A Bowl of Elusive

Back in 2016, I was on a road tour with a gentleman in Madhya Pradesh. He was an acquaintance – a former high-level executive from a smaller brand, who was now working for the same distributor that was dealing with the brand I was working for. Since I wasn’t a local to MP, I was asked by the distributor to accompany this gentleman and meet our business partners across the various districts throughout the state. This gentleman was pretty well-behaved, polite, and friendly. I had developed a very good image of him – until the topic veered to Muslims. Then, things just got weird. I couldn’t believe that a decent guy like him could have such hateful opinions about a whole community. He was talking about how Muslims choose to stay in ghettos and become criminals instead of studying and doing something with their lives. I just nodded and tried to change the topic. I had the counter-argument right there on my lips. “Muslims live in ghettos because they’re not easily rented out places in Hindu...

Now this is a story not a lot of people know. I will be changing a few details for the sake of everyone. The super-cyclone of October 1999 was dark, fierce and devastating. But a strange calm fell upon the land once it was over. Thinking back on those days, I might say it reflected on the life I had back then. Having been appointed into a new job after leaving the air force, my father had to move to Choudwar in 1996. Divorced and single, he had to toggle between a job and his 6 year old son. So he appointed a governess/care-taker of sorts for me. Funny how things turn sour before you have time to blink your eye. She was a horror. My father kept busy with his job and was absolutely indulgent whenever he was home. But that wasn’t most of the time. This woman, lets call her Meena, used to beat up till I bled. She used to verbally abuse me, saying terrible things about my parents and family. She used to starve me. All this started gradually, mind you, and maybe that’s w...