Theirs not to reason why

I first heard these lines, while I was watching some hollywood movie. Immediately the phrases spellbound me with its brilliance. So armed with the power of Google Baba I did a few clicks, some type here, some type there and here it was. I was so much enthralled by the prose that I decided to publish it in my blog.

The concerned poem has been written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in the year 1854. He titled it "The Charge of the Light Brigade".It is about the Charge of the Light Brigade at the Battle of Balaclava during the Crimean War.

To appreciate it, one has to look into the context in which Lord wrote these lines.

The soldiers knew that there is only death in charging ahead and fighting, but still they don't question and follow their commander. Why? Why were these 600 men so motivated? Was it courage? Yes, courage it was, but courage can only take them to the battle-field, it cannot equip them with the aggression and rage, which propelled them to face the cannons.

So what was it then?

In true sense it was Honour; honour in serving one's land, honour in fighting alongside their batallion, honour of not questioning their commandant.

Honour of Dying in a battlefield...

Half a league half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred:

'Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns' he said:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'

Was there a man dismay'd ?

Not tho' the soldier knew

Some one had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do & die,

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd & thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,

Flash'd as they turn'd in air

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army while

All the world wonder'd:

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right thro' the line they broke;

Cossack & Russian

Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,

Shatter'd & sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse & hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death,

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wonder'd.

Honour the charge they made!

Honour the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!

Note: I don't know if I am doing some copyright violations by republishing these poem. As I am not aiming to make any profits from it, so I guess my intentions are right. I can be in peace.

Still if someone thinks it is a copyright violation, then just leave a valid comment and I will remove the post.

Why changes are so hard to accept?

Just another dream, Sharma jee aur unki ek aur Sabha, Neta and me. We are listening to some weird stuff and ideas from Sharma Jee-the great director, thinker and the ultimate doer. We are discussing something very intently like most of our after-tea evening talks sitting in front of Sharma’s computer. The computer which has produced such geniuses in terms of Sharma production videos, taken on the might of Rohit Vats in the intense battles of AOE and sometimes a dear friend for Sharma in his private moment. Just another lazy evening in a city in northern India…

Suddenly I woke up, its 10:15 am. Oh shit! I have a class and I can’t afford to miss it otherwise a grade cut awaits me in SBM. Its funny when I reflect how I have managed to reach in an IIM. In engineering if it was Kapil, now its Axat who has taken the responsibility of waking me up!

Just to give some statistics, I have missed some three odd classes; all of them had class timings different than that of Axat. To add to that, I missed another whole day of lectures to just watch Sehwag bat. So I can’t afford to miss this class. Defying all the kinematics I brushed my hair, wore the jeans and Tee and rushed towards the class. It is on times like this when I really utilize my height and long strides. Only five minutes late for the 10:15 class, not bad I would say.

Today, the date is December 09, 2009. After ten minutes of listening to the lecture (or basically pretending to do so), I relax a bit, the cool AC air above me helping a lot in the cause. Today seems like a different day; I want to remain awake in the class. I am not feeling like playing cards as well and my laptop is also not with me. So inadvertently my thoughts wander towards the dream I was having before rushing to the class. A series of thoughts rush in my mind... The Raman hostel inner circle, Limbdi corner, bills running to more than Rs. 100 in a Rs. 2-chai-stall, Raj-corner’s chole-kachauri. Amid all these my thoughts rush towards the most important part of them all- my batch-mates and college friends.

Today, the date is December 09, 2009. Some 30 months past my college days. But in this jet-age a lot has changed in this 30 odd months. People have left jobs, people have changes jobs, some went to Belgium, and some just returned from a foreign assignment in the States, others have decided to settle in the States. Some have joined another college for higher learning; some have just completed their two-year courses and landed themselves in classy jobs. Neta is having a party at Murti’s place. And Sharma, well Sharma, and the enigma he is; he is living the dream with a nice pay-cheque every month.

In all these tumultuous and chaotic period with so many transformations nothing remains same. Once upon a time all the night-outs were not sufficient to spend time with one another. When the unit of time was measured not in minutes or hours but the number of beer bottle still left to finish. The pace of life was as smooth and obstacle-free as the free-flowing Ganga at Shivala Ghat. Now the online community posts have dried and catching up means an occasional ‘Hi’ on messenger. So much has changed when one never thought in all those four years that life would ever evolve in any other form.

Today, the date is September 21, 2009. I have just de-boarded the flight coming from New Delhi and hired a taxi to my hostel. The phone rings. I was actually expecting a call from Jhansi (not place Jhansi but my friend Jhansi, yes that is his name). So finally I am going to meet the Civilians, some of them for the first time after college life. Just to make sure I won’t miss the meet I scheduled and rescheduled and then again scheduled my travel plan to be in Indore on the morning of Sep 21. This was the kind of start I was looking for my second-term, and what a start it is. The occasion: Jhansi’s engagement and as usual we have a blast.

In retrospect I think what if Baba and Munnu were not there in the wedding. As in all these I must admit one thing, Baba has not lost any of his charm and antics. It’s a pity that I was not able to attend his wedding. So he kept us quite engaged with his trademark statements and his self-proclaimed dada-giri to say.

I never thought it would be this way. Probably I was being a bit irrational when I thought it would continue in the same manner. I thought that all would always remain the same, wherever they might be, the situation will remain same. I could not have been much wrong. Probably I had taken those four years too seriously. A phase comes when things drift apart.

Today, it is some random Saturday evening: In a flat in Salt Lake, Kolkata, and the year is 2007 or 2008, I don’t remember exactly. Fourteen IT-BHU guys in one single room, surprisingly none of them drunk, because it’s the Adarsh meet. The image flashes like a recently taken photograph.

Another Saturday night, the landlord calls me:

“Tarun, please ask your friend to not make so much so much noise.”

I am too intoxicated to make any meaning of what he is saying but still I am in his good books, and I have to maintain that. So I come back to explain my predicament to Mangal. In the meantime Bhaiya is puffing away his Chilam filled with Bhole Baba’s Prasad.

If you got to do something, do it right. That seems to be the motto for Bhaiya.

He has been on a diet of Ganja since the time anyone remembers so he can put to shame all of us taken together with just his single puff. Mangal, Barood and Gaur are again involved in some seemingly serious discussion, about the person who lives inside our brain. He, who manages the plates! Plates, which separate one thought from another, good from bad, evil from angel.

Talk about globe-championship, give me a chilam filled with Ganja and I can give you the OB toppers.

Meanwhile Bihari has just puked for the nineteenth time, without realizing it and he is content in his own world. Kholu, unaware of all this is wandering around, talking over his cell-phone, the mannerism truly indicating a girl on the other end.

Another random evening, all of us have returned from the office frustrated and happy to see each other’s faces. So the beer bottles open and the suit of cards are arranged. It is one of those days I am going to remember for my entire life. This is going to be the day when I will enforce a score of 2 on my opponents at the game of 29 in cards. A historic day for me, a great victory for me, so Mangal and I rejoice, not so much in our victory, but at the audacious idiocy of our opponent.

Today, the date is December 09, 2009. I am sitting in the class, not dozing off surprisingly, because I have been thinking. So, really, was there any purpose at all, of the entire dream. Why is it that life moves on? Why is it that changes are so hard to accept?

I am yet to find the answers.

For the uninitiated: Sharma, Neta, Jhansi, Baba, Munnu, Murti, Barood, Mangal, Gaur etc are the actual names of some of my friends. I don’t know what had these people done to their parents to deserve such fate…

The Lone IIM Interview

Day (-) 6, February 06, 2009: I reached home and braced myself for the long celebrations which were in the store of future. It was only 9:00 in the morning when I reached home, pretty early by my standard. But as the time will tell sleep is going to elude me for some days. Few close relatives came and then it was decided that we will be going to Asansol for the Bhaat ceremony. I tested my new Digi-cam and make the first official use of it. By the time we were back it was already 11:00 in the night.

Day (-) 5: Again in the store was a long day. Some more preparations; and in all of them I was playing a secondary role. Went to Dharamshalas (marriage venue) to check if all the arrangements were going on as desired or not.

Day (-) 4: More or less the same routine as the previous day. Nothing significant happened, which can guarantee a mention here.

Day (-) 3: This was the day which would tell me what it means to be involved in a sister’s marriage is. Some more relatives arrived. There were some traditional rituals which were performed. The name of none of those I remember right now. In the night it was a small family BC sabha, pretty different from the BC sabha’s which I was used to. And it was quite late when I went to sleep.

Day (-2), February 10, 2009: I woke up. Total sleep 3-4 hours. Woke up quite early even by anyone standard and a hell lot early by my own standards. We all went to Dharamshalla, I had my breakfast and yes I got Mehandi applied on my palms. Some of the people were shocked as I had the interviews coming in two days time. Even I was not sure at that time, but who cares, this was the last time I will be a part of any of my siblings wedding. The day consisted of running from one Dharamshala to the other, either on bike and sometimes even on foot.

I had my lunch in the meantime, in bits and pieces, taking share from everyone’s plate. It was also the day when Sangeet ceremony was going to take place. So some preparations in that regard were also necessary. So it was all traveling and running around on bike, car, foot etc. etc.

Then finally the Sangeet ceremony started and it was all real fun. A lot of dance and music and that meant fatigue. Finally after performing all the tasks at around 1:00 a.m. in the night I found out the hangout adda of all my cousins and sisters. I was going to join them for a game of cards/housie but suddenly I realized I haven’t yet filled the IIM interview form (IIF). So curbing my temptation I took out the photo copy of the interview form (this was the most sane and significant thing I had done to prepare for my interview, as I would realize later on) and started filling out the answers.

Why do you want to pursue an MBA? ….. I need money, but I can’t write these answer. So I called up Gaur and Mangal in Kolkata to find some standard answer on Google. In the meantime I keep on asking to my cousin regarding my strengths and weakness. At around 2:00 a.m. I again called up Mangal and jotted down the answers he was dictating on the phone. And that was it. I had pretty much made a rough draft for each answer and I decided that I will note down the answer on the original interview paper whenever I will get the time. <>. At least I should have seen the original form at that time. But….

So I went to sleep at around 3:00, promising myself that I will get up at 5:00 a.m. as a lot of tasks were to be completed.

Day (-1), February 11, 2009: But as usual I overslept and I woke up at 6:00 a.m. Total sleep of 3 hours. I just brushed my teeth somewhere on the way and then went to the next Dharamshala where the wedding ceremony was going to take place. And the same routine of the previous day, running from one place to next, but with a far higher intensity. I didn’t get time to have my breakfast, but this time I had my lunch in a proper manner. In the meantime a lot of rituals were taking place, none of which I remember.

But I do remember the Korath, because I was there to formally invite the bride groom and his side for wedding. By the time I reached back to the wedding venue the party had started and everyone was ready in their best suits/sarees. Only I and my elder cousin were wearing the same shirt we had on for the whole day. I rushed to my room and got ready. Then I rushed and escorted my sister to the wedding stage. Had some photo-sessions in between and then again I had to rush to get sweets from the other Dharamshala. So I missed being part of the traditional stage photo-shoot.

And the celebrations continued on and on. I realized that I have to leave in the morning otherwise I will miss the train. At 1:00 a.m. I went to home, picked up my clothes, the IIM interview form and yes, the necessary documents.

I went back to Dharamshala where now also, the rituals were going on. I tried to take a much needed break, but every now and then someone would interrupt and so.. At around 4:30 a.m, on the 12^th morning I prepared to leave with no sleep at all, I missed the Bidai part, but so is life.

Total sleep of zero hours.

Day(0), February 12, 2009: THE D-DAY- The interview was to start at 1:30 p.m. I boarded the train at 6:00 in the morning. And as soon I boarded the train I fell asleep on my chair-car seat. I woke up, look at my watch its 7:30 a.m., again woke up, its 8:30 a.m., 9:15 a.m., 9:45 a.m., 10:10 a.m., 10:20 a.m. The train was standing still and half-empty. So I had reached Howrah station. I took a taxi from outside and reached the flat at 11:45 a.m. Took a 10 minutes break, took out my IIM interview form and started filling it. As for most of the questions I had some draft answer prepared, I thought it will be a five minute affair, but it took me around 20 minutes to copy the answers in a proper manner. I was already getting late and then I got the shock of my life.

In the photocopy one question was not properly printed, so I had somehow missed that question and as a result had no answer for that question. But I had to manage somehow, so I scribbled down whatever thoughts came to my mind at that time on the original IIF.

And than another bigger shock, I had to paste a photograph in the form, but by my own grace I didn’t had one at that moment.

I got up to get myself ready and then I remembered I don’t have a white shirt to wear inside the suit. I searched through Mangal’s wardrobe. I found a crumpled white shirt. It was already 12:30, and I had an un-ironed shirt, a form with no photograph and me with no sleep at all. I creased the shirt at its front, tucked it in and rushed to get another taxi to the interview center(IC). But I had to get one instant photograph. I took the taxi to one photo studio and requested them to give me one photograph faster than the instant five-minute photo. By the time I left the photo-shop it was already 12:55. I was still in the Salt Lake and it takes nearly one hour to reach interview center from Salt Lake. And then one more problem, I couldn’t find the gum to stick the photograph. So I again boarded the same taxi and asked him to rush to the IC. On the way I stopped by to purchase a glue stick, took out my form in the taxi, pasted the photograph, creased my suit and shirt and knotted my tie. And so I was ready. But there was only one small problem I was already late and feeling sleepy.

But miracles do happen, and I just ended 5 minutes late for the GD/PI session. And I had been so tensed and excited, tired and exhausted for the past few days that I was actually feeling really relaxed and calm in the cool AC-GD room. And I had never been so confident ever before any of the important days. Maybe it was all the result of hallucination caused due to sleep deprivation.

Group Discussion Room:

We were given a one page case-study and asked to give our suggestion in written format. The time allotted was 30 minutes and then we had to have a discussion for 20 minutes. But the funny part was, like everybody else I couldn’t figure out a problem in the case-study, so there was no question of giving an analysis and problem solution. After 15 minutes, the discussion started drifting towards the repetitive track. So overall a dull and boring GD. But I was feeling more confident than ever. Really that sleep-thing was taking me over.

Interview Room:

The interviews for most of the candidates were a 10 minutes affair. Same was with me. The interview was quite good by my standards, as till that moment I had done a negative preparation for the interview. So any positive step, howsoever small it might be, was a big achievement for me. The only screwing part was the Engineering part. The part goes like this:

Interviewer 1: So it seems that you have a special liking for Mechanics of Solids subject. What was this subject all about?

ME: . Only one thing I was sure I must have good grades in this subject. {Only time will tell, how wrong I was}. So I start blabbering out, with no idea what this subject is. I was sure about one thing, that everything in Civil Engineering is somehow related to ‘concrete’. So I give a long fatta that what this subject is all about. In my answer I was also wrong about the semester. But he was agreeing to me in such a positive nod that it started giving me confidence.

After my answer he asked but where was the mechanics part in this subject. Then I suddenly realized that I just talked about solids but no mechanics. So I again prepared myself for a long fatta about mechanics and somehow relate it to solids. But then he kept on persisting to explain him that why do we draw BMD??? Good question, only I had no answer to that question. But my nascent confidence/over-confidence just kept on giving one fatta after other.

And the interview ended.

At the end they asked me to have some chocolates which were lying in a bowl in front of them. I realized that I hadn’t had anything to eat since the previous night.

But who cares, I took another taxi to meet some of my old colleagues and friends from CTS.

And this is how one of the most important and happening day of my life drifted towards its end. Whatever are the IIM results, this day the 12^th of February will always be etched in my memories, as this is the day my sister got married, I missed her Bidai and I took my lone IIM interview.

{By the way the subject Mechanics of Solids is actually “Strength of Materials” which was taught in 3^rd semester. In that semester I was the topper of the branch (yes, believe it, puhleeze). I got all A’s, one S, one B and one C in that semester. And the C was in the subject Mechanics of Solids.}

Where are we heading??

MNS. Bihar. Maharashtra. Fights. Anti North India. Killing. Beating. Taxies shattered. Mass exodus towards Bihar.

I have been listening to all this, reading about them and in a way was getting used to all this. Yes used to all this violence! Strange as it may sound, but probably that has more to do with my Indian upbringing, where we learn to avoid and in a way enjoy all this fights and brawls between two clashing-groups and if one of the groups happens to involve us, the better. After all, these things provide a great fodder for our morning tea gossips, the essential masala for our BC groups.

And then suddenly we hear Rahul Raj. Something rings somewhere and it hurts very badly.
MY first thought; a legal murder. Yes strange as it may sound but such a connotation is possible only in the great CIVILIZED society of our great nation. Possible or not, hmmm.... doesn't matter. But that is what it is. Because one thing is clear that it was a murder and not an encounter. And no one is ever going to be booked for it.

On one side was a person who was disturbed to say the least, at the ineptness of government to handle a small goon with a large mouth and the following of even larger idiots. No doubt, the act of Rahul can be termed as childish defying all the foundations of idiocy but not at all what the Maharashtra police wants us to believe, even by the greatest stretch of a rational imagination.

So what makes the murder/encounter of a small town, unemployed youth so important and worthy of a mention in the national news?
One: He belonged to Bihar.
Two: he was killed in Maharashtra.
And three and most important: He was killed when he could have easily been overpowered by a few policemen. It’s another matter if those pot-bellied policemen have more faith on a fire-spitting machine then on their own muscular power.

And to top it all, the same administration is quick in justifying the killing. What a great example of their integrity and dedication to the nation. To add to the disgust, these same people start lauding and patting the back of one another after a broad day-light murder of an innocent youth.
The reason for the murder, "He was a threat to the society, a member of a Bihaari Mafia".
And that statement sums it all. It clearly reflects the perception of people of Maharashtra towards the Bihaari junta. This murder has brought into daylight the inner malice and ill-thinking of the higher administration. And it clearly explains why no action is initiated against rioters who endanger the safety of north Indians in Mumbai.

I don’t want to dwell upon the fact that whether or not Bihaaris should be allowed into Mumbai or not. It is a long and debatable issue one which requires a thorough and rational discussion. My grievance is only towards the plight of innocents and people like Rahul Raj. Probably Rahul was too much into Hindi movies and likewise he thought everything goes right at the end. Probably he was inspired by RDB and the thinking of its protagonists. If that is the case he should have seen the end! It is not always the good men who get to live at the end of a story.

A dream: yes that is what it is...

Before starting I should state that I don't belong to the know-it-all clan. So this attempt of mine is not at all aimed at any of the socially or politically relevant issues pertaining to the mankind. This is also not related to any of the day-to-day issues bothering our countrymen.

If one has heard about someone's mere presence inspiring even the dead to walk, they will definitely relate to this piece of writing. When someone by being there can change the whole definition of someone else's life. The way one starts to see their life and find a meaning and purpose of their existence. When everything done before that, gives you a feeling of emptiness and whole life gone by seems a desultory journey....

This is about a girl; I don't know if it's fair to call her that. Because then it means that she has to adhere to all the standards set by us, the earthlings. That means that she has to stoop to the mortal levels of the ordinaries. Said this, it is no way an attempt to deride anyone, but the fact remains that by finding a mention in the same context as her, half fulfils the purpose of their life.

This is about a belle dame who has got in her eyes the sparkle of a twenty eight year old and laughter of an eight year old. In whose presence even the most gifted and sanguine ones become doubtful about their existence, as if the rationale behind the existence of everything else doesn't matter anymore. And when she is gone they curse god for being so unfair, for endowing only one of his creation with such flawless existence. A presence so refined that it threatens the very definition of perfection. Her beauty has got the charming Indian finesse that makes is so much more magnetic, so much appealing. Her overall grace is what one calls the height of feminine elegance. The face carries a childish innocence which imparts exactness to the whole character. She has got a voice which does nothing more than just comply with her charm and that in itself is no minor achievement. Her eyes add to the aura around her and bewitch everyone and everything around them.

The sacred and sublime beauty mesmerizes even the most evil of minds. There is only one thing more faultless than her, only one thing perfect for her and that is she herself. Her uncorrupted existence makes everyone desire that this dream never ends that the world around them remain as it is, nothing should move or change. A dream: yes that's what it is; every moment one spends around her seems unreal, imaginary, for they cannot believe that they can be so fortunate. I hope that I remain fortunate, and the dream never ends.

P.S: A writer's biggest achievement is in making people believe in facts which he himself doesn't believe in.