The Humble Storm Crosses One More Milestone !

ALI PETER JOHN , THE MAN FOR WHOM MANY SAW NO FUTURE COMPLETES

FIFTY YEARS AS A WRITER , JOURNALIST AND A POET TODAY

(SEPTEMBER 3 -1970 TO SEPTEMBER 3 -2020)

Why do I have to read about miracles ? Why do I have to listen to other stories about miracles ? And why should I not believe in miracles when I look at myself and within me to believe that if there was ever a miracle in modern times , it was me ,a boy who as I always say was a boy from no where who walked an wandered through all walks of life to experience the worlds and the worlds beyond them to find his place

I was sitting in Chaayos last afternoon when I suddenly realised that the next day, Sept 3 would be a landmark day in my life . I would officially be completing fifty long years in a profession which I never knew was a profession when I started .

I was still serious about becoming a bus conductor or the manager of a Udupi hotel , but I also knew that I could write good English , an idea which was first put into my head by my English teacher in school Mr.Linus Cerejo and further strengthened by my English professors at SIES College and then Bhavans College which was the college that gave me all the incentives and freedom to study as much as I wanted and as long as I wanted .

I was whiling away my time after my M.A.exams when I thought of writing a article ,a short story or a poem every day  according to my own ability .I showed what I scribbled to some of my friends who were working in different newspapers as journalist . They were all very senior journalists and kept encouraging me to write more . Something I had written about an unwanted bridge outside the Churchgate Station was taken by one of these freinds and the next evening I saw what I had written published in the then Evening News Of India and I couldn't believe the magic of seeing my name in print and I kept staring at my name right from the building of the Times Of India to the Churchgate Station and right up to the Andheri Station , the two stations between  which  I traveled  every day without a ticket .

I was soon writing for Church Bulletins . My articles started getting published in the Free Press Bulletin and Free Press Journal and I was not paid for what I had written , but I didn't mind as long as no line I had written was changed as I had my name with every article  I wrote .

I met an editor called Vinod Mehta who had written two notorious and controversial books on Bombay and on Meena Kumari .He was kind  to me and asked me if I would be interested in writing for the magzine he was the editor of . Could a new beggar be a chooser  ? He challenge me with an assignment to interview a pimp from Bombay .

Martaa kya nahi karta ? I accepted his challenge and I had interviewed a pimp (his most controversial line was his philosophy in which he said "there is a hidden pimp in every man"). The interview was carried as the cover story by Mehta and I had become famous  or was it infamous ?

The magzine Mehta edited had a party at the Oberoi to celebrate the sales of the issue for the month of that September and the general opinion was that the magzine sold because of my story . That was the first time I attended a party at a five star hotel and got drunk and found myself on a bench at the Borivili Station where I was rudely woken up by the baton of a hawaldar who wanted me to bribe him with hundred rupees to allow me to sleep on that bench till the first train arrived . I showed him both my pockets and I still remember his words in which he said ,

" angrezi daaru peene ke liye paisa hai , humko dene ke liye nahi hai ". I had pleaded with him to allow me to sleep and he said ,

"main tumko sone doonga , lekin doosra hawaldar round pe aayega toh mujhe mat bolana "luckily the other hawaldar didn't come on his round and I got into the first train and reached Andheri Station from where I walked all the way home . I was paid a royal sum of hundred and fifty rupees by cheque  for the  article  which I kept in my pocket for more than a month and then gave it to a friend  who worked for the Bank Of India and he deposited the cheque at the Khar Daanda branch of the bank and I still don't know what happened to that friend or the cheque.....

My destiny was about to change . As I have said many times , I wrote a kind of fan post card to an unknown identity known as K.A.Abbas and that one post card and that one miraculous meeting with a most humble and yet one of the most powerful men I have ever met changed the entire course of my life . He was my ultimate university , he was my philosophy , he was my high priest and my greatest guide the like of which I will never find again in this life

Abbas Sahab directed me to his friend, another great editor and human being ,Mr.S.S.Pillai , one  more  man who gave a new meaning and direction to my still drifting life . It was his one decision which he took    within five minutes that made me stay on in "Screen" for the next forty- eight years . If was during this time that I grew up and flourished all thanks to that simple man called Mr.Shiv Shankar Pillai , who was like a Holy man lost in a jungle about which he knew very little and for reasons best known to him depended on this boy who he called ,"Ali Peter John"in one go as if all the three names were my first name . My heart swells up now fifty years later when I think about great man like Abbas Sahab and Mr.Pillai .

I have literally met and spent some of the most glorious times with pioneers , pillars , icons , legends , stars , super stars , some of the greatest writers , poets , playwrights , technicians and the most common men during all these fifty years , but I can even if I try my worst never in this lIfe forget Abbas Sahab and Mr.Pillai .....

I have worked under the most trying and tumultuous times.I have faced competition from both human beings and devils in the form of human beings , but it is a certain power within me that kept me going with my head held high .....

I may have written lakhs of words during these fifty years . I have written about people , about their work and the circumstances around me . I have written sitting in kabristaans , cemeteries and caves and ruins and I have also written when I was in love with the destructive bottle , I have written even when I have been operated and have called my young typists to my bedside with their laptops and mobiles.

Just to thank my god and my love for my work , I feel like mentioning that I have written for almost every newspaper and magzine and I have written for mazgines and newspapers in various languages .And to top it all , I have written sixteen books in the last twenty years .

The grace of god is still with me. And even today I am restless until  I write atleast one article in a day and I have to be very grateful to my memory which has not failed me even in the most horrifying circumstances , even in spite of all the  accidents I  have met  with  and  in spite  of  my  terrible  bouts  with  alcoholism  .And I would  not  have  been able to do  what  I  have  done  and  I  would  not  even  have  lived  till  this  age  ,if it  was  not  for  the  immense  love  of  countless  people  to  whom  I  now  dedicate  my  life  and  my work

People  have  time  and  again  asked  me  how  much  money  I  have  made  ,how  many  apartments  I have  ,how  many  cars  I have  in  my  garrage  and  how  many  women  I have  had  affairs  with  .

What do  I  tell  these  good  people ?

Time  will  truly  tell  the  truth  about  my  life  and  my  work. Frankly  ,I  still  believe  that  I am  just  like  what  I  was  on  Sept  3 ,1970 .