Living on borrowed time

He felt a dull, throbbing pain, but he did not know which part of him was paining. All he knew was that the pain was sometimes unbearable and caused him to faint, while at most other times it was bearable but ever-present. His life revolved around his Master. His Master fed him three times a day with the choicest of dishes, his Master bought for him the best clothes and his Master had given him a luxurious bed to sleep in. But his Master never allowed him to go out of the house. For a few hours everyday, he was allowed to open only those windows which his Master allowed him to open and from there, he could catch glimpses of the World. Everyday, he cleaned the house, he cooked for his Master and he did everything that his Master asked him to do. But every time he did something for his Master that he didn’t want to do, the pain increased. One day, he overcooked a dish. So his Master brought out a whip and mercilessly thrashed him with it. That day, his pain was unbearable. He wanted to cut off those parts of him that were aching, but again he was unable to say for sure which parts of him were experiencing the pain. He wanted to run away from the house, but he knew that he would have to eat dry bread everyday, wear rags and sleep on the pavements if he ran away. What part of the World he could see through the windows of the house he liked. He thought that the World was not a very harsh place to be in, but he also knew that there was much in the World which he hadn’t seen and which could be very harsh indeed to him. Another fear which plagued him was that the pain would only increase if he ran away. Another Master may whip him even more and for lesser mistakes.

One day, while he was sitting beside the window, a person in the World told him that there was a cure for his pain. The cure was to learn to bear the pain and get used to it. That night, he felt great pain. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the pain. He told himself that patience and tolerance would drive away or at least mask the pain. He couldn’t sleep all night long because he was unable to wish away the pain.

The next morning, he had made up his mind. He would run away from the house. His Master could easily find ten others like him, who would not feel pain even when they were whipped. So, that afternoon, he quietly slipped a note under his Master’s door and made off from the house. His first reaction upon reaching the road outside the house was one of unconfined joy. He leapt into the air and danced down the road. His curious eyes drank in every sight which they had missed for all these years. There were many things in the World which ought to have intrigued him, but he did not see them that afternoon. He only saw the road and the open fields, where he could dance and sing all day long. His pain seemed to have vanished.

But what he neither saw nor felt was the note which his Master had stuck on his back that declared him to be a fool and an ingrate. There would be no Master in the World who would feed him, clothe him or give him a place to stay. He had discovered the joy of freedom, but unknown to him, he had taken upon himself the burden of failure.

On Auction: My Conscience

Mercenary - n One who serves or works merely for monetary gain; a hireling. adj having or marked by an eager and often selfish desire especially for material possessions (Merriam-Webster Dictionary Online, 2006)

My sole desire in life is to make money. Give me money, and I will do anything you ask me to do. Your smallest wish is my command, provided the price is right. I have a conscience, for which you can pay a rent and bend according to tour will. The current lessee of my conscience is one of the top law firms in my country. I guess bidders for my conscience will be hard pressed to match the rent I am now getting, but that makes it all the more interesting and rewarding for me.

In the legal field, I can offer you the best services that money can buy. Ethics and morals are highly dependant on what the lessee of my conscience wants done. I have no problems in drafting a document that will make a few thousand poor villagers homeless. I have no qualms about strategising how a large American or European or Australian company can squeeze the life out of hard-working illiterate farmers by forcing new agricultural methods upon them. I see no personal issues in ensuring that a large multinational company will slime an Indian entrepreneur and take away from him his life's hard work in the form of his company. I will see to it that the behemoth overseas conglomerate smoothly chucks out marginal farmers and indigenous tribes from a remote area in my country so that they can set up infrastructure projects that serve an unknown purpose for an unseen public. I will ensure that the rich will get richer and the poor poorer because that is what is expected of me from this capitalistic economy.

In case you have any impractical and hypocritical suggestions like the betterment of society and lending a helping hand, you have come to the wrong person. My society consists of just one person - myself, and the only person in this world who needs all the monetary inputs is me. Charity is for the disillusioned and the weak. A conscience that cannot be leased out for money belongs to a person who is certified insane, or at best to a person who possesses a Master's Degree in Wallowing in Dirt, Garbage and Other Such Disgusting Places.

In case you want anything done and the law stands in your way, come to me. Pay the right amount and consider your work done. This is life, this is reality. Accept it soon because otherwise it will descend on you like a ton of bricks.

Last moments with friends...

Date: 2nd June 2006
Time: 19.15 hours
Weather: Pouring cats and dogs
Location: Room 204, Cauvery Hostel, National Law School
Anubhav, Tanmay, Harsha and I are chatting nonsense as usual. Anubhav is trying to sell his posters to juniors and make a quick buck. Arka walks in and makes a cutomary silly comment, this time relating to Anubhav's shark-like business acumen. I also learn that he will be around till the 7th. Then he walks out of the door. Anubhav follows him after a few minutes....

Date: 2nd June 2006
Time: 20.00 hours
Weather: Slight drizzle
Location: Nagarbhavi Circle, Bangalore. About half a kilometre from Law School.
I get off from Harsha's bike, heaving my bag across in the process. I turn to face him and extend my hand towards him. His hand grips mine as he says, "Bye da. It's been great having you as a roommate. All the best." I murmur similar words in reply. Then he says, "Quick! Give me a hug!" I comply. Then he takes a quick look over his shoulder, says "Bye" again and without a backward glance heads back the way we had just come. I walk slowly, lost deep in thought, towards the waiting autos....

Date: 3rd June 2006
Time: 19.25 hours
Weather: Overcast with a hint of rain
Location: My favourite couch in front of the TV at home
Dnyanesh messages me, "Dude where exactly is Ragoo's?" I reply and tell him the location of the restaurant in question. He replies, "Thanks. I am taking some juniors for a treat there. Thanks for introducing me to such a nice place to eat." The next morming, I try to call him but the recorded voice informs me that his number has been "temporarily" disconnected....

Date: 4th June 2006
Time: 13.00 hours
Weather: Fine and sunny
Anoop calls me and says, "Hey Swami, I'm off da. Best of luck and keep in touch"....

Date: 7th June 2006
Time: 13.30 hours
Weather: Baking hot
Tanmay messages, "Hey I'm on my way to the railway station." I immediately pick up my phone and call him. Both of us are obviously lost for words. We say, "So..." at least a dozen times apiece during the ten minute call. His train's at 2.30. He's on his way to the station. Yes, he's packed everything. Big luggage he's sent to Anubhav's dad's house in Delhi. I know all this already but it gives me airtime with Tanmay. At last, I say the final goodbye....

So Long, Farewell, Adieu.....

As I write this, it is slowly but surely sinking in that I have just one week of student life left. Like many things in life, this is an inevitability; but again like many things in life, it is not the happiest inevitability. I know it is coming one day, but I don't want that day to dawn. I also have not realised the passage of time until this morning, when two incidents occured which dropped on me with the force of a falling meteor.

Ajay casually asked me on our way to college, "When are your final presentations in corporate finance?" and when I replied, "Next Wednesday", he said, "Oh! I was hoping we could travel back together next week. But I have exams starting from Thursday, so I can't go home on Wednesday." I remained silent for a minute, because my mind suddenly raced over the four years of travelling we have done together. In four years we have discussed, argued, agreed upon, disagreed upon and debated just about everything under the sun from "hot" girls passing by on the road, to the possibility of life outside of the Earth, to every conceivable subject in law. Both of us have bunked innumerable classes just to return together when one of us was leaving early for some reason. I suddenly realised that one of my fondest memories of law school life - travelling with Ajay - was coming to an end. Monday morning will perhaps be our last ride together.

Then when I entered the Acad Block to attend class, "Yum" Bharat called to inform that class had been cancelled. Then when I called Tanmay, he said that there would be no more classes. The words "No More Classes" hit me like something fired out of a shotgun at point blank range. Five years of rushing to catch the bell, five years of managing attendance to just about reach the required 75%, five years of innovative bunking techniques, five years of SMS-ing in class, five years of chit-passing, five years of sleeping in class, five years of Snake and Bounce and F1 high scores, five years of heated (and largely irrelevant and nonsensical) arguments - they had all come down to this. No formal farewell, no official last class, no sentiment, no clamouring for a "free" hour, no vote of thanks to the teacher - nothing to indicate that our collective student lives are over. There is a time and place for everything, and this is the time and place for sentiment; but sadly, it hasn't been given an opportunity to present itself in the open.

It is true that I have spent most of my fifth year at home. It is true that I have antagonised approximately ten times more people than I have befriended in college. It is true that I have been one of the least enthusiastic persons in class as far as participation in "class" activities go. It is true that I am the butt of jokes for my utterly irrational, maverick and impulsive decisions regarding everything. Yet something binds me to this place, to my classmates, to my hostel mates, to my teachers, to the institution in general. I will miss organising and conducting the late night "crash courses" before any exam, I will miss my quisling-like activities during moot court selections, I will miss the "philosophical" discussions with people like Dnyanesh, I will miss making all those crazy and ill-timed points in class, I will miss the adrenaline flows during the final 24 hours before project submission, I will miss "flirting" with anyone female in college - hell, I will miss everything I ever did as a routine here.

Before my tear glands overflow, I want to look back upon what I have achieved here. On the positive side, I have achieved a moderate CGPA which ultimately got me a highly coveted job, reasonable success in moot court competitions which took me to one of the most prestigious national-level events, a subservience to the system which kept me in the good books of the faculty, a strong will power which helped me resist temptations, a wonderful world-view and maturity which has given me the strength and ability to live life, a strong moral base which is based on reason and tolerance, and finally, great friends who will be by my side through life. On the negative side, I have learnt how to "manage" the system which has reduced the value of hard work and perseverence in my eyes, I have acquired an arrogance and swagger for merely being a part of an "elite" institution as compared to others in more "mundane" colleges, I have made many enemies because of my wavering nature and selfishness, and as a result, I have become an introvert and a loner which makes me a very poor team player.

Now I have to put an end to this. Perhaps, years later, when the sentiment has died, I may find the patience to write some memoirs of my life in law school.

So long, farewell, adieu to you, my dear National Law School. It hasn't been an education, it has been an experience....

Mumbo-Jumbo Mania

A pair of eyes gleamed at me through the incense smoke. After a gap of a second or so, a fine set of white teeth sparkled through the greyness. Then a disembodied voice said, "I am sorry. You are going through a bad phase now. Your planets have gone and misaligned themselves, bad boys that they are..." If I was looking for sympathy in that voice, my search would be in vain, for the voice hinted of untold pleasures and unmistakable glee. I let out my breath through pursed lips, disrupting the smoke's lazy ascent to the ceiling. Suddenly I noticed that beads of sweat were now collecting themselves into a mighty stream and had overcome the barrier of my eyebrows and were hovering on the tips of my eyelashes. I fished out the handkerchief and thwarted the attempts of the salty river to blind me.

My relief was palpable. Planetary misalignment was a mere trifle. Planets are obedient characters. A prayer or so would move mighty Jupiter back into his path and a few more prayers or a lamp or so would make the dangerous Saturn shed the extra ring or so. I had feared that something more sinister than planetary whims were at play behind my misfortunes, such as mortal human beings a hundred thousand millionth the size of these planets casting a spell on me. Spells are dreaded in this part of the world. A single spell would stop the favourable planet dead in his tracks and send Mr. Good Fortune packing. But planets... Bah! They are just pawns in the celestial game of chess that astrologers play.

Having made the statement of the day, the astrologer looked to me for deliverance. I spoke the words he was waiting to hear, "What is to be done?" The glint in his eye was replaced by a professional matter-of-fact look. He outlined his plans. A visit to an unheard-of temple in a nondescript village in the remotest part of the State, where he would invoke the Lord Saturn, followed by a feast to the villagers and generous offerings of food, clothing and other goodies such as jewellery to the priest (who would be one other than the present speaker, the astrologer). The plan seemed foolproof. I could get away with an expenditure of a few thousands of rupees. What's years of good fortune compared to a little loose change like this? I approved of the plan. Only the awareness of his position as a respectable astrologer prevented the man from jumping to the ceiling faster than the rising smoke and shouting, "Whoopee!"

Three weeks later, I had a nasty fight with my girlfriend and we broke up. Then the examination department of my college told me that I was dangerously close to falling short of attendance. The few Universities which I hoped would offer a seat to a moron like myself responded by invoking some technicalities and thus denied me admission. To add to the growing list, my boss called me up and said a monosyllabalic "No" to my request for a pay hike so that my joining the company would become meaningful. So that evening I stormed into the astrologer's house and confronted him with the situation. He gave me the look of a man who was expecting it all to happen.

Then the incense got the better of me. My reverance for the planets and the spells and all associated stuff returned with a bang. I waited until he rolled his dice and did some random mathematical calculations on the floor using a piece of chalk. In the meanwhile I weondered if I could also communicate with the planets by using the above-described methods, and whether couching these actions in scientific terms would win me one of the most famous patents in history. While I mused thus, the man finished his interplanetary voyage and prepared to speak. I was reminded of what some Shakespearan character told another about the Oracle and his listeners - that the listeners wait so anxiously for words of wisdom to flow from the mouth of the Oracle, but when the words do flow, the listeners feel like fools for having waited. I could now empathise with these ancient listeners and mulled over the fact that the practice of astrology hadn't changed over the millennia, the world over.

The man did speak eventually. The disembodied voice said, "You will have a bad time till the 26th of May. After that, you will have a good time. In the meanwhile, there is something you can do (with my help, of course)...." Shakespeare was so right. We listeners end up as fools. The Bard should take the place of these Oracles or astrologers or whatnot with his sharp prophetic insights. However, since Shakespeare died a few centuries ago, fools like me have to make do with the available stock of astrologers. This time I was having none of it. The incense began to choke me and the vermillion smeared on his forehead began to look more like part of a clown's ensemble. Without the atmosphere, the astrologer was nothing. From the Master of Planets, he had now dwindled to the position of a Nobody. I stormed up from my seated position. Fearing the worst, he let loose the secret of my misfortunes, "Your great-great-great grandfather was cursed by his second wife on her deathbed. The curse has to be broken...."

I sat back on the mat. The incense began to intoxicate me again. The vermillion on his forehead looked more intimidating than ever before. I spoke to his now-smiling countenance, "What can be done now?".....