Caught 22

It was a cloudy Friday evening. The Starbucks on platform no 2 Victoria Station was bustling with customers as usual. A man was sitting all by himself in one of the corner tables. Hari Ramanujam was sipping cup of coffee and seemed preoccupied. An innocent passerby would have described him as a man of medium height and Asian features with a pronounced pointed nose. Ramanujam did not seem to notice the waitress approaching him.

“Would you like to order anything else sir?” she asked.

Hari looked at the nameplate on her chest. It read Pam Johnson engraved in gold.

“Another cup of coffee would be great.” he replied.

He thanked Pam and she in turn thanked him. She hurried to place the order.

London was a city where everyone loved to thank each other. Hari realized this fact the moment he had set foot in London six years ago. He had a work permit but still held an Indian passport. The first time he had traveled in a public transport bus, he had noticed the strange ritual. The passengers would thank the driver before getting down at their respective stops. The driver would then thank them and wish them good day. The passengers would reciprocate this by thanking the driver and then would go about their way. Back in India people lacked both the time and the attitude to perform this simple ritual.

Sipping on the second cup of coffee that had just arrived, Hari started gazing at the other customers. A couple sitting two tables away caught his attention. They were young, cheerful and full of energy. He was reminded of that fateful day fifteen years ago when he had met Anita. He had met her at a coffee shop in Bangalore. He had been alone. She had also been alone and sipping coffee. Hari had plucked up enough courage to go up to her and strike up a conversation. One thing had lead to another and they had started dating each other. She was all he could think about. She was his power, his pleasure, his pain. She was now his wife and was probably waiting for him. He saw that it was 7:00 pm already. He gulped down the rest of his coffee, got up, paid the bill, thanked Pam and walked to the nearest subway station.

It normally takes Hari about 50 minutes to reach Upminster, where he lived. Today was no different. He took a seat next to an old lady. Hari had about 45 minutes to kill. He was bored and soon started thinking about his childhood in India. He remembered the good old days when he used to run barefoot across the streets of Bangalore, break windows while playing gulley cricket, climb trees and roam the city in search of his next adventure. His children will never have the childhood that he had experienced. His kids never had as many friends as he had back then. Indians were still treated as second rate citizens in Britain. Even professionally, he could observe this. His boss had promoted his British colleague. Hari was sure that he was more capable than his colleague and deserved that promotion. Going to Britain was like visiting a rich kid’s home. He could play with their toys, but India was where he actually belonged. His children hardly knew anything about Bangalore or India. They had never visited India. Even in school, he noticed that his children liked to hang around Indian kids. Hari then decided that he would go back to Bangalore, look for a job there and give his children the childhood they deserved. The more he thought about it, he was convinced that it was the right thing to do.

Hari reached home and decided to talk it over dinner with Anita. His wife was reluctant at first but later acceded. Hari took a few days off, boarded British Airways and landed in Bangalore. The Bangalore that he had left behind had changed drastically. The once calm, peaceful, serine city had taken the toll for the worse. The city was swarming with IT professionals buzzing like busy bees all over the place. Hari was shocked to see the traffic in Bangalore. He had never seen such a chaotic and disorganized traffic in his life. The area in which he grew up had been demolished only to be replaced by shopping malls. At that very moment he had a change of heart. He booked a ticket in the next flight back to Britain.

Aboard the British Airways, Hari realized that he could never ever adjust to the new Bangalore he had seen.'What good is an Indian who acnt live in his own homeland?'he asked himself. He certainly wasnt British and would always be treated as a second rate citizen. He was certain of that. He was neither Black nor white, but an inevitable shade of grey. He looked at the clouds and sighed deeply. Fate had played a game of chess with him and had him checkmated. It dawned upon him then that all his Indian friends in Britain were stuck in a similar warp zone. He sighed again, waiting for the flight to reached its destination.

Life @ NITH

The life at NIT Hamirpur is a rich blend of varied experiences, both unique and commonplace. From the day a student signs the registration form for his admission till the day he graduates, there is never a dull moment for the budding engineers and architects of NIT Hamirpur.

A freshman is met by students from all over India. As weeks roll by, he quickly earns the respect and friendship of his fellow students. For most students it is their first time away from home. They start making their own decisions, start thinking independently and learn important tools which help in developing their personality.

Events are held at regular intervals by departmental and student bodies which exercise the grey cells of students. These events impart self confidence to the students and prepare them for the future.

Festivals such as Diwali, Durga Puja and Holi are celebrated on a grand scale. Students lighting firecrackers or spraying jets of water on each other can be found either grinning or with contented smiles on their faces, happily posing for their photographs. These photographs would later remind them of their life in NIT Hamirpur.

Tourism comes as the icing on the delicious cake i.e studying in one of the prestigious eighteen NITs. With weekend getaways like Shimla, Manali, Dharamshala, Jalandar and Chandigarh only a stone’s throw away, life has indeed never been this good.

Time flies while having fun. This is true and students realize that they are already about to graduate! Students look back and realize that the life @ NITH is one that he would cherish and remember for years to come.

"Super" Kapoor

“The world is safe once again! Thanks to ......” Sounds familiar? The world we live in has been saved innumerable times by a wide variety of superheroes such as Batman, Superman, Spiderman and other interesting characters. These heroes have been successful in protecting us from villains whose sole motive is to either take over the earth or destroy it (only god knows why!). These heroes have however managed to entertain millions of kids in India and billions abroad!

To cater to the needs of 40 something year old ladies, Ekta Kapoor popped right out from nowhere. With her stereotype daughter- mother-in-law quarrels, one actually wonders how people still keep watching her soaps. History repeats itself, more and more soaps are screened and loyal viewers can be seen sitting glued on to their TV sets.

Let us imagine that by some bizarre twist of fate (god forbid!) that Ekta Kapoor decides to make use of these superheroes in her soaps so that it appeals to a larger majority of people!

Main Characters:

Batman: The Head of the family

Batgirl: Mother (looks 20ish in spite of the fact that her son is 40yrs old)

Superman: Son

Wonderwoman: Daughter-in-law and Superman's wife

The episodes would proceed as follows:

Episode 1:

(Title song for 3 mins!)

(Commercial break for 2 mins).

The stage is set. The episode begins and a humongous house (fit for a king) is shown. The rooms are so lavishly and expensively furnished that even the owners of the five star hotels would turn green with envy. A joint family is shown with Batman and Batgirl getting up from their bed dressed as if they have been to a party (Batgirl is still wearing expensive clothes and jewellery!). In another room far far away, Superman gets up, looks around, is not able to find Wonderwoman, and gets angry for some reason. Meanwhile Wonderwoman can be seen cooking in the kitchen.

A telepathic conversation takes place:

Superman: Wonderwoman.....Are you there?

Wonderwoman: Yes dear....Go on.

Superman: Where is my electric red underwear? I have to save the world from vile villains. (In a thunderous voice)

(A commercial break for 2 mins)

(A recap of the conversation that took place before the interval)

Wonderwoman: I am sorry dear. I have given it for dry washing.

Superman: What?

End of episode 1.

Title song for 2 mins!

Episode 2:

(Recap of episode 1)

Superman flies into the kitchen with god like speed, looks at Wonderwoman and zaps her using his laser vision. A harassed Wonderwoman takes out her lasso and starts whipping it at Superman. Hearing all the commotion, Batgirl rushes into the room, sizes up the situation and blames her daughter-in-law for everything that happened. Wonderwoman bursts out sobbing.

Episodes 3, 4, 5, 6: Wonderwoman still sobbing! New characters such as Green Goblin, Flash Gordan etc are introduced who try to console her, but all in vain!

Episode 7: The red underwear has been brought back from the dry wash. Seeing the underwear, an argument again surfaces. Batgirl gets angry again and a fight breaks out between Batgirl and Wonderwoman. The fight aggravates to such an extent that Batgirl slaps Wonderwoman. Wonderwoman storms out of the house and swears that she will never set a foot in the house ever again! She decides to go to her mother’s home.

Episodes 8, 9, 10, 11: Superman is angry with Batgirl for sending Wonderwoman home. Batgirl and Batman both try to justify why the course of action adopted by them is best for the entire family.

Episode 12: Family hears that en route to her mother’s home, Wonderwoman’s invisible jet has crashed and she is in fact dead!

Episodes 13, 14, 15, 16: Mourning begins for Wonderwoman’s death. A picture of Wonderwoman is kept in the pooja place and the family can be seen crying out loudly. Everyone is regretting that she had to leave this world so early. She had to leave without saying goodbye. Characters like Spiderman, Flash can be seen consoling the family members.

Episode 17: Wonderwoman is alive but unconscious. It took some time for the rescue team to find her jet as it was invisible! She is admitted to a nearby hospital.

Episodes 18, 19, 20: Hospital scenes! People visit wonderwoman give her flowers etc.

Episodes 21, 22, 23: Wonderwoman returns home. Superman hugs her and they hold a grand party on her return in the same grand house.

Episodes 24, 25: Life proceeds normally in the Superman home. The normalcy and day to day instances are illustrated in these episodes.

I just demonstrated how easy it is to come with episodes of soaps by Ms Ekta Kapoor which have an uncanny habit of beginning with the letter “K”. My advice to the ladies who watch such soaps is to stop watching them. Watch something meaningful rather than wasting your time with mundane and awful soaps. For the kids who love superheroes, I urge them to keep on watching as long as it doesn’t turn out to be an addiction.

I request Mrs. Ekta Kapoor to come up with better plots (which can at the least entertain the entire family!) and get rid of mother-in-law and daughter trifles. I beg her to be more innovative when it comes to naming her serials and never ever get the bright idea of using superheroes in her soaps! Lastly I would also recommend Mrs. Kapoor to get a life!

The Story

Rajat Kumar waited impatiently for the red light to turn green. He glanced at the digital clock in his Ford. It showed 10:20 p.m. It would still take him approximately 20 minutes to reach his mansion in Sion. The merger deal had finally pulled through. The company was his life. He wanted his company to be the best and the deal was a giant leap towards achieving that goal.

The light turned green. The street was empty. Rajat shifted gears and accelerated rapidly. He remembered the look on Mr Jain’s face and smiled. Sanjay Jain was his rival, a fierce competitor who had lost the deal narrowly to Rajat. He was too preoccupied to notice a young man attempting to cross the road. Finally noticing the man, he hit the breaks as fast as he could. It was not fast enough. He heard a thud as the young man’s body hit the car and slumped to the ground. Rajat quickly got out of the car, looked at the face of the unconscious man, pondered for a while and panicked. He got back to the car and sped towards the mansion. He knew that the young man’s face would haunt him forever.

Two days later, Rajat was arrested on a hit and run charge. He called A.K Ganguly, a renowned criminal lawyer who immediately agreed to take up the case. The trial was scheduled to take place three days later giving Ganguly enough time to study the case.

The day of the trial had finally arrived. Honourable judge G.S Maurya took his seat in the Mumbai courtroom and turned towards Praveen Gupta.

“Is the prosecution ready?” judge Maurya asked.

“Yes, your honour” replied Praveen, the lawyer for the prosecution.

“Is the defence ready?”

“The defence is ready, your honour” replied Ganguly.

“Please proceed with the case, Mr Gupta” the judge said.

Praveen stood up, looked at the judge, the jury, the rows of spectators and spoke with confidence.

“The prosecution wants to prove through its witnesses and evidence that the defendant, Mr Rajat Kumar, is guilty of the hit and run charge. The victim, Ajay Bose succumbed to injuries and died on the way to the hospital. I call the first witness for the prosecution.”

The witness after being sworn in was ready for questions.

“Please state your full name and occupation.” Praveen said.

“My name is Vikas Kumar. I am a software engineer, currently under the employment of arc instruments.”

“What were you doing on the 18^th of this month at about 10:30 p.m?”

“I live in Sion. I was driving home from work.” Vikas replied.

Praveen looked straight into his eyes.

“Did anything unusual happen that night?”

“At about 10:30 pm, I saw a man get into a car, reverse and drive on. An unconscious man came into view as the car pulled back. I am sure that the car must have hit the unfortunate man” Vikas replied.

“Statement objected to as it calls for the conclusion of the witness. The witness did not actually see the car hit the man” Ganguly interposed.

“Objection sustained” snapped judge Maurya.

“What did you do next?”

“I waited for the ambulance to arrive and left the scene.”

Praveen turned to Ganguly

“You may cross examine.”

Ganguly walked up to the witness and asked him to describe the car.

“It was a white Ford” replied Vikas.

“Do you know the licence number of the car ?“

“No sir.”

“Then the car could have been any of the hundreds or even thousands that ply on Mumbai streets.” Ganguly dismissed the witness with a wave of his hand.

However the next witness, Shefali Rao, a student, identified both the car and the defendant positively. A doctor from Sion hospital produced the death certificate indicating the cause of death as a head injury. The case of the prosecution was further strengthened when Arpita Bose, the wife of the deceased had a nervous breakdown in the courtroom, leaving a profound impression in the mind of the jury.

The jury gave its verdict. Rajat Kumar was found guilty under sections 279

and 304 A of the Indian penal code and had to serve a sentence for five years.

Rajat was escorted to the central jail by armed guards.

”I don't deserve this.” Rajat said in a sad monotone. One of the convicts laughed mirthlessly.”That's what everyone in this place says. Welcome to central jail. I am Parmeshwar Prasad. Call me Parry. Everyone does.”

Five years later, Rajat walked the streets of Mumbai, once again a free man.

A business magazine in the pavement caught his eye. Two faces stared back at him from the cover of the magazine. Rajat's rival, Mr Jain had become become highly successful and had made it to the cover page of the magazine. Rajat was shocked and devastated to see the familiar face of Laileen Jain, Mr Jain's son on the cover of the magazine. Rajat knew then that he had been imprisoned for a crime he had never committed.

He knew then what he had to do. Rajat headed straight to an antique shop at the end of the street. The letters “Shanker's Antiques” gleamed in gold. He entered the antique store and found Mr Shanker polishing an old lamp.

Rajat walked up to him and said without any preliminaries

“I need a gun.”

Old Mr.Shanker gave him a bizarre look and told Rajat that the store sold antiques, not guns.

“Parry, the convict told me about this place.”

Without uttering a single syllable, Shanker led Rajat to a secret room which was stocked entirely with rows of guns of various sizes, shapes and makes.

Rajat went and picked up a well oiled gun. The serial numbers of the gun was scratched out making it practically untraceable.

“Thats an Austrian manufactured Steyr M. A very fine piece of machinery. Compact and yet powerful” informed Mr. Shanker.

“What's the guarantee that the gun will work properly?”

“I give you the same guarantee that I give to all my customers. My life. As you can see, I am still alive”

Rajat paid the requisite amount and headed for Mr Jain's mansion.

The mansion had two sentries posted at the main gate. Two guards continuously patrolled the mansion grounds. Rajat climbed over the fence, gave them the slip and made his way to a bedroom window. He managed to open the window. He stepped in only to hear the security alarm system echoing loudly. The bedroom light switched on and Rajat found himself face to face with Laileen Jain, the young man whom Rajat had supposedly killed in the accident five years ago. Laileen Jain was a dead man walking. A few seconds later, Mr Jain entered the bedroom carrying a gun.

“Well, well Mr Jain. Its been five long years. I should have killed your son five years ago in that accident. Your son is Laileen. I read that in a magazine. Tell me then, who is Ajay Bose ? How did he die?”

Mr Jain looked at Rajat calmly.

“When Laileen was admitted in the hospital after the accident, I had a brilliant idea. Ajay Bose was a man who had died the same day due to heart failure at the Sion hospital. I merely substituted the death certificates, bribed the doctor, and paid his wife Arpita to keep her mouth shut. With you out of the way, the rest was easy. Too bad you wont live to tell anyone.”

Jain pointed his gun at Rajat's chest. The footsteps of guards approaching could be heard in the background.

Rajat glared at Mr.Jain.

“Mr Jain! Life is like a game of chess. You can think three moves ahead but are allowed to make only one at a time. Only one will die tonight. You have made all your moves. Its time to make mine.”

Rajat aimed his Steyr at the bedroom light and pulled the trigger. The room was plunged instantly into darkness. A few seconds later, another shot echoed in the mansion.

An hour later, the homicide department arrived at the scene to find the body of a dead man. Rajat had been right. Only one had died that night

The Simple Things

The in-flight speakers beeped to life and a mechanical voice spoke up. “Welcome to Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. The temperature outside is 29 degrees and humidity 73%. We hope that you enjoyed your flight with us and we look forward to seeing you in the future. On behalf of Jetsons Airways we hope that you have a pleasurable stay in Mumbai. Thank you.”

I turned around and looked at my wife. She gave me a big smile. I returned that smile and was soon absorbed in my own thoughts. After months of intense planning, the day had finally arrived. The college reunion had finally become a reality.

Making my way through the dense Mumbai crowd, I finally managed to hail a taxicab. En route to the venue of the reunion, The Taj Mahal Palace, I began thinking about my friends. It had been nearly ten years since I had graduated from NIT Hamirpur. I was still in touch with most of them but had not met them in a long time. Stepping out from the cab, both my wife and I were awestruck by the beautiful and the magnificent hotel. Standing next to the Gateway of India, with its back facing the Arabian Sea, this famous and prestigious hotel still held its charm.

As I made my way to the entrance of the hotel, a familiar voice greeted me. “Yo junior! Look at the third button!” Our eyes met and we burst out laughing. I remembered the first time Rahul spoke that sentence. It was in our first year in NIT Hamirpur. As a freshman, one day, I was lured into room D-102(also called the club house back then) where my batch mates pretended to be seniors and took me for a ride. I was made to sing and dance and do other weird and embarrassing things. After about five minutes or so, they confessed that they were my batch mates and had a hearty laugh. I was disappointed that I had been fooled so easily, but cheered up considerably as they found the next scapegoat.

Another voice called out to me. “Kk ccha? Tero Katie ramri ccha!.” In English this translated to “How are u? Your girl is beautiful!”. My sophomore roommate greeted me in Bhutanese. I introduced my wife to him, they exchanged a few words and she went in to join the other ladies. As I looked across the grand majestic hall, I realized that I was in the presence of great and eminent people. From entrepreneurs to DRDO scientists to consultants, there were certainly a wide variety of people present.

Carrying a glass of wine, Vivian made his way towards me accompanied by his wife Kumkum. Vivian now was the deputy managing director of a prominent software company that produced software for Linux. None of us could ever forget Vivian’s (ahem!) interesting ghost story in the first year at NIT Hamirpur. It went something like this.

After his tenth standard, his friends (two guys and three girls) decided to go for a drive with him. Driving the ambassador, they started talking about ghosts. Someone apparently made a remark saying that he didn’t believe in ghosts, and if ghosts really existed, the car would stop immediately. Believe it or not, the car broke down at that very instant! Seeing no one for miles, they made their way to a nearby empty mansion (typical ghost story!). As night approached, the front door started creaking and one of the girls started weeping. Guess who comforted them? YES! It was Super Vivian to the rescue. They started praying, the car repaired itself and they carried on about their way! Later the group learnt that the mansion was haunted! As soon as he completed this story, Reddy spoke up.” Hey Vivian! Which movie is it from?”. We laughed till our ribs cracked. To this day, I still remember the details of his story.

Vivian and I started talking about our college life in general. From crushes to interesting people, we discussed all the experiences we had in our college life. Vivian remembered the manner in which the festival holi was celebrated every year. Shirts would be torn and the students (guys) would dance, sing and move towards the girl’s hostel, encouraging them to join the festivities. The entire hostel would be wet with jets of water flying off in all directions. The subject of teachers came up and we remembered the illuminating and unique characters who taught us. We had had characters who pointed to wooden objects and asked “What is my name?” Thus the topic of teachers was never a dull subject.

I went around talking to my other former college mates, laughing all the way. I was very happy to see them. They had definitely changed a lot.

Dinner was served and the violinist started playing melodious music. I soon found myself drifting away and was lost in a deep reverie. As I began recollecting my experiences, I realized that it was the smallest details that I remembered the most. It was the subtle exchange of words ten years earlier that still had an impact on me. I knew then that the small and the simple things which people generally ignore would turn out to be experiences that they would cherish and treasure the rest for their life. May it be a short walk on a moonlit night or a conversation that took place over a cup of coffee in the canteen, these experiences last a lifetime. I remembered a movie I had seen when I was a teenager. It was called “The Butterfly Effect”. It was based on the chaos theory. It is based on the fact that small things in life eventually translate to bigger things which govern the working of the entire planet! I thought of a simple example to refresh my memory. Had I got one mark lesser in AIEEE (qualifying exam in those days), I would have been in another institute, taken up something else, would have had a different set of friends and would certainly not be attending this reunion. The one mark, which seemed so unimportant then, is what ultimately governed my entire life!

“You were always a daydreamer! Snap out of it!”. My wife was hovering over me, smiling, and squeezing my hand gently. Time certainly had flown and the much awaited reunion had come to an end. Along with Vivian, Kumkum and Reddy, I made my way to pose for the reunion pic. A copy of the photo was distributed to everyone present. I was due to return to work the next day and I caught my flight back as soon as the reunion got over. Bidding farewell to my friends and their families, we got in the taxicab and made our way back to the airport.

As soon as I reached home, I framed the photo and placed it next to the photo taken ten years ago when we had graduated. I began to wonder where we would be ten years hence. I also began to think about ‘the simple things’. I am sure that my thoughts on ‘the simple things’ (during the party) is one of those simple things that I would certainly remember for a long time to come