OCTOBER SKY – THE SEQUEL

Waking up at 8 am on a Tuesday morning, I sip my morning cuppa tea and rub my eyes to see NDTV only to know that a big (self proclaimed) politician is arrested and a convoy is getting him to Mumbai. Here, arsons and broken cabs welcome him. The city of dreams is getting disturbed and the unemployed are doing some bit of work. The God in me wakes up and goes to the magical terrace where I last saw the silver lining. Sitting on the water tank I scan through the neighbourhood. Silence prevails almost everywhere. Suddenly I see a few mortals. They bash up the same panwaala who had been servicing their lungs since a coupla years! Wow I said. Gazing more toward the east I saw the newest mall in the area which sadly had a broken glass. The store manager was instructing the minions to shut the doors. Well I really didn’t have much to do. Thanks to the adventures happening in my town, I had to miss an interview. So I thought of taking a walk around and well...think!!

The lazy bum walks outta home. I was greeted by my dear gurkha who tried saying something (possibly in Hindi) to me which I didn’t understand (like always). His eyes were relatively bigger than usual. “Ahh warning” I thought and patted his back requesting him not to tell my mom I was out! As I step out of my complex, I saw a group of men who weren’t familiar. By their look I realised even I wasn’t familiar to them! Thanks to my attire and my “I’m-so-lazy-to-shave” look, they understood I wasn’t disrespecting them to go to work. I walk and walk, through the same streets that I had for years together! The streets look deserted. I suddenly see an array of Bajaj Pulsars. It had men...of different ages and shapes, front was a guy who was as slim as Kangna Ranaut. Also was a guy in the mid 40s who, well who looked like Kanagna’s grandfather!! I smiled, well, there are only a few times STP goes for a toss right!

Out of nowhere a cop came and stood next to me. He looked at me from top to bottom, I think 3 times. The fourth time he looked at my tee and was trying to read it, I guess. I was wearing a Tantra Shirt which said “Mera India Mahaan”. Was it wrong...I thought! The middle aged cop shook his head and asked me to return home. I guess he said to himself “Its time to rephrase the line”. Well thanks to my mom I had seen a lot of tele-soaps and trusted my visual interpretation exercises! But still the look on the face of the cop was weird. I was tempted to speak to him but since he looked a bit worked up, I went ahead.

As I yawned once again, not finding anything interesting, I found a chai tapri open. There were a group of men sitting there and they stared violently at me as I entered. “Chai” I said and the guys looked really annoyed as if I asked them to make it for me. I guess God has given us all a weapon called smile. As a kid, I used it in school when my teachers were pissed off with me. I chose to do the same. As I was about to, something better came to rescue. The Black & White BPL TV screamed that India had won the Mohali Test match. I grabbed my tea and stood next to the same guy, surprisingly even he could smile. We discussed how it was an all round performance. I sipped the tea and the God in me told me to dare to speak, but my mortality warned me to remain mum. I saw the screen as Dhoni, Tendulkar, Zaheer, Ishaan, Ganguly, Dravid, Shewag, Mishra were all dancing out of joy. Did they think which state they belonged to- I thought. My mortal-brother who was furious a while ago said “Great show! India is great. They screwed the Australians”. “Yaa ofcourse”, I said. He was my age and I’m sure he also wished that it wasn’t tea but vodka in our hands. But unfortunately even the wine shops were shut. Sipping tea, we sat, still elated with the India win. I somehow dared to speak. Let me be honest. I’m no superman- I was scared. “India is great”, I said. “Why Australians, we can even screw Indians”. Sometimes you say things which are not supposed to be said, just thought. I don’t know what disease you call it, but I have it in me. My very good friend, Vikram calls it keeda- you know. So I did this keeda and the guy asked me to repeat what I said. I said nothing and now did what I used to do in school- smile. Obviously it didn’t work.

I got up to leave but he asked (rather ordered) me to sit back. “2 chai”, he yelled.

“You know everyone is not as lucky as you”. Lucky and me- sure, I thought.

“Why do you think so”,I said as one of the minion got us tea.

“Look at this young fellow”, he pointed to the kid. “You think he can ever go to a convent like you.”

I scanned the minion like the cop scanned me a while ago. He was wearing an oversized, brownish, once white for sure, tee which read “I love NYC”.Ofcourse li'l Johny didn't know of Sub-prime crisis- I smiled

“Who is to be blamed for this- you, me or the ones on the streets.”

“Thats the problem with YOU guys” he sipped his tea and said, “You don’t want to be held accountable for anything”

His “YOU” made me feel a bit outlandish. I was a part of this town right from the time I made my first friend, held my first book and well since ever.

“There are just 30 lakh of us in Mumbai, out of a crore of junta. You guys take away our jobs”. His eyebrows curved as serious as they could get.

“Brother, you first said luck, then you blamed it on others. What is it that we are doing? I mean, has anyone hurt you in any ways? Or stopped you from studying?”

“Yes, our bad luck has stopped us from studying. Thanks to you guys who took our seats in good schools”

The “YOU” was getting a bit heavy to handle and I requested him to stop it. He seemed to be least interested in a fight with a lazy bum and agreed.

“Really”, he said as he took his last sip.”This had to happen someday. Else no one would understand us ever”

As I kept my empty glass on the broken table, I said “You know what. The problem is not you or me. The problem is our impressionable mind. Our mind wants to hear what it really wants to. The reality is we all are afraid. Afraid to sacrifice. All of us, right from the generation which brought independence to India. The problem with “us” Indians is we expect external factors to gift us with our wishes.” Somehow I was satisfied by stressing the “US” word. It basically showed our lines of argument.

I continued “The real problem with India is that to actually be competitive, we need ONE generation to sacrifice and only slog. And till now, none of the ‘whole generation’ is ready to do that. Then when things around us don’t happen as we like, we throw the blame on others and chicken out saying- Hey its not my fault”
He raised his finger and was about to say something. But suddenly we heard a window break and police siren. He walked out but looked back. I know he wanted to say something. I knew what. I just nodded and showed him a thumbs up- a gesture to show that no one was right or wrong- its just how one thinks. The problem is when we try to enforce our thoughts on others around us. The tapri-guy said “Vaibhav dada ke account mein”. Possibly Vaibhav was his name or it was the name of his mentor. Who knows?

I last saw him get on his bike with 2 more of his friends behind him. A small wheelie and off they go. Free chai, I thought. While leaving, I saw the tiny one who was cleaning the table. I bent down and asked him his name. With a pouring left-nose, “Chotu” he said. I wish God sometime gives ‘Chotu’ a name. I wish he goes to school and someday won’t go out to fight. Afterall Chotu himself didn’t know about his existence- let alone his religion and community!

Some discussions better not happen!