Abhishek's Musings

  STARTING SCHOOL     I distinctly remember that eventful day when I started school for the first time in my life. I can still feel the buzz and excitement at our house as my parents and grandparents took it upon themselves to get us, the siblings, started on the right note.                Since there isn't much age difference between my younger sibling and me, we started school around the same time. Preparations for the ominous event began months in advance. School uniforms, stationery, and books were bought. A pair of colourful water bottles and attractive steel lunch boxes were acquired. We were extensively coached on how to address our teachers and ask for permission to use the restroom, if required.               The D-day was a warm and sunny one as I jumped out of bed, eager to start what promised to be something new in ou...

  IT IS THAT TIME OF THE YEAR As the sun set over the harbour, the lights of the city came on, one by one. It was the close of a significant phase of my life, as today was my last day at school. As my friends and I hugged, greeted, and embraced each other at the farewell party, the mood was bittersweet. It was a time to be sad because I would soon part ways with some of my friends and teachers who had been with me over twelve years, right from the time I was a toddler and now an adolescent, experiencing puberty. It was also an exciting moment because the unknown future, with its infinite possibilities, beckoned. We signed our names on the back of each other’s shirts, which we would preserve as a memento of our time together. Soon, it was time to leave, but not before we promised to stay in touch forever.   As I returned home that evening, I once again looked back on my twelve years at my school, Bishop Cotton, Shimla. Today, as I leave school, it is on a happy note, with many ...

  IN TWO MINDS   I am holed up in my condo, curled up on the sofa, with a pint in my hand. The music system is playing some romantic blues songs. Bottles of beer, packets of tacos, chips, and meatballs lie strewn around a table in the living room. A life-size poster of W. Axl. Rose peers down at me from the wall. The mood is despondent, given that it should have been celebratory instead. It is prom night, and I am all by myself at home, parked in front of the TV, listening to blues, and guzzling some cold beer. How did I end up alone on prom night? Well, let me start from the beginning.   ‘Lucas Carson, please open your book and start reading the poem ‘O Captain! My Captain!’ by Walt Whitman commanded Mrs Braganza, our English teacher at Cottonwood High School, Salt Lake City, Utah. A vigorous jerk on my shoulders by my classmate Benjamin suddenly woke me up from my reverie. I looked up, confused, and fumbled for words. Mrs Braganza repeated her command. I hurriedly opene...

  A TOWN SHAMED   Margaret Thomas, Director of the CIA, stared down at her three colleagues in the conference room. Sam Washington, Richard Stone, and Daniel Oliver, who had gathered to be briefed on the results of their investigations over several years in a shameful case where one of their young operatives, John Simon, had been stigmatised and rendered indisposed.   ‘Washington brief me on the case, right from the beginning, ’ commanded the Director, with an inquisitive tone. Sam Washington gave her a mock salute, looked down at his notes, and began narrating the sequence of events that led to the tragedy.   ‘It so happened that on the orders of the government, our agency’s asset and his family were called to Oklahoma. He was supposed to continue pursuing his education while on our rolls. However, the situation in Oklahoma at the time was very fluid, and the scene was abuzz with student uprisings, politicking, and picketing; in other words, student politics were at...

  FATAL HELP   The cosy little nook in the garden was where Deepak retreated during the day in search of peace of mind. He had been troubled lately by a string of uncalled-for incidents that began when one of his colleagues at work, Mr P, decided to help him out. It so happened that Deepak was looking for some domestic help for his overburdened family. Mr P. was in the business of supplying labour to interested parties. He ran an NGO that specialised in this activity. “Trust me, Deepak, I’ll solve all your problems in a jiffy. I know just whom to send, who will take care of all your worries,” said Mr P to Deepak one fine morning. “Thank you, Mr P., for all your help,” said Deepak.   And so it happened that weekend, Mr P. delivered a somewhat overzealous-looking girl to his doorstep. Although Deepak immediately had misgivings, against his better judgment, he decided to try her out and keep her for a week. He soon discovered that the girl was of no help to him and was ill-m...

  THE STRIKER   Sachin Anthony Raja was a promising athlete in high school. His keen eye, fluid movements, and striking abilities were noticed by his high school coach pretty early on. Mr Arkin Nicholas decided to field him, one last time, for the Seattle Thunderbolts before he moved away to university. The game was fixed against the Tallahassee Swamp Rats in their home ground.   ‘The weather is certainly extreme here in Florida, ’ moaned Sachin, as he and the team arrived in Tallahassee by train. The match was fixed for the coming weekend. As it was a university game, a packed house was expected. The day of the week was Wednesday, which meant they had one whole day to themselves to rest and do what they may. The Tallahassee team management had insisted on the match being played on a Friday, as rumours had it, it was their lucky day. Mr Arkin reluctantly agreed on the match day, but given a choice, he would have picked Sunday. His team were a group of fearless young lads,...