OF MANY MAHARASHTRA(S)

OF MANY MAHARASHTRA(s), 
this abusive terrain of MAHARASHTRA 
is depressing.

A few hours ago, Zee Marathi had held me spellbound with the story of ANANDI GOPAL. And, many hours down the line, I am thinking of the many MAHARASHTRA(s); I am aware of; or all of us could be wanting to making ourselves aware of.

Of course, the MAHARASHTRA(s), which I am willing to talk and write about are different. But I wish to write this from the deepest corner of my heart – I AM HAPPY TO CALL MAHARASHTRA MY FIRST HOME; I WAS BORN HERE. THE FOOD I EAT, COMES FROM THE SOIL OF MAHARASHTRA. THE AIR, WHICH I BREATHE IS OF MAHARASHTRA. THE LANGUAGE, WHICH I UNDERSTAND IS OF MAHARASHTRA. THE HOME, WHICH WELCOMES ME BACK IS BUILT ON THIS BRAVE SOIL OF MAHARASHTRA.

Now, coming back to ANANDI GOPAL, I once again wish to say how concentrated were the efforts to bring this story to our households. We have known Anandi Gopal as the first female physician of India. I hope all of the MAHARASHTRA(s) too knows her as the first female physician of India. But have we made her a household name yet? Sadly, We Haven’t! Or some have, but we aren’t updated about! Sounds strange, isn’t it? 

Interestingly ANANDI GOPAL was born and brought up on the same land of Maharashtra, on which most of us have been brought up in. But that era was different. Yes, we prefer saying that often – ERAS DIFFER. PEOPLE AND THEIR THOUGHTS DIFFER. And, I stand to argue, where have we left the better part of MAHARASHTRA behind? Why have we even left many MAHARASHTRA(s) behind us?

At this juncture, I intend to add a little more strength to my argument. Right now in 2019, we are in MAHARASHTRA again. Of the many MAHARASHTRA(s) that I have known; of the many MAHARASHTRA (s), I recently discovered during my road trip; of the many MAHARASHTRA(s), which has been home to some of the finest people in Indian history and civilization, I am not too happy to see an ill-treating MAHARASHTRA.

I meet this ill-treating MAHARASHTRA every day. This Maharashtra is not found starting a day with the song of GARJA MAHARASHTRA MAJHA. This Maharashtra is found bouncing abuses every morning. What kind of MAHARASHTRA is this? People walk on feet to catch only a whimsical glimpse of Lord Vithala during the month of Ashad. People carry palanquins on their bare shoulders to show their faith in their Lord. People forgo non vegetarian food for a month to welcome their favorite Lord Ganesha home. And this is the same MAHARASHTRA, which addresses each other as Motherfuckers. Yes, of the MAHARASHTRA, I am speaking about, this is the everyday code of conduct. 

This abusive MAHARASHTRA is the most depressing part of all the MAHARASHTRA(s), we are proud of; I am immensely proud of. No one is spared in these MAHARASHTRA(s). The saga begins with Mothers. Then it travels to Sisters. When desperation sets in, this saga catches hold of the throats of Wives, Lovers, Partners, Friends, etcetera, etcetera.  

OF MANY MAHARASHTRA(s), this abusive terrain of MAHARASHTRA is depressing. I am curious to know, how can ‘being abusive’ motivate someone to greater extent! If it does, then of many MAHARASHTRA(s), this is the best. And if I see no one still feeling motivated, then this MAHARASHTRA is not the dream of Tilak, Gokhale, Savarkar, Mangeshkar, Madgoolkar, Shantaram, Kotnis, Ambedkar, Phule, Patkar, Sakpal, Bhosale or other greats. 

To conclude, I can only thank the legacy of many better versions of MAHARASHTRA(s), which I have luckily been able to discover and learn about. As for what ANANDI GOPAL could have stood to hear of or tear off from the loud abusive MAHARASHTRA(s) of recent times? Just cannot be imagine.

So, till the time when all the abusive MAHARASHTRA(s) learn to behave, I shall look forward to those MAHARASHTRA(s), which gave birth to real stories of Jijabai, Muktabai, Savitribai, Ramabai, Ahilyabai. Or to the story of that one man, who stood at the peak of Raigad and thought of Swarajya. At least I can stay safe from an abusive morning audience of the sick-tongued, depressing MAHARASHTRA(s) within the hearts of less known MAHARASHTRA(s).

- Virtuous Vociferous | August 19 | August Blog-2 | Never Settle | 2019

THE SHADOW OF THE EVENING

FRIENDSHIP is 

THE SHADOW OF THE EVENING, 

which increases with 

the setting sun of life.

‘I did read your story. You know, one of those stories, you had shared a link of it one fine day. Yeah, now I remember. THE TINY TRAIN TO NOWHERE. It was a good story. I loved it. I simply loved it.’

If I had paid attention to the roaring sound of swelling rains. If I had thought about my car, which I had parked beneath a half bent branch of a fragile tree. If I had focused on the 50 second promo of an upcoming sitcom… If I had done any of those; I could have missed these golden words. These words are from an evening, which I had almost no hopes from. But I still chose to drove down. And during discussions around our love for books, he spoke up. In the shadow of rains and a ruthless power cut; these were his words. Words, which came my way from my dear friend of childhood.

‘At times, I look at your Facebook posts. I must tell you, I don’t like them. You are a positive person. You are way more optimistic than me. You read so many books. But why are you so angry? Why are you so hurt? Get rid of those negative energies and stop being rude to yourself. If you wish to send out your own vibes, make sure they are positive!’

More than social media, he has known me more in reality. I never thought, we can ever be friends. Strangely little did we know that we were bound to be friends, from our college days till today. Not only does the journey of our lives run parallel to each other. But the journeys of our tragedies have been running parallel too. Honestly speaking, we share the same timeline of bitter events and broken memories. Yet, whenever we meet in the shadow of our conversations and breathless laughter; his words echo within me.

‘I am the roommate of your friend. As I like reading she suggested me if I would like to read your book and return to her. So I did read half of the book and I really liked it. It's the less words which impacts, and you made it clear with your book. Though I have few questions out of curiosity if you don't mind answering!! I am yet to finish your book; I will give you feedback once I am done with it totally. Till then take care.’

In the shadow of my table lamp, on July 28-2017, at round 9.07 pm, I was reading this email from her. I hadn’t seen her. But I knew, she had read my first ever book – BETWEEN MEMORIES OF YOU AND ME, We Exist. Then she wrote again…

‘Things that came to my mind when I was reading your book that is... Has he been through this? Or has he seen anyone around him going through the same and he has written in? Where did you get your inspiration to write this book? And why this subject? I am just curious because every writer is a normal person first that is the reason I am asking you this question. Don't worry about responding soon. Take your own time I have no hurry!! Hope you have a good week!’

Since July 28-2017 till today, our conversations sounds the same. She writes in more to me than I write back less to her. Yet, she is one of those, who will sit in the shadow of the most simplistic thing, smile effortlessly and make me imagine again. My imaginations will continue stretching between July 28-2017 and August 02-2019. Still nothing would change between this friend of mine and me.

‘Be in allowance. Question everything. Don’t expect anything. We are all here, in this world for a reason. Let life take its own time. Let the universe answer everything in its own way. Don’t be rigid. Be in allowance.’

We met after a decade. We met in the overcrowded, loud surrounds of a food court on the second level of a newly opened mall on a less known highway. Her thoughts had changed. Her life had rapidly changed. But she had remained the same friend, I had met almost ten years ago. We never had long conversations then. She had just joined the office. Yet, we stayed in touch. Only to thank this today in our lives, when we still discuss our lives at ease and with loads of love. She has been a positive influence and in the shadow of her soulful smile, I always look forward to a life, which hasn’t yet showered all the little gems of happiness on us.

‘One day, I wish to go there with you, my friend. I have heard it’s an ‘unreal’ place.’

On October 18, 2016, in the shadow of tough morning hours, I read this message of hers. These words of hers were written across to me, in the company of a photograph. The photograph was that of Havana in Cuba. These were her honest words. And when I did meet this friend of mine, she came down dressed in my favorite shade of yellow. From then till today, I have always called her ‘HOLOOD PRAJAPATI’ meaning Yellow Butterfly. As a friend, from a distance of more than 2000 kms, she sends me positive vibes of immense nature. Every time, I am faced with a challenge, she empowers me with one or the other mantra of Good Life.

‘I had to make a choice between a call, chat, message and a letter. And I chose to write a letter to you.’

Between the months of May 2018 and August 2018, I was a broken soul. I had left the job with an agency I had given 48 months of my life to. I had sacrificed my personal happiness too, to meet their deadlines and build a reputation of high honor for them. But I was mistaken. They ignored me and made sure to build up pathetic pressure, which left things intolerable for me and I chose to depart. My salary was withheld. My bank accounts were running dry. And I was in serious debt. In the shadow of unending problems, I received a call. She was my one-time colleague from a communication house, we had both worked together in. She was calling me to make an offer. That offer was going to change my life forever. I ended up writing the script for UBUNTU, a play performed by the autistic kids of a well-established school in South Mumbai. The school paid me, what I demanded. The script was well-appreciated. And I am still thankful to my friend of mine, who introduced me to the never known world of innocence. Even today, she reads every word of mine with great interest and always tells me – Keep Writing. 

All words, I wrote here are real words of no one else but my friends. These are those friends who have stood by me during all the thick and thins. These are friends who have stood by me during broken days and shattered nights. These are friends and their words who have always made me believe – They are there for me.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean that those who are not friends any more are not important to me. They are very important. In fact, when I helped them, they still chose to show me, I mean nothing to them. I thank them for this honesty of their betrayal and hurt. At least by betraying my trust and hurting me deeply, they have proved to me that FRIENDSHIP is THE SHADOW OF THE EVENING, which increases with the setting sun of life.

Trust me, those six up there are the six most important shadows of my life. And if you are wondering, why haven’t I mentioned their names; I must say they don’t even need to be named. They know, I love them all IMMENSELY.

Apart from the six most important shadows of my life, A BIG SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS FROM PUNE. LOVE YOU ALL FOR EVERYTHING THAT YOU MEAN TO ME AND WILL CONTINUE BEING TO ME.

Love you all. Happy Friendship Day.

- Virtuous Vociferous | August 04 | August Blog-1 | Never Settle | 2019