“B..but..how..can that ..I m..ean..” Vikram in reply was barely able to enunciate his words. His blood was running cold and his entrails had contorted themselves in to a bungled mess. How could this man be dead when he had only met him earlier this afternoon!
But as Vikram was about to make another attempt at speech and possibly convey to the old man tidings of the event at the bus stop, there was suddenly heard coming from behind one of the doors, a loud clanging noise, which almost gave his palpitating heart an attack!
“Ah, it’s that incorrigible cat again, always making a mess of my kitchen. Just give me a minute to go and take care of this,” And the old man stood up and left the living room in a hurry.
As soon as he left though, there appeared in front of Vikram, a floating and wavy image of the Sardar Ji, the phantasm like form having a hazy looking torso and head with its bottom half consisting of a tapering mermaid like tail. This spectral vision caused Vikram to jump up from the couch, cold sweat pouring down his face as he found himself on the verge of breaking in to hysterics.
“Don’t be afraid, my dear fellow. Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of harming you. None at all. Just sit, sit and listen to me now,” A warm and assuring voice came from the wraith in an attempt to sedate the mortal, and for now it worked, managing to make him crumple back to the couch.
“Good. What I want to say to you my dear fellow is that your life is too precious and beautiful to waste away in meaningless fears. It was to show you this that I asked you to come here and I am glad you came and you saw the spirit of these old people, who are on the verge of death but are still living and enjoying their existence to the fullest. And as far as your fear about death is concerned, well I assure you it is nothing to be afraid of. It is not the nightmare that you think it is. I speak no gibberish my dear fellow, rather I speak from personal experience. I have been dead for two years. You heard the man, didn’t you? So stop being afraid and start living a little son. And if you still can’t, then I don’t know. For if the truth can’t rescue you, I don’t know what else can.” And with a friendly parting wink at Vikram, the ghost disappeared.
With a stupefied expression on his face, Vikram remained seated in that living room. His heart was still beating out aloud and his eyes were wet from Sardar Ji’s words. Too much of his life had gone to waste already.
He could still hear the rain pelting away at the living room window. He was still afraid of it, of getting drenched, of catching pneumonia, of death, but now he somehow knew what he had to do to get over these fears.
A couple of minutes later when the old man returned from the kitchen, he found that his guest was nowhere to be seen, the half open front door of the house indicating that he had taken his leave.
*******
The Shagun ceremony was near its completion and Raj was standing there in the open, thoroughly soaked in rain, but still holding his jacket steadfastly over Meeta’s head.
“At least tell me how long is this punishment going to last? I am wet and my arms are aching now,” he implored Meeta for some mercy but all he got in return was a quizzical smile.
“So I was trying to entrap you in a relationship, right? And I am one of those girls, one of those gold diggers, who can only love someone with lots and lots of money, right?”
“Are yaar…that was…that was….how do I…I was a first rate idiot, for saying what I said…”
“Only an idiot?”
“Idiot, dumb, stupid, a jerk, an ass, all of it really. Is that okay?”
“It’s never been not okay, it’s always been okay. I am okay, you are okay and everyone under that canopy is okay. So why don’t you go to them, why are you standing here holding your jacket over my head?”
“Are yaar, how many more times do I apologize to you now? Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,”
“You really are an idiot. Have you ever heard of a love story where all a guy does is say ‘sorry’? I mean you watch so many movies and you still don’t know anything, do you?”
“Sorry, I don’t get it.”
“Offo, there is much more to a love story than your sorry Raj.” And Meeta rose on her tip toes and stole a small kiss from his lips. She then waited but Raj just stood there, thinking god knows what!
“Offo, at least kiss me properly now!” she exclaimed with a chuckle.
This finally spurred him on, and so he leaned down and kissed Meeta passionately, and in the warmth of that kiss, the thick rusted layers of apathy, bitterness and cynicism that had deposited themselves on his heart over the years, began to melt away, so much so that intermingled with the trickles of water that flowed down from his face to hers while they kissed, were a few of his tears, signaling that life in him had finally broken the shackles of numbness that had been confining it for so long, and was now breathing in him, its first sighs of freedom.
*******
So as Vikram stood there getting drenched in the rain, as Raj and Meeta exchanged that passionate kiss, as the Sharma family were calculating their profit from the Shagun ceremony, as Vibhuti Lal expressed his gratitude to our Sardar Ji for his assistance, as Arjun finally saw that blinking yellow dot on his map disappear, the elderly hip hop man with the bandana, scribbled down the last few words of his song and began to perform it over his piano, his bass voice resonating to all four corners of Ludhiana.
‘Smile…
Before you walk this long winding mile..
Before you take the blows from foes and friends alike..
Repose a while..
Rest a while..
My friend, just smile…
Just smile..
Before the cares and troubles of life..
Wear you down with constant strife..
Laugh a while..
Close your eyes and dance a while..
Oh my beautiful friend, just smile..
Smile..
Even if all you see around you is despair..
You give it a smug little smile and make it disappear..
Smile with me, and I’ll smile with you..
And I promise, that somehow we’ll make it through..
Now be it that you have a broken heart..
Or its some emptiness tearing you apart..
Believe me..
Believe me when I say..
We will search and we will pray…
And in that world of lost smiles..
I will find you yours and you will find me mine..
And as we‘ll look up at that light so divine…
Arms in arms..
we will smile..
yeah..we..will..smile..
just smile…’
Chapter 4 – The tutelage troubles
1
Our story begins in the football field of a prestigious engineering college, located on the southern outskirts of the city. A football field surrounded by a number of trees, whose previously bare and wintered boughs were now adorned by the fresh leaves of spring, and as these leaves grew, they suffused the very air around them with a heady aroma, which conveyed to one and all that the blighted days of winter were now history and that they were now roaming in the beauty of the intoxicating spring, which sprouted new life on the branches of trees and sprung up new hope in the hearts of men.
In accord with this lively spirit, a group of young men driven on by the energy and buoyancy of their youth were presently involved in an intense session of football practice in the field. Led on by their coach Mr. Joginder Pal Singh, a former national level player and an alumnus of the college, these young men constituted amidst themselves the football team which represented this prestigious institution. With the first competition of the season just a couple of weeks away, it was no wonder that all of them were putting an arduous amount of effort in this practice session, wanting to hone their skills and fitness to the maximum possible level before the opening match.
But among them was one who was not quite himself at the moment, w
ho was lackadaisical in his body language and inchoate in his effort, and for that he was repeatedly getting bombarded with a series of curses and admonitions from his coach.
“Damn it Jain, keep yourself more side on, how many times have I got to fucking tell you that!”
“How can you let him cross the ball in so easy, you are the fucking right-back of this team for god’s sake!”
“Don’t lose your man, don’t lose your fucking man so easily, is that how you mark, is that how you fucking mark someone, twenty pushups, now.”
“You never, never show a player on his stronger foot when he is this close to your goal, can’t you get that?
But despite the sharp rebukes and the accompanying push-up penalties, the young man, who went in this world by the name of Rishabh Jain, was proving out to be quite intractable, and thus continued to perform well below par in the practice session.
It was some two hours later, a time by which the sun had considerably lowered itself in the skies to immerse the whole of creation in a dusky twilight, when the practice session finally came to an end.
After a string of cooling off exercises, the group of players headed for the bleachers to pack up their kits, and it was here that Rishabh was joined by his team captain, and more importantly his good friend, Sameer.
“You looked well out of it today champ, the coach isn’t happy at all,” Sameer commented as he sat down beside him.
“Something’s been bothering me,” Rishabh replied laconically as he continued to pack up his kit.
“What?” Sameer inquired, as the team captain and as his friend, he thought that he had a duty to ask and a right to know.
“Let’s get out of here first, ice tea at The Booth?” Rishabh asked to which Sameer responded with a nod, and as such a little while later both of them found themselves on their way to the agreed destination.
The booth was a café of sorts, a small cubicle with a gabled roof that served its patrons, normally the college student and professors, a variety of snacks and refreshments. It was located in an open yard just in front of the Student Club building, the small shack was surrounded by a number of stone benches that were put up there for the purpose of seating.
Rishabh moved to one of these stone benches to reserve it for himself and Sameer as his friend went to The Booth to get those ice teas. He and Sameer were both in their final year of engineering and had been friends with each other almost since the first month of their arrival here, having first encountered each other as class mates and then as team mates.
Soon Sameer returned with the ice teas and it was over the delicious and refreshing sips of the beverage that their earlier conversation recommenced.
“So what is bothering you?” Sameer repeated his original question.
“It was what happened in our Satellite Communications Class today. I mean how can someone teaching final year engineering say that a satellite will fall back on earth if its orbital velocity increases? Even a nincompoop knows that the satellite will overshoot its orbit, not fall back on the planet. I mean, I know the professors here are not the brightest in the world, but this, this is the limit. And to top it all up, she even tried to prove this nonsense mathematically by completely distorting mathematical logic!!” Rishabh thus laid out the reason for his discontent, with his annoyance quite clearly evident in his tone.
“Really, are we going to have this ‘poor quality of education’ debate again? Don’t forget, half of our class did agree with the Professor today,” Sameer pointed out, matter-of-factly.
“And that is what bothers me more. Not only falsity is being taught, but it is also being absorbed without any questioning!” Rishabh found his fingers ready to clench in to the disposable ice tea glass, but somehow kept them, and his temper, in check. The Satellite Communication professor was guilty of inaccurately spilling a satellite back on earth; he did not want to join her league by insincerely spilling his ice tea upon that recently crashed satellite.
“Leave it brother. What can you expect in a college where professors teach a subject like Computer Networks by just standing there and reading from a book without even looking up at the class, as if they are stoic effigies narrating some long winded out story. I say they are better off recording their voice on a tape and then using that for all posterity. But that is the way things are, you can’t let that bother you. Some problems, they are better left unsolved,” Sameer concluded, not wishing to waste any more energy on discussing such a futile subject.
“But it does bother the crap out of me sometimes!” Rishabh remonstrated, grinding his teeth. “This system, it is so fucking pathetic, all the time either we are listening to boring lectures or copying assignments or giving these sessional exams, I mean there is just no productive learning.”
“Some problems, they are better left unsolved,” Sameer repeated again for his friend’s benefit, he knew there was no light at the end of this tunnel, so it was useless to search for one. “Besides we have internet lectures, I am happy with them, just use your time in class as I do, catch up on some sleep while you are there.”
“It is not about me or you. Why can’t you understand that we can’t keep on ignoring this problem. Evil wins because of the apathy and indifference of people like us. We must, must do something to change things,” Rishabh reiterated, his voice growing louder this time, catching the attention of a few other students sitting nearby.
“Calm down and don’t create a ruckus now,” Sameer advised, somewhat dismissive in his manner. He was not in the least comfortable about all the attention Rishabh was attracting towards them. “I am telling you this debate is useless, just a sheer waste of energy, unless of course you have a solution, but believe me there is just no solution here.” he stated blandly.
“What if I tell you I do have a solution?” Rishabh now revealed, before he leaned forward towards his friend and after lowering his voice to a whisper, outlined to him his plan.
“Its insanity, utter insanity!” an incredulous Sameer exclaimed after he heard what his friend intended to do.
“Well, when what is precious is incessantly tarnished by what is profane, then it is time to leave the worn out paths of conformism, it is time to act a little insane.”
*******
The next morning Sameer was sitting in his usual spot in the last row of the class, when Professor Dinanath Upadhyay entered to deliver the first lecture of the day. After formally greeting the class, the short and plump professor made his way at once to the podium up front, whereon he carefully opened his Computer Networks Book to Page 121, Chapter 7, Wireless Network Protocols, and once he had located the required chunk of text, he began to read it out to the whole class in a dull monotonic voice.
Normally Sameer would have used this time to catch up on some sleep, but presently his faculties were anything but lethargic. This state of focus though was not towards the drone of the professor, there was no question of such a thing happening as that drone could put even the most animate of creatures in to a state of listlessness and slackness, rather what kept Sameer attentive was the anticipation of what his friend Rishabh, sitting a few rows ahead of him, was about to do.
Throughout last night and even this morning before coming to the lecture, Sameer had tried to persuade his friend to abandon that foolish plan of his, but Rishabh had stayed firm on his stance. So all Sameer could hope now was for some last minute voice of good sense to intervene in his friend’s mind and prevent him from going through with what he intended. But that hope was quickly dashed when he noticed Rishabh rising from his seat with a stack of flyers in his hand and approaching the podium where Professor Upadhyay was delivering the tedious lecture.
‘It is going to bring nothing but trouble, nothing but trouble indeed.’ Sameer thought to himself, as Rishabh first placed a flyer down on the book that was in front of Professor Upadhyay, disturbing him in his oratorical devotion, before he began to distribute the flyers amidst the rest of the class.
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Sameer could notice a very calm determination on the face of his friend as he went around the class handing out his flyers. When Rishabh came to his desk, Sameer could not help but give him a look of annoyance to convey his discord, but his friend only reciprocated it with a composed smile before placing one of the flyers in front of him.
Sameer knew what calamitous words were written there in that possibly destructive piece of paper, having already read them last night and then this morning as well, and as he glanced down, surely they were all there as he had supposed, clear as the light of day.
‘Three point agenda to improve the quality of Education in this College:-
-Number of Sessionals should be reduced from three per semester to two per semester.
-Attendance in lectures should not be mandatory any longer.
-Assignments should focus more on field work and technical real life problems, rather than making us copy down huge chunks of text from reference books.
I believe that if the above points are followed, then it would leave more time for self-learning as well as reduce some of the unnecessary burden on us students. Along with that, if the nature of assignments is changed, as suggested above, then it would encourage more technical learning, which would be beneficial to the students in the long run. Overall, it would greatly improve the quality of Education in our college.
And to make sure that these points are discussed, and subsequently adopted by the college management, I, Rishabh Jain, from this moment forward, would attend all my lectures sitting on the floor. No other disruptions shall be made, only I would sit on the floor as a mark of my protest against the present system and if any student or teacher wishes to join me in the same, they are more than welcome to do so.
Thank you.
Rishabh Jain - D4 ECE’
Within minutes of the distribution of these flyers, an anticipatory murmur had spread itself throughout the class. Professor Dinanath Upadhyay, who had read the flyer with much intrigue, had now left his podium and was looking at Rishabh with a great degree of incredulity.