CROSSROADS

It was my last term in SJA as I would soon leave Dehradun to live in the North-East for the next few years. The academic results of standard four were out, and I was a little apprehensive regarding my Hindi grades. I was relieved when I noticed that I had been able to manage a five star rating on my report card, indicating an aggregate score of over 90 percent across all subjects.

After my parents had thoroughly examined my grades on the report card along with the teacher's comments, and had discussed my overall progress with Miss Sheetal, my computer instructor cum class teacher, we headed to the school canteen to buy chocolates for me and my younger sister as a reward for my good performance.

The canteen was run by a rather aged man with white hair and wrinkles on his face. He immediately recognized me as the boy who asked for candies during recess time. After knowing that I had done well in the final exams and handing me over two large slabs of Milkybar, he added a small lollipop as a token of his own appreciation. As I gleefully accepted his present, he asked me a question I had not been prepared for :

"Arnav, tum bade hokar kya banna chahte ho?"

As a young lad of ten who had not given any thought to his future career, I had no answer then. 
"Pata nahi, Uncle." was my honest reply.

"Koi baat nahi. Baad me kabhi aaram se soch ke batana."

Over dinner the same day, gorging mouthfuls of my mother's delicious aalu ke paranthe, I pored over the canteenwala's question. When I could not make a decision by myself, I turned to mom for help. 
"Mummy main bade hoke kya banu?"

She smiled at me, and replied :
"Beta, jo tumhe accha lagta hai."

I rummaged my brain for all possible vocations I could think of, to see if there indeed was something that I could engage in as a prospective career when the time arrived. It was a difficult exercise balancing the pros and cons of known professions as they would appear to a child.

I didn't know what an engineer meant then. 
Perhaps I could become a scientist, just like dad. I was curious to know what was so interesting about the subject 'physics' that he sometimes used to teach me; what lay hidden within the fossilized rock samples he once brought home from remote oilfields which he studied with so much diligence. But I didn't approve of the way he used to come home tired from the office late in the evening after sitting at his desk all day, with little energy to play badminton or cricket with me outdoors. So a 'scientist' seemed like a good back-up option, but probably not my first choice. 
Being a doctor was not much fun either, given that I was not the least fond of disease and death. I didn't like the gloom that descended in hospital corridors, the unnerving silence that prevailed in a physician's clinic. I almost loathed medicines and syringes, and couldn't imagine myself administering the same to a fellow human being. 
There were a number of lawyers in my extended family. From what I had observed on television, I realized that a lawyer had to debate like a fierce orator and often lie, which was not really my cup of tea. The longest I could speak in public was the time it took to recite a poem in the school morning assembly. It was only when I was much older that I started participating in debates and extempores. This vocation too, therefore, was out of the picture.
I couldn't become a teacher seeing that my experience as a class monitor had been horrible and I did not like to be burdened with too much responsibility. I liked playing cricket, but being a full-time athlete seemed to be boring and exhausting. For similar conflicting reasons, a policeman, actor or politician were also ruled out. It looked as if I was arriving at a dead end.

What else could it be? 

And then it struck me. A profession that was both noble and exciting, which commanded respect and provided some peace of mind. A profession that was different from the rest.

On the day the school reopened for the next academic session, during the lunch break, I visited the canteen once again and declared to the old man with an air of self-assurance :
"Uncle, main army me jaunga."

When I said this, I never thought about how much money I would make, or how successful or popular I would become. It came straight from the heart. A soldier was gallant, and he was patriotic, clad in the most graceful uniform adorned with stars and medals. He lived in the midst of beautiful nature in lush green establishments like the IMA. He helped the community in times of crisis. He was brave and strong, and fought the nation's enemies with guns and tanks accompanying him in the battlefield. And at the end of his honourable life, he died a hero's death, wrapped in the tricolour with a crest of flowers and laurels upon his chest and the salute of guns bidding him farewell. That was all that fascinated me. Nothing more, nothing less.

Fast forward thirteen years, and I am an engineering graduate working as an analyst in a multinational consulting firm, aspiring for a masters in business administration from a prestigious business school. "What happened?", you might ask. Well, my parents thought it was too dangerous to join the army or the air force. So I joined the rat race in my quest to land the perfect white collar job that would entail a hefty pay package and catapult me high into the upper strata of corporate hierarchy. And that's how I ended up here.

Today, most of us find ourselves at a crossroads, struggling to find the right path from amongst the multiple routes that diverge in different directions from where we stand. I am no different. I have no idea where I will be in the next five years. I might have completed my postgrad by then, but what comes after that is anybody's guess. It's not as if I don't have a plan, but these are uncertain times; who knows if something would not force me to change my mind once again. It's like a game of chess, where your next move depends on the situation in which you find yourself. 

Now when I ask myself the same question as I was faced with thirteen years ago, once again, it is difficult to come up with a definitive answer. I guess it is not that simple anymore. Times have changed, and so has the definition of the right vocation. I no longer have the luxury of being able to make a decision only with my heart, for now the mind has started to dominate. And because the world around me has grown too mean to let the heart take charge.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL?

Ever since the inception of life, the morals of virtue and vice have been at loggerheads. Like the many human civilizations that have come into being over the ages, they have continued to evolve too, each carving out its own territories while attempting to conquer dominions in the other's control. Like a treacherous foe, each has attempted to lure away loyal but capricious minions of the other with the promise of worldly gifts and other consequential gains - material or ethereal. This raging rivalry continues even today, to which every living creature on this planet is a silent witness - a prey, if you will.

The scales always keep tilting, and the person, the prey, is often torn between the two as his fate hangs in the balance. On the one hand, virtue yields long term returns such as self actualization and reverence from one's peers and posterity, but frequently demands patience, sacrifice and a heart strong enough to bear immediate material losses as a compromise for achieving the larger motives of moral integrity and an unsullied, angelical character. On the other hand, the shortest road to glory is often marked with clandestine deals, maleficence and deception. Once you begin to tread this path, there is no turning back; no switching lanes as you are pulled into a vortex of misdeeds which drag you further down in order to rise up. Even if you are reminded nostalgically of the merits of the righteous path, there is already a stained blemish waiting to haunt your life forever once you defect away from the dark side. Perhaps Darth Vader could testify to that.

Superheroes on the movie screen make it look too easy. Never yielding, they continue to battle against baneful, vicious usurpers and threatening villains to eventually assert the victory of righteousness over evil - without ever submitting to the luring portals of corruption, filled with the promise of unlimited power and infinite riches to rule the world. "With great power, comes great responsibility" is one of the fancy mottos that makes them persist in this challenging enterprise.

But then fiction has its own constraints. For one, it's often unrealistic. The principles of moral ethics are much more complicated. Atleast for normal human beings living ordinary lives with no special powers, faced with a Hobson's choice every now and then. Today, almost every face wears a mask to conceal his/her true self. Everybody but little, innocent children - impervious to corruption and malice, strangers to avarice, immune to disappointment and heartbreak, and most importantly, ignorant of all material pursuits that eventually rob us of all the aforementioned qualities.

I have always strived to maintain a rigid set of ethical standards, and have succeeded more often than not. But it's getting more difficult with advancing time. Sometimes I wish I could turn into a child again, just so that I don't have to care about it anymore.

APOCALYPSE

The world as we see it today is the outcome of a plethora of transitions that have, at times, entailed gigantic shifts in the history of the universe. Planet Earth has silently withstood the test of time, surviving catastrophic events such as meteor showers, earthquakes and the defining Ice Ages while the infinite life forms it has been host to have gradually vanished into oblivion, making way for more adaptable and superior beings. Like the changing seasons, it has been subject to constant metamorphosis - from a tiny speck prior to the 'Big Bang', to a humongous mass of solid matter containing the most wonderful of natural endowments that make it so charmingly beautiful.

And yet, come 2012, it must end.

One would never have thought the world would have been manufactured with an expiry date. Well, anybody except a few enlightened Mayans blessed with awful foresight. Perhaps they ran out of material to continue their legendary calendar post the 21st of December, 2012. Or their prediction was just an ingenious gimmick aimed at having their name inscribed forever in the pages of history even after their entire civilization was expunged from the face of the planet. Or maybe, just maybe, we are indeed approaching 'Judgement Day'.


It would be interesting to argue what would beget 'doomsday'. I have been told of possibilities ranging from  natural causes such as climate change or global warming to human blunders such as a nuclear holocaust to climaxes bordering on the insane, such as a zombie invasion. I would envision the curtains being drawn to a close after a more grandiose finish. Definitely better than cities being engulfed in a sheath of ice or flooded by ocean waters. It would be nice to go down with some noise. For example, a war between mankind and aliens would be apt. And what if, a certain John Connor eventually survives to reconstruct the human race once again.

The finale could be left to anybody's imagination. The looming question, however, is -
How long until we can confidently declare : "That's all folks !" (?)

The Medallion

My parents tell me it took a great deal of persuasion from them to make me enter the school gate on my first day in kindergarten. It was with the promise of my favourite chocolates that they could finally bribe me into spending eight hours away from home in the company of complete strangers. With a tiny bag and a water bottle, I set off on the path to enlightenment, completely unaware of what would lie ahead.

The process of 'education' commenced with learning the alphabet in carefree idleness, without having to bother about tutorials and pesky homework assignments. I had no competitors, for every rival was an innocent friend helping me build a sandcastle or planning fanciful treasure hunts in and around the school premises.

Gradually, smiling primary teachers were replaced by shrewish middle school instructors and then nutty professors whose facial expressions were, at any time, representative of the characteristic function 'f(x) = constant'. The contents of my schoolbag became heavier with each passing year. Academics now was a rat race in which mediocrity was not any better than failure. There were rewards to keep me motivated in this arduous enterprise. Every time I stood first in class or did exceptionally well in the annual exams, I received dainties from the school canteen, and sometimes, a bicycle or a holiday vacation present from mom and dad. 'Dolce far niente' was no longer permissible; it was displaced by drudgery and tedium, often resulting from my innumerable attempts to unscramble the Schrodinger equation.

Aspirations and expectations changed with time. Come Roorkee, I no longer cared for the occasional reward or censure. There was the higher motive of launching a successful career and smoothly transitioning to a life in which profession was the attribute that determined a person's ultimate destiny. Four years went by in a hurry, and all of a sudden, my 'education' was complete.

With the final oath, the convocation hat tossed in celebration, I have been vested with the right to pronounce myself an engineer. Today, as I stare at my degree certificate and the accompanying silver medal, glistening like a radiant emblem in all its lustre - now a souvenir from the past, things seem to have abruptly come to an end. I wonder if there's something to look forward to. If only I could relive the last four years....So long, alma mater !

REMINISCENCE

The crowd erupted in unison as Dhoni heaved his bat ferociously in his trademark helicopter-style, the bowler ducking for dear life. The poor Sri Lankan captain could only watch in vain as the ball disappeared into the stands, never to come back in play again. India had won the World Cup 2011, and I had been witness to a defining moment in world cricket history. A huge uproar resonated through the corridors of Ganga Bhawan; my own celebrations lost in the din of the numerous cricket-crazy rooters who had been cheering Team India right through the tournament. People all around me were dancing, clapping, brimming with pride and the joy of victory. Amidst all the jubilation, a complete stranger emerged from the congregation, greeting me with "Jeet gaye !" and locked me into a brief although firm embrace. It was then that I suddenly realized I can start counting my days at Roorkee, and how much I am going to miss this place after my purpose here is complete.

Hardly a few days have passed since I bid adieu to dear Alma Mater, yet each fleeting minute instills a fresh memory of the past four years. It seems as if all of it happened only yesterday as I tread nostalgically down memory lane.

The day I had been dreading had arrived. I stepped reluctantly into the cab that would take me to Delhi, from where IITR and I would part ways. The engine roared, and I waved goodbye to Pinky and his battalion stationed outside Cautley Bhawan, waving back at me. When I could no longer see them, I reclined against the soft cushion of the backseat and looked back at the years I had left behind. A succession of images flashed through my mind to merge into a kaleidoscope of my fondest memories of the four Golden years that constitute my life at Roorkee.


One

1. I was guarding my side of the room when Abhas entered, examining his roommate for the next one year and greeting me with a smile.
2. The freshers party had us swaying to the music, dancing to funky bollywood numbers for over two hours, with no sentience of time. It's surprising so many people wear moustaches in that picture - PJ, Chatter, Shirish, Pandu, Prateek, Mitwa, Doga and everybody else.
3. The Institute Cricket League, or ICL, inspired from the sport's latest Twenty20 avatar and the associated moolah, was catching up fast with the IITR junta. We had entered the tournament expecting nothing less than the trophy, and had emerged runners-up, owing to a laudable contribution from the Meta supporters jeering and howling insults at opponents, causing them to lose their focus and a piece of their minds.
4. The journey back from Crystal world. The first (and probably the last) time I have demanded a lift from an inter-state goods carrier with all kinds of fancy labels adorning its tough metallic frame.
5. Room no. G-75, RJB - the wing's bakar room, tutorial printing press, first-aid center and general store. Abhas and I trying to create more room to accommodate half of the meta batch inside.
6. Strikey. Pinky feeding the poor pup little crumbs of bread along with cookies mom had made for me with so much affection.
7. The NCC camp.

Two

8. A notice on my door ending with 'Issued in public interest. :)'
9. Midnight Football.
10. Sunsigns. I've never hated them so much. Working for a startup for the first time.
11. The phone call informing me I was now a part of IEEE. A 'geek'.
12. Thomso 2008 - the Karaoke misadventure. My first attempt at singing in public, of course, failing miserably.
13. Gandhi's tutorial class, MT-1 batch. A raging debate on the Economic turmoil shrouding world economy, and the United States' credit policy responsible for the crisis. Yet another assignment evaded.
14. Rafting in the Ganga for the first time. An adrenaline rush. Lying in coarse sands along the riverside, drenched in the Gangajal.

Three

15. The long wait outside the interview room in the placement complex, for our first company interview at IITR (Tata Steel).
16. Cognizance 2010. Sitting in the Cogni office as Chief Editor, writing for 'Souvenir'.
17. Bakar in the dark during power cuts - a regular occurrence before every mid term and end term.
18. The train to Chandigarh. Slipping by the examiner at Chandigarh station, unnoticed. Kondy emerging from the exit gate, grinning through his craggy teeth.
19. Communication skills class. Garvit trying hard to control himself from laughing as he speaks while Mahajan and company make funny gestures from the last bench.
20. Dhawal with his newfound talent in PJs.
21. A gang of counter-strike enthusiasts donning headphones huddled up in front of their laptops in Rajesh's room at midnight, with the Midsems commencing in a few hours.

Four

22. My first suit-up moment with Prateek and his camera, and the problem with the background (Mukul sir's door inscription in perfect disharmony with the attire).
23. Bhuppi's antics and the ensuing laughter.
24. Sandeep Kumar and Anunaya arguing, the topics - dowry, higher education abroad, corruption in government undertakings, and the common man. I always hoped they settled on a consensus sooner.
25. ZS's final interview, sketching a graph for the most random function ever, Jude keeping an eye over the lines appearing on the piece of paper pinned to the desk in front of him.
26. The Nainital trip - lovely montains, lush green fields, boating, watching the sun rising from a valley, Ranikhet's winding roads, hat(s).
27. Working in the prized Thermomechanical Simulator Lab with Shaibba, doing the most meaningful study and research I have engaged in till date.
28. Checking the grade against my name on the B.Tech Projects gradelist repeatedly to confirm if my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. Best Bachelor's Project award.
29. Geek Gazette farewell. Dracula, Green Goblin, Joker, Bin Laden and various other supervillains huddled up as the stars of the occasion. The entire team wishing me farewell by scribbling lines on my t-shirt to express their goodwill.


A loud bellowing of the horn brought me back to my senses, just as I reached the Security post. When the Tata Indigo exited the institute's main gate, it felt as if something was tugging at me to stay behind, for the track playing on the stereo abruptly changed to

"Dill tod ke na jaa
Muh mod ke na jaa...."