Life-To-Text...

:)

2010-04-09T09:38:00.006+05:30

One of my seniors from college asked me recently about why I'm not blogging anymore. I told him what I believed was the reason - life's too busy, too many things happening, new people - new country, added responsibility at work etc etc etc.

No, none of the above.

I didn't make any of the usual excuses. I told him the truth - that I don't think I can hold on to a thought long enough to pen something down. By the time I start typing, the chain of thought either breaks or am in a tangent so far from what I'd really thought of writing about that I start wondering if I should even put this into words or wait for the "new" thought process to develop a little more...

Basically, I kept waiting for a "good one". Which...of course, like the right time start going to the gym or the perfect day for planning your investments - never really shows up!

...will try being more regular now.

To Each His Own...

2009-01-19T03:06:00.005+05:30

The thing about clichés is that while it is quite cool to not conform to one and maybe many of us also spend a lot of time and energy running away from them - they have a way of announcing their existence, most often right in your face. Let us get a bit more definitive here - "...a cliché is a saying, expression, or idea that has been overused to the point of losing its intended force or novelty, especially when at some time it was considered distinctively forceful or novel, rendering it a stereotype."

Another thing about these stereotypes (behavior, not people) is the way in which they assume a sort of undeclared-relevance for a majority of us. Even if not explicitly, they do end up shaping our ambitions, our actions and ideas of what is considered good, not-so-good and so and so forth. I am tempted to use the word societal or cultural norms but I believe that blaming a mass of people for choices that we make would be another form of escapism or sly-disguised-denial.

So what we now have is a bunch of folks chasing a dream or an idea that wasn't theirs in the first place or even if it was, the origin of it was based on nothing more than hearsay or in the best case a good deal of research on personal experiences (available quite easily both in first and in third person) of those who ended up achieving that idea or dream and living it well too.

The real issue however, arises when we start judging people based on these well-accepted-norms. Suddenly, the old friend from the neighborhood becomes a complete loser because he still hasn't managed to switch jobs and still works at the local fax / photocopier shop and plays cricket with the colony kids in the evenings. Or how about the time when you and your girlfriend couldn't help laughing at that friend's wife who did not know the difference between a vodka and a whiskey and thought they were brand names of essentially the same stuff! I mean who does that, rite? And what about that cousin in your hometown who is still preparing for the civil services exams or the bank PO for the nth time because he rates job security higher than job exposure and exit options?

What is really sad is how people get pissed off when these "outliers" seem happy with whatever they are into and hardly give any thought to what all they could have been or could have achieved. Some of these pissed-off people feel obligated to enlighten their "less fortunate" acquaintances about the possibilities that are out there. For them it is almost criminal to not want to go after the "accepted-better-life" and all that comes with it. It is almost like being happy with orange bar for your whole life when the big chocolate cornetto is waiting to be relished!

Does the thought that the bloke might actually LIKE orange bar better ever cross the mind? The rational argument will be - How can you say that unless you have tried both and then decided to stick with the orange bar? True, that does make sense but then why discount the fact that many folks simply DON'T WANT to try another thing and compare? That some folks are just plain and simple at peace with the hand that is dealt to them and really don't make a big fuss of going table to table to see where they stand the best chance to sweep the stakes.

...to each his own. Another cliché...then why is it so hard to understand?

26/11: Uncomfortably numb…

2008-12-08T21:11:00.004+05:30

Usually walking by the river in the evenings is a pleasant thing if you are in a city as pretty as Budapest. From the initial days of being overawed by the sheer beauty of the place or the constant desire to explore a new city to now, the warmth of familiarity – there has always been so much to appreciate and be all chirpy about…

However, it hasn't been so for more than a week now.

Not since that fateful afternoon when I was waiting for my flight back to Budapest - a day before the "Thanksgiving Day". From a distance I could make out that the giant LCD screen showing CNN had something familiar on it - I knew that building! For the next couple of hours till I boarded the flight, all I did was watch with disbelief at what was unfolding in Mumbai - at the places I have been all too familiar with having lived in the city for a year not so long ago.

I do not remember having watched news continuously for so long ever before in my life. It hasn't stopped yet. At first I convinced myself that it is normal, after all this has been an unprecedented act of terror on my country's soil and it is all but natural for me to want to stay connected as much as I can, sitting thousands of miles away. I have read each and every article that has been published related to this tragic event, I have seen all the news clippings that have either revealed something new or are taken from talk shows and panel discussions that have spawned all over the world media. It is almost as if I am incapable of "switching off" from the information invasion.

Trying to make sure I don't get swayed by partisan media coverage, I have spent hours assimilating content from foreign media as well - all the conspiracy theories, the allegations and the counter-allegations. I am sure by now I can probably put to shame the leading experts on the situation with the diverse views I have subjected myself to over the past 2 weeks.

But this is now beginning to scare me.

All I can think of when I am not going through the news is trying to make sense of it all in my head. Struggle to somehow figure out a way of this madness, break the problem down into smaller chunks that are easier to deal with than the mess it looks as a whole. This paralysis of analysis has started affecting my actions, my temper, my sleep pattern and unfortnately even the walks that I so enjoyed earlier.

I am clearly not being part of the solution at the moment.

Epilogue:
There was no underlying point to this post; just like there isn’t yet any to what has been happening first in Mumbai and then in the world media since 26/11. I am still not sure what I wanted to share here – was it grief, helplessness, a purposeful action plan…I don’t know.

….guess I am just uncomfortably numb.

Tauji's Time Machine

2008-10-13T03:20:00.009+05:30

Daadi-waale Tauji was one of those people in my life that amongst other things you always remember by the way they smelt when they hugged you. His was a mixture of saada-paan and Old Spice aftershave. Every time we came to Lucknow for holidays , he would come to the station to receive us...always with a box of motichoor laddoos (typical North-Indian sweet) from Chanakya Misthan Bhandar (his ultimate sweet shop). He was simple man with very simple needs, like the saada-paan that he always kept a 'next 3 hours' supply of.

Many years ago when we were having breakfast at his house during one of our Lucknow trips, he suddenly announced in his ever so matter-of-fact tone that he has invented a time machine. Most of us at the table were too busy devouring the samosas and did not even look up to acknowledge the statement but I with my "Back to the future" context of the whole concept couldn't help but ask him to elaborate a bit more. Maybe there was something that at least came close to what the Professor achieved in the movie?!?! Time travel...the idea itself was enough to get me on the edge of my seat.

"It's quite simple", he said... Just take a blank audio cassette and record one song from each phase of your life. E.g. pick the number that you remember from the time you had your first crush, the song that you sang to yourself to keep going when you knew there were 5 chapters still left for the test tomorrow and so on.

It was probably the biggest anti-climax of my life!

After more than 14 years of my uncle's declaration at the breakfast table I now know how right he was. Listening yesterday to "Better Man" by Robbie Williams on the radio I suddenly remembered how many times I had asked Arjun (my college roomie) to rewind and play the song again and again...it felt as if I was in that little hostel room, sharing a bottle of "smuggled" beer with salami sandwiches with the song playing over and over again. There are these songs that mean so much to us not because of any great secret shared in the lyrics but just because of the times we were going though when they came along or maybe because of the people we shared these songs with.

Strange as it may sound...the fact that we are so plugged-in to our lives...insulated from everything else going around us...and at times so detached from the life(s) we once lived can at times be conveyed by something as seemingly trivial as a song.

Tauji was right...he did figure out a way to travel through time.

Disabling "Ability"...

2008-05-20T04:10:00.003+05:30

Somehow I am beginning to question the validity of the word “ability”. I know…I am not sure if I am making sense to myself but I mean it.

What is ability?

It is often described as another term for defining proven capacity to do something i.e. the action itself can be repeated at will by the actor and not just by mere stroke of chance! Coz’ for that we have another term right? Flash in the pan!

Ok…so what happens to those who do not have this so-called gift of ability? Does that make them somehow inferior; at least with respect to the action in question? When do you stop trying? When do you give up trying to come up with that proof of ability? Or if that individual is someone else…when do you write the poor guy off saying, “…he/she simply doesn’t have it”?

I read somewhere about this b-school that had an assignment asking students to visit the neighborhood slum, pick 10 kids at random between the ages 12-16 and come up with an assessment of their ABILITY to make a decent living in 10 years from now. One of the guys turned in his report saying that not more than half would be alive / not-in-prison considering the trend in the area as well the opportunities available. The rest would be managing somehow either picking garbage or pushing broom somewhere.

On the 10th year reunion, the same professor asked the students to validate those submissions. Most ignored the idea but our man decided to go ahead and do it just for kicks. He couldn’t believe how wrong he was. All except 2 were in white collar jobs, the other 2 were construction workers but more out of choice than anything else. But what he couldn’t digest was the fact that one of them was actually part of the organizing committee for the re-union. One of the guy’s he wrote off 10 yrs back was to graduate from the same b-school next year.

Shocked out of his wits, he made enquiries and found that the following year of his graduation, a retired teacher moved in that slum who took night classes for these god-forsaken kids. More than anything else, the people in the neighborhood said she believed in them. She gave them the faith to define their own future rather than be defined by it.

So while the meaning of the word ability might still be close to proven capacity, what is questionable surely is the finality of it. It is not an everlasting state neither is the absence of it ground enough to write an individual off completely and for good.

Some times all it takes to change mediocrity into excellence…into ability…is the belief to be able to do so and it is also possible that the belief happens to be somebody else’s and not your own...

Bye Bade Baba...

2008-04-08T12:22:00.002+05:30

I don’t know if it really is so but I really do think that I still distinctly remember the way my Baba (grandpa) smelled. Every time he hugged me in that typical khadi kurta and absolutely ill-fitting mega-sized pyjamas, Grandpa or Baba as we fondly called him would leave us smelling like him…of parathas, doodh-bread (hot milk with pieces of bread slices in it that he always had for breakfast) and Brahmi Awla Kesh Tel (hair oil) all rolled into one!

After Baba left all of us in 1987, the closest anyone could ever get to that smell was Bade Baba, Baba’s elder brother. Bade Baba lived with his wife (Badi Amma) in Lucknow and was a man of short-stout built and a booming voice.

I and my sister cherished our trips to his house every time we went to Lucknow as we knew that Baba would as always be ready with on or other of his sweet creations. If it was not his trademark Awle ka Murabba then it would be the bright pink coloured ice cream waiting for us in the fridge. Something or the other would always be there for us and it would be definitely sweet, much to the dislike of Badi Amma as she knew that being a diabetic, Bade Baba should not indulge in sweet stuff. But when have the Saxena men listened to their women if it had anything to do about dietary restrictions?!?!

I still remember the gulel (slingshot) that Bade Baba made for me to chase away the monkeys that frequented our kitchen garden when we were in Lucknow. Though I must admit that the device hardly ever saw any real monkey-action.

But what I will always remember him for is what he told me when I called him after getting a job on my B-school campus. While every one else was asking about the salary, the bonus, the perks, the future prospects etc…Baba just said one thing after congratulating me. He said…”Beta…imaandari se kaam karna” (Son…always be honest to your job).

Bade Baba is no more. He left us today morning. He was 91.

Same Difference...

2007-08-23T18:17:00.001+05:30

Ever noticed...how when we're in a group we complete disregard the voice of any individual or for that matter even bother about if he's able to understand what ever is being said or not, isn't it? Common courtesy demands that communication should be in a medium that is understood well by all the parties involved but still it is not that rare to find a chap from Kochi staring blankly at his classmates as they share a joke in say Hindi etc.

The problem is more pronounced when you're a Hindi speaking lad whose grown up assuming that if anything, Hindi is one language ANY Indian can speak or at least comprehend. Worst case scenario, when all else fails one tends to bank on the legacy of the British, English to come to our rescue. So when a group of people around you suddenly break into something as alien as Tamil or Malyalam you are just stunned into silence trying hard to at least eliminate the possibility that it is YOU who is the subject of the discussion. But then there is only so much you can do if that doubt happens to be true!

Now abstracting this further for the sake of discussion to other so called differences we face like the ones concerning religion, region etc.

When the infamous "Shilpa Shetty Racism Episode" happened, the whole world cried discrimination but when we all had the option to choose when making friends at a new place, most of us started with the ones who came from the same place as we did. Tell me, how many of us haven't ever made a wisecrack at someone whose fat or someone who wore specs at school? The only reason why you didn't do it (if that's the case) would be because it happened to be you who was taunted or laughed at!

Sticking with "your kind" is not what bothers me but its the often internalized, almost subconscious act of rejecting all that is different that baffles me. This is aggravated by the so-called custodians of cultures / languages / faiths who staunchly believe that to keep their respective "clans" separate and "pure" from any kind of outside influence is the very reason why they were born. Intolerance for the "other kind" breeds from ignorance and the more we keep people from interacting through long lasting bonds like marriage, friendship even living in the same neighbourhood etc the more the divide would be widened.

Ugly acts of humanity like ethnic genocide, communal riots have ingrained fear in the minds of people and the easiest solution isn't much different from what "lower forms of life" like fishes and small animals do...move in similar crowds / live in similar crowds / work in similar crowds...basically keep ourselves consciously from interacting and therefore accepting anyone or any body who is different.

Those who call us a "melting pot" need to re-think if we all are indeed "melted" together or are we like a bowl of salad, just tossed together ?!?!

I too salute thee...

2007-07-03T10:46:00.000+05:30

To question stuff that doesn’t quite fit the perceived norm is a done thing with most of us I am guessing. I am no exception to the norm either so when I see a zillion people standing in queues waiting for up to 4-6 hours in the Chennai sun, I was really awestruck. Admittedly, my first thoughts for the swarming crowds drenched in their perspiration (and maybe of the guy standing next) were…

“Folks…please get a life! It’s just a movie for God’s sake!!!”

All this while the other line of thought I had was a rising sense of displeasure towards the man who is causing this kind of mass hysteria in people. How could someone so shamelessly enjoy the demigod status bestowed upon him by people so simple and so entrenched in their daily miseries…they forget that the joke is on them?

And while I was shifting from a sense of pity for the people who’ve once again been conned to the irresponsible demeanor of a so-called “megastar”…I noticed something. When I looked closely at the line extending to the moon in front of one of the movie theatres playing “Sivaji”…I realized my folly.

Who were the people that made the “mass” in the whole mass hysteria? They weren’t just over-enthu college goers or street urchins. Braving the sun and the humidity were grandpas with their little grand kids on their shoulders, fathers taking a day off from work holding the excited son’s hand, mothers coming in groups of 4-5 ladies after finishing their household chores and a thousand others about whom we don’t read about in the papers or in magazines or in the glossy page-3s.

So if in our often mundane lives, routine jobs, unfulfilled aspirations and daily hardships if there comes along a reason that lets us forget all that and gives us a chance to rejoice together...what’s so wrong about it? If the rich and the poor, the educated and the illiterate, the foreign return and the born and will die here…everyone is standing in the same line for another genius + mindless performance by his highness Rajnikant, why does it even call for an analysis?

When the reasons to smile are being fast outrun, outpaced and outnumbered by the ones to frown and sulk…

I say why not “Sivaji”? Why not Rajnikant?

Suddenly, I was victim of my own persecution. Guilty as hell about my first thoughts but I am glad I know my path to salvation…

…I have tickets of “Sivaji” for this weekend!

Shishir was here...

2007-04-26T19:38:00.000+05:30

I can't really place what exactly it was that created the relpulsion in me. Was it the aerial shots of a packed Dadar station or was it repeated footage in our cinema of local goons running with a butcher knife on busy streets? Or was it the bickering of local trains and the heat and sweat combo that epitomises the city? Or was it a timid awe of the huge mass of humanity that comes out on the streets during Ganesh puja? Or may be it was a little bit of everything that made me absolutely detest the idea of ever having to live here.

Mumbai...

Then there are people who can't stop swearing by the city. Where else, they argue, can you roam around the streets after a midnight movie show and still manage to find street food on the streets? Where else would you feel so "safe" despite knowing that more than 3 crore people are present from God knows which all places. World-class malls, latest fashion trends, swanky bunglows and even stylish cars that seem to swarm the roads 24 x 7, all of this "jing - bang" is the universe for many of the inhabitants of this city.

Here I am today, after exactly one year and 10 days of landing in the "maximum city"...an ex-Mumbaite!

Was it really that bad? Or am I a "convert" too now? Like the millions who've been sucked in by the comforts and pleasures of the city punctuated by its umpteen hardships and struggles. It is really strange that people who've grown up in far away places come to Mumbai and then surrender to it so completely. Many people I knew couldn't come to terms with the fact that I was actually moving out of the city. It was as if I'm denouncing the heavens and everything I'd now get would be somehow inferior to the "great city"! Some gave me that look, "I know you'd be back".

I don't think so...

Mumbai...about a year ago was nothing short of an enigma I'd grown up being scared of. After being there for a year...I am glad, it's now just another city, a damn good one though! But calling it "maximum" would be like "minimising" my journey ahead...rite ?!?!

The Pursuit of Happyness...

2007-03-21T17:22:00.000+05:30

Who doesn't like to watch a movie about the "triumph of human spirit" or the "victory of faith over despair" etc. etc. If nothing, you leave the movie hall with at least 3-to-4 "To Do Points" to tackle the X-Y-Z issues you're facing in your own life. It's something between a "Can do" and "Bring it on" kind of feeling that lingers on.

"The Pursuit of Happyness"...No, this ain't a movie review. But I won't deny that I really did like this movie. And I liked the name even better! So let's just say that this post has been..."inspired" by the movie, shall we?

To quote from The Declaration of Independence, "...all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness..." The really interesting point Mr. Will Smith ponders about here is the use of the word - PURSUIT. The latent meaning that it is not the end-goal of achieving the so-called entity named "happiness" that's the key but its mere "pursuit"...was especially hard-hitting.

You don't wake up one day and just "get happiness" served with bacon and eggs and a bowl of cereal nor is it something that is enclosed with the cool degree you earn at the end of your fancy higher education. It's the pleasure one draws to follow a dream, something one believes in that really counts. At least it is what SHOULD count!

By the way, who ever said that the word "dream" or "passion" only refers to something like owning my own chain of hotels across Asia or being the world’s best scuba diver? I have this thing for maybe one day I have this nice place of my own with a huge terrace where I can call my friends for a few drinks and mindless banter while I get the bar-be-que going. It's nothing spectacular but I do want to be able to do that sometime soon. What do I do when I actually DO this? I go make myself another simple (or stupidly huge) dream. And walk on...

Not everyone who starts with you in the journey might last and that is the way it has always been. I guess it is just a function of how much worth the individual sees for the effort (at times agony) vis-à-vis the strength of his/her own faith in the whole fight. With or without those who too started alongside but bailed out somewhere along the way...the strong ones finish the journey or they happily die trying...

...in the pursuit of happiness.

Fantasizing reality...

2007-02-27T16:02:00.000+05:30

It was there in the popular Hindi film "Bunty aur Babli". So it was in "Finding Neverland" and more recently, "Bridge to Terrabithia". It wasn't "real" in the real sense but then what's so great about reality anyway?

Dreams and fantasy...

No matter how convincing Mr. Lawrence Fishburne looked in the cult "Matrix" when he offered to show Neo (Keanu Reeves) the real world, somehow fantasy isn't something I've been able to dismiss as being too childish or naive. I know I am luckier than most when I have the time, the comfort, the means and everything else so that I can write this post. I know that the world isn't a pretty place for everyone and for some the suffering is so extreme that taking their own lives seems easier than the prospect of living another day. I know all this and not merely from a "cozy living room" point of view.

I've known people who wouldn't waste any time in shaking you out of anything that they feel is an inch far from the truth. People for whom life is nothing but a process of coming to terms with one tragedy after another. Of realising that this doesn't work either or that no one really cares or that there is no point fighting as nothing would really happen. People who have written an assumed sad end before they even opened the book. Life for them is nothing but awakenings after awakening into the light of dark realities that surround us poor mortals. These are the sort of people who would ask before lifting an adorable little baby in their arms..."...you sure he won't pee on me?"

I remember quite a long time back in one of the many cities I've grown up in, we had abandoned structures where we guys used to play "Commando Vs Aliens". We made "walky-talkies" out of junk and never left on a "night petrol" without our Leo Mattel rat-a-tat guns. It was fun to lay a "siege" to an enemy bunker and to "snoop" on enemy communication. Trust me, we were dead serious about it!

Fast forward to this day. Well, I've come a long way from the days of "...over and out...". After a couple of degrees and having worked for around 3 years, I guess I am now expected to be rational in my thinking and pragmatic in my approach. And by all means, I am. One hundred percent, I am all of that! But to say that I am so all the time would not be entirely true. There are things that I dream of doing someday, stupid things that I just have to do sooner or later. To direct a movie for which I've written the screenplay and script for is one such thing. Of course I don't talk about it often. But when I do, the vivid picture of how I'd like to do it, the concept, the subject (keeps changing though) etc. overcome me and I narrate the whole thing in a manner that betrays the fact that I've actually gone over it umpteen times in my head. There quite a few more such fantasies that I am living for. Who knows how many of them would get to qualify as "universally accepted realities" but for me they already are as real as it can get...

I'm not really promoting schizophrenia here but to sometimes take "time-out" from the 9 -to- 5 lives of ours and live in the many dreams we all have, isn't that bad an idea if you ask me. And don't get too worried over doing it, fortunately or unfortunately we have enough "realists" around us who would spare no time in shaking you back to "their" version of reality.

A little piece of trivia to end this post...Star Wars started as fantasy set in the future where cool gizmos and gadgets could do unthinkable stuff. Today, except the "teleporter" (beam me up Scotty), everything is a reality.

Every body's "reality" I mean!

The court is adjourned...

2006-11-24T20:11:00.000+05:30

Sid and I last spoke 10 years back.

I don't think we had a fight or anything. He just turned from my "best-friend" to someone I once knew. Of course, it didn't happen overnight. The only thing that came between us were...well...I guess...years. Back then, all we two cared about was the game of 7-tiles in the evenings or the odd trip to the nearby kebab shop for romali roti and kebabs that we used to devour on Sunday evenings. And back then, it cost just 10 Rupees! I wonder apart from the prices, what changed so much that we grew so apart over the years.

I think I just said it. We grew apart. The operative word being GREW! It surely did not happen overnight. From having no preferences or opinions, we started having a different take on the same things. We started hanging around with different people and at different places. And then a time came when there remained nothing common. Not even common subjects to exchange the odd pleasantries on. Nothing at all.

We all tend to have our own comfort zones. Places, people, things et al. we can relate to. Sometimes we do befriend those who're so completely different but then what we end up sharing isn't too much. It’s usually just the one or two odd things that brought us together. We tend to get too protective, if I may use that word, about these little comfort zones. As we age, the people that we let in start getting fewer and fewer. Till a time comes when we just stop letting anymore in. The doors are simply shut.

But it’s another thing that really got me thinking. It is our diminishing level of tolerance for people who choose not to go our way or at least endorse in spirit if not in letter, how we see things. They form the "others"...

Recently, a good friend of mine introduced me to her to-be-husband. Someone her parents had chosen for her. The chap seemed pretty nice. Very ordinary looking, but pleasant. He was from a prestigious B-School and that was on top of an engineering degree from a REC. He spoke well and dressed tastefully too. However, there was one thing that kept pricking me...it was his dry and dull demeanor. He never seemed to get excited about anything. All his sentences had a calm rather dead tone to them. I am sure he'd keep my dear friend happy, treat her like a princess but I am really doubtful if he'd be able to make her laugh. Something that I know for sure my friend loves doing. Anyway...

Did you see what happened here? While I was explaining the guy to you, whatever I said was HOW I SAW IT. It was all my interpretation of the person. So how can I say that she made a wrong choice? What if having a person you know would stand by you, come what may, is more important than the wise ones someone once she loved could crack? What if being pampered for life by someone coz' he'd be thinking he got a "better deal"...was more important for her. And there are a million more such things.

People are different. It’s their way of looking at the same thing that makes them different more than anything else. Also, just because I think going to a good engineering college makes someone better doesn't mean others will think so too. What is important is that I must learn to accept the choice the other person has made.

Hence, from this moment on my personal court stands adjourned...indefinitely. No more judgments.

Amen!

Exit options...

2006-11-10T17:06:00.000+05:30

There are two things anyone can make out of the card game of FLASH:
a) The earlier you EXIT the lesser is the damage to your wallet!
b) More often than not, its not the one with the "highest" combination of cards that wins, rather it's the last man standing or in simpler words, the one who decides NOT to quit.

Allright...enough about cards.

There is something that bothers me whenever I talk to any of my peers about career/jobs and stuff. It's the idea of EXIT OPTIONS. There always always always (this was not a typo) HAVE to be excellent exit options of the next career move. In a nutshell, we are talking about the "Plan - B" even before a day at the new job. To put it more bluntly, the WAY OUT is an important criteria for deciding whether to get in or not in the fist place!

A phone call from an old friend the other day left me slightly confused. She had just started seeing a guy and really excited about the whole thing. The real good part, in her words, was the fact that they have already decided to not make it ugly if down the line things don't go the desired way. This was a good thing she said, as so many people around today are in such messed up relationships struggling to keep things together for no apparent reason. So as per her, in her new relationship there was not "extra pressure" to make this work at any and every cost, after all they had already talked about the EXIT OPTIONS. "Awesome ain't it?", she exclaimed at the end of the conversation. "Yeah...really...", was all I could muster...

What has really got me confused is the fact that all this while I was under the impression that the true fun of the thing lies in getting through rough the patches together and somewhere down the line, the whole experience of sticking through it all gets people closer. Similarly, I wonder why most of us (me included) aspire to do it all...I mean the "whole works" that we learned at our colleges in our first year at our jobs! When it's clearly proven through empirical studies that 6/10 MBA grads switch jobs within the first 11 months of their joining! How on earth do you expect the company to entrust the employee with the kind of responsibility we so often dream of in the first few months? Fact is...I myself fall prey to such thoughts quite often...

Of course, there are many cases when throwing in the towel is the only sensible thing to do. After all, who would want to live with an abusive husband? But somehow I am getting the feel that QUITTING is beginning to be the "in thing" these days. Quitting on anything and any person seems to be the norm rather than to toil through the rut and earn the pot of gold at the end of rainbow. This ain't easy though...No way! But I faintly remember the number of times I was scolded, at times "fixed" by my folks for something wrong that I'd do no matter how much they tried to correct me... till one day when I stopped doing that again... Would have been easy for them to give up too I guess but they didn't. Same for many of my friends who've all this while put up with me on my bad days, teachers who could have let me be another failure of the education system...and so on...

The point is QUITTING was never difficult. But my old fashioned self still believes I'd hang on a little bit longer, just may be the storm eases out later. Life is not a card game. Packing up your hand early to cut the losses isn't the wisest move always. The stakes are high, no doubt about that but it's sometimes more worthy to loose a well-fought battle then to bail out at the first sign of rough weather...

Yeah Yeah...Mera Bhi Bharat Mahaan!

2006-09-29T15:28:00.000+05:30

Warning:
This is reactionary piece and its not a Friday read!

One of my first assignments when I joined my new job was to help my PM make a kit for consultants going abroad so that their settling-in time is reduced. This kit was to contain briefs on the cultural difference between India and the other country. Business etiquettes, festivals, behavioral Dos and Don'ts etc. During the course of research on the net, also known as GOOGLE-ing, I came across many such presentations etc. for other countries, and then I came across one that told a foreigner about the things to keep in mind when doing business in India or with Indians.

Guess what the first line of that presentation was?
It was quite simple actually. It said..."Whenever you feel things are not going your way, start praising India, its culture, its rich tradition and its deep rooted values".

Even the outsiders know (and thrive on) about the way we place ourselves on this totally hollow pedestal of "Indian-ness". Here I would like to make a strong point to the "guardians of Indian-ness and all things Indian"...I am not a traitor of any kind. I can happily face bullets if my country needs me to. But I am no more in the business of this make-believe patriotism of blanketing all the vices or negatives with a cry of "MERA BHARAT MAHAAN!"

I don't know if it was the movies or it was the beaches, but Mumbai was always this great city for me. Something that gave me a mixed feeling of fear and vastness, coupled with a strange kind of charm. People living here won't stop raving about the place.

"Man...this city rocks!"
"If anywhere in India...its gotta be Mumbai man..."
"...there is life here dude...even at 2:00 AM in the morning..."
"...its where dreams get real..."

Here, I would like to tell those who chant "Jai Maharashtra!" and "Aamchi Mumbai"...that I have nothing against this city and am all for it. But the fact is that it still takes one heavy shower to get the traffic to a stand still. I still have to cross 3 garbage dumps...in the open on my way to office everyday. The roads are good enough to be handed over to Archeological Survey of India as they quite literally are heritage! I could go on and on but the point here is that Mumbai is waiting to crumble. The whole false-glory of the city would just implode under the pressure. It's really NOT great. It's crying...wailing and screaming for help.

Culture they say... Highest number of incestuous relationships / rapes / molestations. Highest number of female foeticide cases. Massive number of cases of religion and caste based violence. Growing hatred and intolerance of other faiths. Huge in-equality in incomes. Islands of opulence and wealth. Here too, I could go on.

The deal is...we must learn to first ACCEPT that things are really not pointing to a picture of "Mera Bharat Mahaan!". We must learn to accept that there needs to be strong action backed by an even stronger will. Stop drawing a comparative picture against the west and then smiling at ourselves saying "Incredible India!" I fear we might be worse, we just happen to have the best hypocrites in the whole wide world!

I am sorry if I could not provide you with your weekly dose of entertainment or be as happy and enthusiastic like Mr. Rajdeep Sardesai is everyday about his latest BIG STORY. It of course doesn't make a difference for him if its on the plight of 7/11 survivors or the living condition of slum dwellers in Mumbai. After all...its just another story.

Don't know what have I achieved by putting it all down here. Something that the so-called intellectuals so love to do..."pen down their thoughts"! Or discuss over a couple of drinks if it's a Friday/Saturday! Guess it just got a bit too much to handle and then smile about it...

Jai Hind!

Being the "bad guy"...

2006-08-28T21:03:00.000+05:30

Amongst the first things that you learn about news is the fact that "no news" is better than "bad news". An anology that can be extended to quite a few things and experiences. Come to think of it, we exactly tend to remember the one time when the guy in front of us in the line of cinema tickets mis-behaved or hurled abuses when we un-intentionally nudged him or when the waiter was rude at a particular joint etc. The many times when we were subjected to "unacceptable behaviour". Maybe its just the way we are programmed, we tend to "highlight" the times when we were the victims and were at the receiving end and not otherwise.

Otherwise?!?!

Something that happened on a local train is what's making me write this post. Whenever a non-Mumbaikar comes to the city and plans to use the sub-urban rail network, he's given a set of commandments. The most important one being, never get on a Virar Local!!! Anyway, so a few weeks back as I was getting on the local train from Andheri, I knew I had to jostle quite a bit. This was peak rush and I could'nt afford to miss this train. So I focussed on one thing and one thing only, getting in! In that rush I accidently, though I believe I could have avoided it, threw an elbow at this middle-aged guy. Right on the chin. The moment I made contact I knew I'm in for some trouble. I would at least be abused badly I thought, if not beaten up by the whole compartment. This was going to be my "judgement day"...

Once we all "Andheri junta" got inside I looked for the face I had hurt...so I may stay clear of him. Finally, when I found him, I found him standing right next to me! But looking down at the floor. I blurted out a meek "sorry" when our eyes met awhile later. He just nodded and went back looking at the floor. Without a word. Without a complaint. Without any scene created...just continued staring at the floor.

I wasn't ready for this. I mean...nothing?!?! This can't be! I couldn't let myself off so easily...so how could he do it?

For the entire 40mts of the train journey. I did stupid things to lessen my guilt. Like giving him my seat. But some how his silence was killing me. As I looked at him harder, I found a man who might be going through such blows everyday so that he can provide for his family. Someone who had long back "learned" to brave a few than make an ugly scene of it. Learned to take it all in his stride. Quietly...

I looked around. There were more such tired and expression less faces looking down at the floor, ignoring the blows, getting though another day. One day at a time. They were everywhere...I started to feel terribly guilty, for all of them...

I questioned my self about the so many people I must have elbowed or stepped over in my years of existance. While all the time I have been pointing out the one or two odd times when it was my foot that was stepped upon or my shirt that was pulled. All the times when I was the "bad guy" and the person at the receiving end just chose to look down at the floor...

For what it's worth...I'm sorry...

Be-friending Ms Padmini Mohite...

2006-07-21T19:12:00.001+05:30

Usually I don’t take too long to make friends with little kids but Ms. Padmini Mohite is a big blot on that track record of mine. Let me introduce her. Ms. Padmini Mohite is a big lady of 4 and half years and is the daughter of the taxi driver who stays in the helper’s quarters in the adjoining building. She also happens to be the “best friend” of Dinesh, son of our society's watchman, Maan Singh. Dare not call him “Thapa” or “Bahadur” coz’ of his looks. He would promptly correct you with a polite yet firm, “Shaab ji…mera naam Maan Singh hai” (Sir, my name is Maan Singh)…and would wait for an acknowledgement.

So as I mentioned, I and Padmini aren’t exactly on nodding & smiling terms. She always gives me a “not-impressed” frown and I also play along and return the same frown back. I wonder what it might be? Is it that she doesn’t find my sense of dressing good enough for a smile or is it the fact that her best friend’s father calls me “Shaab ji” (Sir) is something that doesn’t appeal to her? I don’t quite know what it is but the bottom line is that I and little Ms Padmini are always on frowning terms!

Like every other day, I left for work and like every other day I and the dear leading lady of this blog post exchanged our customary frowns. I walked briskly to the spot where the office shuttle picks me up and surprisingly in about 2-3mts Padmini joined me and stood right next to me but still maintaining her poise (what a word for a 4 and a half yr old!) and that frown. I guess she was going back home as the school had declared a holiday or something. Now this was a sticky situation for our dear little Padmini as I was the least-stranger amongst all the strangers around her. Occasionally, I did catch her stealing a quick glance but she quickly looked away and then pretended to be busy looking at the traffic ahead. There still was tension between us, clearly.

I was getting slightly impatient as my bus was taking an unusually long time to come but all the while I was trying to figure what the little lady is trying to do. She would take 2 steps forward and then 2 steps backwards. Sheepishly look up to me and then back at the seemingly un-ending flow of cars / auto rickshaws / buses etc. This pattern kept repeating itself for the next 5mts or so. Then it struck me…the poor kid was trying to cross the road but was too proud to ask me! I moved towards her and smilingly asked her, “…apko road cross karna hai?...” (you want to cross the road, rite?) Little Padmini shyly nodded her head. So I held out my hand and she promptly transferred her lunch-box to the other hand and held out her tiny fingers towards me. I held her hand firmly and together we snaked throught the busy Mumbai road.

Little Padmini smiled at me with gratitude and then shyly half-waved a bye to me as her big innocent eyes followed me warmly as I crossed the road back to my waiting spot. There was no frown this time around.

I think I and little Ms Padmini Mohite are friends now…

Mumbai 7/11: Second Thought...

2006-07-12T18:05:00.000+05:30

The last 6-7 hrs since I posted the last article (below)...I can't help but notice and then compare the before - after scenarios. There is not one thing I can think of that people did out of the usual today other than enquire if the other one reached home on time or collectively express disgust and anger over the incident (me included) etc. etc. Everything was just the same. The dosa guy infront of TCS still served his customers with the same speed, my colleagues still took their regular smoking breaks, I chatted up on Yahoo! with a few close friends..and so on. Everything was just the same. The only so-called difference was the change in topic. Instead of the FIFA World Cup...its now the 7/11 blasts. 7/11...almost as if its in - vogue to name terror attacks by sexing up the dates a bit!

Rajdeep Sardesai, however, took the cake when it came to being out of line with the nature and gravity of the tragedy. The chap actually had the nerve to sit and smile one of his impish ones and pass comments about irrelevant and funny-to-only-him kind of jokes. Quite a shame considering the seniority of the media man if nothing else. The field reporters were not far behind. Often being requested...ordered and eventually pushed aside because their cameras were hindering relief work. But how can we complain? We only have made "Breaking News" our favorite show...no matter what the news channel. Mr. Rajdeep kept following his "team" all over Mumbai...covering the story. And that's what he made yesterday evening's events...just another STORY! Great job sir!

When I hit Google News a few mts back...there were two news items side by side, one was how Mumbai was showing its classic fight-back spirit and getting back in the groove and the article right next to it said about how Israel was contemplating a massive operation to rescue two of its soldiers. I repeat... to rescue TWO of its soldiers. We call meetings, talk about human rights, talk about negotiations, we exchange hostages for terrorists, let murderers go free because we mess up the investigations. Above all we take pride in calling ourselves TOLERANT. A great way to curtain the fact that a country that is home to one sixth of the humanity has no balls! How in the heaven's name can someone even dare to execute to perfection such an act and then we go on to claim that Mumbai has "limped back to normalcy"? Is it because as Shobha De once said that we forget too easily? Or is it because any pain isn't really ours till there isn't any blood on us? Or without playing with words anymore…we simply don’t care till its our leg that got blown away...

I called it resilience a few hours back. Now I can't think of any other word but...

...Indifference !!!

Mumbai 7/11: A Reaction

2006-07-12T10:21:00.000+05:30

.......the one thing about wracking your brains infront of a PC...aka...working in the IT Industry is that there's seldom a day that you can catch the local in Mumbai before 7-8 PM...However, the fact that was distinct in everyone's eyes was...utter and absolute disgust coupled with anger. Who the hell targets the guy already struggling to get a mere foothold on the Mumbai local? What a SHAME!

If the same thing happened in any other country...there would have been reports of trauma induced syndromes...psychologists trying to tell people how to cope with lack of sleep or low morale and faith in the system...poor grades etc etc. But in India...and more specifically Mumbai...the people say, "...agar likha hoga toh kuch nahi kar sakte..."(if its meant to be, it is bound to happen)...and they go on another day of jostling and pushing. Call it our resilience or call it "majboori"(helplesness)... We cannot afford to sit and mourn for days. Being afraid and being scared to go for work is a luxury this country doesn't have.

Smiles 'n' Spirit...FOREVER...for its just another day in paradise...

(Dis-) Connecting People!

2006-05-19T17:35:00.000+05:30

I was in my fourth year of my college then, it was somewhere during my final semester of Summer Internship that I got my first mobile phone. The year was 2002. Cut to 2006. I am now using my 5th mobile instrument. But this little combination and arangement of complex circuits and plastic with so-called mp3 quality ringtones doesn't quite command the same respect from me. I don't deny that my cell phone bills run into figures one could save to buy a luxury yacht! Niether am I running away from the fact that this little piece of engineering came to my rescue many a times in moments of dire need. But just ...consider the following scenes...take your pick!

You are enjoying a nice dinner with someone at last...after having cancelled it / postponed it over a million times. The setting is just perfect, the music is just right and the waiter also knows that you don't like him standing over the two of you so he comes only when you snap your fingers! The response time makes your dinner companion wonder if you're a regular at such a classy place...a confusion that happily leave her in! In short...you could get up and stop the master clock of the universe, if there was one, so that the time just wouldn't move. But it does...and in the very next moment...your right thigh goes on auto-massage mode! Relax...its just another call and your cell is in the VIBRATE mode. Its your boss and he takes a complete rundown of the day's meeting with the clients from you, not once asking if he's inturrepted you. By the time the call ends...your partner has folded her napkin and has asked for the cheque. End of Part One.

Its been a couple of years since you and your partner have been together and even though there is a thousand miles between you the fact that a simple " :-* " which happens to be the smiley combination for a kiss...is enough to get the warmth going in your heart. The SMS lets you be naughty at times and sometimes jus leave cute little nothings that keep the "fire" going. How should I put it...hmmm...the mobile telephone is a great "enabler" of romance. Then one day after a horrible day at work you call up your partner and you're put on call wait. Of course, seeing you're calling your partner would surely cut short his conversation and talk to you. So you wait...and wait...and wait..The line disconnects. Its the same story for half an hour. You SMS and there's nothing for an hour. End of Part Two.

You're great at playing with words. In fact...your friends say that you could talk the damn kidnapper to drop you back home the same day and thats not all. Maybe even get him to turn himself in and confess to all his past crimes too. So this one night you decide to take your lady love out for a coffee and the moment you reached the climax of your hyper-animated joke...BEEP-BEEP.... She gets an SMS. She pretends to keep listening to you. You ignore the message and go on with the joke till it finishes and she looks at you as if you're the waiter asking for the order. Coz' all this time she was first busy reading and then replying to that message. You let it go. Since its your treat. You ask her to order ANYTHING. Her eyes light up...she starts reading the menu, all excited and eager. Then...BEEP-BEEP...she checks the SMS...smiles and starts replying. You try and be calm and ask..."So what are we having tonight?" She listens to you in the 2nd time...with the same "mind-elsewhere" look. And then says...messaging alongside...I'd take whatever you're taking honey... And flashes a big smile...and then...back to the reply she's typing. End of Part Three.

There is a Part Four - Five - Six - Seven...and so on. But I guess we get the point.

The reactions in each case of the other person...the victim...can be anything. Depending on how much he/she can afford to gulp down. The point here is not to see who's at fault. I am not doubting...rather it might be so that in 100% of the cases reponding to the mobile phone was utmost important. The point is NOT this. It rather is the fact that how easily have we let this little devil called a mobile phone ruin our personal interactions? How readily we decide to prioritise a phone call / SMS over the person who's sitting next to you in flesh and blood? Putting EVERYTHING around you on hold...coz' that 10K worth of thing went BEEP-BEEP! I am not crusading against them. I am FOR them. They make me feel relieved when someone close is working late and plans to take an auto after 11:30pm...They sure are important. No doubt.

There are lots of things one has to do together. Lots of them. The whole essence lies in prioritizing them. I am jus wondering when do we decide to give some importance...a little basic respect to that person sitting next to us? When do we start looking into the other persons eyes & not the screen of one's mobile while in a conversation? When do we stop thinking about the "worst case scenarios"...just coz' someone did not (for whatever reason) reply to the SMS in the assumed 5mt window or dare to keep you on call waiting? When do we start cutting people with mobiles some slack and stop loosing sleep over a delayed response?

Or...when do we start SWITHING OFF our mobiles and SWITCHING ON to people around...at least the ones who matter?

“So, what are you thinking?”

2006-04-04T14:29:00.000+05:30

Thick skinned. I still remember the time when I first heard the term, it was meant for me of course. The “crime” was…as far as what I remember, my lazy refusal to be toilet trained! The whole “lift the seat”….”put it down” stuff was too much for me to remember all the time…

But this post is about something that stinks more than a toilet…

Ever wondered why the most acclaimed of the plays / movies / works of literature etc. are based on the misery of others? Another source of entertainment is the daily news. How else would you describe the incident that a reporter took the footage of a man who went on to burn himself alive in the presence of a large crowd and police persons? Apparently, the channel recorded highest TRP rating that night and it took a prohibitory ruling to stop it from airing the “EXCLUSIVE” report any more number of times. After all, what can be better than live TV? And we graduated from live game shows a long time back, there isn’t enough pain to make your skin crawl, so what’s the fun? Right?

It is not the human appetite for other people’s suffering that bothers me but it’s the sheer apathy with which we are able to walk in and out of an alleged work of art that depicts the ordeal of another man. The responses are varied though. More the “intellectual” the audience the more intense the living room discussions that follow. Those with “soft hearts” are guilty at times of being generous with a tear or two. The closest person in the gathering however is quick to point out about it being “not-so-bad” as it looks and then follows the cover story of Reader’s Digest on how someone, somewhere was able to change the situation and rescue the prisoners of circumstances with sheer tenacity and compassion. We all then nod in agreement that the world is a better place only because of these people. The talk is interrupted by the announcement that the dinner is served and barring a prim & proper Ms. XYZ who just has salad for dinner as the movie made her loose her appetite, the rest put even put accomplished gluttons to shame. “Goodnites” and “Catch ya later” fill the air and the gathering disperses. Of course, that’s after it is decided that we all have to catch the heart rendering depiction of the crisis in Mumbai’s slums by some big shot socialite-cum-playwright next weekend.

I was at this play a couple of weeks back. It was on the way we face and are even responsible for discrimination of one form or the other. It was quite dramatic and the point was driven down quite hard by the talented cast. Half the audience had misty eyes and they all hanged their head as they moved out of the auditorium. Almost as if acknowledging their part in the crime, one way or the other.

The lead actor was an acquaintance and so he came up to me and asked, “So, what are you thinking?” I guess he anticipated a compliment for his performance, which was undoubtedly great. But all I could manage as a reply was…

“I am thinking…how long will I take to forget this one?”

My cheese is still there...

2006-03-05T14:48:00.000+05:30

Was it jus the book “Who Moved My Cheese?” or did it start much before? I don’t quite know for sure but the urgency to master and be at ease with “CHANGE” has been there for as long as I can remember.

When I went to Delhi recently, I deliberately took the Mudrika, the local bus service that takes you along the “Ring Road”. I used that bus route when I was studying in the university some 4-5 odd years back. It was hot and the seats weren’t exactly plush but I enjoyed the ride. Of course, I could afford a more “apt” mode but I just didn’t want to. I went to the same old Arts Faculty Building in DU - North Campus, only to find out that the canteen we used to frequent for the Rs. 12/- half plate chowmien had been demolished. Not a happy feeling I must admit. It was almost as if I didn’t want it to change…the old familiarity often lends a sense of security of being in your “own place”. The change that time brings…disturbs that. After long sessions of (often senseless) deep thought I have come to the conclusion that it’s not that I am bad at the art of welcoming change, its something else. I simply don’t want the element of change to be there when it comes to certain facets of my life and certain people in my life.

Pune to me means the “bun-maska” at Café Goodluck or the vada-pao…well anywhere in the city. I will not stop enjoying them just because I can now afford a lunch at Mainland China and Chandigarh in winters will always mean that bowl of chicken soup behind Sector-35. Jus realized…I’m concentrating solely on food here! But hey…you get the point, right? Call me an animal from the Jurassic Age but I am not so gung ho about the idea of running towards Mr. Change with open arms for each and everything in my life.

The real mistake is when you expect the same from people. Well…they often do change. And at times you feel you’re the only fool around that remained just the same while everybody around you “got a new life”. There is nothing more comfortable than an evening with an old friend…who’s hasn’t turned “new”! You don’t have to start anywhere or worry about what you’re saying, after all it’s your old friend!

There is this comfort zone that one has...where change isn’t welcome. Tell me, would you like it if tomorrow when you go home and the food your Mom cooked started tasting different? Or if the way your Dad smelled when he gave you a hug changed?

Well...yeah your beloved galfrnd does become your wife oneday! But hey...you dare now call that an un-welcome change eh?!?!

Mukta...

2006-02-03T21:49:00.000+05:30

As I sit down tonite to write this post...I can't help but think about the way "Love Story" by Erich Segal starts...Those who have read the book would exactly know what I am refering to...

One of the greatest follies perhaps about every journey that a group of people undertake together is that...the noise and the celebrations at the end often tend to drown the faint voices that though started with us...don't make it till the end. There are those who leave us somewhere along the way...forever.

I can still remember the converstaion that I had with arguably the most brilliant and fiercely competetive lady I have ever come across in my life. It was a typical 1st Semester evening...all of us totally tired from the daily grind and trying hard to avoid thinking about the routine that awaited us the next day..and the next day through mindless chit-chat outside the cafe. She and I were talking about how sometimes everything seems so "in-a-plan"...like we exactly know what's gonna happen next and we're mere just going along the flow. She had been going pretty steady with someone for quite sometime and the way it looked, a year or two after passing out of the course, they were sure to tie the knot. Her to-be mother-in-law literally doted on her and there was nothing more she wanted from life. Of course, apart from the best damn marketing job the campus had to offer! Oh...yes...she wasn't the types to take what came her way. Rather, she was one who set targets and then work hard and endlessly to achieve them. In short, she was a winner all the way. Though as I said, in a lighter vein, she almost admitted that it does dissapoint her that there are no surprises in store for in life. And that...she more or less had a clear idea of how her life was going to turn out in the years to come...

When it happened...it wasn't just a surprise. Shock would be more apt. We were all stunned. Mukta Juneja, PGDM-I, SCMHRD was diagnosed of last stage leukemia. The fighter she was...Mukta didn't throw in the towel without a struggle. But this one time...she lost.

On 3rd of Feb 2005, Mukta passed away...

I wouldn't lie and say that I knew her too well. I did not...we were barely beginning to come to terms with our course and she and I were in different divisions. But that incident (and that talk I had with Mukta) taught me one thing. There are no guarantees in life. Nothing is forever. Do the best with the time you have, i.e. our today. Not all of us may get the luxury to live to see another tomorrow...

We miss you Mukta...

"...jaisa aap kahen" (...whatever you say...)

2006-02-01T21:56:00.000+05:30

A getaway with friends and more importantly with "a friend" has been long overdue. But when on the phone Shimla came up as one of the possible destinations, I wasn't that gung-ho about it. Not for anyother reason but I have practically been there once / twice every month while I was working in Chandigarh. I must say though...that few hill stations have the kind of charm that Shimla has for me. I simply adore that place...

This post is, however, not meant to be another of the Tourism Ministry's efforts to strengthen the "Incredible India!" campaign.

Since I was a lil' boy...I've always been taught to not poke into other people's business and worse...to overhear other people's conversations. But that evening while I was walking with my family on the famous Mall Road of Shimla, I couldn't help but having my ears tuned to what seemed like some kind of a course in manners. The conversation was apparently not between strangers but the whole thing was quite...what should I say...mannered & formal!

"...kya khayengi aap?" (...what will you have?)
"...jo aap ko pasand ho... (...anything that you like...)
"...nahi fir bhi...kuch toh bataiye... (...still...tell me something about your choice...)
"...jo aap kahen..." (...whatever you say...)

Now it was too much for even my military upbringing...to restrain from around and find out the source of the "lessons in hesitancy & manners". So very slowly...almost pretending to check out the array of hawkers on the other side of the street...I turned my head. And there were the culprits!
As I saw them...I tried so damn hard to not break into a laugh...a grin did escape my lips though...

About 10 odd steps from where we were standing...there was this newly married couple standing infront of an eating joint. The whole conversation that I was now privy to...was apparently about deciding what to eat for dinner. The problem was quite simple. The couple quite obviously had an arranged marriage...something thing quite common in this part of the world. Matrimony where one day suddenly you are told that you shall spend the rest of your life with so-and-so-person. Period.

So what you have...are two young people trying to make friends with each other from the time they get married one way or the other and at times over-doing the part where each tried to be the ideal groom or the ideal bride. In this case, the bride, apparently under strict instructions from her Mom & her Mom-in-law to wear bright reds and such "bridal colours" along with all the jing-bang of bangles, jewellery, bindi, heena and the works...was dressed up like a mannequin in a bridal showroom's window! And the young man was dressed much more...normally...so to say. Each one fighting hard the ackwardness of a complete stranger entering their lives...so abruptly and so very completely. Their efforts were genuine. Their being shy yet trying to overcome it and display a "I'm-in-control" look was a creditable effort I must admit. Above all...they were really cute together in the whole situation...

As I walked I could faintly hear them again,

"...kahin aur chale fir?..." (...so should we go somewhere else?)
"...jo aap kahen..." (...whatever you say...)

"Bass thoda aage tak..."

2006-01-20T20:38:00.000+05:30

Among the many things I find weird about me...one is that though I just can't ask for a hitch no matter how hot the sun may be...when I am on my bike/car, unless I'm at 80 kmph + or something...I almost never miss a stretched out hand for a lift. No pretty gal ever takes the same route on foot when I am out on the road...is a different thing, but lets not digress!

Today on my way back from someplace, I noticed this tiny little thing...hardly 6yr old boy, barefoot and that typical khadi colour school bag on his back...at the other end of the crossing I was passing through. I can't quite recall clearly if the kid had his hand out to stop anyone who'd give him a ride...but I somehow decided to slow down as I neared him. Finally...when I did stop my bike, about 10-15 mtrs ahead of where he was standing, the young chap looked around to see if indeed I had stopped for him and then only when I nodded at him through my helmet did he start running towards me. I wonder why he was so fast...not as if someone else was gonna snatch his ride?!??! Anyway...he confirmed once more...waiting for me to nod again…before making his first of 4 attempts to sit on the rear seat. Finally when he got in the position I remembered that the silencer would be really hot and should the boy's feet touch it...but thankfully...things were ok. My pillion rider was so tiny that he could not have managed to reach the silencer even if he tried!

Finally I shifted gears and with a slight jolt...started again...

Now something I had assumed in this case was that the lil chap would have made himself comfortable and there was nothing to worry about him. The truth in fact was that the poor thing was hopelessly disbalanced and every now and then I'd find two tiny hand looking for a grip...Every time he would touch me...he'd immidiately withdraw...thinking I might not approve of it...but on the very next turning I'd again find his two tiny hands clinging on to my belt/waist with all their strength. Then...again...as if out of guilt...he'd suddenly pull back and go on with his balancing act. When this happened for 3-4 times I took one hand of the bar and held one of his hands on my waist, in a way signaling to him that it was okay to hold on to me if he needs to. He was only too happy to oblige.

Anyone whose seen the young one of a monkey clinging on to his Mamma's tummy would know what I am saying when I say that we were almost like that on the bike...the only difference was that...this lil chap was clinging on the back! And yeah neither of were monkeys either!

Whenever there was a jolt...I'd pray that my "cargo" lands safely back on the back side and considering that I was on a patch of road where one literally had to climb in-and-out of pot-holes, I am glad he always managed a high precision landing! From the giggles I could make out that my lil friend was quite enjoying the whole thing. Sometimes when I'd overtake another vehicle, I'd notice his one hand coming off me. A few times later I found out that...the free hand was being made into a "thumbs-down" for the traffic we left behind.

He sure was having fun!

Finally...he tapped me to a halt. There were other "samples" of the same dimensions as my "cargo"...I guess waiting for their comrade...who'd jus joined them. After much difficulty when the tiny thing got off the bike...he gave me an ear-to-ear "thank you soooooooo much" smile and waved at me. As I rode on...I jus managed to catch that there was a hint of royalty in my new friends walk as he strode towards his gang...of course...while others had come in a 6-seater auto-rickshaw or "tuk-tuk" as we call it here, this dude jus got off a bike! He was the man-of-the-moment! And his tiny pals were too happy to acknowledge it...

There was something that couldn't quite understand though. Every time the bike slowed down...the kid would shout from behind "...bas thoda aage tak.." (jus a little ahead). Why?!?! Then it struck me...the kid could never see why I'm slowing down…from where he was behind me...so every time the bike slowed...he must’ve assumed I was about to ask him to get off...

Quite a cute lil thing he was...

Three Cheers For Innocence...

2006-01-17T15:35:00.000+05:30

One of the first things that I do when I'm playing with a newborn is to gently blow air at his face; the reaction that follows is quite adorable. My mother tells me that I used to spend hours at a stretch staring at my hands when I was a baby. Quite a "convenient" baby I must have been I guess...no toys n danglers required, keeping myself occupied with something as dumb as gazing at my own hands...

I wouldn't have sat down to write this post coz' I am often so disconnected by it’s theme. Innocence...quite an indefinable term I must say. Though it pops straight into your face when you least expect it to be. One of my close relatives is holding a senior post in a company based overseas and has to make frequent trips for work. The younger child, 3 yr old motor-mouth of a gal often complains to her Dad that he never takes her to the park and so on. One evening when I was visiting them, she was dragging onto my uncle for the same thing. My uncle was on his way to a meeting and gently told the child, "...bete mere paas time nahi hai." (child...I don't have the time...) and then the lil cousin of mine said something quite remarkable. She said, "...koi baat nahi Papa...mere se le lo..." (that's not an issue Dad...take some from me) The words hit us and most of all…my uncle…not coz’ of anything else but the innocence of the little child. Children have that gift.

Somewhere along the way…we are told not to trust other people and every act of ours is more often than not a “pre-rehearsed” one. The idea of saying or doing the first thing that comes to mind is quite frankly…unthinkable. I am not saying that it’s “innocent” to grab the first pretty gal that comes across…that’s mis-placed affection, better known as lust! But what’s the harm in a simple smile? But then you never know what brand of pervert you are branded as for a simple act as a genuine smile. Hence, we all walk with a plastic face with extra control points for not letting that one odd genuine expression from showing itself! It’s all as per a game plan…

As I say this…I know that it is easier said than done to keep innocence intact in the times when taking a ride is ill-advised for gals by cops coz’ you never know when suit-clad smooth guy at the wheel takes that turn to an isolated spot. It’s a fact…trust has never been more difficult, yet it hurts to see everyone walking with their “guards up”…coz’ we might spend the entire lives, never having met the real person behind it.

Still…it’s nothing short of a breeze of fresh air to come across some act of somebody or something said by somebody, that just makes you smile out of the simple joy of finding out that it still exists. That innocence hasn’t breathed it’s last. Not yet…

Or else what would you say about a 22yr old confident and smart gal looking at her hands and saying with a sigh, “…mere hath toh 5th class ke baad badhna hi ruk gaye…” (…after class 5th, my hands just stopped growing…)

PS: Questions about the identity of the gal in the last para shall be heartlessly stonewalled…

It Wasn’t Me…They Did It…

2006-01-11T12:08:00.000+05:30

Who doesn’t like their peers coming up and shaking hands after you have achieved something good or won some thing etc? I am no different.

I don’t know for sure if it’s coz’ I have too much spare time on my hands due to the lull in the college activities post-placements or coz’ I’m a forced-single (girlfriend out of town) but I have been doing quite a lot of reflection these days. I am bad with names…I mean, how embarrassing it is when someone spots you from across the street on a busy Saturday evening and then rushes to greet you by name and all you can come up with is a…”Hi…(pause to think for the last time what his/her name was)…how are things?”

But there are some…I can never forget. The other day, I got a call from an old friend of mine from junior school who I had lost touch after coming to Pune for my MBA. Being congratulated by someone I regarded as one of my biggest rivals at one time made me swell with pride. I guess there was a hint of arrogance creeping in too. Just a bit. However, it only lasted till the time I slipped into my bed that night…

As I lay there thinking how I had reached here, one by one all the people started coming to my mind that shaped this dream for me. I can still distinctly remember coming out of the maths exam in my 10th boards and matter-of-factly telling my friend that I’d score a 94 on 100…coz’ I had left a 6mks question! Mr. M. Balasubramniam, my maths tutor had given me that confidence. I was never a natural at maths but he made me a master at it (P.S. I am no great shakes at it now though!). In class 3rd or 4th, at a PTA meeting, the only one probably that my Mom & Dad both attended, Mrs. Camphor had declared without any hint of emotion, that I was suffering from “acute rascalitis”, in a lay man’s term, it meant I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut in class! But Mrs. Camphor spent hours clarifying my stupid doubts. She never gave up on me despite me beiing...well...ME! I can never forget the way she looked at me with pride when I went to meet her while was working, as if she was admiring a piece of her work. She was…in fact doing just that!

Advanced Data Structures was supposed to be a tough paper during my BIT at Delhi University. We had a teacher named, Mrs. Anuja Agarwal for the subject and she was brilliant at it. One time, when I had really bombed in an internal exam coz’ I hadn’t studied…just for kicks…she met me and said, “…If you are getting such marks, I think I should reconsider teaching the subject…” I aced the final paper.

During MBA, I met some of the finest teachers ever. If Mr. Prantosh has an uncanny knack of getting the point across, Mr. G.D. Apte would take you through his professional (at times personal…and really hilarious) experiences in a manner that would not only do justice to the subject at hand but would give you an insight or two into the real world. “At some point in life, define a concept of ENOUGH for yourself”, another amazing teacher, Mr. Ranjan Banejree said this line and I don’t think I’d ever forget it. One way or the other, they all left a mark.

I am sorry if this post looks more like an “Acknowledgement” than anything else. It’s not.

Because the correct word is “GRATITUDE"...

It’s Usually All Grey…

2006-01-10T01:38:00.000+05:30

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I was born under a sign that enjoys debates and discussions or is it the so-called questioning attitude that I have always had that makes me get into all these conflicts and debates with myself. Either ways, I enjoy them quite a bit.

I can’t even think of all the infinite times when any of us would have gone on discussing stuff ranging from the “true meaning” of life (love is also a popular one) to how we were so dreamy in our last relationship(s) or if the career choice we have made is the right one or not, did JLo do the right thing by insuring her legs so and so forth. Basically, there aren’t topics left that we haven’t dissected or over-analysed sometime or the other. And if you’ve been in a hostel…multiply the topics and the depth of discussion by ‘n’. Vague or serious…there have been all kinds!

How these discussions end is also quite interesting if you look at it. There’s the classic way of one or all of the participants passing out due an “xtra-happy-booze-party”, then there’s one or more of the people walking out coz’ “they’ve-had-enough”, or when one of your roomie reminds you of the early morning class, or when an “un-wanted” person enters the room / discussion and does not understand the hint that “Sir…please f***-off”, and then of course there’s the all time favourite, “lets-believe-what-we-each-want-to” approach when the discussion gets a bit too heated or we all loose interest coz’ it dragged too much.

Personally, I do enter into the discussion with a viewpoint of my own but it’s not the “last word” for me. I’d be lying if I say there haven’t been times when stuff that I was so damn convinced about was brought in front of me by someone else with a completely new flavour that I had to take a step backwards and re-think on my fundas. Quite frankly, I guess I have taken a lot back from these sessions which I have had with everyone from my closest of friends to teachers to someone I just bumped in the bus, just about anyone in fact...

I can still re-call a class of one of our professors who said that no matter what we say, all of us have a price we can sell our values for. What I had never understood earlier was that the word “price” was not just a synonym for money alone. The example of which that he gave still ties me up in knots!

However, the most important thing that all these discussions and long chats have done for me is that I no longer view things at being just this or just that. I mean…there are a plethora of fundas that I have about stuff…all kind of stuff. But I no longer have them engraved on a slab of granite till time immemorial like some kind of Gospel truth. I have slowly but surely begun to understand that it’s not all that clear cut. I guess that’s what time does to you if you are student to all that comes with it. It makes you realize that there are in fact...very few things in life that are either black or white...

It’s usually all grey…

Beginning of the End...

2005-12-22T22:31:00.001+05:30

When I stepped into this B-School close to 2 years ago...I had small goals for me. Like to pass the course! Yeah...frankly speaking...I wasn't here to challange Al Ries or defy Jack Trout. I came here because my last job frustrated me a lot (I let it do that to me...I recently figured that part) and I basically wanted a change in my life. I can't thank my boss enough for making the decision so easy of leaving the job...after all it also meant I would be leaving him!

As I write this particualr piece that there is an "imminent threat" of this becoming a saga of a post and I really wouldn't want that. So let me quite literally cut to the chase.

A lot has happened in the time I have been in this place. Good friends happened. A whole new city happened. Few reality checks happened. Some things...I now know for the better...happened too. But somehow Management Accounting never happened. And lately something else happened...that kind of topped it all...

I got placed.

These past 3 weeks since I've landed with the best that I could have ever dreamt of...all I have done is put the late Nawabs of Lucknow to shame! (Psssst...am from Lucknow too by the way) It's 24x7 chillax! There is something else though. Something that I can't seem to make myslef forget for too long...

End. I'd be leaving SCMHRD, my B-School in another 3-4 months. I am...at least I would like to believe that way...not the kind of person who'd get all senti thinking about it. But I'd be lying if I say that it won't matter. There is lot I know I'd be leaving behind. I may never be able to put into words what all this place has given me. I am so much a different person than what I was when I came here first. I would like to believe...the change is for the better.

...I better make these last few months count!

"Imtiaaz Miyan...Zila Jaunpur, UP"

2005-11-18T15:52:00.000+05:30

Haircut to me is what we call a "functional" activity.

It's not something that I plan for days about. Yeah...it does matter to me if I'm not able to make it to the barber for something or the other. Laziness is a valid and acceptable reason. Of course! I am from Lucknow, remember!?!? But that doesn't mean I'm game for "Sun n Shade"...for the un-enlightened ones, its the "under the tree barber setup". That's only for emergencies!

So when I first came to Hinjewadi, on the outskirts of Pune and the heart of the IT happenings in the state, looking for a barber was on the top of my agenda. A legacy of my growing up days...many in cities like Srinagar, where HAVING a barber was a luxury, I did not have a checklist that I carried around for zeroing in on one. It all was purely need based. Some of the people from Pune in the class mentioned about this suburb called Aundh about 12-14kms from the college with the some good shops. The "proper" kinds with A/C and all the jazz...

But as I said, haircut to me is a "functional" activity. On one of my "explore the nieghbourhood" walks...I came accross this shop. A typical small time barber shop with the quintessential huge and complicated looking but actually dumb cushioned chairs, mirrors on either sides (one at the back with an angle, obviously). Surprisingly, the place had no name. No boards. Nothing. Ok...so now I had the place marked.

Sunday. 11:30 am. Missed my breakfast so was kinda grumpy. I patiently waited for my turn. When it came I took my chair and closed my eyes.

"Aadab huzoor..." (Greetings Sir) I was expecting someone with a Marathi accent but...
"...aap yahan naye hain kya?" (Are you new here?)
"...ji haan...yahan padh raha hun" (Yes. I'm studying here.)

I've stayed in Lucknow for just three years but its a nice feeling to run into someone who speaks with the same unhurried pace. I was replying till now with my eyes closed. Finally, I looked up to find a short, stocky and perpetually smiling gentleman. I smiled back at him. I think he read the enquiring look in my eyes and said slowly,
"Imtiaaz Miyan...Zila Jaunpur, UP" (I'm Imtiaaz Miyan from Jaunpur, UP).

That was a year and a half ago and I'm now a regular at Imtiyaaz Miyan's shop. Imtiyaaz is like the "age-old" Indian barber. He is clumsy at times, but thankfully only at handling the cup of tea he always seems to have with him. He has a warm way of connecting with his customers. There are times when he pulls a fast one on his customers and somehow they don't mind either. No one asks him to hurry up. We all know he wouldn't. But still...we all wait for our turns. Afterall... apart from being great at his job, there aren't many barbers today who give you a post-haircut head massage as well Imtiyaaz. And its never less than 5mts...no matter how impatient the person next in the line is getting!

To be honest...I know that conventionally speaking, I don't "belong" in that shop. I'm supposed to be this upwardly mobile guy who's about to arrive in the corporate world and be "with it" as far as all the latest trends & fashions are concerned. The people I wait in the line with... are mostly the ones we would not think about honking at... if they were to cross the street in front of our cars or bikes. But somehow I like it here. The slow...easy pace...no one's rushing anywhere. People have time to share stuff without having to look at the watch every 5mts. It's nice.

Imtiyaaz has recently bought himself a second-hand mp3 player but he jus has one CD, that too of ABBA. Which he promptly puts on whenever he sees me. I guess I am only one who comes to his shop and actually at least looks like enjoying those songs (I actually do!). I've promised him a CD of Ghazals and popular Hindi songs the next time we meet...

I'm not due for a haircut for another 15 days. So I guess I have some time...

Blogger's Block

2005-11-08T12:57:00.000+05:30

Before I go to sleep each night I remind myself that it has been about 3 weeks since I posted on my blog. I make myself a promise to do so tonight at least. Then I don't know what happens...it's a series of different happenings, most aren't that different from the past day's, and I find myself at the end of another day thinking the same thing. It sure is frustrating...I must admit.

I won't say I have run out of things to say. Or my life has suddenly been rendered "incident-less". But somehow that drive to sit and actually pen down something...it just ain't there right now! Is it the assignments at college? Is it bad mood? Is it boredom? Actually none of these. Fact is, I just don't feel like it. Funny rite? That's something that happens quite a lot to me in context of many things. Things which I just don't seem to "feel good" about. I simply don't do them anymore. That is one reason why my marks in "Management Accounting" at MBA read like digits of a phone number...all being under 6! However...in case of my blog...it's what we call a transitory phase.

Anyways...I shall be back...soon. Hopefully before I am expunged from the memory of the e-world...

Discovering The "Brand Equity" Of My Butt!

2005-10-22T11:53:00.000+05:30

Being an MBA student, my affection for jargon has been carefully engineered into me...the term "Brand Equity" is among the sexiest that I've come across. It's like the "Marlon Brando" of marketing jargon. Despite all this, I always struggled to convey to the un-initiated it's true meaning.

Midnight yesterday/today I had "material proof" of BRAND EQUITY. It was all over my...errr...ASS!

See...traditionally, birthday is meant to be the day to enjoy and feel good about the consequence of an "accident" that took place years ago. 25 yrs to be precise in my case! The way it starts is amazing actually. Around 11:30 PM your close friends start asking for your whereabouts to make sure that you are somewhere close to your room. I was strolling about in the campus so I was summoned to the room. Immidiately! I complied. I had no choice. Then all my friends...whoever passed me gave me "the look", the kinds 2 guys did way back in the wild wild west give to each other before a draw. It's something between a sneer and a nod. By now I am wondering if I should call my friend doing law to make a will for me. But I decide against it as all someone can inherit from me is my education loan! The bike would of course be "sati" with me!

So I reach my room. Like an efficient butler, my roomie takes my jacket and politely asks me to change into "expendable" clothes. I comply. Again. Its 11:50 PM now and there is quite a crowd outside my room. Everyone trying hard not to look into my eye...lest they see the fear in them and take pity. I look down at their choice of footwear and I start feeling for my butt already. There was wide assortment of Nike / Adidas / Gum Boots / CAT / Floaters / Kohlapuris / Osho Chappals / Hawai Chappal... They were well armed allright!

11:58 PM. I am gently asked to come into the corridor and then as the clock hits 12:00 a faint voice from behind shouts..."Maaaaro saale ko". And my closest friends forget that even something as seemingly dumb as a butt has nerve endings and it bloody does hurt! Like HELL! For the next 5-10mts it rains kicks. Suddenly there is a hush. People give way to 3-4 guys charging with buckets full of chilled cold water. SPLASH! SPLASH! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkks! SPLASH! And I am left looking a poodle after a bath. Though in my case that was a rather well fed poodle. There is a again some activity in the background with frantic instructions being exchanged. What's next?

It didn't take that long to find out. My dear friends now had "stuff" in their palms. Any and everything from ketchup / toothpaste / Dabur Lal Dant Manjan (they esp. bought it for me) / etc. was meticulously applied on me. I was warned not to move or it might go in my eyes. How very considerate my friends were! I was left smelling like a damn burp! By now I was living by the age old saying, "When rape is inevitable...might as well enjoy it"! As they say in North India..."Aaan do..." (bring it on)!

I could now hear footsteps going away from me punctuated with "Happy Birthday Shishir". I couldn't see anything through the layers of toothpaste and ketchup on my face. I was glad they still remembered their main motive of coming to my room. My 25th birthday. I was wondering if it was over?!?!

There is God. It was over. My dear roomie guided me to the bathroom and shut the door on me. I turned on the shower and stood there for what seemed like an hour. I swear I had never felt so clean as I did last night. I had to feel that way...just look at the ingridients that went into my cleansing!

I dried myself and crashed on the bed. It took me a while to get into a position that wouldn't hurt my "multi-branded" butt. Then I began remembering something. Faces. Voices. Names. The perpetrators. The rest 364 days are mine! All I can say is to them is...R.I.P.

In the words of George W. Bush Jr. "We shall hunt 'em down and smoke 'em..."

Hostel-ity: Case - I "Late Night Vada-Pao"

2005-10-20T14:39:00.000+05:30

Inmates...or those living or have ever lived in a hostel would appriciate the "complex" concepts presented in this piece. If the course you took (MBA in my case) required you to be up when rest of your timezone slept...even better!

After much research on the subject I have come to the conclusion that ISI is funding a secret project in our country & the objective is to reduce the efficiency of our country's brightest minds. Their modus-operandi seems simple. All the hostel cooks, Engineering / MBA / Medicine / Graduation etc. are trained to cook food in a manner that no matter what they make (or what the menu reads)...it tastes the same. ALWAYS!

If its a gravy preperation, the "stuff" is somewhere at the bottom of the utensil. If you wait in the line a bit longer to fish for it...the lady behind you will make the most disgusted look ever with an accompanying "chhik" sound to drive the point home harder. MOVE YOUR BUTT! The chapatis are made stale. Please pay attention. They are NOT stale coz' of being kept for a long time. They are MADE stale. Fresh hot STALE chapatis. Something like Ashok Kumar. He was born old. Dal is identified by its colour. "Tadka" is something you think about while having it. Taste is a function of your imagination. Hence, my dal always tastes like "keema-matar".

The result is that when you go to the mess. The visit is so short that you meet yourself on the way out! People like me become elgible for the PDS after 12-15th of the month because of our financial condition so going out for food is a fantasy. Birthdays treats are God's way of saying...He exists. But otherwise, you nibble something here and there and head to your room convincing yourself that you won't feel hungry tonight. Then it happens...

11:00 PM "I'm cool...not a bit of hunger anywhere in sight!"
11:45 PM "...What was that sound? Seemed to come from somewhere inside?!?!"
12:30 AM "...Again that sound...I knew it! It's my tummy!"
01:15 AM "...Pandey...Yar kuch khaane ko hai kya?" (He NEVER has anything!)
01:50 AM "...My parents don't love me...They never send anything to eat...that lasts!"
01:55 AM "...Just gulped down half a bottle of water. Still hungry."
02:00 AM "...Time to go for plan-B"

By this time you can do anything for that Rs. 3/- vada-pao! I mean anything! So you call up the all-night vada-pao guy. Yessir! There is one. Long live the call centres! What more? He takes telephonic orders! Now one thing that can get you killed in a hostel is to order food late at night and NOT tell your floor-mates...Especially if one of them a perpetually hungry Jat from Hissar! So you do the round and collect money and the order details from all those awake. You better write it all down coz' you really don't want to leave anyone hungry once you've taken the money for it. Another thing that can re-define your anatomy in a hostel!

So finally...the order is placed and what began as an order for 2 vada-paos ends up being something like this..... 21: Vada Pao 2: Maggi 4: Omlette Pao 2: Anda Bhurji + 4 Pao

Then the "stare-at-the-watch" game starts. Waiting for food is still the hardest thing for me in the world. But I still wait. Another Airtel ad in the making...the "mundu" or the man-friday of the vada pao guy gives me a missed call when he reaches the hostel gate and I rush down to collect the stuff. Trust is important in life. But here...it is a given. There is no way you're gonna sit and verify the order. You just give the delivey guy a "you know what I'll do if you mess with me" look and rush back with the consignment.

Many things in the hostel are defacto. One of them is the venue for the late night hogging. Since I ordered it. It's my room...just like that. Suddenly there is a "baraat" in my room. The Jat makes sure there are no free loaders. There is one. A quick vote is done if we can spare some grub for the guy and depending on the verdict he is either politely thrown out or allowed to stay and join in.

Cleaning the aftermath. They all promise to do so but no one does. Another defacto...I clean the room after the feast. Its 4:30 AM now. Time to sleep. Burrrrp.....Zzzzzzzz....

It will be time for breakfast in 4 hrs. Prepared by the same bloody ISI trained cooks!

Me, Myself & My Bike...

2005-10-13T05:10:00.000+05:30

Bottom of The Pyramid...is something much more than mere a term coined by Prahlad and Hamel to me. I am literally there 12th or 15th onwards of every month. Now, this may seem an anomaly considering that I have worked for a good 2 yrs before taking the MBA plunge and I should have "logically" saved some dough for my stay here. This is a good time to bring to light a minor point that "saving" as a desirable act still is something I only speak/write tonnes about but am a total failure as far as practising it is concerned. Now lets see...there has to be something I can refer to as my savings from the couple of years I was part of the much celebrated Indian IT "cheap labour" brigade? Hmmmm?...still thinking...hmmmm...ok I give up. Nothing. Zilch! I blew it all!

Wait a minute! There is something. My bike. My sleek n sexy Pulsar-150! Yup...now that's what you call "real" investment! Man...I love that thing! How much? Well for one...It reached Pune 20 days before I did when I joined last year. It was here already...waiting for me! There were some restrictions about having vehicles at hostel but lets just say that I am not that nice a guy! How could I even dare to dream of leaving it behind? There are times when you want to just blank your mind. No thoughts. No dreams. No worries. No ambition. No gals....ok just a select few! I had those moments...still do...when I am riding my bike. And I love them! It's a different zone all together. Even Deepak Chopra and Robin Sharma can't encapsulate that feeling in their so-called "recipies to a good life" books!

Today was Dussera. Being an off day at college I decided to wash and wax my bike. Something I religiously did till I joined MBA. Good water supply and free classes never quite came together for me since then. Today I thought of taking my chances and took my bike to Gupta Ji. Gupta Ji is the caretaker of a popular lodge close by and we both being from the same region...the "cow belt" of India, I decided to try some PR on him and get him to spare a couple of buckets of water. Sadly, he was on leave! So I kick-started my trusted ride, looking for a garage to get it washed. Though I admit I love to do the cleaning myslef. Been 2 & 1/2 yrs but this is something I have always enjoyed doing. Kinda gives me a "feel good". Something like what the clebrities call..."giving back..." or "doing my bit..." Kinda "I owe it to my bike" thing.

Unfortunately all the garages I rode by either had too long queues or no water. Then as I was passing a line of rickety houses near a place called Wakad on the outskirts of Pune, I came across a small house where 4 labourers were busy washing a Tata 407 truck. They had the only resource I needed. Water. So I decided to give it a try. Of course, it meant doing it by myself and that too in not exactly "familiar territories". Anyway, I asked the one who was directing the others if I could just put my bike on stand next to his truck and all his men had to do was direct the water hose on it once in a while. He gave me an enquiring look and then with a "what the hell" look...nodded. Thank God!

So there I was. With the sun on my back. Taking off from my books, case studies, submissions, presentations...all the jazz that comes with an MBA, and doing something I truly enjoyed. Getting my bike to shine like a mirror! So now there were 4 labourers and one jeans and T-shirt clad guy (that would be me!) sharing the water hose and washing a truck and a bike. After cleaning all the dirt from the extended Pune rains, I took out the sachet of bike shampoo & wax polish mix I generally use and poured it over the fuel tank and the mudguard. My co-washer (sounds...foolishly cool na? ) were quite amused by the "ingridients" of my bike-wash. After about 30mts or so my bike was all cleaned up and gleaming in the afternoon sun. I had a proud look on my face and I would like to believe that the other fellas were impressed by my efforts too. Once I wiped it dry and gave that wax coat a nice shine, I thanked them and rode off to the nearest fuel station. Then I went on a long...30km drive on the highway. Something akin to Alonso's victory lap!

Just me, myself and my bike!

The Best Things in Life...

2005-09-29T21:42:00.000+05:30

02:43 am:
"Dude...wake me up at 7:45. Gotta movie to catch at E-Square. "
"....Huh?...Hmmm..."
"Abe haan ya naa bol na"
"...Zzzzzz..."

Roomies in a hostel are nothing less than family. Mine is however always bed-ridden. It's like we three applied for the same course in the same college but somehow got enrolled in disjoint time zones. How much of his sheet is on the floor and how much of it is struggling to cover whatever it can...tells me how long my roomie has been asleep. Lets not get into how it is when I reach really late!

Now that I had no one to wake me up, the whole responsibility of getting me up in time to catch the bus to city was on my trusted partner for the last one year. Always with me. In class. In bed. In loo...everywhere. The mobile. So I carefully scheduled 3 alarms in a span of 15mts around the time I was to wake up and dozed off.

"Yawn...yawn...Bruce Lee's cry...another yawn" "Ohhh...shit" It was 11:17 am, the exact time when the movie I was planning to catch would be having its interval. I AGAIN overslept. I stared at my mobile. Trying to get an explanation out of him...of why did it let me down. Then something occured to me and I fogave the poor chap. See...what the mobile makers never mention but is a major cause of alarm failure is that the poor thing fails to work if during your nocturnal voyage all over the bed, the tiny instrument finds itself burried under your not-so-featherweight form. Hence, the final verdict: The mobile is honourably exonerated of all charges!

Now here I am. Bored to death on a rare free day at the college. Strolling around the place like a pensioner on a morning walk I stumbled upon a notice in the cafeteria. "SPIC-MACAY Presents Rajasthani Folk Group. Venue: Auditorium. Time: 6:30 pm" That was still 4 hours away but now I had something "non-academic" to look forward to.

Finally, the show started. Simple people dressed in traditional folk dresses that are so typical of Rajasthan and they doled out enchanting performances one after the other. By the end of the 2hrs I was in a different zone all together. I hadn't had so much fun in a very long time. The fact that it was past the 20th of the month and I didn't have to pay anything for the show made the whole deal nothing short of a complete steal! How many times do you get the opportunity to see such a rich cultural performance? It's almost "un-cool" to go by a week without catching the lastest Hollywood flick. But today my ROI was unbeatable...(Really felt like using some accrued MBA jargon)

I guess it's true...The best things in life are infact free!

"...I had to go see about a gal..."

2005-09-20T03:13:00.000+05:30

Anyone whose Dad was or is still serving in the military would tell you the importance of true bonding amongst all ranks of the unit. However, there is very little that a group of hundred or so men can do to keep the feeling of camaraderie going than to...drink together. "Rum Punch" is the name given to this monthly "official" affair in the military. A stag night where the liquor flows and the one with the dirtiest joke wins the day...errr...night!

That is one night when you don't want to argue with your Dad when he comes back from the party. Even if he is convinced that he should talk to Sachin Tendulkar personally to help him with his form. You just nod. If he says he can help Sachin...he can. Period. The discussion is either closed or you are in it for a good part of the night, trying to convince him that Sachin is asleep right now plus you somehow accidently deleted his number from the phone book and can't get through to him. Hence, we must call on him tomorrow.

One such "Rum Punch" night, a couple of years ago, my Dad asked me about the career move I had decided to make. Mom was at her parents place for a marriage in the family for which I and my Dad couldn't get leave from work. I could clearly hear traces of Mr. Johnny Walker in his voice. Protocol said. Just nod. Don't argue!

It wasn't easy for him, a simple military man, to understand the move I was making by leaving a cushy job and taking up an MBA. Starting all over again. He still hadn't quite got over the fact that I didn't even appear for the armed forces entrance examinations. I simply had no intrest. I could no way have ended up doing something where I don't even have the freedom to say "I quit" and just leave. Signing a 20 year bond for full commission and a minimum 5 year thing for the short service was just not acceptable to me.

I can't help but talk about one of my all time favorites here, Good Will Hunting. In one scene Robin Williams tells Matt Damon that one time, though he had the tickets to the best game in the history of major league base ball, he chose to stay away and chat up with a girl who he later married. He did that, just because he wanted to. No rocket science. No nurological patterns but just the desire to to do something else or be some place else and the balls to go ahead and do it. It has a cost...but what the hell! Everything does! That's the freedom I am looking for...being able to do what I want to, when I want to. Not be bound by anything. That may mean not being "successful" the conventional way but look at it this way. There is only one person I need to convince about what I wanna do. Myself.

After all, I can only imagine what it must've felt for Matt Damon's character to have bunked a $250,000 job interview simply because he had to meet his girlfriend. That was something more important to him than anything else at that point in life. He excused himself with a note saying...

"...I had to go see about a gal..." Simple. Ain't it?

"...bass ek cutting chai"

2005-09-16T15:55:00.000+05:30

...(Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring!) (Yaaaaawwwwn...) (Shit!)

For the nth time I have managed to miss the "Managment Accounting" class. I knew it before I joined this college. I can't...I won't...I don't want to pass the accounts paper COME WHAT MAY! But I hate oversleeping. What was that "noise" I could hear in a distance? Lemme get closer to the door...Hmmmm? Still no clue. Closer...Nothing. Should I open the door? Ok. Just a little.

("...Chik pak chik raile...$##@#$%$%.....chik pak chik $%#@@$%.....") (Bang!)

Everything was under control. I guess my neighbours at the hostel downloaded the latest Telegu pop song and felt obliged to share the melodious cacophony with the entire floor! Theek hai bhai...three cheers to national integration! Now what? I am awake. It's raining outside. Nothing new in that. Pune has become synonymous with rains and all the jazz comes with it. I mean the slush on the roads...the rust on your bike...weeks that your laundry takes to get dry etc. etc. Anyway...all this was not my problem. It was something much more serious. Something that concerned my very reason to be. I was HUNGRY!

So I ran to the cafe. Then taste buds kind of replayed all that I could have there and one by one the entire menu was dismissed. Now what? I thought of trying the services Mr. Shivaji Rao Ganpat Rao Waghmole. Our local "vada pao / chai" vendor. As I reached him I suddenly became aware of a change in the way busines was traditionally done, something that came about thousands or years ago. The use of currency! I realised I did not have my wallet with me! (Shit!...Shit!...Shit!) Is there anyone nearby from the college I haven't borrowed money from yet? Nope.

Then I remembered something that Levis introduced in their jeans long back. Something revolutionary. The watch pocket! I fished into it with great hopes. I looked at my find. Harder. And after a deep sigh handed it over to Mr. Waghmole and muttered...

"...bass ek cutting chai"

"Hello Gorgeous..." ......"Excuse Me?"

2005-09-16T04:39:00.000+05:30

"Hi...I could'nt help but notice how gorgeous you look in that red dress of yours!" A synopsis of what follows is given below.

Ever wondered how our brain functions? The way it constantly evaluates events, sitiuations and above all...people? From your worst sworn enemy to our girl/boy-friend to our parents to the guy standing in front of you in the bus, every one is under the magnigying class. Being weighed, evaluated, formed an opinion of and often sentenced to a particular typecast till kingdom come! Once "sentenced" by our brain, the person would have to do something so different from his "usual" path that the possibility of being re-slotted is next to NIL! He/she is BRANDED for life.

The way I see it, the whole deal is quite unfortunate. Why does one have to prove him/her self over and over again? Why can't, for once people be taken for what they are at that moment, free of any masks or labels that we assign them? Or is the baggage an evil that we have come to live with? I can understand the need have our guard up and all. The need to make sure we are not harmed physically/emotionally by anyone. It is so common and we are so used to it that we have started doing it instinctively. Awareness is one thing but scrutinizing everyone and trying to see through non-existant layers of lie and deciet is something we can all do without.

There is so much of distrust and the desire to look-between-the-lines in whatever meets the eye that we have lost the once simple joy of walking up to someone and giving a geniuine compliment. Our actions will most certainly be amounted to one or the other ulterior evil intentions. "Why did he/she say that?" "Is he/she stalking me?" "Am I safe around him/her?" "Is he/she going to harm me?" These and many other questions from the same pedigree follow. The person is given a strange "What's your problem?" plus "Leave me alone!" look and we just walk on. Because he/she forgot that he/she was in a witness stand all this while, waiting for the judgement that just has been delivered with that look of suspicion mixed with a generous helping of utter disdain. The chapter is heartlessly closed. The verdict is out and the accused has been hanged at the very start of the hearing.

All rise. The proceedings of the court are over for the day.

"Who's Line is it Anyway ?"

2005-09-15T20:50:00.000+05:30

Enough of originality. This one time I have decided to put down what is not mine but are words that make so much sense to me. Well some are plain and simple whacky...but then what's a good dessert without a few nuts, right?!?! Because of the nature of this post, this shall always be open to updates.

"There are different ways people approach a problem. Some turn up their noses, some turn up their sleeves and then there are some...who don't turn up at all!" - Anonymous

"The pain I feel may last for an hour, a day or even for a whole month but sooner or later it will go away and something else will take it's place. But if I quit, the pain shall last forever." - Lance Armstrong

"If everything is under control then you are not going fast enough!" - Anonymous

"Eveything is always good in the end. If it's not good...it's not the end" - Anonymous

"Impotence is GOD's way of saying...No hard feelings!" - Hmmmm...

"I dream. Therefore I am" - Wish it was me!

"Shit happens." - Forest Gump

...more to follow. Obviously!

Job: Livelyhood or Life!

2005-09-13T18:42:00.000+05:30

Funny...ain't it?!?! You start as wanting to be a pilot or a famous painter or the fastest bowler in the whole wide world but then one day, actually there are many such "one days", when you find your self doing something ENTIRELY different. That's an understatement. I mean bloody damn totally opposite of what you would have ever imagined to be. Of course, there is a very practised why of it but then who are we trying to fool?

I grew up seeing my dad leave for work at 7:00 AM and he'd be back by lunch. Then there was a curfew in the house (zero decibel zone) between 3:00 pm - 6:00pm. We all would then do something in the evening. It was fun. We never had the "best money could buy" stuff but we had enough and the time to enjoy it. Simple.

Today, as I am almost at the altar of starting my own professional life, I wonder if the choices that I made were right. There are plenty of questions to answer. Do I go for money or do I go for a job profile? Do I lay emphasis on the place of posting or do I consider the world to be my playground? Do I look at the culture or sell my soul to the highest bidder?

One thing is clear. A job to me is just that. A Job. A means for me to do what I want from my life...outside of work. Can't put it better than my boss at my B-School, "The 8 hours of work are only meant for earning enough to support what I desire to do with the rest 16hrs of my day."

Fair? Isn't it?

In The End

2005-09-05T19:44:00.000+05:30

At 10:00 AM this morning I received an SMS from my aunt in Delhi that one of my relatives is admitted to a hostpital in the city where I am doing my MBA from. She asked me if I could just go and spend some time with him. The relative is my late grandmother's cousin and is really old. The last time we met was when he had come to my "mundan", a Hindu ceremony where the newborn's hair are shaven off after 6-8 months of the birth. That is something like 24 years ago!

It being a Sunday and a relatively free day at college, I thought that it won't hurt much to just say a quick "Hello" while I go for a coffee or a movie in the evening. I was told that one of my distant cousin, the admitted relative's grandson was staying with him in the hospital. Another relative I had no idea of ever having met in my life! So I started for the hospital early in the evening with a funny feeling of what am I going to say to someone who in all probability would not even remember who I was because of his old age.

I knocked on the door lightly. No response. Again. No response. I tried pushing it gently and found it open. I walked quietely not wanting the old man to wake up in case he was asleep. He wasn't. He gave me an enquiring look. I got close to him and greeted him with a customary, "Namaste Dada ji" (Hello Grandpa). Then I told him who I was, trying hard not to mess up the whole thing.

Suddenly he opened his arms and held me close to his chest for what seemed like a very long time. All this while, apart from his heavy breathing I could hear the old man crying. I didn't move. Then he eased his grip and pushed me at a distance and gave me a long approving look from head to toe. As if to admire a fine purchase! He was so happy to see me that words failed him. He narrated the exact events on the day he last saw me. That was 24 years ago! He told me how my Grandpa and he argued over what name I should get and how the final consensus was achieved when I smiled at being called by one of the options. I could not believe that someone could be so warm to someone he met so long ago. He asked me what I was doing and where all I have been all this while. We talked as if we were old pensioners sitting on a park bench and chatting away to pass time. It was amazing. I rpeatedly cut call on my mobile from friends who were waiting for me at the theatre for a movie. Finally, I told them to sell off my ticket. I simply couldn't leave my new-found Grandpa!

I discussed with him my career plans and he had some very nice things to say about them. Some of them made so much sense that I wondered if he was a big shot in the corporate world in his prime. He gave a long list of dos and don'ts. Places I should most definitely visit and things I should never compromise on for any amount of wealth on. It was all so surreal for me. It is hard to keep me listening to the same person for too long and here I was glued to my seat imprinting each word he said as if it's going to lead me to some fabled El Dorado! The fact that I lost my Grandpa when I was only 7 was also a reason why I didn't want to leave that wrinkled old hand on my shoulder.

On my way back I looked back at the evening and a warm feeling overcame me. I had done many things which would be considered nice over the past many weeks but nothing had given me so much happiness like what happened today. I searched for the visiting card that he gave me when I was leaving. On them were printed in bold, "Retd. Chief Income Tax Commissoner, Mumbai". I was shocked. A man who at one point of time had heads of companies waiting outside his office was lying on a bed, helpless. The only thing that this once powerful man now wanted was for someone to sit by his side and just be there. The words come back to me...just be there.

Then against address I read a familiar word, "Sarlangana". Where did I see this word? Then it struck me! Eversince I could remember I have been receiving birthday cards from people I have only heard about and the "From" read "Sarlangana". They had sent me a birthday greeting card all these years, despite the 14 transfers of location my Dad had in his job. Their card was always there. Some might argue that it's nothing great. It's just a card. But right then it meant that they always at least remembered me once everywhere since the day I was born. That was enough for me.

In the end it's the simple things that matter. I am glad I was there today by his side for those hours.

"He lived"

2005-05-22T12:58:00.000+05:30

Someone once told me that if you want to learn how to live, just think what would you like your epithet to read once you are no more. And then work backwards to live a life that earns a place for those words. So I began thinking about it, what do I really want ? What is that I would like my epithet to read ?

I enjoy standing all by self and watching the sunrise, I enjoy sweating it out with my Dad in the summer afternoon, I enjoy helping my little sister with the little and not so little things in life. I enjoy a long conversation with a friend when he / she really wants someone to just listen to them and not be judgemental, I like spending hours chatting up with my granny, I don't mind getting wasted once in while. I love watching movies and making something for myself after a hard day's work and then sleeping on the couch watching that movie and dozing away...and so on. After scribbling umpteen sentences in Queen's English, straining my starved vocabulary to the limits, I realised that all that I want my epithet to read was just two words...

"HE LIVED".

Yeah...that really sums it all up. I am working on it backwards. I don't know if I'd get those two words at the end of the road or not but one thing is for sure that when I do close my eyes, I will do so with a smile that at least I tried...

Life...as it comes !?!?

2005-04-17T13:34:00.000+05:30

Tell me something...

Sounds pretty cool but does the line "Take life as it comes..." really hold any water ? Its easy to sound ideallistic and say that "I have no rules" ..."I will go with the flow"..."I am open to experiences". But is it possible? How can you totally disregard the boundaries that are very much there? Does it mean...you should not stop yourself from falling for someone who in all common sense can never be yours? Does it mean...its okay to let go of your dreams if reaching for them isn't in agreement with the "plans life has made for you"? Does it mean...compromising for the stuff that happens to you rather than taking the world on for what you "really want"? I would sure love it...but is it possible? And please, don't quote me a line from Ayn Rand's "Fountainhead" !!!

I don't know. Frankly. I have no clue.