Spare a thought for Sanjay Dutt’s children

If you err you face the consequence. And when the highest court of law in a country sentences an individual, the person ought to humbly accept. Period. So should it be. But the emotional vortex the verdicts unleash within the loved ones of the affected unsettling their lives is indescribable.

So is it with all the number of people convicted in the 1993 Bombay blasts, including actor Sanjay Dutt. But when a celebrity is punished, the national interest it generates is immense. Unfortunately, it can be more harmful for the family than the jail term for the individual.

Petitions seeking Dutt’s pardon are forwarded to the competent authorities; movers and shakers are all over social media voicing their solidarity, an ex-Supreme Court judge has taken his plea to the highest office, not to mention his innumerable fans who pray and fast and curse… all citing that he has suffered enough.

There are yet others who are opposed to any leniency, asking ‘then why not others?’

Why? Why such hallabaloo even after the actor has announced he will surrender on April 18. He’s being a man.

Let’s not be hypothetical in our attack or support. Give him a chance by respecting his decision. He owes it to his children, for Pete’s sake!

Imagine all these hateful words of defamation, sympathetic display of support and zooming close-ups of him at his most vulnerable moments documented for posterity!

If at all anyone cares to continue speaking about Sanjay Dutt, they should do it for his family. For his two innocent toddlers who are unaware of what’s happening around. For his wife, the woman who needs to carry on each day without support and worse still protecting her children from the current media glare and upholding their dad’s stature.

This is a stigma the kids will carry, irrespective of whether Dutt serves the remainder of his jail term or receives a pardon. A pedigree tainted by prison records!

The fact that Dutt’s name is taken in congruence with the 1993 blasts, even when the Supreme Court has acquitted him of terror charges, convicting him only for illegal possession of arms, is pathetic.

No punishment is bigger than one's inability of being there for their children. Media reports allege that Sanjay Dutt cannot travel to countries that deny visas for the convicted, which includes the US, where his eldest child lives. But at least she is witness to the happenings and old enough to sieve through the interpretations.
 
Imagine the two toddlers, who will have to do it on documented information when they grow up.

Time is a great healer. For all you know, Dutt will walk out a hero! He has done it on previous occasions. Pray he does it again - this time for his kids!

[Picture Couertesy: www.sanjay-dutt.info]

An IT professional’s promise to his wife

[This is a real-life story that unfolded in my hometown]

The cows walked along Sector 7 road as the occasional motorist meandered his way between the holy beings and stray dogs. The only activity on the morning of February 9^th as the sun warmed up the sleepy town of Bhilai in Chattisgargh was skittish puppies exercising their energy.
 

Untouched by the bustle of modern-day Indian life, the residents of this Township are at all times relaxed. A sense of calm defines their ethos. The elderly listen to bhajans and watch soaps on TV, the middle-aged work for a living and the youngsters scoot between classrooms from dawn to dusk. In fact the only common obsession among all age groups is their collective passion for education.

Absolutely no sense of urgency on a week day morning

 

Guess that’s the reason why you find more teachers in Bhilai than there are women. Beena, the 30-something wife of Mahesh – an IT professional ­- is also a teacher. A post-graduate with 10 years’ experience, she refused promotion a couple of times and prefers teaching kindergartners because she likes to return home along with her kids.

Her dedication to family allows Mahesh to clock 11-hour shifts. Long work hours by young professionals are the only sign that the place is keeping up with the anxiety gnawing the rest of the country, because otherwise the evenings are strictly family time. And weekends are confined to calendar leafs that disappear with mechanical precision. They are particular days, when Bhilai residents do nothing in particular but prepare elaborate meals, eat and visit places of worship, in no particular order.

So when Mahesh had asked Beena to take leave from school on February 9 – a Saturday - for a weekend getaway, it was celebration time for the extended family as well. Beena’s parents had collected the kids the previous night to let the couple make preparations.




The sun smiles at early morning commuters
 

But on Saturday morning, as Beena was readying up, Mahesh received a phone call. He had to rush to office – an hour’s drive from home – as an emergency had cropped up.  “What!” Beena was exasperated but not annoyed.

IT professionals across the globe have emergencies at the most intimate of moments!
 

Mahesh apologised, and his wife slumped down. “So what do I do now? You are going, kids have gone?” She asked maintaining her nerves.

“I’ll drop you off at school. Cancel the leave…”

“How can you even suggest that? I told my friends that I’m not in town today and…”

“Why do you have to go telling people details?” He asked, tucking in his shirt, just as a reply without meaning what he said.                                                                                                                             

“Oh! Blame me.”Beena was now angry, but her man was already on a phone call assuring the caller that everything would be taken care of and that he was on his way. His ignorance after instigating her further agitated her.

He picked up the car key, phone glued to his ear, and drove away leaving Beena fuming.

                                                              **********

 

About 20-minutes later, the land phone rang. Beena saw his number and returned to the sofa to continue sulking. When his rings persisted, she picked up the receiver and yelled, “What the hell do you want now?’

“Sorry Beena. I’m really sorry. I just can’t help it. Next Saturday, I promise…”

Beena slammed the phone down.

                                                               **********

She hit the bed and woke up only at 2pm.Sleep is an excellent antidote to anger as well. She called to check on Mahesh.

On hearing the engaged ringtone, she set about preparing an elaborate meal. A wifely act of ablution for all inappropriate feelings towards her spouse! She prepared his favourite dishes – laid out a three course meal and tried his number again at 7pm.

Mobile phone switched off.

At 8pm she positioned herself next to the land phone. By 10pm she had already made about a dozen calls to Mahesh – both on his mobile and office number.

She waited the whole night and early Sunday morning called her parents, who rushed to her place. They deliberated on the previous day’s happenings. Her mom was inconsolable and her dad lost strength. He called in his best friend, whose family joined them in an hour. Hearing the elderly woman wail, the neighbour on the left came in, followed by the one on the right and the one across the street as well.

By 9am Beena’s home seemed a mourning place. Two men set out to check out at Mahesh’s office. “We can at least get some details from the security,” they reasoned.

One of the elderly neighbours advised to file a police report, which made her mother’s tear glands vocal. She started telling stories of how loving and well-behaved her son-in-law was in between sobs and blowing her nose. What curse has befallen on her daughter and she even prophesied her grandchildren’s bleak future.

The elderly men sat in the varenda, while the younger lot animatedly spoke about possible reasons for Mahesh’s disappearance.

At that point, the stray dog and her puppies scurried away as a car came to a grueling halt over the gravel.

The calm and serene street before the drama unfolded

 

A worried Mahesh stepped out and hurried in. A couple of elderly men stopped him in his tracks and ran their hands over him as if he were a piece of Fine China.

Sheepishly, he announced, “I had to abandon the assignment half-way and return because I knew Beena would be worried.”

The entire room fell eerily silent on his words. Yet the collected well-wishers waited at their spots eager to witness some forbidden scenes. A couples emotional outbursts is always so very pleasing to the public eye!

But Beena sat put on the bed and her mother shut up as if the plug was pulled off her being.

After what seemed more than eon, Mahesh’s father-in-law asked calmly, “Why didn’t you answer phone calls?”

“I lost my mobile. When I reached office I learnt that I had to go to our head-office in Jabalpur. In the confusion of picking up things, I can’t remember where I kept the phone. I only realised when I reached there. And…”

“It’s okay, Papa,” interrupted Beena, getting up from the bed and thanking and apologising everyone for having troubled them.“But there are other means of informing,” said the elderly neighbour.

“It’s alright uncle. He was busy, I understand. I’m sorry, you had to leave your breakfast and come in. I’ll get tea.”

“No beti. Take care.” He walked out and the others followed suit as if leaving after having witnessed a mock drill for an emergency. Important insights revealed, yet nothing valuable to take home.

When Beena walked into the kitchen, her mother moved towards the son-in-law wiping her nose with her saree pallu: “I understand your work is crucial Mahesh. But do you know how concerned Beena was. You could have just…”

“Mummy, can you please leave him alone.” Beena hurried back and pulled Mahesh by the hand and thrust him into the washroom. “Freshen up. I’ll fix breakfast.”

“We are fools, to be concerned about you. Come let’s go,” said the old woman turning to her husband. Women will tolerate anything but not being snubbed by their adult-daughters. “Why the hell did we rush on her call…”

“Hold your tongue. Mahesh has had a genuine problem. Don’t add to the children’s misery,” counselled Beena’s father, calling out, “So we’ll leave Beena. We’ll take the kids along, too. You both need some rest.”

                                                             **********

 Mahesh walked out and panned the house.

A deserted roundabout on a Saturday morning

 

“What’s for breakfast? I’m famished,” he tried seeing Beena on the bed.

 “Breakfast only after you say these two numbers by heart.” She handed him a piece of paper comprising their landline and her mobile phone numbers.

“How many times, I’ve told you to learn important numbers and not to depend on your damn mobile…I knew…I knew…this would have been the reason…you would have misplace the mobile and…..and would be lost… don’t know any number by heart….but…but…do you know what I went through…how could I have just believed…how could I…you…”

It took Mahesh more than an hour to dry her tears…

                                                             **********

 

PS: Names have been changed because the wife still refuses to make her husband’s ignorance public, though he downloads it on anyone at the least trigger.

 

My husband’s woman friend

The first person my husband introduced to me, soon after we became man and wife was a woman.

He waxed eloquent about her efficiencies. His comments did little to arrest my sultry senses despite the cacophony at the wedding venue. If my disdain did little to stop her monologue, the wedding protocol failed as much.

Within minutes, I learnt she was a mother, a wife, an employee and, of course, was to be the default family friend.

Yes, ‘educated’, too.

My initial reservations about her were misplaced quickly as she took it upon herself to settle us into our married life. On hindsight, I guess, it was more of the casual I-don’t-fancy-older-women statement by the husband that made me like her.

She ensured we visited her every week, which I obliged as I had no other acquaintance in the new city. And she quickly put me at ease with her nineteen-to-the-dozen talks. From where to shop the best linen tops to which supermarket sold tomatoes at a cheaper rate, she knew it all.

Yep, she also detailed me on which banks offered the least-risk-associated credit cards.

Thanks to her, I cultivated a tolerance for numbers, a task even my best Math teacher failed to achieve.

A health freak, she had only salads for dinner, and forced us to eat the same, too, on our weekly visits. If we missed out on a week-end, she expected a convincing excuse.

Every weekend morning, as an alarm clock crying, would come her call. ‘You guys still sleeping?

You may please look for us in this picture

A month later, she landed home with a couple of guys and had the husband enrolled with the local cricket team, which played only over the weekend. “Exercise is the last thing on your mind, when you are newly-wed…” she reprimanded.
When I started job-hunting, she whole-heartedly took over the project. Decided which interviews I would attend and what salary I should negotiate on. “You’ve got media experience, then why the hell should you take up any job. Wait for a media opening,” she counselled.

Meanwhile, she introduced me to the local reading club and got me membership at the library.

I began admiring her. A super woman, indeed!

She has influenced my current home management technique as well. Every Saturday she planned what would be cooked the entire week. Cut onions; made ginger-garlic paste; cut at least three different vegetables; marinated meat & fish; made dough for chappatis… all went into the freezer in small containers marked for each day of the week.

On week days, she took a half-an-hour break after she returned from work at 5.30pm. Kids’ study-time, which she was hands-on, was from 6pm-8pm. By 9.15pm dinner was served for the family. Washing clothes was also done after the kids packed their school bags for the following day.

Not one school programme of her kids would she miss. “These are all memories for them.” She would avail leave on loss-of-pay or compensate by working over the weekend, but she ensured she was present to cheer her children.

I turned to her for any small hiccups I faced. I trusted her completely. She became my role-model!

A couple of years later, when I was expecting my baby, she took over the role of my mom. From cooking my favourite dishes to shopping for maternity wear and giving me the only-women tips, she was the one-stop guide that I looked up to. 

I secretly wished I could be a woman like her.

During my last trimester, as we sat chatting, she causally asked, “So Nisha, have you decided on a name for the baby?”

After a few minutes of baby talk, she said, “I pray that you have a baby boy.”

Excuse me!

At my puzzled stare, she took my hands in hers and said softly, “If the first child is a boy, then there’s no tension, you see. The second can be any.”

I didn’t know if I was carrying a baby boy or girl at that moment. But I knew I had lost my respect for her - That woman.

[Wedding cake and picture by Priya Sheen]

Cheers!

Scene 1: A Character in office packs to leave early, because he has an evening flight to take.

Scene 2: A Character in office prepares to leave early, because he has an evening flight to take.

Can you identify the characters?

If you have got the answers, you may please get about your work.

If you have not, then carry on reading to find out how to add flesh and bones to give faces, torso, limbs, toenails [please leave the soul aside] to these characters.

First step is to spot the difference in the two sentences. The word ‘packs’ is replaced with ‘prepares’.

Noticed?

Yep. Character in Scene 1 invariably only packs up. Right from the moment he occupies his chair all he does is pack.

If there is an interesting cricket or soccer match, he packs up within an hour of making his presence felt.

If he has a parent-teacher meeting at his child’s school, he packs up immediately after breakfast.

If he has a board meeting, he packs up two days before with files and projects…

PREPARED by others.

Now if the others fail to prepare, will he miss his board meeting? Probably yes. But he still does his job of packing up. He simply packs the OTHERS up.

Got the characters? Please feel free to replace the He with She.

 

Just in case you are curious to know what inspired me to write this. Well, it’s a real-life situation. I will not name the boss or the employee. The employee submits his request for annual leave thrice in six months. The Boss finds excuses ‘valid’ enough to have him postpone each time. Finally, when his leave is granted, he books a flight on his last working day so as to avail the maximum hours at his destination.

That morning: As the employee is all excited chatting up his colleague, he receives an email.

XXXXX,

Pls look into the attached files.  Also ensure the admin department’s issue is closed today.

And, yeah inform the team that I’ll be back next week. I’m off for a much-needed break.

Have a safe trip.

Cheers

XX

Anupam Kher – what a man!

I met Anupam Kher at the just concluded Emirates Literary Festival. What a man! Sitting amid the glamorous and eloquent Shobha De and a hi-profile moderator – the Indian Consul-General Sanjay Verma – he not only held his own, but did it with elan.

Those of you who know him, may wonder why I was surprised? Possibly, I expected a Bollywood star… though I always believed he is an Actor. This is after considering his body of work that includes a few mindless craps that passed off as comedies, too. And which, he says, he will continue doing.

He was there as the author of ‘The Best Thing About You Is You’. Infact, he was the best thing that happened to that panel discussion.

Consider this: At one point, when he failed to get the right words to express himself in English, he checked with his co-panelist Ms De. He couldn’t have given a damn for his image for seeking help in public. He was just being himself, as he professes.

Similarly, he was all hands and feet, driving his points home,  as Ms De was perched with poise, replying measuredly with that occasional wave of her manicured fingers and Mr Verma sitting imposingly with one of his feet resting over his other knee, throwing one-liners at regular intervals.

When Anupam Kher recalled how he discovered media clippings about himself in his father’s old trunk, I heard the box creak.

The entertainer in him couldn’t be shoved under the microphone!

When he described how he enjoyed paratha and egg, he just stopped short of licking his fingers. Interestingly, the context in which he said the paratha episode needs a mention. Apparently, he finds some people on Business Class on flights ‘comical’. “They will sit beside me, holding an Economic Times copy, ordering black tea without sugar and ignoring me for the whole duration of the flight only to give themselves away with a daft query at the end ‘So you are going to Delhi’?”

So, he loves being recognised and is not ashamed to say so!

And yes, I couldn’t but notice his radiance. A self-confessed positive person, I’m convinced he practices what he says, for only a free spirit can command such respect and adulation with serenity in public.

Exchanging a word with anyone who wanted to speak to him and posing patiently for pictures, he obliged all his fans at the venue. When he accepted my book, he asked , "Where's my name?" Hesitatingly I addressed the book to him and signed as fear gnawed my insides shouting at my audacity to surpass my station. But even as his staff urged him to leave and the crowd was getting more demanding, he stood still and read what I scribbled, in the worst handwriting I’ve ever written, teaching me a lesson. Believe in what you do!

Disclaimer: [For those of you who doubt the reason for my opinion thus]:  I would have written this piece as is sans the last interaction. I owed myself one from the day I watched his autobiographical play ‘Kuch Bhi Ho Sakta Hai’.

Nirbhaya case accused escapes life...A shame!

So the main accused in Nirbhaya case is no more. He gets away from trial at the high-security prison. He escapes life when he was allegedly under suicide watch.

How?

So was it suicide? Well, let investigators and officials do their work.

In the event it was, indeed, a suicide, the ‘how’ did it happen, needs to be answered at least to the victim’s family, even as the fact remains that it means just one accused less. Simply because, it is presumed by one and all that anyway he would have been hanged.

So what difference if he did it by himself. If reports about the reason for him getting brutal with the girl are any truth then he has remained true to his salt. If the girl’s defiance and her bite hurt his ego for him to go fatally berserk, then he was unlikely to have his end prescribed by others.

Now, even in the event it was not a suicide, there is serious explanation required. Security lapse is appalling. Pathetic. A case that crossed boundaries to reach across continents; one that is helping revise dud laws to protect its women; one that continues to see unparalleled discussion, being handled with such disdain will be unpardonable.

This is a case that is often introduced as the one that stirred the nation’s conscience. Then we really need to ask whose conscience it has nudged? If this case has not stirred those people who protect the system, then what will?

This would put India to shame once again!

Nevertheless, just in order to see some hope in his end, let’s assume it will put pressure on his accomplices and many others roaming free fancying innocent females.

Lessons on the drive

I was never an elitist. Yet I had some reservations about certain people and communities. I say this as my opening line because I need a hook to hang out my nurtured perception.

So each day when the person who drives me to work [I’m not a racist, I refrain from mentioning his name. If you guess his nationality, I will not call you one either] speaks to me, I participate with the reluctance of being forced to greet a creepy boss.

For the last five years, when Inshaallah [meaning God willing] has been his one-word explanation to any query of mine that put him in a spot, I’m pretty sure you will hang out with me on that hook.

Here’s a few of our Q& A drives…

Me: “Don’t tell me you are going home to arrange your son’s wedding. Isn’t he just 14?”

He: ‘Inshaallah’

Me: ‘Why are you the only earning member for a family of 30?”

He: ‘Inshaallah’

Me: Can you drive me to the mall this Friday?                     

He: ‘Inshaallah’

Me: Why don’t you visit a doctor, instead of popping Panadols with each meal?

He: ‘Inshaallah’

Me: The A/C isn’t cooling enough. Why don’t you have it checked?

He: ‘Inshaallah’

It’s not only when I corner him. Check this out…

He:  “You are working on your day off?”

Me: “We are short-staffed.”

He: “They will pay you extra?”

Me: “No”

He: ‘Inshaallah’

So FM music has been keeping me company on the drive with him while his monologue continues unabated in the foreground.

Recently, when my health took a beating, he assured me with his trademark reply. “You’ll be Ok. Inshaallah.”

Two weeks later, he said: “You should stop worrying. Inshaallah, after the weekend you will be OK.”

The fourth week, when I got into the car, he sat looking at me. A minute later, he spoke… “I know you do not consider what I say. I’m uneducated. But I request you, this one time, just listen to what I say...”

His first sentence hit me, so I was alert .

“Don’t say you are sick. When someone asks you, ‘how are you?’, say you are great. You know why? Because the One who’s up there always listens to you. So if you say you are sick He will ensure you remain sick. Whoever your God is, just trust Him and keep saying you are fine. Inshaallah, He will make you fine.”

Yes, it did work. Trust me!

I gorge on wisdom literature. ‘The Power of Your Subconscious Mind’ by Joseph Murphy has been my favourite and yet…

Inshaallah, I now trust his words.

Guess who's?