Muu main Ram...haath main mutton

A BHAGWAN KA MALA IN ONE HAND, MUTTON IN ANOTHER.

 

 

We brought Prince when he was just 8 weeks old. It was our first pet, a mixed breed pomrenian. Soon, the ball of snow was rolling all over our lives..and was part of us- in the smallest of things.Papa announced one morning- of plans of  going to Bombay. For  a week. Colonel Jamwal, out neighbor and a pakka army man with his own family of 4 dogs- was more than willing to keep our prince for few days.

Day we returned from Bombay, Prince just went crazy and for hours he danced around, licked our faces and his happinees knew no bounds. Evening, we gave him his usual milk, roti and a monginis cake. He shied away from khana. Didn’t touch it till night. We assumed he must have eaten at Col’s place.

 

Next morning, the same thing. We made fresh roti and milk, and rice, but what’s this// Princejust overturned the plate and went sulking. 2^nd day and no food. Next morning, we took him to the vet…and he checked….but just prescribed some medicines…and said…he seems to be normal.

Evening, we met Col….and related the strange behavoiur of prince. He just let out a large guffaw…and said….usko meeto sheetoo khilao. Kutta hain, gay nahi hain….asli khorak do…Basically he said meat-sheat khilao...give him meat and eggs and mutton...

That was a shocker. How can our house- where there are puju path morning till evening…the house had a full fledged temple room…and mandir bells used to ring thru and echo all the time. Papa used to teach Sanskrit, and was a very religios man….And mutton, in my home?? Toba toba.

I, mom, brother and sister- we made a plan. A secret plan. That, was to continue for 11 years, and that, my father would never ever know all his life.

We bought a stove..gave it to govindkaka, out trusted house help who has been wtj us 23 years so far. The conspiracy was thus; that every day, govind kaka will bring 15 buks ka mutton, will cook it in a far flung corner of our garden…and will feed prince. The entire issue stemmed from a dharma e Couldn’t offend papas sensibilities, nor could keep orince hungry.

That a, flesh and blood and bones entered a stanuch brahmin’s fmily.

 Moment papa would start his 7.30 pm sharp …pooja, govind kaka would pump up the stove, cook the mutton, feed prince by 8 and then move home.

The entire cover up operation contined in sucha way that moment mutton was being cooked, we- siblings or amma, would go and close the pooja room windows, under the guisse of mosquitoes.

At tmes, papa smelt the mutton…as the wind would waft in….but we were blessed with some non-veg neighbors….who became a stong alibi for us. Papa, maybe that panjabu family, or that chritstina family must be cooking…..sniff sniff…..

Best was- as a daily ritual, prince would be happily satisfied, and then strait go to papa’’s room and sit next to him…..unfailingly..

This continued for years and years….

There were times, when papa would finish his pooja, and somehow prince would be sticking around him…so papa would say- chal beta, I will give u khana. But hey, remember, my prinec was a pure non veg doggy now.he would simply stare at the roti and milk, and like his habit, would overturn the plate many times. We would maybe rush just in time..and say papa, he is not hungry….he will eat afterwards……that milk and roti would obviously go to some stray dog or cat later in the night.

Many years later, 96 to be precise I shifted to Bombay, and would really miss prince a lot….those long walks in the huge farms…at surat, those amazing moments spent with him…those anti rabies injections- so many of them that we had to sponsor for ppl who were bitten by price…right from papas student, to the postman, to one unsuspecting laborer who was just picking up his shovel from the lobby, and wat came in his hand, was not his hand, but a half bitten mauled fleshy piece resembling his hand.

It was exam time- and I came to know prince is nt well. I so very muh wanted to go and see prince but I couldn’t. My parents gave me false information that now he is ok. And is running around….i always  used to hear his bark over the phone..and he would always  respond even wen I called him….pinchoooooo my baby..over the gone with a receiver kept on his ear..

3 days non stop I asked my parents- I wanna hear the voice of prince but they somehow kept avoiding. Then I panicked. I called up my neighbor….she said….ur prince expired 3 days back. Why, u don’t know?

Took the next available train to surat….7.30 from Bombay central, reached surat by 11,30pm night…..huffing panting…but he was nowhere to be seen…I knew he was dead..but I  still wanted to see my prince for the last time…..pushed off on the bike and went to govind kakas place….wth him, to the place where prince was buried…i exhumed his body...left a bucketful of tears on him.....why not....i sure had heard that if you add salt during a burial, it helps decompose faster...

im sure he decomposed faster and happier…..took the return train to Bombay- 2.15am…and was back in Bombay by 6.30. n back to attend the 7.30 am marketing mgt class in the morning.

Back home, I learnt that prince has stopped eating for almost ten days….and all things were tried…the most shocking part was: my papa…who even shuned the sight of eggs eand flesh…..forget touching it……had himself gone to the market to buy mutton….with govindkaka…asked him to cook it…and with his own hands tried to feed prince….beta, please eat something….please eat…..

a staunch brahmin, in some way, had allowed his dharam to be brasht.....all for love...all for a loved one...

Prince never opened his mouth. But yes….he breathed his last…in my papas lap…and my ammas lap….very peacefully…..like a saint who took a self decided Samadhi…no disease, no pain..no health turbulences…he just quit eating….

And we couldn’t quit his memory..for a lifetime.

When a teenager fell in love with a hindu nun...

It was a normal morning….just like any other day…just in the second period..our bindiyaa maam, announced to us…that some ppl from the hare rama krishna mission were visiting our school. And soon they will come to the class. It was of no consequence to me….

There she entered…along with her associates…..i was just too spell bound….perhaps as much as mira was enamoured by Krishna..or how majnu went dizzy seeing laila for the first time. She was an amazing beautiful American sadhvi…from the kare Krishna mission…and was part of the group that visited our school. It was love-infatuation-madness at first sight. Prompted me to shift from the last bench to the first bench. While I was always curious of god, atma, life…and many a time had posed questions to many….here, I was more than just interested in answers….i posed my most idiotic questions and queries…and were answered very nicely by the sadhvi..just when they were leaving, I went and asked for their address….their numbers..and all….for, I was interested in meeting them) her_ once again….

It became a weekly routine…I kept going to the place where she hd halted…a senior hare Krishna mission chair person….and kept finding reasons to meet her see her….

Was having a turbulence in my mind…coz I was just pretending that im attracked to the mission, but realty was I was jus attracted to her….

I attended bhajans, prayers, also went with her to some other schools…and I was eing introduce as a curious kid….who had fallen in love with hare Krishna. But me was doing hare radha hare radha….in my mind….

The madness knew no bounds when I started sporting a hare Krishna style tikka..on my forehead…when I was out of school…I bought a lot of books from her…as if I was deeply  interested…and I was also talking of love of Krishna n Radha…and was making imaginary castles wen I knew that radha was much elder to Krishna in terms of age..and then, thoght if krishna and radha can be one, why not i. my love is also pure, mad, divine…and much more…

My parents too were flummoxed with my sudden interest in hare Krishna….my tilak, my collection of books, which I never read….etc etc…..but they were maybe too sure of my idiosyncracies- one madness at a time….and hence, they dint bother much….evening they knew I was going to the hare Krishna temple….so they never even asked…as it had become routine…for me..

The sadhvi, by the way, never ever gauged my intentions, why im following her, why  so much communicating with her…for her I was just a kid….not even passed 11^th std…and who maybe, she treated as a baccha. But then, like Malena..the movie….where a small kid was mad after a woman twice her age….i was  reassuring myself all the time…and visualizing a lot of things…ahead. Of getting married to her….of how our pooja room I would be…and how she would look as my wife…..

Just one of those usual Sundays where I were to attend a prayer meet in the evning…and I went to the centre…..shockingly this American sadhvi wasn’t around. I was restless….i went up to the senior mataji and asked her point blank…..mataji, where is…..xyz….why is she not around. Is she ok….is she around…a flurry of questions…..

I was sweating…so much that it rubbed off my hare Krishna stlle tilak…..

Mataji, very nonchalantly replied…beta…she had come on tousits visa..and she just left for Bombay last night…she has a flight to catch back to LA.

I was shocked. Dumbstruck. Completely blank in my mind.

Couldn’t sleep whole nite.

Constantly….her images kept running in my mind…..

The next day, I visited the temple…and just told god….look god, I love her a lot….if u can bring her back to me, I will then only step into ur temple once again.

God might have smiled n said- grow up u idiot….this is ur 12^th true love ……

So….go, find ur 13^th.

EVEN MONSTERS CRY...SOMETIMES!!

 



BET, NOBODY HAS EXPRERIENCED THIS: It was my first job- my first baby step into the world of advertising. Was jus a junior copywriter..6 months into the job, n was doin great. had a double promotion jus in 6 months...n then, one fine day, my first guru, my mentor and the one who gave me my first break- Paul, he decided to quit. And moved to another agency. Ooops, I was left behind. A new creative director took over. First day, first showdown. I din’t like him, he dint like me. Without a reason. Hatred was stemming from within. It was as if the typical hindi film where NAAG, or NAAGIN, which was killed in his/her last birth, now is back in human form to take revenge. All of a sudden, from hearing compliments, lots of encouraging words, and having fun on the job- each day now, began with a gaali, n would end up with tons of ideas simply being thrown away- and rejected- by this new boss. Day in day out. And mind you- he was an amazingly popular guy otherwise- full party animal, freako, and woah, a guy who everybody loved. The mental torture continued for months. Couldn’t take it anymore- and almost reached a nervous breakdown. Then one fine day, got this job offer. And man, I jumped. Took it up imm. My HR manager called me. And she asked me to attend the exit interview. Silly me, I blurted out everything that I felt, about the new creative director- as I was assured that exit interviews are confidential. Having wrapped up formalities- I moved on to the new place, new agency. After 3 days, the Monster CD called me up and said- Hey bugger- I think u left many bad comments for me in the exit interview. I’m gona see you some day. I was shivering when he called. But I assumed he will be history. Or maybe I will be. Lets see. Life began in the new agency, where I was my usual mad self, fun self……and never knew how 2 months passed. Then…..One fine day( or bad day) I am just entering office in the morning… and I see this Monster CD sitting at the reception. I missed a heartbeat. Still, we exchanged pleasantries. I still remember that gussa on his face. Next morning, I hear, that Monster CD joining my agency. O shit, I said. My daymares and nightmares started all over again. Morning firing. Afternoon tearing ideas. Evening loading you with briefs- just when you’re about to leave. Repeat. Repeat the cycle- next 8 months. N I had just got married. And this man, knowing this- started calling me on sat and Sundays also. Couldn’t take it. Every idea I churned out was shit, horrible, and worth only the dustbin. As per my monster CD. Started hunting. Got thru the line of one agency head- chairman. Interview scheduled in next 2 hours. Rushed with my portfolio. Interview over in 20 minutes. And appointment letter in hand, in next 20 minutes. It was a miracle. Just a miracle. I went feeling like Alexander the Great. Just went up straight to my Monstor CD and announced my resignation. New job started in 15 days. Tried to forget my CD, tried to come over all those rejected award entries, rejected ideas- which otherwise, a lot of ppl praised, and which actually gave me my other jobs….anyways…I said…its better to move on. Started my 3rd job. 3rd year of my career. Awesome guys, brands, and work culture. rocking at new agency..Hardly spent 2 months, when lightning struck. The same Monstor CD was joining my agency as Executive Creative Director. Will I survive this time, I told myself. Same torture cycle started. I survived. 9/11 happened and WTC didn’t survive. I did. Silently. Well, here, I was praying that this monstor cd never gets up this morning. That he gets caught under drunken driving and is sent to jail. That he should fall sick etc etc. 6 months went by….. He was not in the agency today morning….and I learnt that he is unwell. I said to myself- Ahh….one day of peace……Just then, I got a call on my cell. Vyas- I am at Haji Ali- come down right away. What flashed across my mind: Is this guy going to kill me today> Is he going to throw me in the sea? Is he going to…..God knows why, I called up my wife…and told her…that look, this guy has called me to so and so place…and if I don’t return in 2 hurs, then go to the cops. Ok? There I was. Standing at HAJI ALI. Trrring. Call comes. He said- Have you reached? I said- Yeah. Ok, just cross the road, and walk into Heera Panna…Shop number xxx. In 5 minutes I was there. It was an opticians shop. Vyas- he said: Choose any frame you like. Gucci. Versache. Anything you like. I was speechless.Thought- is this some plot- to make me buy the specs, and then box me in the face to turn me blind? Whatever. He said- yaar I have been thinking a lot about u. And ur specs. I don’t like em. Seeing my reluctance- in choosing a 4k and 5k frame, he himself- chose one for me- it was I think worth 3,900 buks. That was- some 15% of my monthly salary 10 years back. I was still in state of shock. Got it packed- and then he says- chal, les have some coffi. Did you get the news, he asked me? What news…I muttered… He said- I’m leaving for the UK. And you’re the first person am sharing this news with. I dint know whether to feel sad, happy, jump in joy…or whatever. Sitting by the coffee table- he said. Vyas, I really love you. I love your ideas.Love the way you think. You have too much potential, if u put it to use in the right way. You are the most amazing chap ive seen, met, known. My coffee got cold while just trying to digest what he was saying…. He said- all these years- im simply trying to make u rock solid, trying to extricate the very best out of you. Trying to make you better and better. He got up from his seat- and gave me a very tight hug.That moment, I remembered Shivaji story and Afzal khan’s story- of how Afzal khan had tried to crush shivaji with a bear hug. Here, I dint have any weapon like shivaji. I burst out crying like a baby. I saw him in a very different light that moment. I couldn’t understand him ever. I saw a tear drop in his eyes also- as we got into the car. He dropped me till the office gate……and said- Vyas- no hard feelings. Till this date- I don’t know many of the what’s, why’s…of life.

I am a cotton plant. He planted me, nourished me, took good care of me. Then one day, the Government people came, the money lender came- and plucked me, tore me, raped me and my seeds all apart....the farmer shouted, screamed, but these peeople- simple put a little bit in their ears...they turned deaf..while the farmer lost his voice- asking for help.....nobody helped him, nobody helped his family. Here i lie, now, dying in the scorching sun...dry unirrigated fields, while the aid that came in millions and billions- has been pocketed by babu's ad the middlemen...and....now, watever little is left on my dying flower- atleast will serve one purpose: It will help fill up my farmers nostrils....he has just committed suicide an hour back....and his widow is still running around for help...she will have to pay bribes even to get his death certificate...and u thought the vulture population is getting extinct?? Come to my area- vidharbha....and you will

know- Vultures are the only ones surviving.

Surat wants to fly- an experimental tshirt design

Boasting of 15000 and more members, this Facebook group and community has been pursuing the need of making Surat- a flightworthy destination, and a air-connected city. Finally, this group managed its first success, and Spicejet started its first flight(s) to and from Surat. This t-shirt is a rough idea- dedicated to the surat group- SURAT WANTS TO FLY! Its at a prelim stage, and certainly improvising on this idea in the next few hours....

TWEETY MUST FLY: How engineers from IIT, space scientists from Nasa, Docs from Bombay and an advertising guy- all collaborated for one Bird's dream!

That morning also, the donkey came near our gate. He waited patiently- till my wife came out, gave him khana- and then applied a concotion of medicines, haldi and all. Like an obedient cow- he would stand silently bearing that burning pain of tincture bezoine- haldi and antiseptics- on his badly bruised open flesh would- that his owner had left him with- and abandoned him. Just then- from nowhere...a man came with a plastic bag, and in it- was something fluttering. He asked- Doctorni saab hain? I was flummoxed- as there was no vet in and around a single mile radius....next second i assumed he was talking about my wife. As the story unfolded- it was an injured parot- with its wings badly cut...and his toe nails/claws completely unstable and in bad shape. We immediately took it in- it was our first' ever winged guest....besides Coco- one small rescued puppy, one huge alsation which we had picked up from Chembur bridge, and yes, our very own Prince, Misha, Cherry- and the new 5 puppy litter. The house was a total mess...imagine- just total 5 rooms- a small lawn- a heavily pregnant wife- and so many pets and animals running around.

That night, we kept Tweety- a name we gave to the parrot- along with coco, in the bedroom. To make things more comfortable and natural- we got a small twig that was looking like a proper pedestal- so tweety can rest n stand on it- just the way birds are acustomed to.

Coco-the one month old puppy and tweety- that nigt shared a room- and maybe in must have communicated thru their divine animal langugae....who knows...Tweety...meanwhile was still under severe trauma, n was re-actionaless, motionless, and almost lifeless- no feelings at all.....maybe it was too early to expect it to bounce back to life....


As a few days passed by, spreading a buffet of chillies, guavas, cherries..etc in front of tweety became ritual...and well, coco, the lil one would also start running around as soon as it was spread on the ground. Tweety starting re-acting. Feelings expressions n life started being re-ignited....it started teeting/whisteling..screaming....as and when coco would try coming near its cherries or guavas....those were the first signs of life..in tweety....as now...he had not only accepted coco as its friend, but also a foe- in jolly spirit...it was a friendship built on innocense and curiosity....where both of them were just trying to know each other...the parrot and the puppy....

The friendship got funnier day by day- as every morning, we used to take tweety to the terrace- and there-we would spread lot of cherries chillies and all the birdy delights. Now, it was an area where the winged population was pretty good-especially parrots..so slowly gradually- a lot of parrots started coming on the terrace. The whole idea was- socialisation with its own kind will revive tweety, make it feel happy, and lso give it more self confidence. As weeks rolled- tweety was a new- fresh and revived parrot- singing and hopping around...every morning whisteling and waking us up around 6.....Sometimes he would hop over even to cocos bed...and then both will tease each other...As we realised, tweety was only not scared of coco- but whenever misha or prince would walk in the room- it was always perified.....and would sit very firmly on my shoulder.

The back-to-life and whisteling schedule was tweety was far rom over. It was, after all a bird, and they belong to the sky, the blues and the wirld- not in 4 walls and under a cement roof.

Now the first big question was: Will tweety ever fly again? Conventional wisdom said- it wouldnt- since the wings were clipped from the base by some sick pet seller/dealer.
The vet said- not possible. I said- WHY NOT??

Studied hours to understand 'wing' dynamics, aero dynamics (basic) and tried to figure out some way. There has to be a way it can fly again- even if it means a 'prostheitc wing implant'. But how.

It was a rainy day when i entered the gates of IIT, Powai.That's one place- i knw- u can ask the craziest of questions, think the unthinkable- n yet, ppl wont send u to an asylum.

First stop was a gang on students-outside the aeronautics building. I explained my idea' rather question.....and i did understand that the 'wings' are one of the most complex ever natural fabrication that has still not been understood by scientists 100 pcnt.He said- we havent been able to achive even 20% perfection to a birds wing' dynamics..but yes- best part was they were interested, they were encouraging...and then guided me to the materials management team- the same team that had developed the Jaipur foot- an Indian prosthetic limb.In the next few days, there was a flurry of communication which i had with the students- sharing, postulating, and kinda trying to comprehend. One group also put up this case- in their student committee- for discussion- and brainstorming. The entire cycle was supposed to be on suppositions. But mainly on one question- WHY NOT?

Code named 'TWEETY MUST FLY' i continued meeting, writing to, and interacting with many people. The entire process was going to be in 3 parts:

a) to develop the right kinda wings.

b) to find the best composite material for making the wing

c) a surgeon who will take up the chalenge of fixing the wings.

It sounded like a dream project...and news did spread to quarters i dint even expect. A famous vet surgeon from Bombay, called up and said- if u guys can make the wings- i can fix it for tweety. a materials expert from iit kharagpur also chipped in with his support and said- he too will try his best in making some light material in the lab. The biggest surprise was a letter from an Indian Scientist from NASA. He said- i will be coming to India in December and will certainly try my best to help in this project. And make tweety fly.

Perhaps that night, i imagined myself to be tweety....flying high in the sky, doing somersaults, eating fresh guavas from trees...etc....

To me, the project was moving full steam- on the power of hope and help from a number of people- especially when there was no 'commercial' angle to it.

Weeks rolled into 2 months- and it was just around november...

Morning time, was our prince tweety's time.....time to sit on his throne made of a twig, and then moment he was on the terrace, he would run, scream, jump....to gleee...and have his heart's fill ...and also inviting over many of his own kind. 9.30am it was time to bring him back, as i had to leave for office....and as usual, i went up, and he hopped on the twig.

Just as i was walking down the stairs- the last stair- i stumbled....fell...lost my balance.tweety too fell....and Misha- my 2nd doggy was right there....tweety fell right in front of her- and in one instant and instinctive reaction- she just put her paw on tweety. Impulse- and meant no harm.

But it was too much of a trauma for tweety.

It turned cold.

No response.

Tweety had flown away. Forever.

LOVE' in a Bombay CAB

LOVE IN A BOMBAY CAB: A true story: In a city starved of space, freedom,and infested with moral police- cabs are one of the safest places where ppl love' on the go. Loverbirds, even married couples grab their share of 5 mins of 'romantik' moments...and it wasnt too unsual to see, that evening, a cab where we saw a couple pull each othr closer. I was on the bike with my art-director Bhushan, i just told him- hey look, there's some hanky panky going on in the cab ahead. It was bumper to bumper traffic and we were right behind the cab- and it was going to be that way for sometime. Suddenly what caught our attention was- the woman;s head was bobbing up and down every 2 mins...the idiotic voyeur in me- and the dirty mind that i am- i told bhushan- hey i think she is doing a Monika Lewinsky number- right therein the cab...see see see....even bhushan said- aiila- true man...luk how besharam ppl hav become- a bj right in the cab?? A few minuts pased..and we just about managed to overtake the cab- assuming that like all others around-we too are going to see them in a compromising position- Gosh. It wasnt. There was a small baby in the man's lap...and the woman- the mother....was baar baar...bending down and kissing the lil smilig innocent baby.....what we thought....and wat it turned out to be....