A Decade Later

Harish Kumar was employed by the Life Insurance Corporation of India in the year 1999. His career graph happily soared northwards for a decade. During the market euphoria which dawned on India due to the effects of liberalization & globalization and the neo investment policies floated by the successive Governments, Harish could dare to relocate the boundaries of his dreams which he had originally fixed when he joined his service. Buying a house, taking a foreign trip, borrowing for his sister's marriage were each a cake walk now for salaried men like him. He had dipped his finger into all of it, some essential and some hitherto claimed as birthright of the rich and the richer. His wardrobe boasted of brands that he'd only seen his rich college mates put on. He became a member of the neighbourhood social club "The Elite". His family regularly visited Mc Donald's, hopped from one shopping mall to another, his lovely wife went shopping for hours. Harish encouraged it. They travelled by air atleast thrice every year. He and his wife bought and kept simultaneously two cell phones. The increased income and increased expenditure duo had opened the gates for insurance agents. Not like yester years where they were considered intruders upon peaceful afternoon siestas. Harish had brought tremendous amount of business for his organization selling more and more insurance policies. His sales achievement was further boosted by the ushering in of new age endowment policies wherein the buyer of the policy was not only insured but also promised a hefty return upon maturity of the term. Thus insurance was no more a mere risk protection plan. It had transformed itself into an out and out savings - investment portfolio, especially for the high salaried income group. Not to mention the tax benefit that was appended to such investment. Govt. had to encourage savings you see. Harish himself had bought three policies, one for himself and two for his wife. He had also invested in shares of promising companies and was expecting an hefty return after about a period of ten to twelve years.  Not to mention the regular perks and bonuses that swelled his coffer. Harish had been given a candy and he had to consume it fast. There was of course the promise that much more candies would follow.

Ravi Prasad was Harish's neighbour in his village, about two hours drive from the latter's suburban residence. Ravi was an agriculturist. He struggled to keep his lands fertile. When he maintained that fertility, he struggled to survive the onslaught of unpredictable weather. When he somehow survived that, he had to face the manipulative markets and its middle men ever eager to chew into his profits. The life and times of Ravi were not in the checklist of those who improved them for Harish. His heart burnt when he saw his children dreamily eyeing the clothes and other fancy stuffs that Harish's children owned, when they occasionally visited their grandparents. They studied in private boarding and his children irregularly attended the local Govt. school. His elder son had to drop out to help his ageing father in farming. Things however began changing for Ravi as the Govt. introduced farming subsidies and ensured competitive marketing for his products. He had to no more live at the mercy of the middle men. Hybrid seeds, hassle free farming credit and year round technical support for improved output also put Ravi's life at bit of an ease. Nothing could however be done about the unpredictable weather. Some blamed it on heavy industrialization and some additionally blamed it on mindless destruction of forest and greenery.

As things continued thus, somewhere towards the mid 2008, life came crashing for Harish, with the stock market crash. There was widespread panic induced selling of stocks. Thus Harish's stock investments fast eroded and now lay at a mark lower than the sum which he had invested. Prices of commodities began soaring. The falling value of our currency, inflation and tightening credit scenario caused the banks to scamper into increasing interest rates for which the EMIs on his housing loan and the personal loan which he had incurred for his sister's marriage floated upwards. He was to thus shell out a considerable additional amount, which he sacrificed from his savings. This wasn't the part of his future plans.  The shock came when his company went downsizing. The local branch was closed. The assured promotion was now out of question and so was the increment in his salary. He had to run everywhere just to save his job. But couldn't succeed. He ended up being handed over the dreaded "pink slip" . He went jobless for a tormenting six months after which he gained the good grace of the Lord Almighty to earn himself a position in the office of another insurance selling organization which was an almost unnoticeable competitor six months ago.

The effect of the crisis trickled down to Ravi too. But luckily for him his class of work gave him the option to say "Pay more, for what you pay isn't enough anymore". Ravi raised prices of his products. Thus in a way, the pressure of rising prices again spiraled back to the buying class of Harish. We couldn't expect Harish to go hungry alongwith his whole family, could we ? So he had to anyhow buy Ravi's products, though now at an elevated price. Unfortunately Harish had nobody to say to, what Ravi demanded from him. He couldn't just walk into the cabin of his boss in his newfound job and demand a raise in salary citing price rise as the reason. For all he knew his company too was struggling with increased cost of sustaining business.  He could no more think of living life kingsize. The bubble had burst. He had learnt his lesson. His good wife joined in his support and took up teaching in a local vernacular medium school. Still years later prices keep up northwards. Petrol prices have gone up beyond anybody's reckoning. Its his confession that driving the car which he brought five years back makes him feel guilty. His children are sensitive to their changed realities. Its a good thing. They don't eye at glossy products alluringly displayed in shop shelves. They don't run no more to their father whenever they see a new item enticingly advertised in the T.V. Harish senses this change in his children with a mixed reaction of joy and guilt. He often blames the policy makers and the people in the Govt., whom he once hailed for gifting him the candy. He grumbled that they were unilaterally and haphazardly changing the scenario for people like him. But they never seem to bother about Harish,  since from the very year he bagged his first job, never once did he care to his exercise his vote. So did thousands of his kind. He soon realized that he and his kind had lost relevance for the people in power. He recalled how he had smirked, while going to his work in his air conditioned car, at the snakey queue of people who waited for hours for their turn to vote. He couldn't remember a face in those lines, which belonged to any of his colleagues or acquaintances. He'd heard though that Ravi always took a bottle of water with him to those lines and that he never missed his chance to vote.


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("A Decade Later" is a fictitious portrayal of the author's views about a particular  aspect of the lives and times of men of two significant strata of our society viz. the so called high salaried class & the lower middle / lower class during the last decade. The portrayal is based on what the author observed around him and therefore need not necessarily hold true for every one similarly placed in life. Any resemblance to any person, place or incident is purely coincidental).

The Lake

Where have the gulls flown
There flapping's now unknown
Where have the dolphins sailed
To stranger waves they have fled


Why don't I see the ducks 
Where've swum their flocks
Where have the pisces gone
The boats and the oars forlorn


Why the sun sets without 
The dusk songs of the mahout
Why can't I see the water reflect
The joy it once exuded


Why the melody eludes
Does it sense the shrewds
What robbed the lady of her charm
When she was promised no harm


When I walk the shores
I travel to the befores
When a delight it'd offer
Of the various bliss in its coffer 


Forsaken it stands
Once a pride of our lands
Then it strikes my mind
Like an ant bite in my hind


We came to cherish
We planned to flourish
Latent garners were to be made
In the name of nature's serenade


We went from slow to ceaseless
We spared nothing in the place
The very reason why we came
We murdered in the name of the game


I spent my days in its splash
Became a victim to the rash
After ages I awake
To the loss of that lake

Saints of Nidapur

"Sri Sri Gyanasagar Paschimakabat is finally going to make a trip to our Nidapur." , Krupasindhu Jena, the head of the ordinarily sleepy Nidapur village, screeched over the loudspeaker, with an inflated chest drawing an instant round of thunderous applause and chorus chants of 'HARI BOL' from the gathering under the oldest mango tree of the village. It needed no effort to figure out in his speech, an undertone which simultaneously announced his influence and lobby in important places outside their village. Or else how could he have succeed in achieving what his immediate predecessor Harishankar Pradhan and before him Jogi Nayak had failed to accomplish. An obligatory thanksgiving was therefore to be accorded to Jena babu. So the gathering congratulated him with full vigour. It took only one faceless voice from the crowd to shout "Jena Babu Zindabad" and the riverside mangrove was engulfed in identical reverberations of  hailing Jena babu. No sooner had Jena babu got down from the make shift podium, women flocked around him and fellow men, mostly, younger to him, fell on his feet. Each of them made the same request, which was, to meet Sri Sri Gyanasagar in person. 

Sri Sri Gyanasagar was indeed a holy figure, a guide to wandering and tempted souls. A messiah for all those who are seeking redemption. Man knows the limits to his sins yet he is rarely able to stop on his arrival there . He knows what the sins are, yet ignores the fact that he is bathing in them. However, there was near - unanimity among such men, that the solution to this paradox lied in the blessing and guidance of a man who has himself undertaken the path to salvation- the Holy Sri Sri Gyanasagar. He was a beacon of hope for all who had confronted enlightenment and sought purging their souls of the most unholy taints. It is another thing that for most, the seeking of salvation was a morality of convenience. For they did not choose this path when they were younger and when the desire to seek worldly gratifications was beyond their control. As then, it could have meant the unbearable cost of giving up all that temporal bliss which satiated them to the point of addiction. Only when the zest and zeal to enjoy that pleasure was in its ebb, did all kinds of salvation seeking cravings dawn on them. One wonders whether Sri Sri Gyanasagar was aware of this pervasive phenomenon. If he were, then only a man of his stature could explain why he embraced into his camp such opportunistic breed of men. The life and works of Sri Sri Gyanasagar are not hidden from anyone. After getting all the educational degrees, necessary for arming his parents and relatives to brag about their son's talent before less privileged fathers and mothers, he gave up the mundane life of having to run his family's traditional goldsmith business and chose to spend his days in aiding and helping the oppressed and the impoverished. He gained immense popularity among the inhabitants of the small parish adjoining his town  for they found their voice in this intelligent and soft spoken 23 year old. On an occasion he had spoken eloquently about his beliefs in the ways of life and spirituality. He never looked back from thereon. In no time he became one of the most sought after spiritual speakers in the region. 

He was initially reluctant when he was approached to visit Nidapur because he had detected that the persons inviting him only wanted to prove their worth before the villagers and thereby ensure their clout over them. He had thus turned down invitations from both successive village heads of Nidapur. But the reason he agreed to the third invitation was because he had, by then, come to believe that its people really needed some spiritual guidance in a world where the lure of matter was at an all time high. Despite his sincere hesitation, much fanfare was organized on the day of his arrival at Nidapur. People formed long snakey queues to touch his feet and establish direct contact with the holy man. Making a quick skip from the excesses, Sri Sri Gyanasagar began his discourse. He spoke about life in general and the decaying morals that he witnessed all around. He quoted from the Bhagvad Gita, the Quoran and occasionally from the Bible to restore the idea of greatness in the minds of his listeners. His mastery over the religious scriptures was impeccable. He not only enthralled the audience by his oratory but also struck a chord with them by quoting examples from their daily lives. His sermon was loaded with the singular and the most outstanding philosophy which was, that, to subscribe to God one has to first subscribe to kindness, tolerance and good deeds. If one does not immerse himself in these virtues then he can never find God and his light. Utter silence had swept the gathering. Only the cuckoos in the mangrove and the roaring engines from the nearby Highway provided intermittent interruptions in the quietness in between.

Kuna Behera, Nidapur's infamous gambler shot a question to his Holiness "Why is it that God only seems to favour a chosen few, whereas I who has served his will and never stopped believing in him, never had enough to provide for my family ?"  Jena babu, sitting on the podium with Sri Sri Gyanasagar gave a bloodshot glance to Kuna, unmistakably conveying his rage at the latter's display of disregard for His Holiness. Markand, Kuna's childhood friend seated near him, hissed "What are you doing ? Sit down..Now!!." Someone murmured "Why are you so eager to make heavier your bag of sins ..eh ?" Sri Sri Gyanasagar's serene voice tore through the hiss and the murmur "My friend, there is no short cut to affluence. Finding the right path to your ambition is as important as finding the right ambition." Jena babu, quickly sighed something into His Holiness's ear. In all likelihood he had begged his pardon. Kuna's doubts were thus put to rest. It was amazing how the great man had pacified the restless mind of Kuna, with one simple sentence. Inspired by Kuna's act, some other villagers also mustered the courage to stand up and have their queries answered. Most remained confined to their personal failures and sought answers on how to overcome them in the future. Sri Sri Gyanasagar infused steadiness and hope into their impatient minds, by means of his profound knowledge and variegated experiences with life. Jena babu had to stand up and interrupt. "Now is His Holiness's meal time. Do you want that our Maharaj should starve on our village soil ?" This question indeed seemed to jolt everyone out of their individual agendas. Together everyone remarked that Baba must eat at his regular time. Finally Sri Sri Gyanasagar concluded his deliberations and as a parting sermon, advised the people to be tolerant to differences among themselves which would enhance the feeling of brotherhood among men and peace would prevail in society. He chanted a few hymns and recited a couplet from the Holy Gita and got up.

No sooner than he began walking down the stage that there started a rush among the audience to come closer to him. People started pulling the ones in front of them so that they could get ahead. The ones far behind suddenly felt the irresistible need to reach near the Holy man and when they saw their neighbours getting easy access to that privilege, they suffered a fatal stroke of envy, causing complete loss of memory of things they had heard and felt a few moments ago. There was no chance in heaven that they would suffer the deprivation of the holy Baba's proximity when people no less ordinary than them were already in speaking distance from him. Desperate shouts of "Baba..Baba" could be heard from all nook and corners of the throng. Heads and hands were frantically moving within the gathering. A man as calm and composed as Sri Sri Gyanasagar felt sweat dripping from his brows as he sensed an imminent pandemonium. He started saying something to calm down the people but his decent voice got helplessly drowned in the commotion. No one heard him, perhaps even the people standing near him missed his words. It happened then. A horrific shriek penetrated the turmoil. A few noticed but most didn't. Those behind in the gathering were still violently persisting forward lest they might miss the chance to obtain their share of blessings. Within quick moments another squeal shot out from around the same spot in the crowd from where earlier the shriek had emerged. It was followed by loud swearing in the most uncivilized tongue. Those who were so unstoppably charging ahead had suddenly halted. Like slaves to a phantom, they expressionlessly spread to form a circle and witness the event. Sri Sri Gyanasagar not being a man of tall stature found it impossible to catch the scene. So he ran. He ran up to the stage and froze. He saw a woman lying down motionless and two men beating each other mercilessly near her still body. The spectators to this violent sight appeared consumed by an inexplicable indifference. No one bothered to intervene while blood was being drawn in the fight. Completely out of his wits, Gyanasagar Baba started shouting to the brawlers pleading with them to stop. No heed was paid to the man who just minutes ago was considered second only to God. He jumped off the stage and tried to anxiously break his way into the crowd. Mid way he heard another scream. Moments later when he finally reached the spot he saw one of them lying immobile drowned in his own blood. The other was holding a dagger drenched in red and caressing the head of the fallen woman in his lap.  It was not certain whether souls of either or both the still bodies had left for their heavenly abode. People continued standing like statues taking an eternity to swallow in the gory sight. The organizers rushed both to the nearby Public Health Centre where the man was declared dead and the woman, in a critical condition, was referred to the city Hospital for emergency medical treatment. It was later heard that the deceased man had trampled the woman in his frenzy to meet Baba Gyanasagar, though it appeared quite implausible that it was the deed of one man alone, it being equally likely that she might have been knocked down by several out of so many reckless people. But as providence would have it, her husband had caught the deceased at the exact moment when he had stepped on her, causing him to believe that he was the cause of his wife's injury. 

Three years have flown by. The woman is still in a hospital ward, motionless, same as she had lain that day amidst the Nidapur mangrove gathering. A violent push to the ground had caused her a severe head injury and she had therefore slipped into a coma. The organizers of that day's meeting are facing trial for criminal negligence and the husband of the woman is standing his trial for murder. Both the trials are almost half way through. Sri Sri Gyanasagar is now running an ashram, where he continues to deliver sermons to guide people onto the right path, in the quiet and privacy of his abode. He sheds a tear or two when he recalls the Nidapur incident. He has not been heard since, of giving public discourses.


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("Saints of Nidapur" is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person (alive or dead), place or incident etc. if any, is coincidental.)