Questions that haunt my mind

Does selfless love really exist? More often than not, is not the need to be loved being labelled as love? And how fair is selfless love? I mean, is it fair to expect a person to continue loving someone who is an absolute monster? Does this mean that Quid-Pro-Quo is the benchmark of “fair love”? Is certain amount of fairness imperative to the concept of love?

Is the creator not lonely? For it takes a great amount of loneliness to suffer the company of absolute fools, the humans!

What if we are actually honest with everyone all the time? Brutally, fully and completely honest? Will it not be the beginning of the end of several relationships? Will the end be for good or bad? I wonder how this world would be if everyone speaks nothing but the truth. Would it not be totally chaotic?

If love is the ultimate answer to all the puzzles, if it indeed is so simple, then why do we fear decoding the puzzle of life by using the key of love? Why do we get attracted to the complex solutions which are not rooted in love but fear, hate and jealously?

 If comparison is the root cause of strife and restlessness, wouldn’t it have died its natural death in the course of evolution? Does the need to compare serve some constructive purpose? Does it lead you somewhere?

What are the characteristics of evolution? Simple characteristics of evolution? Can there ever be any simple characteristics of evolution? Are we moving towards complexity with every passing millisecond?

If truth is the ultimate destination of all the religions of the world, why is the oil of lie required to smoothen the rough counters of the basic tools that are needed to operate this world?

Unfairness, deceit and exploitation has inherently been the fundamentals upon which the civilisation has come to survive and rest since time immemorial. And we, as a race, have been striving to uproot and/or address the issues arising out of unfairness, deceit and exploitation. Is there a possibility that we will destroy the human civilisation per se in the process of trying to set right what has been practised since ages? Is unfairness and brute power really the operating principles of the world? What are the replaceable principles?

Why does unrequited love hurt so much? Why does it take the form and shape of a sore wound that refuses to heal?

I have come to realise the fact that I am absolutely dispensable in the larger scheme of life! The world will be absolutely functional in my absence. Nothing will stop. The sun will continue to rise and set. The tides will continue to ebb and flow. The days will continue to follow night and the night will in turn follow day to form week, months and years. The world wouldn’t stop evolving, moving ahead and consequentially self-destroying itself. So why worry so much? Why fret, fight and fuss? Instead, why not forgive, fool around and have fun?  If in the process, I end up decoding the purpose of my existence, good for me. If not, I will go to my grave with the satisfaction that I lived every moment to the fullest J

Certainty Versus Uncertainty

Our expectations from life are so full of contradictions! Our nature is so dichotomous! Our habits are so uneven. At times, we want life to be full of adventure, replete with pleasant surprises, catching us unawares like a cute child hidden behind a curtain who startles us by suddenly jumping in front of us. At other times, we want our lives to be as predictable and certain as day following night and seasons changing in the same rhythm over the course of its immortal existence. These inherent contradictions in our expectations create a tug of war between the contradictory expectations of our heart that are at daggers with each other all the time.

In the backdrop of certain and static patterns of life, why do we chase uncertainty?  The fact of birth and death is certain! The fact of ageing is certain! The fact of the cycle of gain and loss; joy and sorrow, success and failure, are nothing but the most unchangeable and predictable parameters of existence. Does that make us chase uncertainty? Is it because there is too much of certainty in the larger schemes of thing? Is it because we subconsciously feel that destiny or providence has given us a fixed frame of reference and we have little choice but to act and behave and choose within that frame of reference. Is this the reason why in certain corner of our heart we constantly endeavour to break ourselves free of this presumably monotonous existence?  Is the charm and craving for uncertainty and adventure nothing but a subconscious revolt against providence? Is it an attempt to break ourselves loose from the clutches of cyclic patterns of our existence? Do we chase uncertainty in the vain attempt of giving a new interpretation to the predictable patterns of the universe? Why do we seek entertainment? Why do we love to travel? Why do we like reading books, watching movies, seeing plays that are full of twists and turns? Why do we leave a well-paying job at regular interval and take up new job which becomes equally monotonous after a point of time? Why do we seek new relationships? Why do we yearn for thrill and passion in our romantic relationships as against peace and certainty? This is for the simple reason that human soul feels like a caged bird that is forced to flutter within the four corners of its caged existence. We end up reducing human life to an endless attempt at escaping this supposedly caged existence. In our attempt at chasing uncertainty, we more often than not fail to discover the true meaning of our existence. We fail to delve into the deeper beings and discover the truth behind our existence.  We try breaking the imaginary circle of certainty and end up getting entrenched in the circle of illusions and disappointment. The ceaseless pursuit of uncertainty leads to the spinning of the web of sorrow. 

On the other hand, more often than not, when things become unpredictable and uncertain, we crave and yearn for predictability and certainty. When the ceaseless cycle of hard circumstances assumes the dimension of a monstrous wave and whirls us back and forth against the pain of rock; all that we care for, all that we want like a lost child is the predictable and certain circumstances that has the effect of the  peace and comfort of the bosom of mother! Why do we search our future in the stars? Why do we chase astrologers? Why do we read a person’s star sign either prior to or after meeting that person? Many a times, we like to be with the same set of people socially and professionally; we continue with the same job for years together, we follow the same transport route year after year, we follow the same routine, watch the same sitcoms, wear similar costumes without really experimenting with the latest fashion, celebrate the same occasions, visit the same holiday destination and end up behaving like a still water body which ends up rotting over the course of time.   We fear change and we consequently avoid uncertainty and adventure and we end up becoming our sworn enemy and our certain and boring existence haunts us every waking moment of our life! 

Why do we oscillate between clinging on to certainty and uncertainty?  Is it the consequence of the failure of human nature to accept what life offers or is it the outcome of the tumultuous nature of our expectations? In the process of giving our own interpretation to the life’s experiences; are we missing the larger picture? Are we failing to understand the lessons that the cyclic nature of certainty and uncertainty has to offer by interpreting it from our frame of reference and clinging on to it to our larger disadvantage?

Are there any certain answers to the above question? Do we seek any certain answers to it?  If you do have any answers, do share your thoughts!

Work Martyrs

The term “martyr” somehow has great awe and glory attached to it.  The moment you  hear the term “martyr” in any context, you are more often than not inclined to believe that the person in respect of whom martyrdom is being discussed certainly gave up his/her life for a selfless or noble cause.  To fully appreciate the meaning of this and get the right perspective of the point that I am trying to make, let us look at some common definitions:

“Martyr is a person who suffers very much or is killed because of their religious or political beliefs, and is often admired because of it”: (Source: http://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/martyr)

“Martyr is a person who voluntarily suffers death as the penalty of witnessing to and refusing to renounce a religion (Source: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/martyr)

“Martyr is a person who sacrifices something of great value and especially life itself for the sake of principle” (Source: http://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/martyr

It is reasonably clear from the above definitions that martyr is a person who suffers very much or voluntarily suffers or sacrifices something of great value, especially life for the sake of some principle that is much more precious to the martyr than life itself! 

In this context, the term “Work Martyr” would mean a person who suffers or voluntarily suffers or sacrifices his life for work for the simple reason that he/she assigns more value and meaning to his/her work than life itself.  You might be wondering why I am inclined to write on this subject. Well, off lately, I have seen many people around me, happily and voluntarily jumping into the funeral pyre of martyrdom in their professional lives. A lot of my friends, and acquaintances attach divine value to lopsided work culture and work ethics.  It appears to me that they live to work rather than it being the other way around.  They assume the title of workaholic with immense pride and joy. They suffer from the illusion of control and in their imaginary world, they are the leaders of their team as they suffer from a misconceived notion that their office would fall apart in their absence. 

I feel nothing but immense pity for these Work Martyrs.  Whilst I am in no way advocating that you should not value your work and/or shun efficiency, dedication or ambition. It goes without saying that you have to give your best shot to whatever job you put your hands on and strive for excellence in every endeavour. But it equally goes without saying that in the process of striving for excellence, you should not end up putting all your eggs in one basket. It is imperative that we assign values to various aspects of our life in a fair and reasonable way. In the process of being crowned as the best worker, it is essential to ensure that you do not end up uncrowning yourself as a better human being or a better friend, son/daughter or spouse.  If you work in an organisation where you feel guilty if you leave on time, then it is a cue for you to pack your bags and move on for the simple reason that there is no co-relationship between late hour’s session in office and the efficiency of your output.

By being a Work martyr you not only sacrifice yourself for a cause that may not be meaningful to you in the larger schemes of things; but you also end up martyring your peace of mind, friends, families and personal space.  In the long run, you will only regret if you wake up one fine day with salt and peppered hair to a sad realisation that what you eventually ended up sacrificing was not worth the sacrifice. 

So my friends, please strike a balance and do not enter into the arena of martyrdom mindlessly as your life and time is too precious for you to while in just one aspect without fully and completely enjoying and cherishing all the colours of life. 

How blue is my Sapphire?

Your past can indeed be compared to a silent, strong-willed and seductive woman, who, by virtue of her own strong will, continues to be your constant companion and silently seduces you to be enamoured and intoxicated by her most endearing charm of constancy. In the realm of ever changing nature of every minute of your life, your past tempts you to lay your scarred thoughts to rest on her calm bosom of peace and tranquillity that only the unchanging nature of past has the potency to offer. It induces you into believing that the only refuge, the only messiah, the only deliverance can possibly be found within the labyrinth of your past. The beauty of the past lies in its constancy, however dreadful it may otherwise be.

I was pulled out off of my reverie of the many musings of my past by the constant honking which jerked me back to my immediate surrounding with a start. I was on my way to participate in a state level inter-college debate competition. On account of being the first year law student and having been given the opportunity to represent my college at such nascent stage of my professional course, I could have bartered my very life to do well in the competition. The topic of the debate was “Euthanasia-Whether it should be constitutionally recognised?” One month prior to the competition, I researched and scanned voluminous journals and case studies to prepare my notes. I meticulously jotted down all possible points that I would possibly have to utilise to counter my opponents assertions. I read and re-read my notes a million times to gain the requisite level of confidence to effectively present my points and refute and debunk the opponent’s assertions. I burnt the mid-night oil with the sole intention to cement and strengthen my fragile sense of self and precarious self-confidence.

Finally the D-day arrived. Even after having subjected myself to the rigours of the numerous practice sessions, the power of my pugnacious past magnetically drew me into the by lanes of my memories. The drive from my home to the auditorium was well above one hour and I had promised myself that I would remain focused on the competition and would avoid the constant pull of those fringes of memories that could possibly have a crippling effect on my self-confidence. With this thought in mind, I pulled out my notes while being stuck in traffic and scanned through the key points once again. While repeating the points silently, I absently saw myself in the side-view mirror and looked into my eye. The reflection of my eye instantly pulled me into the by lanes of my memory. The multiple images from the near and distant past started floating around me and I suddenly saw myself standing in front of the whole class in a recitation competition in class 4^th. I then saw how a boy on the second bench squinted his eye while imitating me. I recalled another student asking me loudly in front of the whole class where was I looking? I recalled the many tears and the suffocating pain that I felt on account of being cockeyed at that moment. I recalled how I forgot my lines and ran away from the class bursting into tears. I recalled the numerous muffled conversations during my pre-teen years when I was written off thanks to my visual defect that formed the primary filter for people to judge me in various aspects of my life. I recalled how one of my father’s friend casually commented that even though I am a bright child, I will always be a burden on account of my defect. I recalled his well-intentioned advice to my father of keeping provisions for my dowry for the simple reason that no boy would ever marry a cockeyed girl unless you really sweeten the deal. I recalled how I immersed myself in my books and avoided making friends with the sole intention of avoiding numerous uncomfortable questions about where was I looking? I became an academically bright and reclusive child.  Whenever I topped the class, I remembered the mixed look of pride and pity on my teacher’s face. During my schooling years, I did not realise that I went an extra mile academically with the sheer intention of mitigating the impact of my visual defect.

The otherwise irritating honking was a blessing in disguise at this moment for the simple reason that it pulled me out of all the paralysing thoughts of the past. I mustered all the courage which I possibly could and pushed the demons of my past from the door of my mind re-focused on the impending competition. This competition was a test for me at many levels. The most important test for me was to free myself off the clutches of my past which held me so tightly to the point of suffocation and defeat. It was a test of my inner strength. It was a test of my single minded focus. It was a test of my maturity and endurance. While I was sitting on the chair awaiting my turn, and rehearsing my arguments, suddenly a strange sense of calm overtook me. The calm and peace was the result of my absolute focus on the many layers of the arguments concerning the topic of debate. I could think of nothing else. I felt as if nothing else mattered. I imagined the audience applauding and positively absorbing all my arguments and assertions. I almost felt possessed with the power of my speech.  I almost felt united at spiritual level with my speech. The strength of my arguments and the eloquence of my language gave me an insight into those aspects of my personality that I had failed to notice until that very moment. I was intoxicated with a new kind of confidence. Suddenly, I heard my college name being announced by the comparer and I went on the stage in a state of exuberance. I saw the auditorium being packed to capacity. I saw my college principal sitting in the front raw and smiling at me. I looked at the panel of judges intently observing me. I walked up to the podium and adjusted the mike.

I felt as if some divine power was guiding me and holding my hand. To my surprise, I found myself flawlessly making all my arguments as all that mattered to me was the strength of my argument and the beauty of my deliverance. The past did not matter and the visual defect did not matter. My cockeyed did not matter and the judgements did not matter. The numerous snide remarks about my appearance did not mattered. The only thing that counted was how effectively I pressed my point, how relevant were my rebuttals, and how forceful was my speech? During the question answer round, when a particular judge from the panel asked me a question and threw a sideward glance on account of being confused whether I was looking at him or someone else; I surprisingly held my ground. Somehow his confusion did not affect me for I was confident where I was looking. Too bad for him if he couldn’t figure out where was I looking. This was the wow moment for me. This was nirvana. The freedom of disregarding what the world thinks about you, the freedom emanating out of the indifference of how the word looks at you. All that mattered in that moment was how I looked at him and the point that I was trying to convey.

After I answered the judge’s question, I was startled by the thunderous applause. After class 4^th, I was teary eyed once again. But this time, for an altogether different reason indeed. Even though winning the competition had become immaterial on that day, the fact that I not only won the debate but also got awarded as a best speaker made me realize that all of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am as I have absolutely set myself free for the shackles of past. The charming woman of my past no longer seduced me and entrapped me into the downward spiral of the sense of self-defeat. From that day onwards there was no looking back. The sweet and simple realization dawned on me that you cannot drive ahead by only focusing on the rear view mirror. The thunderous applause of the audience and the shining trophy that I was awarded after the competition were the proof of the inherently good nature of this world. When I freed myself of how this world looked at me; 

I suddenly started looking at the world differently. When I dismissed off the thoughts that the world considered me ugly, I suddenly realized how beautiful the world is. When I shrugged off the past and realized the depth of the blue colour of the beautiful sapphire of my life; the realization dawned on me with full glory of how deep and blue the sapphire of my life is. The sapphire of my life is as blue as the communion of the blueness of the sky with that of the ocean. It is deep, rich and exhilarating.

Justice-The Only Dream

There is indeed a very well-known principle in criminal jurisprudence propounded by Blackstone, an acclaimed authority on criminal jurisprudence:

"It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer"  

Have you ever tried analysing the rationale behind this principle? Do you know what might have possibly motivated Blackstone to propound this principle? When the ultimate aim of any system of criminal jurisprudence is to eliminate and/or control the crime rate, then why does this principle form the bedrock of criminal jurisprudence of almost all the civilized nations of the world? Why indeed are the courts encouraged to err on the side of innocent? It might be interesting to note that this principle also has religious backing and finds mention is various religious scriptures. 

In order to fully appreciate the rationale behind this principle, one should note the impact wrong accusation and conviction has on the psychic of the victim in particular and the civility of the society at large.

 Have you ever come across a person who has been wrongly accused of the crime he or she did not commit? Have you seen the emotional trauma that he goes through whilst trying to swim through the ocean of lies, deceit, humiliation, social boycott and social shaming? Have you ever come across a person who tries to fight in vain the deadly battle waged by the combined power of unscrupulous investigating authority, gradually trudging judiciary and hasty media?  To fully appreciate the psychological impact of wrongful investigation and conviction on an innocent person, I recommend you to write the following white paper:

http://digitalcommons.wcl.american.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1063&context=clb

I have closely watched the impact of wrongful investigation on people whom I am very close to. May be destiny is pushing me to proactively do something about these issues. May be this is a sign, a gentle nudge by providence. And I must say that I am indeed going to take up this cause. For I have seen falsely accuse persons being ripped apart by the combined forces of judiciary, media and investigating authority.

As a part of my fight for this cause, I would like to narrate the unbelievably tragic tale of Hiren Rathod . After having closely watched the incidences that transpired in his life, I have reached a conclusion that there is a monumental task ahead. Let me take the liberty of drawing your attention the reason why I am so deeply motivated to kick start the movement for fighting for those who are wrongly accused. Let me tell you the true story of Hiren Rathod, of what he was and what the evil forces of dysfunctional social institutions made him out to be.

I knew Hiren for the longest of time considering the fact that we studied in the same school right from nursery. Not that we were very close friend, but I do recall him to be a very happy go lucky, social, boisterous person who was full of life and energy. We were in different class. However, Hiren was really popular in school on account of his social persona. He had a good reputation academically and he participated in a lot of school activities. 

As destiny would have it, post class 10^th, our lives took different turn and we took admission in different colleges. I studied law and got busy with my legal career whereas Hiren took up engineering. I wasn’t in touch with him during this decade and got to know about him only through common friends. Therefore, in the year 2010 when I read certain media reports about Hiren, I was shocked and surprised. However, after having studied law for five years, and being blessed with a very objective and detached mind, I instantly knew that something was amiss. After all, being a lawyer, I know the system too well to believe what is printed in the media. I do not get drawn by catchy lines for I am minded about the tendency of investigative journalists of jumping to conclusion without bothering to fully investigate the matter.  I had to do my own dispassionate research to get to the truth of the matter. Knowing Hiren and knowing the system, I reserved my judgement. 

I therefore decided to get in touch with Hiren. If he was innocent, it was my duty, as a friend and as a lawyer, to help him fight this battle.  I still recall the year 2010 clearly. I recall meeting Hiren clearly. And I must admit that I try to push those pictures out of my sight for they are disturbing indeed. I recall visiting a man who was broken in body and spirit. I remember the bruises on third degree torture on his persona. I recall the vacant look in his eye. I recall the distrusting spirit who was afraid of the very air he was breathing. This indeed wasn’t the man I knew during school time. It took me a great deal of convincing to ask him to narrate the incidences. I heard his story, not as a friend but strictly as a lawyer for a wanted to be objective while appreciating the facts. I asked him all possible questions to find any gap, any loophole. Hiren was out on bail. I perused all the case papers to complete my analysis. I spoke to his then lawyers to get to the root of the matter. During the course of the next few days, I reviewed all the evidence on record and did my due diligence.  I was shocked to note the extent of miscarriage of justice that happened in this case. It was surprising how the media published stories by total non-application of mind. Just to quote the extent of wrongful publication by the press and consequentially tell what the truth is, it is worth mentioning the following wrongful facts stated in the media:

(a)  Wrong factual information about Hiren Rathod

The press completely misconstrued the facts on the basis of the concocted version given by the police. At times, some reports stated his name wrongly as “Hiten Rathod”, at times, some reports stated his place of residence incorrectly as “Ghatkoper” or “Andheri”. In some instances, they got the relationship with the deceased wrong.   The true facts are that Hiren never resided in Andheri or Gathkoper. On the contrary, he resided in Dahisar back then.  When the press can report such preliminary information incorrectly, how can one rely on it for reaching conclusion about anyone?

(b)  Wrongful reporting about the reason why Hiren Rathod was apprehended

A lot of papers wrongly stated as follows:

"The deceased's cellphone was traced a day after her murder on the basis of IMEI number to a dealer in Fort, Mumbai. The SIM card was destroyed before it was sold. The dealer on interrogation gave description of the person who sold the phone to him. On the basis of the dealer’s clues Snehal's boyfriend, Hiren Rathod was apprehended. Hiren Rathod, a Ghatkopar resident."

Let me point out the tale of lies in the newspaper report:

(a) As stated above, Hiren Rathod never resided in Gathkoper. He was residing in Dahisar.  

(b) Secondly, Hiren WAS NEVER CAUGHT/APPREHENDED ON THE BASIS OF IDENTIFICATION BY THE PHONE DEALER OF FORT.

The media should first do a detailed due diligence, ask all possible questions to the authority prior to wrongly stating such incriminating facts.

The true and correct facts are as follows:

The Fort Vendor gave the following description of the man who sold the cell phone to him and who was the probable killer:

A 25 to 30 year old man, weatish in complexion who was 5.6 in height and who had a moustache. Hiren Rathod, on the other hand, was a 22 year old boy back then, completely clean shaven and most importantly he was 6.4 feet in height. His unusually tall frame is difficult to miss

Pictures of the potential accused released by the investigating authority did not match one bit with Hiren on account of the description given by the Fort telephone dealer. You can see the sketch released by police for yourself. These facts are abundantly clear from the evidence on record. There wasn’t an iota of evidence against

Hiren. Hiren’s lawyers who got the bail for him infact precisely relied on this fact to point out the hole in the prosecution story. Hiren’s height was a saviour! The incident happened in the year July, 2007. The fort deal couldn’t make a mistake because Hiren is unusually tall. In the identification parade, the phone dealer DID NOT recognize Hiren as the one who sold the cell phone.  .Had that been the case, he would have been booked immediately in July/August, 2007 itself. However, that was not the case. Therefore, a lot of false, fictitious and baseless reporting was indulged in by the reporters. This false reporting leads a lot of readers to wrongly drawn inference about Hiren. 

(c)  Course of event that happened post 2007

Hiren was in India till the year 2008, i.e, for 1 (one) good year after the incident. Had the phone dealer identified him, he would have been instantly nabbed. The sketches of the person who sold the phone are available with the authority and anyone who has an iota of doubt may check for himself.

(d)  Voltas Alibi-Strongest Evidence proving Hiren’s innocence

Hiren had joined Voltas on July 9^th, 2007 and the incident of murder occurred on 19^th July, 2007, i.e., just 10 days after his joining.  Being on probation, Hiren was very particular about attending his office. Voltas gave a certificate supporting and substantiating his alibi. The distance between his office located in Chincpokli and the place of crime, i.e., Dombivili was almost 2 hours one way. He was in office from 9am to 5:30pm on 19^th July, 2007 and there are enough material on record with the authorities since 2007 as they conducted investigation in Voltas as well.  As per the post mortem report, the crime happened between 12:00pm and 6:00pm.   From the evidence on record, Hiren was in office at that stage and it was humanly impossible for him to remain absent from office for 5 to 6 good hours without being noticed by anyone.  The evidence by the company and the colleagues clearly indicates his presence in the office during the entire duration. Why will Voltas stand by Hiren? Why will his colleagues, most of whom who knew him only for 10 days stand by him? There was no personal relation. It is an MNC and it had not vested interest to protect Hiren. Voltas as an MNC and Hiren’s colleagues just stood by the truth, which, mind you, calls for a lot of guts in the face of a prejudiced investigating machinery who was determined to nail him.

Hiren suffered grave tragedies. He lost his girlfriend in the year 2007 for which he was wrongly accused without any iota of evidence. This is because he was an easy scape goat. Whenever a crime is committed, it is the lovers/husbands/boyfriends that comes under scanner. Many of them who are wrongly accused have suffered on this account. He tried picking up the pieces of his life together and went to US in the year 2008, i.e., after one good year post the incidence. He was about to graduate when he lost his father in the year 2010.

When he returned back, instead of being given the chance to mourn, he was subjected to physical torture by the investigation authorities and mental torture by the media who did not bother asking the right questions to the authorities. He lost his father, his mother was compelled to sell the house to pay the huge education loan and he lost his standing on account of being wrongly accused. Along with the deceased, Hiren himself has suffered grave injustice in front of the combined power of media, judiciary and investigating authority. He has lost faith in God and become an atheist. Had he committed the crime, he wouldn't have become an atheist. You lose faith only when you are badly shaken.

The police filed discharged report in the year 2011 and declared him innocent because they did not have an iota of evidence. Many newspaper articles attempt to indicate that Hiren was discharged on account of lack of evidence. These statements are very ambiguous. They try leading the public to believe that if there was enough evidence, Hiren would have been nailed. They do not realize the big disservice they are doing to public in general and Hiren in particular.  Hiren was discharged because there was absolutely no evidence at all.  The system owes Hiren Rathod an apology!

I supported Hiren to untangle this web of deceit and torture. I must say that he is blessed to have an amazing mother and close set of friends who chose to trust him and helped him to come out of this hell.  Gradually Hiren picked up the pieces of his broken dreams and tried building his life from scratch.

He had reached ground zero. His dreams were shattered. His existence was wiped out. He was socially boycotted. However, with the help of his mother, who herself underwent a living hell and the close set of friends Hiren chose to fight back.

He selected the profession of counselling students for higher education. He had no dreams of his own. He chose to revive his dreams by becoming a part of someone else’s dream.  His desire to study and settle in the US was put to an end for ever thanks to the wrongful investigation. May be he suffered for a reason. For he chose to assist thousands of those students who nurtured similar dreams. I see the genuine smile on his face when he is with his students. I see the same Hiren that I knew during school days when I see him with his students. The success of his students is his success for he has consciously substituted his dreams, hopes and vision by their dreams, hopes and vision.

It pains me to see that some vicious elements still try putting him down by viewing him through the cruel prism of his painful past. But I feel that the incidences of his life has created a spirit in him that shall not fade out.

His life has inspired me greatly. As a friend, lawyer and wife, I am committed to fight for all those who are wrongly accused.  There are lacs of under trial languishing in various jails of our country. I am keen fight on their behalf and start something in the nature of “Innocent Project” for such victims.

I have a long way to go. But the journey of Hiren’s life encourages me to start the journey with hope and optimism.

Awkward Moments

I now have strong reason to conclude that one must never follow one’s husband’s advice.  On the contrary, one must out rightly discard and throw out of the window any and all piece of advice, opinion, and request when it comes from the husband and do exactly the opposite of what the husband pushes you to do.  You think I am exaggerating?  Let me tell you one small anecdote.

My dear husband Hiren asked me to go shopping with him last week.  As much as I hate shopping, I obliged him for the simple reason that his current shoe looked like the “Charan Paduka” of some bygone era and I was very keen to ensure that he got rid of it.  

 My dear husband, to my general displeasure and embarrassment, is gifted with a complicated trait of innocence coupled with childish over confidence.  The dear man is very boisterous and bubbly generally and reaches cloud 9 altogether when he sees a lot of shoes. His excitement for shoes makes me feel that he was a cobbler in previous birth.  Nevertheless, coming back to the incidence, for some strange reason, (may be out of emotional connection to place) of all the places in the world, we decided to shop form the Bata show room in Borivili West.  To begin with, the crowd at the showroom appalled me for there was no place to get in on account of the shop being overcrowded due to monsoon season sale.  

But my dear husband, having decided that he would fulfil my wish of replacing his old ragged shoe, completely discarded my current state of mind and dragged me into the show room like a happy child.  We somehow pushed and shoved and reached the 1^st floor of the show room.  The dear husband happily started checking out the shoes while I tried making room for myself and simultaneously pushing all the scary thoughts of being crushed in the stampede.

All of a sudden my dear husband nudged me with his elbow and pointed towards a man who was also checking out shoes.  For the ease of reference, let us call that man as “Roxy”.  He then asked me to go call Roxy.  I was startled and on high alert.  Being completely aware of the tendency of my dear husband of making friends at the strangest of hour, I asked him why he was interested in striking conversation with this random Roxy in this godforsaken place and that he would have ample opportunity to befriend people later.  The dear husband gave me a patronising look and told me that Roxy was a sales man and that the only reason why he asked me to call Roxy was because he wanted further details about the shoes. 

I asked the dear husband how was he so sure that Roxy was the sales person. The explanation that my dear husband gave made me a new insight of his analytical skills.  He looked at me and then looked at the shoes and happily declared “Look Esha, it is obvious that he is a sales man. He is wearing a earning and intently looking at the shoes. Also, look how he seems to be explaining the characteristic of the shoes to those around him.  You Bengalis are so poor in figuring thing out.  Is in not a matter of common sense that the (a) earrings in his ears; (b) his keen observation of the shoes; and him being surrounded with lades makes him nothing but a sales man?”

I was baffled with his logic but somehow his over confidence impressed upon me and I decided to take a chance with Roxy.  I approached Roxy, patted him on his back and immediately asked him to explain and give all the details of the shoe that the husband was holding.  The husband saw me talking to Roxy from a distance and raised the shoe in his hand so that Roxy could see and figure out which shoe was I talking about. 

To my surprise and embarrassment, Roxy glared at me and asked me, “What makes you think I am the sales person? Don’t you have common sense” I was stumped. Like a fool I blabbered “What What What? Are you really not a sales man?”  He said nothing, and glared at me cruelly and walked away. I guess I heard him muttering “What a lousy woman”.   It was one of the most awkward moment of my life. His statement immensely pained my bong ego.  I angrily turned around and glared back at my dear Husband. My dear husband, in turn, glared at the shoes for some strange reason as if the shoe was responsible for his lot!

I went back to dear husband and hissed, “I made a fool of myself thanks to your brilliant analysis about the sales person”.    As usual, so scared was my dear husband of my wrath that he immediately dropped the shoe and dragged me out with him out of the shoe store for he was scared that I would hit him with the same shoe.  While leaving the mall, when we turned around and looked at the glass window of the shop, we could see ten different men in red t-shirt catering to various customers. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. J

I dragged the dear husband back into the mall so that he could buy the shoes that he liked with a firm resolution that never again in my life will I ever heed his advice regarding the potential professional role of any person. 

In retrospect, I cursed Roxy for there was no need for him to get so offended on being misunderstood as a sales man.  I mean is there not such a thing called as the “dignity of labour”?  I am sure he might be some spoilt Gujju brat of Borivili West.

Anyways, a clear message of all the ladies, please be careful before you heed your husband’s advice. J i

Awkward Moments

I now have strong reason to conclude that one must never follow one’s husband’s advice.  On the contrary, one must out rightly discard and throw out of the window any and all piece of advice, opinion, and request when it comes from the husband and do exactly the opposite of what the husband pushes you to do.  You think I am exaggerating?  Let me tell you one small anecdote.

My dear husband Hiren asked me to go shopping with him last week.  As much as I hate shopping, I obliged him for the simple reason that his current shoe looked like the “Charan Paduka” of some bygone era and I was very keen to ensure that he got rid of it.  

 My dear husband, to my general displeasure and embarrassment, is gifted with a complicated trait of innocence coupled with childish over confidence.  The dear man is very boisterous and bubbly generally and reaches cloud 9 altogether when he sees a lot of shoes. His excitement for shoes makes me feel that he was a cobbler in previous birth.  Nevertheless, coming back to the incidence, for some strange reason, (may be out of emotional connection to place) of all the places in the world, we decided to shop form the Bata show room in Borivili West.  To begin with, the crowd at the showroom appalled me for there was no place to get in on account of the shop being overcrowded due to monsoon season sale.  

But my dear husband, having decided that he would fulfil my wish of replacing his old ragged shoe, completely discarded my current state of mind and dragged me into the show room like a happy child.  We somehow pushed and shoved and reached the 1^st floor of the show room.  The dear husband happily started checking out the shoes while I tried making room for myself and simultaneously pushing all the scary thoughts of being crushed in the stampede.

All of a sudden my dear husband nudged me with his elbow and pointed towards a man who was also checking out shoes.  For the ease of reference, let us call that man as “Roxy”.  He then asked me to go call Roxy.  I was startled and on high alert.  Being completely aware of the tendency of my dear husband of making friends at the strangest of hour, I asked him why he was interested in striking conversation with this random Roxy in this godforsaken place and that he would have ample opportunity to befriend people later.  The dear husband gave me a patronising look and told me that Roxy was a sales man and that the only reason why he asked me to call Roxy was because he wanted further details about the shoes. 

I asked the dear husband how was he so sure that Roxy was the sales person. The explanation that my dear husband gave made me a new insight of his analytical skills.  He looked at me and then looked at the shoes and happily declared “Look Esha, it is obvious that he is a sales man. He is wearing a earning and intently looking at the shoes. Also, look how he seems to be explaining the characteristic of the shoes to those around him.  You Bengalis are so poor in figuring thing out.  Is in not a matter of common sense that the (a) earrings in his ears; (b) his keen observation of the shoes; and him being surrounded with lades makes him nothing but a sales man?”

I was baffled with his logic but somehow his over confidence impressed upon me and I decided to take a chance with Roxy.  I approached Roxy, patted him on his back and immediately asked him to explain and give all the details of the shoe that the husband was holding.  The husband saw me talking to Roxy from a distance and raised the shoe in his hand so that Roxy could see and figure out which shoe was I talking about. 

To my surprise and embarrassment, Roxy glared at me and asked me, “What makes you think I am the sales person? Don’t you have common sense” I was stumped. Like a fool I blabbered “What What What? Are you really not a sales man?”  He said nothing, and glared at me cruelly and walked away. I guess I heard him muttering “What a lousy woman”.   It was one of the most awkward moment of my life. His statement immensely pained my bong ego.  I angrily turned around and glared back at my dear Husband. My dear husband, in turn, glared at the shoes for some strange reason as if the shoe was responsible for his lot!

I went back to dear husband and hissed, “I made a fool of myself thanks to your brilliant analysis about the sales person”.    As usual, so scared was my dear husband of my wrath that he immediately dropped the shoe and dragged me out with him out of the shoe store for he was scared that I would hit him with the same shoe.  While leaving the mall, when we turned around and looked at the glass window of the shop, we could see ten different men in red t-shirt catering to various customers. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. J

I dragged the dear husband back into the mall so that he could buy the shoes that he liked with a firm resolution that never again in my life will I ever heed his advice regarding the potential professional role of any person. 

In retrospect, I cursed Roxy for there was no need for him to get so offended on being misunderstood as a sales man.  I mean is there not such a thing called as the “dignity of labour”?  I am sure he might be some spoilt Gujju brat of Borivili West.

Anyways, a clear message of all the ladies, please be careful before you heed your husband’s advice. J i