This article is about a day in my life, spent with friends in my office, doing stuff which will make us all to remember it forever. One of those days in my life among few others, which I know, I am going to remember, till I am alive. A day, which was fully lived, so complete and enlightening; my heart beating so fast that the person sitting next to me could almost hear it, a day of talks, plans, fun, accomplishments and laughter all around. One of those kinds, when it does not matter what you do, but it is going just right. Every dart hits the bull’s eye. A day for friends, a day of love, a day in rains.
It was dark cloudy sky outside, right since the morning. It was drizzling, like typical rains in Pune. We expected heavy rains today, but it just continued to drizzle for the entire day. We were already feeling to be on cloud 9 and to add, it was drizzling and to top it all off, it was Friday, the typical T.G.I.F (Thank God It’s Friday, for those not good at acronyms). ‘We’ refers to the group of friends who were a part of “Halla Bol” team including myself. The drizzle and the Friday effect roused our feelings. As if the time had stopped for a while. I asked myself if I could live these moments forever. Something was coming out of me, like a sudden burst of energy from nowhere, from some Supernatural source.
Let me start on how it all started before it gets too late. It all started yesterday night, when I composed an article. The article was about a short-lived, but complete and effective encounter of two people. I have been trying to write for quite some time now, but it’s that I still feel that something is missing. Or it may be just that you know your progress better, coz you are the one actually climbing the stairs. Well, the article was penned and my non-artist bro helped my type it. He showed his interest in helping me edit the same and finish it, though he is not interested in these kinds of things otherwise. The article was good and I think it will be published by the time you are reading this. Then I was off for a good night’s sleep and then it was “Halla Bol”.
The day started with a cool drizzle when I left for the office. I opened my computer, when a good friend and colleague pinged me to go outside. We went out, sat there in the shiny monsoon, talking about arts and writing, partially discussing the article I wrote the night before. This casual conversation turned out to be one of the most exciting meetings, which illuminated my mind and cleared the dusky clouds shadowing one of the major ideas I had for a long time. It helped me organize a story, which had existed in bits and pieces in my mind. I had been thinking about writing this story for quite some time and then get it published as my first novel. But you know, you cannot just expect to write a novel, get up the next day and do it while brushing your teeth. It is not easy. It is like facing Roadies auditions, or may be to learn Scuba Diving. All I mean to say is that writing a novel is a big deal. Coming back to the conversation with my friend, our discussion was slowly moving towards this story of mine. My friend showed lots on interest in hearing the theme line of the story. I started talking, and kept conversing for quite some time and he sat there, listening to my words, watching my expressions, trying to feel my thoughts and visualizing the story. The story was about a namesake relationship which transformed into a timeless bond. When I finished, he gave an expression, which I could compare with the looks I had when I watched “Titanic” for the first time, or may be “A beautiful mind”. I will always remember that expression. He was amazed. He really felt happy about the story. He has a great interest for arts, and in his pastimes; he is sometimes, a poet, or a writer, or a painter or if nothing goes well, for sure he is a guitarist. Music is his regular passion. You now know that I chose the right audience for my storyJ Well, we kept discussing the story for a few more minutes. This was also the time, when my friend started pouring in his suggestions and feedbacks which could make the story look good. We also discussed what I wanted to be the essence of the story or to say, the meanings behind the lines. He then suggested some really great ideas, to which I affirmed to implement. I felt the scattered pieces of the story were moving towards each other, and slowly a marvelous picture appeared like it does in a jigsaw puzzle once you put every piece in the right place. I felt the importance of my story. I accepted that it is a lifework to be completed. It mattered much more to me now. It had to do lots with the mankind. It could become one of those immortal stories, you remember forever.
Well, the conversation ended when my manager called me for a meeting. Cocky managers are made to spoil moments like these, moments of creation and composition. The entire industry is revolving around a bunch of useless processes, fundamentally killing the creative thought of mankind and turning it into rat shit. I was off for the meeting and as soon as the meeting was over, it was time for lunch. Maybe it was the cheesy effect of the dominoes cheese burst special that ignited this brilliant idea in me to make friends with a friend of a “desired friend”, which intimately served a purpose of feelings. This was not the first idea for this purpose, but one of the series of events that took place during the day, the day we ended up calling “Halla Bol”. Halla Bol”, resembling Ajay Devgan’s style, in the movie “Halla Bol”, a native Indian Hindi phrase which means “let’s shout” or “let’s attack”. I was walking with the attitude of a fully charged Gangsta joined by another teammate along the way and then another, striding in unanimity, as though we were about to rob a bank with guns on our shoulders. People scrambling out of the way giving us respect that we did not deserve otherwise, but just for the sake of “Halla Bol”. When we finally reached the point of attack, we were five.
Wow!!! I’m talking about attack as though as I knew what it meant. Well I do know now at least. It is that moment when you charge forward when you have nothing to lose but yourself, knowing that every step you take determines your fate. It’s the moment you know, will be the eventful time of life, even though other memories less significant will prevail. I don’t know if it’s the rush of blood in my head that made me do it or the instinct from my soul. The attack was fairly simple; I just had to “Talk to her”. Easy as it seems, it made my heart skip a beat. I convulsed when I saw her, maybe that is to blame the convulsion, which made me arise and say her name. Now I knew there was no way back, sweat began to flow. Fear creeping in my words, I then began to speak.”
It started out as a small chat which evolved into an enjoyable conversation and then into a long dialogue. I thought of these as small steps I had to take. I felt those tiny drops of sweat on my forehead, may be my body’s natural way of telling me to calm down. The stimulating conversation we had , had nothing to do with “Halla Bol”, only the importance of having it at the right time with the right person made it an exuberant and thrilling experience .This conversation contributes a lot to “Halla Bol” coz it gave us the energy , it gave us soul . The bottom-line was that it was over sooner than I thought, not in terms of time as I said before, but in terms of the thrill it gave me. This one hour of sunlight in the middle of this rainy day was to determine my fate for months to come or at least to affect it in a big way. I was glad that the attack was over, but even more glad of the temporary outcome. Was she nice? Maybe too nice .Well, I don’t know for sure .But time should tell. I will talk more about that in future. I am sincerely hope that time does tell me something.”
Then we all continued with the regular office work for the day and united in the office canteen at dawn, to share the celebration of my accomplishment. Everybody expressed their thoughts; their faces seemed red and vibrant with happiness. The red signified, for me, the red robe, held by a torero (the person responsible to get the bull by its balls). Was I playing the torero? I thought better to be the torero than the injured bull. I could imagine myself as the torero wearing an elongated hat in a huge arena (the office) with Spanish music playing in the background, the audience (my friends) cheering me to stand in front of the raging bull with sharp horns (implied friend of desired friend) who was angered by the poking of swords into her back. The fact of the matter is that the audience doesn’t care who dies, all that matters is just that they are entertained. They just want some balls on the ground, dead or alive, hardly matters. Maybe it was the bullfight which made me unstoppable. I had this millions pounds of energy flowing out of me, which was not going to halt at any cost. Friends tried to calm me down, but I wasn’t ready to or rather wasn’t able to or just maybe I didn’t want to. They were amazed to see me pass this kind of an exam with flying colors which necessarily contradicts with my perceived persona otherwise.
As the fight got over, the music started blaring. The sound of “Halla Bol” pulsing through my mind .This was a symphony of harmonious composition of love, friendship but with a very thin string of feelings dividing those two. This tells me that my heart still beats in tune with elements, other than myself. This made me feel more humane and implied that I can still fall in love. *So whenever u find yourself drowning in those dizzy dull thoughts, remember, it’s time for “Halla Bol”.*
~ to friends (Chote Dada, BabaJi, Neeraj, SLU and She)