Social on my musings

Time Capsule in a Train

Harshal Suryawanshi — Wed, 15 Dec 2021 17:52:00 +0000

For most of the people who are unfortunately adult now, one of the exciting things we did during vacations was travelling by train. The first thing that made a train journey exciting was - the window seat. Oh the joy that was felt when you found an empty window seat, was indescribable at that age ( because it was overwhelming and also because we didn’t know enough words back then).

This was equally complemented by sulking when there would be a grumpy adult already occupying the coveted seat. Then you somehow try to make a hybrid crying - complaining face to appeal to that person’s conscience. If that didn’t work then complain in a low voice to your parents go get the window seat. Mostly the tactic worked and you would be watching the moving landscape for the rest of the journey.

The second fond memory of those times was eating in the train, not alone, but sharing it with your co passengers. And as the grass always seems greener on the other side, anything offered by other people always looked tasty. If anyone is not sharing their biscuit with you you try to stare them to submission, so that they finally offer you one.

Oh those were some good days! Simple days. Ignorant and blissful days! Now a train journey is about efficiency, travelling at night so you don’t waste a day. A curtain of blackness staring at you from the window, that is if you are looking outside the window and not typing away on your phone like I am doing now. But today is little different. Today brought a piece of those sweet memories of childhood journey back. It compelled me to write this entry after a long time. It made me feel happy and content.

I have already stretched the suspense too thin so here’s what happened:

I boarded the train around 9:30pm. Found my side upper berth and deposited my bags there. Removed the footwear and with the grace of a dancing bear, climbed up and sat there stretching my legs. Whipped out my phone to let everyone know that Mission is Accomplished. I repeat Mission is Accomplished. After feeling like Hritik Roshan in Lakshya when he climbed that cliff, i started looking around.

A family had opened their tiffin for dinner. An uncle was sitting on the seat opposite to them staring into nothingness stoically. As the family was unpacking all the things they had brought they offered uncle some food. As is the norm, the uncle politely refused. After few seconds another member of the family insisted to share the dinner, but our stoic uncle refused again politely with a smile. The family then proceeded to clean off their consumables.

I was watching this from my high vantage point, slightly hoping that someone from the family would glance at me. I was already done with my dinner, but it seems the grass still seems greener on the other side even when you are an adult.

It felt good to see some positivity around. In the age of globalization where me and my have mostly replaced give and share, that family was happy to share food with the uncle. Their actions spread some goodness around which I was lucky enough to bask in. It was like watching a small time capsule in a train - full of good memories and good feelings.

I feel a little conflicted about this last paragraph though. I remember the ending line of the movie ‘A Wednesday’ where Naseeruddin Shah’s character refuses to tell his name saying that people find religion in the name. I believe that there are good and bad people in whatever category you want to create be it based on gender, geography, religion etc. The family that offered food and the uncle who refused with a smile didn’t seem to be of the same religion. The family that offered food had not even thought of that. The distinction between religions didn’t make the act of kindness any greater or any less meaningful. It was just that - an act of kindness. I hope we all see the world through the same lens.

To Help or not to Help, is the Question

Harshal Suryawanshi — Mon, 02 Dec 2019 16:21:00 +0000

Usually when I write something, I am clear on what the end is going to be, what is the objective that I am writing for. And this is not because I spend hours on thinking how and what to write but rather it is because one of the things that I am really good at, is… procrastination. I would feel like writing on a topic and then I would actually put my thoughts in words months later. But sometimes it happens that the topic is already there, lying dormant in your conscious and then some trigger just brings it to the surface.

This is one such topic. So let me start from the beginning. Last weekend I was going to a nearby place, Bhongir, for a outing. I had to spend 2.5 hours at the railway station waiting for the train. And before you assume that the train was late, let me make it clear that I was left waiting because the train that I thought would take me to Bhongir, didn’t run on Sunday. But then years of missing the 1’o clock local at Pune has done wonders to my patience and so the only thing that I was left cursing at was my own stupidity (that’s one more thing I am good at). Anyways, so I was sitting on one of the ‘blocks’ (I don’t know what to call the structures that are made near the pillars for people to sit) at the platform, with earphones in my ears. Two middle aged people, probably brothers, were sitting at the next ‘block’ in front of me. One of them was eating a ‘Veg Puff’ (taking some artistic liberty here because I don’t really know whether it was veg or not). Both of them were engrossed in talking to each other. They appeared to be simple village folk based on their style of clothing. I was observing their animated discussion trying to guess what they were talking about. But my effort to …um…eavesdrop was interrupted by a lady asking me for some money. She had a cataract in her left eye. She was carrying a register which she was asking me to take a look at. It probably had some information of her medical condition or the donations she needed for the treatment.

And as it has now become a second nature for me, I politely refused to entertain her request. I think I have become so natural at this now that the she didn’t even linger near me hoping that I will change my mind. I hadn’t even bothered to look at that register because I have seen this scenario many times before. It still pricked me a little to say ’no’ with that kind of finality. But as I said I have grown accustomed to these scenarios now and that pressure at my heart was gone the next second. After that, the woman searched for someone else who would be willing to ‘help’ her. She had actually passed the aforementioned guys at first, but then turned towards them to ask for help. Now, as soon as that woman had left me, I was curious about whom she approaches next. When the woman approached those guys I had imagined that they will blow her off similarly like me. But contrary to my expectation one of the guys showed interest in giving her money. But he didn’t have a lower denomination to give so he asked his partner whether he has any. He too didn’t have change, so finally the guy gave 50 Rs to the woman. I think the woman too didn’t expect to get more than 10 Rs. She was happily surprised to get 50 Rs, thanked the men, gestured God to bless them and then moved on.

Seeing that scene played out I first felt bad for the guys, because I was pretty sure that they were duped. But then I started feeling bad for myself because I could have easily done what that guy had done, ‘helped’ that woman. I am sure that even those guys would have been aware at some level that this woman might be using her disability to get some quick money. But they chose to ignore that doubt and gave money to the woman while I had erred on the side of caution and refused.

Some years ago, I too was like that guy. I have given money to people for bus tickets since they had ’lost’ their wallets. I have given money to people claiming that their spouse was in hospital and they don’t have money with them to reach the hospital. They even gave me a fake number so that they can get in touch about returning the money. In this particular instant I didn’t have change, so I had gone to the nearby railway station to get change and handover some money to that person. Some more incidents like this and then I started to say an occasional ’no’. By this time I had started travelling and that brought on some more varied experiences. In one particular occasion in Khajuraho, a man came from his small house and asked me money for a samosa. I was about to give him the money because I wanted to avoid the uneasiness which follows such a request. Also I wanted to spend the whole afternoon at that temple so I wanted to get rid of that person. But then I figured since I had time to kill, why not make this a bit interesting. So I started enquiring about his home (since I had seen him coming from his house I knew he just wanted to get some quick money), asked him about what he does for a job, what he does on the weekends etc etc. After a minute of silence the guy himself chose to leave. I then employed this template whenever I had time to engage with a person asking for money. The way they answered the questions gave me a hint as to what exactly they need the money for. And mostly it turned out that they were just there to make a quick buck. Once in Vijayapura I gave money to an old person for bus ticket. The money should have been enough to cover his fare but then I saw the same person going to another person to ask for money. I actually confronted that old person about asking for money again and he just gave some lame excuse and left. All these incidents have left me disillusioned and now as I said, it has become second nature for me to say ’no’. But last Sunday, I felt guilt making a strong comeback when I saw that man giving money to that woman.

I was thinking that what if that woman ‘really’ needed that money. What if it wasn’t a ploy for getting easy money but the only way she could afford her treatment was by asking for money? The woman is just a placeholder. You replace her with any person you have met asking you for money. I can’t imagine myself in such a situation where I had to ask others for money. I would absolutely hate it. But what if circumstances have really conspired against them for their life to be at exactly such a junction where asking money from others is the only way out? Out of 10 people asking me for money, 9 of them will be bogus but what about the 1 which really could have used whatever little help I could have offered. How do I know who really is in need and who are just lazy to do anything about their lives? It’s this not knowing, which is really bothering me. And if anyone has a better viewpoint to look at this situation then do tell me.

The person who gave the woman money seemed happier than me who had managed to not get duped. I might have been the smarter one among us but wasn’t he wiser? Wasn’t his liberal approach on who to help and whom to not better than me? Because at the end of the day everyone would prefer to have a ‘happy’ journey than a guilt-laced one, wouldn’t they?

The Edison Journey - A Short Marathon

Harshal Suryawanshi — Thu, 05 Sep 2019 03:12:00 +0000

It has not been many days since I ran my second 10k run successfully. The last time I participated in the run it was more of a walk than a run. This time it was half run half walk and I completed it in lesser time than I had expected. I was pleasantly surprised by this and I saw the same feeling echoed by most the other runners from HTC.

It is one of the things I really like about marathons in general. You are in competition with yourselves, not others. This time I had decided to finish better and actually do some running in the 10k run. Everyone was trying to do better than what they would normally do. The atmosphere around, the positive encouragement and an urge to be better drives us all to put that extra spring in every step.

Competition is not new to us. We compete in every sphere of our lives. From getting good grades to getting placed, life has been a series of competitions. From competing with Sharmaji ka ladka to competing with Vermaji ki beti, it has mostly been competition with others. But the two runs that I have run, the competition was with myself and I think for most of us that was the case. That might also be because we were not trying to be first at anything but just the best of ourselves.

Anyways I was planning to write something to describe my Edison Journey but the dull pain in my legs after the run, wouldn’t let me pen down my thoughts properly. But then it also gave me a parallel which describes the Edison Journey perfectly.

Our journey in the program was like my 10k run. We ran (did exceptional work) sometimes and sometimes we walked (have a plethora of options here). It was not an easy journey, it was arduous and it was demanding. But we pushed through the pain, ploughed through the rough terrain and finally now, have crossed the finish line. The experiences we had along the way have enriched our lives and we have become a better version of ourselves than when we started the run.

The pain that lingers on is a reminder that the juice was worth the squeeze. Whatever we have learned in our run of 2 years is going to help us in years to come, in our professional careers and personal lives too.

And although we have completed our run for now, there’s always another challenge up for grab, another milestone to achieve, maybe even a half-marathon to be run. So carry on the rigour and enthusiasm we had for our 2 year short marathon in your future runs. Live up to the ethos of ‘Once Edison - Always Edison’ and all your future runs will definitely be equally rewarding, if not more.

Thank you all for running with me.

A Copernicus I Met

Harshal Suryawanshi — Sun, 13 May 2018 18:41:00 +0000

When I first came to know that the catholic church had banned Copernicus’ book because in it he suggested that the earth revolves around the sun, I thought ‘What!, its so obvious’. Maybe it was because I already ‘knew’ that the earth is not the centre of our solar system. But now I can understand why the church did what it did. When we hear something getting repeated or experience something everyday, we tend to think that this is how things are. And when we encounter something out of the ordinary it comes as a rude shock.

We have been wired to think about ourselves a lot, it’s how we have survived as a species. Of course we think about our families, our friends, relatives and the society(this one is unnecessary most of the times). But we think about all of them from ‘our’ perspective. For people living in cities, this becomes a more acute problem because we have a very strict routine and few (meaningful) human contacts. So we are always concerned with ‘my happiness’, ‘my troubles’, ‘my problems’, ‘my achievements’, (‘my boss’?). But I was fortunate enough to have an experience which broke me out of ‘my’ reverie.

I am part of the ‘GE Volunteers’ group and one of our programs is notebook distribution drive in government schools. The kids in the schools are always very happy when we visit the schools. It is really heartwarming to see their faces light up with happiness. And it feels good to help these kids in a small way to achieve something important in their lives - education. After my first participation in the drive I realised how lucky I was to take things like notebooks granted when I was studying. Although I didn’t come from a rich family, I never remember having to make any compromise for anything related to studies. But these kids were having it so tough. they have to come to school, work at home or fields and study without proper means or guidance. So it was a humbling experience for me the first time around.

The second time we visited some schools in Prakasam disctrict of Andhra Pradesh. We had started early and had reached the final school for the day. It was evening and the school was about to end. We finished distributing the books a little before the final bell. The school staff had offered us tea. I took a cup and was sipping at it. By that time the bell had rung and children were running on the field eager to get back to home. But many of them had stopped on their way and were having conversations with some of the members of the volunteers group. Some were examining the vehicle that we had come in. And some others were playing, fighting and chasing each other. Basically normal children stuff. I was thankful that no one had come to me to talk(the questions from kids can get quite challenging). But there was this one girl who was staring at me. Maybe she was trying to gather up the courage to talk to a stranger. I thought that I should initiate the conversation but I didn’t know Telugu. Just when I was about to try my luck with English, a small kid came and went near the girl. Upon seeing him the girl lost interest in me(which usually happens much quicker).

The kid had shabby clothes and a runny nose. The girl wiped his nose with her uniform, tried to clean his face with her hands and lifted him in her arms. And then with a last look towards me she started walking in the other direction. I kept watching her torn school bag held in place with safety pins and one functioning buckle, till she exited the gate. The girl herself must have been in 7th-8th standard. The kid must have been her younger brother. The responsibility that she carried at such a young age, caring for her brother along with managing her own studies, school and other chores was really admirable. But the thing that moved me the most was there was no hint of ‘self-pity’ or ‘defeat’ or ‘self-aggrandizing’ in her eyes. They were just ’normal’ eyes which genuinely cared for her brother without expecting anything, without making it into an event. Her look seemed to ask me, “I am happy, so why aren’t you?”

We had gone there to distribute notebooks to the children, to help them to learn. But it was the other way round. That day I learned that even though these children are having it tough they still manage to find happiness, maybe even more than me, than us. I was so lost in ‘my’ world, I thought I had so many problems, so many things to worry about, that I was frowning more than I smiled. But now, whenever I feel sad or depressed, I just revisit this memory, that last look. She was the Copernicus for me who made me realise that I am not the centre of the universe. Thank you for the rude shock, Copernicus.