Monday, May 24, 2004

Raju Be Happy

Nana Pillai’s only son Raju was studying in the United States, at Franklin and Marshall. He wasn’t offered a scholarship when he had gone, but Raju had assured his dad that he was a cinch to get a full tuition grant by his sophomore year. With that hope (and a bit a pressure from his wife), Nana pumped all he could into his son’s education. Raju had left for the US as the devoted son, with eyes that said, “I’ll do you proud” as he touched his father’s feet at the airport.

Three years had passed and Raju had not even received a partial scholarship. Nana’s bank balance was depleted. Savitri, his wife, had succumbed to terminal cancer. She could have been saved, he knew it, but it would take away the very last penny they had. That would be the end of Raju’s education. Savitri wouldn’t want that, would she? Nana’s wife died happy. Her mission on earth was complete. Her little Raju was a man now!

Nana didn’t inform Raju about his mother’s death. He didn’t want to disturb his son’s happiness. He was happy, wasn’t he? After all, those initial loving, home sick letters, longing for his mother’s cooking had stopped a long time ago. They were now replaced by short and curt demands for more money, each time outlined by some excuse. Nana, however, was not one to ask questions. He duly obliged, sending words of caution and advice, but he never complained…

Times were hard. The Pillai family home had been sold. His factory was sick and he had absolutely no security. Yesterday, Nana had received another telegram from Raju. Raju always used the post. The telephone was too expensive, he said, and they had to be economical. Raju needed money and he needed it quickly.

Friday, the 26th, three days after Raju’s telegram, Nana and his dilapidated scooter were found eighty-three feet below Bandel Bridge. The police report said that Nana, blinded by an oncoming truck’s headlamps, had lost control and smashed through the guard railing. The scooter’s petrol tank had burst, charring what was left of Nana’s mutilated body. Nana’s life insurance company, after a lot of debate with Nana’s lawyers, reluctantly handed over one hundred and thirteen thousand rupees to Raju Pillai’s account.

It was a sacrifice worth the Pillai name. A sacrifice for that little Raju who used to say, “When I grow up, I’ll buy you a big car daddy.” And Nana would say, ruffling his hair, “I know son, I know.” All Nana knew as he drove his scooter off the bridge was that he could not fail Raju.
A few days later, seven thousand kilometers away, Raju Pillai died of a cocaine overdose.

Sunday, May 16, 2004

The Crucifiction of Scooby Doo

Recently I had the pleasure of visiting Delhi running an errand for my father.
11:00 pm I am on the AC deluxe night bus to Delhi, with a drunk guy sitting next to me."wanna know why I'm drunk" he drawls, showering me with stray drops of alcohol that he had not swallowed and clouding the immediate vicinity with the stench of booze... "My son, he flunked his CBSE hahahahaha, so I'm going to Delhi to fuck him!" (of course the entire conversation transpired in Hindi.)
2:00 am Still on the bus, freezing cold because of the AC but I manage to fall asleep by covering myself with a towel. (now I know why Douglas Adams said never leave home without a towel.)
2:10 am Rudely awakened by some noise. I find that some dude has started an arguement with the conductor. He wanted the AC to be put off, but the conductor was arguing that the bus would have to be stopped for that and it would spoil the AC if he kept putting it on and off. the bugger got pissed off and started abusing the conductor. The conductor abused back and naturally a fight broke out. At Midway Hotel (midway between Delhi-Dehra Dun as the name implies), some of the passengers throw the conductor off the bus. The conductor agrees to acquiesce (go SAT word list!) for the rest of the trip...
5:30 am The bus drops me off at Lal Quila. i have no idea what to do...
5:45 am I reach Amit Chandra's flat (formerly Tanaya's flat) in Indravihar. i knock on the door till 6:00 am. No response.
6:00 am I fall asleep outside the flat.
7:00 am I decide it's too uncomfortable and go to college. Fall asleep under the Buddha statue in University lawns with some guys practising karate nearby and the whole world out on a morning walk looking at me as if I was a freak show (no smart comment on this please)
9:00 am Wake up...lawns are empty. I walk to Mukh East and see fancy tiled toilets and showers...take a crap and a shower...didn't have a brush...
10:00 am I meet Wilson in main corr. I smile at him.
10:10 am Out on the work I was meant to do.
11:45 am work done. Sit at Cafe Coffee Day watching music videos with Uttam Mukherjee (I Chem) and his girlfriend. eat breakfast.
12:50 pm In CP booking tickets for the journey back home. Go window shopping in CP, piss off shopkeepers.
2:30 pm In PVR Naraina (stoned) watching "The Passion Of The Christ". There were some deaf people who had come too. I didn't know then that the entire movie was in Hebrew with subtitles. In the end they distributed "Love Jesus, Love God" booklets and left. I went to watch Scooby Doo 2.
7:00 pm back in CP. got stuck in dirty Delhi rain, had a subway dinner while reading MAD. Chatted up some arbit tourist who had just visited Doon (I was carrying a Doon School bag with me.)
9:00 pm on the bus back home.
10:00 pm the conductor tells me the bus is going to Nainital, not Dehra Dun. i panic. Don't worry he tells me, I'll put u in another bus.
11:00 pm I wait for the "another bus" to come in the rain at Fatehpuri.
11:30 pm bus comes. I fall asleep.
6:30 am I reach home.
I love this world....

Thursday, May 13, 2004

The River

The shadow of the thick-leaved tree seemed to float on the rays of the smooth and intense light of the morning sun. It sailed past the open meadow, over the jagged rocks and finally rolled down to the River where it broke into a thousand glimmering wavelets.

The River was always mysteriously beautiful. Calm, with small ripples and undulations, yet deadly and forbidding.

No one crossed the river, for fear of the other side. The woods were dark and deep there. The sun could not penetrate through the gigantic evergreens. They say the woods hide riches. Riches, beyond our wildest dreams, but there was no path to it. The river ate the path years ago.

The River. One now said that name with a God-like reverence. It had no name. It never required one. God doesn't need one. The water was sweet and had a flavour that could tantalize even the most morose of men. Its cleanliness rivaled by nothing in this world. Its power, its might, raised its ego. It was not the sustenance of life. It was life.

The river and its two banks have existed for eternity, its diversions caused by human intervention. It still marks the light and darkness. A few foolish, greedy yet courageous men ventured to step into these waters to cross over. They succeeded, but no one knows if they found gold, for they never returned.

This balance will always remain.
There is life and there is death.
There are things understood and things left misunderstood.
And in between them all runs the River.
This is how creation works.
This is how God works.