The Haunted Well

Ghanshyam was among the few men in his village who could read and write. Belonging to a wealthy family, he was educated in Jaipur, a privilege few could afford in those times. Even fewer had justified the expenses borne by their families in sending off their son to the city for education. So he considered it a cruel act of fate when his father passed away and he, being the only man in the family, had to return home after his 1^st year in BA to take care of his mother and 2 sisters.

Upon return, he prospered as a landlord, his education and inheritance holding him in good stead. The villagers of Madot revered his intelligence and wealth and frequently sake his advice in matters of money and family. As he was now the wealthiest and, as some would have him believe, the wisest man in the community he was confident that he would become the representative of his community in the next village Panchayat. Hence, he was in for a rude shock when his community elders, including some of his relatives, favored Meghram over him.

In stead of making his disgust evident, he decided to dig deeper and find out the reason for this injustice. For the next 6 months, he coaxed and cajoled his close ones in to admitting the real reason for the raw deal he got. Saying that he was dumbfounded would be an understatement. He concluded that he wasn’t chosen, partly because he had spent his formative years in the city and not in the village and whose deep rooted issues and beliefs he would never comprehend. The same village, whose problems he so easily understood and solved. But those were the times when anything foreign was treated with cynicism and suspicion. He was just a smart man to the villagers with no real say in the way they functioned.

The major reason, but, was the fact that he did not believe in spirits, so much so that he had not organized a single barsi for his late father. The pain of losing a parent and then altering your life’s plans may affect some people such. But for the villagers, this was blasphemous and unthinkable.

Ghanshyam, being the man he was, decided not to bow down to the pressure but in stead prove to the villagers that no such thing as ghosts or spirits existed. He was convinced that if he could convince the villagers of this, they would not be averse to supporting him as a representative in the Panchayat.

He, being a methodical man, came out with the perfect plan to convince the villagers. Just outside Madot, there was a dried up well, inside the cemetery boundary wall. The people of the village were of the belief that any man, once cremated, resided in the well until Chitragupta worked out his deeds and ordered his carriage to either heaven or hell. Needless to add, people were scared of going near the well alone even in broad daylight as every now and then, someone would claim to have heard strange voices coming out of it.

Ghanshyam’s plan was simple. He would go to the well on a moonless night, spend an hour there, and return to the village. If he did return safely, his community would be bound to endorse him as a Panch over Meghram. To prove that he had actually visited the well, he would hammer a nail in the wall covering the well. So strong was his belief that he turned a deaf ear to his well-wishers’ advices, pleading sisters and a weeping mother and patiently waited for Amavas.

On the night of reckoning, he left the village when the clock struck 12, promising to return after an hour. As he walked to the cemetery, he laughed to himself when he heard multiple chants and prayers for his well being.

The villagers waited with baited breath for his return as time went past.By 2 o’ clock, his mother could not bear it and began bellowing while the sisters consoled her. By 3.30, even Ghanshayam’s sisters could not hold it any longer and started hollering, fearing the worst. By 4.30, the whole village was in frenzy, with the elders collecting in the temple and praying as the youngsters formed search parties to begin looking for him with the first ray of sun. The bravest of the youngsters, armed with totems, rushed to well, praying more for their safety than Ghanshyam’s.

They found Ghanshyam’s body sprawled by the well, with one hand strongly clasped on his Dhoti. His mouth was wide open and his eyes were about to pop out. The face had a look of such horror, as if he had seen a ghost. The priest insisted on first persuading the ghost to leave the body before allowing it to be cremated, costing Ghanshyam’s family a fortune.

The tragedy was nothing but another anecdote in the list of reasons cited by the villagers to keep away from the well. And oh, the old man who told me this story swears that he saw Ghanshyam’s dhoti stuck in the nail which Ghanshyam had hammered in the wall but nobody believed him as he was only 8 at that time.

*For all you morons who have a low IQ and didn't understand the last bit but are too proud to admit it, here's the logic:

Ghanshyam's dhoti got stuck in the nail and when he turned around to leave, he felt his dhoti being pulled. Fearing the worst, he died of shock.

Intern Diaries

The 1st day in Hyderabad began with n excellent breakfast at the guest house and then rushing to office. As in most corporate, the first half involved lots of lectures on which we, poor interns gave up half way as the senior management rattled on about ideas, principles and policies. After a very spicy Andhra lunch, enter my guide. A man who commands authority or is scary, depending on your perspective. But one thing was clear; you could not rub him the wrong way. He draws a 6 day schedule and sends me off to the on-field man.

From the next day, I was commuting between retail stores across the city sitting on the back seat of a scooter. The guy would go in the store, clean up and arrange the stock, while I’d hunt for relevant people to speak to. In between we’d take a break to have something selling by the road. I’d eat with him despite knowing that the food will upset my already weak stomach for the sake of blending in. I am told that this way, they share more info with you than they otherwise would. With time, the luxury of a scooter and a city guide disappeared and I was moving around and hunting on my own. Day after day, I seek to get lost in the sea of customers and try to observe and conduct interviews without the store authorities noticing.

Visits to office are so rare I still haven’t been able to button for tea in the office vending machine. The tea I need to relax before facing my boss, who gives me the hibberly-jibberlies every time I meet him. Not that he’s evil. In fact he’s very supportive and helpful but sometimes he’s just… scary. It didn’t help that he once yells on the phone at someone so loudly that everyone and everything in the office froze for an hour. Well, it felt like an hour.

My workload and degree of difficulty increases with every meeting and I keep insinuating that this time, it might not be possible to accomplish everything. He just asks me to try my best and somehow I have managed it till date. My mid-term review beckons now and with that, a few deliverables which seem impossible this time. I can just cross my fingers and hope that he lets it pass.

On the other end, life is a collage of colours after 5 PM, thanks to old friends and the 2008 alumni bunch. It all started the 1st day itself when Arnab invited me to celebrate his promotion. Within minutes of meeting, he had decided that I’ll move in with him and to Nanda’s place after a week without even asking me. For my 1st week, when I was living in the company guest house, I didn’t have dinner there even once despite the caretaker being a good cook, thanks to Arnab, Nanda and Neha.

The trend continued once I moved in with Auni and then with Nanda. In my 3 weeks in Hyderabad, I have been to HRC, an IPL match, 5 movies, a club’s launch party and Char Minar with these guys, not to mention the countless parties at home. I also have had the famous Biryani at Paradise and the awesome lunch served at 10 Downing Street on my own.

Such stays are not without their share of incidents and memories worthy to be reminisced upon on a later date. Hence, I admit to be politely asked to leave two retail stores as I roamed around the stores for over two hours without showing any interest in actually purchasing something. And then there was the vintage Robby act who just would not let Arnab leave and threw such a tantrum that Arnab relented and stayed back for a half hour even though he was getting late for his packing and his flight. And when Arnab was finally leaving, he went to the ground floor barefoot to see him off and took 15 mins to return to the apartment, in an elevator. Nobody knows how.

Personally as well as professionally, much has been done and more remains to be done. My project is not even halfway through and I am to implement a pilot before I leave, which doesn’t sound easy at all. I am yet to visit Golconda fort, Chaumahala Palace and Saler Jung Museum. There are friends to catch up with from graduation and school days. Friends, who will follow and terminate me if I leave without meeting with. And then there are the epic Nanda jokes to be chronicled and a Robby to control. (The last job spans the whole duration of my MBA.)

I don’t know how much I will accomplish during my stay here but it is certain that the memories will be pleasant and the intern educative.

The Missed Messages

Movies are a modern day wonder. We enjoy one, we learn from one, are inspired by one, or just kill time with one. Well, I usually pull my hair in frustration when stuck with one. But then, we do not completely comprehend everything we watch or read. Well, you, not me. So, for the enlightenment of lesser mortals, I have prepared a small list of the movies in which you missed out on the real message:

1. Inglorious Basterds - French chicks have bigger balls than the best of US soldiers

2. The boy in striped pajamas - Jews are sadists. The Jewish kid was going to die anyway... Did he pull in the other kid just for kicks?

3. Flags of our fathers - never send sissies to the front. They will only embarrass the country later.

4. X men - Nobody.makes.Fun.of.wolverine.Nobody.

5. Avatar - in the future, men may find 8 feet tall, blue skinned aliens hotter than chicks..

6. Rocky - a long retired, 50 yrs old boxer can make mincemeat of today's best... Something is seriously wrong with our generation.

7. Dev D – Forget your childhood sweetheart. A whore will love you more.

8. Forrest Gump: Even the retarded may strike wealth. Be nice to them.

9. Gran Torino: If you want your dad’s money, be good to him. If you are not, someone else will be.

10. Fight Club: The movie laughed at us you fool, just like I am at this very moment. "Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments?"

A letter to a Prof.

Professor Chakraborty,
Foculty,
Operations Management,
IMT Ghaziabad,
Rojnagar,
Ghoziabad

Sub: Onticipatory potition against the toghness of tomorrow's exam in view of the contemporary social and cultural environment

Dear Sir,

As you know, tomorrow is the mother-of-all closhes in the World Cup. In case you do not already know, I am dolighted to infarm you that India hab reached the semi-phinal of the on going Cricket World Cup and sholl be playing against sworn rivals Pakistan in Mohali tomorrow. Needless to add that the bhinner will proceed to the finals.

As a professor of Operations Management, I am sure you realise the grovity of the situation. I wish to add that tomorrow has been declared holf day in most compaanies across India, including US MNCs. (We didn't even need a strike to achieve that).Else, the amount of obsenteeism would have created an operational nightmare for managors like me who phinish their MBAs remaining grossly untrained and ignorant of the discipline.

Extrapolating the same logic, I assure you that none of my friends shall stady for the exam either, as I only befriend peepul who are cricket lovers. Only those without a shrod of patriotism in them sholl lock themselves up and crom for the exam. If taaph koschen is cooming, it will simply dibhide the test-takors in two categories. The majority with a big, bold 'O' gaping from their onswer sheets and an unpatriotic, capitolist minority who shall score some marks. Tell me sir, bhat is more impotent. Bhatching a Sachin (sorry, Dada retired a bhile back) straight drive reaching the boundory or scoring 10 marks in the eggjaaam.

I should omphasise that this is a dangerooos situatooon as it bhill create a class divide with the nationalists losing out to anti-national forces. Surely you cannot let that happen. Moreover, you being a Bengali should give the hard workers and the slockers equal opportunity and marks.

PS: We shall go on a strike if our demands our not met, Bengal style.

Thonkfully yours,
Ashutosh Bihani,
Cricket lover and accidental MBA

Adios, O' Fiendish Genius

I should perhaps begin by saying that I liked you. I liked you because you were a genius at your profession. The aggression, the grit, the skill and above all the bloody-mindedness were all in place. You decimated the opposition to pieces and robbed them of any self-belief they might possess. Steve Waugh, the greatest captain I have seen, prophesied that you shall be the best batsman for the past decade. His 'Aussiness' prevented him from adding the words 'next to Sachin' but we all knew that, didn't we?

I admired your class and the practice of taking on the best bowler of the opposition to stamp your authority. Down the years, you became the captain of the Aussie juggernaut and I admired you for being such a wonderful captain. I didn't hate you when each of the billion of us were at least dejected in '03 because of you. I even spared a thought for you and the very likable Brett Lee in the greatest Ashes Series ever.

But then, something changed. As the battle-hardened heroes set in to the sunset, they exposed a gray side of a genius which was, until then so effectively hidden behind the camouflage of a utopia where no pressure existed. To begin with, that team you lead was a as perfect a machine as their could be, in which, every cog and lever knew its function and performed it with precision. Once the old parts wore off, it became clear that you were not half the machine operator everyone thought of you to be. Your tactics ranged from intelligent to reckless, sometimes even flirting with selfishness and stupidity. (Think the time when Dhoni and Bhajji added quick 70 odd runs when Ponting bowled part timers, to get on with the time and save 'banned' from being stamped on his ass for the next match). More generally, recall his face when he loses from a tight situation. It is neither remorse, nor dejection. It is anger, frustration and above all, bewilderment. It screams a loss of control over the proceedings. Not done. Not done at all.

Such incidents can, however, only lessen respect but cannot generate negativity. That is generated by unfair, ungentlemanly acts. Of which, you have committed plenty. Sledging, pressuring the umpire and lying were, and are, simply part of the game for you. But then, this game is called the gentleman's game for a reason. Instances of dishonesty which are simply overlooked in other sports, are not taken lightly in this one. Such moments can be found aplenty in your career. (pointing out such instances is pointless)

You are a true great of the game and no one could deny you that. But with this greatness, did come some responsibility. You were to be an ambassador of the game, a mentor to your team mates and a role-model to the youngsters. Sadly, you failed here. You were arrogant, abusive and, to put it rudely, a cheat. While Sachin walks, Kallis takes the fielder's word on a catch, you insult the game by claiming grassed catches. I pray that the next generation of cricketers do not idolise you or the cricket field will turn in to a zoo with players jumping up and down like orangutans, the way Watson did on Gayle's face after getting him out.

I think I have made my point here. On a parting note, I am happy that you ended your illustrious WC journey with a century. Partly because it is befitting but mainly because the hurt of a gritty, memorable century in a losing cause will compensate a bit for the heartburns you have inflicted on cricket and its fans with your behavior.

Adios, O' fiendish genius!!!

Stronger

I know you are disappointed,
You won't admit but you are hurt,
you were and will always be good,
No child's play, all that effort

The hard work doesn't matter,
Life seems to be unfair,
There is no gratification.
Unlikely that anyone will care.

Just draw the good from it,
leave the ugly alone.
The hard work means experience,
Rest all is only bygone

Take what you need to take,
the motive was to learn.
don't let anything change it,
'cos experince is what you earn.

A day will come in life,
when things are all set right.
Darkness will simmer to nothingness,
giving way to a new light.

When that stage is reached,
You will laugh at all this.
you will remember these days
and it will be sans any malice

Time gone by is always good,
not something to resent.
The mistakes made back then,
Help form the present.

So when bad comes knocking by, streaming in,
Focus hard, don't let your mind wander.
'Cos what doesn't kill you,
only makes you stronger.

Shallow words

Why do you always dig deeper,
when there's nothing to find.
Stop reading between the lines,
there ain't deeper meanings behind.

Please don't stress yourself,
Spare your pretty brain the grind.
My words mean nothing at all,
they're there because they rhymed.

I do poke people with words,
as if it were a sword I wield.
But I don't hide behind them,
never use them like a shield.

It is fine if you do not understand,
let slip a pun that was intended.
But you make me wince in pain,
when you accept what wasn't presented.

If you expect mountains of ideas,
you should go look else somewhere.
Even this rhyme ain't no deep ocean,
I wrote it because I had time to spare.

It is amusing to think though,
when you find layers that don't exist.
What if I wrote my heart out?
Will you ever comprehend the gist?