We,The People

Mr. X a priest in the temple was getting late for his duties, running out of time he got on to his T.V.S scooter and hurried. On the way he was stopped by the traffic police, to have a look at his license. It was then that he had realized he had forgotten it back home; the police man was about to tear the receipt of Rs.100, stuck in the run of time he offers the police Rs.50 because he felt Rs.100 was too much to lose early in the morning.

Mr. Y a student, who prayed five times a day, had surprise news that the next three days would be a holiday. He rushed to through the train ticketing counters just to realize that all the tickets were booked. Now that he had to travel in the general compartment with an open ticket, he chose to save on the ticket money and traveled ticket less back home. Any way the TTR would never enter the general compartment.
Ms. Z an engineer at a leading firm had great difficulties in getting into the job position she is now in. Not that she had to go through the various stages of the selection process, but that she really had to run behind her father to talk to his friend who was working in the HR department of the firm so that she would get selected over the candidates who had actually applied for the vacancy and probably more qualified than her.

Abc & Co, tax consultants were happy of earning Rs.5L from an individual client. Though not an easy task, they had to really bribe the registrar to change the purchase date of the asset that had earned their client huge tax amount including interest and once that the asset was made a long term one they successfully exempted their client of taxes.

These are not a newspaper clipping, things like these neither appear on the media, these are the things that happen in a common Indian’s daily life. Not just these but there are many more other simple events that happen in the daily life. So when a government elected by these common people prone to these simple forms of corruption comes into existence how can we blame the government alone to be corrupt. They are also a few among these common people. Just that the margin they save or earn at their level of office is much higher than a common man does.

We never count on the small things that we as Mr. X or Y or Ms. Z do rather we put the blame on others. We support the so called ‘Lok-Pal bill’ that would bring a committee to look for corruption among the ministers and The Prime Minister. But then again doesn’t this committee also have people of our country who could well again corrupt their hands when they get the power. Just like they say the most corrupt cell in the country is the anti-corruption department, what guarantee do we have that this committee so formed wouldn’t turn corrupt.

At this juncture where we are celebrating our nth year of independence and proclaim ourselves as proud Indians, let’s try and introspect how clean an Indian we are, and if we are not let’s try and improvise on that first, and then go about cleaning our politicians. Happy Independence Day.

T.R.K

Priorities in my life

I used to wake up hearing the noise that steel plates made in the kitchen, the wake up calls that the cocks sang; the Sanskrit news in ‘akaashvani’ radio and those sundry animals that marked their presence in the hood. Ammi used to push me to the front yard of my house and grandmother’s ‘kallu dosa’ was ready for breakfast, of which the first four were always reserved for me. While I ate them mixing it with tea and sugar, Ammi kept my ‘Madrasa’ kit ready.

I used to think of a time when I would stop going for the early morning Islamic classes and sleep like the elders at home. I used to be five then. Life was so simple, but for a five year old it was not that easy either, the tutor at the madrasa would ask to recite versus of The Holly Quran that had to be memorized; friends would make fun if Sourav Ganguly had been out cheaply in the previous day’s match and asking fifty paisa from Ammi for the candy at ‘ithiru thatha’s’ shop was a herculean task.

Times change so fast, I always wanted to grow old and start working when I joined school, although my thoughts on a professional career was not much of interest to people at home, since I wanted to be a peon at the school so that I could ring the last bell for home. Cricket in the rain and swimming in ponds in the farm filled the rest of the day.

When I was in eighth grade, I so wanted to be part of the school cricket team, which was the only thing I had prayed when I had gone for ‘Umrah’. A play station, a computer, a mobile phone, a laptop and these prayers never stopped till I finished my schooling. All of these had been top priority at some stages of life.
Now that I’ am twenty three and an exam away from the end of my student life, all those priorities I had in the past seem so funny. Not because I don’t value it any more, nor that I don’t have prayers for any other things in life; just that life was a lot easier then. If I had problem I could just sleep the night off and the next day those were solved. Now if there is a problem even sleep doesn’t come to the rescue.

I have just lived nearly a quarter of my life, when I go to bed now I have a lot to think. And those are not just for the next day, but about the things that are going to be part of my entire life from now on. The upcoming exams, choice of being an internal auditor or financial analyst, and most importantly about my family and the girl who waits on the other side hoping I would hold her hands some day.

And again now that it’s five in the morning and I was to get up had I been the same five year old kid, I have to sleep now that I have been awake the whole night. And when I go to sleep I so wish and pray these priorities of life that I have now just fall in place by the next time I open my eyes.

' The Un educated Literates '

Going home to Kerala has always been sentimentally nostalgic. The gentleman with in the white uniform signalled with the green flag, and the Palghat – Nilambur passenger took off at snail speed. The train started gaining speed as the sun was regaining his empire up in the sky. The dry hot summer was yet to arrive and the early morning dew was dripping off the leaves. The banks of the sacred BHARATH River, green paddy fields, and mighty huge banyan trees all bowed down for me.

I carried with me sore throat, sticky nose block and light temperature that the Chennai city had cursed on me for the past one week. I thought it was more of a physiological impact that as soon as I touch down my home station, I forget the fact that I was not at ease. The one year old kid who was in the next birth of my compartment, the previous night had left me sleepless and that might well be the reason why I dozed of the moment I found my bed.

The India – England world cup match was to begin in some time and my friend dragged me to the sports club nearby. It is always festival when India plays cricket. All the youth at sports club had their own favourite players and prayed for their performance and some even fight for their most supported player. I was sipping my favourite black tea with lemon and extra sugar, and waiting for Pathan to come out to bat.

It was then that someone called for me; it wasn’t a voice that I have heard off late, with a bit of excitement I turned back and looked at the corner of the room to find a guy with curly hair sitting and smiling at me. For once I couldn’t recognize the face and then like those Bollywood movies of the eighties my life’s reel rolled back. It was ‘Natheesh’ my class mate till grade 4 at the lower primary school.

The cricket match went on in full swing and each time the ball crossed the boundary people at the club clapped hands, I was busy talking to my friend, it was indeed ages since I met him. We talked about the things happening around the town, the new movie releases and the same old debate that Mammuka was better than Mohan Lal. I was a bit reluctant to ask him about his studies, but never the less I enquired. He smiled first and then told; he cleared his SSLC in his second attempt and was looking after the farm with his father.

The day passed and India shamelessly tied the match with England, I had lost my sleep to that and was trying to deviate my thoughts and that ended up at the school ground of my lower primary school where we played soccer till the bell rang at 4. It was fun times then, no thoughts about future, where one would be after graduation, no thoughts as to the place where you would want to settle down, no ledgers to scrutinize and no reports on audit to be submitted on date.

Off the forty plus students in my class then only four of us have completed degree and three of us are doing a professional course. The rest of them; the girls got married in between their studies, and some of their kids are already at the kinder garden, and the boys most of them dropped off schooling after their tenth, and few of them flew to the middle east in search of oil fields and the rest sit at the bus stop in the evening to talk about the latest development in the local politics.

Had my parents not been teachers, had I not shifted to Doha, had I been part of this normal government school going children till 10th, I think even I would have been doing the same as my class mates of 4th do now. We boost of a cent percent literate state, but yet our higher education system is one of the weakest in the world. We offer free education till 10th and might be till 12th, but after that we eat up the whole of the savings in our education.

It is high time we need to re analyze our educational system, else more and more of ‘Literate and partially uneducated’ youth would be dumped into our society.

T.R.K

The Rejuvenation..!!!

Its a never ending wait
Life has got to melt
ever since you made it here
and never that we gona hear

Out through the window,
out through the door
Its you my eyes searched for
knowing you will never make it
on and on goes the wait

Laying back in my bed
getting you off my head
still your memories hit
and life has got to melt,

And now that i wait no more
and smoke my life at the corridor
and that you would leave
in a few days from now
love has lost its glow

Its a never ending wait
life has got to melt..!!!!!

TRK
P:S: written for a rock band..!!

The Poor Departed

As it has been for the last one and half months I woke up from a not so comfortable sleep, earlier it used to be the cock that sang its wake up alarm that woke up many in this part of the world, but now the original alarms too have lost its effect. Walking down the stairs wearing a Simpson cartoon boxer and cleaning my eye, i herd strange conversation from the kitchen.

“No she is too young for it”, shouted one of my aunts pushing out the steam cake (PUTT) from its hutch. “It’s everybody’s fate” my grand mom replied trying to lean down to the store desk and pick up something. “Poor lady she was so helping“, added my second aunt moving her wheel chair towards the gas stove. I thought it would be the normal chit chat the ladies do early hours and did not bother to inquire the matter.

Got few pieces of the steam cake and a glass of tea, and while the second aunt poured curry on them, the other aunt continued the topic, “She was taken to Trivandrum for check up”, “No...No... She wasn’t taken there she didn’t have any problems of that sort” replied the other. “No she had problem with her hands and chest pain was frequent, but then she was not taken to Trivandrum”. On hearing this the first aunt got a bit angry that her words were taken to be false and argued “how can you say that she was not taken there, I am pretty sure that had happened” and the other aunt made her statement clear and added on “I had met her a month back at a marriage and then she didn’t complain of anything of that sort, so how do you say that she was taken there”.

All these were happening and I was busy enjoying the taste of the steam cake and added my comment “the cakes have got awesome taste, it might rain today”, and the first aunt rubbished it “we are talking something important, and between that you are bringing up steam cake”. I was pretty surprised about the important discussion that they were into, and all of a sudden the other aunt added “she just have two kids; don’t know how they will be”. “ But I am sure she was taken to Trivandrum last month” the first one stud strong on what she argued, “ No she was not, she had met me last month” replied the other, “you both are wrong, if u want you can call their house and ask” grandmother joined in with her claims.

Finally I made up my mind and enquired about the whole thing. “KAKU’s wife’s mother passed away this morning, didn’t you know about it...?” I was quit puzzled, didn’t know what to reply, because the ladies have been arguing about her hospitalization the month before and not obliging to the fact that they should have been sitting praying for the departed one. Eating up the last piece of cake I walked towards the wash basin, “No” “No...” “Noo...” that was still going on in the kitchen.

And for once I felt bad for the lady who departed last night, after all she was the reason the ladies in the house were putting their tongues in fire. The poor Departed Soul.

TRK