Gone boy

I'm not in touch with my childhood friends anymore. Kids i played cricket with. Kids i spent my summers climbing hillocks with. Kids i raced to the Trombay jetty with. Kids i learnt how to ride a bicycle with. Kids i basically grew up with. A lot of them, like me, have changed over the years. The way i remember them aren't the way they are right now. People say time heals everything but the truth it can't heal memories. They keep changing. You can't heal something that refuses to stay constant. After my school ended and i joined polytechnic in another city, my connection with them suffered. Whenever i visited home, it was the usual fake chit-chats. I'm about to hit 30 and i wonder what happened to us. We used to be a happy lot, getting sunburned in the ground that wasn't meant for any sport, let alone cricket. Our lives were simple and we sought small joys from smaller things like sweet samosas (yes, it's shaped like a samosa but stuffed with milk cream) and mango faluda. I still have a sweet tooth but i don't think my mouth waters anymore. On the contrary, i feel a void because of the realization that every little thing is so damn fickle. What is important today is rubbish tomorrow. The only consolation is the steady change. In the recent past, i've met a few of my oldest friends and they aren't the innocent kids i rubbed shoulders with once upon a time. They are different now. Life has chewed them up. Their dark circles betray the several hidden stories in their eyes. Hindu kids who used to extend their palms for niyaaz are now hardcore Hindutva stooges. Muslim kids who used to play in the temple backyard today believe their ugly beards make them a better human being. Christian kids who once didn't bother are merrily pushing the church's agenda of proselytization on Facebook. One thing is common to all of them: they feel they are absolutely right, which needless to add, is a dangerous assumption. 

Read and right

Although i've been pro-Poor all my life, i am not really a victim of poverty. My parents were. I didn't grow up in an affluent setting, yes, but my parents ensured that my brother and i were taken care of. My dad worked 12+ hours a day while ma earned her bit from sewing. Their single-minded dedication towards getting us education from a kischan school made all the difference. And for that —among other things—i'll always remain grateful. I didn't pay them back by teaching them English even though they often expressed interest. I was way too shy to even correct their incorrect pronunciations. Now, when i look back, i wonder if it's even possible to repay someone who made you realize how promising life can be. I know the answer to that but still, every once in a while, i prefer visiting my past to dig deeper. Like, what were the factors that stopped my parents from sending us to a Marathi-medium school or a BMC school? They could have taken the easy way out. After all, they were in no position to pay higher school fees. But they did what they thought was best for their children.  How many parents manage to pull off such gambles? I'm quite sure it's an uphill task because i don't really see a lot of young students nowadays who appreciate the efforts their parents put in. Time is changing, no doubt, but it'd  be nicer to see more parents betting on their kids' future than their present. The power to learn isn't to be taken for granted. The fabled University of Life might have helped our case in the 19th century. Not anymore. Last century, Pink Floyd tried to fool us by going to school themselves and preaching that we don't need no education. Not happening in the 21st century.

Never again

Anna teacher never liked me. There are always some students a teacher find it very difficult to deal with. I was that guy for her. Maybe it was my face. This happened when i was in fourth grade. What's ironical is that her subject happened to be my favourite. What's more interesting is that i was mostly placed closest to her while she was teaching the exploits of Shivaji Maharaj. What's not interesting is that i wasn't a first-bencher. I often used to kneel in front of the wall on which the blackboard was crucified. Like i said, closest. Within seconds of her entering the classroom would i be asked to leave my bench and join her on the floor! This routine went on for a long while as she continued to find faults in me. But it miraculously stopped the day i left my seat—to occupy my knees—while she was about to enter the room for her history class. After that, i was never punished again. Maybe it was my face only. 

J-factor

It's easier to say that we aren't supposed to judge others but it's like breathing. Very involuntary in nature. The whole judging business. And what better way to get one up against yourself by proving yourself wrong? It was during my early days in film journalism and being a rookie, i used to be shit scared before a celebrity interview. My fingers used to tremble—which later turned out to be a physical ailment, not psychological—before shooting the first question. Nevertheless, once i got into the Q&A groove, i almost always strike a fine balance. My propensity to laugh like a primate helps a lot too. So, i remember once taking a lift to the 34th floor of a building in which a Bollywood star resided. Famous for his outspokenness, i was told he can be a difficult fish to fry. To make things worse for myself, i'd never been a fan of his acting skills so i had my spirit low while i was counting the changing numbers on the indicator inside the posh elevator. Within seconds, i was standing at the entrance and the star—or has-been star?—himself opened the door for me. While allowing me in, he gently patted my back, asking me whether i wanted something to eat or drink. As an unwritten journalistic rule, it's best not to have anything during working hours so i politely denied. He shrugged and directed me to a lovely room, pointing me to the huge sofa against the wall set perpendicular to the open gallery. During the course of the following interview, it became apparent that he's undoubtedly one of the most genuine personalities in the otherwise soulless industry. One thing in particular that he said with his left arm flailing around violently still rings in my head. I remember his hand halting to point at the window  showing me the poor settlement outside on the ground. He said he came from that part of the world and today he is up above where he was, away from the very people who made him the star that he became. In fact, according to him, as he grew more and more prosperous, the farther he moved away from them. He might had said so for the theatrics of a tête-à-tête but it was undeniably honest. When it was time to leave that room, i was his newfound fan although i didn't let him realise that. Besides, who was i to judge someone who had judged himself long time back?

Bro code

My brother and i were like this. Close and fond of each other. I never protected him—it was the other way around so let's not go in there—like elder ones are expected to. Neither did i help him with his studies nor ever included him in sports. Moreover, he unquestionably used second hand books throughout the school years without a word. Perhaps his dislike for academics helped! Having said that, i vividly remember feeling proud of him while holding his hand on our way back home from school as well as tuition. Of course, this was long before i set out on a let's-please-others journey that made me a bona fide asshole.

If and then

Remember those school days when they asked us to pen imaginative essays on 'If i were the Prime Minister blah blah'? If only i was enlightened enough then to begin my first and final paragraph as follows:

If i were the Prime Minister of this chaotic country, i'd have not wasted a minute on writing this silly piece of garbage. Besides, there's hardly any probable merit attached to this futile exercise when all that matters is the score a student grabs at the end of the semester—forget his/her reading skills, pronunciation or the ability to sustain a conversation in English. No offence to the authority. Just that i'd be having far more important things to deal with if i were the PM. Like making sure more concrete steps are undertaken to educate our kids in a manner that will make them feel learned and proud of their mother tongue, not forcefully Anglicized with an overdose of lingual superiority complex. 

Nice try though, teacher.

Sincerely yours, 

Honourable Prime Minister of India. 

PS: Don't forget to vote.

One last leaf

With winter fast moving in, trees can be seen wholeheartedly embracing nudity. One such specimen lives in my neighbourhood. Every morning, as i walk towards station, i see the giant slowly shedding its inhibitions. One leaf at a time. The branches are visibly prominent while the road beneath is left with a carpet of dried leaves. Temporary joy to walk on them, got to admit. Shade, interspersed with harmless sunlight, guaranteed too. Going back to the leaves, i remember this very tree was left with only one leaf last year. Or maybe two or three but it looked like one. As if it was proving a point against the nature. As if it was ready neither for reincarnation nor for hibernation. Nothing could persuade it to change its photosynthetic mind. December passed by and so did Jan. It hangs on—not metamorphically. Let's just say that it enjoyed the view from the top and wouldn't have it any other way.

Laughing stock and a smiling dog

As a kid, i was fond of animals. Except lizards. I still am. For one, dogs always enthralled me. Especially those stray ones. There was this abandon they represented without uttering a word. It's a miracle how they are still found on our streets. Excuse culling please! They teach us our species so much. And by lessons, i don't just mean the very facts of life. Porn happened to me a decade later as mating in public turned out to be their way of letting us know that they are cooler than hippies. You laugh at them because they can be so stupid as well. Chasing cars long before Snow Patrol made it a song? What are bicycles for? Whatever. There are exceptions too. I remember this female-dog—an adorable bitch, actually—who smiled as soon as you utter the word 'siri'. Now i'm talking about an era where Apple hadn't discovered the alphabet i. At the risk of turning nostalgic (more nostalgic than usual), i can clearly picturise her broad bright smile. Absolute beaut. She was the closest any member of the canine family ever got to us. My assumption is that she learned Tamil in our chawl and then put it to good use.

42

Life is more of a punctuation and less of a word.
Life is a brilliant joke that others fail to laugh at.
Life is all about waking up at a place where you don't have to ask yourself - "Where am i?"

Life is everything about nothing. 

Life is a poor trick gone miserably funny.

Life is fair as long as you're winning.
Life is changing whether you'd like to be a part of it or not. 

Life is beautiful even if it's a lie.

Life is a long series of "Sab theek ho jayega" being told to each other.

Life is as young as ever but you are getting old.

Life is touching others without molesting them. 

Life is the greatest scam of all. 
Life is an attempt at ditching the highlights and going live instead.

Life is all about moving from one Google doodle to another. 

Life is what happens when you're trying to figure out what concerns you the most. 

Life is already lonely with friends. Imagine how it would have been without them. 

Life is like going all the way to Paris but not visiting the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Life is an occupational hazard too.

Life is very dreamy. And then we wake up.

Life is happening to each none of us.

Life is so freaking cold that i can feel it in my sneeze.

Life is a good art but a miserable artist.
Life is like a box that effectively hides those non-existent chocolates.

Life is uncomplicated. For a lizard who does nothing but meditate.
Life is chess with added colors.

Life is indeed wonderful… in movies!  

Life is an eternal struggle, particularly when you're unable to control your bowel movements.

Life is all about seeking those few people who'll remark "So good to see you" and mean it.

Life is wonderful provided everyone is equally unhappy. 

Life is only as sorted out as others think.

Life is an attempt at dark humour.
Life is more than just waking up with a face you don't want to claim.

Life is too long to let others decide your mistakes. 

Life is miscalling, where are you?

Life is an overrated bitch and death, a momentary twitch.

Life is your greatest love story.

Life is letting your past seep into your present and destroy your future. 

Life is something that usually happens to others.

Life is basically a film with horrible cinematography. 

Life is like a simile.

Life is bootiful when your enemies are greeted with boos.
Life is the slowest way to death.

Life is simple but quotes about it are pretty complicated.

Moments of silence

Isn't it marvelous how some of the most beautiful moments happen without any exchange of words? Of course, conversation has its own ring to it but still, when compared to sound, silence lasts a bit longer. We humans take things for granted and if one of those things is silence, then lesser we say about it the better. I can go on and on about how i've seen beauty manifest itself in a soundless backdrop. But i won't. I've got just two such instances for now. And both have to do with my childhood.

1991: We were new to Bombay. My mother had recently lost my brother's twin to death in our village so my dad decided to move us to his city. There weren't many sentences spoken between the two of them. However, it was alright. Silence works part-time as a balm when actions fail. One particular day, we were traveling in a local train and our station was approaching. I remember my dad guiding the way out for us. He was standing near the footboard and my ma was standing right behind him on his left with my brother in her arms. I was on her right. What i remember vividly is her holding on to my dad's untucked shirt for support. Those subtle moments taught me that everything was indeed alright between them.

1994: A grandmother's love for her grandkids is nothing extraordinary. They are put on earth to bide time and make life cheerful for their ungrateful kids' kids. At least for the major part. My grandma was a person of few words but she absolutely adored me. I only remember her talking to us through stories. But what i distinctly recollect of her personality is that afternoon we went to this old temple in Mangalore. Hindus priests have this custom of handing out prasadam after the devotees are done with darshan. I guess it was my lucky day because i received a laadu from the janeu-wearing gentleman. But i was in for much more. My grandma decided to share her share of spoil and earnestly handed me the sweet she got along with the rest of us. All i remember her doing was pointing her index finger to her lips with a smile trapped behind it.