IN THE KINGDOM OF CAPTAIN KIAN

Captain Kian

I felt his soft fingers tickle my chin. As I slowly opened my eyes, his eyes were on me. For a moment, I had forgotten that I had gone partying last night. Had it not been for him, I would have not believed of having woken up in the little kingdom that he proudly stakes his claim to.

In the ‘Kingdom of Captain Kian’, I am his subject. On other days, I have never felt the need to spot a snail. Neither have I placed a rarely found stone and a beach shell around a snail, to serve as an interesting topic for a perfect Instagram update. 

Captain Kian’s kingdom holds a special place in my heart for the things, his kingdom holds within itself. My favorite sighting though is his little bicycle, which is parked right below his father’s bicycle, which actually hangs out of the wall, right behind their kitchen wall. Or did I mention about Captain Kian’s tiny helmet, which is placed right on the top of his father’s huge helmet and besides his mother’s stylish helmet!

I’ve always been a fan of Captain Kian’s enthusiasm. Just last week, he won a medal for having run a marathon of 5 kms, which took him through hilly terrains and plain lands. The vision of the medal dangling around Captain Kian’s neck is yet to fade out of my memory. It won’t, I am sure, the vision won’t fade; no memory of his has ever faded out. 

Captain Kian is a quick learner. His proud mother shared with me an incident as to how Captain Kian strummed his guitar to an audience of marathon runners and participants. If I am not mistaken, he was instantly bestowed the title of ‘The Young Guitarist’. 

At the age that Captain Kian is now, I hadn’t even thought of taking up cooking. But apart from pursuing many hobbies, Captain Kian has a penchant for cooking too. His mother had once shared with me a video of him presenting his very own procedure of cooking a delicacy. I was stunned by his mannerisms. If he takes this part seriously, he may fare exceptionally well as a chef too. How can I forget mentioning the breakfast he made for me? A breakfast of bread slices, with cheese and peri peri between them! I wish, I could have had them more! Only that, I had chosen to begin with a light diet.

Captain Kian's Kingdom of Joy

By now, while reading, you must have realized that Captain Kian dons many hats. He is a very good creator too. If you get a chance, do take some time off your busy schedule to see as to what he does with his Legos. I got the chance to see it. I sensed the passion with which, he had created a structure. This structure holds a swimming pool, two Bankura horses (wooden toy horses, I had gifted to his mother). He has also parked a huge vehicle, closer, very closer to the structure. The vehicle, in Captain Kian’s words, “is a transformer and can take any shape anytime.” Since the structure needs security, Captain Kian has deputed one of the many robots one gets to see in Michael Bay’s movie version of the ‘Transformers’. 

In here, I also wish to mention that Captain Kian is an animal lover too! He secretly smuggles in kittens in his home (even though his mother is highly allergic to them), feeds stray dogs and shares a warm relationship with birds.

Captain Kian and I have one thing in common; we both love books. I’ve seen him sit with a book. He won’t leave a single word unread. Once he is done, it becomes our automatic responsibility to make ourselves available for the series of questions, he would demand answers to; of course from us! But I trust his knowledge more than mine. He might be a bookworm but his ways of learning things are not bookish. Maybe that is something, he seems to have inherited from his cinematographer father or his writer mother (others know her as a medical writer, for me she is a writer; a fellow writer).

Of the performer in him, that I am a fan of, Captain Kian leaves no stone unturned. If he takes a liking to someone, he can put up an instant performance too. Till the time I was preparing to take his leave from his kingdom at Shivaji Park, he shook a leg or two to a folk song. I recorded that moment on my mobile. I shall cherish it for days to come.

As I bid a heavy hearted good bye to Captain Kian, he came closer to me and whispered in my ears – Why can’t you stay back? Why do you have to leave every time? Can’t you spend an entire day with me/us? To his questions, I had the simplest answer in the most affirmative tone – I will definitely make sure that I meet every demand of yours. By the window side, where we had our morning breakfast and our cups of tea, Captain Kian once again expressed that he wishes to revisit my residence. He further added, he wishes to stay back for a day or two.

If the future gives me a chance, I would like to write an entire series with Captain Kian as the central hero. Will his character be that of a detective? I don’t think so. But if I ever get the chance to establish one connection between his character and mine, it would be of that pure emotion, which stirred within me the feeling of parenthood. All this, in his little kingdom of joy… Captain Kian’s Kingdom of joy!

- Virtuous Vociferous | August 12 | August Blog-1 | Making of the story | 2018

AT THE STROKE OF RANDOM THOUGHTS

I believe life is a journey of random thoughts.

Thoughts that last for a second and the ones that last for a lifetime.

It is only at the stroke of some random thoughts that I chose to share mine from today and few from the days, not many calendar years ago.

Random Thought #1

An hour back, the dogs got grumbling again; not one of the rare patterns that I am not well acquainted with. But this event keeps repeating itself. Unusually these fights break out during this specific hour of a crossover, from a Sunday to the Blues-day (Monday). These conflicts break through the silence of the night. I appoint the lamp in my bedroom the official spokesperson to anchor the unspoken hours, of an otherwise noisy night. One random thought after the other, is this how this night plans to reveal yet another day? Bow, vow, woof, hoof; there go the dogs again. Either hungry or horny, they are going to stop at none.

Random Thought #2

If I am asked what my favourite colour is, I will be heard announcing yellow as my first choice, only to be followed by red, maroon, brick red and neon red. At times, I spend hours explaining my fondness for black and white. Therefore you will not be left with a doubt to see me drive a white car. It’s a cosy little, spacious car. It goes by the name of Zen Estilo and sports a tattoo too – Mom’s Pride, Our Honour.  My car is not just my car; it’s also our family’s first car. Fresh from a new scratch and slapped by the failing veins of its AC, it drove us through the highway, saved us from the potholes, left us feeling rich with the experience of moody monsoons. As the winds blew, the downpour grew fiercer and the muddy waters flowed thicker, the car chose to run tougher. Either angry or ambitious, our car is just another story in making.

Random Thought #3

I remember seeing her in the hospital. I have known her mother for years now. We have been colleagues first and then friends. My mother had accompanied me to the hospital. The nurses had wrapped this bundle of joy in the softest clothes. Her mother, my friend held her tenderly and gently placed her in my arms. For three minutes that I held her, I was overcome by countless emotions. As she kept growing, her mother shared her stories. We attended her first birthday, skipped her second and maybe forgot her third. But she kept growing. Today she is in the second grade. Initially she ran shy of me, locked herself in the kitchen and didn’t reveal herself till the time I had left their apartment. Today as I flashed my smartphone and told her, “This is an apple.” The same shy girl came closer and replied, “Uncle, if this is an apple, shouldn’t you be eating it instead of confusing it as a phone?” I am yet to recover from this innocent question of hers. I think I will never have a reply to this question of hers because every object of our desire makes us its ardent slave. Ira, I salute you.

Random Thought #4

In the year 2008, Nikhil and I were in Goa. For the five days that we stayed there, we explored every corner of Goa that made us imagine a million things about it. We went on a river cruise, we drove on Hero Honda Splendour, we observed the mannerisms of foreigners and secretly saw some Indians ape the American tanning ways. On the second last day, we were told that we can spot dolphins, if we delve deep. The boat might have taken us to the spot where dolphins supposedly take a plunge or two; we saw none. Years later, while attending a seminar, I heard someone whisper, “Did you see those dolphins?” I was at my wit’s end. I was attending a scholarly talk and I had heard someone talk dolphins. Before I could react pretending to be irritated by the small talk, I saw her walk in and she carried those two dolphins with utter grace. I don’t remember the year and neither do I remember seeing the woman again. But I am sure the tattoo of those two dolphins on her arms might still be busy making her look more beautiful than ever. My first encounter with tattoos and the spell they cast.

Random Thought #5

If migration makes you famous then I too had migrated a year back to a new city. Three hours away from Mumbai, I had made Pune my home. But my migration didn’t make me a celebrity like other cities could have possibly managed to. My migration was always pregnant with the sensation of feeling detached. On weekends, I would rush home like a child rushes back from a boarding school. For the five days that I would stay in Pune, I hated being a stranger to some realities. There were very few honest faces, which surrounded me and my thoughts; they still are a part of my life. But the city failed to make me a celebrity. I wish I had shifted to some other place, as they say Bengaluru is much happening. There's always that city away from the city we live in, which feels a little lonely and sometimes a lot more homely. But my home will be Mumbai and the only other city that I can survive in happily is Kolkata. Of the two, which one is my favourite? Oh don’t compel me to make a choice between my two mother cities.

Random Thought #6

He was fond of smoking. Tea kept him energetic. He was smarter than me. In his 50s, he was handsome and still desirable. Today he would have turned 69. But he chose to leave handsome rather than live through the oddities of time. No matter, how against I was to his many thoughts, he will continue being the hero. Even today, he is famous as Hitler in our hometown. He would have continued being famous as Hitler in future too. Such was his temperament and such was his obsession with a disciplined life. Happy Birthday to you Baba; I will keep missing you on every July 10.

It’s 1 AM. Before I could sense it, Monday had barged into my mobile phone reminding me that sleep offers no discounts. And in this journey of random thoughts, I wish to wander more, learn more; see the dolphins bounce again, doesn’t matter in which form – either real or in the form of a tattoo again.

-Virtuous Vociferous

ISN’T MOTIVATION THE KEY?

I remember being very young when my father walked in during a midsummer afternoon and declared, “Wake up, you got to learn cycling from today.” He held my hand and I followed him to a local bicycle mechanic’s shop. I remember the mechanic only by his first name – Abdul. His physical features were uncanny with a hairstyle that could inspire many hilarious characters for a comic strip. His jawline was peculiar, seemed a little misaligned and he broke into a smile every now and then. My father chose a bicycle for me, a maroon colored mini cycle of Atlas make; strong and sturdy, inviting. We made our way to the adjacent playground. My father gave me some basic instructions about how to pedal, maintain balance, take control of the handle bar and switch between looking upward, downward. As I sat on the bicycle, I told myself, “This looks pretty easy.” My father released a gentle smile and I started pedaling. I might have gone a little ahead when I lost balance, hugged the ground and smeared with red mud. The children playing nearby rushed to my rescue but, my father discouraged them and walked closer to where I was lying helplessly; now staring at the rude blue sky.

My father asked, “What happened? Why aren’t you getting up?”

I defended, “I can’t. This is not my cup of tea. Look at me, I am all so dirty.”

My father, now having raised his volume slightly warned, “You learn it this way or never.” 

Seeing my adamant behaviour, my father didn’t press me further and let me tread on my own. For more than a week and less than a month, I didn’t ever head to Abdul’s shop to hire a bicycle to start learning bicycling. I was mocked by my friends. Some of them showed their compassion while others simply decided to give me a miss. My mom stood by me; she opened the door, pushed a note of Rs 5 deep in my palm and warned, “You are not returning today without learning. Make the world stop laughing at you or I will make sure that you learn it my way.” Shuddering and breathing heavily beneath the threat, I rushed to Abdul’s shop, grabbed the same bicycle and was back on the playground. This time, Abdul had a little mercy on me; he accompanied me to the playground and promised to not let me lose my balance. Abdul’s assurance made me feel confident and I started pedaling. I pedaled for quite some time, turned my head to see that Abdul was long gone. My heart sank and I hit the ground instantly. I was so outraged that I felt like pelting a stone at Abdul, breaking his misaligned jawline and make him suffer for life. Before I could set my thoughts into action, Abdul came rushing; he helped me gain my posture back and said, “Good job. Next time, you should pedal more, fall without worrying and start cycling again.”

Abdul’s words kept echoing in my ears. I returned home valorously. The story that I built around my learning experience seemed to have no end. I kept repeating the same to my mom and she kept smiling. After some while, my father debuted right in the middle of the story and doubted everything that I padded up to support the core of it. Next morning, he promised to accompany me to Abdul’s shop and verify my claims.

As the sun rose, my heart cursed the morning; on a nasty front, I also prayed for an earthquake and a heavy downpour to thwart my Bicycle Training Programme. But God seemed to be on leave too. Abdul happily let the bicycle go; he accepted my father’s bet that if I don’t fall, he will not charge us a penny. The pressure was mounting. As I took control of the bicycle, my mother’s words echoed again, “You are not returning today without learning. Make the world stop laughing at you or I will make sure that you learn it my way.” I looked into my father’s eyes and he seemed to be communicating silently to me, “Son, don’t make me say what I said that day. Prove me wrong. Don’t let me should at you, pushing you to learn it this way or never.” After a while, he yelled, “Pedal. Whom are you waiting for? Go ride. If you fall, get your ass up and ride again. Or else, I am never going to pay for your bicycle practice.”

Some of his words might have been negative but they had a positive connotation. Being a father, he didn’t want his son to fail. My mother didn’t want her child to fail. On the tad end I saw Abdul, being an entrepreneur, he too was betting his luck on me and somehow I felt, he wanted to lose out on that small bet of Rs. 5; he longed to see me succeed.

I started pedaling, I temporarily lost the balance and then regained my composure. In a matter of 45 minutes, I had completed taking five rounds of the playground that had treated me like a loser. In the sixth round, I fell off the bicycle. But my father ran to my rescue. His single word for that moment, “Finally.” Abdul let out a sigh of relief and when we returned home, my father had a story to narrate. I was the listener this time. My father told it the way the events took place. He didn’t pad up a single thing. Abdul found a momentary mention too. My mother stared deep into my eyes, drew me closer, hugged me tightly and said, “Didn’t I tell you I will make you learn my way?”

Emanuel James "Jim" Rohn was an American entrepreneur, author and motivational speaker had once remarked rightly – Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going.

My only regret is; people around the world have suddenly stopped motivating and have started taking keen interesting in conspiring. Thankfully I will hold on to my ground to continue being a motivator for those who need my help and my timely advice.

-Virtuous Vociferous

PS: My father was a person of few words but he had the strength to bend a mind. I am unaware about Abdul’s whereabouts but, I am sure he meant everything he said. My mother still continues to be my source of constant inspiration.