The Pack

It was the eve of a festive occasion. Everybody in the house was busy attending to the relatives who were visiting us. Four of us, two in sixth and two in seventh standard, were climbing the steps in stealth mode. Our errand was to open a huge glass container kept near a window on the first floor and taste the liquid inside. The liquid happened to be a crystal clear form of liquor.

We had reached the first floor without anybody noticing us. Carefully we opened the lid of the container. Two of us tilted the glass container and poured the liquor into another smaller container. Just as we were about to finish one of us cried "No! we have poured some of it on the floor."

The floor was made of long wooden planks bolted on top of thick wooden beams. We could see the ground floor through the crevices between the wooden planks. The liquid was seeping through the cracks onto the ground floor. Drops of liquor were now falling right amongst the elders who were seated in the same room discussing matters concerning the village.

We could first hear them whisper and then talk aloud. What's that smell? That's liquor. Is anybody drunk here? Come on none of us drink. Hey something is leaking on the first floor and it smells like liquor.

And then we were facing them. Why did you open the liquor container? What were you guys up to? If this is how you behave at this age then what are you guys going to do when you grow up? We stood there silently.

26/11

Over the past one year the horrific incident of 26/11 has been analyzed at length in various dimensions by every one, the media, political leaders, military strategists and even by the common man (like me) over the lunch and dinner table.

Today the memoirs of that incident bring forth several mixed thoughts:
- Lazy bums in the intelligence agencies and the government who did nothing to stop the terror attack.
- A brave media who covered the incident.
- A foolish media who became the eyes of the terrorists.
- Those little battles people might have fought inside the Taj to fend off the terrorists. Nobody knows about them.
- Families who lost their dear ones in the incident.
- The supreme sacrifice of Sandeep Unnikrishnan. "Do not come up. I will handle them" were his last words.
- The way our commandos fought the terrorists.
- Commandos traveling in BEST bus.
- Exemplary help provided at the site of the incident by people regardless of religion and caste.
- Doctors who might have saved dozens of lives.
- The ousting of the then home minister.
- The rise of the new home minister.
- No such incidents in the last one year.
- Headely being captured.
- Voices to hang Kasab.
- Heightened security. Alert security agencies.
- Finally India did not forget about the loss of lives on that fateful day.

Yet among all this analysis there is a fundamental question that needs an answer.

Every man wants to live a simple, happy and a good life. A small paycheck, some food and a simple family is enough to please him. As a child nobody has an aim to become a terrorist. Then why do some men like "Kasab" become the blood thristy terrorists?
- Is it a career choice?
- Is it their economic condition that forces them to get brainwashed?
- Is it their basic instinct?
- Is it their economic condition?
- Is it lack of education?
- Is it exploitation?

The solution to the problem of terrorism lies in answering these questions and quickly acting on them. We can at least prevent the creation of terrorists within.

Lets take some time today to think about all those who were affected on that apocalyptic day. Salutes to everyone who make our lives safe.

Race

Winning is all that matters, thundered our table tennis coach. For the next few days we were trying to win every single thing we did. Being the first to get into the school bus, quarreling to sit on a particular sit in the school bus, crowding at the classroom door to be the first to go out of class, fighting to be the first to drink the tap water after playing and competing for every little thing that happened throughout the day. Everything had become a race that we wanted to win 'at any cost' and 'in any way possible'.

It was afternoon. We had practiced hard that day and it was time to go home. It took about three minutes to walk from the sports club to the bus stop. I was walking leisurely towards the bus stop when I heard footsteps behind me. I should be the first at the bus stop I thought. Nobody should overtake me. Winning is all that matters. I started walking faster. I could still hear the footsteps. No that cannot be. I increased my pace again but I could still hear them. More faster I thought and then I had won.

I turned around to look at the face of my opponent. He looked tired, extremely tired. He was much more taller than I was. How nice, I had beaten someone older. But why was he so much tired? And then my eyes fell on his legs. He had a false leg. Why had I not turned around before? The race had meant everything to him and nothing to me :(.

That day I realised that winning is not all that matters. Not all races are meant to be won. The manner in which you win a race also matters.

Note:

It was really a coincidence. I was in the process of writing the above incident when I had a chat with a friend on a similar incident that happened to him recently. He might share it with everyone in the comments section.

Sour Grapes

The sun was scorching the earth. On such a hot summer day a fox was wandering about to quench his thirst. Then his eyes were fixed on a bunch of grapes on a vine. Ah! that’s what I need he said. He ran towards the tree to grab the bunch lest others see it. The vine had climbed a long way up and the grapes were out of his reach. So he tried to jump but could not reach them. He then took a few steps back, started running and jumped to grab the grapes. But success was elusive. After many futile attempts he gave up and announced that the grapes must surely be sour. That's the end of the bed time story announced our grandmother. We all laughed at the foolishness of the fox and went to sleep. But was the fox really foolish?

In the recent past there have been a lot of cases where pressure has caught up with people of all ages. Kids, students, professionals, senior citizens have all been affected by it. Depressions are becoming a common part of our society. With all my due respects some of them have even taken the extreme step.

We tend to cling to things that we want badly but cannot get them no matter how hard we try. Was the fox intelligent in realizing that the grapes were out of his reach? I was listening to a nice talk on YouTube when I got another perspective to the Sour Grapes story.

Reaction

On Monday we will start looking at 'Chemical reactions' announced our teacher as he closed the reference book. Two or more substances interact to transform from one form to the other he said. Just then it was time to leave for home. We left the class noisily and went straight to the playground. For a while the thought about 'Chemical reactions' was out of my mind. But as I sat in the school bus I was mesmerized by what the teacher had described.

As I reached home I was envisioning our table transform into chairs, the chairs transforming into a tree and the tree transforming into a rabbit. What would be my fate if I was turned into a different object? The thought terrified me. But the teacher had said that it required two or more substances for the transformation. Secretly I decided to carry out some experiments of my own.

I collected a bunch of dried leaves. I then got a glass of water. Carefully I poured a few drops of water on one leaf and then in desperation emptied the entire glass. I had just got a wet leaf. I then took a few drops of milk and poured it on the leaf. I was hoping that the leaf would transform into a green leaf. But to my disappointment nothing had happened. I spent the next few hours experimenting without much success.

In the evening we were hosting a few guests. I had greeted them hastily and then sneaked into the kitchen to continue my experiment. There was a tetsubin filled with tea. I was looking for the magic second substance when my eyes fell on tamarind. What would happen I wondered? The thought instilled a thrill in me. Carefully I took a piece of tamarind and put into the tea and started mixing it. And voila there it was the transformation I was so eager to see.

Every one was laughing at the mishap. I was sitting quietly embarrassed at my lack of thought. Then tea and snacks were served again and I had joined all in the laughter.

Stop.

The Discovery channel was airing a man who was annoying a poor snake. There was a group of people around the man who was enjoying every bit of what the man was demonstrating. I wondered how they would have felt if the same man was poking at them or holding their neck with the same instrument in the name of studying.

The old house had the most beautiful scenic surroundings. It was surrounded by a hedge with beautiful flowers. Within the boundaries of the fence we had planted a variety of vegetables and flowers. A narrow pathway made from mud ran in the front of the house. Towards the right it coiled in between tall trees bearing fruits and flowers. Fruits like mangoes, guavas, chikoos (sapodilla), jackfruits, cashews, tamarind, jambool (java plum). Flowers like Parijat and Gulmohar. Walking a little further in the same direction was a well where we would quench our thirst after playing. Further ahead was a beautiful lush green play ground. On the other side of the play ground stood the kokum trees. Further away there were beautiful hillocks with thick plantation. We would venture there once in a while for the purpose of hiking and eating wild fruits.

Standing in front of the house you could see people working in fields and pastures where animals would graze. Wild animals too were seen once in a while. A leopard had once entered a house a few kilometers away. Snakes were a pretty common site. A majestic monitor lizard roamed around the house. Woodpeckers, kingfishers and parrots could also be seen. The beautiful sound of the cuckoo and other birds refreshed your mind instantly.

Towards the left of the house the pathway merged into a road. The road ran perpendicular to the pathway. Towards its left was the same range of hillocks you could see from the playground. The road then made a hair pin turn and was not visible until it made another one. Looking further ahead beyond the fields you could see the road again. Towards the left of the road was a beautiful island. On the island you could see a hillock on top of which was an ancient fort. You could reach the island by rowing a small boat. The road now ran straight until it disappeared.

It was late night when we were returning home. It was a full moon day. We were looking at the island and the fort on our right. Then we were looking at the image of the moon in the water. Towards our left the plants in the field stood still. Looking further we could see our house in the moonlight.

The morning bustle had turned into silence. The silence being disturbed only by the sound of our car and chirping of the crickets. And then it happened. The car had come to a sudden halt. I had almost hit my head on the windshield when I saw one of the most beautiful sites. We had turned off the headlights immediately. In the bright moon light we could see a big python slowly crossing the road. We waited there for a while until it had finally disappeared.

Why can't you live them alone was the question I had as I switched off the television.

Courtesy

We had traveled for about 32 hours without much rest. We were tired, impatient and in a foreign country. Now, we were waiting in a queue that stretched too long. We knew that we would miss the connecting flight. It happened just as we were animatedly cursing our travel agent for the pathetic travel arrangements. A man, wife and child at the end of the queue had been called out before the others. My thoughts were rushing back in time.

A year ago we were standing in a queue for our visa interview. We could hear a child crying loudly. The mother was consoling the child in all the way she could. There was a man ahead in the queue who looked frustrated. He was pleading with the officials to let him in into the consulate with a bottle of milk so that the child was pacified. Twice before he had been asked to move at the end of the queue and this was the third time he was being asked to move at the end of the queue as the officials had found some harmless tablets. It was a pity to see the child crying. It was sad to see the officials behaving in this manner. It was even strange to hear that people had not let him move to the front of the queue twice before.

And now I had a feeling of déjà vu. A man, wife and a child were standing at the end of the queue. The child was crying and the parents were trying to console the child. They were not even the citizens of the country. However, the situation was not being handled in the same way as before. The moment he had heard the child cry an official had walked towards them and took them to the front of the queue. People were making way for them as if they were a part of their family. The parents were feeling as they were at home.

We are immensely proud of our culture, tradition and moral values. Given the slightest chance we like to boast about it. Moral policing is a new trend that is emerging. Each one has a view on how others should behave. Yet at a very basic level we fail to apply what our culture, tradition and moral values teach us. In the land of the greatest epics where karma and values were given the greatest priority some thousands of year’s back what has become of us today?