Raajali - The Falcon

   Raajali - The Falcon

“Who invented Raajali? Was it you or me?”
The question came in a soft voice from Ranjan, who was sitting opposite me.
The illness had worn him down. His hands trembled weakly, and he had lost a lot of weight. His face was shriveled, and his jawbones jutted out sharply.

Raajali is a small flying drone. Ranjan designed it back in 1988 when we were both studying together at IIT.
The following week, I too made a similar drone, but I attached a camera to it. It could fly twice as high as Ranjan’s and was made of a different metal to prevent easy damage.
For some reason, my drone became far more popular in college. It even took on the name Raajali for itself.
Ranjan did not care much about it because back then, he was my dearest friend.
But today, he sat in front of me as my rival.

Ranjan broke the silence.
“Raghav, you still haven't answered my question.”
“You never asked me this question back then.”
“Yes, and I have been paying the price for it for the past thirty years.”

Speaking with emotion brought on a bout of coughing. His wife gently supported him and led him into the next room.

Ranjan's question kept echoing within me.
Who really invented Raajali?
Without a doubt, it was Ranjan. Even back then, he was an eccentric genius.

We came from completely different backgrounds. I studied at a prestigious private school in Chennai. My father was a senior manager at a major corporation.
Ranjan was from Panruti, a small town, and had studied in an ordinary school before making it to IIT. He couldn’t even speak English fluently when we first met.

But the first time I saw Ranjan, I liked him immediately. We clicked effortlessly.
We liked the same girls, enjoyed the same movies.
Through me, he got used to reading English novels and watching English films.

We would often talk endlessly about our dreams. Our common goal was to study well and get a job at NASA in America.
But neither of us ended up at NASA.
Soon, our ambitions changed, and life took us on a journey toward far greater achievements.

Ranjan sat again in front of me.
“This is a killer disease. You have caused me many harms. This illness is one of them.”
He chuckled at the surprise on my face.
“You were the one who taught me to smoke.”
“I quit after marriage.”
“You escaped. Raghav, I am not afraid of death. But there are some things I must complete in this world. Only I can do them. I just ask God for five more years.”

“I came here with the same intention. Last year, I thought of forgetting our rivalry and working together again. But fate played its part. Your end will be a huge loss for me.”

“March 18, 1990. Do you remember that day?”
“How could I forget? That day shaped our lives.”

During our college days, Ranjan and I often visited the library at Besant Nagar.
One day, Raghav showed me a thousand-page book, Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. After reading the synopsis on the cover, I too picked up a copy. We both finished it within three days.

After finishing the book, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I went looking for Ranjan.
It was midnight. All the students were studying for the next day’s exam.
Ranjan was lying on the terrace, staring at the moon. I sat beside him.

“Raghav, I haven’t studied for tomorrow's exam.”
“Same here.”
“From tomorrow, I am quitting college.”
“I will follow you.”
“I am not going to NASA.”
“We will create an organization stronger than NASA.”
“We will change the world with electric cars, autonomous vehicles, and flying cars.”

I placed my hands on Ranjan's. He gripped them tightly.
This is the story of how one book changed both our lives and marked the beginning of how we changed the world.

Within ten years, we started a car manufacturing company. It became the leading car company in India, a story worthy of a novel.

The day we parted ways was January 1st, 2000.
Ranjan had invited me to his home to celebrate the New Year. After exchanging pleasantries, the conversation turned to business.

“Raghav, ten years ago, we dreamed big. How much of it have we achieved?”
“Didn’t you read yesterday’s Economic Times? They predict we’ll remain number one for the next ten years.”

“Is that enough? Our models are cheaper than competitors, so we are first.”
“Our models are also praised for their quality.”
“True. But weren't our dreams bigger? Electric cars, autonomous cars, flying cars—wasn’t that our real goal?”
“The global market’s oil prices are low now. Even if they go up tenfold, electric cars still won’t be cheaper to produce than petrol/diesel cars. Even giants like Ford, GM, Toyota, and Honda are struggling with this.
The autonomous and flying cars you mentioned are all locked away in some research lab.”
“Give me six months. I will bring you a technical proposal for electric cars.”

Despite hours of discussion, I did not agree to his proposal.
Ranjan left and started his own car company.
Within four years, his electric cars were running on Indian roads.
His cars were cheaper than all global competitors and even cheaper than petrol/diesel cars.

Not just in India, but globally, his company began producing electric cars.
The following year, my company introduced an electric car model.
Due to its lower price, higher battery life, luxurious flight-like experience, and elegant design, we quickly regained the number-one spot in the market.

Then, in 2014, Ranjan launched autonomous vehicles into the market.
The next year, I launched an even better autonomous vehicle model.

My company always stayed in the number-one spot globally, while Ranjan’s remained second.
In 2019, Ranjan announced his dream project of bringing flying cars to the market.
Due to the outbreak of COVID-19, that project was postponed.

Two months ago, Ranjan gave the shocking news that he had cancer and only six months left to live.
After hearing this, many plans formed in my mind.
That’s why I was sitting before him now.

“Lost in old memories, Raghav?”
“Yes. Looking back, the journey is indeed fascinating.”
“You still haven’t told me why you came.”
“Ranjan, I was saddened to hear about your health. Have you decided on your company’s future after you?”
“I have appointed a new CEO.”
“But you are the company’s backbone. Once you are gone, your shareholders will flee.
Even after you announced your health condition, your company’s stocks crashed.”

“You clearly have a plan. Say it openly.”
“Our dreams have always been the same. We only differed in approach.”
“So?”
“Let’s merge our companies. After you, I will carry forward our dreams.”

“You still haven’t answered the question I asked at the start of this story. Who invented Raajali?”
“Who invented it doesn't matter. What matters is who simplified it and made it exceptional for the world to use.
The cars you made were like Motorola or Nokia phones of the ’90s. The cars I made are like iPhones.
I don't need to tell you what the world celebrates today.”

“How do I explain to you the importance of Motorola and Nokia to a world that hadn’t even dreamed of a mobile phone?
Without them, there wouldn't be an iPhone.”

“Our ideological differences don’t matter now. Shouldn’t our achievements continue for future generations? Don’t let pride stop you. Accept my proposal.”

“To hand over my company to you would be like losing my soul.”

No matter how much I argued, I couldn’t make Ranjan agree.
Four months later, Ranjan passed away.

A week later, I received a call from his wife.
I could feel the emptiness of Ranjan’s absence in his home.

She handed me a letter written by Ranjan.

Raghav,

Our conversation during our last meeting has been echoing in my mind.
Once, in New York, I visited a mall. There, our showrooms were next to each other.

I was amazed to see how people admired your cars. Even if they didn’t buy, they found joy just looking at them.
In contrast, at my showroom, the impact was much less.
It felt like people bought my cars just because they were the world’s first electric or autonomous cars.

Why this difference?
What did I do wrong? What did you do right?
I realized one thing clearly.

I was just a scientist. My cars were merely scientific solutions to the world’s needs.
But you were more than a scientist.
You were an artist.
Your cars had beauty and artistic finesse.
You didn’t just solve problems—you gave people joy.

Our roles are equally important.
We are like two halves of a circle. Without either, the circle is incomplete.

*For that very reason, I cannot give you my company.
Our companies, our ideological differences, and the competition between us are necessary for this world.
Without Tesla, there is no Edison.
Without Bill Gates, there is no Steve Jobs.

Without Raghav, there is no Ranjan. Without my company, there is no your company. Let them both run independently and conquer the world.

With love,
Ranjan

His wife then took me to Ranjan's office.
Inside, in a glass display case, were two drones.
One was the one I had designed 33 years ago.
The other was the one Ranjan had designed.
Both were neatly placed side by side inside the glass case.

Ranjan's wife handed me another letter.

Raghav,

Do you remember something that happened during our college days? Both our Raajali drones went missing.
Despite searching frantically, we couldn’t find them. You were deeply disappointed.

But the truth is, I was the one who hid them.
All these years, I preserved them with great care.

You have won many times in business.
There were many moments when I felt defeated.
During those times, just looking at these two Raajalis gave me hope and recharged my energy.

After my death, you alone will be the rightful owner of these Raajalis.
I believe they will give you the same strength they gave me.

Raghav and Ranjan both invented Raajali.
Let history remember it that way.

With love,
Ranjan.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and soaked the letter.

The two Raajalis looked at me with excitement, as if smiling warmly.

The Eternal Recurrence

           Eternal Recurrence

January 10, 2021
This day, I have lived before, not just once, but maybe two or three times. I don’t remember exactly which days, but it is deeply engraved in my mind. The feelings I experienced on those days, the thumping of my heart, are still there. This is not a typical deja-vu. It is slightly different.

I opened the car window to shift my focus. Fields, long trees, rushing in the opposite direction at high speed. Here and there, a few people appeared. The clock showed 6:00 AM. The dawn was slowly announcing its arrival. The sun rose in the sky and poured light onto the earth. I was traveling in the car from Coimbatore to Chennai. My 20-year-old granddaughter, Diya, was sleeping beside me. She is my precious granddaughter. “Latha Patti, Latha Patti,” she kept murmuring in her sleep like a poem. Even when she slept, she looked as beautiful as a flower. She has no parents and has grown up under my care since she was a child. She is going to the United States for her higher studies, and her flight is tonight.

The thought that the Diya, who had been with me all these years, would soon build her own life and leave, made me anxious about facing the rest of my life alone. I began to feel overwhelmed, and my thoughts became scattered. I tried to calm myself down and sleep. As I closed my eyes, a dream unfolded.

January 10, 1961
"Akka, will I die?"
"No, don't talk like that."
"Will I die soon?"
"Don’t say that. You will live for a hundred years."

Manikandan smiled. He had been suffering from a high fever for two weeks. All the doctors in Coimbatore had given up, so we were traveling in a van to take him to a large hospital in Chennai.

Manikandan was like another son to me. He could not be without me even for a moment. Eating, playing, telling stories, sleeping—everything was done with me. I was only eight years old at the time, and Manikandan was four years younger than me.

I took care of him through the night when he was sick, giving him medicines with my own hands. No one else was allowed to do it. The cold wind blew, so I shut the van's windows. Although it was early morning, the sky was overcast. Shortly after, we could sense the impending rain.

Manikandan fell asleep in my lap. I prayed to God, asking that he survive.

Suddenly, the van stopped. Two cars had collided in the road. One person was seriously injured.

My father got out of the van to assess the situation. A woman grabbed his hands and was pleading with him. My father stood still for a moment, then came back to us. He spoke to my mother about it.

“That person is in a life-threatening condition. Chennai is still about 20 kilometers from here. They are asking us to take the injured person and his wife to the hospital since we are already going there. There's space in our van, and we can ask them to sit in the back seat. I agree. What do you say?”

My mother agreed as well.

At that moment, I felt like a destructive force had taken over me. I screamed,
"I won’t let anyone get in the car. Start the van right now! Manikandan must get well. I don’t care about anyone else. We must go to the hospital now!"

My mother tried to calm me down. I tugged at her hair in frustration.

“Look at Latha. She's doing this again. No matter what you say, she won’t calm down. I feel we should go too. If we take these people with us, we won’t be able to care for Manikandan properly.”

After thinking for a while, my father spoke to the driver. Then the driver took the van, and we moved on.

I looked out the window. The anger and hatred in the eyes of the injured man’s wife shook me to my core.

Exactly one week later, Manikandan passed away in the Chennai hospital.

————*********————-

Suddenly, a thumping sound woke me from my sleep. Was it a dream or reality? Sixty years ago, how had it turned into a dream? I was confused about what was real and what was a dream.

I drank some water to calm my heartbeat. Slowly, my mind became a little more composed.

Diya was still deeply asleep beside me. A book had slipped from her hand. I picked it up, curious. It was a book on Nietzsche’s philosophy. I was surprised by how she could read such heavy books. I felt proud of her intellectual abilities beyond her age.

I opened the book and started reading a chapter titled "Eternal Recursion." According to Nietzsche’s theory, the mass of all particles in the universe was defined, but time is infinite. Thus, events would repeat over and over again. Later, after Einstein’s mass-energy equivalence theory was established, it was discovered that the total mass of the universe was also infinite. However, scientists ignored Nietzsche’s "Eternal Recursion" theory.

While flipping through the pages, I noticed a photo of a young man placed between the pages. On the back, in Diya’s handwriting, was written: "My First Love - Nirav."

I realized Diya had hidden her love from me. Nirav seemed to be a perfect match for her. I closed the book and placed it back where I found it.

First love. My thoughts went back to forty years ago.

January 10, 1981
"Marriage is written on your face, Latha."
"What about the groom?"
A small smile flashed on Ranjan’s face.

Ranjan and I were traveling in a car from Coimbatore to Chennai. Our wedding was fixed for the next day.

Ranjan was my first love. I must have been his first love too. He was a senior in my agriculture college, and he was popular among the girls. He was famous for his acting skills in the college plays. During our final-year play, we both played the roles of Romeo and Juliet. It was my first acting experience, but everyone praised my performance, saying I did better than Ranjan. After that, he started paying more attention to me.

Our love blossomed, and we fought with our parents to get their consent. Our wedding was fixed for January 11, 1981. My parents had already gone ahead to make arrangements. Due to the final exams, Ranjan and I had to travel to Chennai a day before the wedding.

"Why did I fall for you, Latha?"
"Well, tell me."

"When I was young, I always came first in everything—studies, sports, everything. Everyone saw me as a hero. It was hard to suppress my ego. So, I decided that the woman I marry should be one who can challenge me."

"Who is this woman?"
"Tomorrow, at our wedding, you’ll see who she is."

That’s how he kept me smiling.

"We’re getting tired. Let’s stop and take a break."
Ranjan stopped the car. We got out and had a quick snack at a hotel.

Then, a horrible incident occurred. Two cars collided head-on. I stood frozen in shock. Ranjan rushed to the accident site.

In one car, an elderly man and his driver were dead. In the other car, a husband and wife were dead, but their young son was still alive.

There were only three hotel employees around to help. They carried the injured boy out of the car.

Ranjan, along with others, was discussing what to do. He came to me and said,
"There is a hospital nearby. We can take him there. What do you think?"

I didn’t agree. I didn’t know how to respond.

"Can’t we drop him off and leave immediately? The rest can be handled by the people here."
"I don’t think so. The police will want to investigate. Also, we will have to bear the initial medical costs for the boy, which they can’t afford."

"What are you thinking? Tomorrow is a crucial day for us."
"Your words are heartless."

"If we get involved in this mess, how will we explain it to our parents? What will they think if this happens before our wedding?"

At that moment, Ranjan looked at me as if I were a cruel beast. I got into the car angrily.

He stood still for a moment, thinking. Then he also got in, and we drove off.

Ranjan remained silent for the rest of the journey. Not a single word. At the hotel in Chennai, he dropped me off without speaking to me.

The next day, when we went to the wedding hall, it was empty. Ranjan’s parents informed us that he no longer wanted to marry me. I haven’t seen Ranjan since that day.

My first love left my life.

————*********————-

Diya stirred in her sleep.
"How long before we reach Chennai, Grandma?"
"We’ll be at the airport in two hours."
"That was a good sleep. It all came to me like one big dream."

"Did you sing a duet with Nirav?"

Diya was taken aback.
"I saw his photo. He really seems perfect for you."
"Grandma, you’re terrible. What did you do while I was asleep?"
"You hid this from me!"

I turned my face away angrily.
“You are from that era, aren’t you? I was afraid you wouldn’t accept it.”
“Who is from that era? I, your mother, and everyone have loved before, you know?”
“You’ve already told me your love story. Tell me mom’s story.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and Diya noticed it.
“If it’s a tragic story, don’t tell it, Grandma. Why spoil the mood just before we leave for the village?”
“No, you must know about your mother.”

January 10, 2001
When your grandfather passed away, your mother Menaka was just six years old. She had firmly decided to study for the I.A.S (Indian Administrative Service) as he had wished. January 10, 2001, became an unforgettable day in both of our lives. That day, she had her final I.A.S exam in Chennai. We were on our way to the exam center by car.

On the way, there was an accident where two cars had collided. A small crowd had gathered. The driver stopped the car and inquired. Two people had died in the accident, but one person could still be saved if treated in time. The crowd begged us to help take the injured person to the nearby hospital. Menaka too agreed to their request.

But there was very little time left to reach the exam hall in Chennai. I told the driver to continue driving. We reached the center just in time for the exam.

After the exam, I asked Menaka how she had done. She said, “How can anyone write an exam after committing murder? For all three hours of the exam, the bleeding face of that injured person haunted me.” And with that, her I.A.S dream was shattered.

Since then, Menaka changed. She couldn’t sleep properly. The guilt consumed her.
One day, she left me and went to Pune to join Osho’s Ashram. She married your father and gave birth to you.

But neither your parents were willing to raise you. They thought you were a hindrance to their spiritual quest. They placed you in an orphanage and traveled the world. Somehow, I found out, rescued you, and have been raising you ever since. Your parents are not dead. They are still alive.”

———*******———

Diya covered her face with both hands and sobbed. Then, wiping her tears, she hugged me.
“Even if I don’t have a mother, I have you, Grandma. Even my mom couldn’t have raised me as wonderfully as you have.”

“Diya, was I wrong? If I had made a different decision at the accident scene, I wouldn’t have lost my daughter, and you wouldn’t have lost your mother. For twenty years, this question has pierced my heart.”

“You did nothing wrong, Grandma. 99.99% of people would have made the same choice. Even I would have done the same.”

Suddenly, my hands trembled. My whole body was anxious.
“What is today’s date?”
“January 10. Why are you asking?”

“January 10, 2021. The same day. The same event. Once every twenty years. Why didn’t I think about this? Eternal Recursion. God, please, not today. Let this child live peacefully.”

I clasped my hands and kept chanting the Sashti Kavasam prayer. Diya looked at me, scared and confused.
The car stopped.
The driver said there had been an accident. After watching the crowd for a while, he started the car again.

Suddenly, anger surged within me. I told the driver to turn the car back to the accident spot.

There, a four-year-old child was fighting for life.
I knew clearly what I had to do.
“Diya, take your bags and get down.”
“Grandma, what’s happening? Ever since you told mom’s story, you’ve been acting strangely.”

“We’re now at Chengalpattu. You’ll get a bus to Chennai in half an hour. Take the driver with you for help and reach the airport.”
“What are you going to do?”

“I’m taking this child to the hospital. I’ll stay with her until she recovers.”
“Grandma, are you out of your mind? Many vehicles pass this route. Someone will surely help the child. But can you leave me now? I’m traveling thousands of miles to an unknown land. I’ve never even flown before. Shouldn’t you at least be with me for moral support?”

“You won’t understand, Diya. Eternal Recursion. To break this cycle of events, this is the only way. Get down.”

I asked the driver to get down and took his seat.
Left with no choice, Diya got out of the car. The crowd helped me place the injured child in the car.

Before leaving, I looked at Diya’s face.
“Twenty years ago, my mother abandoned me. Now you. I’ll never even look at your face again.”
Diya walked away in haste. The driver followed her with the luggage.

I took the child to the hospital. After intense treatment, the child survived.

I returned to Coimbatore. My heart was filled with Diya. Every moment, I worried if she had reached America safely. Days passed. Not a single phone call from Diya. All my attempts to reach her through her friends failed.

One night, at midnight, the phone rang.
There was silence on the other end.

“Diya, is that you? Did the child reach safely? I have prayed to every god I know for you.”
Silence continued.

“Forgive me, Diya.”
“It’s okay, Grandma. At first, I was furious. I decided never to speak to you again. But you know what’s surprising? My journey went smoothly. I reached the Chennai airport an hour late, but the staff there helped me board on time. Nirav’s elder brother was on the same flight. He helped me with everything — changing flights, handling luggage, everything. I even found a great roommate here at the university.”

“I’m so happy, Diya.”

“Let me tell you something. What you did that day was right. You decided to save that child, and as a reward, God took care of me.”

“Eternal Recursion. The only way to break it was the choice I made.”
“Hey old lady! If you keep rambling about Eternal Recursion like a lunatic, I won’t even call you again, okay?”

“Don’t be mad, Diya.”

“You read two words from my philosophy book and are now blabbering. Do you even know what Eternal Recursion means? Great philosophers and scientists have debated this for ages. Just stick to your Kanda Sashti Kavasam prayer. You won’t understand this.”

I smiled.
Why wouldn’t I understand? I have lived it, I thought to myself.

Like a chirping sparrow, Diya’s lively chatter continued on the other end.