Experiment

Alrighty, so its been a while and i have some more feelings that need to be disposed. For the past few weeks, I've been carrying, a sort of experiment, you could say. I don't make the effort to talk to my friends, to call them, whatever. It's because when I did try extremely hard to stay close with them, I was pushed aside by the them as if they dont care.

I noticed something though, people want you more when you act like you don't care. Although the basis for my experiment was that I had heard that it was human behaviour to want something you can't have; I did not neccessarily think of it as true. But some of my friends that I had so long ago drifted apart from, and the very same that I so desperately tried to cling onto, came crawling back. They wanted to talk to me, they wanted to be in my life, they wanted me to know about their lives and same vice versa. At first, I was in shock, could this truly be? Could this silly little idea I had heard, actually be true? I had my evidence in front of me and I finally realized how to keep my friends with me. And then I realized something, it's the same in relationships. When you try to hold on to your loved ones, they want to move further and further away; but if you keep yourself a little distant from them, they don't want to leave your side (most times).

Now, this is not always true. I'm not saying that this theory is always correct. By me distancing myself from my loved ones, I had a lot to lose. What if they had not wanted to love me as much as I did them? What if they thought "good riddance" and forgot about me? I realized it was a chance, that had to be taken; and I did. Now, I'm not telling you to go out there and stop talking to everyone you adore because I'm telling you to. I'm telling you to cherish what you've got but, at the same time, don't cherish it too much. There's an old saying and it goes something like this "Don't make someone your everything, because when they leave, you'll be left with nothing."

A forgotten page from that brown little notebook

I will respect my elders.
I will help others.
I will say the truth.
I will be a good human being.

Sometime in the late eighties. A school classroom. Charts with drawings in crayons hang around its walls. A lady teacher with thick plastic rimmed glasses, facing a class of four year olds, who sit on little wooden chairs and write the above lines in their brown little notebooks.There is a child on first bench. She makes the short children sit in the front so that she can see when they are not listening. That child writes down the lines too with his chicken scratch handwriting. That child used to spell a being as beeng at that time. But he did write the lines.

I will be a good human beeng.

A simple sentence. A sentence that is made up of simple thoughts. Respect elders. Help others. Be kind. Say the truth. Four year olds are innocent people. They believe everything their teachers tell them. That child too believed what she told him. That he was to be a good human being when he grows up. That child wanted to be a good human being when he grew up.

Twenty years later, that child sits on the chair in front of his PC typing words you read now. He has grown up now. He studied his books. Went on to become an engineer. Over the years, he was faced with a lot of choices. And he made many choices. I don't know if he evolved, but he changed.

Amongst the trigonometry lessons, the thick books of software engineering and the prolonged lectures on computer languages , he forgot that sentence he wrote in that little, brown covered notebook that day. No, wait. Maybe he did not forget. But he did not care much about it. The world did not care much about it, either. Nobody, including himself, asked “Are you a good human being, as you promised once ?”

They applauded only when u proved urself better than others. Faster than others. Sharper than others....Being a good man did not matter much to anybody, and he believed it did not matter to him as well. He was no longer that child. I have not been good so far. I have hurt people, I have said things which have tore apart hearts of good souls, I have been indifferent , not caring about who I really am now, who that child was, and not caring if me and the child would ever meet again, talk again, be one again.

But today, the dusty clouds have parted a little, and a long forgotten, once familiar sound of a child has managed to flow in like the first rays of a winter dawn. And the voice says “I wanted to be a good human beeng . Why have you become this ? Don’t you remember me ?” And today, the grown up man wants to listen to that child, and believe in that child, and be that child. Because after a long time, he has found that he wants to become a person who believes in being good more than being better. Who wants to help a million hands rather than to control a million people. who looks at the world from the selfless eyes of that child I once was, without the layers of selfishness this life wraps around us adults .

The white cloud of simplicity I have found, gives me the strength to try to be that child again, to realize who I really am, and to be good again. I know people will read this. Some people will think I am not a good man. Some people will think I am not practical enough. Some people will think I will change. Some people will think that i probably would forget these words soon enough. Some people will think I do not have the courage to be who I say I want to be. Some people will think I do not know what I really want to be. Some people would not understand, and will think I do not understand.

All I can say is, I know what this means to me. And I do not expect many to understand what this means to me. I am talking to that child again. Even though I do not have that brown little notebook today , that page has not been clearer to me before today. And I will be a good human “beeng”. Maybe not faster. Maybe not sharper. Maybe not a winner for the world. But definitely a good human being.

The Great Indian Wedding

A sad horse. A more sad guy on the horse. Bright lights. Sweaty men dancing on loud filmy songs on the street. Ladies wearing more gold than with the RBI. Smell of cologne in the air. Old women with 'dholak' singing songs which no one understands. Spending forty minutes in the cosmetic store to find the lipstick to perfectly match the color of the saree. Welcome to 'The great Indian wedding. Its one of the most extraordinary things I see in this funny world. I dont know how weddings take place in Southern India or some other parts. But i guess the weddings there are simple and perfectly human.

But attending a typical north Indian wedding leaves me pretty gasping and shaken. It takes couple of days to feel like eating after attending a wedding. My Uncle's son ,who allegedly failed twice in class X and now runs coaching center for kids is getting married. My first move is to protest.
Me with *ready-to-suicide-look* to parents: I dont wanna go. All that noise. All that lights. All those plastic smiles people.
Parents with *ready-to-kill-look* to me: you have to grow up (complan?). And if you dont go, who will care to attend your wedding ?

*note - Looks like my parents really want a lot of people to attend my wedding ,if it happens. So I will send out cards to all of you. Please turn up. Get along your families , neighbours ,old classmates , school principal , tailor , postman , milkman , anyone. Just build a HUGE crowd.*

So I have to go to that uncle's son wedding. The D day dawns. The day when a man and wife would promise to tolerate each other and throw things at each other and spy on each other for the rest of their lives and a day when a few hundred fools, including me, would cheer this amazing moment by eating a lot.The 'baraat' is to assemble near "something something Public School" and would proceed towards the "Bla Bla farmhouse" where the bride and her battalion would be waiting. I reach the spot near "something something public school". Fat ladies with thick lipsticks, jewellery enough to pull down a weak man to the ground , half inch makeup layers. Big fat men. Loud laughs. Ill fitting suits. Hair swept back. Cellphones in hand. Young girls looking like cosmetic showrooms. Now being from the groom's side, I have to be a part of this "Baraat".

Now this is the most depressing part. The groom is made to sit on a horse. In the 21st century ,with people zooming along in luxury cars, this guy sits on a "count-my-ribs"type horse brought on rent. Infact a female horse. A 'ghodi' in hindi. Whats that called in english ? A horsess ? (haha sorry i dont know) And a huge "Bunty Band" which starts beating drums and blowing trumpets. And they are super sonic loud.LOUD. So loud that even Obama in the White House would know that the 'Baraat' is started from "Something Something Public School".Real Loud. And the fat aunties and the fat uncles and the pretty girls and the young guys slowly start to slip into the area before the animal(ghodi) carrying the poor guy. They start with shaking sheepishly but before the poor animal knows whats happening, they explode into highly physical vibrations. All the loud band and the dancing people and the guy on the top of him makes the animal shit twice on his way to the farmhouse.

We reach the farmhouse. My parents get busy with all the friends. The dancing party breaks up and promptly attacks the snacks area. I grab one cold drink and look around. Soon people are pushing and falling over food. Looks like a Flood relief camp. One of my aunt introduces me to a girl of my age who is preparing for BTech.

Me *end-to-boredom-relief-expression*: "Hi, Im Anuj."
She *dollar-dreams-expression*: "Hi.How did you prepare for BTech?"
Me *not-again-expression*: I jumped off a Punjabi bagh flyover. That really helps. Try it." (Mujhse to ese puch rahi hai jese maine IIT clear kara tha with 1st rank)
She *confused*: "Eh..he he..um..joke?"
Middle aged ladies keep coming to me and ruffling my hair.
Middle aged lady : "Recognise me beta?"
Me ( thinking to myself): She looks like Mayawati.
Me ( smiling to her) : "Aishwarya Rai?"
Middle Aged Lady (slapping my arm real hard) :"he he he...you wont change ever."

And everyone puts effort for grabbing ice creams and soups from waiters goes on and on and on till the guy and the girl put mala (whats that call in english?) around each other necks and go around a burning stove 7 times. Finally the girl leaves crying on every shoulder around and it is time for me to go home.

A genuinely stupid and tiring day. We get home,unlock the main gate and I habitually check the mailbox before getting in. Aha,there is something in there. A wedding invitation card. Thapar uncle's son who as a kid, stole eggs from the departmental store and is a cop now ,is getting married. Wedding after a week. My esteemed presence on this auspicious occasion is requested. Ahhh......Life is B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.