Of Karma and a Taxi Ride...

I lost my wallet last evening; left it in a cab plying from Dadar to Bandra, on my way to an official dinner. Unfortunately I realised only a lot later on my way back home as my fingers fumbled searching for it, rummaging through my backpack, to tender change for the return bus ride. It was then that it struck me I'd left it on the rear seat of the cab in my hurry to disembark, worrying I was late for the event, after paying the cabbie. Sadly, it was now, too late! Piecing together all the loose change I had one me - and I somehow always end up having plenty of that - I paid my bus fare and, began e-transferring money from the accounts in which I had my lost cards attached, to the one for which I don't carry my card at all - a back-up, I picked up from a friend a long time ago. God, it works!

 The next task that lay ahead of me was the most arduous - that of calling up customer service, winding my route through a series of instructions across befuddling menu options (hate them!) and hot-listing my cards. And strangely much as I tried - and I tried for half an hour relentlessly - I couldn't just get through! So much for timely customer service eh! The only comfort I had was of having successfully e-transferred my money. But then I still had my Driver's licence and claim bills that amounted to quite some, in there. Funnily around the same time I also began to experience a feeling that my wallet was going to find its way back to me somehow. I dismissed that as a foolish thought though.

 Cut to this morning when I receive a call from Gayasuddin who told me how he came back last night to Bandra after realising I had left my wallet in his cab, waited for about half an hour and then left unhappily with a burden in his heart. Guddu (as he's popularly called) went back home to Ghatkopar and deconstructed the contents of my wallet to match my Driver's licence with details on my visiting card, which carries my hand phone number and, called this morning to say he'd drop by to return it in the afternoon. And he did just that, refusing to take a penny, despite my politely egging, and then forcing him to. Instead he suggested we have a chai together, for which I happily obliged. And there over that cup of cutting-chai with the afternoon sun blazing right over us, I learnt about a man who lost so much without so much as letting any of those experiences embitter him. I learnt (from what he told me) about the sanctity of keeping karmic law and, about holding on to values no matter what 'cause they are the only sturdy oars you have in life to help you sail tormenting, sometimes tempting waters.

It's strange isn't it...how life throws up opportunities to learn and unlearn all the time? I grabbed this one to make a friend. And that qualified me to have also received an invite to his wedding in Pratapgarh, UP later in the year. A heartfelt relief, a big smile and some gup-shup later we decided to stay connected and reach out occasionally, over a cuppa' or, two maybe, along the route we ply. And so, here's giving it up for you Guddu, my new friend in this city that's home to us both.

 On my way home from the tea stall I pass by a signage that reads 'We're past the ides of March, it's time to party! I'm smiling

Being Human.

I have nothing personal against Salman Khan as a person but this I must say...what he did was wrong.

● WRONG to have indulged in drunken driving
● WRONG to have blatantly ignored warnings he got for speeding
● WRONG to have cowardly fled the scene after running the hapless sleeping pedestrian over
● WRONG to have gone into hiding for a week thereafter
● WRONG to have put up an alibi to cover up for him
● WRONG to have incessantly lied about the incident and misled the lawyers
● WRONG to have pretended to be innocent all this while
● WRONG to have not so much as even visited the family of the victim he murdered; that he never once compensated them is another matter altogether!

So, Salman my friend, is this what 'Being Human' finally adds up to?

To my mind, Salman, you missed an opportunity to truely showcase what 'being human' is all about.

You could have come clean about the truth and been man enough to accept the consequences of your actions. Not only would that have sent out the right message to the millions of fans you have out there but also, would have made you a true hero for all you're worth! Just imagine the influence you'd have had on impressionable minds out there who idolise you, had you done that.

And that, to my mind, is what 'BEING HUMAN' is all really about - that imperfect as we are in our lives and in our actions, we accept responsibility for it and make ammends in ways that show we're truely repentant because we still have a caring heart.

Here Comes the Rain.

Streaking across my window pane,
comet like trickles of the summer rain...
Hedonism invites you with thunder claps
come play with me now, it's a free-spirited game!

Blurred visions flood a smokescreen-ish terrain,
Furtive glances coyly court each other in shame.
Cottony clouds manoeuvre their freshly ploughed lanes
Happiness is a mirage, in the dark desert of fame.

Now searching, now longing...
lost, weatherbeaten, but always untamed...
A soulful outpouring this, of suppressed emotion...
the monsoon is here...in celebration of pain!

                                                                           --- Mark.

Twilight

Lead me down the backdoor,
Along the corridors of your mind.
I see a soul there searching,
Lost in the graveyard of time.

There lies buried and forgotten,
Solitude for company to keep,
Half baked dreams in deep slumber,
Free fallen leaves of dry twigs.

Of recurrent sunrise and sunsets...
and a heart beat that’s heard no more
Flowers burn in love and grief…
Things fall apart, dreams lie dead.

Freedom...

As we ready ourselves to celebrate the 65th year of Indian independence and freedom from the British, the air is rife, yet again as it is every year around this time, with a strong patriotic fervor and a keen sense of pride in all things Indian.

It is an overwhelming feeling, no doubt, in every sense of the term, for each one of us – as Indians - to bask in the pride of our accomplishments as a nation since we began our tryst with destiny back in that August of 1947. But then again, after all the routine, humdrum celebrations and stirring speeches that accompany every I-Day are over and done with for the year, the ensuing silence on the true essence of ‘freedom’ can be deafening; Deafening - for want of action and for want of will (social and political) to work towards being truly free of the ills that plague us as a nation in the form of corruption, widespread economic disparity and superstition.

People use the words, "free" and “freedom” to mean many things. To me, mere independence is not freedom. Many people in the world are independent but few are truly free. True freedom is a state of mind that has no place for fear of anything. Only when the mind is free can one truly observe and appreciate life as it is meant to be, and live life as it should be - from moment to moment. It comes to one when one understands the interplay and impact of the myriad aspects of one’s environment; Environment such as social, religious, political and a host of other cultural mind-sets that shape and influence the being.

People submit to such influences when they are inwardly frightened. Feelings of fright originate from fear of the unknown and often act as shackles inhibiting an individual’s progress to freedom. A free mind is an unshackled mind; it is a mind that is aware and is constantly evolving towards a more enriched quality of life. I believe that we will experience true freedom when the focus of the common Indian man’s struggle shifts from ‘making ends meet’ to bringing more meaning into his life. It would mean feeling safe and secure in his country. Freedom for him will be the promise to live his life in dignity and hope…hope for a bigger and better tomorrow.

However, freedom should not be mistaken to mean a license to uninhibited living, but the wisdom to choose what is right for oneself and accepting complete responsibility for those choices. It naturally comes at a price. It cost us a soldier a day back then. Today it costs us the price of refusing to be afraid and refusing to be tricked out of our rights. And maybe, that’s the reason why most of us dread it, because to be able to enjoy freedom, we must also feel free to say “no”, be willing to respect another’s claim to it, unafraid that it could be contrary to our very own.

It is being able to have a voice and to let it be heard. But then again, are we listening?

“To be ruled by your own people may be seen as quite okay

But if careful is what you have to be with the words you say

And play to the galleries is what you do in their scripted way

Then you’re not as free a person as they make you feel

And your idea of freedom to me for sure does not appeal!”

Conversations...

Read this somewhere and it struck a chord. So here goes...

There's always a little truth behind every 'Just Kidding!'
a little knowledge behind every 'I don't know!'
a little emotion behind every 'I don't care!'
a little love behind every 'I hate you!'
a little uneasiness behind every 'I'm okay!'
a little pain behind every 'Forget it!'
a little fear behind every 'Leave me alone!'
a little hope behind every 'Goodbye!'
There's always something' behind every 'Nothing!'


If only we'd understand speech behind the quiet silence, maybe someday we'd understand life itself!

Once Obama'time in Bombay...

South Bombay has never looked as spruced up and beautifully botoxed as it does right now. Like a readying bride awaiting her grom's arrival, the south of the city has been ornamentally decked with freshly relaid roads, fashionable street furniture, bright well-lit promenades, side walks, groomed to display pruned and manicured bylanes, public gardens,  lawns and, richly draped in green hues across the wide open brown spaces in keeping with the prevailing fashionable flavour of environmental chutzpah and chic!

The groom's arrived. Obama's here! Band, baaja, baraat et al. Aurr mehmaan-nawaazi ka kya kehna...uff, it'd put any blue blooded Punjabi shaadi to shame! Dekho to jaano paaji. This is the land of 'Atithi Devo Bhavo' after all!

All it takes is one visit from the President of the United States to jumpstart our bureaucracy, administration and babudom into the thick of electrifying action. Action, with startling results and, in minimal turn around times, mind you! It's so unbelievable, that I'm still lost figuring whether I'm more surprised by the quantum of work that got done over the past month in the run up to the Prez's arrival or,  impressed by the sheer outcome of the results achieved. Either ways, the one fact that coherently emerges from all of this 'abracadabra' of turntail transformation  - and we've known this all along now - is, that we definitely have the resources to execute action in our quest for desired results. What we lack is the willingness and the discipline to sustain the needed momentum in the face of routine.

And so, while many may crib about the inconveniences that the city's been put up to due to the US Prez's visit, seen as ill-timed given that it coincides with Diwali, one of India's biggest festivals, thereby putting paid to may a festive celebration in the city, I silently smile...watching my city, looking lovelier by the minute, blush with pride as she's painstakingly bedecked in bridal finery awaiting her big moment in time.

The groom's arrived. Obama's here...band, baaja, baraat et al! May his tribe increase!