Part of the ocean

This is an excerpt from 'Tuesdays with Morrie', by Mitch Albom. It's a book that I would recommend to all readers - a bit on the philosophical side, but not lecturesque; in fact it is a wonderful account of a brave man's fight against a dreaded disease. This is one story that really touched my heart, and hence it is reproduced here.

I heard a nice little story the other day," Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.

"Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He's enjoying the wind and the fresh air - until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore.

' "My God, this is terrible," the wave says. "Look what's going to happen to me!"

"Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, "Why do you look so sad?"

"The first wave says, "You don't understand We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?"

"The second wave says, "No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean." '

I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.

"Part of the ocean," he says, "part of the ocean." I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.

Q Mania

There are several reasons why I love my country. And there are also reasons why I love my county more than other countries that I've been to. And I shall now talk about one of those.

Queues. I simply love queues. That's both - watching and waiting in them. And nowhere in the world do we find such a wide variety in the kinds and causes for queues than in India. We have queues for almost everything here - right from paying electricity bills to waiting for water at the village tap. We have the long orderly queues and also the chaotic heap queues. In no other way is our unity in diversity better reflected than in our zest for forming and waiting in queues, no matter what or who we are. We don't need a reason to form a queue, nor an incentive - we line up outside schools for admission forms at least a day before the counter opens; no passport is got without waiting in a line at the passport office at least an hour before the day commences. Railway reservations are lost if you join the queue after the counter opens. Another interesting thing to be noted about our queues are the excellent space optimisation that we pride ourselves in. Not willing to waste even a nanometer of space in our already overcrowded country, we uncomplainingly stand pressed against each other in queues. Besides, in some instances, we also aim at time optimisation - like when traveling by a long distance trains. We don't believe in waiting in our seats till the train halts at the station; we start lining up at the door a good couple of stations before our destination.

I for one, am one of those types who simply loves such queues. Whenever I am not waiting in a queue, I am eagerly looking for an opportunity to join one. And I love them in all their variations - waiting for buying movie tickets, waiting at the McD counter for an Aloo Tikki, waiting at the bus stop to catch bus no. 524, waiting for my token number to be called out at Canara bank, being made to wait by Vodafone when 'the user I am trying to reach is on another call'... the list goes on. There was a time when I despised waiting in lines and complained of the time wasted and the 'ooff ye garmi' and so on. But I've gradually learned to accept and eventually love these symbolic representations of our people's culture.

I am now almost a queue addict. I normally watch cricket matches on the TV, but when I do choose to go to the stadium - it's not for the match, but the long queue to enter the stadium, and the even longer one to come out early if the team puts up a dismal show. Besides, I don't need a reason to stand in a queue - it's a birth right that no one can take away from me. Whenever I see a long queue, I instinctively walk up to the last person in the queue and ask 'Bhai ye line kis liye hai?' No matter what the reason may be, I nevertheless spend at least 5 minutes waiting in that queue for the sheer joy it provides to my mind. In fact, given the selfless kind of person that I am, I never miss the chance to share this joy with other fellow human beings. If some errant fellow tries to skip the queue and walks straight to the counter, I call out to him (no matter where my position in the queue may be; my experiences teach me that I have a voice loud enough to be heard by that fellow for my farthest position being 103rd) - 'O hero, kahan beech mein ghus rahe ho? Line mein khade raho!' And I think to myself - how can these people even think of breaking lines - not all in this world are lucky enough to be blessed with such long queues.

My love for queues transcends terrestrial bounds. Whenever I choose to travel by flight, I just cannot wait until the 'Fasten your seatbelt' sign is turned off. As soon as the plane lands on the ground, and taxies towards the terminal, I get up from my seat, pick up my bag from the overhead compartment and driven by instinct, go and wait by the door. Many a times, my co passengers have taken cue and lined up behind me, painting worried looks on the flight attendants' faces in the process. Even at the airport lounge, I don't prefer sitting in the comfortable seats and enjoying a brief siesta - the real joy is in queuing up at the boarding desk. In the flight itself, I don't prefer waiting for the restroom to be vacant before proceeding towards it - half the relief is in waiting in a line at the door itself. Besides, if I were to be sent to the moon some day, I am sure I would be waiting in a queue by at the space shuttle's exit right from take off. And right after getting off, I would be queuing up to board for the return journey.

Thus is my unconditional love for queues. And remember, even when you see me standing alone, I am just initiating a wannabe queue.

Ji Bilkul

"Chalo beta aaj ladki dekhne jaana hai! Tayaar ho jaao!"

As I had earlier mentioned on this blog, going home has become quite rare for me these days, and as a result I find myself facing huge backlogs when it comes to being up to date with familial matters. I came to know last week that one of my distant cousins, who happens to be almost the same age as me, was getting engaged to his childhood sweetheart the day before. 'What's the hurry yaar', I asked him as I called him up as soon as I reached home that day, 'Why do you want to spoil something that's going well for you!' The problem with all my cousins, elders included, is that they fail to appreciate my deep and well found insights into intriguing matters of human concern; my remarks are routinely taken jokingly at face value, and when I reiterate that I am serious, I inadvertently manage to cause some eyebrows to be raised. No wonder that my cousin chided me for this ground breaking suggestion of mine and said 'Bachhu, tujhe jab kisi se pyaar hoga tab tu samjhega! Teri shaadi ka time ab dur nahi hai! Tu bhi koi dhund le.'

I am sure he was joking about that 'teri shaadi' part, and more so, the 'dhund le' remark. I am confident that I will never be able to find the right life partner for myself, and hence I have never even tried to. But that brilliant sally my cousin used against me struck some hitherto hidden cord in my parents' minds, and I found myself hearing these lines yesterday -

"Beta, ab tumhari shaadi ke baare mein bhi sochna chahiye. Ye bache bhi kitni jaldi badhe ho jaate hain! Tumhare liye ek achaa rishta aaya hai, kal ladki waalon ke ghar jaana hai. Chalo tayaari mein lag jaao tum!"

I don't normally swear these days, and never would even dream of doing it in the presence of my parents. But this sudden shock managed to squeeze out a 'WTF' from my mouth, causing some more eyebrows to be raised. 'I have not even graduated from college yet!' was all that I managed to utter. What I really wanted to tell them was that I am in no mood to marry so early,that I haven't even met the right girl yet, that I won't marry before I settle down nicely into my consulting job, that I don't want an arranged marriage etc. But the best that I could come up with was that I haven't even graduated yet.

"Koi jaldi nahi hai, wo ladki bhi abhi student hai. Agar ab baat ban jaaye to tum donon aaram se apne man se shaadi kar lo. Koi jaldi nahi hai. Agle saal bhi chalega. Tab tak baaki tayari kar lenge hum," they replied.

Still a student! I was sure the poor girl would have no idea of the kind of activities our families were involved in. I then told my parents some of the points I just mentioned above in an attempt to make them see sense but to no avail. It seemed as if my cousin had just opened the floodgates for female bio-datas and horoscopes to rush into my (barren?) life.

After further attempts at trying to avoid the inevitable, I found myself getting ready for the 'ladki dekhne jaana hai' ceremony. I was told to wear the 'naya shirt liya tha na tumne abhi placements ke liye' and was forced to get a neat haircut and a decent shave. To tell you frankly, I hadn't personally cared as much for my appearance for my campus placements. But then I thought perhaps this ladki dekhna is some highly sacred ritual in the eyes of my family (and her too) so I went ahead with it just to make them happy. After an hour of enduring a painful and bumpy auto ride in a typical sweltering Mumbai-Sunday-afternoon, and another half of asking for directions we finally reached the 'ladki waalon ka ghar'.

A knock knock later I found myself facing this huge towering Aunty dressed in what looked an expensive, but sadly overdone saree and overloaded with (fake?) gold jewelery. 'Arey aaiye aaiye, hum aapki hi raah dekh rahe the. Ghar dhundne mein taklif to nahi hui na?' she demanded. Now the kind of guy that I am, who can just manage a 'but I haven't graduated yet' in front of my own parents, to no one's surprise, managed a humble 'bilkul nahi' in the all encompassing presence (laterally) of this Aunty. I could not even imagine how I could later call her 'Mummy' or 'Aai' or whatever name she was addressed by her daughter.

After a couple of minutes of was-and-whens and how-do-you-dos, we were served overly sweet tea and super oily samosas. The sight of this fat-saturated-meal gave me that 'Aha!' moment - the sort I get when I make such discoveries of the causes of some phenomena that I notice in nature (I didn't know what one calls such moments until Sagar pointed out this term to me yesterday; he tells me that there is a well defined term for this, but he doesn't remember the name now and chooses to call them 'Aha!' moments - well, this name works just fine for me). Anyway, getting back to the point, I partook of the diabetic tea and was nibbling at the 'samosa' (notice the quotes. They are there for a purpose) and then entered the 'girl' (No purpose here though). I am no good judge of girls, but from what I've seen and known, I could tell that she is a very good girl, beautiful, smart and with a good nature. Trust your parents on these issues. 'Hmm, not bad. Perhaps I should think of saying yes. I can then fearlessly date this damsel for a couple of years, all the while knowing that she shall be mine finally.'

My dreams were turning out to be just right when came in, umm, (to be kind) let me say an 'extended miniature version of the aforementioned Aunty'. This new entrant and the Aunty comfortably settled in into a couch (that I feel could have easily seated 4 my size). After the usual 'Aur beta tum kya kar rahe ho aaj kal?' and 'Bahut acha ladka hai humara', the Aunty said this - 'To aapko humaari Bindya pasand aayi?' with a huge grin that to me felt like a threatening smirk that screamed out - 'You better say yes or else...'

Wait! Bindya? I thought you introduced that damsel as Sapna. I was about to raise this basic doubt when I saw the new entrant blushing and smiling and shifting around in her place (took mighty efforts, that shifting I tell you - I pity the poor couch). Oh My God! This is Bindya?! I looked towards my parents. They looked equally shocked to me. My mom was almost telling me 'Ye kaise hua? Hume bhi nahi pata!' with her eyes. It so was that Bindya was the elder daughter, and the Aunty was hoping to dump her on my shoulders - she literally looked a burden to me. But thankfully my parents stood their ground and for once supported me in what looked like a lost cause to me. The Aunty was disappointed it didn't work out. I noticed that Sapna never even chose to throw a passing glance towards me in the midst of all this debate. And so too Bindya. 'Must have overdone my dressing style', I thought.

In the end, it turned out that the only person genuinely interested in me was the Aunty. I wouldn't have been surprised had she tried to elope with me in the same auto that we took to come there. 'Chinta mat karo beta' my Mom said as we were leaving, 'Aur bhi ache rishte aayenge.' 'Haan beta chinta mat karo, hum hai na', added my Dad. 'Oh please don't. Let me live my life. (Though I don't mind coming back here for Sapna). Next time let me handle this business, and please for heaven's sake don't choose a family obsessed with cooking oil and sugar!' - my mind was screaming out. But sadly, the only thing that I could tell them aloud was -

"Ji bilkul."

Had an affair once you know

(This again from my old blog. Happens to be my favourite piece among all those that I have written)

Ever since V-day, there has been much talk and speculation among my batchmates as to whether I have a girlfriend or not. So much so has been the debate, that I felt I should tell them all about an affair I once had (something for them to cheer about :D). And what better place to disclose the truth than this blog of mine... Well here goes...

Just a word of caution though - if you begin reading this post from the next line onwards, better read it till the end to avoid misunderstanding later :P. Whatever has been mentioned here is true to the best of my knowledge and belief :D

It was way back in my first year at IIT. Was a noob out here back then, confused (still am to some extent) and awestruck by this wonderful place. Never had the pleasure of having someone special in my life till then. It was sometime back then, on some cursed day that year, that I came to know of this wonderful creation of the Creator. The whole bunch of first yearites were praising her amazing looks and divine features. I must mention here that I wasn't the type of kid who cared about all this; but I thought 'What the heck! Let me check her out at least.... sure that won't hurt'. And that happened to be a huge mistake. I was spellbound by her beauty, her charm... Could never take my eyes off her. Spent many sleepless nights thinking about her, imagining what wonderful things we could do...

And so I took the chance. I approached her as a good seedha-saadha boy, and let out my feelings. Fortunately or unfortunately, she was amused and gave me the green signal. So foolish I was back then, that I was thrilled and glad to have this special someone in my life. We spent many wonderful days in each other's company. It was such a joy being with her; I gave up other good things in my life just to be with her always. We secretly used to meet at the Computer Center at IIT (CC as it was popularly known, still stands as a monument symbolising this love story I once had), sometimes late at night, on pretext of a C++ course project we had back then. (Left all the coding for the project to my groupmates, all for the rendezvous with my love). Even she didn't mind this and always would be there waiting for me. I now feel that I should have worked more on that project back then; at least would be somewhat conversant with C++ now if I had done that. But no use crying over spilt milk - I chose to be with her and that was it.

Our's wasn't a visit-smile-talk-leave relationship; was much more intimate than that. Everytime I entered her, I would find a whole new universe waiting for me inside her - to explore and appreciate. I was so blinded by her beauty that I never realised how she was using me to grow her network of acquaintances. When I was quite seriously involved in this relationship did I come to know of her other side. She was a hooker - trapping poor kids like me in her web of lust and using us all to get to know more people. The bitch was aware that we knew; but still continued with such activities. I was shattered - to see someone I so loved destroying so many lives. I immediately broke up with her, and warned all the others I knew about to do so too. But lo! many of them were so misled by her charming features - they never came out of it. Some poor souls I know still are involved with her, and are wasting their lives so.

So this was it - a failed relationship with a bitch who still hasn't improved. Now-a-days her activities have gathered much momentum, and I hear that many people are ever being attracted to her. Oh what a waste of life! would have been so good for me had she never entered my life at all... I have not lied a bit about the relation we once had. The truth is laid bare before you. You may choose to judge me on the basis of all this if you choose to; I can't stop you from doing that. But before I sign off, let me tell you her name; so that at least you may keep away from her. This bitch happens to be someone you all might know as Orkut.com.

Motivation?

(This from my old blog)

What we have been told is a motivating gesture may be flak after all. A well put up disguise to mislead us poor souls into believing something unintuitive to be something implying a greater deeper meaning, that never seems to surface up and after trying a few times, you sort of accept the crowd's take on the issue. Here are some insights that may raise a few eyebrows:

1. Birds always prefer flying in a group. Its a fact that the draft of one bird's movement aids that of the other. But is that really so? To me, this is a perfect example of the fact that even in nature, teamwork leads to collective laziness.

2. Consistency is a virtue say wise men. Well, it only is so if you aren't a complete loser and to top it, amazingly consistent too.

3. We are always told to 'spread out our wings and dream of flying to reach greater heights'. True; coz if you try landing, that can only be in the real world.

4. Early bird gets the worm. Don't let the worms know about this.

5. We are told there always is room at the top. But it isn't a great feeling looking down from that lonely place. What's more fun is to look down upon others standing down here.

6. All know it takes 43 muscles to frown and 17 to smile. But no one tells you keeping that dumb look going needs nothing at all.

7. A small raindrop is instrumental in making up the ocean. But come floods and no drop wants to share the blame.

8. None of us is as dumb as all of us.

9. Every dark cloud has a silver lightning. Try to hunt that lightning and it strikes you dead.

10. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And it rocks as well too.

11. It hurts to admit your mistakes. When they are big, the pain usually is short lived.

12. We are told to try and try till we succeed. No one tells us that we should stop at a certain stage to avoid looking dumber.

13. Never interrupt someone working. It pays to stand away from a competitive jerk and his goals.

14. Team comes first. But there comes a stage where each member should make individual sacrifices.

15. We are told hardwork never killed anyone. Well, its just prolonging the inevitable.

16. If you feel you are lonely, then you are not alone. There are plenty of people just like you. But still, you are alone.

17. Hardwork pays in the future, laziness does in the present.

18. The road to perfection never ends. It's more like a death march.

Go ahead and share your views (only if they agree with mine that is).

Confusion galore

It's that time in my life when I reminisce about my life here at IIT, and keep boring my friends by always telling them how much I am going to miss them and this place. When each treat ends with me becoming senti and saying that no matter where I go or what I manage to achieve in life, now is the best time in my life ever. What's sad though, is that I feel I don't have many 'interesting' incidents and experiences to take away from here. Of course my life here has been quite interesting, but not the type with the apostrophes. However, there is one thing that not many know about.

It was the day I got my job here on campus - 3rd December. I had taken my friend out to PopTates for a Daaru treat (those were the days before I turned teetotaler). He insisted that I would be exhausted being interviewed the whole day, and we could perhaps do this some other time. However, I wanted him to be a part of my euphoria - a part of the day that I wished then would never end. And so we went to PopTates (after happy hours at my insistence, logic being that since I now have a job, I don't need to care about saving bucks on every damn thing - of course that phase is now behind me).

After a pitcher each and a couple of 60 ml pegs of rum and a tequilla shot (the customary signing off ritual), it was time for me to take a leak :) I claim(ed) I never (used to) get drunk, no matter how much I drink, but that day was another story. It is a wonder I even remember what I am about to tell you all here. The joy of getting my dream job and all the events that day had already lightened me up, and the alcohol only added to the ecstasy, leading me on to a state of pigheadedness hitherto unknown to me. Before telling you what happened next though, let me tell you what really bugs me about restrooms these days. I am really pissed off by the signs put up to indicate the restrooms. Not like the good old days when you had the old fashioned fool proof Gents and Ladies written outside (sometimes illuminated as well). Those guys should understand that when you are as drunk as I was, it becomes rather a tedious task on the part of our brains to make out the difference between the two drawings that we see on the doors these days. Why can't you have plain text signs indicating Gents and ladies as we earlier used to? Why all the fancy artforms? Anyway, coming back to my tale, I went into what I thought was the men's room.

Now that's odd, I thought. I do know that PopTates fancies itself in being an oddity, but this is insane - why do I see only stalls here? I wondered. Where are the urinals? This place almost looks like a girl's room! I was right about PopTates being the hangout zone for gays, I thought. Guys back at hostel need to see this; this just supports my theory. So I took out my cell (I was carrying a fancy one those placement days) and started clicking pics of what I felt was the funny loo. Then the door opened.

And in came this chick - wearing what I felt then and recall now as rags in different colours, with a whole lot of make up dumped on her face. The rags seemed to be the remnants of what would have once been a nice pair of a polo shirt and trousers, the kind I wear a lot. I was sure she wouldn't have come here with another guy, coz no guy in his right senses would want to be seen around with such a joker. She saw me with a cell in my hand taking pics and screamed. I wanted to go ahead and tell her, 'Hello behenji, even though I am sure you are gender confused, the men's room is not where you belong. Secondly, it is I who should be making a din out here seeing such a scary sight, and not you.' But before I could do that, she asked 'You loafer, you pervert - don't you feel ashamed sneaking into the girl's room this way? Security bulaaun kya? Get out!' The girl's room! I am indeed in the girl's room! So PopTates isn't gay; what's more, I have been caught inside a girl's room. And if that's not all, I have been seen taking pics with my cellphone here! (Why does it always have to be me?)

I had to think fast to save my butt here, and also to avoid embarrassment (Don't want such things to come up during my profile reading in our hostel valfi - IITianese for valedictory function). The thing I like about getting drunk is that my mind starts running faster and can come up with the most creative ideas that I cannot even imagine when I am sober. I figured out that this chick was pretty drunk and I could use this fact to my benefit. 'What do you mean get out, idiot? You enter the wrong restroom and then shout at me? The nerve of some people! Now get lost before I call in someone.' Perhaps she wasn't as drunk as I had imagined. She said, 'Wait I'll show you, you pervert,' and immediately started screaming out for help and called out loud for security. What the heck I thought; I don't want to be left behind and started screaming out equally loudly, all the while saying that there is a ghost in the loo.

After about a minute or so of screaming, a strong well built dude in an uniform labeled 'PopTates' turned up with a girl in a suit. They were shocked to see me with my cell phone and that ghost in rags in the same room. 'What is going on out here?' asked the suit. 'Well, you tell me what is going on,' said the ghost, 'What are such perverts allowed to do messing around out here? Is this what you call security?' Then she started screaming abuses, again that I cannot reproduce here, as I have now quit swearing as well :) The argument went on for a few minutes, with me and the dude also chipping in between often. Finally, the suit had enough of her, and said 'Madam I have to ask you to leave now.' 'Oh I should leave now should I? How much does this loafer pay you for all these perverted acts huh? You don't know who I am - I just have to make one phone call and this place will be closed down - shut. Do you get me? Leave my foot!' 'Okay that's it, Raghu please take this lady outside.' 'Don't you dare touch me! You are not allowed to touch me!' 'Oh the hell he is, Raghu baahar le jaao inko'.

After Raghu was done pulling that cartoon, who was not yet done bitching, outside the restroom, I turned to the suit and said, 'Thank you.' 'Please don't mention it sir, I am sorry for all the trouble you have had to face. It shall not be repeated I assure you. Have a good time.' As she was leaving, I asked 'Hey are you not going to do anything about the fact that I wrongly entered the girl's room? I am sorry I was too drunk to notice actually.' She laughed out loud, 'Oh no sir, this isn't the girl's room. What made you think that it was?' 'Well, I don't see the urinals here, so I sort of figured out that this should be it.' She again gave me a smile and said, 'Well, that's because it's under renovation; we had those removed last week and the new ones are not here yet! We have put up a notice outside apologizing for the inconvenience.' 'Oh I never noticed it!' 'Well, it happens. Sometimes our customers are too drunk to notice it. Good thing we use the symbols on the doors though. They never fail us! Imagine the confusion we would have if we stuck to the old Gents and Ladies signs!'

:|

10:42 Churchgate Slow

This is one incident I remember from my good old Ruparel days (that is, my junior college days). I don't have many memories from that time - firstly because I wasted most of time in my JEE preparation, which I then considered more important than my social life, and secondly, because I hardly ever attended college, mainly due to the earlier reason. This incident that I am talking about was on one of those rare days when I broke both these rules.

10:42 Churchgate slow. The ever so faithful local that came directly to Borivli from Andheri, literally vacant (it reached Borivli skipping stops at Jogeshwari, Goregaon, Malad and Kandivli - hence the absence of the return journey travelers. Thing is, a fast train bound for Borivli from Churchgate doesn't halt at these stations. I always preferred taking this train whenever I chose to go to college. As I do now, I hated crowds then too. Nothing more disgusting than traveling in a crowded second class compartment during the early morning office hours I would say. I have always chosen to travel second class. College students do get discounts on first class season tickets for trains here in Mumbai, but I never chose that option. There is something about Mumbai's local trains - mainly the second class compartments, that makes them so very dear to me. The very essence of Mumbai's life can be seen in all its glory here. Nothing more satisfying than traveling during the early morning hours in a second class compartment (albeit not so crowded).

So as I was saying it was this one fateful day, that a slow train for Borivli was converted to the 10:42 Chuchgate slow. Which meant the train was full - packed to the last seat, with hardly any space within for a 'healthy' person like me to sneak into. Besides, skipping this train meant getting late for college - and when you turn up for classes just once a month or so, you don't want to be late. So I was sort of left with limited options. I barged in with the rest of the crowd.

As luck would have it, I got a place to stand exactly where a fan had died a recent death, and was yet to be repaired. Ah, what a perfect day I thought. Could it get any better? Just then a man, roughly in his late thirties, wearing a soiled smelling shirt stepped in and stood beside me. His unkempt hair was smeared with what smelled like kerosene, and due to the fan's death, this guy was standing sweating profusely beside me. Ah, it just got better!

Some 4 minutes after schedule, our train finally decided to proceed with its journey. The gentleman mentioned earlier was enjoying his train ride, happily humming some old hindi song tune and rocking gently with the train's motion, much to my chagrin. After some 3 stops or something it happened. I never saw him coming. Besides, I wasn't expecting him in such a crowded train. It wasn't even the first week of the month, nor the last. What on earth then is he doing here?

'Ticket please', he said, approaching me after checking the tickets of the other passengers. Thing is, I always kept my pass in my compass box, which I used to keep safely beside my water bottle in the innermost compartment of my backpack (Yes, those were the days when I was supercautious, much the opposite of what I am now after 4 years at IIT). Nothing more embarrassing than opening up one's backpack just for taking out a pass - could you look more stupid? Anyway, I had to, now that this ticket checker chap was standing nearby. So I went ahead with my routine - opened my bag, shifted my books, took out the calculator, opened the zip, took out the water bottle, and finally took out my pencil box. The TC was standing there, smirking at how stupid I was acting.

Until now, I was thinking my day couldn't have got any better. But now it just turned perfect. I took out my pass only to see that it had expired a week earlier! Aargh! At least I should've checked it even though I don't use it daily. Wow! A hell of a day, only to be made worse by shelling out a good 300 bucks in fine. I was thinking if there are any other worse ways to spend 300 bucks (btw, I just watched Jodha Akbar the other day in PVR cinemas, and now I am convinced that there is one way at least). How can I avoid this? What should i do?

'Oye baba, ticket please' groaned the TC. He was having a torrid time too in this crowd. Not to show that I was guilty, I confidently handed him my expired pass, even managed to pass him a polite, innocent smile. 'O mister, this pass has expired a week ago. Come on now, take out Rs. 300. You will have to pay the fine', he said and showed it to me. There was a commanding look in his eyes, and a strictness in his voice. Somewhere on his face though I spotted a smile, anticipating a quick 300 bucks. Ah the devil! Why should I pay 300 bucks when I travel only about 20 days or so to college each year, yet buy a second class quarterly pass thrice a year faithfully? I had to think fast.

There are times in life when things you learnt in your childhood strike you. Sometimes, you feel these are silly. But when you really need them, such things can be blessings in disguise. 'Ignorance is bliss' - somehow this thought came to my mind. Ah, an idea! How brilliant of me! I made a mental note to pat myself on my back as soon as I got down from this wretched train! For the time being, I have 300 bucks to save.

'Pardon me', I said, 'What do you mean 'expire'? This is ticket for train - not a medicine that will expire' I said, and all people around me burst out laughing, even that smelly dude who was standing beside me (lucky bastard got a seat somewhere along the journey!) The TC was not amused. He gave me a cold look and said, 'Okay smart guy. Enough of your jokes. Now pay the fine.' This drama went on for a few more minutes. Now I was getting well into the groove. I was arguing with the TC, showed him that the ticket was mine, showed him my name, the destination station name etc. (everything except the date) Then the TC showed me the date, and I tried my best at looking confused. I managed a frightened, innocent look, and quietly asked the TC, 'Now what should I do uncle? I didn't know it works like this.' I am not sure now, but I think I also managed to squeeze out a tear or two as well.

Now the TC looked confused. Perhaps my acting looked so genuine that he was convinced that I wasn't lying. He said that I'll have to buy another pass. Said it's called 'renewal' of the pass, and I should check the expiry date each time and make sure to buy a renewal when the date is nearing. I thanked him a lot, said I'll never repeat this mistake again. He smiled, then asked me - 'New to Mumbai?' Of course yes! I would be a fool to say no now. Guess what, I told him that ever since I've come here, I have not met as helpful a person as him - explaining everything about tickets to a poor village fellow like me. In the village in Bihar from where I come, people are not this helpful. 'But how did you realise I wasn't from Mumbai?' I asked him just for the sake of asking. 'Well, the way you hid your pass told me that', he said like a wise old chap. I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. But I was relieved that this stupid habit came to some use at least.

'Tickets please', and he was moving ahead. 'Uncle, what about the fine?' I asked again innocently. 'Never mind', he said, 'In Mumbai, we welcome Bihari baabus as guests - I cannot accept fines from our guest. Namashkar'.