journey

As a founder, life is no different than running a ship in uncharted territory. The help of team members makes the journey meaningful. Outsiders with no skin in the game have too many opinions. It can be social media experts or journalists, media houses. They see the effort or outcome from a biased and blurry lens.

Who controls and commands the ship? Is it not the captain and crewmen? How much will they worry about the prediction outside?

The elements which constitute the startup journey are team, product, and customers. As long as they are in sync, most other parts become easy.

Rangdari

Paisa bhejo 5 lakh cash Nahi to kidnap kar lenge.(send us money else we will kidnap you). The call kept coming. It was an era of Jungle Raj in Bihar.

Dr. Kumar is a well-known physician in North Bihar. He has a god-like love among patients, especially those who get treated for free every Saturday. Most of the beneficiaries are villagers from the remote part of North Bihar and Nepal. Our healthcare system has been on bhagwaan bharose(gods mercy) since eternity. People like Kumar are the ones who fill the void.

Dr. Kumar is in his fifties but looks much younger. It is because of his diet, long walk, daily hours of meditation, and active life. In his thick glasses and short mustache, he reminds me of some scientist. I have always seen him in white kurta pajamas. Not sure if it is minimalism.

Munna Rai is a known bahubali(muscle man). Apart from other crimes like smuggling narcotics, gold, and arms from Nepal. His notorious gang is known for collecting rangdari (extortion) and, doctors are their prime targets. He had police, politicians, and state machinery in his pocket. His modus operandi: Make threatening calls, collect monthly rangdari(extortion tax) and, let doctors do their business. On occasions, send minions to create ruckus inside the hospital. Dr. Kumar is one of the well-practicing doctors and, these calls have become part of his profession. In one such call, Kumar explained to the caller that he would take care of their health. There is no question of paying a ransom and, he should not be intimidated and scared.

The central government arm-twisted the state and got Munna arrested. The media made a big story of his arrest and, Prime Minister took credit for making Bihar free from Gundas(goons). But Munna Rai continued his extorsion racket more aggressively from the jail.

On an early winter morning of December, Munna Rai showed up at Mr. Kumar’s hospital. In Bihar, criminals roam free. They attend weddings while locked in prison for gruesome crimes, unofficially. Munna had a severe food allergy and was crying in pain.

Munna: Docotor saheb: rangdari nahi diye, illaz kar diziye. (I need to be treated well. I am sick. I am not here for extortion.)
Kumar: Gunda ho ya aam insaan, illaz to karenge he.(Be a criminal or common man, I will have to treat them.)

Dr. Kumar gave him some pain killers, ran through some blood, stool tests. After 6 hours, Munna felt relieved and disappeared. Kumar gave him some medicines as well. Dr. Kumar never heard from Munna and his gang afterward.

The state assembly election happened next year. Munna contested it from prison as an independent candidate and won. It is said in Bihar that the road to politics begins after becoming a bahubali. Once you become a politician, all your previous sins get forgotten. I am sure the aides of Munna guided him for the same.

One day Mr. Kumar got a call from the politician Munna Rai. They exchanged pleasantries and, Munna promised to grant some legislative funds to him so that Kumar could treat more patients for free. Munna Rai also mentioned that he is a changed man and wants to project this new image to the locals.

The Next morning a truck arrived with Big posters and hoardings of Munna Rai. His headshot had replaced Lord Vishnu’s head from Raja Ravi Verma’s paintings. Munna Rai looked like a Massiah in those. Munna Rai, once a notorious Gunda(criminal), is now god’s avatar. Apart from becoming a politician.

Murder at the Mushaira

I picked this book while I was roaming at the newly arrived section at Blossoms. My attachment to Urdu and Delhi was the reason for it. The book takes twists and turns also has Mirza Galib, the famous poet acting sleuth. 

I enjoyed the narration. Raja Mir, the author, has covered the tiniest details. It made me feel I am walking on the streets with the author, participating in Mushaira, and roaming on the streets of old Delhi.

The book is much more than finding the Murderer during Mushaira. If you have lived in Delhi for a long, travelled on the streets of Ballimaran, Mehrauli, or the walled city, you will enjoy reading it more.

double

I have lived in Delhi for over a decade, did schooling and my first few jobs but never visited Sanjay Van. This time around, Ayush took me there for a walk promising to show Delhi I had not seen before. And he was correct on all the accounts. I have known Ayush since his secondary school days. This time I was a visitor and he, a local guide.

We started our trip after eating Kulfi at the Hauz Khas market. Traveling across Delhi has gotten smoother, thanks to the metro connection across NCR. We were inside Sanjay Van on one of his favorite trail walks. I desperately needed to burn a few calories after all the overeating in Delhi.

As we went further inside, the trees became denser. I felt calmer and at peace. We saw a few foxes and regulars like monkeys and squirrels. We had to be careful not to run over on the tiny colorful insects crossing our path.

We heard someone shouting his lungs out from behind. He was shouting Pakdo, Pakdo (catch him, catch him) and whistling in symphony. I could see a guy in his 50’s, with a stick in his hand and a grey shirt, blue pants, cap, and leather footwear. He must have been one of the guards, catching some pickpocketers, what I thought. His dress reminded me of the NCC cadet days of my school. He rested near us and started swearing. If you have lived in Delhi, you know it all. We were confused about what to do.

Guard: Sir, nakli guard sabko paresaan kar raha hai. Aaz usko pakad ke police ko dene wala tha. (There is an imposter who wears, walks like them, security guards, and troubles other visitors.)

I listened to him patiently. But could not control my laughter. How on earth does a protector get troubled by an imposter. This imposter was going after couples, making them uncomfortable and asking for money. Most of them seeking some privacy shoo them with throwing some money. He would also go after homeless loitering in the park.

As we walked further, the landscape changed. I could see people tieing knots at a big tree for fulfilling their wishes. There was Mazar(holi shrine) of some Sufi Saint and, people queued up in mass for the blessing.

On our return, our route changed, and I could see Qutub Minar. It was another side of it. We were sitting on a hill and, the dense forest was an envelope. A few moments would have passed and, I could see another guard walking towards us and asking not to sit on the rocks.

I jokingly asked: Tum Asli wale ho ya Nakli? (Are you the imposter?). His face went pale but, he returned quickly with the one-liner: Kya farak padta hai, sab Ek he kaam Karte hai. (How does it matter. The real and imposter are doing the same). Haan, Matlab, visitors ko paresaan Karna paiso ke Liye (yes, troubling visitors for money, I said bluntly). His silence was an agreement. He came closer, sat next to us, and introduced himself as Mukesh. He is 24 years old hails from Bulandshaer. Mukesh paid 20000 rupees to a middleman who had promised him the guard job. They gave him a letter, contractor’s phone, and address. Upon arrival, there was nothing.

With no one in town, Mukesh stayed inside Sanjay Van itself for a few weeks. The real guards let him in on the pretext of him giving a night stroll. As time passed, he got more closer. Mukesh had to share 50% of his daily earning with the other real guards to cover himself.

Mukesh: Ye Sunsaan Jungle hai, kab kahan kaun kya kare, kisko pata, hum to bas rakhwale hai, asli ya nakli. (In this while, we are just caretakers: Real or imposter, nobody cares.)

I asked Mukesh if he caught today what have they done to him. He smiled and said they would have taken the money and beaten him until they were satisfied. But they would co-exist Real and Imposter.

I was speechless and confused at the same time. I am sure Ayush would have felt the same.

Mukesh: Sab paise ka khel hai saheb. Apse nahi mangunga, aapne hamare kahani sune. (This is all about money. I won’t ask you because you listened patiently.)

Mukesh disappeared into the wild and, we continued our conversation until dawn.

beta

Apart from mouth-watering food, proximity to Lalbagh has been my reason to move to south Bangalore. For the past few years, I have become a regular. Earlier it was all about running, which I have cut down and mostly into walking. The knee injury has been on and off.

Some faces, families in the park have become familiar to me. We will exchange pleasantries, ask about well-being and continue with the walk. On one of the occasions, I spoke to Radha and Satish, the elderly couple in their 60’s. They are regulars and would spend hours on the video call, sitting at the chair by the lake.

As we age, we need more company of people to talk and share our thoughts stories. I vaguely remember folks talking if the park will get closed due to COVID numbers climbing in the city and across the country. Satish told me about his son, who lives in Seattle, working for Microsoft. As a proud father, I could see happiness in his eye. Radha was silent. Satish also mentioned how he and Radha got married against their parent’s wishes and moved to Bangalore. He was sharp with analytical skills and got a job as a clerk at Canara Bank and, life changed for good. I told them I am from Bihar and, the conversation took a turn where Satish mentioned his stay in Patna during Lalu Raaj. I told him I was too young to have known about it. Radha said she misses her son as it has been over two years and, they had not seen him. His work him too occupied.

Last month I was back in Lalbagh, I saw Radha sitting on the same bench beside the lake. A girl in her late 30’s was sitting next to her and, Satish was missing. I exchanged pleasantry and got to know about the demise of Satish, COVID and, his pre-existing heart complication got him departed. Radha was crying and, the girl introduced herself as Laxmi was holding her. It was their daughter, about whom Satish had nothing to mention in our earlier conversation.

Laxmi mostly stayed away from her parents after graduation because of the transferable job of Satish. She got married to her classmate against all the wishes of both families. Intercaste marriage was unacceptable to them.

Radha told me that it was her daughter who was beside her in the tough time. It was Laxmi and her husband who went hospital to hospital for bed availability or buying oxygen cylinders. Nothing could save Satish. It was them who did the last rites.

Radha was grateful that even after abandoning her daughter, she came to take care of the elderly during COVID. Her son could not come because of the suspended flight operation from the USA.

Laxmi and her husband want Radha to live with them in Mysore, but Radha does not. The old patriarchy, social construct comes back as a gatekeeper.

How could she live with her daughter’s family when she has a son?

Conversation

I was on multiple calls last night. I was talking to friends after many years. We were grateful that we survived the COVID. The uncertainty about life during this period gave food for thought to most of us.

Most importantly, it made us realize the importance of being self-content and not losing ourselves on the externalities.

One of my friends has transformed and seen a new him who is a seeker of self. It is great to see how people in their early 30’s improve themselves, getting closer to themselves, accepting as they are.

Our modern society has so much to make us envy, jealous, and making us feel unfulfilled. The choice is ours or, either we fall prey to it, run for the next big thing, or be self-aware.

For some, no wealth or love is enough. For many others, it is all about seeking within, loving company of self.

We have to seek what we are looking for. In the end, this journey is ours.

In short, great conversation.

Naukari

Ratnam had every qualification needed for a sepoy role in UP police. It was his last attempt. He had no plans to follow the path of his elder brothers and cousins, who were successful gym trainers and part-time bouncers at clubs in Noida.

He had his dreams and wanted to pursue them at any cost. At first attempt, he got rejected in medical round after clearing written, physical, and interview. He skipped the second entrance because of a high fever.

I was on the way to Agra via Yamuna expressway. We had stopped for a while after crossing the Delhi suburb. It fascinated me seeing a 6 ft tall athletic-built guy with navy-cut hair and brown eyes running alone. While he looked malnutrition, at the same time reminded me of ultramarathon runners.

I waved at him and, he stopped. Blame me for screwing his tempo. I asked him if he was preparing for the Olympics, he laughed and said the Olympics is for a week, unlike cricket. I nodded in agreement.

Ratnam: Sirji, kahan se aaye? (Where have you come from?)
Me: Delhi
Ratnam: Akele, saadi nai ki? (Single, no wife?)
Me: No, aap? (nope, what about you?)
Ratnam: Naukari ke baad.(After the job, will be getting married)

Then he started walking. I gave him company. He told me how desperate he was for this UP Police job and about the money he has lent of high interest from village loan sharks to pay a bribe if it secures him the dream job. He told me about dozen others from his village who joined the police and how wealthy they became in no time.

He followed his parents’ ideals and principles of getting a job with merit the last few times and failed miserably. So this time, hook or crook, he needs to qualify.

I wished him luck and left.

Dil

Dil lagane me aise masgool ho gaye ke zindgi jine se mehroof reh gaye. Jina tha zindgi sadgi se, jina tha zindgi apne khudi se. Par kambakhat Ishq ki bemaari mae aise phase ke koi mauka na mila zindgi ko jine ka dilaggi ke alawa.

Tukde tukde me baante gaye dil ko khairaat samajh ke, phir bhi na mile dil ko jo talaash thi. Beeparwaah khud the, gair nahi, chahaat khud ke liye thi.

Dil khol diya apna bina kuch mange gairo se, dar-b-dar dil ko liye bhatakte rahe umneed me ki sayad kahi, kabhi manzil mil zaye.

Dafan hai wo aaz apne dil ko liye, peekdaan baan padi hai mazzar unki. Kabhi kisi mushairee mae jikr ho zata hai unka, dilageee ke liye nahi lekin dilpheek, dilzale aashique hone ke liye.

Charity

Neki kar dariya me daal. (do good and forget), it was a thing in the past. These days charity comes second and, publicity about it comes first. The charity has become more of marketing. Is it because we are hollow from within and, the slightest of external appeasement gives us pleasure.

About a dozen-odd friends involved in charity and NGOs are doing it because it gets the credit for MBA admission. A few others now and then share across the social media platform about their contribution.

I am not saying that some of them are not genuine, but I feel most of them are not doing it just for external appeasement instead supporting the cause.

Junoon

Ek Junoon hai, kuch kar guzarne ki chahhat hai. Ek ladakpaan sa jaan padta hai zindgi ko jine ka jasba.

Naaumeede, sitam, gum aur kuch naakamiyoo ke sitam ka kuch aser sa hota jaan nai padta.

Agar khud me hai khude ke saath kuch karguzarne ka junoon. Kya khuda, kya koi auur rook satka hai bhala?

Khud ki zindgi ko apne marzi se zinge ke liye khudi aur junoon ka jasba jaruri hai. Kyun kare hum parwaah kisi auur ka?