Branded

I belong to an elite and select group, an alumnus of a famous Insti, 

My claim to fame that with flying colors, I passed an exam called JEE. 

That event happened in a distant past, a quarter century ago,

I might have changed a million fold, that tag will never go. 

I don't mind the tag, cause its a brand in itself!

And though I've moved streams, it still defines myself,

- An assurance that the product, you are being marketed and sold, 

Is of high quality and can be trusted-  was once 24 carats gold.

Not everyone though, who was branded is the same,

Some did a Masters, some an LDP- how lame! 

All animals are equal, but some more equal than others,

let's have a caste system within us, dear Alumni brothers!

Pedigree doesn't make you elite, how you encash it does,

I've overgrown it, but also realized- the name IITian can cause a buzz!

Mithya XI- Looni's Valiant Chase

In this fifth 'chapter' from my almost autobiographical (life) story, I return to poetry (sonnets) format to make alive the time I spent at IITD.

 The tale (part I)

Player V: Looni’s Valiant Chase

(i)

I am I. M. Looni,  the captain cool;
called in tough situations, I am no fool,
or a stranger to the battle called play or life,
single as of now- I’m in search of a wife.

I had taken a vow during my school days,
-had made a society to reform the ways,
and character of myself, and my close friends,
that we will remain celibate and to those ends

I purposely keep my eyes glued to the ground,
for if I slip before hitting 25, I’ll not be proud.
25 is the magic year when brahmcharya will end,
til then I have to be cautious of the balls coming my end.

The first few balls caught me slightly off hook,
I’m trying to stay on crease, playing by the book.

(ii)

I might open slowly, but I’ll make it with depth
I have just joined IITD, so give me some breath,
I’ll come to the part when I first felt crushed,
but let's build the inning slowly, lest it feel rushed.

I knew her somewhat before I had come to the Insti,
-part of the same prep camp -though not the same city,
being from same state our paths had crossed through
it's safe to say I knew her, not sure if she knew me too!

Even at that time, she had a following of fans,
smitten by her beauty in combo with brains
it was a deadly deal enough to make sages budge,
however at that time I was focused on getting in the bus.

not distracted by the nymphs my aim was clear,
to get into the IITs and protect my virginity till 25th year.

(iii)

As luck would have, we ended up in same class,
same batch, same dept, but we were apart a class,
She could mix with boys, I was with girls tongue tied,
So though I felt a huge crush, to myself I lied.

I lied to myself that she was not worth the chase,
partly due to the long line of suitors already in race
So I kept my distance, lest my feelings get roused,
and hoped that with time my crush will get doused.

Deflecting sideways glances and smiles that were wicked,
I am not focused on scoring, just on not loosing my wicket.
The scoreboard is growing at a snails pace for sometime,
and then I discovered poetry - at first as pastime.

Putting in verse what I could not verbalise,
I finally said I love you- with no disguise.


(iv)

Putting on pen is easy, to publish on web easier,
wasn’t sure who was reading them, so my poems got cheesier,
the play on words took a life of its own,
I forgot about her- as if she was of stone.

A goddess loved from afar, offered homage silently,
immortalised in the poems, expressing my crush covertly
like a goddess wasn’t she supposed to know what I felt,
and bless me with an assurance that in my heart she dwelt.

While I poured my heart out in those poems of love,
I’m not sure she read them, maybe just heard from some,
fragments of pieces and  a rumour that I had a crush,
perhaps dismissed it lightly, with a shoulders brush.

not able to reach out or to make her my mate,
my poems developed an undercurrent of jealousy and hate.

(v)

Its not that I didn't try, I called her on V-day,
hoping against hope that she perhaps may,
agree for once to go on a date with me,
and in anticipation plucking roses from the Insti

yet she politely declined saying her parents had come
and that we may meet some other time- but I was done.
not sure if she had made the same excuse to others too,
I was dejected beyond words fearing others may boo.

So never approached her again, never made the first move,
Focused on the verse, with each line willing to prove
that I can hit sixes when ever I want, in my inimitable style
and that it was all about poetry-that it was done without guile.

The target was clear and unachievable too,
enough to kick me in the pants and aspire to.


(vi)

Then the finishing line started to draw towards a close,
I was shaken from my senses, I could no longer doze,
The industrial trip happened in the penultimate sem,
 and I discovered that under her shell she was a gem.

We finally came as close as we could,
singing songs in trains, laughing as we should,
For a while I thought from a crush it had graduated
into love that was both deep and reciprocated.

Back in college, the letting down of hairs stopped,
and when I first heard the news my jaws dropped
there was news afloat the she was dating a senior
that was the last straw- out came my veneer.
I withdrew in my shell penning a verse or two
Rejoicing in the fact that I was still not twenty two.


(vii)
The allure of seduction I had outlived well
on my path to win the match, am feeling swell.
I will get married eventually, but the time was not right
only a few balls left, let me sit through tight.

keep my cool as the match goes to the last power play,
try to make up for the lost balls, hit sixes when I may
move the game towards the last over, when the bowler’s stressed
and let her make the wrong move, while I stay blessed.

In the last few days of Insti, I managed to meet her alone,
with time pressure on, my fears were almost gone,
I apologised to her for my poems written for her,
She feigned ignorance- she didn’t knew, didn’t care.

I finally realised that the crush was always one sided,
my enthralment with poetry had left me blinded.


(viii)

Blinded to whatever else was going in parallel,
the ‘ragging’ incident too had become peripheral,
the fact that I won an election, became the hostel cult secy
and served the hotel becoming a lackey

celebrating the hostel day with a traditional theme,
and getting written on walls of hostel a Gita meme,
‘lokah tat anuvartate’ - was my philosophy of life
the world thus follows us- but did I pay a heavy price?

Trying to make freshers fearless and frank in their interactions,
and leading from the front was my undoing, my suspensions
that never happened were no solace
by being accused of ragging I had lost my face.

But these were fleeting things my whole attention was on the ball,
on keeping my wicket protected amidst all the gloomy pall.


(ix)

The mini-p happened and I was lost in my sonnets,

I took the lessons learnt to the BTP- no more poems,
and managed to get a decent CGPA and a decent job,
with work I thought the poems and the madness will stop.

Waiting for the last ball to make the scoring runs,
using to last lines to leverage word puns,
doesn’t always work, sooner or later you’ll get found,
and lose the match and your prestige sound.

I attempted civil services twice, not able to get through,
reading Gita to numb the pain, and start my life anew.
but with each defeat a piece of me was lost
I won the match for the team but at what cost?

I have had my time in the sun, now its time to say bye,
It's time to retire, and to marriage knot tie.

Mithya XI: Jadhav's Steady Sanctuary

In this fourth 'chapter' from my almost autobiographical (life) story, I return to prose (dairy format) to make alive the time I spent at IITD.

 The tale (part I)

Player IV: Jadhav’s Steady Sanctuary

Day 1 session 1

Dear Anna,

Today I finally got to debut at number 4.

You, of course, know how much that means to me. You have seen my struggles of trying to cement my position in the team. You have seen how hard I have worked and how dearly I have waited for this moment. The selection was a rigorous process; can any selection be as tough as the JEE? But here I am, now representing Mithya XI and part and parcel of the IITD incoming batch.

And yet as you know, this is not what I have been focussed on- my dreams are bigger- this is just a stepping stone. I want to play for the long haul and I want the world cup. Nothing less. Nothing more. Like Lakshaman being laser focused on his target and in complete control over his mind, I am clear from day 1- I want to get into the cilvil services and serve the country. IITD is just a necessary transit on to the final destination. And I’m prepared to do all that it takes to get there- be it scoring with my bat, being agile on the field or bowling an occasional over.

Today I am feeling a bit sentimental; oh how I miss you! Deciding to join IITD has been a tough decision- it meant leaving you behind. Couldn’t I have stayed back and studied in the local college you are going to? I’m getting confused and demoralised, but then I remember my lakhsya and everything seems to fall in place- even the cursed batting order of Mithay XI!

Today I met Him. He was escorted by His father and naniji, and that seemed a bit odd; as for me, my father had accompanied me. By design of fate we not only got allotted to the same hostel, but got to share the hostel room as well. It was the best thing that could have happened to ….him:-)

I immediately took a liking to Him and He seemed wise and matured beyond His years; He also had probing eyes, trying to look beyond my appearances and try to get a glimpse of you, and I jokingly addressed him as Big Brother! But I am somehow wondering if I was able to conceal you from his prying eyes; he seems to be all knowing, especially about matters of the heart. I will tell Him about you, but first He needs to earn my trust. Didn’t you see that He almost got me run out by that stupid call; we need to develop better understanding and indulge in better running between the wickets.

But if first impressions matter, I really like His style- though it seems totally opposite mine- He likes to be whimsical with the bat and has developed His own style of hitting six- the I.M. Looni patented Aeroplane shot! While I like to play conservatively, and yet I can feel a partnership building. I, the steady and dependable, He, the fireworks finisher.

I am feeling so good writing to you. Hope you are enjoying your new college too.


Day 1 session 2

Dear Anna,

Today I am really angry and frustrated. I haven’t scored a run in 80 balls straight. Just the other day I had told Him about you, and how much you mean to me; I had shared a number of other things with Him like my dreams to serve the country, and how a particular song reminded me of you. He really is the Big Brother. He knows where to touch me. And he knows when to rub me the other way. He did that today. We had a minor quarrel and he spent the entire day humming that song; you know the one that reminds me of you, that triggers your memories. He made me feel sensitive at the exact same time I was focusing on studies and not in the mood to get emotional. With deadly precision he destabilised me to ring home the point that I better stay on good terms with him.

Oh why did I share my secrets with him; he is so mean.

I just wish I could hand off my wicket on a platter today and walk off this partnership; but I also appreciate that you don’t get selected for Mithya XI again and again; I am feeling too much pressure and yet I can’t stand him anymore.

Oh how I wish we hadn’t met or been forced to play together.

And the problem is not that He doesn’t understand what I am going through; he understands too well! Many people wish that others understood them well, I am wishing today that maybe for once I can be a mystery to him.

Also, I am frustrated today;  despite my rock solid performance, it seems I never am able to hog the limelight. I am dependable and steady. But people like fireworks more than steadiness. Looni comes and hits a few sixes in the end and he is revered and christened as a ‘finisher’. I, on the other hand, am firmly placed in the middle order- but don’t confuse that with being mediocre. I have sweated on and off the field to give that steady performance and thereby confidence to SP and the team management that they can count on me, if need be. And I guess I have not made them regret that decision!

I lied to you that I am angry; actually the major part of the evening I spent crying. Everyone was jeering that I would make the record for highest duck runs in a row. The silver lining was that He wasn’t joining the crowd; as a matter of fact He never joined the crowds, - He was still optimistic and once our misunderstanding about run calls had ended, He actually talked to me and made me turn around my performance. He did that by reminding me of the World Cup; how I had started preparing for it even before the selection;  that bas*****, he really knows what strings to pull.
 
He doesn’t understand now, but he will understand one day why playing for Mithya Xi means so much for me. It has to do with APJ. Yes, the missile man. You for all people do know how I have been fascinated by him; how I have watched him slogging for the nation’s benefit. Haven't we both seen umpteen times, how he wakes up early and spends his entire day laser focussed on serving the nation. I couldn’t have asked for or hoped for a better influence and role model. And so here I am, laser focused on serving the nation, and playing for the Mithya XI despite that hamstring injury.


Day 1 session 3

Dear Anna,

Today my dad came to visit me. I was so happy that I gave high fives to my father! Not everyone around me could fathom that sort of deep and informal relationship between us. Not even Looni. We spent some time with Looni. He has been good to me in the dressing room lately.

Looni is a strange man though. The one who knows how to rub you the wrong way, also knows how to pull your triggers for the right reasons. And now that we have sorted our initial (power?) struggles we have became the best of friends. He for one is a sensitive soul himself and a creative one too. I have some strange news for you. Looni scored his maiden half century just now. He wrote his first short story- and can you guess what the title was- “Anna”- I sincerely apologise to you, as its a thinly veiled account of my relationship with you; he has immortalised both you and me in his craft! He is definitely shrewd!

   
He writes limited prose though- poetry is another matter altogether.

He is a prolific poet- his choice of genre being sonnets. While people think they are directed towards a real person, I know better. He is in love with poetry itself. His poems are self referential. And they are beautiful. Even professors here have put a link to his poetry pages on their official IITD website. When I read his sonnets I somehow am reminded of you. I am sharing the link to those sonnets he has written, and put on the web, maybe you will like them too. As for the story immortalising you, I dare not share the link, lest you suspect I have become closer to him, by sharing our secrets with him. I hope you will forgive me.

- 
Day 2 Session 1

Dear Anna,

It’s a brand new day; I hope to leave my mark today. However Looni seems a bit defocussed. I wish he would stick to ones and twos like me; but he prefers poetry to being prosaic.

However his this style has got him in trouble. He took a mini-project in the 4th semester. He had no desire to suck to a prof by doing a mini -p and to get recommendation letter as he had no plans for further studies in Comp Science. Yet, out of pure desire to learn he enrolled for that mini-project. His intent was good. And it was time to bat with the right mindset.

Intentions are one thing, follow up is another. While his partner tried to chase the impossible target that the prof had set up for them, he was busy.…….writings sonnets.

His mini-p partner would come daily to hostel to steal a run towards the department where they could work over the project and he, on the other hand, would be found ‘inspired’ and conjuring some poems instead of driven by that improbable run chase.

And so he got run out. When partners are not in sync that is what happens. Looni got his first and only D in that mini-p. At the project viva, one of the prof tried to help Looni by saying that perhaps the project was too difficult for them- he was perhaps hinting that Looni can use the DRS; but Looni considers himself an expert on DRS and also an upright man. He himself declared himself out saying he hadn’t run fast and that his partner was not to blame. Also he couldn’t admit that it was all a matter of wrong calling- he maintained that he could have completed the mini-p if he wanted, just his priorities were different and had changed!

After that incident many in our team have doubted his ability to go all hog and have tried not getting onto the pitch the same time as him. He has had trouble finding partners for assignments. Well, he found one in me.

He is like my elder brother, and I am glad to be able to build partnerships with him. This particular innings is filled with fond memories. Its the day to declare our B. Tech project (BTP);  and I have chosen him as my partner. Actually, as you know I just want to clear the IITs so that I can go clear the civil services and serve the nation. So I really don’t care about the BTP. Even a pass grade will suffice; but he is insisting that we choose a good topic and a good project and assuring me that he will see it through. He is also insisting that I will fall in love with programming. I am excited; let the future unfold. Will keep you posted.


Day 2 session 2


Dear Anna,

Looni and I have become partners in crime- we have been dragging our feet for some time. Wow, that sort of rhymed!

We are working on our BTP, the image processing project, which requires hours of efforts as each video clip takes hours to segment into nice scenes that enable classification into relevant genres like cartoon clip, sports clip etc.; I am sure you have guessed sport genre is my favourite genre. Its taking time, but we are getting there; just a little bit more of patience.

Looni works hard and I work even harder and together we have built one of the highest fourth wicket partnerships. Of course in the project viva the same prof who had suggested DRS to Looni in the mini-p was adamant that this time we couldn’t have really solved the problem of scene classification and that we had fitted the data to the test set (sheepish grin- we had in a way did a lot of tuning:-) and so we ended up with A minus rather than A. The DRS worked in favour of the profs this time:-))

I am truly thankful for the fun time we had building that partnership. Even today I address Looni as ‘Hey Partner!’. More so, because at the time of BTP, I already had been preparing for the Civil Services, and the exam was coming near. So though I did my fair share of work, it was upto him to launch assault on the BTP. I have learnt a lot about finishing watching him at close quarters.

And the influence has been mutual. It is the 7th semester.  We have just returned from the industrial training, and after a getting glimpse of the IT world, Looni suddenly recalled once again his childhood oath to prevent a third world war. With books like Clash of Civilisation in the air, Nostradamus’ prediction of a looming world war, he has been easily influenced by my dedication towards civil services to change tracks and has started preparing for civil service himself.

This is called life coming full circle. He hoped that I would be hooked to computers. And here he is. Desiring to crack the Civil Services exam!

But he is also very clear that he wants to join the foreign services, and by becoming a diplomat find a way forward to ushering in world peace and preventing the future wars. Seeing me prepare for the Civil Services, that looks like a natural route to him to achieve his dream. Sometimes I think he over-identifies with me and has made my mission his own and took up preparing for civil services as a result- who knows? Does even He who knows, does He know?


Day 2 session 3

Dear Anna,

I hit a century today. It's difficult to believe but Nihal Jadhav hit the century today. I cleared the Civil Services exam in the general category- even though I could have claimed quota benefits. I did not see myself as disadvantaged and I wanted to prove a point. I wanted my bat to speak, rather than anything else.

Looni has trusted me with other responsibilities too besides the bat. I don’t know why I am called to bowl too from time to time. There was this other day, when the dean had accused him of ragging and threatened expulsion. I don’t know what got over me, but I have never been that furious in my life-like Lakshaman getting angry over Surpankha,  I quickly jumped into action, gheraoing the dean and demanding a retraction of suspension and an apology. No one expected that from me. But I guess no one expected that turn of events too. So I have given him wickets when he needed. But I don’t see myself as a bowler, I still see myself as a batsman first!

Anyway, I am the younger brother always poised to stay in the shadow of the elder brother Ram. After the century I got complacent; they say the runs you add after the century are for the country; I have regret that I couldn’t add much; and as I stroll out of the field I expected people to applaud my heroic century but I can already hear people cheering ‘Looni, Looni, Looni’ as He walks centerstage! Such are the ways of the world, not that I am complaining!

Mithya XI: Choghadiya’s Magical Moment

In this third 'chapter' from my almost autobiographical (life) story, I return to poetry to make alive a particular moment from my life.

The tale (part 1)

Player III : Choghadiya’s Magical Moment

Firmly placing my foot on the ground,
I defend every ball aimed at the stumps,
In this Test for some time I have been around,
it's time I claim my place from the dumps.[1]

I have staying power, I am silent and strong
the great Wall of Kumbhlagarh, not easy to scale
many have come and many have gone,
but I have become an integral part of the tale. [2]

I am Angad, the monkey,  my father no saint,
to outlast his legacy is all I aim,
I use cuss words- not good for the faint
I am a master at this game.[3]

They say I waste too many balls,
defend a lot, not striking on all,
I am picky and choosy and in these venerated halls
With one strike I can win, and settle it all.[4]

I get A’s in the courses that I love,
and fail spectacularly in those I hate
I am a hawk, and not a dove
yet on that day I was a bit late. [5]

He was the one who understand why,
my CGPA oscillated in violent rhythms,
quirky like me, in mini-p just getting by,
and getting an A in algorithms[6]

Spurned by the same girl, we found solace
in poetry or sports as per our whims,
we traded votes, our efforts did coalesce
both becoming hostel officials and COPMINS.[7]

And then that happened, he was shaken to core,
I was leading the team that gheraoed the dean.
There and then, I should have settled the score,
slapped the dean tight, or punched him like a bean.[8]

‘Ragging’ my foot, he was just interacting with the kids,
trying to help them, making them brave and strong,
and able to understand the innuendos used in the skits,
if acclimatising is a crime, then I guess he was wrong. [9]

For it was the freshers who indeed played such parts,
saying dialogues like ‘the boys stole our milk’,
and ‘girls ate our bananas’ -aiming these darts
-goaded by some seniors and their ilk.[10]

We even played Mahabharata based scripts,
in which some fresher Bhishm proudly squeaks,
'My hand my lord’ -this being a part of the skits,
Shouldn’t these freshers know what that means?[11]

By interacting with them, we got them educated,
preparing them for the world, the good, the bad, the ugly,
their minds need to be opened, need to be liberated,
oh my lord have I just defending ragging, I ask smugly.[12]

When you give it a name - as stigmatising as ragging,
you prevent even good interactions to bloom,
what He did was no ragging, but his punishment was staggering
and the whole hostel drowned in misery and gloom.[13]

Later that week, when we gathered to strategise
the hostel warden came and disrupted the meet,
I told him clearly and with overt malice
what fate him and the dean might greet.[14]

‘Great men sometimes by turn of fate,
are oppressed and tormented or struck from behind,
and we can look at history of events of late,
and learn from those lessons, to prevent rewind.’[15]

‘Even Lala Lajpat Rai when he was lathi charged by Brits,
and succumbed to his injuries, after some time,
yet don’t forget the fate of his tormentors the dumb wits,
they were all killed systematically for their respective crime.’[16]

This warning to Warden and indirectly to dean,
was the anger bursting forth from the depth of my heart,
hope the message works by itself, for I really mean,
to take the battle to its last tragic part.[17]

I was the messenger, this part I gladly played,
many were angry, but not many with balls of steel,
This was my moment, this memory has stayed,
a movement was building that much I could feel. [18]

Messenger not of Him, but of the seething masses,
my courage was contagious, my anger gave them voice,
and in a jiffy we had decided, to boycott the classes,
or wear a black band - let not the signal die in the noise.  [19]

A signal clear and loud, that we can’t be taken for granted,
his dignity meant a lot and his honour was worth fighting,
we don’t endorse violence, but to shame the dean we wanted,
like our gods - in one hand we have lotus, in other a bolt of lightening. [20]

He wasn’t there in that meeting, it wasn’t to placate him,
my rhetoric and drama was not in the service of Ram,
It was to shake up Ravana, his army, their fate grim,
that was numbered now on the fingers of one palm. [21]

My position so established, they can’t make me budge,
an inch from my standing, I have the troop as my back,
threats of expulsion, or rewards, a gentle nudge -
Will all fall on deaf ears, we are now one like a pack. [22]

Come Warden, come Dean, let all try their might,
till they apologise, we will all wear black-
Once in a lifetime we get to do what is right
let's fight without worrying about drawing flak . [23]

Why the warden was threatened, you may rightly ask,
he was doing his duty, earning his daily bread,
for trying to disrupt our meet, I will take him to task.
by aligning with the dean, he was as good as dead.[24]

I guess we won the battle, at least the first round,
TTK told Him, about my solemn oath,
of firmly placing my foot in the hostel’s ground,
and holding firm, till justice was brought.[25]

Many came and many went,
yet not many took the stand I took,
I guess this would be his constant lament
why didn’t the wanars the Insti shook. [26]

I cajoled Sugriva to continue to bridge,
the distance between north and south
This was a war, no time to play bridge,
but to hurl choicest abuses from my mouth.[27]

Just when the dean was falling on feet,
with an apology that was phoney - it sounded forced,
I lifted my feet and retracted to greet,
my friend who was broken and totally scorched.[28]

The Protest had been called off, an accord made,
I missed my moment, of settling the score,
of wrapping the dean in a blanket- a record made,
of hitting anonymously - becoming part of the lore.[29]

But alas, He would not approve of such tactics,
if willing he was strong enough to himself punish,
He teaches forgiveness to his students
some take that lesson to heart- oh rubbish.[30]

I guess he forgave, the dean and that fresher,
although it took him, some time to recover,
but how can I get over my failure to usher
a fearless time for Him and His brother.[31]

I stood like a wall,
between Him and the world
could not prevent the fall
or His descent to the underworld.[32]

After many years of struggling the vengefulness
he has finally come to terms, warts and all,
Got released from the prison, by granting forgiveness,
and realising that perhaps he played a role in his fall.[33]

What hope remains for me oh lord,
I am the strongest and yet so small,
a peripheral character in the tale of god,
by virtue of my foot, I’ll be standing tall.[34]

My magical moment came and went,
On this Diwali I will light for Him a diya,
and by writing this I could finally vent,
I am the servant of lord, Vishal Choghadiya. [35]

Standing like a wall, always for the team,
I have batted for some time, now let me rest,
include me in the tale- if you worthy deem,
and let the new team be made of the best. [36]

Let the legacy of Hanuman and Angad live long,
Let the head be held high, and the mind be without fear,
let us just serve the lord and let this make us strong,
Let us hold on to this hour and everything dear.[37]

To have played for Mithya XI, is an honour in itself
To have survived against odds is a miracle to boot,
To have flourished later achieving power and pelf,
is the icing on cake - now to get rid of the soot.[38]

Neither I failed nor Kavindra, we played our natural game,
the spirit of sports says,  give others a chance,
why proclaim from top, I conquered, I saw, I came,
let the glory fall on others- if only perchance.[39]

Hadn’t he got inscribed on the wall?,
‘the world thus follows us’,
as do wise men so do all,
did we collectively miss the bus? [40]

The great opportunity to stamp our names,
on the annals of history, pre-history of lore,
of emerging victorious in the deadly games,
and becoming parts of legends of yore. [41]

I am happy with my role, my cards, my deal,
deliberately missed my moment as I stand by my pledge,
the limelight from Him, I dare not steal,
my foot staying firmly on the edge. [42]

There is earthly ground beneath my feet,
I am not deluded, not about me,
If I could not protect His fleet,
I am sorry, let it be.[43]

In another eon and time,
I will be the Wanar of remarkable note,
- the tale will be exclusively mine,
He will escape by a mile and I will get his vote. [44] 

I have enough demons of mine to fight
buried in the forests, fearsome in the night
but to think of myself doesn’t seem right
I want to serve Him with all my might.[45]

This tale is His, I play a minor part,
to deliver His message strong and clear
to sing His glory, is my role from the start,
and that’s why He thinks of me as dear.[46]

What if the roles were reversed, I the victim, he friend,
with demons threatening me, he a spectator of sorts,
would like me he go all out, lend a helping hand,
and rise to the occasion, a servant of lords?[47]

My purpose in the tale is to project bravery and valour,
a hope that people with conviction exist
By the virtue of my feet I gave a performance stellar,
and rightly I have made to this list.[48]

Many will come and many will go,
Some may even take the stand I took,
-yet not be the hero- they may forego
their magical moment to better look. [49]

Sans all pretenses, I am clear in my heart,
- the role entrusted to Choghadiya Vishal -
I went on a limb to play that part.
My stamp’s on the tale- I am a star. [50]

Mithya XI: TTK's Classical Defence

This is the second 'chapter' of my almost autobiographical composition. This is in the form of prose, but its not regular prose. Hope you like it.

The tale (part 1)

 

Player II: TTK's Classical defence

Can you please keep this short? You should have taken a prior appointment; besides I am watching a match; can I do dome multitasking please? I know that means I have a monkey-mind, but so be it.

Thanks for understanding. Yes I know this is not a trial, just an interview and I will do my best to answer to the best of my abilities; wow wasn’t that a brilliant Googly?

Yes, my name is TTK Sudarshan and I did play for Mithya XI. And I do pledge to speak the truth and nothing else but the truth.

Of course, I remember that Test. I hadn’t played as well as you guys expected, but I believe I put up a good fight, right?

What do you mean by Match Fixing? How can you even insinuate such a thing? We were all playing for Mithya and we cant even think of that in our dreams. Oooh, that ball had some pace, it was nearing 150.

Yes, I am speaking for myself, and others too.

Umm, you can call him my best friend, yes we were very close. Almost like besties. That was a slower one, right? He’s mixing and playing with the batsman’s mind.

Well, he was good with the bat, a bit quirky though. 

No, we never opened together. I guess we both wanted to, and as locker-mates we had come pretty close. Whenever, I sing of the song ‘Chanda Re’ I think of him. He seemed lost up in the air- a bit philosophical and I did try to drill some practical common sense in him whenever possible. We had a lot of philosophical discussions. Nice long drive.


Yes, he had political ambitions. As a matter of fact he used to say that the reason he had chosen IITD over other IITs was because of the fact that Delhi being the capital had a vibrant political environment. He was quite ‘serious’ about this. Oh, what a knock!

Yes, in the context of the hostel too; after all he did fight and win the election for the Cultural Secretary of the hostel.

Yes. I too had political ambitions. But I have been practical about it. I want to work in the peak of my career, make up tons of moolah and finally settle down in a village, adopt it and oversee its development and functioning. You know I plan to lead a spiritual life.  To be a MONK who has the KEY. That’s my long term vision but for now let me prepare for CAT and become a management consultant so that I can fund my dream. 

No, our political ambitions never collided. As I mentioned before we were best of friends and I was truly happy when he became cultural secretary. As a matter of fact I was instrumental in trading votes for him so that someone from our wing could win- he was apparently not too naive himself- but as I said we batted for the same side.

No, he didn’t talk much, and still he did use to disclose a lot about himself. Rather he said he was an open book- though I strongly doubted that. Well he also used to quote, ‘don’t ask and you will be told no lies’. I don’t know why you are asking me so many questions! That was the second bouncer of the over and so close to hitting the helmet.

Any quirks you ask? Well, like Bozo the clown become one example, I guess he tried to become another example in quirkiness. Who else would openly claim that his aim in life is to prevent the third world war from happening. I warned him that even professors were making fun of that. One of the profs had said that people who say things like these actually cause world wars and clash of civilisations. Holy shit, how did he miss the line of the ball? There was such a big gap between his bat and the pad? What was he smoking? Did you see that wicket fall?

Ok, sorry, Coming back to the point, I wont say he was that popular; but yes the width of his popularity became apparent when the Protest happened and even the usually reserved and above approach Kailashites supported him whole heartedly. I used to make eclair trips to  Kailash and was genuinely surprised by the support and indignation of the Kaileshites. I conveyed the same to him and maybe in those dark hours that was the only thing that restored his self esteem (and faith in humanity)  a bit! Talk about having a silver lining!! What would I not do to garner such sympathies!!

Yes, that brings us to that day. The reason you are bugging me. The day our top order collapsed and the tail followed suit leading to the lowest all time total for Mithya XI.

You ask what happened on that day, but perhaps we need to start a bit early. If we have to place the blame shouldn’t we start with the selection committee? How do you end up with a squad so poor? Who was to blame for the no. 4 goof up? Why did we not choose the right team in the first place? Anyway as things would have it, in the second semester he had just been elected the Cultural secretary of the hostel and became part of the select club. 


Oh, he didn’t remain the CultSec for long, so it's hard to recall his achievements. He was good with the bat but the pressure of captaincy took a toll, I believe. He did organise a very successful Hostel day. The theme was traditional and I having classical tastes was really enamoured by that. He wanted to reverse the brain drain and make India palatable; this traditional themed hostel day was a step in that direction. I was fascinated and so looking forward and eager. Oh no, commentator’s curse again, I just wish someone will ban this commentator from praising our team so often; we just lost a wicket. He was playing so good!


Ok, coming back. Well, in the next semester, he got bowled out on the first ball.

Yes, I would elaborate.  Being CultSec he was made a member of COPMIN (Committee for Prevention and Monitoring of INteraction with freshers- who remembers such names, except perhaps the one who has been burnt by such things!) - a body whose function was to prevent ragging. He, along with a few others, came a few days earlier than rest of the seniors, to interact with freshers and make them strong to resist ragging.

Ragging to me is like taking a new batsman into ones wings and teaching him how to play well by handling pressure situations.

Yes, I am coming to that. He was quirky and as part of his ragging inoculation and prevention attempts, he started by himself interacting with freshers in a good and acceptable way. He would ask them their AIR , ask them to do small tasks, and generally addressed them instructing them to cooperate with seniors as far as interactions went smooth and to resist the ‘ragging’ whenever they felt uncomfortable. 

yes, all noble and good. So where did he err? For one,  he was a person who had no use for either excuses or cowardice and hence told the students that if not comfortable they should straight forwardly deny doing anything, but not make silly excuses. Be brave and hit a six or lose your wicket and get out. Don't make excuses like the pitch was not a batting pitch.

Of course, to be more specific, he asked the freshers that if a senior asks you to shave your moustaches, don’t give lame excuses like I don’t have a razor etc ; if needed buy a new razor or borrow from him, but either confront the senior and he’ll be there to support the fresher; or else do whatever you think is reasonably demanded by the senior. Now asking freshers to shave was a normal initiation rite in IIT’s those days. Personally I find nothing wrong with that. One could always refuse. Why is he playing so aggressively, there is no place for good defence in todays world!

Well, what happened then was truly sad and deplorable. A fresher was asked by a senior to shave moustaches, he went to him for borrowing a razor and my friend obliged. Was’t that an easy catch at silly point. He handed his wicket on a platter.

Yes, we have heard it that that fresher was a relative of the dean, but we didn’t knew it then. Hold on a minute, the action replay shows that there were not enough players inside the circle, this was a no ball. The batsman is claiming as such.

What happened next was that Dean came storming into the hostel looking for the cultural secretary, gathered all the freshers,  accused my friend of ragging and when he touched the feet to clear any misunderstanding and placate him, as he was always reverent to teachers, the Dean took that as a sign of weakness and literally pushed him down the stairs and asked him to vacate the hostel before the night was over and intimated him that he had been terminated from the prestigious institute on account of ragging. Phew, will we take a DRS or not, time is ticking?

Yes, it was shock for him; he was pretty strong so he didn’t cry but he was definitely taken aback.

What happened next was unprecedented, The students of the hostel, the wanar sena , of which I was leading as Sugriva, gheraoed the dean and demanded that he take back his proclamations. YES! DRS taken and successfully too!

Outnumbered and outwitted, the dean had no option but to give in to public demand and assured us that no action would be taken. We thought the issue had been settled.

Not so fast! Well, the issue was not settled because he demanded an apology from the dean; he had been falsely accused of ragging, and worse assaulted for the same and subjected to trauma, and his demand for an apology seemed reasonable to me. Well, that spun too fast, this pitch does have turn.

Why did the Protest happen? well it was because things didn’t return to normal in the next few days. Having lost his face, he justified not going to classes and said he was boycotting classes and college till the dean apologised/ resigned. Isn’t the new batsman taking too much time to settle down. We seem to have lost all momentum.

He did gather courage to venture towards class on the third day. I was having breakfast with him. He was in a better mood and looking forward to the day. Finally a boundary after 35 minutes.


So what happened, well, his eyes caught glance of a headline on the front page in the daily newspaper ‘Errant student let off after deal with authorities’. He had finally made it to the front page of a newspaper though not exactly in the way he would have wanted. Isn’t it cool to be famous. I love when people ask for my autographs; so glad to be part of Mityha XI.

No, we didn’t go after the newspaper. He went after the dean and we followed suit. A written apology from dean was required to absolve him of his tarnished image. His protest continued. This partnership can really save the day for us. It has been building beautifully over some time, exactly what was needed, but let me shut up, lest commentators curse take hold.

Not really. Not everyone was behind him fully. Some were afraid that if a DISCO (disciplinary committee) was set up following this incident, maybe he will go scot-free but they, who had actually indulged in the nefarious acts of actual ragging, would be prosecuted.

My role in the whole thing? well, I had friends on both sides. He and his supporters were my best friends, but so were some of those who were putting forth the theory of DISCO and questions in parliament. A parliament session was going on and it was not unheard of that questions related to ragging in IITs, directly tied to that incident, could be raised and many students face suspension/ termination. So I was ambivalent. I could see merit on both sides. The DISCO/ parliament session combo was a fast one even for me. I could merely duck!

What did I do? What do you do when bouncers keep hitting you on helmet? I gently convinced him that it was not worth going after dean’s resignation; an apology should suffice. A movement was building up- he was not going to classes and monkey see-monkey do, some of us had decided to wear black ribbons as a mark protest ourselves if this continued for some more time; Even some teachers in humanities department had voiced concerns and things were getting chaotic. Numerous Lion Kings were emerging. Being the Monkey King, I tried to restore order to things.

Yes, I succeeded. Dean apologised in writing and in person. He didn’t resign though. He resigned though. Dispirited he resigned from the post of cultural secretary, never to venture in that territory again. He started attending classes again. The situation was diffused.

Why did I do it?  Well, I never did rag, so I was not afraid for myself. I never even had that much of sympathy for those who had actually ragged and might have been impacted if situation continued to snowball. What I was afraid was for him- the more the situation continued the more he was losing - a bit of his former self day by day and that I could not bear. I did it for him.

My regret or lament?  Yes I do have one.  Why wasn't another article published in that same newspaper:  ‘Errant Dean let off after deal with students’.