Topped Up

Love makes the whole world go round. Love makes you do the simplest of things in the craziest of ways. People had erected monuments, written ballads, invaded nations, given their life all for the sake of their love, so what would have Rishi lost if he just had to top up for 20 Rs? He had a lot more to gain, her trust, her care, her affection, and most of all- her love. And these were one of those little things that would go a long way in gaining her trust. She had a low balance in her mobile, and was busy in Diwali celebrations with her extended family- the parents, the uncles, the aunts, the Macho Brothers, the caring Sister-in-laws, the nagging kids, the whole cast and characters who probably belonged in any Ekta Kapoor teleserial. She was the apple of their eye, guarded in a cocoon so that lafange launde like Rishi cannot reach her. But this is the mobile age, our Nokias and Blackberrys have replaced the kabootar which so dutifully used to deliver love letters to couples in love. Bhagyashree even coaxed her pigeon to deliver her pehle pyaar ki pehli chitti to Salman Khan in Maine Pyar Kiya, but that was in the 80's. Now all you need to do is to just press the "Send" button from your mobile, and there goes your sms adorned with those emoticons just to add a bit more zing to an otherwise stale "I miss you/ I love you" sms.

She had just topped up her number two days back, but spent all her balance on calling up her friends to inform her that she had passed the semester exams that had happened much to her own surprise. And now, when there was a meager balance left in her mobile, and when mobile operators so ruthlessly charged for a single sms on Diwali, she hollered for Rishi's help, her little lamb, the Vodafone pug who followed her wherever she went, who thought the world of her. Rishi was happy to oblige, these were one of those little chores that would cement his place in her heart, of all her friends she had asked him to help her and Rishi was not going to squander that. "Bees ka chalega" she had said, but Rishi with a generosity to his tone said "Arre I will do it for fifty!" as if he were buying the Vodafone company for her as a Diwali present.

He checked his wallet, he poured down the contents of his wallet on the bed, lying on his bed were a couple of bus tickets, a movie ticket, a chewing gum wrapper, a photo of a  semi-clad Salma Hayek with a revealing cleavage posing seductively, and some loose change amounting to eleven rupees. He went to check on his father who was busy over the phone calling up everyone on Diwali in the living room. He nonchalantly walked over to his father's bedroom, went through the pants neatly hanging inside the cupboard and found the wallet that he was looking for. He took a quick look sideways to see if his pesky brother was spying on him, and with quick dexterity flicked a crisp hundred rupee note from the wallet.  "I'll pay him back when I start earning" he thought to himself. He felt a little bad for having to steal from his father's purse, but asking for money would only land him in trouble. Questions would be asked by his father, and the answers given by Rishi would be just like the ones he gives in university exams - vague, and unconvincing.

He left home hurriedly on the pretext that he was going to a friend’s place. He walked hurriedly towards the store near the street dodging the crackers that were being burst with a lot of enthusiasm by the kids in the neighborhood. Rishi had lost his fascination with lighting up crackers for a few years, it no more caught his interest as he moved on to spending Diwali by flipping channels searching for any new movies being played on the numerous television channels that are available these days. He was walking with a spring in his steps when the vigor in his footsteps was sucked out from his feet as he set his eyes on the portly figure walking down the streets. It was his buddy Vishal. If ever there was anyone who would suck out the “feel good” factor that was within him it was Vishal. With his cold, sarcastic jibes at Rishi over the years Vishal had become a master of pulling him back to earth whenever he was soaring up in the sky. And today of all days Rishi did not want him to toy with him. Rishi feigned surprise when he neared Vishal.

“Where do you think you are going?”.

“To the store” Rishi replied as he mentally measured his words.

“Now? I was just coming over to your place”

“No no I have this thing to do at the stores, I will meet you in the evening”. 

“What’s the rush man? The stores won’t go nowhere if you are a little late, let’s go have a smoke”

“No no, I have to get back home soon” Rishi insisted.

“What are you buying from the store?” Vishal pried. 

“Groceries yaar"

"What are you buying?"

"Uhhhhh..... bhindi and tamatar..." Rishi mumbled.

"On a Diwali you are going to buy vegetables from a grocery store? Tell me where you are really going."

"I am going to top up my number" Rishi said, but realized he was too late as he knew Vishal would now spring another trap at him.

"Had you said it in the first place, I would have believed you. But I can read between your lies. You are doing it for some girl aren't you?" he said with a sarcastic grin which over the years Rishi wanted to slap it out of his face but could not, not because Vishal was his friend, but because he was much stronger than Rishi was.

"Yeah I am. I give up. Now go ahead, make me believe how naive and vulnerable I am." Rishi said with a sigh.

"Who is the girl, is she the one who has filled your inbox with forwards on friendship and trust?"

Rishi nodded glumly.

"But the stores here are closed, you gotta go till the Town Square for that."

"Fine, it’s hardly half an hour away, I can be back in an hour if I go now."

"Love can make a man do the craziest of things, I will meet you in the evening, good luck!" Vishal said with a wink, and bid him goodbye.

The Town Square was the shopping center of this small hamlet where there were shops of many kinds. From footwear stores to a supermarket to a bakery, the Town Square was the pride of the junta who otherwise had nothing worth mentioning in their little village. Rumor mills began to grind rumors that a mall with a movie theatre was going to be built in the Town Square, the folks could hardly contain their excitement to know that they no longer had to travel till the big city to catch a glimpse of their favorite matinee idols in the big screen.

Rishi reached the Town Square and began searching for a mobile store frantically. Luckily there were stores opened although the place looked like a ghost town with people far and few between thronging the Square on a public holiday. He looked around to see a mobile store which had a hoarding of “Hello Mobile Stores” imprinted neatly on it, pictures of Deepika Padukone and MS Dhoni were on it speaking over their phone. The shop had a string of people waiting to get their numbers topped up so that they had enough balance in their mobiles to call and wish their near and dear ones on Diwali. Rishi barged between a middle aged man who was patiently waiting for his turn to get his mobile recharged. He then called the boy in charge.

“Top up for fifty”

“Give me the number”

“9841252717” Rishi said with a sense of pride that he did not have to check his mobile for her number. He may not remember his roll number in college, but this he could rattle of even after having been woken up from his sleep at the middle of the night.

He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, he looked back to see the man he had barged through.

“What was the number you just said?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Rishi asked.

“Could you please tell me?” the man insisted.

“It’s my sister’s number, do you know her!?” Rishi asked with a fake excitement to his tone hoping to get away soon from the store.

“I think I know her pretty well since I am her father, and I don’t remember her having a brother who looks like you” he said as he kept an arm around Rishi’s shoulder.

The Window

 

The world within was chaotic, as I looked out the window

There was a storm raging within these closed walls,

And I was running away from its long and dark shadow

I was hiding from your memories, as I buried my head into the sand,

"I see you no more, I hear you no more!" I cried wanting the pain to end

You stood there invisible smiling at my juvenility,

"I shall leave you soon, and that time will come" you whispered in my ears

  

All those promises, all that we shared, all that we did for each other when we were so mad,

Haunted me to no end, for even they gave me a hope,

That a time will come when with your touch, my broken heart will repair

I felt I had moved on, I felt I had grown,

But when I looked out the window, I realized I was just the same old

  

When I ran out of words, to say how much I care

I wanted to use my lips, but alas! I could not dare

The look in your eyes, the warmth of your skin,

Made me want you more, but Oh Darling you said it was a sin!

I look out the window, and I extend my hand

Hoping you will hold it, for one last dance

  

The world had its own rules, it had its own laws

We were just a Boy and a Girl scared of its fierce paws

For if they came to know of what we shared,

They shall snatch it from us, and take away all we had

I look out the window to realize what you said was right,

"Maybe not this time, but for sure in another life!"

  

The time has come where with me you are no more,

I touch my wounds and I feel they are sore

I now have your memories, but they haunt me no more,

They remind me of how much I loved you to the core

I look out the window, wondering where you are

I close my eyes and I realize that you are not too far.

Salaam Guruji !

Those who educate children well are more to be honored than parents, for these only gave life, those the art of living well - Aristotle

They say that the youth are the architect of a nation's future. But what remains hidden behind those words are that its the teachers who lay the foundation for carving the bright young minds, for where would the youth be had there been no good teachers? From time immemorial,  a teacher has always been looked upon with great respect in the society. Cicero the Roman Philosopher has said "What nobler employment, or more valuable to the state,than that of the man who instructs the rising generation", and haven't we all heard our parents say "Beta, why don't you try becoming a teacher?". We all have had our favourite teachers, the most hated teachers( maths teachers in most cases), a teacher for whom we harbored crushes ( its their subjects we would burn the midnight oil for, and submit their assignments on time) and they all have been a part of our memories, and we owe at least a little bit of what we are today to them. We remember the rap on the head we used to get for failing their subjects, we remember the ruffle of our hairs when we topped the class, we remember them for solving our doubts in our subjects even after school hours, we remember them for their trademark style of teaching, their trademark one liners which they would dish out to the students every now and then, which we secretly enacted during lunch breaks to keep our friends entertained. Having been born in a family of teachers- my mother, my uncle and my aunt, I have seen the adoration and the adulation which they receive from the students and their parents. It is heart warming, yet at times unsettling to see the amount of trust the parents have on the them. Apart from trying to secure good results for their school, they are also shaping young minds. Teachers empower these minds with the freedom to make decisions, giving them the liberty to think on their own. What a parent may not understand about their child, a teacher very well does. 

A bond that a teacher shares with the students is considered to be the most holy of all,  the Drona-Arjuna relation from Mahabharat even to this day is a fine example of how deep a relation between a student and a teacher can be, another example is that Reliance advertisement where Hrithik Roshan calls up his school teacher to wish her, a 30-second ad it may have been, but yet somewhere it makes us want to call our gurus and thank them for all they have given us. There are some movies  which have so wonderfully portrayed the relation teachers share with their students, To Sir, with Love, Dead Poets Society, Taare Zameen Par, Pay It Forward are some which always brings a smile on our faces, and make us think of those fine men and women who taught us more about life as much as they did about subjects. Haven't we all met a few teachers who with their maverick style made our subjects more interesting? I shared a love-hate relationship with maths, I loved to hate it, I always dreaded maths classes and hated math teachers, but I had a fine gentleman named Mr.Vardarajan teach me math during my twelfth grade, who changed the way I looked at it. He was a well read man, a brilliant orator who could narrate Robert Frost and Thirukurral with the finesse with which he solved integral calculus.Bespectacled, lean and tall with a commanding voice he was as stern as any math teacher could be, I have been slapped around by him a few times, but for a change I never hated him for that. Its been seven years since I passed out of twelfth, and yet I still remember those math hours fondly for how he created a love (although a short lived one) for the subject in my heart. God bless him wherever he is.

I was a literature student, and like Prof. John Keating from Dead Poets Society, I had a few college professors, a few good men who taught me prose and poetry in their own inimitable style. They always made us believe that a B.A in literature was as good as any degree to feed your empty stomach, and to provide you with steady paychecks. Where the society always raised an eyebrow upon hearing my B.A degree and questioned me endlessly about the limited career choices it offered, these men gave us that hope and that belief that in this day and age any monkey who knows to type and say few words in English can get a job. And true to their word, this monkey has a job and is looking to make a career out of it. As students, we had that air of cockiness around us that we knew more than our some of our teachers. We believed in what was written in the neatly published, highly priced Tata-McGrawhill than our teachers' old and torn xeroxed notes. We felt we knew more than them because we owned a neatly packaged guide that told us more about the subjects than our professors ever could. Yet after having passed out of college I sometimes feel that I may have been harsh whenever I had scoffed at them for their knowledge or for their lack of it. I realize that they have taught me lessons on life which is not written in any book, they have been fine companions and fine advisers, a role no book can play.

While in college and school there were few teachers whom we despised, we would promise to ourselves that once we passed out we would never look back at them. We remembered them with contempt for all that humiliation we had suffered at their hands.Yet, as time goes by and one fine day when we bump into them out of the blue in a train or in the streets, we forget all the slaps, the kneeling downs, the impositions, the scoldings. We let bygones be bygones, we go over to them and tell them a polite "Hello", and I think that is all they want, they need no money, they need no ballads written or statues erected, they need no books written on their lives from us. All they need from us is that simple acknowledgment that we remember them for all the efforts they took for shaping us into what we are today. I met my professors recently during my graduation, and it was a humbling feeling to have met them and tell them "It was a pleasure to have been your student", something which I did not realize during our college days, I told them that day, and I meant every word of it.

They say that a good teacher is like a candle- it consumes itself to light the way for others. To all those teachers who burn day in and day out only to illuminate the path for youngsters, to the teachers who give their students a push in the right direction, to the teachers who shape young minds and give them the freedom to think, to the teachers who always have faith in the ones who could never have faith in themselves, to the teachers who never asked for any sort of reward and recognition except for maybe a decent "Hello, how are you?" from an old student, to my mother who had a tough time teaching me Vertically Opposite Angles when I was busy suppressing my yawn all the while pretending to be listening, to the teachers and professors who have taught me and provided me with all the study materials, and more than that who have taught me to chase my dreams, aap sabko mera salaam!!