#unfilteredconversations : Ep.1

Dropping Location எங்கே sir?

Where's the Dropping Location, sir?

I've heard a lot about Mud Coffee at a cute place in the vicinity of Besant Nagar Beach. The hustle and bustle of Chennai manifests itself by the shore of the beautiful Bessy beach at this hour on a Friday evening. The sun, shy as it is at most hours, descending slowly trying to hide somewhere beneath the horizon , the cute bubbles blown into the wind by the vendors, the funny cacophony of the toy clarinets displayed for sale and the frustrating palm readers chasing the visitors in an attempt to foresee what's in store for them. I giggle wholesomely at people running away from the palm readers as I soak my feet by the shore break, as the ocean comforts me with the gentle cold breeze. I intently looked at the ever confusing Google Maps, looking for the famous mud coffee place I've always heard about. 'The Police Chowki is right there.' I murmured turning around and trying to figure out the location. The mud coffee place was opposite to the Police Chowki. I was in the cafe in no time and I kicked myself for overlooking the most obvious and looking for this place everywhere else. I stared at the list of mud coffee varieties they sold, and I was pretty intrigued by the Mud Complan & Mud Horlicks on their menu. I decided to try something generic, I wouldn't risk being disappointed after expecting a lot. 'I'd have a Mud Filter Coffee.', I searched by wallet for two notes of twenty, finding which is unlikely after the revolutionary birth of UPI. After spending 10 mins, leaning by the parapet outside the cafe looking at the increasing crowd at Bessy, I drank the coffee. It wasn't any different from the usual filter coffee, it smelled a bit like..petrichor, a word introduced to me by my dear friend, that meant 'smell of the rain'.

After trying to relish a mediocre experience drinking coffee from a mud pot, I realized it was time to get back home. It was that day of the week, and that hour of the day when enthusiastic youngsters rush back home through the Chennai road traffic welcoming the weekend, when older folks would take their kids to a restaurant or for movies, when dreamers could continue dreaming  and hustlers remain hustling. I was aware of how frustrating the traffic would be in the main road and decided to look for a bike-taxi. I decided to compare the prices switching all the three taxi apps on my phone, and clicked onto the lowest possible price that was availed at that time. After waiting patiently for over ten minutes, and two cancellations, one biker decided to give me a ride all the way home. He gave me a call, I could hear his voice feebly, the aggressive honking of the vehicles caught up in traffic and the crazy sounds around me made it hard for me to hear what he was telling. 'Sir, Where are you?' I heard him say.

'Opposite to the Police Chowki.' I said, rather screamed into my phone. 'Dropping Location எங்கே sir?' He asked, enquiring about the dropping location. 'Navalur.' I screamed back, in a shrieky tone. 'Sir, I'll be there in 5 mins. Please don't cancel.' He insisted, before hanging up abruptly.

He was there in a little over 5 minutes. He handed me a helmet and I hopped onto the backseat of his bike, a classic Hero Honda Splendor, while adjusting the uncomfortable helmet. 'Shall we leave sir?' He asked, entering the OTP into his phone which was attached onto a holder near the speedometer dial of the motorbike, there were cracks on the corner of the mobile phone and it was secured in a plastic wrap. He sped through the tiny streets between the beach and the main road. 'Are you working in Navalur?' He asked me, while waiting for the signal to turn green amongst the other vehicles on the junction at the corner of the congested street. 'No, I'm a college student.' I replied observing the place around me. There were a lot of roadside restaurants in that junction selling Parotta-Kurma, Dosas and Idlies, I resisted my urge to spend anymore on food, that day, while watching the vendor pour Salna (A gravy that's usually paired with hot fluffy Malabar-parotta) into a small foil cover, and twist the top aggressively before securing it with a rubber band, and another cook beautifully tossing the Ghee Roast under a dim lightbulb hanging from an overhead shaft of the makeshift kitchen-cum-serving area. 'Engineering student?' The biker asked, snapping me out of my million temptations. 'Yes! Yes. I'm a final year student.' I said. 

'What Engineering are you studying?' 

'Mechatronics.' I said.

'Oh! A combination of Mechanical and Electronics?' 

'Yeah, somewhat.' 

'Oh! That's nice.'

Following a minute-long silence, I asked him- 'How long have you been driving bike-taxis?' 

'Since all of us were made to sit idle in our homes back during COVID-19.' He chuckled. 'I had a restaurant business before that, it was very profitable - 'Madurai Mess'' He enunciated with pride. 'If COVID-19 never happened, I wouldn't have been doing this.'

'Yeah it was a rough time for everyone.' I said, following a gentle nod.

'Before that I was working at a local tuition center teaching Social Science, but that wouldn't pay my bills. Although, I'm a graduate in B.A. History.' He said and I was startled beyond explanation.

'You could work as a teacher.' I said in a gentle suggestive tone, trying my best not to sound offensive. 

He looked at me through the rear view mirror and smiled, 'B.A isn't enough apparently. I wasted 7 years of my life chasing a lifelong dream, I was chasing it with deep conviction and focus. I was running in just one direction, without considering any alternatives as if I was a horse with a bridle on.' He sighed.

By now, the irksome journey through the traffic-struck roads of Chennai didn't bother me, nor did the simple pleasures of eating classic dishes from road side stalls seemed interesting. I was completely invested in what the gentleman had to say.

He introduced himself as Palani .  He was a humble 18 year old, with an ambition that could pull his entire bloodline out of penury, when he reached the rapidly developing city of Chennai in the mid 2000's. Caving silently in his insecurities, he remembers the first day he walked into his college. He recollects being awestruck by the fancy cars in which his peers come to college, his fascination with denim jeans and expensive wrist watches. 

'I wanted to speak English like the city students.' He told me, smiling like a enthusiastic kid. He had expressed his desire to become an IAS officer to his class teacher back in his village, and his class teacher supported him and facilitated his higher studies under complete scholarship. He was a great student. 

As months flew by swiftly, Palani gradually noticed him step out of his many insecurities, transforming into a confident man. 'I slowly started becoming like the city boys.' He described. 'I could speak English, and I was always getting good marks.' 

'I graduated with Distinction, I could have immediately done M.A in correspondence.' He said and his voice began to quiver by now. 'My confidence had shot up beyond bounds, that I decided to take a huge risk.' He added, after a pause. 'I decided to join a coaching centre and invest myself and all my efforts in the preparation for the UPSC exam' The spark was still alive, and it was blazing bright when he was talking about it, even after all the trials and tribulations. 

He explained how good he was at Social Science, especially History & Geography. He proceeded to explain the conditions he had to live in while working at a grocery store attached to his pathetic accommodation. Finding a place to barely sleep in between six others in that small room was a daily challenge, and disgustingly unhygienic toilet conditions still haunted him. 'I knew that I just had to earn to survive on tea and I used to eat at Amma Unavagam (Restaurant) or any small makeshift food stalls, like these, that was found near my locality.' He said, pointing at a similar food-stall. 'Sometimes, I couldn't pay the whole amount for a cup of tea, and the vendor would increase the proportion of water to milk and give me. I used to drink that too.'

I was immediately struck with guilt for complaining about the mediocrity of the mud filter coffee I relished few minutes ago. I nodded in silence.

After five Years of gruesome struggle just to spend the rest of his life secured in power,  sitting like a king on a throne , travelling through the same streets in a white ambassador car with blaring sirens , protected by bodyguards and being of service to society while also being in a respectable position, his dreams were countless. Failures didn't make sense to him, he knew he'd fulfill his lifelong ambition to be an IAS officer. 

'I read as much as I could, there was an unstoppable force that was driving me through all the discomforts. I knew there was light at the end of the tunnel. The inexplicable motivation used to keep me awake all night, reading excerpts from my newspaper cut-outs and writing essays over and over again, I wouldn't know when the night disappears and when the sun shows up.' He said.  He described how failures never used to make sense to him, and how he used to look at the pictures of UPSC toppers in the newspaper every year and try to replicate their strategies.

Despite failing to crack one of the hardest examinations in the world, he remained unstoppable. He knew he had one more chance every time he fell, he seldom questioned his confidence, there was no reason to dampen his journey to success. 

Years passed, he still lived in that hell hole and worked hard to earn not just for him, but also for his family. 'I remember the days I survived by drinking a few cups of tea'. Despite all this he never stopped running towards his goal. He was sure to crack the exam that season, I was extremely confident. 'I'll come to back to village in my Siren வண்டி (Car)' he'd tell his mother. As the exam date neared, he began to feel an unusual fear of failure, a fear to bring down the expectations of everyone around him who looked upto him. He spent many sleepless nights preparing and gobbled up by unnecessary thoughts of failure leading to the examination day.

'I created scenarios in my head about what would happen if I failed my final attempt. How would I face my mother again?' He sighed navigating slowly through the intense traffic of the wide roads of OMR. "I kept visualizing my family in poverty every night, with them complaining about how my recklessness and decisions were responsible for it." He added.  

'I couldn't bring myself to write the sixth attempt after failing all five attempts miserably. I remember that day very well sir.' His voice choking. 'I thought I was done for after the results were published and I got to know I failed in the final attempt.' 

He was hesitant about returning to his family as a nobody. He fell into immense depression and was subjected to mockery by his roommates and the grocery store employer for wasting his precious youth on something he would never achieve. Everyone who knew him began talking behind his back, and those who used to look up to him started treating him disrespectfully.

'Honestly, I shouldn't complain. I understood the real difference between being a Graduate preparing for UPSC while working at a grocery store down the street and being boy at a retail store in just a day. I blamed it on my incompetence, I called myself worthless. I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror for days after that. I looked at government vehicles and institutions with deep disgust.' Palani mentioned.

'Months passed. One day, my mother insisted that I return home and not worry about being subjected to any kind of criticism. Despite being adamant, clinging onto insecurity, and struggling under the darkness, cuffed and blindfolded by depression for months, I agreed to return.'

He had returned to Madurai, his hometown, heartbroken.  He had lost his father in a road accident few months before his final attempt and he learned that mother was extremely ill upon his arrival. He recollects sobbing like a child holding tightly onto his mother, who expected him to bring his family out of poverty. He explained how he considered ending his life, since he felt like a failure. He was drowning in the guilt of the many wrong decisions he made in his life, that pushed his family further into poverty and grief.

'Then I realized, my main goal was the welfare of my family all along. It was disguised in the grandeur of government vehicles with sirens, bodyguards, respect and power.' He strongly uttered, he was quite the raconteur.

"I decided to partner up with a childhood friend to begin a restaurant business in Chennai, while also teaching at a small-time tutorial. There were many days when I used to lock myself up in the washroom and cry; I would taunt myself, calling myself a failure. I used to see government employees speed past on the highway in their government vehicles and feel a sense of void," he said, smiling at me while describing those challenging days. He went on to describe how the wound began to heal one day, when he saw his mother wearing a new saree on a Pongal morning, proudly telling the neighborhood that her son bought it for her. He recollects feeling a sense of accomplishment after years, and the light at the end of the tunnel that he was looking for, could be spotted somewhere near him. It was a flickering light, yet it was visible. 

Madurai Mess had a strong run for 7 years, which helped Palani grow financially. He bought himself a house, got married and was blessed with beautiful daughter and his mother lives happily with him. In the advent of COVID-19 Before the hotel was shut down because of low business and profits, he began working with the taxi app for a side income, which later became a full-time job. 

'I've seen a lot in life, shutting down my restaurant never slowed me. I was still passionate, and I still am.' He said.

'I'm happy with this sir, I get to go around Chennai. I get to meet people like you.' He commented showing pictures of his house and family on his gallery. He even showed pictures from his early days that, in his words, made him as strong as iron.

It took a whole hour to reach my apartment, I got off the bike and paid him. I looked at him, the smile hasn't faded, he was hopeful that someday something great would happen. He was hopeful of a better future. He was a strong man, stronger than many who claims they are. 

Oftentimes, we break down and entrap ourselves in the tight clutches of darkness and depression because of minor inconveniences. The true curse of this generation, grappling with the consequences of being blindly influenced by pop culture, bloating up the idea of success without working hard and falling into deep desperation otherwise. Palani's story taught me what it is to rise back from the darkest times, searching for the light through desperate periods, through failures, through heartbreak. The void of not being able to achieve his dream might still persist in his mind but he doesn't use it as a excuse to not find different aisles to success. 

I watched him turn his motorbike around and exit the scene. I smiled wholeheartedly, I was happy that he's in a good place now and I wished him luck. 

The hopeful night in Chennai, the deserted apartment lounge, and the usually lively play area in front felt poetic for various reasons. The urge to grow beyond boundaries, a sense of motivation, and the gratitude of having been blessed with opportunities wrapped me comfortably, urging me to step out of my comfort zone. The mediocre mud filter coffee and the irksome crowd at Bessy beach didn't seem terrible after all.