Ruminations

My dear Achyut,

                   We wish you a very happy Vishu. The objective of doing this yesterday , on the day of the festival , was somewhat defeated , by your persistence in not responding to calls from me , Srinivas and Dr Narsing .  We are happy that you celebrated the festival well in spite of not being the recipient of the said good wishes . Sometimes I wonder why we want to be in communication with each other. On our part was it the desire to share the fact that we were having a good time and missed you?  Or was it simply the fact to tell you to suck it because you were missing something good ? Further analysis proved that it was indeed to  to torment you on your misplaced priorities.Jokes apart there was also the need to communicate with a good friend who has been the cornerstone of permanency in Hyderabad , with an ear to the ground, while the rest of us floated around the country/abroad looking for means of sustenance. 

                    Also the fact that time that is past can never be recreated but can only be imitated at a later point  in an effort to remember what you missed ,will only make it more poignant about the missed opportunities . Nevertheless suffice it to say that Narsing was a good host and I Tyaga and Srinivas enjoyed his hospitality to the fullest . Even after all these years, it is still a mystery to me why childhood and school are remembered with nostalgia. While at school I always wanted to grow up and 'do my own thing'. The oppression and the fears of childhood needed to be left behind. Not to mention the fuggy atmosphere of a classroom with its typical smell of 40 children sweating and farting away. 

                  As the evening progressed memories buried deep in the subconscious about the childhood past resurfaced -no doubt -helped by ingestion of that wonderful liquid that tends to loosen all inhibitions . Srinivas regaled us with anecdotes some of which were nice , others hilarious and some which bordered on being scandalous. A moment of solemnity intruded on an otherwise happy evening when we remembered those who kicked the bucket .

                  Memory is not what it used to be and we missed your valuable contributions to 'tales of the past ' to which we clung on so tenaciously in the hope to create the magic of the uncomplicated youth . Narsing had some stories of his own , while Tyaga and me were more in the role of good listeners . While the stories of the past did not run out , time did and we reluctantly took  ourselves from bar to  the dining table. Dinner was a no holds barred effort from Mrs Narsing . Unfortunately advancing age and poor appetite coupled with  the fear of waking up in the middle of the night with a heartburn prevented us from doing justice to this wonderful repast . Thus disappointing Mrs Narsing who was actively  looking into the logistical aspects of storage of the leftovers vis a vis feeding it to the local dog community who did a better job of security than the overpriced firm were actually in charge of guarding the gated community . The food fest being concluded we headed to the living room .

                  Achyut have you ever given a thought as to how people watching  a three hour movie  rush to the exit even as the movie is ending, as if they can't wait to get away ? The similarities were striking in our case also - for more than three hours we kept talking and numbing ourselves with booze (unending flow I must say ) and suddenly we were looking at the clock and remembering our deserted spouses and children/grandchildren . Reasons notwithstanding awkward goodbyes were said, with each one of us envisioning our beds and probably thinking thoughts that I cannot make you privy to on paper. Suffice it to say that we finally hit the road around  midnight . Srinivas was last spotted  at the suchitra crossroads bargaining with an auto rickshaw. Me and Tyaga moved further . Our biggest concern was how to get Tyaga home without the police discovering liquor on his  breath. The homecoming was silent and uneventful . I slept contentedly knowing that it was an evening well spent - the only regret being that you were not able to share this joy with us...

The Raising I

It was time again for the raising day. As the commanding officer it was his first and he did not want any problems or mix ups.He would never hear the end of it all his life if such was the case.

From the vantage point in his office he could see the youngsters scurrying around trying to make sense of the orders passed by him with regard to the raising day. As the days passed by he was getting more and more impatient with his officers.And as for himself - that sign behind his chair in the office was very clear - " The Buck Stops Here " it proclaimed. That and his pride prevented him from seeking any advice from anyone.At times he felt sorry for his officers – but then he steeled himself against such mundane emotions –“ how will they learn if I keep spoon feeding them ?” he thought. 

As was inevitable his mind went back to his days as a youngster – and in particular – that particular raising day when his newly  wedded  wife had just joined him. In line with the ongoing traditions he was paraded in the Sadar Bazaar yoked to a bullock cart in which his wife was sitting regally dressed in the finery whipped up by the ladies of the unit en route to Sadar. Inwardly he was cringing at the spectacle he was presenting – but outwardly he stuck gamely to the task at hand. The vehicle with the speakers leading the procession was belching noxious fumes into his face and to add insult to the injury the loudspeakers were blaring loud music. . The road side urchins were urging him on while the unit officers were trying to prolong the procession by tugging the cart backwards.

It was then that he decided that he would never marry again. After all these years he still stuck by this decision. His wife was the same as that day. Only now they had two strong and handsome boys to show for their years of labour... As the time passed by he remembered those days with fondness. Lot of work with no responsibility. He wondered how his  Commanding officer  at that time handled the pressure of those crazy veterans. They were always ready to offer advice. Most of it unsolicited. But very valuable all the same . He supposed that the CO had to exercise a lot of patience to listen to everyone and yet not retort in a heated manner. The general consensus was that the CO had a tough job...

Having given  the necessary orders he headed back home . His wife had left with he other ladies to “shop” for the raising day. His thoughts drifted to the past again....

The guests had started arriving two days in advance. The mess looked festive and cheerful. The waiters were running all round – hard pressed – to fulfill the demands of the guests. Some guests retired for the afternoon siesta and some others sat in the lawn luxuriating in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The unit officers were collared by the veterans and were minutely being questioned about their antecedents and precedents. Marital status of the junior officers was the question most asked that day. Additional interrogation of those unmarried was being done including their caste creed , colour and performance in the various army courses. Then the officer was tentatively asked about his plans for marriage. Those that were engaged or had plans to marry their sweethearts were soon ignored and the eligible bachelors were concentrated upon. 

As the evening drew to a close the veterans conversed with each other and slowly headed to the bar. “ These guys are indefatigable” he thought to himself and shuddered at the thought of completing the next two days. The forty eight hours seemed more difficult than an endurance march. Fortunately the CO had packed the next two days with a lot of events to keep the people busy. As the evening progressed he longed for solitude and his comfortable bed. His wife – under the present circumstances- held no appeal to him. Soon it was time to see off the last guest to his room. The CO was finally looking relaxed. The proceedings were finally underway. Of course it did not mean that he was so relieved  that he left without cautioning the officers against any SNAFUs and the dire consequences thereof...

As his wife came back from the market she was full of news of the other ladies and their children. How Mrs'--- son stood first in the class and how Col***’s son eloped – only to return home within a few days when he ran out of money.... She was faithfully relayed all the complaints and suggestions offered by the other ladies. He let her ramble on for some time before he gently prodded her into telling him as to what she spent on her outfit for the raising day . The figure she quoted took his breath away. As always he decided to take the path of least resistance by keeping mum and uncomplaining for what he thought was a frivolous expenditure. He kept his peace at home - but it looked like his officers were in for a torrid time; The urge to get away from the mundane gossip being spouted by his wife was strong upon him. He wondered how the previous Commanding officers coped with this aspect of the raising day celebrations. His mind went back to that particular raising day as he tuned out the incessant chatter of his wife....

The next day – he remembered – brought in more guests. The officers as well as the other ranks started coming in . Lots of unfamiliar faces – though none were unfriendly. He was the chief coordinator and it took all his skills and organisational capability to bring everyone to the right place at the right time . The pattern was the same all the days. Two people got together and started discussing a topic and then had to be shepherded for the next programme. Along the way he had to repeat his biography to a number of people  by rote  to the questions posed – where are you from- what does your dad do – Is your wife working – good to stay together  in the initial stages of marriage – money is not everything – how have you done on YO’s -  and the list went on endlessly. The faces started swimming in front of his eyes. Anyone with a suit and tie on were ‘sir’ some Junior commissioned officers gently corrected him – not overtly –but by repeating their name again for his benefit....

 His thoughts were suddenly wrenched into the present ; “ are my youngsters undergoing the same experience”? he wondered...

Funeral III - Change

 Day 6 - Immersion

The religious ceremonies were fast drawing to a close. The time to collect the ashes and immerse them in the river had come. The entire family opted to go for this religiously sanctioned outing. It gave everyone a reason to get out of the gloomy atmosphere of the premises where they had been incarcerated for the past five days. A trip to the nearest river took up the entire day. It also gave us all an opportunity to finally bid farewell to the  remains of the person in question. Of course as at every other place, there were touts who were ever ready to fleece us in this emotional state. The task at hand was completed. The feeling of relief was palpable. It also gave us an excuse to consume palatable food at a roadside Dhaba. We rationalized that Dhabas do not cater to our sentiments. The dishes quickly vanished from the table - It was a revelation to see how much each of us could consume. It was as if we had been starved for the past few days...Food does makea difference to the mood.We returned back to the house in an uplifted frame of mind. The prospect of spending the remaining four days with the family did not seem daunting at all.....

Day 7 - The 7 Minutes 

The affairs at home started limping back to normalcy. It is a recorded fact that the grief of passing of a loved one lasted precisely for 7 Minutes. Thereafter, how sad you felt depended on how miserable you wanted to be. I disagree with this cold assessment. A lifelong association and the memories involved – and the fact that these past moments never come back are enough to leave you grieving the past. The time had come to take comfort in each other’s presence and also speculate as to how the future would pan out with this life changing event ....The tranquillity associated with knowing that the stressful moments of someone’s passing were soon going to be a thing of the past also kept everyone in a equable frame of mind.

              Day 8 - Realization

Preparations were under way for the tenth day. The house was abuzz with muted excitement. Relatives and friends who were unable to attend the funeral now started coming in droves. Many wanted to stay over to help in preparation for the final day. Perhaps to assuage their guilt that they could not come for the funeral. There were others who came out of sheer curiosity to see whether we siblings had murdered each other over the past few days of forced incarceration. Then there were those few who genuinely came to condole the death of a loved one. They were the people whose life was affected in a positive manner by the deceased person. We also learnt about these new facets of our parent . Some of the stories were pretty moving and our hearts swelled with pride with the knowledge that our parent would always find a place in the heart of many people across the country. Religious ceremonies proceeded as per the norms.... 

Day 9 - Rationalisation 

Perhaps there was a reason for these long drawn rituals. One that I could discern immediately was, that finally, after all these years, the frequent visits to the cemetery for the rituals inured us to death. In an indirect fashion we stopped worrying about death. We learnt to rationalise that death is indeed a part of life. At some point in time we all have to ‘Kick the bucket’.

More important was the fact we learnt how to cope with each other. For a protracted period we had  not spent  time with each other – having been busy ‘settling down in life’. This enforced interaction since we were children helped us rediscover each other – again. Made us realise the importance of spending time together. See each other in a new light. All the bitterness and anger were a thing of the past.  We learnt to appreciate each other. No more pointless ego hassles. Our ancestors when they devised these rituals had had this in mind. I was convinced of this now. In a way the rituals helped us cope with what we lost and learned how to move ahead in life. We were all co-operating to complete the rituals like a well oiled machine. The past was forgotten along with the associated bitterness.

Costs were high. When it came to financial aspects there was no sympathy on part of the vendors. In fact the moment they knew that the ceremony pertained to the last rituals the prices (I suspect) were hiked up. The vendors knew that since it was an emotional matter we would pay without any haggling.

Day 10 - End Game

The day started early. Shivering in the morning we had a cold water bath. The hypnotic chanting of the Brahmins from the Vedas kept us awake – but in a somnolent state. Sitting on the floor for a protracted time was a real test of one’s inner strength. At some point of time we just gave in to the torture and conducted the rituals in a mechanical manner. Even while the conduct of the rituals was on, friends, well wishers and relatives started arriving. Out of the corner of my eye I could see them talking to each other. I was surprised that the talk was more about current day government, gossip about doings of the people who were not present and about anything and everything except about the person who had passed away. In fact I also heard someone criticising the caterer saying that the caterer we had hired used too much oil and his food was not all that tasty. As the day progressed the day’s proceedings slowly meandered to a closure. There was restlessness among the guests . I suppose that they were feeling the hunger pangs. “Good let them wait” I thought maliciously. In more ways than one, this gathering – while not the happiest one – was beneficial in that we picked up threads with people we had not met in a long time. It was then that it struck me that it was a good way to reconnect with others. The lunch was a solemn affair. Probably the impending eulogy of the dead was weighing heavily on everyone’s mind. Not many of us were skilled speakers and the need to dredge our memories to say good things about a person who was no more.... All in all the eulogy went off well. We as the offspring learnt a lot of things about the deceased parent. And it was all good.

My mind went back in time. I reminisced about the good and the bad times. Memories of my parents and by association,my siblings, which had faded with time - and been obliterated by the stresses of daily life and work - suddenly pushed themselves to the fore.  I realised that life had dealt a good hand to all of us. This realisation made me feel closer to them now than ever before. I like to think that this was the case with my brothers and sisters also.

The visitors gradually dispersed, after a hearty meal. Some thanked us and thereafter left – having nothing else to say – while others had some good things to say – still some others left offering us advice as to how it would be advantageous to us to stick together in these times of difficulty. This was irritating. But there was little we could do other than nod our heads sagely. At the end of the day – something we did not look forward to – we were drained of our energy.

Conclusion

The time to get back to our day to day life was at hand. These past few days were a time for rediscovering ourselves and our near and dear ones. We were finally secure in the knowledge that we were not alone and there was always someone there looking out for us and for each other. But then while time is a great healer it also dims our memories.....

Funeral II

           Day 1 - The Incarceration 

        The funeral left everyone exhausted and emotionally drained. We returned home to a sombre atmosphere. All rites as required were being followed religiously. Garuda Puran was being followed in letter and spirit. Even the children who were normally boisterous were quite and subdued. The latest addition to the family (one year old) was crying in subdued tones. For once the television was switched off. Lamp in remembrance of the dead one was regularly being replenished with oil. Bland food with no cooking oil and other necessary condiments was consumed without a complaint. Was this how it was going to be the next ten days?

        Day 2 - Ennui 

      Woke up fresh without a hangover. Relaxed in bed. Then suddenly remembered as to why I was here. Why we were all here. And that feeling of sadness settled in the stomach. Suddenly the realisation that the water supply was only for an hour hit me. Needed to get ready. Should use the bathroom before any one else ruined its pristine condition. Breakfast was again bland . Children were showing signs of restlessness. Parents were trying to impose the sadness of passing away on the children (“You should not play or make noise” – was the frequent refrain of the parents with solemn faces). Music was on full blast - Ustad Bismillah Khan Shehnai – why is Shehnai played only for weddings and funerals? – I thought. Free time read a novel. Is it appropriate to read a novel? Ceremonies were performed by the Pujaris. Stream of visitors condoling the death was still on. After the first “ I am so sorry about the Passing”, the silence stretched. “Will you have a cup of tea or coffee?” some people did not want to have coffee or tea . I could intuit that they were hesitant to consume a beverage in a house hold where there has been a death. For people who did not know how to respond, a cup of coffee or tea was thrust into the visitor’s hand. The hot beverage forced the visitors to prolong their visit. With little else to talk about, conversation usually drifted to the kids. ( “How tall he has grown – which class is he in”?- “what is he opting for”? Etc) After drinking the scalding tea at an impressive pace the visitors leave. The TV addicts among us are staring at the blank screen. Everyone is reluctant to take the initiative to switch on the TV. Today we had to remind each other to keep the lamp burning. By evening - with little else to do - everyone was tripping over each other. Fortunately we were still civil to each other. Resignation to eating tasteless food. We retired to bed early. Sleep eluded me. Maybe it is the withdrawal kicking in.

       Day3 - The Inheritance 

      The first thing I noticed was that the lamp had gone out. It did not seem important anymore for the lamp to continue burning. Anyway this was pointed out to all and sundry by everyone concerned. The lamp was relit and normalcy restored. The time to see who got what was at hand. The advocate arrived at the prescribed time. We all assembled in the drawing room. There was an air of expectancy. In all it was a disaster right from the start. Debts had piled up for the treatment. Property tax not paid for quite a few years. The hospital bills were yet to be cleared. The positive aspect was all assets were equally distributed. Therein started the bickering. “Who would clear the outstanding dues”? “Should the house be sold”?” And money distributed”? “Or should someone occupy it”?” Should it be given on rent”? Not all agreed on selling the house.

     The attention was thus diverted from the betrayal of the expectations from the dead to the stupidity of the living.

     The family was divided into two clear factions. Those for selling the house and those against. The discussion got very bitter. Past intransigencies of various stakeholders were dredged up. Soon everyone was pouring scorn on each other. By evening all were exhausted and had run out of abuses and curses. The period of silence started. I felt that it was a precursor to the more deadly battles coming up. In my view the silence was for us all to remember new insults to hurl at each other. The future looked bleak and gloomy.

       Day 4 - The Quarrel 

         There was a tussle as to who would keep the lamp burning. Remembrance of the dead was slowly losing steam.” It is not my job” was the frequent refrain. When the lamp was ultimately lit, the person who did it had a ‘Holier than Thou’ look on their face. Complaints about the tasteless food were growing more vociferous. The aftermath of the previous day’s manifested itself in quite a violent manner when a child was slapped resoundingly for disobeying his parent. Immediately there was an outcry of indignation. It opened the floodgates for everyone to comment on the methods of upbringing a child. While the parent was contrite about his impetuous action he could not let go of the slur on his character – “ I know best about my child; Who are you to tell me about my shortcomings?” – followed by criticism of how ill - behaved the other children were and how badly they were doing at school. Comparisons were made to a donkey and the child in question and the future of the other children. As the day passed the discussions got more and more heated. Finally zeroing in on the shortcomings of the parents themselves and their present station in life. Emotions ran high. One of the sisters-in law refused food. Of course it would definitely do her good not to eat for a day or two. The frayed tempers left everyone exhausted. The differences split the families  and no one was speaking to each other. There settled a pall of gloom over the house – more potent than when the person in question had passed away. People were not sad but seething with anger.

        Day 5 - Reconciliation ?

     The day dawned bright and beautiful. But not for this household. The previous day’s accusations and counter accusations  still rankled in everybody’s mind. Thankfully the children were unaware of these undercurrents of unhappiness. You cannot stop children from doing what they want for a single day – leave alone for ten long days. Day to day routine and the cold war threw up some really atrocious breakfast and lunch. The food was so bad that one could feel the universal rejection, even though no one spoke of it. Into this charged atmosphere walked this aged relative who was not liked .Her visit combined with insensitive remarks about our parent and the tasteless food finally made everyone realise that we had something in common. This precipitated in stilted conversation  between the 

various couples. Those who were deeply hurt or angry still kept quite. There was a certain lightness in the atmosphere. I felt relieved at this new development. We went to bed in a much better frame of mind.Who Knew how long this  this tenuous peace would last...  

The Funeral I

The van sped through the busy thoroughfares of the city. As it went past people on scooters and cars averted their eyes - almost as if they were scared of being infected by the contents of the vehicle. And who could blame them? In spite of reading and hearing about death people were still worried that if they looked at the vehicle carrying the mortal remains they would in some waybe affected by death sooner or later. For those who came upon the van suddenly - there was no option but to run their hand over their heads ( so that they do not have bad dreams) and commend the soul of the departed - to God. The mood of the occupants accompanying the dead body was somber. One o two of them were weeping silently with tears coursing down their cheeks. Someone else was looking into the distance as if he could not be bothered about the whole issue of death. The garrulous one was relating the tales of the goodness of the dead person and extolling the virtues of that person. Once in a while he would break down in mid sentence and start wailing - "oh why did it have to happen? - Fate is cruel to good people - it is unbearable" - and then he would become hysterical. Until someone acknowledged his rantings and offered him water. Then he would again continue on and on - till some overwrought person told him to shut up. A mini fight would break out and someone would point out to them that this was not the place to air their grievances.

For sometime an uneasy peace would reign the vehicle. Then the practical one would speak up. " Did anyone remember to bring the death certificate from the doctor?" he would ask. The man of action would start getting riled up. Who was responsible for getting the death certificate? Why am I the only one to look after everything. Sure there has been a death - does not mean that you all behave like corpses - and then he would scream at the top of his voice to the driver to pull up to the side. In the meanwhile he has already nominated the most reliable person (in his opinion) to get out of the vehicle and hurry home to get the certificate. The whole vehicle is in an uproar. Added to this is the honking of the horns of the rush hour traffic. There is a general bedlam. The 'dear departed' is forgotten for the moment. Then a small voice from the front of the van - " I have the death certificate". Further recriminations follow - "why did you not say so before? - "Are you deaf or something"?- "You have always been inattentive in life". - "You are such an idiot"- "You are useless" - the general consensus about the youngster and his uselessness and idiocy quietens down the others. It is almost as if reaching this agreement put everyone in a good mood. The van resumes its journey to the graveyard. Not all are quiet though. The practical one is still at it. "I hope you have sent someone in advance to book the crematorium to book the cremation  plot".

A fresh  argument breaks out. " Why not the electric crematorium"? someone said. And then he goes on to extol the virtues of an electric crematorium as to how it is  more hygienic - no wood used - saves trees - good on the environment - and so on. Someone else says that the last wish of the dead person was to be cremated on the pyre and not in an electric crematorium. Again a heated argument breaks out . Finally someone who is more assertive says that irrespective of the last wishes it is better to use the electric crematorium. The others are by now too drained to argue further. It is finally decided that  the electric crematorium be used....

The van reaches the 'Smashan Ghat'. Immediately the van is surrounded by the touts. Someone screaming at providing the wood. Others offering the plot for burning the body and yet someone else offering the services of the priest. Everyone is rebuffed . The body is carried to the stone block outside the electric crematorium. They struggle as the person who died had a rather robust life and was quite heavy. There is general cursing as the body dips to one side being too heavy for the frail person in charge of that end of the crude stretcher. Someone else rushes to assist on that side. They reach the stone platform and somehow manage to dump the body unceremoniously on the platform. General panting all round. The accompanying priest begins his chants and the rituals. The eldest son carries out the required activities mechanically. As he finally circles the body he is told by the priest to shout in the ear - as if to ensure that the person is really passed away and wont come back from the pyre. The other brothers trailing behind the eldest also do the same - finally touching the feet before the body is consigned to the flames.The other relatives and friends, now having been unburdened have split into small groups talking among themselves. Someone is discussing the Pay commission in low tones while some others are talking about how they had made a similar trip to the ghat earlier. One among them is hailing the attendant at the crematorium in a familiar manner - it is obvious that he has been here earlier. Someone else in a predictive voice is talking about how they will have to be back here soon as their friend's father was on his way out.....

By now there is a general restlessness in the crowd. Why is it taking so long says someone. The man with his ear to the ground comes back with the information that there is a power cut. And that the power is not likely to be restored anytime soon. As soon as this information becomes public, everyone is talking at once. One of them is already on his mobile phone passing instructions to his underling that he will be late from the funeral and that, the shop should be opened to business, as he would get delayed. Once again the powers that be are in a huddle , discussing their next course of action. It is finally decided that the body will be burnt on the pyre.

It looks like the dead person has had its own way - one last time.....

Meanwhile....

The rate of firewood had gone up dramatically - as had the price of the plot for burning and the cost of oil and ghee. Not to be left behind the priest has also raised his price as he was to have gone to a wedding and that if he had to stay he should be suitably compensated. Now began the most sordid part of the whole affair - bargaining over the dead body. Voices were raised and finally came down a few octaves as the people started cajoling the touts. an acceptable remuneration was finally arrived at for all concerned . Things start moving at a rapid pace thereafter. Within no time the body is on the pyre and the flowers and wreaths are out of the way. The body is covered with wood . The grieving children see the familiar face for one last time. The memory will linger for sometime - before the only thing remaining would be the photographs of happier times....

Return Of The Swamiji II

My sister is based in London. She has been there for many years. Her children were born and brought up in London. And time passed ... Now my niece has grown up. She is getting married – to a Belgian boy – based in London – whose parents are in Paris. If that is not internationalism then what else can it be? To cut a long story short, me and my sister (not the one in London) were sponsored by my sister (the one in London) to attend the marriage. Preparations , Visa and other formalities consumed all my time. The trip was eventful and refreshing. Soon it was time to return to India. On my return to India and to my job (mundane) a missive was waiting for me from my dad to pick him up  from Haridwar. As I drove down to Haridwar my mind went back to that eventful night of my course get together in Shimla. I fondly remembered meeting all my course mates.

The pleasant weather of Shimla at that time of the year set the tone for a memorable   get together . It was – as happens when a large gathering of like minded people meet – very noisy. Someone was commenting on the changed physiological appearance of someone else. Others were discussing the achievements of their children very proudly. Those whose children did not do well were listening quietly with a hangdog expression on their faces. Those among us who were posted in good places were dropping names of senior officers and how well they knew them ( Oh Gen So and So does not like to use the toilet if there are lizards in it - He eats only oats for dinner - he is very pliable  and so on). And how they were instrumental in bringing monumental changes in the services. Once in a while there was a loud cheer with the arrival of the late comers. Time had not dimmed the memories of the travails of the past. Shrill grating laughter interspersed this pandemonium as some lady or the other remembered some rib tickling incident of the past involving the course mates. Yet others were proudly discussing their diabetes, Apnoea and other acquired diseases. As the course mates remembered those who passed away, people put on solemn faces and then broke out of it by having another drink.I also joined the conversations wholeheartedly. But my mind was elsewhere. Today was going to be a defining moment in my life.

One of our course mates had pursued an entirely different line after leaving the army. He had become a Swamiji. I was looking for answers and I was sure I would get them from him. Since sometime he was unavailable . The press had unfairly labelled him  a womaniser . After clearing his name he was perturbed with the allegations and had left for the Himalayas to pray. Though there was no announcement about his impending return I was sure that he would come for the reunion. As the reunion started winding down – when people had nothing more to talk about – and it seemed that my sixth sense had let me down,as if by common assent , there was a hush in the hall. It was as if something momentous was about to happen. The Swamiji had arrived. There was no fanfare and neither was any announcement made. But suddenly he was there as if he had manifested himself out of thin air. His long sojourn in the Himalayas had made him lean and thin – and it suited his tal frame. Whereas most of us had greyed over the last thirty two years with no hope of redemption, he still had a full head of black hair. All of us graduated towards him as if being pulled on a string. The awkwardness hung over all of us. What had been a lively party fizzled out with a whimper. Though he was our course mate, what do we speak in front of a man of God?

Anyhow we need not have feared. As soon as the Swamiji saw us his face broke out in a smile. As was customary among course mates we all hugged. Naturally he preferred water to anything else. The ice was broken and the pace of conversation picked up again. But now most of the conversation was directed against the Swamiji. “What made you renounce the world?” why did you leave such a lucrative career in the army?” Do you not miss the camaraderie in the army?”

And as happens inevitably in such a gathering, the talk turned towards the alleged intransigencies the Swamiji committed towards a female disciple... I held my breath and expected the Swamiji to curse us all to suffer the ignominies of this world and the next. In spite of such pointed questions the Swamiji was very serene and replied to all the questions with equanimity. As the night advanced people started leaving in ones and twos. Finally my time with the Swamiji was at hand. He knew. I could see that he knew the troubled state of my mind. Without a preamble he came to the point. “ I know that you have been troubled”,he said; “Into everyone’s life some rain must fall. But whatever troubles you have, are perceived . I know” he said lifting up his hand as I started protesting his belittling my problems, “ that you are having apprehensions about assimilating what I am saying – but do you remember how when we were in the academy and use to curse the instructors when they used to give us punishment – and we were denied the pleasure of watching a movie? – at that time nothing else could be more worse in life than this denial of small pleasures in life. Now we laugh about it and in fact it helps us relieve the tedium of an otherwise mundane life. At different times in our life the parameters of our troubles keep changing. It is in these trying times that we have to maintain our equanimity and and ride out the rough times”. What he said a lot of sense to me.   

That night quite a few of us stayed with the Swamiji to listen to his mellifluous and soothing voice. We asked questions and he answered. Whether it be about an offspring a wife or a daughter he tried to assuage the fears of each one of us. We talked for a long time and did  not realise the advanced hour till the Swamiji told me that it was time for him to prepare for his morning prayers.

What with the excitement of having met my course mates after a long time and spending the rest of the time speaking with the Swamiji I woke up late the next day. The memories of the previous night came flooding back. First the meeting with the course mates and then the interaction with the Swamiji. All that he told me made more sense during the daylight. But many more questions were still unanswered. How should I now go about with my life now was one of the questions plaguing my mind. How do I tackle the tensions and problems that life would throw at me? These thoughts mobilised me into action. I required answers and the only one who could help me out was around somewhere. I went through my morning ablutions in a hurry and went looking for the Swamiji. But no one knew where he was and how he could be found. The last sighting was in the night. The Swamiji had left. Just as he had come in unannounced, he had also left without any announcement. I was left feeling unfulfilled. At the same time I was better prepared to handle the challenges . I was also determined to meet the Swamiji . Again.

Now as I was heading to Haridwar  to pick up my dad I hoped that I would have time to seek out the Swamiji...... I heard he was back at his Ashram in Dehradun.....        

The Return Of The Swamiji I

I was looking forward to our course meet. 32 years had passed since we took the last step on our way to serve in this gigantic army. Along the way some of my course mates got married - and procreated early.They were the cause of envy of many of our other friends who by comparison had younger children and were staring retirement in the face. Understandably they were worried about settling their children. Others realized in the midst of serving the nation that army was not for them . They carried out a mid course correction and joined the civil stream. They were also doing well for themselves.Many like me consciously continued serving in the army. Amongst us many retired without achieving their full potential - either due to laziness or due to the fact that they took a stand against irresponsible and pig headed seniors and refusing to toe the line. I had not met many of my friends after being commissioned. The get together promised to rectify this anomaly.

One person I was most anxious to meet was the person who I was not even sure would attend. But something told me that he would be there today - call it intuition or sixth sense. And that was the reason that I was looking forward to this meet.

Once in a while life takes a funny turn. While most of my other course mates were involved in the humdrum of daily life my friend went on a totally different track altogether. Even while in the academy he was known for his intensity and determination to see a task to its end. What brought us together was that we both belonged to the same platoon and were neighbours. Over a period of time we became close friends. After the academy we drifted apart . An occasional phone call in the beginning and a sporadic call were all that kept us in touch. He joined the infantry and I joined the aviation. To top that he joined the special forces. Any how life limped along . I got married and my two children were the cynosure of my eyes. With the advent of the mobile I thought that we would be in communication to a larger extent. But my hopes were belied . If anything we were more distant from each other. Probably early in life he saw the futility of killing and watching his close friends fall one by one along the way. I realised that something was different when the next time we spoke . “ I am planning to leave the ‘fauj’ Suraj”; he said. "When I see the suffering around me – I want to help alleviate it. And I am not talking about poverty and other associated problems. I am talking about mental health and problems created by loss of mental stability". Part of me wanted to dissuade him from taking such a drastic step so early in life while the other part of my brain informed me of the futility of such a fatuous  argument. Be that as it may I knew that he was set on doing something drastic.

It was a long wait for me to hear about him. And then the news was far more shocking than I could ever imagine. My friend had made a name for himself , and his ashram was in  the foothills of the Himalayas at  Dehradun.. He was fondly known as the Swamiji. His reputation was very good and people from all strata of the society visited him for seeking solace for their problems. My desire to meet him did not arise for quite some time. But all along I was keeping a track of his activities.

Personal problems have a way of intruding upon your daily life in such a manner that by the time you disentangle yourself from them you would find that the world has gone by and that you have a lot of catching up to do. My father was already in an ashram in Haridwar. Since my problems were refusing to sort themselves out I decided to take a break to visit my father to get away from it all. My father is a no nonsense  man . And he roundly criticised me for being stupid and incapable of dealing with my inadequacies. A few days in Haridwar and I felt that I needed a new perspective towards life. It was then that I remembered my friend . The idea which started off as thought slowly took root in my mind very quickly. I had to meet him.

The next day saw me speeding towards Dehradun in my car. My mood was uplifted at the thought of meeting my friend and course mate – and more importantly, The Swamiji, after such a long time. What would he be like? Would he make me feel welcome? Or would there be awkwardness between us? How would I broach upon  my problems? Soon afterwards I was in Dehradun . I was quite wary about about the reception I would get at the Ashram. The Ashram was away from the main city with no indication as to its whereabouts except for the fact that one had to deduce that in a uninhabited area the populace was heading only in one direction. Further inquiries proved that I was on the right course. The ashram occupied a huge area. Since it was still early in the day, the congregation was yet to begin. The volunteers were seating the people quietly in front of a huge podium. The subdued and pious atmosphere affected the children also. Some of the restless ones were crying in undertones. I was immediately struck by the discipline shown by the people. Unlike other religious/ prayer congregations that I visited in my life, here I found people sitting quietly and with dignity.

Prior to meeting my friend – the Swamiji – I decided to attend the congregation. Somehow the fact that my friend had become a Guru was something I still could not digest . I had to see it for myself. After waiting for a short time I could feel the undercurrent of excitement travel through the crowd. Chantings of “Swami, Swami, Swami......” first started on a subdued note and slowly the frenzy of seeing the Swamiji in person took over as the chants grew louder and louder. I held my breath. Would he be in saffron robes? Would he have a long and venerable beard? – These were some of the thoughts that were going on in my mind. Soon the Swamiji arrived on the stage. He looked totally different from what I had visualised. He appeared much shorter and he sounded different.

My spirits sank and I was under the misapprehension that I had come to the wrong Ashram. But the way the Swamiji spoke compelled me to continue to listen to him. Soon it was my turn to meet the Swamiji. When I went to him and mentioned to him that I was a friend of the Swamiji who was also my course mate he told me that the Swamiji left for the Himalayas for Meditation. However Swami Guruvananda invited me to stay in the ashram as long as I desired. A few days later after an intense course of meditation I left for my home.

Now we were meeting as a course. Though there was no intimation of the Swamiji attending the get together I was sure that he would be there. I was looking forward to meeting him....