The search for Abhimanyu

The moral dilemma

• Hassles for the unencumbered mind

I was painstakingly trying to collect my thoughts to update this blog and in comes CHurchil striding into the lab. With no preamble, riding roughshod on my private thoughts, he exclaims “ We have nailed Nilotam. He is waiting for us in TB. I squirmed at the thought of having to make that trip to Tata Bearings. The last time we had been there the road had been so gruesome, my bearings and ligaments had many macabre tales to tell. We got lost twice in the labryinth of routes, I call it a Chakravyuha.

We had to get the refunds for the project we had done last year. Churchil exhorted me to leave immediately. I however found my mind reluctant to leave my blog. I was then getting into the groove reining in an interesting train of thought. With a few on-the spot excuses ready to serve, I loaded my mind to fire at him. However the look in his eyes preempted my aggression. The poor chap was literally pleading with me.

• Demands of an oppressive world
  

I felt like a reluctant Arjun being exhorted by Krishna to perform my duty come what may. So many sacrifices lay in the way yet you must not shirk the task appointed to you.

“Oh well, each man has to stand up someday and face his responsibilities “ I told myself. I shook off the lethargy that placements had imbibed in me. I am doing this for Churchil , poor guy . However a small voice from deep within me countered me by saying “Honey, you smell money and it is that smell that is leading you by the nose.” I cursed that all knowing truth ringing voice for without it I had been feeling so noble.

• Courage under fire

I decided to pick the gauntlet and fight for all that I am worth. I assuaged Churchil’s burden by announcing my allegiance to his crusade. My dramatics apart (which made him squirm), he seem to be pretty relieved about it.

Now that the warriors were ready, we needed a capable chariot

The journey begins...

The only available one was Jigha's Khatara . Jigha is our close friend Ishan called Jinx or lovingly as Jigha for his abiliity to put a voodoo on any competitive match he comes close to. His bike and its condition were equally foreboding but we were persuaded by the lack of options. I gave him my cycle keys to compensate for his loss of transport and we hurried to the cycle stand. It was 6.30 pm and the light was already beginning to fade. I was sceptical about finding our way once it was dark. But with true entreprenuerial spirit and a zest for conquering uncertainly we rode with no fear in our hearts. We managed to take the right left turn after the Puri Gate which instilled in us the confidence of an out-of-form Kaif who has taken that evasive single to finally get off the mark after a dozen quack-quack ducks.
The road was a familar horror and Churchil happily hurled out a string of his patented expletives like "the egg of a bull ". I was a picture of concentration as I anticipated each bump like a seasoner warrior and jumped up a few inches to save myself the impeding pains.I was relieved that I still found the scenery around vaugely reminiscent to the 6 month old imprints on my memory. Soon however we realised that somehow we had deadened up to a dead end. The smirking pan walla had the vile pleasure of a bullying teacher whipping a kid as he showed us in detail where we had gone wrong. It was then I reminded Churchil cleverly that this was the same wrong way we had taken last time round. No wonder it was so familiar.