The Alarm Clock

“Wake up you lazy fella!” yelled Arin as he pinched the arm of his ever-sleepy room mate Tony. Tony gave a growl in his sleep, turned around and went back into his slumber. After 10 minutes Arin kicked Tony lightly on his leg “Hey sleeping beauty – snoring like a beast – wake up now!” Another growl, slightly louder this time, but nothing more than that from Tony. After 10 more minutes, Arin came with a jug full of water and splashed it on Tony’s sleepy face “Stop ‘snoozing’ me like that – okay? I am not an alarm clock! Wake up right away ‘sleepy sleeperson’” Now Tony had no choice. He jumped off the bed wiping his wet face, while yawning out loudly. The two room-mates got ready in the next few minutes and rushed out to take the test – that day they were taking the final test of the semester on computer networks: an important day for all the candidates studying Computer Science & Engineering at the university.

Arin and Tony had been room-mates and best friends for over a year. They had moved to the university campus in Pilani – a small town in the Rajasthan region in India, about a year ago. They were randomly put together in one room by the hostel authorities. Arin came from the southern state of Kerala and Tony was an expat from Singapore. They were very different – they liked different food, had different habits, spoke different languages and had different approaches to address similar situations.

Arin was always an early bird – woke up at 6 AM sharp. He had been doing this since he was a child – it was part of his daily regime. He always went for a quick jog in the morning before he started his day. He was always on time at school, and was considered one of the most reliable and trust-worthy individuals at the university. He came from an upper middle-class catholic family from Kerala. His parents were professors at a local university in Kochi. Arin was trained to be highly methodical – he always followed rules and processes.

Tony was a late starter – he slept late and woke up late. He was a “nonconformist” - a brilliant young lad who had a number of unique and different ideas. He did not necessarily follow rules – in fact, he had a knack of bending rules to his convenience to get tasks done. Born and brought up in Singapore, he was half Singaporean and half Tamilian – his dad was from Singapore and mother from Chennai. He had always lived in expat communities and had travelled around the world.

With all their differences, one thing that they had in common was their open-mindedness and curiosity. That made it very easy for them to live together and enjoy their student life irrespective of all their differences. On most occasions they would complement each other. Arin was the methodical, process-driven perfectionist, while Tony was the free spirit – ready to explore ideas outside of the box, try new approaches and bend rules if not break them. Together they made a solid team. They also learnt a lot from each other – Tony started appreciating some of Arin’s processes and Arin started finding Tony’s unusual ways interesting.

Tony always depended upon Arin to wake him up every morning – Arin was really like an alarm clock. He never slept a minute after 6 AM. And every morning after his short jog, he would wake Tony up. Not once did Tony wake up in the first attempt. Arin felt like an alarm clock that is “snoozed” over and over again. And then out of frustration he would jump to extreme measures such as pouring a jug of water on Tony’s sleepy face!

They were both studying to become software engineers, and worked on a number of different projects together – some as part of their regular curriculum, and others out of their own interest. They built many interesting programs and applications that could work on different devices.

Togetherness was not limited to work - They also had parties, picnics, movie nights, trips, a bunch of drunken adventures –everything you could possibly imagine a couple of twenty year olds to do!

Before they realized it, they had reached their final semester. The students were all planning their next moves – jobs, entrepreneurship or more study. Tony decided to pursue a career in research and started preparing for the same. He received an acceptance from MIT to pursue a Master’s degree in computer engineering followed by a PhD. It was exciting! Arin on the other hand wanted to pursue an MBA. Top business schools recommended candidates to have firsthand professional experience before they applied. So Arin decided to take up a job. He was offered a software developer role at a bank in Mumbai. The role was very well paid and was a great stepping stone for his next steps – an MBA in finance from an international Business school. He decided to accept the opportunity.

Soon it was time for the graduation ceremony. Everyone was excited and happy to receive their diplomas and they were all looking forward to their upcoming careers. Of course, they were sad that their fun student life was coming to an end. Arin and Tony in particular knew that they would be missing each other. Soon after the ceremony Tony had to embark upon a flight to the US. He had to get to the New Delhi Airport from Pilani. Arin joined him and his family, to say goodbye at the airport. When they reached the terminal, Arin handed over a little box – a present for Tony. “This will replace me buddy – it has a snooze button too” he smiled.

Tony boarded the flight and opened the box – it was an Alarm clock. Yes, he was going to need that in his friend’s absence.

A number of years passed. Tony had completed his graduation and his PhD at MIT. As a result of his high caliber and excellent research credentials, he had been offered the position of Associate Professor and research scientist at the Stanford University – department of computer science. He had accepted the offer and had been working with the university while continuing his ad-hoc research work. He was still a free-spirit and a nonconformist, but thanks to the 5 years spent with Arin, he had learnt to appreciate methods and rules. He was one of the most respected computer scientists in the world of academia. He was also a well-known figure in the business world, and his consultative advice was requested frequently by digital businesses all over the world. Every year he took a 2 month break to visit an underprivileged village in India or Africa and gave free computer coaching to young children. He was very much involved in philanthropy and was much admired for the same.

Tony had remained in touch with his old friend – at least in the few years after graduation. Arin had followed his dream too – after 5 years of professional experience at the bank in Mumbai, he had applied to top international business schools. He was accepted to pursue an MBA in Finance at the London Business School. He had completed his business studies with flying colors and had become an investment banker in London. He had started as an analyst with an international investment bank, and very quickly had moved up the ladder from being an associate to being a Director.

The job of an investment banker is a coveted, financially rewarding one, however, it comes with significant stress. Routine working hours for a financial analyst at an investment bank could be 90 to 100 per week. People often have misconceptions about investment bankers – that all they do is number crunching, financial data modeling & projections. But in reality investment bankers spend a lot of time with clients – social skills are very important to be a successful investment banker. Arin had it all – he was highly analytical, and at the same time was great with clients. He was hard working and never had a problem working extra hours. Often he would have to work late nights, which meant, he would often wake up late too – Tony’s old alarm clock had surely lost its rhythm!

Arin’s workaholic life continued – he worked a lot, and he earned a lot too. Soon he became a very rich man, and earning money became an obsession to Arin. The young man who was once very particular about his rules and had always followed them, had now become an expert at bending them if it meant more money.

His bosses were very pleased with Arin – he always helped them make more money. He always found creative ways to involve and engage with investors and take their money tactfully. He never ever broke the law and the rules, but he very nicely worked around the law to ensure that his bank, his bosses and he himself were becoming richer and richer.

To begin with, this caused no problems to anyone; however a few years after Arin’s marriage things started to get harder – his wife was not a happy woman! They had a child together, but Arin rarely saw his family – he was so obsessed with work and money – it was an addiction.

A few more years passed – now the contact between Tony and Arin had been reduced to “Happy Birthdays” – no, that’s not true. It was limited to Arin’s birthdays – Tony never missed wishing his old friend – but Arin had always missed Tony’s birthdays. Arin had started gaining weight and losing hair and though he was barely 42, he looked a lot older. Excessive work, lack of exercise, unhealthy eating habits, stress – you name it and Arin had it all. The last thing that one would want at this time was the news of a divorce.

Arin’s wife filed for a divorce and claimed the custody of their only son. Not that it mattered much to Arin – he was completely drunk by work and money – it was as if he was in a deep slumber and nothing could wake him up from that.

Arin’s old mother was immensely unhappy and disturbed to see the life of her only son fall to pieces – even worse, her son did not ever realize that his life was falling apart! All he cared about was more of what he already had – money, and the stress that came with it!

Arin had no friends that she could turn to, so she decided to call his old friend Tony. She broke down as she explained to Tony what had happened. Tony was not very surprised to hear about these sad developments in Arin’s life. On several occasions in the past he had tried to persuade Arin to change his life-style. But Arin had ignored all his advice and had turned a complete deaf ear to Tony’s words. But now, things had gotten out of hand – Arin’s health, his family, his friends, his ethics were all leaving him, and yet, he was not willing to wake up from his craziness. He had received so many alarms in many different ways, but he had conveniently “snoozed” each and every one of them!

Tony decided to pay a visit to Arin at his lush house in London. He made up an excuse of a European holiday and came to see his old friend. Unsurprisingly, Arin was not there at the terminal to pick him up, but he had sent a chauffeur driven Mercedes to pick Tony up. The car took Tony to Arin’s house. His old mother welcomed Tony, and told him that Arin was at office – as usual. After some rest, Tony took a little walk in central London and came back home at dinner time, with the hope that Arin would be back. But there was no sign of Arin. It was past 10 PM, and Arin’s mom suggested they ate dinner. As she was serving Tony at the dining table the phone rang – it was Arin’s subordinate from the bank. Arin had just been admitted to the hospital as he had suffered a sudden heart attack.

Tony rushed to the hospital and waited for the medical procedures to be conducted on Arin. After a while the doctor informed Tony that Arin was now out of danger, and that he had been administered some sleep medication so that he rested for a few hours. Tony sat next to his friend and held his hand. He had tears in his eyes to see Arin in such a state. He wept for a long time remembering their old days together at the university. What had Arin gotten himself into! He was always the reliable, methodical chap – could he not have applied a few of that methodical thinking to his own life? How did things get so unbalanced?

He had Arin’s hand in his as he was thinking and reflecting on the past. There was a time when he had depended on Arin – his best friend to wake him up every morning from his slumber. Arin had been his alarm clock, and today Arin was fast asleep – asleep in his obsession for money and power: so fast asleep that so many triggers, signs and alarms had failed to wake him up. Tony wished that his friend woke up from that slumber today. “Wake up brother, wake up” he said softly.

A few hours later it was morning. Tony was next to Arin as he opened his eyes.

“Tony! Sorry I wasn’t there to receive you. Have been rather busy you see.” He said. “And then had these sharp pains in my chest last night, and they had to get me here. I hope I get out of this place soon. I have an urgent meeting to attend today”. Tony was utterly disappointed to see that Arin had “snoozed” the alarm once again!

“You will be released in a few days Arin. You cannot attend that meeting today. Do you know you had a heart attack? Your bank has been informed that you cannot return to work today”. Tony said, realizing that he had to do something else to make Arin wake up. Later that day, he met with Arin’s wife. She was shocked to hear about Arin’s heart attack, and agreed to help get Arin out of his addiction.

Arin was unhappy to hear that he would not be going to the bank for days – what could the bank do without him? He was indispensable. His presence at meetings was absolutely required. He was the one that made things happen! He thought that his colleagues and supervisors from the bank would be rushing to the hospital to get him. He waited all day – but his phone never rang. He had no visitors from the bank.

The following day he waited again – no visitors from the bank and no phone calls. The only people he saw around him were his mother and his good friend Tony. In the afternoon per Tony’s advice Arin’s wife and son came by to meet him. They stayed with him the rest of the day. It was literally the first time he was spending time with his son, who started telling him stories from school. Arin had never really played the role of a father, but he found that he was enjoying his son’s company – he was actually enjoying it a lot. His son was just as curious, methodical and intelligent as he was. He started remembering some of his childhood days as he saw his son ask all types of questions. That made him smile, that made him really happy!

For the first time, at the end of the day he felt “happy”. He asked his wife if she could bring their kid along again the next day. She agreed. They did this every day for the following 15 days. Arin’s mother, his wife and son kept him great company, together with Tony. Tony could see that slowly, his scheme was working. Arin was getting closer to his son.

There were no visitors from the bank. Arin gradually realized that the bank did not really care much about him. All he received from them was a “Get well soon” card – not a single visit, nor a phone call.

He had given away several years of his life making the bank richer – years that could have been spent with people around him: people who really cared for him – his wife & child, his mother, his best friend. He had taken them all for granted. But ultimately when he was about to die, they were the ones who stayed with him. They gave him the strength to survive. They made him happy and gave him the motivation to live longer.

After the 15 days, Arin moved back home. His family and his best friend were with him, and they celebrated his return together. “Will you be returning to work soon Arin?” Tony asked.

Arin smiled and looked Tony into the eye; he took a deep breath as he said “I have sent my resignation to the bank a week ago, Tony. I have finally woken up from my slumber – thanks to you all.

Friend, thank you for being my alarm clock – I kept snoozing you whenever you advised me to change my approach towards life, but you kept trying, until I was finally awake. Thank you for waking me up today.”

Snakes and Ladders

Jay and Sergey were sitting at the table facing each other as they intently enjoyed their game of Snakes and Ladders. Jay was reaching the point of completion. His heart beat faster as there was a long, scary snake, with a wide open mouth waiting for him at “98”. If he landed on 98 he would slither down to score 8, and would have to play his way up again. But if he avoided the 98, and went straight to 99 or 100, then he would win the game! But it would all depend upon the dice! He rolled the dice as his mother Naina called them downstairs.

“Jay dear, time for dinner! Can you both come down here please?”

So they had to tidy up and go downstairs where their parents waited for them to start dinner.

Jay, his mother Naina and father Yash were from Mumbai and had moved to London a couple of years ago. Yash and Naina worked with a large consulting company and their 7 year old Jay went to an international school nearby. Sergey, his mother Irina and father Vlad were from Moscow. They had been living in London for over fifteen years. Sergey and Jay went to school together and loved playing with each other. The two families lived close to each other and the parents took the same train to work every day. Thus they had become close friends and often had their weekend dinners together.

As the kids approached the dinner table, the two fathers were engrossed in a serious debate – a debate about “Choice” and “Chance”. The boys were not interested in the discussion and did not participate. They were eager to finish dinner, and return back to their game of snakes and ladders.

“You know Vlad, I do think that it’s all a matter of chance after-all. You see, I met Naina by chance, I found this job with my consulting firm by chance, this opportunity to come to London for work – that happened by chance too. So I do think that life is a matter of chances!” Said Yash.

“Yash my friend, you met Naina by chance, but you married her by your own choice! You accepted that job by your own choice, you accepted the opportunity to come to London by your own choice – none of that is a matter of chance. I strongly believe that what happens to us in life – is really the result of choices we make. Sometimes the choices are the right ones, at other times they are not the right ones.

So listen now, Irina and I have been given this opportunity to move to New York. But this is not a chance my friend – we worked hard to be considered for this opportunity. And now, I get this promotion to lead our American operations from New York. Irina’s company has agreed to transfer her there too. Now, again, it is a matter of choice for us – should we take this opportunity? We have almost made up our mind – we will be taking this up. I shall be signing the contract tomorrow!” responded Vlad.

“How could you do that dad? I was never even consulted? I don’t want to leave. I will miss my friends – I will miss Jay! Jay, you should go with us too.” argued Sergey. Jay and Sergey were indeed best friends – quite inseparable.

“Well, Sergey. I am sure Jay and his parents will visit us in NYC. We will be missing them too. I hope Jay’s mom and dad find an opportunity in the US soon, we will all live together again then. What say Yash?” said Vlad.

“Well you know, again this has happened a bit by chance – my company is going through a reorganization as a result of a recent merger. And now, all expats are going to be transferred back to their respective offices. So in reality, we may soon be moving back to Mumbai. Not sure we want to, but we may have to!” replied Yash.

The discussion went on for a while and soon it was time to retire for the day. Sergey stayed back for a sleepover, and his parents went back home – which was right next door.

The next morning started with the usual rush – the boys got ready for school, the dads went to drop them off and then took their train to work.

As soon as Vlad reached his bank, he received a phone call from his old mother in Moscow. It was not good news – his father had taken very sick and his mother needed help and assistance from her only child. Vlad had no choice but to pack his suitcase and rush to Moscow. Irina and Sergey stayed back, until there was more news from Vlad. Within 2 days they received news that Vlad’s family needed prolonged help – they would all have to leave for Moscow for good. They had to, unfortunately, decline the opportunity to move to New York. Jay and family were very sad to bid good bye to their friends. Sergey and Jay wept a lot and promised to stay in touch with each other on Facebook and Skype.

On this side, Yash, Naina and Jay had started their preparations and packing to move back home to Mumbai. The merger was almost complete and very soon they would get the confirmation and their air tickets to fly back home.

Just then, Yash’s British boss called him into his office and gave him some news – “Your work ethic and performance have been most appreciated Yash, so the newly formed leadership team in London have decided to make you an offer to lead our IT Consulting arm in the US – we are proposing, that you move to New York in the coming months. We shall begin the visa processing for you and your family if you agree to take the offer.”

This was unbelievable! Jay and Naina were very pleased with the news. They were young and adventurous, and the thought of moving to the US was exciting. Their visa was processed in the next few weeks and Jay’s family soon flew to New York and started their new life there.

Vlad & Irina soon found work in Moscow. They had to make the hard choice of moving back and settling down in Moscow to remain close to their family. Sergey started his school in Moscow – it was hard for him to get adjusted, but soon he got integrated with his new friends. He stayed in touch with Jay and spoke with him every week on Skype. Both Vlad and Irina were smart and hardworking. Soon they grew in their careers and reached the C level ranks in their respective organizations. They were spoken of with great respect at different forums.

Yash and Naina were proud of their friends who they continued to stay in touch with. They had settled down in NYC and were doing reasonably well. Yash had done a great job at his work place and had earned a couple of promotions too. Naina on the other hand had to give up her hectic consulting job after her maternity leave – yes, Jay now had a little sister. To begin with it was hard for Naina to remain without a job for an extended period of time. But her little baby girl was too delicate to be kept at a daycare. She was born pre-mature and needed constant care that only Naina could provide. So Naina had no choice but to stay back home. Thankfully a couple of years later the little girl had gained normalcy and better health. But Naina had to take up a job that was not as demanding as her consulting career. She had been thankfully accepted as an elementary school teacher. She would work four days a week for a few hours every day.

The boys, Jay and Sergey continued growing up with their respective families. A few years later, after finishing his under graduate degree in Moscow, Sergey decided that he would explore an opportunity to finish his Master’s in the USA. He had been in touch with Jay and his family and had discussed potential options with them. The two friends were indeed very excited with the prospect of getting together again, and perhaps, studying together as well.

Everything worked out in Sergey’s favor, and he was accepted at the University of Michigan to pursue a Master’s degree. Jay had also applied to the same school. Unfortunately, he was not accepted – he was placed on the school’s waiting list. So now it became really a matter of chance – if an accepted candidate dropped out, then Jay would get a spot. At the same time, Jay had been accepted at the Cambridge University in the UK. It looked as if he had no other choice, but to accept the Cambridge offer. The friends were obviously not very pleased with this.

Sergey started his course at Michigan and Jay moved to Cambridge for his studies. When they were a couple of weeks into the course, Jay received an acceptance from Michigan. What could he do now? It really was a choice he had – either he gave up his course at Cambridge, forgoing the course fees he had already paid, or he forgot all about Michigan. It was a tough choice, but he decided he would continue his course at Cambridge.

After their studies, the two friends had a great start to their respective careers and lives. Sergey had already made his mind up to return to Moscow to be with his girlfriend and to start his own entrepreneurial project there. He did exactly as per his plan. And Jay came back to NYC and found a job as a Software Engineer there. A few years later, Jay got married to another American Indian who had been chosen for him by his parents. They started a happy life together. Sergey on the other hand did not have much luck in love. His girlfriend broke up with him and moved away to Ukraine. Sergey went through a tough patch there. With Jay’s support, he was able to find a new life with the same software company; in a few months he too moved to NYC.

Finally, the two friends got back together – they were now working with the same company, only in different departments. In a couple of years, Sergey met an American pharmacist at a party. They fell deeply in love and very soon got married. Jay was obviously the best man!

It had been years after marriage, and Jay & his wife had been unable to have a baby. It had been a frustrating and difficult time for them. As a last resort they had decided to try the In vitro Fertilization technique to get pregnant. After the difficult and emotionally draining months of struggle, there had been success. The family was delighted and everyone was eagerly waiting for the birth of their first child.

Sergey and his wife were more fortunate in this regard – they were able to have their first one with relative ease! The two babies – Jay’s little boy and Sergey’s little girl arrived in the same year. The two friends decided to buy their respective houses close to each other – so that they could be there for each other whenever needed.  As their children grew up, they started going to the same school in town. The two little ones became good friends at school too.

Being neighbors and friends, Jay and Sergey (with their families) often had their dinners together over the weekends. One Saturday evening, they got together, and became rather nostalgic over a couple of beers.

“Remember Sergey? We were neighbors in London and our families got together for weekend lunches and dinners often. It feels like moving back in time, doesn’t it?” said Jay.

“True, I still remember the last meal we had together – our dads were talking about chance and choice. My dad was suggesting that everything in life is a matter of choices, while your dad insisted that things happened by chance.

Now if I think about it, Jay, I have indeed seen that a lot many things happen entirely by chance – of course, after the chance, I have always had the choice to make a decision.” continued Sergey.

“How true, things happen as a result of a complex matrix of chances & choices. Isn’t it?

Now, I do have some news Sergey. Our company’s London office has an opening that recently opened up. My boss spoke with me about it – looks like they see a fit with my profile. I am being considered for the role. We haven’t made up our minds yet, but most likely this move will happen.” said Jay.

“That is great news Jay. We will miss you obviously, but the opportunity is great and you should take it.” suggested Sergey.

As the dinner discussion continued, somewhere far, far away there was a roar of laughter. Two little angels wearing white robes were seated around a gold table. One of them was seated on a large comfortable chair, and the other one sat humbly on a little stool. They were enjoying their game of snakes and ladders. Their board was huge and had millions of pawns spread around – pawns with different colors and sizes.

The angel seated on the chair was clearly dominating the game – he had a large multi-faceted dice that he rolled and followed every move by a burst of laughter. The angel seated on the stool was calmer – he looked much more composed and did not laugh. He also rolled the dice, but reluctantly. It appeared as if he wanted to move his pawns without rolling the dice. But that was obviously not permitted in this game of Snakes & Ladders. Here, every pawn moved only by the dice, and his dominant friend seated on the chair ensured that the dice was rolled before every single movement.

The loud, dominant angel seated on the chair was Chance and the other, more composed and shy angel was Choice. As they looked at the playing board, they could see their two pawns – Sergey & Jay enjoying their quiet evening together. And they were talking about how things happen by choice and chance.

The two angels found the discussion most amusing and hilarious. Chance said to Choice – “Look at these pawns talking about us! Don’t they realize that their choices also happen by chance!”

He then looked at the Jay-pawn and winked at his friend on the stool. His shy little friend appeared very stressed. He was sweating nervously! There was a large snake right next to Jay, and it would take him all the way from 98 to 8. Would the Jay-pawn escape the snake and move ahead? Well, the dice is being rolled now.

The Imperfectionist

I was born and brought up in Sweden to parents of Indian origin. My grandparents moved to the beautiful city of Stockholm years ago. My grandfather worked for a Swedish telecom company and my grandmother was an English teacher. My father was very young when they moved here. Daddy grew up in Sweden, went to school here and as a grownup young man found himself a bride – my mother who is Swedish, but is of an Indian origin too. Both my mother and father grew up in Stockholm, but were very much in touch with their respective families back in India – they visited their grandparents for holidays, played with their Indian cousins, and came to know and understand India over time. However, my case was very different.

I had a nearly perfect life in Stockholm – great education, total comfort, plenty of opportunities, exotic vacations: everything just perfect! After 22 years in Europe, I had never really visited India – the place of my origin. I knew India only from books and documentaries. So on my 23^rd birthday, after my graduation, before I started my first job, I decided that I would spend a couple of months in India. I wanted to visit the country of my parents and grandparents. I wanted to see what it was really like.

My parents were not sure about this and advised me to rethink, but I was adamant. I wanted to do this. Isn’t it important to know your roots – where you came from? Well, to me it is.

I landed at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport of Mumbai in the early hours of the morning. As I landed I was reminded of what I had read about Chhatrapati Shivaji – I had researched about who he was. Shivaji was an Indian Maratha king – he was well known for his intelligence and street-smartness. Shivaji had successfully won battles and escaped from dangers simply by using his own wits. He was not a king who had numerous resources, but he was a strategic thinker who could apply clever tactics to get things done with limited support. The thought of Shivaji made me smile as I went through customs and immigration. I was feeling very excited to be on the land of Shivaji – would I meet him here, I wondered.

After gathering my suitcase from baggage claim I walked towards the exit. I was expecting to meet my distant cousin Rahul there. I had reached out to him earlier and had asked him to pick me up at the airport. We were to drive back to the family house in the outskirts of Mumbai, where my father’s cousin resided with his family. I was indeed looking forward to meeting my Indian family.

I looked around and searched for Rahul, but I could not find him at the terminal. As I took out my mobile phone and switched it on, I saw that there was a message from Rahul – “Stuck in a huge traffic jam, it will take me over an hour to get there. I suggest you take a pre-paid taxi and drive home yourself. I will see you there.”

I walked towards the “pre-paid taxi” counter and handed them the address I wanted to drive to.

“AC or non-AC?” asked the man behind the counter.

I wanted to experience the country of Shivaji, so I confidently said – “Non-AC please.”

“Are you sure Madame?” the man asked.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“That will be Six hundred and fifty Rupees Madame, to be paid directly to the taxi driver. Here is the taxi number.”

I took the slip of paper from him and walked out in search of my pre-paid taxi. After a few minutes of walking around, I was able to spot the taxi and its owner – a man wearing a white uniform.

I approached him with a smile, and handed him my address. He glanced at it and asked me to get onboard. For some reason I wondered if he really knew the driving direction to my destination.

So I asked him “Are you sure you know where this place is? I see you don’t have a GPS”

“Don’t worry, be happy Madame. I take you home”. He said confidently with a big smile.

I shall be very honest with you – I was a bit scared when I got inside the taxi. I had read in international media about several crimes against women happening in taxis in India. It made me nervous.

“Don’t be silly! It is daylight and we all know that media often blows things out of proportion.” I reassured myself, as we started our journey from the airport.

“Madame it take one hour to reach. You listen music? I got bollywood” he asked in his broken English.

“Sure, why not”

As we got out of the airport premises on to the “real” India while listening to some loud Hindi songs, I got my first shock. I had read and heard about the traffic in India, but had never really seen something like this. There were cars, trucks, motors, bikes and people everywhere. They were overtaking each other from all sides – left, right, center! I held my breath and tried to control my fear; I think the taxi driver noticed my nervousness.

“First time in India Madame? Don’t worry be happy. I take you home” he said.

“Yes, indeed it is my first time. Please drive slowly, I am in no hurry.” I said.

“You no hurry Madame, but me hurry. After taxi, I go to workshop in Dharavi. My wife wait for me. You know Dharavi?”

“Dharavi the slum? I did read about it and saw it in movies”

“Haha, movies yes. Dharavi my home Madame. Very good place. You come.”

“Yes, sure. I will visit.” I smiled.

“If you come, you come to my workshop. My wife make bags with her friends”

Now I was slowly getting comfortable. There was so much of chaos on the road, yet the driver was navigating amidst all the chaos with immense expertise. I saw how he made his way into small streets, how he overtook other vehicles tactfully and got himself out of traffic congestions as and when required. On a couple of occasions, he simply made steep “U” turns when he anticipated traffic jams. At the beginning, I thought he was breaking rules, but then he corrected me “Madame, you don’t worry be happy. Here this is rule”. What an expert navigator he was. He reminded me of Shivaji – intelligently & tactfully solving problems: that is exactly what the driver was doing too.

As we drove further, I asked him a bit more about himself.

“What is your name, and since when do you drive the taxi?”

“My name Ramesh Madame. I drive taxi four years. I drive day time. Night time I work in workshop. My wife have workshop.”

“Oh you work really hard Ramesh – day and night! When do you rest?”

“Yes Madame, children school so need to work. Economy not good Madame. I want to become engineer Madame, but my father no money. So I become car mechanic. But I lose job then become taxi driver. But I need more money so work on jute machine at night. What rest Madame? Rest on Sunday only. I see Bollywood movie on Sunday”

“Tell me about this workshop Ramesh”

“Workshop to make jute bags Madame. My wife do with her friends. Bank give loan for machines. We sell jute bags. At night I make jute purse and files for men. Today I go to workshop early – one old machine break, I have to fix”

“You can repair sewing machines?”

“Yes Madame – easy. Me is mechanic no? So easy for me to fix machine. I learn it from technician last time.”

“That is great Ramesh. Do you enjoy all your work?”

“Yes Madame. I enjoy. Work means good. No work means bad. Fix machine means fun.

You come America Madame?”

“Oh no, I come from Europe. You know Europe?”

“Oh yes Madame – Me know Europe – me drive taxi no? Me talk people from Europe in airport. You come where in Europe?”

“From Sweden. It is in Northern Europe, in Scandinavia.”

“Me know Sweden Madame. IKEA of Sweden for furniture. Me knows”

Frankly, I was quite impressed with Ramesh – he was a skilled driver, who could brilliantly drive me through the Mumbai traffic with most comfort; he also worked on jute sewing machines at night, he knew how to fix broken machines, and his knowledge about economy, Bollywood and the world in general was quite impressive.

We continued our conversation and Ramesh continued to surprise me with the stories of his life. Before I knew it we had reached my destination – our family home in the outskirts of Mumbai.

I thanked Ramesh, and opened my suitcase and took out a box of chocolates. I had got them for my family, but for some reason I gave it away to Ramesh.

“Oh thank you Madame. You need taxi you call me Madame. Here my card”

He handed over his card which was black and yellow. The taxi company was called “Kaali Peeli” (which means black & yellow in Hindi) and down was Ramesh’s name and number. I kept it in my handbag, shook hands with Ramesh and after saying good bye walked towards the house.

Everyone at home was very kind to me. After the initial greetings, lunch and some rest, my uncle described the plan for the coming months to me. It was indeed very good of him to have thought everything through – though this is not what I had expected at all.

“I will have my Mercedes with chauffeur at your service, at all times. The chauffeur is well trained, speaks excellent English and knows Mumbai and surrounding areas pretty well. He will take you to the most beautiful parts of the city – meant for tourists like you. Okay? And then after a couple of weeks in Mumbai, we will plan a visit to some resorts in the outskirts. You can also visit Goa if you like. It has lovely beaches.

I have also organized a 2 week tour for you to the south of India – Kerala, Trichy and a few other exotic places. Let me know if that suits you. Your father has strictly said that you should be given every comfort, and I will see to it that you have all you need.”

It looked like I was taken care of – but this is not what I wanted. I did not want to live like a foreigner – I wanted to live like a local. I did not know how to decline the offer from my uncle, who had clearly done all the hard work and planning on my behalf.

I think he noticed that something was not quite right. “Anything the matter?” he asked.

I decided to be honest. “Uncle, you know I really appreciate all your effort here. I also know that mum & dad are worried about me being here by myself. But to be honest with you, I do not want any of the comforts you are proposing. I want to experience the real India. Can I pick my own chauffer Uncle?”

To my surprise, uncle was not unhappy. He was very open-minded to my proposition and said “You know best what you want. Here is a local mobile phone, I have my number on speed dial. If you are ever in need, just call, and I will be there. You can enjoy yourself now – the real India will surprise you!”

The next morning I took our Ramesh’s card and called him. He was pleasantly surprised to hear from me.

“Ramesh, we met yesterday, you drove me from the airport. Can you become my tour guide for the next few weeks? I will pay you on a daily basis. Are you up to it?” He agreed to take up the job and that very day we started the tour together.

The next few days were full of activity – Ramesh introduced me to the local trains, the local cuisine and a number of different tourist attractions in the crowded financial capital of India. At times we drove in his taxi, at other times we took the local train. Ramesh took me to the popular and the unpopular destinations and provided me with detailed stories and history behind each one of them. We visited the Gateway of India, Nariman Point, Mount Mary Church, Colaba, Siddhi Vinayak temple and so on.

Each day with Ramesh was a learning experience for me – Ramesh’s smartness, quick decision making, ability to navigate and solve problems and extensive general knowledge continued to impress me. When he was not driving or telling me a story, he would be on his phone fixing some issues at his wife’s workshop, or at a friend’s garage. It was as if his mind was always in action – always working. I often wondered if Ramesh ever took a nap; if he did, I am certain he would be solving some problems in his dreams too.

After two weeks Ramesh informed me – “Madame, next week I no come. It is Ganesh festival. Big thing in Dharavi”

I knew about Ganesh festival of course. Ganesh is the elephant God – worshipped by Hindus. It is believed that Ganesh is responsible for eliminating obstacles in your way. You pray to Lord Ganesh and your obstacles – whatever they are, will disappear. The following week was the grand week of celebration in the city. So it was natural that Ramesh would be busy.

“Of course Ramesh, do enjoy the festivities with your family. I wanted to ask – is there a way for me to experience the festivities in your neighborhood?”

“Yes Madame, Yes Yes!” he said excitedly.

“So, I can come to Dharavi on one of the next days?”

“Madame, you must come! Dharavi my home. I take you there next week.”

The thought of a slum made me think of a place submerged in poverty and dirt, but I was taken by surprise when I actually visited the place. Ramesh, my tour guide very passionately showed me every interesting corner of the neighborhood. He took me to the residential and the industrial parts of Dharavi. He showed me the temples, mosques, factories, workshops, recycle-houses and everything he possibly could in this 500 acre land inhabited by over half a million people.

On one hand, it was unpleasant to see the living conditions – extremely narrow streets, tiny houses with many residents, lack of toilets and sanitation (I was told that there is one toilet for hundreds of residents), incredible population density (almost 10 times the density of the rest of Mumbai) and pollution of all types.

But on the other hand, this was indeed an economic powerhouse of its kind. Everyone I met or saw was a “Ramesh” by himself (or herself) – industrious and smart. Ramesh’s Dharavi is probably the most productive places I have ever been to. Nothing here is wasted – every piece of land is used, every speck of plastic is recycled and every minute of the day is utilized. People here have limited resources and comfort, but they know exactly how to make the best of what they have. They are hardworking and happy – they know how to solve their problems and navigate their difficulties with precision. I was reminded of my first ride with Ramesh from the airport. Here at his place, almost all people were “Rameshes” – their life looked so imperfect to me, yet they led it with such perfection!

I spent the rest of the day with Ramesh’s family. His wife invited me to lunch at her home. Typically she would charge the tourists who chose to eat at her place, as part of the local tours. However I was special – I was Ramesh’s “friend”. So I was offered a delicious free home-made meal.

After a visit to her workshop, we all gathered outside for the Ganesh festivities. There was a huge 10 feet tall shiny statue of the Elephant God, decorated beautifully. We were now getting ready for a few volunteers to pick up the Lord and place him in a truck that would then carry him to Mahim and immerse him into the sea. The truck was a few meters away, as it could not be driven on the incredibly narrow street. I kept wondering how the volunteers were going to carry the huge statue to the truck without really breaking it!

Ramesh noticed that I was looking carefully at how the volunteers operated. As usual he said “Don’t worry, be happy Madame. Nothing bad happen to Ganesh Bappa. He solve problems, so he solve this problem also – he know how to get into the truck”. I was amazed at his confidence – he was sure that the statue knew exactly how to get into the truck via the super narrow, crowded street without hurting itself.

To my total surprise the handful of Rameshes (I mean the volunteers) who carried the statue, did a fantastic and precise job at carefully placing their beloved Ganesh, unhurt, into the large truck. There were a number of obstacles on their way – stones, electric wires, cylindrical water tanks; but by Ganesh’s blessings they were able to eliminate these obstacles and solve the problem they had. I was full of astonishment as I saw this happen.

“See Madame? Ganesh solve his own problem!” laughed Ramesh.

The next few days flew away before I realized, and it was finally time for me to fly back to Stockholm. Ramesh came to drop me off to the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. We continued chatting as we drove towards the terminal.

“You know Madame, me sad to see you go. Come again, okay?” he said.

“Yes Ramesh, I definitely will. I am also sad to leave. But I will always remember India, Mumbai and you. The next time I come, I will be sure to call you.”

“Yes Madame, call. I drive you around again. And I also show you my new workshop Madame. I started best from waste project Madame, with my wife.”

Another impressive initiative from this bright entrepreneur! Is he human? I thought to myself.

As I got off the car and took my suitcases, Ramesh handed over a little parcel to me. “This for you Madame, from my wife – It is rotis made at home. And this is Key Chain for you from Mumbai – you know this man? This is our Shivaji Maharaj. He was great King Madame.” He said proudly.

I nodded with a smile as I accepted his humble gifts, and thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

As my flight took off from the land of Shivaji, I could not help thinking of the many Shivajis I had met, in the crowded Mumbai, in the dense Dharavi. The many Rameshes I had seen there, were in some way incarnations of the great King – these were the modern Shivajis: Kings of their own world, who were surrounded by imperfection, yet navigated the same with utmost perfection. They are what I call the Imperfectionists.

Tear of Joy published on Amazon

Tear of Joy is now published on Amazon.
A book of 14 short stories about every day life, that will touch your soul.

Here is a preview of the book:

https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B01DGMPRW4&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_vaz-wb0PYRKKD

The Secret Santa

Jeremy was visiting his friend and her family ahead of the Christmas holidays. His friend had a son, Timmy who was 5 years old and went to a private Montessori school in the town nearby. Just a couple of days before Christmas eve, he came back home with a story – a new little boy had just joined his school. He had moved to France only a few days back from Nepal. The Montessori school had some type of an “exchange program” with their sister organization that was based in Khatmandu. According to Timmy the new boy Rishi was the only kid in the class who had no Christmas list. He had nothing to demand from Santa! All others had discussed their lists at length during the lunch hour, and Rishi had nothing to say. Timmy had asked Rishi an innocent question– “Have you been bad all year Rishi, that you don’t even have a list for Santa? I wonder what you did”. Rishi’s response was – “Santa does not visit kids with no families.”

Jeremy was intrigued by the story. Although he had no children or family of his own, he did love children. He had no desire of having his own family in the near or far future, but he did enjoy being around children and teaching them craft work, sports, games, songs and other fun activities from time to time. He decided to meet the Montessori head mistress to learn a bit about Rishi. Why was he here? Who was he?

The next day he visited the school and met the head mistress. He learnt a few sad facts about Rishi. He had lost his family, his home and everything in an earthquake. He was pretty much all alone now. Since the Montesorri in Nepal needed help to place children who were orphaned during the tragedy, they had asked for help from their French partner. The French Montessori had agreed to adopt and sponsor one of the kids for two years – and that was Rishi. Rishi lived as a “paying guest” with an old couple – the couple was paid monthly living and food expenses for accepting Rishi for the 2 years. After 2 years, he would be moving to another unknown place, depending on sponsorships – would he find something in France, the headmistress did not know. If not, he would be returned to Nepal, and would have to find his living and education there.

Yes, it was heart-breaking indeed. Jeremy was a kind-hearted man and could not stop himself from thinking of adopting the boy. But could he ever be a parent to a child? He had been a nomad for most of his adult life. He travelled from one place to another, and made a living by writing novels and occasionally performing at music concerts. He was sure he could not take the responsibility of having Rishi live with him, travel with him, and live off a modest and often uncertain income.

He was not a rich man. But he did have a small fund that his grandmother had left him. He decided to give away the fund towards Rishi’s upbringing and education. He took a deep breath and made a couple of calls from the head-mistress’ office. She was thoroughly surprised to see him donate whatever little he had towards the orphan. “Please think again Mr. Jeremy. Are you sure?” Jeremy was sure ofcourse – he was always sure of himself.

So he did it. “Madame, I have one request for you though – do not tell Rishi who his sponsor is. I do not want him to be in touch with me, certainly do not want him to thank me – I do not want him to think of this as a favor to him, because I am not doing him a favor. I am doing this for myself. I am alone, I have no family, and I know what it is like to be all alone. I see myself in Rishi – I want him to have a decent life, if not the best one.

My donation can take care of his very basic needs in France until he turns 16, and then he will manage by himself – hopefully he will be smart and hardworking enough to earn some scholarships after that!”

The headmistress agreed – this was the first time she was meeting somebody so selfless! Jeremy took out a little wrapped book from his bag and handed it over to her. “This is a little present for Rishi – from Santa Claus. I shall take your leave now, the funds have been transferred and you will have all the paper-work in the next week”

As he walked out, the 5 year old little Nepalese boy was rushing to the library with 4 picture books with him. He was startled to see Jeremy and accidentally dropped the books down. Jeremy bent down and helped him pick up the books. He placed a soft hand on his head as he stood up, and said “Books are great friends, aren’t they?” The boy looked up nervously and walked away.

That evening the headmistress called Rishi to her office and smiled politely. She handed out the little present and said – “Santa has a present for you Rishi - this book and something else. He is giving you the means to continue living in France with your new friends and teachers. You don’t have to worry about what happens after two years. You will be happy here. We will give you all that you need.”

Rishi had a broad smile on his face after months! While he was probably too little to understand everything, he did know that people needed money to live and learn. So he was happy that Santa was taking care of that for him.

Years passed, Jeremy’s life went on – moving from place to place. He published a few books, though none of them was a real best-seller. He continued to live off his little income as a writer, a pianist and a singer.

On this side Rishi continued to grow. At some point he learnt that Santa Claus was fictitious. So who was the secret person who had sponsored his nice & cozy life in France? He wondered. When he turned 16 he had graduated from high school. The headmistress called him and informed him that he had won a scholarship to continue with his university studies in England. Every year the school offered a scholarship to the most promising kids, and Rishi was no-doubt an excellent candidate for the same.

Rishi was ready to leave for England, but before he left he went to say goodbye to the headmistress. He asked her “Madame, who is the generous soul that sponsored me? I would have been a no-man if it weren’t for that generosity. I would like to have an opportunity to thank him. Can you not give me his contact?” The headmistress was tempted to tell him about Jeremy, but kept her word. She said “Rishi, it really was Santa! It was secret Santa. All I want you to know is that he was not a rich man financially, but had a rich heart. He gave away whatever little he had to support you, without any expectations. He said that he did not want to be thanked, because he was not doing you a favor. He was doing this for himself.”

Many more years passed, and Jeremy was now an old man. He lived off his little savings in a tiny apartment. He could not afford house-hold help, so had to manage his meals by himself. His extended family sometimes visited him and offered to help out, but he always declined. And they never insisted.

One day as he was taking his regular morning walk in the park, he suddenly went blind. He had a stroke and collapsed on the ground. Hours later when he opened his eyes, he was lying on a comfortable bed in a rather cozy room with a window, a closet, a beautiful lamp and a television. There was also a writing table with some books, papers and pens. He wondered where he was; a kind-looking woman entered the room and sat next to him.

“How do you feel now? You must be wondering where you are. Do not worry, you are safe and you are in a happy place”. She said.

“Where am I and who are you?” He asked.

“You are in the Secret Santa Old Age home. One of our volunteers found you lying in the park this morning. You had a sun stroke. He asked a few people in the neighborhood if they knew you, and many of them did. They told him that you were Jeremy Mathews who wrote books, who taught children, who played music and who lived alone in the apartment next to the park.”

“Our volunteer brought you here so we could take care of you until you got better. And of course, if you agree, you can make this your home forever. Here you will have friends, you will not have to cook and clean, you can focus on your writing and music. You can continue to teach children if you wish. We will take care of you.” She said.

Jeremy chuckled as he said “You are very kind Madame, but I cannot afford it. I don’t have a lot of savings to pay you. So, as much as I would want to stay, you will have to put me away.”

“No Mr. Mathews, you don’t understand. We are a fully funded old age home. We do not take fees from our guests – all our guests are just like you. They don’t have the resources to take good care of themselves. I can assure you that our entire team will be delighted if you would accept our invitation and stay back with us.” said the kind looking woman with a smile.

Jeremy did need help to get on with his old age. So he was happy to accept the invitation to stay at the old age home. “Who runs this home? I mean who provides the funding?” Jeremy asked. “A kind man who wants to give back – we call him Secret Santa” said the woman. God bless this donor, Jeremy said to himself. He did not inquire further – there are lots of good people out there who do good deeds, he thought.

The woman left Jeremy and went back to her office. A few minutes later she had a visitor. “Please come in Mr. Baral. It is so good to see you. I have the progress reports on all our guests ready on this folder. You can take a look. They are all happy and healthy. Today we have a new member added to the family, Mr. Mathews who is a writer and a musician. I am sure the others will enjoy his company”. Mr. Baral smiled and thanked the woman for her hard work.

“Mr. Baral, can I ask you a question please? Why do you do this? Why don’t you reveal your identity to the guests? You have been doing a great deed, and I wonder why is this kept a secret?”

Mr Baral said thoughtfully – “You see Madame Julier, I do not want our guests to thank me. I do not want them to think I am doing them a favor, because in reality I am doing this for myself.

I would not have been what I am today if it had not been for a kind, generous man – my Secret Santa who sponsored my early years in France. Till date I do not know who this man was, and I will probably never know him. But the Secret Santa charity homes are a tribute to him.”

They shook hands and Mr. Rishi Baral, who was a well-known industrialist in town and “Secret Santa” to the old guests in the old age home and to the numerous other men, women and children in the chain of charity homes, walked out of the office. As he walked out, Jeremy was slowly walking towards the library with a few heavy books in his old and fragile hands. Accidentally he dropped them down. Rishi ran to him and bent down and picked up the books – “Books are great friends, Aren’t they?” he said as he helped the unknown old man to the library.