The moment Arvee had boarded the train, he had received stares and frowning countenances seemed to stretch all the way to the rear of the coach. Arvee had been forced to travel in the Mixies coach after his surgery, but ever since he had heard the inspirational speech by Clive-52, he had decided not to remain silent and submissive any more.
Arvee was not born a Mixie, it was only after a hover boarding accident while racing with friends at his law school that some of his body parts had to be replaced by bio-mechanical robotic parts. It had been a very tough decision for his parents. His father had never consented to the cyborgation process, he had in fact even suggested euthanasia. However, under section 232.334 of the constitution of the Republic of Sol System of Planets, since Arvee's mother had consented to the cyborgation process, Arvee received a new lease of life.
Arvee though had not been too grateful to his mother, for though he seemed to have changed only on the exterior, with three robotic limbs and a minor base interface implant in his sub thalamus, many of his friends had suddenly turned cold towards him. Arvee had been aware of the disgust with which Mixies were treated by society at large, but he hadn't expected to be clubbed in the same category. Not with such a minor bio-mech replacement surgery. After all, he had grown up watching the controversies that Clive-52 kept getting involved in, and C-52 was no more human than the holo-vision set he used to watch the news bulletins on; or that was what Arvee believed until he himself started to receive the same treatment that C-52 had been put through right from when he had been born.
The day Arvee returned to college after his surgery, his entire universe came crashing down around him. Odd things started happening that morning at the Gravity Train station. Somehow, news of Arvee's surgery had percolated through to the masses. Arvee received many curious stares, but some of the curious stares also had an element of disgust in them. The security personnel on the platform walked up to Arvee just before the GravTrain pulled up at the station and escorted him to the separate coach meant for Mixies. Arvee felt a burning sensation at the back of his neck and his larynx failed him when he attempted to protest.
At school, not one of his previous friends seemed to want to talk to him. Soon, a crowd of some fifty odd persons collected outside the school, mostly consisting of the members of the Socialist Party of Titan (SPT). They raised slogans against the school for having retained Arvee on their rolls. The school administration had tried reasoning with the irate mob; after all, Arvee wasn't exactly a Mixie, with barely visible changes (the robotic limbs were designed to appear natural, they could even perspire), and with no quantum processor brain implants, he was almost as normal as any other kid.
At home that night, Arvee had locked himself in his room and had refused to come out for dinner. His worried mother though couldn't pay attention to him as she had been summoned to the sessions court of Crysdo (formerly known as S III Tethys- a moon of Saturn) to defend Arvee's case against the PIL filed by the SPT.
Arvee switched channels of his holo-vision, only to find his case being scrutinised on almost all the channels. Even Neuroz, one of Arvee's favorite channels which beamed their entertainment programmes directly to the cerebral cortex of the brain had changed their usual programmes and had instead put on a horror programme in which the machines/robots subjugate humanity for centuries until the “Chosen One” manages to destroy the machines and restore humanity to its past glory. On one of the news channels, a cadre of the SPT passionately spoke about how Arvee's father had been against the cyborgation.
Arvee felt like throwing up and his chest felt like it would explode. His vision blanked out and a saline sensation filled his mouth as he bit hard on his tongue. His hand seemed to move of it's own accord as it reached for the remote and soon, the Suicide Help Network's call in programme filled up half of Arvee's room.
Arvee lay slumped on his bed as he watched the programme. When it broke for a commercial, C-52's image filled up the holo-vision. Though a sympathetic government had come to power, C-52's civil rights movement was still largely marginalised, hence most of his campaign's adverts were featured only on non-mainstream channels such as the Suicide Help Network.
C-52 had been born with a debilitating and progressive motor neuron disease. His condition could have been treated with stem cell therapy. However, Lun, where his home was situated was where the pontiff, his Holiness, The Supreme Sumwump presided and stem cell therapy had been banned on Lun a century ago when one of the first colonies were being set up there.
C-52's parents had instead opted to sign him up for an experimental programme in which his brain would be fused with the quantum computing processor of a C-52, fusion fueled spacecraft.
C-52's soothing, deep voice calmed Arvee, and his passionate speech calling for the equal treatment of all humans dislodged the last bit of doubt clouding Arvee's mind. He became convinced that he too deserved to live and nobody had a right to marginalise him or demean him.
The next day, Arvee boarded the regular coach of the GravTrain. As the train freely fell down the tunnel at an acceleration of 9.8 meters per second squared, Arvee's own conviction to fight his fight to a logical and rational end swelled up within him. The stares and frowns around him didn't seem to matter anymore. Suddenly, the brakes of the GravTrain were applied and the train pulled up at a minor service station where passenger trains rarely stopped. The doors blasted open letting in a whiff of dried fish that were being loaded into a goods train docked nearby.
Two bulky security guards marched in and shouted out Arvee's name. When Arvee responded, the two of them roughly picked Arvee up and bodily threw him out of the train. His backpack came flying after him and as it landed, it spewed out it's contents all over the docking station. The doors slid shut and the train whizzed away leaving behind a trail of water vapour as the fusion engine ran at max rpm to work the train up to the required velocity.
Arvee stood up and brushed the dirt off his trousers. His face was red with rage, but he drew in two deep breaths and calmed himself. As he stood there amid the jeering of the workers at the loading bay, Arvee silently swore to never rest until he and the other cyborgs were treated with the respect and dignity that they deserved. Much like another great soul who had stood on the platform of Pietermaritzburg as he resolved to start off Satyagraha, Arvee too fisted his hands and raised it upwards and yelled out to the universe in general, “The day Clive and me and the other cyborgs are treated as humans shall be the day of enlightenment for humanity, until then, my body and mind shall know no rest!”
Wednesday 12 August 2009
Thursday 6 August 2009
Hashi Bhaiya- Short Story
For all those who had had a rough night, the following day would invariably start under Hashi Bhaiya's expert stewardship. His push cart which had one day turned up under the Banyan tree near the student's activity center quickly became the one source of solace for Advaith and many of his friends who liked to enjoy the occasional wild night.
As a bleary eyed Advaith walked up to Hashi Bhaiya's corner one sunday, late in the morning, he noticed a long faced fresher sitting on the improvised bench next to the cart. Hashi Bhaiya was preparing his special Sikanjvi, so it quickly became clear to Advaith that something had badly shaken up the “kid”. Advaith had not paid much attention to the freshers that year as the university had tightened it's grip on ragging and had gone to extraordinary lengths to curb the so called social evil. So much so that, the freshers' hostel resembled a jail after sunset.
Advaith gave a nod of acknowledgement to Hashi Bhaiya who returned it with a knowing smile. He knew that the MADS (music and dramatics society) gang had been hanging out at Wadia Bros., the alcohol store/improvised pub, the previous night. Wadia Bros. was an establishment which had for years been the mainstay for all the thirsty souls. It was an alcohol store like none other. With a clinic adjacent to it, the frequent visitors to this watering hole par excellence quite often joked amongst themselves about how TIP (This Is Punjab, inspired by the movie “Blood Diamond”) the entire set-up was. There were plastic chairs and tables on the pavement in front of the store with a tiny tin shed to one side which served starters for those who preferred their drinks with something spicy.
Hashi Bhaiya served the fresher his drink and counseled him about surviving the initial bout of home sickness that most freshers go through. Advaith stopped worrying about the “kid”, he almost felt a supercilious emotion; he looked towards the fresher for one last time with a condescending smile. The “kid” nervously looked away; Advaith decided to leave him alone and instead turned his gaze upon Hashi Bhaiya who had prepared the pick me up that he knew Advaith would eventually order. Advaith accepted his Pudhina (mint) tea with deep gratitude which he somehow managed to convey to Hashi Bhaiya through his puffy, bloodshot eyes. “A plate of chole kulche will do you a lot of good, don't skip breakfast Puttar”, said Hashi Bhaiya in rich, flowing, Punjabi accented Hindi. Advaith readily accepted the offered plate, knowing that the mess in his hostel would have stopped serving breakfast this late in the morning.
A light drizzle started and Hashi Bhaiya quickly moved his push cart further into the recesses of the shade provided by the banyan tree. One of the wheels had long since rusted and the cart moved only when Hashi Bhaiya threw his considerable bulk behind it. Advaith sipped on his tea while he gently tested the waters as he attempted to slip back into the turbulent pool of consciousness.
“Why don't you get your wheels repaired Bhaiya?” asked Advaith through the slowly clearing haze clouding his mind.
“My customers and children that I love are all here, what need do I have to move my cart?”
Advaith returned to his hostel to get back to his books. He had had enough of fun and it was time he got started with his studies since campus placement season was about to begin. His resolve to cut out the distractions even led him to refuse to answer Sachi's, his girlfriend, calls. He had reasoned that he could always have fun again, all he had to do was abstain for a couple of months and he could always make up for it later.
Twenty years later, Advaith found himself returning to his campus, which apart from a few shiny buildings remained very much the same familiar home away from home. He had indeed managed to land a lucrative position with an MNC, and for twenty years since the day he had refused to answer Sachi's phone call, he had had little or none of the kind of fun that he had grown accustomed to during his four years on campus. On the day he had been promoted to the top position which put him in charge of the Indian wing of his company, he had received an email from his institutes's Training and Placement Cell requesting for an appointment.
The email sent a jolt of excitement through his body. For twenty years he had worked eighty hour weeks and never had he even contemplated a vacation until that moment. Putting all activities on hold, he called his institute to let them know that an appointment with his offices would be unnecessary as he had decided to personally visit the institute.
As the cab neared the familiar marble decorated gates, Advaith felt like a child entering a toy store. He felt like whooping and jumping in the air.
The two hours with the dean of industrial liaison turned out to be a drawn out affair, Advaith was reminded of all the red tape that he and his friends had to cut through during the many times they had had to organise tech-fests or cul-fests.
He was relieved when he finally was able to step out of the dean's office and walk out onto the campus. He walked around his erstwhile favourite haunts and spent ageless moments gazing at the many once familiar spots. Now that Advaith was taking a close look, what emerged was almost perverse. The innumerable nooks and corners of the campus which had once been an integral part of Advaith's universe had all changed in some small way or the other. There were a couple of new buildings, but what was more alarming was the smaller changes. The Gulmohar tree under which he had first met his girlfriend had grown taller and seemed somehow, older and weaker with many branches cut off. As he rounded the corner around the student's activities center, his mind flew to a moment which had occurred twenty years ago, to a moment spent in the company of Hashi Bhaiya. He dreaded what seemed to him the inevitable. It felt like all the omens and portends which had built up a sense of foreboding in Advaith were all meant to climax at this moment when he would turn the corner...
And there he was, with a lot more grays in his hair, and his push cart missing a wheel entirely. The three other wheels had developed a lot more rust. Advaith walked up to the cart with palpitations building up in his chest. Would Hashi Bhaiya recognise him, would it be just like the old times, or would this too be another perverse metamorphosis, alien to the treasured forms that he held so close to his bosom?
“Why so jittery? Sit, I'll make you some Pudhina chai- Baijao- sit.”
Advaith walked around the cart to take his usual place on the bench, wondering if Hashi Bhaiya had actually recognised him. He accepted his tea with shaking hands and drank half the contents in one go. Hashi Bhaiya had remembered how Advaith would insist on being served chai which was not too hot, but at just the right temperature. However, he was still unsure, the tea had only increased his heart beat rate and had made him even more protective of his memories. If he opened up now, it would only make him more vulnerable.
“Have you been in touch with Sachi?” asked Hashi Bhaiya.
A shocked expression was all that Advaith could muster up in terms of a reply to the question.
“Ha Ha! Drink your tea first, then we can talk.”
The laugh too had remained unchanged, Advaith's temporary lapse from sanity was remedied by the Pudhina Chai.
“It is only you children who forget us, can any father stop thinking about any of his children?” said Hashi Bhaiya with a saintly smile on his face.
Advaith's throat had developed a curious condition, no matter how hard he tried to swallow, his saliva refused to flow down his oesophagus.
“You haven't been in touch with Sachi have you? Look puttar, money, power, fame are all things that we thirst for, it is only love that can actually quench our thirst. Sachi is also here in Jhelum hostel, she is doing her post doctorate, go meet, who knows, maybe something good will happen. Ha Ha! Wipe the drool off your face puttar, you look like you have just seen a ghost!”
Advaith recovered enough to laugh along with Hashi Bhaiya. For the next two hours, he sat under the banyan tree enjoying himself like he never had over the past twenty years.
“Theek hai puttar, enough time you have spent with this old man. I have a special treat for you!” said Hashi Bhaiya as he whipped out his mobile phone.
That evening was the first of the innumerable evenings that Advaith would eventually spend in the loving company of Sachi.
As a bleary eyed Advaith walked up to Hashi Bhaiya's corner one sunday, late in the morning, he noticed a long faced fresher sitting on the improvised bench next to the cart. Hashi Bhaiya was preparing his special Sikanjvi, so it quickly became clear to Advaith that something had badly shaken up the “kid”. Advaith had not paid much attention to the freshers that year as the university had tightened it's grip on ragging and had gone to extraordinary lengths to curb the so called social evil. So much so that, the freshers' hostel resembled a jail after sunset.
Advaith gave a nod of acknowledgement to Hashi Bhaiya who returned it with a knowing smile. He knew that the MADS (music and dramatics society) gang had been hanging out at Wadia Bros., the alcohol store/improvised pub, the previous night. Wadia Bros. was an establishment which had for years been the mainstay for all the thirsty souls. It was an alcohol store like none other. With a clinic adjacent to it, the frequent visitors to this watering hole par excellence quite often joked amongst themselves about how TIP (This Is Punjab, inspired by the movie “Blood Diamond”) the entire set-up was. There were plastic chairs and tables on the pavement in front of the store with a tiny tin shed to one side which served starters for those who preferred their drinks with something spicy.
Hashi Bhaiya served the fresher his drink and counseled him about surviving the initial bout of home sickness that most freshers go through. Advaith stopped worrying about the “kid”, he almost felt a supercilious emotion; he looked towards the fresher for one last time with a condescending smile. The “kid” nervously looked away; Advaith decided to leave him alone and instead turned his gaze upon Hashi Bhaiya who had prepared the pick me up that he knew Advaith would eventually order. Advaith accepted his Pudhina (mint) tea with deep gratitude which he somehow managed to convey to Hashi Bhaiya through his puffy, bloodshot eyes. “A plate of chole kulche will do you a lot of good, don't skip breakfast Puttar”, said Hashi Bhaiya in rich, flowing, Punjabi accented Hindi. Advaith readily accepted the offered plate, knowing that the mess in his hostel would have stopped serving breakfast this late in the morning.
A light drizzle started and Hashi Bhaiya quickly moved his push cart further into the recesses of the shade provided by the banyan tree. One of the wheels had long since rusted and the cart moved only when Hashi Bhaiya threw his considerable bulk behind it. Advaith sipped on his tea while he gently tested the waters as he attempted to slip back into the turbulent pool of consciousness.
“Why don't you get your wheels repaired Bhaiya?” asked Advaith through the slowly clearing haze clouding his mind.
“My customers and children that I love are all here, what need do I have to move my cart?”
Advaith returned to his hostel to get back to his books. He had had enough of fun and it was time he got started with his studies since campus placement season was about to begin. His resolve to cut out the distractions even led him to refuse to answer Sachi's, his girlfriend, calls. He had reasoned that he could always have fun again, all he had to do was abstain for a couple of months and he could always make up for it later.
Twenty years later, Advaith found himself returning to his campus, which apart from a few shiny buildings remained very much the same familiar home away from home. He had indeed managed to land a lucrative position with an MNC, and for twenty years since the day he had refused to answer Sachi's phone call, he had had little or none of the kind of fun that he had grown accustomed to during his four years on campus. On the day he had been promoted to the top position which put him in charge of the Indian wing of his company, he had received an email from his institutes's Training and Placement Cell requesting for an appointment.
The email sent a jolt of excitement through his body. For twenty years he had worked eighty hour weeks and never had he even contemplated a vacation until that moment. Putting all activities on hold, he called his institute to let them know that an appointment with his offices would be unnecessary as he had decided to personally visit the institute.
As the cab neared the familiar marble decorated gates, Advaith felt like a child entering a toy store. He felt like whooping and jumping in the air.
The two hours with the dean of industrial liaison turned out to be a drawn out affair, Advaith was reminded of all the red tape that he and his friends had to cut through during the many times they had had to organise tech-fests or cul-fests.
He was relieved when he finally was able to step out of the dean's office and walk out onto the campus. He walked around his erstwhile favourite haunts and spent ageless moments gazing at the many once familiar spots. Now that Advaith was taking a close look, what emerged was almost perverse. The innumerable nooks and corners of the campus which had once been an integral part of Advaith's universe had all changed in some small way or the other. There were a couple of new buildings, but what was more alarming was the smaller changes. The Gulmohar tree under which he had first met his girlfriend had grown taller and seemed somehow, older and weaker with many branches cut off. As he rounded the corner around the student's activities center, his mind flew to a moment which had occurred twenty years ago, to a moment spent in the company of Hashi Bhaiya. He dreaded what seemed to him the inevitable. It felt like all the omens and portends which had built up a sense of foreboding in Advaith were all meant to climax at this moment when he would turn the corner...
And there he was, with a lot more grays in his hair, and his push cart missing a wheel entirely. The three other wheels had developed a lot more rust. Advaith walked up to the cart with palpitations building up in his chest. Would Hashi Bhaiya recognise him, would it be just like the old times, or would this too be another perverse metamorphosis, alien to the treasured forms that he held so close to his bosom?
“Why so jittery? Sit, I'll make you some Pudhina chai- Baijao- sit.”
Advaith walked around the cart to take his usual place on the bench, wondering if Hashi Bhaiya had actually recognised him. He accepted his tea with shaking hands and drank half the contents in one go. Hashi Bhaiya had remembered how Advaith would insist on being served chai which was not too hot, but at just the right temperature. However, he was still unsure, the tea had only increased his heart beat rate and had made him even more protective of his memories. If he opened up now, it would only make him more vulnerable.
“Have you been in touch with Sachi?” asked Hashi Bhaiya.
A shocked expression was all that Advaith could muster up in terms of a reply to the question.
“Ha Ha! Drink your tea first, then we can talk.”
The laugh too had remained unchanged, Advaith's temporary lapse from sanity was remedied by the Pudhina Chai.
“It is only you children who forget us, can any father stop thinking about any of his children?” said Hashi Bhaiya with a saintly smile on his face.
Advaith's throat had developed a curious condition, no matter how hard he tried to swallow, his saliva refused to flow down his oesophagus.
“You haven't been in touch with Sachi have you? Look puttar, money, power, fame are all things that we thirst for, it is only love that can actually quench our thirst. Sachi is also here in Jhelum hostel, she is doing her post doctorate, go meet, who knows, maybe something good will happen. Ha Ha! Wipe the drool off your face puttar, you look like you have just seen a ghost!”
Advaith recovered enough to laugh along with Hashi Bhaiya. For the next two hours, he sat under the banyan tree enjoying himself like he never had over the past twenty years.
“Theek hai puttar, enough time you have spent with this old man. I have a special treat for you!” said Hashi Bhaiya as he whipped out his mobile phone.
That evening was the first of the innumerable evenings that Advaith would eventually spend in the loving company of Sachi.
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