My Story... 1

I was a problem child. There was nothing wrong with the environment I grew up in, if you think of it. I had a sharp mind, loving family, great friends. Of course, I still have them. But I am telling you a story of the past when these things contradicted the fact that I was a problem child and hence the past tense. Anyway, despite all the good things that one can hope for in his life there was a problem with my attitude. And I will be first to admit that. The basic problem I had was my short temper. An unrivalled ability to be angry about absolutely everything was a gift I had inherited from my father or so they said. I was so much like my father, that’s also what they said. I didn’t agree. My father was a much better person than I, and still is. I Also had a big ego problem. I thought myself to be the most important person on the back of this planet and on other planets as well, if there is life on them. And I wanted my friends and parents to respect that. I wanted them to be there whenever I demanded them to be there. I was a liar and an egomaniac. Actually, when I was very young, I was a good boy. And they wondered what exactly was going wrong with me as I was growing up. I was very unstable and it was getting worse. At one point my father even took me to a psychologist. By that time things were so bad that my mom was scared of my anger. And the worst part of it was, I knew I was doing it wrong. I knew I was being a very very bad boy. I was putting my family through a trial which they didn’t deserve. But I couldn’t help it. Or should I say, I didn’t help it. Today when I think about it, I wonder why it was so! And I don’t get an answer. It is as inexplicable to me as the theory of relativity. I will never know why I was insane just as I will never know why one second is shorter when you travel at the speed of light (or is it longer?). I do try to justify myself though. And I say I was just going through a phase when I had no goal and nothing to look forward to; that I had no purpose. But I know that’s all bullshit.

Just before I was born, my father had heard about an interpretation of a prophecy made by Nostradamus. It said that at the start of the 21st century a world war will start and at the end of it a man born in southern part of India will lead the world to peace and prosperity. For some inexplicable reason my father used to think that I will be that man. Right from the time I was born my father had believed in my non existent abilities. And thus if you measure my success as a son in terms of ∆, where


         ∆ = Expectations from parents – The achievements of their son
                  (Will lead the world to                            (Nothing)
                  peace and prosperity)

I must be the most successful son in terms of disappointing my parents, in history. So, obviously as I was growing up, my father’s expectations from me were diminishing at a rapid rate which was directly proportional to the rate of my increasing height. And compounding my misery was my elder brother.

Oh, did I forget to tell you that I have an elder brother? And that he is a model? I mean he isn’t a model by profession, but he is a model son, was a model student, also a model instructor to his juniors and of course a model brother. He is brilliant in mathematics, a hard worker, loving, caring, irresistible, the works. He wasn’t a major academic success till he got to his engineering college. Once there he exhibited his abilities and his talents to their fullest. From there he got selected in TELCO (TATA Motors now). He studied while on job and got a decent score in GATE. Then he joined IISc, Bangalore – a premiere science institute in India – where he was admitted after an interview. His friends tell me he was admitted because of the practical knowledge he showed in his interview, and ahead of many students who had scored more. From there he went on to do his PhD in University of Pennsylvania. Here also he was admitted ahead of many others who had scored more. Then he did his post doctorate in Norway and France. In between there were numerous presentations at various conventions and a patented algorithm on wireless networking. And yes, he was a member of cricket team and hockey team in college, he has taken part and finished a swimming marathon and is very good in squash and chess to add to his cooking abilities. He also likes to write short stories in his free time. This is just the general outline, there are scores of other accomplishments as well but as this is my story I have not listed all of them. Is there any wonder then that everybody looked up to him when thinking about how they wanted their children to turn out. Everybody from my grandparents to my younger siblings was fond of him. The obvious question is – how can such a great brother compound my misery? And the simple answer is – due to the inevitable comparisons and their hopes that someday I will turn out to be like him. Recently somebody asked me whether I have any complex due to my brother. I said no, I don’t. And the person said, ‘Good for you, because I will certainly have one if I have such a brother.’ I didn’t have a complex because for me it was always a case of reaching his level. And because I was trying all the time to reach there, he seemed within reach and much more human to me. Others were simply in awe of his abilities.

Not that I didn’t love him or respect him. But there was always that unsaid thing from my side, ‘why the hell, are you so damn good!’ The irony of this is the more I tried to become him, the farther I went from becoming him. The harder he worked the lazier I became. As his successes rose my failures mounted. Again I try to justify myself by saying that I was trying to be something I wasn’t, but then you know what I think of these justifications.

The most glaring of all my failures, which in hindsight did more good to me than bad was my failure to get in an IIT. It was my aim to get in one of them and I worked pretty hard for that. I thought I had the ability and the temperament to do it. But then the fact that I didn’t make it seemed as inevitable as the fact that there will be a sunrise and a sunset tomorrow. I became even more unstable than was usual for me. It ruined my 12th standard board exam. Not that I needed a reason to ruin it, as per my previous record I would have managed it without assistance. But still it was for the first time that I had worked hard for anything and to fail in that was a big blow for me. What with failure in IIT-JEE (entrance exam to get in an IIT) and in 12th board exam, that summer was quiet and tense at home. I had lingering thoughts about taking a drop and appearing for IIT-JEE again. But the strain at home was proving a little too much for me to handle. My father was also on the edge due to the tension about my future. And so I thought it would be best for all of us if I just dropped the idea of taking a drop for a year. And I decided to go ahead and take admission in any engineering college with whatever (little) marks I had. I didn’t want admission in a private engineering college as I didn’t want my father to make cuts in the budget to afford the large fee (for the first time in my life I was thinking in the right direction). I thought, my family had gone through enough and I would try and minimize the strain they faced because of me. So I was prepared to take whatever I could get. To be honest, I got quite a good college for the modest marks I had scored. I got a seat in the Engineering College of Karad, in Information Technology branch.

At that time my brother was doing his PhD in US of A. He was in India on his annual visit. By chance, his and my date of departure was same. He was going to Pune to catch up with his friends, which was en route to Sangli. I was heading to Sangli as it was near Karad and I had a cousin there. It was decided that I will go to Sangli first and from there my cousin will accompany me to Karad.

And so it came, the day of our departure. I wasn’t nervous or excited because I really didn’t care where I was going at that time. I wasn’t sad because I was getting away from an environment of tension and apprehension. But I also wasn’t happy or satisfied because of that. I was just normal, I didn’t feel much. My parents came to see us off at the railway station at which my brother was very happy. He was saying that since he had learnt how to get to the railway station on his own, they had never come to see him off. I tried to verify this fact against my memory. Looked like I could believe him this time, because I couldn’t remember even one occasion where we had gone to the railway station to see him off. Of course there was one occasion when he was going to US of A for the first time to start his PhD course. They had gone to Mumbai, at the international airport. But then that was the first time anybody from our family was travelling abroad in decades. We got to the station, no problems. All four of us didn’t talk much. My father was unusually quiet. He even avoided looking at me. ‘Serves you right’ I thought to myself, ‘You deserve it.’ The time went by faster than expected. Soon the train was moving and we were waving our parents good bye. And then my father looked at me and I saw a teardrop in his eyes. All my indifference went away in a flash. I felt something clawing at my heart, my stomach went hollow. I had an unbearable urge to jump on the platform, run to him, hug him and say sorry. But the moment passed, and another one. I stood at the door of my coach, watching my parents till the train turned a corner.

I sighed and turned to go in. Suddenly, I bumped in to my brother who was still standing there and nearly fell out of the train. I would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed my hand and pulled me up. I had completely forgotten that he was there.

‘I hate my instincts’ – he said. I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘I mean, today was a golden chance to get rid of you. But alas, my instincts made me grab you and save you from certain death.’

My brother is very gifted at making other people laugh, at making them feel good. He has a great sense of humor and an infallible ability of knowing the right thing to say at the right time. But when I say he does it well with other people, I don’t mean people other than him; I mean people other than me. He always reserves his substandard and sick crap for me. I gave him a tired blank look at this pathetic attempt to lighten the mood by starting a fight.

‘A certain death? Because of a fall from a train moving at a speed which is less than even 20 km/hr to a ground barely 6 feet away?’

‘What’s wrong in hoping? Let me tell you, hope is a good thing.’

‘Yes Timmy, hope is a good thing. But are you hoping for your own brother’s death?’

‘You have to look at it in a better and a positive way.’ He added in a mystic tone, ‘I am hoping for your freedom. Freedom from this materialistic life and this greedy body. I am hoping to free your soul.’ I told you, he reserves all his substandard crap for me.

‘Please dada spare me; just for today. Can we go in?’

He sighed dramatically, ‘There will come a fine day when you will understand the value of the wisdom I always try to impart on you.’

Rest of the journey to Pune was literally in silence. Perhaps he thought it best not to annoy me through that day. We barely spoke 2-3 sentences the whole way. He kept to his book and I kept to my somber mood. I didn’t eat much that day. Sleep also wouldn’t come. I stayed awake listening to the sounds of a crying baby, disagreements between passengers with varying swearword choices but with same allotted births, that typically irritating noise made by the fans in the sleeper coach of a train and my brother’s loud snoring. I lied down, sat up, walked to the lavatory and back for no apparent reason, clutched my head trying not to pull my hair out and lied down again. And then I looked fixedly at the fans trying no to get irritated until sleep came sometime in the night. I had a strange dream. Someone was pointing a gun at me. He said in a very matter of fact way,

‘Are you scared, Chaporkar? Look at this gun, look at it. With one shot, I can blow your head to pieces. Or worse, I can smash your knee cap and leave you with a walking stick for the remainder of your life. Or I can put this gun on your hip bone and shoot. The bullet will destroy every bone en route to your spinal cord and then break it so that you will never be able to stand again. Are you willing to pay such a price? Do you have the courage for this? Frankly, I just want you to be scared. I won’t hurt you if you are scared. I want to see fear in your eyes…’

‘Open your eyes we are there. Come on get up. It’s Pune.’

I sat up trying to orient myself to the surroundings, that voice still ringing in my ears. I looked at the watch, ‘Oh, already? It’s only 5 in the morning.’

‘Yes, but we are there. Come on, let us have some tea.’

We got out on the platform. He called his friend who was going to pick him up. He said he was on the way and will be at the station in 10 minutes or so.

‘Listen’ he said, ‘I know you are apprehensive and a bit sad. Even I was. All I will say is be brave for the 1st year and you will enjoy the next 3 like anything. These 4 years will shape your life and what you do for the rest of it.’ I nodded. It looked like he wanted to say a lot of things. But we sat in silence, drinking tea till his friend came. Then we got up, he put a hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Take care.’ I nodded and watched him leave the platform. I got back in the train and went to sleep almost immediately. Luckily the gun and the man stayed away.

I don’t know whether it was a co incidence, but I woke up when the train was at Karad station. Sangli was a further hour and a half away. I got down and thought that the station didn’t look any special. I shook off the thought as a result of my bad mood. The train started moving and I got back on it. Rest of the journey was uneventful. It was a total of 24 hours journey to Sangli from Nagpur. And when I finally got my feet on firm ground at Sangli, I was all shaken up. The platform felt like it was moving in the rhythmic fashion of the train. I looked around the station. I had been to Sangli 6 years ago and it didn’t look to have changed much in those 6 years from whatever little I remembered. My cousin had come to pick me up. He was the oldest of our generation and I was the youngest. He had had a considerable hand in spoiling me when I was young. He always used to take me for rides when I visited my uncle (his father). He used to protect me from the younger cousins who tried to bully me. Now he was married, had 2 sons and was really happy to see me. He worked as a Development Officer (DO) in LIC. We shared a joke or two on our way home. My sister in law or ‘Vahini’ was very fond of me. I instantly felt good and at home. My nephews were chirpy and excited to have me there. I freshened up, had lunch and slept for most of the day. On the next day we were to go to Karad.

On the next day in Karad, we completed the formalities for my admission and just strolled around the college. We looked up the hostels where I would be staying. It was a dreary place. The civil engineer, who built it, had taken utmost care not to let any sunlight through to the rooms. It was very cold and damp and dark. And my good feeling was vanishing very quickly. I had not forgotten my brother’s ‘suggestion’ that I needed to be brave through my first year. And I felt a bit scared at the thought of having to endure ‘things’ in such a place. I would like to mention one thing upfront, I am – to add to my all other drawbacks – a coward. And I also wish to say that admitting such things in retrospection is so much easier and actually quite fun. Anyway, perhaps my cousin sensed the change in my mood because he immediately took me from hostel to canteen, a supposedly happier place. We had pakodas and he tried to take my mind away from these things by talking about his college life and the fun he had then. On our way back, he also suggested that I can commute daily from Sangli as it was only an hour by bus. I obviously said no, trying to sound cool and casual.

‘Well, at least you don’t have to stay here at weekends.’ He said.

But I had already decided that much on my own. When we reached back home, my cousin took all of us out for dinner. Then we had sugarcane juice at the very famous ‘Gajanan Rasvanti Gruha’. All this was to lighten my mood, I thought. That night I talked to my father. He could feel my apprehension on the phone. He told me not to worry. That there is another round and he will see if I could get a seat in the engineering college at Sangli. That gave me some hope. I thought I may not have to go to those dungeons after all. He asked me if I still wanted an admission in one of the private engineering colleges in Nagpur. But I wouldn’t do that no matter what. It was Wednesday, I would have to join the college on Monday in Karad. I slept with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Next day, I was just whiling away my time reading books and watching TV. Kids were at their school and Bhaiya (my cousin) was at office which left me and Vahini at home. She was – as usual – busy with her house hold chores. Then at about 2 in the afternoon, the phone rang. I answered it.

‘Hello, who is it?’

‘Are it is me, Baba. I have a good news.’

My heart started beating louder in anticipation. ‘What is it?’

‘I am at the VNIT for the next round of admissions. And when your number came 3 sits were vacated for the college in Sangli. And I managed to secure the admission for you there. Happy now?’

‘Are you kidding? I am very happy now!’

‘OK then, I will send your admission letter by courier.’ There was a pause, ‘We are missing you here, beta.’

‘I am missing you and Aai, too. But don’t worry I will be there in Diwali very soon.’ I said in a more sedate but assuring voice.

Next day I received the admission letter and went to the college to complete the formalities. One of the students who had vacated the seat turned out to be an acquaintance of Bhaiya. That guy had come to meet Bhaiya before leaving for Nagpur. Me and bhaiya went to see him off at the railway station where 3 other guys had also come to see off that guy. They were all dressed in formals. They were also from Vidarbha region.

‘Hi I am Prasad.’ – I introduced myself.

‘I am Harshad.’

‘I am Nachiket.’

‘Mandar.’

They were from Chandrapur, Wardha and Bhandara respectively. Harshad was thin, of medium height and bespectacled. He looked like a typical metro sexual male sans the muscles. Nachiket was a tallish fair guy and had smart looks. Mandar had intelligent eyes and normal looks. He was neither tall nor short, neither fair nor dark, neither fat nor thin. Just an average guy.

‘So, you will take the vacated seat?’ – Mandar.

‘Yes.’ – I replied with a smile.

‘You are going to stay at the hostel or your brother’s place?’

‘Haven’t decided yet. But mostly I will come to the hostel.’

‘Well, there is no room at the hostel. Anyway, if I were you I would stay at my brother’s place.’ This was in a bit of a strange tone.

‘I will see. Thanks.’ I was a bit puzzled.

Then we chatted on some other things to while away our time till the train came. We said good bye to the leaving guy and then to each other and left.

That night I was on my bed, thinking. I couldn’t believe my luck. Despite my modest marks I had managed to get a seat in a very good engineering college. By chance or by design, my fate had brought me where my brother started to show what he really was capable of. Yes, this was the very college from where he had graduated and learnt his engineering. I had managed to get a seat in Walchand College of Engineering.