A Tribute

There she goes......High.....Higher into the stands. This emphatic expression of Tony Greig's, for a six being hit, caught my imagination and my mind went back 5 years into the past.
                             
The same protagonists of the match taking place now were supposed to play a game in the stadium not very far away from my home. So, I was all spirits to have a first hand experience of a live cricket match. I couldn't imagine myself without my 3 friends. Life was meaningless to me without them. So, we all had to watch the match together. It was plain luck that just 4 hours of standing in a queue and 4 tickets were being brandished by us. The feeling must have been even stronger than the one for India winning the match because this meant a lot to us. It had been long since we had got a day off together and that's precisely why we were cherishing this weekend+ cricket match+ time together bonanza all the more. The match was supposed to start at 2.30pm. But because of overflowing zeal we were inside the stadium by 1 pm only.
                           
 To pass time we started discussing what plans we had for our lives. Rahul had dreamt to be a Pilot- Aviator glasses and the Navy Blue uniform appealed to him. Ankit was to become one of the Fashionistas- I had never seen someone so hell-bent on destroying one's natural charm just to become what he called a Stud. And I wouldn't even delve into his clothing sense. Rohit was a cut above the rest. He planned to take his family to the U.S and  would settle there only. Being a bright student, coming from a humble background, he had every right to think so. He used to say i've never seen even 10 grands in cash, so I'll earn so much that all my desires come to nought. Practiacally, i thought that to be impossible. I hadn't thought what I would do so I could not speak up.
                         
All this came to an end when we saw Messrs Tendulkar and Sehwag walk out to the middle. The first ball was clubbed away hard and it sat on the rooftop just above us. Play came to a halt so that the ball could gather courage to be prepared for another assault.
                         
We hadn't eaten eaten anything for quite a while now. So, I left them to go to a nearby stall to fetch some eatables. Just as I was to pay, I had to turn my back to the sound of a deafening "boom". I ran back leaving everything to where my seat was.
                       
My senses lost control. The co-ordination of organs failed as my heart started pounding and tears started flowing down my eyes at what I was now a mute observer to. There was no sign of the three persons I had left before I had gone. All I could see was tattered clothes which bore testimony to what my heart wished wasn't true.
                     
It was a part of the serial blasts which rocked the city that day- 8 of them, all at places heavily packed since it was a weekend. My world had been shattered. Dejected and mute, I stood there thinking how would I be able to face their parents, who agreed to let them go only at my behest. At just 18 yrs. of age, they had left this world, their dreams unfulfilled. There was a sense of guilt I felt and that is what came back to haunt me again and again. The events affected me so much that for the better part of the next 3 years I had to attend a medical facility for what the doctors termed as a distaste on my part to live. Every single day, the black Saturday came back to haunt me and I was reliving that, trying once more to fight what had become my nemesis, today.
                   
Something hit me when sudden clapping and loud roars woke me up from the sofa, not very far away from the T.V screen. Those soft hands that were clapping, those buoyant, cheerful sounds brought me back from what i was living to reality. Still I couldn't resist cursing fate for what it had brought upon these children. They didn't deserve to lose their family for no cause and no fault of theirs. What had they done to be forced to live without someone who would've cared for them and whom they would have loved to care for?
                   
I now run a Centre that facilitates the recovery of children scarred by the deadly terror attacks that have become so commonplace these days. I do not know what's on their agenda, what's the picture they, the terrorists, see but I seek to lessen my grief, my guilt, my suffering overseeing these kids grow up well. I wish to give them whatever they want and whatever they would have got, had their parents been alive to look after them. This, I wish would be a tribute to my friends, who I wish would have lived to see these once happy faces regain what was once theirs- a sweet, undisturbed,carelessly beautiful smile :-)

I Bought the Groom

Irony died a silent death, was laid in a grave and turned around in agony, when the UPSC qualified groom’s parents put forth a demand of 51 Lakh rupees as the wedding expenses. The bride’s father haggled at first, begged then and finally said yes agreeing to manage, fantasizing a stable and bright future for his daughter. He had saved all his life to be able to marry off his daughter to a well settled guy and irrespective of whether he would've a penny left after paying up or not, he felt a tremor of joy that shook him. He went home almost crying and informed his wife "I bought the groom". And then, together they shed tears of happiness.

She had had the best upbringing, accessed the best books and qualified competitive exams to study at reputed institutes. She was decent at her studies and landed a job with one of the better known MNCs post the completion of the course. All this was celebrated in her household when she cleared the exams, cleared job interviews. But as soon as she turned nubile, no such achievement mattered because first she was a girl who needed to be married off and then sarkari naukri is the Holy Grail.

He had managed to get through to a decent engineering institute which a lot of students manage to get into. Later he worked even harder and made the grade for a Central Government job and voila, there was a goldmine that his father had discovered suddenly. Vanity was at its best when the father felt proud and regularly thumped his chest when prospective brides’ parents came with open hearts and even bigger cheques at his doorstep. This was the same father who had made his son’s life hell, when he couldn’t make it to an IIT, making him realize every morning that he was no good and that may be being a rickshaw puller was his destiny.

This is the most common story across Mainland Bihar, where a sarkari naukri still holds sway over the best paying jobs from around the world. The guys with government jobs are the trophies that the brides’ parents fight over. Dowry, which started as a practice of gifting the bride for a life in an unknown family, had evolved into an exchange of Gandhijis by the time the last decade passed. It has now morphed into a modern day No Dowry only expenses borne transaction between the bride’s and the groom’s family.

The veneer of a developing society with broadening mentalities suddenly gets lifted, when the son grows into a marriageable man. Dowry given for the daughter’s marriage starts the turning of the vicious cycle, on the lines of what goes around comes around.

As if the decadent society constantly fighting over religious and casteist divides needed another reason to dig its own grave, the growing gender divide is worsening off the living conditions. While the fight used to be away from the homes earlier, it has creeped inside the homes now. The transaction based marriage leaves both the sides poorer- the bride’s side materially and the groom’s side morally.

The neo educated seem to be muted bystanders in the repulsive dance of greed that every marriage has become. The same people, who write 2000 words long essays on how they would work towards creating a better society, fall at the first hurdle post qualifying. What used to be the celebration of two families coming together as one is now marked with faultlines right from the beginning. Sooner rather than later, these faultlines are sure to give way to earthquakes and volcanoes. Growing rate of divorces is only the start.

It is high time that the current generation starts standing up for itself as well as for the other gender which has every right to be treated an equal. Till the time fathers continue bearing the expenses of marriages of someone else’s son, fetuses will continue to killed, newly born girl child will continue to be found abandoned.

They say that Sharing is Caring. Unless it is put in practice, no matter how many essays are written around it, no matter how many schemes governments start running, the society will continue to grow even more morose. A relationship that is started for caring for one another, has to be built with the bricks of sharing. These bricks need to be laid at the time of building the house, not once it stands up on shaky foundations!

The Beautiful Affair

It was after a long, hard fought battle that went on for more than an hour. She begged, pleaded for bystanders to intervene, but to no avail. All this long, she had been saying the good things, saying yes, but it hardly had any effect. He had had enough. He said no and from then on, it was as if nothing ever existed between the two of them. While there come multiple occasions where it seems as if things have gone wrong to the point of no return, life does give you fair share of chances. But there is a limit to everything.

The circumstances were unfortunate; things had been downhill for a long time now. But he had decided to give the relationship one more year. Something which had 15 year old foundations could be given a year’s time for sorting things out. But it was familiar territory all over again- right noises made, no visible difference. And that’s why it succumbed finally.

That’s the story we had. 16 years back, a piece of news of her defeat is what had sparked the interest. And it blossomed handsomely over the next few years. Then she moved into a new house, taking care of which, she insisted took the most of her time. He was considerably understanding at first, giving her all the time she needed. When people made fun, he covered for her. But with time, even after the liabilities had been cleared off, things didn’t get better. Here and there, there used to be a flicker that filled him with hope that things could be mended. A season gift here, a display of passion there, taking his side by absolutely decimating his rivals only added fire to the hope he had.

But of late, even those distant displays of love and passion began to be too far apart. The flair was gone; beauty in her play was gone as well. And when she couldn’t defend herself from being enamoured by his biggest rival, it was all over, at least in his mind.

That’s the story we had – Arsenal and I. And I loved every bit of it. I grew from a raw teenager to a man hoping against hope that things would get better. I had given 16 years of my life, longing for the weekends for Arsenal to turn up and fill up my heart with joy. But with a heavy heart, saddled with the pains of seeing it degenerate to levels beyond my imagination, I’ve begun to drift away of late.

No more keeping awake for midweek matches, no more leaving everything apart to watch matches during the weekend evenings, no more giving up on going out for doing so. That love for the club shall forever remain; I would definitely glance over the results every weekend. But that desire to watch them play is all but gone. I will follow- who is being signed, whom they have already signed, whom they’ll play but with the palpable sense of things not turning out to be good.

As I drift into the midnight with great sorrow, I do so with a hope that in the not so distant future, things will rekindle between the two of us. I do so with a hope that the fear, frustrations of the years gone by would be set free and replaced by the carefree brilliance and flair of the glory years. I slip into the deep slumber wishing to be the kid again who feels like he has seen candy whenever Arsenal set their foot to play.