Heart broke ... and humbled.

Heart broke … It has been more than a week and I have been writing a lot over this. I wonder if writing is just a hobby for me. It indeed is more than that – my blog is my closest friend. Almost everything I experience and feel is either on the surface or would lie buried deep into the drafted archives somewhere. Most of these details capture the joys and sorrows that touch my soul some way or the other. Reading these archives is sometimes soothing and relaxing, sometimes it is cheerful and sunshine. But then sometimes it is painful and depressing; sometimes even causing soreness and moisture to accumulate across my eyes. I guess most of my recent archives have been of the latter type keeping my handkerchief busy. Today again, it is one of those days when I am in a desperate need of some cozy, emotional support. My blog comes to my rescue.

Sometimes when you allow others to play with your self-esteem to the extreme, you tend to forget that the only possible outcome of the tryst would be a murderous painful split. This is something that I got to understand recently after a scary encounter. 

At the same time, there are instances when everything seems to be correct and perfect. Everything falling into the place; but then not to be; for some unknown reason it doesn’t. And then you get restless. 

Both of these are painful humbling experiences, but with a piece of learning. There are a lot of things which are not in our control, one of them being the human behavior. A person good at heart and straight in the thoughts might be harsh but will be adorable. Whereas another person with wittiness and malice in thoughts and deeds will never change, no matter how much affection and care one showers. The love and affection will be made a mockery of on the face and you will be stabbed regularly and continuously … till the last drop of red or till the time you will allow. Depends on how low you can get with yourself and your self-esteem. 

In my case, the self-esteem was almost killed. For, there are adversities that come alongside of being too humble. Fortunately, I pulled out of this massacre before it was too late. But just like any other mishap, there have been aftermaths. There have been a lot of attempts to defame the family, but all in vein. Besides, these acts of sheer naivety have further bolstered the sanity of our decisions. As shameless and brazen as one could get, still it is hard to get down to that level and endorse a fake malice as ‘they’ have been trying. It is utter scary and dark to actually experience in reality, the grey shades as that of the ‘soap vamps’ and ‘venomous characters’ out of the celluloid, and that too this close.

Indeed, God balances the lows and highs in one’s life - a beautiful instance of the existence of the law of averages. Just when everything seemed to be moving smoothly, this mishap popped to retain the equilibrium of life, reminding me to stay stuck to the ground. I wonder how long will it take for me to rush out of this terrible phase. 

Heart broke ... prologue

Eerie place it is, the Gurgaon Railway Station. It was another three hours to go before my train would have arrived. Completely drenched, it was the third time I was sipping the dreaded tea ... so was the rain, dreaded. I hate rains. And annoyingly, exactly at the same time, every other person I knew was not answering the phone - friends, office mates, even those who act as perfect fillers for this very kind of situation when there is a desperate urge to kill time. What was more intriguing was the thought that I would again get into that gloomy mood unless I would have got something to get distracted. Short of options, I clogged my ears with some Telegu music (from the movie called 'Dookudu'. This one is a separate story, a comical one. Some other day and time.) and triggered the lappy and rushed straight to my blogger archives.

Heart-broke ... (16th August 2011)

I cannot explain the way I am feeling right now. Its blasphemous.

Insane but interesting it is. Every other problem in life looks the biggest yet. Funny ....

Never ever in my life had I ever thought about that special being. I did not ever cared, too much concerned and pre-occupied with hypothetical educational and then career dreams forever. Then un-till it was utmost impossible task to do away with the parental pressure, I had to succumb to it. With a swollen state of mind I had to follow the procedures. Un-till it was to an extent that more than half of the year passed and an eerie feeling dwelled across me over the entire setup. I was hating the process.

Then it was Monday, 15th of August 2011. Yet another prospect to be visited. Only this time, I had a strange feeling about it. It was one of my cousin aunt who had set up this meeting. My aunt, this was not something worth a mention here but the reason I did that was a fact that she was one of the few relatives whom I could associate with bringing good omen for 'us'. (I am not fond of my relatives anyway. Yaa, I know ... pathetic.) The last time I met her was at IIT Powai - the counseling session for kiddo bro - and it was a 'triumph'ical tryst. This time again, I met her and she was smiling as ever. I greeted her, and she responded gleefully. The only difference this time was the extra special mention and attention I got. Ohh, for the love of God, I hate special attention. As we entered the place, a swarm of unfamiliar but cheerful faces awaited us. Everybody got seated and it was only then that I started feeling a little scratchy with the setup; for everybody was looking at me with a peculiar glare. Shuts, I hate special attention. Then to break the monotony of the setup, sundry talks started ranging from 'politics' to 'the harsh weather' to 'generations and their differences' and 'who's who of what and when'. ....

[The Nokia Jingle]

My phone rang. It was Varun, possibly responding to an unattended call. The efforts helped. I got distracted. So much so that I could not comprehend and recall what all I chatted with Varun. I was still thinking about what I read. Gloomy memories. I could not 'not think' about her.

The race against time ....

It was for the trillionth time that I was trying to jot down something on a piece of paper and could not. It was almost midnight. Both Nitish and I were still in the office. He of course had work to do and I had some personal issues to deal with. Surprising and strange, for I was the one known to be a workaholic and insanely in love with the job.

‘What the hell is the matter with you man? Are you under the influence of an insomniac tranquilizer or what? I have never seen you as dull and dejected as you are right now? Excuse me for being so inquisitive, but is it something personal that is haunting you?’ one after the other, Nitish had questions lined up.

I could not resist but grinned. He could understand that I had been hit below the belt. He refrained.

‘You had your dinner? Haah, let me guess … you didn’t.’ he sounded like mom.

‘Let’s go and have some subs. That is the only option available during these wee hours of the day.’ He didn’t even cared to wait for my affirmation and pulled me out of the chair.

Still lost, I didn’t even realize while the order was placed already.

‘My treat man! ’ said Nitish. I grinned. ‘As a vegetarian, you do not have much choice here. Hard luck.’ This time it was a chance for both of us to share a smile.

As the gong over the antique timepiece struck 12:00, I got distracted and was again lost in thoughts. ‘Would you care to tell me what the matter is? ’

I sometimes wonder what purpose did this old timepiece served in a state of art cafeteria. American Express being one of the best places to work in the country, such a lavish facility, state of art infrastructure and then this rickety time piece in the cafeteria.

‘Man, I am asking something. Unless it bothers you to share, please tell me what is the matter?’ Nitish again interrupted me off my thoughts. I grinned.

‘Should I take your fake smiles to be a denial?’ I guess, he had decided to take me to the task unless I decide to open up.

‘It’s nothing Sir, just some family issues. ’ It was the first time that I had spoken.

‘Ok man, if it is too personal to share, its fine, otherwise you can share it with me.’ The selfless concerns over his face were clearly evident. ‘Look man, all I care about is to get my cheerful buddy back to work. Your attitude is contagious, like it used to spread workaholism its spreading dullness now. Stop being a girl.’

‘My mom is not keeping well. Some recent events have been troubling the family. I cannot concentrate on the work right now and I feel sorry for myself. My marriage was called off.’ I could not say anything any further without choking. Nitish got some water.

‘Ohh, sorry to hear that.’ He took a pause for a minute.

‘Man, I am not sure how you are dealing with it …. have some water first’. He stopped till the time I finished. ‘So, as I was suggesting, I am not sure if you are handling it the correct way. As far as I can see, it is utmost important right now for you to concentrate on the work, for it is far easier to lose focus on the job over the pity issues ….’ Pity issues, how the hell could he take these as pity issues? Even though I could not utter anything, he got my discomfort out of the frowning face. He smiled.

‘And when I am calling these pity issues, I mean it. Of course to take care of the health of your mother is important but to lose focus over the job because your marriage was called off is actually uncalled off. Rather, it is imperative for you to focus on the job at hand with a much greater intensity right now. It would not only help shift your focus off the grudges but also would avoid your losing a position of advantage that you have built across the team and the client. Man, like we always suggest, one should never take the office work back home. So not should one take the personal troubles back to work.’ It was time for him to take a sip now after a long speech.

‘Now, if you feel that I am being selfish thinking in terms of losing a good hardworking colleague, I am ok taking that blame. It is all worthed if it helps you. The choice is yours.’ His phone rang and I was relieved to have got some time before I had to disclose the ‘choice’ I would make.

Speaking of the time, I was again staring at the time piece. I could still not understand the need of the rickety antique to be put here in the lavish cafeteria. Then I saw some engravings just below the time piece. However, I could not read because of the distance. I guess it was something to do with the historical manuscript of the time piece. I stood up to reach for the manuscript. I wonder why I could not be inquisitive about the time piece previously. Possibly, with such a sprinting and tiring routine, I never noticed the peculiarity of the time piece ever. As I was striding towards the time piece, I could not realize that Nitish was done with his call.

‘Man!’ he called for me. ‘Wifey called, rather yelled. Its almost 2:00 AM, I guess we should leave now.’

Ohh yes, it is very late. The last thing that I noticed on the time piece was ‘time’.

The next morning, as I reached office, I rushed towards the time piece. The manuscript read:

‘Time = life; therefore, waste your time and waste of your life, or master your time and master your life. - Alan Lakein’

Humbled … yet again. (Part-1)

The eerie feeling yet again; humbled yet again ….

While life was strolling just fine with a gorgeous career and the delicious piece of mind, something had to break the beautiful monotony and this happened. Shit happened ….

Within a short span of eight months, how much could one loose and to what extent? Unimaginable damage … humbled yet again. While I try to jot down what all I have lost, I feel ashamed and dejected. For, apart from the perishable losses, the most chronic was the mental trauma for my parents and me. I was responsible for all of it. I wish I could be forgiven for that someday … amen.

But at the same time, on the hindsight, the positive out of all this is the fact that had I have had not pulled out, this torture could have continued even further and scarily forever.

Still recovering from the shock, there are a lot of ‘things to learn’ out of the mishap. A human being can fight anything, but not wittiness. Had my manners have had allowed me to drop to the same level as that of ‘them’, I could have used the appropriate adjectives to elaborate. Humbug …. However, curbing the temptation to abuse, I rather want to concentrate on what went wrong, terribly. Of course, we (me and family) were new to this, but still it was a horrible mistake to gamble with a new relationship without quizzing 'their' backdrop. I feel rather ashamed of disowning and humiliating my inherited ethics and family values for the sake of holding on to a single relationship. Ignoring the ‘loud-mouthed’ness and brazenness, considering them as the initial jitters of a nascent relationship and thinking that everything will be fine eventually, turned out to be a slanderous mistake that I committed.

To disrespect the family, being hopelessly selfish, hijacking the agenda to a self-righteous cause, being indifferent to the cause of keeping the family ties bonded, being shamelessly witty and immaculate at backstabbing are some qualities that could not do any good to the cause of the relationship. Even with repeated hints and displeasure shown, ‘they’ could not understand that 'their' deeds were killing the relationship. Rather, it seemed that my silence and softness was taken as some kind of affirmation. Good for us, for the fact that the malice and wittiness was exposed in time.

In the true faith of God, God knows how ‘deep red’ was my commitment for the relationship. But like a leeching mite would relish flesh, 'they' dwelled onto it, leaving my heart drenched in ‘deep red’. I feel dejected to have allowed 'them' to try and part me away from my family. Foolish 'them', for nothing in this world could have made me part away from mom and dad, it’s a no brainer. Again, I took 'their' foolish attempts to be, as I mentioned previously, the initial jitters of a nascent relationship. Also, I had faith in the purity of my commitment to the relationship and was deliberately ignoring a lot of ‘issues’ just thinking that everything will be fine eventually. But, I guess it was enough to reach the breakeven and hence the dreaded end.

‘They’ killed the relationship out of 'their' wittiness and, I would rather say, brazenness. And, foolishly, have possibly not realized it yet. Or rather, 'they' do not want to admit it.

Now if I could allow myself to be that despicable (cannot contain my fury any further) and down-market as 'they' are (as 'they' have been asking for a ‘ransom’ money in lieu of refraining from faking a bad publicity), I could jot the ‘$ impact’ down to be somewhere ranging a quarter million. But I feel good for the fact that those plethora immortal things that were a token of love, would haunt 'them' and possibly if at all 'they' are human, would make 'them' feel ashamed for 'their' deeds … amen.

I luv u mom …

Whenever I was down, you always could know it already somehow. Even though I was rude, I wanted solitude, you never left me alone. You loved me so much, even though I never thanked you for that ever. Even though I never realize how powerful your love was that it provided me all the strength that I needed to stand and face the challenges that life poses, now when I am away, so far off, I am terribly missing you. Your love never had any conditions or expectations; it was just pure love … so much of it.

I hate myself for not valuing it. I hate myself for all the indifference that I ever showed to you. I am guilty of being ignorant. I love you mom and I am missing you terribly :( ………..

Main kabhi yeh keheta nahi ....

‘You better take … (loss of voice, soreness) … good care of yourself. Be very cautious of your health and …’ she couldn’t actually control the dizziness in the voice and the soreness of the vocal cords because. All I could do was to keep nodding, I had lost the count of the number of times she had repeated her instructions now. She would just not get tired of it and do it every time without fail.

‘It is just a matter of six months and then I will be back.  What’s the big deal?’

She waited, smiled and said ‘You would know it when you will be a father. Then I will see if you will consider it as a big deal or what.’ I could not say anything, just had to keep quite.

My mum is not very fond of us (me and bro) getting away. She hates my job which might demand extended stays away and sometimes even abroad. Every time when I use to leave, she will be ready with her instructions and gushy see-offs. And I do not like them one bit. I hate when she cries, especially on these occasions as I feel that I am making her cry. This makes me feel bad, more so because it prompts me of the fact that I would really not be around in person for her. On top of that, I cannot express this explicitly which aggravates the pain further.

While it was already the time to leave, we both did not realize that. In fact it seemed that the cruel clock was sprinting in the sheer fun of seeing me getting parted of my mum. While, no doubt, that she was crying, I also strangely experienced some blurred vision. I touched my eyes and felt the chilliness around with the swift breeze rubbing over my tears ….  

Mum … I too am scared of darkness … (par andhere se darta hu main maa).

The utter “chronic” discomfort ....... its killing me.

The last couple of days have been terrible to say the least. I cannot think of anything else but her. I have been eating less, losing interest in surfing, rope skipping (the flashy past-time I have been flaunting over since a few months now), driving etal. All of a sudden, especially from the last few days, those memories are haunting me again. That simplicity and innocence is haunting. That aura of positive energy that surrounded her is haunting. The fact that I might be deprived of that flawless smile and persona for the rest of the lifetime is almost causing the adrenalin to freeze and choke and ‘the bodily fluids causing acute depressions’ to shoot up.

This déjà vu, I have experienced a trillion times in last few years it seems. The entities, to which I do get attached emotionally, get denied always. Be it the great educational institutions I could never be a part of, the toughest ‘tests’ I could never crack, the most relishing job profiles I could never compete for and others. The only part missing till date was that none of the entities were causing any emotional pain. Thanks however to this girl now that I am suffering this painful emotional trauma that was a miss earlier. 

I wonder if I could have done anything different that day. That day when I met her and her family, could I have expressed myself a little better? Could I have had taken extra care in discussion with her younger brother over his career; and with her father when he asked me about my career interests and goals; and with her cousin brother when he did asked suggestions over a career with engineering; and had ‘shy’ed away over her grandmother not asking anything but observing ‘I don’t know what’. Could I have had approved to her explicitly and could I have had told her, how much I …?

Alas, nothing of such sort did happened and all I had been left to deal with is ambiguity and hopeless in silence. I wonder, a plain denial would have had been a thousand times better, but that was not to be and here I am suffering with sleepless nights underway.

Amen …

Guilty .....

Not very long ago, I was really enjoying the work at hand; but not anymore. Surely, the driving force, till date was the quality of work, the ambience and the apt recognition and appreciation. Strangely, all these factors still exist but the zeal has been lost somewhere. Why?

A casual introspection was enough to infer the primary causes for the ‘mood-swing’:

- First and the most compelling, the chronic social and family pressure to move on in life, breed a family and succumb to the ‘bhed-chal’. This drives the urgent need to strengthen self on the financial front.

- Second, the urge to learn something new and different and to kill the utter monotony of the usual job. Also, at the same time, to put in efforts to earn skills that would enthrall credibility to my profile moving on.

Now, what these two factors might convey are some dire attributes as far as my character is concerned:

- I am greedy.

- I am unstable and unreliable.

- I am insecure.

Yes, everything said above is painfully true. I am greedy, because my being not greedy would not allow me with an option to choose the desirable life-partner. My being not greedy might be praised superficially somewhere somehow but would sadly tag me as being a risky preposition because I would not be earning enough to breed a perspective family. My being not greedy would be considered pessimistic and backward by a small but important group of people. Also, it is correct to say that I am insecure as well. Because I am a mortal soul and have had a fair share of defeats in life, I am insecure, the success that I relish and foresee as of now, might not be long-lived and hence I have to seek and preserve the alternatives well before. With a lot of external factors driving the equation, being content would not be a great idea and hence I am insecure and would continue to be like that. As from the perspective of the organization and the associated management, I might end up being a culprit – unstable, unreliable and selfish. True, all this is, for not being rewarded for the efforts financially is like a warrior being raised to a new grade in name and not in actual power.

What however, I fail to understand is why the fingers are being pointed on me when this ‘only’ is the path these mythical management gurus followed as well?

The utter discomfort ....... its killing me.

I don’t know whether to feel happy or sad, but something did happen this last time with the end of the process, especially as a reject. It is not the first time that I am relishing the job at hand and an intention to avoid any aberrations that potentially falter my agenda of being married to the job faithfully. But it is just this time that I am not liking the outcome one bit (surprisingly, it did not happened immediately but with a delay). While I have been busy with the awesome opportunity at hand and am almost on the verge of relishing the first harvest of the efforts put in, this just one ‘tete-a-tete’ with this girl had really disturbed the equilibrium, shaken the momentum. And shaken enough to cause the utter discomfort and not to mention, I am not liking it one bit. I must be busy planning, dreaming and living the good times at present and near future, but just cannot because of the discomfort.

Though there wasn’t anything special with this girl, rather it was the simplicity and innocence that one could notice and ignore instantaneously as I did. But yet it was the same simplicity that beckons now and is causing the discomfort. The more I am trying to ignore, avoid and get engaged to the work, the more the increase in the discomfort.

Just wondering why at all I am writing this at ~3:00 AM nascent morning or late night soaked in the black and not sleeping post a tiring journey. Why can I not ignore that face that is flashing with simplicity and shyness and sleep sound? Why is that I am now bothered if I could have had done something to topple the outcome that day? Holy why I had to choose Information Technology as my profession and had to be deeply in love with the work? Why I could not have been a ‘Finance Guy’ or an ‘MBA Gimmick’ etal? Had the things been different then? I just wonder. But wait … why at all I want the things to be different? Am I not in love with the job anymore? Did something happen with such a magnanimous impact that I am planning to shed loyalties? What was so special about that simplicity I wonder? What was so special about that girl?

Wish me sound sleep and luck to get out of this dilemma ….. amen !!

There is a way to be good again ...

The 'white light' aka 'voice of the God' was an unbelievable phenomena for me until a day when I experienced it myself. Daydreaming, I was, as usual with the same low feeling when suddenly I felt a sensation and thus appeared the 'white light'. It said 'There is a way to be good again!' and smiled and continued

'You don't know if you will get another chance to live a moment or this is the last one. Live it to the fullest. Its OK if you fail, you goof up. No one is perfect and never ever is going to be. Don't ever feel that you are immortal. The only thing immortal about you is the unbelievable potential you possess. Go for it, put your best effort upfront in everything before it is too late. Life is not two dimensional (win or lose) everywhere. The most important thing is putting in the best effort, that is what separates a 'man of god' from a devil. Don't feel like a loser and put in the best effort in everything.

Remember, there is always a way to be good again!'

That thing I did .... haunts !!

1999, being naive to the circumstances, my mum and I both were probably unaware of the fact that this defining moment would prove to be crucial in shaping up the future events in my life. It was not common, in fact it was the first major 'f' (the dreaded f-word, not the one that is popular now a days with enriched f-vocab.) for me. Ever since childhood I had seen people around - relatives, neighbors, known ones and not so known ones torturing other children, making them feel inferior to me because they had claimed 'an' 'f'. May be this crap is out here because of some malfunctioning in my wretched brain, but I must admit I never felt that bad, in fact felt great until one day i was on the other side - the receiving end. I got an 'f'!

Had I been kicked, scolded and tortured thoroughly, things would have been different, I think. But it was not the case, I was protected, pampered and isolated of the beating (at least I felt it that way). It did helped and saved me from the temporary beating but the 'not visible at that time' emotional damage it caused was to inculcate a permanent fear from 'f' and no life after an 'f' kind of feeling. This was the defining moment and I admit that till date the ghost haunts me.

'f' by the way is failure/fail/failed/failing/will-fail etal.

I shall over come one day ....... all alone.

I wonder if this is a psychological problem with me, or it is normal for individuals to be like this. With a ‘highly’ useless and unproductive job and the hat-trick of failures (duration: last 1000 days) in the pathway of long cherished MBA dreams, I feel the need of some external factor, guidance of motivation to get going. Disappointments, ‘ohh’s and ‘ahh’s are ok, I am ok with it, and are expected after all. But the trouble area is the shaken faith and belief. Being passively mocked and snubbed for the failures is normal and not new, but now the self belief has taken a beating and that’s a problem.

I need somebody, someone who understands me and can honestly say to me: ‘I believe in you, and you will do it one day. Just DON’T give up.’ I hope that’s not being unreasonable. I think support is something that drives an individual, helps him face the failures. I never purchased it, too mean to support someone, too selfish to encourage someone. And thus, appropriately, I am suffering.

Let us get going and see how it concludes, for one thing is a surety that lack of encouragement might not be a ‘strength’ but it will not be a ‘threat’ either. I shall get there one day!!

I (not We) shall overcome one day!!

Amen ........

It is indeed true that the best friend cum foe you have is yourself. More than anything else that shapes your deeds, it is you. Cringe for a factor to motivate and you may end up cringing unless of course you are fortunate enough to have people, positive vibes and most importantly the ever valuable ‘attitude’ (something just like success that is counted sweetest by those who are short of this rare commodity.).

During the period when I was grunting and groaning but importantly not working hard enough, in fact, not working at all for achieving a dream stature, I realized that I was one of the never ending mass of crowd that shows up everywhere to celebrate achievements and failures of sung and unsung heroes and villains but never wish to play the lead ever. It was not so much fun, I bet, to let go the essential rule that ‘hard work and discipline were the most important ingredients just like apple and sugar in an apple pie’. Besides now that I have had enough occasions being celebrated with a pale apple-less and sugar-less pie, I know that I have chosen myself to be a ‘laureate-de-frustratio’ (no such word/degree/honor exists.) and the only threat to it is the faint chance I may get distracted and go for a golden baked, sweet and naturally flavored apple pie some day …. Amen!!

The gifted fool ....

'In India we do not have Heroes, but Super Heroes.'

- some intellectual guy.

This boy somehow was good at studies when young, good in comparison to all those belonging to the narrow influential domain of relatives, peers, neighbours, aunts - uncles - their connected domains. Since ages he was bombarded with accolades and praises for all academic achievements. He was made to believe that he was special, that he may never fail, that he has been graced with brilliance as a gift from god, that he may not be good at anything else because he was good with studies, that he is a role model for plethora of 'ordinary' individuals, that he was special ....

Then one day, it was a big fight and a prestigious stage, it was expected that it will be a piece of cake for him, but then he did not delivered ... he failed for lifetime !!! The guy was hurt, he expected all aficionados to be critical in behavior on this mis-achievement. But!

'This is just one failure man, it shall not decide the fate, you are a winner and shall be remembered as one. You can win at will, champ' 'What!! I am good with this, oh man I feel relieved.'

The boy was overjoyed, as interpreted, he could win at will.

'I will put my efforts when it will matter the most. Rest I don't like wasting time and energy over pity worldly things, I am special after all. Failures are OK, when it will be my time, I will win.'

Un-Learned ...

Missing those good old days was always great, good leisurely activity. Those exaggerated success stories and exaggerated good, great time with friends. But how good was to ruin and underrate what I had that precise moment? It was hurting and unpleasant but I had learnt a good past and a not so good present. And I was learning to live a not so good present and eventually not so good future. And because I was good at learning, I kept on learning more and more making it much difficult to live a good present. In the process I realized that what I am learning is not good to learn, I had to do something to counter it; I had to-not to do this. But how do I do that? How do I counter it? How do I …. Unlearn??

Unlearn. Unlearn that, those, which was past. Unlearn that past decides present and present the future. Unlearn that I was good ones upon; I was a good old days champion. Unlearn that ‘it aint gonaa happen again’.

The more I unlearned, the more I was open to new learning. To unlearn was a good feeling and a great learning.

Things have been a bit difficult ...........

Last month I had to visit my grandparent’s place, somewhere in the remote interiors of Rajasthan. I was trying to figure out a good excuse to avoid the visit yet again, but it was inevitable this time. Grandma had laid down strict instructions: ‘This time it will be you who would have to come here, not us. It has been seven years since you last visited this place.’ None of the excuses worked and we left for a 4 hours drive.

It was not like I did not wanted to meet my grandparents, in fact it was for the first time since my brother got admitted to college that we both would be seeing grandpa and grandma; but it was the place that I did not liked. I pretend to have had not so good memories of the place. Same old haweli - the tenants; the well tamed baghicha; the outer open space – the chowk; the inner small square shaped amphitheatre – the bhaithak; the main entrance gate – giving the haweli a look of a small castle - though now the gate looked like a rickety lump of wood, unable to stop the street dogs to peek through and enjoy the shady and cool chowk area. I remember the pomegranate tree in the baghicha and wondered if it still existed and if Kalu kaka – the gardener would still allow me to grab a pomegranate or two. I remember the huge water tank in the backyard carrying muddy water where in me and my cousins used to bath and pretend as if we were swimming by making absurd strokes here and there knowing that it is too shallow to get us drained. I remember the adjoining school where my grandpa was one of the cofounders and that gave us the license to use the ground to play cricket even during the school hours – I could hardly keep a count of the number of glass windows panes of the academic block, we had thrashed while playing cricket. I also remember the market next to the school where I used to force grandma to buy me sour tamarind even though it would end up choking my throat. Then I remember the mason in the market, Bhola who never forgot to offer me an orange candy, every time I would visit the market. I remember the temple where in me and Ankur used to aim, throw stones and then collect the java plums from the nursery.

Oh yes, Ankur, that is what was missing in the description. Did I mention it or not, that in every act of mine, Ankur was very much an acquaintance, a follower, an unconditional friend. His family was one of the tenants we had in our haweli. In all the mischievous acts, it would be me who would plan the activity and it would be he to try it out first. Even if he would feel like disagreeing, all he would say will be: ‘It is not good baba (that’s what he called me), dada sahib (my grandpa) and kaka sahib (my father) would get angry. But if you want I will do it for you. ’ He would get the pomegranates from the baghicha without the permission of Kalu kaka for me, he would get the cricket ball out of the restricted area of the dargah for me – I still wonder how he managed that because the watchman Rahim Khan was considered to be cruel person and specially got pissed off by children looking for cricket balls.

But how is he now? Is he okay? Then I remember grandma telling me during the last visit that he had lost his father of a stroke and is engaged in a family feud over paternal land. He was in desperate need of cash. Financial help - shall I help him, I thought. But why should I help, he is just a tenant and I am the landlord, why should I get involved into this; I have enough problems to deal with myself so why strain myself with this.

As soon as I reached the place, I saw Raju the helper, waiting for us to take the luggage. From the corner of my eye I was looking for Ankur as I passed across the chowk near his room but I found no one. It was a warm welcome from the people there. Hugs and greetings from a dozen of people, I always fail to recognize. They all analyzing me and my brother as if we were the rare endangered species they have had a chance to see. Then there were people asking about the life in Delhi and Kolkata. In all this I almost forgot about Ankur. Then in the night I asked about him and grandma told me, the poor chap has been following up with the lawyers for his dispute and the sahukars (money lenders) for the money he desperately needed, his father’s death has taken a toll of his studies as well.

The next morning I woke up early in the morning to make sure I meet Ankur before he left. But by the time I came down, he was all set to leave. He saw me, I gave a smile and he returned a little dry grin.

‘Hey how are you baba, it has been long that I have seen you here.’ His chirpy smile and enthusiasm were all gone.

‘I am fine, how about you. You look down and low.’

‘Hm, things have been a bit difficult, but I am learning to live with it. How about you, your job, I hope that it is all going nicely.’ He had lost his father and almost all the assets and then he says that it has been a bit difficult.

‘If I may help, please don’t hesitate …. I mean …’ I wish I never said that, maybe I did not wanted to hurt his ego, these remote people rely a lot on ego; but primarily I was doubtful if I really wanted to help him financially. The mean me!

He shrugged ‘Thanks.’

Did he read my intensions of not helping actually? Did he realize that I am being a selfish guy just offering help for the sake of saying it? He left me with all these questions unanswered.