I am what I am. I became what I am. Over the years. One may say over decades. I have no excuses. I am not making any excuses. Will I be able to change? Probably. But why should I? Initially I felt the remorse. The first bribe. The first trip abroad, first class, paid by a businessman. They all wanted something. They wanted me. More than I wanted them. I got over the heaviness of my heart. Conscience left me alone. I was young. I began to enjoy the luxuries. Sometimes I think I earned it. It became a habit. Then I stopped thinking about it.
As one gets older one tends to reflect. Memories begin to play out like a movie in high definition. I don’t need my glasses to see that! The soul becomes heavy. Heavy with regrets. Before I die will it become light? I do not wish it to descend to the centre of the earth. To the depths of shame. My life is a long movie. It has no credits. No titles. No heroes. No villains. Just a few characters. Trying to cobble together a life dictated by events. The soles have worn out now. My feet are now touching firm ground.
My story begins eight decades ago. My father was a struggling politician. My mother devoted her time between her husband, both her children, the kitchen, and the endless procession of guests some of whom stayed for days. The order kept changing according to her moods and requirements. She was pure in heart as much as my father was deep in his political beliefs. Life was tough. Bribes were scarce to come by, especially for a struggling politician.
We had good schooling. Affluent families sent their children to English Convent schools. The catholic nuns were strict. Besides it was fashionable to tell one’s neighbors where the children did schooling. My father helped solve a land issue that was threatening to move the school to a different neighborhood. I don’t think he ever had to pay tuition fees for us. No one ever dared ask him about money matters.
I was bored with school. These nuns gave so much homework. Being the biggest and oldest in my class I enjoyed being the leader. Not in class. Outside on the playgrounds. I knew they called me names behind my back. It didn’t matter. I planned my revenge. Slowly. Deliberately. I got the leader of the group. I followed him into the common washroom and pinched his hand till he screamed for mercy. They left me alone after that.
All classes had recess at the same time in the afternoon. The favorite spot in the playground was a sand pit which the older boys occupied. My classmates approached me with an olive branch. Get them access to the sand pit and they will be my friends for life. When one is young, one views life as a very long time. I accepted. Before the recess was over, I got them absolute access to the sand pit for the rest of their school life. I made my first group of friends. More important, I solved a big problem. Word spread. Girls and boys brought their issues to me during recess. I sat on the rock that bordered the sand pit and dealt with them one by one. Stolen books and pencils to stolen hearts. I never failed anyone.
I did not complete school. I gave up studies long before. I wrote my final exams for the tenth standard and failed. My father gave up after my fifth attempt. He had become a local councilor by then. He began taking me to unofficial meetings. I had grown up to my full height of 6 feet three and a hefty 230 pounds. I would like to think that I was not acting as his bodyguard. Whatever the reason, I keenly began to follow his logic, problem solving skills, and smartness. When we were alone he thought out loud. I learned quickly.
I stood for election as chairman of the youth wing of my father’s political party. My father was quite surprised that I won. Soon I became what my father could not achieve in his lifetime. I became a minister of the state cabinet. Life became a bed of roses after that. I was only 35. My father had long since retired. I did not have to take advice from anyone. I led my own life, always a rebel within the political party. But they too needed my support, my following.
“Grandpa.” My daughter’s son ran up to me and sat on my lap. I was lounging in my wooden recliner. I had just come back from the temple. These days, every Sunday, I concede to my wife’s request. Being my birthday, my 84th year, we went to the temple before daybreak. Don’t get me wrong. I am not turning spiritual in my old age. But I would like to lighten my heart. I have not learnt any prayers. I go there and tell them what I did over the years. There are five or six gods in different parts of the temple. Every week I confess and lighten a different part of my mind to them. I am careful to tell them different stories. I hope they do not confer with each other. There is a good distance between them. I doubt if one can hear the other.
I have done some bad things in my life. I have done a lot of good things too. Do I have to confess about the bad ones? I am sure the gods must have kept tabs on me. Maybe I should remind them of the good deeds. You know. Have those stories stacked up in front. I have never hurt anyone. Whatever bribes I earned, I gave away 40%. Did I do it to gain popularity? Not consciously. Okay. Maybe in the beginning. But then I began to enjoy giving away things. Robin Hood is my role model. I took from the rich and greedy and gave to the poor and needy. Every Sunday anyone who came to my house got a free meal. People wait from five in the morning outside the gates. Today is a special day. Hundreds of people will visit me and pay their respects. Respect? I earned it.
All I want now is peace. I have built an empire. My children and grandchildren can live without worrying about money. I don’t have much regrets. All I want is to play with my grandchildren. They go to the same school as I did. The school now has a research wing in my name. No doubt from the donations I had showered on them. They will start to arrive soon. Politicians, bureaucrats, businessmen…
They may have called me dumb in school. Now they call me Chanakya. I will accept that name. I would like to be known as Chanakya, the clever fox of Indian politics.
As one gets older one tends to reflect. Memories begin to play out like a movie in high definition. I don’t need my glasses to see that! The soul becomes heavy. Heavy with regrets. Before I die will it become light? I do not wish it to descend to the centre of the earth. To the depths of shame. My life is a long movie. It has no credits. No titles. No heroes. No villains. Just a few characters. Trying to cobble together a life dictated by events. The soles have worn out now. My feet are now touching firm ground.
My story begins eight decades ago. My father was a struggling politician. My mother devoted her time between her husband, both her children, the kitchen, and the endless procession of guests some of whom stayed for days. The order kept changing according to her moods and requirements. She was pure in heart as much as my father was deep in his political beliefs. Life was tough. Bribes were scarce to come by, especially for a struggling politician.
We had good schooling. Affluent families sent their children to English Convent schools. The catholic nuns were strict. Besides it was fashionable to tell one’s neighbors where the children did schooling. My father helped solve a land issue that was threatening to move the school to a different neighborhood. I don’t think he ever had to pay tuition fees for us. No one ever dared ask him about money matters.
I was bored with school. These nuns gave so much homework. Being the biggest and oldest in my class I enjoyed being the leader. Not in class. Outside on the playgrounds. I knew they called me names behind my back. It didn’t matter. I planned my revenge. Slowly. Deliberately. I got the leader of the group. I followed him into the common washroom and pinched his hand till he screamed for mercy. They left me alone after that.
All classes had recess at the same time in the afternoon. The favorite spot in the playground was a sand pit which the older boys occupied. My classmates approached me with an olive branch. Get them access to the sand pit and they will be my friends for life. When one is young, one views life as a very long time. I accepted. Before the recess was over, I got them absolute access to the sand pit for the rest of their school life. I made my first group of friends. More important, I solved a big problem. Word spread. Girls and boys brought their issues to me during recess. I sat on the rock that bordered the sand pit and dealt with them one by one. Stolen books and pencils to stolen hearts. I never failed anyone.
I did not complete school. I gave up studies long before. I wrote my final exams for the tenth standard and failed. My father gave up after my fifth attempt. He had become a local councilor by then. He began taking me to unofficial meetings. I had grown up to my full height of 6 feet three and a hefty 230 pounds. I would like to think that I was not acting as his bodyguard. Whatever the reason, I keenly began to follow his logic, problem solving skills, and smartness. When we were alone he thought out loud. I learned quickly.
I stood for election as chairman of the youth wing of my father’s political party. My father was quite surprised that I won. Soon I became what my father could not achieve in his lifetime. I became a minister of the state cabinet. Life became a bed of roses after that. I was only 35. My father had long since retired. I did not have to take advice from anyone. I led my own life, always a rebel within the political party. But they too needed my support, my following.
“Grandpa.” My daughter’s son ran up to me and sat on my lap. I was lounging in my wooden recliner. I had just come back from the temple. These days, every Sunday, I concede to my wife’s request. Being my birthday, my 84th year, we went to the temple before daybreak. Don’t get me wrong. I am not turning spiritual in my old age. But I would like to lighten my heart. I have not learnt any prayers. I go there and tell them what I did over the years. There are five or six gods in different parts of the temple. Every week I confess and lighten a different part of my mind to them. I am careful to tell them different stories. I hope they do not confer with each other. There is a good distance between them. I doubt if one can hear the other.
I have done some bad things in my life. I have done a lot of good things too. Do I have to confess about the bad ones? I am sure the gods must have kept tabs on me. Maybe I should remind them of the good deeds. You know. Have those stories stacked up in front. I have never hurt anyone. Whatever bribes I earned, I gave away 40%. Did I do it to gain popularity? Not consciously. Okay. Maybe in the beginning. But then I began to enjoy giving away things. Robin Hood is my role model. I took from the rich and greedy and gave to the poor and needy. Every Sunday anyone who came to my house got a free meal. People wait from five in the morning outside the gates. Today is a special day. Hundreds of people will visit me and pay their respects. Respect? I earned it.
All I want now is peace. I have built an empire. My children and grandchildren can live without worrying about money. I don’t have much regrets. All I want is to play with my grandchildren. They go to the same school as I did. The school now has a research wing in my name. No doubt from the donations I had showered on them. They will start to arrive soon. Politicians, bureaucrats, businessmen…
They may have called me dumb in school. Now they call me Chanakya. I will accept that name. I would like to be known as Chanakya, the clever fox of Indian politics.
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