Monday, 14 August 2006

The dog probably died last night. The head was totally gone. Its four legs were up in the air.

“My God” murmured Steve Sanders. He almost ran over the dead dog. The disc brakes of his bike helped him avoid that unpleasant encounter. He stopped the bike and stared at the dog.

Five minutes later, Darren Gough coughed, “Dude, if you are done appreciating the beauty of death, can we move along? We are already late to work.”

“How can you be so insensitive?” Steve gave his partner a stern look, “Do you know how many such dogs and cats die everyday on the highways? The rascals driving those buses and cars and trucks.”

“And bikes and cycles” Darren interrupted Steve’s angry lecture, “The point is Steve, the trucks or the cars you are talking about haven’t strayed into Gir forest and ran over black bucks. Have they? Highway is a vehicle territory. The dogs have no business wandering sleepily on this high energy zone.”

“You are sick man” Steve started the bike, “I am gonna work with Blue Cross and see that the number of such deaths come down drastically.”

“How? Are you going to build fences along all national and rural highways?” Darren was curious.

“Very funny. I know my limitations. I just want to educate the drivers that these animals deserve better treatment. If you see a dog on the highway, you apply brakes; wait for the dog to cross the road and then start the vehicle. It is simple, right? I don’t know why most people don’t do this.”

They reached office. Thirty minutes later, there was a frantic call from Steve to Darren.

“Dude! How do I get in touch with Blue Cross?”

“Simple, talk to Maneka Gandhi”

“Yaar! I am serious.”

“Ok talk to Amala”

“Amala who?”

“Nagarjuna’s wife. South Indian superstar.”

“You mean Telugu superstar?”

“Yes of course.”

“Yaar. I did everything I could do to join Blue Cross but it is not accessible at all.”

“Really? In thirty minutes you have tried and exhausted all the avenues?”

“Yes yaar! I have been Googling and Wikipeding for the last twenty five minutes. I could get some phone numbers and email ids. I sent an email to one of those IDs.”

“Good! Let us wait for a response.”

“Yes. Actually I can sleep peacefully now that I have contributed by two cents to the welfare of dogs straying on the highways.”

“You rock man.”

“No way. I am just doing my duty as a responsible citizen of India.”

Tuesday 15^th August 2006

Steve laughed loudly. The entire wing stopped all its work and stared at him.

Embarrassed, he apologized, “Nothing. Just that my client thought I was American.”

Darren smiled, “Name?”

“Yes. I don’t know why my parents named me Steve Sanders. It doesn’t fit in India.”

“Same feelings here too. Whoever I mail, they think we are English or American. When they come to know that I am from Palakollu and you are from Palakkad, they go crazy!”

Steve nodded and hit the Send/Receive button on his Outlook session.

“Yaar! No mail till now from Blue Cross. This is crazy.”

“That is the sad state of affairs in India man! What can we do? Corruption is everywhere. Let us get out of here yaar. Bahut hogaya. Let us go watch a movie.”

“Great idea.”

They hopped on the bike and sped towards PVR Cinemas.

“Only Rang De Basanti is available.”

“Ok. No issues. I don’t actually hate Aamir Khan.”

Three and a half hours later, a dazed Steve shook his head, “I want to do something for this country.”

An equally dazed Darren nodded, “I feel so restless now. Something needs to be done to improve India. I hate politicians. I hate corruption.”

Steve was determined. “We shouldn’t aim for the impossible. Whatever we want to do, it should be tangible.”

“Yes it should be” Darren agreed.

“Maybe after twenty five years, we will be able to get into the Parliament. But now, we should work at the grassroots level.”

Darren patted his friend. “You are truly an asset to India man.”

Just then they witnessed a motorcycle trip over a pothole on the highway to their office.

Steve and Darren rushed to the spot and helped the rider get back on the bike.

“This road should have been repaired by December last year. All I see is a couple of piles of sand on either side of the road. Look at the pathetic condition.” Steve was furious.

Darren thought for a moment, “Maybe this is our calling. We should talk to the authorities, stage a demonstration and get this road repaired. It will help everyone on the grassroots level.”

“Brilliant idea” Steve couldn’t hide his excitement, “I will be at it as soon as we get back to work.”

Wednesday 16^th August 2006

“Yaar I got a mail from Blue Cross.” Steve said.

“Cool man. So your Save Highway Dogs campaign is all set to start?”

“No yaar. I am thinking about it. I think we need to properly channelize our efforts to optimally use the resources.”

“Meaning?”

“I think we should look at the larger picture. See, yesterday we decided to work on the repair of our office highway. I think that is more grassroots than this dog campaign.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

“Now that you mention it, I feel the same way yaar.”

“Yeah! So I just marked the email as important and stored it in my personal folders. I will get back to it once I am done with this highway project.”

“Have you figured out what to do?”

“Yes.” Steve said with a smile on his face, “Have you heard about the Right to Information act?”

“Right to What?”

“Information. A new act. If you ask for the status of any project or anything in this country through the proper channel, you are going to get a response. Otherwise it is breach of law.”

“So?”

“I am going to exercise this right to get the latest status of this highway project and why there is a delay in its completion.”

Two hours later, a visibly dejected Steve stormed into Darren’s cubicle and declared that India was going to dogs.

“What happened?” Darren asked him.

“Nothing. I talked to the project director. Told him that I wanted some information on why there was a delay in completing project. He told me he wouldn’t tell me anything. I explained that I had a right to ask for information. I quoted The Right to Information act. He was like, ‘Right to what?’”

Darren thought for a moment, “I know a judge. I will ask him what the proper procedure of invoking this act is.”

“I am disappointed yaar.” Steve slumped into the chair.

Darren tried calling the judge. “He is not picking it up. Maybe he is not in town.”

Thursday 17^th August 2006

“You know what?” Steve was excited, “Genelia talked to me today.”

“What? You kidding right?” Darren was jealous.

“No man. She talked to me today. Her module actually had some issues she was unable to resolve… some Java beans stuff and I solved them for her. She was blown away.”

“So?”

“So I asked her for a treat and she readily agreed. We are going to Tumhara Naam Kya Hai tomorrow?”

“Tumhara Naam Kya Hai? What is it?”

“Arre yaar! Latest Hindi romantic movie. See ya later.”

“Wait” Darren pulled out a sheet of paper from his bag, “This is the procedure to invoke that Right to Information act. I got it from the judge.”

Steve pocketed it hurriedly. “Yes. Thanks. I will look into it later. For now, I have a girl to take care of.”

Friday 18^th August 2006

They both stared at the uprooted tree.

“I feel so sad” Genelia said “when I see trees getting uprooted just because some bonehead somewhere wanted to expand some road.”

Steve nodded, “Yes this is why the temperature of Earth is increasing at the rate of 1 degree per century. I think so. Read somewhere.”

“We should do something about this Steve. We should protest cutting down these highway trees. Who wants a six lane road? We want a healthy atmosphere for our kids.”

“Our kids?” Steve couldn’t hide his surprise.

Genelia smiled warmly.

“Eureka!” he shouted, “I will ensure that no trees are cut down from now onwards. Do you know the phone number of Green Peace?”

The End.

Pull the plug

I stared at him. His eyes told it very clearly. Pull the plug Goddamnit!

Fifteen years back, when I first met him outside our college – he tried to sell me a credit card. I patiently explained to him that college kids normally didn’t qualify for credit card offers. Probably he was standing at the wrong gate. There was an IT company right opposite to our college.

“Oh Yeah! Sorry madam. I on the wrong gate.” He was embarrassed.

“That’s why the chicken crossed the road!” I replied.

We hit it off. He was a graduate – passed the course in his third attempt. While his English was pidgin, his Tamil was equally bad.

“Thirukkurala? Kettadillaiye?” He said the other day. I told him all about the great Thiruvalluvar including the saint’s statue near Vivekananda Rock off the coast of Kanyakumari.

He was perhaps the only Tamilian who hadn’t heard of Thiruvalluvar until then.

“How you know him? You are Telugu no?” He asked me immediately.

“Yes! But I have been in Tamil Nadu for the last four years.” I said.

We got married three years later. Our parents died long back. So there was no one to protest. We went to a priest, spent some five thousand rupees and became a couple.

“Singaperumal Koil vandaacchu. Get down.” He woke me up. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and peered outside. The vibrant village of Singaperumal Koil was just waking up.

I alighted from the bus and waved him off. He was traveling to his hometown near Madhurai. I worked in a software company near Singaperumal Koil.

Please, pull the plug you idiot!

The message was clear. I knew I had to do it. In fact I wanted to do it. I wanted to walk out of the room with a sense of accomplishment.

It was a cat as per the eyewitnesses.

The driver wanted to avoid, of all things in this world, a cat; a cat with three legs.

The result was that the cat lived to tell the tale all the three legs intact. The bus plunged into the river. The driver was never seen again. My man took the impact on his spinal chord.

“What can I say – It is a wonder he is still breathing. But he is completely paralyzed. He cannot even hear anything. Only his eyesight is functioning normally.”

I tried hard not to cry. I missed a shoulder to cry on.

“When will he be normal doctor?” I asked him.

He replied with silence.

“Will he ever be normal doctor?” I persisted even though the answer was pretty evident to me.

It took me quite a while to accept the situation. My man was going to be like this for the rest of his life. He would wake up everyday and stare at the ceiling. He would do that for twelve hours with brief spells of unconsciousness in between. He would try to talk through his eyes. I could see the pain, the frustration, the confusion and finally the nirvana – His eyes, those hazel ones I fell for, were the window to his soul. I understood his thoughts comprehensively. We talked as if we were chatting in his favorite Tea shop right outside our one room apartment in Velachery.

And one day he appeared more serious than he ever was.

It can’t continue like this.

Why not?

Our bank balance is zero. No money to pay.

I will do something.

What?

I will think of something. I can do anything for you.

Be practical.

No! I don’t want to be practical here. I want to be just myself. I want to talk to you like this everyday – No TV to disturb us. No calls for HSBC.

How pay for treatment? We don’t have anything.

I will manage. I can manage. I will go to my relatives.

His eyes smiled. He knew I was talking without thinking. I looked away to hide my tears.

He slept. I stared at him. The moonlight was sneaking into the room. I knew I wouldn’t be able to extract a penny from any of my relatives. I knew it was the end of the road for me. I knew what was in store. I knew everything. The only thing I didn’t know was how to accept the facts.

Pull the plug

My conscience roared again. It’s best for him. Rid him off this miserable life.

That night I withdrew two hundred rupees from the ATM and decided not to have a printout of the transaction. I was not ready to see the remaining balance of my account. I just walked on the road – at ten in the night. The beach was deserted. I sat there on the sand watching the waves – the reflection of the moon, the ships emerging victorious from the horizon.

Pull the plug

I stood up and started walking into the sea. Pull the plug. All because of a three legged cat. The water was icy. Don’t you know it is the end of the world. It ended when you said Goodbye!

I was angry. I was furious. I didn’t know whom to blame for wrecking my wonderful life. The cat? The driver? My bank balance? I wanted to kill somebody. I wanted to take revenge. I had to find a channel to vent my anger. It was building up inside me uncontrollably.

Twenty years before, I found myself in a similar situation. It was my pet cat. It came under a speeding motorcycle. Fortunately the rider was not injured. My cat however was almost crushed. The Vet shook his head and declared that it had to be put to sleep.

“Why? She is still alive.” I cried.

“She will lead a life of misery Tanya. It is in her best interests that we have to do this.” My father tried to reason with me.

“Go away. No one touches her.” I shouted with tears rolling down my cheeks.

My mother locked me up in the bedroom when the cat was given the injection. I cried for two days. I had never really recovered from that shock. I had not been able to understand our Vet’s reasoning.

Ten years later, my parents went on a tour to Kashmir. They wanted to see Dal lake. I was in a boarding school then. I begged them to take me with them. However they didn’t agree. It was a celebration of their twentieth wedding anniversary and they wanted to spend it alone.

The night they left, I cried for hours. The fact that I was not considered as an integral part of their marriage hit me very badly.

I hated them. When my uncle – the one who had never bothered to visit us till then – broke the news that my parents would never come back from Kashmir, I was silent. I didn’t feel like crying.

My life had since then undergone sweeping changes. No one wanted to take care of me. I found myself at the mercy of the orphanage next door.

The water was inviting. Just a couple of steps more and I would be history. As I was about to take those two steps, I heard his voice in my mind.

If you kill yourself, who will talk to me my dear?

I stopped. Who will talk to me?

Next morning I went to that place near Thindivanam where the accident happened.

“Where is that cat?” I asked the police inspector.

He didn’t ask me why I wanted that cat. He knew my plight. “Saravana” he called his head constable.

It took us just about half an hour to locate the cat. We found it in the slums. It was by then a very famous cat. The cat that killed thirty, injured ten and immobilized one.

“Madam, Anbe Sivam paatthengala?” Saravanan asked me. I nodded. I did see that movie. I knew what he was thinking. It was a dog there. The coincidence was killing me.

I took the cat in my hands. Taxo plasmosis. Put it down. I could almost here my man screaming from the hospital. I only told him how dangerous cats could be. Taxo Plasmosis could create grave complications during pregnancy. Cats carried the bacteria Taxi Plasma Gondi. I loved cats. He started despising them after this revelation.

“If it is dangerous I don’t want it in home.” He declared firmly.

I didn’t foresee that it could be this dangerous. Forget Taxo whatever, the cat did take its toll.

“Madam, Enna paNNapporenga?” Saravanan asked me curiously.

I smiled and took a butcher knife out.

Saravanan screamed, “No!”

I kept on smiling. The cat’s head was the first target. Then I attacked those three legs. Finally I worked on its tail.

“My God! Kadavule! Ayyo paavam” Saravanan vomited.

I showed the knife to him, “Don’t sympathize with the cat.”

“But what did it do?”

“It derailed my life Saravanan. I know it was not the cat’s mistake. I know I acted in a barbarous way. However I needed to kill it. It was something that could bring closure to the turmoil in my life. My mind is now clear. I know what to do.”

Saravanan was aghast.

“Where can I find the driver of the bus?” I asked him.

It gave him a jolt. “No madam No! He went missing. We don’t know where he is.”

I handed my visiting card to him. “Do me a favor Saravanan, give me a call if you hear anything about him.”

When I boarded the bus back to Chennai – I just couldn’t wait to get to the hospital.

Pull the plug

I will my dear I will. Can’t wait to do it now.

The End.