Thursday, August 18, 2011

Vertigo

He was wearing that typical Che Guevara T-shirt that has never left him since he joined college. That was the one of the most convenient ways of recognizing him in a crowd of similar dumbs.

“hey, whats up with your Che Tee? “ I said slapping him on his back as he sat there in the dingiest of bars in Banaras. He was sipping on his AC Black with a small filtered Win fulfilling the smoke cravings. I had just returned from an internship in Mumbai with one of the leading Investment Banks to complete my final year in college and then get placed in an even bigger firm. I had developed quite a penchant for the high class pubs and wandering hippie girls with long hair and their liberal notions and tendencies. And in his presence I certainly felt devoid of my insecurities, elevated from his lowly life and so much more hip

He gave his usual lop sided grin, “I thought it looked cool”. He lacked an apparent irony, and no matter how innocent his reply was, I was already feeling bad. I felt intellectually hurt. I wanted him to give him a lecture about Che and what he did to the world that results in every Tom, Dick and Harry wearing one of those Viva La Revolucion T-Shirts. But then I restrained myself, he wouldn’t have understood anyways.

“hmm, seems like you are pretty cool, dude. The t-shirt matches your personality too”. There was no way even a bimbo was going to miss the sarcasm in my voice but somehow it just flew over his head.

“This is cool fashion man, something like banging head and smoking up”. That summed up his understanding of the world and spirituality brought upon by nationalist feelings of Guevara

He was one of the most confused and dumb person I had ever met in my life. The only thing that related us was that we played in the same band, and he somehow, despite being incredibly obtuse, was a gifted guitar player. Perhaps the best I have ever seen. But as it happened in due course, my ambitions started to take a toll on my recently grown passions and I had to divert from drums practice during third year of my college. Most of our band mates had dispersed, getting good internships somewhere, with him the only one left behind in college doing a project with a proff as he couldn’t score an internship. He kept creating music, smoking up and living in his cell.

And every time I met him, he would rave about some defunct heavy metal band from the 80s or some obscure 70s progressive band like Uriah Heep. During the free time during summers, he managed to gather a band of his own, which was an achievement as he was perhaps most unpopular of all the lot in a place where being in a rock band was like being part of an Oscar winning movie starring against Bonham Carter and playing Hannibal Lecter. So his newly assembled group of headbangers did the cover of Santana's Black Magic Woman each and every night. Sometimes they played it twice or thrice in a single day. And when it was not Santana, they would play, No woman No cry. I cried almost everytime out of boredom and their too small a set list.

He would pity me every now and then. “Bro, I see potential in you, you’d make up a great drummer. Just pick up the sticks and join us in the garage” He strummed a riff from Satisfaction

“But you don’t have a garage, do you? You guys practice in the common room of our hostel. And the drum kit is shabby, and moreover I have things to do friend!!”

“yeah, I mean you can practice with us as long as you are hanging around, you look a natural” I almost took offence at this as I considered him the worst judge of a person, in fact worst judge of everything. But I somehow didn’t feel like saying no to him as I wasn’t up to much anyways.

One day he took me to meet another group of Jammers who were practicing some pretty hardcore metal stuff. They all looked like descending directly from hell with their weird hairstyles and awkward jargons. Their room smelled of pot. And then one of them asked “Hey Bro, can I borrow your crybaby, your wah-wah? And the drummer handed him the foot-pedal. They told me, that following Nirvana was cool, Pink Floyd was cooler but the killer following was of Jim Morrison, it was coolest. I laughed at all their notions. It was all so kiddish and wannabe. I hated this bunch of kids with instruments in their hands, toking up and crying to change the world.

And that’s where it all started.

“Dude, I am going to play in the youth fest, we won the inter university championship and now they are calling us to Gangtok to take part in the National youth Fest. It’s going to be awsome”

I felt a bit jealous of his joy. I had never felt so happy ever in my life, but then again he was happy everytime. He was such a moron that he could not control his hormones to shed tears in sorrow and smile in joy. He was always happy in the end.

“yeah that’s cool, so when are you guys leaving?”

“well, what? Aren’t you coming along?” – He was shocked that I was not being a part of his stupid plan

“Well Dude, I got to get back to my internship in Mumbai, I just took a week’s break to come home, I have to go back in a day or two. But yeah, good luck to you and your endeavors. “

And then it happened. I came to know from my college friends that he never came back after the youth fest. It almost became a folklore in our campus about the most stupid student who ever came to our college, who turned out to be the best guitarist it had seen and who never returned back from the mystic Far East.

After doing a lot of research I found out the truth about what exactly happened while he went to the fest in Sikkim.

His performance was at prime of its beauty, the town was dancing to his songs. He played Freebird, Roadhouse Blues, Communication breakdown and Comfortably Numb there. He was the overnight superhero of the place. The band won the competition and he was awarded the best musician award. All of a sudden he was feeling light, he had money, he could do things that he wanted to.

He even planned upon buying another Che Tee and Adidas Shoes, that always eluded him because of his low pocket money; There was so much he could do now.

“So dude, how do you plan to spend this money?”

“Well! I thought over it. I am gonna travel with the money. Will try saving some if I can and will be back in a month”

“But what about those Adi Shoes? And what about college? This is final year mate, you are going to get placed”

“Well I thought about that as well. I don’t really need shoes right now, these sneakers are doing well and moreover College has been over for me long time back. I am not going to pass anyways, leave apart getting a job. My college is over”

He emphasized on the word ‘over’. He wanted his emotions felt.

“So where are you planning to go? Have you thought anything?”

“nah, haven’t planned, but yeah will be hitch hiking mostly. Will travel on foot and will explore Indo-Tibet regions of North East mostly”

“well, then cya soon mate, you really ROCKED”

And that was the last conversation anyone ever had with him. After he set on his travels, he never returned, although he became a legend in college as “the ultimate traveler” and a several other names.

Time kept flying and hence changed things. I got a big job and started a family in Seattle. His disappearance became a lost strand of thought in some distant memory. And then one good day, I drove out of my workplace into a highway jammed with cars. The noise was unbearable making my insides feel hollow. I had an unfamiliar feeling of déjà vu. I felt lost in place and time. There was a thunderstorm arriving from far east, and it made my heart ache. It reminded me of him, the one who got lost. I suppressed a sudden desire to turn my car and try and follow the source of the storm. It felt impossible to extricate myself from the turbulence surrounding me.

“honey, it’s me. Hey listen I got something to tell you. There was this friend of mine”….and I explained everything to her. And then I told her my hopeless quest to find him. She was aghast at the idea but then later on she felt the desire, the unrest that I had been going through and reluctantly agreed. I told her that if I don’t find him in a week, I will return back to the so called Normal Life I was leading.

The thing called Internet which was just a myth five years back had reached a new level of penetration among general population and we the tech savvy, well informed generation knew how to use it.

And then there was a thing called Google. It was modern Day version of God, Omnipotent, Omnipresent, Omniscient. It knew everything. I tried different searches regarding story of a college guy who got lost in the jungle and after 3-4 tries, there he was, distinctively recognizable. He hadn’t changed a bit in last 5 years, he looked the same with his stupid grin of his. But what struck me, and struck me hard was that he was some Lama in a Sikkimese Monastery. From what I knew about Lamas was that they were people very high up the hierarchy among Buddhist Monks, perhaps highest.

2 days later, I was riding down a dense forest lane when the truck suddenly slowed down. I looked at the driver, old and ornery, he started to inspect the rear tires.

“well, you do have a spare one, don’t you?”

He glowered at me and then went to the side of the truck and squatted there. Deliberately, he took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and started to smoke.

I realized after quarter of an hour that he was not going to move so I decided to cover the remaining distance on feet unless off course I could find another lift.

And then I shaded my eyes and looked at the horizon. Far off, I could see a colorful flutter of flags of a monastery. My curiosity was reaching a climax, it was almost unbearable to quench my desire to know. I didn’t know what exactly I was seeking, I had just been running, felt like I had even lost interest in meeting an old friend, the one who got lost. How ironical it was, the one who got lost was the one who knew it all and here I was apparently having everything and still so lost.

When I entered the meditation hall, it was covered in saffron and gold. And there he was, surrounded by a big entourage. I had to suppress a desire to laugh when people started rustling and bowing around him.

“Lets talk about life”

And all the whispers died down instantaneously. There was a serene calm about the way he spoke.

And then he kept speaking. I felt embarrassed by the simplicity of his ideas. I just wondered, what would I have been doing had I been at home, probably checking stock quotes, having a beer, watching a life sucking sitcom, a movie, football… everything just felt apart by his ideas. I had felt so complete in my assurance, about my own superiority. In intellectual as well as material sense and particularly in comparison to the least intelligent person I had ever met in my life.

And then he spoke

“Compassion is something intrinsic to all sentient beings” and everything around us dissolved. And that was when I started feeling awe and shame. Compassion was the word….

Vertigo

And then clarity.

I decided to meet him after the session and discuss how has life been…

I thought it would be a good life now, good enough!!!!

3 comments:

off roady said...

robin sharma ho gaye ho...
btw good story... but told in very few words...

Manuj said...

good one..

B. Kamna Will said...

i liked the way you proceeded on with the story :) ... its good ...

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