Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Dream A Little Dream With Me Part 2

I tap my feet when I’m nervous.

Just because I try and give it a rhythm, doesn’t mean that those around me like it, most of the time, they dont.

On those occasions where I can’t make noise, I tend to move my fingers as though I were masterfully playing a piano while I watch the tendons across my wrists move in tandem.

But on some days, no matter how hard I try to distract myself, nothing seems to work.

That was exactly how I felt at my first job interview waiting all by myself inside a board room.

The carpet on the floor muffled the sound my feet were making as tried in vain to find a position that was comfortable in my chair.
Almost immediately after I settled in, the door opened.

Dr. Singh didn’t seem very impressed as I stood up to shake his hand, nonetheless, I didn’t let that assumption cloud my excitement.

He didn’t say anything as he glanced through my CV. 

It was just one page, remember, this was the first time I had ever applied for a job in my whole life and I was fresh out of college.

He then took the spectacles off his face and placed them on the finely polished teak wood table next to us.

 “Why did you become a doctor”? He asked me, stroking the beard on his face.

I smiled, this was a question I saw coming and I gave him an honest answer.

“For me its all about the people sir, the physician-patient connection can be so instantaneous and real….”.

I have to interrupt you there George. He said cutting me off in the middle of my sentence.

"More than anything else I like keeping things simple and straight".

"This job won’t be suitable for you".  He concluded within 100 seconds of meeting me.

We briefly shook hands again and he walked out of the room.

It took me a while to get a grip on the situation. 

A hundred things went through my head in that moment, and I was left wondering, "Wait, what on earth just happened here"?
Ojal Sinha first walked into our classroom on a very sunny afternoon in June.

I remember it well because during recess that morning Sunil was pointing at a helicopter in the sky saying – “Look Thomas, its so close”, and then the bright sun hit his eye.

He was peeing on a eucalyptus tree when that happened so I didn’t offer him any of my sympathy.

If you were paying close attention to what was going on inside, you would’ve heard a deep collective sigh.

That sigh I mentioned originated from at least 30 boys in my 5th grade class. 

She was the newest, cutest addition to Air Force School Jalahalli east, and watching her walk into our lives in slow motion was so much better than the history lesson Mrs Banerjee was trying to give us that day.

I could swear Pramod’s face looked like he had just seen an angel, and he was drooling all day.

To be fair though, he was always drooling, so I’m not so sure if Kishore getting upset at some drops of good ol' pammu’s saliva falling on him was warranted or not.

Whatever maybe said about Pramod, he was the first one courageous enough to declare his love for Ojal and he decided to demonstrate it by writing the three most beautiful words in the world on the last page of her English notebook.

What he wasn’t ready for was the fact that along with Ojal the universe had decided to gift the young men in class 5A a new English teacher, one who had 2 very distinctive features.

Firstly she had an obsessive quality of looking at the last page of all our notebooks, in her own words the last page was where ‘all the action was at’.

Secondly, and may I humbly add - most importantly, she was Ojals mother.

None of the 54 students in my class knew that the best way to make a young boy un-profess his love for a girl was to wring both his ears 1080 degrees in the clockwise direction.

At the end of the day Pramods ears looked as bright red as a tomato and his face was white as a ghost.

When I saw him last he was a little short of hearing, but I don’t blame Ojals mom, Pramod loved putting things into his ear in his spare time.

Maybe it had something to do with being a teachers child but Ojal was always well dressed.

Her shoes looked brand new every morning, her school uniform was always perfectly ironed and one feature that stood apart from the rest was how her hair was always neatly braided with a red ribbon right at the end.
In my previous blog post I wrote about a dream I had 2 weeks before Christmas last year, when I woke up that morning, I couldn't really shake it off.

I thought about it, long and hard, especially trying to figure out the man on the right.

Why did he look so familiar, and why couldn't I recognize him?

I’m not sure if it was hearing from Sunil again a few days later, or taking my own glasses out and placing them on a wooden table at work, but suddenly all of it made sense to me, even the red ribbon.

Both men I saw in my dream were reflections of two very different versions of me.

The man on the right represented the me who got everything right in his life. All the doors he knocked on opened, every decision he made was correct, he didn't make any wrong turns or get any bad breaks, he probably got the first job he ever applied to, married the first girl he had a crush on, he didn’t even need glasses to read.

In sharp contrast was the man to his left, the version of me with all the scars and marks on his face.

I wondered to myself again and again, if I had a chance to do it all over again, would I want to end up like the man on the right, or the one on the left.

Surprisingly, on every occasion I chose the one on the left.

While it was easy for me to feel sorry for this guy, it occurred to me that he was content with the way everything turned out, the smile on his face gave it away.

Every bruise and every scar on his body were reminders of his legacy, testaments to all he had been through. From toiling in the scorching sun to burning the midnight oil. 

They were his, he had earned them.

I haven't had that same dream again, but it couldn't have come to me at a better time.

I am now more proud of the man I see in the mirror every morning than I ever was before.

In the end though, I guess the fact that both men whom I saw in my dream seemed happy helped me realize that no matter what happens to us or what we choose to do, everything has a way of working itself out

Until Next Time


Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Dream A Little Dream With Me Part 1

“Do you think Neppo is dreaming?” My brother asked me.

Sanjeev George has never been interested in sports, but what am I complaining about? At that time, even I wasn’t into soccer.

Every now and then though, some things happen that make the whole world pause and take notice. South Korea’s dream run at the FIFA world cup of 2002 was one such event, and we were glued to our television screen with millions of other people when they took on Spain in the quarter finals that year.
The game went down to the wire, ending with a controversial 5-3 win in penalties for the hosts.
But here, my brother was busy carefully observing our pet dachshund's unusual body movements.

“Are you listening man”? He asked me, visibly annoyed by my apathetic response to his canine sleep analysis.

I turned my gaze for a second from the television to look at the 8th wonder of the world Napoleon 'Born-Apart' Senior lying on the verandah of our home in Kerala.

His eyes were closed tightly, and yet he was wagging his tail. Interestingly every few seconds he would shake all four legs too.

Now that Sanjeev had my attention, he delved deeper into the topic.

“What do you think he is dreaming of"? He asks.

“Wait, how did we conclude that he was dreaming”? I replied.

“It seems to be a good dream and a nightmare at the same time” He continued to explain looking more closely at Neppo, completely ignoring my question.

There is silence for a few seconds, and I slowly start to look away hoping this discussion was done and over with.

Wishful thinking.

“Maybe it’s a giant chicken leg”. He says.

“Maybe the good part of the dream is when he sees the leg just lying there doing nothing, and the nightmare is where it comes to life and chases him down the street”.

I laugh loud enough to wake Neppo from his sleep.

Neppo first stares at me and then at my brother before walking out of the room looking disdainful. If he could talk I’m sure he would have said “Where can a dog go to get some sleep in this house”.
I have always been fascinated by dreams.

It is the one of the few things very unique to our species.
And I am not talking about daydreaming in the middle of a lecture.

That aspect of being a human I don’t particularly find fascinating, it has in fact gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years.

But rather, I’m talking about the technicolor cinemascope short films that just appear all of a sudden in the middle of our sleep, starring you and me in it.

Which reminds me of the modern day classic Christopher Nolan film Inception, the only movie till date that I have watched 3 times on the big screen.

I have always felt Chris and his brother did a much better job with their analysis of dreams than Sanjeev and I did in 2002.

At one point in the movie we see Joseph Gordon-Levitt try and explain to Ellen Page how dreams work, he reminds her about how we always end up starting somewhere in the middle of a dream.

And when you think of it, it’s very true. We normally can’t figure out how we got to where we are in a dream, there is usually no beginning,  and usually the dream ends abruptly.
Even though it’s kind of obvious I had never thought of that before.

That being said, you aren’t always merely a passive audience in your dream, on occasion you even participate, trying to alter the outcome.

It is dreams like those that I live for.
I had a very interesting dream about 2 months ago.

In this dream I found myself in the middle of a very poorly lit room.

I wandered about in the darkness for a short while before moving towards the lights I saw in the distance.

I couldn’t see clearly without my glasses on so I couldn’t make out anything till I got a lot closer.

What I saw before my eyes intrigued me.

The light was coming from two lamps that hung from the ceiling.

And there appeared to be people standing underneath them.

It was a little disconcerting that they seemed to be looking straight at me and so I decided to be a little more cautious than just blindly walking into them.

They weren’t moving and I was curious to know more so I took measured steps and approached them.

The details got finer.

I could now see that there was one man standing under the lamp on the left and what looked like a small family under the lamp on the right.

When in doubt go right, right?

So I went to my right first.

I was correct.

It was indeed a cute little family.

The best part was that I seemed to recognize these people, but I just wasn't sure.

Never before have I missed my spectacles as much as I did in that dream.

All of them were smiling, so I assumed they were happy, the wife had red ribbons on her hair which didn’t make sense to me but who was I to pass comments on how someone chose to wear their hair, in 30 years I have barely mastered the task of using a comb.

I couldn’t make much of the faces of the children but I could bet there were incredibly cute.

It was however the man I spent most time trying to place in my head.

He was as tall as me, much bigger in size, had a round face and a neat appearance in general, and the more I looked at him the more familiar he seemed.
Sensing my attempts to identify him were getting futile by the second I decided to turn my attention to the man under the lamp to my side.

He looked very different from the man and his family on the right.

He was slouched over so I couldn’t see his face completely, but from the looks of it he seemed tired, and mostly disheveled.

Maybe if I could move the light a little closer to him I would be able to see more clearly I thought to myself.

I approached him carefully keeping an eye out for any sudden movements.

No luck.

The lamp wouldn’t budge from its position.

Up close he looked tired and disheveled alright, there were scars and marks on his face that I didn’t see in the other guy, he was smiling nonetheless, but again, I couldn’t recognize him.

I was disappointed; this was turning out to be a frustrating experience.

When all hopes seemed lost, the man under the left side of the lamp spoke.

Don't you know who I am? He said in a voice i have known all my life.

I didn't have to see him again to recognize him.

It was me.

Siri kept her word to me and woke me up on time.

The dream had ended.

To Be Continued.........

Saturday, December 31, 2016

The God File

My brother is responsible for getting me hooked on to a number of things.

From TV shows and different genres of music, to the NFL and Ethiopian cuisine, Basil George has impeccable taste and he is my go to guy when life gets boring, and/or when I am in need of money.
Many years ago when he brought home a cassette tape of Metallica’s live performance with the San Francisco Symphony, my non-identical twin Sanjeev George and I were still getting over our love for hard rock, which by the way was courtesy Basil as well. Barely a month before this he had introduced us both to 'Bon Jovi' and 'Def Leppard'.

I won't forget how the three of us sat around our home theater system, which was basically an old Sony car stereo with a couple of cabinet sized speakers, holding our breath not sure what to expect.

Three weeks later we graduated from the School of Rock and enrolled for higher education at the University of Heavy Metal.

I could tell you that the reason I stopped listening to heavy music was because Mom was annoyed by it or that dad wouldn’t allow me to grow my hair more than an inch above my scalp, but the truth is, I was starting to dabble with insomnia at the age of 15 and my attempts at head banging were literally falling face first.
Some of my best childhood memories consist of us three brothers sitting around and discovering new things together for the first time.

I was very excited when dad brought home our first computer.

When the person who installed it got up and left, us three brothers were looking at the bright screen with the same question on all of our minds.

What should be the first thing we do with this amazing device?

We exchanged looks.

Where were we supposed to start?

I am very grateful to Sanjeev who in that moment, opened up a word document and typed in the sentence, ‘Thank You Lord for this new computer’, we watched him as he clicked on the 'save as' button, and named the document as the ‘God file’ before closing it.

Pretty soon, Sanjeev and I started updating the file with everything that happened to us that we were grateful for.

It's almost 15 years later now and each of us three brothers live in different cities, but the God file keeps growing bigger by the day.
Last week tonight is an Emmy-winning tv show that Basil asked me to watch about a year ago.

John Oliver headlines this half-hour weekly special that summarizes the big events going on in the world in a very funny manner.

As usual, his recommendation was spot on.

Watching the show soon became a part of my weekly schedule.

HBO recently aired the finale of its 3rd season.

John wasn’t happy with the way 2016 turned out, the last segment of the show highlighted everything that went wrong this year. 

They even interviewed a bunch of people on the streets of New York and everyone seemed disappointed with 2016.

There was a lot of suffering, some of our favorite artists and athletes died, many of us had personal struggles to overcome and all different forms of heartbreak to deal with, and while on a usual day watching last week tonight gives me many reasons to laugh, John’s year-end review was pretty disheartening.

Here is a link to the video.
Needless to say, when I started my own review of the year gone by, I started thinking of everything that didn't go as I planned. The misses, the losses and all the disappointments.

I was about to put a premature end to my assessment of 2016 and walk away when my eyes fell on the God file sitting quietly on my computer.

It had been a while since I made an entry in it so I scrolled up to the top and started reading everything line by line.

Images from the entire year passed in front of my eyes, like a masterfully designed slideshow.

As it turns out, 2016 was a very eventful year for me.

There were the big happy moments - Moving to a new city, making new friends, my brother's graduation, the cubs winning the world series, then there was getting through the scary stuff - being exposed to identity theft at one point, worrying about the health of the people I really care about, a couple of near misses on the roads, but I guess what really brought a smile on my face was a reminder of all the little things I was able to accomplish this year, from getting a credit card to buying a new microwave oven, it all added up.

Maybe 2016 wasn't the best year of our lives, but come to think of it, when was life ever perfect?

In many ways, we are stronger, wiser and I'll grudgingly admit, a little older than we were 365 days ago, but here is the best part, through all the joy and the suffering, you and I survived, we made it and for the most part, we did it with a smile on our face.
As I sign off on 2016 for the last time, I would like to leave you with a quote from the show How I met Your Mother.

It's taken from a scene where Lily finds a list of things Ted is saying goodbye to before he leaves New York and moves to Chicago.

She tells him:

“You wrote down all these things to say goodbye to, but so many of them are good things. Why not just say goodbye to the bad things? Say goodbye to all the times you felt lost, to all the times it was a ‘no’ instead of a ‘yes,’ to all the scrapes as and bruises, to all the heartache. Say goodbye to everything you really want to do for the last time, but don’t go have the last Scotch with Barney — have the first Scotch toasting Barney’s new life because that’s a good thing, and the good things will always be here waiting for you.”

Before the clock turns 12 tonight, I hope you are able to say goodbye to everything that brought you pain and heartache in 2016, and I hope you able to reflect on all the good things that happened to you as well and hold on to them as you step into the new year with hope.

If you are wondering what plans I have for tonight, I'm working, someone needs to keep an eye out while everyone else is partying right?

But before I leave for the hospital I will find time to update the God file and type in the words 'Thank You Lord, Thank You for another year' :)

Until Next Time


Friday, December 9, 2016


Radio in India was stuck in limbo for the longest time.
All India Radio, more popularly known as Akashvani-the national broadcaster dominated the air-waves for nearly half a century.
Although both my parents recount listening to their respective Murphy radios amongst their most precious childhood memories, growing up I rarely tuned in, except of course for those 'once a blue moon' occasions when the TV wouldn't work and a cricket match was being played somewhere.

Not to discount anything from the station whose line-up was unique and entertaining in its own way, there was something missing. New music was rarely played and upcoming breakthrough artists were never featured.
Then in 2001, Radio City came to town.
I kid you not, the days that followed were dominated by an unprecedented newfound interest in FM radio.
Newer stations blossomed throughout the country, on-air advertising became the norm of the day and Nokia literally seized the day by stepping in and releasing phones with built-in radio tuners that went off the shelves sooner than they arrived.
Since there were millions of people listening in each day, it was hard for Radio City to serve everyone's best interests.
Requests for all kinds of songs were pouring in from every nook and corner of the city.
Sadly for me, it so turned out that not many people liked the kind of music I listened to and thus, the shows that I liked got pushed to the later hours of the day.
But that didn't matter, I was up all night listening.
Bangalore's very own Rohit Barker soon became my favorite RJ.
Mr Barker knew exactly how to enhance his audience's listening experience. He mixed the new with the old, the classics and the fresh hits with such finesse that it was hard not to be impressed.

I remember very clearly how he brought James Blunt into our lives. 
He shared a true story of how James overheard a group of girls singing his song in preparation for his concert scheduled for the next day, He happened to be living in the same hotel as them that night.
After patiently listening to their rendition of his song through the walls he tapped on their door and walked in to a room full of unsuspecting teenage fans and gave them a personalized performance of 'You're Beautiful' on his guitar.
Apparently the girls screamed till the next morning after he walked out.
Rohit then played the song for me to listen, and it blew my mind away.

The next morning I was more than eager to rush to my musically inclined and recently 'head over heels in love' friend Gajanan Babu and asked him if he too was listening in the previous night.
"I absolutely loved it". He said, his voice trying to match the excitement in mine.
"So are you going to try and get Barker to dedicate it to your girlfriend tonight"? I asked him.
"Of course not". He snapped back at me.
"Haven't you paid attention to the lyrics, the guy in the song doesn't get the girl at the end".
That's when it hit me.
It was a beautiful song, but it wasn't exactly a happy one.
If you were inside my mind at that exact point of time you would have heard the loud sound of glass breaking.
I couldn't listen to the song again, at least not with the same joy as before.
The next song of Mr. Blunt that would hit the air waves about a month later was 'Goodbye My Lover'.
That was pretty much it for me.
I realized that regular listening to James Blunts songs could be potentially injurious to my health and so I voluntarily checked myself into music rehab for a few days, detoxed with the help of some heavy metal and all was well again, for some time.
For some reason, a few weeks ago this image randomly just appeared on my Facebook newsfeed. 

I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the couch in my living room.

Growing up I was never really been a big fan of graffiti.
Most of the images I saw on the walls were obscenities spread across my neighbors walls or under flyovers and bridges on the road, making an already dirty wall even more appalling to the bystander.
To change the prevailing pattern, the government back home made a smart move of giving talented artists statewide the opportunity to use these walls as a canvas to express themselves in a more appealing and pleasing way.
The programme was moderately successful.
Dingy unkempt walls across the city were slowly but surely replaced by stunning art work.

What was once an eyesore was now something to behold.
Chicago has an amazing art scene.

Add to an already large list of museums, galleries, the art institute and innumerable exhibits, an impressive array of graffiti and murals spread all across town. Riding around in the bus as much as I do, I have seen my fair share of freestyle art often so impressive, it has at times taken my breath away.
In the past six months that I have lived here there is one particular mural and a fascinating message written on the iron fence right next to it that grabs my attention almost every Friday when I head out to the clinic.

The message, 3 words. You Are Beautiful.

Its funny, I must have seen it at least 50 times now, but on every single occasion it both surprises and uplifts me in equal measure.

As I explored the city further I started seeing the same message sprawled across several walls, billboards and sign posts. I went back recently to see if there was a connection and Voila! I discovered the 'You are Beautiful' project.
What began with 100 stickers and an idea in the mind of a young artist named Mathew Hoffman, has now blossomed into a global phenomenon.

All Matt wanted to do was send out some positive vibes into the world, and to just say that he succeeded is a gross understatement.

I remember reading a short story about a young man in a train who was distracted by an elderly co-passenger travelling with him. This other person constantly changed his seat, put his hand out of the window and appeared to be dropping what seemed to be seeds on either side of the tracks.

Annoyed by the constant disturbance he eventually confronted the man and asked him for an explanation

The man just smiled back at him and continued doing what he was doing.

When the journey ended he headed to the station master's office to file a complaint against his co-passenger.

It broke his heart to learn that the man he fought with was actually a deaf mute who frequently travelled on that train route.

"What was he doing with the seeds"? The young man asked the station master.

"When are you heading back home"?

"2 months from now". he replied.

"You'll see", the station master replied.

"You'll see".

The man left the train station somewhat perplexed.

Life continued and he got over his guilt surrounding the incident.

When time came for him to head home, he found himself alone in the train headed in the opposite direction. He was reminded of the old man, and he tried to distract himself by looking out of the window.

What he saw nearly drew him to tears.

Both sides of the tracks were now lined with beautiful flowers of all sizes and shapes that had grown out of the seeds planted by his co-passenger earlier.

Image result for train tracks flowers
I have learnt over the years not to take the little things for granted. A smile, a pat on the back, a hug when you are feeling down, a 'Keep Going, you're gonna make it', or a 'Don't worry, it gets better'. Not just because I think it is a good thing to do, but because I have often found myself at the receiving end of these gestures and it has pushed me forward in ways I cant explain.
Such is the power of the little, random, everyday acts of kindness.

And whether it is James Blunt serenading a bunch of his fans, or an old person trying to add a little beauty to the world, an unknown painter turning a bland wall into an alluring work of art or a young Matt Hoffman walking around the city with stickers reminding people how beautiful they are in their own way, in the words of the great Mark Twain, No act of kindness is ever Wasted.

Until Next Time,


Monday, October 31, 2016

677 Runs

Skinny Shakeel & Stout Tom, that’s what they called us in school.

It’s all our Sanskrit professors’ fault.

Mr. Upadhyay, the tall, lanky, perpetually unkempt language expert whose mannerisms very closely resembled the zombies from the walking dead.

Most of us were hearing the word stout for the first time when he pointed at Shakeel and then me saying “You are so skinny, and he is so stout”.

He wasn’t wrong, I was pretty rotund back then, but there was no need for him to give a bunch of primary school kids another word to make fun of a nice round fellow.

I usually sat next to Shakeel because he was the only one in class who could fit in the same bench as me.

Avinash thought it was the funniest word ever to have come out of a person’s mouth. 

That little rascal didn’t even know what ‘Stout’ meant, but for the next 3 years he wouldn’t stop calling me ‘Stout Tom’. It would have gone on for years,  but then one day the very same Mr. Upadhyay caught him without his homework and after giving him a sound thrashing, yes, I mean a really sound thrashing that included slamming a notebook on his flat skull repeatedly, he made Avi sit on the floor next to him using his head as a makeshift stand to balance the chalk box and duster.

After that incident we started calling him ‘Chalk Avi’ and all of a sudden ‘Stout Thomas’ wasn’t that funny anymore.

Setting aside the differences in our physical dimensions, Shakeel and I were really good friends.

We were an odd couple maybe that’s why we got along so well. The two of us were always on the same side, in the same team, and on the same page.
Pretty Much The Same!
Don’t ask me the rules of the game, but to this day Shakeel and I hold the record for most runs scored in a single innings of leg cricket at our school and maybe even the world. 

677 runs, (Yes Sachin and Yes Vinod Kambli I know you are not reading this, but we beat your record).

It hurts me to say that things fell apart 5 years later, just before I changed schools. The two of us had made plans to host a great party for our class but barely a week before it could happen someone broke into the class and stole all our supplies, stuff we had collected over several weeks pooling our highly limited funds.

It was my idea to keep everything inside the classroom which I thought was the safest place in the world, Shakeel never wanted that, but I figured nobody would do something like steal from a bunch of kids.

I was wrong.

Eventually, our parents and the teachers got involved and the party did happen, but after the arguments and finger pointing ended, both Shakeel and I were short of one really good friend.

This was a time when social networking and high speed internet didn’t exist, after I changed schools I never saw Shakeel again.

Not for 17 years.
If you are married or in a relationship and you have had the pleasure of knowing me, you have most likely been asked the question, So how did you meet your special someone?

At first, your reaction would have been – "Dude, that’s a very personal question you know"? But then you see the puppy eyes through my rimless spectacles take a deep breath and go, “Well Thomas, this is how it happened”.

I love these stories, people meet each other in the craziest of ways, and its something they never forget, something they hold very dear to their hearts.

In the course of my life I have heard some truly fascinating tales, from instant connections to I couldn’t stand him/her at first and one of my favorites - he begged and pleaded with me for years till I agreed to go out with him and now we have 3 kids with the fourth one on the way.

And just when I thought I had heard them all I ran into Shakeel again.

I did not recognize him at first.

In fact, I was scared to the bone when this large figure grabbed me all of a sudden, lifted me off the ground and started shaking me violently, on an unsuspecting afternoon in Bangalore.
When I realized it was him I shouted so loudly it startled the people on the street more than it did when this giant assaulted me.

It was a very emotional moment.

After I caught me breath again and we sat down to eat and drink something for the first time in nearly two decades, I unleashed on him a barrage of questions.

His longitudinal and radial expansion he attributed to genes and a timely growth spurt, as for his classy hairstyle, he gave credit to the barbershop in his neighborhood that only charged him 50 rupees and as far his 20/20 vision went, he was honest enough to admit to the fact that he wore contact lenses.

I was more interested in his explanation for the wedding ring on his finger.

He paused for a second and took a deep breath.

“We met in an elevator” he told me.

"Are you serious"? I asked him, sounding surprised.

"I went into the wrong building and got on the wrong elevator and on the 10th floor, lo and behold the most beautiful girl I have ever seen walks in".
"And then what happened"?

"I rode the elevator with her till the 32nd floor and walked with her till we got to her office".

"Get out of here". I said trying not to disturb the other patrons at the restaurant.

"I did".


"I asked her out".

At this point in the conversation, I got up from my chair and started walking away.

"Come back Stout Tom" He shouted without a care in the world.

I smiled awkwardly at returned to my seat trying to hide my embarrassment.

"You asked a girl out whom you saw for the first time, in an elevator, in the wrong building, after following her to the 32nd floor? That’s too much for to believe, especially coming from a guy who was legitimately scared to talk to girls in school".

"It's true man".

"And then what happened"?

"We got married in the next 2 months".

"Just like that"? I asked him.

"Just like that". He said grinning, his face reminding me of my little buddy from school.
I do not believe in co-incidence.

I don’t.

To think that everything is random and without purpose is something I just cannot do.

At the same time, it is also not easy looking for meaning in every little detail in every little thing that we go through, it can be very exasperating and exhausting.

Then you hear stories like that of Shakeel and his wife, and you realize how beautiful life really is.

Just think about the circumstances in which these 2 people met each other.

If one thing in their entire life had gone differently, this probably wouldn't have happened.

Tell me I’m wrong. Go ahead.

You and I both have taken several elevator rides in our lives, and we know how much of a difference a few seconds can make, but we don’t think about it because if we miss one lift, another one will soon come down.

But if Shakeel or his wife had missed meeting each other that morning, who is to say that they would have ever known that the other person even existed?
Every stupid little thing that he ever did in his life for the last 28 years was bringing him to that moment.

Even if it was to stop and pick up a coin lying on the street, miss the bus that took him to school, go to sleep early, wake up 10 minutes late, turn around and head back home because he was doubtful if he turned off the lights before he walked out, every wrong turn, every happy and sad event, every delay, every fight, every insult, every traffic light, every bend, every break, every bruise, let me make this very simple, even if one seemingly minuscule detail of his life had gone differently, he would’ve missed out something he considers a defining moment in his existence

Come to think of it, had we both scored even one more run in that epic game of cricket at school, his life would've been very different. 677 runs, that was how it was always meant to be.

You may not agree with me but just think of the odds involved, when you consider the sheer magnitude of all that it took for them to meet, it’s pretty staggering.

Coincidence? I think not, that is too simple an explanation.

We are all heading towards something beautiful.

It's going to happen.

The simplest of things you and I do are taking us there, we just don’t know when or where.

It's all part of a plan, you have to trust the process.

What can you and I do in the meantime? 

Let go a little, allow the author of life to take the wheel.

Sit back, enjoy the ride including the occasional bumps along the way, reminding yourself every now and then that there really aren’t any wrong turns, and everything happens for a reason.

Until Next Time