The mind always found solace in that morbidly disoriented setup. Discerning thoughts somehow found a voice amidst that bitter scent of tobacco, that under-rated addiction and perhaps that dishevelled background . Me and KG happened to be the first ones there. The amiable man at the shop lays out 3 cigarettes for us.The new year's resolution of quitting, jointly agreed upon at the drunken carousal the previous night had gone out the window and failed miserably. Nevertheless, it was assumed to be an unwritten law in the male code of conduct that abysmal, fragile agreements made between shots of vodka were redundant when subsequently rationality was restored. We lit our cigarettes and KG scavenged through the ruffled newspaper by him, and bore an exaggerated look of belligerence. He tosses the paper aside,takes a drag and opens the conversation.
" This Mumbai thing was terrible,dude. So many casualties? I was actually kinda disturbed when it happened ."
"Really?"
A pause and a few drags later he remarks "Maybe not.But I would have been, had i been a different person " masking what little sophistication and articulate skill he possessed, evoking a laughter.
"No dude. But seriously, think about it. Security and governance,even today, are as pathetic as it can get. I mean" (pause,2 drags) "terrorists could just barge into our college and bomb all they want and no dog would even realize it".
"Ya!, right! I am sure terrorists are scheming right now to bomb and exterminate the likes of you and me,coz we're such hot-shots.That seems very likely. Besides, why you worried.We can talk all we want, but nothings gonna change."
(pause/1 drag) " Forget this college. Forget you and me. Isn't it a little obvious that things have to change in this country? I mean, you cant get more bullshit governance than this. 200 people die and a state minister says trivial issues like 26/11 happen in cities like Mumbai. You have ministers giving site-tours to directors over our misery. Its pathetic." He hangs on to his cigarette and takes inexplicably longer drags.
I ask the personable owner for a coffee. He obliges. We both start walking back even as i sip onto my coffee. KG is done with his cigarette,not with the conversation yet. He goes on.
"And you have these human rights freaks, that seem hell-bent on saving terrorists' asses. Its ridiculous. You remember that Batla house encounter. That Sharma took 6 bullets in his chest fighying valiantly and Arundhati Roy and Amar Singh come out and claim that the encounter was staged and call him a traitor ruing over freedom of speech? " in an appalling tone accompanied by a slight shake of his head. I am awe-struck at his unprecedented outburst of poignancy and patriotic fervour. I don't express it.I give an air of nonchalance.
I fling the coffee cup to the side. " Its the system dude. 'm telling you. Me and you can debate all we want but nothings ever gonna change. We should learn to accept that whatever change we seek is gonna happen despite the system, least because of the system"
"The system? You know, this term has been used far too much to cover up for our incoherence in dealing with issues. You can reproach the 'system' all you want and demand for change, and yet you'll never stop chucking coffee cups onto the streets, wont you?"
" Come on dude. How's that gonna help? You think me doing that will actually help?" I say garbling up something in my defence pleading innocence.
" Its a start, ain't it? Perhaps something not lacking in this country is scope for improvement and opportunity. You feel somethings not right, protest it. Democracy gives you power like no other."
" Perhaps.. But, realistically it ain't gonna happen. 15 years down the line, me and you are gonna be on the 16th floor in our cushy air conditioned offices licking our bosses ass and at least one of us trying to save a failing marriage. All this razzmatazz trash talk will seem pretty mundane in our rambled lives then. Its impractical,illogical."
" No dude.. I actually wish people elsewhere in fag shops are having this kinda conversation. Somethings gotta give dude. I really wanna do something." he says feebly, pretending to be absorbed in thought.
Even as we walked back to the block, I realized that KG, someone who wouldn't so much as change his jeans regularly,today staunchly talked about changing and challenging a disfigured hideous system,confined and crippled by crooks like you and me; for the country he took a certain pride in.I could rubbish his dogmas and chastise his theories,but it had to be accepted that he was in some way right.
Perhaps, it seems to be lost in oblivion that patriotism is not enunciated when we deliriously tear our clothes when Sachin hits a century,but when we make sure that, that coffee cup belongs to the dustbin, not when Shilpa Shetty 'bravely fights' racism, but when we fight poverty grabbing it by its horns, not when we perennially reminiscent Kapil Dev lifting the cup, but when we reminiscent the unnerving sacrifice made by a youthful Satyendra Dubey, an IIT-grad, who was found brutally murdered trying to blow the whistle over a few corrupt bureaucrats.
But even amidst decaying apathy and clothed in relentless cynicism breeds hope across the country, not on 10 Janpath or Race Course but in insignificant coffee houses, in sleazy bars, in tacky fag shops, in high end restaurants, in cozy homes, deceptively meek slums,people who listen to angels within them, trying to brew their own little revolutions. Perhaps, at the risk of sounding ridiculously extravagant it has to be said that the street side torn-in-strife chap in rags whose portrayal of celebrating life unconditionally in all its hardships, which was hitherto mistaken for subservience,was indeed a face of defiance,of resilience, of hope; in hope of a better tomorrow, which now rest upon us.
