I never thought of writing on this topic, till recently a close relative of mine urged me to.

When I started my journey as a kid, I thought that my world constituted of only objects with physical forms. As I grew, I noticed that these physical objects gradually slipped like water from, in between my fingers. Permanent separations shattered me the most. Lives were lost. I learnt two things. First, grief and pain are very powerful teachers. And second, there is certainly something present beyond these physical forms. During this time, I felt the presence of a Guardian Angel. I started introspecting and soon realised that more I tried to possess things, more I was scared of losing them, more I tried to confine myself within a ‘self’, more I was threatened of getting it broken into pieces. It was then I started experimenting with ‘expansion’. It is tremendously difficult. It is like fighting with my ownself. Very slowly I started learning that actually ‘joy’ lies only in ‘selflessness’, only in ‘giving away’. However, ‘Giving’ does not entail only the material objects, it also means sharing my inner joy, warmth, happiness and knowledge with all people around me. It is only possible when I include others also within my ‘self’ and expand my world.

My Spiritual journey is a quest for eternal joy and life. They say, ‘ begin with faith, continue with conviction and end with realisation’. I am trying, and sure to reach the goal sooner or later

Recently we got a computer application developed for our library by some professionals from Kolkata. During the period of development, which was a little over two months, as the lines of code grew up, so did our friendship.

We had innumerable discussions, arguments and disagreements in the same spirit as we shared interesting stories, our hobbies and chocolates. His lively gestures and laughter were very contagious

Indranil professed that he was an adventure tourist, and his best companion was his motorbike. As a regular feature of their Adventure Club, he has been to many places on his bike.

Yesterday evening, after we detected some snags in the Library Application, we tried to reach him from Delhi on his mobile to get some instant help, only to be told that his mobile is ‘out of reach’. Must be on his adventure trip. We decided to call him up later.

Today early morning, a call from Partha-one of his close friends, broke all hell upon me. Driving his bike, Indranil had a head-on collision with a truck last evening and succumbed to his injuries on the spot itself. Lying in a pool of blood, his body was badly injured and beyond recognition.

Indranil has now become ‘out of reach’ for all of us, forever

“Suppose somebody wins a lottery. Say I win a lottery- as a result of that, I will experience an unexpected joy. It is just like that”. Many years ago, when I was a school kid, a friend was explaining ‘degree of happiness’ to me.

I understood !

Some days later the same person was explaining ‘degree of sorrow’ to me. “Let us assume somebody’s father dies. Say if your father dies, you will get an uncalled for and rude shock”.

I understood – again !!

Today I was discussing with a friend the unpredictability of jobs owing to the unstable financial condition worldover.  She expressed her concern. “These days the Project Managers are scared of releasing their team members after project completion, lest they will be put in the Pool. And once you are in the pool, you never know- you might be just asked to leave”.

I understood – once again !!!

From certainty to uncertainty and back

Thanks to my meticulous approach to every work, once it was decided that we would be going to Parasnath on a pilgrimage, I booked the train tickets 3 months in advance. That’s the maximum time Indian Railways allowed for advance booking ! Next, I gathered all the relevant information about the Dharamshala ( Rest House) there, and even called up the manager from Delhi.

Parasnath, being a Jain pilgrimage of highest esteem and moreover, since our time of visit was coinciding with Diwali ( the festival of ‘light’- one of the main festivals ), I was expecting tremendous crowd and a ‘regret’ from the Manager. Instead, I got a rock solid assurance.

“Don’t worry Sir. You will get the rooms. Btw, we have a dormitory, double seated rooms and  flats. Which one would you require ?”

“Since we are 6 ppl, we would prefer a flat”, I meekly replied expecting a refusal any moment.

“No problem, Sir. You will get a flat”.

I could not believe my ears !

“Can I send you the advance money now? It would be heavy rush at that time” I politely enquired.

“No need Sir. You take down my name and mobile no. Whenever you come, you will get the flat ready”. He laughingly assured me.

People are so professional these days. In fact, time has changed, I thought to myself.

Around 10 days before the scheduled departure, I gave a courtesy call on the mobile, only to receive a “Switched off” message. That’s when my anxiety level started rising.

I called up the landline no and was told that the designated person had gone on long leave. No prob, there must be somebody else to look after the bookings. Sure there is. I told him that I had a talk with Mr. so n so and was assured of a flat booking for 2 days. The person laughingly enquired if I was joking, since all the rooms were booked choc o bloc and not a single mouse could be accommodated, and I was talking of 6 ppl !!

“But I had offered to send the Advance money 3 months ago”. I pleaded. The person on the other end did not have time for all these. He hung up.

No, I wasn’t dreaming. I was very much awake. I put down the receiver and opened my emails. A mail from my sister in law. It said, she might not get her leave sanctioned, since her project was on fire.

While I was toying with the idea whether I should cancel the trip altogether, my wife called up informing that the railway service in Northern India had collapsed as a repercussion of the recent manhandling of North Indians in Maharashtra.

That was the last straw to break the camel’s back.

I decided to cancel our railway bookings. Enough is enough.

Suddenly my sister in law discovered an old acquaintance, who had once accidentally mentioned that his father held an important position in the Rest House society at Parasnath. She started following up with him as a monkey with its tail on fire. Ultimately an assurance reached us saying that we would get a flat to stay, but only for 2 nights. That was exactly what was needed !

The fire which was almost doused, slowly rekindled.

We started following up the status of the trains going to the North-Eastern part of the country. Trains after trains were cancelled. To the extent of 18 trains were cancelled on a single day !! On the day of our journey- all the three modes ( TV, Telephone and Internet) were used to fetch the information regarding the trains. Thanks to the technological advancement. Regular updations were going on.

My sister in law had announced that if her leave was not sanctioned, she  would even resign and go. Pilgrim’s Progress ? May be.

Our train was supposed to leave at 10pm. Till 5pm when there was no news of its cancellation, we started packing, booked a taxi and then rushed to the station. Only to learn that it was 1.5 hrs late.

When we ultimately boarded the train at close to midnight, I recalled the sequence of events. It was actually ……

From certainty to uncertainty and back !

We got down at the Parasnath Station in the late afternoon. A small, unceremonious but clean  station in the Giridih District of Jharkhand ( Eastern India). It was the beginning of winter with a pleasant weather. Soon we got into a local cab to reach Madhuvan – around 30 kms away, where we were supposed to stay.

We wanted to reach Madhuvan at the earliest as we were told that the road was not safe and it was getting dark soon. The driver also voiced the same concern and sped. On both the sides were thick forest with tribal huts interspersed. Whenever I spotted a tribal walking with an axe on his shoulder, both my heartbeat and the speed of the car went high. The poor man must be returning home, collecting firewoods, but I was suspicious ! With no street lights on, the headlights of our car was cutting the pitch darkness like a knife slits butter. The poverty was shamelessly evident as the darkness all around. At one point, our car swerved to one extreme end of the road. A snake with black and yellow stripes was crawling across the road. Good Omen ! We had spotted Lord Parsvanath’s sinage even before we reached Parasnath hill – the most famous Jain pilgrimage from where 23 Tirthankars had attained liberation !

We checked into our hotel, freshened up and went out to the market for dinner, since after sunset no food was served in the hotel. Next morning we were to climb the 4500 feet high mountain. The total trek was of 27 kms – 9 kms uphill, 9 kms on the hill and the remaining 9 kms downhill. There were carriages for  infants and not so able people. Soon we were mobbed by hoards of Doliwalas ( Cart pushers – a chair which is carried by four men on their shoulders). There was a smaller type too- a basket shaped chair carried by two men. They wanted us to book a cart in advance. Then there were people selling walking sticks made of bamboo. These were indeed handy- so we each got one. We also booked a Doli for us.

The next morning, much before the daybreak at around 3.30am the journey started. Though we could start only an hour later. The road leading to the foothill was heavily crowded. We slowly made our way towards the hill. The journey had started. We had to flash our torch lights now and then to find the way. The winding, concrete path was leading the pilgrims between thick bushes and tall trees – who were silently watching our progress from above. The sun rose removing the dark veil and we were thrilled to see the lush greenery around us. People spoke very less, conserving energy.

The movement of Doli was a spectacular sight. The four bearers were absolutely clones. They gripped the bamboo poles on their shoulders in the same manner,  their feet moved in a rhythm and their sticks touched the ground in unison. Not a single word did they speak. The only sound heard was when the four sticks touched the ground. After sometime, one of them said in a low voice “Hum” which only the rest of the three could hear. They stopped, changed shoulder and resumed. This was done at regular interval. When they were tired, the Doli was put down and they rested for a while.

One of my friend’s father expired in the middle of the night day before yesterday. Since it was quite late in the night when the fatal decision was conveyed to the family members by the doctors in teh hospital, it was decided to keep the body in the mortuary for the night.

I got the news yesterday morning and alongwith two of the family members went to the hospital to get the body discharged. We directly went to the sister in charge who promptly asked us to settle the accounts first and bring the payment receipt to her. Only then the discharge formalities will start. Accordingly, the bills were settled and we took the receipt to the sister.

The sister in charge took out the case history file from the stack, asked the ward boy to get the keys of the mortuary and signaled us to follow her. We were led to the basement of the building. I have made innumerable visits to various hospitals and also knew that there is a section called ‘Morgue’ therein. However, I could never imagine that the morgue would be entirely different from the well lit, wide spread, white washed, well ventilated rooms and cabins of the hospital.

My imagination got a jolt when we reached the dark and somewhat damp basement. Sister went passed the first door and fastened her cloth mask. So did the ward boy. We did not know what to do, as we did not have any mask.

Clang ! The sister opened the lock of the second door and went inside the dark interior of a tunnel. The ward boy followed her with the wheeled stretcher. We stood outside. After 10 secs, sister’s white dress appeared at the door way. She was calling us in. It was a point of ‘no-return’ so we stepped forward, wondering why death and darkness are so intermingled and bring us at the beginning of an unknown tunnel.

Oooosshhhhh ! the ice-cold temperature embraced us inside. There was also a peculiar smell in the air. The door of one of the 6 footer cell was open and the stretcher was placed in front of it. The sister handed over the Case file to us in that dim light. I took the file and ensured that the Death Certificate was in it. By that time a tray was pulled out of the freezer cell- on it laid a human body wrapped in a white cloth. Body – just a body ! We transferred it from the tray to the stretcher. Oh – it was so cold and heavy. We were unable to place it properly. “Put your hands under the shoulder of the body”, pat came sister’s instruction. I wondered, how to ensure that it was the correct one. Sister must have read my  mind. She slightly lifted the white cloth from one end and we could see a human form tightly wrapped with another white sheet beneath it. A sticker was pasted there with the name of the patient written on it. She read out the name. It was correct ! On the other end, there was another sticker with similar information pasted on the head of the body.

We came out of the morgue with the labeled body on the stretcher. The death was dark and cold, covered by the white shroud signifying light and the beginning of another life !!

Quietly he made his exit from this world after living a life of an Unsung Hero. Little did I realize 14 years ago on this day, that the frail frame would weigh so much on my shoulder that I would have to bow down long after he is gone even at the mention of his name..

Now when I try to locate his physical form, I fail miserably. However, I feel his benign touch all over my body and see him every time I look into the mirror. I know for sure that the mirror doesn’t lie.

How I wish we could look into each other’s eyes without the intermediary mirror !!

My father lived an unseen, unknown life of a Kingmaker and departed untimely on the World Population Day – 11^th July  L L

A middle class family of four – dad, mom and two sons aged 7 and 4 years were my companions in my recent train journey. The elder son was docile and calm whereas the younger one was restless and naughty.

The dad purchased a sandwich, distributed it between both his sons and also kept a small piece for himself.

Every time the young brat was made to sit on the seat, he slid down and inadvertently landed on the feet of other passengers, and their shrieks alarmed his parents- who shook him and again made him sit properly.

A momentary respite !

After a couple of futile attempts of diverting his attention to the bathing buffaloes or flying kites, the mom gave up.

Now the dad thought of giving it a serious thought. Pointing at the Alarm Chain, he told his sons, “ If someone is feeling uneasy, say pukish while traveling in a bus it is difficult, but here he can stop the train by pulling this chain”. I was amazed at the explanation given by him.

Both the sons looked at the wonder chain with amazement and then resumed playing  and jumping on the seat. Without caring much, I delved into my book.

After some time, the elder son informed his parents that while they were busy talking, his brother held the chain and tried pulling it, but it slipped. No sooner did he say that, the faces of mom and dad became as white as a blank sheet of paper. Speechless, they looked at each other. Only then the dad read out the notice to his sons, “ Stopping the train without any valid reason would attract a fine of Rs. 1000 or an imprisonment”.

Dad always kept a small share with himself – be it bread or information !

I looked through the car window. She was sitting on the pavement as usual. A beggar maid in her frail frame of a couple of bones beneath a pale, dirty skin. She didn’t have even a begging bowl -a tattered blanket was her only possession. Surprisingly, she never begged and always sat with her back towards the world – as if to denounce it.

Why did she stick to that place ?

Maybe she lost her child at that spot. I wondered.

Everyday I expected her to be missing- only to be mistaken. However, my egoist self didn’t allow any sympathy to creep in.

Today she was gone.. L  Her place appeared cleaner than its surroundings and stood out as a scar. I could not locate my ego but instead found a scar in my heart which I might have to carry ever. Forever !

A week back I had blasted the car parking guy in our office for his negligence. There was a scratch on our car made by the mirror of another car which had parked just beside ours after we did.

After my scolding he cleaned off the scratch completely, but he bore the scar in his heart – so it seemed !!

Today morning when I went to park the car, I found there was no place left except for a small one, that too was completely filled with rain water as a result of heavy, untimely shower for the past 3 days.

“Isn’t there any other place” ? I enquired with the parking guy.

“No. If you want I can park it for you”. His serene face could not hide the sadist smile beneath.

The space was indeed inadequate even for a small car to be parked. But he directed me to park it not straight but side ways. I fixed it just like a corn in between two teeth !!

Done. When I opened the door to get out of the car, my heart skipped a beat. There was at least  1 feet deep water clogged on the road. No sooner did I give him an angry look, he motioned me to use the rear door which had a clearer ground. With no option left, I got up (!) to follow the instruction. It was indeed a ‘Tall Task’ for a  6 footer to transport himself from the Driving Seat to the Rear Seat of a Santro. Thanks to my slim figure which came in handy !!

Acrobats over. The revengeful smile disappeared after making me stoop..inside the car ofcourse !!!