When careers should genuflect.

6th May, 2010.

I hung on to the trudging bus to NDTV. The forty five minutes distance was all for me to look back into a span of sixteen years. It was a tale of two families, closely knit in bonds of friendship. The fathers graduated together, the elder sons schooled together, and the younger sons played together, while both the mothers were simply together. My memory flashed scenes etched as old as those from class I, where we shared our lunch boxes and at weekends - hide n seek thrilled us while our parents sat discharging the week’s weariness. A flash takes me to Kasauli, where again my father and Uncle are cooling their heels, while their wives have a tough time compulsively feeding the four sons in all. A dash of light, and the serene Himachal mountains creep into my head, the sons are quite grown, and (we) trek through those beautiful valleys. I remember, Uncle falling ill, and my memory fades with just a fact that my friend put up with us at our home for some good number of months. Schools over, and we parted for graduation, but the base camp remained quite intact. And last flashed a scene right from the previous night, when Aunty shambles into the house, her face bereft of any expression or emotion, and there behind her followed Uncle, not smiling, but lying still; and still forever. Heart attack they said.

Hurrying into the class, to be in before Dr. Nigam, I settle down with all my thoughts vanished. The regular newspaper session was followed by a rarest of the rare opportunities – a visit to the Lok Sabha in the Parliament House. Electrifying, the class’ zeal was beyond bounds, spare me. I had a decision to make. Enthralling as Lalu or Gandhi, or the very soft Madame Speaker, Miera Kumar were debating over national issues, my long time school friend would be rendering the last rites to his father.

I have always wondered what salt men of this era are made of. One thing they love the most is hurrying scurrying from one desk to other, from one cabin to other, with quintals of currency making their pockets heavy. And one thing they lament is the inability to discover someone on whom to shower the weight. One needs hard labour to earn that note, but needs a stronger heart to negotiate green paper for some beautiful bonds to breathe forever.

I might have missed a fantabulous prospect to experience the world I am set to analyse, I might have skipped a step towards a finely polished career, I now might have been a place behind my colleagues, but I definitely, did complete my duties as a friend, as a son, above all as a human. I might get a chance to peep inside the Sansad, but I would not have got a chance to say a bye to a dear Uncle, or stand strong to a dear friend.