of course our parents never attended call in our mobiles.

Meanwhile, few days ago, I tried calling Bala on his mobile to convey my birthday wishes to him. I was not able to reach him, in spite of making repeated attempts. It felt really bad that I couldn’t wish my friend on his birthday. I was left wondering what to do. It was then I remembered I had his land line number too. And it led to the conversation that I explained in the first paragraph.

After I put down the phone that day, suddenly I felt the urge to search how many of my friend’s land line number’s are stored in my mobile. First I began with my friends in office; those who became my friends either by the virtue of being my project mates or training batch mates. I would have met them first at a point of time, when mobiles were very well and truly integrated into our daily lives.

Unsurprisingly I didn’t have land line numbers of even one of them. And the same way I didn’t know much about any of their parents personally, other than the information’s they themselves have shared with me. Next I started checking for my school friends. I had the landline numbers of each and every one of them. And I have also spoken to the parents of all of them. I know each of them well, and they know about me too.

Now I moved to college friends. It posed a peculiar situation. It had people in both the categories. I had the landline numbers of guys like Siva who became my friends before they had brought their mobiles. And hence I have spoken many times to his mother whenever I called him. On the other hand, there were guys like Sudhagar, who had his mobile when I first came to know about him. As a result in spite of being his close buddy for close to five years now, I’m yet to speak to any of his parents directly, and also every thing I know about his parents were only through what he has shared with me.

Thinking further along the line, I was reminded of this. Even my Dad has few very close friends from his college days/ early office days. Still few years ago, they used to call him on our land line. If I pick up the phone, they used to talk to me for a considerable period of time, enquiring about my studies, future plans and all those stuff. Now thinking back for the past three years, I had rarely spoken to any of my Dad’s friends. I’m sure that it’s no coincidence that we forced our Dad to buy a mobile for himself, three years ago.


I began to wonder how much mobiles have changed our way of communication. No I’m not against mobiles. They help us to communicate to our friends wherever they are, be it in office, crowded bus, or in restaurant with their girl friend. But then don’t they also make sure we communicate only with them? In days of landline whether we liked it or not, we were forced to communicate with our friend’ parents also, and we began to get to know them. Now has the mobile, filtered those additional communications?

“In Western Countries, marriage is between two individuals. Whereas in Eastern countries, it is between two families.”- goes the famous saying. I may sound Old- Fashioned, and traditionalist, but I actually believe even friendship is complete in countries like India, only when they are between families and not individuals; but is not the mobiles changing our friendship to more individualistic levels?

I’m not saying this trend is right or wrong; but these are just honest reflections that went through my mind on the day I could convey my birthday wishes to my friend only because I had his land line number…..

Purpose of GOD (Short Story)

Introducing Him:

He is the lead character of our story; though he is in every way different from the lead characters of our conventional Tamil Cinema. He can’t fight against ten people at a time; he is poor, but he does not love the daughter of a cruel cum rich man; he doesn’t have ten friends, who roam around him making fun of others; and he is working. By the next Independence day, he would have completed twenty six years of his existence on this planet, of which last two years has been spent guarding an ATM centre at night. He landed at this job, after being a driver for two years, the job which he quit after he ran over a baby (though the fault was with the careless mother and not him). Living as one among seven people who share a small room in Guindy, he saves his salary as much as possible and sends them to his old ailing parents living at a small village, located in the middle of Tanjore and Kumbakonam.

Introducing Her:

She is also the lead character of our story, but unlike Him, she shares many of the characteristics of the female lead characters of conventional Tamil Cinema. She is beautiful; and her looks forces opposite sex of all ages to turn around and have a look at her and she is the only daughter of rich adoring parents. However her similarity with Movie Heroines stops there. She is extremely bright, intelligent, independent girl who never agrees with common perceptions. In spite of getting engineering seat in Anna University after twelfth, she declined it and joined BA English Literature. She later did her Post graduation in Mass Media and Journalism, and is working as a freelance Journalist for the past two years. She balances her time between her work, writing a new novel, completing her thesis for the PHD, teaching at a orphanage and taking care of her mother (after her father’s death due to the cardiac arrest the year before).

June 18th 2009, Thursday:

10.30 am: Every day by this time, he goes out to eat his breakfast, and after breakfast he sleeps from 11am to 5pm soundly, so that he can be awake the entire night while guarding the ATM. Unlike some of his colleagues, he doesn’t believe that sleeping after 2am when no one uses the ATM, is ethically right. On this eventual day, as he was returning after eating five idlies, he saw an old lady being almost run over by a Maruti Amni. The driver of the car didn’t even bother to stop. The images of him killing a baby two years ago came to his mind. He decided to make amends for it. He rushed to the rescue of the old lady.

5.30 pm: He was still sitting in the hospital. He had taken the old lady to the near by Government Hospital, and there she was operated upon. The nurses there asked him to trace the where about of the old lady. He tired calling the only mobile number present in the purse of the old lady from the morning. He was unable to reach the concerned person. So he decided to sacrifice the sleep for one day, and be with that old lady until she regains her conscious. The operation was still going on.

6.00 pm: The operation had been completed and she was no longer critical. He was satisfied, and decided to go to work, after the Head Nurse there promised that she will take care of the old lady. He went to his room, slept for two hours and went to his work still feeling sleepy.

11.30 pm: He was sitting in front of the ATM, and his sleepless morning is taking its toll now. The three cup of coffees he had consumed in the past one hour weren’t of much use. He had started to doze off sitting in his chair in front of the ATM.

11.45 pm: She was returning after a long journey. She had gone to cover the opening of the bridge, by the chief minister. She unlike the other Journalists doesn’t go to such meetings just to cover the speeches of important leaders. She normally tries to hit upon some stories that no one else would have any idea about. Today she wished to capture in her cameras some cracks that normally are visible during the opening ceremony itself in many of the bridges. However the contractor seemed to have been honest person, and there were no cracks visible.

On the way back to home, as she came across the ATM, she decided to take money to buy gift for her mother’s birthday tomorrow. However on seeing the security guard of the ATM sleeping, her journalistic mind came to the forefront. She took the photo of the sleeping security guard in front of the ATM and slowly left the place. Earlier that day, she has already taken the photograph of the sleeping Cabinet Minister, as the CM was delivering his long boring speech. There was also another photo of the college students sleeping nicely in the classroom with her. She could already think of apt headline – “When will India awake?” – With these three photos, she could write an interesting article that the editors of the famous newspapers would love to publish.

June 19th 2009, Friday:

2.00 am: On the train to home, she completed her article in her blackberry, and mailed it to the editor of “The Times of India”. She also saw that she had ten missed calls from an unknown number. Some one might have called when she was busy during the meeting. She decided to call him/her in the morning. Just then her mobile ran again. It was the Government Doctor living opposite to her house. Wondering why he is calling her in the midnight, she attended the call. Her replies were as follows: “Hello” ….. “Oh is it so”, “I will be there in half an hour”…. “Please be there till I come”. She immediately rushed to the Government Hospital. In the chaos she forgot about that ten missed calls.


10.00 am: Normally he would have been delighted to see his photo in the newspapers, but having seen his sleeping photo, he knew he had to search for a new job. In his sadness because of job loss, he forgot to enquire about the well being of the old lady he saved the previous day.

If this had been a Tamil Movie:

Some how, She would have found it out that the person who lost his job because of her photograph was the same person who saved her mother. She would have went to apologize to him, and in due course of time, they might have been singing an duet either in Newzland, Australia or any other country, the director wanted to see free of cost.

But In Reality:

After a week or so, she went to the church and praised the Lord for sending an unknown Angel to save her mother. Earlier he had went to the same church to angrily question the God, why He keeps sending him trouble so often, though he has consciously never done harm to any one.

Ending with a message:

In Movies, Hero would be responsible for all the good things and Villain for all the bad things. However in real life, when we can never find out the concrete reasons for the sudden goodness or badness that envelopes us, when it is difficult to find heroes/villains responsible for our happiness/trouble, whom else to blame/praise other than the God?