Life is just like that ! - part II

My brother was born some five years before me. And I am sure he enjoyed this fact to the hilt, the provision provided by destiny for him to rule me. And yes did he rule me through out my childhood! All through out my childhood I remember my brother as a strong bully always taking me to tasks. Some times it seemed that he thought that the only reason I was born was to act like a prop for him to prove his supremacy. Some times I would say rebel against him with a fist fight and then alas my mother would ironically comment “Why don’t you behave kid “! Gosh, being the youngest was difficult.

My brother defeated me in every game we played together. When we played football, and when he would be nearing the goal post with the ball, and if I tried stopping him, he would just give me the most gentle of push and my intimidated self would see him gleefully kicking the ball to the goal post. I tried chess with him, but he was deft in that with the moves he learned from his friends perhaps, and within minutes he would defeat me. In fact the truth is I was so frustrated being defeated by him in chess that I never ever tried the game ever. Hockey, I could never imagine playing with him, it would be like giving the monster a weapon to wield it against me. It was only cricket where I would give him some opposition but even there my adversary would trample past me with the slightest of difficulty. So I was living the life of a vanquisher defeated in all quarters of life by my brother, dejected with defeat in every game our world knew. My brother was interjecting into my life, crushing my ego into shatters, trampling it like the majestic juggernaut and I was helpless. I wanted to fight, I wanted to rebel, I wanted perhaps to start a satyagraha against my brother to push him away my life. I would dream in my grandma’s lap in the long summer afternoon hearing stories of Indian villagers calling for a halt to the atrocities of the Britishers, that some day I would emulate them and rebel against my brother. And finally my dream came true; the unprecedented happening took place in the most unplanned manner!

It was our regular cricket matches we played in our terrace. Readers please note, I had till date been defeated in every game of cricket we played together, be it in our terrace or my neighbor’s terrace (for some reasons we liked changing the pitch conditions to play in my neighbors’ terrace (which our neighbors never in their life liked) where we could reach hopping past our terrace via the common mango tree.). My brother batted first and made a handsome total of I remember, 27 runs in 4 overs. When my chance to bat came, I pondered, 27 is not a big deal you could do that, although I knew that it would have been my best effort till date.
I started well and it would be too bring to detail the whole match although it is just 4 overs so I would come straight to the end of four over. At the end of three overs my total was 19 runs. ( I was out twice though in the course of the first three overs which I some how managed to fudge by crying out loud saying I was unprepared for the delivery, the normal tactics followed by kids playing in roof terraces). I remembered the final over vividly. That was my most important over I faced in my life, those five minutes would turn out to be the most defining moments of my life, moments I have never ever experienced before. I realized that getting defeated now means I would never ever in my life summon the courage to defeat him again. It was now or never, the most important moment of a eleven year old kid. I spoke to myself “Mithun this is the moment you have waited through out your life, you have waited eleven years for it, it is important, it is more important than all the grades you have obtained by toiling hard during examination times, it is the moment which would make you a man, a moment which comes only once in a man’s life”. And with such strong feelings in my mind I faced the first delivery. The first ball was a straight ball which I tried to fend it by flicking it to onside, but unfortunately I missed it and it hit straight my leg. LBW appeal, come one you don’t have LBW’s in terrace cricket!! So 5 balls 9 runs. Next ball was a full toss in toss on leg stump which I easily swept to the leg side boundary. 4 run gotcha!!! 4 balls 5 runs. I could now sense the nervousness not only in me but also on my brother’s face. In fact it seemed to me that there was nothing for me to loose, I had everything to gain and he had his reputation of never being defeated by his younger brother to maintain. You could sense the tensions, the sweat flowing through nervous young tense minds. Next ball, bounced on the off stump, and as I moved my left leg sideward’s, exposing my wicket, and tried to cut the ball, I missed it and I could hear my brother jump with excitement. ”Hmm, the monster’s enjoying it too”! I said to myself.2 balls 5, runs. Next ball my brother tries to emulate the previous ball and I emulated the previous shot, and this time I connect and the plastic ball moved like a tracer bullet to the offside boundary wall. Four runs indeed, I guess I had never hit a ball harder than that day, the hardest the sleek muscles of an 11 years old permit. Now we were tied, I could sense the dejection in my brother’s face, but hold the match was not finished. “1 run, mithun, 1 run, just this 1 run, you make it and you prove your monster what mettle you are made of “, my mind reverberated. Next ball my brother balls it straight and the only thing I could do was touch the ball, and as soon as I touched the ball, I ran, I ran as if I knew no tomorrow, ran as a hungry dog runs at the sight of a morsel of food, ran as if I going to the other end was the only reason I was born. And ran indeed my brother too, to salvage his pride! His bigger legs were moving around quickly than my small feets could. But alas my brother reached the ball, while I was half way the pitch. And my brother picked up the ball quickly to shoot at the brick mansion (wicket) at the non-striker’s end, I panicked with tension “What if he hits the wicket, what would I say to God, what would I say to myself, getting defeated at the hands of victory. That’s what losers are made of !Ohh God help me “, and the unprecedented happened , my brother missed the wicket with his throw, first time perhaps in my reminiscence , but who cares his ignominious act , I had won for God’s sake !!!! I ran through the whole terrace shouting with cheers of “I had won, I had won and my brother is a monkey (I added that to add some masala and humiliate my brother)”, I ran through the streets, of my small neighborhood relegating the story of my glory to everyone I knew, to ma, to Didi, to Grandma, to my neighbor and even to the street dog. And as I came back after my trip from the colony I came back to see my brother’s face, “how does he feel getting defeated, idiot!”, but what I saw that day, I remembered till now, his face did not carry a sense of dejection, instead he smiled at me , a smile which said many unsaid things
Growing up is such a great feeling, and all the while we grow up our life is so small, with our small family, our grandma, our small group of friends. And that day seeing my brother’s smile I realized something that day, how important a part of my existence was my brother. All the years I was growing up, he stood with me like a shadow, teasing me, defeating me, taunting me and perhaps strengthening me to face the bigger obstacles in the life. I have still not figured out his mysterious smile to date, may be it was a smile of a vanquished, may be it was a smile of a looser, or may be it was the smile of a brother who had realized that his small brother whom he has seen growing up from a toddler to this date in front of his eyes, was not a kid any more. Soon he would match him in every walk of life; soon perhaps he would overtake him, and it was time he makes himself understand the fact that his little brother would not remain little for ever! May be that smile told me that he was proud of me! May be life is just like that !

Rang De Basanti, a different perspective

May be I belong to those 1% of the people who somehow where not convinced with the plot of Rang de Basanti. I remember watching Rang de Basanti with 3 more friends of mine in, a middle sized “Anand” theatre. And as my other friends kept praising Rang de, I pondered to myself am I convinced with the plot. Let make it clear I am not making any comments about the acting skills of the artists in the movie. That would be ridiculous, of a person ignorant about artistic talents criticizing art. I simply would refer to the plot.
Its obvious people were appealed about the so called “deshbhakti “of four disillusioned youth who were appalled by the loopholes in the democracy and decide to take the matter to themselves!
Let’s start in a frivolous note! Imagine Madhevan was not the fiancé of our protagonists friend . Say would then our heroes acted in such a fashion or would they have been subjected to same moods of rebellion. What say, Madhavan was the person who cheated upon the girl for somebody else, say with the firang ! What would then Amir or the girl say, “usko apne karmo ka fal mila, right?” ya “Bhagwan ke ghar me der hai par andher nahi “and would then the audience undergo the same swings of compassion mood for Madhavan. Ha ha ha , perhaps not !
That’s what my point is, it was utterly senseless of the script writer to make a movie out of personal revenge and mask it in the face of devotion for the country!
What does the movie show? Four youths who have nothing in the world to prove , who spend their time in uselessly finding joy in the most frivolous activities in the world acting as a role model for this generation! Just pause and ponder would you allow your son or brother perhaps to emulate them, wasting their life in petty activities and then finding“terrorism” as a goal to find meaning out of their lives. Yes their carefree candid nature might appeal you, might make your hair stand out of your body, and might make you emulate those activites which they did? But is this life all about?

And what the heck does the movie show. A complete disregard for democracy in a democratic country! If you think that it open your eyes think again, the movie contradicts the very fundamentals of democracy. Are we ever taught to take violence as a means to find justice? Does the land of Gandhi and Buddha deserve no more than this? Is this the respect we render to all our forefathers who propagated the means of non violence as a means of protest? Is violence the only means to finding justice in this world ?

I doubt if the makers of the movie made a progressive movie or a movie which is too retrograde. To me the movie is no more different than those typical personal revenge movies masked beautifully in the name of democracy to earn some brownie deshbhakti
compassions from the cinegoers.

Random musings of a disenchanted being

Twenty three years have passed and even it never ever came to my mind to search an identity. I mean I do know myself, but I always envied those who could describe themselves so easily by an adjective preceding the word “guy”. Examples would be something like, “intelligent”, “smart”, ”cute” , ”normal”, “ordinary”, “average”, “nothing extraordinary”, and “friendly”. I would just discuss the virtues of each and try classifying myself into some bracket, or may be define a completely different bracket for me.

I guess the adjectives “intelligent”, “smart” and “cute “fall into similar bracket. A bracket which appeals to those people who overestimate himself. And as far as I know never in my life I overestimated myself. Infact I always underestimated myself and whatever I got in my life I considered myself plainly lucky.
Now cometh the most common adjectives “normal”, “simple” “ordinary”, “average” and “nothing extraordinary”. No I am not normal; I hate to consider myself normal. Ok, biologically I am like all Homo sapiens with nothing extra ordinary disgusting or nothing extraordinary appealing to somebody. But there is something about me which makes me feel I am beyond the comprehension of some average being. Though I might look so called normal in my thoughts , but then I realize that if I utter every word of my random musings , people would consider me a weirdo. Ever experienced the feeling that you are startled by your own thoughts, I have undergone such kind of experiences. Out of sudden a strange thought would creep into my mind, which would perhaps make me ashamed or proud later, and I would think why did I think so? Any way the human body intrinsically is itself so complicating that perhaps, calling yourself with those adjectives you are humiliating God , who perhaps took ages to plot and make you!

“Friendly”, well I tried to be considering my self friendly, but some how other don’t acknowledge my feeing friendly to them. And then I read this thought from Kautilya

“There is no one in this world who is friendly to you without selfish reasons “

Somehow I believe every word of the aforesaid thought. Too all those who claimed that they have a true friend, I just say wait, read this thought and consider again? Is he with you without selfish reasons? Perhaps not! And if you find such a friend of yours, then perhaps you know everything in this world.

So what do I call myself?

May be some day I will know it finally !