Bharat Packers and Movers

Udayan called me today.

'Oye Sally, long time, you got married, fuck! you have a child now, how's everything going and so on and so forth.'

Then he got to the point.

'So you remember that car i always wanted...'

'No.'

'Well it used to be an Ambassador. Then they came out with this variation I fell in love with. The Avigo. And then they frikkin stopped manufacturing it...'

'Wait. Why are you telling me all of this?'

'So I've found someone who's selling a second hand Avigo in Pune. And since i can't come down and have a look, i was wondering if you could, you know, go scope it out for me...'

It's been, what, ten years since we've spoken. Funny how we used to be best friends once. We even took a dump together (i mean it was different toilet cubicles but they were next to each other). it was like we were brothers. You know, the ones from different mothers. Fuck, that's so cheesy.

And then, well, guess what, a girl got in the way. Of all the cliches, it had to be the most cliched.

I loved her.

And he knew that.

And suddenly, one morning, they were dating.

I gave him the customary thump on the back. But it was never the same after that. We didn't hang out anymore. We ran into each other at parties. And had those excruciatingly long hollow conversations that last for a minute or so. And then proceeded to pretend we didn't exist. Him, me. And me, him. And that lasted for the next two years or so we had in college.

I met him the year after. Not on purpose.

A common friend was visiting New Delhi. And I happened to be there. And he happened to be there.

He had broken up with her.

Drunk, he said that he had saved me a world of trouble by making sure I hadn't ended up with her.

'You have no way of saying that', I said, 'no way at all.'

In retrospect, I think he meant it as a joke.

That was the last time we talked.

And now he calls me up ten years later.

Asshole, i think to myself, as I get off my car and walk to the door. The man answers.

'Mr. Surjit Singh', I ask.

'Yes', he says. He even looks kind of Surjity.

'Ye Udayan ne call kiya tha aapko. Main gaadi dekhne aaya hoon...'

I check the car out. The ignition and the engine seems fine. The upholstery needs some work. I drop the fucker a text.

The next day, i drive the car to Bharat Packers and Movers.

As I leave it there, I notice cars, all shapes and sizes, being lined up and put inside these larger trucks. And the trucks moving on. Taking them somewhere far away and very different.

Maybe we're the cars. Maybe, the trucks are the  larger circumstances about us. And maybe, to get where we're going, we can't help but pack up and move on. And be taken wherever they take us. He did, when he started dating the girl I loved.

I did, right now.

'It's done', I text him. And I move on.



  

Focus

Focus shapes you. It makes you keep what you need. And shed what you don't.

Nazeer was focused now. He had let go of everything that he didn't need to achieve his goal. For example, drugs, alcohol, partying, banging sluts, video games. He only did the things that would help achieve the goal. For example, waking up in time, basic hygiene, making sure uniform is spic n span, a disciplined work regimen that not only gets job done but sets EXAMPLE for juniors.

As Head of Airport Security in prestigious Chaudhary Charan Singh Airport, Lucknow, Nazeer was doing fine job. He had been executing duties to great effect for thirteen years now. Not easy, getting to where he got out of humble origins. But he had achieved it. Because of:
1. Strong focus
2. Lots of work
3. Disciplined approach
4. Healthy habits
5. Overall go getter ('Go Get It' attitude (also known as GGI attitude))

That evening, he was diligently manning his post. His eyes trained like a hawk seeking out the malignant. But his heart beating with concern for the benign. With special attention and care towards disabled, pregnant and elderly persons as always. And maintaining the good average of one smile per three persons.

As soon as he notices her approach, he knows what to do. He proceeds through the crowd. Reaches her and says, 'Madam, may I see passport and boarding pass?' She hesitates. And all doubts of her being who he thought her to be vaporise into smoke. It had, after all, been a long time. And time and the mind often conspire to play tricks on the eyes.

With shaking hands, she hands him her documents. He looks through them and points her through before moving to the next traveller.

The next day, he quits. You can find him sitting alone in bars humming popular western numbers to himself. He is also seen chilling at scenic locales in the area. I met him once and asked 'Bro. What about work? What are you doing?' He said, 'It is done. I just want to enjoy now.'