Daily life: Of other's and our's.

These days I get up early in the morning. Almost everyday. 

Get up around 5:30 AM, check for the news with phone on zero brightness under the blanket, sneak out of the bedroom without making any noise and get to the study table near the window of our apartment. Then start studying Chinese. 中文 or 普通话 as the 中国人 call it. 

Our apartment is on the 15th floor. And the view from the window gives a bird's eye view of all the smaller buildings around us and the lives that happen on the streets surrounding them. 

Of course.. there are many taller buildings around our's. But I like to look down. Not up. That's how we are designed I guess. When we are travelling, as we are moving, we are eager to look ahead. But when it reaches a height and stops, we like to look down. 

Now 15th floor is really high. But it is not moving. And nor am I. So it is natural to look down. I am sure that even a person living on the 2nd floor would also be only looking down and not up.

And so as I looked down the window day after day, I started observing a few patterns to this early morning life on the streets around me. A bike that fights its way through a patch of green field to get to the main road at around 6:00, the bells that ring in the near-by temple at around 6:45, and a young mother and her kid taking their dog out for a walk at around 6:50.

The bike was initially the more interesting monotony breaker. It made a lot of creaking noise as it braked and accelerated its way through the field. Then it was the temple bells. But of late, it is that young mother and her kid taking the dog out for a walk everyday. 

The dog, he must be a German Shepherd. Never on a leash. Walks a little here, a little there but careful enough to not stray far away from the mother or the kid. The kid usually walks with the dog, talking to him, giving orders to him and stuff. 

But today, the mother was carrying him on her hips and the dog was also on a leash. She must have been in hurry.

This made me think a bit about them. Why is the husband not taking the dog out. Is he ill? Or separated? Or is he travelling outside? It must be tough on her. To do all this alone..

That's when I heard my wife shouting from the bedroom. 

"Kannan, will you take the dog out today?"

"Nah.. I have to finish this blog."  I replied.

"Son is awake. Sit with him then.." She continued.

"Take him along no? He likes it."  I refused.

As they closed the door behind, I got a chance to get back to my thoughts. Yeah.. the husband must be away. Else she wouldn't have to do it all alone.

I concluded.

100 Rs Bribe

#₹100Bribe

So, on an undisclosed time and date, I went on a sneaky little tour to an undisclosed location. (Read last weekend & Bangalore)

On a tight schedule. Friday night reach Bangalore, and Monday early morning back to station.

I plan my flight and connecting train 🚂 accordingly. Flight lands in Mumbai at 6:50 AM and then get on Swaraj express leaving Bandra Terminus at 7:50. Sleeper ticket cost me ₹170 exactly. Should reach office by 11:00-11:15.

All cool. All set.

Then on Saturday evening, night and up to early morning we were busy doing what bangalore people do on Saturday nights.

No no.. Not being stuck at traffic.

No not coding too. You **** nerds!

I am talking of Pub hopping!

Yep. My first time.

Experience will be shared as a sociological study in a reputed journal as a Facebook post. Let's come back.

So, on Sunday morning I get a whatsapp message that looked it said something like there's a meeting scheduled at 10:30 AM at the office.

Holy shit! Have to book an earlier train now. Knowing well that Parties (late night or political) have had little effect on me, I proceed to book a Tatkal ticket for Monday now.

Ah! There's one available from Borivali at 8:35.  In some swift movements that any hungover guy would be so proud of, I grabbed a sleeper ticket at ₹470. Awesome. Booked a Tatkal ticket. 💪💪💪🤘🤘🤘🤘

As I went to the booked tickets section of irctc, I find an anomaly. Train numbers are same. I mean what the train?

Yo nerds! You guessed it right. I booked the same train twice. One from Bandra and another from Borivali. 😫😫😫

Not a very super proud moment. But then this gave me valuable insight into an IRCTC design issue.

IRCTC should do a pop up asking "Are you drunk" when a guy tries to book the same train twice. #DesignFlaws

Thus being thus, from Mumbai airport to Borivali I took an uber pool and reached station by 7:45. Met an interesting person on the pool. (😉 but that story later)

Ha, there it is. My train standing right in front of me.

But, but.. this is Intercity express. Not my train.  This will reach my station a good one hour before. I should be in office well in time for the meeting.

I do not have ticket for this train. Have two for the other one though. Two for the other should compensate right?

Yeah. I too thought so.

Got into the train the last minute and stood at the door looking away into oblivion, rest of the train oblivious of my ticketless travel.

Oh no! That devil with black coat! Advocate friends, please don't feel offended.
 The Taking nothing other black coats are equally devilish.

I bare my heart out before the TTE.

Sir, I have two tickets for the other train but none for this I say.

Go travel twice in that train he replies.

Give ₹350 as fine or get out at the next station.

I had ₹150 with me in my wallet and a few cards that help me get access to airport lounges. But for the train only ₹150.

I tell him, Sir,  I don't have ₹350. But I have to go in this train only or else I will be late.

How much do you have? He asks

₹150 Only. With a sad face.

Ok keep ₹50 and give me ₹100.
That 33% human says.

I give him ₹100 rs and continue with my memorable train journey.

And that was the story of my ₹100Bribe

PS: In virar, thousands of people boarded the train without ticket, started playing cards and picking fights with each other and i felt that they are constantly laughing at me!!!

Shh... Don't say to anyone please.

The day of reckoning and the moment of truth: The Interview

A couple of days back a friend called asking to share my UPSC interview experience. It is quite old now. But then I realized I have not shared one of the most ______ (Fill in the blanks) experience of my life here. So here it goes...

Well, as some of you might know, before, during & even after my preparation days, I used to write to people in the high offices suggesting what should they do to solve different problems. Thus I have written to the then Delhi CM on bus as winter shelters, to the Delhi Police on GPS based one touch SoS system on phones (this was before the Nirbhaya incident and all), to Secretary Health on modifying ultra sound machines for blurring genital images to prevent sex selection, to NAC & even the chairperson NAC on personalised information dissemination of various Govt schemes, to BCCI on the need for cricket teams & players from NE & J&K etc etc. Those letters were damn funny. And what more, I had the audacity then to write gentle reminders to them too.

Well, looking back, most of those ideas have since been implemented, even though it might not have got anything to do with me or my ideas. Check out the screenshots. A couple of them we could get published as Op-Eds in Indian Express & Hindustan Times later.

Guys, forget the UPSC interview story. I just wanted to share how brilliant I was. That's all. Like the post & go away... Shooo shoooo... 😂😂😂

OK... OK...

So, considering the whole writing to officials thing was a serious business for me, I genuinely felt this is my hobby when asked to write in the DAF.

What is your hobby?

Mine.. ? Very simble.

'Finding innovative solutions to social problems'.

Yes that's what I wrote in that darn DAF. Exactly that.

And that idea for a tradeable workplace diversity credit system for promoting inclusion...

Hey hey.. don't scratch your head.. just say oh that one!... yeah.. that idea was my Trump card.

Since they are my ideas I would know them better than the board members & will be able to impress them. Well at least that's what I thought.

Fast forward >>>> Interview Day

As I wait outside the dreaded interview room for my turn, all I am able to think is how bored those board members must be. Every day a set of young self declared geniuses will walk in & throw knowledge at the members & walk out. There was even a short period of time when I thought hey more than me it is they who must be terrified. I was going to immerse them in that diversity credit stuff & all...

So, as the peon tells me to go in, I walk in to the room.

5-6 people. Chairman is having my DAF with him. Just as I am about to sit, Chairman asks

So, Kannan.. It is your hobby to find innovative solution to social problems???

He seemed outraged at what I had written.. and for no reason I am shitting my pants scared..

Yes sir.. I replied. Unsure as to whether to continue through that now halted process of sitting or to continue in the half squat position.

Go ahead.. tell us one of your solution then...

Ah! The day of reckoning & the moment of truth...

Sir, the diversity is there... eh eh... credits and inclusion.. mmmmmm........ If diversity inclusion in equity market.. eh eh... mmm mmm...

Yep... Brain is on strike!

Tries to gulp a bit of saliva. No.. glands have gone on strike too. It is going to be a dry session, this...

After a few more expressive minutes, Chairman says leave it... its OK.

What OK.!!!! This shit was supposed supposed to get me through...

Well, to ease me a bit, chairman asks a very simple question.

Kannan, what is a 'Constitutional Position'?

Gathering & rearranging the brain pieces shattered & scattered across that room, I answer,

Sir, all positions mentioned in constitution are constitutional positions.. 😂

Board members have stopped pretensions by now and have started to laugh openly.

Chairman is still able to manage a serious look: So, can you give me an example?

Sir, CAG.

OK, can you give another example?

Sir, Comptroller & Auditor General!!!

(Yeah.. you heard it right. & yeah.. you guessed it right too. Brain rearrangement is not going as per plans)

It is a laugh riot there in the room now.. Even the chairman..

He still wants to give me an opportunity though.. Kannan, think a bit broader.. and answer the question..

Broader.. hmm..

Sir, Executive, Legislature & Judiciary.. (Can't get broader than this huh!)

At this time, the peon walks in with chai & samosa for the board members..

Chairman asks, Kannan, is the peon a part of the executive?

Yes sir.!! What a silly question..

So is peon a constitutional position???

Whaat now?!!! Chairman is behaving worse than my wife!!! Holding me accountable for whatever I said earlier and all... Hey.. That is highly unfair!

Having been trained well by then, I knew silence is the best answer in all such situations.

But the stubborn Chairman is still not ready to give up on me.

He continues.. Kannan, is Chief Minister a constitutional position?

Yes Sir..

So.. give another example.

Sir, Prime Minister Sir...

Once again the interview room exploded with laughter.. They are having a seriously good time with their chai, samosa & me.

One more time Chairman asked for an example and I said CAG one more time if I remember correctly. After that the Chairman gave up on me by explicitly stating I do not want to ask him anymore questions. If anyone else wants to.. he is ready to laugh it seems

The member sitting closest to me on the left side, a very studious kind with written questions and all, asks me that evergreen question.

What is the difference between judicial overreach and judicial activism?

I was already irritated by the lack of respect they are showing me..

I reply.. Sir, no difference. Both are same.

Whaat... they are laughing again..

I have no idea what that Chairman saw in me, even while laughing he says, Wait.. let us hear what he has to say..

I replied sir, it is just a matter of interpretation.. you give me an example for overreach, I will explain how it is activism, you show me an example of activism, I will prove how it is overreach!



Well friends.. from thereon the interview was quite non-funny.. we argued over overreach and activism.

There was even an incident when I made a funny remark at a member's question and we all had a good laugh at that. Payback time :) 😊😊

After a wonderful 30 odd minutes as I was walking out of the room, I heard the lady member saying 'He is a confident boy'. And that I will never forget.



What..... you want to know my marks..?
Nah.. not gonna tell :D :D


To all my friends preparing for the interview.. wish you the very best..
Be good at those brain jigsaws!

My day at the CMO

Let me share an embarrassing story of my still very short civil service career! Request to not spin this in any political way. Hence not tagging any one involved. This is purely about me & my stupidity. Nothing & no-one else.

And it is quite long.

Well, as many of you would know, after you join civil service, you are kept on probation for two years. And you are famously known as the 'probationer'. This word means a lot to many of us. We are told by our seniors that there are only two real officers in the entire bureaucracy. Probationers & the Chief Secretary. I believed it very much. Even thought us real officers should meet often, cutting down all the useless intermediaries in between.

Also as probationers we could walk freely into offices of most seniors. We felt it is our right to be treated well. Probationer da..!!

Coming back to the incident, I was attached to a district then & was quite happily running errands for the Collector. One of those days I learnt that Govt. was implementing bus as a winter shelter idea. Was feeling particularly proud & happy.

As some of you might know, a couple of years earlier, before joining the service I had written the same to Govt. a few times. So I was righteously basking in the glory by sharing it in Facebook and all.

The very next day I was told that I am required to work from CMO immediately. Now that is quite uncommon & strange for a probationer. For us our district & our district collector was everything. Rest all... well... redundant stuff trying to stop us from doing our work.

So, for a moment I was confused. But then realized... ha..! it must be because of all my ideas & stuff. CM must have felt my brilliance shouldn't be limited to just the district.  Well.. if he insists!!!

So the next day I went straight to the secretariat & found my way to the CMO. Carrying multiple print outs of all my other ideas..

'Kannan, wait for some time here. We will go into CMs chamber in a few minutes.', said the Principal Secretary sir.

'OK sir!' Furiously rearranging my papers once again on genius quotient... Difficult job. But have to prioritize no?

As I walked into the CMs chamber for the first time, it felt a bit awkward & scary...

Kannan here, is a 2012 batch officer who will be working here in the CMO Sir.. Principal Secretary sir introduced me.

Ok Kannan, so you are doing your internship? CM asks.

I replied sternly. No sir. I am on my probation. Not internship!

Huh! Probationer da! How dare he make me an intern!

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, I came out of the chamber. But I was wondering when we will be discussing those ideas!

I am still clinging on to those printouts!

After sometime, somebody asks confusingly in the CMO, who is Kannan.. CM is calling.

I say it's me & start walking to the chamber with the print outs again!

Pr Secy sir comes running behind me with a notebook & a pencil.
Tells me... Kannan.. at least carry this when you go to CM's chamber!!!

Anyway.. second time inside the CM chamber.

Sir, you called me?

Are you Kannan?

Duh!!!! We just met?

And then he started looking at some files. Completely ignoring me.

Well, I looked around for a few minutes & then sat on a chair laid on the side.
I sat there for a good 10-15 minutes. Looking at that muffler hanging from the coat hanger.
hmm hmm...! Nothing. No response.

Suddenly CM looked up & said something. I have a completely confusing look on my face!
Had no idea what was just said. As I stared at him with a blank face, CM probably realized he will have to be the one to break the silence!

I will be needing someone to take these notes, said the CM.
Again looks at me! I am still confused though..

But I gathered my wits fast enough. Oh.. CM wants someone to take these notes. Well, in districts when we needed someone to take notes we pressed the bell & waited for someone to come in.

So I looked at the door & then looked at the CM.
Then looked at the door & at the CM again.

I guess CM got the hint. He pressed the bell. Someone came in & took the note.

After that I was told

Ok, Kannan, you may go back to your training.

And that was my one day stint at CMO. Back to Probationer da days with all my printouts!

PS: They were looking for someone at junior level to work in CMO & my name came up as a dear senior suggested it. That's all. Nope! Nothing else! Nothing to do with Bus & shelters!

Being We: 'The Rest of Us'

Once again… Once again we are attacked. Once again we are shattered and once again

we point our fingers. But, hold on, before we drop that finger, we should seek answers,

answers to these continuing hostility and violence. Not from the government, but from,

where the other three fingers are pointing towards. Not surprisingly, they are pointed at

ourselves!

Well, we all know, there are a few fanatics in our society, in every community, and these

miscreants are responsible for creating communal tension in India. In their twisted minds,

killing innocent people is the way to take revenge. But the rest of us, the majority, we

do not believe in violence, we do not approve of such violent acts. We believe in

secularism and communal harmony. So these terrorists should be caught, punished, and

if possible tortured and hanged. This would serve as a deterrent to future criminals and

hence would prevent further such attacks. We will all live in peace and harmony!!!

How easy, and yet how untrue? Have we ever wondered from where these miscreants

come from? Aren’t they a product of our own society and as such a part of our very own

society. How pathological should the society be to create such criminal minds? Considering

that society is nothing but you and me, this implies there is something rotting deep inside.

So while we continue blaming the few, let us try and understand this rot.

I believe, if not hatred, at least a dislike or discomfort or mistrust is running through

the majority of Indians towards ‘the other community’. 

It doesn't matter whether I am a Hindu or a Muslim, a Dalit or a Brahmin.
What I am not constitutes 'the other community'. 

We hate to accept it, and we try to suppress it,
but if we ask a few questions we should get the answers. How many

of us would prefer to live in a locality dominated by ‘the other community’ residents?

How many of us are comfortable when we are standing amidst a group of ‘the

other community’? How many ‘the other community’ friends do each one of us have?

Don’t we find the mistrust, dislike, and discomfort running through all of us?
More important is why we find this mistrust, dislike and discomfort?

Answer might lie in the way we derive our identity. Our identities are derived, developed

and consolidated on the basis of similarities and resemblances, often inflated and often

forged. We are taught to live, love and respect these similarities, while relationships

with ‘the others’ are to be temporary, and on need basis. We fail to respect reciprocity

and mutuality, but worship the identity of similarity.
But it is not the case that similarities lead to identity creation,
often it is the identities that enforce and maintain these similarities
Thus I am a Hindu, Nair, Keralite and hence different from this Tamil Brahmin or that Bihari Musalman.
Now, why am I different from them?
Because our identities are different. That tells us that we should not have similarities.

And we would have thought identities originate from similarities, and not the other way around! 

Thus even when I have more in common with that Bihari Musalman, 

than my Hindu Nair Keralite friend, my identity refuses to accept that and

infuses in me that he is different. 

The identities that were once formed on the basis of similarities and differences 

are now enforcing those similarities and differences.

Let us probe a little more about 'the identity' which has had a definite impact on the history of

modern India, the identity of being a Hindu or a Muslim. Our heroes of national

movement considered Hindu-Muslim unity as the most important ideal to be upheld.And like

in the case of most of their vision, we did not fail to uphold this ideal. But we made sure it remained

an ideal, even better, as a mere idea and never as the way of life. Like our other ideals and ideas,

compassion, patriotism, selflesness, whoever brings these ideals to action are considered

as a hero, and we all hail his heroic act. Thus what should have been a simple, normal

way of life, gets elevated to the higher planes of idea, ideals and ideologies. Like in the movie, “Hey Ram”,

when Kamalhasan saves a Hindu life, it is a normal act, but when he saves a Muslim life,

knowing fully that he is a Muslim, it becomes a heroic act. 

Transferring the burden of doing good to the heroes and blaming the villains for doing bad, we, the rest of us, rest...

Well, most of us, as secular as we are, must have a few ‘the other community’ friends.

But is that enough? Often we would justify the friendship by saying he is not like other members of his community. He is good you know.. Despite being from 'the other community'.
He does not hold the sentiments/opinions that the majority of his community holds. 

He is an exception. He being good, is your friend, others being bad are not your friends. 

I am reminded of what Spinoza had written once, 

“You do not like it because it is good, but, it is good because you like it.”

Coming back to those few miscreants, who are hell-bound to create havoc in our society,

aren't they only expressing the collective feeling that we have for each other? 
Don’t you think they are the children of the atmosphere of mistrust that we have created? 

No, I am not telling that we, the rest of us, accept or approve of this violence. 

Rather, I believe, knowingly or unknowingly the suppressed dislike, discomfort and mistrust that

we hold for each other is being converted and channelized to hatred and hatred alone by a few.
So can we blame the few, and absolve ourselves of our responsibilities? 

Before we let our hands search the coziness of our jeans pockets, we need to

answer those three questions that the three fingers are asking:

Have I in slightest possible way contributed to all these hatred and violence?

Could I have done anything, anything at all which would have prevented such hostilities?

Can I in any possible way contribute towards a better and peaceful society?

Not now... Not ever...

It woke me up... She was shouting at me.. and was weeping... I had hardly closed my eyes for a few minutes...
I saw her sitting on her coir cot, holding her walking stick, a brown wooden one. She was shouting at me, mumbling a lot of things which I failed to understand.  I was lying on the floor. She had thrown me out from the bed. It took me a while to understand what was going on...

She was special...

I know her from the time she lost her legs...

She must be around six then... She was bed ridden and except for me and her mother there was no one for her... but I was always there with her... We talked a lot of things and shared a lot of secrets. For almost six years I was her only companion. I was pretty sure she was bored with me by then. There was nothing left to talk. No secrets left to share. One day she came to me and told me that she wanted a friend. One who could take her outside... One who could show her the world...

It was one of those boring days... this new boy came to our house... He was around sixteen. As he walked past the window, she shouted, 'doodh andar rakh ke jayie...' as she usually used to shout to our doodh wala.  But he was new.. He came inside and kept the milk bottle on the dining table. Instead of going back as she had ordered, that rascal was peeping through the curtains to have a look at her. He had a wry smile on his face. To be frank I was angry... She had asked him to keep the bottle inside... not to peep through curtains. I was about to give him his due when I saw her smiling...
I understood, she had got her new friend.

This peep business must have continued for a week or so... till one day when he had the guts to come inside our room. He started talking to her as if I was not there at all... She was asking him where he lived, what he did in his spare time, about his studies, the games he played, places he visited, about the near by stream and the fish in there... There were many things that she had to know and he was more than willing to tell... He started frequenting our home. He would come in the morning with the milk bottle and leave only in the evening, or some times when his dad came asking for him... He told her that he had finished his 12th and was going to join his father's workshop. Also since he does not have to study any more, he will be with her all the time... No one in our home disliked him. He would come in the morning, help in giving her food, help her in doing her exercises, read her newspaper... He more or less had become a member of our family.

One day, he came with a particular kind of walking stick, it had wheels and all.. He declared that with that and some help she could now get outside of the room and roam around a little. I could see her trying to hide her happiness... She did ask me to join, I chose not to go... It was their moment....

When she came back, she had this triumphus look on her face. She had gone outside for the first time in almost seven years. Now she wanted to go out every day and he was more than happy to take her out. She would say there, he would take her there, she would say that, he would get her that..

It had grown beyond friendship. He enjoyed so much being the go to guy for her. He wouldn't let her even move. She should just order and he would do that for her... I guess that was the happy part for him..

I have wondered why he would love a girl who could not even do her own basic stuffs. She was dependent on him for anything and everything and he was madly enjoying this dependency. I have more than once tried to warn her that this love might fade away as time passes and her orders would turn to pleads. This love might turn to pity. But she had a challenging tone to her when she told me that she trusted him more than she trusted me... She was proved right. He seemed to enjoy this more and more as time passed away.
Instead, he would get angry when she tried to do something on her own. He had to be the go to guy.. He and no one else, not even herself.

One day he took her to the river bed. Looking at the setting Sun, he proclaimed that she was his wife. She laughed.. as she hardly understood what is to be a wife... but she knew since it was to be with him, she had nothing to worry. Next day, again he took her to the river bed. She chided him asking 'So husband, what shall we do. ?' He asked her once again whether she agreed to be her wife or not? She laughed and said 'why not?'

The next moment he tried to lift her skirt up. He said husband and wife are supposed to do like that.
 She gave him a tight slap and started weeping. Her mummy had told her that she should never let any one see those places. Those places were dirty... not to be shown to any one. She started crying out loud. He got  both sad and angry. For it was the first time he was seeing her crying. But then he was sure that husband and wife do things like that. Perplexed at her reaction he consoled her brought her home. But he did not come to our house for the next few days.. Must have got really afraid. What if she told this to mom?

When mummy asked my little girl why is he not coming these days, she told her what had happened. Mummy stormed out of our home to see his dad and asked him to have his son married to her daughter. According to her, his son has violated her daughter and now he should only marry her. Somewhere in her mind mummy must have known that this was probably the only way she could get her married. The marriage did happen a few weeks later and boy came to stay in our home now. Permanently.

My little girl got shocked that even on the night of the marriage also he asked her to do the same thing. I could hear her scolding him, ek baar daant mila.. kaafi nahi hai kya... ? Is baar aisa saja dilaoongi.. tujhe hamesha yaad rahega... saying this she started calling mummy...
When she came to me there were a few drops of tear on her cheek...
Seemingly her mummy had told her to obey him and not to create a scene.
I could see the anger in her eyes but I was helpless.
She understood that it was only him for her from then onwards... No one else.. Not even me...

After a few months, he had her checked up by a doctor and started taking the treatments suggested. There was improvement even though they were very marginal. Even now, he would take care of her as if there was nothing in this world beyond she and her needs... Cooking food, feeding her, bathing her, taking her outside, reading newspaper to her, scolding her every time she tried and struggled to do something on her own. He could never see her struggling. When he was there for her, why she should? After all it was his duty to take care of her needs.

Years flew by, and I was being proven wrong every day... The orders never became pleads and dependency never became a burden. Meanwhile, the treatment was also showing results. She was slowly able to move her legs. Once I heard doctor saying that with some exercise she should be able to walk and do her stuffs on her own... To every one's surprise and giving hope to all those paralyzed patients, after a few months she did walk on her own. Our happiness knew no bounds. He was happy too... Now they were to live a normal life... Normal life of a normal couple.

Things did change in our family after that. She started getting up early, getting him tea, making him food, doing all the household chores on her own.

She had years of debt to repaid. He had taken care of her for so long and now it was her turn. She tried to keep him happy in each and every way. Her love for him was almost turning in to a service. She would do anything to keep him happy. Years of debt to be paid back.

Was he happy ? Well, as far I know, he was not. I do not know why, but he found fault with almost everything she did. The tea was not good, food even worse. House was not clean enough for him, and it seems his clothes smelled like detergent after the wash.

Normalcy was taking a toll on their relationship.

I guess normalcy is the least appreciated virtue in the world. With everyone wanting to be special, being normal was never the 'in thing'.

And for them, who were always special, the special wife who could not move and the special husband who never let her feel the need to move, the transition to normalcy was a painful one.

I guess he was in love with the dependency, more than her. Being madly in love with the feeling of being needed he could never see the aspirations and dreams that she had within her. The dreams to be independent, to take on the world on her own. He had loved a disabled girl and was always was in love with the disabled girl. He couldn't understand why she was now ignoring him. For he was always there for her. Why is she now showing arrogance.

Normal fights started in their normal married life... He saw it as challenging him every time she walked on her own. He felt redundant. Not needed any more. He was loved. That I was sure. But he felt redundant. It didn't take much time for these normal fights to take ugly turn.

During one of the fights when she argued with him, he told her. 'I guess you do not need me any more, now that you can walk. That is why you are talking back to me like this. I should have never cured your legs. How happy we were when you could not walk'. Saying this, he got out of the house, took his bike and sped away...

I could see her silently crying. She came to me and told me that she was sorry that she ignored me for so long, that she had no one else and all that she wanted was to see him happy. She was cursing her healthy legs for all her misery and started beating them with the walking stick she had. She looked at me and told me that she was going to break her legs. She didn't need them. All she needed was him and his love.

I was confused. May be she was right. She didn't have them for years and they were having a wonderful life. May be her healthy legs were the problem. I didn't stop her. After some time she stopped beating her legs and started crying. I tried to console her. She told me that she wanted to sleep and I agreed. I watched her sleep for some time and it must be a minute or so, I had also fell asleep.

It woke me up... She was shouting at me.. and was weeping... I had hardly closed my eyes for a few minutes...
I saw her sitting on their coir cot, holding her walking stick, a brown wooden one. She was shouting at me, mumbling a lot of things which even I failed to understand. I was lying on the floor.  She had thrown me out from the bed.

She looked at me with disgust, and asked me, couldn't you have given me at least one. You took him away and my legs too... Hadn't I asked you whether I would get his love back if I break my legs. Hadn't I ? Tell me... Hadn't I? Why did you have to take both away... God... You Cruel God.. I should have never trusted you...

I do not know... I had just closed my eyes for a few seconds... I should not have... not now.. not ever...

I found that the photo frame in which she had kept me for so long had been broken in to pieces. She was now hitting at me with that wooden stick.

I was lying on the floor... broken in to pieces... May be this is where I belong... for I should not have closed my eyes... Not now, Not ever...

Guilt and Conscience...

Yes, I killed... It was me... Kya kar loge... kuthe ke aulaton...
I'm telling, it is me... Come kill me... take revenge...
Main bol raha huna.. Yes, It was me.... Fu** you all.... you dogs...

He was tied, and was being taken away by four attendees...
No marks for guessing.... A Mental Hospital...

Chutkoo... he was my friend... well, till then he was my friend.. and remained so only for another two n a half hrs.
The thin, lean and short ... he was the chutkoo in our C-52 gang...

He had a lot to prove to others...
that he is strong, glamorous, he is brave.. and stylish.
Now I think he had some sort of complex..
Not that any one else in c-52 had any of those qualities.. but we never cared..
we never thought of wanting to prove....

But our chutkoo had to...
and we never noticed... never even bothered to notice...

Apart from the fact that he was afraid of dogs... Even a small puppy could bring the hell out of him...
He would not get out of house in the night if he hears a dog moaning a good half a km away...
But then he was our chutkoo.. He was well protected...

I think it was just out of this fear of dogs, he bought a brand new Pulsar. And it did help, the bike did instil some sort of confidence in him... Now he used to go out alone in the night..
Roam around all night and come back early mornings..

Our late nights started to become just the start of the day for him... and when he comes back he used to ring the bell some 10 times until all of us are awaken.....
uth jaa saalon......
But again.. we never bothered.. It was chutkoo.. woh toh pehle se hi pagal hai.. ??

Until one night.. I should say morning, when he ringed (surprisingly my phone..and not the bell )from outside the house and asked me to open the house... There was panic in his voice. And he asked not to awake any one else... and so I did go silentlly and open the door.

A December night and he was all sweating... and I noticed the blood stains.. in the front tyre of the bike.

Yaar ek accident hogaya...
Ek kutha ... main nabbe pe tha... woh.. woh.. beech main...

Half asleep, I said..

Its ok yaar...
Its just a dog... Relax.. Tumhe toh kuch hua nahi na...

Nothing had happened to him.. except for a scratch in the forearm...

I dont want this bike any more..
I want to sell it now.. I'm damn afraid...

Chutkoo.. tu tension mat lena...
ek kutha hi toh hai...kya hogaya tujhe....

I am damn afraid yaar.. Seriously.. You know na how much I'm afraid of dogs..
Now all of em would kill me... I am afraid yaar...
I want to sell this bike.. Please help me...

we washed the stains.. cleaned.. gave for a service.. and sold the bike the third day...

After 2 months he, chutkoo, shifted house to a new place.. and the meetings became rare...

It was after 8 months I was going to see him..

As he always feared... He was attacked by a few street dogs....
And he was admitted to a hospital..
But as he showed mental instability and streaks of violence, he was moved to a mental hospital near by..

Yes, you fu**ing bitches.. Come, kill me... I'll kill you all...
You.. you.. ... you.... yo.... and he was falling unconcsious....

I got to see him after 2 hrs...
He was normal..
Hi yaar...
and almost cried ... When I asked ...
Kya hua tumhe chutkoo.... ye kya halat bana ke rakha hai...

Yaar.. I had told you.. these dogs..."
They are taking revenge.. you remember the accident..

Revenge.. bull shit.. Tum pagal hogaya kya...
he stared at me.. and he asked...

What do you think I have become...

Can I trust you...
I want to tell you something
I have to tell this....

Areh chutkoo batana.. you very well know you can trust me...

You remember the accident....
That night, that night... It was not a dog....

then....

It was not a dog... It was a small kid... some street child...
Her dog had come in the way.. and she jumped in front of my bike trying to save it...

What the Fuck...

Main bola thana.. main nabbe pe tha.. I couldn't stop...

and you didn't stop..?? You .. you didnt try to save her..

I tried..da... I tried... But the moment I stopped... her dog.. it started barking at me.. and attacked me..
He showed the scratch...
God.. I have seen that before..

It was attacking me da.. I had to save my self. I reached for a brick and killed it.. smashed its head... smashed it... dim.. dead.. bloody dogs..
ha ha ha ha...
ha ha ha ha......

Oh My God... I looked at my hands... Those stains... I washed... blood... a small girl's..

You bloody basta....
I was squeezing the last breath out of him... when people came and removed me..

He was still shouting..

Come On you all.. Kill me... I know you want revenge...
Yes It was me...Yes, It was me.... Fu** you all ....
ha ha ha .... ha ha ha ...

Savere... Savere... Yaaron se milne...

Remember those days..?
When you used to run to school carrying 10 KG bags, your mom running behind you to keep the lunch box inside..
Remember the song.. ?
"savere savere...
yaron se milne..."

This an incident from those days of my life. and I warn you, it is a very filmy story.
###################################################################

I still remember the look.
Those two eyes staring at me...
big round eyes... full of anger...
That was the very first meeting.
She was angry at me.. and she had every reason to be...
I was the reason, why, she had to change her school.
Incidentally, my Mom had told her mom, that the school in which I'm studying is good, the fee is very reasonable, and overall it is much better than where she was going now...

So..??? She was arguing with her mom.. toh kya...
so what...!!!? Her school was also good.
Everybody in her school loved her.
She was the topper, not just in her class, but in all the divisions. She was the one selected to speak during the prayers. She loved her school.
And all the more, who is this guy and his mom to decide which school should she go..????
But the fact was that she was studying in a Govt. Malayalam medium school, where there were hardly any teachers and even less teaching.

I was in 9th then and was studying in the Technical Higher Secondary School, again a Govt. school but which was much much better than where she was studying.
My Mom did convinced her mother.
She joined, in 7th, in our prestigious THSS.
and once again she had to come to my house, her mother had come to ask, whether I can take her to school with me.
Woooo..... The stare.... She was giving me the same stare.. full of anger... but this time I was laughing at her helplessness.
The school was some 6 km from he bus stop and bus stop 1km from our house, which meant a 2 km walk every day,.

Everyday I reach her house and shout..
"Aunty..."
and the girl would come out.. some times a small smile, more often a blank look. Then starts a march of two kids, not even looking at each other, we walked as if we lived in two parallel universes... Have you seen the ceremony at the wagah border ? We were pretty much like those Indian and Pakistani soldiers..., seeing each other daily..., staying so close..., but still hating each other.
The only relief I had was that more friends joined after half a km walk.

Life was going on like this for us soldiers,.. until one day,
when she fell unconscious in school. A peon came running to me and said the teacher is calling.
Her teacher had called for an auto and was asking me to take her back home. I was a bit hesitant, but looking at her awfully tired face...
She was looking really tired, and for no reason, or reasons unknown to me, she was crying.
I had to console her. but how..
I should speak something to her..
and I asked.. a genuine doubt I had...

"How do you feel, when you fall unconscious ?"

entho...!!! (what...!!!) (kya...!!!) and a smile, was her first reaction. It turned to a big laughter and a lot of many things. She said it feels very good...It is really fun to fall unconscious.. and many more things.. making fun of me.. making fun of the stupidity of the question. But I did not care. She was happy. I could cheer her up. At last we have become friends... and we don't have to march...

Next day I was expecting a happy smiling face.
But it was gloomy. and just after a few meters she said she needed to get a chart.
Can we go the other way today so that she can get the chart?
anytime ma'am...
Little did I know then that the other way was to remain the permanent way for us.. Away from those friends waiting half a km away, eating our other half a km away.

The first day, we went the other way, she was really happy and talking.. She talked a lot. She told me how she hated me for changing her school, how much she loved her older school, how much she hated this new school and a lot other things. When she starts talking it is like boarding a deccan flight. She starts a sentence which she does not know where to end or when..?
But as the days went by, I was supposed to understand whatever she was telling, however meaningless that was.
After all, I was the one who changed her school, and I was responsible for all her unhappiness. Any thing bad happens to her, she would stare at me, the same anger...
even if that is toppling over a stone.. she would look at me with the same anger...
I would laugh and tell.. areh yaar... maine toh kuch nahi kiya..

toh kya.. bacha toh sakte the...
(btw, toh kya was her favourite sentence, every time I try to make her understand some logic, .. this one sentence .. toh kya... failed me..)
Are pani khatam hogaya na.. kahase dedoo..
toh kya.. mujhe pyas lagi hai.. mujhe pani chahiye...

I don't know.. she was so sure .. she as so sure nothing would ever happen to her without my consent.
She was so sure she was mine...

Even in the school, when her friends see me and starts chidafying her..
"See here comes your hero.."
My face used to turn red.. (default color being black, the color change was not that much noticeable though.. )
But she never minded it..
Yes it was so. I was her hero.. and she was never afraid of proclaiming it.
She would make me do all those hero stuffs in front of her friends.. spinning books on fingers, moving my ears.. etc etc etc.. anything which I do to entertain her, I had to do it in front of her friends also.

I could never fail her. I was a hero, a hero, she owned.

But she hated this school. All this english... close but distant friends.. she used to remind me often that it was due to me that she had to change her school, and if it was not for me she would have gone mad in this new school.

But as long as she was with me she was happy...
and like this days went by... exams were over.. results out...
we went together to check our results.

I had topped my class, and she was shouting with happiness like anything. But when I said chalo... now lets see your results, she didn't want to. She didn't want to see her results, Some how I pushed her to the place where her results were published...

Five subjects in red.

"Yeh kya hain.. teacher lal painting kar rakha hai kya..??
ha ha ha ha ha ha...
ha ha ha ha ha ha..."

I don't know whether it was, she failing in the subjects, or the cruel face of mine, laughing at her state...,
she was running.., running back home, crying... both hands on her face...

The whole vacation she did not talk to me. Not even a stare...

and the next year she moved back to the school she belonged to, and we shifted to a new house.

I still remember the stare, full of anger, full of love, and I miss it badly.

Now sometimes, I wonder, how a stupid comment made her come the closest to my life, and another stupid one, drove her away from my life... for ever...?