Part 49: The great collapse!

November 1, 2003! Saturday!

It was around 8.30am.

The one more blow was given by the fate in my life in the form of a news.

‘Kishan Ji is no more!!!!!!’

None of us could not believe it at all. What we came to know was he committed suicide!!!

Kishan Ji’s body was brought to his residence only at 11am on the day of the funeral, which was to be held at 4pm.almost everyone except me broke down with heart-chocking sobs when they saw Kishan Ji’s body. They were inconsolable but I could not shed tears.

Large mounted pictures of Kishan Ji’s with his family and with all of us in happier times framed on the walls of the room, now drenched with muffled sobs.

No retakes in this death scene-it was irrevocable, a final shot, canned for posterity!

Kishanji was very close to all of us from the date we have joined. He was the greatest strength during all our work. And I was almost treated as his elder son. So close we were. It was not a surprise for me when others offered me to do the last rites for him (Of course it was Kishan Ji’s last wish too), something that is usually done by the son or male member of the family. Kishanji had not such members as his marriage was an inter caste, being a highly educated and upper class Brahmin Kishanji stood with his love though all his relatives were against the marriage. Her wife was an orphan who used to work in the social activities of a reputed trust.

At the electric crematorium, watched by others, I carried on earthen pot filled with water on my left shoulder and encircled Kishan Ji’s body three times. After completing each round, a hole was pierced in the pot, which let out the water. Then I broke the pot with waters in it its said is to symbolically cool the body, which will soon be put into the electric crematorium. I lit a piece of camphor, which was placed on Kishan Ji’s body – my last gesture of worship to the person who has been my good friend, guide, and colleague.

At the residence, before the body was brought to the crematorium, whoever tried their utmost to keep a dignified and composed face but all through the last rites, broke by heart completely. On the other hand I could not cry but the mirror of my heart broke completely on that day.

Death is such a heavy burden, sometimes unbelievable. We know death is inevitable, but nevertheless, when it stalks, the spasm of pain is so poignant that it makes you wonder whether you will ever recover.

For me perhaps not any longer. Though every stage of my life I had maintained the dignity and controlled myself that day could not.

It was such a blow and very difficult to digest. Especially when I was trying to recover by the previous blows. I have not even completely healed.

It was a sight that broke my heart yet again because it’s a sight that has become painfully familiar.

Losing one more friend! One more valuable life, which can never come back!

All the members of our family were in a deep sleep that night. I’d told them that I have some official work and have to finish the art for tomorrow s daily.

A plate of fruits was there on the table along with a knife (?).

My mom came twice to check what I was doing. Just to escape, I had spread the magazines, which I brought from Coimbatore last time. I pretended as I am reading them and later she went to her room. It was almost half an hour from then.

I was in deep thought .I was depressed like never before. Earlier I’d feel the earth was a beautiful place to live in. I’d believe that there was good in everyone. But today I am not sure I don’t know whom to trust.

I can walk on the road where there is no light but how can I walk on the road where there are no dreams, there is no belief?

I was losing faith in the goodness of the people. I felt helpless. I can’t even bend my anger.

My mind might would console myself that tomorrow would be another day. But the whispered question within my heart was now getting steadily louder – can those very special persons who were close to my heart turn back the clock to previous days..? Or was it the end of all hopes? I sincerely did not have any hope that I would be able to get back my earlier beliefs.

Was there any anyone who could answer my questions? Was there anyone who could bring my beliefs back? Blasphemy? Perhaps not any longer.

I knew I might never be the same Hari again. I knew that I might not be able to rise from the ashes yet again. Though I didn’t break down so far or even shed a tear. I felt as if something has been sipped out of my soul.

Suddenly I saw no point in being good? I had lost faith in goodness, everybody starts looking bad. The whole world was looking meaningless for me. All relationships looked pale. I felt alone and disgruntled.

My obituary was written; Kishan Ji’s death was the preamble to my epitaph. Lost belief was assumed to be the last nail on my coffin. My mind had been postmortemed. Mentally I was almost dead. That day the recess of mine was colder than a morgue. The cold of Switzerland was nothing compared to the emotional coldness I felt then.

It was not a suicide. It was a murder. Yes, the society killed my Kishanji. The blind law ruined his life. Society! The dirty, bloody society! The blind, merciless, heart less, cruel society! Was not I a part of this society? Yes.. I was but I did not want to be any more. I didn’t want to live in this society. It was far better to die once instead of dying daily piece by piece. I did not want to live in this society; even if I live these dirty people don’t let others to live for their own reasons.

I had never been so close to despair, to death, to darkness, to pain as I was on that day, that night.

Poison, knife, rope tablets, well, sea, current …One or two?

Hundreds of ways to leave this world but to come to this world there is only one way.

Mother’s womb!

‘O mother..! Don’t use your tears to wash my dead body

Though my ashes slips through your fingers

I know, my memories will always be with you!

This imagination is alone enough to become a beautiful song to my ultimate journey!

Please forgive me I am helpless!’

Kishan Ji’s death was not just a death of a person. It was the death of humanity, burial of honesty, zenith of fate’s cruelty, the funeral of fraternity and the great collapse of ideality.

I was almost hard hearted, very practical person. Finding an emotional person within me was like something like finding a needle in a haystack. In such a case I don’t know how I swayed by emotions like a paper flower would drift in a rough breeze.

The letter that I was holding in my hand fell down along with the book on the floor.

Instinctively, my knees bent and upper part of my body toppled over and I crumbled: for almost one full minute. I was on all my fours, looking down into deep, dark hole.

‘Oh, Lord! Are you there? Are you listening? I want you! I don’t want to live in between these selfish people’s society. Till the date I’ve fought. Fought against all odds but now I am tired.. Too tired! I don’t know how to pass these long hours. I want you to hug me. I want to be in your arms, secured .in you warm hug I feel gifted!’

At that very instant, my painful feelings were flying and completing a last flip. Al those haunted memories too started racing in from all corners of the mind. The entire sequence perfectly symbolized my optimism’s collapse on that night. I seem, fate wanted to break the spirit, confidence in me, my hope completely before stepping up for the kill. May be, it didn’t want to take any chances either: after all, a good night's rest do wonders to even someone on the deathbed.

Suddenly there was terrible pain in my heart. I could not view the scene in front of my eyes. Things started looking blurring… There was probably just blink of an eye in between the most depressed moment and the sinking feeling. Just what I understood was I saw a form of man in white, standing in front of me.

‘Oh lord! At last you came to take me with you. I am content! Come, hold me. I want to be in your arms, secured. In you warm hug I feel gifted. Take me with you!’

Not even a gap of second. Even before I could analyze something, I had collapsed.

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Part 48: The gift, which he got for his hard work and honesty!

Krishna Swamy (42years, my one more colleague, very nice person and I used to call him as Kishan Ji), was traveling by rail across his native overheard a couple of fellow passengers. They were complaining about official corruption in a massive irrigation project.

Krishna swamy was surprised. Local party leaders had claimed to have beaten a drought by building a system of 70000 reservoirs to supply water to orchards and farmland. He had little reason to doubt them-until that day in the spring of 2003.

As provincial chief of the states run news agency’s political and legal affairs department, Krishna swamy felt compelled to investigate: State chief minister, had urged reporters to expose corruption. So armed with a notebook and camera, he visited more than a half dozen parched districts. The cement cisterns seemed impressive, but they were not connected to any water supply.

In fact the tanks were little more than props built at the behest of the local party leader.

Krishna Swamy ‘s report, published in our leading news letter read by states political elite, charged that the 34 crore project was no an irrigation effort but rather a “political project for the sake of the leader promotion in at that area.” Half –dozen newspapers and magazines picked up his story. State central television sent its own team to that area, and it verified Krishna Swamy’s findings.

Krishna Swamy ‘s expose should have earned him kudos. Instead he was arrested and charged with bribery, embezzlement closed trail he was sentenced to 13 years in prison.

Krishna Swamy’s wife Uma was left to care for the couples10year old daughter. She had to write to senior government officials pleading her husband’s case, had received no reply. By trying all our staff’s level best Krishna swamy had to remain in a prison cell unless the rulers consider his case.

There is a saying that says when tragedy occurs in comes in a row! It was same in the case of Kishan ji. Just after a week of this incident a groups of strangers entered his home at midnight. They raped his daughter of just 10 years old in a row and later killed her in front of her mother and robbed the house. Uma could not tolerate and committed suicide the very next day! A very happy family, a dream was shattered within a gap of just three weeks.

Kishanji was present for the funeral.I could not see Kishan ji in such depression, as he was such a nice person. Later when we went to meet him at prison after few days I noticed that he had lost every hope in his life. When his lovely wife and daughter were not alive anymore then how he could live?

Everybody left one by one. I was still standing over there.

Kishan ji asked me, ‘Why, Hari..Why you are not going..?’

What could I answer..? Just said, ‘I want you also to come back to your home very soon. It will happen. Very soon.’

Kishan Ji just smiled at me “No, Hari..May not. I don’t want to come back. Don’t want to live in that world. Life is meaningless for me. No meaning in living.’

I was shocked after listening to his words.. , ‘No, Kishan Ji..Don’t talk in such a way. Keep faith in god. Everything will be alright.’

Kishan Ji just looked at my face. ‘God? Is he there? Then why all these things happened? No, Hari. Truth has lost its' value today. I don’t think I may live for many days.’

‘What?’ I was shocked. Even before something I could ask I have informed by the securities that meeting time was over.

I had no choice. I Left the place. But his words put me in a shock. My heart was saying that there was something going to happen. My sixth sense was giving me the clear indication.

I could not sleep that night at all. Only I know how much I suffered that day. The things happened in Kishan Ji’s life was really shocking and very tragic, which we never expected.

The gift, which he got for his hard work and honesty!

But the fate was yet to begin its dance. Just a difference of a day!

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Part 47:Don’t burn my dead body as I am still waiting for some one to come!

Suddenly the words came to my mind..

‘You are going to meet both of them exactly after six years!’

…Almost five years are coming to an end. Till now I could not even find out who is that person for whom I am searching? Sometimes I feel like I got him. He is giving me the hints. It feels like he is calling me in my dreams. He is trying to say something. But I am not getting him. Feels like he is waving his hands to me. Giving his friendly hand to me. But when I want to touch those hands it gets disappear...I once again become alone. All alone.

I don’t know my friends, whether we are really going to met each other in this life or not. Because this life is so short and uncertain. But trust me if I am still alive and hoping for something then it will be the meet of us. You are reason behind my smile. If I have to die before our meet then will write few words.

‘Don’t cover my face with the white cloth as I've a habit of smiling

Don’t burn my dead body as I am still waiting for some one to come!’

Time was flying I did not know that fate would give yet another blow in my life by the terrible tragedy in the life of my on more colleague and good friend Kishan Ji. He was the one more person who treated me as his elder son. It was his tragic incident, which completely convulsed my beliefs in the world.. Did not I say there was someone who indirectly tried to stop me from leaving Coimbatore a month back? That time I could not understand who was he but after the tragedy in Kishanji’s life when I decide to leave the world he entered into my world!

It was the time when I flowed in the flood of emotions of my heart!

It was the time when he walked in, when rest of the world walked out!

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Part 46: My eyes ambition! My heart’s thirst! Only You!

It was almost 11.40 PM.

Some one was knocking the door and pressing the call bell together.

Suddenly all of us got up…My dad just opened the door to see who was that. One person was standing outside. Dad recognized that taxi driver.

‘What happened, Raghav? How come you are at this time.’

‘Some one is there in my taxi. And he told me bring him to this address. He is your son’s friend it seems. Met with an accident and he is unconscious.’

‘Oh my god!” I ran near to that taxi to see who that was. Everyone followed. Just turned his face towards me. I was shocked.

‘Rao!!!’ Without my knowledge those words came out my mouth. He is completely unconscious.

‘Oh my god.’

We rushed to the hospital.

Next day around 10 o’clock we were able to meet him. Then the real fact came out.

My colleague Ravindra Rao a 27-year old reporter had vowed to find an answer when troublemakers tore down a half –constructed school on the outskirts of city, most people in this eastern Mangalore town saw it as a senseless act of vandalism.

After interviewing witness and talking to Islam’s family, Rao conclude that facts pointed strongly to Hazari, Rao suspected, felt slighted when he was not invited to join dignitaries for the groundbreaking ceremony.

Certain he had the story nailed down; Rao put it over his agency’s news wire few days back. He was not worried about his own safety. ‘I thought if I exposed corruption, the government would back me up,” he said.” I did not think they could touch me.’

Rao was wrong. Just days after his story appeared, the reporter was waiting to catch a ride to meet me when a red jeep and a white van screeched to halt and a group pf men rumbled out.

‘That’s him,’ said one. A moment later, Rao says Hazari stepped out of the jeep and shouted, ‘break his hands and legs, then dispose of the body.’

Rao was forced into deserted community hall and beaten mercilessly with baseball bats, hockey sticks and iron rods. His legs were broken, his arms and hands shattered as he tried to use them to protect his face.

Semiconscious, Rao somehow had the presence of mind to feign death. When one of his assailants put his hand under his nose to search for a sign of life, he held his breath. They waved down a passing taxi and tossed him aboard, telling the driver to dump the body outside the town.

As the driver started his taxi. He heard Rao mumbling. ‘Take me to my friend’s house.’ The driver was able to make out an address that Rao said before slipping into unconscious. So that’s how Rao ended up in a hospital at Mangalore.

With a salary of just 4500 a month and no health insurance, Rao might have remained a cripple. But all colleagues at our office. And fellow kind people around the city pitched in. Thanks to their help he flew to Bangkok for numerous surgeries and physiotherapy.

The bones in Rao’s right hand were so badly dislocated that the fingers had ceased to function but his prognosis is fair. “He should regain about 70percent use of his right hand and 85percent mobility in his left,” said His doctor. (At the end, Rao returned to Mangalore recently to resume the career he’d pursued since his days on school newspaper. Hazari has denied involvement in the assault, but went into hiding after the city police pressed charges, raided his home and confiscated illegal weapons.)

After this incident my Mom was totally worried. She started to tell the work or reporters are always dangerous.

‘Why you want to still work for press?’.

I replied, ‘Why mom ..Why you are worrying? I am working for page 3 . I don’t work always at crime section. After all one day the other we have to die. So what’s in it if we have to lose our life for a good cause?’

‘Job can come and go but life is precious, which cannot come back at any cost.’

I just moved from the spot. Went near the beach, which is very close to our home. My mind was disturbed again that day.

‘Why all are worrying about death…. one day the other it should come. So why should we worry? Death means what? In one way it’s ultimate freedom by this mean world. We should be very happy to get freedom. Why worry? When death comes everybody get afraid? Why? Death is not so far to us. And not close to us. Which is not so far and not so close it will be with us at each step as part of our life. Most of the people think that death means end. But it is not end! It’s beginning. Beginning of a new life, if you go deep in that way. Everyone cannot accept the death. But if it comes to me I will invite him. I am very sure. I will never cry to leave this world. I will be very happy that I am getting freedom by all these. Don’t want to be bounded in false relationships. I know there is only one person for whom I am waiting and want to meet. And that is you. Only you!”

I just wrote these lines in my dairy that day sitting near on rock, which is at beach. Coincidently somewhere from far away I was able to listen AR Rehman’s Vande Mataram album’s my favourite song “Only you”. I just forget myself in spiritual thought whenever I listen to that song..

Ankhon ki aas hai is this dil ki pyaas hai.. jinki talaash hai ..only you..

Na chahta hoo main jannath yahaan …Na chahta hoo main jannath wahaan

Ha chahta hoo main only you. Ha chahta hoo main only you..

(My eyes ambition. My heart’s thirst…

And the person for whom I am searching for …is only you..

I don’t want any heaven here, I don’t want any heaven up there..

Yes. I just want you..I like you. Only you!)

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Part 45: Calm before the storm!

That night I could not sleep at all though there was silence all round. I think it was the calm before the storm. I became a fish out of the water. Somewhere outside there was this song of ‘Alaipayude’ was playing. Of course one of my all time favourite song it is.

“Evano oruvan yosikiran irutil irundhu nan yasikirane

thavam pol irunthu yosikiran athai thavanai morayil”

Somewhere in my diary I wrote a line long back. ‘Our favourite songs are those that express our saddest thoughts and deep feelings!’

I had a strong feeling that someone who was very close to me was trying to stop me at Coimbatore for some more time. I could not understand who he was but deep in my heart I felt so. Someone truly tried to tie me without a rope. I could not stay there, as I had to come back.

I knew that at least for the next six months I would not be able to visit Coimbatore, as my next official tours were almost fixed already.

I had to finish the work within the next day by afternoon. Not my official work but personal work of shopping. I always finish my official work one day before the dead line. So the nest day around 9a.m I visited my regular music shop where I buy the Cds and that’s the only place where I can get the original VCD’s of latest movies. I had a small list of the movie s another list of my favourite songs.

I had included ‘Moongil Kadugale’ and ‘Saamy’ songs but as a surprise the shop owner thought I was fan of Vikram. He told me that he would record the nice songs of Vikram’s movies. I did not deny. I think he was not busy that time and started to give a lecture about Vikram by asking, ‘Do you know which was Vikram’s first movie?”

I nodded, ‘No.’

‘It’s Meera. You must see that movie. Songs are very nice.’

‘Do you have those songs VCD?’

‘No. I don’t have.’

‘Okay .Can you tell me where I can get the old magazines? Is there shop, which sells them?’.

He suggested the shops name and gave me the address. I gave him the advance money for that CD s and told that I would be back within the next 2 hours and by that time my CD s should be ready. He agreed.

I hope you guessed what I did in those two hours. Yes you are right I collected almost thirty various magazines in which I found Vikram’s interview.

If you ask why only those articles related to him, not others, the fact is, at my home I have a big collection of 80% of almost all those celebrities life stories from all around the world who have achieved success in their life. I did not have Vikram’s story of success in my collection and I wanted to include that one too as I have a small library at home. Among all those stories so far I found Hollywood Actor Mel Gibson’s story of success as very interesting and amazing one by which a wonderful Hollywood movie called ‘A Man without a face' was born. The stuff sounds like fantasy yet it’s real and stunning.

How many of you believe that today’s newspaper is tomorrow waste paper? Is it? Think gain. If we follow the same line then last month’s magazine should be in today’s dustbin. Am I right?

No it’s wrong. A newspaper can be considered as waste only after you collect the good points and keep those papers cutting with you forever.

When I came back my CD s were ready. Though I had ordered only for ‘Saamy’ and ‘Sethu’, the shop owner had included ‘Dhil’ and ‘Kadal Sadugudu’ along with them. I did not reject as I had faith on him.

Excuse me. On whom? The shop owner or Vikram?

I just paid the money and rushed back as I had to return back to Mangalore. When I reached Mangalore it was 10pm.I had a thought that at least now I could sleep peacefully but fate had different plan altogether. Within the next one and half hour a storm was going to hit in my life. Without that knowledge I fell asleep. Time was moving...

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Part 44: A silver line in the black cloud!

That day there was deep desire in me to get the story of Vikram’s success somehow. I don’t pretend to be intellectual. I don’t even need to be. If you go by my to myself attitude, you’ll come to know that I’ have always been low profile, personally speaking. I’ve always been a quiet sort of person. I cannot open up easily .I’m still not that effervescent. I’m a reticent kind of person. I cannot be sit around and socialise with people I don’t like. I do my work and go. I cannot be a fake and act over-familiar with strangers of course, I do lot of fun and masti but that’s only after I open up with person. That’s me!

Earlier too quiet character I was. All of, reticent, distant. With that glass wall around me. ‘See but don’t touch.’

I close up if someone tries to get familiar. I am not one of those persons who take easily to their backs getting slapped. I have this wall around me; it’s not deliberate, but its there. Actually I like it. I can let only those in who I like; other trespassers will simply be electrocuted. Haha.

I am the last person to listen to anybody. I do what I feel is right. I have a mind of my own. Nobody can influence me to do things that I wouldn’t want to do. I have endured a lot in these few years and have done a lot of things for the sake of experience. As I said I believe in experiencing the life instead of enjoying.

I used to be nice and people used to say, God, how, can he be so nice? And I have suffered a lot because of that, and people have taken advantage of me. I’ve studied people very closely. I have learnt the difference between people who are really my friends and the ones who just put up a presence of being my well wisher.

I feel life is a learning process. Living and learning from our mistakes is imperative. For no one I know has mastered the art of life, or, even more so, human nature. The only problem is there is nothing as expensive as regret!

That night I was doing just toss and torn. I could not sleep. Normally I don’t fail in recognizing people’s real nature but that day I don’t know why deep in my heart I was rankling. Categorically my heart I was saying that somewhere I’ve made a mistake. But where?

‘Did not I recognize someone who is very close to me? He is under my nose but still invisible. Sounds like ‘Hey! I’m here!” but when I turn nobody would be there.’, The feeling was condensing.

Someone strikes match and there’s fire, which may show me the way to reach up to my friends but It does not take too long the flame to slimmer down the ash. The feeling would seem like that flame: Burning brightly, glowing, and emitting light all around and then dying down like a match.

I knew on which side my bread was buttered. I had to stop all my efforts of searching for those special friends that almost ended in smoke but there was a hope, a silver line in the black cloud, a ray of hope. Was it a drop of tear that I wanted to see below the microscope?

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Part 43: A drop of tear below the microscope!

That Sunday when I stepped out, there was only one discussion everywhere. It was regarding the Saamy function. I had to visit many people on official work that night till almost 12.30am. Believe it or not as a surprise everyone with whomever I met was discussing about Vikram as the Next superstar. Everywhere just one topic. I had nothing to say, as I knew, the audience is that fickle lover who writes your name in the sand and watches it being erased with each coming waves. But still it looked like a sign that harked the triumph of a star. The one that has hysterical college kids, profiting black ticket sellers, moviemakers appending the prefix ‘ Super’ to him, hosting hope in an industry that’s been hitting the through lately. I was not fancy about his stardom as stardom is short-lived experience but the thing I noticed about him was his modesty.

Excuse me. How could I judge a person as modest without meting him? It could also be acting.

Come on. If you’re really not nice, it would eventually show but I could not see any such signs in his face. Till today I can remember the Filmfare function –2002 where he was sitting at the front row, wearing a scarf on his head like commando with blue jeans and white full sleeve shirt. When Ajit received award the best actor award for the year 2002, Vikram was so happy and clapping a lot. That day I really liked his sportsmanship. I’ve seen many stars at award functions who behave like they have arrived from the heaven or demi gods. But alas! Those so called demi gods have feet of clay. In such situation he looked like someone who is very down to earth in his attitude. One could easily find modesty even in his laughter. Trust me that day I thought, ‘I am gut sure. Next year it’s none other than this guy who’s gonna bag the award and he will stay here.’

I don’t know why I felt so on that day when I was not even a admirer of him.

Excuse me. Wasn’t I? May be not for his movies but as a person he touched my heart that day itself I feel. That day Nagraj who is big fan of Vijay told me about Ajit and Vikram have acted together long back in ‘Ullasam’ movie.

‘Ullasam’! Gosh! I have heard about that movie long back and the song ‘Veesum Katru’ was one among my favourite song but that time I never knew that there is one more hero in the movie. And Nagraj told that the song was for Vikram in the movie.

Really? I just could not believe it at all.

Many time I was wondering that whether Nagraj is fan of Vijay or Vikram? Once I asked about this matter. He replied, ‘I like Vijay a lot more than Vikram but yeah, I enjoy Vikram’s acting too. The thing I don’t like in Vikram is his leg. He cannot run properly. If you notice there is something wrong in his leg. I think it’s due to accident at the time of ‘Dhool’. Vijay dances superb.

‘Yeah, I agree. I’ve noticed that fact in few scenes but it did not make any difference to his acting I guess.’, I said.

After few months of that conversation I saw him at the Saamy function. Vikram looked the same. Mr. Nice but the thing , which left an unforgettable impression in my mind was the tears of purely unadulterated joy, which were rolling down on his cheeks when Rajni was praising him. The unforgettable moment was when Vikram wanted to garland Rajni, instead of accepting it Rajni himself put that huge bays to Vikram, saying, ‘you deserve this’, there was tears in Vikram’s eyes. A tear that moved me completely. Why? I could not understand at all. One the other hand Rajni’s words, ‘Vikram has become a star after striving a lot. I had Balachandar for me the beginning so I was made a super star without challenges. Vikram has strived for 10 to 11 years.’ completely convulsed me.

If someone else were at Vikram’s place that day, I would have surely able to see horns on their head but in Vikram I saw only those tears, which had something to say. What was that? May be his struggle of those days or his dreams of those previous days.

I wanted to clutch those tears.

If you keep a drop of tear below the microscope it has so many things to say, only if you have that inner eye to view it. Each drop of tear would say hundreds of stories but who has the time to listen?

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