The Bench Day 2

The conversation with the little kid had managed to stoke a fire and breathe some life into his decaying soul. The hope was obvious in his steps, instead of dragging himself into the park like he had been doing over the past year, today he took big strides, although as the park approached, his shoulders stooped and the dread of losing his friend became obvious on his face. But God chose not to disappoint him, he could see his little friend firmly perched on the bench. Eyes full of longing and tiny hands flying in the air were beckoning him. The old man was filled with joy, emotions rushed through his body and he found himself wiping some tears with his sleeve. It had been so long since someone cared about his existence. But like most other moments in his life, this joy was short lived, it was immediately replaced with the dread of what if the kid makes a new friend, what if a new toy grabs his attention, what if…He sat on the bench wondering how to keep this little kid interested. The kid had beautiful round face and big oval brown eyes. But when he looked up the old man could only see the bruise above his eyes. Even before he could find out the reason for it, his stomach curled up in anger. He often thought that injustice was one thing in this world which could be sensed even before it could be heard. His old frail hands gripped the bench harder, mentally he imagined himself clutching the throat of the man who could be so cruel to this child.

Old Man: Hello young man, what happened to your eye?

Kid: I fell while I was playing.

This answer sent the old man reeling back into his childhood, how often he had used the same excuse. He would spends nights thinking that his real father was in the army and one day he would return to claim him. Over and over again his mind played this movie, his brilliant escape, his father training him to be a great warrior, and the climax, becoming the supreme protector of the weak. But years passed, no help came, he could not protect himself. And he knew in his heart he could not protect this child.

Kid: Let us become good.

Old Man: How do you propose we do that?

Kid: I don’t know, you are the big one, I thought you knew.

The old man knew this was the moment where his utility to this kid would be defined. His desperately searched for an answer. The kid looked at him probingly, his little finger was about to be launched for a poke.

Old Man: I know how it can be done.

Excitement ran through the child’s face. Time for the lying to begin, time to build a castle of false hope.

Kid: Tell me how, I will do it all. I am a brave kid.

Old Man: It takes time, I will have to train you. You need to meet me here every day for the next one year.

Very easily he managed to secure a one year bond with a few simple lies. He could feel the guilt like bile in his mouth, he had fallen to a whole new level for human companionship.

Kid: Alright I will meet you here every day. You are my teacher.

The innocence in the voice made the old man shift uncomfortably in his seat. He turned away to avoid his eyes, when he found the courage to look back, the kid had disappeared. He turned his attention to the letter he was planning to write to his own kid. He wondered if he would respond, it had been 5 years since he last saw him. He wondered was he married, did he have kids. He could not think of words which would compensate for the 5 years. Like every day other day he folded up the letter, but his eyes caught something. His heart skipped a beat, the year on the letter was 2010, that did not make sense, he did start writing the letter long back, but he was sure it has not been more than a year. He remembered how he decided that the fresh air from the park would help clear his mind and he could write the letter. This date had to be wrong, it must be wrong!! It was the year 2013, he must have made a mistake while writing the letter. A tiny voice in him asked how he failed to notice the date for more than a year. He convinced himself he probably needs some new glasses. His old age was finally catching up with his eyes.

The Bench Day 1

He was sitting on the bench looking at nothing in particular. His mind wandered into the past, the glory of his youth, how arrogant he was, how unmindful of others. Today as he sat here alone, the wind smacked him on his face, how he wished someone had smacked some sense into him then. To while away his time and to maintain some semblance of hope, in his mind he played the movie of what could have been. An alternate life where he was a perfect father, a perfect son and a perfect husband. Even as he thought about these things, a realization crept into his mind of how even in his thoughts being a perfect husband was last. The one relationship where he was given the most, the one place where he had the strongest chance to touch another soul with love. He told himself, that’s what everyone does, take the things we have for granted. Like always he had found a way to excuse his behavior. As his mind played the movie, a young kid came and sat on the bench. They looked at each other directly, and as equals. The kid made him uncomfortable, there was an unabashed look on his face, as if daring him to reprimand him. He reminded him of all the times he failed to discipline his children, how they slipped from fingers. The journey was hard and change difficult to accept, it started with idolization, followed by anger and finally the indifference. They rightly said indifference was worse than hatred. He was brought back to reality by the kid poking him with his little finger. He innocently asked the man why he was sitting here all alone. He wondered whether to share the cruel realities life with this young man, and decided against it. He told him that his family lived far away. The kid was not satisfied, the old man could feel the next question bubbling up in his mind. And then came the barrage of questions.

Kid: Why don’t you live with them?

Old Man: Well…That is because I like living alone. I have the freedom to be myself.

Kid: Are you a bad man?

The question shocked him, he wondered what brought that up. Is being yourself bad? Then memories of him asking his kids to study and not play, to not ask questions but accept order, to respect elders, to be more docile, slowly crept up in his head. He wondered, had he crushed their innocent spirits to develop a shell of a human being whose only purpose of existence was to meet the expectations of others. Is that why this young child feels it is bad to be himself?

Old Man: Being yourself is not bad.

But before he could launch into an explanation, and make some amends for his past mistakes, the kid pronounced his judgement.

Kid: You look sad and I know why. You are bad person and you did bad things, other people don’t like bad people. And because no one likes you, you are sad.

The old man found it hard to argue with this logic. It was true that he failed in most of his relationships and his family did not like him anymore, which was the root cause of his sadness. But he wondered was he sad because he was alone, or alone because he was sad. Because ever since he was first conscious of his thoughts he had been trying so hard to meet other people’s expectations. First it was parents then teachers, then society, everyone he ever came into contact with, expected something of him. His failure to meet those expectations had created a well of sadness within him. A well which periodic rains added water to, but no one ever drew water from. He looked at the kid and smiled.

Kid: I can help you.

Old Man: How will you do that?

Kid: I can be your friend. See I am bad too. Maybe we can become good together.

Old Man: What makes you bad?

Kid: My father says that my mother left him because of me. I guess she did not like me much. I must be a bad person.

Old Man: What did your mother say when she left you?

Kid: I never met her, she left to meet God when I was born. She must have been really nice, because God wanted her to visit him. May be if I become good she will come back.

The Old Man felt his eyes tearing up, he looked away to some children playing in the sandbox. Their laughter carried over to the bench, but neither of them could feel the splash of joy in that sound. He turned to look at the child and wondered, does it make sense to be good? Being good will bring with it the hope of a mother’s return. A hope which is meant to crush his tiny little heart in the end. He was saved from this dilemma by the bells of an ice cream van. He took the little boy’s hand and walked to the ice cream van, the bigger questions will be answered another day.

Love in a B school??

After much hard work when you finally see your name on the admit list of an esteemed college you release a sigh of relief. Only you don’t know what awaits you when you reach those hallowed halls. Sleepless nights and cut throat competition bare their teeth at you as soon as you set foot on campus. You look desperately for that silver lining which in most cases is a cute girl/guy in your class. The hunt begins from the first day. While professors desperately try to induct you into the course you are scanning the class faster than the speed of light. Your subject notes will never be as comprehensive as the notes you take on where the cute girl is sitting or whom she is talking to. Slowly and steadily people start making their moves and as the term moves on we have the famed B-school couples. After a little analysis and I have classified them as follows, some may be a fusion of these:

Party bangers: When you look around a few drinks down, you notice you aren’t dancing with the same people you started off with. You notice some of your friends have smoothly moved away from the center to the corners, only they aren’t alone anymore more. A few more drinks later you notice some serious dirty dancing has started in all corners of the party. If you are still in the state to notice then very soon, you shall see these couples leaving the party. Next afternoon they wake up to find some stranger in their bed, and shock in their head. With this kind of couple their LOVE blossoms on drunken nights and dies as soon as soberness bites. It is a classic case of raat gayi baat gayi..

Nerdy love: This couple defines synergy, contrary to all popular belief which says that people in love lose focus this couple manages to improve their grades after dating. They are mostly spotted in the library studying for some test or preparing for some case study competition. After a while they start looking and talking like each other. The whole batch looks on while their personalities merge into each other.

Long distance love: Many people come to a B-school already committed to someone back home. But the hectic schedules and the need for someone’s shoulder to cry on, often leads to new alliances being formed. The extent of seriousness in this relationship is inversely proportional to hotness of the partner waiting back home. These guys mostly operate by the principle “what they don’t know can’t hurt them”, with the end of college comes an end to this relationship.

Friend zoned hopefuls: This is a common occurrence in any college, they are seen together on walks, in the library, in restaurants etc. They are spotted on dates more often than the actual couples. But alas the guy/girl carrying the books, doing the assignments is nothing but a friend. This relationship rests on the hope that someday they will move out of the friend zone by sheer dedication to the task of being a pseudo BF/GF, but it never happens.

True love: This type can be identified easily as they start expressing their love on public forums, even their profile pictures have each other photos. This is a rare occurrence but it happens, two people in a B school, actually fall in love, stay together during college and lo behold soon after graduating you see an event on Facebook notifying you of their engagement. 

Being Dumb

He said "Wow! you are dumb". She felt a little insulted. He repeated it. This time her sadness morphed into anger. She did not utter a word. Her attention was diverted to the anger swelling up in her chest. She wondered is she really dumb? Does she have control over how fast her brain processes things? Is it something she can work and improve on? She didn't think so, then why was he calling her dumb, on the other hand what is so bad about being dumb? Is it necessary that we excel in everything we do? Why couldn't he just help her out without being rude. She realized he just wanted to elevate himself by demeaning her. And it wasn't just him, she realized she did it too. When someone asked a stupid question she jeered at them and offered help in a condescending manner. We all love to do it, its like our superiority can be established only by insulting others. But does it really work? No we feel just as insecure as before. So we keep searching for ways to express our dominion and when does this search end? It never does, let me give you an instance, ever noticed how the most popular people are generally the greatest arseholes. And we still  feel attracted towards them. We all want to be like them and crave their company and attention.This is very conspicuous in the age old story of good girl bad guy. We love the bad guys, the more unruly the more insulting the more we want them. It is such a ego boost when the bad guy who pretends not to give a damn about the world, gives a damn about you, even though such occasions would be rare. We love those rare occasions and end up basing an entire relationship on those. But the rest of the time we spend crying on the shoulders of our friend zoned good guy. Who is practically tearing his hair out wondering whats wrong with you, it isn't like you cant see that you are dating an ass, but you refuse to give up. You end up showering your attention on people who don't deserve it, ignoring people who deserve it and screwing up the most important person, you!

And what you learn from this? Either you become wary of every guy who approaches you and don't date anyone, or you decide to vent out the same treatment to the next guy you do date. Either way you end up hurting someone and returning to one of the most fundamental question of our life, whose fault is it? The answer is surprisingly simple, your own. If only you had not fallen for the attractive arrogance but for the sweet humility. So next time keep it simple

 nice guy> bad guy (Always)