You are my theme for a dream,

Yes you are, a rare and lovely theme,

The dreams I dream day and night.

--Cliff Richard

What exactly is it that makes a country great? This is one of the many questions which have baffled me since I don't know when. The strangest part is that every individual seems to possess a completely different opinion when it comes to defining the "greatness" of a country. I had walked up to my parents, teachers and friends to ask them the same question, "What makes a country great?" While some some of them replied that it is the richness of her civilization and culture which makes a country great, others opined that greatness is determined by the great men who shaped her destiny through the course of history. Some others were of the opinion that it is the collective attitude & aspirations of the people which separates a "great" country from a "not so great" one.

Well, there can be numerous other opinions and endless debates concerning the issue, but that is not the focus of what I want to say. Has anyone of us ever wondered why India, inspite of possessing almost every attribute that a person could possibly want in a great nation, still continues to be looked upon by many as a Third World country? Why is it that even today Indians are viewed as third-class citizens in so many corners of the world? Why are we so hell-bent on dubbing the brutal attacks on Indian students in Australia as "just another incident"? Why is it that despite possessing the richest of all mineral and natural resources, the menacing ghost called poverty still continues to haunt us like never before? These may seem uncomfortable questions to answer, but the day we all learn to tackle these questions without the slightest of inhibitions, is the day we would mature as a nation.

Why do so many of us still need to be reminded of the courtesy of standing up when the National Anthem is being played? Well, of course, one may argue that it is his or her personal choice at the end of the day, but does it really make one poorer to pay just a minute's respect to the National Anthem of our motherland? Exerting our legs just for a minute for the sake of our country would neither make our legs fall off, nor would it seriously damage our prestige or dignity. But still, we don't even think twice before making this a national issue of debate. It pained me when a national news channel of repute went to the lengths of devoting its entire prime-time viewing period over discussing this trivial issue. It is amazing that we still have the mentality of wasting our precious time and energy on discussing such nonsensical issues, when the country is being ripped apart by so many problems from all sides. We are living in a dangerous age, were even paying the minimum of respects to our National Anthem can be labelled by the modernists as "pseudo-patriotism".

Try sniffing the air around you, you would feel the bad smell coming from Indian politics. It is almost like the stench of avarice. A quagmire of a million problems have gripped the country. The growing strain in relations with its neighbours has started complementing the more traditional evils like illiteracy, poverty and over-population. It no longer bothers us when the Chinese break through our north-eastern borders and lay claims on our land. Maybe a few initial reactions pour in on the several 24-hour news channels, but that's just about it. Life moves on, and soon everything is relegated to the darkest corners of our memories. Barring a few, most of our leaders seem to have other things on their minds. Making hay while the sun shines and indulging in petty political gains seem to be the number one priorities on the cards. The real issues always seem to get lost within this muddy state of eternal mess. Unfortunately, this infectious attitude seems to have actually taken hold of the common man as well, like a dreaded contagious disease. Somewhere down the line, we seem to have lost those very qualities which made us proud to be Indians.

But life cannot afford to move along like this. Hope is what keeps us alive, and without hope we cease to be humans. So still there is time, and still there is hope. Our country is a truly great nation, a nation whose destiny has been shaped by the blood and sweat of so many great individuals. It is a powerful land, and it can be made even more powerful. The destiny of a nation is not shaped by God, but it is shaped by the people. Yes, it is the people who determine the true greatness of a nation. Great nations are not born out of the destiny shaped by God, but they are born from the dreams of dreamers who dared to dream!!

Yes, we all have a dream.We dream of an India where a term called "religious intolerance" is non-existent, where everybody is an Indian irrespective of cast & creed, where human freedom and dignity is not compromised with, where the girl-child is adored and not considered a burden, where people are free from the clutches of poverty & illiteracy, where education is considered a basic necessity, where every child can grow up to its full potential and make the country proud.

Yes, that is the India we all dream of. It is not just a Utopian dream, it is a dream which would indeed be a reality, if we all joined hands to make it one. The road ahead is tough and complicated, and is fraught with hazards and uncertainties. But beyond the cruel desert of harsh challenges and obstacles,lies our beautiful destination---which is a wonderland called India!!

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one,

I hope someday you will join us, and the world will live as one."

--John Lennon

When Tragedy Turned Itself Into Comedy

Today I am going to share with you all another personal experience of my life, although this one probably won't be even half as colourful as the previous one which I had described. But still, my stupid intellect is somehow telling me that this would be an experience worth sharing. Even though what I am going to share now was highly embarrassing when it actually happened, but still this incident occupies a very special place in my heart. This may partly be due to the common childhood nostalgia which is attached with it.

Every year a cultural program of some sort is organized by the residents of the locality where we stay. We all eagerly look forward to the event, since it gives multi-talented people like us to showcase the various deeds (and misdeeds) that we are capable of. But on a serious note, the annual cultural program is really a very joyous occasion for all of us. It brings together the residents of our "para" and makes us all feel like a single happy joint family. That is something which rarely happens during other times of the year, except probably during the four days of Durga Puja.

Anyway, let's cut the introduction short and try to get on with the actual story. The year I am talking about is 2003. We had a notorious group of friends in the true sense of the term (ask those poor residents who had to change their broken window panes every time we played cricket!) Anyway, somehow somebody in our group managed to put forward a brilliant idea that we should make our presence felt in the cultural program as well. But merely proposing an idea wasn't enough, we had to reach a consensus on something we could perform. After much deliberation and heated arguments, we finally managed to zero in on something worthwhile. A consensus was reached, and we eventually decided to perform "Julius Caesar". Well, of course, there were several reasons which influenced the choice we made. First of all, he was one of the few global historical characters whom we admired a lot, and secondly, the play was once a part of our English syllabus, so we were kind of familiar with the lines.

The choice of the play had been made, now came the dreaded prospect of assigning particular roles to different individuals. We were well aware of the kind of quarrelsome nature each one of us had, and so we silently prayed that the assignment of roles would not create any furore among those who were deprived of bagging the more meatier roles. But luckily for all of us, our apprehensions did not materialize and everything was settled in an amicable manner. It was decided amongst us that a boy named Rajesh (names have been changed on request) was going to be Brutus and a very tall boy named Neel would play the role of Julius Caesar. But it was a pity that the role of Caesar was actually the shortest of all roles, since Caesar had nothing much to do apart from lying on the desk and pretending to be dead. And as for me, I actually had the guts to consider myself the best elocutionist of the lot, and so I donned the role of Mark Antony-cum-director. Being the director was something which I regretted later, and the reasons why I did so would become clear very soon.

Our rehearsals went on in a fairly smooth manner, except for a few hiccups here and there. Being the director, sometimes I could not resist the usual directorial urge of shouting at people when they were careless enough to forget the lines. I have lost count of how many times I had to shout out loud. But believe me, I wasn't acting as the usual grumpy director when I did so. Any sane human being would have gone mad at the antics which were displayed on the stage. I just failed to understand how one could pretend to be dead with one leg sticking up in the air!! But things like these were exactly what I had to witness. But anyway, we practiced and rehearsed diligently till we were sure that we were going to display the most heart-wrenching tragedy ever acted out on stage. But little did we know about the truly wonderful surprise which was waiting to greet us!

On the day of the program, we found out that we were slated to be the last performers on stage. Honestly speaking, that was a prospect which we truly relished, since that would give us the golden opportunity to snigger at the other performances before we could act out our masterpiece! Aha, how could we ever let such a golden chance slip away? Pure devils in disguise, weren't we? We roared out in laughter when the performances began. Oh my God! Did they call that acting or what? Then, finally, the opportune moment came for us to stage our own performance.

We all waited in the wings as Rajesh entered the stage dressed up as Brutus. He staged an otherwise perfect entry apart from tripping over the electric wire and falling flat on his face. The audience was busy laughing out loud and I truly cursed them from the bottom of my heart. Was it so very unnatural for someone to trip over a wire? What a dumb audience, for God's sake! In the meantime, Brutus was back to his senses, and we all rejoiced at that fact. Now would be the grand beginning of a true masterpiece, wow!! But the next thing that Brutus did was to face the audience with a facial expression that could best be linked with the expression of an agitated goat. He managed to croak out just a few inaudible words before we came and dragged him off the stage. Then it was time for me to make my grand entry, and I was more than determined to undo the effects of the mess created before me. But alas! Having only determination is sometimes not enough in life. Destiny always has a crucial role to play, whether we like it or not.

After my entry on to the stage, I carried off my speech pretty well and that started increasing my confidence. But the increase in confidence resulted in severe over-confidence which brought about my glorious downfall. I began jerking my head in such a carefree and confident manner that my wig fell off! The audience had again started to burst into peels of laughter. What a perfectly dumb audience! What was there to laugh? What was so humorous about somebody's wig coming off? Oh God, people and their atrocious sense of humour! In the meantime, I had picked up my wig and had immediately put it back again. The next two or three minutes went on well without any more memorable mishaps. But little did we know that we had saved our best for the last. Before we could realize anything, our "dead" Julius Caesar let out a grand fart, complete with all kinds of sensory effects! The next thing we all did was to run away from the place as fast as we could. I don't think there was any other option left in front of us.

But nevertheless we managed to receive cheerful applause for our performance. One guy came to congratulate me and said he had never laughed so hard in his life. It was actually good for him that I let him go with just one black eye! I was heart-broken and livid at the same time. My first directorial venture had gone up in flames right before my eyes. And believe it or not, our act was eventually labelled as the "best comedy". Has anyone ever heard of "Julius Caesar" getting the distinction of being called the best comedy??? Well, that can only be achieved by great individuals like us, and we are proud of that!! I am sure that Mr Shakespeare himself would have been proud of our achievement. He must have been laughing in glee! A heart-rending tragedy had been transformed into a comedy of errors!!!

My First Visit To A Nightclub

Today I am going to make an effort to describe what my first ever visit to a nightclub actually turned out to be like. Well, I am not ashamed to say that I was just of the tender age of 15 when I made my first entry into a celebrated nightclub of Calcutta (let's keep the name of the place a secret). The fact that I had the guts to visit the place at that age has also been kept a secret from my parents for reasons that are obvious. Well, I would try my best not to make this a boring account, so here goes my attempt....

Firstly, let me disclose that prior to visiting a nightclub, I had a very poor impression of what such a place would actually be like. To tell the truth, like an innocent 15 year old, all I knew about a nightclub was the fact that it was supposed to be a place where people danced like maniacs, got drunk to the hilt and then a bunch of other weird activities followed. That was my notion of a nightclub in a nutshell, poor me!!! So initially I was damn scared of visiting a place about which I held such a terrible impression in my mind. In fact, if it wasn't for my extremely benevolent elder cousin brothers and sisters, I would never have visited the place at the age of 15. But what to do? They were so very keen on letting their kid brother experience the beauties of life, hehehe.

Now let's get down to the actual crux of what I want to say. The first thing which scared the living daylights out of me was the gigantic build of a group of people who I later learnt were known as "bouncers", and that their job was to kick out unruly hoodlums. I became completely motionless after hearing that, and it took me quite some time to regain my senses. Then came the next part, the part about my grand entry into the nightclub!! I could hear from outside the sound of music (not the Hollywood movie, but some Arabic song whose name I don't seem to remember), and I made up several impressions in my mind regarding what I was going to see after my entry. But all I could eventually see was the sight of ten odd couples gyrating to the tune of that pathetic song (it really was pathetic!!). The mere sight of them moving their bodies all at once in that comical manner made me burst into peels of laughter (even though I am not a very good dancer myself). I was just beginning to make sense of what was happening over there, when all of a sudden, I was literally pulled to the dance floor by my cousin sister. Oh god!! My worst fear had come true, I was there in the middle of the dance floor looking like a complete fool with nothing to do. But the realization hit me that I had to do something. All the nervousness had made me deaf to the music around me, but that was the least of my worries. There was an army of people staring at the dance floor and I was looking like a complete idiot!!! At my last attempt to salvage some pride, I reluctantly started to take a few steps (the combination of those steps cannot be described as an attempt to dance, but still I tried). That sequence went on for five more torturous minutes, and after that, I immediately fled from the dance floor. Phew!!! I thought that at last I had made my escape.

But I was so very wrong!!! Escape was still a long long way away. Now comes the most shocking part. Here it goes....

Mind you, at that time, I was only 15 years old. Even though I had the idea that people are attracted to the opposite sex, but I was completely alien to the concepts of homosexuality and my innocent mind had never figured out that such people even existed, and it was this ignorance which caught me completely off-guard. Let me try to describe what exactly happened, even though it is very difficult for me to do so. I was standing at a corner doing nothing, when suddenly a guy came and patted me on the back. He initiated a normal conversation and asked me my name and other similar things like that. At no point of time did I realize what was about to happen a few minutes later. Like any other polite human being, I also responded to his questions in a polite manner (when somebody enquires about your name, it is sometimes impossible not to reply to it). After some time, he offered me a drink of beer which I accepted (today I realize that it was a wrong thing to do). But alas, I was just a 15 year old and I did not have the maturity to understand what was right and what was wrong. I went on and took a few sips of beer, without suspecting that things would go so horribly wrong in the next few moments.

I had just begun to regain my composure after drinking the beer, when suddenly out of the blue, the guy beside me caught hold of my butt!!! I was too shell-shocked to do anything, for a few moments I just stood there numb with fear. I don't remember everything very clearly, but this much I remember that after standing still for sometime, I let out a shrill scream!!! That was all I could do, since I was too scared to do anything else. After that, things became blurry. All I remember is that on hearing me scream out loud, a few people immediately came to my rescue and I was freed from the clutches of that monster (yes, he was a monster!!!). I came to know later that the people who rescued me on that fateful night were none other than the bouncers themselves, the very people of whom I was so very scared. After that incident, I never ever felt scared of bouncers again, hehehe.

Well, that was all about the episode which actually happened. When I retrospect about the incident today, I feel that maybe it was wrong on my part to visit a nightclub at that young an age. But then again, thousands of young people visit nightclubs every single night and manage to come out unscathed. Maybe it was my wretched luck which made me the victim of that horrible incident, or maybe it was something else. Actually, I did not possess the inclination and energy to find out the reasons for that. So after a few months, I forgot almost everything about it, I really did. Now after all these years, I have tried to write about it. I have tried my best to be accurate, as far as my limited memory could permit. Whether the account is readable or avoidable I don't know, but I have tried my best to present the facts in the best possible manner.

And oh yes, one thing surely needs to be mentioned in the end. Even though I have visited every single nightclub in the city at a later stage of my life, but somehow I have always managed to give that particular place a miss. The visit I have talked about was my first and last visit to that place, and I don't regret the fact that it turned out to be like that. Somehow I had developed an aversion towards that place which has stayed with me till today.