‘One of your students has been killed. His body is in the Honeymoon Garden’, thus wrote the murderer. While the evidence suggested that the deceased student had been targeted in the campus of Sainik School Ghorakhal at Nainital in 1994, it caused widespread panic since the murderer also wrote, ‘Murders like this will be repeated.’

As we drove back to Middletown this Thursday afternoon, Nidhi filled me in with the details of the murder of the 21-year-old student, Johanna Justin-Jinich. That the guy came into the bookstore on Broad Street wearing a wig, shot at close range, dropped the wig and escaped the police cordon leaving his car behind. That his journal, later recovered from his car or his apartment, had his cold-blooded intentions scrawled in it. That the campus is in a feverish grip of anger and fear. We also wondered if the last name indicated she was Jewish.

Something about the incident unlocked a memory gate in my mind and driving through I-91 North, I suddenly relapsed to over 15 years back.

It is circa April 1994 and although pretty late in the night, the entire Abhimanyu house is awake studying for the second-last test of the annual exams next day. We are in the eighth standard and this would be the last time we would have to endure Sanskrit – which I personally saw more as a tiresome subject then and less as a classical language. I am huddled with some other friends around Monis Alam’s bed, trying to get grips on some intricacies of Sanskrit grammar. Suddenly, the lights go out but everyone coolly brings out candles – no cause for alarm as occasional power cuts are normal, even though Ghorakhal, perhaps due to our reputed boarding school, suffers them less. In the pitch dark of the night, nobody notices the man who stealthily passes by our house with a sheet of paper in his hand that bears the pine resin glue on its four corners. He goes straight to the students’ mess that abuts the passage next to our house and sticks the notice prominently on the glass front door.

Next morning, by the time we gather in front of the mess for breakfast, there is a strange buzz in the air. The students of standard twelfth, the senior most class, were agog. We learn that the notice stuck last night, which is no longer there by now, announced the murder of a 10-years old student of standard sixth, who had been reported missing for the last two days. The theory until then, of which there were several precedents, was that he was probably homesick and truant. But, the notice claimed something much more terrible (translation above) – ‘Tumhare ek student ka katl kar diya gaya hai. Uski laash honeymoon garden mein hai. Aise katl aur bhi honge.’ True to its word, the brutally-disposed corpse of the young boy (whose name I forget now!) was found near the precipice of the Honeymoon Garden, a moniker students had given to a small meadow a couple of kilometers out of the school’s main campus, amidst hills and thick woods.

The entire community of about 1000 lived in an unrelenting grip of fear for the next few months. We, the inmates of Abhimanyu house, were truly aghast in the realization that the killer had actually walked past our house the night of the murder. The next thing you know, students moved the beds around to block all the windows with the lockers. The oratorical style of speaking of our house master, Mr S K Tripathi, came to good use as he was able to calm our frayed nerves to a great extent. Soon the exams were over but there was a lull of a few weeks until the next session started. The school authorities took some prompt measures to contain the panic. Students were allowed to rent and see movies back-to-back in the TV room, sports activities were encouraged and bands of teachers roamed in the campus in the evenings to reassure the students and the community. I recall the senior students started escorting us and other junior houses to the mess and back in the evenings. I believe even the marking of the annual exams was a lot lenient – to the extent that some students were saved from ouster from school because they were assumed to be traumatized in the exam room. Police were on the campus often, taking finger prints and handwriting samples of every soul on campus. For good measure, military police also came in to do their bit as the school was under the aegis of the Ministry of Defense.

Aside from being grievously saddening, the murder became a dark and deep whodunit for everyone. All of us incessantly discussed conspiracy theories amongst ourselves and more excitably, talked of about the possible sequence of events climaxing in the notice on our mess door. We heard the deceased boy’s father alleged that the murder was committed by some longstanding enemy of the family (hailing from eastern UP) but we still suspected some abetting insider. Once, the police brought in a sniffer dog too – not sure how much it helped unearth the trail of the crime, but it surely lifted our spirits as we saw the demonstration of its acute sense of smell one fine afternoon in the assembly ground. We thought the perpetrator of the crime better watch out now, as the fierce-looking dog would surely sniff its way to his hideout.

As we took the exit 18 to Middletown, I snapped out of my reverie. Nidhi was still animated about the fall-out; her department had closed and everyone was asked to stay indoors. Apparently, the cops were combing the campus – rumors were rife; had the hideous-looking guy caught by the security camera at the bookstore taken someone hostage in some house? With his journal remarks becoming public, many students were trooping out of their dorms, to their homes or relatives’, as far away from Middletown as possible.

By Friday morning, Wesleyan sent a security update that everyone was waiting for – Stephen Morgan, the killer, had surrendered and had been arrested. People have sighed relief, although I think it will take some time for things to come back to complete normalcy. Amongst other things, Johanna’s family will be distraught for long and the trial of Mr Morgan will surely be watched keenly.

Back to 1994. We had a pretty lukewarm Holi celebration that year, since the festival fell on a date soon after the murder. I remember keeping a pouch of gulaal intact in my locker in the hope that I would open it and celebrate the day the murderer is caught and paraded in the school for all of us to smack him in the face. That day never came. As far as I remember, the police got some leads, nabbed some people suspected accomplices but never really could convict anyone. I think I still have that pouch of gulaal somewhere in my old school trunk at home.

What did you aspire to be as a child?
As a little Kid I wanted to be a Superman, then a Sailor, after that a Pop Star and finally when I was in class eight I think I knew I wanted to be a film maker.

What or who inspires you?
My Sister

Did you always want to make films?
Well like I just mentioned since class eight there was no other goal.

How did you get your first break in the industry?
Well I trained In Berlin for editing. After that I came to Mumbai and started working with Plus Channel as an editor for Television programmes. That was my first step into the industry. Later I edited the promos of Kalpana Lajmi’s Darmian my first into films directly.

What do you enjoy most about your job and why? What are the challenges?
I think I enjoy being at the shoot the most. Love the energy and the process of the written taking shape of images. The most challenging aspect is to make your actors see the film through your vision.

Tell us one favorite thing you loved about each one of your previous movies (“My Brother Nikhil,” “Bas Ek Pal” and “Sorry Bhai!”).
My brother Nikhil: It’s just so special… because it was my first and a dream coming true, so everything became special….. but if i have to think and find that one thing that was most special… that’s Nikhil, portrayed by my friend/actor/co-producer Sanjay Suri.

Bas Ek Pal : The layers that each characters had. I like the complex structure of each player.

Sorry Bhai: The chemistry between Boman and Shabana

You were inspired to make your next film, Abhimanyu, by a Mumbai Mirror article about a man who was sexually abused as a child. Please tell the readers a little bit more about the project?
I will not say really inspired. I have been wanting to make a film on child abuse for a long time. Had been doing research… and finally this article set the trigger. I was so disturbed that I did what I can do best, start writing wanting to make a film soon… and that’s how ABHIMANYU was born. The film is about a survivor of child abuse. It will be a part of a feature with five interlinked short stories… each dealing with a story that needs to be told… all stories inspired by real life stories.

We heard you’re working on four short films…are they related to Abhimanyu, or are they separate projects? What are they about?
Each short story has the theme of Fear… characters from one appear in some of the other shorts…. so in a way though each is a film in itself, they hold together like a garland of five individual pearls.

This might be a little random, but the whole multiplex situation has still not been resolved. How do you feel about the strike?
Well I think tickets are highly priced and for cinema to survive the film industry has to fight for its rights. Recovery is increasingly becoming difficult, so this was essential. I hope the film industry would also unite so that multiplex reserve all shows of one screen…at lease for independent films….but I doubt how much the biggies care about independent cinema!

Any advice for someone who wants to be a part (not as an actor, but behind the scene) of Filmistan?
Well be ready for a long journey….and if you know your goal and work towards it, however long the road might be, the beauty of achieving your goal is worth the journey.

Tell us some of your favorites -
Pastime: Reading/Travelling
Food: Mom and Dad’s recipes
Movie: My brother Nikhil
Filmmaker: Pedro Almodovar
Book: Too Many… currently THE KITE RUNNER
Song: Le Chalein( from My brother Nikhil)
City in the world: Berlin

And lastly…Onir, close your eyes and tell us your favorite thing to do in Mumbai. If it were a Sunday morning, where would you take us?
Honestly, if I close my eyes I wanna run away from this hot polluted overcrowded city. All I can think is to invite you for brunch cooked by me…..

Yours,
–
Onir

தற்கால நாடகக் கலையை பற்றி பேசும்போதெல்லாம் ஆங்கிலம் படித்த மேதாவிகள் பெர்னார்ட் ஷாவுடன் இப்சனையும் நினைத்து ஒரு குரல் அழுவது வழக்கம். நாடகம் கீடகம் என்றெல்லாம் பேசிக் கொண்டிருக்கலாம். ஆனால் ஒரு பெர்னார்ட் ஷாவுக்கு ஒரு இப்சனுக்கு எங்கே போவது? திருடப் போக வேண்டியதுதான்! என்று சொல்லுவார்கள். அப்படியெல்லாம் திருடவும் கிருடவும் போக வேண்டாம், தமிழ் நாடு நாடகாசிரியர் இல்லாமல் பாழ்த்துப் போகவில்லை என்று சமீபத்தில் தெரிந்து கொண்டேன்.

இரண்டு வாரங்களுக்கு முன்பு திருச்சிராப்பள்ளியில் ‘ஓரிரவு’ என்னும் நாடகத்தைப் பார்க்க நேர்ந்தது. பார்த்ததன் பயனாக “இதோ ஒரு பெர்னார்ட் ஷா தமிழ் நாட்டில் இருக்கிறார்! இப்சனும் இருக்கிறார்! இன்னும் கால்ஸ்வொர்த்தி கூட இருக்கிறார்!” என்று தோன்றியது.

ஓரிரவு என்னும் நாடகத்தின் ஆசிரியர் திரு சி.என். அண்ணாததுரை.

(கல்கி இதழ் 07-12-47)

My two cents: என்னுடைய கருத்துப்படி ஓரிரவை விட வேலைக்காரி நல்ல நாடகம். Duex ex machina என்று சொல்லப்படும் தற்செயல் நிகழ்ச்சிகள் அண்ணாவின் நாடகங்களில் அதிகமாக காணப்படுகின்றன. உண்மையில் நாடகங்கள் அவரது இயக்கத்தின் கருத்துகளை முன் வைக்கும் வசனங்களை கதாபாத்திரங்கள் பேசுவதற்கு ஒரு சாதனம் என்று தோன்றுகிறது. அப்படி இருப்பதில் தவறில்லை. ஷாவும் இப்சனும் ப்ரெக்டும் கூட அப்படிப்பட்ட நாடகங்களை எழுதி இருக்கிறார்கள். ஆனால் அண்ணாவின் நாடகங்களில் செயற்கைத்தன்மை அதிகமாக காணப்படுகிறது.

கல்கி எழுதுவதிலிருந்து ஒன்று விளங்குகிறது. அந்த கால நாடகங்களை விட இவை நல்ல கதை அம்சம் கொண்டவை ஆக இருக்க வேண்டும். சங்கரதாஸ் ஸ்வாமிகள் எழுதிய சாரங்கதாரா, இரணியன் நாடகங்களை படிக்க முடிவதில்லை. சாமிநாத சர்மா எழுதிய அந்த காலத்தில் பிரபலமான பாணபுரத்து வீரன், அபிமன்யு போன்ற நாடகங்களும் அப்படி சிறந்த நாடகங்கள் என்று சொல்லிவிட முடியாது. அவற்றுடன் ஒப்பிட்டால் வேலைக்காரி, ஓரிரவு இரண்டுமே நல்ல கதை அம்சம் உள்ளவைதான். நல்ல வசனங்களும் இருப்பதால் கல்கி பூரித்துப்போய் இருக்கவேண்டும்.

தொகுக்கப்பட்ட பக்கம்: திரைப்படங்கள்
தொடர்புடைய சுட்டிகள்: ஓரிரவு திரைப்பட விமர்சனம்

Arjuna, the third son of Kunti by Indra (see The last straw posting) was married to Subhadra, Krishna’s sister. Beautiful and talented, Subhadra was one of Arjuna’s favourite wives. One day, Arjuna came to visit Subhadra, who was pregnant with their child, looking very excited. “What’s the matter?” asked Subhadra. “You look like you just won a prize!”

“Well,” said Arjuna. “It’s nothing really. Its just that my guru, Drona, taught us an amazing manoeuvre today.” “Oh god,” thought Subhadra. “There he goes again! These military things he learns are sooooo boring. But I really must try to be more interested.” Keeping her thoughts to herself, she said to Arjuna, “Well, why don’t you relax a little and tell me what happened today.”

An excited Arjuna settled down and started telling Subhadra about what he found so interesting. “You know Subhadra,” said Arjuna, “our guru is loves us so much. Especially me. I have tried my best to learn everything he has taught us and to put it to good use and I think he realizes this.” Subhadra nodded as Arjuna continued. “Well, today he asked me to stay back and said I should learn about a particular manoeuvre called the ‘chakravyuha.’ “

“What is that?” asked Subhadra. Arjuna, pleased with his wife’s interest in his newfound knowled,ge started to talk expansively on the topic. “The chakravyuha is a way to trap the enemy with no place for him to run to,” Arjuna started saying. “You let the enemy into a circular formation and then cut him off from the rest of his soldiers by closing the circle. You have him at your mercy then,” he said with a warrior’s relish in the details.

“But then how would you ever defeat an enemy in that formation?” asked Subhadra, starting to get drawn into the conversation. “Well,” said Arjuna, “that’s where this knowledge comes in handy. Today Dronacharya taught me exactly how to break into such a formation and come out of it unscathed.”

And he started telling Subhadra the details involved, what tactics to use to breach the formation, how one would attack on the inside. A warm afternoon and a flagging conversation started having their effect on Subhadra and she started nodding off to sleep. “I’ll just close my eyes for a few minutes,” thought Subhadra. “I really feel sleepy and he’s got his back to me so he won’t even notice. I’ll  be awake before he even turns around!” She let sleep take over and nodded off.

Arjuna continued his lecture on the chakravyuha and hearing his wife’s occasional mutter of “hmm” he assumed she was listening to what he had said. It was a while before he reached the end of his speech and he turned around and said, “And Subhadra, you know, the most important thing is how to come out of the chakravyuha. You have to…” Trailing off mid-sentence, Arjuna realized his wife was fast asleep. Walking over to her, Arjuna was puzzled, “If Subhadra was asleep who was that who kept prompting me on? I must have been imagining things…” Shaking his head at his own foolishess, he gently settled his wife comfortably on the divan and left the room.

And thus it was that the child within Subhadra, Abhimanyu, knew how to enter the chakravyuha formation. He had been listening to what Arjuna was saying and had been making the sounds Arjuna had heard. During the great war of the Mahabharata, when Drona tries to use the chakravyuha to capture Yudhisthira because Arjuna was otherwise engaged, Abhimanyu steps in to defend Yudhisthira. He enters the chakravyuha but since Arjuna stopped talking before he said anything about coming out of the formation, Abhimanyu was trapped and at the end of a fierce battle was brought down only by the collective cunning and base tactics of Karna, Drona, Duryodhana and the other Kauravas.

©Ammastales.com.  All rights reserved.

From the look of things on DMG, I feel that equation between Abhimanyu and Nikki will change very soon. Their attitude, their behaviour and their feelings seem to be changing for each other which is most definitely a good sign. Nikki can have a better life with Abhi, who is single instead of chasing Armaan who doesn’t have a clue about her feelings while Abhi can start afresh with Nikki instead of hitting on Riddhima.

I am sure they both will look good with each other.

Though I am in California, which is far away from India, I do not miss one single episode of Dill Mill Gayye. Earlier, we didn’t have STAR TV connection, however, now we have subscribed to Dish Network. All Star TV channels are available in the United States on Dish Network, DirecTV and your local cable provider.

Click here for more information.

If you want to watch all your favourite serials and shows, call your cable or Dish and Direct dealer and tell them you want STAR Television. All the best programs are on STAR Television and you can watch it anywhere in the United States.

Priya Sadhaks,

(We are taking up two slokas here as 16 th sloka actually ends in 17 th only. Please recite the Dhyana slokas, and the slokas recited so far. While memorizing, remember the sloka number also. Find your way of associating the sloka number with the sloka. In the same way remember every fifth sloka. Once you come to a point when you can tell a sloka after seeing the first words of the sloka, make the habit of remembering the sloka by the first word also. This may be tedious but in practice very easy. In a very organized effort, you can memorize the entire first chapter in 30 days. You can even tell them in reverse order which makes the process complete. )

Gita Chapter 1, sloka 17, 18.

k:=xy=xc= p=rm=e{v==s=/, ix=K=[#I c= m=h=rq=/ +

Q=&{!6umn==e iv=r=!xc=, s==ty=ik:xc==p=r=òj=t=/ ++â.âë++

7up=d=e 7=Ep=dey==xc=, s=v=*x=/ p=&iq=v=Ip=t=e +

s==EB=7xc= m=h=b==hu/, x=V<K==n=< dQm=u/ p=&q=k:< p=&q=k:< ++â.âè++

Sloka Transliteration- Sanskrit to English

kAshyascha parameshvasa: shikhandi cha mahAratha:|
dhrushtadhyumno virAtascha sAtyakischAparAjita: || ---------1/17

drupado droupadeyAscha sarvasa: pruthiveepate|
sowbhadrascha mahAbAhu: shakhAn dadhmu: pruthak pruthak||---------1/18

Slokas word to word meaning- Sanskrit to English:

p=&iq=v=Ip=t=e (pruthiveepathe)- ( Then,) Oh King of the earth, p=rm=e{v==s=/ (parameshvAsa:)- the
mighty archer; k:=xy=xc= (kAsya: cha)- the king of Kashi, m=h=rq=/ (mahAratha: )- maharathi; ix=K=[#I c= (shikhandi cha) - Shikhandi; (Dhrushtadhyumna:) - Dhrushtadhyumna; iv=r=!/ c= (virAta: cha) - king of Virata; ap=r=òj=t=/ (aparAjita:) - the unconquerable ; s==ty=ik: (sAtyaki) – Satyaki; 7up=d/ c= (drupada: cha) - king Drupada; 7=Ep=dey=/ c= (droupadeya; cha) - the (five) sons of Draupadi; s==EB=7/ c= (sowbhadra: cha) - (Abhimanyu,) Subhadra's son ; m=h=b==hu/ (mahAbAhu: ) - of mighty shoulders ; dQm=u/ (dadhmu:) - blew; p=&q=k:< p=&q=k:< (pruthak pruthak) – (their) respective; x=V<K==n=< (shankhAn)- conches;; s=v=*x=/ (sarvasa:) - from all sides

Sloka meaning:

Then, Oh, King of the earth, the mighty archer and the king of Kashi,
maharathi Shikhandi, Dhrushtadhyumna, King of Virata, the
unconquerable Satyaki, king Drupada, the five sons of Draupadi, and
Abhimanyu, Subhadra's son and of mighty shoulders , blew their
respective conches from all sides.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Here ends the conch blowing. After Sri Krishna, the Pandava brothers,
the other warriors follow suit. Sanjaya, here too takes a dig at the
Kouravas by describing all the (eighteen) prominent conch blowers in
Pandava side while describing only Bheeshma's act in Kaurava side.
Sanjaya's words are a natural reaction to Dhrutharashtra's uttering of
`mamaka' ( my sons) in the very beginning. That Sanjaya did not favour
Kauravas becomes obvious here.

Hare Krishna

Venkat

24-10-08

Please download the Sanskrit font here

Please download the Gita Audio here

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After Abhimanyu’s death, his son Parikshit ascended the throne. He was a good king and his subjects loved him. But fate had different plans for him.

One day while he was hunting, he spotted a deer and sent an arrow after it. The arrow missed the deer and it ran for its life. The king followed the deer and reached the ashram of sage Sameekar who was observing a vow of silence. Parikshit asked the sage “Did you see a deer passing by?”

When the sage did not reply, Parikshit picked up a dead snake lying nearby and garlanded the sage with it and left in a huff.

A little while later the hermit’s son Shringi arrived. He was angered that someone had insulted his father this way and cursed that whoever did this act will be killed by Takshaka, the king of snakes within 7 days.

When Parikshit reached his palace, he heard about the curse and was worried sick. He immediately set about building a tall pillar and a palace above it. He settled himself in it and had soldiers, astrologers, herbal medicine experts and his ministers around him in order to safeguard himself from any attack from a snake.

Six days passed without any incident. On the seventh day a basket of fruits arrived for the king. The king distributed the fruits to a few people near him and he also took a fruit to eat. But as fate would have it, Takshaka, the king of snakes had already entered the fruit in the form of a worm. When the king bit into the fruit, the snake took its original form and bit the king, who fell down dead. Thus the curse on Parikshit came true.  The moral of this story usually related in puranic discourses is “One can never win over fate.”

Elims were conducted two weeks earlier…this time by Aniket Khasgiwale in a very innovative manner. He showed tremendous resourcefulness as he carried out the whole session by reading out questions from his i-Pod. 8 finalists were selected at that time- Abhishek, Gadre, Kaustubh B, Yasho, Mohit Karve, me (for the first time), Avnish and Aadinath:the Enthu-Fresher.

The finals were in 2 parts. 1 general round and 1 specialty round. Each finalist had given a topic of his own choice on which he was asked 10 questions. My topic was, not surprisingly Michael Schumacher. I could answer only 5 out of 10. Got 4 wrong out of ignorance and 1 by over-confidence!

Other topics were-

Avnish- Foundation Series:Asimov

Aadinath- Tin Tin (Though his 1st choice was Tour de France, quizmasters refused to set questions on that. So poor guy had to take this 1)

Mohit- Formula-1

Yasho- Yes Minister

Kaustubh- Iron Maiden

Gadre- World Cup Football

Abhishek- XKCD

Finals were very eventful, with quizzers delivering all sorts of performances (ranging from pathetic to excellent). Abhishek won on Gadre’s last question.

Lee had asked him to meet by the Tex Mex at seven this evening. Avinash looked at his watch, it was just five. Yet he didn’t feel like working any more. From the office to Boat Quay would only be about thirty minutes. He had ninety minutes more to give the finishing touches to the project he was working on. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to take his laptop out and start working.

Something had died.

He wondered what it was, what the rotting smell was about.

It was about stories, the same stories continued with fashionable consistency. He detested it. He even considered his bag to be that and contemplated letting it go in the only worthwhile river in Singapore. Avinash was settling down well in his job. The past was happily left behind. Yet the silence from Salim and Sanjay hurt him somewhere. AV was lost in getting the plot right.There were no new stories of glory. Javed still spoke with him – but those conversations were of daily nothings. He shut the clasp on his bag with some determination. Shut out the lights.I didn’t help create new story-tellers, he thought to himself. No more bards. Avi couldn’t help hanging his head as he headed to the elevator.

He was sick of listening to the same old story repeatedly. The walk to Boat Quay would be a long winded one. Just meandering. Senseless, purposeless – like the stories he heard nowadays. Not one story-teller was born out of his death.

The same old myths haunted him.

He had to leave the building.

There was a party on back home. He had just called them. It seemed like the ever lively party that he had been a part of. Nandini, the perfect hostess, and her husband the perfect host.

He spoke with them for a while. At least he thought so.

As he walked down the banks of Clark Quay, he realised how much he “didn’t” miss being there in the party. There was a tomorrow and his absence was a little sacrifice for that tomorrow. There would be more opportunities to celebrate – bigger reasons.

He didn’t mind walking alone – he wasn’t. He warmed up to the feeling of being with his team. This unusual cold weather in Singapore couldn’t make him shiver.

Javed’s presence, and Salim’s retorts. Raghu’s irrefutable logic and Sanjay’s silence. Nandini’s laugh and Abhinamyu’s nostalgic sense. There was enough warmth on a rather cold day.

Avinash contemplated the statement. Was it a question? Was it a threat? Was it impact analysis? The tone was inscrutable. An entire conversation seemed to dwell in that statement. Nandini flicked her eyebrows rapidly half a dozen times. Where is my answer, they seemed to ask.

They had worked together for a long time. A lead consultant with the firm, she had recently begun taking over key accounts in the firm.

“Three voice messages to all of them – go check their answering machines if you don’t believe me,” Avinash replied in his sarcasm laced language.

“Oh, I believe you, you wouldn’t lie to me – you have no reason to,” she was still double parked, holding the translucent glass door to Avinash’s cabin.

“Either you come in or you go out – don’t pass on all your stress to the spring that makes the door close by itself. Leave the poor done alone; it hasn’t done you any harm,” Avinash said without looking up from the papers that he was only half-reading.

Nandini Agarwal was well used to Avinash’s abstract oration, like everyone else in the firm. She opened the door, ambled inside and plonked herself onto one of the leather chairs. The door resigned from its suspended state and closed with reluctance.

“I am so ready to go home,” she said without expecting any answer.

Avinash turned the blinds to allow light to come through. There wasn’t much light, it was getting dark. He gave a huge sigh, thinking about his day and said, “It’s too early, you worked only nine hours, are you taking the rest of the day off?” Nearly the entire team was working long hours to finish various assignments; this had been going for a month now. After the initial bickering and complaints, everyone was now making jokes about it. Not very healthy, Avinash thought to himself.

“Well, say that on Friday, AV is taking all consultants out for dinner.”

“That’s nice, at least AV seems to be doing things right, and why only consultants, why not us?”

“That’s because you have become a boring old man,” she giggled, “But it’s not entirely your fault I guess, age catches up with everyone,” she said, laughing out loud. Nandini was easily the sound of the firm. She was heard everywhere and whether her team worked or not, her vocal chords were workaholics to the core.

“Not entirely true or fair,” Avinash wanted to explain why it wasn’t fair, but he held back. It would go back to the same things that Salim and Raghu had argued with him a couple of months ago. He decided that he would just let the conversation flow. Nandini was up to her usual mischief. She continued teasing Avinash about him being a bore, keeping quiet, and indirectly – not being available. Avinash nodded and murmured acknowledgements, but he was thinking about something very different. It seemed to him that he kept going back in time more often, these days. Not so much for nostalgia, nor as regret; it seemed to him that he was searching for something in the past. Something had changed along the way that he was unable to put a finger on.

“And yes, please do take AV out of the office, any more time here and he will grow roots at his seat. Let’s all go out for a weekend – maybe that will stop fruit sprouting out of AV’s ears,” Avinash said, smiling and hoping that the present will allow him a chance to change that ‘something’ that had changed in the past.

“Sure, we are always available, fun is our middle name, Avinash – what about you?” she giggled again – somewhere referencing his getting old, “we always have fun!”

The events of the day were fading from Avinash’s conscious thoughts; he wondered how many of the “we” she talked about would honestly confess to having fun.

“No, you guys are boredom incarnate! You see me as boring because your entire view towards life is boring. I haven’t changed a bit! You set the weekend – I bet no one will show up,” the only way Avinash was going to get back in this conversation if he kept up with Nandini’s mischief.

She stormed out of the room to ask if people were willing. Avinash went back to his mail, switched on his laptop and started finishing up on the day’s work. He seemed to be working mechanically, his thoughts on what Nandini had just said. He knew her well, it was just a fun way to end the day for her – teasing people, laughing – being able to go back home happy. Avinash smiled. His 43rd floor seemed less fun than this place. There was work to be done – the 43rd floor also has to become a fun place.

“Raghu has agreed,” she said; as she threw open the reluctant glass door again.

“Only one?”

“You can’t plan these things, you know. This has to be impromptu – one day before just announce it and go!”

“So that no one really goes?”

“Bah! You don’t know things, do you?”

“Not anymore, you see Javed and I gave up this a long time ago!”

“You can’t plan fun,” she nearly screamed, “don’t expect everyone – some get it – some miss it,” she threw her arms up and walked out of the room, “I’m going home!”

She is right, you can’t plan fun. But then somewhere you have to have the willingness and the energy to have fun. Whether it is in the daily mundane things that you do or the exotic things – which you do on a whim, it didn’t matter. Avinash searched for answers in his reports and in the various open documents, they didn’t offer any.

Even his computer seemed to come to life very lazily – as if searching for a good location on the hard drive to start from. The RAM warmed up and the computer finally arrived at the logon screen. AV logged on, started downloading his email. He looked around while the server was being asked permission to connect. 106 mails.

He got up from his desk, leaving the computer alone to download the mails, to check if anyone else was still suffering from the long weekend hangover. Avinash and Javed joined him and they went out for a smoke.

“It’s an amazing drive. I could have just kept driving for hours and hours together.”

“You’d have to stop somewhere to at least fill up your tank.” Except for their initials, Javed Feroz Khan and John F Kennedy had nothing in common. Not even their brand of humour. Javed’s humour was always this – tangential, boyish and free of any hang-ups.

AV ignored Javed, and continued, “Green all over – it’s just amazing driving through the country.”

The countryside around Mumbai was nothing like the well-manicured English countryside, but it had its own charm. It was the unkempt, yet liberated of sorts. Just left to be as it should be – no one tried making it look any better. Avinash liked that – he was a sucker for driving down the countryside. The conversation went to two cigarettes as they talked about other great drives and drives that they should be doing together. Javed was distracted – one of the drives to the country side a few years ago had led to a very big change in his life. The conversation naturally moved on to something else – easily linking from one to another – that would have been otherwise difficult to imagine. AV talked something about changes.

“Well, we hope for the best, don’t we?” Avinash asked. “And we even work towards making our hopes come true.” Avinash made that statement hoping that it would seem like a heavy thought that would end the conversation and they would get back to their hardworking computers.

“Hope keeps us alive and ticking”, AV said. He had a few drags left on the cigarette filter. Javed got a call and he walked out of earshot from us with his outdated and abused mobile plastered to his ear.

“Right now, it’s fear which is keeping us alive and ticking. Fear – the strongest emotion of all. It is stronger than any other human emotion.”

“I agree about the fear part, but I think both hope and fear play an equal role. They allow us to balance the positive and negative of life.”

“In any human emotion there is fear embedded, think about it. In love there is fear of losing love, in hope there is fear of a dream not coming true. In every emotion there is fear – in some form or the other. Just hope is nothing – if it doesn’t have its feet on ground. It’s a wish – nothing else. Most will succumb to fear – the others will however use fear as a survival tactic and stay alive in bad times.”

The conversation was getting interesting, however, by this time the 106 mails would have been downloaded twice over. AV’s feet had begun pointing towards the exit. Javed finished his call, “What’s going on, what are you two guys so excited about?”

“Well I am boring AV to death by philosophy,” Avinash laughed, “or maybe it’s the other way round!” He added as an afterthought.

They all moved back to their weary workstations. In the unfinished duel between fear and hope there was an audience waiting to participate – to lay bare their emotions and look at every emotion spread there on the ground. To feel the emotion that was laid out by the other. Except for the self-styled thinkers walking back after a heavy dose of nicotine, and a few others, no one was willing to lay their emotions down.

Just fear, Avinash thought to himself.