~* What I Don't Want To Do When I Grow Up *~

Deciding one’s profession is perhaps the most important decision youth have to make. As soon as you are out of school as an adolescent, everyone begins to ask to that one question: “So, what career do you want to pursue?” You are expected to know the answer well before you are eighteen years old. Well meaning uncles advise you to assist your father in the family business, your own father wants you to become the best software engineer there is and join Bill Gates at Microsoft. Your mother, who has seen you grow up in front of her eyes, wants you to pursue painting, which is very close to your heart. But there is one field which is absolutely no one recommends: politics.

And with very good reason. Yes, I do not want to be a politician once I grow up. Politics nowadays is a field littered with scavengers, vultures who want their share of the pie before the Motherland can have hers. The people themselves have lost faith in the system of governance, with our democracy being labelled as a joke. Yes, we are considered to be the world’s biggest democracy with the maximum number of voters. But then Muslim leaders target the Islamic population and Hindu fanatic leaders are no less, embarking on a campaign of Hindutva. Local parties want to oust all the North Indian population from Mumbai, claiming they take away the local’s right to employment and space of dwelling. When the country’s own leaders want to divide the masses on grounds of religion, faith, caste, greed, race or belief, you can understand that the state of governance in the country is poor. The country’s political system is at war with itself, almost choking on the level of bureaucracy and red tapism that exists.

Politics in our country has been reduced to nothing more than a blame game. The Parliament has begun to resemble a crowded fish market, with no one listening to the other person. Thus, in such a condition it is not advisable to take up politics. You will lose all that is close to you, your morals, your conscience and your values. The system will not allow you to survive otherwise.

To be the proverbial lotus in the dirty lake will be increasingly difficult in times to come. I do not want to be a corrupt politician leading my country to certain doom. I want to help from the outside, without involving myself in the faltered system which could not prevent the terror attacks in November despite being warned. There is now certain anger in the masses towards the governments it needs to be channelised in a positive way.

More politics, back biting, bureaucracy and blaming is not the answer. It is time we ourselves from organizations to solve the country’s problems and help the poor and needy. Taking active interest in the well being of society is a fundamental duty of every citizen. If we educate ourselves and others effectively about this, I am sure India can rise and shine. India will once again be the golden songbird of the world. I will forever be devoted to the service of my country. As I say in my pledge to the country daily: - “To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion. In their well-being and prosperity, alone lies my happiness 

*~ Stadium Ka Maja Sirf Stadium Mein Hai ~*

Yet another encounter in the cash rich cricket league called the IPL was about to get underway. The Mumbai Indians were taking on the Royal Challengers Bangalore at the swanky new Wankhede stadium. The match was due to start in an hour’s time and Pankaj was still stuck in a long serpentine queue leading up to the gates.

“I hope we don’t miss the toss,” a flustered Pankaj grumbled to one of his friends. “Relax dude! Aaram se pahunch jaayenge,” his friend Karan tried to assuagethe fears of their group.

“We’d better bro. I want to see Pollard & Gayle..” Pankaj’s voice trailed off as his breath caught in his throat. A flash of red had caught his attention. More specifically, a female beauty wearing the RCB colours had drawn his attention.

She stood from her friends and Pankaj’s heart skipped a beat as well as beat faster at the sight of her. He couldn’t help but stare at the tall ethereal beauty. Suddenly, the match wasn’t what was occupying his mind space.

When they entered the stadium, Pankaj was elated to know that ther beautiful starnger’s group was seated in the row right in front of them.

“Mumbai aaj jeetegi yaar. Akela Gayle kya kar lega,” said a fired up Karan as they took their seats. An angry voice in front of them retorted,” Excuse me guys! RCB is going to nail it tonight. MY Virat Kohli will kill the blue brigade.”

Pankaj’s heart began its abnormalities again. For it was the same gorgeous angel who had admonished his friend. He also felt a deep pang of envy towards Virat Kohli, the foul mouthed heartthrob of millions of girls in India.

He managed a smile and shot back, “We shall see about that. Don’t forget that the God of Cricket is on our side. YOUR Virat Kohli is nothing but a thumb sucking kid in comparisionto the Master Blaster. “

Her perfectly featured face blushed a deep red as she realised how evident her possessiveness of Kohli was. Quickly regaining her feistiness she remarked,” Dude! That’s so not happening! I’m telling you...” Her voice trailed off as she realised we were distracted. The cheerleaders had stepped onto the field!

“Quit ogling you hopeless guys! I’ll tell you what – I’m even willing to place a wager. 500 bucks says RCB wins tonight.”

"No, I’m not interested in something like that,” Pankaj remarked. Drawing up his courage he said,” Losers treat for dinner. Let’s make it interesting.” His friends gape in awe. The usually reticent Pankaj was turning on the charm for the pretty lady.

“Very well then. Have it your way. Just be prepared to dish out the dough,” came the prompt reply.

Pankaj couldnt help but grin. No matter what happened in the game, he was going to have dinner with a very pretty lady. “Listen, give me your name & number. How do I know you’re not going to run away after the mauling?” Pankaj said.

A bemused smile curled up on the girl’s face. This was crunch time. Knowing her contact details was an absolute must for our Pankaj. She said,”I am Pallavi. Here’s my number.” Pankaj somehow managed to get his wobbly fingers to save the number. This was going much better than he could have ever imagined.

38 overs of intense action later, the equation boiled down to this: RCB needed 19 runs off 12 balls. Virat Kohli was batting like a man possessed, already notching up a fine 70 not out. However, his team mates had failed to rally around him & RCB had already lost 7 wickets in the thrilling chase.

Lasith Malinga ran in to bowl the 19th over. A well set Virat Kohli anticipated the short ball and pulled it away for 4. Pallavi & her friends high fived each other. 15 needed off 11.

During the match, Pankaj managed to learn a few things about Pallavi. She was an independent woman who had built a start up IT firm in Bangalore after quitting her job. He liked what he saw even more.

Malinga ran in to bowl the next delivery. Again, the gifted Kohli outfoxed the bowler and dispatched the ball for four more. 11 needed off 10 as the boisterous Mumbai crowd was stunned into silence.

The next delivery was a well disguised slower ball and Kohli could only hit it for a single. 10 runs off 9 balls. 30,000 pairs of eyes stared intently at Malinga as he ran in to bowl to the tail ender. His trademark delivery, the swinging Yorker, landed perfectly and uprooted the leg stump.

 Pankaj leapt up and let out a war cry as a stunned Pallavi held her head in her hands. The next delivery was an exact action replay. Another tail ender had his stumps shattered by a Malinga toe crusher. The equation was now tantalizingly delicious. The hat trick ball was safely defended by the batsman, which left RCB with 10 to get off the last over.

Virat Kohli took guard against Johnson. He knew it was all up to him. He needed to hit the next 10 runs. Not too far away, Pallavi looked on, a silent prayer on her lips.

Pankaj was wondering where to look: the action on the field or the gamut of emotions playing out on Pallavi’s impeccable features. Johnson began well – no runs were conceded in the first two balls. 10 off 4 needed. Pallavi & her group were now yelling themselves hoarse with the cries of “Kohl! Kohli! ” Finally, the booming sound of leather on willow could be heard as a brilliant square cut yielded 4 runs. 6 needed off 3.

“Why didn’t Johnson look to bowl a Yorker?” a worried Karan yelled out. Pankaj was too nervous to make any observations on strategy.

Johnson ran in to bowl the next ball. Some of the confident swagger had returned to Kohli’s stance. It was evident that he backed himself to finish the job. Kohli connected with his lofted shot straight over the bowlers head. It hurtled towards our stand for a huge six! Pallavi stuck her hand out and caught the flying ball and the small RCB contingent in the stadium broke out in a victory dance. A beaming Pallavi kissed the ball and pocketed the little piece of cricketing history.

After an amazing but expensive dinner, it was time to say goodbye. “Told you to not doubt Kohli,” said a beaming Pallavi, “He is a star yaar.”

“Yes. That he is. Perhaps we should celebrate the win alone. “ a hopeful Pankaj asked.

Pallavi’s eyebrows shot up & she flashed Pankaj a brilliant dimpled smile. “Thought you’d never ask shy boy. Let’s go.”

Pankaj was delighted. Lalit Modi was right. Stadium ka maja stadium mein hai.

*~ The Act of the Devil*~

Sid stood waiting at the bus stop late at night after completing his overtime at work. It was raining profusely and bus service was understandably affected. He cast his eyes on the rain pouring down from the heavens and into the overflowing puddles on the road. He imagined children splashing, thrashing and frolicking in the monsoon downpour. He sighed deeply and forced himself to think of other things. But alas! The human mind is programmed to think the thoughts which the individual wants to eliminate from his consciousness. It was no wonder then that Sid was thinking of children. After all, today was the 28th of June, a date which Sid would always remember as “that date.” 

His bus arrived and he got into it. The conductor had to literally yell in Sid’s face to bring his attention to the fact that the bus fare had to be paid. He paid it distractedly and sank back into his seat, forgetting to collect the change from the conductor. 

In his mind’s eye, the events of two years ago were unfolding before him. He remembered the call he had received from Urvashi that fateful evening. Her worried tone instantly told him something was amiss. She was his girlfriend of almost three years, and they had even been thinking of tying the knot once her fashion designing commitments abroad were done. Yup, she was one of those superwomen of the 21st century who considered her career as her top priority. She had tasted much deserved success and would be traveling to and fro from Europe to meet other fashion designers there and design clothes for a reputed MNC brand. Sid was extremely proud of her. 

Her frightened tone over the phone made him anxious as he knew it would take something really big to unsettle a tough cookie like Urvashi. Little did he know at that point that all his beliefs, faith and indeed- his entire value system- would be thrown out the window. 

Urvashi went on to disclose the source of her worry: she had discovered a few days earlier that she was pregnant. Of course, no one knew of it yet but there would be hell to pay once her parents caught wind of it. Then, just like that, she told him of her decision to abort the child as it would complicate life and would render all her hard work in vain. What with the MNC contract and all that. 

Sid could not believe his ears. He told her they could sort things out, make everything alright and have a happy family. Abortion amounted to murder for him; it was a sinful pact with devil. Taking the life of an innocent who had not yet opened his eyes to the world went against his values. Tears were shed, arguments were fought and harsh words were exchanged. The result: Urvashi remained adamant and went through with the “medical termination of pregnancy”. Sid and Urvashi never spoke again.

But today, exactly two years after that horrific phone call, Sid was lost in his thoughts. His mind played harrowing tricks on him; painfully forcing him to think of the ifs and buts. He thought of his baby; how his features would have been; how he would have cried and how he would have been pacified with his favourite toys. How his little child could have blessed his world and help him rediscover and relearn the joys of the world through his eyes. But then the melancholy of the facts hit him hard: those features of his chld would never be formed, those toys would never be bought and those eyes would never open to make sense of the world. God’s most beautiful gift had been discarded like an unwanted accessory. His entire being cringes at the violence of the events. Sid’s regret knew no bounds. Afterall, he knew there was no forgiving the Act of The Devil.