Paatya!

Pats and I first met in 1979, when we were 10, scrawny kids who didn’t know crap from dung. I was a shy introverted kid in a new school and he was this studious, friendly chap who would seemingly go out of his way to help others. We both were Einstein House boys in school, so we ended up hanging out a lot more during sports and other events. The cynic in me always thought it can’t be all this good. As time wore on, I ate my words of course, because he was all that and a lot more that I could ever know. He made friends organically, everywhere he went and I was forever in amazement of how he did it with such ease. School days were over in a blink and we kinda lost touch for a few years during the formative years. Those were days of landline phones, devoid of social media, and we all had our own trips to go on and screwups to clean. Late into our twenties, it was wedding season for almost all of our batchmates, and we hung out a lot more, mostly talking about outdoorsy stuff and fitness. Hiking and being in the mountains were common passions we shared. About this time Mugdha, his lovely wife who is one of my most favorite people, had joined TCS and then it seemed like a whole new world of trekking in the sahyadris had opened up for us. Almost every weekend was spent in the countryside, and the weeks were spent in planning about them. He never smoked or drank alcohol and had given up meat very early on… didn’t even swear explicitly and we teased him mercilessly about not having any of these “small vices”. He would always laugh it off loudly. Pats had an insatiable appetite for all kinds of data, which he would then narrate while chugging along on our hikes in microscopic detail, while we would be breathless, huffing and puffing, barely nodding. Those were really the best of times. We did some fantastic high-altitude expeditions together in Nepal and man what a high that was!! He was a strong technical climber and having a data driven partner like him, was a real asset. Pats was a star athlete and a sprinter in school but he moved on to long distance running with time. Past few years he had moved on to endurance cycling and we are talking insane distances here. Plus, life had caught up with him like many of us. He had taken up a teaching job which I’m sure he was brilliant at, and landscape architecture which was his primary occupation, was also keeping him very busy. He would call once in a while and then there would be these endless conversations. Past few years we probably spoke and met a shade less often, than we used to and should have. But he was, I’m sure, always trying to help someone in strife. That was his drug! The best part in all of this was that Pats actually gave his time without expectations, in this time starved city. It’s been forty-five years and more since we first met... That’s more than anyone I know outside my family. And now suddenly he’s gone! The shock of his passing has now somewhat faded and all that’s left behind is a painful numbness which is hanging inside my brain like a stubborn winter haze. I lost more than a friend last Saturday…. I lost a part of me too! Adios my Friend! See you on the other side!

Farewell, Buntu!!

After a long hiatus, i met buntu again during our hi school reunion a few years back. sometimes the ties you form in school never quite go away, even though they seem flimsy and trivial then. no different with him too. a few months later, our paths met again. he seemed keen on coming with me and a few other friends for a trek to Roopkund in the himalayas. It was in his "bucket list", as he called it. Although i was keen for him to join, there was also apprehension that he may not be able to mentally endure the travails that a himalayan trek throws up. I could not have been further from the reality.

He took his time to adjust to the rough and tumble world of the mountains. But once he was there, we saw him in a completely different light. A week of walking up the lovely meadows of garwhal in uttarakhand, chatting up about old school times, even gossiping at times, was a time i shall never forget. The mountains have a weird way of making friends. The ones you make you make for life. And having shared the same campsite, and occasionally tents, buntu and i renewed our school day chuddy-buddyship. For years i had left my school days behind me. With buntu, in roopkund, they came back to life. As for the trek, he did it with consummate ease. Fitness was very important for him and it paid back rich dividends when it mattered in the hills.
Post - Roopkund, surprisingly enough, considering how people in mumbai are islands by themselves, we managed to keep in touch. We went for another trek to Kothligad, in the western Ghats in the rains last year and it was just a continuation from where we left off.

Although we never spoke that often, we had enough between us to remember the other with lot of respect and affection. Three days back, he congratulated me on my more recent success in the mountains and we were to catch up soon again. However, it was not to be.

Vipul Desai, AKA Buntu, passed away wednesday night as I was with friends barely minutes from his home. Strange are the vagaries of life. No premonition, no warnings, not even a slight indication do we get of what is in store for us! It's been three days since and the sense of disbelief hasn't left me yet. To a great friend, school-mate, co-trekker and above all just a super guy, Buntu, you shall be missed terribly and well remembered.

R.I.P., Dost!

Another Wednesday….another terrorist activity….a few hundred more innocents killed.…and a few million more lost in damages….where do we go from here? It’s not the first time that Bombay has been subjected to such vicious attacks of terror. And as much as I hope not, truth be told, it won’t be the last time either. The previous such attack in the suburban trains took a similar toll of human life. Politicians and TV news channels have gone on record to say that this has been the worst terrorism incident in India. Some have said that this is India’s 9/11. How juvenile and trivial can they be! It seems now, even tragedies are being ranked. For the deceased and their family, it matters not a fig leaf what is the intensity of the incident. For them the day they lost one of their own, is a black day, ranking or no ranking. The gut wrenching images of the funeral of our martyrs are still vivid in our minds.

The reactions from the common man are predominantly and predictably that of anger and anguish. Understandably so, but should they not be tempered by some sane voice? Typical knee-jerk reactions are really not going to solve any issue here. It that was so, the Kashmir problem would have been solved long ago. Terrorism is a fact of life in the 21^st century. The only difference being that’s it’s perpetrated by humans. And we as a nation have to deal with it just the way we deal with any other calamity. By getting systems in place which react lightning fast we can minimize the extent of the carnage. Ironically, the NSG, which was set up to protect our elected representatives have done a splendid job while those whom they protect have failed miserably doing theirs.

I have always thought that our media, ever since it was freed has been on hyper-active mode and this time was no different. Every channel gave its own “breaking news” which was conflicting with the other. Not to mention that the coverage gave vital inputs to the perpetrators of this ghastly carnage. Even as the hostages were freed, the reporters were clamoring for sound-bytes. Do TRP’s takes precedence over all sensibilities? I think each one of them needs a sensitivity pill and urgently.

As the dust settles on this black Friday and we finally see the end of what have been a traumatic sixty odd hours, we as Indians and Bombayites have to decide what we can do. Loads of pages have been written about the “resilience” of the Bombay-ite, and this time was no different. But this time you could sense fear along with the anger in the eyes of people. The much touted resilience factor has been dragged for too long and too much. For me a part of Bombay died in the 1993 blasts. Bombay as I remember growing up, has never been quite the same ever again. But it has become increasingly intolerant with every passing year. Much of the blame has to be shared by politicians who have their vote-bank to cater to. Frankly, we have had enough of local politicos using divisive tactics to drive wedges between us. The Bombay I grew up in, was so all encompassing. So forgiving and never asking anything back! Well, its time to ask now.

I want my Bombay back. NOW.

when do we rise?

tuesday's suburban train blasts have a left a indelible scar on our day to day lives. it's not just
the fact that the trains are the lifeline of the city. i think ordinary citizens like you and me
are sick of the fact that while the citizenry suffers, even the most menial of politicians are
laughing their way to their benaami accounts. this was demonstrated amply twice in
quick succession, the rains in the earlier week setting the tone. the ruling class in
maharashtra as well as the alternative, both are two sides of the same coin. politicians
in both camps have failed to represent the voice of Bombay forcefully and effectively at
the centre. despite contributing predominantly to the national treasury, all the city gets
is a pittance. political will is non-existent except in issues which concern vote-banks. and
the great middle-class, which every one raves about, reads the same story in the papers
every day, shakes his head and gets on with their jobs. that is the bottom line. the job
should be done.
i am sick of hearing the television newsreader say the phrase "the spirit of mumbai is
indomitable". i personally believe that we as bombaites, not mumbaites, have failed in
the sense that though we have felt anger and frustration about these reprehensible acts,
we have not channelised it effectively for our own benefit. because the political class is
shameless and will get more so with passage of time, we as citizens should raise our
concerns loudly and effectively. none of the accused in all previous blasts have yet been
convicted. so the bombayite feels, as i do perhaps, that his lone voice will and cant make
a difference. the job should be done? wrong. not at all cost. not at the cost of our city.
i accept thatI i was wrong. there may not be any difference in the end but the important
issue is to raise our concerns in whatever medium one is comfortable with. Bombay
as a city, shall be always vulnerable to terrorist activities. the important thing, however
is to keep on trying. if you believe even a word of what i feel pass the thought onwards.
not the mail, perhaps. but the thought, definitely.