First Step Towards Humanity!

         As my birthday is round the corner, I got an email from my employer - "Birthday rewards". Excitedly, I opened the email and went through all of it rather in a jiffy. Re-read it twice and thrice to grasp the better of it. It mentioned how I can claim a certain 3 digit amount and credit to my payroll, or if my kindness kicks in, then donate it to an NGO partnered with my company. Now this was the test of my conscience. Gift is a gift, no matter how old we are. Who doesn’t await a gift - whether it comes from your employer, spouse or friends. But at the same time, its a test of one's inner conscience. Will 3 digit amount add any value to my self worth or can add value to charities & trusts that thrive majorly on regular contributions. I was reminded of the sad faces that knocked at our doors during Covid days - ones struggling to make ends meet at charitable institutions such as orphanages, old age homes, etc. The pandemic days were alone terrible in every sense to common men. Many families got wiped off by the dreadful virus. Some were left orphaned, some childless, some homeless, many job less. So, now the question boiled down to my integrity amid all these flashbacks. Alas after several clicks, finally donated the amount. Sigh! Was it so hard after all? 

          Could not help but notice the amount contributed would be taxed. We are fifth largest economy in the world, yet we contribute so much to tax. The tax that we pay is only documented as and when it is deducted from our account on basis of income, interests on sources, other income, etc. But no longer accounted when it is credited to government. In first world nations, citizens get proper facilities, good roads, safety and security, police patrol vehicles, emergency helpline at service, hospitals within reach, clean water, proper sewage treatment, clean environment , ambulances & fire engines within 5 minutes of smoke detected. In India, we pay GST on every item purchased, food & commodities, service tax and GST in restaurants, and on every service availed (including petrol pumps).  We also pay tax on income, house owned, cars purchased. There's tax levied on everything - water , electricity, food, petrol, etc. In exchange we don’t even have safety, security, clean air or water as in the first world nations. Remember how smoggy it is in Delhi? Many ex-NRIs have spoken at length why they preferred to return back to India - because they value parents more than money, prefer relations over loneliness. But one thing they truly miss is the way of life people living abroad truly cherish. The places that are accentuated by discipline, queue, safety, security, cleanliness, that makes it look and feel heavenly. Can we have all of that in the most populous country that is ruled by corruption? Not in near future. Various people have varying opinions, but that wont change the face of reality by any degree better than what it is currently. It has been truly said either adapt to the change or change the situation. People are more likely to adapt than change situation, as they seem to think its not easy. We need more optimists who can change the wave and place our country at least among the second world countries. 

           As a child we were always eager to grow up, as an adult we regret the world we grew up in. We somehow want to make the place great for the next gen. I used to spend sleepless nights a month away from my birthday. Staying wide awake bundled away in my blanket planning how to spend the day - imagining striding into the class in pretty frock, hairs tied in ribbons, white socks & glittering sandals, clutching packet of éclairs, deciding on number of chocolates to gift close friends, deciding which big bar to buy for the favorite teachers, nights used to turn into days but planning would never end, was never really enough, until my mom threatened to thrash me to sleep. As we age, all these memories keep bubbling up. As young, we had bright ideas how to spend our birthday, though majority of it included giving away chocolates, giving away sweets & snacks, organizing small celebration in presence of family and friends, our happiness radiated from within. By the end of the day, it did not matter what we received, it was more about the joy of sharing.

As we grow, we reflect on what we get rather than what we give away. On some days we donate to charity, some days we act self centered. We try to protect ourselves by creating a envelope around us, from the very people with whom we used to enjoy sharing. The celebrations of late have become very nuclear affair. School kids are seen continuing the ritual of spending the day with friends and families. Grown ups just cut themselves away from everyone and sulk in the memories of the past - the good old days. We no longer feel the joy we used to have as a kid. We sometimes don’t realize importance of our own birthdays, we don’t stop and ponder over all of it. We just straddle along the path of life working hard each day to live the lifestyle we all dreamed about; sometimes wondering what even is joy. 

As a pre-unv student I used to have very limited pocket money, most of which used to get over merely traveling to and fro college on bus. One way used to cost ~2 rs as subsidized rate for students. I used to keep just 6 rs handy with me. One day a girl who got on the bus with me she came to me tensed and requested if i had an extra 2 rs. She used to get down in the stop next to mine. I felt the extra 2 rs in my pocket and denied having extra money. Deep within my conscious wanted to help, but was worried what if she did not return my money later as she was a stranger. I had very few friends and had not yet learnt the art of sharing/ helping people. My social skills were 1 on a scale of 10, also being an introvert. That girl had tears in her eyes, not knowing what to do. She stood silently not knowing what to tell the conductor. An aged man asked her what the matter was, when she told she had no money, he stacked all the coins on his palm.. and asked her to pick as many as she wanted. She thankfully picked 2rupees and promised to pay him back. The man was poor, but he was very helpful. I stood there ashamed, still clutching on to my extra 2 rupees in my pocket.

Second incident was when I was waiting in a queue for the Food truck in United states. I was busy reading the menu and mentally calculating what to buy as the food quantities were usually wholesome, but being a foodie I always wanted to try at least 2 items from the menu and later would beg my husband to help me finish them. A heavily pregnant Asian woman got down from a van, that was driven by a man in black jacket. He warned the woman against getting down from the vehicle, she did so in defiance. She came to the queue and begged every person to help her buy 1 item as she was hungry and she was carrying. The man in jacket looked out in doubt. Suddenly she came to me and begged - madam pls am hungry.. can u please buy me some food. My husband looked at me asking if he should help. I denied in self doubt. Many questions arised - who is she, what if she ran away with my wallet, what if the guy in the car shot us, what if.... And she left the spot crying. Every onlooker stared at them, nobody helped. For the history, few days back my husband had helped an old lady who begged from her car window saying she had no money for the petrol near Milpitas mall. And next day we spotted her in Costco driving through parkway pleading me again for money for the petrol. 

Several days after that we spotted her in adjoining areas begging for money for petrol. We lost trust on people. Once a homeless guy waylaid my husband in parking lot and pleaded for food. My husband took him to nearby grocery store bought bread, noodles for the guy who thanked and left. So it was always a real challenge to know who is genuine and who is not at the crux of the moment. But what if the lady's struggle was real, is what bothered me at times and made me regret even many days later.

After many such regret filled incidents, I realized - when in doubt just help. I do not regret helping the old woman who hoodwinked everyone in the neighborhood for petrol because she opened my eyes to be aware of such cheats. But I do regret not helping few who may have needed my help. 

We all have our own eye opener moments, and we end up with regrets and lessons in life. The only way to grow is to embrace those lessons and be kinder every year than the previous one. We are all learning as we are aging. And there goes the famous expression - Aging like a fine wine! Time to ponder - are we?

It isn’t the first step on Moon that was a giant leap for Mankind, rather a small step in Humanity that can prove to be a giant leap for Mankind and the generations yet to come.

My reflections on Womans day!

 Today I woke up amid several woman’s day wishes, with my phone notifications constantly buzzing me out of deep slumber.

Today was no different than others. The household chores and the usual office grind are never ending affairs and here comes the end of this day! We were taught to appreciate efforts that women spend during every walks of our life right from our school days. But we never gave it a serious thought.A thought to what a woman goes through every single day, every week, every month and then years altogether. Wishing well is so easy, but are we ready to bring across some change in the way society thinks or the way the other gender treats women? Then we need not observe any specific days.

The World is accelerating at such an immense pace, first world nations are setting up examples, developing countries are thriving globally by their progressive thinking. We have women presidents and prime ministers around in the world, women leaders in several organizations.Now we have women leading at higher positions in Army, navy and air force. We often gush at their valiant displays during republic day parade, aero shows as brave women pilots. They have set excellent examples to inspire other aspiring women. But there are few factors that still obstruct vital progress.

The patriarchal society does not support its women enough to pursue their aspirations. Recent statistics shows we still have so many girls drop out of secondary schools, colleges mostly in the age range of 6-17 yrs for household work or early marriage. Among those, at least 2% dropped out due to safety concerns and another 2% due to poor financial conditions or facilities. As for the rest proceed to college, there is another 5-7% dropout too. Mostly in families, boys' education is given more importance than a girl's. If economic condition is bad, either the girl has to earn scholarship to continue her studies or is married off. Its a sight to see, expectation on girls and women to finish off the house-hold chores as well as do the studies / handle office responsibilities. Any incapability to handle the household work is dealt with harsh criticisms . Have seen lot of girls in the family brooming, mopping and washing clothes & utensils even on their exam days , whereas boys have to just focus on their studies and are being given all the help needed. Not to mention, there are boys who also help their mothers in household chores in the absence of sisters. But young girls are groomed for household work right from an early age. They are made to believe it is their responsibility to keep the home spic and span, perform all types of chores, cook and feed the members of the family. Lot of families living in the urban areas have overlooked this concept, but not culminated this kind of thinking entirely.

For example it still surprises me to see men in the family just walk to the dining area, eat and walk off. They don’t even bother to pick their plates to keep in the sink or clean after them. They don’t ask women whether they need any help in the kitchen. Instead they boss around, can you bring me that book, pass on the newspaper, get me a glass of water and so on.

Change begins at home, and change comes from within. Instead of simply wishing women on this day, please pick up your own plate, gather your own stuffs, stop sending women on errands especially when you dont have anything else to do. Educate your sons to do the same. Let us change the mentality of our households where women are treated inferior socially. Let us support women in our life and crush this patriarchy.

Be it our mother, sister, wife , relative or acquaintances or colleagues at office. Let us stop judging them for once and for all. Women working in offices have to compromise on some aspects in order to complete her chores, look after her family and also keep her superiors satisfied about her working abilities.

Another thing that astounds me is that women do not support women; let alone men. In the patriarchal families, elder women train younger women to follow certain ideologies and to not consider herself before any male member in the family. Which means first preference would be to feed all the men and then feed other remaining and then leftovers to oneself. This is still prominent in 75% of the Indian families. Neglecting oneself in the name of love and care for others is a farce. One should stop treating certain members preferably purely based on genders.  Also in lot of villages, female infanticide is prevalent still today. They are thought to be a burden to the family. That’s how the dowry system evolved in the early ages.

 In the offices, percentage of women climbing the rungs of corporate ladder starts dropping as the job level increases. Very few make it to the board of directors and very few to the office of the CEO. Women do not get the necessary support or flexibility often in most of the offices. Expecting mothers are frowned upon, new mothers laid off. Lot of recruiters hire in the name of gender diversity. But the question worth pondering is why does a company suddenly feel the need to be inclusive by diverse gender? If their policies were lenient enough, there would have been many women already working with them. In current corporate scenarios wherein WFH and hybrid work culture is rampant, healthy work life balance is a myth. Can companies provide flexible work hours to the men and women who need to balance their personal life with work?

Instead of having women’s day gratitude sharing day/week, can we recognize the women who slog overtime neglecting their personal life by rewarding them a flexible work schedule? Despite the newer generations evolving we see decreasing gaps in the gender bias, but it will definitely take another century for a complete overhaul at this pace. Hopefully, a day may come when women wont need special recognition on this single day, infact she should feel welcome every day.

Some relationships that never die….

It was one of the cold mornings in Mussourie. The class was busy jotting down the essay put up on the board. The composition was on ‘Celebrating Raksha Bandhan’. All the kids leaned on their desks energetically scribbling away onto the next several pages, taking down every word from the board carefully. I was gazing intently at the students absorbed in their writing, myself perched atop a table with my arms folded. I always looked forward coming to this particular class each morning rather than any other class. Yes, there was more than a reason on why this class and not any other! 

Amid the silence of the class, I stared out of the window that opened towards a lake; surrounding the school on one of the sides. The serenity of that lake was actually an abode for one of the most unforgettable incident that had taken place six years back which left me transformed forever!

Six years back, on one of those usually peak hours in the evening, I was returning from school with my younger brother Babloo tugging at my elbow for balloons. Although Babloo was aged only two, he often threw tantrums at home whenever I used to get ready to leave for school; to allow him accompany me to my school. Not being able to put up with his daily dose of tantrums, my mother at last had a word with my head master to get him admitted to the Lower KG in the same school. Subsequently, his DOB in the birth certificate was tailored to meet that eligible age for a kid to be admitted in any school. Since then Babloo used to proudly accompany me to school armed with his blue water bottle (that was actually a camlin gum bottle, given to him after the gum stock became empty), yellow gum boots, and a red satchel, excited to be in his sister’s company all the day long. Whenever he saw a bird or a cat across the way, he used to tug at my skirt excitedly to draw my attention and I used to narrate him tales revolving around those characters after a frugal meal of ganji at night.

Since few days, the colorful rakhis put up on display across the shops had reminded me of the upcoming Raksha bandhan festival. And I had been desperately saving every paisa to afford a nice rakhi to adorn my sweet little brother’s wrist. Today was that much awaited day I had been looking forward to select that 1 beautiful rakhi for this year. On my way back home, I led Babloo into a shop on the footpath run by an old lady. After gazing at all the rakhis, I became rather confused which one to zero upon, as most of them were seemingly beautiful. So I asked Babloo which one he would like to have. Little did Babloo understand the definition of beauty for his small age. Sucking on his thumb, he pointed gleefully towards a small teddy bear attached to a fine satin thread. When I enquired the price of that rakhi, I was bit disappointed. But how could I refuse my brother’s wish? I pleaded that lady whether I could get back the remaining balance next day while on my way to school and placed the money that I had on the counter. But she was indeed a kind hearted lady, she smiled warmly and said, “Its ok. Take it for the money that you can afford now.”  Packing away that rakhi, she handed over the packet to me. Overwhelmed by her kindness I thanked her profusely and turned towards my brother to show him what we brought just now. Just then the boy was missing from the scene. I was bit alarmed and looked inside the shop hoping to find him inside. But he was not there. I stepped out of the shop and looked all around on the road. I was shocked to find him crossing the road ahead calling out to me, “Didi, see those balloons”, pointing towards the hydrogen gas balloons that were on the other end of this road. Among several vehicles speeding away, a motorcyclist was speeding in his direction and I had no time to call him or ask him to stop as he had reached almost the middle of the road. Quickly I ran towards Babloo. In no time, the blood splashed over the footpath. All the pedestrians stood shocked like statues; beholding what had just happened. Roadside vendors jumped in horror across the stream of blood.

 Police vans and ambulances soon arrived at the spot to rush the victim to hospital. Spectators of this disaster whispered, ”The whole body looks battered with some parts scattered all over. Very brutal sight of accident! Pity the parents of this unlucky victim.” 

I managed to get up aftermath from where I was lying on the road. I searched for Babloo and found him fallen safely in one of the fruit baskets of some vendor in a fruit shop. The force by which he was pushed had landed him in a basket of grape vines. He was in a state of shock and looking wide eyed at the number of people gathered around. “Babloo” I cried and embraced him and kissed him on his cheeks thanking the almighty for having saved him from this accident. But he did not respond my actions. Instead some people took him away in their arms. I was stunned- how can they pull him away from me just like that. “Hello, he is my brother, give him back to me.“ I alleged advancing towards them. But they passed through me. I looked back at the accident spot. I was nerve wrecked!!! It was my body lying battered. Oh my..! What has happened to me…?!! No, No. God you cannot take me away like this. What about the rakhi I had bought for my brother? You did not even give me a last chance to tie him that rakhi! Why??!! Why God…Why?! The packet of rakhi lay on the roadside soaked in blood.

Today Babloo is studying in third grade, sitting in the same class as I was six years back! And that’s me - his sister dotting to see her brother at school each day. He is sitting on the bench facing the window busy jotting down his composition. After the last rites, my remains were disposed off in this very lake. And that’s how this is my abode. Sitting every day in my brother’s class and gazing at him is what I look forward to each day! 

I take care to see no one does any evil to him. I pushed my hand forth to stroke his fine hairs, but no sooner he gets up, walks through me and strides towards his class teacher.

“Very good Babloo”, beams the teacher looking into his book, addressing the class, “He has also added his own lines to this composition, well done!” But, something slips from the last few pages of that book. Babloo quickly bends down to reach it and tucks it away in his side pocket. The small teddy bear attached to the satin thread dangles from his pocket.

Gulmohar Sadan

Facebook Notification popped up on my mobile screen.  Ah, a new friend request, not again this time..oh pls.. I sighed. But the name sounded familiar - Arav Dutta. I began racking my brain hard to recall where had I heard of him before. Clicking onto his name,  I landed on his profile. We have two mutual friends, it displayed. Upon further browsing, I found those mutual friends to be my schoolmates. I had lost contact with my schoolmates quite long back and some of them were mere friends on Facebook now. So, here and there a glimpse of their whereabouts always flashed in the news feed and I hardly gave it a damn.

What I loved about my childhood was the chaos in the city and yet the serene residential area that thrived within it’s boundaries, that still preserved the culture of the city intact. Every festivity was celebrated with great pomp and joy.  This was often perceived as an opportunity to socialise and mingle among the residents. Quite famous were the Gurba-dandiya during Navratri , Diwali and Christmas where people flocked at each others’ homes and also thronged the stalls late in the night. Quite a show of festive gesture!

Recently I had moved back to this sprawling city of Mumbai on account of my official transfer and I wholeheartedly looked forward to pursue my dream job here. The entire city seemed so lively in contrast to the other places I had stayed so far. It seemed to enliven the good old lively memories of my childhood. Soon I managed to book a nice residence in the heart of the city. It was much of as surprise when I happened to bump across an enthusiastic agent who proactively arranged for a meet with the sellers and helped me strike a decent deal for a flat in 'Gulmohar Sadan' . Felt so proud to own a home that too within such a short span of search, when I was hardly hoping to get even a rented place.

Everyday my work kept me busy from dawn to dusk until I managed to pull myself away from work by my 5 pm, each evening. On the way back I often shopped for fresh veggies and cooked myself a decent meal. Left overs were packed off as lunch for the next day. Always I had my dinner accompanied by the daily soaps and often dozed off on the cozy couch after a heavy dinner. It had become a routine that I loved my life after work enough to stop seeking any better career prospects floating in the market.

First few days went as usual, but after a few weeks, I started getting sudden buzzes on my phone or either doorbells rings, right in the middle of the night. These incidents drove away my sleep and I used remain very anxious for the rest of the night wondering who was the culprit. The calls or the doorbells used to buzz sharp at 12:00 am. The door binoculars did not reveal anybody’s presence though I pressed my eye for a good deal of 60 mins trying to capture any movements outside my door.

Firstly, I suspected my agent to be playing a prank on me to frighten me off, as it happens in metro cities. But slowly on enquiring from the neighbourhood, I realised he was one of the respected entities of the town and doubting on him was next to insanity. Even to me, he seemed to be a genuine sort of person and it would have been unbelievable to doubt on person of such caliber, who was rich and respected in the society. Next on the doubt list were the mischievous kids in the colony. But there were hardly any kids aged older than 7 in the whole block. So it was again impossible for any child to reach the height of the doorbell. Next, I suspected the vegetable vendors or any sales man who would have tress-passed the area at odd hours. Again, the community was gated and under surveillance.

“Yes, on surveillance!”

Upon realising this, I soon approached the security guard of the building. He was one of the fattest guy I had ever seen. It was usual for him to take hours to get off his seat, let alone go and play pranks around, that too in the middle of the night. So, it was utterly nonsense to even doubt on him. I asked him if I could get me a copy of recording of the entire night watch captured by the cam. He laughed off and asked, 
“Ma’am, do you think we really spend on cameras especially when you have a heavy security like me dispatched to guard the block for the entire night? And still you think someone charging you Rs 300  for maintenance per month would actually install camera in the first place?” 
He chuckled.

I was apprehensive by now and just left the spot hopelessly. The buzzing episode continued almost everyday and it almost took away my entire night’s sleep. Someone at work also suggested me to check if it was due to some paranormal activity. Now, I wasn’t a great believer of spirits or its entities. But there was no other reason I could think of. Next day, I tried contacting the owner of the home to check if there was any abnormal incident in the past of that home. They attended my call normally and spoke really sweet and calmed me down of my fears. They said there was nothing bad about that home or the neighbourhood and put all my fears to rest. But the recurring incident of the night had made me go crazy and sleep deprived. I tried staying at my friend’s (colleague who turned into my confidante soon) place for few nights, but i wasn’t really feeling good since I knew I had to return my usual home one fine day and stay in the night. 

Then one fine night, there was a loud tapping on the main door and that scared the shit off me. I locked myself inside the remotest room in my home and tried calling up my team mates. But to my surprise the network turned so worse, there was no signal to reach out to anybody. I chanted every possible prayer till my energy drained me to sleep. Next morning, muttering up all courage I just opened up the main door and was shocked to find  blood stained palm prints right on my door. I was so nerve wrecked, my immediate reaction was to tap my neighbours door. But there was no response what-so-ever. And I ran all the way to the security guard. The dozing guard grunted back to me as if I had just seen a nightmare. Gritting my teeth, I just fled to my friend’s place as usual after packing my few essentials.

After a few days, I mustered enough courage to return back home along with this friend of mine. Both of us stayed throughout the day and retired to bed early that night. It was sharp 12 am and the clock pendulum struck the musical chord. My heart was pounding as usual and anticipated the tapping or buzzes to go on anytime soon. Sooner than expected, the tapping started with all might on the door. The sound woke up my friend who was terrified at what was happening. She was the gutsier kind and wanted to check on who was outside the door doing this menace at this unearthly hour. I was so shaken, that I almost pleaded her to let this phase pass and to capture any possible information by staying within the door limits just using the binoculars or either the key hole.

An adamant that she was, she just stepped out of the door after convincing me to keep calm and the door swung tight right behind as she stepped out. I almost led out a shriek and tried opening the door with all my might to pull her inside, but it seemed as though someone held it close with mightier force. I just let it go and collapsed on the floor awaiting some bloodier mess. But right at the next instant, the door creaked open and my friend just walked in, closing the door with the same sleepy look. I shouted at her as to why did she step out to face a disaster on her own and all she let out was a laugh. Upon grilling her further as to what she saw, who was it outside…., she just appeared irritated and went off to sleep ranting, 
“The worst has just passed. I am so sleepy..”

Seeing her behave so negligently, my fears disappeared for the moment wondering if the reason for occurrence was extremely silly. Throughout the night I analysed about different reasons that might have been an answer for the anonymous ring and door taps. Alas my mental anxiety just dazed me off to sleep. In the morning, I got up and prepared my usual breakfast of scrambled eggs. Tried to wake up my friend and she seemed to be in a deep slumber. I watched my favourite daily series till the morning changed to afternoon and soon it was four in the evening . I suddenly realised my friend was still sleeping. walking upto her bed, I just shook her up…

”Lazy bone… just wake up…. Now getting up for few minutes at midnight does not certify that you lost a lot of sleep .. hello wake up…. Just eat something at least…”.

Her body seemed cold. And countless shaking seemed to have no effect on her. I soon alerted my other team mates and also called the doctor. The doctor straightaway prounced her dead after checking her pulse and I jolted severely. The police team reached my home and took me to the station for further interrogation. Meanwhile the body was sent for post mortem. I just did not have any details for most of the questions. My entire team just stood by my side throughout. I almost broke down and was benumbed. I described every shuddering details to the police department including the door tapping, the blood stains found one morning, anonymous phone buzzes… and the investigation team seemed to find this case all more intriguing. I even told them my neighbours were unresponsive. 

Next moment, we all landed up at our neighbours door and police tried ringing the bell and tapping the door. Then they called for the security guard, who informed them that he had no idea about the owner’s whereabouts since the flat was lying vacant since the past 10 years. The police broke the door open and searched inside throughly. In the hall, there were dried stains of blood on the back of the door and on the adjacent walls. And a contact card lying in the open wardrobe. The contact card read – Arav Dutta.

The police contacted him and his narration sent a chill down my spine:

He used to stay in the home where I was staying presently and the owners from whom I had bought the home were none other than his parents. The reason behind the sale was purposely hidden as no families from the native Mumbai even came forward to buy that flat. Reason being, one of the brutal incident that happened in the next door.  There was a spinster who stayed alone who was slaughtered by the previous security guard on one midnight. The entire incident was hushed up by the housing society who were scared of the bad reputation that would attract this community. The offender just fled the city and has been on the run till date. Ever since that night, there used to be strange cries emanating from that home, so much that even the adjacent people vacated the home. The prospective owners put up this flat, where I stayed, for rent. So many families entered the flat only to vacate it unconditionally in the next few weeks.  Gross shrieks, thuds and taps on the door shuddered many a bachelors and families who tried living in this home. And the home where the girl was murdered remained closed for ages; for the owner had shuddered at the very mention of the incident and delayed to come down to check his flat . Eventually owing to his old age, he passed away and there were no takers for that home.

I shuddered at the mere thought of having ended up buying this home without proper enquiry. Just then the inspector received a call from the post mortem lab and appeared all more anxious. Turning towards me, he led out a sigh and said,

“Your friend died of choking and the lab results state that she passed away yesterday at midnight 12:00 am.” Hearing this I collapsed on my knees as I uncontrollably recalled the change in her behaviour the moment she had walked out of the door that midnight. 

A trip that made me wiser

I was back from Chicago on a rather busy Monday morning, after meeting my besties over the weekend. Thrusting my luggage into my small yet comfy room, I hurriedly hustled out of my home with my office bag. It was going to be a rather busy Monday for me with meetings lined up 10:00 am onwards. Breathlessly I sprinted towards my bus stop, that was located at 0.3 miles distance from my apartment. Every time my feet touched the ground, my boots sank deep into the bed of snow formed all over the pavement. It was taking me twice the usual time it took me to reach my stop, despite rushing over the snow clad path. Every second my eyes scanned the time flashing on the display of my cellphone.

Still 0.1 mile to go and I was almost breathless by now. Small clouds trailed out in the cold air whenever the hot air gushed out of my mouth. The place where I resided was about three hours drive from Chicago. It was just another county that did not have much to be boasted about, rather than humble universities and my client company  at which I was currently serving.

Soon the bus stop was within my line of sight and I slowed down the moment I saw my bus leaving the stop. I wished I was bit far ahead for the driver to spot me. An elderly man, in his 50s, drove the public transport with due sort of respect for every passenger. Whenever he caught sight of me, on the other side of the road; frantically waiting to cross the road to board the bus, he patiently halted for me till I hopped onto the bus. But not this time, bad luck! Yes, for I was far behind even to be sighted.

My cell phone showed it was '9.36 AM' and I was let down! Barely had managed to let myself an entry in the office by 10 am on the pretext of my Chicago trip, and here I was in confused state after missing the last bus! Impatiently I swiped my phone to search for the cab service app and managed to book a pick up. The  cab service map showed – driver is arriving in 4 mins. And here I waited, tapping my foot impatiently on the dry patch of snow that covered the weeds. 4 minutes passed and now the map showed cab is at 2 mins distance. My eyes scanned all over the place for the driver only to realize my blunder. I was here standing at the bus stop and my pick up address was given as my home, again 0.3 miles away. I quickly buzzed the driver and there was this man in a pure asian accent on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, Good Morning. Would you mind picking me up from the Hucks gas station which is right on the Allen – Willow Knolls Dr intersection?” I quipped eagerly. “Hello… ma’am.. am not able to get you.. yes am on the Allen road… What's Willow?.. Uh..no.. Am arriving in 5 mins.. pls hold on…”

And before I could clarify further he straightaway disconnected the call.

Again I dialed him back and repeated my lines rather hurriedly; worried lest he reached my residence only to find me stationed about 0.3 miles away and myself waiting hopelessly only to find him deserting me after registering “no show notice” against me and cab service billing me for that amount, plus being stranded on the pavement.

“Ma’am I just don’t understand why are you so worried.. I don’t get the place you are saying, its different from what has been registered for pick up” he bellowed.

I was almost at the end of my tether. “Yes sire, that’s what am explaining you. Am just standing at 0.3 miles from my home and this place is quite easy for you to locate me. You need not bother to travel inside the residential area scouring all the blocks. Instead I am standing right next to the Hucks gas station on the Allen road. Isn't it easy for you to pick me up rather here?”

“Oh yea.. got it. Ma’am am driving I cant talk now.. am coming there right away” he said before disconnecting the call. I was bit relaxed that I could drive across my point before he made it to my residence.  I waited for long and still there was no trace of him. Alarmed, I just tracked him on the cab service map and there he was going away from my vicinity. I called him back again and he said.. “Ma’am almost there. I reached the hucks gas station.” I asked him which gas station he reached exactly and he replied the one near university street. I tapped my forehead loud enough to be heard.

“Sir, can’t you track my position on GPS? Am sure you would be able to understand that’s not the gas station am standing at. Also I mentioned  the “Allen – Willow knolls driveway intersection which is at 0.3 miles from my pickup address I booked. With so much information I just hoped you would make it here”

“Ma’am … ma’am…. I am sorry to interrupt. You are confusing me … I cant get what you are saying…”

I was so damn frustrated by now. My clock showed '10:00 am' and here I was guiding an idiot. I cursed all my stars that day for having landed me in this turmoil. Cancelling the cab and re-booking was futile in such a county where I stayed; for a reason i.e. very sparse population. Its very likely to get the same driver back when you to try to re-book, from my own experience.

I inhaled and exhaled several times and then calmly informed him..

”Ok, reach the pickup address I had registered while booking. I will be there in 5 mins”

Lifting my boots out from the snow puddles, I slowly started on my way back my home . After waiting at the entrance of my apartment for a good deal of 5 mins the driver called me back.

“Ma’am am near the Hucks. Where are you?”

Clenching my teeth, I resisted and waited for a moment for the irritation to get over me before replying.

“Ah well, as I mentioned already, am at the registered address, lest you get confused. Please pick me from 3490….blah blah….”

“Ok ok..no problem.. reaching there”, he said.

And there he reached on the opposite side of road and honked at me. I was too frustrated within and resisted the urge to shoot back a cold stare.

I hopped inside the car behind the driver as I was hardly in any mood to sit next to the driver who caused me so much of distress for past 40 mins.

It was '10:20 am' as my cellphone screen dimmed in the reflection of the broad daylight.

The bald driver turned back to glance at me and shot a smile. I too smiled back politely as I had no interest to ruin my morning further. He seemed to be in his late 40s.

“Ma’am … I had no idea how far Hucks was located from your home.. I was confused and reached another Hucks gas station quite far from your home you know?”

“Yes, I know.. I was locating you on the app’s map. Were you not able to check my GPS location? That would have helped you better .” I replied cooly.

“Oh no.. am not used to GPS tracking ma’am.. I just have this Google navigator, that’s it.”  Sensing the driver is not so tech savvy I just kept from getting into  any further discussion.

In no time I began reciting my office address lest he took me for another ride..“Ok.. my destination is 510 nw…..”

“Yes yes.. I know the address…Will help you reach soon."
"Hope you are not too late for appointment or something..Oh you work there?” he further enquired.

I nodded in affirmation rather reluctantly.

“I too worked there you know for 20 years..” he continued.

Twenty years! Barely I had managed to complete my sixth year  and I was here looking up to a man who had twenty years of industrial experience.

“Twenty.. that’s a pretty impressive figure” I complimented.

“Yes..but I have taken up cab driving full time now…dropping people to their destination all day…”

God knows how many have lost their cool like this before, I imagined.

“Ma’am make yourself comfortable.. you can have water and chocolates kept near the door next to you. And what music do you prefer to hear for now?”

“Uh ..no.. this is a short trip and am not in mood for any music as such. But would not mind if you wanna play your favourite..”

He played some jazz in a medium volume and I hardly minded it.  I am a hard core fan of rock music, who love to play house mix, progressive rock, Electronica/Techno and metalica tracks. I was a good reason for head ache for my family and neighbourhood back in India. My presence at home on weekends was largely dreaded by our neighbourhood folks for creating nuisance throughout the day.

It actually gave me the most wicked pleasure to see others suffering ,owing to my loud deck. And why not? When I was quite a cry baby during my teens, cribbing about my neighbours playing chartbusters loud enough on deck right through my exam days, everyone doled out advices to me on how to focus on studies no matter what other sounds emerged around. And today somehow people don’t seem to like it when tables turned.

Now am not a vengeful person, but I want people to realise - what goes around, comes around. Sometimes I wondered whether they were the silent forces who prayed day and night to liberate themselves from my imposed track of rock, which made me win my H1 B lottery and land here straight at the USA.

If that’s the case, then wow! Sometimes you need more than a prayer, to land into any lucrative prospects… quite true isn't it?! Am imagining them enjoying the serenity around– absolutely free of my exploits. Ha Ha!

“You stay here in the neighbourhood?” He asked, stirring me out of my thoughts.

“Well.. um.. yea… from quite few months… before that I was in California until I got transferred here”..I recited with least interest.

“Oh.. was it H1B? or you pursued your masters here?”

“H1B”

“Oh nice.. so planning for 6 years?”

“Not sure”

“Your family is back in India?”

“Yes”

“Oh my god.. how did your parents even allow you stay so far from them? I cant imagine.. I may not allow my son to go stay away so far… family comes first…”he said thoughtfully.

“My parents are broad minded and they are fine as long as am happy”

“Oh yeah… reminds me of one of my neighbours.. He was an Indian too… His daughter married a foreigner. Since he was my best friend, I asked him how did he agree spot-on despite of not being so open minded about it. And he replied that he was worried lest his daughter eloped away if he disagreed. He would have lost his daughter in that case, which he never wanted to happen. So to retain her in his life, he compromised.”

“Well… indeed true…” I exclaimed.

“Ma’am you spoke so fast on call, I could not understand a word of what you said. But now I can hear you clearly. “

“Oh you could have asked me to slow down in that case.”

“Yeah.. I asked you to.. but maybe we did not get each others accent well”

"I usually rush when in anxiety... maybe..."

I just smiled and looked away on the streets.

I had this habit of speeding on calls, only to be reminded by others – hold on please….as I rushed through. My flow of thoughts gushed at such speed that my words rushed to catch up the velocity. 

As sometime passed, I asked him whether he resided in this county too.

“Yea.. since 1987.. you know. Was a kiddo back then. Then I graduated here and joined this company and was working for a long time. I was too career conscious and ignored my family thinking they will always be there.”

He paused for a long time and I imagined all sorts of possibilities that might have followed due to his negligence.

Clearing the air, he added..”One fine day when I was away from home on a business trip, my wife passed away due to some illness. I rushed back to my home only to find my life completely changed. I could not get over it. Not being able to focus, resigned from my job too. I wanted to join my wife soon after her death. But I could not.. am the only person to look after our five year old son. He is too young and my life just revolves around him. I live for him. To earn our bread I took to full time driving since I was always passionate about driving.”

I was sitting like a statue, shocked over his narration. I had no words to say to console his loss and my throat was parched. My  mind echoed out. - Don’t judge anyone.

Everyone has good or bad days in life and in our daily hustle bustle we fail to realise the other person might be trying to get over their bad days. We are so full of ourselves in our daily lives that we fail to recognise what situation the other person might be facing.

Life is indeed short and we all love to spend it with our loved ones. In this world of cut-throat competition, we all deeply dive in our endeavours of bettering ourselves in the corporate hub. But the realisation dawns upon too late that it was not worth all the lovely moments we missed spending with our dear ones.

As some famous author has quoted, sometimes do stop by the middle of your journey to enjoy the rain…!

"And if your boss asks you why you are late, please do not reply him in anxiety. Instead apologise to him calmly and he would let it go. These things don't matter much in life.", he advised, as he drove me over to the curb next to my office entrance.

I thanked him profusely and stepped out of the cab; much wiser.

A Friday's Gyaan

It was finally one of the Fridays. The clock showed 12 noon. Amid Happy Friday wishes in office, I contemplated what to have for my lunch. Here I was back to my client office for a meeting this Friday and happened to bump against few acquaintances. Slowly everyone pitched in suggestions for some Indian Food. And soon we found ourselves standing across the Indian Café staring doubtfully making up our minds before entering the Cafe.

Settling inside on the warm velvetty couches, we quickly browsed through the menus and ordered few stuffed parathas. Ah! the taste of Indian Parathas here are hugely different from what is served in Indian countryside. Of course, that’s widely expected in a Firangi Desh.  We were busy chatting away.  Mostly chatters spanned from project related cribs to work related stress, gossips and family matters at times. One of my friend said she hired a personal trainer for herself. And the others exclaimed “Wow.. then you could have ordered something healthy from the menu rather the the Ghee paranthas.”  “Oh,no..Am not starving  myself too much” she whimpered an excuse. Soon to everybody’s surprise, she irresistably ordered veggie cutlets on top of it.

We all love giving excuses. If you had ever asked me the previous year, my orders  were been meagre comprising of either dal khichdi or idlis or roti with sabzi. Today I no longer feel the urge to diet, having grown back to my earlier plump size. I always wish to start dieting over again maybe to loose couple of pounds. But that inner voice in me still echoes. ”Enjoy your life.. life is all about trying yummy dishes” Maybe which is why I cant resist shopping deliberate cookies, sweets and ice creams till date.

The steward soon brought in hot huge sized stuffed parathas with curd, pickle and onion slices along with mango lassis and piping hot veg cutlets. We all devoured to our fill.

“Excuse me sir, one of the cutlet is not properly baked”, the fitness freak complained. Within few minutes, we found the waiter rushing in to serve an extra cutlet to replace the half baked one.

After we were done with eating, the old man who came down to clean the table where we sat; asked my friend, “Madam ji, how was the cutlet?” She answered..”Yes, this one’s fine. The previous one wasn’t.”

“Ok. Anything else you need to comment on… like food, service or anything?” , he asked politely.

“Uh.. No. Thank you.”

He requested, “Ok Madam ji. If you have any complaints or negative feedbacks to share, please let me know right now, but kindly do not put it on the internet.”

We all could not help smiling and nodded our head in affirmation.

Then he further checked whether she would like to finish what’s remaining on her plate. She moaned, “No sir. I have had too much already!” He smiled kindly and mouthed few words for the wise. “Madam, never waste food on your plate. Afterall you have come so far leaving behind dear ones in your country just to earn this food.“

After he left, the other friend sighed, “This piece of enlightenment certainly deserves tips worth ten dollars.” Everyone grinned ear to ear.