My Most Memorable Rickshaw Ride

“Bhaiyya, Bandra?” I asked.

At five-thirty in the morning, it was the only rickshaw around. Being winter, it was still dark, the sun hadn’t come up. His rickshaw was different from the rest. Not in the blue-light/Himesh-on-the-radio/weird accessories way. Well, it did have blue lights on inside. And Himesh Reshammiya was booming away on the radio. And there were Madhuri Dixit and Sridevi posters on the insides of the rickshaw. There were pictures of different Gods stuck, all in a row, just above his windshield, and rosary beads hanging from his rearview mirror. But all this is very normal in Mumbai’s rickshaws.

He sat there in the backseat, a fully grown man, probably just into his forties. He was not wearing the brown or white uniform rickshaw drivers usually wear, but was adorned in what could only have been his best pair of clothes. One trousered leg hanging down, the other was folded up on the seat. He was completely engrossed in reading a thick book he was holding in one hand, while the other had found its way to his groin, scratching rather rhythmically.

“Rickshaw?!” I asked again, a little louder, thinking he hadn’t heard me. I was going to be very late today. And today was not a good day to be late.

My 12^th Board Exams were going on, and so far I had managed to be punctual, but today? Today was my history paper (my weakest subject), and I had woken up late today itself.

He finally reacted the second time. He clucked at me, irritated, looked me up and down, and went back into his deep study. He had a small white cup of steaming hot chai lying precariously balanced between his legs. Honestly, I was a little jealous. What better time for chai than early morning?

 Noticing that I wasn’t going away, he asked me where it was I wanted to go so desperately.

“Bandra? Arre pehle bolte na!”, I had really hoped he wouldn’t refuse. However the mention of Bandra (my centre was National College) seemed to make him happy. He picked up his chai, put his legs down, and leaned forward.

“Bandra mein kahaan?”

“National College.”

When I told him, he just smiled, jumped out of the rickhaw, and said, “Baitho.”

He gulped down the steaming chai, made a strange hissing sound, and threw cup into a gutter. Even the engine hadn’t started, before he started conversing with me about where, how and why I was going this early to National College. He seemed visibly buoyed by my destination. These things are normal when you’re travelling in Mumbai, so I told him.

I found out why he had agreed so easily to go to National College when suddenly at Santacruz we reached a signal. He said to me “So, name five military functions of the President.”, through all those broken teeth. I was flabbergasted. As the light turned green, he handed his text book to me. Mr. Bhimsingh (the name in the book) had just shocked the daylights out of me. “Achcha, name five disciplinary powers of President.”

“Achche se padho beta, sirf pass hona kaafi thodi hai!” The book he had been so focused on had been a copy of my History & Civics text book, BECAUSE HE WAS PREPARING FOR THE SAME EXAM AS ME!

WE SPENT THE WHOLE HALF HOUR EXCHANGING QUESTIONS ABOUT THE HITLER AND THE CONSTITUTION, WITH PEOPLE STARING IN AT US AS IF THE KALYUG ITSELF HAD COME!!

AS WE FINALLY REACHED, WE BOTH GOT OFF THE RICKSHAW, I PAID HIM, AND WE BOTH WALKED INTO THE EXAMINATION HALL – HIM SMILING, ME STILL REELING. AND I WON’T TELL YOU HOW MUCH I SCORED.

*the above piece is a work of fiction

Oh, God.

God. Who is God? Or what is God? The eternal question, is there even something such as a God? God, supposedly the Almighty, is an age-old belief, a blind faith, in our hearts. Don’t ask me where this belief came from. I wouldn’t know – nobody knows for sure, for that matter – where it came from. Some people believe God exists. Well, there’s the believers, the agnostics (confused), and the atheists (non-believers). Actually, most of us are hypocrites *WINK, WINK* We all say “I don’t believe in God”, and then visit mandirs and gurudwaras, and pray, hoping that some good will come of it.

God – whatever, or whoever it is – has all the power, supposedly. Everything we are, everything around us is His giving, He DEFINES us. He’s creative, seems to so enjoy complicating people’s lives, and makes sure there’s all the masala to go with anything you do. Let’s be fair, though, there is the fair share of niceties too.

Apparently, all the manuscripts – our rulebooks – say we need to “prove ourselves unto Him”. Hence, each one’s quota of drama. And if he has so much power, then why doesn’t he just “come forth” and end the whole confusion of his existence? If he has so much power, if the world really is His playing-field, then where is the problem? Why all the suffering, all the pain, the negativity, weakness, injustice, angst? Shouldn’t the obvious choice be to keep things simple? To make things easy, right, fair for all? If he is the Almighty, mustn’t He have known, planned, what was going to come? I’m not taking a stand against Him or for Him. I’m not saying to believe in His being, that isn’t my prerogative. And I’m not saying He, or She, or It, doesn’t exist. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. Everyone has a right to believe in what they want. I’m just thinking out loud. I’m wondering. I’m ASKING, not QUESTIONING. Searching for answers. I want to know.

The definition of God:

“God is a deity in theistic and deistic religions and other belief systems, representing either the sole deity in monotheism, or a principal deity in polytheism.”

[P.s.: "Theism is the broadest sense is the belief in at least one deity."

          "Deism is a religious and philosophical belief that a supreme being created the universe, and that this can be determined using reason and observation of the natural world alone, without the need for either faith or organized religion."]

Thank you, Wikipedia. ;)

Belief, belief, belief. NOWHERE does it say that GOD exists. Then where did all this belief come from. Are we too afraid to “believe”, that WE make our lives? That WE influence them? That WE are the reasons behind everything? Is this belief in an Almighty, an escapist’s scheme? To say,” Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be”? Is it just an IDEOLOGY, stemming from a moment of cowardice, when man couldn’t blame himself? Or maybe when he finally couldn’t embrace the fact that he was everything - the reason, the means, and the end?

Do you remember the time when you really wanted something? And then you prayed to God, and actually got it? And then said “Thank you God, Thank you God.”?  Maybe your parents heard you through the door. Think about it.

Every Day, Friendship Day

Well, Sunday was Friendship Day, and I’ve always celebrated it just like everybody else – host a lunch, or go out somewhere and “PARTAYY”. This year too, I did the same, only this year I wasn’t celebrating just the one day. The last few months have been, without doubt, the hardest of my life so far.

But it is in times like these that your eyes truly open to your surroundings, to what your life really is, or has been, and you learn  to value what you’ve got, even what you haven’t.  I’ve still got some time to pull, but there’s a reason I’m writing this.

I’d like all my friends, all those who have been right there for me, who have seen whatever it is I’ve been going through, and chosen to jam that extra shoulder in, hold me up in a time when I couldn’t have made it through without – to know that this time, it wasn’t just about the one day. This time round, I’ve celebrated a consistently gobsmacking show of solidarity from all my friends.

If I couldn’t get out of bed, you didn’t hesitate to spend every alternate evening, coming home to keep me company. If I couldn’t talk, you sat there with me, and didn’t say anything, but you sat there. I’ve had so much time on my hands and not known what to do with it, and you’ve given me inspiration to wage a battle, to not sit back and give in to boredom, pain.

I’ve grumbled endlessly, going on and on, only ever mindful of my troubles, and you’ve always had an ear for it. If I’ve not looked or been normal, I was told it didn’t matter and that I would pay dearly if I let it bother me. I’ve hardly ever felt out of place, a result the constant affection and understanding I’ve been granted – all despite however I’ve looked, felt or behaved.

To sum it up, I’m here, happy, alive and kicking, and there’s a reason for it.

I’m grateful for all my friends and just want to say:

THANK YOU.

60 mgs of heartache

The prescription pad reads:

60mgs heartache 1-0-1
40mgs sore ass 1-0-1
30mgs frustration 1-1-1
75mgs pure suffering 1-1-1
DIGENE

They tell me, "There's a light at the end of the tunnel, boy, look!".
And I throw my swollen head back, and laugh heartily. Coz what they
don't know, is that what's on that pad is also a sure shot recipe for
blurred vision. It's true.

I think I've finally figured why faith and belief, patience and hope
are always associated with candles. To start with, when you light a
candle, you have to drop the wax and stick it in the ground. And then,
the flame. Darned thing keeps going out, doesn't it? They're hard
virtues to come by. Even harder to hold on to. It's true.

Darkness does descend. Frustration does reach a height where it fogs
your judgement. It does manage to cloud even the strongest of hearts.
Sometimes, you actually do hope, that when you close your eyes at
night, your "somewhere else" in the morning, and it's all just over.
Murkish, no? Well, it's true.

But life, is relentless. You're caged in, whether you like it or not.
You have to fight another day, every day. I guess you just gotta learn
to find it funny. I'm not there yet. It's true.

Have a Heart

Have you ever just sat in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, having donned the best set of clothes from your wardrobe, a single steaming cup of coffee lying untouched before you, and stared out through the glass window at the rain as it falls so elegantly out of the sky? if you have, you would have noticed the trees swaying, left to right, then back, and again, no say in the matter. And you would have noticed the many crows perched on building terraces, so still its almost creepy, their feathers getting drenched, sticking to their frail bodies. Then maybe you would notice the man scampering across the street, hands folded over his head, helplessly yelling at vehicles flying by, desperately trying to get a hold of SOME public transport to reach his destination on time - and if he's lucky enough - in a somewhat civil condition. 

Each one has his own story to tell. 

Each one has his own battle to fight.

And each one has no choice, no power, no say in what it's going to be. C'est la vie. Such is life.

Thats not to say life is all dirt'n'muck. See, life doesn't have an instruction manual. There's no rule book. It'll hit you where it wants, how it wants, when it wants, and how many ever times it wants. And it may not SEEM fair, But it is. It bloody well is. Most of us just don't have grit to face the truth. And there is only one truth. IF LIFE KNOCKS YOU DOWN, THERE'S ALWAYS, ALWAYS, A WAY TO GET UP. Nobody said it has to be easy, But its there. And aye, it may take another shot at you after that, for all its worth, but there will always be another way up.

Easier said than done, eh? Ask me about it. No, I haven't written six self-help books. Hell, i'm nineteen years old, diagnosed with what many would loosely call "a kidney problem", and a college dropout. So far, so good.

I'll tell you about life. It's not easy sitting at home everyday, knowing fully well that all of your friends WILL be busy morning, afternoon, and evening, because they have college, and classes. 

And they can eat and drink anything they want to, anytime they want, and how much ever they want. 

Knowing that they can party all night, everyday if they want to.

That they don't have to worry about picking up the teeniest bit of a bug from some godforsaken part of the city.

Knowing that i have swollen legs, and I have to put them up on five pillows for atleast three hours everyday, and that if I do go out then a minimum of six people will stare at me as if I'm from another dimension altogether.

To know that my face is also swollen, to add to all the absolute tripe that i'm going through anyway, and SOMEONE is going to laugh because its so darned round.

As if this weren't enough, I also have the added persistent niggle at the back of my mind - "Huh, have i taken my steroids for today?" If i miss it, screwdriver effect.

And if i take it, still screwdriver effect. because steroids have to have side-effects too, haven't they? And you don't, trust me, you don't want to know what they're like.

And then how do we know if i'm recovering or not? Reports! Which means blood and urine samples twice. Prick, prick, prick, hurrah!

WHY ME? BECAUSE MY HORMONES DECIDED TO FOOL AROUND, DARNED WHIMSICAL THINGS. NO FAULT OF MINE, I'M JUST ONE OF THOSE THOUSANDS OF LUCKY DUCKIES (aged 1-25) WHOSE HORMONES RANDOMLY DECIDE TO PLAY WITH OUR LIVES.

But i'll say this, LIFE GAVE ME A HEART, AND MY HEART IS STRONG. YES, I HURT. YES, I COMPLAIN. I HAVE MY DOWN DAYS. BUT MY ONE HEART IS ENOUGH. I WILL FIGHT, AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN. THATS LIFE.

Insomnia

Perched upon the window sill,
Eyes not so wide open,
Legs hanging loosely down below,
He becomes an amateur vision of a harrowed soul..
Not by any measure of desire, though, sir, no..
There is but an innocence to it.

The cool breeze of the deep, dark night envelops him,
Comforting him it would only seem,
With friendly nudges,
One from the left one from the right,
Then again from the left,
And he smiles.

Two drooping eyelids, no they will not darned shut,
How he longs for that calm, peaceful sleep that only all should have,
Its never bothered him before, this sleepless devil,
Then suddenly, a revelation, enlightenment,
He sees the light,
His dear devil had shown him the night,
And just like that,
He longed to sleep no more.
And just like that,
He awoke no more.

Music, the Life to Live

Well, it seems like only too many yesterdays since I've been back here. But, let bygones be bygones. TODAY, IT'S ALL ABOUT THE MUSICS AND THE LIFES.

Over the past month or two, I've been hit a by a few.... "epiphanies", you could say. One of them being that while I've been involved with music for almost about a decade now (ADVERTISEMENT: 9 years into the tabla, along with a short run with the keyboard, and currently a very serious follow-up on the guitar), there never has been a real understanding of precisely WHAT MUSIC IS. Not only me, there is a commonplace ignorance (not necessary intentional, per se) of the IDEA of what we so randomly and gleefully call "Music".

la musique, la crème de la vie. "Music, the Cream of Life." Ever seen how those girls in those cheesy Cafe Coffee Day ads moan, groan, cringe, twist, cramp up, and lick their lips as if they've finally ACHIEVED MOKSHA or something when they take that first sip of their coffee? Sounds cliched, yes, but that's music. 

Music is the sound of the fans go up when the whistle in a Liverpool-United soccer match goes off. 

Music is the sound of a three mynahs sitting perched on a verandah window-sill in Manali.

Music is the beep-and-click sound a camera makes when you've finally caught that sunrise you've been shooting at 6 a.m. every morning.

Music is the sound of the rhythmic breathing of sage doing his yoga in the forest.

Music is silence, silence is music.

Music is the sound of the court judge's hammerstroke.

Applause is music.

Tears are music.

Laughter is music.

Music is the beautiful words, the heart-wrenching story-line of the novel you're reading.

Music is the truth, however pretty or ugly.

Music is the *chuckchucking* of the incoming train.

Music is the new skirt you just bought.

Farting is music (don't say its not true).

The sound of a right-fisted punch bang in the nose is music.

Music is light, light is music.

Music is temple bells and an aarti.

Music is technology, and everything related to it.

Music is education, learning, teaching.

Guidance is music.

Appreciation is music.

Even nit-picking is music.

Blood, in all forms is music. (Look at Dexter.)

Humour is music, music is humour.

Music is birth.

Music is death.

Music is light.

Music is darkness.

Music is the beginning.

Music is the end.

Music is what comes in between.

MUSIC IS YOU.

YOU ARE LIFE.

MUSIC, IS LIFE.