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Welcome to the world of a secret romantic. Interesting individuals gifted me the backbone of the stories which wrote themselves.I have, of course, tweaked them the way my imagination would allow.Though years were lost, I plan to catch up with time now. The urge to bring the beauty of the time gone by is too strong!Enjoy!!AjayP.S.:A comment with your views at the end of the blog will be appreciated.

Wednesday, 29 April 2020

अद्भुत चरित्र - प्रथम पर्व

यह दुनिया बड़ी ही अरोचक होती, यदि इसमें रंग भरने वाले कुछ पात्र हमारी   ज़िन्दगी के सफर में हमारी राह नहीं काटते। इनके बगैर ज़िंदगी एकरंगी रह जाती है।


मेरे नौकरीपेशा जीवन का करीब एक दशक गुज़रा होगा और मै एक स्थानीय इकाई का प्रमुख अधिकारी था। एक विद्युत वितरण संस्थान में शायद कर्मचारी उड़ान तो ऊंची ना भर सकें, किन्तु रोचक चरित्रों से मुलाकात ज़रूर होती रहती है। ये कर्मचारी,आला अफसर, सरकारी अधिकारी, उपभोक्ता किसी भी वर्ग से उत्पन्न हो सकते हैं।

यह वक़्त पिछली शताब्दी के आखरी दशक के बीचोंबीच का था। पश्चिम बंगाल में मार्क्सवादियों का बोलबाला था। वामपंथी जीवन के हर पहलू में घुस चुके थे।  समाज, उद्योग, राजनीति, साहित्य...... कोई भी क्षेत्र इनसे अछूता ना था। इनको क्षमता में रहते हुए करीब ढ़ाई दशक हो चुके थे, और इस वक़्त का इन्होंने पूरा फायदा उठाया था। बड़ी ही कुशलता से साम, दाम, दंड, भेद का प्रयोग करते हुए, वामपंथी किसी भी संस्था के ऊपर से नीचे तक कब्ज़ा कर चुके थे।

पहले की तरह अब उन्हें हिंसा की ज़रूरत नहीं पड़ती थी, पर हिंसा से वह अभी भी कतराते नहीं थे। अब उनकी बातों में शालीनता तो थी, पर भाव में सज्जनता न थी। अगर इससे काम नहीं हुआ तो वह पुरानी गुंडागर्दी सामने आते देर नहीं लगती थी।

ऐसी स्थिति में, मेरे संस्थान में दो श्रमिक संघ (Trade Unions) मान्यता प्राप्त थे। एक तो मार्क्सवादी संघ था जो कि काकी ताकतवर था और दूसरा  भारतीय कम्युनिस्ट पार्टी का  - जो एक ज़माने में काफी मजबूत हुआ करता  था  पर उसका प्रभाव क्रमशः घटता जा रहा था।

इन दोनों संघों में क‌ई भिन्नतायें थीं।

ज़्यादातर मार्क्सवादी संघ के सदस्य बंगाली हुआ करते थे और CPI  के सदस्य अधिकतर बिहार और उत्तर प्रदेश के मूल निवासी होते थे। दोनों संघ की मानसिकता में भी काफी अंतर था पर ऊपरी तहों को हटा दिया जाता तो यह साफ था कि असली मुद्दा ज़्यादा से ज़्यादा पैसे कमाने का था। पर तरीका अलग था और दलीलें  भिन्न हुए करती थी।

मार्क्सवादी कभी भी प्रत्यक्ष रूप से ज़्यादा पैसों की मांग नहीं करते थे। पर उसी काम को टुकड़ों में भाग कर, हर भाग के लिए अलग राशि की अदायगी चाहते थे और उसके लिए घंटों तक वितर्क करने को तैयार रहते थे। और अधिकतर वह इसे वसूल करने में सक्षम भी रहते थे।

कम्युनिस्टों का तरीका और था। वह इन बारीकियों में नहीं घुसते थे। उनका कहना साफ था - जो काम करवाना है, कर देंगे पर रकम पहले से तय हो जानी चाहिए। उसने दलील, तर्क की कोई गुंजाइश नहीं रहती थी। और अधिकारियों की दलील सुनने को भी तैयार नहीं रहते थे। पर एक बार सहमति हो गई तो फिर काम में कोई कोताही भी ना करते थे और जितना भी काम दिया जाए वह खत्म करने के बाद ही वापस लौटते थे।

दोनों संघों में एक और भिन्नता भी थी। मार्क्स वादियों की बातचीत करने की शैली में शालीनता तो थी पर सभ्यता न थी। अगर उनकी बात ना बने तो अधिकारियों की बेइज्जती करने में वह ज्यादा देर ना करते थे। और उन्हें किसी बात का भय तो था नहीं क्योंकि हर संयंत्र के कई आला अफसर उनकी जेब में थे।

कम्युनिस्टों का तरीका इससे बिलकुल विपरीत था। तर्क वितर्क के समय आवाजें ऊंची हो सकती थी किंतु अधिकारियों की बेइज्जती वह कभी न करते थे। शायद इसीलिए कई अधिकारी उनकी इस सभ्यता को नरमी समझते थे।

इस सतही शिष्टता के  छलावे के कारण ज्यादातर सुपरवाइजर भी मार्क्सवादी संघ के ही सदस्य थे और मार्क्सवादीयों की नीति के अनुसार वह कम्युनिस्टों के मजदूर दल पर ज्यादती करने से बाज भी नहीं आते थे।

दोनों संघों के सदस्यों के बीच हमेशा तनाव तो बना रहता था किंतु एक ऊपरी शांति का दिखावा रहता था क्योंकि मुकाबला बराबरी का ना था। वैसे तो राजनीति में मार्क्सवादी हो और कम्युनिस्टों का गठबंधन था पर चलती बंगाल में मार्क्सवादियों की ही थी।

पर यह तो संघों का चरित्र था। उनके सदस्यों का चरित्र भांति भांति का होता था और यह संघों के चरित्र से बिल्कुल विपरीत भी हो सकता था।

ऐसी स्थिति में चलिए हम चलते हैं अपनी इस कहानी के नायक या खलनायक की ओर। नसीर खान बिहार से आया हुआ ५७/ ५८ साल का एक मिस्त्री था। वह  कम्युनिस्टों का सदस्य था और साधारण राय के अनुसार बेहद ही भ्रष्टाचारी था। भ्रष्टाचारी होने के साथ उसके बारे में लोगों की एक बहुत बड़ी शिकायत यह भी थी कि वह भ्रष्टाचार के पैसे किसी साथी के साथ बांटता भी नहीं था।

शिकायतें तो बहुत आईं पर वह इतना शातिर था कि उसे कभी रंगे हाथ पकड़ा ना गया। इसके अलावाउसे लोगों से झगड़ने की आदत  थी  पर उसकी खराब जबान के कारण कोई उस से उलझना नहीं चाहता था। उसे यह भी मालूम था की अगर वह फंसता है तो उसे बचाने में सक्षम केवल अधिकारीगण ही हो सकते हैं इसलिए वह कभी भी किसी अधिकारी के साथ खराब व्यवहार ना करता था।

पर एक दिन तो उसने हद ही कर दी। अभी सुबह के करीब 9:30 ही बजे होंगे कि मेरे दफ्तर में टेलीफोन की घंटी बज उठी। अरुण राय,  जो नसीर का सुपरवाइजर था और मार्क्सवादी यूनियन का नेता भी था दूसरी तरफ लाइन पर था। अरुण राय उत्तेजित कभी नहीं होता था किंतु उसकी आवाज से यह साफ था कि कोई अप्रिय घटना घटी थी। उसने मुझे साइट ऑफिस में आने का अनुरोध किया और यह भी बताया कि जो मेरे अधीन अफसर थे, मामला उनके काबू के बाहर जा चुका था।

जब मैं साइट ऑफिस पहुंचा तो देखा की वातावरण में काफी तनाव था। मुझे बताया गया कि आज सुबह-सुबह जब नसीर से पिछले दिन की कार्यवाही के बारे में पूछा गया तो उसने अपने सुपरवाइजर को भद्दी-भद्दी गालियां दीं। चूंकि उसका सुपरवाइजर अरुण राय खुद था और वह नेता भी था तो उसने बात को अपने हाथ में लेने से बेहतर यह समझा कि इस बात को सुलझाने का दायित्व अधिकारियों के पल्ले सौंप दिया जाए। एक कारण यह भी था की नसीर की जुबान के साथ वह उलझना नहीं चाहता था।

मैंने अरुण राय से पूछा कि क्या-क्या गालियां नसीर ने दी थीं और जब अरुण गाय ने विस्तार से मुझे शब्द प्रति शब्द गालियां बताईं तो बड़ी मुश्किल से मैं अपनी हंसी रोक पाया। गंभीर चेहरा बनाए हुए मैंने नसीर को बुलाया। नसीर तो ऐसे प्रस्तुत हुआ जैसे कुछ हुआ ही ना हो और आते ही एक शानदार सलाम ठोका।

"तुमने राय बाबू को गालियां दीं?" मैंने पूछा‌।

"जी हां! साहब।"  सत्यानाश! यह तो खुलेआम स्वीकार कर रहा था!

"तुमने ऐसा क्यों किया?" मेरा अगला सवाल स्वाभाविक था।

"साहब, इच्छा तो क‌ई दिनों से थी, पर आज रोक नहीं पाया।" तर्क तो अकाट्य था।

"क्यों ऐसी इच्छा हो रही थी?" मैं भी कहां छोड़ने वाला था।

"अरे साहब, आप तो इन शैतानो को तो जानते ही हैं। बदमाश के जड़ हैं, दिमाग में केवल खुराफात भरा है।" नसीर के मुंह से ये बातें अजीब लग रहीं थीं।

उल्टा चोर कोतवाल को डांटे? इन मार्क्सवादियों के लिये कोतवाल शब्द का प्रयोग थोड़ा अजीब लगेगा, पर कोई सटीक मुहावरा मिल नहीं रहा था।

"रोज रोज हिसाब लेने लगते हैं। सामान के इस्तेमाल में थोड़ी भी कमी मिले, तो बिल्कुल सर पर ही चढ़ जाते हैं। इंसान के माफिक व्यवहार करना सीखा ही नहीं है।" नसीर की शिकायतें जारी थीं।

"तो हिसाब लेना उनका काम है, इसमें गलत क्या है?"  मैंने नसीर को बीच में ही टोका।

"अरे साहब आप भी क्या अजीब बात करते हैं? किसी चोर को कोई हिसाब देता है क्या?" नसीर में नया तर्क दागा।

"चोर? तुमने अपने सुपरवाइजर को चोर कहा? शर्म नहीं आती है ?" मैंने उसे बीच में ही रोका। यह तो स्थिति को और खराब करने वाला था।

"साहब चोर को चोर नहीं तो और क्या कहूं?" वह छोड़ने वाला नहीं था।

"तुम्हें अपने साहब की इज्जत करनी चाहिए और तुम उन पर बेबुनियाद इल्जाम लगाए जा रहे हो?" मैंने नसीर को सख्ती से टोका।

"साहब आप नहीं समझेंगे, पर मुझे हर चीज मालूम है।"

"हां सारी दुनिया अनजान है और तुम्हें सब मालूम है? तुम कोई देवता, पैगंबर हो क्या?" मैं बात अब अधिक बढ़ाना नहीं चाहता था।

"हां हुजूर मैं पैगंबर ही तो हूं। लोग मुझे पागल कहते हैं वह अलग बात है।" उसने न‌यीलीक पकड़ ली।

"पागल? तुम्हें पागल किसने कहा?" मैंने कह तो दिया, पर मन ही मन मैंने उसे पागल, बदमाश,......... कई सारी उपाधियां दे रखी थी।

"साहब मैं झूठ नहीं बोलता हूं। मेरे पास सर्टिफिकेट भी है।" नसीर ने नया बम दागा।

"सर्टिफिकेट? पागलपन का सर्टिफिकेट? कहां है दिखाओ।" इस झूठ को मैं बिना पकड़े छोड़ने वाला ना था। कोई पागलपन का सर्टिफिकेट भी लेकर घूमता है क्या? और कोई डॉक्टर अपने मरीज को पागलपन का सर्टिफिकेट देता है क्या?

पर नसीर तो नसीर ही था। उसने ऐसी स्थिति की भी तैयारी कर रखी थी। जेब में हाथ डाला और एक पुराना सा पर्चा निकाल कर मेरे हाथ में थमा दिया।

मैंने पर्ची को खोला। यह बांगड़ हस्पताल के डॉक्टर का पर्चा था। पर्चा कम से कम पांच छः साल पुराना था । उसमें मैंने डॉक्टर के नाम के नीचे देखा उपाधि में साइकैटरिस्ट (मनोवैज्ञानिक चिकीत्सक)  लिखा हुआ था और कुछ मानसिक बीमारियों का ब्यौरा भी दिया हुआ था। कुछ दवाइयां भी लिखी हुई थी।

कुछ वक्त लिए तो मुझे समझ ही नहीं आया कि मैं आगे क्या करूं। पर मैंने अपने आप पर काबू पाया और उससे बताया " शायद तुम्हें फिर से यह दौरे आने लगे हैं। इसका इलाज करने के लिए तुम्हें समय देता हूं और तुम्हें इसी मुहूर्त सस्पेंड करता हूं। तुम जाकर कार्यालय के डॉक्टर से मिलो और उनसे इलाज करवाने के लिए परचा लिखवा लो। इसके बाद तुम तभी लौटना जब तुम पूरी तरह मानसिक रूप से स्वस्थ हो।"

नसीर मेरी तरफ देखा, मुस्कुराया, सलाम किया और चलता बना।

अगर उसने पागलपन का पर्चा न दिखाया होता तो उस पर कार्यवाही होती और वेतन में शायद कटौती की जाती। पर उसने अपने पागलपन का सबूत देकर अपने आप को इन सारी चीजों से बचा लिया था। हां! उसे कुछ दिन घर पर रहना पड़ता और वह फिर से बिना किसी नुकसान के काम पर वापस आ सकता था।

हर कोई यह जानता था कि वह पागल तो बिल्कुल भी नहीं है। शैतान जरूर है। और इसी खुराफाती दिमाग ने उसे पहले से यह आगाह कर दिया होगा कि एक पागलपन के पर्चे कि उसे किसी ने किसी दिन जरूरत होगी। इस पर्चे को न केवल उस ने बनवाया, पर बहुत ही सहेज कर रखा था केवल ऐसी ही आपदा से बचने के लिए।

 शैतानी दूरदर्शिता की ऐसी मिसाल कम देखने को मिलती है!


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Sunday, 26 April 2020

The Expert


Ravi was humming as he fumbled with his neck-tie. It had been some time but he was still quite good at getting the knot right the first time. He looked at his work in the mirror.

“Yes! It was perfect!” He thought to himself.

He looked around and was just able to catch a glimpse of the smile on his wife’s face.  He understood that she had been observing his actions for a while and suddenly he felt bashful like a teenager who had been caught staring at a beautiful girl.

He, of course, was no teenager. He was well past the halfway mark into his seventh decade on this God’s earth and this assignment had come his way after quite a gap – was it five years? More like six, but they still valued him.  And he had kept in touch with the developments in the industry.

The industry had been his life, and he had always striven to be the best in it. He had always been in demand for the seminars, the conferences and the expert group meetings.  But he preferred to skip most of them, because the majority of them were more like places to network rather than of learning and development that they were meant to be.

He preferred to keep up with the latest developments and gain new insights into the technology by continuously trying out new procedures, by discussions with the people who actually did the work on the ground, because they were the ones who could provide the best, most reliable data and insights. There was, of course, the usual bunch of networking “experts” whose only claim to fame was that they knew everybody who was anybody in the industry. That they had only a superficial notion about the subject matter or the technology did not matter. They had the knack of spewing out the same garbage in conference after conference, in one meeting and the next.

He did not grudge them their attitude, and had nothing but contempt for them though he was careful not to show it. These were the people who had long lost the passion for the subject and had discovered the advantages that the right networking could provide them in joining the who’s who of the industry. They had egos bigger than their capabilities and also the position to wield power, which they did from time to time. They may not have much to contribute to the growth of the industry, but they were in a position to stop those that could.

While he preferred to keep his distance from them, they did not have the luxury of reciprocating this gesture. When there was real work to be done, they would approach him, entreat him to help out. Helping out meant doing the entire thing, but he did not mind. He was too involved in becoming the best. They were welcome to use his findings, his ideas and present them as their own, as long as they did not try to influence results or conclusions. To him, it did not matter who took credit, as long as his ideas were implemented.

He had always been passionate about passing on his knowledge and had been diligently recording concepts in a note book (actually several note books!) throughout his career. It was his dream to compile his life’s work when he retired into a book that he hoped would be regarded as the most authentic work in the field. The raw material was there, and he had been collating the random bits of knowledge to weave it into a complete body of work for a few years. After nearly four years of focussed work, the job was done. He had sent out manuscripts to a few people in the industry to get opinions and suggestions. He had been waiting for a reply for some time but none came. He had followed up with the recipients from time to time, but nothing concrete had emerged.

Till last month!

The call had come out of the blue. It was someone whose professional company he had enjoyed earlier and someone with whom he had a love hate relationship when he was employed. More often than not, there had been disagreements but in spite of that, there had always been a healthy respect for each other. He was also one of those who had received Ravi’s manuscript, and whose opinion was awaited – with some eagerness tinged with some apprehension.  

Randhir Sharma was both a friend and an adversary – and a formidable one at that. A couple of years junior to Ravi, Randhir had taken up many assignments for various organizations as he was more professionally ”prudent”. Randhir was aware that to be considered a serious expert, one needed more than a body of work – one needed to be seen at the right places and with the right people.

He did not share Ravi’s contempt for the “conference crowd” for he understood their use and their power. He, therefore, kept up his regular interactions with them, showed deference- in stark opposition to Ravi’s scarcely veiled contempt,  and continued to be a regular a the conferences and ministry level meetings of the policymakers. This also provided him with a series of consulting assignments – most of which did not require his technological skills – but quite a bit of the weight of his recommendations to the right people and his endorsement of a technologically mediocre but financially rewarding idea.

Therefore, a call from Randhir with an invite to attend a conference as a speaker came not as a complete surprise, but with a pleasant expectation of good tidings. Randhir was evasive about the topic on which Ravi was to speak, but kept reassuring Ravi that whichever the topic he would be assigned would be right up his alley. This reluctance to be more forthcoming was a clear indicator that his manuscript was certainly likely to be one of the major topics of discussion. In fact, Ravi was willing to wager that some sort of endorsement was certainly o the cards.

A book to be discussed on an open platform prior to it being published was a bit odd, but then Ravi was not a newcomer. He was certain that his reputation as an oft acknowledged expert of some standing and proven credibility was still intact in spite of his absence from the circuit for quite a time.

In the intervening period between the invite and the event, Ravi spent all his time going over the manuscript again and again to be completely prepared for any questions on his work. He did not need to do this, for it was his life’s work and he was so conversant with the topic that he seriously doubted that there were many people who could challenge any of the ideas that he had propounded.

He was sure that the younger generation of professionals would benefit immensely from the work.  He believed that the work had the potential to change the way people worked in his field and that history would thank him for being such a visionary.

He was ready. The suit had become a little loose, the hair a little thin, the wrinkles a little more pronounced, but he still had a presence! Most people earlier found it quite unnerving to face him in a debate, and he was sure he still retained the same quality. Maybe……not as strong, but even though he had mellowed with age, he was still quite daunting!

Was Abhi ready? He did not want to be late, that was not his habit.  Good that Abhi had offered to drop him; else he would have to take a cab, which is something he did not like at all. Earlier he would not depend on anyone to transport him, but months of staying away from the steering wheel had taken away the confidence. But Abhi was a good boy……… that he was! And Ravi had tried to keep up with their generation.  They thought differently, but the basic traits of respect and innovation had not deserted their generation, contrary to what many others of his generation believed.

As he came out from his bedroom, he found Abhi gulping down a toast and the boiled egg that would follow was waiting its turn in the other hand.  This was something that he disliked about Abhi’s generation – they were always in a hurry, so little patience for some important things like breakfast and lunch!  Always rushing! He shook his head, but held his tongue.

“Morning, Dad! All set?” Abhi enquired.

“Yes, I think so.” He checked his pockets. Handkerchief ….check, wallet….check, pen…..check! Yes, he was ready.

“Dad, what time will you be back? You remember, no? Bhaskar is joining us for dinner!”

“Bhaskar?  Who Bhaskar?” Ravi was perplexed. He could not for the life of him recall any Bhaskar.

“Dad! I told you, no? Bhaskar?  My room-mate in college? Ring a bell? I told you he was going to be in town for a meeting or something, and that he would be joining us for dinner. “

“Yes! Yes! Now I remember! Actually, you spoke about him so many times, but I never met him, that is why I could not recall. I will be back before he comes.” Ravi answered defensively.

“Do you want me to pick you up in the evening?” Abhi asked.

“No! No! The organizers have arranged for a drop. You don’t worry!”

“Ok!” Abhi was ready.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
As Ravi reached the venue, after many years he felt the butterflies return to his stomach. He had forgotten the feeling may years ago, but their return was totally unexpected. He was nervous! He had not been nervous on his first day at college, at office, when he glared his boss down early on in his career, when he got married….. in fact, probably he had never been nervous after the day he proposed to Lily! It was another matter that Lily had turned him down, and probably it was then he decided that being nervous was not worth it.

As he entered the hall, he felt a little out of place. There were so many new faces.  The people he was familiar with did not seem to be around.  As he scanned the faces, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Hello Ravi!” Finally a known face!  Randhir looked old! Of course he did! He was meeting Randhir after many years. They had spoken of and on over calls, but had not met for so many years.  But Randhir’s appearance shocked him. The years had not been kind to him.

“Ravi, you ok? You have lost a lot of weight! I hope your health is holding up.  But so good to see you after such a long time.  You know, I really miss those debates we had then. Truth be told, I have not come across a mind as sharp as yours till now. But now that you are here today, I am sure I will enjoy the session.” The broad smile on Randhir’s face was testimony to his sincerity.

Randhir took it upon himself to introduce him to the current crop of “thought leaders”. There were a few vaguely known faces but most of the guys were new to him. They politely acknowledged him, but the deference of yesteryears was missing.  He tried to become part of the discussions, but he had been away too long. The references to people and events eluded him, even the jargon had changed. Randhir, on the other hand was perfectly at home. He went around meeting and greeting people, stopped for a chat here, a joke there….. Apparently, he was still a part of the crowd!

Soon the session started. The usual meaningless ceremonies that are planned to pamper to the ego of the Chief Guests and other dignitaries took up a good part of the hour after which tea was served. After tea, the business of presentations started but Ravi’s mind was only waiting for something interesting to happen – and what could be more interesting than a discussion on his work?!!? But the hour dragged on with no reference to his work came up.

Lunch was a crowded, noisy affair. People were seeking out other people with who they wanted to connect. Some young guys, obviously new to the circuit (probably only in their first couple of years in the industry) huddled together and were having a subdued interaction. While most looked a little lost, some looked bored and a few were already picking up the tricks of the trade – walking upto whoever looked a little important, and handing over their business cards.

Ravi saw a group of people who were closer to his age and joined them. A few in the group were those he thought he recognized, and a few who did recognize him. The conversation was polite but there was no real camaraderie.  

As lunch got over, the business of the afternoon session started.  Randhir called up his name. He was apparently one of the dignitaries of this last session. Randhir introduced the people on the podium to the audience which for him was a little odd. He never required any introduction, but apparently this was done for the benefit of the younger group. Once the introductions were done, it was time for a couple of papers to be presented. There was an open question and answer session after each presentation and it appeared that he, along with his co-panellists, was supposed to not only moderate the session but also ask most of the questions.

This was something that was right up his alley, and something that he really enjoyed. As the first paper was presented, Ravi became aware that the concepts being presented were in direct contrast to his own experience. Surely, the author of the paper could not be so naïve as to attempt to draw wool over the eyes of such an experienced panel!! And surprisingly, no one was objecting. Had standards fallen so much? Maybe the people were waiting for the Q&A session to start.
The presenter went on and on, saying things with great conviction, but the hypothesis, the conclusions were clearly incorrect. Ravi was having a difficult time restraining himself from intervening. The irritation was clear to see. Randhir soon noticed it and became apprehensive. He could recall the times that Ravi had torn apart a presenter savagely in the past for having been argumentative and theoretical. He did not want a repeat of those times.

As soon as the presentation was over, Randhir took the lead in starting he Q&A session.  The questions were carefully crafted and asked in such a manner as to not allow Ravi to take over and hence avoid the ugly scenes that Randhir was apprehensive about. But it was proving quite difficult. The young guy, probably recently out of an MBA course and shortly before from an Engineering institute was not to be cowed down. The more Randhir tried to divert him away from the contentious issues, the more the young guy dug in his heels.

Soon, Ravi had enough. He took on the young upstart in a manner only he could. The voice was calm but the simmering anger was not to be missed. The guy was at the receiving end of the wrath and also the full range of years of experience of one of the leading lights of yester years. The possible alternatives were dealt with in a manner which was as masterly as it was full of conviction. The master at work could not, would not be ignored by a Johnny come lately.

And yet, the young guy, what was his name… Kashyap! Yes, Kashyap would not surrender. He had heard Ravi through, but at the end, he presented the references to many studies, many publications to completely destroy Ravi’s arguments. His conviction or confidence was not to be shaken. He may not have the experience but was not short of material.

Randhir was getting uneasy. He knew Ravi too well. Ravi would not let go and the end would be as chaotic as one could expect. He tried to cool things down by offering to return to the issue after other questions were answered. But he knew that it would be in vain. Ravi refused to move on and instead took off on a diatribe so vicious that it was impossible to even attempt to stop him. The attack was a mixture of nuggets of experience and contempt for incompetence. Ravi was in full flow and all Randhir could do was to beseechingly look at Kashyap to avoid further confrontation.

Fortunately, Kashyap got the message. At the end of the onslaught, he refused to react. He held his silence and Randhir quickly stepped in to close the session. The interest in any case had been eroded and most people were happy to see the ugly situation come to an end. After a quick vote of thanks the session was brought to a close.

As people were saying their goodbyes and collecting their stuff, Ravi confronted Randhir. How could such nincompoops be allowed to peddle their rubbish and go unchallenged? All these topics had been dealt with in his work. Which reminded him - “Have you been able to study my manuscript? Can you give me some idea if anything else needs to be added?”

Randhir apologised “Sorry I know it has been some time but I promise I shall soon give you a detailed feedback. But now, I need to see off some people. Do you have the phone number of the driver who will drop you? Yes? Good!” And Randhir hastened away after a quick shake of the hand.

Ravi reached home. Fortunately, the car was not parked which meant that Abhi had not returned. He had time for a quick wash and a shave. 

 It had not been a very satisfactory day, what with his life's work not even getting a mention and the young pup Kashyap having the audacity to challenge his experience. 

How could Randhir be so casual about his work, when it contained a gist of years of experience?

But he had at least put Kashyap in his place. Kashyap would think twice before taking on an experienced person. These guys with their new fangled ides! He had been taught a masterly lesson!

As he changed into comfortable Jeans and shirt and as he was applying a generous splash of cologne, Abhi walked in. “Dad! Good you are here. Bhaskar has just come in. Will you join us? Bhaskar has had a horrible day! Some washed out old geezer in his programme kept on and on full of rubbish and old defunct concepts and refused to stop. That is why Bhaskar got delayed. Anyway, let’s cheer him up! Come, we are waiting!”
Ravi agreed. Sure, a couple of stiff drinks would put things in order. And thanks to Bhaskar, he would also receive some goodies today, instead of the bland meals that he had been given ever since he was diagnosed with diabetes.

He walked into the sitting room, and as he saw Bhaskar, he came to an abrupt halt. The ground seemed to slip from under his feet.

Kashyap looked up in surprise at the “old geezer” who had spoilt his day!

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Monday, 6 April 2020

Unlikely Heroes


Ramesh placed the last items on his desk in order as he prepared to call it a day. It had been a day like any other and most of the people had already left. In one corner of the office were the usual hanger-ons, who waited beyond the stipulated hours to not only impress the boss, but also to have the free snacks that were provided by the office for those who worked late.

Ramesh detested these people but as was his habit, he held is tongue. He detested many other things, but kept quiet about them too. People usually did not notice him for there was nothing really noticeable about him.

He was………..ordinary!

No one really knew what he thought, what he felt, what his opinions were, or whether he had any. He might have been part of the furniture for all the attention that he got.

Probably he liked it that way, but no one really knew that either. His reactions were predictable. He would nod when the boss spoke, clap when everyone did, bow his head when someone was getting lambasted, smile when someone broke a piece of good news, always hang around at the fringes of a gathering, neither being part of it, nor away from it.

No one really ever wondered about his home, his family, his joys, his sorrows, his likes, his dislikes and he existed in this universe as one of the many specks of dust that everyone knows is there, but nobody really gives a second thought to. When there was a meeting, he never volunteered a response, though he would answer pointed questions. He was not shy, and he was definitely not an extrovert.

No one knew if he had a close friend. if his son had done well at school, whether his parents lived with him, whether he loved dogs or hated them, whether a particular dish was his favourite, whether he loved or hated his job or whether he was indifferent to it. His work never drew any praise nor did it draw any criticism.
He was, yet he wasn’t!

He double checked his carry-on bag which contained his lunch box, a small towel, his cell phone (it was easy to lose cell phones in local trains!), his wallet (same reason!), and a news paper. As he prepared to leave, he closed his eyes briefly and muttered a small prayer to himself. This was a routine from which he never deviated and was one of the rare expressive things that people would notice about him, if they paid attention, which no one apparently did.

As he exited the building, he permitted himself the one luxury that he indulged in – bought a cigarette, lit it and drew the smoke into his lungs with his eyes closed. The smell would be gone by the time he reached home.
He stated walking towards the station from where he would board a local train for the hour long journey to the suburban town which had been his home since childhood. The trains usually on this route would be crowded, but the fact that his office timings were a little later than usual and he, unlike most of his colleagues, left about half an hour late made him miss the peak crowd which was a blessing!
The leisurely walk along the riverfront to the pier was enjoyable in the evening and as he walked, he noticed that a bit of disturbance to his left.

He paused.

It seemed that a couple of young guys were heckling an elderly person. He quietly watched the drama unfold. The old man was not to be cowed down. But the young guys were gradually gaining the upper hand and it was clear that soon the old man would be the recipient of some hefty blows. Ramesh’s nondescript presence came in handy in such situations as he moved closer. It was surprising that no one else was interfering and trying to defuse the ugly situation.

As things got heated up, Ramesh stepped in!

“Enough! You fellows have no shame? Trying to bully a man who is as old as your father? Care to try it on me?” There was steel in his voice and the cold stare was unnerving! This was a different Ramesh, as the youngsters would soon find out, if they did not desist. The young guys were a little taken aback, because this person did not look physically threatening, but his look was a different matter. It was a game of nerves and the youngsters were quickly losing ground.

The people passing by also slowed down and some actually stopped. Though no one actually intervened, it was clear that any wrong move by the youngsters would not have very pleasant consequences for them.
Finally, muttering a few futile threats, the young men backed away and left. There was silence all around which was broken by a round of sudden applause. Ramesh felt uncomfortable with all this attention and quickly moved on. He was a hero, but others applauding his brave and selfless actions was not easy to accept.

As he reached the station, he was feeling satisfied and even a little aggressive. He would not, could not accept these bullies, these hooligans trying to cow down simple, vulnerable folks. If he had to be the unlikely hero, no matter! He would seize back the country from these rascals and the place would once again be the oasis of peace and prosperity that he had heard about. If he had to be a leader, he would be. If people needed protection, he would be with them.

Not only hooligans, he would fight all sorts of injustices. The poverty, the lack of opportunities for the young men, the domination of the weaker section by the stronger ones, the exploitation, the bullying, the distress ……… he would fight them all. And the people would join him, initially a few, then more and more. And they would have a champion, for they deserved a champion. If he was destined to be that champion, so be it.
The train had moved on and as he sat in a corner, he took out the newspaper to scan the news. There was never enough time in the morning for the newspaper and all attempts to cajole the vendor to deliver it early had failed. He had reconciled himself, like many of the daily commuters, to living with a lag of a day with the rest of the world.

As the train moved on, people were constantly getting in and getting off, without the crowd becoming any the less. It was only in the last part of the journey that the crowd started thinning a bit though most of the people got off at the last station.

With about a quarter of an hour to go, he noticed a commotion at the other end of the compartment. He ignored it but the commotion was growing bigger by the minute and soon it was clear that things were going out of hand. The man next to him was muttering something under his breath. He caught the words …”regular”, “locals”, “hooligans”…. “Police” and soon he got a fair picture of what was happening.

There was a group of everyday commuters who got off at the last station and who claimed some sort of ownership over a particular corner of this carriage. They played cards in that corner and most regulars avoided sitting there so as not to get into trouble. These players were real tough guys and insolent to boot! Several times in the past, they had resorted to strong arm tactics to remove “encroachers” from their corner.
Today, it seemed one gentleman was refusing to move away and very soon, Ramesh felt, there would be fists flying. But with his newfound confidence, he would not allow it today.

He got up from his seat and moved forward, till he was just at the edge of the crowd engaged in the arguments. Voices were raised and that lone voice of the “encroacher” was clearly not supported by the crowd, who preferred not to attract trouble for themselves. Ramesh was sure that the time for the other eight to start with the blows was not far away. He moved forward.

As he neared the scene of the commotion, he saw a frail looking man standing up to the eight bullies while a bunch of onlookers steadfastly refused to intervene. Ramesh stepped in front of the lone protestor and firmly asked the eight to back off. They were a little surprised at this unexpected intrusion, but were in no mood to comply. Suddenly one of them pushed Ramesh and he fell down. This made his blood boil. He got up and before anyone could understand he delivered a solid slap on the cheeks of the person who had pushed him. As soon as this happened, the others ganged up and blows were raining on Ramesh.

This somehow galvanized the crowd and they all started beating up the three bullies. The lone victim and Ramesh too joined in the melee and soon the eight rascals were subdued. The crowd which had seen this bullying on many occasions were today transformed by the heroism of a single man – and an unlikely one at that. Ramesh was the stuff that heroes are not made of. But he had stepped up and led a micro revolution. There was a tear in his shirt but that would have to suffice as a battle scar.

As the train reached his station, the police was called and the hooligans handed over. There was a series of people congratulating Ramesh for his bravery but all he wanted to do was escape to his home. His biggest worry now was to find out a way to avoid his wife Runa’s wrath for having had his shirt torn.

As he neared home, he could not drum up a plausible excuse to explain his torn shirt and the bruises on his face and knuckles. Reluctantly he decided to tell her the truth. Maybe that was best. She might actually be proud that her husband was a hero, if she believed him. She was a woman with a sharp tongue and it was rare that anything that he did made her proud.

As he rang the bell, he could hear her approaching the door. He steeled himself for the onslaught that he would face when she saw his appearance. The earlier he could start explaining the shorter the onslaught would be. And the look of pride when she heard his story would be worth it all!

As the door opened, Runa looked at him, but did not say anything. She just moved aside to let him pass. He was a little perplexed. No reaction, no shouting, nothing………

He decided to explain himself anyway. As he narrated his story, Runa listened with her hands on her hips saying nothing. As he finished his story he looked for the pride in her eyes but there was only exasperation there.

Saying nothing, she caught him by his arm and dragged him to the washbasin which had a mirror on top of it.
He looked at himself, no bruises, no blood.

He looked at his shirt. No tear, a little crumpled but nothing else.

Runa looked at him gently.
“You don’t need to be a superhero. I have accepted you as you are. Please get rid of these fantasies, they mean nothing to me.” There were tears in her eyes.

These words rang out in his head, again and again and again……

He was not the unlikely hero that he wanted others to see him as.

At the pier he had wanted to intervene, but had actually hurried away, lest the cry for help reach him before he moved out of range.

In the train, he had steadfastly continued to stare outside the window while the lone person’s troubles increased. He wanted to intervene, but was too scared of the hooligans. He just prayed that his station would come before the violence started.

It was all a game that his imagination played on him.

He hung his head in shame!



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