ஒற்றை ரோஜா (சிறுகதை)

      

  “டேய் சேகரு, இது மாதிரி இன்னியொரு சான்ஸு ஒனக்கு கெடைக்கவே கெடைக்காது. உம் மனசுல உள்ளத, இதயம் முரளி மாதிரி கடேசி வரைக்கும் சொல்லாம மூடி மறைச்சுட்டு இருக்காத! இப்பயாவது அவ காதுல சொல்லிபுடுரா! இதை வுட்டா பொறவு ஒனக்கு வேற நல்ல சான்ஸே கெடைக்காது!”, என பாலு சேகரின் காதில் கடிக்காதக் குறையாக கிசுகிசுக்க, சேகரும் பதிலுக்கு, "“சரிடா பாலு, இன்னைக்கு கண்டிப்பா அவகிட்ட சொல்றேண்டா!”, என சொல்லிக்கொண்டு இருக்கும் போதே பள்ளி ஒலிபெருக்கியில், "சேகர், மேடை அருகே வரவும்", என ஓங்கி ஒலித்தது. பாலு அவனை கண்களாலேயே வாழ்த்தி முதுகில் தட்டிக்கொடுத்து வழியனுப்பிவைக்க சேகர் மெதுவாக பள்ளியின் ஆண்டு விழா மேடையை நோக்கி நகர்ந்தான்.

        அவனுக்கு முன்பாகவே அவளது பெயர் அழைக்கப்பட்டு ஏற்கனவே அவள் விழா மேடையில்  நின்றிருந்தாள். இப்படி இருவரும் ஒரே மேடையில், ஒரே நாளில், ஒருசேர நிற்கப் போகிறோம் என நினைக்கையில் அவன் உடம்பு ஒரு கணம் புல்லரித்ததுப் போனது. இப்படி அவளுடன் அவன் ஒன்றாக இருப்பது போல கனவுகள்தான் வரும். ஆனால் இன்று, தற்போது, தான் கண்ட கனவுகள் நனவாக இருப்பதை அவனால் நம்பவே முடியவில்லை.

        அதுபோல இனிய கனவுகள் அவனுக்கு அடிக்கடி வரும். அந்தக் கனவுகளைப் பற்றி நினைத்தாலே அவன் உடனே மெலிதாகி வானத்தில் மேகமாய் பறக்க ஆரம்பித்து விடுவான். அந்தக் கனவுகளில் மணமேடை போன்ற ஒரு சூழல் வரும். சுற்றிலும் வெண்பஞ்சு மேகங்கள் பரந்திருக்கும். பச்சைப் புல்வெளிகளும், பூந்தோட்டங்களும் நிறைந்து அந்த இடமே பசுமையாக, சுவர்கமாக காட்சியளிக்கும். பூமாலைகள் தாங்கிய வெள்ளை உடை தேவதைகள் தன்னை சுற்றிசுற்றி வருவார்கள். அவளுடைய மூச்சுக் காற்று தன் மேலே படும்படியான ஒரு  நெருக்கத்தில் அவன் அவளுடைய கண்களையே நோக்கிக் கொண்டு அகில உலகையே வென்ற ஒரு பூரிப்புடன் நின்று கொண்டிருப்பான். கிட்டதட்ட பாரதிராஜா படங்களில் வருவது போலவே அந்தக் கனவுகள் இருக்கும். அடிக்கடி கனவில் வந்து அவனை ஆட்கொள்ளும் அளவுக்கு அவன் மனதை அவள் முழதாக ஆக்கிரமித்திருந்தாள்.

        ஒரு கணம் இப்பவும் அந்த கனவு மின்னலாய் அவன் மனதில் வந்து போனது. அந்தப் பூரிப்பிலேயே அவன் மேடையை நோக்கி மிதந்து கொண்டேபோனான்.

        சேகர் அவளை மனதாரக் கொண்டாடி, ரசித்து, காதலிக்கத் தொடங்கி இன்றோடு ஐந்து வருடங்களாயிருந்தது. இயற்கை அவர்கள் இருவரையும் எட்டாம் வகுப்பிலிருந்தே ஒரே வகுப்பறையில் ஜோடியாக அமர்த்தி அழகு பார்த்தது. அவளை என்று முதன்முதலாகப் பார்த்தானோ அன்று விழுந்தவந்தான் இன்று வரை எழவில்லை. அவர்கள் இருவருக்கும் இடையில் அப்படி ஒரு பொருத்தம். வெளியில் இருந்து பார்ப்பவர்களுக்கும் அப்படிதான் தோன்றும். படிப்பில் இருவரும் படுகெட்டி. போட்டி போட்டுக்கொண்டு முதல் இரண்டு இடத்தையும் மாறிமாறி பிடிப்பார்கள். ஒன்பதாம் வகுப்பு படிக்கும் போது அவர்கள் வாங்கிய மதிப்பெண்களைப் பார்த்து வகுப்பாசிரியர் கிண்டலாக, “என்ன ரெண்டு பேரும் ஒண்ணா சேர்ந்து படிச்சீங்களா, சொல்லி வச்ச மாதிரி ஒரே மார்க்கு வாங்கிருக்கீங்க”, என ஏதேச்சையாக சொன்னதுதான் இவனுக்கு முதல் அட்சாரமே. அந்த அட்சாரத்தின் கிளைமாக்ஸ்தான் இன்றைய மேடை நிகழ்வு. பனிரெண்டாம் வகுப்பு இறுதித் தேர்வில் அவள் முதல் இடத்தையும் இவன் இரண்டாம் இடத்தையும் பிடித்திருந்தான். அவள் அங்கு ஏற்கனவே மேடைக்குச் சென்று முதல் இடத்தை ஆக்கிரமித்து நின்றது கண்டு அவனுக்குப் பிரமிப்பாகவும் பெருமையாகவும் இருந்தது. தூரத்தில் அவள் அணிந்திருந்த கண் கண்ணாடியில் காலை இளம் வெயில்பட்டு பிரதிபலித்தது அவனுக்கு அவள் ஏதோ ஞானஒளி சித்திரமாகத் தெரிந்தாள்.

        இவனும் ஒரு காலத்தில் தலைவலி பிரச்சினைக்காக கண்ணாடி அணிந்திருந்தான். ஆனால் சில நாட்களுக்குப் பிறகு அதுவே சரியாகி இப்போதெல்லாம் கண்ணாடி அணிவதில்லை. அப்போது அவனைப் பார்த்து ஒருவர், “என்னடா சைட்டுக்காக கண்ணாடி போட்டிருக்கியா”, என யதார்த்தமாக ஐ-சைட்டைப் பற்றிக் கேட்க இவனுக்குள் ஏற்கனவே இருந்த ஃப்ளேம் இன்னும் பலமாகப் பற்றிக் கொண்டது. அது இப்போது திடீரென நினைவுக்குவர அதை நினைத்து மனதால் வெட்கித்துக் கொண்டே மேடையை நெருங்கினான்.

        வேகமாக மேடை மேலே ஏற இருந்தவனை, "இங்கே வாப்பா", என ஒரு ஆசிரியரின் குரல் தடுத்து அழைத்தது. "யாருடா இது, சிவ பூஜையில புகுந்த கரடி மாதிரி நடுவுல? நம்ம இன்னைக்கு அவளோடா கிட்டக்க போயி நிக்க முடியாதா? பேச முடியாதா?", என பலத்த சந்தேகப் பார்வைகளுடன்,  "சார், நாந்தான் சேகர்", என்று பவ்யமாக நின்றான். 

        "இந்தா இந்த பேட்ஜை கழுத்தில் போட்டுக்கோ, அதுல உம் பேரையும் நல்லாத் தெரியற மாதிரி பெருசா எழுது", என ஒரு பேனாவை அந்த ஆசிரியர் அவன் கையில் கொடுத்தார். "ஓ இதுக்குதான் நிக்க சொன்னாரா", என அப்போதுதான் அவனுக்கு உயிரே வந்தது. ஆனால் அவர் கொடுத்த பேனா எழுதாமல் மக்கர் செய்யவே அவன், "வேறு பேனா இருக்குமா", எனக் கேட்டான். அவரும் தன்னிடம் இருந்த இன்னொரு பேனாவைக் கொடுக்க, உடனே அவனுக்கு ஒரு நமட்டு சிரிப்பு வந்தது. "என்னடா இளிப்பு வேண்டி கெடக்கு, சீக்கிரமா பேரை எழுதிட்டு, மேலே போ, எல்லாரும் வெயிட் பண்றாங்க", என அவர் ஒரு அதட்டு அதட்ட அவனும் அவன் பெயரை மெதுவாக எழுத ஆரம்பித்தான்.

        ஒருமுறை இப்படிதான் இவனுடைய பேனா எழுதாமல் போனது. அப்போது அவன் வகுப்பில் இருந்த மற்ற சக மாணவர்களிடம், "எக்ஸ்ட்ரா பேனா ஏதாச்சும் இருக்கா", எனப் பொதுவாகக் கேட்க உடனே அவள் எல்லோரையும் முந்திக்கொண்டு வந்து ஒரு பேனாவைக் கொடுத்தாள். இவனும் வாஞ்சையோடு மூடியைக் கழற்றிவிட்டு எழுதப் போகும் போதுதான் கவனித்தான். அந்த பேனாவில் "நிப்" இல்லாமல் வெறும் நாக்கை மட்டும் காட்டிக் கொண்டிருந்தது. இப்படி அவனை முட்டாள் ஆக்கி விட்டாளே என அவன் கோபமாக தலையை நிமிர்த்த அவளும் அவன் ஏமாந்ததை பார்த்து சிரித்துக் கொண்டே போய்விட்டாள். அவளுடைய அந்த சிரிப்பு அவன் கோப அலையை அமர்த்தி அவனும் அவளுடன் சேர்ந்து சிரித்துவிட்டான்.

        ஒருவழியாக பெயர் எழுதிய பேட்ஜைக் கழுத்தில் மாட்டிக் கொண்டு மேடையேறி அவள் அருகிலேயே வந்து நின்றுவிட்டான். கை கால் எல்லாம் படபடவென தந்தியடித்தது. அவள் அவனைப் பார்ப்பது நன்கு தெரிந்தும் ஏனோ இவன் அவளைப் பார்த்தும் பார்க்காதது போல இருந்தான். தலைமையாசிரியர், "விழா ஆரம்பமாகலாம்", எனச் சொல்ல கடவுள் வாழ்த்து ஒலிக்கப்பட்டது. அனைவரும் வாய்விட்டு கூடவே பாட ஆரம்பித்தார்கள். படபடப்பில் இருந்த இவனுக்கு பாட்டு வரிகள் மறந்து பாடவே வரவில்லை. அவள் அவனைப் பார்த்து பாட்டை எடுத்துக் கொடுக்க இவனும் அவளைத் தொடர்ந்து பாட ஆரம்பித்தான்.

        இது ஒன்றும் இவனுக்கு புதியதில்லை. பலமுறை அவள் அவனுக்கு இதுபோல பிண்ணனி உதவி செய்திருக்கிறாள். இருவரும் நல்ல உயரமானதால் கடைசி பெஞ்சுக்கும் முந்தைய பெஞ்சில்தான் அமர்வார்கள். இருவரின் இருக்கையும் கிட்டதட்ட ஒரே வரிசையில் இருக்கும். ஆசிரியர் ஏதாவது கேள்வி கேட்டு இவனுக்கு ஸ்டார்டிங் டிரபிள் இருந்தால் அவள் குசுகுசுவென தலையைக் குனிந்து கொண்டே பதிலை எடுத்துக் கொடுப்பது ஒன்றும் அவனுக்கு புதிதில்லை. இன்றும் அதேதான் நடந்தது. அவள் பாட இவனும் அவளைப் பின் தொடர்ந்து பாடினான். 

        கடவுள் வாழ்த்து முடிந்து தலைமையாசிரியர் இவர்கள் இருவரின் திறமையையும் மதிப்பெண்களையும் பாராட்டிப் பேசி பாராட்டுச் சான்றிதழ்களை வழங்கி வாழ்த்தினார். மாணவர்களின் கரகோஷம் விண்ணைப் பிளந்து ஒலித்தது. மேடையருகே வீற்றியிருந்த பூவரச மரம் கரகோஷக் காற்றில் அசைந்து பூவை அவர்கள் மேலே அட்சதையாக அள்ளித் தெளித்தது. அவனைச் சுற்றியிருந்த வெள்ளை வேட்டி கட்டிய ஆசிரியர்கள் தேவதைகளாக அவன் கண்ணில் பட்டனர். விழா முடிந்தவுடன் அவளிடன் கண்டிப்பாக சொல்லிவிட வேண்டும் என அவன் மனதில் உறுதியை வரவழைத்துக் கொண்டே அவளுடன் மேடையில் இருந்து இறங்கினான். 

        கூடவே படித்திருந்தாலும், பார்த்திருந்தாலும் அவர்கள் இருவரும் பேசிக் கொண்டதில்லை. அவன் அவளை வகுப்பில் மறைந்திருந்து பார்ப்பதும், அவள் வீட்டின் தெருவில் அடிக்கடி சைக்கிளில் உலா வருவதும், பள்ளி முடிந்து போகும் போது பின் தொடர்வதும் அவளும் நன்கே அறிவாள். ஆனால் இதுவரை பேச்சு இல்லை. விழா முடிந்து அவரவர் செல்ல இவர்கள் இருவர் மட்டும் நடந்து கொண்டிருந்தனர்.  

        இதுதான் சரியான சமயமென, "ஒரு நிமிஷம் ஒங்கிட்ட பேசணும்", என சொன்னான்.

        "அப்பாடா இப்பவாவது பேசுனயே, சொல்லு", என அவளும் திரும்பி சிரித்தவாறு இவன் என்ன சொல்லப்போகிறான் என்ற ஆர்வத்தோடு நின்றாள். 

        "இல்லை, சும்மாதான், கங்ராஜுலேசன்ஸ்".

         "ம் ... தாங்க்ஸ், அவ்வளவுதானா", என்றாள். 

        "பெஸ்ட் ஆஃப் லக்".

        "தாங்க்ஸ், ஒனக்கும் என்னோட பெஸ்ட் ஆஃப் லக்" என அவள் சொன்ன பிறகு இருவரும் பிரிந்து தத்தம் நண்பர்கள் நின்ற பகுதிக்கு சென்றனர்.

        "என்னடா மேட்டர சொல்லிட்ட போல! சூப்பர்! என்ன சொன்னா? எல்லாம் சக்ஸஸ்தானே", என பாலு அவன் வந்ததும் வராதுமாக குதித்தான்.

        "இல்லைடா பாலு, பேசுனேன் ஆனா அதை மட்டும் சொல்லலை. வேண்டாம்டா. எனக்கு பயமா இருக்கு. ஒரு வேளை அவளுக்கு விருப்பமில்லைன்னு சொல்லிட்டாக்கா என்னால அதை தாங்க முடியாது. ஒருவேளை அவ என் விருப்பத்துக்கு ஒத்துகிட்டாலும் எங்க குடும்பங்கள் வேணாமுனு சொல்லிட்டாலும் என்னால அதை தாங்கிக்க முடியாது. எனக்கு இப்படி இருக்கறதே ரொம்ப சந்தோசமாதான் இருக்கு. நான் எனக்குள்ள பொத்தி பொத்தி  வளர்த்த ஒத்தை ரோஜா என் மனசுக்குள்ளே இப்பவும் செழிப்பாதான் இருக்கு. அது எப்பவும் அப்படியேதான் இருக்கும். அதைப் பறிச்சு வாடிப் போறதை பார்க்குற தெம்பு எனக்கு இல்லைடா. என் கனவு என்னோடதான் இருக்கும். அது எங்கேயும் போகாது. நான் ரொம்பவே சந்தோசமாதான் இருக்கேன். ஆனா ஒண்ணு சொல்றேண்டா, எனக்கு நல்லா தெரியும். அவளுக்குள்ளேயும் ஒரு ஒத்த ரோஜா இருக்குன்னு எனக்குத் தெரியும். அதுவும் வாடாமல் இருக்கும். அதுவும் அப்படியே செழிப்பாதான் இருக்கும். அது எனக்கு நல்லாத் தெரியும்", என்று சொல்லிவிட்டு சைக்கிளைத் தள்ளிக் கொண்டே செல்லும் அவனை தூரத்தில் இருந்து இரண்டு கண்கள் மட்டும் பார்க்கத் தவறவில்லை---  அதை அவனும் அறியாமலில்லை ... சிரித்துக் கொண்டே நடந்தான்.

(1960களில் குமுதம் இதழில் பதிப்பிற்காக அனுப்பப்பட்ட 'ஒற்றை ரோஜா' என்ற கதையைத் தழுவி எழுதப்பட்டது)  

Ding

 

       Nobody wants to get dinged, but there are some people who seem to wait for it, though not physically. Rideshare drivers are among them—they love it when their app dings to notify them of a ride.

        One evening, he received such a "loving" ding. He wouldn’t know the destination until he picked up the rider, but he knew exactly where the pickup was. He wasn't a full-time professional driver; he did it as a part-time job. He always felt butterflies swirling in his stomach whenever he got such a ding because he didn’t know who the rider was or where the ride would go. It was always thrilling and suspenseful until he picked up the person and learned the destination. When he saw that the pickup was at a hotel, he felt a little more relaxed. It seemed like it would be a decent ride. He kept his hopes high and drove to the pickup spot as the app directed. 

         It was a big, upscale hotel in town, and he slowly pulled inside, heading toward the lobby porch. Typically, these types of rides were really good because they either went to the airport or involved long trips. Plus, they usually came with a lot of luggage. He knew he’d need to help load the luggage, but the good thing was that he often received tips for doing extra work. 

          As he pulled into the hotel’s front pickup area, he spotted two young people waving their hands. They seemed to recognize the ride. However, they weren’t carrying any large luggage—just small carry-ons. He figured the ride would still be to the airport, since carry-ons were typically the type of luggage one would bring to an airport. Airport rides were always a good bet because the airports were located outside the city, guaranteeing a long ride and the potential for a decent tip.

          The young people climbed into the car, and he accepted the ride in the app. As he had hoped, the destination showed "airport." He was very happy. He took the highway toward the airport, and the two passengers in the back kept talking. They spoke loudly and excitedly, making it impossible for him to ignore their conversation. It sounded like they were coming back from a technology conference. Their discussion was filled with hi-tech topics, and he noticed they were from two different reputed academic research institutions. Their talks were so interesting and enthralling. 

         It had already been twenty minutes since he picked them up, and he still had about half the distance to go before reaching the destination, so he continued listening to their conversation.

      One of them suddenly turned to him and asked, “Hello, where are we going?”

        “To the airport. We’ll be there in about 20 minutes,” he replied.

       “Which airport?” the other guy asked.

        “International. That’s what the app shows as the destination,” he answered politely.

         The second guy then added, “He’s right. International is where I wanted to go. Any problem?”

        The first guy, now sounding concerned, said, “I thought we were going to the domestic airport.” 

        After that, the two of them started nearly arguing about the airport mix-up. It became clear they didn’t know each other at all. They had just met outside the conference and had been chatting together in the hotel lobby about the event. When one of them mentioned heading to the airport, the other assumed they were both going to the same airport. They had never asked which airport; they were too wrapped up in their conversation. The two airports were 30 minutes apart and located at different ends of town.

       The driver realized there was nothing more he could do, so he decided to drop one passenger off at the international airport and the other at the domestic airport. After the mix-up and drop-off logistics were sorted out, the car fell silent. The rest of the ride was quiet, with no one speaking, and no more enlightening moments. He said to himself, “What a smart ding.”

Retire or Rejoice!

       “Sure, you all can come here; I can accommodate. Ask for my name when you reach the tunnel! someone will guide you. Make sure you eat dinner before you come, as you may not find anything out here— we will have breakfast at my place.” That was Steve on the other end, speaking with an assertive tone as he confirmed our booking for the night stay. He ran a small inn on the trail side.

That morning, we were ready to hit the C&O Canal bike trail in Cumberland, which stretches all the way to Washington, D.C. The trail runs alongside the Potomac River. Due to heavy seasonal rains and flooding from the rising river, we wanted to check the trail conditions at the visitor center before starting our ride. As expected, several parts of the trail were damaged, and we were advised to take alternative paths or arrange transportation for our bikes. We also picked up brochures with recommendations for places to stay along the trail. That’s how I got Steve’s number. His bed-and-breakfast lodge was in Little Orleans, a small town located closer to the trail. We hoped to reach it that evening. 

We slowly rolled our bikes onto the trail. Cumberland is a beautiful place. The Potomac River literally begins there, stretching wide and flowing eastward. It was a beautiful, sunny day as well. We felt fresh and took plenty of pictures on the outskirts of the town. However, it wasn't until we hit the rural boundaries that we realized the troublesome riding ahead of us.

Despite the path being a downgrade, the trail was wet, slippery, and muddy, making it much harder to ride than we had anticipated. We had to walk our bikes in several areas due to mud and overgrown grass. We didn’t cover as much distance as we expected, managing only 4 miles in 3 hours. To make matters worse, we had to deal with swarms of mosquitoes and other insects. It seemed like the trail was very hard to maintain due to flooding conditions. The canal towpath was also very popular for heavy tree roots spreading everywhere, which made the ride very bumpy. Wet and slippery conditions only made it worse. Our enthusiasm for riding started to fade, and we were almost ready to give up on this section of the trail. We didn’t encounter many other riders—just a few brave souls here and there. When we asked them about the trail conditions, we didn’t get any encouraging news. They mentioned that some parts of the trail were completely flooded, with mud reaching up to their knees. Unable to cross those areas, they had to take rental trucks or alternative routes via highways to bypass the damaged sections. Their experiences didn’t motivate us to continue, so we decided to halt at a point where we had a main road intersection. Then we called for motor transportation to carry us to Steve’s place. 

After 45 minutes, the truck arrived. Interestingly, the driver’s name was also Steve. He had just recently moved from Texas to this area to help his wife, who runs a bed-and-breakfast business, along with providing bicycle transport services. B&Bs were quite popular along the trail, and they made good business during biking season. 

We drove toward Little Orleans, making sure to stop at a gas station on the way to get some snacks and drinks for dinner, as Steve had warned us this morning. It was a very remote location, with only a few residences scattered around. When we arrived, no one was there to answer the doorbell. We called Steve, but he mentioned that he was just a few minutes away and asked us to wait. We wondered, *What kind of business is this?* We were expecting an inn, with someone at the reception, but it looked so simple—just a house with a small sign at the corner. No one was around. 

We kept the van waiting with us in case we didn’t like the place or decided to go somewhere else. Steve arrived about 15 minutes later. He was a tall, elderly, white man, likely in his late 70s. He introduced himself but didn’t immediately ask us about our check-in. He didn’t ask for our IDs. He told the van driver everything was fine and that he could leave. The driver was even worried if this was the right place to stay and furtively checked with us to see if he should stay longer or leave. But we let the driver go and decided to go with whatever Steve was going to offer. 

Steve instructed us to wash our bikes thoroughly. He even directed us, pointing out the dirt on the wheels that still needed cleaning. He also made a comment, “Don’t bring dirt inside my home.” We found him a bit annoying and were eager to get the keys and check out the rooms so we could avoid any more interaction with him. But he insisted that the bikes be cleaned first. With no other choice, we cleaned them since the bikes needed washing due to the mud. Afterward, we asked if we could check in, but instead, he began chatting with us about where we were from and other unrelated matters. 

Steve was a retired postmaster. He had worked at some area offices in the same place where we were from. He was so delighted to host us as guests. Despite his age, he was very youthful in his actions. He was very active and single-handedly managed the business. He was very social and talkative. His comments were so hilarious, and his sense of humor was great. He lived alone but with his cats and horses. He owned the house and the surrounding land, which was a little over 25 acres. He asked what our preferred breakfast items were and how we liked our coffee— with milk or without. He took a mental note of everything with a nod.

After chatting with him for a while, our worries faded, and we felt comfortable and safe in his company. He took us upstairs, showed us the rooms, and assigned them to us. He pointed to the largest main bedroom with a smirk and said, “Let the Dad take this room,” then gave the others the bunk bed room. He thought I was older than the others, so I was given the main room, while the others were younger and could climb the bunk bed ladder.

He showed us all the amenities, washrooms, laundry facilities, and other areas. He even turned to one of my friends, who was noticeably younger, and said, “Hey, Young man, bring the luggage inside and help the Dad”. We knew he was teasing us, but he was doing it happily to keep the humor flowing. Finally, he said goodbye for the night and asked us to be ready for breakfast by 7 a.m. the next morning.

The next day, we could smell the coffee and the aroma of baking coming from the kitchen. We got ready and went downstairs. He had arranged everything. The table was set, with fresh and warm bread in the middle, a steaming coffee pot on the side, and plates with fruits, sausages, and eggs. He asked us to take our seats and sat down with us for breakfast. It was indeed a feast. So delicious! He had made everything fresh that morning. He woke up around 5 a.m. to prepare it all on his own. While we were eating, he shared details about his family, his younger years, and even enjoyed talking about some of the guests he had hosted. He really liked our company. He pulled out old letters, pictures, and other items he kept for good memories. He was so joyful to share those moments with us.

It was time to depart. He gave us a paper copy of the trail and provided lots of tips and guidance to avoid the bad segments with alternate paths. 

We had to leave with much sadness. His hospitality was so warm. On the way back, we were talking about him—he indeed wasn’t alone. Instead, he was living with his great memories. We recollected everything since we talked to him over the phone, his assertive directions when we met for first time, his privileged care while allotting rooms, his passion and love to cook the breakfast, his joyful sharing of his memories and finally an elderly guidance to our journey. He was such gem of a person. He was rejoicing in the life he has been living. He wasn’t definitely not someone did all the chores for money but rather to show the love in doing. All the years he worked for himself had perhaps given him a sense of service, but the life he was living at that moment truly made it more meaningful.

I would proudly say that Steve was not retired but was instead, rejoiced, enjoying life to its fullest. Truly!

Riding the Prompt

“Riding the Right Prompt: A Lesson in Asking the Right”

These days, prompts are the new way of asking or searching for anything. While there are countless answers and resources available, asking—or, better yet, prompting—the right way can yield the most relevant results. The time when we spent a lot of effort preparing for answers to a standard set of questions is truly behind us. We are now living in a modern era where we need to focus on preparing the right set of questions instead. I once asked ChatGPT to tell me jokes about prompt engineering, and here’s what it came up with:

“Why did the prompt break up with the AI?”

“Because it just couldn’t get the right response anymore!”

“Why did the prompt engineer bring a ladder to work?”

“Because they wanted to reach new heights in conversation!”

Great jokes, Thanks to chatGPT! But these answers got me thinking further. Prompting is becoming a skill in its own right. The accuracy of the responses you receive often depends on how you frame the prompt. This reminds me of an experience I had that shows how the way you ask can truly impact the outcome.

During our multi-day bicycle trip in the fall of 2018, one particular day left us completely drained. We had ridden up an enormous stretch of uphill terrain on the outskirts of Steubenville, OH, and were so exhausted that we couldn’t move another inch. Somehow, we managed to pull ourselves into a roadside gas station and began asking drivers for a ride to a nearby hotel where we planned to stay that night. It was late in the day, and no one seemed willing to help. We had to look for other options.

We desperately wanted to find a rental or some form of transport that could carry us—and our bikes—to the hotel. I started googling rental trucks, vans, towing services, and similar options but found no immediate solutions. One of our friends then suggested I search for "Reddy Nearby." I asked him what that meant and how it was relevant. He casually replied, “You need to search for the right thing, in the right way, with the right context. I’m sure we’ll find a Reddy in this town to help.”

At first, it sounded like a silly idea, but I gave it a shot. I searched the way he suggested, and—sure enough—we found a Reddy to connect with. What a smart idea he had! I wondered how he was able to think of a prompt with a context-sensitive search that matched our needs. Reddy is a common and popular surname, one of the prominent diaspora groups, from South India. First, he was confident he would find one of them, and second, he was comfortable asking for help since we were from the same region. I was impressed by his intelligent prompting!

The lesson here is clear: ask, prompt, and search for the right thing, in the right way, at the right time. It’s truly an art. In a world filled with overwhelming amounts of resources and answers, we need to develop the skill to ask the right questions—and prompt in the right way—to get the best results.

PromptIT-Right!

Connected!

 

Everything is just a tap away. It doesn’t matter where we live; distances fade, and it feels like the world has shrunk, with everyone just a call away, perhaps a ping away. We’ve literally brought the world into our palms. It’s like an old Indian witch who could see events by rubbing thick black ink over a betel leaf or using a magic mirror to reflect the prompts. There’s no doubt she was indeed a visionary who saw what the world would become later.

Smartphones have become inevitable, like an electronic organ of our body that we cannot live without. Soon, they will be stitched to our bodies, much like how pets are implanted with chips. If we don’t have such a device, we’re considered uncivilized in today’s society. People even judge us by the type or model of phone we use. On many occasions, we need a simple text code to verify our own identity. Without such a device, there’s no way to prove who we are. No device means there’s no way to trace us—better put, it’s simply our lifeline.

Once, I went on a bicycle trip with three of my friends through some remote areas in Ohio. We were riding from Cleveland en route to Washington DC. One of our friends had already bailed out on the third day due to a sore knee. He wanted to take a break but planned to join us in Pittsburgh. So, the other two friends and I stayed on course to continue the ride. The route was covered with mountains, rivers, and dense, wooded, remote towns. We managed to ride through trails, roads, and streets, basically at the mercy of whatever our app directed us to. There was no need to keep paper maps clipped to our handlebars or use old-school techniques. We had the trail maps app installed, which navigated us precisely. All parts of the ride were incredibly beautiful—valleys, rivers, streams, bridges, and greenery everywhere. Since the area was so remote, there was no other traffic at all. The roads were completely empty, and we rarely noticed any motor traffic. As we biked, we followed each other in a line, like relay racers, but maintaining a safe distance so we could see each other. We stopped at many spots, wherever we liked, to take pictures or take a break. We were so connected with friends and family. We posted updates instantly and shared our joy with everyone. It was so much fun. My friend had a powerful bluetooth speaker, and we streamed our favorite music loudly—thanks to the sky and the internet, we were connected in every aspect—and enjoyed every bit of the ride with no regrets. But the ride was fully mixed with uphills and downhills. Riding with our belongings tied to the bike’s back rack and a backpack on our shoulders was an added challenge. When we faced an uphill, it was literally a ride in 1-1 gears, crawling like a snail. As we pedaled, we could almost see the ants and all sorts of micro-species crawling on the ground—our pace was that slow. I’d even say they were moving faster than our bikes. My friends teased me by calling me “1-1” since I was really good at maneuvering the bike in low gears.

At one point, we encountered a monumental uphill. I happened to lead the pack steadily with my 1-1 skills, while my friends trailed behind me. I reached the top first, relaxed for a bit, and started taking pictures. It was a beautiful view—green everywhere, a visual treat for our tiring eyes that had been seeing nothing but the ground for more than thirty minutes. The emptiness on top of the hill was accompanied by a nice breeze. I felt it hitting my face, almost like a high five, wrapping around me and making me feel good, a reward for reaching the top.

I could see my friends were still pedaling slowly up the hill. Although I could see them, I knew it would take another ten to fifteen minutes before they could reach the top because the hill was so steep. Typically, all uphill rides are rewarded with an instant, truly enjoyable downhill. That’s the real reward any biker can get at the end. Biking downhill makes anyone feel like they’re literally flying. I couldn’t resist the downhill, so I waved at my friends and hand-signaled that I would wait at the bottom of the hill. As soon as they acknowledged, I put my bike to work. It was like melting ice cream on a hot sun. No effort was needed. I just pedaled a little to keep the bike balanced. I felt so light. No effort was put in—all the weight I was carrying on my back didn’t matter at all.

When I reached near the bottom, the road split into two ways, but I stayed on course, relying on my map. The main road curved a bit, and I found a shady spot at the bottom. I stopped my bike, treated myself to some snacks, and waited for my friends. I thought about catching up on messages on my phone, but I noticed that my phone’s signal was completely dead—no bars, just "SOS" displayed on the screen. I moved around a bit to see if I could pick up any signal. I did get a spotty signal, but it wasn’t good enough to stream messages. My battery was also halfway down. I felt content for a moment, knowing I could wait there for my friends before continuing. I reminded myself that we should stick together afterward. So, I waited…and waited…and waited. Time passed, and more than 20 minutes had gone by. There was no sign of them. I was even tempted to go back and check, but I didn’t want to lose my reference point for them.

But no luck. I decided to call them. So, I moved around a few feet, trying to get a better signal. After some “dancing” moves across the road, here and there, I eventually managed to connect with them. It was a very rough connection, and I could barely make out what they were telling me. They had taken the other road at the split because their navigation had suggested so. They had already ridden a good distance—three to four miles—on the other route. Before I could communicate further to know their whereabouts, my connection was completely lost. Since then, all my attempts were in vain, with no connection. My repeated attempts to load the trail map wasn’t refreshing either. I haven’t had such a bad luck in my life that I could think of. 

I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried, wondering what kind of world we were living in. I thought technology was everywhere, covering every bit of the land, and that we were all connected. I felt it was a myth that the world had literally shrunk, and everything was at our palms. I realized that wasn’t the case. Technology couldn’t provide 100% coverage of the Earth. There are still places left to uncover, and I was stranded in one of them.

What a fool I was! I blindly believed the invisible waves surrounding me would guide me forever, but they weren’t there when I needed them the most. I got so mad at myself. I had prepared for all kinds of emergency situations caused by mechanical failures—spare tubes, a repair kit, batteries, a flashlight, an emergency medical kit—but I never thought about technology failures. I had literally lost my reference, except I knew I had to stay on that road. I didn’t know anything else. I was clueless.

I looked around—there were no signs of anything nearby. No houses, no traffic, and no sign of any humans. I debated with myself—should I go back to catch them on their route? Would they wait for me, or would they keep moving? Was it worth chasing them down? Several questions flooded my mind. All the joy I had felt over the past three days now seemed like a distant memory. I realized the importance of old-school fundamentals. I should have carried paper maps and a compass, should have spent time studying the route. Most importantly, I should have stayed with my friends. I couldn’t go back or erase it, but I was now in a situation where I had to deal with it.

Damn, the phone didn’t work, and I couldn’t do anything. Time passed, and there were no signs of anyone else—just me, the road, and the setting sun above.

A lesson learned—don’t underestimate the basics, the fundamentals, and, most importantly, what we’ve learned or devised mechanically. The invisible magic may appear and disappear at will... be ready to deal with it!