So here's a copy of the essay which brought me the all India second place.
He sat tired at his verandah, the last rays of the setting sun creeping through the minute gap between the curtains and illuminating his face. Tired, worn out and sans inspiration it looked. And he felt the same too.
In fact, he had nearly made up his mind to quit his current job, find a new place of work, a new life, with half the work and twice the salary. A good deal indeed. And he was taking time this Friday evening to brood over this new offer. Ferrying passengers from the plains of The Ganges to the shrine of the Himalayas seemed a noble job. And much like the day outside, his career was in the twilight.
On second thought though, it wasn't as good as it looked. Ferrying people to see God would give satisfaction, but not quite as much as sometimes being seen as god yourself. He was interrupted by the door-bell. Most probably it would be his wife, back from a day's work. He had given her all the comforts in life, true. But never luxury. For his skill, his experience, he could offer her more. And the new job would give the much needed impetus to his bank balance, which again, was comfortable but by no means exorbitant. To his surprise, it was a man at the door - a postman. The merry nature of the envelope gave everything away. It was yet another meaningless letter, with a "Thank You", which was once said and forever forgotten.
The next morning, he awoke, more solemnly than zealously, and made his way to his office. He thought it would be yet another routine day. And he was right.
The same watchman hardly noticed him, the same boss passed without acknowledgement of his presence, the same colleague walked to him and told him a dozen or so helpless people were drowning off the coast. He went with the same co-pilot to pick up his flying suit.
Three hours later, he returned. He had to get his own coffee. but there was something different. He was visibly buoyed. It was a daring effort, swooping down in his chopper adorned with a red cross. He had lifted a whole crew, right from Yamaraj's backyard. And while he did it everyday, he knew today's was a special effort. The howling wind, the stormy weather and his performance against all odds, had rekindled the spirit in him. Brought back the feeling of pride, sense of satisfaction, he lived to experience as an air ambulance and rescue pilot. The stuff that had enthralled him as a child, the feeling he felt after his first rescue, it all came back to him. It vindicated this off-beat choice as a career.
And it was in high spirits that he returned home, gleefully accepting the coffee his wife gave him, proceeding to the same desk he had sat the previous evening. Among his unopened correspondence, was the previous evening's letter.
Dear Sir, (the letter said)
I write this letter, to thank you, to tell you how much it means to me that you have saved my brother from the jaws of death. It lifts me, drives me, when I know that we have men as committed as you, as selfless and as daring serving in our country's helicopter rescue services. I suspect that I am not the first, nor will I be the last to write to you a similar letter of thanks, of unbound gratitude, which knows no measure.
And I will not continue into how awed or amazed I was by your heroic feats, or how much it means to my family like everyone else, but I would like to impress upon you how fortunate you are, and how noble your business of flying is.
Indeed, a majority of the public have come to view flying as routine, recreational, non-essential. One look at you would suffice to put all these misconceptions to an end. The advantages of a helicopter are many. They are quick, affordable, maneuverable and can reach out to the remotest of regions, in the roughest of weather and the trickiest of terrains, the bloodiest of battlefields, at just the right time, to search, evict, evacuate, or simply to scan swathes of land. They can do so, stealthily, or by proclaiming their presence, driving fear into enemies hearts and hope into the hearts of the helpless. They can be as quick as lightning, or steadily proceed. In offense or in defense, in peace or war, on land or on sea, night or day, anytime, anyplace.
But to a man such as yourself, who has handled these winged beats for nearly a lifetime, these academic facets of a helicopter are, I presume, prerequisite and of least interest. Far more important, is that you know, realise, everything a common man should associate with a helicopter.
To the lonely man in the middle of the desert, the drowning woman in the ocean, the orphaned child in the murky waters of the flood, the adventurers tangled over rock faces, soldiers caught in sprays of bullets,helicopters are like angels, spiraling down to earth, with the rhythmic melody of the blades chopping through the air, intervening against fate herself. And to these helpless people, the men and women guiding the angel to earth with skill of the highest degree, nerves of steel and hearts of gold, are the gods of the modern world. Defying the odds, showing unparalleled bravery, courage, guts, commitment, selflessness. And all this, in the most trying of circumstances, challenging of flying conditions and in the most adverse of conditions.
And today sir, in my eyes, you are no lesser than a god. What these helpless, innocent and faultless men and women feel when they perceive your mighty birds, cutting through the air, coming to them, to quite literally, lift them out of their troubles, cannot be described in words. It would take them more than a lifetime to let you know, their ecstasy, their elation, how quickly their despair turned to delight. With their hands losing grip of their life, the soul about to depart, hungry, battered and bruised, they arise inspite of all their troubles, knowing that once within the confines of the chopper, they will be safe, from the hands of death, which ever so nearly grasped them. And filled with gratitude for the hand that pulled them out, your noble hand.
I implore you, my dear sir, to reflect upon all that I said, and if you were to ever feel dissatisfaction, monotony or a need for change in your job, remember that you are in a position where you save lives daily, touch hundreds of lives , winning millions of hearts. And please know, your work is never unrecognised. For it warms my heart at least.
Yours Gratefully
..........
So touched was he by the letter, by the words and the heart-felt gratitude flowing through them, he could hardly stand. His eyes were swimming in tears. And that the letter was anonymous seemed to add to the gravity of the feelings.
No, he wasn't a god. Yet, there was much truth in the man's words. (And when he came to think of it, woman's words). Yes, ferrying people to the Himalayan shrines would give him money. But here, in his office, never knowing when a soul in distress would need his aid, saving lives, extricating people from the thickest of soups, that was where his heart lay. It was nobler, gave him immense satisfaction. He was indeed fortunate. As the kind man had said.
And in all this life, it was the first letter of gratitude that actually told on him. It had come at the right time, just when he needed it. Like a helicopter, the letter had entered from nowhere, and he was trapped in its feeling, knowing he was safe, like a patient would feel inside his helicopter. He felt the same gratitude to the writer. He had evicted him from imminent sorrow. From a new job, where all his interests were only commercial, rarely human.
And here, he planned to stay until he could carry on. Commercial flying was tempting, it paid him more. But it was here, his heart lay. Being the God on the Angel of the Sky.
And for the first time in his career, he regretted that Sundays were holidays. He wanted to work. The zeal had returned.