My Father and Him!

"Read this novel from front to back and tell me the story when I am back from work tonight", he would be ordered by my grandfather.

Water Sorter!

He would wake up early to pull water from the water tank. And so would more than twenty members of the household. Showering one by one for more than 20 members with limited water supply from the water tank would require resourcefulness, quickness and planning. The elders would display all that. And no, the family wouldn’t be the only one in the building with these problems and solutions. Such simple problems instilled dexterity in everyone to think of simpler solutions. Human chains would be formed with incentives for kids in the household to wake up and pull water out. One cousin particularly was adept at this. The cousin would wake up 4.30 in the morning right when the tanker is getting filled by municipality; he would organize, delegate and bask in his early morning achievement. Grabbing enough water for the family, he would go back to his life of never ending school work. He would marvel at his cousin’s genius.

Those pests!

From then on, the activities of the day ranged from helping women cook to clean certain parts of the house to helping cousins with math problems to going to school to daily fun cleaning routine. Latter included exterminating rats, cockroaches and lizards. Rodents would be caught with a homemade mouse trap devised by one of his cousins. Occasional mishaps were expected and made the activity even more fun when the rodent would escape and running around the house aimlessly would become a welcome excuse. Cockroaches were stomped over, collected and thrown off the ledge followed by arguments over – “Bhaiyya I killed 31” – “Hah! What lie! We have only 20 at a time in the house! I know better!” Lizards were strangled rather more strategically. A small cotton ball would be wetted and shaped in a sphere to look like a moth. The balls would be thrown near the lizard so that it would think it is some kind of a moth; lizards would jump, swallow and choke without hands and fall off the ceiling. There would be cheers and then some remorse on the sight of the dead animal. Then the young distracted minds would be engaged in other things.

Mischief was pride!

They would protect each other. One of his cousins would ensure the brothers get a chance to bat, bowl and field. Not a single slur would be overlooked. One day one outsider dared to say something about the family, his head was found busted. On the eve of school’s annual repainting and refurbishment, one of his cousins accumulated enough paans, ate them one by one with his friends and they went around spitting on the newly painted walls. Other cousin attached strings from the spokes of an umbrella to his belt and jumped off the 3^rd floor ledge, only to be thankfully stuck on the 2^nd floor. The same cousin would steal bananas from the local fruit seller’s basket and share them with his cousins. Daily, they would narrate their mischief for the day and feel a sense of pride in the company of their fellow upto-no-gooders.

Time for excursion!

One of the elder relatives would get a ticket for the movie hall. All the kids would wait impatiently for him/her to come back from the hall and gather down around to hear the plot, narrated to them sometimes ecstatically, sometimes begrudgingly. There would be occasional excursions and trips outside the city. Matheran was his father’s favored destination. His father had this special serene place where lay those special leaves. His father would magically fold each leaf up so a liquid substance would ooze out. He would then blow into it to create air bubbles which fascinated him. “He is not a lawyer, my father is a magician” he would wonder sometimes. They would move onto monkey point in Matheran, where monkeys would try to steal apples, bananas from them. His father would slam the monkey on the forehead with his trekking stick. What force! What power! “Well not a magician! He is a teacher, you can so tell – he is a disciplinarian. But good! These monkeys deserve some punishment!” he would continue wondering.

Kite flying - The Fame.

He outshined everyone at kite flying. He knew it. The record was spotless. For years and years, the natural talent would develop more and more. “Just me and my kite – focus on nothing else.”, would be his sense of exhilaration and nirvana. “What simple affordable pleasure - 1 Rupee in total – 10 p for 10 best quality kites for the season. Although I am better with just one of them. Now, off I go on to my terrace.” In times of privation, self-made kites would become necessary. “All I need is skeleton form a torn down old kite and attach newspaper. Hah – they won’t know what got them.” He would scan the sky and pick his victims. He would lift his kite carefully under the radar. Sometimes there would unsuspecting former champions. Sometimes there were those amateurs and then sometimes legends. “Remember, picking the right moment of time is crucial” he reminded himself. The precise moment will come and at that instance he would pull extensively at the manja (thread, string, rope) to steer the kite and swoop it in the direction of the other kite with sure anticipation. Just a split second. The victory! His younger brother would yell, “Kaipo Chee!!!! (I just cut your kite!)” He would just turn around at his brother holding the kite-flying spool or firki and be amazed by his participation! They knew he owned the sky.

Cricket and handy newspaper.

Newspapers were the resource of the day. They would all sit and wrap the ball carefully till it was a thick, spherical and firm paper ball. Yet one problem persisted – it just didn’t bounce like those other balls. “Oh well,” sighed one cousin, “We will play it like baseball – so no tupps allowed!” Origami was researched extensively till actual money started pouring in to afford a real rubber ball. And that joy of playing with a proper ball! Yet the handy newspaper would be missed.

In the middle of water shortages, money deficiencies, cricket and kite flying, one thing he would never forget – his task of the day - "Read this novel from front to back and tell me the story when I am back from work tonight". He would run back and finish the last few remaining pages of that novel and be ready to narrate the story. So many sweet memories, yet daily exercise of finishing up a novel never failed to be executed. The routine that would be missed dearly later on!

Diwali Reminiscences

And the phone rings. In the midst of all the diwali greeting cards, dry fruits, diyas, sweets and food, which is made by the best chefs in the world, you could hear the greetings of “Happy Deepavali, Happy Diwali” being sent from half way across the world to doorsteps of your very neighbor. The familiarity, the brightness, exuberance, the familial tranquility and yet the hustle bustle.

As if evil was a ragged cloth ready to be discarded, as if the past year’s pains and worries were nothing but specks of dust on a window pane, as if strained relationships were as overwrought as a self-correcting ripple, it feels like the muck, filth and sins were just wiped away by the giant swoop of our annual housecleaning ritual.

Houses are clean, temples are lit, sweets are distributed and then at night crackers are lit. Each year brings a dual feeling of some abstraction and collegial similitude.

“Wake up, beta. Your new clothes are kept near the desk. And, is the time to wake up on a Diwali. You don’t want to be left sleeping the whole year, do you?”

You knows its untrue, you know that grounds hog day doesn’t run on religious occasions, but yet the prospect of doing any harm, inflicting any pain, inabilities of any kind just retract us into our righteous selves, just this time with added enthusiasm. With a certain resolve, you arise and think of goodness as a box of pendas, ready to be eaten and passed around. And then it strikes….

“Mom, Unfair – Bhaiya just ran into the shower before me!” And you make a wish for the New Year that atleast for once - you make it to the shower before your siblings.

You walk into the Puja room, where you expect unusual occurrences. You wish for a giant car, you wish for a happiness in business and profession, family and friends and then when time permits, slip in a request or two about that extra bonus, better results, and if you are younger than that, you wish that Ganeshji would personally descend from his comfort chair and whisper something in dad’s ear which would sound like – a remote controlled car.

Yet – at the bottom of it all, be it Hindus, be it Muslims, be it Parsis, Sikhs, Christians, Jains, or even an atheist – you wish to speak to relatives and sit down for a nice meal of purri bhaaji and purran pollis with them.

Happy Diwali everyone. May you achieve everything you set out to do this year.

Yaa Kundendu tushaara haaradhavalaa, Yaa shubhravastraavritha|
Yaa veenavara dandamanditakara, Yaa shwetha padmaasana||
Yaa brahmaachyutha shankara prabhritibhir Devaisadaa Vanditha|
Saa Maam Paatu Saraswatee Bhagavatee Nihshesha jaadyaapahaa||"

Religions or Confusions?

For Abrahamic Religions: Christianity, Islam and Judaism (Together around 60% following in the world):

"Without Jesus Christ man must be in vice and misery; with Jesus Christ man is free from vice and misery; in Him is all our virtue and all our happiness. Apart from Him there is but vice, misery, darkness, death, despair."

"Sins lead to misery in this world and hereafter. Your heart becomes darker and darker until you repent. Your left with sorrow, regret, and loss of self-respect. It is only through the dhikr of Allah that the heart finds peace. Don't look for it elsewhere. "

"Throughout Jewish history, our utilization of the armaments of our forefather - prayer and faith with a non-aggressive defensive posture - has led to our survival through millennia of persecution. Yet when we embraced the strategies of our enemies - reliance on the sword with conquest defining success - and abandoned the successful formula of our forefathers, we have met with misery and great hardship. May G-d have mercy on us and restore our Judges to their former positions."

For Dharmic Religions (Buddhism, Sikhism, Jainism, Hinduism - Together Around 30% Following in the world )

Buddhism:
Meditation is an attempt to address the most fundamental causes of human misery. The Buddhist attempt to end war begins with cultivating inner peace, developing an unwavering ability to see things as they are, and treating all beings with compassion and respect.

Sikhism:
The Sikh path is not one where misery is to be endured for some unprovable distant life in some far-away heaven.

Jainism:
According to Jainism the soul which possesses infinite knowledge controls actions and perceives pleasure and pain through bodily agencies. Liberation from the material body and worldly activity which are the sources of misery could be attained by destroying desire and attachment by following the path of discipline and penance

Hinduism:
God's attention is always on the human being, but the human being, absorbed in the world, ignores God. He is unaware of the divine who is close by and patiently waiting. Human ignorance and inattentiveness to God, however, is the fundamental cause of misery which ends only when one turns round and recognizes God at one's side.

Courtesy, Google, for the searching capabilities of the word 'misery' and names of religions..

might not be the most famous quotes, but they exist , somewhere. so.

thank you, all humans, for making it all so confusing for us.

Time Traveler

He wakes up pushing his comforter away in a single swooping motion. He slips his feet into his warm slippers so customarily that they seem part of his body. He manages to stabilize himself sitting on the side of the bed and rub his hands awkwardly against his eyes. As his eyes open up gently, he looks at the size of his thick coarse hands. A croaking sound escapes his mouth - “What?” Misty, sultry, and mystic smells surround his nostrils and he looks around. A realization of the unknown and unseen runs through his vein and he suddenly feels unwanted and unidentified. The first solution is to verify the surroundings, and the second to wake himself up. Neither of them seemed to change anything. He was in an unknown place, in an unknown time, like an insect blustered away for miles by the winds to an alien surrounding.

A familiar voice enters his memory: “Son – Remember to make the right choice!” He gasps for air.

“I know your mother’s left her body already and I am going to join her soon.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t provide you more comforts in the past 12 years but remember us when ever you face a conundrum – you know what choices are right.”

As he groggily walks around the unfamiliar apartment, he searches for the time. Oh – 11.50 PM, but how did he just hear father’s voice moments before he passed away after that terrible accident. He bumps into a dingy wall with skewed mirror and gasps at the sight. “That’s me?” The image of the body attached to those hands sends a cold shrill realization in his blood. “What just happened?”

He places himself to be around mid-thirties – unshaven, bruised, short hair, chiseled face, but yet that boyish beam which he could always relate to. As he staggeres towards the restroom, the sight of faucet, the green towel and eerie picture of a frog on the side wall jolts him for a second. The kaleidoscopic nature of his brain makes him sneer in bewilderment. The warm water dabbed on his face serves as a numinous African magical healing powder – a shaking, yet reviving quality.

As he swabs himself with a moist cloth, thoughts become steadier. He is in a Hotel room, and he remembers the placement of his beeper. He jumps towards the communications device.

Beeper reads – “Hey D, We have the all checks in place, as per his orders - Fire away!! ”

BAM! –it all comes back- The button, the launch, the war, the covert training, the academy, the batch, the merit, the ranks, the works, the KGB, the defilement, the shame, the anger.

Snap! today is December 31, 1991. Ukraine dissolved from the USSR a few weeks back. A few weeks before that – the KGB sunk – destroying the identities of around a hundred operatives. All his efforts for peaceful restoration of his identity were being mocked at. The meetings of the defamed operatives last month had become focused around increasing the tension, a drastic change in the tactic from his Peaceful Alternatives Plans a few years back.

He remembers his corrupt yet charismatic chief saying a few days back, “Never mind the December 31, 1991 midnight, D and peaceful propositions for the future – We know the US will fire at will to destroy whatever they can. So Fire Away! Before they do!”

He glances at the file which contains the codes for entry into missile logistics system. 10 seconds to launch. One small missile fired without from an unknown underground bunker would send a panic wave around the world and may be give leverage to bringing back the USSR. The only flip side would be the pang of another cold war or larger scale destruction.

3 seconds remaining.

2

1

“Right choices, son. Right choices.” With his heart pumping heavily, he puts away the launcher and disarms the equipment. He tunes in the radio. Radio station chimes in a few seconds. “Breaking News! Chief of KGB has been captured…. guilty of treason….Government announces restoration …Repeat….Restore honor to covert officials… return back to base…”

He breathes a sigh of relief. Somehow –time traveling today never felt better.

The urn leaves ...

The urn leaves . .
It knows no past and has but one future,
to merge with the infinite.

The urn leaves . .
It wraps idyllic memories in its belly,
and parts with the somber reminiscences in our hearts.

The urn leaves . .
It overhears all the commiserations and whimpers,
and makes peace with its eternal darkness.

The urn leaves . .
It bids farewell to the loved ones,
and embraces the sight of our ancestors.

The urn leaves . .
It knows no past and has but one future,
to merge with the infinite.

Growing up in familial counsel about Work and Worship.

Months before I prepared for my journey to the US for further education, He inadvertently reminded me, "Never loose sight of the focus." And whenever I questioned the essentials of a good college life and good work life, nostalgia to childhood enveloped my thought process.

“Work is worship, isn’t it? Why hate it?” She would question me when I would frown about memorizing the dates of Mohenjo-Daro written in font ten times bigger than my brother’s textbooks. I would study my simple history and my brother would study his then amazingly complex subjects like physics, chemistry and what not. His mathematics would seem like scribbles of numbers and lines drawn across in the notebook. I was astonished at what I would have to study four years from that point. “They will change it all to story books and characters when it’s my turn.” – I would assure myself.

Each year, as I marveled at his capacity to absorb and Her patience with us, I would forget that I am working on something that I had deemed impossible earlier. I would frown at so much time dedicated to him and not me, but still the size of his pile and content of his unfathomable notebooks would keep me away from worrying further. “Haw- so much he studies nah mama?” I would ask Her. She would put her hand on my forehead, play with my hair and say, “You do too. Just with a little bit of nakhra (drama) and a tiny bit of che-che (whine)” and then She would tickle me and I would laugh every time.

Years have passed by but my brother’s thirst for knowledge has never lessened and Her patience has never wavered. My parents’ constant reminders about Work and Worship have thankfully never reduced. “Ketlu kaam che office maa (too much work at the office)” and He would chuckle. “Worked till the late hours” and She would say, “That’s fine, just don’t forget to eat on time.” I describe any task at the project and my bhabhi will exclaim, “Wow!” to remind me that’s so good and the fact that I got to do it and there are always other unfortunate people who would so die to do it but can’t. “What a week, yaar – worked more than 70 hours” and my brother will laugh out loud “Maja Avi. Maja Avi. Karo Karo (That sounds like fun, but yea Work Work)” assuring me that I am walking in the right path.

"Enjoy the process and don't worry too much about its results" - something He would declare. "Its a simple karma yog, beta. Don't let it drain your ambition, just empower it"- may be that constancy of declaration puts me at ease. Not about what you wear, not about accolades, not about recognition, not about conquest or fight about who is right at work that should take up your daily mind registry, but simple constancy embedded in enjoying the process of working, working in the right direction and aiming higher. Results are then left up to God.