Friday, 28 November 2014

Journey to Hell

"Mumbai ke liye ravana Muzaffarpur Express kuch hi minto mein platform kramaank 2 par aayegi", the female voice behind train announcement exclaimed as Muzaffarpur Express jolted to halt at the Benares Railway Station. Benares railway station always wore a colourful aura given the fact that people from all over the world travelled here just to see what had been a daily routine for me. The fetish that these rich foreigners had with visiting most shittiest and poverty strucken places in India always astonished me.
It was 6 in the morning and the environment was filled with addictive smell of agarbattis. As we passed through a small structure of Durga Mata, Maa shouted from behind hinting me to nod my head before Durga and then move forward. Today was a different day as after a drenching journey from Benares to Mumbai I was to appear for my first ever job interview at Infosys. Contrary to all the atheism and rationale I had bred in myself over the years, I sincerely nodded my head and prayed with my heart. That's the thing about Benares, it's so tough to practise atheism here with so many hopes and Gods around.

"Anjaan aadmi se baat mat karna"
"Khana thik se khaa liyo"
"Aur haan yahi ek aakhiri umeed hai bus abb, interview mein pass toh ho jaayega na beta?"

(Don't talk to strangers. Eat your food properly. And yes this is the last hope for us, you will pass in the interview right?)

I was listening like a 5 year old infant. Indian moms have this uncanny ability to motivate you as well as scare you at the same time. I nodded in confirmation with a tremor in my voice. Mom hugged me as I made way towards my seat. This journey in itself was going to change alot many things about our lives. Mom had bought me a brand new white shirt for the interview. It costed 450 bucks which still was an extravagance by my standards. My mom was a small time government clerk and her meagre salary made sure we atleast got two meals everyday. I would routinely help her with laundry clothes for which she charged a buck or a two per cloth from people. I reached my bag and pulled out a book titled "How to crack Interviews" gifted by Naina, an old schoolmate who also happened to be my love interest. Although I was over the thought of ever expressing it to her, I still desired her.
The train whistled at its loudest and started moving with a sudden jolt. The peculiar cries of coolies and the relatives of the fellow passengers hurled into my ears. I bid adieu to my mom who was weeping, signalling her to be strong. After half an hour I finally came out from this tragic-drama-mood to back into my nervous-for-the-interview mood.
I flipped through pages from the book which hardly interested me. There was a kid in the next seat reading "पंचतंत्र की प्रेरक कहानियाँ". 'It only gets worse from here kid, enjoy while you still can,' I said to him in my mind. After about 2 hours into the journey, the chaiwallah arrived. He was a pretty old lad but still had the power that most men even in their twenties don't have. The tea kept him going maybe. I sipped the tea and the hot tea burnt a bit of my tongue but it hardly bothered me. I kept my eyes gazed at the pacing scenery through the window. 
In no time it was dusk and I had my dinner that was packed in a tiffin by my mother. After making a call to my mother, I laid down on my seat. The words of my mom "Beta yahi ek aakhiri umeed hai, Interview mein pass toh jaayega na?" echoed in my ears. The thought of failing at the interview almost choked me.
The train reached the bustling station of CST the next evening. One good thing was that those guys at Infosys made sure I had a proper accomodation and I was given a proper hotel room for my 2 days' stay. Let alone staying in a 5 star hotel, I had not even seen one in my life. As I arrived at the hotel, there were plush green trees and amidst them there were fountains of sparkling water that welcomed me. The charisma of the place made the whole experience heavenly. In my head I thought how the charges of one day's stay would easily cost us our month's income from all the sources. Excitedly, I flipped my phone out to make a call to my mother but I tripped into this guy who came in my way and dropped my luggage on the floor. That guy was carrying huge baggage as if he too had travelled from a distant place and was figuring his way out in this city of dreams.

"Ji aap bhi iss sheher mein naye ho?" I asked curiously.
(You too are new in this city?)

Giving me a total smug look, he made his way upstairs as I recollected my baggage.
I recalled going to mumbai-wale chacha (a distant relative) as it was an order from my mother to meet him and buy some cheap sweets for him. I had to make sure I had enough time to sleep before the interview next day. I removed my phone out to check what the date was today, but the phone slipped from my hands. As I bent to pick my phone up, there was a loud thud near the gate. I quickly picked the phone up and made a call to my mother. There was no answer from my mother's end and the call ended after ringing for about 30 seconds. 
Something struck me in the back as I choked and fell down. All the pain that I had suffered in life put together, this one overrode all of it. The phone lied besides me as I opened my eyes in horror to see what the date was. "Wed, 26/11", I read the date in an eerily calm voice inside my head. My heart sinked...

Saturday, 5 July 2014

Why So Serious?

    I am writing this blog from the stupefaction of my amazingly boring life and an equally lazier lifestyle. It was four months back that I wrote about one of the three tragedies of my life. The other two tragedies being -I never get that extra hour to sleep and -I never get that extra tea to drink. Both these tragedies are certainly a bit more serious and challenging so I would skip talking about that (No, I don't want to make you cry).
    The previous two blog episodes that I wrote got around 800 reads (Yes, I do get kicks out of such stuffs) which made me realize that tragic stories have a great market potential and they win people like anything. The recent trend of bollywood movies with a tragic climax usually ending up being a blockbuster hit act as a proof to my insignificant finding and thus my connection is not purely overrated. This was just another failed attempt at portraying that I am good at Economics.

    Yes, yes and that is why I intentionally forget to add happy endings like I went to a trek to Irshalgadh (3700 feet above sea level) exactly after 9 months of my operation or that I play cricket or that I run (Yes, real fast when it comes to running away from responsibilities). The point of this blog is that it is pointless to find any point here. Your life has its own way of dealing with things. Let it peacefully deal with minor problems like muscle injuries, exam results or when will your crush say a yes, etc; while you should be busy cracking major muddles like how are you going to play cricket in this heavy monsoon.

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

The Great Fall- Episode 2: 'Operation Theatre'


Eyes opened. Filtered halogen lamps giving out bluish-white light flashed as I struggled to make movements. Half asleep and half awake, pouncing abruptly from dreams to reality and reality to dreams, I tried making sense of what was going around in confused horror. I badly wanted that the whole "slipping-falling-bleeding' episode turns out to be a mere nightmare and I wake up stretching my arms up in air, laughing at my imagination. 
However, the confusion was short lived and reality struck upon me. There were dozens of punctures made on my wrists with needled pipes which supplied me essentials. I felt heavy numbness in my legs as if some miracle had washed out all the pain. I later came to know that I was on spinal anaesthesia and the relief was just temporary. Doctors informed me that my 'tendons' were cut and I was about to get operated for it. Having no clue what tendons actually are, I nodded in confirmation. A part of my body that I never knew even existed was now damaged. Woah!
However, that place gave me some sort of satisfaction and comfort that I didn't experience in years. Operation theatre squeezes you and pulls out all the life inside your body to the devices placed around you. The heart monitor, the oxygen monitor,the blood pressure unit, nervous system tracker and many others, all of them bumbling with life inside you. I played with the oxygen monitor by inhaling more than normal air, creating long waves on the graph and then exhaling to the core to achieve that overrated filmy 'straight dead line' on it (Yeah, I obviously failed).
Operation was done and I was ordered not to eat anything for a day due to anaesthesia. The thought of starving for a day had deeply hurt my sentiments but I remained calm. With a luggage of two motionless legs, a dozen of crack pipes, a stretcher and nurses hovering all around, I made my way to the orthopaedic dorm. Known faces appeared and I was assured that the chaos had finally ended. Later did I realize that this was just the beginning...

Sunday, 23 March 2014

The Great Fall

On a cold Monday morning of August, as I lied lazily on my bed and the climate romanticized me, Maa announced my name giving me a warning to wake up or else forget my morning tea. Defeating my Monday Blues, I sprang out of the bed and made my way to the loo to restore peace in my stomach by removing the Sunday night's crap.
As I walked hastily to the bathroom with my eyes almost refraining to open up and face the sun, I slipped and had a leg-threatening fall. Blood! blood! blood!. As I noticed, I realized I had broken the tiled floor apart and that very tile had ruthlessly slaughtered my tendons. I wailed in pain, still being conscious I made my way out of the bathroom to reach my parents. Blood was pumping out of my leg. Blood pool is a scary sight and it gets even scarier when you realize that pool has been filled in with your own blood. In immense pain and helplessness, I hopscotched my way to the drawing room; collapsed and lost consciousness at the very sight of my Mother.
                                                                    
                                                                           (...to be continued)