Debate

He was coming home after a heated debate. This was his routine. He would debate anywhere on anything. It can be at the book shop about — How Shakespeare’s work is simply scribbling of a mind gone worse or at the tea-stall about — how the decrease in sugar production may lead to people drinking sugarless tea. It appeared that everything was debatable for him. Often behind his back people would comment that he can also debate the reason of his birth— was it a pleasurable act or were his parents having sex to raise a family!
Whatever, people loved to see him debating. Unlike others, he always backed his arguments with facts and figures. There were doubts that he conjure them up. But this got cleared when once a so called educationalist verified that his figure on the number of known religions in the world was accurate. Well, nothing much changed from this revelation, except that the cigarette-shop owner nearby started referring to him as ‘neta ji’ (leader).
For they never took those debates seriously. What excited them was his passion. So, the question of right facts and figures didn’t bother them. They always wanted to see someone new, who didn’t know about his reputation,to debate with him. To their astonishment, he never got angry or shouted or to the disappointment of many had a street-fight. He simply debated.

There were theories about— who he was? Where he came from? What he does? According to most, they knew it all but just can’t simply recall. Whenever asked, he would simply smile and point to anyone and say — didn’t I tell you? That person would become the centre of attraction for many days, as if he knew the secret. There were many who denied it, some who revered in the glory and made-up stories and some who said they can’t break his faith. By the end of the year, there were 100 stories about him or may be more.

But today, he was disappointed. The debate was a soul-searching one. Though he had won hands down, he knew that he had lost. He never debated so as to win. But to lose is tougher than winning. He committed suicide that night. No one was aware why he did that. They debated upon it……..

Note: This story reflects my current state of mind (SoM). We both (my SoM and the story) are unaware where to head for...perhaps an abrupt end will justify the justifiable. In my dreams whenever I visit my past I wonder, why I've been so unsuccessful. I can't justify my intiatives, attempts but then maybeI did it all because I've to be unsucessful.......

While I wondered.....

They are back in the city. Sometimes, they overbear the shining hot ball, which often cons you into losing sense of the hour clock. But now I'm aware of their gimmicks so I don't fall into the trap. I still hear stories about them from my parents. Back at home, sometimes they turn to be very noisy and in extreme cases devastating too. Whatever, my folks dismiss them easily. They become a nuisance in the long run, so my folks believe.
As a child I thought they look beautiful. Especially, when they appeared close. So close that they were within my arms reach. I always wondered if I could put my hand through them. My grandma, use to tell me that there were snakes and gold pots inside them. She added that only those of good virtue get those gold pots. My sister always felt that she'll get gold and snakes'll bite me.

Now when I look at them I don't expect a gold pot or snakes inside them. I've given them a different identity. Don't know if my sister will agree with me. She believes that I'm always at the wrong end. But I don't envy her as I use to do it some two decades ago. I wish if at all there are gold pots inside them she manages to find some.
But I am jealous when I think of them as I have identified them. Because, I know they are charlatans. They are good at luring you and more often than less they deceive you with ease. I feel protective for my sister but I also know the reality. So I stare at them, as if telling them not to venture there.

They've robbed me twice. Don't know if I should say thrice or even four times. But lets keep the count to twice. The first time they did, I was angry. Reason, cause they took what I loved, miles away. So, I asked them for an explanation. As usual, they spoke in their language. Then they promised me that they'll tell the answer but they'll confirm it from the one they took away. I agreed. I had no choices. It took them two years. They blamed it on the distance. I agreed again. They told me that it was not their fault for I was rootless.
I begged to differ. They understood. They explained me in a simple manner. Their simplicity is more complex. It took me days to understand. The night I finally got it, I was drenched. But they were caring and clarified that it happened for good. And next time I should be beware. I was perplexed. Was that a sign of hostility? They kept quiet and left the city in a few days.

I forgot about them soon. The next year, they came and went. I didn't bother. It was very easy. I had nothing to lose and I wasn't looking for gold pots. For them I was insignificant. And it never mattered. I still remember looking at them passing by. I avoided direct eye contact. There were some questions left in my mind and I was rootless as before.

Last year, they were overjoyed. I was chasing a mirage. The moment they saw me, they knew that the game was on. Was I scared? Kind off. They made noises; they sung songs, danced and rejoiced. I looked at them in disgust. Only difference - I know I was still rootless. They didn't want to hurt me. So, they decided that this time they'd take a return gift. For they come twice in a year……..

They did what they had to. They took of whatever I had. They're back this year as well. I asked them - So, what now? Any gold pots for me? They're quiet. They don't want to answer. They know I'm unsuccessful and they love me for being that. If you don't believe me ask them. They will pour their heart out……….

Alphabets v/s Names

Belfast is one of those places, which I’ve only seen on television. I guess there must be a number of such places and I don’t know if I’ll ever see them beyond that 28 inch screen. Same is the story with our lives. I don’t know what constrain us but most of the times our life is constricted in a similar screen. How wide and the number of channels? Well, your guess is good as mine.

Anyhow, Z was back in town for two days. Once again, his idea to stay with me was cause our friendship and not because A’s (his girlfriend) sister was at home. I didn’t discuss this coz anyway he would have justified it. But, it took him little time to reach A’s home once her sister was off to work. And, he came back once his desires were satiated. This doesn’t mean we didn’t spend enough quality time. We did!

As India won the Belfast match and the series, our discussion traversed from cricket, commentators to life, money, society and position. It all started from his ‘visiting card’. I don’t know but we both believe that visiting cards tell you nothing about a person, except his name and designation. But in real life, these things do matter.
Z justified his idea of utopia and how he is above all this showbiz by stating the fact that he doesn’t discloses his salary. In his words :“People boast about their salaries. I don’t. I always say that I get enough to meet both ends. Even I can boast but people shouldn’t recognize or accept me because I earn good.”
Z, is not wrong in what he saying. But I feel even in what he said there was some hidden ego. At least, I felt so. I’m not trying to say that he shouldn’t do it. I guess each one of us does so. I can’t because I am unsuccessful. And I’ve my share of ego, which gets boosted —
1. When I show my boss sitting late in office that I’m trying to work hard, while am up to anything and everything on the net.
2. When I reject a good looking girl coz I feel she would not be able to downgrade to my standards.
3. When I zip ahead a slow, old, cranky vehicle
4. When I walk into a clothing store and don’t buy anything coz all waist sizes are x100 times bigger than mine, while I’ve the money.
5. When I order a drink and sip it for hours, faking as a connoisseur coz I can’t afford to buy another
So I think Z’s ego is much better and more deserving to be flaunted.

Z and me had a beer each at TGIF and then went to India Gate. I wish I can write about it but now that Delhi and I are emotionally estranged, I would better stop myself. I’m waiting for the monsoons……I want to be drenched and drained away…….