The monster within

               The woods were beautiful, lush and inviting. At the heart of it was, a serene, sun-bathed glade. A small stream of sparkling water tumbled down a cluster of rocks into a small, blue pool with a sandy beach. Most of the glade was covered in ankle deep grass, that flowed and waved in the breeze. Exquisite purple and yellow wildflowers dotted the grass adorning the glade like tiny, shimmering gems. White dandelion seeds floated by like little flakes of snow and settled on the blades of grass only to be lifted up into a mesmerizing dance by the wind again.

              



The glade was discovered by the children who had just moved into some quaint little cottages in the small English town at the edge of the forest. The children were entranced by the beauty and splendor of the glade, spending almost all of their waking moments playing, frolicking and just lying down in the grass. The smell of the flowers, the brush of the dandelions against their cheeks, the splash of the stream were all music to the children's ears. The glad rung with their excited squeals and their innocent laughter filled it with an enchanting aura.

               But, unknown to the children, this beautiful, peaceful glade, this veritable paradise, hid a dark secret. Behind the veil of the waterfall, beneath the jumble of rocks lurked a creature. Nobody knew what it looked like, whether it was human or animal, because it was seldom spotted in the open. Some people recognized its existence and feared it, although, why exactly they feared it was never clear. As for the creature, it wasn't as evil as it was made out to be. All it wanted was to be loved and included. All it wanted was some company. The creature delighted in watching the children play and gambol around the glad. It watched them silently from behind the veil, between a crack in the rocks. Their laughter, joy and innocence delighted his heart and nourished him. It was almost like food and sustenance to the creature. If they didn't show up on some days, the creature became disappointed and sad.

          

   The creature did not always used to be like this. He used to bask in the rays of the sun, prance around the glade, splash about in the waterfall and be as happy as anyone could be. He had friends too - some woodland critters, the occasional picnickers and hikers all were friendly but for various reasons, they all slowly drifted away. The hikers found better, more adventurous trails to hike, the critters moved closer to the human settlements in search of easy food and the creature became increasingly lonely.

              As time went by he began increasingly frustrated, annoyed and angry. He sulked for days together, prowling the glade pondering and muttering. Eventually it was too much for him and he decided to shun all living beings. He retreated to his dark haven behind the waterfall, spending his days brooding and longing for company. He avoided the occasional people who did wander into the glade. Sometimes he even scared them off.  When the children first came to the glade, he ignored them assuming that would be like everyone else -  visiting but not staying. But these children came the next day, and the next and the next. They kept coming every day, spending most of their time in the glade and loving every moment of it. It was like they found a solace, peace, contenment and fun in the glade that they were not able to find anywhere else.

             The creature watched warily, not showing himself lest they became frightened of him. He started enjoying their antics and his love for them grew exponentially every day. And eventually despite it's immense restraint, it started obsessively waiting and watching for them to arrive each day. All the while, deep down, the creature knew, that like everybody else the children too would one day leave. It had steeled itself for that day. But days turned into weeks and weeks into months. The children kept coming, kept playing, and kept the creature happy. Eventually, it would occasionally show itself to them. The children were surprised and a little scared to learn about such a malevolent presence in such a serene place. They still continued to come play in the glade, but now were constantly nervous and scared of the creature showing itself. The creature became even more adventurous and wanted to play with the children now. But years of exile under the rocks had not been kind to the creature. It looked wild, uncouth and dangerous to the children. Its exuberance and eagerness to please the children was interpreted by them as savage attacks and the children were now scared to death of the creature but it did not understand this new animosity.



The children were also growing up and encountering newer experiences. They found newer places and parks to play in. They played sports and video games now, their times of gleeful frolic in the glade now forgotten. The monster grew enraged at this desertion, and at their failure to visit the glade every day. It prowled the glade in the open now, hurt, angry and sad. The monster went into fits of unpredictable and wild rage, venturing to the edge of the glade and terrorizing the children and people with his murderous roars.

The townspeople got together and decided that the monster was a threat to them, and decided to try and drive it out of the glade and away from their town. They armed themselves with rudimentary clubs, pitchforks and flaming torches. And for the next 2 weeks they tried their best to drive the monster out of the glade by every means possible. They did not really want to have to kill it. They just wanted it out of the glade, so it could become the paradise it once was. . They had only succeeded in making it madder than ever. The monster for his part, was ever  more enraged and hurt by these actions. More than anything he didn't understand why they were doing this. All he asked for some company and love to be shown to him.




Eventually, the townspeople tired of their repeated failure to drive the monster out. They reluctantly agreed to burn down the glade and the wooded area around it which they believed to be the major habitat of the creature. So they dug fire pits around the demarcated area and started several small fires directed inward from the edge of the glade.Soon the whole glade was ablaze. Every evergreen leaf, twig and blade of grass, burning in the angst of the townspeople.The creature ran around howling in agony, as he felt the heat roasting him alive. He had never endured pain so intense and immediate. The glade that used to bask in the warm light of the sun and glisten with dew drops was now swathed in an red ball of fire, with huge swirls of black smoke billowing out and suffocating the beauty and the serenity of the glade. The next morning all that was left were the charred skeletons of the once lush trees and the scorched earth where there was billowing wild grass. The pond and the waterfall had turned murky black and disgusting because of all the ash and debris that had dissolved in it. And there beneath the muddy waterfall, stretched out on a rock outcrop, was the burnt body of the monster, his eyes no longer held any anger or pain. There was just an infinite sadness and maybe a hint of ..peace.

Back to the Homeland

                     We began our final approach to  20 minutes behind schedule. It surprised me because the  first leg of the journey from Atlanta to Frankfurt had gone like clockwork. I pondered for a moment, the existence of some bizarre force, that rendered my flight late as soon as it entered my homeland's borders. So, there I was tired and sleep deprived squinting out of the window of the airplane at my beloved city. It was 12:20 a.m, but the city was still on the move. My heart skipped when I saw the tiny famed auto putt-putting away through a street with those yellow lamps burning down. I was vaguely reminded of  how flat the city looked having been used to seeing skyscrapers for the past 3 years.Scattered bolts of lightning suddenly light up the sky and the clouds.There was a storm coming. I smiled at the irony of my supposedly sweltering hot home city, welcoming me with a thunder storm.

 

As we taxied toward the gate, I was able to make out the moderately sized terminal of the airport still adorned with the glowing red neon sign declaring " Chennai International Airport". The airport hadn't changed a bit in 3 years. I gathered up my bags with a growing impatience as I wanted to get out, stretch my legs a bit and meet mom and dad. I did not have a roaming mobile plan and so couldn't call dad to let him know the flight was late. We filed out of the aircraft slowly and I hurried out of the gate, vaguely noticing the grimy, poorly lit corridors and walls. The terminal seemed small and empty. I was more than slightly irritated due to the delay and hurried out the gate and followed the signs for Immigration. There were 3 queues and all of them moved fairly fast. I couldn't help but notice that none of the Indian passengers so much as said thank you to the immigration officer when they were done (force of habit made sure I did). Good ol' India, I thought -  pleasantries and courtesy are for the firangis not for the Desis!!. A Couple more escalators and a short walk brought me to the baggage claim area. After 30 minutes of frenzied searching, cajoling and pushing, like a school of piranhas, I finally managed to extricate my bags and wheeled it out of the airport.

                       Stepping out, I was immediately aware of the gigantic concrete structure towering over the airport in what was open space 3 years back. This was the metro rail station that had been in construction for the past 2 years. It gave the airport and the surroundings a surreal look not unlike one of those rainy and seedy, yet futuristic streets depicted in the movie "Blade runner".  After taking a few minutes to get my bearing, I spotted my parents and walked over. After the hugs, and the usual exclamations of " oh you've gone so thin" and "how was the flight" we started loading the bags in the car just as the first rain drops of the night pattered down. The parking lot was in familiar chaos, with auto rickshaws zipping by helter skelter, incessant honking, security personnel trying in vain to direct traffic, and porters jostling suitcases and haranguing passengers for a few more rupees. The construction had only served to multiply the chaos, miring the parking lot and road in slushy mud and impassable construction material. At long last we got out of the airport onto the trunk road after paying the astronomical parking fee, by which time the rain was pouring down in sheets, causing almost zero visibility. Add to it the fact that parts of the road were blocked off because of the construction and we were left with the herculean task of trying to get home in one piece. So after almost 45 minutes of fighting the deluge, being heckled by every passing vehicle, taking numerous diversions, using choice swear words, and the incessant honking, we finally reached home to my mom's tongue tingling, dosas slathered with onion chutney.

                  The next few days were a blur lost in between spells of jet lag, power shutdowns and the incessant shuttling to and from my grandfather's place and my house. The heat was buried under intermittent showers of rain, leading to a damp, humid atmosphere that depressed me. Initially the oppressive traffic that I had conveniently forgotten for the past 3 years returned with a vengeance and jolted me. The cacophony of horns and motorbikes, jarring and irritating at first, soon became a sweet melody that endeared me to Chennai all the more. After getting shouted at and honked at a couple of times for politely yielding to traffic and pedestrians, I soon settled into the Chennai way of driving - Have one hand glued to the horn, the other to the gear, one leg to the clutch and the other alternating between the brake and the throttle, and of course be prepared to roll down your windows any instant to give a motorist a piece of your mind - Ah..What Bliss!

In between the inevitable (obligatory) round of visits to all the relatives, I tried to stuff my face with as much south Indian food  as I could and having not tasted authentic indian fare for the better part of 3 years, it was like ambrosia to me. Little did I know that, on top of all this voraciousness, I would be forced to down mind boggling quantities of food at all the relatives' places, in between cliched comments of how I had gone thin. The result conspired to enact my bowel's version of "thermonuclear war" (credits to Steve ;P) but thankfully, it wasn't too dreadful. At long last I got some breathing space and managed to meet up with some school friends. Hanging out like old times felt nostalgic and fun at the same time, although the checks at pubs and restaurants felt like they were from another planet.

       

I hardly had time to visit my old haunts yet managed to drive around a lot of the city. I could scarcely recognize many of the streets I had been on countless times before. The explosion of new buildings, businesses and restaurants had conspired to change the landscape drastically. Added to this, was the construction of the new metro and subway lines, with half erected steel pillars and concrete overhangs looming out of the ground every which way. The construction's steel, and concrete tainted almost every major street and neighborhood, which ended up in endless Take diversion signs and seething masses of disgruntled motorists. Just add rain to the mix and you basically get a Indian version of the "The day after tomorrow". When I left, the city was already bursting at its seams, but now it just felt as if the seams had long been breached and the infrastructure was just trying to play a losing game of catch up to tame the monstrous growth of the city.

  I had barely had a whiff at the scent and saltiness of the coastal air, before I was being whisked off to the southern reaches of the state to, wouldn't you know it, visit more relatives. After rushing through 3 cities, paying my college a visit, more good times with college friends and traveling on a train after an eternity, in about as many days, I was ready to just curl up at home and sleep for a day or two. But, voila, the end of my vacation was upon me. So the last few days were spent in frenzied shopping, trying to visit as many places and eat in as many restaurants as possible, while squeezing in time for goodbye lunches and dinners.
 

The small hole-in-the-wall eatery near my school that had the most delicious (albeit unhealthy) chilly beef. The countless variety stores and mom and pop grocery stores, where I used to call on the "annas" with battered 50 and 100 rupee notes in my hand instead of plastic. The jostling and hustling to catch the "anna"'s eye and shout what you wanted. The musty smell, the momentary relief these shops provided from the fiery heat outside, the small glass jars of candy, the tinkle of coins, and the innocence of 6 year olds on their first visit to the store alone, clutching a 5 rupee coin with a look of awe, glee and bewilderment on their tiny brown faces as they pointed at a candy bar they wanted - No amount of shopping in a Walmart or a Kroger will buy you these experiences and feelings. The corner tea stall, where one sipped tea in dirty glasses even in the most sweltering of days. The hustle and bustle of two wheelers and the cloud of smoke and dust one had to negotiate. The wild celebrations and glee of movie goers in theaters as they jumped, clapped, whistled and grooved to their favorite stars cavorting around on screen to hopelessly illogical plots and heroism. Our cinema might mostly be shit, but we revel in the movie going experience like no American can or will ever understand. The billowing embers from the smoked corn stalls at the marina, impoverished youngsters hawking fried chickpeas and boiled peanuts out of their big steel containers. The city roads bursting with all manner of two wheelers, four wheelers and three wheelers, revving their engines, ignoring stop lines at signals, primed as if for a race and bursting out the blocks seconds before the green signal flashes. The constant tug of war against government officials over basic amenities, the circus of indian politics, of propagandists and their agendas, the loudspeakers proclaiming all manner of political rhetoric and the cluelessness of the public towards it all.

I miss all this and much more in this so called American dream that people back home imagine I am living. I don't know when I'll be back again to Chennai, but I do know this  - my heart is firmly back in Chennai. Despite its numerous shortcomings, this is what I'll eventually call home and all the little things that make up my beautiful city will forever beckon me back into its bosom.

It had been a whirlwind return to the motherland and  it was still difficult to comprehend the path my life had taken me or the radically new lifestyle I was having in the states.Chennai, meanwhile, had kept growing like a juggernaut, devouring more and more of the 90's India and transforming into an alien hybrid of western and local cultures. But for all the western facade the city puts on, there were all these little things about the city that made it uniquely Chennai and which made me fall in love with it all over again. All these little things will, I at least like to believe, will never change.

 
             

The importance of mediocrity

                        This is for all of you who fall in between. For the ones who neither quite make it in life nor are complete failures. For the ones whose lives are an endless blur of bills, loans, mortgages, and paychecks that disappear in a week. For the ones who have never led the field nor brought up the rear. This one is dedicated to all of you who have mediocre jobs and mediocre lives. This is for those who "also ran".

                        Most of you are probably wondering how mediocrity can possibly be important. Isn't it supposed to be boring? Don't people work their ass off to avoid mediocrity? After all how many films have you seen that portrayed an ordinary person leading an ordinary life. They are always about heroes or villains, the rich or the poor, the upper class or the dredges of society. They are seldom about the "in-betweeners" ( pardon my prosaic license). Most of us were brought up believing that there are only two ways to do anything -  Excel or suck. And we are taught, if you suck at one thing, then do something else - something in which you will excel. We are taught that no matter what we do, be it owning a company or cleaning dishes, we have to strive to be the best at that. Commendable advice and admirable goal, but unfortunately not everyone's cup of tea. Some of us just don't turn out that way regardless of education, upbringing and societal influence. Some of us fill in the gaps between the CEOs, Directors, Managers and the machinists and manual laborers.

              

                   Before you start to sermonize that this piece is about De-motivating or discouraging people in their pursuit of success, let me point out that that is absolutely not the case. This piece is about why the world needs mediocrity, in fact, why it is as vital as technical / business brilliance. Humor me for a second here - Imagine a world full of go-getters. Everyone strives hard and advances quickly up the corporate ladder whether he started out as a clerk or as a junior engineer. Let us also imagine that the bottom most rungs of the ladder have no dearth of people as new ones fresh from high school or vocational studies occupy them. What happens to the jobs in the middle ? What happens to the data entry jobs, the secretary jobs, the call center jobs? We would have such chaos, in a world that is already so cutthroat, that people would not stop at killing each other to climb the ladder. And all of this is not only relevant in your typical work place but also in sports, politics and any other walk of life. The person who wins a race only does so because the others obliged him by coming anywhere from 2nd to last. If you really think about it, the very act of winning, of feeling that powerful emotion of having triumphed in any endeavor is made possible only because there are people who contrive to do worse than you. The reasons don't matter. Winning and excellence exist because mediocrity allows it to. Losing and failure exist because mediocrity will not fall so low. Sometimes we have to struggle to elevate ourselves from the bottom to the average. Other times we contrive to give up winning positions to fall in between.

But then why does mediocrity exist in the first place. Why do some people succeed, some fail, and some are ...well, just stuck in the middle. There isn't a single answer to this question. Lot of people are so afraid of failure that they will do anything NOT TO FAIL. But they stop at that. They do just enough to elevate them to average. Not enough to make them succeed. Do they not succeed because they are lazy, because they lack motivation, because they procrastinate, because they are unambitious, because they are cynical, because they have complexes ? All of the above undoubtedly contribute to mediocrity and as successful people would have you believe, these are not the only reasons. I think that there is far more to it. A lot of factors have to come together to ensure success, some of which we can control and some that is beyond our control. You can be the most hard working footballer in the world but you might never feature in the first team of any team simply because you lack the talent to match your hard work. Cases in point are the umpteen number of European club level footballers who begin their careers, languish and then end their careers in some obscure 3rd division club.  Even in top clubs like Barcelona or Manchester United, there are footballers who never quite make it into the first team throughout their careers.

 There is also the widespread notion that if one fails or is average in a particular endeavor, there is always an opportunity or a task that one will succeed in or be the best at. Unfortunately, there are certain characteristics and behaviors of individuals that do not change regardless of the task that they do. And it may so happen that these things can undermine one's pursuit of success in which ever task or endeavor he chooses to indulge himself in. Hence, the end result might become mediocrity across the board - in one's career, family life and social life. One can well bring a very valid argument to the table - Can one not do a mediocre task with high degree of perfection? Isn't that a sign of success, however localized the context maybe? In my opinion, that is not success. The way I see it, you can only be so good a secretary or typist (no offense to people in those jobs).

How do people handle mediocrity though? Short answer. Not so well. Most people hate mediocrity and will do anything to get ahead of the curve. Some will altogether abandon their pursuit and choose another calling. Yet, there are some, who choose to embrace mediocrity. Believe it or not, some people actually are happy with an average job and an average life. They do just enough to stay afloat. And at the end of the day, don't we all spend our lives in the pursuit of happiness? If some of us find it in mediocrity, then so be it. So it is kinda unfair and demeaning when the successful show their utter disdain for mediocrity. It would behoove them to remember that they are where they are, they are what they are because of the mediocre.

There is a saying that goes " No one remembers the guy who came second". Well, I beg to differ. The guy who comes in second or even third are vaguely remembered at least by a few. The guy who finishes last also has the dubious honor of being remembered for failing but the ones that are truly forgotten are the also-rans, the ones that finished in the middle. It's high time the world remembers and recognizes the importance of the average. So, my mediocre friends, stand tall and be proud, of what you bring to this world, and try to find the happiness in your mediocrity. And if , in future, you should rise above it, remember where you came from and what you were.




P.S : Most of you would construe this article as negative and pessimistic. Still others would find it the product of a lazy mind and an inability to succeed. You are welcome to your opinions. After all I am not making claims of greatness or even validity of argument of this article. It's a mediocre article by a mediocre writer at best ! :) :)