...In Pursuit of the leader

I was very sure that it was Mukul, it was definitely him on the other side of the road, Even after 8 years, I could tell that from a distance. He still had the same side parted hair, that unusually long neck and that super brisk walk. I had to almost run to get past him.

“Hey Mukul”, I said panting.

“Hi…” He replied with an impassive face.

“I guess I know you” He said again. The face was still devoid of any emotions.

“You forgot your friend. Atul, Tenth “B”, I used to bug everybody with my poems in the assembly” I was already embarrassed.

“Yeah Yeah I remember you were the part time spinner in the school team as well” He finally smiled. And we hugged. We never were best friends. But I was his secret admirer. He was the best batsman, I had ever seen. His gargantuan sixes and flawless timing were sheer pleasure to watch. He was the coach's favorite, the sport icon of our school. He would make it big someday, very big, everybody used to say.

“So, how is your cricket going on? I heard you were playing Ranji for the state team. Can’t wait to see you playing for India” I asked excitedly.

“I passed my twelfth this year and now I am preparing for clerical exams. No cricket left in my life anymore” He replied and that faint smile disappeared again.

“Why, what happened? And why have you passed your twelfth this year? It has been 8 years since we passed Tenth” I fired questions one after another.

“Cricket happened and cricket did not happen”. He replied. I could see the sadness in his eyes. And I was taken aback.

In the next half an hour he narrated me the story of our beloved state where a certain chief minister with a dozen kids overtook the state cricket board to ensure a smooth cricketing career for one of his kids who was slightly “interested” in cricket. But his prime focus was looting the state and creating unparalleled scam records so obviously cricket had to take a back seat. The condition of cricket in the state ruptured beyond repair and ultimately BCCI had to de-list the state cricket board from Ranji Trophy. Talented players like Mukul were surely given chance in other state cricket teams but were not promoted at the cost of their own players. Of course politics was there too. And hence those fellows who were supposed to make it big someday were left with a dark future ahead.

“Why politicians or non sporting authorities have to head a sports body when they know nothing about it?” He asked. His frustration was justified.

“Because they are better than us in decision making, better in administration, better policy makers. Come on don’t be that cynical” I tried my usual optimistic self.

“And what makes you think so? You are an Engineer; can you go and lead a team of chefs in a five star hotel? No. you cannot. Life is a role playing game. Everybody cannot do everything. We are specialists at something and novices at other things and that’s justified. But just because someone is backed by a political party and has oodles of party fund for cushioning, he just cannot head a sports body.” He wasn’t an introvert like he used to be in school days. Years of aggravation and disappointments had turned him vitriolic.

“And more recently we have corporate and cinema guys heading sports clubs and teams. Ha! Sports is a big joke in India.” He spat venom again.

“Politician is synonymous to a corrupt and unscrupulous individual in India who has power, position and money that gives him a license to do all unethical things for his own gains. But it is not absolutely true. There are good fellows around and I can name quite a few of them. I guess it’s more about our perceptions, I guess it’s about the way we look at them.” I tried being logical.

“That’s the difference between you and me. You guess and I know. I’ll take you leave now. I am getting late” He hurriedly shook hands and went away. He left me with hundreds of unanswered questions. Was he right? Were his emotions justified? Or was I being supremely optimistic by preaching my logics to him? And the debate went on for quite some time or maybe it’s still on somewhere inside me?

I browsed through profiles of some politicians of India who were also heading sports bodies and the revelations were shocking. A powerful politician was heading the most powerful sports body of India and that too when he was commanding the single most important ministerial berth in the center, that of Agriculture. The sector that contributes to almost 17% of our GDP and employs more than 50% of our entire workforce.  What would this minister prefer if he has to decide between Famine and World Cup? Famine any day. So the sports would always be the bastard child. So why did he have to take such an important position then? Maybe because it gives you more money, more power and more international exposure. Maybe. Or, it’s just that narcissistic supply for the rich and powerful to feel good and to feel important. Whatever, I wasn’t able to justify that politician heading the sports body.

And then I observed the tenures of these positions and the revelations were scarily shocking again. One of them was heading a sports association for over three decades, another one for over two decades and one of them was even overseeing the association proceedings from behind the Bars. Was India, the land of thinkers like Chanakya and Vivekanand so bloody deprived of leadership talent that the same fellows were heading the associations since the beginning of time? Did these positions come with a life time validity? Shouldn’t sports bodies be headed by sports persons only? And what are the corporate and the showbiz guys doing in the equation? Well, they are there because they have money and they are there because they want money.

 Yes, I was the one who was guessing and my friend was the one who knew. But then it was completely wrong to say politicians or non sporting individuals shouldn’t be allowed to lead a sports body. Sports after all is not all about passion and zeal, it’s about complex decision making as well. It’s about looking at the bigger picture and that requires a great deal of foresight. Sportsmen can provide the zeal and enthusiasm but they may not be the best planners out there.

But at the same time the technicalities of a game can be best understood by a sportsman. If the sportsman has proven leadership skills, a sound brain with an ability of passing unbiased decisions and taking the team through bad patches would be the best fit for the berth. Sports would always be his first love and he could bring his own expertise and experience in the team. A major plus for any sports team. Or if we have a corporate or a politician who obviously has got tremendous leadership capabilities and is truly passionate about sports and doesn’t have to switch his interests over from sports to something more important, he probably would be the next best fit for the role.

Like all important positions of the country, the head of any sporting association should also be subjected to a set of qualifications. And the political prowess or power quotient alone in case of politicians or other non sporting individuals and likewise sporting prowess and popularity quotient alone in case of a sportsmen shouldn’t be the deciding factor in their coronation.

 Leadership abilities, decision making skills along with proven personal integrity, dedication for the sport and reliability should also be considered. Absolute power corrupts and hence the person should be answerable to the general body to keep a check on monopoly.  Ultimately the situation converges to the innate nature of human beings. A person of character and morals would always do good to the society. A society where talent would be given more importance than caste, creed, color, region and religion and a society where Mukuls wont be struggling for their bread and butter but padding up to take the world in a sporting arena. Maybe I am being my usual optimistic self. Maybe.

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Celebrations, Love and Saraswati

Those days we used to wait for it. Those days when I was 12 or 13 and coincidently my friends were about the same age, we used to wait for it. Holi and Diwali never figured in our favorite festival’s list, but it did and we used to wait for it. The Feel, The Energy and the festivity that happened in late January and early February every year and like any other Patna guy(or perhaps any not-so-small town guy) I used to wait for it.

Patna, arguably the only recognized city in the state of Bihar is the epicenter of all educational activities. Convent schools, Intermediate colleges, Graduation colleges and speckled in between the colleges are coaching centers each of which is run by an Ex-IITan and each of which guarantees a seat in the prestigious Indian Institutes of Technology. And the students from all across Bihar and Jharkhand and Eastern UP come running to the city in pursuit of education. And the city lives to their promises. Hence students form a perpetual part of Patna - rich, poor, timid and violent, students of all types and varieties. Education is the prime topic of discussion. While Gujaratis love their money, Punjabis love their food, Tamilians love their culture, Biharis love their education till the verge of obsession.

And Goddess Saraswati oversees all educational activities. She is the goddess of wisdom, knowledge and enlightenment. Because of her benevolence, people crack competitions, pass their semester and yearly examinations and get through tricky job interviews. It’s because of Goddess Saraswati that we have so many Engineers and Doctors and Lawyers and Managers in our country. Saraswati prepares people to worship Lakshmi (the goddess of wealth and prosperity) for the rest of their lives. And Patna leaves no stone unturned in making the goddess joyous. Saraswati Pooja is the annual fest of all colleges, schools and coaching centers of Patna. Some of them even call it the unofficial Valentine’s Day of Patna.

The glorious 90s - the decade I was brought up in, celebrated the festival in Grand Style. Boys in groups of 5-10 knocked every door in the locality urging (or begging or threatening) for Chanda (donation). People sometimes willingly contributed and sometimes unwillingly gave away cash ranging from Rs. 5 to Rs. 501. Every Collection Committee managed enough cash for the entire worshiping ceremony, lighting, sounds, VCRs  and a rented color television for playing pirated video cassettes for late night movie watching. The elderly students fondly addressed as” Bhaiyyas” by everyone even saved enough cash for their beer and porn movies. Brightly lit Pandals, statues of the goddess adorned with marigold and rose garlands, a continuously chanting Pundit and noise all around, the craziness seemed absolute sanity at that time.

The Geniuses who were experts at handling locally assembled music systems or “decks” as we called them ensured that entire colony listened while the Pundit chanted by strategically placing the metallic loudspeakers on electric poles, roofs of neighbors, or even ad lib bamboo poles. No one in the locality complained, the curse of Saraswati could have rendered their children uneducated and unpolished for life. The same loudspeakers proudly broadcasted the latest chart-busters for three continuous days. Alien words like “Bass” and “Treble” were still to make ways into our lives. “Loudness” was very much in. So when the songs were played, people switched to sign languages in their respective homes. That was the time when music from movies “Aashiqi”, “Sadak”, “Mohra”, “Dil” etc. made their way into our lives.  When there were multiple pandals around, there used to be an impromptu music contest that continued till wee hours of the night. Everyone wanted his Pundit to be heard and everyone wanted his music to rule. And we innocently remixed songs without any hi-fi mixing instruments.

And that was the time when we started noticing love around us, for the first time. Girls flocked at the Pandals dressed in bright Salwar-Kurtis usually ranging from pale saffron to bright orange which is the official dress code for Saraswati Pooja. And their lovers went out of their way to give them a personalized treatment. Once the love of their life appeared at the Pandal, the music usually switched to a soft romantic Ballad, a “chori chori jab nazrein mili” or a “Nazar ke saamne, Jigar ke Paas”.  The expression on the girl’s face would change from happy to shy to a state where fathoming expressions became impossible.  And her friends elbowing her frenziedly so much so that she’d stop looking at anyone. And then the hero would appear with Prasad Packets neatly arranged onto a metallic tray. The usually ordinary Prasad would be garnished with generous helping of seasonal fruits and sweets. Some lucky lovers even managed to spend some private Prasad munching moments with their girls as her friends would leave as soon as the guy appeared.  Everything was planned without even planning. The demonstration of love continued till every single guy of the committee got to treat her girl flamboyantly. Saraswati, the white adorned goddess of wisdom with a constant smile on her face silently played the love goddess. The show continued till three days and after the Pooja new couples surfaced.

Now when I switch on my workstation on a Saraswati Pooja day or any festival that made me go wild in old days, a smile robotically comes on my lips. The songs start playing somewhere inside my mind and flashes of guys dancing and girls shyly accepting their Prasad packets and wailing kids and chanting pundits and blaring loudspeakers  appear on my mental canvas. While I mechanically pretend to be lost in work, my mind dances in the streets where a white idol of the goddess of wisdom smiles at my moves.

Laws of Practicality!!

Placement is one keyword of every college student. I mean every one wants a good bike, a pack of good friends to hang out, a hot girlfriend that you can boastfully walk with, but at the end of your academic innings, you want to walk away with a good job. I love my habit of being “exception” to the obvious things but for this theory I was happy being a stereotype. And the art of getting placed at our college was a tough task. The Jaypee Engineering Colleges are three Campus strong educational infrastructure but the companies entertain only the best located campus, the Noida campus only. And that meant for every single company visiting our college campus, we had to pack our bags and land straight to Noida to be a part of the process.

The Sixth semester was about to end and I was packing my stuff to get back to home. Home is where I felt that there is a civilized person somewhere inside me or else in college we were nomads who wandered room to room, road to road, class to class without any well defined objectives. There were people who wished to flourish, while my friends and I just wished to survive. And in the act of survival we ended up with forty cigarettes and twenty cups of tea. The money that my parents sent vanished in a wink and in a matter of 10 days we came at the verge of hardships. And to add to it, I somehow broke the laptop of one of my juniors and hence I owed him a mammoth Ten thousand bucks.

There were two companies that were supposed to come at the last day of the academic semester that meant, first we had to rush to Noida and from there straight to our respective homes. I did not wish to be a part of the process, firstly it was pain to travel so much and more importantly I was out of money too. But, one of the companies was a big name hence I had to go. We went to the campus and the news broke out that the bigger company is not coming and the smaller one is only for Electronics Engineers. “Awesome, Couldn’t have been any worse”, I thought and started packing my luggage with a heavy heart.

It was an uncomfortable journey back home with train compartments stuffed like hell. Anyways 12 hours of hell and I was back to my home. I just wanted to relax, play and forget about placements, career and other serious aspects of life. I hardly spent a day at my home that I got a call from one of my friends who said that the bigger company is visiting the campus the day after. I was shocked. There are times in your life that your own faculties start hammering each other. My Brain and My heart were slamming each other and since we are practical people, living a practical life following the principles of practicality, my brain won and I made up my mind to get back to Noida. I somehow managed a ticket to Delhi for the next day

Shramjeevi Express was to depart at 11.45 and it was already late by ten minutes at Patna Junction. I had two bottles of mineral water, neatly packed separate boxes for lunch and dinner and three magazines that ensured a nice comfortable journey. And to add to it, the train was strangely vacant, a rare site on any Patna-Delhi train. The Train started with a jolt and hence started my journey.

“Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging alone like troops in a battle,
All through the meadows the horses and cattle”

Lines from one of my junior school poetries, I was enjoying it. Some things can only be enjoyed when you are in the company of your own self and “World through a train window” is one of them. Three hours passed in no time and the Train just left Buxar station. I was now trying to dig deep into a magazine to get a glimpse of what is happening in the world’s largest democracy, home to 1.17 billion people. The concentration of the concerned citizen was broken by a slight murmur. A foreign couple was trying to get suggestions from someone. The helper, however was little weak in English but he was utilizing all vowels, consonants and syllables of English coupled with lots of gestures and postures. But poor guest were very confused. I find a lot of foreigners traveling in Sleeper coaches when they could have easily afforded a flight. Probably they wanted to catch a glimpse of real India and hence they were bearing the brunt of it. Anyways, at times I can be a serious interrupter so I became the part of discussion as well.

It was a Russian couple, who came to Bihar to visit the Buddhist Monasteries and temples and they were on their way to Varanasi which is a 7 hour journey from Patna. I started talking to them. They somehow found my language a bit clearer and hence asked if they can sit with me for sometime and find a solution to their problem. The Male was a 60 year old handsome man whose name was “Alexei”, the Lady was probably two-three younger to him and she was also a pretty lady. Unlike Indian Wives the Russian Wife was allowing his husband to speak. The Problem was a very simple one, the Couple had a general class ticket and they were traveling in a sleeper coach and they didn’t know whom to talk to avail the right ticket. I told them the TTE is the designated authority who will charge them the routine fine and then would make a ticket for them. The Couple then started talking all good things that they saw in India. They were very happy to see the Peepul tree in Bodhgaya under which Siddhartha found his Enlightment and turned to Gautam Buddha. That was nice to hear. I told them a little bit about the culture and heritage of India. After half an hour the couple left and I again started looking out of the train window. Now the train was speeding towards MughalSarai junction one of the major railway stations in the Patna-Delhi route. While looking out I was carelessly wagging my hands to find out the magazine that was laying somewhere on the seat, but instead my hands found something harder and clearly bigger. I turned back and I saw a black pouch with a crocodile symbol on it, beautifully bearing the word “Lacoste”.

I realized that the Russian woman was carrying the Pouch. “How careless can people be I should search for them and return them their bag!” this was my instaneous reaction. I stood up with the pouch to look around for them. And then the hidden evil inside me came to the picture and this is what it said: “Why to return the stuff to them, you did not steal, they left and hence now it’s yours”. And again I was caught in a whirlpool, where one part of me was saying to look around for them and return it to them and the other was saying that it is all yours. The Evil’s role was more pronounced and it convinced me to check out what stuff was inside it and I foolishly followed it. I looked around like a thief and then went inside a washroom. The Pouch had three sections with zips and it was surprisingly spacious for its small size. Inside the first section, there was a Blackberry Handheld and a fancy Samsung phone. The other section had a Sony Camcorder and the third section had twenty thousand rupees, yes I counted it too. The Evil said “See! Not a penny less than sixty thousand bucks and it’s all yours.

“God is great, in one go he has solved all your problems”, the evil said again. “I can pay ten thousand bucks to the laptop owner and spend the rest partying next semester”, I thought. MughalSarai junction was hardly at a distance of 30-35 KMs. I made up my mind that I would pack the stuff in my bag and get off at MughalSarai and from there would take another train. The impact of the evil was so great that the good part was dumfounded. I packed the pouch in my bag and sat down waiting for the train to reach MughalSarai. In the meanwhile I started recollecting the Russian couple’s conversations. They were overjoyed by the kind of treatment they got in India. They said that the very warmth of the Indians will keep them pulling back to India every year. They were also impressed by the Indian youth whom they found very talented and hardworking. And they had a special mention for Bihar. Before coming to Bihar, everyone warned them about the crime rate of it and the cases of loots and murders. But, when they left this place they left it with a very happy heart. They found every one in Bihar, very helpful and cooperative.

The Train was speeding along the green farms. I still remembered the lines of my old school poetry but I was not enjoying. There was a sort of restlessness inside me. My good part was weak but it still was alive and it was trying to knock the evil occasionally. There are times in your life that your own faculties start hammering each other. My Brain and My heart were slamming each other and since we are practical people, living a practical life following the principles of practicality, the brain has got every right to win. But this time my heart was not ready to lose this fight.

Two foreigners on Indian soil with no money in hand and no means of communication and all because of me. A stack of rectangular papers the mother of all evils which people call money, is that the only driving force in the world for which I will singe the goodness of countless Indians. And to add to it, when the police officials in Delhi will enquire from the couple that where did the theft took place? They would get Bihar as an answer and they would say “We knew that, that’s why we stop foreigners from going them”. The Evil now was on back-foot and my good part was firing all around.

Without wasting a single moment, I took out the pouch and started looking for them compartment to compartment. I hardly went 5 compartments ahead that I saw them desperately searching for SOMETHING. The Woman was standing with tears in eyes, she was paying hard for her carelessness. I waved my hands at them and showed them their “Something”. They came running towards me.

“Where did you find it?”, The man asked.
“You left it on the seat when you were sitting with me”, I replied.
“God bless you. You don’t know how valuable are these to me?” He said again
“No problems, just be a little more careful when you are traveling”, I said.

The man nodded in acceptance but the woman was staring blankly at me. And then she hugged me, the silent warmth of her hug was speaking volumes.

I still owed a fellow ten thousand bucks. I still had a strenuous placement session to go through. I had 8 hours of train journey and a full return journey left but I was a happy man because I was again enjoying “World through a train window”.

I am Patna

I stretch quietly along the banks of the Ganges; my eyes have seen it all. The rise and fall of empires, the echoes of victors, the throes of the vanquished, I have heard it all. I have felt the violence and bloodshed and have cherished the peace sermons. My old eyes still remember the glory of the Gupta Kings and the unparalleled bravery of Mauryas, the grandeur of the nawabs of Bengal and the tyranny of the British Raj. My womb gave birth to Guru Govind Singh; the world knows that battle he fought and his temple Takht HarMandir Sahib still stands proudly on my chest. I am Patna, the modern Patliputra, my history as old as history itself.I still stretch along the Ganges, thinning shoreline it has now. I don’t see the elephants and cavalries marching, nor do I hear the sounds of the trumpet now. I see a busy city waking up everyday with the rising sun. I see the swirls of dust as people leave their ways for their work. I hear something something of everyone which eventually turns into nothing. I see the unity in diversity, blank faces, cheerful faces, moaning faces, laughing faces, welcoming faces, frowning faces but yes every face has got something to offer. I am Patna, the hometown of countless inquisitive brains.

Come to me when vermillion smeared foreheads bow to the sun, to pay their respect and gratitude to it. The Chhath Pooja where all one can see is the banks of the Ganga packed to the brim, all one can hear, the sweet sounds of the folk songs and all one can feel is the warmth of human love. The crackers of the Diwali burst whole night as if fighting to kick out the age old silences of ignorance. The crowd of Dussehra, where it seems as if every individual in the crowd is trying to take out the RAM hidden inside him. The delicacies of Eid, you can still find them in the old dark lanes of mine.

Fa-Hein has described my beauty in his travel accounts and Megasthanese was out of words when he was confining my beauty to his book Indaka. When the whole India was sleeping in deep dreams of unawareness, I took the pains of enlightening the dark minds. Gautam Buddha prophesized that I would be the greatest city in the world someday but he told that I would fall prey to fire and water still he missed the biggest factor that I felt prey to, Human greed!

Yes, I fell prey to the human greed. My old glory was raped by everyone who came to rule me. Everyone was thinking about him, his family, his own near and dears but every one forgot their Patna. When whole India was undergoing an economic transmutation, my greedy sons were busy plucking every conceivable thing from my soil. They looted their own home and fled like a dacoit. And, they left me crawling in the lowly dusts. When every Indian was erecting infrastructures for the coming generations, my sons were demolishing the towers of my ancient glory.


And, when this turbulence was over, I was just a piece of land. Fertile, I still was but no one wished to plant on me. My sons were still intelligent but they felt insulted to be my sons. The very feel of being attached to Patna in any shape or form was a matter of indignity for my residents. The opportunities vanished, the hopes shattered and I was christened the undeveloped part of a developing nation. Poverty that never even thought about me in her wildest dreams clutched me in her claws and hence due to a handful of betrayers, all sons of mine started suffering.

But, highs and lows are the essential constituents of god’s plan. I saw the highest of crests in my golden times and then saw the deepest trench of failures. My sons have realized the importance of their old mother, and slowly but steadily they are changing the face of mine. I am now crawling out of the mud. I am breaking the shackles of dogma and myths and I am opening my eyes to the new changes. I see a bright future which my sons have promised me. I hope they would gift me my old glories back. I have led the world in the past and I am sure I will do it in Future again.