Thursday 21 March 2013

super commando dhruv !




life is all about taking absolute decisions at the right time, the one who chooses the best, wins the race. You need to know when and how to play your cards; be late for a second and fate flushes you back in the gutter. And I won’t let this happen to Gopal”

Those were the decorated lines Chandra Babu spoke, over his favourite steel rimmed cup of evening tea. His colleagues were privileged as well as aghast to hear the divine things coming out of his moustache laden mouth; as he was a man of very few words.

Back then, it was considered a daily ritual for a second grade government officer to go on ranting about everything his life experienced (or did not). Be it the pending arrears, load shedding, politics in office or black marketing of kerosene, a clerk of  Bhagalpur University was expected to vent out his expert opinion on every possible phenomenon and scandal
.
 Not Chandra Babu.

As said earlier, Mr Chandra Babu Paswan was a man of few words. Few words because his spoke very little and only when the circumstances forced him to. Usually the man who dealt with hundreds of inquirers in the office every single day and listened to his peers whine and complain every evening with mere nods and grunts, he was soon stamped with a name.

‘serious man’. 

 And he absolutely cherished that title. Being a second division clerk in the university, life was well settled for him. A three room government quarter with an educated wife and a son, he was everything a man in his ranks should be.

 respected, honourable and serious.

 For Chandra Babu, the theory of manhood and honour was exceptionally simple,

 “the lesser you speak, the more respect you gain”.

This near perfect restraint from communication paid him rich laurels as in a work span of just fifteen years, he was already nominated twice for the post of colony secretary and was well headed for the post of university registrar.

The envied man of staff colony, serious man’s career was as good as it gets.

But then, even perfectly stitched plans have hiccups and Chandra Babu finally had to pay for his code of living. It turned out that the registrar office had people who never approved of the charismatic silence and non chivalrous stature he carried.

That of course was the cover up problem.

When looked acutely, caste prejudices also turned up as the office had some high headed Rajputs and no body wanted to work under a senior whose name had anything to do with the word ‘Paswan’.

Though that wasn’t the only problem which troubled our serious man.

“but Chandra Babu, Gopal is in sixth standard, he is just a kid. Moreover secondary level mathematics is an entirely new subject for him, it’ll take time.” suggested Iftar Ansari, his junior.

“and who needs tuitions for a seventh grader ? “ added Shukla.

The sarcasm was apt and Chandra Babu couldn’t help but notice how the same men, his colleagues and juniors who respected and looked upon him earlier, have now started behaving as vultures.

He nodded.

Gopal was the only child of an unusually late marriage with Sushma Devi as Chandra Babu had spent the better half of his life planning his cousin’s career and marrying off siblings. And when everything fell in to place, he decided to marry Sushma, a home science graduate and had a young one in the coming year.

Gopal, despite the overwhelming culture of getting favoured as the family’s only child (let alone a boy) was treated in a very fair (as his father would say) manner. Usually a child finds comfort and solace in his mother if the fatherly figure turns out to be a bit too harsh; but then the orders were to treat him fair and even.
Sushma Devi was asked to show restraint from displaying elephantine amount of love to her child lest he gets any extra privilege. Gopal thus had a disciplined childhood with satisfactory report cards, cricket matches and a serious man as father.

Until now.

The key reason for that evening congregation was the continuous dismal performance of his son in the midterm examination with direct reference to his outrageous scoring pattern in mathematics. Gopal’s combined total of mathematics in two midterm examinations was 16 and this was insulting way beyond Chandra Babu’s preferred approach to parenting. The principal had warned Sushma Devi that her son would be barred from promotion if his average score did not improve in the finals.

The code of silence was broken over night and chappals were served with full ferocity. That moment, with cow dung and dust on his face, Gopal fell into oblivion and understood what it was to offend that one man who has kept his anger and emotion at reserve for twenty long years.
Soon enough, diktats were announced and the MRF cricket bat was sold to the nearby scrap dealer. Comic books were given to his cousin brother in Asansol, friends or their phone calls were forbidden and television was a strict no.

To see his only son being detained for an entire year was a scenario too disgraceful and mortifying to accept. And thus, Chandra Babu left no stones unturned when it came to hunt for every possible mode to get Gopal a decent cluster of marks in the upcoming finals. From consulting subject teachers to hiring private tutors to pleading the principal for ‘extra’ care and regular sermons on discipline and hard work, everything was done to save the dying and decaying grace of the family.

Despite hiring the best tutor for mathematics and two separate ones for science subjects, there was no significant improvement in Gopal’s performance as he continued succumbing to the mystics of Pythagoras theorem and 125 degree angle construction. He could by heart those principles of physics and equations of chemistry but when it came to maths, he was as good as a ‘jhatka’ meat (as Iftar Ansari would say).

Chandra Babu could see what lay in the future and how desperately he was trying to change it. Politics in the registrar’s election and a steady fall in his reputation made him somehow believe that lord Shankar was testing his faith and maybe it was through his son’s academic performance that he could restore all that was lost. An adamant believer in Shiva and his mystical workings of the ‘karma’, he deciphered that a satisfactory report card of Gopal was all he needed to reinstate his rapidly declining repute.


The other evening at Chandra Babu’s place, Shukla and Iftar Ansari were busy discussing the options available at the given time of crisis.


“Gopal is weak in mathematics and none of the past four tutors have had any impact on his performance. He still scores below ten on any day”

“and at this rate, we don’t see any chance of him getting promoted this year”

“if you don’t mind Chandra Babu, I would like to suggest a teacher who can actually help him with his scores”

Chandra Babu nodded.

“Achook nath.”

“Isn’t he the one who teaches maths in Gopal’s school? “

“Yes he is and I know Saint Martin’s teachers are not allowed to practice private tuitions. But if we try to talk to him, he might get convinced to help our boy “

“But this may not work. I don’t see any reason why Achook Babu would jeopardize his job for one kid”

“this can work if Chandra Babu talks to him. After all, who would dare refuse a man of his stature? “


Chandra Babu nodded.


After it was decided that Achook Nath would control over the reins of Gopal’s syllabus, Chandra Babu sought a Sunday appointment with him over a telephonic conversation.

When informed of his new tutor, Gopal’s reaction was customary with an obedient nod and some trivial inquiries regarding the chapters he would begin with. Though he never approved of sacrificing his cricket hours for tuition but being stamped with a father as the 'serious man' he had no choice but to follow every new dictate.

Moreover, Achook Nath had this fierce reputation of being a no nonsense mathematics teacher who was feared and respected in the entire secondary section. According to his classmate Deepu, he could easily pass as a hangman given his colossal, disfigured lips and a two kilo weighing heavy wooden glasses he bore on his nose. They often wondered whether he had a secret basement in his house to keep dark secrets intact, may be cannibalism or ‘bangali’ black magic? Temperamental outbursts and an everlasting grunting sound coming out of his mouth gave him one of the most voracious statures in Saint Martin’s. And it was this teacher Gopal had to sit down with and scratch his mathematical ability for the coming two weeks.

That Sunday, Chandra Babu led his son to the dreaded place and was welcomed in with a strong hand shake and a rare smiling grunt from Achook sir. As the two serious men discussed local politics over tea and biscuits, Gopal couldn’t help but wonder how impressed and satisfied his father appeared while talking to the ‘hangman’ (as the secondary section had named him) and how much he could talk. Gone were the famous nods and grunts as both serious man and the hang man chirped and gossiped to their heart’s delight and at times to the extent of being compared to his neighbour, the famous Madhu aunty. Gopal managed a quick grin as he wondered what Amma would say if he narrated what he witnessed today.

“accha Achook Babu, I must leave now as I am getting late. Gopal is now under your command. “

Achook sir grunted.

As Achook sir sat down with his mathematics book, Gopal couldn’t help but notice how his dreadfulness intensified in proximity and how his giant lower lip had stains of betel nut and how the ear lobes appeared funny enough to give him the sudden, itching urge to pull it. Here he was, sitting two feet apart from the man who had terrorized generations of students in Saint Martin’s and all he could imagine was pulling his ear lobe!

Maybe Amma was right, Gopal thought, I’ve surpassed all levels of shamelessness.


The remaining session of that Sunday went without any hiccups as Achook sir knew the kid’s caliber in mathematics and was busy deciphering what chapters would he begin with.

Gopal was scheduled for four days a week along with a Sunday with his new tutor and surprisingly, this did not deter our young man from actually looking forward to the sessions. 

Pythagoras theorem and triangles could wait, what mattered now was the fact that he was doing something which none of the martin kids had even imagined of. \
Soon enough, the word was spread in the entire 7th standard; Gopal ‘boss’ is taking tuitions from the ‘hangman’! the fifteen minutes interval was now devoted to fascinating and enthralling (all imaginary, of course) stories of sir Achook Nath and his dreaded basement; of how he was seen performing some ‘bangali’ jadoo, blabbering vicious mantras and how he sipped his evening tea in a skull shaped mug. Thus, Gopal was turning out to be an excellent weaver of stories and in a unanimous tone, was hailed as the ‘bestest boss’ standard 7th has ever had. 

Chandra Babu, too, was feeling much more relaxed and oriented once Achook sir took command. Gone were the depressing evening tea sessions with Shukla and Ansari, he was slowly and steadily regaining the respect and aura he once had. Finally, lord Shiva had shown him a lighted path and he was grateful to him for that. There were regular and satisfactory phone calls made to Achook sir seeking Gopal’s progress and they often ended up with an hour long gossip on municipality elections or university politics. Chandra Babu was now quite determined to grab the only chance he had to save his son’s career as well as his own registrar ambitions.

But Achook sir knew better.

Despite devoting ten hours a week on Gopal, making him memorize all the formulae and slogging for weeks over standard text book questions, he knew that this was just not Gopal’s thing. Thirty years at Saint Martin’s had given him an acute sense of judgement over a student’s aptitude at mathematics and he could calculate (predict) the exact marks Gopal was about to score in the upcoming finals. And it was not into double figures!
An adamant believer in school education, Achook sir never approved of private tuitions. For him, eight hours at school was enough to construct a student’s career and anything more than that was a mere wastage of time and resource. There had been parents who came to his quarter, seeking extra tuitions for their children and this had often resulted in him lecturing them on the draconian aspects of privatizing education and the need to go back to old ways of schooling.

But despite the past and his idealistic thinking, he couldn’t say no to Chandra Babu.

“Gopal is my only chance to revive and reply back to these vultures in university.

That was all it took to melt Achook babu and mold his thinking for an exception. To see an honourable and serious man seeking his help this blatantly, even ‘maa kali’ wouldn’t forgive him for saying no. And thus he agreed to do whatever it took to get Gopal a satisfactory report card.

“you’re not improving, Gopal. We are still in the arithmetic portion and your classmates are busy solving geometry. ”

“yes, sir”

“at this speed, I don’t see you getting anything more than ten marks in the finals.”

“I’ll work hard, sir”

“wonder what would I say to Chandra Babu. He has invested a lot in you.”

“I understand, sir”

“NO, you DO NOT. You are immune to your father’s troubles and that is what makes me angry. Chandra Babu considers your improved performance in the finals as his only hope for a revival in his distressed university career. And with you sticking to your hopelessness and buffoonery, it is absolutely impossible for me to fetch you 33 marks in mathematics. I’ve been trying and trying to help you with the formulae and derivations but it seems to me that you were not even trying to concentrate. “

“I was concern…concen..concentrating sir”

“NO. you were not. I have been teaching since thirty years and I do know the level and aptitude of my students. And you stand exactly at the bottom. I can put at stake my entire teaching life to challenge you to solve a single arithmetic equation from your course book. And you still wouldn’t be able to.”

Achook sir was fuming with rage, his disfigured lips trembling with anger and frustration over spending two long months over a pupil who refused to lift even a little finger. Never had his skill at numbers and formula e being questioned to this extent.

It was not every day a student from martin’s got to see the hangman’s great wrath and in consequence, Gopal was nominated to be inked in the history books of his school to witness that rare event. But the ire wasn't over.

“do this for your father.”

Gopal nodded.

“no Gopal, I need you to concentrate now. I need you to study hard, very hard. If not for Chandra Babu, I would never have agreed to teach you. You are acquainted with my reputation”

“Yes, sir. I do understand.”

“The hang man has never believed in extra tuitions. You know that”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Gopal’s eyes left digging his maths book and looked above.

 He found Achook sir smiling!


“I have been teaching for thirty years in your school. And you think I wouldn't know my own name?  Tell me why do you call me that? “

“It’s nothing, sir.”

“I am not requesting you.”

“it’s..it is.. it’s because of your gian..big mustache, sir “


Achook sir started laughing.


Despite claiming to have a stoic reputation, he knew himself. His heart was still that of a twelve years old boy with a running nose rearing to play football with friends every evening in the outskirts of Asansol. He never wanted to be a teacher but responsibilities and destiny had other plans. He did not had the accomplished childhood his friends shared nor was he given an opportunity to choose a career of his own. Given a chance he would have definitely tried for Mohan Bagan, as football was his only appetite.
But that fateful day of his graduation also brought the news of his father’s untimely death. With the demise of family’s lone bread earner, Achook Nath was burdened with responsibilities overnight. But never did he complain, his mentor, mother, guru, Kali was always present with him in his worst as well as best times. Thus he landed at Saint Martin’s and had ever since taught thousands of Bhagalpuri kids the sorcery of co-ordinate geometry and mensuration.

“We’re done for the day. There is one month left for the finals and we really need to catch up.” Achook sir declared, cutting short his laughter.

“yes, sir


What Gopal witnessed today was nothing short of a phenomenon. An event which would change and overturn the pre assumptive records of Saint Martin’s.
He perhaps was the only student who saw the hangman laugh. Or was he drugged for the entire time? It might be the ‘bangaali’ magic his friends had warned him against. And who would believe his story? A seventh standard boy made Achook sir laugh! Nobody would buy that.

After that evening, Gopal’s sessions with Achook sir started to be a little less mundane as both of them began a new oath of friendship. The mathematics expert decided to approach a softer, milder method to teach his pupil, the exact opposite of something he was renowned for. Whereas Gopal began his aptitude at numbers on a better platform. Now there were frequent intervals between sessions devoted to discussions on cricket, football and his comic superhero ‘super commando dhruva’.

Meanwhile, Chandra Babu’s newly found grace was making news in the university office as he filed his nomination for the registrar’s post. The usually reserved clerk was now chuckling with excitement over the elections as new strategies and relations were drawn every evening at his place. He gave his faith to Shiva and faith was what he got in return. Once a troubled and frustrated man, Chandra Babu kept his nerves intact; and today was heading smoothly towards the post of university registrar.
His decision to appoint Achook Nath was a master stroke and Gopal’s academic scenario was no longer critical.

how is your preparation going on? Do you visit Achook sir regularly?”

“yes, papa”.

“work hard. I do not want to go to your school for another humiliation.”

“ye..yes..papa”

Chandra Babu nodded.



Days came and went as both the teacher and his pupil were busy deciphering numbers and revising theorems. However hard Achook Nath strained, the point remained that his student was a complete nutshell when it came to mathematics. And with the finals rounding up in less than a week, the chances of Gopal scoring a ‘thirty three’ was highly improbable.


The evening before his mathematics paper, Gopal spent six long hours with Achook sir revising important chapters and clearing doubts despite the teacher being over scheduled with setting different question papers for the school and other trivial jobs. Yes, Achook Nath had prepared four completely different set of question sheets for tomorrow’s paper and for a teacher of his experience, it was not at all difficult for him to remember each and every question he had submitted in those papers. Yet, he chose to remain blindfolded and decided to not to divulge anything. Perhaps it was his idealistic way of education which was the only incentive behind striving for weeks and weeks over a child who just wouldn't give in.

“your arithmetic and geometry portion has been covered. I hope you won’t find any difficulty in solving at least two questions from each of them”

“I’ll try, sir.”

“good. Now go home and have a proper sleep. Begin tomorrow with a fresh mind.”

“yes, sir”

“do not let me down, Gopal. Chandra Babu respects me a lot.”

Gopal nodded.

What ensued next morning was exactly the same as Achook Nath had predicted. Perhaps, that is why he never asked Gopal about the paper and left everything on his calculated fate.

Days went on and on after the finals as Gopal was finally allowed to resume his comradeship with colony friends, cricket and comics. Chandra Babu too, was engulfed in university elections as the voting was scheduled to occur in less than two weeks. After one or two inquiry calls made to Achook sir, he was quite solaced about his son’s performance. Now all he had to concentrate was on the polling equation and number of votes he could manage.

“our days are coming, you stand a good chance this time.”, his wife said.

Chandra Babu nodded.

Meanwhile, Gopal’s result was scheduled to be declared on the coming Sunday and incidentally the university election was dated on the very next day of that. The normally reserved Paswan couple was now brimming with excitement over the bonanza success of both father and son. Gopal as usual had no idea of his performance as his trade mark pattern was to scribble down whatever he remembered in those two and half hours.
Still, Chandra Babu had immense faith in Shiva and his son’s tutor Achook sir as he anxiously waited for the fated Sunday.

Along came Sunday.

And Chandra Babu’s prayers were finally answered!


Gopal’s report card exhibited a satisfactory remark with him passing in all the subjects.
His score in science and arts subjects were decent enough but what stunned Chandra Babu was the thirty five marks his son had managed in mathematics. Three months ago, when Gopal scored an eight in the same subject, he had given up all hopes of seeing his son getting promoted to a senior class as well as his own of grabbing the registrar’s post. But now it seemed as if everything was just falling into place, the master plan of Shiva was working.

Gopal, on the other hand, did not know how to retort to this scenario as he genuinely did not had an iota of idea as to how on earth did he managed to pass. May be it was the genius super commando Dhruva whom he followed quite obdurately who might have lent a helping hand or was it Chacha Chaudhary? Nevertheless, the mammoth pressure he had on him to perform was subdued and his world cup tournament with the railway colony kids could finally resume.
Chandra Babu wanted to thank Achook sir for making the highly unlikely happen and thus saving the family’s grace. But he couldn’t find him in the school.

Later he did make a telephone call,

“I saw Gopal’s report card today and it was only because of your hard work that he managed to pass”

“no Achook Babu, Gopal had worked really hard this time. You should see his scoring pattern in other subjects, he did quite well”

“ye..yes yes…but it was mathematics which had been causing trouble all the while. ”

“and he did pass”

“I wanted to personally thank you in the school but I didn't see you there. ”

“that’s because I retired a week ago”

“what!”

“yes, Chandra Babu”

“But how come so sudden?”

“I have been teaching there since thirty years, I would have retired any day. Moreover I wish to go back to my native place, my Asansol for now. Enough of teaching I suppose”

“I do not know what to say”

“If that’s the case, would you please hand over the receiver to Gopal, I would like to talk to him for a minute”

“sure thing.”



Maybe the bright yellow suit does not look good on him, a tint of orange wouldn’t do any harm. Gopal was busy colouring his favourite character, the super commando Dhruva’s uniform with a new pencil colour set his Amma had gifted him a week ago, when his father called out to him.

“Achook sir wants to talk to you.”

“yes papa”

“hello Gopal, congratulations for scoring  so well in the finals. Your father is very happy.”

“thank you so much sir, I really do not remember what did I write in the paper”

“I know that. And that is the reason why I wanted to talk to you. Tell me how many questions did you attempt in the construction and geometry part?”

“I do not remember sir. Maybe I did not do any”

“hmmm, okay. Study hard in the coming academic year, I won’t be there to help you this time.”

“ok..okay sir. but I couldn’t remember solving any questions in the geometry and construction section. Then how did I get marks for that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was your genius super commando Dhruva! “

“Good night Gopal”

“good night sir.”


Having said that, Gopal went back to colouring his super hero as his father was busy with the last moment election politics.


The next evening, as Achook sir boarded the interstate bus to his village in Asansol, the university election results were declared.


Chandra Babu lost. 

Monday 28 January 2013

home, childhood and cricket !

get out of your refrigerators, come play with us.

unplug your processed minds, come savour the dust.


shell out a few coins, aye, we need a new stump.


and drop that miser look, christ ! you haven't changed a bit.


come out, challenge us with your long forgotten bouncers.


and amaze us later with fables of that girl.


come out, the fields are empty and there are no clouds,


drop that headphone and save an ear for our shouts.


for the streets have called you back.


for friends have called you back.

Saturday 6 October 2012

the thugs of tomorrow.


(before you start reading  the verse written below, do give a quick look at the basic definition of grandfather paradox.
it'll help you to understand the context and storyline. my apologies if you are already acquainted with it.)

(The grandfather paradox is a proposed paradox of time travel in which the time traveller went back in time to the time when his or her grandfather had not married yet. At that time, the time traveller kills his or her grandfather, and therefore, the time traveller is never born when he or she was meant to be. Despite the name, the grandfather paradox does not exclusively regard the impossibility of one's own birth. Rather, it regards any action that makes impossible the ability to travel back in time in the first place.)


"the thugs of tomorrow"



(scene : the village of thugs.
the thugs have gathered for a meeting)

"let us build a machine", suggested the  boy.
"enough of trauma and shame have we accomplished.
 let us end it all".

"end it all, end it all", they cried.

( boy orders the thugs to assemble and build a structure) 

"here put in some treachery.
you! add some of your guilt,
and mix it with extreme loath.
do not fumble when the fires of injustice is lit,
for the machine has to be made.
what is left now? dishonour, deceit and envy?
put them in. put them all ! "

"put them all, put them all", they cried.

(a huge fire is lit. the thugs surround it, waiting anxiously.)

"why do you now stay for?
the machine requires age and patience.
just as your sins took three generations to develop, it shall also take its course."

(they start to dissemble)

"till then, go back to your  daily life.
go rape a woman or two,
nail another christ, behead another monk.
let not the wise and the virtuous stay friends.
divide them, incite them, exploit them.
but remember,
remember not to waste every bit of our devilry on them.
save your deadliest machetes for the tomorrows,
as we sail back into the past. 
for we are the sons of turmoil
for we are the sons of discord.
and we kill them all."

"we kill them all. we kill them all", they cried.

 (a month later, the structure they refer to as a machine is prepared and kept in the middle of the    village. the thugs continue their killings.)

" behold !
 behold the carnage now, for the machine is ready.
 hop onto it with your sacks of swords, knives and machetes.
 do not get intimidated, for even the lords cannot question this creation of ours."

 (they enter into the machine.)

" let us fly back in time,
  let us fly back to our forefathers, to our yesterdays.
  let us fly back to those who taught us all,
  let us fly back to square it all."

"to square it all, to square it all," they cried.

(some three generations before and later)

"LO ! here we've come,
look out, search for your blood.
they might appear like us, but they're not us.
identify the veins, mark the traits.
and slay them all !! let not a soul survive"

(the thugs begin the massacre.
 killings and rapes)

"pluck out his eye brows, chew off his tongue.
cut off the limbs and hack their groin.
molest that women, punt her cunt and cut off the breasts.
dishonour her daughter, cherish her screams.
slit that throat and shave their skins."

"give them back what they trapped us in,
 give them the future they gave us"

(the genocide continues, every one in the village is either hacked to death or is bleeding profusely.)

"commence the rites, call on the priests.
arrange some wood and lit on the fire.
burn them all".

"burn them all, burn them all," they cried.

(the bodies are assembled in a heap and a fire is lit. every villager is charred to death. the thugs start dancing)

" we succeed now ! we triumph !
they gave us a future knitted from their deeds.
and told us to follow it without dissent.
we gave them what they were to give us.
for we are the sons of turmoil
for we are the sons of discord."

(the thugs continue their merry making)

"no more shall the dreary past haunt us,
no more shall our obscure present worry,
no more shall we repent our misfortune,
as the root itself is plucked out"

(the thugs assemble before the machine)

"hop back to the machine, ye sons of tomorrow.
we're no longer the aftermaths of deceit and dishonesty.
look ! our past has gone and the future is alight.
let us travel back to our tomorrow,
and live it the way we've always cherished for.
let us live like men."

"like men, like men" , they cried.

(thus the thugs climb back to the structure. totally oblivious of the obvious, they sang songs of love and home, dreaming about their present which'll turn overnight. though they never realized the fact that the women they just hacked did not belonged to their past)