Saptan Stories : An inspiration for design collabs

I have always been an admirer (read fan) of artistic collaborations. Be it in the field of music, films, dance or graphics, such alliances have been a great source of inspiration for me as an architect/designer. I find the whole idea behind 'collaboration' fascinating. People from different fields come together at one stage and work on to create something beautiful – something which is a mix of two (or sometimes even more) different ‘characters’ and attitudes. The artists bring out the best of their arts and the final result is a perfect example of what we call as ‘ek ke daam mein do’ (two in the cost of one).

Now, expand your vision and imagine having ‘ek ke daam mein saat’ (seven in the cost of one)! ‘Saat’, Hindi for number Seven, and that is from where Saptan Stories get its name (saptan is number seven in Sanskrit). What makes this even more interesting is the format. Seven different artists/illustrators from India and UK, each with their different styles and artistic characters, come together to interpret a storyline which grows every week as the Indian audience contributes a line to the platform. As they say, it is “India’s first ever crowdsourced digital art project” – a 7-week series which is a part of British Council’s ongoing India/UK 2017 – a yearlong celebration of 70 years of relationship between the two countries.

I was fortunate to witness the unfolding of the ongoing story in its fifth week. In the premises of their beautiful building, British Council India organized a small get-together where the artists revealed their fine artworks. The artists Adrita Das (Mumbai), Gavin Strange (Bristol), Gemma Correll (Suffolk), Janine Shroff (London), Priyesh Trivedi (Mumbai), Saloni Sinha (Bangalore) and Tom Mead (Bristol) were brought together by the Oscar award winning Aardman Animations, and were given this tedious yet never-done-before kind of project. As an artist and illustrator myself, I do relate to them and understand the complexities of interpreting the line of the story into an artwork especially when they do not have any idea of what lies ahead. As the story progresses every week, and a line is selected by online voting, it is impossible to guess what turn the story would take. That is what, in my opinion, makes it the most exciting campaign ever. Nobody knows what’s going to happen next.

The Illustrations for the Week 05 for which the winning lines were -

"I was falling through what seemed like a long tunnel, blinded by lights. I somehow landed on my two feet and found myself in a large hall. Walls covered in photographs. Photographs of my entire life."

Adrita Das

Gavin Strange

Gemma Correll

Janine Shroff

Priyesh Trivedi

Saloni Sinha

Tom Mead

Personally, I was bowled over by Tom’s inputs. The way he has managed to interpret the whole thing in his own characteristic manner is commendable. Unlike others, his interpretation in black and white gives the whole story a different edge. On the other hand, I was also shocked to see Priyesh’s signature ‘Aadarsh-baalak’ like-character in this very different and unknown realm! With each and every artwork that was revealed, I was forced to think ‘How they managed to do it?’ I found the whole idea of this project so unique and fascinating. Kudos to the team at British Council. Their efforts and hard work of all the artists have brought this never-done-before kind of project to its last stage. Everyone, even the artists, wishes that the story gets a happy ending!

The whole ‘experience’ brought me back to the point where I was asking myself, “Why don’t we, as designers and architects, do something like this more often?” Saptan Stories has definitely shown us a new perspective to look at the collaborations and cross-country art projects. 

Seamless Transitions

There is a new category or genre of music available on media these days - it's called 'Mash-up'. Well, actually the genre is old but the name given to it is rather new suiting the needs and attitude of the new generation - fast paced. Earlier the same thing was there and was sold under the name of 'melody' - a song that has different songs clubbed together in such a way that the listener gets the feel of every song in one. A similar 'feel' is created in a 'remix'. DJs around the world pick up many songs and create a wonderful melody or mash-up out of them by adding music and elements we fall for. I was reintroduced to this form of art recently when I visited the college. Few of my juniors gave a complimentary jam session and sang few melodies.

Later one day, Sahil - my partner in crime - randomly came up with a lyrical mix of songs. Lyrics of different songs stitched together on the common words. The transition from one song to another was so seamless that, on one go, it seemed to me 'one'. 

What makes melody a successful design? What keeps us attached to the melody even when there are several songs combined in one? The Seamless Transitions, probably, is the answer! Places or notes or spaces where one can shift gear easily without creating chaos. In songs, particular notes which can stitch those two songs together - musicians will be able to put a better light on those technicalities.

Such seamless transitions, if given perfectly in architecture, can allow us to create multiple spaces in one space. Different microclimates under one common roof. The same has been attempted and achieved at several places. The best example I have visited is Jawahar Kala Kendra, designed by Correa Sir. The building complex in itself is a series of different experiences. Experiences which are totally different from each other. Another good example is the Indian Habitat Center in Delhi by Joseph Allen Stein.

These buildings or complexes allow you to have a series of experiences stitched together under one roof! So, learning about providing details is one thing... keeping those details together is another skill.

Thus keeping the value of such transitions in design could be an achievement in itself.

Why Cooking is a good idea for Designers?

Advantages of having a super- cook mom -

1. You get endless variety of delicacies on the menu every time you sit for a meal.
2. You don't need to experiment with cooking, as you don’t even realize that it is a necessity until your mom is out for a trip. 

The same happened with me a few months back. Our mythological books talk about devi Annapurna. Apart from being the world to us, moms are definitely that devi, for sure! Thus, the whole idea of trying my hand on cooking started with my mom planning a short trip out of town for a week. Well, quite frankly, even though I always had this feeling that I would do justice to this 'art', I was quite scared of trying it in the beginning. But very soon I realized the magic and 'Design' behind the art of cooking. I realized why it is called an art. I realized the importance of 'details' required to be applied (just like any other design) to get the perfect result.

Months after my initial trials, last night, while preparing vegetable pulao the idea of charting out these 'details' came to my mind.

Cutting/Chopping

Like any other design process, the earliest stage is 'preparing the resources'. And for the same, one needs to be precise and fluent with the tools. In this case - knife and other cutting instruments - play the lead role.
During that epic moment when you hold the knife for the first time in your life - it all seems easy. But the actual problem begins here only - 'holding' the knife correctly is an art in itself. Well, it took me more than a couple of trials to get closer to the right technique. (Yes, I am still figuring out how it works!) 


Things you learn  
1.Analysis of the science behind the design of knife.
2.Textural study of vegetables - as each vegetable needs a different angle.
3.Visualizing the aesthetics behind cutting - for eg. You have to judge and choose whether the so called potato-fries-type-cut is ok for making curry potato or not.

Adding the spices
Spices are the integral part of cooking process in India. And I must admit, it is the trickiest and one of the best kept secrets too. From Daadi-Nani to Maa, you ask anyone about the quantities of spices and the answer would be, "andaaze se". Actually, it is the wisdom that they have earned during all those year when they were learning this art. Its like asking a painter the quantity of colors he has put in while preparing a masterpiece. 


Things you learn
1.Elements like Proportions. With each and every trial, you get closer to what it needs to be like.
2.The aromatic sense of cooking - suddenly you realize that you have this ability to smell and tell what seem to be good and what not.
3.Cultural and agricultural appreciation of our country - Its awesome to research a bit about all the spices that you have put in, it will connect you with what you are making.

Veg Pulao 

Mixing it all together
Now this is another tricky part. This heading actually has two meanings - mixing of the already cut veggies and masalas AND mixing all the work together... yes, TOGETHER!
Dealing with the first, one needs to be super precise about mixing technique as this stage can either make or break you 'design' apart! 
One needs to be THERE while mixing, each and every second. Consider as if you are blending two separate layers of design together.  A good blend will mold out the final product well.
While looking at the second perception, you need to be good with your management skills. It is all about time and project management. Unlike other design problems, cooking doesn't give you the privilege of trials. Every single step here is the final step. You can’t keep strolling around while the water is boiling in vessel. 

Pao- Bhaji

Things you learn
1.Time management - no one can teach you this like cooking does.
2.Innovation - mixing spices? Done your study? Try out what you can add.


Patience
At last, when all is prepared, it’s the time to ‘cook’, literally. This is the time which if spent less wouldn’t bring in the taste and if overdone would spoil the whole design. This phase is like meditation, one need to forget every other thing in the world and concentrate on the design. One needs to be super patient with the veggies and spices while they do-the-dance together. Just be a silent spectator and keep your eyes and nose open as the moment the ‘chemicals’ start reacting, you will know that its done!

Things you learn
1.As the topic says – patience!
2.Self-analysis – you realize your mistakes and you note down where do you need improvement during this stage.
3.Overall, any design – if done with dedication – will give you happiness and cooking is one of such forms of art/design. I find cooking as a stress buster and a practice that a designer must always try to improve him/herself! I hope I am improving!

With some garnishing 

Special thanks to my friend Anuja Khokhani, whose cookery blogs inspired me to take up this art as a challenge. You can check her blog here.  

Celebration of Life

"Our journey on Earth is like a burning matchstick. We know that the matchstick will burn itself out once it reaches its end. But sometimes, all it takes is small gust of wind to extinguish the flame of life...! " - Rohan Thakur, Way Back Home

It’s another normal day but with a pinch of special treatment. The very same day – when you were brought to home (as if from a market) or dropped (by the gods) wrapped in white piece of cloth – that’s what mums tell us when we are young. Family and friends wish you and make you feel ‘special’ and eventually the day starts belonging to you! It is ‘your’ day after all and the mood is set up for celebration. It is very happy feeling which we are trained to experience since childhood. Well, ‘my day’ (almost always) used to be the first or the second day of the new academic year and thus I was pampered by new class teachers on the very first day – quite a good feeling indeed! But now, twenty six years after that happy day, things are not quite same. I find myself draped in some weird thoughts.

Why we celebrate Birthdays?

Of course its the anniversary of the day when you were born… when you inhaled oxygen for the first time, when you got 'life'...

So, on birthdays we are celebrating LIFE!

But then, what is life? Its a journey. A journey towards a definite destination. It’s a journey that has begun and will end, for everything that has been created will be destroyed. It’s a journey in which you do not travel alone; you are born as a kid and your parents, within the cover of their love, care and protection, help you reach a stage where you can talk and interact with other kids. There the first ‘connection’ of this journey is made – the relationship with your parents! This connection helps building you more connections when you are sent to school. In school you meet up several like-minded kids daily. There you start building up 'frequencies' with most compatible of the lot - you call them ‘friends’. With the help of these buddies you move on in your journey with much more ease and security. Then, as we grow up, the importance of 'gurus' come into play. Though, a 'guru' is a very indefinite post as anyone can be a guru (a teacher) but let us stick to the technical term for now. With the help of a guru you learn the 'basics' of life. A code of conduct (education) is given by these gurus, which if you follow during the journey of life, might turn you into a civilized human being. Being civilized means you are a part of civilization and thus thousands of people who are moving along with you in this journey of life, directly or indirectly, are connected to you in some or the other way. When you realize that you are supposed to be concerned with the society (civilization) as well, you come out of the bubble you were living in and your connections or circles grow even more. Some connections are emotional and thus strong as they are natural bonds; and others are professional, meaningful, meant to solve a purpose and thus remain weak but equally important for the journey. And one day you realize that in this journey of life, which you were supposed to walk alone, you are actually being accompanied by thousands of people, everyone connected to you somehow.

Thus, in fact, on birthday you are celebrating your life and you are also celebrating the relationships that you have gained till date - you are celebrating your childhood, your adolescence, your youth, your family, your friendships, your companions, etc. And maybe that’s why we celebrate it every year so that we can update our own 'bahee-khaata' (balance sheet) of relationships that have been added in.

That makes sense.

But, unknowingly, during this journey we grow 'attachments'. Attachment with those very same connections that you have been building till date. Attachment with those whose presence we celebrate every year on our own birthday. Attachment is a nice thing, it reminds you that people love you and care about you. One feels good to know that someone else values him more than anyone else. But then it comes with a feeling of insecurity. Attachment comes with a feeling of fear - fear of losing the ones you are attached to. Till date you have never traversed through the journey of life alone. No one does. At every step you have taken help from someone. That has made you 'dependent'. And thus you ‘fear’. You are afraid because you don’t know how to travel alone. One would never learn that throughout his life.

But one travels alone in death. People accompany them till a point 'jiske aagey koi sath nahin jaata' - The ultimate destination. Everybody in this journey is traveling to reach that point. Some call it moksha, some call it nirvana, and some wish to see jannat and some heaven. Everyone comes to life and travels so as to reach the same destination.

One attains this destination when he is freed from the bondages; bondages of life.

Wait, bondages? Where they came in from?

Q. What are the bondages?

A. The attachments B. The relationships C. The connections or D. All of them

Well, that brings us to the conclusion that on birthdays we actually celebrate our BONDAGES.

Then, there are different forms of bondages also. After being travelling in this journey for twenty six years one realizes his/her responsibilities towards other fellow travelers. Imagine it as a caravan. You are tired and you want to have some water and sit and relax somewhere under a tree but you cannot as the caravan won’t stop for you. Thus, if you want to 'celebrate life' (birthday) in a particular way, you cannot, as you are bounded by responsibilities.

So, another conclusion is that on birthdays we also celebrate our responsibilities, whether we wish to or not, we have to.

All in all, we celebrate!

Maybe we celebrate due to our responsibilities, bondages or even out of fear. We are afraid of the 'uncertainties' of this caravan. You don’t know when you'll have to leave the caravan or when others will leave it. ‘Leave’ is the wrong word. Actually, we are afraid of when the journey will be over. But this fear also starts diminishing as you carry on with this journey (or live for more years). The experience of life tells you how to react when someone else's journey is over. But then it gets complicated when someone else completes his journey before you do. It becomes difficult for those who are left behind to continue the journey.

But, if we know that all are moving towards one single ultimate destination then why we don’t celebrate it when someone reaches his destination? Why we don’t celebrate death? “One can see the 'celebration of death' in Banaras”, one of my friend recently told me. Fascinating! Isn’t it? We do not celebrate death as we, who are left behind in the journey, always find the death of other person 'untimely'. We feel that someone who left the journey before might have not reached his destination. Thus we repent the loss, for some time, and then we move on with the caravan.

We have mastered this art of ‘moving on'. So much so that we have particular set of days to feel sorrow. We know that any moment of this journey could be the last one and thus we celebrate things which value or cater directly to the 'moving' caravan. For, we don’t have any idea about what is happening with those who have completed the journey.

Under the influence of this 'anticipation' of what is going to happen next, we created birthdays. We ourselves designed a model where we celebrate life and not the death; we celebrate the beginning and not the end. As we celebrate death of only those whom ‘we’ think have reached their destination based on the number of years they traveled. In this model of celebration we celebrate everything that is worldly, which has been attained in this life. Thus all the things attained (materialistic or emotional) during this journey is celebrated on birthdays. This model also defines that the 'living' person is incapable of identifying or visualizing anything beyond this journey of life. Whatever we achieve, whatever we can see, everything that is 'known' is thus celebrated. On the other hand, everything mysterious, indefinite, unsolved remains as an imagination. Thus we celebrate all practical things as we find ourselves incapable of listening to our intellect (imagination).

The brain thinks consciously and sub-consciously - the mixture of practical and emotional. A child doesn’t think practically. An old person is also emotional - those who are near to the world of 'unknown' are emotional. One becomes practical only when one is travelling through life so as to understand and adjust to the needs of the caravan. As soon as you leave the childhood, a sense of being practical and responsible comes into force which stays till the age drops. Thus we celebrate practicalities and formalities on birthdays.

So, finally, being in the age of practicality I should celebrate my formalities too.

Together, today I am celebrating

LIFE – All my Relationships – friendships – responsibilities – bondages – uncertainties -  fears – practicalities – formalities – and of course the Journey itself

Usually I do not celebrate all these on my birthdays. Usually it is a pretty much ‘happy’ child like affair which ends up treating my dear ones and spending some time and talking to those who are close to me. This time, instead, my mind is celebrating the uncertainty of this journey called life. Unfortunately, I got to witness the ‘end’ of the journey of few dear ones in the past year. The attachments, the memories, the times spent, all goes for a six in one moment. One ‘moves on’ ultimately with the caravan. But the effect of those ‘untimely’ exits on those who were travelling along is unbearable. The uncertainty is cruel. And thus I wanted to mark down and register my state of mind on this day of my journey.

Today indeed I celebrate the lives of all those who are with me throughout this journey much more than I celebrate my own life. Reminds me of these lines –

“Zindagi ko bahut pyaar humne diya…

Maut se bhi mohabbat nibhayenge hum…

Rote – rote zamaane mein aaye magar,

Haste haste zamaane se jayenge hum…

Jayenge par kidhar, hai kise ye khabar,

koi samjha nahin koi jana nahin…!”   

Good Morning!

Morning!

Early morning crowded metro station leaves me in a fix every day. I see people running like mad to catch the train which is standing at the platform. The hurry is to reach before the doors shut. No offense but I laugh at them many a times, not because of those weird expressions on their faces when they are about to bang on the closing door but because all this reminds me of that wonderful place where life was never in hurry. The mornings used to start when the matador would start its first trip – that too dependent on the seasons. People never used to rush for anything. They had their own targets but were not afraid of the consequences they might have to face if they don’t complete them. No wonder why people in ‘city’ attend motivational classes of some gurus where they teach them how to be 'fearless'. Fear bounds you. Fear of expectations. Fear of performance. Fear of getting late. Its all too specific in city. The ‘9:15’ Metro which will come in ‘01’ minute and would take ‘51’ minutes to reach the destination. And there, people enjoyed being there in that moment. No one ever shouted on the conductor for prolonged halt at different places. No one even had the answer to the question, “Gaadi Kab aayegi?” What all they could say was, “Aajayegi abhi..” Maybe that’s why we used to treat it as the 'country' space. There is no fear. There are no expectations. The life goes on like an organism, which functions smoothly as all the parts are working in coordination, opposite to the city. I always used to call Mumbai a city of machines, where people act like machines operating on some pre-ordered instructions. Delhi is no different apart from the fact that this machine is noisier. 

These machines travelling in Metro are so stressed that they use different ways to ‘disconnect’ themselves from regular things. Some shut their eyes and murmur the names of their gods and some plug in the headphones, shut eyes and concentrate on the music. What they all are doing is ‘forgetting’ or erasing their memories temporarily or getting ‘high’. People in ‘country’ never shut eyes while travelling so as they can see the beauty lying in the nature. For city we have songs like “There’s a big hard sun, beating on the big people, in a big hard world” (Eddie Vedder) I, personally, never like to see the sun when I am in city. And back there, we used to gaze right into the rising sun early morning. ‘Accept’ is something that a city teaches very well. Being one of the ‘machines’, I accept the conditions and try to forget things listening to music. But every time I plug in to “Paradise” (Coldplay) and close my eyes, I find myself in Sahil's room, the place which relates to the song very well. Or while listening to “Don’t you worry child” (Swedish House Mafia), I find Him Anshu sitting next to me doing nothing… 

“Next station is Nehru Place”, time to stop. 

That’s how I start my ‘city’ mornings!

Wake me Up when September ends...

Saw one 'yogi' on my way back to home and was listening to this song..  and you can see the result 

Who's gonna kill it first?

The silent words are being released

Wrapped since ages, now they flee.

Struggling versus the powers it stays on

And burns to generate a storm over the sea.

The words were destined to be spoken

The tales were meant to be told

But everything remained silent

Until the fire burnt the ends of the paper fold.

It fought the wrath of winds and waters

But kept on fueling the roaring storm

The tales are now going with the flow

Wrapping themselves, every second, into a new form.

The words have now touched the winds too

Now even they want to listen more

Now they want to burn it down fast

Now even they are desperate to score.

The fight has changed into a game

Even the clouds are ready to burst

The fire, the winds, the waters or is it me

Now, who’s gonna kill it first?

वो छोटी सी Balcony... वो बारिश का पानी..

ये FB भी ले लो…
ये Whatsapp भी लेलो..

भले छ्चीन लो मुझसे मेरी जवानी..
मगर मुझको लौटा दो Campus का सावन.. 

वो छोटी सी Balcony
वो बारिश का पानी..

Sirah की वो सारी दुकानें पुरानी
वो चाचू जिनसे कहते हम की “Maggi है खानी..!”

वो राजा की lemon-tea में चीनी का बहना…
वो बबलू के omlete में प्याज़ ना रहना..

भुलाए नहीं भूल सकता है कोई…
वो छोले ते कुलचे… वो चटनी में पानी…

कड़ी धूप में GATE 1 से निकलना
वो DPS के लिए .. लंबा शॉर्टकट पकड़ना..
वो पहाड़ी के पेढो तक पत्थर उच्छालना..

वो Hospital की design में नुक्स निकलना..
वो चिल्लड़ की दौलत पे party बनाना..
वो समोसे + टिक्की + राम लड्डो में दही मिलना…

वो थक- हार कर भी हमेशा पैदल ही जाना..
फिर दिन काट के.. छत पे रातें बितानी…

वो छोटी सी बाल्कनी
वो बारिश का पानी..

कभी काम करके .. ढंग से bore हो जाना..
वो Nagari, Anshul, Sahil के कमरो में जाना..
‘नहीं करना yaaaa’ ऐसे बहाने बनाना…
वो sheet-ein बनाकर फिर Cntrl+Z दबाना…

वो गर्मी में तपना.. वो सर्दी में जमना…
ना दुनिया का घम था.. ना Society का स्यापा..
बस Monsoon की बारिश में बहते ही जाना…

कोई मुझज्को लौटा दो Campus का सावन..
वो छोटी सी बाल्कनी …
वो बारिश का पानी..

By god.. बड़ी खूबसूरत थी वो ज़िंदगानी…

Super Heroes in Metro!

Bye Bye 2013

The Year that Was.. 2013!!! 

Its been an awesome year full of friendships and adventures! 
Be it Thesis or Mumbai Trips, the BP-raising Thesis Jury or the NIASA Competition, the 'to-be-remembered-always-trip' of Ladakh or discussing just anything the whole day at Indian Coffee House... 

The Bus Driver

I am just done with yet another road journey to and fro Jammu-Delhi. The buses from Katra ply on hourly basis to various destinations of Northern India and being a ‘Holy town’, the amount of people floating from and in to the city is huge.  You can see people rushing for buses and crowd waiting for them at a ‘not-very-well-developed’ bus stand. Neither it is developed well nor does it has the potential to cater such a huge rush, still it is working and people do not regard it as a problem as they consider themselves ‘blessed’ if they are visiting the town. But being a ‘citizen’ of the place from last four years, a sense of ‘judging’ grew up in my mind as, now, I am a part of this holy town, too. Because it is a normal human tendency to start judging something which, you think, is yours!

Well, the focus of this post is not the problems of the town, will discuss that too someday. The problem a commuter faces during travelling on this route is something which is perennial and ‘can-not-change’ types and the tale is same for almost every time. What made ‘this’ journey different from others was an unfortunate incident that shook me a bit. Being a ‘frequent-highway-traveller’ since last four years, I have been through many such experiences which a ‘normal’ human being would describe as ‘shocking’, ‘deadly’, ‘how is it possible?’, etc. Travelling in any Roadway’s Bus service can actually get a hell out of you and it has happened with me ‘n’ number of times. Once the wheel axle broke down in Haryana (the experience of the driver saved all), once bus broke down in Punjab and the driver and conductor flew away (that was private service, of course), and it became the longest Katra-Delhi journey till date, of 25 hours, which is actually a 14 hour route.

The reason of my being in Delhi, this weekend, was some college stuff, which had to be finished by Monday. After all the mayhem in the city itself, like getting late for the bus, running behind an auto for half a mile and beating up the auto-wala for ‘mistakenly’ taking away the luggage, getting some ‘protein-rich’ daal moth at the end of a meal-less day, I boarded the 9:30 PM Haryana Roadways bus to Katra. It was fully loaded as always and I managed to get an aisle seat so that I could fix up my luggage in between, somewhere, as the carriers in this service are not meant for XL luggage, though they are sufficient for small hand bags and water bottles. The journey began on time, which is the best part of Government bus services. With a pet – Coca cola costing Rs. 35 (because it is being served to you in the bus) and one water bottle, I started off. For two hours it was all ok.

The driver halted somewhere in Haryana, which was not meant to be the stoppage. The conductor left the bus, and with my drowsy eyes, I could see another Roadways bus on side. Tired, I calculated that it would be something to do with the driver’s concern and kept sitting on my seat with the heavy luggage. As the bus didn’t move for 10 minutes, the ‘young’ passengers got restless and stepped down to investigate. A guy came back, telling his companion, “Bus ka accident hogaya hai!”, pointing towards the other side of the road. I turned back and could see a Haryana Bus standing, totally smashed from the front. The accident was recent as I could see the crowd and police mobile vans wandering around. The sight was harsh and sad. “What would have happened to the driver?” was the first thought that struck my mind, as the front part of the bus was, what we call, ‘finished’! After few minutes, our bus moved on, but the atmosphere was different. Most of the passengers didn’t bother about it in their sleep. Those who were awake, like me, and few others, turned silent. It turned, suddenly, very creepy, doleful, and uncomfortable. I was about to doze off but my mind started thinking about the incident continuously. Sitting at the back side of the bus, I was trying to read the conductor’s face, who was discussing the same topic with the driver, but could not find out.

After fifteen minutes of ride, the bus stopped again and both of them again went off. This time, I kept an eye on them so that I could be aware of what’s happening. They went into a building across the highway and I could barely see a blue board. The board reflected when a car crossed from its side and what I could read was “civil hospital”. I couldn’t read the name of the place and at that time, I didn’t bother about it. The concern about the victim (I didn’t want to use this word) intensified. This time, the stoppage was for a longer period, which woke up the other passengers also. A lady sitting behind me woke up and in a very annoying way said, “ye kyu rok raha hai baar baar”, to which added her husband, “pata nahin kya dikkat hai isko!” I turned back and told them the story behind it so that they could stop cursing the driver.

Within minutes, there were around 10 roadways buses, and the situation was turning more uncomfortable for me. The sight reminded me of a childhood memory. One evening, I was standing in the balcony at my place with my mom and we noticed a huge bunch of cows standing on the street. We didn’t know why they were there and the number kept on increasing followed by an MCD Animal Van. They were there to pick up a deceased cow, lying in the society park. The person managing the task was an old guy, he looked at us and said, “Inhe kaise pata chalta hai.. aaj tak samajh nahin aaya!”, pointing towards the cows. ‘They were there to attend the funeral’, that is what I could figure out. The incident touched me so much that I remember it by heart. I wonder what power, the nature has given to that ‘speech-less’ animal, how did they came to know about the incident, god knows. To the contrary, people sitting (now, they know the situation) started murmuring that the driver would have died. Some started discussing that he would have got his face smashed because of the impact on the bus and within minutes started some other topic and started laughing as nothing happened. Senseless. Not humane at all.

I was doing nothing. I could do nothing. I was just sitting and listening to the morons chatting continuously, looking towards the hospital, trying to get any update on it. Nothing came up and without knowing, I dozed off. When I woke up, it was 1:30 AM, and the bus was still standing! I started wondering what actually has happened and why they took so long. As soon as I could reach my senses I realised that it was some other place and we had stop for dinner. I searched for my conductor and asked him about the situation. What all he said was, “Hospital mein admit hai voh!”That was a relief for me. He is alive. He is in safe hands.

Rest of my journey went off in thinking about the life of a bus driver. He works for others; he is the one who takes everyone to their respective destinations; he risks his life every day, every moment; he gets a nominal pay and that too according to the rounds he complete; he is being cursed by ‘almost’ all the passengers, if he’s late; Still we never see him with respect. Some might even find this funny but have we ever thought about their lives. One of my friend discussed this with me once and said, “Thank god we are in (what people call) ‘respectable’ job. Life is so tough for those like the drivers. We are not at all capable of doing that daring job!” I used to wonder why my grandpa always says, “Thank you dada!” (Dada in Bengali means big brother) to the auto-wala after every ride. (I inherited that habit from him only) That taught me that a person is not valued  or respected by his profession, but by his worth and, now, after travelling so much, I have realised the worth of the person sitting on the ‘driving seat’.

The next time you are riding in a bus, auto-rickshaw, or any other means, please remember that if you can’t say Thank you Dada!, its fine, but please don’t curse him without any reason.

Dedicated to all the bus drivers who made it sure, that every time I reach my home to my mom-dad, safe and fine!

The Super Hero

(Text and sketches by D.B.)

While walking through a crowded market space, street or a commercial ‘hub’, we seldom notice an uncommonly capable race of Super heroes – The Office-goers! The breed is extensively available and is very ‘normal’ in appearance. They look like any other person walking down the lane. They wear no badge or ‘sign’ on their chests nor do they wear their underpants over the trousers. They don’t have laser beams striking out from eyes nor can they fly off like a bird. Still they beat out everyone on the list of Super Heroes. What they actually posses is the immense will power; power to work under any circumstance. Be it any season, any weather condition, any emergency, until unless there is a national holiday (that too, not applicable for BPO employees); ‘The Office-goer’ keeps on working.

The Carriage of the 'Hero'

He wakes up every morning with the list of ‘things-to-do’. Daily, he carries with him the load of work which he couldn’t complete the day before. He rushes from his place before time so as to catch an early bus (his carriage) so that he can reach office tidily. The moment he leaves his place, his struggle to thrive in this cruel world starts. He faces a tough competition at the bus-stand itself. There are many others just like him. He finds that he’s not alone in the world. Like him, there are many, who want to board the bus. He manages to stand one step ahead than others in a hope that the bus would stop just before him. As soon as he gets the first glimpse of it he gears himself up for a ‘clash’ that would decide whether he is a good employee or not. (Remember, it doesn’t matter how much hard working you are, if you are late, you are dead!) The clash becomes difficult when he realises that his conveyance is already overloaded! He brings up all his powers and steps into the huddle. The moment he steps in he senses one ‘shoe-mark’ on the left side of his ‘properly-ironed’ black trouser. After a second or two, he’s been dragged by someone through his shirt damaging the crease on his right. His bag is being pulled by someone continuously. His pen (in shirt’s pocket) is almost ready to jump off. The lens of his specs is being ‘disabled’ with some oil deposit from someone’s head. Those who have the ‘average’ height, senses the ‘aroma’ of different kinds of hair oils and hair gels. This is possible only in the morning. That’s the only time when one can sense the fragrance of the Super Heroes.

The Super-Bus after the crowd enters

The slaughtered Super hero realises his importance and grabs a nook in the bus. His whole journey passes in attempting to reach as closer to the window as possible which, he discovers, is jammed (due to the rust that was deposited in the last rain). Signs of efforts to open that pane could be seen easily on the hook that is being bent and thrashed by the members of the same race, earlier in time. Our hero, now, has the responsibility to open that window so as to relieve the human race from the heat that is being built up inside the bus. He draws together all his powers and opens the jammed pane followed by appreciations & gratitude flowing in from all sides. Once again, he saved the human race.

As he reaches his destination, his fight with the time begins, again. Why the bus took three minutes extra at the last traffic light? Why the ticket collector had to stop this bus only? Why don’t humans understand the value of time? Why the roads are so narrow? Why the buses don’t use the BUS LANE? With such thoughts in mind and an eye on his wrist watch, the Hero starts rushing towards the office. On his way, he notices many other heroes, but as he is late by three minutes, he ignores all his mates and moves on.

Finally, he reaches the place where his own powers are of no use. The place where there are other heroes but they too lose their powers; the place where his heroic deeds and stories are ‘too common’; the place where his efforts to save the humanity are futile and ineffectual; the place which is headed by a Higher spirit, not good, not decent, for sure. As soon as the hero enters, he’s welcomed by the messenger (another hero in his own sense) of the ‘Higher Spirit’ with a message, “Come late by five minutes, again, and you’ll be marked absent!” Thus, the Hero & his heroic deeds are shunned off and he loses all his powers. The place is ‘The Office’ and the higher spirit is ‘The Boss!’

And thus once again our Super Hero works and prepares himself for another battle! Battle with time & submissions.