The TimePass of India

I turned 40 last month. Yes, the big 4-O. They say 40 is the new 30 or whatever seems to be the age when people call you young. I “celebrated” my birthday in Berlin – I use inverted commas coz I don’t think I celebrated it as much as I just roamed around the streets, sat down in cafés I thought were too expensive when I was last there as a student. I did touristy things that I couldn’t afford like having dinner in the rotating TV tower restaurant with wife who 14 years ago was my girlfriend. I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world, but boy some touristy stuff in Berlin is expensive – like Dubai on steroids expensive!

As I grow older, and I look at my friends I realize how lucky I have gotten. I don’t particularly consider myself lucky. I think for the 75% of my very eventful life, things were very difficult, almost unfair. I know some people have it worse, I got everything I wanted but it took some effort – and by some, I mean a lot.

My favourite wife’s (also only wife) favourite saying is – Life can only be understood backwards. She’s had this as her email signature ever since she was 20 years old! I don’t know how I managed to impress her enough to marry me coz when I was 20, my email signature was – The more cheese is there, the more holes are there, the more holes are there the less cheese is there. So the more cheese is there the less cheese is there!

Ah romance king only I tell you!

But honestly, now I am just starting to get a gist of what that line means - the line about life backwards, not the cheese one.

I believe that in the future (within our lifetime) even if we aren’t able to time travel, we will be able to send information back into the past – it wont be details like what stock is going to 100x or what team to bet on in the IPL (any team but RCB), it will be things like sending indications about what businesses to get into, what people to stay away from and what woman to chase – maybe it already happens, coz sometimes something just feels right, no?

So this is my message in a bottle back to the 20 year old I was once. He has lived 50% of my life, the tough 50% - need to give him pointers. We are the heroes our younger self needed. And now we are here. So here goes. (I wrote something similar when I was 29 – read it here)

10 things that the 40 year old me, wants to tell the 20 year old me.

1. The future is good. I know currently it feels like everything is falling apart. It’s tough. We love movies about a fight back, ever wondered why? We are fighters – its in our blood. Watch this movie called Cinderella man – has it released yet in your time? And then watch this movie – Fandry – its been our favourite movie for 15 years now.

2. Exercise – I know its boring but we need to do it sometime and you better do it, coz I am lazy. Also eat more and pack some nuts and some juice and stuff. Spend more on your body. I promise you that I will also do a better job for the 60 year old me.

3.What is the purpose of life? I know this question bothers you. (Man, u are deep for a 20 year old!) 

The purpose of life is to have more like you – it’s an exercise in making world a better place – paying it forward. Living a good life is important, its also simple (note I said simple, not easy)

4.A good life is composed of good women, good weather, good bread, good beer and wine, and a new addition – good kids. 

What great women we have met! And the best one we married. You want a hint? Remember that day in the 9^th standard, just before Diwali vacations – you saw this girl and said to yourself – If I get this type of girl I will marry her! 

Apparently she’s the only 1 her type and we marry her. Well, technically I marry her, but you will be me soon.

5.And what kids we have! The middle one especially. 

Yes like every good story we have 3 acts (kids). 

The eldest one is carbon copy almost, the middle one we are figuring out what trail mix she is and the youngest one is a mixture of the first two. You know the saying the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Well I don’t think  we can predict what kind of fruit will fall from the tree – sometimes its apple, sometimes it bananas and other times Oranges. 

All different but all equally sweet.

6.The next 20 years will be great for cricket. 

What close encounters, what finishes – like the T20 World cup (yes that’s a thing now). 

You will see the first one – that last over in the 2007 T20 WC. Also in the next few years that catch by SKY on the boundary. SKY is a cricketer, you don’t know him – in your time he’s in the 5^th standard.

7.Career wise its been tough for you, I know. I wish I could tell you it gets better, but it doesn’t . At least not immediately. We keep fighting for a long, long time. And then slowly it gets better. And how!

8.You will get into really good schools – always like the second last seat or something. At the end of the graduation, you will end-up in the top - just out of sheer hard work. 

But you will still end up with the lowest salary in class. It would take us years, but we will reach the top. I know you don’t care much for money, this is where we have been wrong. Maybe this is why it took so long to come to us.

9.People are born with preconceived notions, habits, skillsets – in the debate about nature vs nurture, Nature reigns supreme. 

We get these from our DNA, past births, experiences of our great grandparents. It all filters through to make us. 

Something in us makes us incredibly frugal. I have always spent less money on myself than I deserved. Walked kms to save some change, ate the same falafel sandwich to save money (would buy 2+1 free and eat it for all 3 meals). Some of this poverty attitude took away from vacations, luxury items, nice things for the wife and kids. 

Now its much better. 

One of the happiest days in my life is when in an expensive restaurant my wife tells me that she doesn’t look at the right side of the menu since the last few years. 

10.Remember how we love all things German? We end up buying multiple German cars. 

I did something recently for the 10 year old us – I bought a Mercedes Convertible. Its a 2-seater just like we wanted to buy! 

Its like falling in love everyday. There are fewer things more satisfying than driving that car top down on a cool Winter afternoon!

So that's all I wanted to tell you - I am not sure if all this actually is of any help. But hope this backwards information about life makes you feel better and brings you some clarity. 

Love & best of luck, 

40 year old Arshat!

10 things I want to tell the 20 year old me

 Adapted from Satyajit Ray’s "Ratan Babu and that man"

I like Satyajit Ray as a writer, but his stories leave a lot to imagination and dont offer a closure that I crave in a good short story. So I took it up on myself to adapt one of his stories to see if I could give some closure to people who crave the same closure as I do. So here goes -

Darul Dutta, DD as he liked to be called, was as unambitious as they come. 

The year was 1951, India had just gained independence, and the British run institutions were being taken over by rich industrialists. One such institution the Indian Bengal Bank (erstwhile British Bengal Bank) was bought over by Abhinandan Agarwal, one of the first Marwari families that had made Calcutta their home. 

DD held a Commerce degree from the University of Calcutta, a degree that his father had forced him to study for. If it was up to DD he would have stopped studying by High school. The degree helped, banks were hungry for educated professionals and DD’s father, an influential mathematics professor got him the job. But DD’s lack of ambition ensured that he would not get promoted. 

DD’s personal life had also taken a beating. DD’s father got him married to an educated girl from a wealthy Bengali family. But that marriage didn’t last 4 months. According to the wife, DD was a boring person and barely had any interest. By DD’s own admission, all he needed was a movie on Sunday and eating fried fish as his favourite restaurant outside of Bada Bazaar. DD's mother died when he was in his teenage years and his father passed away a few months after the divorce. The only silver lining amongst this was the fact that DD’s parents left him a house in one of the posh areas of Calcutta, and enough money in the bank to last him a lifetime. Ideally DD didn’t have to work, but he would get bored at home anyway so he continued his 9 to 5 job. 

The part of his job he liked the most was the 11 day vacation he got every year from his office. The train ticket and the stay was paid for. While other employees chose Delhi, Bombay and Lucknow as the vacation spots, DD would choose the most obscure of locations. His criteria was simple – he would choose a place that had a train station with no more than 24 hours train ride, the location should be so remote that it wouldn’t have any post office or police station even. DD found such locations interesting. The bank allowed to pay for the employee and plus one. But no one wanted to go to such places. Not that DD had any friends he could travel with anyway.

This year he chose Bhimghat in Madhya Pradesh. He got down from his first class compartment. Instantly he could feel the lightness in the air compared to the industrialized city he was from. He got a horse ridden tanga to his hotel - New Mahamaya hotel, the only hotel of repute in Bhimghat. The hotel barely saw any visitors and was more than happy to have a city babu stay at their establishment. 

Room no. 45 read the key that the manager at the reception handed over. It totalled 9. DD liked the number 9 – this was another of his quirks. DD asked for the dinner to be sent to his room. He took a warm bath and then had his dinner – his favourite fried fish (albeit not as good as his city) and slept on the comfortable bed. 

In the morning, it was a bit chilly. He went to the small restaurant within the hotel to have some breakfast. The locals made delicious poha and chai, something he wanted to try. On the table on the far end there sat another gentleman. He had his back to DD, but DD could feel he knew the man. After every sip of chai he would look up to see if the man had finished his breakfast. Finally the man got up and walked past DD to the reception to make the payment for his breakfast. DD could see that the man had the exact same breakfast as him – poha and chai. The man bought the newspaper and began to walk out of the restaurant. DD felt a strange familiarity with him but couldn’t place him. He followed the man. 

The man walked into a nearby garden, found a bench to sit on and started reading the newspaper. 

“Hello”, said DD.

“Hello”, replied the man. 

DD could now make sense of it. The man looked a lot like himself. In fact it was like he was looking in a mirror. They were the same height – wore the same Bengali style kurta and dhoti as DD. They had the same receding hairline and the same sharp nose. They even sported the same set of reading glasses with the thick black frames. The only difference was maybe that DD was clean shaved and this man had a pencil moustache. 

“I am Darul Dutta, I am here on vacation”, he said extending his hand for a handshake.

A smile appeared on the face of the man. He extended his hand and said – “Bhowmick Bannerjee. But you can call me BB.”

DD chuckled. “My friends call me DD.” Not that he had any.

“What made you visit this location? I mean this place is has no historical significance”

“I like to visit unknown places. I like the anonymity. Why are you here?”

“I work for the postal department. We are setting up a postal office here”, BB replied. 

DD and BB immediately hit it off. They were alike. Even the silk handkerchief DD used to clean his spectacles was similar to BB’s. BB was staying in the same hotel as DD. BB invited DD over for a round of Old Monk Rum. DD didn’t drink much but he couldn’t turn down an invitation by someone who was so similar to him. What else was similar? A thought passed DD’s mind – could they be… could they be twins?

“What year were you born in?” DD asked.

“1919.”

Same as him. 

“What, umm, what date?”

“29th January”

Same as him. 

“What did your parents do?” DD asked.

“You work for the Police?” BB let out a hearty laugh. “Let’s keep some discussion for drinks”

They came back to the hotel – it was only afternoon, but DD was on vacation, and how many times had someone invited him for drinks. 

Room no. 54. BB opened the door. Total 9. 

They had drinks and spoke heart to heart about many things that one does with close friends. DD’s heart felt light. 

This continued for the next 9 days. Every time DD broached the subject of BB’s parents, BB would change the subject.

On the last day of his stay BB called DD to his room. 

“I hear this is your last day in town”, BB said.

“Yes. My leave gets over tomorrow. This has been a refreshing break. Thanks to you.”

“Really? I am glad I could help.” BB said wiping his thick framed glasses with the silk handkerchief that he used to carry.

“We are similar you know.” DD said. “We look the same, have the same habits. Both of us are Bengali, we even the same height. Some people might say we are twins!”

BB let out a hearty laugh. 

“We aren’t similar apart from the fact that both of us wear thick framed glasses. I am at least 2 inches taller than you, you know.” BB chuckled. “And I am not even Bengali – have you heard a single Bengali word come from my mouth. Is this why you keep asking about my parents? You think we are twins?”

DD had a serious look on his face. 

“You can have a look at the picture of them. I always carry with me.” BB said pointing towards the drawer in his bedstand. 

DD pulled it open. There was a black and white photo of a couple dressed in traditional Maharashtrian attire. Next to it was a knife with a curved blade. 

BB walked to the cabinet with his back towards the bedstand. He poured himself a glass of old monk. 

DD picked up the knife with the curved blade and walked towards BB ever so quietly and with all his strength in his puny little body all of 5 feet 8 inches, he pushed the knife into BB’s back. BB let out a cry of distress. DD covered his mouth before stabbing him 7 times. 

He then walked out of room 54 and walked into his room. He washed his knife lovingly under the tap in his bathroom, humming an old Rabindranath Tagore song. Wiped it clean with the silk handkerchief he used to clean his glasses with and packed it carefully with his clothes. 

He picked up his suitcase and quietly walked out of the hotel. His train was just pulling into the station when he reached. He got into his first class compartment, laid out his bedding and went to sleep. 

When he joined office the next day his manager Jaspreet Singh, a tall Sardar from Lahore who moved to Calcutta during the partition, asked  - “How was your holidays, DD?”

“Refreshing”

“Really? What god forsaken place did you go to this time?”

“Bhimghat”, replied DD.

“Bhimghat?” Jaspreet said stroking his beard. “Why does that ring a bell?”

He thought about it for a second, then shook it off. There was work to be done. 

DD left the office at 5 pm as usual. He reached home, changed his clothes into a more comfortable lungi and vest, made himself a cup of chai and sat down with the day’s newspaper. He directly opened the 4th page. Found a pair of scissors and cut a news article out. 

He pulled out a file from his cupboard and stuck it on the 4th page. 

The article read –

“A man in his late forties was found brutally murdered in a Bhimghat hotel on Thursday morning. His body was found when the hotel manager found his door unlocked in the wee hours of the morning. The body has been identified as Bhushan Bedekar, or BB as he was lovingly called, a postal employee from Pune. He was on special duty to establish a new postal office. The Police arrived late as they were summoned from the neighbouring district to investigate the matter. The postal office has offered their condolences to the parents of the deceased along with a compensation of one thousand rupees.

The investigating officer feels the job might be done by an insider or someone who knows Bhushan, as it would be difficult to overpower Bhushan who was a well built man almost 6 feet tall. 

The motive of the murder was unknown."

The first 3 pages of the file had old clippings about different murders from years 1948,49,50.

The last line for each read - Motive unknown.

---The End---

Motive unknown - (Adaptation of Satyajit Ray's short story)