Old boy

'Look, I don't want to gossip,' the poet says. 'Tell me quickly what happened.'

The whole drama has left us sick.'This is what happened....' I begin and we chat for a while. I finish talking, cut the line, switch off the TV, turn off the lights and go to bed.

We were speaking about the oldboy all along. Mostly not so good things. The next morning, on the way to the office I meet the oldboy near the park. Inspite of the previous day's fall and subsequent injury, he appears composed. I greet him. We speak mundane things for a while. He brings up the event of the previous day and I console him. I speak words of encouragement, say things like,'This could've happened to anyone, don't worry,' etc.

It's a long story. Oldboy was a part of our lives until yesterday--a close friend, someone with whom we shared our dreams, joys and sorrows. All of us had lofty ideals and were travellers on the path towards realizing them. In short, oldboy was a family member, rather more than a family member. He isn't one any longer.

There's a relaxed yet tense atmosphere in the office. The appraisals are over-- some are happy, some are quitting, some are contemplating to quit and the rest are biding their time--not knowing what to do other than slog. I find time to reflect in between work, amidst blog hopping hours, in between bitter coffee mugs. The oldboy is on our minds.

Sunday evening. After meditations, we gather and piece together the whole story. Old boy is a friend of six years yet we don't know him--rather we thought we knew him well. He'd become a part of our close circle of friends. We have great dreams to pursue, and an utopia to manifest. The spiritual world is our playground-- meditations and the pursuit of awakening is the goal. Amidst youngsters who jump corporations in pursuit of better salaries and who wear their 'globe-trotter' badges on their sleeves, we have friends who quit their jobs and abandon their promising careers in search of an Utopia. A commune of enlightened beings is our ideal. We look beyond the everyday reality and attempt to connect to the vast unknown. We introspect, reflect on our shortcomings and make efforts to rid ourselves of our negativities. In short, we're seekers of an enlightened tomorrow, or as coelho says, the warriors of light. The old boy is one amongst us.

No, he isn't. He isn't one of us, not a fellow traveller but a guy with different travel plans. Behind the jovial, friendly and energetic facade lies a cunning mind. He aspires not to become a part of the commune but to rule it, not to walk the dusty path with friends but to command over them. Lies, deceit, rumour-mongering--everything is game towards this end. To stand in the limelight and grow tall, he doesn't hesitate to stoop to any level. In pursuit of growth, he can destroy any garden like a weed. And in a single shot, he loses us all.

I remember many of my conversations with him and find newer meanings now. Behind his praises, affection and show of humility, could there be a hidden agenda? She remembes, 'He'd say " Sister, I'm at your feet, bless me.' I don't know what his intentions were.'

You trust someone whole-heartedly and suddenly one day, you realise that you've been dealing with a mask. The biggest blow is on your ability to trust. What's the guarantee that the next guy in line isn't wearing a mask? The oldboy was just like you and me--if he can turn turkey, so can you and I. The next time you interact with anyone else, you stop in your tracks and think twice--is this fellow trustworthy? Or is he another oldboy?

This event also prompts you to redefine your own attitude and behaviour. Whenever you talk about a friend behind his back, it's the oldboy in you who's speaking. When you hesitate to point out a friend's mistake and instead choose to be sugary sweet with him so that you are accepted, it's the traces of oldboy inside that's working. In that way, the oldboy hasn't gone away--he remains within all of us, in different quantities.

A bitter taste. Sorry for losing a friend. Happy for getting rid of a future headache.