I was IMPRISONED and put in solitary confinement!

Another confession of a flawed perfectionist

 No, this is not fiction! A secret, the World must know, Now!

IT was 7.15 pm on Saturday April 25, 2015 – I had been sitting in the rickety white wooden bench for half hour now, dreading the outcome. My friend Sudhir was with me, he assured me nothing will be wrong, but he too knew all was not right.

As the moment arrived, I walked into the chamber nervously and then the man in the robe, just looked at me and the pronouncement was made, the verdict was NOT in my favour.

He handed over the papers to Sudhir with clear instructions. I felt my knees would give away, I was shattered. What was my crime? Well, I will deal with this issue later.

I was condemned to spend a week in solitary confinement.

8.00pm: I was remanded into the 8 feet x 12 feet room. A well painted one, it had a tube light and a fan, a stool with a jug of water and a steel glass, and just one calendar on the wall. A window, but closed, nothing was visible of the outside, a high ventilator. A side door which opened into a bathroom with a western toilet, neat with blue and white tiles. There was a wooden cot in the room without a bed, but I was asked to sleep on the floor mat with a thin cloth on it. I was also provided with pillows and bed sheet to cover. An electric mosquito repellant was there too.

I would rather call my ‘cell’^ a special room, for that gave me a feeling of having a special status and also sounded better.

I was asked to change into a long white shorts and a light round neck loose T shirt, I was given insipid curd rice in a small bowl and after partaking that I fell asleep on the mat, tired from the previous day’s incident. No, I am not going into the details, but one thing was sure I am going to endure this physical pain and torture for only a week… but the mental agony… for now - best forgotten.

I woke up late in the night and drank water from the jug, and couldn’t sleep at all, my back was aching, both the legs and hands were paining badly, I couldn’t get up and wash myself. I lied down again writhing in more pain.

The next day was Sunday, the ‘warden’* woke me with a broad smile, gave me my list of instructions: No bathing, No toothbrush, only toothpaste to be used with finger, No outside food, only porridge like dal rice and butter milk rice will be served, morning newspaper provided (thankfully – can check last night’s IPL match result) and some fruits allowed. Strictly NO contact with anybody whatsoever and NO VISITORS apart from immediate family, yes – I was allowed my medicines.

I dozed the whole Sunday, thinking of all the luxuries I was missing. That evening I was given my mobile phone, but no out-going calls* were allowed, I could check internet on the weak wifi. I logged in and out off Twitter and Facebook, no posts done... what will I post?

I kept thinking, what got me into this, how did it happen, I continued to have nightmares of the worst experience.

 

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday too passed like a routine, with almost no activity, partook the insipid food, looked at the four walls and the roof all the time (the old brown fan needed to be wiped), read the newspaper, played a few games on the mobile, browsed the internet, made random posts on social media and dozed most of the time.

Thursday – April 30, 2015: My cousin Srinivasan was getting married in the same city, they got the news about me, I was feeling extremely sad that I couldn’t attend the wedding, my wife didn’t go, none from my family went either!

Friday was no different from earlier days, no change in the taste of the food, I yearned for samosas and mirchi bajjis, for ice-cream and chocolates.

Sunday, after a week I am released from the imprisonment. My face looks like a hardened criminal, unshaven for 10 days, deepened eyes, unkempt hair, dark spots all over the face

I have my first wash in more than a week and thank all those who were with me in this one week of utter torture, thanks to my family for bearing with me and my tantrums, special thanks to Sudhir Kutty for taking me to the Doctor, ‘the man in the robe’, who put me through this course of solitary confinement to cure the highly infectious chicken pox.

Ps: * marked items are added fiction - for the effect J

^the guest room in my house

Please keep your 'bakchodi' private

Disclaimer: My views in this article are not an indication of my leanings with any political ideology, religious thought or otherwise, but purely as a very forward thinking, positive INDIAN individual who respects the freedom of others as much as they should be within the limits of decency.

There has been much brouhaha from the so called pseudo-forward thinking individuals who have been cribbing to no end over the past eight odd months since a new government has been in place in India. About everything that has been their nurtured culture at home but which when practiced openly has been a cause of concern because it goes against the ‘secular fabric’. Well agreed you don’t like the Gayatri mantra or the Saraswati Vandana be recited in schools, you don’t want the Surya namaskarams and the Yoga pranayams being popularized by a ‘popularly’ elected Government. Agreed you feel it is the ‘right’ of an artist to run roughshod the gods, goddesses and practices of the majority religion because Freedom of Expression must be allowed to practice. Agreed you go over the top shouting from rooftops when the minority religion or its practitioners are painted black in a film maker’s artistic expression as it is against the ‘secular thread’ and Freedom of Expression is taken too far.

What baffles me is your outrageous support of the filth that is being spread in the name of ushering in openness and freedom of expression, albeit westernised.

Call me conservative, call me old-school, call me hypocrite, call me OLD or whatever… as what you call your parents… Today I am a father of a teenage daughter, but I haven’t changed a bit from my own teenage days…

I come from the city of Hyderabad which is known for its liberal usage of the choicest of expletives quite native to this region and very popular among all age groups (no youth or old talk here, everyone has the twang when they speak the language). But the point is as much as I have been an orator of sorts of the brilliant filthy vocabulary, I have been a strict practitioner of the same in private. I have been a vociferous promoter of abstinence of bad language in public, in the midst of elders and above all women and children.

While conceptually a paid audience of four thousand has every right to listen to their share of expletive ridden sarcastic roasting of individuals in the garb of ‘healthy’ humour in a closed auditorium, the spread of this malady as ‘art’ through world-wide-web, which is easily accessible by all and sundry is not something that needs to be applauded.

More so, when the content is full of not just expletives but pornographic acts - drama induced sexual innuendos and crass behavior of celebrities who are looked upon as idols by the younger generation (read teenagers).

If you think denying you your daily dose of such filthy edgy entertainment is “khaak achche din” so be it. "Not your cup of tea.. don't drink it!!" is agreed.. but why do you drink Your tea in public and in the nude?!

The nation built on better morals stay better, don’t get induced to be roasted in public and cry foul selectively.

Doomsday revisited ~ but now it is for real !

Somewhere on the beach in a South Indian Metro

6.00 am: December 21, 2014: Exactly 2 years after the Doomsday of 2012 that never happened

A weary Sam, who had moved on from the Metro City back to his hometown, slowly picked up the metal piece from the wet sand. It seemed very familiar and instantly Sam started rubbing it off on his shirt sleeve and held it up against the morning sun. He could not be wrong, the insignia on the belt buckle was distinct, it was the Gott Mit Uns, the German military symbol brought back memories of good friend Matt. He was sure it belonged to Matt, and could not hold on to the emotions any further.

“Where are you man, what are doing in this city and on the beach so early in the morning…? Er… WHAT… Hold on… I am coming there in half hour”, Ronnie hung up the phone, same response from a startled Joe, who too promised to meet in almost the same time.

Over the next 30 minutes, Sam’s mind took him back in time reminiscing the months he had spent in the city, the fun times with Ronnie and Joe two years back, then his own career and life that had taken him through various ups and downs. Regret was not the thought on his mind, but then yes the creative thinker was now short of reasoning and felt a deep thaw in his heart. Time had to be rewound, wish the clock turned back.

Sam’s thoughts now moved back to Christmas 2013, almost exactly a year back, a reunion of the trio at the same roadside tea shop, where in their heydays Sam and Joe endlessly pulled Ronnie’s legs and regaled. But this time around it was different; the meeting with Matt was the highlight.

The Globetrotting young man in his early thirties was introduced as an acquaintance by Ronnie to the other two. Impeccably dressed, sharp features, rich British accent and a fine sense of humour, Matt (his short name) was at ease with the dirt and dust of the surroundings, he was not new to the place. He even understood the local language. For someone who could pass off as an undercover agent, Matt was actually an architecture graduate whose interest in medieval history and civilizations had taken him across Europe. 

He shared as much of his knowledge of the 17^th Century as of the World War II period. Sam remembered asking him about the belt buckle “Are you a Nazi sympathizer?” “No”, replied Matt nonchalantly, “this is one of the rare pieces that I picked up during my recent visit to Bali in Indonesia from a street side hawker”. 

He told the trio that it was an original Nazi piece that must have landed in the South East Asian island through some travellers.
Matt was not very religious but a quite worshipper who explained Gott Mit Uns meant ‘God With Us’.

Matt was affluent and much affable, over the next three days he hit out well with Joe, Sam and Ronnie. They went around the southern town 60 km from the metro city known for its 9^th century monolithic temples. Matt would click pictures endlessly and speak of the architectural marvel that place was. Soon they were discussing evolution from the monolithic days to the scientific era with its technological advancement and the internet revolution. Matt seemed lost in thought and would in bits and pieces keep mumbling “technological advancement is a myth” and rub off the sand on the shore temple carvings and keenly observe the beauty and make notes. “December 26^th 2004 is just an example that humans can’t withstand nature’s fury, technological advancement is a myth and the world will be more clueless soon”, Matt sounded sad talking of the Tsunami, but there was more to come.

Joe asked Matt jokingly “are you predicting something like Nostradamus’ end of the World?” Ronnie turned away, Sam laughed loud, Matt just muttered “an end the World may never decipher” and his last statement was quite cryptic.

On Christmas eve Matt bid good bye to the friends and flew off to Bangkok, the pagodas and the Thai architecture attracted him much. While parting he promised the trio to meet again in the same city a day before Christmas next year.

7.00 am: Sipping tea on the beach Joe and Ronnie join Sam in unravelling the events over the last year, the mysterious disappearance of Matt and the cluelessness of the World in locating him. Ronnie held the Gott Mit Uns in his palm and spoke out loud “it is his, I have no doubt”. Joe, still in his tennis apparel, queried “how sure are you”? Sam had the same question in mind and Ronnie replied “The blunted beak of the Eagle has got the scratch when Matt fell while rock climbing last year, he showed me that”.

Next question all three came up with – Did Matt return here after leaving India last? The answer was No.

Ronnie turned towards the sea and said “last anyone heard from him was me, he called and wished on my birthday - March 6^th, said he was flying to China in couple of days and will be in Netherlands a fortnight later”.

In fact that was the last anyone heard from him, Ronnie tried contacting Matt’s other friends who too knew nothing much.

In the days after Matt’s disappearance endless search for the slightest of clue of his whereabouts seemed to no avail, conspiracy theories floated even as billions of dollars were spent by multiple nations bearing no trace of any evidence of the big bird Matt was flying in.

For someone who seemed like a clairvoyant through his utterings Matt surely knew more than the World would ever know – How else could one explain ‘an end the World will never decipher’ and ‘Gott Mit Uns’?

As 2014 ends there are absolutely no answers to when the mystery will be solved, will this remain as the most mysterious of happenings ever? The disappearance of MH 370 continues to perplex the World and is a challenge the ultra modern technological know-how is puzzled of.

The 'God With Us' is silent.

Rest in Peace!

Related Read: … And thus the World Ended on Doomsday December 21st!

Disclaimer:

This is purely a work of fiction and Matt is just a figment of imagination.

Sam, Joe and Ronnie are fictitious characters inspired from real life friends. 

Why this Hockey Gold in the Asian Games cheers more than anything else!

I remember as a High School student watching the 1982 Asian Games on the community TV in our neighbourhood, it was the first sports extravaganza that I remember inspiring me and our entire generation. The loss in the Hockey final notwithstanding, I still got hooked to the stick sport.

Though the folklore of Dhyan Chand and Olympic Gold Medals were irresistible, another Hockey Gold at the Olympics was not what I was looking forward for India to win, it was an Asian Games Gold defeating Pakistan that mattered most now.

A year later everything changed, India won the Cricket World Cup and as they say, the rest is history. In the next 3 decades since then, Cricket swept away all other sports into... well, almost oblivion.

In secondary school in 1986, there was fond hope of revival of Indian Hockey at the Asian Games, after thrashing all in the Group stage India met its nemesis in Pakistan again, that day I cried but told myself never to cry again for Indian Hockey.

Three years later a certain Sachin Tendulkar came on the Cricket stage and over the next two and half decades ruled the sport and the hearts of Indians slowly but surely erasing the bad memories of Hockey.

A dozen years later India won the Asiad Gold, but that was also the year when Tendulkar was at his mesmerising best ‘causing nightmares’ to the best of opponent bowlers. The Hockey win that year was made not so memorable by the Indian Hockey Federation sacking the coach and a few stars of the Gold winning team, not very impressive or inspiring for the youngsters to take up the sport for glory.

Years passed and Indian Hockey fortunes fluctuated reaching the peaks and nadirs consistently.

While Cricket took precedence, I continued to follow Hockey silently hoping to see better days. The last two years had been really pathetic, almost all hope seemed lost.

The expectation of India winning the Gold in the Incheon Asian Games wasn’t too high. As the tournament progressed and having defeated the host in the Semi-Final all hope returned. Harrowing memories of loss to arch rival started playing in the mind as India trailed 0-1 in the 1^st quarter of the Final. 

While the game entered the final Penalty phase, I sat in silence glued to the TV – praying! As the entire nation erupted at the heroic moment from goalkeeper Sreejesh, I shed a tear. Yes, this was different, it had to happen at the Asian Games, against Pakistan, in the Final and it did.

----- Dedicated to all my classmates and friends at Kendriya Vidyalaya, who went through similar emotions -------

Telangana Survey - What they asked and what they didn't!

The much publicised and over hyped in media Telangana Survey also known as the Samagra Kutumba Survey evoked tremendous response according to the Chief Minister, who called it a 'Hit'. 

However the Questions in the Survey itself didn't seem to serve much purpose personally!  For a forward caste, private employed, middle class Tamilian this survey had no expectations though!

I have enlisted a few Questions that amused me and a few that really didn't:

Aadhar Card number - Yes | Ration Card - NO

~ Wasn't this exercise all about weeding out bogus ration cards in the first place?

Mobile Number - Yes | Fixed Land line number - NO. 

~ "House" hold survey right?

Water Connection & Can Number - Yes |  But not how frequently water is supplied in the locality? - NO

~  For the record: Once a week for 1 hour.

Electricity Bill number - Yes | But not how many hours electricity is supplied (or not supplied)? - NO 

~ For the record - presently 5 to 6 hours power cut every day.

Type of Asset: Air Conditioner? - Yes | Why not Automatic Washing Machine, Double Door Refrigerator, Geysers, LCD Televisions, Persian Carpets and lot more such luxury items?

~ Who decided this query?

Pet Dogs - Yes |  Why No cognizance of the dozen rabid stray dogs on the street lying right in front of the house? - They make life miserable!

Epic signing off:  I solemnly declare the above in the name of God / Self. No other options?

Forced Bandh: Buses, Autos, Taxis, Shops, Schools, Colleges, Offices, Banks, Diagnostic Centres, Petrol Bunks and even a few Hospitals - every thing was closed - Roads Deserted Wine Shops remain open whole day!

~ It's a topsy-tipsy survey !

Tail piece:

My wife was enlisted as 'Housewife' but Mother was not - Reason: There is only 1 Kitchen in your house. - Outrageous.

Of niceties in Sport and punishing law breakers!

Lahore October 16, 1987: It was almost twilight and West Indies were on the threshold of entering their fourth consecutive Semi Final place in World Cups. Pakistan required 2 runs from the last ball with Abdul Qadir on strike, the non striker Saleem Jaffar was backing up too far and should have been out ‘Mankaded’. 

But the Caribbean giant Courtney Walsh decided to play gentleman and stopped in his tracks to allow the Pakistan no. 11 back in his crease. The next ball Qadir got the runs for a famous victory. West Indies lost, but Walsh won a million hearts and the incident remains etched even after 26 years.

That was then. Cricket and the World have traversed millions of miles around the Sun and human life has evolved much around the principal of vengeance.

While cricket is now played with fierce competitive spirit with no team missing a chance to sledge and disturb the other team, the Englishmen, credited with inventing the game of Cricket and branding it a gentleman’s game, are no saints either and have a fair share of bringing disrepute to the tag. Not new to breaking the law, crying hoarse and playing victim is something the English cricketers are not new to either.

The recent incident involving English batsman Jos Buttler and Sri Lankan spinner Sachitra Senanayake is moot case in point.

After a whirlwind century in a losing cause Jos had come into this deciding fifth One Day International with a huge responsibility. What was irresponsible on his part was his constant ambling outside the crease at the non striker’s end while the bowler ran up to bowl. Having been warned a few times in the earlier match and twice by Senanayake, Jos was in for a rude shock when the bowler coolly ran him out Mankaded. That hastened the end of the English innings and a seemingly achievable target meant the Lankan side won the match and series.

While it would be fair for the home crowd to feel cheated and boo the opposition for the alleged un-sportive act of the Lankan captain upholding the appeal for Out, it also brings to fore the unfair  advantage sportsmen take by breaking the law. Yes, lawfully Buttler was out and he didn’t deserve a third warning.

For a strong believer in sportsmanship and fairplay, I may not have Mankaded a non striker while bowling, but as a stickler to rules I always believed, the one who breaks the rule deserves to be punished. 

On this day English Cricket had to be punished, and they were!

----------------------

Ashes ~ Cricket at it's best!

IF Cricket is Religion... Ashes is it's most revered celebration!

July 10, 2013: Once again it's that time of the year when the most keenly fought and most keenly followed series in the history of Cricket begins! 

While Australia and England fight for the pride of the historical trophy, Ashes over the years has changed hands much. More so in the recent years after the consistent supremacy of the team from down under was broken. The rivalry between the teams has seen many a high point and a few lows too, for the modern day cricket is quite 'no holds barred'. 

The Ashes 2013 is going to be no different, for the war of words and strategies have already begun. 

While we Indians have been subjected to an extreme overdose of T20, especially the much-tainted IPL, the  recent Champions Trophy has been a refreshing change from the shortest format to the One-Day version. 

However, Test Cricket has been universally accepted as the real 'test' of cricket, and there cannot be a better way to start the season but for Ashes. While I would like to go on and on in eulogising the 'real form of cricket', for the ardent follower of cricket, just the mention Test, is enough. 

The much celebrated Australian team is not the same again. Sans Ricky Ponting, this inexperienced team lead by Michael Clarke will be up against a rejuvenated English team lead by Alastair Cook. Rejuvenated from their recent successes in cricket and buoyed by a sports crazy nation basking in the glory of the historical achievement of its favourite Tennis star.

Andy Murray, who won for his country at home, the mecca of Tennis - Wimbledon after a long wait of 77 years, will surely be a huge inspiration for England.

The mecca of Cricket - Lords, beckons another War!

July 10, 2013 is a day of reckoning, an eagerly awaited date for the connoisseurs of the game, for this will decide whether the longest version of the game will bite the dust or rise from the Ashes.

Thus, I sign off with the same lines as my previous Ashes blog post ended (appended below)

--------------- My July 5, 2009 blogpost on Ashes ---------------

(http://venkrekzworld.blogspot.in/2009/07/ashes-to-ashes-dust-to-dust.html )

Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust...

…If Thomson doesn't get you, Lillee must!

So goes the folklore of cricket that seems to have been the hallmark of what cricket was all about – Test Cricket! Add Gary Gilmour to the attack, and cricket in the 70s and 80s was in its fiercest form of competitiveness, in spite of the fact that it was played over six days with a day’s break in between. The West Indies defined the four pronged pace attack and the spearheads like Croft, Roberts, Holding, Garner, Marshall sent chill down the spine of the batsmen. There were batsmen of the likes of Geoff Boycott and Sunil Gavaskar who would play out days and nights to blunt the above attack.

Cricket in flannels is still considered the purest form and Ashes the flag bearer. Today cricket is followed as religion in India but then the passionate following that this game has dates back to 1882 when a young London journalist, Reginald Shirley Brooks wrote a mock obituary in the Sporting Times, which read: “In affectionate remembrance of English cricket which died at The Oval, 29th August, 1882. Deeply lamented by a large circle of sorrowing friends and acquaintances, RIP. NB: The body will be cremated and the Ashes taken to Australia.” That was to be Australia's first victory on English soil over the full strength of England.

Things haven’t changed much even to this day, Ashes conjures some of the most competitive displays of the gentleman’s game and has stood the test of time. If the overdose of Twenty 20 through the Indian Premier League and the T20 World Cup makes the modern follower feel that test cricket is losing its sheen, then look back to the year when Kerry Packer hijacked the cream of the cricketers to a new brand of coloured clothing game, which brought a revolution to the fifty over format.

The 1978-79 Ashes was played in direct competition to the unofficial WSC matches elsewhere in Australia and, while England lost a few regulars, Australia fielded a weak side that lost the series 5-1. The crowds dwindled and Test cricket seemed threatened. After things settled down the following year Ashes saw some of the most memorable performances The 1979 series was notable for the remarkable number of players who made nineties - Kim Hughes (99) Boycott (99*) David Gower (98*) Greg Chappell (98*) and Graham Gooch (99), missing out his maiden century being run-out. Those days cricket was keenly followed on BBC and ABC radio and of course through the newspaper columns. Even as One Day cricket with coloured clothing and white ball made strides, Test cricket continued to flourish and yes with some record breaking performances across the World.

After almost two decades of dominance Australia lost the Ashes to the English in 2005, but then regained it at home eighteen months later with an emphatic 5-0 whitewash. Two years later and with the cream of the Aussies leaving, the team from down under are facing a stiff challenge, not just to retain the Ashes, but also uphold the dispassionate interest that followers of the game have always had in the five day version.

July 8, 2009 is a day of reckoning, an eagerly awaited date for the connoisseurs of the game, for this will decide whether the longest version of the game will bite the dust or rise from the Ashes.

--------------------------------------------- pics : Internet--------------------------------------------------