Tag: Jayesh tekchandaney

ये उम्र चालीस की बड़ी अजीब होती है

Life at 40
On my 40th Birthday

ये उम्र चालीस की
बड़ी अजीब होती है
न बीस का ज़ोश,न साठ की समझ
ये हर तरफ से गरीब होती है

सफेदी बालों से झांकने लगती है
तेज़ दौड़ो तो सांस हाँफने लगती है
टूटे ख़्वाब, अधूरी ख़्वाहिशें, सब
मुँह तुम्हारा ताकने लगती है

ख़ुशी बस इस बात की होती है
की ये उम्र सबको नसीब होती है

उम्र चालीस की बड़ी अजीब होती है..

न कोई हसीना मुस्कुराके देखती है
ना ही नजरों के तीर फेकती है,और
आँख लड़ा भी ले कोई गलती से,
तो ये उम्र तुम्हें दायरे में रखती है

कदर नहीं थी जिसकी जवानी में
वो जवानी अब बड़ी करीब होती है

उम्र चालीस की बड़ी अजीब होती है..

वैसे, नज़रिया बदलो तो
शुरू से शुरवात हो सकती है
आधी तो अच्छी गुज़री है,
आधी
और बेहतर गुज़र सकती है

थोड़ा बालों को काला और
दिल को हरा कर लो
अधूरी ख्वाहिशों से न कोई
समझौता कर लो

ज़िन्दगी तो चलेगी अपनी रफ़्तार से
तुम रफ़्तार अपनी काबू में कर लो
उम्र चालीस की बड़ी अजीब होती है..

The Master(’s) Plan

The timing was perfect. Four children in five months.  The planning couldn’t have been better. Amit, Sachin, Mitesh and I have been together since twenty years. Now, our kids would grow up together.
On 20th March, 2009, Amit and Trishla were blessed with their first baby, Dhruti
A month later, on mom’s birthday, 21st April, Shourya entered our family. Maahir is a Valentine day baby, year 2006.
Sachin and Prachi were blessed with their second princess, Sucheta, on 18th June. Vedika is six years elder to her younger sibling.
Mitesh and Rashmi’s family was complete, when the youngest amongst the four kids, Prisha, was born on 27th July; Aditya had a sister to play with.
Amongst close friends, Vivek and Nisha lead the pack with two super kids – Yash, nine and Naman, six.
“For our next vacation, we will need a twenty seater bus,” said Mitesh. He’s our chief co-coordinator for the vacations – binding all of us together. His planning is perfect – we’ve enjoyed each time we’ve been on an outing. He along with Sachin do all the work. Amit and I generally like to laze around.
And while there was enough time before a vacation could be planned, we didn’t want to wait for long to thank the Lord for blessing us with normal, healthy children. The trip to Tirupati was on the priority list. Mitesh wished that the four of us should make this trip together. Soon, he made all the plans for the trip.
We were to leave Mumbai on 7th September, by the afternoon train. We would reach Tirumala the next day, and head to Tirupati. Sachin made arrangements for our stay at a matth (residential facility for traveling pilgrims) in Tirupati. Amit, with his “contacts” (he has them in all places) planned for special darshan at the temple; the first one on 8th evening, and the second on 9th morning. After the darshan of the Lord, Amit and Mitesh would fly back to Mumbai. Sachin would travel to Chennai for business. I planned a visit to the Satish Dhawan Space Centre (SDSC), the rocket launch site for the Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO).
SDSC also known as SHAR is located in Sriharikota, a spindle shaped island on the east coast of Andhra Pradesh, about 80 km north of Chennai. I was scheduled to stay there for three days and return to Mumbai on 12th September after completing the commissioning of the plant and equipment supplied by our company ‘Unique Mixers’. Our mixers are in operation at ISRO for manufacturing solid propellants used in rocket propulsion systems. This would be my third visit to this high security zone.
All seemed to be going as per “our master plan” until the morning of 5th September, when Rashmi’s dad complained of chest pain and uneasiness. He had to be scheduled for an angiography on 7th September, the day of our departure. The procedure was to start at 8 am. Mitesh, being a doctor himself, was responsible for coordinating with the doctors treating uncle. The course of further treatment would be decided only after the angiography.
As uncle’s health was stable, the family advised Mitesh to proceed with the Tirupati trip after the angiography. Prayers to the Lord are always answered. Mitesh packed his bags for the trip a night before the procedure and carried them to the hospital the next morning. Since the hospital was on our route to the railway station, we would pick him. The train was scheduled to depart at 2 pm. In all probability the angiography would be over by then. We were confident that Mitesh would be with us on the trip. It was after all his plan – he had to be there.
At 2 pm that afternoon, only three of us boarded the train. Mitesh couldn’t make it. Not because of uncle’s health, but because the doctor was late for the angiography. When we reached the hospital at forty five minutes past noon, the angiography had just started. Mitesh had to be in the ‘Cath lab’ during the procedure.
Mitesh is amongst those who do not give up easily. He is a fighter to the core. Our master planner had already thought of a back-up plan. “I shall be with the Lord”, he promised. He knew he could take the evening flight to Chennai and meet us at Tirupati the next day. On the train, we missed him and his enthusiasm.
Uncle’s angiography revealed complications. A by-pass surgery was the only fix. In difficult times, the one friend that we can count on is Mitesh. He has always stood by us. This time his family was counting on him. Mitesh couldn’t make it to Tirupati.
When we reached the holy town, we were informed by Amit’s local contact that because of the rush it would be difficult for him to arrange for the VIP darshan. The matth where we planned to stay had no vacant rooms. Our plans for the trip had fallen through – we hated it. I was upset and so were Amit and Sachin.
Things were somehow managed and later that evening we by-passed a five hour queue and a few thousand devotes, for a back door entry into the temple. Amit’s contact guided us through all the “no entries”, right upto the point of darshan in less than ten minutes. At that moment, we didn’t think of using the short-cut as “not right”. It’s strange how we tend to look at things differently when we are on the benefited side.
As we stood besides the ‘contact’, with the Lord in sight for more than three minutes, I could not stop looking at those in front of me. These men, women and children may have traveled thousand of miles, would have spent many hours in the queue, only for a glimpse of the Lord. But just as they reached the point of darshan, they were being pushed ahead by the temple guards.  The treatment handed out to them was unkind, if not inhuman. We were fortunate only because of the ‘contact’ and the Rs. 5,000/- that we paid him. After the evening darshan, we settled in a room at the Pushpagiri matth and were looking forward to the 9th morning darshan. It was on the same evening that I set the goal of writing a book. My first book “My Notes”, published in November 2009 was a fruition of the goal – another blessing of the Lord.
With Sachin and Amit at Pushpagiri Matth
The average number of devotees that visit the Tirupati Devasthanam each day is about 50,000 to 1,00,000. Our morning darshan would be the VIP darshan, where for a period of one hour the entry inside the temple is restricted to 500 devotees only. You can get onto this list of “Fortune 500” only if you have a recommendation from a top politician or a bureaucrat or if you plan months in advance.
In the VIP corridors, Sachin lead the group of 500 with chants, “Govinda….Go….Vinda”. We slowly walked through the temple doors that lead to the Lord. There was no pushing by the guards this time. We had a darshan of the Lord from the fifth door out of the seven doors. It was like a one on one meeting with Lord Venkateswara. The experience of those few moments would be etched in our memories, for life. We once again missed our friend – may be wasn’t destined to meet the Lord.
As I walked backwards out of the temple but with the Lord in sight (you never turn your back to the Lord), I sensed a strong pinch on my arm. It was a temple guard. He hinted that he could put me back in the queue for one more darshan if I paid him. I guess the guards and the priests at the temple would be as rich as the Lord himself. I kept walking backwards, and out of the temple complex. I prayed to the Lord and wished that the next time all four of us shall visit with our families and hoped to have a similar darshan.
After a quick lunch, we were on our way back. We took the taxi from Tirupati, and while Sachin and Amit headed to Chennai, I got dropped at a state transport bus terminal. It took me three buses, an auto-rickshaw and about four hours to reach the ISRO guest house. I don’t remember much of this travel, but there is one thing I can never forget; the face of the man who boarded the bus and the expressions of the hen that he held in his hands.
By the time I reached SHAR it was 5:00 pm, and there was not much work that I could complete that evening. I settled into the room, thinking about being blessed with a once in a lifetime like darshan of the Lord and the other events that unfolded during this short, yet memorable trip. The only regret was that Mitesh was not with us. I wondered why?
At about 6:40 pm, Sachin called. He had the answer. Back in Mumbai, there had been another medical emergency that afternoon, another chest pain, an admission to the cardiac hospital and a life-saving injection. It was good that Mitesh was not with us on the trip. If he had been, we don’t know what would have happened.
The three of us were blessed to be on the “Fortune 500” list which met the Lord that morning, but Mitesh was the chosen one – whom the Lord visited himself. The Lord was with Mitesh that afternoon, taking care of him when he had the chest pain. Mitesh kept his promise. The Master’s plan was much bigger than our master plan.
Govinda…Go…Vinda……..
P.S. – We often regret when things don’t happen as we plan them, only to realize later that it all happens for a reason. There is a popular Malayalam quote, “Njan pathi, daivam pathi” – it means, I need to do my half, the rest shall be done by the Lord.

“The DC Disaster” – When Everything Went Wrong!

While attending a conference at Washington-DC, Anuj a good friend who lived in Seattle, visited us in State-College, Pennsylvania. This was in January 2001; I was in my first year of MS at The Pennsylvania State University. After an enjoyable weekend with us it was time for Anuj to return to the conference. Not wanting to drive back alone (it took about four hours from State College to DC), he suggested that Atin and I join him. A free ride to the Capital of USA and stay in the luxurious Hilton hotel lured us into the offer. We roped in Vishal our other roommate since we required someone to drive us back to State College.    Atin and I had never driven in America until then.
On reaching DC we returned the car Anuj had rented and asked for a one-way rental to State-College. That’s when it began to go wrong. “No one-way rentals”, “Under 25, Sorry”, “No rentals on international-driving-permit,” were the response we got from car rental agencies. In the two hours that we searched, we must have inquired at over 10 rentals. We traveled from one rental to another by bus, metro and at times even requested rental companies to drive us to their competitor. Seeing our plight they obliged. We finally succumbed and gave up our hunt for the night.  We decided to rent a car for local sightseeing and leave our worries to the next morning.
After a night ride of the city, we parked the car on the street adjacent to the hotel because we couldn’t afford the hotel parking rate of 20$. Tired and hungry, we sneaked into the hotel room one by one. We thought the hotel would charge us more if they saw four of us together. At about mid-night we called for pizzas to be delivered at the hotel.
The pizza guy arrived at 2:30 a.m.! By then sleep had beat hunger and all except me had gone to sleep. And after returning the pizzas I too went to sleep.
Our plans for the next morning had been already made; we had to move our car from the street by 6 am else it would be towed. We were late by fifteen minutes. “Good morning friends,” a friendly cop greeted us with a 20$ parking ticket in his hand. The adventures for the day had just begun. We bid Anuj good bye and started our tour of the city.
After the city tour we forgot the hardships of the previous night. We found out that we could return to State College by the Greyhound Bus Service. For three people it turned out to be more expensive than a car rental. With no options and the little money we had in our pockets we bought the bus tickets for State College. We needed to get back in time for our teaching assistant-ship assignments the next morning.
We still had to return the local-rental car. As we drove past the busy streets of Washington DC, a huge sign-board greeted us, “Welcome to Virginia”. We had lost our way! We kept searching for an angel who would tell us the way back to DC but never found one. By the time we returned the car and reached the bus station the bus had already left. To our despair, we realized that we were early for the next bus. And that would be there in a little less than 24 hours!
Out of money, gas and sleep we somehow managed to get back to the Hilton for some rest. Sitting in the grand lobby of the Hilton with no hard cash we worried over our options of getting back to State College. We requested a friend from State College to come to DC for pick up. He said he would revert. By then, Anuj returned from the conference and was shocked to see us. He chuckled when we narrated the events of the day to him.  He knew the solution to our problem, “I’ll drive you guys back!” he volunteered. He drove us back to State College that night and returned to DC the next morning in time to attend the conference. This time he took the ride back alone.
Eight years have passed but the events of those 24 hours are still etched in my memory. It couldn’t have gone more wrong than it did.

10th May, 2009

The Executive Monk

The wait was finally over. The day had arrived – after a gap of thirteen long years. It was time to live like a monk. The dates 14th – 17th October, 2010 were marked on my calendar for four months. I would be attending a 3-day Vipassana course at Dhamma Pattana, the new center built on the outskirts of Mumbai, famous for the Global Vipassana Pagoda.
Vipassana, which means to see things as they really are, is one of India’s most ancient techniques of meditation. The foundation of the practice is s?la — moral conduct. S?la provides a basis for the development of sam?dhi — concentration of mind; and purification of the mind is achieved through paññ? — the wisdom of insight. The technique is taught at 10-day residential courses during which participants follow a prescribed code of discipline, learn the basics of the method, and practice sufficiently to experience its beneficial results. All students attending the course observe “noble silence” — that is, silence of body, speech and mind.  The course requires hard, serious work. There are three steps to the training. The first step is, for the period of the course, to abstain from killing, stealing, sexual activity, speaking falsely and intoxicants. This simple code of moral conduct serves to calm the mind, which otherwise would be too agitated to perform the task of self-observation. The next step is to develop mastery over the mind by learning to fix one’s attention on the natural reality of the ever changing flow of breath as it enters and leaves the nostrils. By the fourth day the mind is calmer and more focused, better able to undertake the practice of Vipassana itself: observing sensations throughout the body, understanding their nature, and developing equanimity by learning not to react to them. Finally, on the tenth day participants learn the meditation of loving kindness or goodwill towards all, termed as meta, in which the purity developed during the course is shared with all beings. There are no charges for the courses – not even to cover the cost of food and accommodation. All expenses are met by donations from people who, having completed a course and experienced the benefits of Vipassana, wish to give others the opportunity to benefit from it. There are numerous centres in India and elsewhere in Asia/Pacific: ten in North America; three in Latin America; eight in Europe; seven in Australia/New Zealand; one in the Middle East and one in Africa.
In 1995, I attended my first 10-day Vipassana course at the age of nineteen, followed by two more in 1996 and 1997. I was an engineering student then.  Now 34, married, blessed with two kids, and shouldering the responsibility of manufacturing business, the thought of attending a meditation course for 10 days seemed like luxury.  In fact, on 14th morning, even three days of being cut-off from the outside world looked impossible. I was able to make it to the course only because of some last minute planning. A special permission allowed me to start the course a few hours after the scheduled time.
A convenient way to get to Dhamma Pattana is to take the fifteen minute boat ride from the Gorai Jetty to Essel World. I arrived at the jetty late in the evening, just in time for the last but one boat ride which would take me to the other side of the Gorai creek. As I walked towards the jetty terminal, I could not take my eyes off the majestic 325 feet tall, illuminated pagoda and its golden reflection in the placid waters.
As I waited for the boat to start, the clock turned back fifteen years. I attended my first three 10-day courses at Dhamma Giri, the first full time Vipassapa center, located about 140 km from Mumbai in the small town of Igatpuri.  During the first course I lived in a dormitory shared by 11 others. My cubicle was 8 feet x  6 feet, with walls on 3 sides, a small window and a curtain separating the dorm lobby. At night, I would creep into the mosquito net around the bed. We were advised to apply a mosquito repellent cream before sleeping.

The wake-up time was 4 am. The sound of the morning gong still echoes in my ears. The morning meditation session started at half past four and lasted for two hours. The walk from the dorm to the central meditation hall, known as the Dhamma Hall was about 300 meters. I remember carrying a torch and an umbrella during the walk. After the first session, breakfast was served in a dining hall. The menu was typical Maharashtrian – poha, saboo dana, sheera, with some fresh fruits. Milk and tea were served. After a quick nashta the meditators would rush back to their respective dorms. There was one bathroom and one toilet in each dorm. We had to line up for all the essentials and get over with it fast. One would be lucky if there was hot water in the tap. By 8 am all of the 500 odd meditators on the course would be back in the Dhamma Hall for the one-hour morning group meditation session. Between 9 am and 11 am, we could continue to mediate inside the central hall or in the individual cells allotted to us. The afternoon break was from 11 am to 1 pm. A quick, non-spicy, satvik lunch (the last meal of the day, unless you had a medical reason) was generally followed by a short nap. The afternoon session would continue till 5 pm, and included the second group meditation session from 2:30 pm to 3:30 pm.  The evening break was from     5 pm to 6 pm. We were served nimbu paani(lime water). After the last group meditation session that ended at 7 pm, there was a videotaped lecture by the teacher, S.N. Goenka, which provided a context for meditators to understand their experience of the day. The day concluded at 9 pm with specific instructions for next day meditation. By 9:30 pm we were back in the dorm and fast asleep.

In the 10-day course, the meditators would talk to each other for the first time only on the morning of the tenth day. The sharing of experience was an invaluable learning. The other excitement was calling up home and talking to family after nine days of silence. Until my last course in 1997, cell phones were uncommon. At the Dhamma Giri office there were about three PCO’s for the 500 odd meditators who wished to use them at the end of the course. Each minute in the telephone queue seemed like an additional day in silence.
In the thirteen years between my last course and this one, I occasionally practiced Vipassana meditation at home. Each time I did, I felt at peace.  It was like cleansing the mind of the    unwanted clutter
Until my second course in 1996, I had a voracious and a well known appetite for chicken. So when I chose to eat vegetarian during a family lunch everyone was surprised. I then decided that I shall avoid non-vegetarian food for a month. When that happened, I extended it to three months. It’s been fourteen years since and I continue to give myself extensions.
Back in time, as the boat got closer to the Pagoda, a part of me was still unsure if I could live the same way as I did earlier. But deep within, I was happy to have made it to the course. In the next few minutes, I had my baggage checked; surrendered my cell phone along with the reading and writing material that I always like to carry with me, and arrived to my room.
The three days there after went by very fast. If the 10-day course was like test match cricket, then the three day course was like Twenty-20, except that the schedule for each day was still the same, 4 am to 9 pm. On 17th morning, I felt sad because the course was about to get over. Two days of meditation and silence made me feel lighter from within – more importantly; I was away from the demands of every day life. I would have loved to continue for a few days more.
In the three day course, we broke silence on the morning of the third day. Within no time all the meditators took custody of their cell phones and spread in all possible corners of the centre to talk to friends and family. There was very little interaction amongst the 80 participants on the course. Technology sometimes takes away the ‘little pleasures’ of life.
I was happy to meet up with a few youngsters in their early twenties. Each of them had attended a 10-day course. After all, it is mandatory to complete a 10-day course, before one can register for a 3-day course. For them, I was the senior pro – a meditator for 15 years. Later that day, I was fortunate to meet a noted industrialist who had been attending the course since the last 41 years. It was his 82nd birthday and for him group meditation at the centre was the best way to celebrate.
During my interaction with the young guys, one of them, a MBA student, expressed his displeasure (may be a doubt) about the donation to the Global Vipassana Foundation. He made specific reference to the placards that were displayed at the donation counters, which highlighted the expenses incurred in building and maintaining facilities at the centre, and the estimated cost of the planned expansions. He related the amount of donation to the duration of the course and stay. As others in the discussion reminded him of the definition of donation, “A voluntary gift (as of money, service or ideas) made to some worthwhile cause”, I felt the need to share some information which was probably not known to him.
I narrated to the young brigade the experience of my first three courses, when the meditators lived in the facilities that were available then. In contrast, at Dhamma Pattana during that course, all of the 80 participants lived in a single-occupancy, 10 feet by 10 feet, air-conditioned room with an attached bathroom. There was a separate place to keep the baggage. Each room was well lit and had sliding windows with built-in mosquito nets. You would get a lock and key when you checked into the room. Hot water was available round the clock (the centre is equipped with a solar heating system).  Like the rooms, the meditation hall is equipped with split air-conditioners. Soon the individual cells for meditation shall have an air-conditioning system. At lunch, besides Indian food, we were served salads, soups, continental and Chinese preparations followed with a sweet-dish. All of this has been done to ensure that the meditators coming on the course are comfortable during the stay. My young friend realised that this could not have been possible without the contributions made by those who have benefitted from the course in the past.
From the gypsy courses that started in early 1970’s in make-shift tents to the modern day centre at Gorai, Vipassana meditation in India has come a long way. During the 3-day course, I felt that I lived like an executive monk.
The most memorable moment of the four courses came to me towards the end of the second course, immediately after the meta meditation. The feeling was that of abundant joy, within and in everything around. The mind was silent. The body did not seem to exist. Those few moments of truth shall stay with me forever.
Be Happy

 

For Details on Vipassana please visit the following –

http://www.pattana.dhamma.org/

P.S. – Many like me would be accustomed to spending a fairly big amount on one family outing in the weekend; or much bigger amounts when on a weekend trip to the hill-station, or the beach. However, it is unfortunate that life changing experiences like the one mentioned above are valued by some as 3-day and 10-day packages.
25th October, 2010

The Story of Ms. Bhumika Patel

This story dates back to 2002. It’s about a pretty girl named Bhumika Patel, an engineering graduate from India who wanted to pursue a master’s degree at The Pennsylvania State University, USA.  For first hand information she contacted Nipun Patel, a graduate student at the Computer Engineering Department, PSU.  This story is about both of them.

Nipun was a tall, lanky guy from Ahmedabad, India. He stayed off campus at 3105, Plaza Drive, along with three other room mates. Vishal – ‘The Big Boss’, Jay (yours truly) – ‘The Playboy’ and Divya (male, age – 22) – ‘The Silent Killer’. For us he was ‘Bhaiyo’, meaning brother in Gujarati.  Nipun didn’t like the name; after all he was now in the United States of America. He preferred to be addressed as ‘Andy Patel’, his initials were N.D.
For the Indian students, 3105, Plaza Drive, was like the Indian Embassy (actually more of a ‘Dharamshala’) where anyone could walk in and steal a free lunch. We always had good food in the house, open 24/7.
 
L-R: Jay, Atin, Vishal, Divya, Nigam, Alok, Nipun
The University Park campus of the Pennsylvania State University was a popular choice for the engineering graduates from India.
There were more than 500 Indian students on campus. There were also plenty of mid-age Indian professors who bonded well with the student community and supported generously with research scholarships. The tradition at PSU was that each incoming Indian student at the University was assigned a student mentor who would answer the pre-arrival queries, make arrangements for temporary accommodation on arrival and ensure that things like opening a bank account, signing the apartment lease were taken care of. Bhumika chose Nipun to be her mentor.
“Hi, my name is Bhumika Patel,” a long pause, “uh…from Ahmedabad. This message is for Nipun Patel. I wish to come to Pennsylvania State University for MS in computer engineering. I got your contact from the college website. Like you, I am a Patel from Ahmedabad and so I thought I should talk to you before coming. Please contact me. My email is..,”. The answering machine went silent after her message was heard by everyone in the apartment.
All eyes in the room turned to Nipun. He had just returned home and the first thing he did was hit the answering machine, as if he was expecting this message.  “You guys don’t even check the messages!” he complained. It was customary that the first person who returned home would play the messages. On that day, all of us were at home but no one checked the messages. We were busy in the kitchen cooking Pav-Bhaji.
“Bhaiyo, you lucky guy,” said Divya, “a Patel girl, that too from Ahmedabad.”
“You anyways wanted to marry a Patel!” I teased Nipun, reminding him of what he had once said to me.
Vishal reminded Nipun of the Penn State ‘Indian’ culture of helping the incoming students. “Bhaiyo, make sure that you reply soon,” instructed Vishal who always behaved as if he was the head of the family.
Nipun didn’t look too interested in the call. He had better things to do; the most important was getting a scholarship to pay for his college tuition. The second priority was finding a ‘female, American, Undergrad,’ dance partner each week (Apparently no girl wanted to partner him the second time). He never missed the weekend ‘Salsa’ dance lessons at the university entertainment Hub.
A week later Nipun replied. “Bhumika, Penn State is good, but not good…. I mean funding. You can come here if not getting anywhere. Ok. I have class, going now. Email later if you want information.” Nipun really had to go…to sleep.
Disappointed with the reply she wrote back, “Looks like you are not interested in helping me. Can you give me the contact of someone who can help me?” These messages were being exchanged on the incoming students’ e-groups (there was no Facebook then).
Soon, she was flooded with replies from the other Indian guys at Penn State. They had just seen her profile picture. “If she comes to Penn State she would be a serious contender for the ‘Miss University’ crown,” the guys discussed amongst themselves. She looked gorgeous. Fair complexion, sharp features, black eyes, long hair…. On first looks, anyone could have mistaken her to be a Hindi movie actress.
All of a sudden Nipun decided to respond to her queries.  He ensured that he answered all her questions. In detail.
Soon they started exchanging emails more often. Like the other Indian guys on campus, Nipun too added her to the list of friends on MSN messenger. Online chat was popular then. The students had a habit of being ‘logged in’ at all times. Chat time was well utilized; assignments and project reports were prepared in between the chats. Bhumika had messages blinking on her desktop, non-stop, one after another. Guys kept waiting for her reply. Strangely though, she would only respond to Nipun.
Divya complained, “How come she only chats with you?”
“Once Bhaiyo logs off, she logs out too,” I remarked.
“And vice-versa!” added Alok, our close friend
Nipun pretended as if he knew nothing. But deep within, he enjoyed being the chosen one. Her chemistry with him was perfect. The reactions on his face said it all.
“She’s coming!” he informed us after she told him about her admit from PSU. The excitement and happiness reflected in everything he did. ‘Bhaiyo’ became ‘Andy – The Lover Boy’. Her admission to Penn State was his biggest achievement. The reward was on its way.
A month and half passed, and the semester starting fall 2002 was fast approaching. During this period, Nipun and Bhumika got close to each other, online. He would chat with her all night and into the early hours of the morning. We would often peep-in to his laptop to check the context of their conversation. She too could be spotted online during his day hours. The time difference between India and US did not matter to them.
Nipun had already started counting days backwards. For him, the wait was getting difficult. Everything was closing in until one day. For Nipun it was doomsday.
Bhumika wasn’t coming to Penn State. She had family problems which she couldn’t share with Nipun.
“So what!” said Divya, “We shall meet her when we go to Ahmedabad in December.” Divya was also from Ahmedabad.
“Relax dude, I’ll find you a better girl in PSU,” I consoled Nipun.
Thereafter, Bhumika was rarely spotted on the messenger. Nipun would send her emails but she wouldn’t answer. He was beginning to get restless. He couldn’t call her because he had no phone number; they had always chatted online. Suddenly from ‘Bhaiyo’ to ‘Andy – The Lover Boy’ to ‘Devdas’, we never ran out of new names.
There couldn’t have been a greater co-incidence that the Hub on campus was screening the Hindi movie Devdas starring Shahrukh Khan on the Diwali weekend. Diwali, like all Indian festivals, was well celebrated by the Indians in town. On Diwali night all four of us decided to feast at the Indian Pavilion, a popular restaurant, in the company of close friends, Alok, Atin, Binu, Nigam and Prachi. Dinner was accompanied with some fine wine.
In high spirits, Binu John spoke of how much he enjoyed being with our group. We were very closely bonded – living together; cooking Sanjeev Kapoor recipes, celebrating birthdays, pillow-fights, late night discussions and debates had become a way of life.  Away from home, this was the family each one could confide in. A family by choice. We poured our hearts out that night.
Besides recounting the good experiences, it was the first time that everyone shared what they didn’t like about the others in the group. It was a day of confessions and complaints, all of which were to be forgiven and forgotten. There couldn’t have been a better occasion to do it than Diwali. Some New Year resolutions were made for the family.
While all of this was happening, Divya and I looked at each other. We were both thinking about Bhumika.
 
Celebrating Diwali, Festivals, Birthdays
“I have something to confess to Nipun,” I told the group. Almost everyone except Nipun knew what was coming. “There is no Bhumika Patel. There is only bhumikap@hotmail.com and you can login with the password ‘Bhaiyo’.”
For a moment, Nipun was stunned. But he knew me well and would not be fooled so easily. He was confident that this was just another prank. More than that, he had known Bhumika for over three months. How could she be unreal?
That night, the lights in Nipun’s room did not go off. Not because it was Diwali but because he could login as Bhumika Patel. Bhumika was a creation of the ‘family members’. A story scripted by yours truly, enacted by all.
It had all started the night when Nipun heard the message on the answering machine. Earlier in the evening, Divya ,Vishal and me were at Nigam and Prachi’s residence when we decided to play this prank with Nipun. Prachi was responsible for the messages on the answering machine. I communicated through emails. Everyone in the group could access the fictitious hotmail account. We voluntarily took turns to chat – day and night. And the profile picture was that of Bhumika Chawla, a relatively-unknown, aspiring Hindi film actress then.
Nipun lived with us for a month thereafter but was never as comfortable as he used to be. He soon moved to a different apartment.  Divya and I returned to India after graduating in December 2002. Nigam and Prachi continued to live in Penn State until Nigam got his PhD. Vishal married Aparana; they shared an apartment with Alok. Atin was the first to get a job, he moved to Microsoft in Seattle. Binu would some day return to his real family in NY.  Everyone forgot about the incident, except one person.
Six months later, in April 2003, my hotmail account was hacked.
 “I can do it too – Nipun D. Patel.”
27th July, 2009