My Daughter Fell Sick. My Reputation Never Recovered.

In a recent blog (At the Mercy of a Six-Year-Old), I narrated how, for a week in 2017, my sister and I were left at the mercy of my 6-year-old daughter by my wife, who had to leave for our hometown to a family medical emergency. I talked about how my sister and I were tormented by Ananya. But just when the ordeal was about to get over, on the penultimate day, she fell really sick.

Ananya's sickness, and how I handled the situation, earned me a reputation. Somehow, not a positive one.

Years have gone by, and I thought that much water had flowed under the bridge. But an image shared recently on the family WhatsApp group and the reactions made it clear that my image has been tarnished for life.

I think it is extremely unfair. I will tell you exactly what happened, and you tell me whether it is fair for my family to judge me like this.

So, on the penultimate day of my wife's absence, everything happened as it had happened the entire week. I woke Ananya up in the morning, helped her get ready for school, gave her coupons for breakfast and lunch, dropped her at the bus stop, worked from home, picked her up from the bus stop after school, arranged snacks for her, and went back to finish the rest of my office work.

Though on most days I worked till late, that day I put my laptop aside around 7 PM and decided to take her to the playground in our apartment complex. It was the last day before the devil arrived, so I wanted to spend some time with Ananya.

Ananya spent an hour there, after which we came back to our flat. She went to change her clothes while I got busy with the zillions of household chores that I did not even know existed till a week before. After changing clothes, Ananya went to the living room to watch TV.

After some time, I noticed that Ananya had become awfully quiet. Never a good sign with her.

I asked if she was okay, and she nodded. I asked if she was tired and wanted to have something. She said yes to the first and no to the second.

I thought she must be tired and got busy with the work. During that entire week, everything in the house had happened smoothly, like a well-oiled machine. Because I was in-charge. I was feeling proud of myself.

After some time, I checked on Ananya once again. She was just lying there, with eyes barely open and it seemed as though there wasn't even a milligram of energy left in her body.

I immediately put everything aside and went to her. I sat beside her, like only a father can. I hugged her and asked her what was wrong. As soon as I touched her, I realized she had a fever. I could make out that it was quite high. 

I calmly but briskly walked (not ran) to the bedroom and took out the thermometer. For the first time, it was exactly where it was supposed to be. After all, the house was under my watch.

I immediately checked her temperature. I do not recall the exact reading, but I think the thermometer, without mincing any words, screamed at me that I was screwed!!

I thought of calling my wife but stopped myself because she was already attending to a family medical emergency. See, that's the hallmark of a true leader during a crisis. Never overreact. And in any case, there was very little she could have done sitting 1,600 kilometers away. In fact, there was very little she could have done sitting in the same room. Unlike me, not everyone can remain calm and composed during a crisis.

I decided that the best option was to take Ananya to her pediatrician, whose clinic was about 6 kilometers away.

I was about to grab the car keys and lift Ananya into my arms when I was reminded of my sister. She usually came home late from the office, but in case she came home early that day, she would not have the keys. Even during a crisis, I did not forget that. Another demonstration of an uncluttered mind and clarity of thought.

I called my sister and asked what time she would get home. She said it would take some time but asked why I was so politely and calmly enquiring about it. I explained the whole situation to her.

Strangely, she first asked me to calm down (!!!) and said that she would come as quickly as possible, but it would still take at least 45-60 minutes because of the distance and traffic. She suggested that I call my wife and ask what should be done. Hunh! Such a pointless suggestion.

While I knew that it was quite unnecessary, I immediately called my wife and told her everything. Strangely, she also asked me to calm down! What was wrong with both of them!

Surprisingly, my smartwatch was also saying that my heart rate was 150! Technology isn't always reliable. Thankfully, Samsung watches in 2017 did not measure stress levels, or it would have claimed that I was extremely stressed! 

Yeah right! 

Everyone and everything had gone bonkers! I, fortunately, had not.

My wife told me about a medicine that I could give Ananya and said that if the fever did not start coming down within 30-40 minutes, I should take her to the pediatrician. She was merely stating the obvious.

I had a tough time locating the medicine and called my wife a couple of times. Eventually, without much support, I managed to find it. I gave Ananya something light to eat, and after that, I gave her the medicine.

Afterwards, I monitored her temperature through touch and with the thermometer at perfectly reasonable intervals. About every five minutes.

In between, just to keep everyone updated, I called my wife, my sister, and my parents few times. I kept applying cold compresses to her forehead and neck in an attempt to bring the fever down.

The fever did not come down even after 40 minutes, but strange new symptoms started to appear.

Palpitations.

Dryness in the throat.

Uneasiness in the chest.

Difficulty breathing.

Strangely and thankfully, none of these new symptoms were experienced by the patient. They were all happening to the caregiver.

I do not know why....because I was like...calmness personified.

I called my sister and was relieved... I mean... it was good to know that she was just 10-15 minutes away. We decided that we would go to the pediatrician as soon as she arrived.

Fifteen to twenty minutes later, my sister reached home. She took stock of the situation. We checked Ananya's temperature once again. It had come down slightly but was still quite high.

The other symptoms - palpitations, dryness in the throat, uneasiness in the chest, and difficulty breathing - had increased, though.

My sister must have silently thanked God that I was there to take care of everything. Deep inside, she must have felt immensely proud of how I had handled the situation.

But, not someone who shows appreciation easily, she looked at me in a strange manner and asked me to drink some water. I did not understand that. Women can say anything. There was no time to try and comprehend all that.

She called my wife and asked her not to worry. But then she made a strange remark. While speaking to my wife, she said that she was not sure whom to take to the hospital first.

I do not know what she meant, but she probably said that to lighten the mood.

We took Ananya to the pediatrician, who also strangely asked me to calm down. Women!! She prescribed a few medicines and sent us away.

With those medicines, the fever came down. Ananya had a light dinner and went to sleep. I checked her temperature several times during the night with a non-contact infrared thermometer.

The next morning, the fever returned. We gave her medicine after a light breakfast, and the fever slowly retreated.

In the afternoon, my wife returned home, and I handed over charge to her.

On the day Ananya fell sick, I, of course, handled everything brilliantly. I did not ask for appreciation, a medal, or the Bharat Ratna, though I deserved all of them. 

Something baffles me, though.

During that period, I do not know why my watch kept alerting me that my heart rate was too high, why I kept having palpitations and all the other symptoms, why everyone kept asking me to calm down, or why my sister remarked that she was not sure whom to take to the hospital first.

Mysteries of life.

When my wife returned, my sister joked about how I had panicked, and they both laughed. It was absolutely not true, but being a magnanimous person who doesn't mind others laughing at his expense, I let it go.

But yesterday, my wife posted a picture on the family WhatsApp group (see a slightly modified version below) and asked everyone if the family in the picture was an accurate depiction of the three of us.

Everyone agreed. They said that the family was indeed like us. More specifically, they insisted that the brown bear in the background was exactly like me and how I behave in such situations.

Completely unfair, isn't it?

(Note: This is the image that my wife shared on the family WhatsApp group. I have slightly modified it by adding the names.) 

Three Cousins, Old Monk and One Unmovable Wall

As mentioned in a recent blog post (The Real 'Darr' Was Outside the Theatre), during my growing up years, a large part of my extended family lived in Patna. Several of my Buas and Phuphas, along with countless cousins, used to live there. Hence, school vacations and college term breaks often involved a trip to Patna. 

While I was in school, a trip to Patna meant large family gatherings, games, cricket, good food, ice creams and endless stories. When I was in college, there was another addition to the list of fun activities.

Drinking sessions!

I was thinking about when I first had alcohol and was reminded of a night in Patna. But, before I talk about that night, I have a confession. Or rather, a declaration.

I was actually introduced to alcohol when I was a toddler!

My father served in the Indian Army, and we used to attend frequent parties at the Officers' Mess. Handling a restless toddler who simply would not sit in one place must have been tiring and testing for my parents, especially my mother. So, as soon as we reached the Mess, my parents would hand me over to one of the young officers. Being a former beauty pageant winner (actually, a 'Healthy Baby Contest' winner), I was quite popular among them. I was called "Vini Master." 

During these parties, one officer or another would carry the toddler version of me, and I would often take a sip or two from their glasses. My parents used to get really angry with those officers, but somehow I would manage to get tipsy by the end of each party.

I had actually developed a drinking problem at that age because, once, I took several gulps of soy sauce simply because the bottle resembled a beer bottle, specifically Golden Eagle Lager Beer! I had probably become used to the bitterness of alcohol because, around that age, I ate and drank several unusual things. These included a few cigarettes, an entire bottle of Liv 52 medicine, and even a small torch bulb!

Thankfully, compulsive eating or drinking of weird stuff stopped with age. 

(Compulsive eating did not!)

Coming back to that night in Patna. It was the first time I had alcohol as a teenager. The first time in the age group of 3 to 17 years. I had still not reached the legal drinking age.

Honestly, I do not recall the exact year, but I do not think I had reached the first year of B.Com yet. By the time I joined B.Com, I had started drinking regularly, so this must have been 1996. If it was indeed 1996, I was 16.

Unlike other visits, I had gone to Patna alone and my parents were not there. That meant even more freedom. No one to ask uncomfortable questions. 

One of my cousins (the same cousin from the 'Darr' story) used to stay outside the city.  His parents were either away or were spending the night at another relative's house. That meant the house was available for a party. Let us call this cousin - 'Dude'.

A plan was put together, and another cousin (lets call him 'Captain') was invited. I do not think they asked me whether I had had alcohol before. But even if they had, I would have said, "Of course!" After all, who wants to show weakness in front of friends and elder cousins?

Alcohol and snacks were arranged. I do not recall the brand, but I would not be surprised if it was the legendary dark rum - 'Old Monk'.  

The three of us - Dude, Captain and me - met at Dude's place. The house was outside the city, with a canal flowing in front of it (not visible from the house) and farmland behind it. We arranged everything in Dude's room on the first floor of the independent duplex house.

We started drinking post sunset. I do not remember the exact time, but I remember that it was dark outside. Patna is in eastern India, and it gets dark fairly early there.

I was worried about getting drunk and creating a scene. If I did that, it would become clear that I am a novice. So I kept telling myself to act cool and stay in control, or at least give that impression. The last thing I wanted was to puke after drinking because that would have meant endless ridicule. The problem was, I had no idea how to prevent that.

After the second peg, I felt my ears getting a little warm. Apart from that, there was no other effect. We talked about past incidents, funny stories, girls, cricket and everything under the...moon!

A couple more drinks followed. I was still waiting for something to happen while also hoping that nothing would happen!

By then, I had started feeling quite warm. I asked Dude if we could open the windows. He said it was not a good idea because it would invite an entire army of mosquitoes from the open farmland behind the house. Note: Air conditioners were quite uncommon in middle class homes back then.

It was getting quite unpleasant.

My cousins noticed my discomfort but told me I was paying too much attention to it. I stopped complaining because I thought it was probably a sign that drinks were having an impact on me. But, apart from feeling warm, I was absolutely normal. Even my cousins looked perfectly normal.

After some time, the small room, filled with three over-energetic boys, booze, snacks and cigarettes, became quite stuffy. My cousins started feeling it too.

At this point, Dude announced that the room felt stuffy because the room was "too small". I did not know how to react because it was a rather pointless observation. But to honor his 'analysis', I smiled or perhaps laughed a bit. 

We moved on to discuss other things.

A few minutes later, Dude repeated the same observation. Not in the exact same words, but he again pointed out that the room was simply too small for comfort.

Then he came up with a brilliant suggestion.

He suggested that we should 'push the walls' away to make the room bigger! 

I could only manage an awkward smile. To my surprise, Captain got up and said we should try that. Encouraged by the support, Dude walked up to one of the walls and started pushing it. 

His room had a wardrobe on one wall, two windows (one on either side of the bed) on another wall, another window and a door on the third wall. The wall opposite his bed had the main entrance to his room. It was plain and the largest. 

He chose that wall and started trying to push it away! I was sure that he was kidding. However, soon, Captain joined him too!! 

I was completely clueless and had no idea how to react. I simply stood there with a confused smile while watching them. They looked genuinely happy and were on a mission.

Dude asked me to join them. 

I did not want to ask questions or interrupt whatever they were trying to do. So I put down my glass and joined them. I chose the opposite end of the wall and pretended to push. 

At one point, Dude declared that we have succeeded a little...but only a little. Captain agreed. I reluctantly nodded.

I was thinking what exactly were they trying to achieve. There was no way they could be serious. May be they were playing a prank. Maybe this was their way of checking how drunk I was and how I reacted to ridiculous ideas. I was convinced that a loud 'GOT YOU!!' was just around the corner. 

I became cautious and slowly started withdrawing from this "fun activity".

Soon, both of them said that it was not working and stopped pushing the wall. That was a relief. I was happy that I had not fallen into their trap and equally happy that this bizarre activity had finally come to an end.

I picked up my glass and was just about to sit down on the bed when it happened.

I realized that Dude was sad because his efforts had not made any significant changes....YET. But, he was not a quitter. 

Just as I was about to sit down with my glass, I heard a loud 'Yaaaaaaaa.....' and saw Dude charging towards the wall like a spirited soldier charging at the enemy. 

The room was not large enough (that was the precise problem he was trying to solve), so the charge lasted 2-3 steps before he leapt into the air and slammed into the wall with his right shoulder! 

I was stunned by this sudden act of violence and insanity. But was it over? No, not at all.

He took 4 steps back and then repeated the charge. I do not recall whether Captain joined him, but I do remember him cheering Dude on. I think he got back to pushing the wall but I honestly do not have a memory of that. 

What I can never forget, however, is the sight of Dude 'flying' like a cannonball and crashing into the wall...again and again.

I quietly put down my glass. I realized that it was no prank and it was ACTUALLY happening. I thought that if I took few more pegs, I might start acting like that too.  

The party did not last much longer. Dude wanted to go on and on like the Duracell bunny. However, since the resources were limited back then, soon both the booze and the snacks ran out. With that, Dude's battery ran out too. 

The next morning, we discovered that Dude's efforts had not entirely gone in vain. His repeated attacks on the wall had caused significant damage...to his right arm. It was black and blue!

The thought that something similar could happen to me genuinely shook me and I did not have another drink till I passed out of...school. 

I am a teetotaler now, but but there was a phase in my life when I drank heavily. Thankfully, though, I have never tried to make a room bigger after a few drinks!  

A Bachelor's Party, Tequila, Tears and a Maruti Alto

I got married at the end of 2006. I was working with one of the Big 4 firms back then. I was told by my colleagues that I was getting married way too early... for a consultant. I knew that. 

Life was quite hectic in consulting. On most days, I would reach the office at 8:30 am and stay there until midnight. No matter what time I got home, I would spend a few hours drinking while watching TV or reading the newspaper. Ghosts of some failures and past relationships used to haunt me, and I would try to drown them in a bottle of whiskey. Back then, whiskey was my favorite poison. 

My parents were quite worried about me and they, along with my sister, decided to throw me down a pit by getting my marriage arranged. At that time, I did not know what was in store for me, as the devil had not revealed her fangs yet, so I was excited about the upcoming marriage and the change in my life.

I was (and still am) the quiet type and did not have too many friends in the office. When they came to know, a couple of friends/colleagues asked me to reconsider. But by then, sarfaroshi ke tamanna jaag chuki thhi (the desire for self-sacrifice had already awakened). 

Another colleague (everyone called him Chako) was getting married around the same time. I do not think anyone would have planned a bachelor's party for me, but since he had more friends and both of us were part of the same industry vertical, a joint bachelor's party was organized. We went to 'Liquids Pub' in Banjara Hills in Hyderabad. It was later renamed 'Liquids Club ETC' and has now permanently closed. The place was opposite Taj Banjara.

The entire industry vertical went to the pub. The plan was to get Chako and me drunk. A colleague, Swami, who was considered a relatively heavy drinker (that offended me), was given the responsibility of being my buddy and getting me drunk. 

We started with some tequila shots. People were cheering and encouraging us. Swami gave me company for the first few shots, but then he said he needed to slow down. And I wanted to accelerate!! 

One by one, I had 14 tequila shots. Then I had 4 other shots. Liquids used to have shots with some interesting and wild names, but I do not recall their names. I do recall the name of one of them but I cannot mention it here as it is not suitable for family audience. One of the shots required going to the bar counter, where the bartender set the drink on fire.

The drinks were not having any effect on me. The only effect I can think of is that I had entered a "zone" and was no longer hearing the conversations around me. 

After some time, I noticed that Swami was looking a little upset and was uttering something that was barely audible. He was staring at one of the Managers. Then he told me that he wanted to go to the washroom and asked me to accompany him. I agreed.

He was walking in front of me and at that moment, I realized that Swami was a little tipsy. We went to the washroom and I waited for him near the wash basins. Just as Swami was approaching the basins, the Manager entered the washroom. He had a serious look on his face and asked if everything was alright. I was clueless about the reason for the question.

Before I could answer, Swami shouted and charged at him! He grabbed the Manager. 

I was stunned and, for a moment, had no idea what was happening or how to react. When I finally realized what was going on, I grabbed Swami and pulled him away from the Manager. 

He was shouting, "How dare you say that?" 

The Manager was shocked and asked me what was wrong with Swami. I think it was a rhetorical question because I was absolutely clueless.

I pinned Swami to the wall and asked the Manager to leave. After the Manager left, I kept Swami pinned to the wall for some more time. Once his anger had evaporated, I asked him what had just happened. 

Swami told me that while we had been sitting in the pub and having fun, the Manager had commented that he should behave himself at office gatherings because this would reflect in his upcoming appraisal. At that time, I had actually been sitting between the Manager and Swami. Somehow, in my "zone" and happy state, I had not heard the exchange at all. I felt that the Manager's comment was completely uncalled for and unfair.

But before I could say anything to Swami to calm him down, he started crying. Not silent sobs. Full-on "boo hoo hoo".

Once again, I was stunned and for a moment, did not know how to react! 

Swami hugged me tightly and kept crying loudly. He started questioning what wass he doing with his life. He had wanted to join the Army and serve the country. Instead, he was doing work that felt meaningless. I could understand his pain because it resonated with me. I tried to comfort him.

Please note that this was the men's washroom of a popular pub on a Friday night. The pub was packed and everyone was drinking. Naturally, bladders needed emptying. But, for good 5-6 minutes, anybody entering the washroom witnessed two grown-up men hugging each other in the middle of the washroom and one of them was crying his heart out! It looked like a scene from the movie Dostana, though the movie had not even been released at the time. Swami did not care and did not even look at them. I, on the other hand, looked into the eyes of every person entering the washroom. Every single one looked at us, then looked at me, apologized, and quietly walked away. 

I did feel bad for Swami, but I also wanted to push him away.

A few colleagues heard about the attack on the Manager and came running into the washroom. Finally, Swami let go of me and all of us had a quick discussion in the washroom. Swami said that he wanted to leave, and everyone agreed that it was probably for the best. 

After Swami left and we came back to the pub, everyone asked me what had happened. I did not tell them much. I simply said that he was feeling unwell because he had one drink too many. Nobody bought that explanation, but I did not want to divulge anything further.

Though the shots had had no effect on me until then, I decided it was time to slow down. So for the rest of the evening, I had only six large pegs of Bacardi White Rum.

Someone suggested that we all should dance. People got up to dance. I also got up. Warning Signal #1. 

I realized that I was starting to lose control because I NEVER dance. The fact that I had even stood up made me think it was time to stop drinking. I sat down, said very little afterwards and skipped dinner (big mistake).

After dinner, everyone decided to call it a night. I slowly got up and we all walked to the elevators. At that moment, my mind started to fog up a little. The shots, the rum, the limited snacks, and the absence of dinner had started questioning me, and I had no answers. 

We came downstairs and I collected my car, my father's silver Maruti Alto, from the valet. 

I remember someone suggesting that he should drive my car. I am not comfortable letting anyone drive my car, but I agreed. Warning Signal #2. 

But by then, it was already too late.

I remember someone driving my car while I sat in the front passenger seat. We drove ahead on Banjara Hills Road and took a U-turn to go towards Hitech City. 

After that, trust me, I do not remember ANYTHING.

The next morning, I woke up in a large room. Though I was still not quite myself, I immediately knew it was not my room because it was neat and tidy. 

Thankfully, it was neither a hospital bed nor heaven.

I looked for my glasses and could not find them. Eventually, I spotted them on the floor in the farthest corner of the room. I have no idea how they ended up there.

I picked them up and sat on the bed for a few minutes, trying to compose myself and remember where I was and how I had landed there. Nothing. No clue at all. It felt like a scene from The Hangover, though even that movie had not released at the time.

I had an intolerable headache and felt extremely nauseated. Although I wanted to solve the mystery of my location first, I could not control myself any longer. 

I ran to the washroom and puked. For the first time.

Afterwards, I felt slightly better, but the headache became worse. I came out of the room to investigate. Outside was the dining area. In front was the kitchen. On the right was a small balcony. On the left was a living room. Next to the room I had slept in was another room with the door shut. Opposite that, beside the kitchen, was another room. Its door was shut as well.

I entered the first room and found someone sleeping on the bed, completely covered by a blanket from head to toe. I did not know what to do. So I went to the other room. It was locked from inside.

I went to the living room, hoping to find some clues, a photo frame or anything that could have solved the mystery. I did not find anything. But on the center table, I found the keys to my car. I thanked God. At least the car was there.

I went back to the room I was in, tidied myself, put on my footwear and prepared to leave. Before leaving, I entered the first room again and gently tapped the person sleeping there, who resembled a dead body covered by a hospital sheet. The person woke up. It was one of my colleagues. I had a hundred questions, but the poor fellow was still half asleep, so I simply told him I was leaving and walked out.

I still felt horrible and the headache was killing me.

In the parking lot, I found my car. I first went around it to check if was alright. No scratches, no dents. I was relieved. I started the car and drove out. Until then, I had no idea which apartment complex or locality I was in. When I exited the building, I realized I was not very far from home. 

On the way home, I stopped twice. To puke. Violently.

I somehow made it home. I had moved into that house only a couple of weeks earlier and did not know anyone in the building. I lived alone. By the time I reached home, I had no energy left and I immediately crashed on the bed. But for the next couple of hours, I kept getting up. To puke. On that day, I vomited 17 times. That must be some sort of horrible and disgusting world record!

By the end of it, I had no energy left. There was no food in the house. I could not even gather the strength to order anything. This was pre-Zomato and Swiggy so, there were limited options. And being new to the locality, I did not know the nearby restaurants either.

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling fan for a day and a half. I could not get up. I did not answer calls. I was convinced that I was dying.

The next day, in the evening, I finally felt a little better. I found a restaurant menu that had come with the newspaper, ordered some food, took a shower, loaded up on carbs and sugar, and slowly recovered.

The next day, i.e., on Monday, when I reached the office, my colleagues told me what had happened when we reached the parking lot of their building late on Friday night. I was woken up and then I crawled out of the car. 

Then I hugged and did not let go. Not a person. The car! 

I did not want the poor thing to be left behind in the parking lot and wanted my colleagues to somehow 'carry it' to their flat. Their narration of the incident did not mention laughs and abuses but I am 100% certain that my behavior must have attracted both. 

After they managed to finally rescue the car from my bear hug, three of them dragged me to the flat and my body was dumped on the bed in one of the rooms. My footwear was removed, though I resisted. In my state, I was probably thinking that someone was mugging me for my shoes. During that struggle, I must have flung my glasses across the room.

This was embarrassing. 

Throughout the bachelor's party, I had thought that Swami was the one who had created a scene. Though he certainly deserved the gold medal, I had given him a strong fight and managed to secure the silver.

Thankfully, neither incident was discussed much in the office.

I did not touch alcohol for the next ten months. 

The Magnificent Seven Questions

Recently have written about cheating in couple of exams in my blog posts The Great ERP Exam Mystery and Cheating: Lessons from the Last Bench. To continue setting an example of a model student for my daughter and to instill the values of dedication, planning, and smart preparation, I’m sharing another memorable exam-related incident from my student days.

This happened in the year 2001. I was in B.Com (Honors) Final Year, and the final exams were about to start.

After being regularly irregular in attending classes, being 'intoxicated'...on studies and managing to score pretty average marks in the first two years, my friends and I wanted to score big in the final year and come out of college on a high. Our group consisted of myself and my friends Vikash, Tushar, Amar, Sushant, and Amit. 

Vikash and I had already cleared an extremely (not so) tough and competitive MBA entrance exam that we gave in a primary school in Kolkata. My large frame did not fit the benches meant for primary school kids, and only I know how I survived that exam. That story is for another time. So, Vikash and I needed to clear the final-year exam to start our MBA program. Vikash, the studious type, did not need any help. I, on the other hand, needed all the help in the world.

I prepared well for different subjects, which included Cost Accounting (CA), Management Accountancy (MAc), Tax Law & Accounting (TLA) and Business Studies & Management (BSM). While I was relatively confident about CA, MAc and BSM, TLA (we simply called it Income Tax) was my Achilles' heel. 

Tushar, Amar, Sushant, and I, along with another dear friend, Ajit, and a classmate, Ashutosh, had also taken group tuition from a well-known Professor of Income Tax, hoping that he would play a role in setting the final exam question paper or at least know about the questions and would 'help' us with some 'important' questions. 

Before the exams, Tushar, Amar, Sushant and I went to the Professor and asked him if he can point us to "some questions that we must practice". 😉

The Professor agreed, took out the course material, and started telling us which questions we should prepare. One by one, he told us 28 questions (!!!) that we must practice before the exam. 

We told him that if we were such hardworking students, we would not require his help at all, and asked him to narrow it down. He refused and shooed us away!

We were confused about what to do next. The exam was three days away. We discussed various options. The option of going home and practicing those 28 questions was laughed at and struck off swiftly. That was not an option for students like us. 

Suddenly, someone came up with a bright idea. It was pointed out that our professor is not the only reputed professor in the university. Every professor gave tuitions and, similar to our professor, other professors would also have suggested 'important' questions to their students. Since our Professor had given random questions from the book, it was unlikely that the other Professors would have given the same set of questions. 

So, all we had to do was to get the 'important' questions from the students of other professors and find the common ones!! 

This plan made sense to everyone and, like the hardworking students we were, we immediately put the plan into action. In a matter of few hours, we had the details from the tuition students of other key professors. 

We compared the list and we realized that there were seven questions that were common across all the lists. The question paper for the final exam would include five questions of 20 marks each, and we were confident that those five questions would be among the list of seven questions that we had narrowed down. 

We patted each other on the back and were happy with the teamwork and success. 

Someone asked what if we were wrong and the final five questions were entirely different. Everyone was taken aback for couple of seconds and then this doubt was also laughed at and ignored. 

What choice we had? We had no option but to completely trust our judgement.

(Be honest, at this stage, are you not thinking how our plan would fail?! 😀)

Then an actual issue was pointed out. A valid one. A big one.

We knew the seven questions, but we did not know the solutions! 

That is when we thought of the missing friend, Vikash Kumar Singh. It was agreed that we would go to him and get him to solve each question.

Since good students do not waste time, we went to Vikash's house immediately and found him wasting his time....he was studying for the Income Tax exam! Such a nerd!

We told him that he did not need to, as we could tell him seven questions, out of which five are 'guaranteed' to come in the exam. All he had to do in exchange was to solve those questions. He was his doubts and had hundreds of questions, but like in case of the seven questions, we had no answers. 

We politely asked him to shut up and get on to solving the questions. 

He solved all seven questions and handed the answers to us. We looked at his answers. It was akin to a pianist looking at an industrial machinery to see if everything was alright. We had no clue!

But we trusted him. Again, there was no other option.

One of us ran to the nearest photocopier and got copies made for each of us. We took a copy each and left with victorious smiles.

(If not earlier, are you not confident now that our plan is definitely bound to fail?! 😀)

In the next two days, we 'mugged up' all the questions and their solutions. In the history of the TLA (or Income Tax) exam, no one would have mugged up solutions! 

I practiced again and again. At the end of 2 days, I was so confident about the questions that I did not even need to read the entire question. If the question started with 'Ramesh works in a metro city...", I would start drawing lines and tables to compute Ramesh's income tax. The rest of the details were already known. Why waste time reading the questions at all? 

On the day of the exam, we reached our examination center. We laughed at the nervous looks on the faces of other students. We did not even wish each other the best of luck. What could have gone wrong? It was a foolproof plan!

(I am 100% sure that you are thinking (and hoping) that the 5 questions in the question paper were entirely different!!)

There were around 60 students in my examination hall, but no one from my group was there. It would have been fun to give high-fives (in the air) to my friends after looking at the question paper.

The exam started. The question papers were handed out. I only read the first sentence of each question. 

But after reading the first sentence of each of the five questions, I was SHOCKED! 

The five questions in the question paper were indeed part of the seven that we had narrowed down and prepared for!!! 

(You were not expecting that, were you??!!? 😀)

The two days of preparing for the seven questions had helped me develop muscle memory. I did not read the questions and simply went on to solving them. Like a well oiled machine, I solved all five questions. 

I still had time left but, like a good student, I do not like wasting time. I wanted to get out of the examination hall as quickly as possible, celebrate with 'win' with my friends and then go home to prepare for the last exam. 

When I reached the parking lot, I noticed that Tushar and Sushant were already sitting there. My slow writing had delayed me. But it did not matter, as it was not a race. 

We laughed and gave each other high-fives. 

Soon, Amar and Amit also came out. They were also welcomed with celebrations. We were laughing and were extremely proud of our examination strategy.

At last, Vikash came out of the building. He was running towards us with excitement. When he reached us, he complimented us for managing to get the seven questions and for the fact that four out of the five questions were identical to the ones on our list.

Wait....WHAT!!!

4 out of 5 questions were identical??

We looked at each other puzzled and said that he was wrong. All five questions were identical! 

He said the fifth question was almost identical too, but it had one extra detail that had to be factored into the tax computation. We did not believe him.

He showed us the extra detail. It was a very simple entry and even we would have managed to get it right.

Only if we had read the question. 

Except for Vikash, none of us had noticed it! The five of us had made the same mistake. 

The plan was brilliant. The execution was almost brilliant. The overconfidence cost us slightly.

Yet, despite the minor setback, it was a major victory! 🏆

Convicted by a Five-Year-Old

Today, my wife reminded me of an incident that happened in 2017 and requested that I write about it.

We had just returned from Malaysia after spending little over 5 years there. My daughter was five years old and had joined a school in Pune.

In Class 1, students learn basic English, Maths and Hindi, but they learn more about good habits, hygiene, body parts, family, social skills, soft skills, and good behaviour. I am sure her school was teaching her all those things. We used to ask her every day what she had learned in school, but she would not divulge much. She still does not!

One day, the three of us went to watch a movie. I do not recall the the movie, but I do remember that the movie hall was mostly empty and that we had corner seats in the top row. I also remember that my daughter was wearing a purple frock with bright flowers printed on it. As always, she looked extremely cute. 

Although we had bought tickets for our daughter, like most kids her age, she hardly sat in her seat. She climbed down and started walking around. Since she was not making any noise and there were not too many people around, we did not mind or stop her. 

During the interval, we got some snacks. The usual stuff. Popcorn, fries, soft drinks, and a chicken hotdog. It was brought in a snacks tray. We enjoyed the snacks and continued watching the movie. Since I was the only one eating popcorn, and popcorn lasts the longest, the tray eventually landed in my lap. I was sitting in the corner seat, with my wife next to me and our daughter standing beside her.

Once I finished the popcorn, I put the tray under my seat. 

While I was doing that, I noticed that my daughter was looking at me. I smiled at her and continued watching the movie. Although I stopped looking at her, I could tell from the corner of my eye that she was still staring at me.

Then she came over and stood in front of me. She looked sad and disappointed. I could tell that she wanted to say something. I immediately bent forward and gently put my arms around her. I brought my ear close to her face and waited for her to speak. 

And then she asked...

"Are you a bad human?"

I was taken aback but thought (and hoped) I had misheard her. So I asked again... only to hear the same brilliant question once more. Entirely my fault. 

She repeated, "Are you a bad human?"

I was stunned and looked towards my wife. She was busy with her fries and did not care what was going on around her. I told her about the question. Again, entirely my fault, as all I got in return were some wicked giggles.

I asked my daughter why she had asked me that. She did not answer. Then my wife asked her too. 

At that point, my daughter pointed towards the snack tray that I had put under my seat and said, "Teacher says that people who litter are bad humans."

The movie was no longer the most entertaining thing in the theatre for my wife. She was laughing like the evil and crazy woman she actually is.

Since when is putting a snack tray under the seat considered littering? 😡

But there was no point arguing with this three-foot-tall little ball of cuteness.

And now, nine years later, someone should see her room. The mess that she creates. A city completely devastated by earthquake looks more organized and neat compared to her room. All that learning, which was slightly flawed in any case, was only for me???

But the question still haunts me. And I can never forget her expression. She was genuinely disappointed to discover that her father was a "bad human!!" 

The Great ERP Exam Mystery

During MBA, while I do not recall the semester, but at some point we had a course on Enterprise Resource Planning (ERP). If I am not mistaken, there were two course on ERP: "Enterprise Resource Planning I" and "Enterprise Resource Planning II". I think they were divided across two semesters. I had zero clue why we had to study ERP. Twenty-three years later, I still don't.

I was not the only one clueless about the course. In fact, the majority of the batch was equally clueless, and that prompted a special arrangement for the exam. It was turned into an 'open book' exam. Each of us was supposed to sit in front of computers, search for the right answers in the ERP library, and write them down on the answer sheet. 

That sounds simple and easy but, trust me, it was not. If I did not understand the questions, what chance did I have of finding the right answers?

A logistical issue came to my rescue. 

Since there were more students than the number of computers in the IT Lab, we were divided into groups. I think each group was assigned a different examination slot. Yet, it would still have taken a lot of time because ours was a big batch. So, to optimize further, it was decided that students in each group would be divided into pairs, with each pair having access to one computer. That meant that I would not die alone on the battlefield! 

I do not recall how the pairs were decided, but I got paired with Abhishek Mehta, one of the brightest students in our MBA batch. So, that meant I had the all-important responsibility of allowing Mehta to find the answers, confirm them with him, and then write them down on my answer sheet. But I was up for the challenge!

Next to us, my friends Vikas Khaitan and Pooja Wadhera were sitting. I had somehow done well in ERP I, and Khaitan had challenged me that he would outscore me in ERP II.

I was not nervous. I was confident....in Mehta's ability to find the answers. 

However, during the exam, Mehta kept getting confused. He would find something, sound confident, and just before we wrote it down, he would start having second thoughts. This went on for a while. Long enough for me to lose all confidence and start shitting bricks.

This did not go unnoticed by my dear friends sitting at the next computer. While I was busy controlling my heart attack, Khaitan and Pooja were giggling like schoolgirls. Every now and then, they would intentionally shout, "Mil gaya!" to announce that they have found another answer. Khaitan kept telling me that I would flunk! 

It was textbook sledging. The Australians would have been proud.

By the time they had filled 5-6 pages of the answer sheet, I had barely finished a single page! Apart from answers, their sheet was full of colorful diagrams and illustrations. In contrast, my sheet was mostly plain white. 

With only 60 minutes left, I decided to twist and break the neck of my pride and beg to them to share the answers. They laughed and said no. I continued to beg. 

With surgical precision, Khaitan waited until the moment when I had enough time to copy the answers but not enough time to copy the diagrams. And at that moment, he agreed to share the answers. 

I was absolutely fine with that. I was no longer looking to pass with distinction. I just wanted to pass.

I am a slow writer, but I tried to copy everything within the given time. In the end, I was relieved that I had written enough to ensure that I would probably not fail.

Two people were ecstatic. Pooja and, especially, Khaitan were celebrating in the parking lot. He was dancing and teasing me, saying that they would score more than me because of the diagrams and illustrations. Khaitan celebrated as if he had just won the ERP II equivalent of the World Cup.

I smiled and let it go. I was thankful.  

Few days later, the results were out. 

Khaitan and Pooja, who had identical answer sheets, scored around 60 out of 100. They were happy. But happiness is a relative term. 

They checked my score. I had got more than 80!

It was our Raju, Farhan and Rancho exam-results moment from 3 Idiots!

Khaitan was shocked. Pooja was surprised but was okay. I was surprised too...but pleasantly. 

It was, however, my duty, like a good friend, to tease them. I told them that maybe they had not understood the diagrams and had put the wrong ones in their answer sheets. Or maybe the examiner was offended by their gaudy artwork. Or maybe the examiner had gone by the overall impression of the students.

Khaitan blamed it on my good handwriting. 

To this day, I have no idea why I scored more than them. Maybe it was indeed my handwriting. Maybe the examiner appreciated minimalist answer sheets. Whatever the reason, it brought a smile then and still brings one now. 🙂 

"He Surely Does Not Drink"

I do not recall when this incident happened but it was easily at least 20 years ago. 

My parents were travelling by train. They had tickets in AC First Class. My father, back then a serving army officer, used to carry a bottle or two of alcohol on most of his trips so he could have a drink with friends or family at the destination.

On the same train, a cousin of mine and his wife (my Bhabhi) were also travelling. They were in a different class and compartment. However, when my cousin found out that my father - his maternal uncle or Mama - was travelling on the same train, he became excited because he knew that my father was likely to have something 'interesting' in his luggage.

AC First Class in Indian trains is comfortable and does not have too many passengers. It has either a cabin, which is a larger four-berth compartment designed for families or small groups, or a coupe, which is a private two-berth compartment for solo travelers or couples/duos. Once the journey started, my parents settled into their cabin.

After some time, my cousin and Bhabhi came over. The four of them started chatting. I am not sure if there were any other people in the cabin. 

After a while, my father offered him a drink. My father usually did not drink on trains because it is illegal and can make other passengers uncomfortable. The fact that he offered a drink makes me think there was probably no one else in the cabin. I could be wrong though.

After a few drinks, my cousin became a little high and started opening up about everyone in the family. The conversation drifted towards who among the younger generation drank. Most of the cousins were adults by then, and my father knew that everyone must be drinking. Still, it was not yet 'publicly  known information'. 

More than anyone else, my father wanted to know about me. 

One by one, my father started asking about everyone, and my cousin, in a 'happy state by now', was more than willing to answer. He told my father who drank what, how much each person drank, what each one did when drunk, funny anecdotes... every secret was coming out.

My father encouraged him, enjoyed the details, and laughed at the incidents. He asked about everyone except me.

Then, towards the end, my father made a statement.

"Vini nahi peeta hoga". (Vini surely does not drink). 

*Vini is my nickname. 

My father did not question. He just made a statement and showed pride. I do not think he actually believed it. It was a ploy to bring out an honest reaction.

My cousin, a few years older than me and generally a mature guy, saw the trap and said, "Yes, you are right. Vini does not drink." 

I wish!

So what did he do?

My cousin laughed mockingly at my father's statement and said:

"Vini nahi peeta hoga!!!??? Vini tanker hai...TANKER!!!" (Vini does not drink!!!??? He is a TANKER!!!)

* In slang, the term "tanker" refers to a heavy drinker or an alcoholic.

The next time I spoke to my father, he asked, 'Suney tum TANKER ho" (Heard that you are a tanker). I was taken aback!

Later my mother narrated the entire incident and I came to know how my cousin broke the bro code! 😠😡

At the Mercy of a Six-Year-Old

My wife suggested that I write this blog, which is about an episode that happened in late 2017. She had to leave for our hometown due to a family medical emergency and she left our daughter - Ananya - in my care. Or, to be more accurate, she left me at the mercy of our six-year-old daughter!

I prepared a list of tasks that I am supposed to do during my wife's absence. I had to ensure that Ananya got up on time, get her ready for school, take care of her breakfast and tiffin, drop her at the bus stop, pick her up in the evening, help her with her homework and studies, wash her clothes (not at the dhobi ghat; in the washing machine), manage dinner and ensure that she slept on time. In addition, I had to manage my meals and my regular office work. 

The list made me dizzy. I realized that my wife actually did some work and didn't just watch TV and chit-chat on the phone!

Like a true consultant, I divided the list into three categories - 'Must Do', 'Good To Do' and 'There Is No Way I Can Do That'. After categorizing the tasks, as the newly appointed leader of the house, I made three executive decisions.

First, I called the office and informed them that I would be working from home for the next few days. They agreed.

Second, I informed the teachers that Ananya would not be able to complete her homework assignments for the next few days. They agreed. I even told my wife that studies would remain optional. (As if they had been mandatory till then or since then.) She agreed.

Lastly, I made a distress call to my sister (who lived in the same city) for help. My place was around 25 km away from both her house and office, but she thankfully agreed to stay with us and commute daily.

The dizziness went away. 

Now, my sister was in charge of meals. I had to wake Ananya up, get her ready, drop her at the bus stop, pick her up in the afternoon and put her to bed at night. 

Easy Peasy, Lemon Squeezy!! 🍋

Now, I had my sister to help me. What could possibly go wrong? 

But the little devil had other plans.

From the moment my wife stepped out of the house, my daughter knew who was in charge. She knew that her father (and to a large extent, even her Bua (Aunt)) was clueless about most things, and she exploited that knowledge with remarkable efficiency.

She would get up when she wanted. She would take her own sweet time getting ready, while her helpless father panicked and kept looking at the watch anxiously. She would tell us that she was allowed to go to school with untied hair. She would tell us that she was allowed to wear coloured socks instead of the socks that were part of her uniform. She would stroll to the bus stop with the grace of a queen, while I carried her bag and water bottle like her coolie and panted for breath.

My sister once got up early to make noodles for her for tiffin, but Ananya told us that her teacher scolded students for bringing "unhealthy" food to school. She insisted on getting a meal coupon that she could use in the school cafeteria. We had a few coupons in our emergency stash, so I gave her one.

Upon returning, she told us that she had eaten pasta. 

So much for a healthy meal! 

The next day, my sister made chapati and bhindi (Okra), but some other excuse was given and another meal coupon was extorted.

Tying her hair was a big challenge. I had never done it. My sister never had long hair, so even she was not particularly good at it. Also, I think tying your own hair is much simpler than tying someone else's hair. And if that someone is a restless little monster, it is even more difficult. 

I remember that on one of the days, my sister tied Ananya's hair multiple times, and each time the outcome was rubbished by her client. Tired and anxious, my sister made one final attempt and asked me for my opinion. 

Both of them looked at me with hope. 

Ananya hoped that I would say it was very bad. My sister - helplessness written all over her face - hoped that I would approve it. 

I approved it, though it was her worst attempt of the day! 

My mother used to roll/twist her dupattas to store them, and honestly, Ananya's hair looked like a dupatta rolled way too many times! 

That day, her teacher asked Ananya who had tied her hair, and Ananya promptly replied, "My aunt. She does not know how to tie hair." 

Her teacher tied her hair again.

During the entire period my wife was away, our lives looked like scenes from the movie The Devil Wears Prada. Ananya was like a little Miranda Priestly, and my sister and I were like the two hapless personal assistants. Every day, after dropping her at the bus stop, both me and my sister used to feel that we have won a battle. Every day, after tying Ananya's hair and receiving a reluctant, disappointed approval, my sister would fall flat on the bed, relieved to have survived the ordeal.

Thankfully, my wife returned within a week, but not before Ananya decided to fall really sick on the penultimate day...just to make us look even worse!

800 Kilometres for a Dosa

One of the most eventful road trips of my life happened in 2005.

Me and some of my MBA batchmates were working together in a company in Bangalore and, along with another office colleague, we planned a weekend trip to Udupi, roughly 400 kilometres away. The group comprised five of us: Subhasish Sahoo, Biraja Sahu, Prachi Rastogi (all three are my batchmates and ex-colleagues) and Sunil Ghorpade. Subhasish, Biraja and Prachi were good friends. Sunil, at that point, was merely a colleague from another team. Today he is a good friend. Perhaps because we survived this trip together. Or perhaps because we shared a common tormenter.

I do not remember how this particular combination of people came together or who first suggested the trip. I was invited, and I joined. 

We were to travel in Sunil's black Tata Indica. Since he was the only one with a car, I suspect that was the primary qualification required for his inclusion in the group. (Sunil - if you read this, you must know that even if that is true, it was not my idea. It is not my style!)

The plan was to leave office on Friday, 7th October 2005, drive overnight and reach Udupi the next morning. However, like most road trips, the start was delayed. We were all supposed to meet at the flat shared by Subhasish and Biraja. If memory serves me right, it was Sunil who arrived late. Eventually, we started well past midnight, technically on 8th October. In hindsight, that delay may have been a blessing because we managed to avoid Bangalore's legendary traffic jams and cruise through the city.

Despite the hour, spirits were high. We were chatting, sharing funny incidents, someone was talking about food, someone was pissing Sunil and me off. So....essentially a typical road trip with friends!

Sunil was driving and I was sitting in front passenger seat. Subhasish, Prachi and Biraja were in the backseat.

Around 4:30 in the morning, we stopped briefly. It was to empty our bladders and refill it with beer. In reality, we were lost! 

We had arrived at a junction where two roads diverged and none of us knew which one to take. I think both roads eventually led to Udupi but, much like life choices, one was probably sensible and the other regrettable. We simply did not know which was which. 

After seeking advice, debating the matter at length and applying the collective wisdom of five sleep-deprived adults, we confidently chose....the wrong one.

The road we selected had streetlights while the other appeared dark. That must have been a major factor in our decision-making process. Unfortunately, about ten kilometres later, the streetlights disappeared, the road narrowed, the darkness deepened and the surroundings began to resemble the opening scenes of a low-budget 'Ramsay Brothers' horror film.

It was a perfect setting for someone (Hello...I am Someone!) to start talking about some spooky stories. 

As the song Hotel California began playing, I shared an urban legend I had once heard. According to the story, the song possessed satanic powers. There had supposedly been an incident in which hostel students in different buildings committed suicide after listening to it. The story claimed they jumped around the same time and that the song was subsequently banned by some radio stations. While the rest listened with growing curiosity, Prachi repeatedly protested and insisted that we stop discussing spooky stories in the middle of a dark, deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

The moment I finished narrating it, the car hit something and came to a violent stop.

The headlights went out.

Suddenly, five of us were sitting inside a dead car in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by complete darkness. For context, it was so dark that I could not see my own hands. Prachi suggested that I step out and look what happened. I ignored it like Sunil and I ignored most things that Prachi said on that trip.

Unfortunately, remaining inside the vehicle indefinitely was not a viable solution. We eventually stepped out and attempted to understand what had happened. We examined the car, exchanged theories and displayed varying degrees of confidence while possessing absolutely no knowledge.

After some time, a truck stopped. The driver took one look at the vehicle and announced that a rod connecting the front wheels had bent and needed repair or replacement. To this day, I do not understand how that would explain the headlights going out. I continue to blame Hotel California.

Somehow, we managed to get the vehicle moving and crawled to the next village, which was about an hour away. We asked around for a auto workshop, located a mechanic, woke him up, got the car repaired and then drove to another town to have the wheel alignment fixed. Despite our delayed departure, we had originally expected to reach Udupi by 7AM. We finally arrived sometime after 4PM.

We were tired and sleepy. The sight of the hotel was comforting. When we reached the hotel parking, I was desperately looking for a bed and pillow. And that is precisely when Sunil and I managed to lock the car with the key still in the ignition. Nobody was inside. All the doors were locked. All the windows were shut!

We stood there staring at it, hoping it was a bad dream. It wasn't. Though it was indeed a nightmare unfolding in broad daylight.

The hotel guard suggested a workshop about a hundred metres away. We went there with no hope whatsoever. The place looked as though it only repaired vehicles from the World War II era.

We explained the problem. "Easy job," they said. I remember being sarcastic about their (over) confidence.

Two men from the workshop accompanied us back to the hotel parking lot. One walked beside us. The other, who looked about our age, walked ahead carrying a flat metal strip roughly a foot and a half long. He had the swagger of Viv Richards walking out to bat. The confidence was impossible to miss. I was convinced reality was about to humble him.

Halfway there, he turned around and asked, "The vehicle does not have central locking, right?"

"It does," Sunil and I replied together.

He did not give much of a reaction and continued to walk ahead of us...but now a little slower. The spring in his stride had reduced. I thought... There....now his bubble has burst. I mentally congratulated myself on being right. 

He reached the vehicle before us and, by the time we caught up, the car was already open!!! 

Just like that!! No drama. No struggle. No suspense.

He and his companion then walked back to their workshop, refusing any payment. He was not doing it for money. He was simply a superhero helping two helpless men.  

The car was open, but Sunil's worries remained. "If it is this easy to open the lock, how safe is it to leave the car parked here?" he asked. At the time, I thought it was a ridiculous concern. I pointed out that, by that logic, he could never leave his car unattended anywhere. Years later, after buying my own vehicle, I understood exactly what he meant.

We finally rested...briefly. Very briefly.

Subhasish had no intention of wasting valuable sightseeing time on something as trivial as rest or sleep. He produced his Bible, Outlook Traveller Weekend Breaks from Bangalore, and announced that we needed to visit a temple and then proceed to Mitra Samaj restaurant to eat the famous 'Outlook Masala Dosa'. The dosa - a family size one - had been featured in Subhasish's Bible and the restaurant had renamed it to Outlook Masala Dosa. 

Subhasish was not asking or seeking opinions. Sunil and I looked at each other and then at Subhasish with hope that he would have some pity. He showed none.

I finally objected. There was no way I was visiting a beach town and beginning my sightseeing with a temple and a restaurant. We would go to the beach first. Thankfully, better sense prevailed and we reached the beach before sunset. We could not spend much time there because darkness was approaching, but we agreed to return early the next morning to watch the sunrise over the sea.

I cannot blame anyone else for that idea. It was entirely mine. I wanted a nice photograph of the sun rising over the horizon. Emerging out of the sea! 🌅

After the beach, we visited the temple, which was beautiful and pleasantly uncrowded. Then we finally had the legendary Outlook Masala Dosa along with lassi. On the way back to the hotel, I bought some alcohol because I suffer from a peculiar problem. When I am extremely tired, I struggle to sleep.

The alcohol did not help. Neither did the new and unfamiliar surroundings. Nor Sunil's frequent peeking from the window to check if the car was still there. As a result, I got the least sleep among all five of us. Yet, I was the one who woke everyone up before dawn. Anything for that photograph!

Nobody was pleased. But everyone came anyway.

We reached the beach while it was still dark. In fact, it was so early that the guards appeared suspicious of our intentions. Perhaps they thought we had come to have booze. Perhaps they thought we had come to commit suicide. Perhaps they thought we had come to kill Prachi. The third option was most probable.

We walked a little, found a spot on the sand and sat down to wait for the sunrise. Some of us chatted. Some yawned. Some briefly dozed off. All of us stared out towards the sea, patiently waiting for the sun to emerge....from the sea!!

We were so tired and sleep deprived that our brains were not functioning properly. After waiting for an eternity, someone noticed a shadow. A shadow??!!?? 🤔

Subhasish was standing behind us. His shadow was falling across where we sat.

And that was when it 'dawned' upon us!

Udupi is on the west coast of India. While we had been staring at the Arabian Sea waiting for the sun to rise from it, the sun had quietly risen behind us!!!  

The entire exercise had been pointless! We had sacrificed precious sleep, dragged ourselves out of bed before dawn, marched to the beach and waited patiently for a sunrise that was happening in the opposite direction.

There was a brief silence. Then came the blame game. Then came the embarrassment. And finally came the laughter. A lot of laughter.

Later, we had breakfast, and by the time we returned to the hotel, it was time to check out. After getting ready, we left for a boat ride to a nearby island before beginning the long drive back to Bangalore.

Looking back, the trip makes very little sense.

We drove more than 800 kilometres, slept for only a few hours, got lost, broke down in the middle of nowhere, frightened ourselves with ghost stories, locked ourselves out of the car, and returned home exhausted.

For what?

A temple visit. A lassi. An oversized dosa. And a sunrise that happened behind us!

But then, the best road trips are rarely about the destination. They are about getting lost on the way and having enough namooney (characters) in the car to make it memorable. After all, nobody remembers a trip because everything went according to plan.

Click for Video of Our Trip