INDIAN INSTITUTE OF SOCIAL WELFARE AND BUSINESS MANAGEMENT.

WHY THE HELL AM I DOING AN MBA ? (part 1)

The true story of a poet who never gave up …… and that perhaps was his problem.

It was 6th of July , 10.45 AM, my first class in a B-school . Fifteen minutes into my Organizational Behavior class I yawned. I wrote the following questions (and answers to some of them )in my OB notebook.
“Questions you are not going to ask yourself ever.
Q1) What am I doing here?
Q2) Did I not deserve better ?
Please never ask this question. SIIB was not your type. K.J. Somaiya was so uncool . Never ,Pranay , I warn you never, ask yourself this question .
Q3) How can I get through these two years?
Dumbo! Study aur Kya !”
All through the two hour class , the onerous task was not to understand what the teacher was saying ( I had given that up five minutes into the class)but to keep my eyes opened. The next two classes that followed , I was still clueless. It was as if I had been thrown into kindergarten and nothing could ever make me wiser about what was going on. Each day I would come to the class , seldom care to talk to anybody , neither make an effort to do so , attend the lectures , yawn and return at 7.30 in the night .
I saw students around me getting very friendly with each other from day one .I did not know what to say , whom to talk to , I looked around for hints to find out if there was a physics guy around, but alas it was not to be . I was the lone physics geek ( I call myself a poet ) among the bigwigs .
I remember the entire first week I talked to only about three students . On Thursday , the third period was Accounts . The teacher asked me,
“ Which college are you from ?”
I pointed to the college just near to my B-school campus and said,” Presidency College.”
The whole class burst into a roar of laughter. I felt strange. I wanted to tell them ,
“ Hello dumbos . There is a Presidency College in Chennai also , remember? Thats why I pointed out .”
But I didn’t bother to explain . I cared about nothing . I hated this place. I hated myself for being here.
I remember another incident which I now recall a lot .
One day ,after recess I took my seat . A girl from behind called me . She smiled.
“Pranay, you remember we were in the same GD group .”
To tell you the truth , I had known her from the first day.
I replied, “I know” ,and turned away from her.
“What the hell was that ?” ,I told myself, “Were not you supposed to elaborate?”
But I knew I was mad . This place had made me mad.
( I hope I have made up to the girl by now.)
The Accounts classes were killing me. I saw almost everybody understood Accounts pretty well. I was a poet , clueless about the terminologies Debit, Credit …balance.
To conclude after the second week I was certain that I should have stayed in research . I could have done so much in Carbon Nanotubes , my final year project topic . I found myself to be a misfit . I had very few friends here. I knew my next two years were going to be a drag , that I had to survive somehow…….anyhow .
But from the third week things started to change and finally on 3rd August something happened that was to change everything in my life ( for better or worse only time will tell), and the way I was perceived in this college and more importantly how I perceived the college……॥THE EVENTS COMMITTEE ELECTION।

In the next part … the 3^rd week and how things started to look a little bright ……and yes THE election and why I had it all wrong …..all the time.

This Saturday …only on

www.pranayandlovingit.blogspot.com

my blog, my style……

THE MOMENT I SAW YOU CRY
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A story by PRANAY TIWARI ------------------------------------------------------

Chapter-1
Place – Mumbai
Time – The Present

A tear trickled down Arpita’s face. Her hands were trembling holding that letter. Minutes ago, Mr. Gupta had told her something that shook everything that she had come to believe all this while. An intense emotion of hatred stirred within her. All that she wanted to forget, all the painful memories had been dragged to the forefront from the depths of oblivion. She did not want to open the letter.

Place – Kolkata
Time- The intermediate ( 23 years from the present)
Screech…………… The metallic red SUV came to an abrupt halt as if reluctant to do so. The front window of the car rolled down partially. The man looked around through it. He located the building he was looking for. Rangmahal, that’s what his friend had said . Everything had already been arranged . The dilapidated and moss eaten two storey thing would not have been called a ‘building’ had it not been for the roof . Just near the portico of this grand structure, stood a group of women looking at the car and making assumptions about the owner’s worth. Alongside , near the pavement ,was a scantily clad , blonde girl flaunting her half exposed breasts to a passerby . “These are for real , you know “, she shouted . In one of the rooms that could be seen from the streets, a man was putting back his pants after the ‘ritual’ . On the opposite side of the pavement was a tea shop where few hoodlums were seriously discussing whether contraceptive pills really work. Near them stood a youngster making indecent gestures to a girl on the balcony of the building . Adjacent to the tea shop stood a kiosk selling old Playboy magazines. Everywhere there was a hush , as if nobody wanted to be recognized , no body wanted to be chastised for the acts they would be performing here . Yes, this was the red light area of Sonargachi.
As a child Ashok never imagined he would ever land in a brothel for sexual gratification. But then as a child we don’t see the darker side of life . Three days ago , Ashok had seen her wife having sex with a boy who was ten years younger to her. Nita , his wife had been frank, almost blatantly so. “I have my needs too ,Ashok”, she said. But her perfidious conduct did not surprise Ashok. He knew it would come down to this . Five years ago, their five year old daughter Chitra had been killed in a car accident. Since then Ashok had become oblivious to anybody around him . Today ,he thought was the day of revenge .Revenge? Against whom? How could having sex with a prostitute be a form of revenge .And against whom? It was all so unclear to him.
Someone knocked on the front window . Ashok rolled it down completely. Munnibai craned her neck inside, giving her practiced fake smile.
“ Arrey Ashok Babu . Yes , yes , she is ready .” She opened the back door and forced a girl inside .
She again gave her fake smile .
“Ashok Babu , she is fresh . Came yesterday .”
Ashok did not for once look at the girl . He started his engine and was about to press on the accelerator when the lady opened her spittle redden mouth yet again, this time for the girl .
“Arrey sun, sahib ko khush kar dena .”
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Ashok still had no intention of looking at the girl who was sitting behind. He could hear faint sobs from the back but that too did not make him respond. Why was she crying ? Was not this her profession?Then a thought struck him . She was fresh, may be she was not used to all this .He felt more ashamed of himself . As the traffic light at the Central Avenue turned red , Ashok killed the engine and stared at his reflection on the glass . Why did it have to come down to this ? The question was almost rhetorical because he knew the answer . It was his past . He had to pay for his past.

Place – Mumbai
Time – The Past (10 years from The Intermediate and 33 years from The Present )
Ashok stood at the balcony and looked down . A shabbily dressed woman brisked away angrily from their bunglow . Holding her hand was a young girl ,who was finding it difficult to keep pace with the woman . In the other hand the girl was clutching a tattered doll . The girl was crying as she was being dragged across the streets by the angry woman .
“ Where is father , ma ?” she asked . It had been a long time and her father had not returned .
The woman did not care to respond . She wiped her face and kept walking.
“Ma , where is father ?” the girl repeated her question and this time she willfully slackened her pace .
The woman could not take it any more . She dropped the girl’s hand forcefully and screamed .
“ Your father is dead . You hear me Arpita , they have killed him and he is never going to come back .”
The girl looked confused . She did not know what ‘dead’ meant.
Ashok saw the girl’s face . She was just about five years old .He felt a twinge in his heart .
Last night Ashok and his friends were returning from the discotheque . He had been drinking and so he did not realize when he rammed his car into a man . The doctor at the Lilavati emergency ward had declared the man dead as soon as he felt the man’s pulse.
Moments ago the dead man’s wife had been called at his residence . A sum of fifty thousand was offered to forget the case .
“In any case you can prove nothing . And one more thing , your husband was drinking that night , so basically koi case hi nahi banta hai .” said the police commissioner who had arranged for a meeting at the Bajaj residence itself . He knew that the man had not drunk but he also knew money could prove a lot of right things wrong .
Now as Ashok stood at the balcony , he guessed the woman had not accepted the offer.
Next day Ashok found himself at his ancestral home in Kolkata . He was asked to stay there till the matter cooled down.
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Six months later Ashok Bajaj was married to Nita Mahajan , the daughter of a Kolkata millionaire . Ashok did not want to marry but he said nothing . He had lost his conscience as well as his will to protest six months ago. He was twenty seven years old then.

Chapter – 2
Time – the Intermediate
Place – Kolkata
Insalubrious. That’s what Ashok felt as he entered his bungalow with the girl following him coyly . He was already repenting what he had done . He wanted to ask the girl to leave ,but it was close to midnight , and the streets of Kolkata were not safe for a jejune girl at this time of the hour .
He entered the drawing room ,turned back and motioned the girl to sit . This was the first time he saw her . As he looked at her face the familiarity of her face struck him .She wore a mauve saree which she was finding extremely difficult to manage .The kohl lining her eyes could not hide the fact that she had been crying . Yet there was a simplicity in her face that dazzled him .
The girl sat where she was asked . She did not look up and kept staring at the granite floor .
“What is you name ?” he asked .
The girl did not reply . Ashok repeated his question .
“ Lali” she said.
Incognito.
“ Your real name ?”
“ Arpita”.
The Past? He had heard that name before . But it could not be , he assured himself . This was a mere coincidence .
“ How old are you ?”
“ Twenty two”, she replied.
“ Your real age ?”
“Fifteen “.
“That fat lady told you came here yesterday. Where did you live before ?”
“ Mumbai ,my uncle brought me here .”
Ashok felt a little dizzy . Then he assured himself . It was a mere coincidence .
“Where is your father ?” Ashok asked bluntly .
Arpita was taken aback by the brusqueness of the question . She had heard of dilettante clients who showed their concern only to gain false sympathy . But for some reason this man seemed different.
“ He was killed in a car accident , ten years ago .”
Something hit Ashok in the heart . He knew what it was . Providence .
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The girl stood near the window and stared at the starry sky . Ten years ago, as a five year old she could not have imagined to land in a brothel . But after his father died , all the possible troubles found their way in her life . Her mother died two years later due to tuberculosis . All this while she stayed with her uncle . Each night he would return from his jute mill job , drunk , disgruntled and would beat the girl for no reason. A month ago her uncle had met a man who was interested in the girl . She was sold for thirty thousand . She had come yesterday . Today, Munnibai had slapped her twice .
“ You just cannot sit and eat .You have to work .” she had shouted.
Strangely enough , this first customer seemed different . Since last night she had seen all sorts of men turn up in those dark rooms of Rangmahal . For some strange reason they put all their frustrations , their anger , their scorn into the ‘ritual’. Most girls could be found later crying most of them with a injured thigh or a dislocated shoulder .
Tonight as she had pulled off her pallu and started unbuttoning her blouse for the paid job , the man had instantly objected. Infact he had been more embarrassed than her . “no, no, please . Its all right . You don’t have to do this . Here is the rest of the money . Please . Just sleep in the room tonight and I’ll leave you the first thing in the morning .”
The girl buttoned her blouse and thanked God a million times.
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Arpita’s gaze broke because Ashok entered the room . He had a tray in his hand .
“ I didn’t want to call Shyam from the servants quarter at this time . And I have no idea where he keeps the food .But I managed to find this in the refrigerator .”
He offered her three slices of pizza and a can of cola .Arpita waited for the man to go.
Then she ate as if there was no tomorrow .
This was her first meal in Kolkata.
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As she gorged on the last crumbs of the food , Arpita looked around the room where she had been asked to sleep . The room’s earlier occupant had been a girl , since there were dolls all around . Over the bed was a framed photograph of a little girl . A garland hung over its frame . Adjacent to the bed was a Mickey Mouse clock . Near it stood a white teddy bear . Arpita’s eyes fell on the envelope underneath the teddy bear . She picked it up , took out a piece of paper . She knew it wasn’t the right thing to do , but she read it still. It ran,
‘ Dear Baba,
I am very angry that you are not coming to see us off at the airport . I am mad that you are not joining us at Shimla itself . Needless to say I’ll not be answering your calls.
I’ll forgive you only when you pick me up from the airport . No more business meetings . By the way no more white teddy bears please . I need a black panda this time .
I remain,
Your very angry daughter.
Chitra .’
Arpita put the card back in the envelope . When she was a little child she thought that money could buy you all the happiness of the world . Tonight as she sat in the large lonely room , and looked at the picture of the girl in the photograph , she realized that the rich sometimes were as helpless as the poor .
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The brothel seemed to repel her more . Last night was a mere dream she told herself. Her real destiny lay ahead of her , Rangmahal. She wanted to turn away and ask the man in the car to take her away from all this, but she refrained . She kept on walking towards the portico when Ashok shouted,
“Arpita.”
She turned.
“I’ll come back in the evening.”
She thanked God a million times once again and walked into the mottled building.
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The Rado watch on Ashok’s wrist beeped five times , but he ignored the call ,or atleast feigned so .Several poignant questions were troubling him. Why had he told Arpita he would come back . What would she think about him now. Surely he did not owe her anything . He would not go there , he told himself .
An hour passed. The innocent face of the girl kept intruding his thoughts . She was not her responsibility, he tried to convince himself . But what if……
“ Mr.Gupta , I’ll be not returning today .Could you mange the teleconferencing for me.”
If Ashok would not have been running like mad he would have heard Mr. Gupta say “ Yes Sir.”
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Munnibai was shocked when the red SUV halted abruptly and Ashok frantically ran towards her.
“ Where is she?”he asked her, he only hoped he was not too late .
“Oh Lali? She… she is busy ,” Munnibai smiled nervously, “But Ashok Babu I have another fresh …..”
“ Where is she ?”
This time Munnibai knew she was not to beat around the bush .
“ Upstairs . The first room.”
Ashok frantically climbed the stairs. Reaching the room . he banged the door thrice .
A gruff voice responded
“ Who is it?”
Ashok banged the door again.
This time, the door opened . A plump man was staring at Ashok with fury . He did not have his shirt on and was about to take of his pants .
“I have not even started you sister fucker. This whore is mine for an hour .”
From the corner Ashok could see Arpita crouched on the floor , the plaits of her saree had been taken off. Her eyes were red and it was evident that she had been crying .
Anger seethed within Ashok .
“ If you don’t leave her now, I’ll kill you .”
Somehow the earnestness of the voice told the man that the advice was to be heeded. He walked down the stairs hurling expletives .
Ashok entered the room . Arpita stood up putting back the plaits of her saree . She looked at Ashok . She was angry with him , like she used to be when her father returned late from work and they would miss the fair .
“Why were you late?” she asked as if she had every right to do so .
Ashok looked straight into her eyes and replied , “I am sorry.”
Arpita rushed and hugged Ashok tightly .Then she cried unabashedly, like she used to before her father .
That moment , seeing her cry , Ashok understood everything . All his questions were answered . Ashok was the reason why Arpita was an orphan . God was the reason why Ashok had lost his daughter .Now it was time for both , to make amends. Holding Arpita tightly, he thanked God for sending her daughter back.
And so the daughter( she never was) got a father ( she never had).
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It was about midnight. Ashok was staring at the crystals of the chandelier over him , when he heard footsteps .
“ Do you want tea Mr. Ashok.” Arpita asked.
Ashok turned to Arpita .
“Tea? “, Ashok looked at the clock once and then smiled ,”Let me call Shyam from the quarter then.”
“Don’t bother. I saw the kitchen , I will make it .”
“ You want me to come .”
“ No, Mr, Ashok . I will manage .”
As she was leaving Ashok called her back .
“ Please don’t call me Ashok . My secretary does it and I find it really uncomfortable .”
“ All right” she said and walked away.
Ashok saw Arpita tuck herself inside the blanket . He recalled whether he had ever done it for her own daughter .
“Sleep well.” Ashok said and switched off the light.
“Ahem. .Ahem .”someone coughed.
Ashok turned on the light .
“I have thought about what I am going to call you .”
“Yes ?” Ashok asked.
“ Baba”, she replied, “I think I’ll call you baba. Is that all right?”
Ashok looked at Arpita and then looked at the teddy bear that lay beside her.
He smiled and said, “it’s perfect.”
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Chapter – 3

Place – Mumbai

Time – The present

The frenzy pace at which the hospital staff was working at The Fortis made it apparent to everybody that the man who lay dead in the special ward 101 on the first floor of the newly constructed ICU cell, was no ordinary person.

Arpita still lay motionless on the sofa, the letter still crumpled in her hand . Minutes ago, the man who meant everything to her died. A brain hemorrhage. But Ashok’s death had brought in another piece of news, something she could not have thought even in her nightmares. But Mr.Gupta, Ashok’s secretary had been given the onerous task of passing the last piece of information Mr. Ashok wanted her daughter to know along with a letter. That it was he who had taken away her childhood, that all this while she had been living with a murderer. The email alert of Arpita’s blackberry beeped. That meant her husband Sidhhartha and her ten years old daughter were on their way from Kolkata.

“We are taking the body to the factory site betaji.” Mr. Gupta waited for the reply but when it did not come he knew it meant yes.

Arpita was feeling a little dizzy. All this while the person she had respected, adored and cared about had turned out to be a murderer. Her hand felt the letter once again. She wanted to tear the letter into hundred pieces afraid that it would make her life more pathetic .

Reluctantly however, she opened the letter. Nothing could surprise her now.

It ran

‘Arpita,

I had written this letter the day you had married Siddhartha and taken over the reins of our Kolkata office .Now that you are reading it, I am on a very different journey . I only hope that this leads me to something that has always eluded me…..peace.

Arpita, I am your criminal. It was me who took away your childhood and everything good that should have followed. I offer no excuses, however if it may console you let me tell you, I have never had a peaceful day since.

Then you came to my life like a breath of fresh air, and I knew God had taken kindness over me . Everything changed after you came. Now let me tell you something. At times, during the night, I would feel very uneasy. Finding it impossible to sleep, I would tiptoe into your room, turn on the lamp, sit on the floor and then stare at you. Then I used to cry like a baby, cursing myself for what I had done to you, thanking God for bringing you into my life, hoping that one day I would have the courage to tell you the truth.

I have only one thing to say to you . Thank you. You were the only reason why I lived. Your smile was the only medicine that helped my ailing heart survive so long, May God bless you forever.

Every day I used to wake up thinking that today would be the day I would tell you all. Then I used to see your smiling face and the fear of losing you made me change my mind. You would say that was selfish. I would say, as always you are right.

So Arpita, I am not going to give you any advice on how to lead your life because by now you must have realized, I have no right to. I would just tell you one thing. In life we are faced with two choices, the tough and the easy. Being the coward that I am, I have always chosen the latter. Only once had I taken a tough decision, a decision which found me running like mad for a girl who became my reason to live.

From today many lives will depend on you. I only hope you never fail them. Well, you never failed me.

If possible try to remember me as a man who made a lot of mistakes to save one.

Take care princess and as always

I remain,

Truly yours

Baba

P.S: Somehow I never had the courage to give it to you. It was a gift meant for someone very close to me. I hope you accept it now. It’s in my cupboard.’

Arpita felt numb for a second. She then realized she was not angry with baba. She could never be. That night she went into his room and opened the cupboard. At the bottom was a gift wrapped box. As she opened the box she found a fluffy black panda, a ribbon encircling its neck. Over the ribbon, the following words were written (the handwriting was certainly that of a person who had been crying ),

“ For my daughters …………..Chitra and Arpita.”

The next fifteen minutes Arpita cried more .

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---------------------------------------------------------------------------------A story by PRANAY TIWARI.