I'll come along with my lawyer and drag you to court

I'll come along with my lawyer and drag you to court ...

On a routine day of my profession one is bound to see a panoply of faces around. Happy faces, sad faces, angry faces, despondent faces, lost faces: In this short span of time I've seen multiple ones. With each face comes a unique personality which I have to deal with. Most of them are easily dealt with and those  "which" aren't are simply snubbed openly. I would say it is one of the luxuries of working in a bureaucratic setup. But this one face tore trough all my offences and defenses and made me pen down this experience.

On a very busy Saturday came a man: A wrinkly old face with a trembling voice and a twitching body. On his shoulder a heavy bag hung along, so precious to the man that he might be treating it as his body part. After standing in the queue for about half an hour he came to my desk, kept his heavy bag on the table and pulled out a 5 pound collection of old documents.

Giving me a piercing gaze he pulled out  his pension papers from his bag and began,"You bankers have colluded with railway authorities and as a result I was devoid of promotion in 1978".  In the middle of day standing in between fifty highly irritating people, facing people like these is bound to be a painstaking experience. Now many of you might have dealt with these kind of situations but this is not why I am penning down this article. 

Having created enough upheaval in our rather monotonous lives, the man eventually became an object of caricature.  Our frustration gave way to laughter and our man was conveniently ignored. The supposed lunatic old man probably still had some sanity left in him. Seeing our behavior the "man" burst into anger, he shouted at me particularly(maybe I reminded him of something unpleasant!!).  He yelled that his wife left this world while fighting this case! Without wasting much time he took out his account pass book. Inside the book was a picture that haunted me to my core. 

I have never seen two people(in a photograph): Man and Wife at this level of peace with each other: Smiling the most heavenly smile a couple can manage. I saw the "man's" eyes. The age had taken its toll but the eyes still belonged to a man who valued his self respect more that anything. Lost, were his eyes perhaps in those prime years of his life. 

Suddenly I realized that I and most of us are going to go down the same path. The path will take us to a point where we'll probably become irritating old beings: A burden on the younger ones, harassing future bankers blaming them for promotional delays. The only thing that I can hope for is that when I reach that stage of lunacy, I find something like that photograph that gives me an iota of peace!Some moments in journey of life that remind me never to lose my self respect, reminding me what kind of a man I was! I pray the same for you all! My array of thoughts was broken by the old man who said," I'll come along with my lawyer and take you to court". He carried along his heavy leather body part and left while I watched all along, pondering about my old age. Then my supervisor said," The office is open on Sunday, do come " and things returned back to normal.  Not so much of a bureaucratic organisation eh! 

A call from ........The White Tiger

In case you're wondering whether this 'tall','dark', 'amazing','handsome', 'awesome','vibrant','I ran out of words' young man is me.....I hate to disappoint you.

It all transpired a couple of months back, it was high time for UPSC mains and the only thing I could see is the Indian architecture styles, desperately trying to mug up but without much success. My subtle calls for a distraction were heard when an unknown number from Karnataka(courtesy: Free wala truecaller) appeared on my phone. I instantly picked up the call (I mean what could be more mundane than mugging the kind of cements used through history). A man's voice( and my hopes of the caller being the girl whom I had a crush in college were smashed.....again!) from the other side uttered, "Aree bhayiya, kaise ho?.......Pehchana?" with a garnishing of bhojpuri accent. The call came as a pleasant suprise for me and I replied, "Rajkumar Yadav, bhai kaise ho?"

Rajkumar yadav aka Raju was our cook cum kam wali bai in our college days, he is the reason because of which I could live a dignified life in college, distinguished from a room where under garments are seen resting on a sofa or on a laptop, even a plate(yes sadly its true..huh!) which is characteristic of college boys. He was our residency cook back then and soon became a part of our gang.

Rajkumar(A grand name..isn't it) is slightly different from your average domestic help. He has that one thing: a quality that some of us try to inculcate, a trait that most of us have failed to master, an attitude that is hallmark of the great. To sum it up in simple words he is made of the same intangible stuff that Ranchod das Chanchad was made of : A sense of curiosity and A desire to learn.

Within a matter of months Raju learned to operate a laptop, a machine that was completely alien to him. He learned English alphabets an their rough pronunciation. Combine all this with a true bhojpuri guy and what you get is a all day long bhojpuri song marathon on a Sunday on youtube(trust me... avoid it!). After getting hold of youtube Raju became what i can arguably call the biggest fan of that 'cool', 'educating','decent' and a 'reality' show that we all used to watch fondly in college....(come on don't be shy.....no prizes for guessing). Yes, he became a fan of Roadies(boo yeah, yo!). Such was his enthusiasm that we even sent him to Chandigarh auditions. Although he didn't make it he was at the top of the world seeing his heroes live!

Fast forward to 4 years after college all of us flat mates are scattered in different locations. Meanings, aims and problems in life have changed. People who once took pledges of not growing up are facing an identity crises and I am stuck in the silky web of UPSC. All I knew about Raju was that he went with one of our flat mates to Bangalore and that he was earning 8k a month. But my perception changed with the call.

On the call when i enquired from Raju about his financial aspect he said that he was earning around 35-40K a month!(for those of you feeling smug for your salary being more.....use you heads and recognize that he is an illiterate not an engineer) He further explained that he left the job with our friends and through his 'links' earned a canteen contract for a gated defence society in Bangalore!. Like what the hell! Here we find it tough to navigate the social space where a tongue twisting language is spoken and there this almost illiterate bhojpuri guy is using his 'Links' to get 'contract' in an unfamiliar land, earning more than a software engineer! And there is more, he also explained how he was taking part time cooking contracts for bachelors through the internet! I don't remember any one in my circle who has put internet to such a productive use(and i thought i was the man here as i used to read THE HINDU every day).

But Raju had more to say. He credited whole of  his success to us, the boys for whom he cooked in college. He said emotionally with a heavy voice that he was just an illiterate, scared and ignorant village lad who was transformed because of us. He recalled those merry and carefree evenings we used to spend on the roof of our flat, those silly jokes we used to insult each other, the names of our crushes which could never proceed further, those baarati dances after getting drunk, the looks on our faces when the house budget over shot and many more light hearted instances. He made me relive all these moments that I had so forgotten during past 4 years, the value of my friends. I am soon going to meet them in person and express my feelings with a couple of abuses. haha.

In his is brilliant fiction THE WHITE TIGER (and no I was not paid to promote it!)  ARVIND ADIGA talks about how an illiterate village boy becomes the owner of a booming business in Bengaluru. He calls the man the White Tiger because just like a white tiger, who is born once in a generation there are seldom instances where a person is born literally capable of  carving out his own destiny. Guess Mr. Adiga who found a real WHITE TIGER.

Abhishek Rana

Delhi O Delhi: My experience

This is my narration of my vibrant experience in NCR dated 20th June 2013

Hailing from the small town of Kullu I spent my college days in the so called 'safe', 'clean' and 'manageable' city of Chandigarh. After after living in a cushioned shell the D-day came. I got a call for an interview at the UPSC in Delhi.

Suggestions started pouring: An overwhelming number was concerned about my safety in Delhi rather than my preparation. "Paise purse mein mat rakhna, pichli jeb kaat lenge", said Dad. "Phone ka dhyan rakhna", said Mom. Another one said "Raat ko bahar mat nikalna". All this portrayed as if Delhi is a city is a conflict ridden territory where nothing is guaranteed.

I however had differing notions about the city and I could not subsume my excitement. The notion of Delhi to me was just three things 1. Metro: That fascinating air conditioned shell of stainless steel that glistened in the sun unlike our regular trains 2. People: I mean lots of it like heads floating all around you and 3. Raisana hill: The Olympus of India .

I left Chandigarh in an air conditioned bus. I carried one backpack and one carry case for my formal dress. I reached Delhi around 9:00 in the evening and the sheer traffic dazed me. seeing the commotion all those cautious suggestion coupled with unpleasant consequences started coming into my mind. I got off the bus swiftly, ignored the sly looking auto walls and made my way towards the blue line  as directed to me by my sister.

As fate would have it when i stopped for scanning my luggage for a security check I realised that I had forgotten my carry case and in it my formal dress. Instantly I began sweating all the more in the sultry weather of Delhi. For a moment i went numb and a moment later began so think over my options. Should I skip the interview?: "no you dumb wood, you don't leave UPSC after taking so much trouble", my conscience said. Should I go in casuals and explain them the reason: "Haha(grin) they'll kick you out in the first instance". Should I buy a new dress: "Do you have a bloody idea of where to get it in this infinite city, moreover its already 9:45 no chance". After going through all these I took a a decision that was nothing short of radical.

I decided that I would catch the bus and get my dress. Reluctantly I enquired at the Haryana counter about the volvo buses. The main said "Andar pta kar le bhai, bera ko ni" All the more confused and shocked at the seemingly rude reply I went inside and located the Haryana roadways enquiry office. The man said that the bus went to the Gurgaon bus stand and (rudely) advised me to take a metro to gurgaon.
Having no choice i scouted out for the entrance at entered at gate number 7 ISBT. There was not much crowd but in managed to enquire my way to the yellow line panting for breath and still sweating. In all this commotion I ignored the grand structure:A feat of engineering that i was running through.
Anyways I got into the metro towards HUDA city centre. After crossing a couple of stations a new problem cropped into my mind:"Where to get off?". At first i tried being smart and tired searching the internet, le "battery jane wali hai" i noticed. For a moment i thought it was too filmy but after a couple of seconds cursing God and my luck i realised that i was never a good packer for travels. Left with no options i dared to ask a fellow passenger. The man, a partly bald uncle asked, "aapko kahan jana hai". After that he started suggesting me the ways I could reach there. A couple of more passengers joined the discussion and eventually we settled at MG road station, i was advised to catch a bus from there and avoid auto walas.

Then came a question which entirely put to rest my fears about Delhi and the its inhabitants. The bald uncle asked,"kahan se ho?". After a silence of 30 seconds and after deliberating on what to say I somehow decided to stick to the truth. " From kullu", I said. "Kullu - Manali?" the man enquired on the behalf of quite a few fellows. And then ensued out joyous talks on tourist seasons, the exorbitant hotel rates and Apples. It turned out that the man handled apples in Azadpur Mandi. All others smiled as i answered the man's questions.

After getting off the metro I caught an AC bus to the gurgaon bus stand. I must have pleaded 10 times to the conductor to notify me on approaching the bus stand. The man repeatedly assured me in that familiar rough language by now, "baithe reh chore, utar denge". Scouting hopelessly in the bus stand for about 10 minutes a conductor guided me to the volvo bus yard. I ran through the main gate not caring about my new CAT shoes bought on sale(wink). The gatekeep yelled.I stopped and ran towards him. In incomplete breath i enquired about the bus number. He told to go to the entry gate and there finally stood the conductor just closing the door.

So happy I was that i took an auto back to the MG road: In spite of being advised to take the bus(By the way I reached MG road safely). Called my sister(who was worried as hell and called me several time, par bhaag daud mein kise pta lagta hai) and made my way back.

My interview was amazingly good, I visited Raisana hill which gave me goose bums. Travelled in the metro again, by this time I thoroughly admired its elegance: That sleek metal design curving elegantly on bends,air-conditioner and this "ting-tong; agla station Hauz Khas hai darwaze bayin taraf khulenge; kripaya darwazon se hat kar kahde hon Ting-tong"...music to my ears.

I leared a bit of Khadi boli remember "bera ko ni" I'm quite sure now that it means "I don't know" and that Haryanvi has a peculiar character which might seem rude but is not so in reality .Most importantly realised that the people in our country our implicitly good(with exceptions of course!) and that is in spite of the pervading poverty coupled with the daily struggle of livelihood which is the story of many here. Delhi still mesmerises me with its sheer size, pace of life and atop all of it the immense patience that most of the people harbour...O Delhi!

Abhishek Rana