The Sherpa

The Sherpa

The climb

I was dangling in the crevice .It was bottomless, I looked up for help nothing was visible in the blizzard; it was certain death for me. Like a slide show, my whole life whizzed past in my mind starting with my school days in Nikkaduokta and college days in mining engineering college in Kiruna, my climbing expedition of Sweden’s tallest mountain Kebnekse , my failed marriage and finally my this attempt to climb Mt.Everest. My backpack was still there but my Oxygen mask with the cylinder had torn off. I was gasping for oxygen , I was hanging there with the support of my climbing harness which was tied to my mountaineering axe through my climbing rope. I shouted , “Help,help!” in vain.

Suddenly I felt the rope was sliding down, I got ready for the end, the axe could not take my weight any longer, I closed my eyes, I don’t believe in God but at that last second in my life I started hoping for a miracle.

I felt a jerk, I found I was slowly going up, finally God has sent a help or he himself had come. I could not believe this miracle, I was hallucinating, I have read somewhere that when death is very near then people start imagining all kinds of positive things. I have read some near death experience where they have felt as though some angel was leading them through a cave , there was light at the end of the cave.

Slowly I too could see a hazy light at the top, the rope was slowly pulling me up. I too put my climbing boots on the wall of the crevices and slightly inclined my body forward so that I can put my ebbing strength in the work of climbing up. It was too much, I blacked out.

With a jerk, I opened my eyes, it was dark but I could breath. I realized that I was wearing an oxygen mask; I tried to get up but a hand restrained me from getting up. The owner of the hand was messaging my calves, palms; I realized he was trying to normalize my blood circulation. I wanted to get up to see the stranger who saved my life or is it that i am dead and was in afterlife station?

 

     I tried to remember the sequence of events which led to my this predicament.

I was trying to enjoy the scenic beauty of Lohtse so came out of camp 2. It was plain surface of ice at the foothill of Lohtse at 8000 meter.There were climbers with us who were to attempt climbing Lohtse. The snow peak of Lohtse with setting sun ray bouncing on it was a mesmerizing sight with iridescent colour display. I was told the climb to that mountain is pretty steep and requires more climbing technique than climbing Mt.Everest. It was afternoon so I had planned with my Sherpa to climb to Camp 1 next day and then attempt climbing the summit of Everest. Before us already a few groups have hurried forward in excitement of climbing Everest. A long queue of climbers were trying for the final assault. At the base camp, we were told that in that year of 2017 Nepal government had issued license to some 3580 groups to attempt climbing Everest from the South side, with death rate of 1.2 percent people have become bold. No wonder there were so many tents in camp 2.Most of the Indian climbers were sponsored, one climber told me that something like 30 to 40 lakhs Indian rupee he raised for his climb. I too raised money from some commercial firms for my equipment but mostly it was my own money. The bad marriage forced me to take this break.

While I was strolling towards Lohtse I was careful enough to take all my climbing gears along. The temperature of my hometown Nikkaduokta goes down to minus 30 degree so the temperature of minus 18 was not much for me. I had watched how the Indian climbers were wearing tons of woolens.

While taking a stroll alone I did not notice how far I had gone. In the month of May I was not expecting any avalanche or blizzard but then suddenly there was blizzard and it was so unexpected that I stumbled forward and stepped in that damn crevice. I hurriedly hammered down my mountaineering axe at the lip of the crevice and tumbled down with my climbing rope, my oxygen mask tore off.

I kept the weather bitten grey diary on my night table and started thinking about the adventure of the climber, whew, it was quite a harrowing tale. I was reading the diary of Liam Johansson a climber from Sweden. Babulal had recently gone to Varanasi and managed to get this diary from a boatman. It appears that climber has by mistake left his diary in the boat. The boatman had the diary with him for more than a year. No one came to claim. While Babulal was going to Dashawamedh ghat by boat from Assighat then boatman Ganesh told him about the diary. Babulal knew that I was interested in this kind of odd things so got the diary after paying Ganesh some handsome money.

I had randomly opened the diary, started reading, it kept me glued. After reading, this portion decided to watch Discovery Channel on Mt.Everest ascent next day to visualize the climb. The Ascent of Everest by John Hunt was side book in our Delhi Higher Secondary course, i could co relate the events described.The two factors, altitude and the weather, tend separately and together to defeat the climber. The height weakens, slows him down ; The weather ,besides adding to the demands on his energy and moral fortitude, conspires to deny him the time he needs to complete the mission. The mission of climbing Everest is daunting and arduous task no doubt. 

I hit the bed and decided to read the rest of the diary next day to know about the mysterious helping hand. Was that yeti or God?

Sadhu and me

I have this penchant of being  drawn to Sadhus, it is not acquired now but as far as I can remember it is there from my childhood. During our school days in Delhi, we would be following Sadhus with Kamandal and Trishul  whenever they came to our area, as though they were pied pipers. They would be going round the houses to collect food grains or money and we would follow them around. Some of them would get annoyed finding us following them . However, a few would entertain us by singing bhajan or show some magic like producing something from the air.

I have interacted with various Sadhus during my adult life, in my earlier blogs  I had mentioned those.

I am not very clear whether Sadhus attract me or they see an easy prey in me to make a kill so they approach me, this boosts my ego as though I am the chosen one. One such Sadhu fleeced me of some money when I was in Barauni inspite of my wife cautioning me that the fellow was a fraud.

But now I will tell you about a Sadhu the conversation with him is still etched in my mind.

It happened long time back.

The meter gauge train from Gauhati was whistling out, I was waving at my friends from my first class compartment. Those days first class was a coupe of two. There were lot of women seeing off a Sadhu who was my co passenger. His devotees made the bed for him in the lower berth, my reservation was for upper berth, but it was yet not sleeping time. From the door, I looked back, the sadhu in plain white kurta and dhoti was sitting relaxed, I was irritated as he had left no place for me to sit. With irritation in my voice I said, “It is not yet sleeping time!”

He was embarrassed and with a folded hand invited me to share his bed, “Sorry for the inconvenience, my devotees in over enthusiasm spread the bed. If you wish I can roll it!’’

‘”No , please don’t, I will sit by your side.’’ I was ashamed of my rude behavior.

My luggage was below the seat; I pulled out my suitcase , took out my nightwear and headed for the attached washroom. After changing to casuals I comfortably sat by his side.

“Have you taken dinner? I can offer you some.”

“”Thanks, I had dinner at the station dining hall with my friends, you please carry on.”

“I don’t take dinner; I will take some fruits before going for sleep.”

Thus our acquaintance started. During the conversation, he told me that he has followers in Assam, Bengal and Bihar running to nearly a lakh.

He smiled at me and said, “From your attitude and questions I can make out that you don’t have much faith in God.”

I was caught, hesitantly asked him,’How do you know that the God exists?”

“Why your own Ramakrishna has said that if you believe then the God is there but if you don’t then the God doesn’t exist. It is the belief. You actually want to see or feel Him.’”

The discussion was becoming interesting; I was getting warmed up to the subject as I could feel that I was having conversation with a wise learned person..

He continued.

Have you seen Alaska? Have you seen Mars? You have not but you have heard or read about those. Similarly, you would get people who have felt Him or got some blessings from Him. I know you are a student of science and will look for scientific proof. Have you ever wondered who had produced so many species of leaving beings, the ocean and mountain? Can scientists produce a  tree where the water will be found like inside a coconut? Do you know that an albatross flies round the world without flapping it’s wings. Who designed those wings, which they flap only while taking off or coming down? It is believed they sleep during the flight, rarely come down and keep flying hundreds of miles without any rest, in their life period of 60 years or so they fly millions of miles. The aero engineers are studying the flight pattern and wings of this bird to design efficient airframe. Imagine a bird weighing 7 kgs or more flying on wing span of 12 feet across the continent miles after miles. Who has created this heaviest creature to fly?
There is God in every living being, you me and all.When you help some needy then you become God for him for that moment. We can not do faith healing but at least by extending our sympathy and empathizing with others problem we can give healing touch to their troubled soul.I don't perform any miracle or don't have solution for disease, that is the job of a doctor. i listen to others problems , try explaining the reason. 

Whatever he said on that day is the universal truth, there is no conflict of ideas, i was pretty impressed by his prabachan.

Well I was a skeptic but after talking to him I could know the limitation of my knowledge. Those days there was no Google to get instant information, one got to study books to acquire knowledge and then have to have intelligence to interpret those information. That Sadhu had read books and some realization had come to him which made him to adopt the life of a sage. To me he did not appear to be a fake like the modern ones we come across. He did not offer any magic potion to me like I have mentioned in my other encounters.

It was approaching bedtime, after bidding him good night; I climbed to my upper berth.

Next day morning the train reached Barauni, again there was a crowd of devotees to receive him. He smiled at me; I waved at him and got down with my luggage.

During my service life i was lucky to be posted in BHEL,Bhopal where apart from day to day work there were lot of social events. I was fortunate to come across some religious leaders like Jitamanand of Ramakrishna Mission, Rajeswaranand ( a muslim sufi turned hindu sage), the head of Digambar Jain sect, Shankaracharya of Kanchi,Mata Amritanandmayi of Kerala etc but that Sadhu on Assam Mail left an everlasting impression in my mind.

The Northern light

Yupik thrust a gaming rifle to me, I was terrified as we were chased by a pack of wolves in that snowy Siberia. I had fired a few shots during my NCC days but this situation was of life and death. Our sled pulled by husky dogs was smoothly sliding on piegnartoq (solid ice in Eskimo language), the green Northern light or Aurora Borealis was sufficient enough to see the vast icy landscape but suddenly the pack of wolves appeared from nowhere.

I had not bargained for this kind of adventure when Alexendrov offered me in Moscow to show Eskimos and their life styles. It was planned as two days trip, take two and half hours flight by Ural Airlines to Tbilisi, check in the hotel and  go to the nearest sled station for a round trip in that Siberian habitat of Eskimos. Stay the night in Tbilisi after the trip and next day return. It looked a very convenient plan to me so I had agreed.

From Tbilisi airport, Alexandrov and me took a taxi to a cheap hotel named Ma Xata, within half an hour we were in the hotel. It was in April ,the days were short but if we were lucky enough then it would be possible to see the Northern light during the late evening. We had a quick lunch then headed for the sled station at the out skirt of Tbilisis for our journey to the heart of Siberia by sled.

We had two sled drivers Insupiat and Yupik , over my jacket I was wearing a hooded parka and snow goggles to save the eyes from frost. Four of us on the sled, it was moving at 20km/h speed with 6 husky dogs were pulling it.The icy wind was hitting my face, i pulled out the stainless steel flask from my parka pocket and took a swig of brandy.It was ice everywhere a few slades zipped past,shadowy skeleton of fur trees were visible at the horizon. Slowly evening was setting in, I was eagerly waiting for the nature’s miracle. Suddenly Yupik shouted and said something in his language, Alexendrov  told me that we were lucky and pointed at the Northern sky. The sky was yellowish green and an inverted cone, which was moving like sea waves in the sky. The green light with occasional  blue and violet was reflected on the ice and was casting a magic spell all around. It was ice all around so the view was magnificent. For me it was like watching a surreal show , produced and directed by some mighty force. The distant fur trees were acting like stage where this magical display was demonstrated ,we stopped the sled to watch the display.

We were mesmerized but our two Eskimo friends were alert when they heard some howling at a distance. They turned the sled for returning, we had to abandon the plan of visiting an Igloo. Now a days of course Eskimos stay in regular concrete houses but some igloos are there for display to the tourists.

The hungry pack of wolves were chasing us, the dogs also increased their speed,  the sled was moving at 30 km/h speed, the icy wind was buffeting our faces. The magic moment of sighting the Northern light became a nightmare. I took the rifle and pulled the trigger, it was a Remington repeater bolt action old style rifle. Insupiat was driving the sled, we three were firing at the wolves. Yupik was in cool frame of mind, our rifle shots had discouraged those wolves, Yupik pulled out a sack from the tarp covering our belongings and unbound it, pulled out some dry reindeer meat  which he kept as emergency food, started throwing the meat pieces at those wolves. Those wolves slowed down, started sniffing at the thrown meat pieces. I was terrified but then I could see the silhouette of those wolves in the multi color three dimensional light of Aurora Borealis in the northern sky. I will never forget that experience in my life.

The Aurora is an incredible light show caused by collisions between electrically charged particles released from the sun that enter the earth's atmosphere and collide with gases such as oxygen and nitrogen. The lights are seen around the magnetic poles of the northern and southern hemispheres.

I was sitting on my favourite chair in the drawing room, the bottle of pill given by the sadhu to enhance my virtual travel ability was on the table. I reread Jack London's White Fang and watched Ice Station Zebra to ferret out information on the polar region before popping the pill. I had the above experience as the pill triggered the capsules in my memory wall, the story which my subconscious mind was building came alive, it appeared as though i was watching a 3 D movie where i was one of the casts.

Junk/castoffs/bric-a-brac/useless things

I was rummaging through my side drawer but still I could not locate the item, which I was hunting. My wife though she was in the kitchen but her keen 6^th sense was visualizing my activity.

“What are you searching?”

“I am trying to find the gold plated Parker pen which was presented to me some 20 years back!” I shouted back and still going through both upper and lower drawers and finally could locate it stuck in one corner among my collection of dot pens. Yes, this happens quite often with me, suddenly I will feel why not take the pen which I purchased in Australia or the one I purchased at airport. As such, there is no sentimental value attached but still I get attached to these inert objects and waste my time in hunting those.

Now let me explain about my personal side drawers, which is kept bang next to my favorite chair. I was often misplacing things so decided to purchase this small side drawer of two compartments for dumping my important papers or documents like PAN,Voter ID,Adhar, all user manuals,my watches, the earphones which comes with mobile,my spectacles,coins,ready cash, receipts of high value purchase etc. Then over the year, I have not done forensic audit of my drawers. Those papers are also not kept in any chronological order so over the year those two drawers look like waste paper basket. Whenever I look for any of my favorite things then I know where to look for. I go through the same motion of rummaging the whole content ,then discover that many of the papers or user manuals have become out dated but somehow I am not able to destroy those thinking that I may require those someday and thus more trash get added with new purchase.

I have been purchasing CDs of movies since the time CDs came, I am strapped with those CDs and CD players which I don’t operate now, Amazon Prime, Netflix, Hotstar etc are enabling me in  watching movies. Then when I look in my cupboard then those CDs stare at me.I have already thrown away hundreds of cassettes. By nature humans are hunter and gatherer so we keep on gathering thinking that someday we may use those but unfortunately the time does not give that chance.

I generally pull the shirt which I see first in the stack and wear that, in the process I keep wearing a limited set of shirts by rotation, then my wife will pull out stack of shirts from almirah which were kept beyond the reach of my vision and ask whether I am going to wear those or she will give those away. There also I noticed that somehow I have retained some shirts that are more than 10 years old. I do not have such problem with my trousers as my waist line takes the decision. So all those 34,36 etc are already given away and made way for 38.

I keep purchasing some 20 odd books a year and those have become a big issue for storing. Those books are occupying major space in my racks and almirahs in my drawing room. I have started giving away the books but very rarely, I find someone who reads books.

During my IOC days I won lots of cups and medals for badminton and football but those are not displayed in my drawing room, one fine morning my wife bundled those off to a kabadiwala thus the proof of my sportsmanship vanished from the eyesight, come to think of it I did not feel bad. Those days are past and no use being sentimental for those lifeless objects.
We have to appreciate that everything has expiry date and after that be it a receipt, manual or any gadget become obsolete but due to our attachment we tend to hold on to those.

Coming back to my those two drawers, I have  to seriously carryout a due diligence audit and tear those papers off and throw away those ear phones and other electronic items which have become obsolete.

I will keep only PAN,Adhar ,Voter ID ,passport and of course my bank books..........all other paper documents have become obsolete or invalid or useless... 
I am already advising my Google home to remember where i am keeping debit card,keys etc.....when asked it gives the location

Do i know you

Do I know you?

I was in a slumber, slowly opened my eyes, it was dark and my bed was cramped. I tried to move my hands sideways, could not do. There was a lingering headache. I thought that it must be a dream, so continued my sleep. But I was wrong as I was awake and I was in some kind of confined area. Is it a coffin, am I dead? These questions were racing through my mind. How did I come here? I tried to recollect the sequence of events, my mind was not working, and the headache was still there. I tentatively raised my hand to lift the lid of the coffin. To my surprise I found that it was unlatched. I slowly raised my self from the lying down position and came out of the coffin. I was in an antique shop, the lights were off inside, it was evening time. I could see the street light through the windows.

I sat down on a chair and tried to orient my self. My mind was getting cleared slowly.

The above piece of conversation was taking place in my drawing room with Nemai.It was evening time when I was having my regular cup of coffee then suddenly I found my friend Nemai barging in my house without ringing the calling bell. I was not surprised as that was his style, but this time he was looking haggard and appeared as though he had not slept the previous night. He plunked himself in one of the sofas and looked at me and said, “I am ruined.”

“You look run down, cool down, take a cup of coffee and let me hear the details,” saying this I brought a cup of coffee for him.

He started his narration from the time when he found himself in a coffin in an antique shop in Park Street.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning.Ok, you found yourself in a coffin but how did you go to that place from your office at Elgin Road?”

Nemai's patented style was giving the shocker first and then rest of the story. I was getting impatient but he was trapped in his old habit of building up the story.

“Ok; let me start from the beginning,” after a sip of coffee he said.

Nemai started his narration.

About three months back one day as usual I went to my office in Elgin Road. After settling down I logged to internet to see whether any e mail had come. There was an e mail from one A.K.Sinha.I opened that and found that it was from Ashok whom I knew at Barauni when I was with FCI.He had come to know about my starting the present business at Kolkata from one of our mutual friends. That letter made me nostalgic. In reply I wrote about so many incidences at Barauni which occurred with our friends at various occasions. I literary poured my heart out.Ashok in reply informed me that things were not same as it was at Barauni. Like that our e mail correspondence started.Ashok informed me that his son would be visiting me.

One day when I was in my office then I got a visitor from a certain company. He presented his card to me. His name was Bikash Sinha.He was a young man of about thirty, wearing thick rimmed glasses, French beard and longish hair. He introduced himself to be the son of Ashok.I knew that Ashok had only one son and I had seen him when he was in class ten. The visit of Bikash once again sparked my nostalgia. I found Bikash to be very polite and good natured. He requested me to introduce him with some prospective companies with whom he could establish business dealings. I obliged him by ringing up my friends in some of the companies located in Kolkata.After that day he was a regular visitor to my office. He would just drop in and we would talk for hours on various subjects under the sun. I found that he was fond of reading and he also liked reading John Grisham’s books like I did. I found that in many areas his interests converged with mine. I liked visiting book stores and he would accompany me. We would browse through various books and discuss about those books in the adjoining coffee shop.

One day he asked me whether I was interested in antiques. As a matter of fact I had never thought about that subject. He promised me that he would take me to some antique dealers and would show me precious artifacts which belonged to Sirajddaula period, Gaur period, Sen period etc.

In a week he would drop in to my office about two to three days. I started looking forward to his visit.

I was in my office yesterday when he came to my office.

“Kaku; let us go to the antique dealer he had got some fresh stock.”

I had nothing much to do in my office, it was about 11 o clock .I took my brief case and went with him to the antique shop at Park Street. There was an old fellow there who appeared to know Bikash very well.

He said, “Let us take some cold drink first then I will show you the antiques.”

We sat in front of his desk and cold drink was served in glasses. I took two to three sips then started feeling sleepy and after that I woke up in that coffin which was one of the antiques.

I found that my brief case was open but the cheque book was missing. My money bag with my ATM card was missing. I broke open the window and came out. I reported the matter to the police. The police accompanied me to the shop. We found the owner was gagged in his store room.

Today I went to my bank to report the theft of my cheque book and ATM card and found that most of my money had been withdrawn. The blasted fellow had used my ATM card first. I also like a fool kept the password number written on a paper along with the card. Through that transaction he could know the balance amount, and then he went to the bank and presented a self cheque and withdrew the major amount.

I stopped Nemai at this part of his story and asked him, “How could he know your signature?”

Nemai informed me that he had watched him signing the cheque and also Bikash had seen that he used the same signature for filling up Income Tax form. As a matter of fact Bikash volunteered to deposit the Income Tax form.

Next day we went to that antique shop in Park Street. The old fellow was badly shaken.

“How did you know that fellow Bikash? I asked.

“He had been visiting me since last three months. To me he appeared to be a nice knowledgeable Youngman. At this old age I too look forward for some one to talk. He would drop in twice or thrice every week. I will show him around and then discuss history. He helped me in computerizing my inventories. I never imagined that he would turn out to be such a swindler,” he said remorsefully.

We went back to Nemai's office and asked him to locate Ashok in Barauni.After one hour of telephoning he could locate him in Patna.Ashok took time to place Nemai and then was surprised about e mail. He informed Nemai that he had no idea about internet ,as a matter of fact he did not know how to use a computer, and also his son was in USA.

I asked Nemai,”How many people know about your Barauni connection?”

“Practically everyone in my office knows it. I have also talked about my Barauni friends with my office colleagues,” he said naively.

I had some techie friend in software companies. I gave a ring to one of my friends to find out the origin of the e mail which was coming from Ashok.He asked us to forward that e mail to him.

After a few hours my friend informed me that it was coming from computers in Calcutta, this he had found out by using the e mail address of Ashok and tracing it up to the root. I did not ask him to check any further as I could deduce the rest, that Bikash had been using numerous cyber cafes to send the e mail.

I reconstructed the whole event for Nemai.It was a classic case of phishing. This fellow Bikash had kept Nemai under surveillance; he had gathered all the information’s about Nemai from his office only. After gathering those information he started sending the e mails.Nemai being a simpleton fell for those e mails and poured his heart out, thus Bikash could get more dope on Nemai.Ultimately when he introduced himself then he was fully armed with information about Nemai.He knew that Nemai was fond of books, also he knew that John Grisham was Nemai's favourite author.Bikash had parallely developed friendship with the antique dealer. He allowed sometime to pass so that he could get closer to Nemai and gain his confidence.Nemai confided in him so much that he gave his Income Tax form to Bikash for submission. Now it was matter of choosing the right time for Bikash to make the kill. He had chosen the morning time when the antique shop was least visited and also he had rest of the day to carry on with his job of polishing off Nemai's bank account. He must have laced those cold drinks with some drug. Putting Nemai in the coffin was his way of dramatizing the end. Bikash must had been his assumed name and he was computer savvy, intelligent and knowledgeable to influence educated people.Bikash or what ever his name might be must have changed his appearance after that event and would be on the prowl for his next victim..

A fist full of memories

A fist full of memories

……………………………

My caddy Hulo is irregular during winter days. That is the time when NRIs and foreign visitors come and stay in the Toly club guest house. Hulo has a contact in golf range who helps him to become caddy of the foreign guests. During those months he avoids me but once the guests go away then again he would pester me to take him back. That sly guy has a unique way of approaching me; he would bring some golf accessories gifted to him by those foreigners and ask me to accept those. Many a times Hulo has introduced me to these golfing foreigners and I have played with them gladly.

Mr. Evans was one such introduced by Hulo , was from England, loved playing golf. He loved coming back to India as frequent as possible; it seems he spent his childhood in tea gardens of Darjeeling. Whenever he is in India would visit Darjeeling.

I had played a number of times  with him. This happened a few years back.

While playing we would share our experiences. During our one such outing I narrated my experience of momentarily mentally getting transported to some other place. I narrated my experience as follows;

I was sitting in my second floor office in Chatterjee International; from the wide window of my office the Calcutta maidan was clearly visible. I watched some eagles were  circling over the maidan and momentarily I felt as though I was sitting on a hill in front of a monastery in Bhutan where eagles were gliding effortlessly. I had visited Bhutan a year back then and had watched eagles circling while visiting a monastery, the monastery was perched on the top , eagles were gliding over the valley at my eye level. The circling eagles triggered my mind to travel to Bhutan for a few seconds at that time when actually i was in my office in Chatterjee International.

Mr Evans heard me with interest, smiled mysteriously and told me an amazing story.

“Roy, by this time you know I visit India frequently.The reason of my coming is to visit my childhood places and live through those wonderful moments in Darjeeling tea gardens.”

“Live through? It is possible to travel back momentarily as I did, but how can you live through your childhood?” I said doubtfully.

“ I will share some confidential information , hope it will remain with you.”

I was eager to know so we hurriedly finished our golf round and headed for shamiana.

We ordered beer and he started his strange story.

He finished his school in North Point, Darjeeling and joined his father in running the garden. His father was a philanthropist; he used to run a charitable dispensary in the garden. Once a Tibetan monk fell seriously sick and was brought to that dispensary, Evans’ father made arrangement for the monk to stay in the company guest house. Evans was attracted by the wisdom of that noble monk; he would spend lot of time with him. It was the year of Naxal movement when his father decided to go back to England by selling off his garden. Evans was sad that he had to leave India. The monk would try to console young Evans by saying that nothing is permanent in this world.

“Noble one tell me how can I leave this beautiful place? If I feel nostalgic then I cannot come immediately.” Evans tearfully said.

“Tomorrow you come I would give you something.” The monk said.

Evans duly went next day, the monk gave him a jewel box.

“This will store your best moments spent here but you have to load it every year otherwise the size of this crystal will reduce by 1/50^th for the missed year, then it will hold less memory.”

“You mean I can live through those moments?”

“Yes you can.” He opened the box and brought out a green crystal ball.

Evans held the crystal in his hand and was  mesmerized by it's beauty.

“Wise one please tell me how does it work?”

The monk gave a beatific smile and said, “ You should always keep the crystal in this box to avoid dissipation of the memories. Supposing you want to store memories of your school then go there and meditate in an isolated place after consuming one of these globules.”

The monk gave him a bottle of globules, they looked like opium balls.

“After taking a globule close your eyes, hold the crystal on your forehead and think of those moments in school with your friends which you want to cherish forever or may be some teaching by your favorite teacher. All those images running through your mind will get captured in this crystal.”

“Ok I understood, I go through the same process with all the associated places like Glennaries,Kaventers, Chowrastha, the tea gardens etc the places I love so much.”

“Yes that way you will capture the places with sight, sound and smell.”

“Wow, with all senses! Then how do I replay those?”

“In England whenever you have a feeling of melancholy then go to a room alone and sit comfortably facing east. Take out the crystal ball, take a globule close your eyes and hold ball on your forehead. Think of the times you want to visit and those will play up in your mental screen. For example you had some memorable experience in standard four then for that moment you will become mentally that little boy of standard four and live through that experience kind of replay of those moments.”

Evans was excited and without wasting any more time started writing down his memories of good moments before embarking on storing those in the crystal ball.

In the meanwhile the monk after getting cured had left the tea garden.

Evans could not come to India for next thirty years as he had to finish higher studies and start his professional career as a financier. But whenever he had yearning for the tea garden in Darjeeling then he would take the crystal ball to his study, close the door, pop the globule, face east, close the eyes and hold the crystal on his forehead. He would mentally get transported to that time which he chose and live through those nostalgic moments. He could smell the fresh tea leafs , he could see the descending cloud in the valley. He would be running as a kid in the play ground of the school. He felt as though those days were still with him.

But as he did not visit India for thirty years so the size of the crystal ball decreased considerably, many of the memories got faded out. After year 2000 he tried visiting every second year to recharge but because Darjeeling city has changed for the worst due to population growth, also he himself has aged so the recharging of memory effectively was a bit sketchy. The places around tea garden have not changed much so he could recharge those vividly.
I requested him to show me the crystal and he agreed without any persuasion.

We headed for his room in the guest house . He took out the wooden box containing the green crystal, then with lot of reverence he took out the crystal ball.I took the ball in my hand, felt a queer sensation running through my body. I held it against the light, the  refraction of the light caused it to glow ethereally.

Evans said, “I don’t think I can continue to come to India any more. This time I did not go to Darjeeling. I have one fourth bottle of globule left, if you want I can give you these two, you can try storing your memories.”

First I was reluctant but then I accepted his offer.

Now I have the bottle of globules and the box containing green crystal ball but then the places where I spent my childhood days with my parents  are all gone. We were staying in government colonies of Delhi like in Press Road in Minto Road area,Chummeries of  Gole Market, Wilson Square in front of Birla Mandir….those are all demolished giving way to new high rise government quarters , the modernization steam rolled our childhood dwellings to dust....of course i have not visited those places after hearing that those have been razed to ground.....even the house in Allahabad where i was born has been obliterated beyond recognition but in the hard disc of my memory those still exist in the original form which unfortunately i can not store in this green crystal...... .may be i will store new ones now.......

 

Zindagi ka safar

Zindagi ka safar

“Zindagi ka safar ye kaisa safar…..”

The Nepali crooner was belting out songs of Kishore Kumar one after another in the night club in hotel Qutub.

The audience was enjoying those old songs of Kishore and the crooner was encouraged to sing more and more. It was past 11pm, the management reminded that it was time to close. Rana got up and walked to the crooner shoved a handful of 100 rupee notes in the pocket of the singer and asked him to sing a few more. He not only gave money to the singer but to all the staff present around in that hall at that night.

Rana came back and resumed his drinking! I was impatient and wanted to leave, the situation spun out of my hand that night in 2004. It all started as evening out with Rana just after my retirement on that night. He drove from his house in Punjabi Bagh ,picked me up from Pashchim Vihar and headed for Hotel Qutub of ITDC .

He had been a regular in that hotel so we got warm welcome from the entrance to all the way to the watering hole with live crooner. It was past 8 pm, we were given a seat near the dais, a kind of preferential seat courtesy generous tipping by Rana. It was crowded, Rana ordered drink for both with some moghlai dish. He was a jolly good fellow but a heavy drinker, the evening slowly climbed towards late in the night on and the crowd started thinning out as closing time of 10.30 pm was approaching.

When the crooner was singing that song “Zindagi ka safar…” then we two were the only audience left. For me that experience was new, a drunk host with pocketful of money and obliged staff falling head over heel to serve as for every service there was 100 rupee note from Rana to them. I realized that it was not the only night when he overstayed, this was informed to me by the duty manager. Finally, I prevailed on him to leave, it was 11.30 by then. While walking out it was showering of money by Rana to all the staffs we confronted on the way out, sometimes he called out even the lift operators to give money.

Well folks that was Rana whom I came to know during my stay in Bhopal. He was supplying aluminum casting for tap changer to our factory. He was from IIT,Delhi but never joined any service but started this factory in Faridabad with only BHEL as his customer. Because of IIT connection he would often come to me and will share his business woes. His business design with one customer was flawed, I explained him that. Those days I had just finished reading the book “Who moved my Cheese” which talks about ever changing scenario of business. I told him if  because of some reason BHEL does not give him order or may be another competitor comes up offering lower price then what would he do? I gave that book to him to read and advised him to diversify his activities to other customers. He was highly influenced by that book. He planned to open another aluminum casting factory with modern automatic machines targeting the emerging motor bike market. He managed to rope in an expert on aluminum casting working in neighboring factory supplying to motor bike manufacturing companies. With the help of that expert he reached out to Hero Honda for supplying aluminum components for the motor bikes. He explained me modern motorcycles require their chassis to be stiffer, more lightweight and look better than what traditional steel tubes could offer. Modern motorcycles, thus, make use of materials such as aluminum and alloys to achieve the target.  By the time he was bringing up his new factory I retired in 2003 from BHEL,Bhopal and stayed for sometimes in our Delhi flat.

He took heavy loan from banks to build his new factory by collating his sprawling house of Punjabi Bagh. After my retirement I had visited his new factory which was semi-automatic with CCTV surveillance. That day in 2004 he was giving me party as his new factory had become operational.He would often say that he  considered me as his mentor because I opened his eyes through that book “Who moved my Cheese”. He was in heavy debt then so I think the heavy boozing was to drown all his financial woes. He asked me to be his advisor in running the business but I declined as I had planned to move to Calcutta.

After I moved to Calcutta often he would give ring to share his business results. Ultimately he paid off all his debts and started making handsome profit. The day he became debt free he rang me up to inform that finally he was free of financial worries, while talking to me he was slurring due to heavy drinking as he was cerebrating the occasion.

Unfortunately, the heavy drinking took his life a few years back, his safar of Zindagi came to an end.

Whenever I am in Delhi I often think about him, he used to visit me at Pashchim Vihar. This article is outcome of that nostalgia and dedicated to him.

Electron phas gaya

Electron phas gaya tha

…………………………………

The electronic equipment of modern age has its own mind. We feel the switch is in our hand forgetting that coming ón live is in the mood of the gadget. The behavior of mobile, phones, tablets cannot be taken for granted.  The other day I got a ring in my mobile when I tried to reach  then it stopped. It was known number so I gave a call to him, he said, “ Sorry I did not call, but something is wrong with my mobile it suddenly calls on its own and it is mostly the last number called.”

All of us who have mobile know that suddenly everything freezes, then it won’t switch off, so take out the battery and hey presto…it starts working normally as though giving us warning that ,” Don’t treat me lightly, I have my moods.”

In an army establishment it so happened that the wireless set was not working. It was those days when wireless is supposed to be ultimate in electronics. The army engineers were struggling to make that work. It won’t budge, no statics at all. A sardarji jawan who had handled this equipment in field was called. He fiddled with the knobs, no sir….it would not work. He got frustrated and gave it a kick….lo behold it started working. The jawan nonchalantly looked at all the bystanders who were awed by the miracle. They asked, “How did it work?” He replied,” It is nothing woh ek electron phas gaya tha, lath mara woh nikal gaya.” Saying that he walked off.

I think that electron theory still holds. I had written about my mobile getting conked off and then sending the same to Samsung service center for diagnosis. I was told it’s motherboard has damaged and I have to pay Rs.10,500 for replacement. I decided not to get it repaired instead go for a new one. Was doing some research for the brand, got advise from my son Anish and nephew Monish. Was about to go on line purchase but remembering “ the prophetic electron theory” so I hooked up the mobile for charging through my computer…..surprise of surprise….the indication came on for charging which was not coming since yesterday…allowed it to get charged up to 5% and made a few calls…all fine so far…so the electron theory still holds….all of us slap the remote a number of times when it does not work even after removing the cover and replacing the battery…yes you guessed it right it is the ubiquitous “electron” which choked the system so slap it…

The other Bengal

The other Bengal

Dilawar suddenly turned round and came more or less running back towards me and hugged me tightly with tears in his eyes, I was also crying silently that night in Dhaka. This picture of that night is permanently etched in my mind. Today even after 19 years to me it appears as though it happened only yesterday.

How I landed in Bangladesh and who is this Dilawar?

 I did not go there on a personal visit but went there with two more senior officers of BHEL to explore business opportunity. Those days I was heading Eastern Region of BHEL, out of two senior officers of BHEL one was my close friend Late Kandaswamy, he was expert in Boilers.

Our flight by Indian Airlines took less than one hour to reach Dhaka from Kolkata, by the time we were finishing our snacks the announcement was there about the plane approaching Dhaka. Those days Dhaka airport was small but we did see many domestic private airlines operating in Bangladesh, remember it was 2000 and in India private airlines were yet to take off.

After checking out through immigration and customs which happened pretty smoothly we were surrounded by touts selling Bangladesh currency. Initially we were reluctant to exchange our dollars but I did not mind taking chance with my Indian rupees which they readily exchanged at the prevailing rate then, it was one Indian rupee to 1.40  in Bangladesh Taka those days. Now of course Bangladesh money has appreciated, it is about 1.15 taka or so against Indian rupee.

We took a cab from the airport and headed for our hotel Rooposhi Bangla which is located very near to Dhaka club. After checking in we headed for the Bangladesh electricity Board office. The reception guided us to the office of the Chairman. The building walls were pasted with posters of worker’s union with their demands, it was just like our offices in Bengal those days. Seeing those posters I felt as though I was walking towards the office of Dr.Sankar Sen in New Secretariat building, a dejavu, two Bengals but the same culture of posters on the wall.

The Chairman of Bangladesh wanted BHEL’s help in running their 2x200 MW Chitagong plant, which then was run by Chinese as they only supplied that plant. We were to train Bangladesh engineers to run the plant as otherwise they were paying heavily to China to keep the plant running. There he introduced Mr.Dilawar Khan, Manager to us who was to be our guide throughout our stay.

After the meeting Dilawar took us to a restaurant near the office for lunch, I was pleasantly surprised to hear Rabindrasangeet in the restaurant. After finishing our lunch, we went out for a whirlwind tour of the city. The first thing what comes to my mind about that city then in 2000 is cycle rickshaws, the main road jammed with rickshaws. In snail pace by evening time we could reach the campus of Dhaka University. The pavements around the university was full of students sitting by the side of road, we did not go in, from outside it gave me a feeling as though I was passing by the side of Jadavpur University with those handholding students sauntering around.

Next morning Dilawar met us at Dhaka airport, we were on the way to Chitagong by Biman Bangla. After reaching Chitagong we headed for our hotel. We deposited our luggage, freshened up, piled up  in a car for the power station. The oil and gas fired power station is on the banks of Karnafuli river, it is a big river which originates from Mizoram and drains in Bay of Bengal,Chitagong  the port looked like Diamond Harbour. Dilawar informed us that the Chinese brought the power plant equipment by ships through Karnafuli river to Chitagong. During erection of the plant they were using their ship as base. Later on they built porta cabins out of the containers in which they brought power plant equipment, finally they moved in those cabins. Dilawar kept me informed about all these tit bits, me being the only Bengali in the group  he was feeling comfortable conversing with me.Slowly me and him started establishing a bond of brotherhood. He took us to the office of Chief Engineer of the plant. We were shown the plant by Chief Engineers himself with his team. We were told that the Chinese operating staff stays in those porta cabins which are not air-conditioned, during any emergency all the Chinese staff in any time of the day or night rush to the plant. We were taken to the control room which looked like army barrack. There were Chinese operators with their Bangladeshi counterpart, Bangladesh paramilitary force with rifles keeping vigil. I asked Chief engineer why there was strict security, he informed that in the past there had been attempt to sabotage, Bangladesh then was a power starved country so the vigil. We had a look at the boiler, turbine and the auxiliaries, we were familiar with those equipment as Chinese too had taken technology from Russia who were our initial technical collaborators.

After the round we had lunch in their field gust house. It was typical rice,daal, aloo bhaja, a charchari and chicken curry. I was bowled out by that chicken curry, at a later date I had requested their instrument engineer one Roy through email to send me the recipe. I got that recipe from him and circulated to my friends.

We were back at Chief engineer’s office and tried to know their depth of knowledge. They showed us the history cards and logs. Our visit was for 2 days so we took leave of them and promised to come the next day. Next day I sat with maintenance chief and Kandaswamy sat with operation chief to guide them in running the plant, we found out that though there were provision for auto controls but the Chinese had not commissioned those and in the process the Chinese were operating the systems manually which was very tedious and that was one of the reasons why Bangladeshi engineers could not pick up, of course language was another major issue. I told Dilawar aside unofficially that Bangladesh can’t afford us because by that time I had found out the per diem rate per person of Chinese engineers, which was one third of our rate. The economy would not work. He informed the chief engineer same thing, the Chief engineer started pleading with me if somehow we could get involve for the transition. Dilawar too requested me to consider sending some expert for a short stint.

On the way back to our hotel I enquired from Dilawar about micro financing company of Grameen Bank. He informed that the bank preferred to give loan to ladies, the village ladies had formed cooperative for garment stitching in villages. There were more than 8 lakhs ladies involved in the garment industry those days in 2000 and now of course it has become a phenomenon. Those days the mobile was yet to penetrate, the ladies communicated through a novel system of mobile using signaling wires of the railways. Then at the station there would be a transmitter covering a radius of 50 kms or so, thus all the villages along the railway line was covered bt that hybrid mobile network, one American company has helped Bangladesh to develop that system. All these were enabled by the Grameen Bank of Md.Yunus. He was revered by everyone with whomsoever I talked in Bangladesh. Those days’ Malaysian companies were building the roads, the long distance modern buses with hydraulic landing and boarding system were supplied by them. I was pretty impressed by the greeneries around, it appeared as though whole earth is wrapped in green blanket, it was just green everywhere with occasional ponds.

Next day we boarded Biman Bangla International coming from middle east heading for Dhaka. It was full of Bangladsehi labours returning home. I was sitting by the side of one such labour and next to me was Dilawar. I asked the labour what he did in middle east. He informed me that he was a date picker and got 11,000 taka per month, food and lodging born by his Mudir (the sheikh). I noticed often those labours would get up and look through the window to see their home country. There was a sustained excitement of returning home after a stay of might be 2 years or so, found them pretty demanding too. The airhostesses were at their wits end handling the half literate crowd. Those labours loudly shouted,”’ Bangladesh runs with the money what we send home so you better take care of us!’’

I was amused and asked Dilawar about his opinion on this foreign exchange repatriation, he admitted that those fellows were right as Bangladesh’s major foreign exchange earning was through the repatriation of wages of their labour working in foreign land. The fellow sitting next to me requested me to help him to fill up us disembarkation form, I readily agreed, by the time I was finishing his a few more forms were held in front of me. I did not mind filling those forms, I was rather enjoying that, I was coming to know so many personal details and was trying to imagine their huts in villages of Bangladesh. Dilawar too was busy in filling the forms and sometimes he would nudge me with his elbow when he would come across some funny sounding name. Our camaraderie matured during that flight from Chitagong to Dhaka.

We came out of Dhaka airport, me Dilawar and Kandaswamy. Before going to the hotel I requested Dilawar to take us to a market so that I could purchase a Bangladeshi saree for my wife. He took us to New Market of Dhaka, yes there is New Market there too! He warned me not to purchase any T shirt as mostly those are from India then in 2000, now of course foreign brand rejects are readily available there. I purchased a Dhakai saree.

After finishing marketing we proceeded to drop Dilawar, it was the last night in Dhaka. In those 4 days Dilawar had become a very close friends, we exchanged many personal information. He asked the car to stop by the side of the road after a few minutes. He got down from the front seat, I got out from the rear seat to shake hand and bid good bye. Next day morning we were leaving for Kolkata, so it was final good bye.

After shaking hand, he started walking with his suitcase, then suddenly he turned back and came rushing to me. We hugged emotionally with tears in our eyes.

I know a Bangladeshi engineer Khaiz Ahmed who would often come to my office. His company was working with Bangladesh Board, I have enquired about Dilawar from him. He informed me that Dilawar rose to become GM and now he was retired.

We did not send any expert to Bangladesh but our interaction resulted in getting a job at Baghabari.

After that visit of Bangladesh I visited Bangladesh again for work in 2013, well that is another story.

Frozen in time

“In Russia do you have arranged marriage?” Bhatnagar had been asking this type of questions to the Dy.Chief Engineer Ms Lana which was promptly translated in Russian by our guide and translator Alexendrov to Lana.

I was amused by the way Alexendrov was translating such question to Lana which he himself could have replied as it was no technical question.

We were standing by the side of frozen Baltic Ocean, to avoid people walking on the frozen sea they had put up a barbed wire fencing. We had gone to Russia for a technical collaboration, the meeting was over so I requested Alexendrov to show us around. When he mentioned about frozen sea I got interested. We could see the white sheet of ice like a skating rink in place of sea water. At a distance we could see some ships marooned. Lana avoided replying to such type of silly questions. Lana looked to be in her fifties, the usual typical squarish Russian face cut and solidly built. The Chief Engineer Chekov was a thin gentleman always smiling. Alexendrov though was acting as our guide and translator but he was a professional with 6 patents under his belt. I was pretty surprised when he told me that he had patents not only in electrical but also in chemical components, dealing with electrical insulation. I still remember his visiting card which had a caricature face of him in beard, just outline and his credentials.

While I was enjoying the frozen sea Bhatnagar threw another of his nagging questions to Lana which she refused to answer and Alexendrov explained why.

‘When did you pass your engineering?’

Alexendrov spoke in Russian to Lana and she smiled and gave some reply.

With a serious face Alexndrv told Bhatnagar, “She will not give reply to this question as you will then calculate her age!” then he guffawed and I laughed out loud.

Well gentleman that was Alexendrov and I had this incidence in St Petersberg in April,2003.

Back to present ,when this time I was in Goa then on the beach I found some Russians standing around a few cows by the side of Arabian sea,  They were clicking pictures while passing them I looked at an elderly gentleman and said, “ For tonight dinner you don’t have to hunt much for beef, it’s there for you!’

He laughed out and looked at his wife said smilingly while rubbing his belly, “Yes I love beef.”

I teasingly rubbed his belly and said, “Sure you have that fat there.’’

We stuck up friendship and walked to the shack known Pedros on the beach. A cool breeze of February was blowing, we could watch the restless waves of the sea breaking on the beach and the sea foam sidling down the beach leaving behind myriad patterns on the sand.

I   ordered beer for both of us and introduced myself. He was a retired Engineer from Petersburg, February month meant freezing cold back home so they had come to Goa. Russian tourist makes up the majority of foreign tourists visiting Goa. Due to the fall of Russian ruble numbers had decreased but they recovered soon. Tourists in northern belt of Goa are mostly Russians. Many shacks and restaurants run by locals have become accustomed to it and have sign boards and menus in Russian. Due to their large presence, the town of Morjim is often called ‘little Russia.’ It appears there are some Russian tour operators who operate chartered flights from even unknown cities of Siberia. Russians prefer Goa over middle east in winter because of our friendly culture. There certainly is a very strong presence of them in Goa, and like most mass-migrations, there is no particular date in history that can be assigned to this. However, common consensus seems to be around the time the Russian economy started opening up under Putin. Russians began travelling to friendly countries like India.

While talking to him my mind went back to that day by the side of Baltic ocean, I was remembering about Alexendrov , the twinkle in the eyes and wry smile were like that of Alexendrov. We exchanged visiting card, his card was a caricature of him and his credentials. I was taken aback by the similarity of the visiting card of his with that of Alexndrov.

“I have seen such card, my friend Alexendrov’s visiting card was like this!”

“Oh, you knew Alexendrov, the engineer,inventor?” He said excitedly.

“Yes, the same! Wish I could meet him again!”

“He was a close friend of mine. I had borrowed his visiting card and got mine made as per his design. I am sorry to inform that Alexendrov is no more, he left us 6 years back.” The Russian said with a gloomy face.

I was shocked,Alexendrov was such good engineer, he helped us in designing Shunt Reactor, often he would come from Russia to BHEL,Bhopal. I remembered that he could turn any ordinary topic to an erudite discussion with his creative mind.

That Russian gentleman could sense my melancholy mood, he quickly finished his beer and shuffled off bidding good bye to me. I did not try to remember his name, no use loading the mind with another name which eventually I forget at this age of mine. Yes, I had his visiting card, his visiting card was like a prism refracting two situations, one by the side of frozen Baltic Ocean and another by the side of roaring Arabian sea. I slowly tore off his visiting card and without bothering to look at the name and scattered the pieces on the beach. Those pieces flew away with the strong gust of wind blowing on the beach, as though taking away the memory of my friend Alexendrov with it.

Well friends meeting the Russian on the beach is my imagination. I have seen lot of Russians on the beach around the cows , the Russians were in every beach of Goa. Seeing the Russians my memory of that day by the side of frozen Baltic sea got triggered. Alexendrov was real and he was our guide and adviser in Russia and he is no more, left us a few years back.While walking on the beach of Goa i started thinking about Alexendrov and if one of these Russians turned to be his friend but that was too much coincidence to expect, so i did the next best thing of spinning this yarn.

In the dark....virtually possible part 6

“Do you have any information about Soumaya?”

“No, we don’t have. We saw him last when he installed the software, your man was present then.”

“Yes, our man followed him next day to Howrah Station, he boarded Shantiniketan Express for Bolepur. That young man who was here the other day with us watching Soumaya was the one following. We think Soumaya might have noticed him and he vanished in the mid-way. Samaranand and Babulal also looked worried. They had no clue. We require Soumaya urgently.”

‘’Have you tried contacting Samaranand?”” Sunil Maity asked.

Babulal was playing this recorded conversation in the device which was still kept with the beggar woman Pagli who had been camping outside the Maity house in Lansdown. Babula had instructed her to camp there indefinitely till he instructed otherwise. This device was recording the conversations in the drawing room of Maity house through the bugs planted by him and Soumaya in their first meeting.

‘We have hacked Samaranand’s email to know whereabouts of Soumaya, we have also made arrangement to tap his mobile. We followed him to Trincas but Soumaya did not appear. Now for the last few days we find that Samaranand is not coming for his morning walk at the lake.’”

Babulal too was worried that he was not able to contact Samaranand, Both Soumaya and Samaranand have mysteriously vanished.

One thing was clear to Babulal that Soumaya had vanished to avoid those persons who were asking Maity brothers about him. Babulal continued listening to the recorded conversation and heard the unknown voice telling Maity brothers.

“We are an IT company and we have been approached by political parties to make videos by mixing old and new clippings. We know that Soumayas has developed an algorithm which you have purchased. We want him to work with us for similar project but in much bigger scale. But somehow he is avoiding us.”

From the above conversation at least it was clear to Babulal that those people mean business and somehow Soumaya did not want to get involved with them because of involvement of politicians.

Presently Babulal had no financial problem as they made a neat sum out of the deal with Maity brothers. Now he was left alone and had to figure out a way to find them. He was relieved that Soumaya was not in danger yet, but he never imagined that Samaranand would become a target.

Babulal was in pensive mood, he was an orphan who ran away from Bihar to Delhi. He did all those odd jobs like operating the hydraulic jack below a sadhu’s throne who would fool his disciples that he was levitating by divine power. Later he was an assistant to a street magician but then his fate brought him to Kolkata where he met Samaranand who gave him mental and financial support. Now he was like a gliding eagle who suddenly loses the thermal current which keeps him afloat and starts frantically flapping his wing , metaphorically his mind was restless like the flapping of wings of eagle.

He has to be focused. He remembered the story of the deaf frog which Samaranand told him in initial days.

The race began of tiny frogs climbing the tall tower...

Honestly, No one in crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of the tower.

You heard statements such as:

"Oh, WAY too difficult!! They will NEVER make it to the top."

or:

"Not a chance that they will succeed. The tower is too high!"

The tiny frogs began collapsing. One by one...... Except for those who in a fresh tempo were climbing higher and higher...

The crowd continued to yell

"It is too difficult!!! No one will make it!"

More tiny frogs got tired and gave up......But ONE continued higher and higher and higher...

This one wouldn't give up!

At the end everyone else had given up climbing the tower. Except for the one tiny frog who after a big effort was the only one who reached the top!

THEN all of the other tiny frogs naturally wanted to know how this one frog managed to do it?

A contestant asked the tiny frog how the one who succeeded had found the strength to reach the goal?

It turned out...that the winner was DEAF.....he could not hear those discouraging words..

 The wisdom of this story is:

Never listen to other people's tendencies to be negative or pessimistic...

...because they take your most wonderful dreams and wishes away from you. The ones you have in your heart!

Always think of the power words have.

Because everything you hear and read will affect your actions!

 Therefore: ALWAYS be...POSITIVE!

And above all:

Be DEAF when people tell YOU that YOU cannot fulfill YOUR dreams!

Always think: I can do this!

Positive Attitude is the best Attitude.

He repeated the story in his mind for self-confidence, somehow he was sure that he would receive some signal from Samaranand or Soumaya, he must not get cowed down by the negative vibes of the situation. His mind was cluttered with all kinds of thoughts when there was a knock on his door in his present hideout at Sealdah slum.
'Who is it' he hesitantly asked.
"Swiggy" was the reply.
But Babulal was hesitant to open the door as he had not ordered anything and for that matter he had no swiggy account.
He looked out through the window and found a hooded fellow in dark Swiggy dress, he could not see the face, the posture was familiar.
Who is that fellow? Should he open the door or climb out by the rear window and vanish?

Mystery deepens....Virtually possible part 5

Mystery deepens ..Virtually possible part 5

""Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;""

Mr.Dey was reciting on the roof of the building while Samaranand was standing beside him when the round red object at the far eastern sky was spinning up, the horizon was gradually turning from dark to red and then white, they were watching sunrise at Rajarhat.

Samaranand joined in reciting the famous “The Road not taken’ poem of Robert Frost,
 he recited the next 4 lines:

"'Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,""

‘Yes, it is my favourite poem too!” He told Mr.Dey. 
Mr Dey said, " Our organisation is like that poem, we took the other path. I will explain you later."

Samaranand was invited to see the sunrise; This is how it happened that day.

He could hear the sound of morning crows from his bed in Rajarhat where Mr.Dey had brought him. He realized that he was apparently captive and he himself decided to play along as no coercive treatment was meted out to him.  It was 5.30 am, he got up and shuffled to the attached bathroom. He came out after freshening up when heard a knock on the door.

With a feebly cough Mr.Dey entered and appeared to be happy seeing Samaranand to be ready.

‘Oh,you are up! Come with me to the roof to watch the sunrise.”

Samaranand followed him through the hall where there was a different group of youngsters on the computers, engrossed in their work. They went out to a running corridor with two lifts. From the marking on the lift he could know that he was in 5^th floor of a 10 floor building. It did not look like any residential complex, he could see the doors of two other rooms.

Mr.Dey smiled and said, ‘’ You have guessed correctly, this building belongs to our organization. Each floor has office space plus attached guestrooms like this floor. Now we will go up to 10^th floor and then walk up the stair to the roof.’

Samaranand became more curious to know about the illusive organization.

The morning was chilly both of them were in pajama and kurta with shawls wrapped around , it was chilly still and more so in the wide open Rajarhat. By 6.30 sun was fully up, MrDey invited Samaranand to go down.

They were sitting in a dining hall in 5^th floor having tea.

Samaranand could not check his curiosity,” Who are you, what does the organization do?”

Mr.Dey smiled and said, “Gradually you will come to know about us. First we finish tea and then you take bath, we will have breakfast and after that when our general shift staff come then I will take you round to show our activities.”

Samranand was matured enough to control his curiosity and also realized M.Dey was trying to convince him something.

Mr.Dey handed over a wireless bone contact headphone to him with a mike and said whatever you require can tell in that mike and will get it. Even you can listen to your favourite music simply by saying ‘Ok,Sanku play so and so song..!”

He put that on and said ‘Ok,Sanku” when he heard a silky male voice responding in English “What can I do? Do you want me to play your favourite Rabindrasangeet fom your Google play list?”

He was taken aback to find that Sanku has hacked his Google home account.

Mr.Dey looked serenely at him and said, ‘We have all information about your likes and dislikes. Enjoy our hospitality. You can ask Sanku to arrange your breakfast in your room. Once you are done ask Sanku to inform me then I will come and take you round. Yes we have developed this AI (artificial intelligence) and named it Sanku as a tribute to Satyajit Ray who created the eccentric scientist Sanku. See you till then!”

Saying those words Mr.Dey walked out.

Samaranand had watched a movie called Her where the protagonist Theodore Twombly would be constantly chatting to some Samantha through a similar headphone. Samantha was an AI and serving many other clients simultaneously. He realized that he now had an AI to help him.He has a Google home where he has to say simply “Ok,Google" before requesting for music or any information. This AI was part Samantha part Google Home.

He mischievously said, “Ok,Sanku can you help me to get out of this place.’

He heard a chuckle and heard Sanku in his headphone,’Yes I can guide you out, even I can call Uber for you but I have instructions to make sure that you remain within the periphery of this floor.” Samaranad realized that through the headphone he was geo tracked or may be the attire which he was wearing may have RFID(radio frequency identification) stuck somewhere in the lining or close circuit cameras were monitoring his movement. He became more eager to know about that smart organization which can develop their own AI. For those moments he forgot that Somaya was still missing, when suddenly came back to reality he started thinking that mystery of Soumay’s disappearance would be gradually revealed and hoped nothing bad had happened to him.

He requested Sanku to play Mood from his playlist in Google play and walked towards his room.
He went back to his room through that hall with bank of computers and robotic employees with headphone strapped. While he passed them with his headphone playing a soothing old Hindi film song they did not even look up or acknowledged his presence. As if he was invisible.
He took bath and then put on the headphone to order breakfast on Sanku.
"Ok,Sanku!"
"What can i do for you?" the unearthly voice floated in his headphone.
"Get me toast and fried egg with sunny side up."
"Anything else? Tea or coffee?'
"Oh,yes,get me coffee !"
"No sugar! i suppose!"
Samaranand was surprised to know that Sanku knows that he does not take sugar in tea or coffee.
"Your breakfast will be served in 20 minutes!"
Yes, a smartly dressed young-man entered with a tray of breakfast ordered by him.
He sat by the window table while enjoying his breakfast and requested Sanku to play songs of Hemant Kumar from his playlist in Google.
He forgot that he was a captive and got lost in music and that leisure breakfast, it was a feeling of being in a resort where he was getting whatever he was asking. He was lost in the thought of why was he brought there.... was he a captive or a guest ?