Switch Off...!

Today morning at roughly 7 am humanity was crushed cruelly by a so-called psycopath in the city of Pune. I get a call from a friend asking me to tune in to the TV news.

My first reaction when I hear the news  is of shock, then bewilderment and then an unashamed feeling of relief. Yes relief, that I or my near ones was not one among the victims and that I am to leave for office after its all over.

With a little shaking hand I start my car and get it on road. While I drive mechanically, my mind wanders to the thoughts of this unusual incidence.

First and foremost...
Is there any value today for a human life?
Yes...we all know the answer, unfortuhatnately, is big NO.
It is even cliche to say  that 'we have grown insensitive to such incidences.'
I ask myself, If I would have been among those  9 who died or even among those who are still fighting death, would my family and near ones have been insensitive to this incident.
Anyways, that still does not answer my first question... Is there no value for human life ??

Surely incidences like bombblasts,major fires,stampedes and  big accidents,  have lately been so common place that we read about it, may be watch the news like a film scene..say tut tut for the victims and go to sleep probably thinking...'look my near ones are peacefully asleep,thats important for me...what has happened to others I can hardly help or change..so why do I worry with something that has happened at a Kolkata or a Noida or a Nasik....'

And I am snoring in 5 minutes after it...

So, I get my answer..there is no value for human life. And I am in no position to do anything about it.
And then the realisation dawns on me. There is no value even for my life. Because I am among those thousands who are currently on roads. And probably everyone has the same fear in their mind.
Am I safe today...this hour.....this very moment ?

Suddenly even at 9.30 in the morning, on a winter day, with AC on in the car, I feel I am sweating.
I glance around. I can see no cheerful faces, in cars or on bikes. Everyone seems to have got engulfed with a feeling. Let me reach my office, or home safely.

I hear on the radio that the man was a bus driver and he was a psychiatric case.
I think, what would have made this man a ravaging maniacs to go berserk on crowded roads? A person who was cooly crushing vehicles and humanbeing for a good 90 minutes must be a cold blooded man..a murderer.Or was he?

Why did he do this? A morning fight with his wife perhaps..or a earlier day scowl from his superior...or some financials stress? Or was it a outburst of a volcano which was hidden somewhere deep in his mind waiting to errupt, which came out suddenly due to one of the above reasons. May be...but I did not know the correct answer. 

I reach office...people around keep talking of the incident the whole day. The questions lingers in my mind.

Whether its running back off my mind, I would not know..but by evening I get the answer.  

It is the age old problem of humanbeings  to carry the 'monkey on the shoulder'.
Yes...its our habit of carrying our problems in the outside world to our inside world and vice versa.

Remember, why at times we suddenly are awake at 5 am in the morning and then cant sleep even if you had full 2 more hours of sugar sleep? Targets not completed...the 10 am con call..the sullen face of the boss.

Remember the last time your mother and wife had a quarrel and how the whole day you spent restless at your office? Will they fight again when I am not at home..what will my children think?

Yes, its our inability to get from one mental frame to another..our inability to forget thing easily...
our inability to 'Switch off'.  Yes... thats the word ..'Switch off'.

Your and mine, our unwillingness to switch off is the bane of all the frustration that we carry from home to office and then from office to home  day in and day out.

Look at this incident. Who would have imagined that a man who had got may be 50 passengers from Gangapur to Pune, a journey of  non stop 9 hours, only the earlier night..safely while the passengers  were sleeping peacefully, would wake up after a brief sleep, take out the first bus he gets from the bus stand, run amock for an hour and half, and crush around the same 50 innocent people.

Why..? 

May be he had a quarrel with his wife at home.
May be he was not happy with the result of his child in the unit test.
May be he got a call from the money lender friend of his reminding him of the next interest instalment  which he could not pay. 
The reason could be this or anything different from this. But the fact that he carried the monkey on his shoulders to work and something at the workplace just gave a trigger to the volcano was a sure reason for this disaster.

It could have been avoided...

If only he had put that monkey back in the cage before coming to the bus stand. 9 innocent lives would have joined their families for dinner and would be cuddled in the beds with the wives and children as I type these words.
  
...If only Santosh Mane would have 'switched off' in time... 

The Man....

The man woke up early. He had hardly slept that night, anyways. Just tried to catch some winks enough to gather strength for the next day. And a big day it was going to be!

'Practice time' told the little watch on the bedside. His whole  body ached...his legs revolted...his eyes wanted some more sleep.....so he gave a shake and said 'wake up dude...you have a match to play'. His routine had hardly changed for the last 22 years.

He called for the morning tea from a overly courteous housekeeping and went for his bath.
Through with his tea...he took his medicine..the painkillers his physio had given him which he was taking since last 8 years. It suddenly reminded him of the pain lately he felt in his warnout knees, his operated elbow....but again ...he gave it a shake and said to himeself..'out you go buddy...you have a job at hand'.

He came out of the hotel room in the morning breeze....glanced at the rooms sideways....sighed..and walked. A man came and took his kit...he got in the car and reached the stadium for his practice.
No one had reached....but for the guards stationed whole night...he smiled at them..shook hand with one of them who wished him good luck.  When he reached the nets he ran and warmed up a bit. He took out the bat, a 3 pound wonder he had used in all the big occasions...and today was just one...

He practiced alone for a while...till gradually his team mates started joining slowly. The match was in the afternoon, but for him the match had already started last night...in his mind. He exactly new where he was going to be targeted today...what were the areas he needed to be careful...and where was his concentration to be. His body prepared for a war and his mind for the battle. He was not new to it.

Later in the evening...little drained out with the sweltering heat and fielding (he was not a young man now) when he walked to do what he best knew...the roar in the stadium suddenly made him conscious...of the big burden of expectations he was carrying. Will I be able to do it?  The entire stadium was chanting his name..it made him further nervous. But then like he had done the last 22 years...he just jogged a little...shrugged off the nervousness...stretched his arms...and told himself...          ' now ...dear now'.

He suddenly knew...he could not fail today. Like all these years....for those forty thousand in the stadium and just another billion out there...standing outside some  tv showroom, roadside, on the sofa, in the chawls, in the hutments...for a glimpse of the man and what he was going to unfold before them. He took a breath...and ...got on to his work.

When the team had won the match late that night...the man stood on a side...satisfied...job done. He was happy...his young mates were getting accolades, which were at one time in his carrer virtually reserved for him. He thumped them...cheered them...patted them. It was a big win....for all of them. As usual he had broken one more record...but then he was hardly interested. He took care his own achievement did not over shadow his peers. But then that was his second nature.

The party went on till late night. The boys were jubiliant and knew how to express it. After spending a little time with them he returned to his room. He went and watched the highlights of the match. He also had asked his manager to arrange for the recorded highlights of the earlier days match. The match was won by a team which was another arch rival. He sighed...and started studying both the matches while making his mental notes. It was late night when he slept. By that time the entire country had slept after partying. Inadvertantly,  the billion people had again put the burden on his shoulders while themselves sleeping peacefully.

The next day morning he woke up early. He had dreamt of the next match...and was again not  able to sleep soundly. His weary eyes revolted...his legs and arms wanted some more rest....so he gave a shake and said   'wake up dude...you have a match to play after just four days'.

Afterall...his routine had hardly changed for the last 22 years.

The Child on the Street..!

As the signal turns red, I slowly squeeze my car just to break before the zebra line.

Suddenly this child appears from nowhere and does something which does not appeal to my senses...he just takes off his half torn, mud smitten shirt off his body and starts wiping the glass of the car standing next to me.

 I look across to the person in that car..he is equally shocked. He immediately raises the driver side glass that is down till now. The boy cleans the front view glass and comes to the driver side...the driver becomes tense...he knows that the boy will now ask him for money...he opens the side glass a little and shouts at the boy.."aye...mat karo...mat karo...". The boy anyways puts his hand in front of the driver...but the driver just shrugs him off.

The boy, to my dismay, now  moves to my car..he wipes the screen on the left side...and is about to start wiping the front screen, when the signal turns green. The other vehicles which were watching the scene for all this time suddenly start honking , the boys runs sideways. Poor child..does not get an opportunity to come to my side to ask for his compensation. Not that I care much..in fact I feel relieved that I was saved of the predicament whether I should give the boy some money or just shrug him off like the other car driver did.

As I push the accelerator I have a look in the side view mirror on my right...I see the boy still standing on the footpath... at the same spot...waiting for the next red signal. Just before I take a turn across the square to the right, I feel I see something in his eyes. I wonder if it is the anger against all of us who just do not care or is it mere frustration that he has go through all this  because he was born to poor parents.

While I mechanically drive back home,  the boy and his eyes keep coming back to me. Though this is not the first time I have seen children begging at cross-roads, this incident has disturbed me a little..it actually has made me feel guilty. Actually there is nothing wrong that I have done..the boy could not even reach my side or I would have given him some money.

Or would I? On second thoughts...I feel I would have probably not even pulled my glass down....the boy would have just thumped my window glass twice and seeing I was not interested would have just shrugged off...yes..shrugged 'me' off and gone ahead to the next car.

Yes...I now know what those eyes were saying to me when I sped off. They seemed to say me 'hey you..I know you care not for me...I know you dont give a damn for the situation I am in...but then...understand this...I dont give a damn to you and your air conditioned car either..I dont give a damn to anyone of you'.

Its the first time I feel that someone has taken my shirt off.....publicly.

I look in the side view mirror...and I feel the boy is still standing on that footpath... with a mischevous smile in his eyes.



The gift..!

Friendship is called a gods gift..... I beg to differ.

I feel friendship is your own gift to yourself.

How come...you may ask.

Consider this fact. When you are friend with someone,   is it by force?  True...you cant choose your parents, you cant choose our siblings, your relatives, your bosses, your peers, but...you can always 'choose' your friends. You can have friends for lives made in seconds or made over a lifetime...but they are by  your own choice.

So..my dear friends..is friendship not a gift to ourselves that we offer by choosing a friend, a real good friend?

I have been fortunate in my life. I was not born rich..(and I know for sure I will not die one too)..but... I was laways enriched with good friends at every stage of my life. All of my friends have been responsible,  have contributed in some way or other in creating the person I am. Its the same with all of us. The persona in us is in many ways has a direct co-relation with the kind of friends we had on the way. If you have had happy, jovial friends..your childhood would have been the best. On the other hand if you had a crying baby as a friend...well....now you know.

The best part of friendship is that if you are a good person..you attract good friends. Good people want to be with you..want to talk to you, spend time with you. But many a lives are spoilt too because of bad friends.

In my childhood I had a good number of friends. Some of my school friends whom I befriended are still one of my best friends. I remember one group of mine in my native city Miraj. We used to meet everyday at an 'adda' in a central place in our town and chat for hours altogether. As was the trend our discussions would hover around films. But the best part was the 'one liners' that we used with each other which brought a wittiness in us. A profound knowledge of Hindi films and  music which I made then, is a by-product of this friendship.

Growing through the College years..I made few more friends...some intellectuals..some lesser mortals. We studied Engineering together..but we also contributed to each others positive energy. I recall we running an Engineering Association..a small group of budding Engineers who used to meet every Sunday in a school to develop our Engilsh conversational skills. A career in Sales Marketing for me was possible with this  solid foundation of 3 years, spent with my friends, refining these skills.

A few of my friends were a part of each of the small and big events of my life..be it going to IIT Kanpur through my  college for a paper presentation,  my first job, my first 2 wheeler, my first woodland shoe purchase, my first walkman,my first outing at pizzahut,  my first camera, my  engagement, my marraige, and the list goes on.  Even when I came to Pune for a job the first place I shared was with one of my friend. (he somehow accomodated me..) Every time I raised my eyes to find them and they were there, smiling, reassuring me with their eyes...'hey buddy dont worry..we are there..'

Why is social networking so popular? Dont we get so happy to re-establish our contact with a long forgotten friend? Thats the magic of friendship.

 And again..its a gift to you..by you..the best you could ever give.

So would you like if I gift your friendship to myself ....forever?

The beginning...!

Friends, as I set on to start my blog, the first experience in blogging for me, I am a little anxious. The anxiety is for the fact whether I will be able to keep up to this task...or frankly...should I take up this task at all. But I have anyways decided to give it a shot. I seek your support and blessings!

So what should I write in my first ever blog, I ask myself? After giving it a thought for a while, I decide to write something about my native city where I spent my childhood. 

The town, where I was brought up,is a small town named Miraj. It is a city in South Maharashtra,  on the border of Karnataka, and hence has a mix of people speaking Marathi and Kannada. In fact the two languages go so hand in hand and have so inter-mingled with the lives of the people of Miraj, that I wonder why there should be any disputes arising out of language in either of the states. Many from my family spoke both these languages frequently and still speak. Alas.. this bilingual way of life is getting extinct...children speak mostly Marathi...which I understand  is a practical choice by their parents...however the beautiful co-existence of these two sister languages will be a thing of past in the years to come.

One more noteworthy thing about my city was also the communal harmony betwen the Hindus and Muslims, till recently. I say 'till recently' because a year and half back during Ganesh festival  there were riots in my beloved city, which humbled my pride that there would never be communal tension in my city, inspite of the fact that both communities have more or less the same population in the city. Now that it has happened, I shudder of the fact that the name of  Miraj may be taken in the same breath as a  Bhiwandi or a Malegaon. God forbid...!

 I have fond memories of going with my grand mother to the famous 'Mirasab Dargah' in Miraj, which is as frequented by Hindus as by Muslims. My grandmother used to visit the shrine every Thursday, till her health could allow her. It never came to my mind in the childhood that I am visiting some shrine which is of a other sect. It was as normal as visiting the Ganpati or Mahalaxmi temple, where we used to go. I pray to god (and also allah) let sense prevail and Miraj get back its old distinction of a peace loving city.

Miraj is known for its good weather and therefore has been a leading centre for health services and hospitals where millions of patients from across states come to get treated. Earlier it was known for the famous 'Wanless Memorial Hospital' which was considered to be one of the most modern hospitals of its time...but now over the period  has many others too which have made Miraj proud of its distinction.

I now rarely go to Miraj. Its only once in a year that I get an opportunity. Having stayed in a bustling metro like Pune for quite a few years, I feel very squeezed when I travel in my hometown. The roads are the same narrow, the people still mostly on bycycles, the same market at the centre of the city, the same theatres..not much of a change. On the other hand I feel that it is better for the city...because the people here like it this way..they are content. The mass materialism of the cities is still not arrived here. I have seen Pune getting from good to bad..and now from bad to mad. I hope this does not happen to my birth city.

I dream of one day, in my old age, going back to my city, and when as a old man walk on its roads,I will never feel lost. It would be as if I have woken after a 30-40 years and had never left it. Amen to the spirit of 'contentment' of my beloved city, my Miraj..!