Innocence of deceit

It was 8:30 AM in the morning and Raman was not yet ready. He had a very important meeting in his office to attend which was scheduled at 9:30 AM.  Despite the best of traffic conditions, it would take 45 minutes to reach office. But now that he was already late, he dreaded his boss’ reactions after reaching office. He quickly grabbed his bag and bolted towards the parking lot of his eight-storied apartment complex. Aaargh…!!! There was a power-cut. Now he had to take the staircase to go down six floors. Somehow, he reached the parking lot and saw that it was 8:35 AM. He tried starting his bike but it would not budge. He kicked and kicked the ignition rod but the bike stood there devoid of any life. Finally, gathering all his strength, he kicked one last time and the bike burst into life. He checked his watch. It was 8:40 AM.

Raman was a 33-year-old marketing professional. He was neither tall/dark nor a handsome guy but was the usual guy-next-door. He was about 5 feet 6 inches tall with very thick, curly hair. He had an equally thick moustache which was everyone’s envy.  Over the years, he had a paunch which he took great pains to hide. He would hold his breath while talking to strangers so that his paunch could contract. This was his way of hiding his paunch. Raman lived with his family in the suburbs of the pearl city, Hyderabad. He had recently bought a three bedroom flat and was getting used to riding long distances to reach his office. His office was a good 35 kilometres away from his house and he commuted on his bike every day.

Raman’s boss was an authoritarian martinet who hated late-comers. Of late, Raman had been late to office quite often owing to his long journey. Just the other day he had faced the wrath of his boss and he shuddered to think what would happen today. Moreover , there was this important meeting with a client. With these thoughts in mind, Raman sped his bike criss-crossing the traffic, avoiding the slow moving autos and the stationary buffaloes. He honked his way through the traffic.

Just as he was waiting for the signal to turn green in Kavadiguda, he saw that there was a huge commotion nearby. He heard a young boy crying for help. Curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head in the direction of the commotion to see what was happening. He saw that there was a young boy, around 11 or 12 years old, who was crying for help. There was a police constable beside him. It seemed as though the constable was beating up the boy. Humanity inside Raman wanted him to go and check the problem but the fear of his boss was not allowing him to. After a difficult 45-60 seconds, Raman’s conscience got the better of him and he parked his bike on the side of the road and went towards the boy to check.

The boy was crying and yelling that he was not a thief but the police constable was not listening at all. He was persistent that the boy was a thief. At this point Raman went to the policeman and asked him what the problem was.

The policeman replied - ‘Sir, this boy is a seasoned pickpocket. I have been searching for him since the past 2 months and I have finally caught him red-handed today.’

‘No Sir, this constable is lying. I am not a thief. I am a daily wage labourer and he is harassing me since the past 1 hour. He is hell bent on taking me to prison. He says that I am a pickpocket but trust me I have never stolen anything in life.’ , the boy said gulping tears of distress.

‘It’s all lies. I can prove that he is a thief. Look there are 800 rupees in his pocket. From where will a daily wage labourer get so much money? I am sure he has stolen it from someone. I am going to make him rot in jail.’ Saying this, the policeman slapped the boy.

The boy started crying again and pleaded that he was not a thief but the policeman was not ready to budge. He started pulling the boy’s hand. At this, Raman stopped the policeman and spoke to the boy – ‘ Look boy, I am here to help you. Tell the truth. Are you a thief? If not, from where did you get this money?’

The boy responded-  ‘Sir, these are my savings of last 2 months. I don’t have a house and there is no place where I can save this money. I have to keep it with me all the time. Otherwise, some street urchins would steal this money from me. I have saved each and every penny that came my way. ‘

‘He is lying. He stole this money. Wait, let my lathi do the talking. People like him will not listen if you talk. They only understand the language of kicks.’  The policeman now started pulling out his lathi to launch another assault on the boy.

But this time Raman was alert and he stopped the policeman and spoke to the boy – ‘You said you live on the streets then why do you need this much money. Tell me what are you up to.’

‘Sir, I want to go to school and become a big officer. But I don’t have the money to go to a school. That’s why I am saving money so that I could go to school one day to get myself good education.’

Raman was in a dilemma now. He was overwhelmed by the boy’s words. The innocence in the boy’s eyes was not allowing him to believe that the boy was a thief. The self-belief and the enterprising nature of the boy made an indelible impression on Raman. He thought that the boy must be saying the truth. He thought to himself – ‘There are so many underprivileged people meandering along on the streets with minimal food and clothes. And most of them tend to take the anti-social path but here is a boy who is making an attempt to reform himself. Here is a boy who is taking pains to get himself a good life. Here is a boy who is trying to redeem himself. Here is a boy who is fighting against all odds but the world is not allowing him to come out of the slimy confines of the murky streets. I must do something to help him. This is my chance to help someone realise his dream. I must help him. Yes, I must.’

Raman, then, spoke to the policeman – ‘Sir, I understand that you are helping the society by taking care of the thieves but I believe that this boy is not a thief. I think your job is such that you have to look at everything with suspicion. And I totally agree with your point of view but looking from the perspective of a common man, I think this boy should be given a chance. I can sense the truth in his unwavering voice and I trust him entirely. Please leave him. I know a friend of mine who runs an NGO to help educate street urchins. I will take this boy to him and help him get educated. Please leave him for me. This is my sincere request to you.’

‘Look Sir, you look like a respectable person. Why are you unnecessarily involving yourself in this matter? Why are you wasting your time saving this untrustworthy boy?’

‘Please sir please. Let him go with me. I take full responsibility of him. I will ensure that he gets good education. Please sir.’

‘I must say that you are a very stubborn person. I would never have allowed this boy to leave but since you are insisting, I am obliged to accede to your request. You can take him with you. But I must say, it is because of people like you that this world is not yet extinct. I salute you for your magnanimity.’ Saying thus, the policeman went away.

Raman was completely filled with happiness. He was feeling proud that he was now helping someone attain his goal. His heart was filled with complete happiness. He never felt so happy before.

Raman asked the boy to come with him. He then asked the boy to sit behind him on his bike and both of them rode away to Raman’s friend’s NGO. As he was riding his bike, he realised that Rs. 800 may not be sufficient for the boy. So, he wanted to give some more money to the boy. But he did not have enough cash with him. He saw an ATM nearby and stopped his bike to get some cash out of it. He took out Rs. 5,000 for the boy. Suddenly, he realised that he also had to take some money home to arrange for the monthly groceries. So, he withdrew Rs. 20,000 from his ATM. He put the money in his wallet and started going towards his friend’s NGO.

Just as he neared Paradise, the boy sitting behind asked Raman to stop the bike. Raman stopped the bike and before he could ask the boy about why he had asked him to stop, he saw that the boy jumped from the bike and started running in the opposite direction.

Raman didn’t understand what was happening. He was perplexed as to why the boy jumped so suddenly. He called out to the boy but he didn’t come back. Raman was very annoyed and disappointed. Suddenly, he remembered about his meeting and started to go to his office.

Raman reached his office well past 10 AM. He wanted to have some tea before he ventured in front of his boss. He went to his usual tea-stand to have his tea. Raman was still thinking about the boy as he drank the tea. But he still couldn’t understand why the boy ran away. Raman finished his tea and reached towards his pocket to take money from his wallet. There was no wallet to be found..!!!!!

                                              **********

Somewhere in the outskirts of Hyderabad, the boy was sitting with his uncle, enjoying a lavish lunch. His uncle patted on his back and said - ‘Well done my boy. You acted very well. Now give me 500 rupees from your catch today. I have to pay for the rent of this police uniform.’

The Sparrow

Well, first things first, this is not an article about Jack Sparrow... If you thought this would be about that character, then I am sorry.. This is about a sparrow much more endearing.. much more charming... much more desirable..!!!!

Back in the 90s, when I was reading newspaper in the mornings in our verandah, there used to be a ubiquitous and soulful sound in the background. As my house was very near to Kachiguda railway station, I heard the sound of the train chugging along. I heard the sound of the train's long and often unending horn... Agreed, this was ubiquitous but this was definitely not soulful...!!!! The sound that I am talking about is that of the chirping of birds sitting on trees outside my verandah. We had a small garden of sorts in our house. There were lots of trees in our aangan. We had a guava tree, a coconut tree, small plants which bloomed with flowers like jasmine, swastika flower, Hibiscus, Pink Rose and last but not the least - Nyctanthes arbor-tristis (known commonly as Night-flowering jasmine). There were lots of birds chirping around sitting on these trees. Crows, Pigeons, Koels, Parrots, etc.  But amongst this chirping, the one of THE SPARROW would always stay with me.

The sparrow was a lovely bird and it used to have a nest in our verandah. I can vividly remember the mother sparrow getting food for its infants. The father sparrow building the nest straw-by-straw. It was really very fascinating to note all this. We had a big ventilator in our verandah and the sparrows built their small, little nest on it. Although I never really gave a focused attention towards this bird but somehow the thoughts and memories of this bird are firmly entrenched even in my unusually fickle mind..!!!!!

Sparrow has always been viewed as a saintly and sober bird by me. I don't really know why I feel it that way but it indeed felt very calm, at peace with itself, carrying on with its work in a diligent manner. I was generally very partial towards it and whenever I had to choose between the crow and the sparrow, it was always the sparrow... !!!! Summer holidays were the best. This was the time when I had lot of time looking at the sparrow, wondering about its leisurely life, wanting to keep watching it all through my life.

If you carefully observe one of the previous paragraphs, I used the sentence The sparrow was a lovely bird. There is some essence to that sentence. These days I seldom see the sparrow. Where is it? I have not seen a sparrow for the past many years. Its disappearance is really strange. But then this should have been anticipated what with concrete jungles bestowing us everywhere with very little lung-space. Where would a sparrow find food for itself and its progeny??? There is so much of concrete around. It obviously cannot survive on brick and mortar...!!!! And alas, the sparrow has left us. It has gone to a place where it can survive, away from the din of this ultra-fast and furious metro.

In a large way, the sparrow stands as a metaphor to my childhood. A childhood which was wonderful, soothing, endearing, lovely and beautiful. Just as I don't see the sparrow anywhere, I don't see my childhood as well. It is pretty nearly extinct. My childhood too has just remained a wonderful memory. There doesn't seem to be that innocence in my eyes anymore. I don't seem to have that cherubical nature anymore. Where has all this gone?? I know this has long gone by, may be this has left me along with the sparrow. But it must be living somewhere just like the sparrow. The onus is on me to find it. I know it exists. It is just a matter of finding it. And I am sure I will find it one day. I will find my Sparrow- my childhood one day.

India or Bharat????

Over the past week, there has been clamour across the news channels about India, Bharat, etc. There were some really vociferous debates among some seemingly menacing activists, political commentators, news anchors and politicians. I thought why don't I too join this debate and put forth my views on this. Although I may not be as vociferous as they were but then let me express my views on this so-called 'debate on India and Bharat'...!!!! To take this debate forward, I need to go backward... FLASHBACK...!!!!

Once upon a time, many years ago, to be precise 29 years 5 months 5 days 6 hours and 21 minutes ago, a messiah was born in the heartland of Deccan Plateau. He was courageous, valorous, resplendent and radiating. The shine in his eyes was nothing short of ethereal. The calmness in his actions was nothing short of divine. The sharpness in his intellect was nothing short of perpetual. He was born in an year when India had just won the Cricket World Cup. 

Hang on, I was just kidding, everything mentioned in italics above is all fake...  It is just a figment of my over-worked and zealous mind... :P

Let's get the suspense out on who was born on that felicitous day. Well, I am sure you must have guessed it. Yours truly, Manish as I am known to the world, was born on this day.... :P Also, born on this day was Rinku.

Rinku had similar traits, behaviour and beliefs as Manish. Rinku had similar emotions like Manish. Rinku didn't like things which Manish didn't. Likewise Manish liked all the things that Rinku liked. There was an uncanny similarity in the way Manish and Rinku thought, envisioned and executed their plans. Well, all this is bound to be because Manish and Rinku are both the same individual. Yes, my nickname in my home is Rinku.

They call me by that name even today. In fact, many of my relatives still do not know that my real or official name is Manish. They all address me as Rinku...!!! What difference has that made to me? Even if someone addresses me as Manish or Rinku, I am still the same. I react the same way. I talk to them the same way. But why this fuss when talking about India or Bharat????? Isn't it something worth pondering over???? Or is it???

Rowdy Rathore was one of the biggest hits of 2012. It was said that this is a movie which catered to the masses. It catered to the rural belts. It catered to an audience which wants masala.  Rockstar, which released in 2011, requires a good deal of concentration and imagination to understand. Likewise, a Hollywood flick like Inception needs remarkable amount of concentration to understand what is going on. I enjoyed a Rowdy Rathore as much as a Rockstar or an Inception.

So, based on the logic of differentiating between India and Bharat, I am both an Indian as well as a Bharatiya. But my point here is - Is this sort of differentiation really needed?? Even if India was named as Hogsmeade, I would have still loved it with the same fervor and passion as I do it now.  Our country already has so many divisions based on language, caste, religion, etc. Is this sort of new differentiation really necessary?

This reminds me of a dialogue from the movie - Khatta Meetha (2010). It goes something like this -

Yahaan pe Indian kaun hai??
America mein jaao to American milenge... Germany mein jaao to German milenge...!
France mein jaao to Frenchman milenge... England mein jaao to Englishman milenge..!!
Aur India mein jaao to aapko milenge Marathi, Gujarati, Punjabi, Malayali, Bengali... Indian kahaan hai..???

Well, although at first sight, this may not appear to be true but honestly I think this is true. Sometimes, I feel that if the British had not invaded India, we may have been a group of 28 different countries...!!!! I think the anger of Angrez ruling us brought out the nationalism within us.

Everyone wants this country of ours to be prosperous, happy and full of opportunities for everyone. Everyone wants this country to be the best in the world. Whatever name you may want to refer - India or Bharat - we still want our country to progress...!!!!

Just as Manish is Rinku and Rinku is Manish.... India is Bharat and Bharat is India...!!!!! And that's a fact. You may use any name you want..!!!!!