Back To Bliss: A Journey To Zero by Santosh Jha (pdf e book reader TXT) 📕

“I am waiting Monku…I am not going home today, I am sleeping here. So, if you say yes, I will finish off the remaining stuff in the bottle.”

“What should I say Ashu! I am not sure of yes and no.”

“Then you should follow what Utkarsh said is the operative wisdom of democracy. I and Utkarsh believe that you should stay with your current job and do whatever little you can to make a difference. And as this forms two-third majority, you must submit to the majority wisdom. And as Utkarsh said, ‘stupidity of majority must prevail over the tyranny of minority’, so we close the deal here.”

Mayank did not say a word more. He just smiled. Utkarsh knew; democracy was no solution for what Mayank had in mind. A revolution was probably the answer.

**

CHAPTER 14

The editor accepted his request to meet at his home instead of office. Mayank reached the editor’s home in a very relaxed mood. He knew, at home, the editor would talk more like a big brother. The editor, like many professionals had successfully developed the habit of leaving his heart at home before leaving for office. Mayank was sure; he wanted to confront not the editor but a senior friend.

The editor himself opened the door and waved him in. He was probably still sleeping and was awakened by the doorbell buzz. Mayank was happy that he had caught him early morning. This was the best time when people like him would be him and not his job title. Mornings are good because they present people without their make ups sans cosmetic personality. Mayank had come just to see him. He had no agenda with him but he knew, the editor had a lot to say and it was ideal to listen to him, not the editor.

“I hope you don’t mind to have a cup of tea with me’, the editor asked with a tint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Why do you ask that...you know it well it’s my privilege.”

“I asked because you now a day enjoy tea or coffee only with big people and that too in seven star hotel suits. A poor editor’s home tea may not suit your taste.”

Mayank could not resist a smile. He did not want to lead him to talks around work and issues concerning their professional universe. He wished it to remain personal.

“A son going out, seeing places and exploring life is what a father wants for his son but both know that home is where they come back and the food tastes the best.”

“And what the father should do when the son goes out to people and places projecting him as a devil”, the editor persisted with his cynicism.

“He should straightaway ask his son about the truth instead of going by what others tell him about the reality.”

“Why should he believe what the son says is truth?”

“Because, what you hear is other’s mouth and what you believe is your own ear.”

“And why should he believe that his ear is still his and worth his trust?”

“It is the problem of the heart and not the ear. The best option is best till the heart accepts it as one.”

“That comes to the truth that I am the problem.”

“This is the problem.”

“What?”

“The problem is; first thing should always come first. Let us enjoy the tea first.”

The editor looked in his eyes and smiled back. Mayank’s face exuded the serenity and confidence which the editor could see and got somehow assured. The tea arrived.

“We all have one common problem”, Mayank led the talk. “Where we are sitting right now is your house. But the reality is that we are in the living room of your house and this is only part of your house, not the full house. We can say, this room is very well your house but it is not your complete house. Sitting in this room, if I believe that I know your entire house then I am a big fool. Human personalities are also the same.”

“What do you mean to say?”

“We all are like houses, our personalities having different rooms for different purposes. We get associated to people in the society as one room of this house but never as one whole house. It is not even possible. I have come to your house but you can make me sit only in one room, never in all rooms of your house simultaneously. I can say I visited your house but actually I visited only one room. We also visit a person but meet only one small personality of his full persona. The problem is; we define this one room as whole house. You are an editor but this is only one small room of your big house; I mean your personality. If I say that I know the editor inside out and that’s why I also know you completely then I am stupid.”

“Should I understand that you mean to say is I am not seeing the whole of your personality and this is my problem?”

“This is not the problem. It is a difficult reality. Why talk about me, it is your house but even you cannot live in all the rooms of your house at any given time. You actually live only in one room at a time. If you want to see your entire house, you cannot do it living inside it. You will have to come out of it and see it from a distance to get the picture of your whole house. People usually do not even see their own personalities in full. How can they see other’s personalities in completeness and totality? But the fact remains that we all live in houses with many rooms.”

“And what do you suggest? I should live in one-room house or move out of my multi-room house to see it in totality?”

“You have options. It is entirely up to your discretion. Your house is actually one single roof. Your architect has structured them by erecting walls to create different rooms for distinct purposes. You can choose to undo the walls and make the whole house one single room. Or, you can make every single room the room of innocence and this way the entire house will become a space of singular and uniform innocence.”

“Why not go to the jungle, grow long beard and become saints? The open sky is singular, ultimate and infinite innocence!”

“A difficult choice but it is one.”

“Mayank, your editorial is good but nobody reads them. We are into news business and what sells is not innocence. It’s bloody life. More rooms in your house mean more status and goodwill for you and more than that, it is good for your security and mental peace. You can keep yourself away from unnecessary people. Not all of them are worthy to allow them to the bedroom and that’s why a living room is a must.”

“I told you it’s your choice.”

“And what is your choice? If your choice is not my choice then it does not mean my choice is wrong!”

“I never said that mine is the right choice and yours is wrong.”

“But I say your choice is wrong, even if mine is not right. And I can say that because I have been through all these which you have just begun to see. You are at the start of the journey and I stand on the end of it. You cannot see what I have already seen. And you will also see the same when you will end your journey. Raw milk and cheese are different things though their origin is the same. When life ferments you, when its practicality makes you go through the long and stinking processing, you lose the idealistic white shine of the milk and its fluidity. Milk is for babies and they get it gratuitously. But men have to battle it out to grab their share of cheese to enjoy it with their hard-earned wine in a relaxing evening. You too will lose your milky idealism when you reach my age. I hope I live to see it happen.”

“Sir, I am only saying that you have the option. You could stick to your milk. We can keep out of the battles for cheese, at least.”

“No I can’t. Have I set the battles for me? They are there and don’t expect me to be a coward to turn away from them. That is where you are wrong. You cannot keep your milk for ever. Your innocence does not come with long shelf-life, quite like milk. You do not have option. Smart people make cheese out of it. A fool like you, insisting with milk will end up with nothing as the milk will go sour and become of no use.”

“You still have options...we can make powder out of milk to extend its shelf-life.”

“When will you grow out of your baby obsessions? When will you understand the taste of pizzas and pastas which the whole adult world likes? And nobody makes pizzas and pastas with milk powder; at least I don’t have the idea.”

“No options...even I cannot make them without cheese.”

“Mayank, you are like a younger brother to me. I do not need to trouble my brain so early in the morning but I am doing it just to show you the righteousness of life we are made to face and live. I wish you better success than me in life. That’s why I am arguing with you. I too know what is good and what is bad. But we are not faced with this question anymore. The question is what works and what fails. My experience is; goodness does not always work. You know how this whisky tastes which I gallop half a bottle every day? How can you know! I know. Milk definitely tastes better and is also good for health but still I drink this bitter thing because it works for me.”

Mayank did not reply. He had achieved what he wanted. The editor was talking like a big brother and he wished to listen to him. Every life, every life experience is like a flower. The bouquet of life is made out of bunch of such flowers of different hue and shape. The editor construed Mayank’s silence as his coalescence with his ideas. He continued with more authority and poise.

“I became editor when I was only 29. I had dreams. Creation gives you a huge kick. It somehow licks your hurt pride which your own fallibility and sense of eventual mortality leaves you with. There is an instinctive desire in every human being to create something which would defeat his own mortality and live even when he is dead long ago. I had prepared great starts for the first day of my editorship and you know what eventually happened that day when I entered my office? A group of colleagues opposed to my elevation as editor, where till yesterday I worked as news-editor, had removed the big and nice chair of the editor and instead placed an ordinary one. The whole day I spent finding that missing chair and finally I got it re-installed in my office chamber. The whole month I battled with the opponents and finally established myself as the undisputed leader. This is life.”

“What happened to your opponents?”

“Two things I never forget - the faces of my opponents and the birthday of my wife. Within a month I got them either transferred or sacked and brought in my own loyal team. I admit I am a bit paranoid about loyalty. When you will become editor one day, you too will understand quality and good work are important but the first thing you need is to survive. On