Whimsical Acumen

Politicalization of Indian History

2011-08-05T03:56:00.007+05:30

This post was originally posted around 2 years ago. It took me around a month to complete. It was my effort and how can it be censored? Why and how it was removed remains a mystery to me. Is it possible for someone to delete my posts? I don't know...Any ways re-posting it to check my assumptions.

I am a man who is an absolute sucker for History. Be it Indian History or World History, I have this tendency to poke my nose whenever and wherever something related to History is being discussed or talked about. I may not be as well read as the scholarly historians or even Mr. Jaswant Singh, but I know my history and also as I proclaim, I have multiple opinions about any topic which has the slightest hint of being argued. Hence I could not refrain myself from writing on the hot topic of Mr. Mohammed Ali Jinnah.

In fact, what you will read hereon will be a talk on a much larger perspective of India’s Modern History. How I have been feeling for a long time now, about the portrayal of facts and how the Text Books have been troubling me.

Whenever we start looking at our Independence Struggle, it begins at The Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. Well, calling it ‘A Sepoy Mutiny’ in itself is a misnomer as albeit the start it was a unified revolt of entire India that was under the control of British East India Company. The revolt had several inherent flaws resulting into its failure and bringing about a direct rule of the British Empire for the next 90 years. It was also a sort of laying the foundation of a political party, which has ruled for almost 55 years post Independence.

British learnt their mistakes quite quickly from the revolt. After the formations of just a few (albeit powerless and effect less) political parties like Dadabhai Naoroji’s East India Association in 1867, and Surendranath Banerjee’s Indian National Association in 1876, the British decided to let the vent of Indian people out through a medium which should act more like a safety valve(The well known – Safety Valve theory). Inspired by a suggestion made by A.O. Hume, a retired British civil servant, seventy-three Indian delegates met in Bombay in 1885 and founded the Indian National Congress. They were mostly members of the upwardly mobile and successful western-educated provincial elites, engaged in professions such as law, teaching, and journalism. At its inception, the Congress had no well-defined ideology and commanded few of the resources essential to a political organization. It functioned more as a debating society that met annually to express its loyalty to the British Raj and passed numerous resolutions on less controversial issues such as civil rights or opportunities in government, especially the civil service. These resolutions were presented to the Viceroy’s government and occasionally to the British Parliament. Despite its claim to represent all India, the Congress voiced the interests of urban elites; the number of participants from other economic backgrounds remained negligible.

Now, if the foundation itself was so measly and scrawny how do we expect a strong, fail-safe structure above it? My views here should NOT be interpreted as anti-Congress or anti-anything…I am just expressing my view point on something that has been and cannot be changed now.

So, coming back to the role of congress, we all know of its impinge on the common Indian in the early 20^th century. The first spurts of nationalistic sentiment that rose amongst Congress members were when the desire to be represented in the bodies of government, to have a say, a vote in the lawmaking and issues of administration of India. Congressmen saw themselves as loyalists, but wanted an active role in governing their own country, albeit as part of the Empire. This trend was personified by Dadabhai Naoroji, who went as far as contesting, successfully, an election to the British House of Commons, becoming its first Indian member.

Whatever happened thereafter, advent of Mahatma Gandhi, the Satyagrah movement, the appeals, the rejections and eventually the ‘freedom’ at the cost of partition of India and Pakistan is supposedly known to all of us. I specifically use the word ‘supposedly’ because whatever history a common educated man of India knows – knows it through the NCERT or other text books prescribed in the curriculum of their schooling.

This was where the Congress had foresightedness. Feed the forming minds with glory. Show them only the brighter side of everything that actually happened. Present ourselves in white light. Hide everything that could blot the image. Contradict the facts as and when required.

My statements are not baseless. I remember Ms Sarojini Naidu commenting about Mr Jinnah as “ambassador of Hindu-Muslim unity‘”. The Muslim League, formed in 1906, was the brainchild and conception of very few beleaguered Muslims under the leadership of Mr. Aga Khan. With their grievances and ‘national interest’ they went up to the then Viceroy of India, Lord Minto, who saw this as a nice opportunity to further decelerate the nationalism brewing in the country that time. I will like to quote Mr Aga Khan himself here, who had this to say about Mr Jinnah: “It was ‘freakishly ironic’ that ‘our doughtiest opponent in 1906′ was Jinnah, who ‘came out in bitter hostility towards all that I and my friends had done… He was the only well-known Muslim to take this attitude. He said that our principle of separate electorates was dividing the nation against itself.”

“Well, young man. I will have nothing to do with this pseudo-religious approach to politics. I part company with the Congress and Gandhi. I do not believe in working up mob hysteria.” This was what Jinnah had to say about his parting ways with Congress, to a Journalist Durga Das. The reference is from Durga Das’s classic book, India from Curzon to Nehru and After.

What actually went wrong between Jinnah and Congress? We may never come to know. However, we all must understand that there was certainly some issue which made this crusader of Congress turn hostile. Thereafter, he has been portrayed as a villain.

Unfortunately, people do not give the treatment ‘History’ deserves. We could all understand History in a much more elaborate manner if we did not treat it as a heroes-and-villains movie.

Moreover, its not just Mr Jinnah’s story. Cover-ups have happened all through the lexis of Modern History of India. Facts have been suppressed. Events have lost into the manors of obscurity. And again it is not a figment of my imagination. I will again sight an example – The origin of demand for ‘Complete Independence’.

The first Indian political organization to call for complete independence from British rule was the Ghadar (or Gadar) Party, organized in 1913 by Indian immigrants in California. The Ghadar movement was remarkable for many reasons. Although Sikhs from Punjab made up the majority of its founding members, the movement was completely devoid of any trace of regional or religious chauvinism. Its platform was uncompromisingly secular and called for a total rejection of any form of caste discrimination. And unlike the Congress, its membership was primarily drawn from the working class and poor peasantry. Sikhs, Muslims, and Hindus of all castes (including Dalits) were welcomed in the movement without bias or discrimination.

The literature of the Ghadar Party was also the clearest in describing the depth of misery that the common people of India experienced under British rule. They were also amongst the first to anticipate the outbreak of the First World War. Correctly sensing that it was an opportunity for the Indian people to liberate themselves from the yolk of colonial rule, they called for a mass movement for total independence. In their widely distributed poster, “Jang Da Hoka” (Declaration of War) they warned of the danger of Indian soldiers being drawn into the British War effort in the First World War.

The Congress failed to take advantage of this tremendous opportunity and leaders like Gandhi went as far as campaigning for the British War effort, calling upon Indians to enrol in the British Army. This treacherous and sycophantic policy of Gandhi not only drew biting criticism from Ghadar activists, but opposition from other quarters also emerged.

Now, how many of the Indian population have even heard the name of ‘Ghadar Party’? Forget the contributions they made. And why is it so?

Why have people who have such rich History to look at, not even bothered to pop simple questions? Why do they believe everything that is served in a platter to them with garnishing of fallacy so evident? Why can’t we question? Why is it hysteria if text books are tampered a little bit (even though the motive of that tampering was also political)? Why reading about us is ‘boring’? Why knowing facts is ‘Not Cool!’ ? Why History doesn’t interests people? Even simple facts like how our Constitution was formed is not known, the constitution which we all abide by or even just the claims to do so. How can we let a single party play around with our History? Why haven’t we read books like Freedom at Midnight by Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins. And if we have read such text, why don’t we question? Where has the sensibility gone? I am bewildered! I sign off now…

Just leaving you with a few pics for your bewilderness …Enjoy!

Gandhi and Jinnah: In Happier Times

Nehru and Jinnah

Nehru in Happier Times

All The Best...My Friend!

2011-03-03T21:50:00.001+05:30

I remember very clearly, it was the evening of 13th June 2001. I had completed 18 years of my life that fateful day – 18 years of living carelessly, with no or very small and short lived objectives and absolutely no sense of direction. I did not have any ambitions, any ideas or any motives in my life. I was living the life of a sheep in a herd that was just following all other sheep and had no clue about who or what was directing that heard. I was just blindly following everyone else. Also, that was the day, when I had almost given up – given up fighting, given up trying, given up even the idea of trying and fighting. I had not been selected in any of the Engineering Entrance Exams, I had secured a meagre 77% marks in Class XII boards and I was going to pursue a B.Sc. course in any of the colleges at Delhi University with absolutely no idea or clue as to why I wanted to do that.

My parents were never of the interfering sorts. Surprisingly, even at my failure they were indifferent. They gave me an option to do whatever I wanted, whatever I felt right…and on the other hand…I never knew what was right? …or what I wanted to do?...But this is not about me…this about you my friend.

That very fateful day when I was all alone, as all my friends were off to join their colleges and universities…lost into thoughts like a loser and feeling a low I had never ever felt… I was sent a messiah…a saviour of my soul…a guiding light who I later realised would help me find my way all through my life whenever I was or will be lost. May be he himself was looking for support and wanted someone to help him…may be whatever he said that day was to console himself too…but that day proved to be a turning point of my life. Within a few hours of talk he was able to give me a reason to believe in myself. He made me take one the best decisions to drop a year and go for engineering (even though I am of no use as an engineer now). He gave me direction. He made me dream. He made me realise that dreams are just not there to be dreamt in the night…but to be lived in the day. And all these were not just his preaching, he practised them…and practiced them well. We achieved what at that time was believed unachievable. He deserved much more…and he kept on moving forward…leaps and bounds…and Today he has again proved his mettle.

There are very few who have the audacity to walk the unbeaten path. There are very few who are able to match their actions with their words. There are a few who have the capability to stick their neck out of the crowd irrespective of their height. There are very few who have the courage and the heart to practice something as unorthodox and often rebuked as quitting a Rs 15 Lakhs + Benefits job and sitting down for a year to pursue what they always wanted to pursue. Very few of those who do have this courage and heart, have the capability to achieve it. And You – Mr Chandra Mohan Thakur - my friend have done it all. (OK! Agreed! There are few more of my friends who have done this…and done this all through their life…but Dudes! For today…Let it be him!) Proud to be able to just tell that you studied with me and I taught you Physics (although you never utilised it at any point after JEE…but still I taught you ;) )

Well Done! But…there’s still miles to go before you sleep…and miles to go before you sleep! So...All the best! I know you will keep shining...mightier and higher!

किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़

2011-02-23T20:08:00.004+05:30

चलने ही चलने में कितना जीवन, हाय, बिता डाला!

'दूर अभी है', पर, कहता है हर पथ बतलानेवाला,

हिम्मत है न बढूँ आगे को साहस है न फिरुँ पीछे,

किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ मुझे कर दूर खड़ी है मधुशाला।।७।

- श्री हरिवंश राय 'बच्चन' जी की इन अमूल्य और अतुल्य शब्दों के भावार्थ आज सत्य से प्रतीत हो रहे हैं। मुख्यतः मेरी परिस्तिथि पर। मैं निराशावादी नहीं हूँ। उल्टा अगर मेरी गिनती निराशावादीयों की श्रेणी में हो तो मैं उससे दुर्भाग्यपूर्ण घटना, अपने पूरे जीवन की, किसी और को नहीं मानूंगा। मेरा आज तक सिर्फ आशा की किरणों ने ही मार्ग दर्शन किया है। मैं आशावादी हूँ। मेरा मानना है कि, भविष्य सुन्दर है...भविष्य उज्जवल है...सिर्फ मेरा ही नहीं...समस्त पृथ्वी का। स्वाभाविक है कि अब आपका प्रश्न होगा कि फिर मैं निराशावादी क्यूँ प्रतीत हो रहा हूँ? उत्तर भी सरल है ...एकाग्रित हो कर उपरोक्त पंक्तियों को दुबारा पढ़ें ...उनमे निराशावाद से अधिक असमंजस है...भ्रान्ति है। मैं निराश नहीं हुआ अभी...पर हाँ, किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ अवश्य हूँ। परिस्तिथियाँ ही कुछ ऐसी हैं, किन्तु परिस्तिथियों के विषय पर कभी और वार्तालाप करेंगे।

आज इस स्तिथि "किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़" के विषय में विचार विमर्श हो जाये?

किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ता, साधारणतः एक अल्पजीवी अवस्था है। एक ऐसी अवस्था जिसमे आप अपनी सोचने, समझने और समस्या का समाधान निकालने में असक्षम हो जाते हैं। जब आपकी बुद्धिमत्ता पर अन्धकार कि एक चादर डल जाती है और आपको ऐसा प्रतीत होता है कि आप एक महासागर के मध्य में बिना किसी साधन के, बिना किसी मदद के, खड़े हैं। कुछ परिस्तिथियों में ऐसी अवस्था लाभ दायक भी साबित होती है, किन्तु अधिकांश तौर पे यह अवस्था बहुत हानिकारक होती है। क्या करें? क्या न करें?...ये प्रश्न बहुत ही विचलित करते हैं। तो इस अवस्था से निकालने का उपाय क्या है? साधारण मनुष्य जैसे कि मैं और आप ऐसी अवस्था में क्या करें?

मेरा मानना है कि मुझमें, आपमें और हम सब में एक असीम उर्जा का प्रवाह होता है...शारीरिक या भौतिक उर्जा नहीं ... किन्तु मानसिक उर्जा। मेरा यह भी मानना है कि मुझमे इस उर्जा का प्रवाह, असाधारण नहीं किन्तु पर्याप्त मात्रा में अवश्य होता है। मुझसे जब भी मेरी इस अविरल ऊर्जा स्त्रोत के विषय पर प्रश्न किया जाता है तो मेरे पास सिर्फ एक ही उत्तर होता है, और वो ये कि - हमारी मानसिकता, न की हमारी मानसिक स्तिथि, उस उर्जा का स्त्रोत है। अब आप इस विषय पर किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ होंगे कि मानसिक उर्जा क्या है और इस चर्चा से उसका का क्या सम्बन्ध? सम्बन्ध यह है कि इस मानसिक उर्जा का प्रभाव आपकी मानसिक स्तिथि पर एक गंभीर रूप से उद्धारित होता है। यदि आपकी मानसिक उर्जा सही मात्रा में प्रवाहित होती है तो आपकी मानसिकता आपकी मानसिक स्तिथि को अधिकृत करने में सक्षम हो जाएगी। अब आपकी मानसिकता और आपकी उर्जा, दोनों ही दो प्रकार के हो सकते हैं - सकारात्मक या ऋणात्मक। यदि आपकी मानसिकता सकारात्मक है तो निःसंदेह आपकी उर्जा भी सकारात्मक होगी और ऐसा होने पर भले ही कैसी भी परिस्तिथि हो, कुछ क्षणों के लिए आप अवश्य अपना संतुलन खो देंगे, अवश्य ही निराश या नकारात्मक हो जायेंगे...किन्तु यह स्तिथि अल्पजीवी होगी...आप तीव्रता से अपने आप का संतुलन वापस पाने में सक्षम रहेंगे...एक आशा कि किरण आपमें वो पुरानी स्फूर्ति ला देगी जिससे आप अच्छी तरह अवगत हैं। उदाहरण के तौर पे - एक ऐसे दिन का ध्यान करिए जिसका आरम्भ किसी अच्छे समाचार या सन्देश से हुआ था...अवश्य ही वह आपका पूरा दिन सुखमय व प्रफुल्लित व्यतीत हुआ होगा? निष्कर्ष स्पष्ट होना चाहिए कि हमें एकमात्र सकारात्मक विचारों और परिणामों का ध्यान करना चाहिए। केवल सुविचारों के प्रवाह को प्रोत्साहित करना चाहिए। और इसके विपरीत स्तिथि वाले दिवस का भी एक बार ध्यान करिए जिस दिन आपको कोई बुरा समाचार या सन्देश मिला हो...वह दिन कैसा व्यतीत हुआ था? मैं ऋणात्मक उर्जा और मानसिकता के विषय में विस्तार से वार्तालाप नहीं करना चाहता क्यूंकि ऐसी विचारधारा पे समय व्यर्थ करना मैं उचित नहीं समझता। सद और असद विद्या, दोनों का ज्ञान होना आवश्यक है, पर मेरी समझ से आप सब इस "असद" विद्या से बोधित अवश्य होंगे। इसी कारणवश मैं नकारात्मक मानसिकता और उर्जा पर मैं अपनी उर्जा और समय व्यर्थ नहीं करना चाहता। एक वाक्य में - ऋणात्मक विचारधारा और मानसिकता से जितनी दूरी रखिये उतना ही लाभदायक होगा।

एक बार जब विचारधारा पर आपका नियंत्रण हो जाये, उसके बाद का कार्य अति सरल हो जाता है। उसके बाद आपको सिर्फ एक ओर बढ़ना होता है...सिर्फ निर्णय लिए ही कार्य करने होते हैं। ध्यान रहे कि बढ़ने से पहले या कार्य करने से पहले आप फिर उसी विचलित अवस्था में न चले जाएँ...कि इस ओर बढे तो क्या होगा? ये कार्य किया तो क्या होगा? यदि हमने जैसा सोचा है वैसा नहीं हुआ तो? ऐसे विचार कृपा कर के अपने मस्तिष्क में न लाये..ये मेरा अति विनम्र और अटल अनुग्रह है आपसे। हम में से कोई भी भविष्य नहीं जानता। यदि हम इसी विचार में रहे कि हमारे किस कार्य का क्या परिणाम होगा, हम अपना जीवन उसी विचार में व्यतीत कर देंगे और हमें कभी जानकारी नहीं होगी कि उस कार्य का असल जीवन में क्या परिणाम होता? कार्य कर के तो देखो आप, कि परिणाम क्या होता है? अन्यथा आपको वो ज्ञान कैसे होगा? बिना कार्य किये या बिना निर्णय लिए ही आप कैसे जान जाओगे परिणाम? दूसरों कि ओर ना देखो, दूसरों कि परिस्तिथियों से तुलना ना करो। कृपा करता हूँ...आग्रह करता हूँ। दूसरों कि भूल से सीख लेना अच्छी बात है, किन्तु हर किसी कि परिस्तिथि एक नहीं होती, हर व्यक्ति कि क्षमताएं एक नहीं होती...इसलिए यदि किसी और ने आपके समान कोई परिस्तिथि में कोई निर्णय लिया और वह निर्णय या कार्य उसे भरी पड़ा तो आवश्यक नहीं है कि वाही कार्य या निर्णय आपके लिए भी भरी पड़ेगा। आप कार्य कर के तो देखो, निर्णय ले कर तो देखो...यदा कदा में न रहो...जीवन में इतने सारे यदा कदा हैं कि उन सबका उत्तर स्वयं इश्वर के पास नहीं होगा। कार्य करो, फल कि भी इच्छा करो, किन्तु फल कि इच्छा में कार्य न करो, ये तो उचित नहीं है। एक छोटे से शिशु का ही उदाहरण लो...यदि उसे यह ज्ञान होता कि जब वह अपने पहले पग उठाएगा तो अवश्य ही गिरेगा और उसे चोट लगेगी तो क्या कोई भी शिशु कभी भी चल पाता?

'मधुशाला' कि जिन पंक्तियों से मैंने इस चर्चा का प्रारंभ किया था, उनसे ही अंत भी करना चाहूँगा...और शायद श्री बच्चन जी कि उन अगली पंक्तियों से आपको मेरे चर्चा का सन्दर्भ भी समझ आये ...

मदिरालय जाने को घर से चलता है पीनेवला,

'किस पथ से जाऊँ?' असमंजस में है वह भोलाभाला,
अलग-अलग पथ बतलाते सब पर मैं यह बतलाता हूँ -
'राह पकड़ तू एक चला चल, पा जाएगा मधुशाला।'। ६।

चलने ही चलने में कितना जीवन, हाय, बिता डाला!
'दूर अभी है', पर, कहता है हर पथ बतलानेवाला,
हिम्मत है न बढूँ आगे को साहस है न फिरुँ पीछे,
किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ मुझे कर दूर खड़ी है मधुशाला।।७।

मुख से तू अविरत कहता जा मधु, मदिरा, मादक हाला,
हाथों में अनुभव करता जा एक ललित कल्पित प्याला,
ध्यान किए जा मन में सुमधुर सुखकर, सुंदर साकी का,
और बढ़ा चल, पथिक, न तुझको दूर लगेगी मधुशाला।।८।

धन्यवाद।

You Bihari! You £$%&@!

2011-02-17T20:15:00.000+05:30

Circa: 2006 A.D. Route: Poona – Jamshedpur. Services: Azad Hind Express, Indian Railways. Scene: A typical 3AC compartment – with a youngster trapped amidst – a family of five with three annoyingly hyper-active and argumentative kids on only four reserved berths; an old lady, from the southern extensions of this vast country, yapping her way to glory; and a middle aged couple munching on the popular snacks of the region and utilising the floor as the waste bin.

The wondrous services of Indian Railways had ensured that the passengers of that particular services – get to travel no faster than a bullock cart (comprehending to the ever increasing demand to “enjoy the scenic beauty of countryside India”), halting at every signal post constructed on that route (to facilitate the realisation that none of these posts stood without a reason) and derive the immense pleasure of a stuffy, non-functional AC coach (in order to motivate passengers to use regular sleeper class coaches and improve on fuel efficiency).

Old Lady, who was from some obviously indomitable state of Southern India, had some amazing ability to convert her thoughts into the words and to blurt them out without the application of any filters, and was flaunting, very precariously, her “prim and proper” self. First, it was the turn of the oh-so-innocent middle aged couple who had had Bhel-Puri, Kachhi-Dhabeli and others of the sort, while feeding the poor and hungry floor more than their own beloved stomachs, on the topic of hygiene and cleanliness, and garnering a total oblivion in return. The wife had managed a perplexed look on her face and was looking towards her husband for a respite and a riposte, but fortunately he was unperturbed. Without the lack of vigour, she turned her energy towards the kids – the kind she claimed to have mastered in her school as she was an English Teacher. Lessons on the importance of discipline and obedience poured on the poor souls unblemished and vehemently. The compartment was turning into a ‘Moral Science’ classroom.

She was gloriously yapping to the innocent kids, “Everybody must do their own work”, when her lecture was interrupted. “Everybody must do his or her own work…Not ‘their own work’…a common Pronoun error” a voice broke. The poor, ignorant youngster had no idea then, what wrath he had unveiled on himself. The old lady’s jaw dropped. She could not believe her ears or eyes. How dare an indecorous and insolent young fellow who was still busy in his cell-phone, make such a preposterous remark at her?

Old Lady: (Turning towards the youngster in utter disbelief) Excuse me?
Youngster: (with his eyes still fixated on his phone) It is a very common grammatical error, where the pronoun is not in agreement with the number of nouns it is referring to.
Old Lady: (with “How dare you?” expression on her face) What?
Youngster: (now giving her a casual look) Yes! Everybody and own are the mismatch here – plural and singular. Hence, instead of their, it should be his or her. I hope I am making sense.
Old Lady: (trying to calm down now) Yes! Very Much! Thank you for the correction. (Forgets about the Moral Science lecture) So…Where did you do your schooling from?
Youngster: (again…Casually) DPS.
Old Lady: (with excitement) DPS, Bangalore?
Youngster: (with a perplexed look on his face) Do they have a DPS there? I am afraid; my knowledge is limited about the expanse of the fraternity. I am a DPS, Bokaro Steel City, alumni.
Old Lady: Oh! Alright…So your father works in Bokaro Steel Plant, but you are from Kerala?
Youngster: (with signs of disgust on his face) What made you arrive at this conclusion?
Old Lady: (with some sense of pride at her derivation) Well! For one, you have very good English, and second you look quite the Mallu.
Youngster: (Irritated) I apologise to be continuously disappointing you, but I am from Bihar, and Bhojpuri is my mother tongue.
Old Lady: (in disbelief again) But…But that cannot be.
Youngster: (somewhat mockingly) Again an improper sentence, or rather, an incomplete sentence. There has to be a verb or noun at the end of the sentence. For example “But that cannot be true or correct”. Now, may I have the pleasure of knowing why that cannot be true or correct?
Old Lady: (getting back to her “prim and proper” self) That is precisely the reason why it cannot be correct. You don’t sound like a Bihari.
Youngster: (with disgust) Excuse me! Then, according to you, how do Biharis sound like?
Old Lady: They do not have such good English and their pronunciations are even worse. How come you have such good English?
Youngster: (muttering mockingly) What can you say? My Mom and Dad conceived me on the banks of Thames and my Dad even went a step ahead to sprinkle those holy waters on her womb.
Old Lady: I am sorry!
Youngster: (smiling and now audibly) To break your preconceived notions, all the educated Biharis I have come across, do have a fabulous fluency in and knowledge of, English. Without being modest, I can confidently say I am not even a noteworthy example. In fact, I am astonished that you being an English Teacher are startled at my English.
Old Lady: (perturbed by the retorts) Son! I have been into teaching for the past 22 years. I have been in Jamshedpur for 6 years now, teaching at two of the best schools the city has, and I have never come across a Bihari student who could dare point out my grammatical errors. Let alone the grammar, the pronunciation is an even bigger issue. You must have had very good teachers at your school.
Youngster: (muttering again) Then what did you think? My Mom gave me the chutney of Wren and Martin’s English Grammar and Composition, instead of gripe water, to help me digest my food?
Old Lady: (perplexed look)
Youngster: Obviously my teachers had a good role to play in my education but that does not single me out. As far as pronunciation is concerned, according to me, Biharis have the best and the most correct. We speak the clearest and pronounce each word as it has been described in the oxford dictionary. Anyways! Since we are having this conversation, please oblige me with your description of a typical Bihari. I promise, I will take it very healthily and in the right spirit. Also, my answers might help you understand us better (and he smiles a wry smile).

(The explanation will follow soon…)

Be my Anti-Valentine. Will Ya?

2011-02-11T20:46:00.004+05:30

Love is in the air! Everyone’s going mushy and lovey dovey! Everyone is discussing abour gifts. Everyone has a story to tell. All this has truly set the mood for the upcoming celebration of “Love” – The Valentine’s Day!

Isn’t it an awesome story, that a Saint dies because he used to conduct secret marriage ceremonies in defiance of Claudius II – “the cruel” emperor of Rome. He became a martyr and the day he died began to be celebrated as sending the Love messages day and celebration of Love, in Rome and amongst its Catholic followers. All this ensued about 1800 years ago. But, unlike any other celebration or festivals, this day has ceased to be linked with a specific religion or community. There are no rituals which need to be performed, no customs that need to be followed, no mass to attend, no candles to light…Just be with your Love and make him/her happy with a gift or a message or a special arrangement.

This makes me think, why do I need to be looking forward for only one such day? I can do it all 365 days of the year. I can do it whenever I want. My Love is not restricted to be celebrated only once a year. I can celebrate it anytime. Anytime I am with her or not with her. Anytime we miss each other or are happy. Anytime we have kissed and made up after a fight. Anytime. And, I think all those in Love would agree with me.

Then why just this one day? How did we never hear of this day, when we were growing up? How come so many associated days with it now, like Chocolate day, Rose Day, Promises Day, Card Day? The answer shoul not be difficult to answer by anyone. It is simple, and should be obvious to everyone – Commercialisation! How else do you expect the Telecom Industry to charge premium rates for SMS and calls that day? How else do you think Gifts and cards Retailers would boom their sales? How else would Chocolate Manufacturers rake in moolahs? How else would the Flower Marketeers ask exhorbitant prices? How else would the “General” People who love to be fooled by everyone would get another chance to be fooled?

I am not a pessimst, in fact, I am better known as an optimist. But, I just can’t stand this commercialisation of a feeling/emotion/state as beautiful as Love. It is even getting worse now. First, the Moronic Negligent Youngsters started the exploitation of this day to fulfil their stupid desires. This gave the even bigger Morons of the political system of India to cause even more damage, insult and injury to the nation.

I am not professing anything against this “day”, or any other day…I just want people to …Think!
Hope that is not a difficult task, after all everyone “thinks” so much for the gifts to buy. Spare a thought on this, if you can!

Leaving you with some figures you might find interesting. If anybody can get similar data for India, I will be grateful.

Hallmark began selling cards in 1913. Since then the market for Valentine's Day cards has increased beyond lovers to include parents, children, siblings, and friends.
About 190 million cards are exchanged annually, making Valentine's Day the second-most popular greeting-card giving occasion.
65 percent of households send greeting cards on Valentine's Day.
73 percent of Valentine Day flowers are bought by men, while women buy 23 percent of Valentine flowers.
About 45.8 percent of U.S. consumers will exchange Valentine's Day candy. About 75 percent of is from sales of chocolate
Americans will spend about $14.7 billion in retail sales on Valentine's Day in the United States.
The average U.S. consumer is expected to spend $103 on Valentine's Day gifts, meals, and entertainment, down from $123 per person in 2008.

And you thought SHE had spared me? Part IV

2011-01-13T21:41:00.002+05:30

“Oh! Yes! Mr Deepak Kumar! We have spoken to the Leicestershire Constabulary and they have agreed to issue a letter addressed to Consulate General of India stating the loss of your passport and a reference number. You can go get it from them and make you application with the fee”. Was I dreaming? Was it really happening? After 3 months? My momentary joy knew no bounds. Had it not been so many people around, I would definitely have jumped high in the air. I was so elated with the news that I almost forgot that She plays these tricks in between to laugh at my responses. I was literally running back to the train station to head to Leicester, when I realised, that bloody if this was all he wanted to say, he could have asked his manpower to key in this message too in the e-mail. I could have got the letter and made the application straight away without making this trip twice. This was the point I realised that She must be up to some nasty tricks, and I should calm down till I get the passport. So, I reach the Constabulary, tell them what I was told in the CGI Office and Voila! The constable types this letter immediately:

The actual letter issued by Leicestershire Constabulary (Few critical details blackened deliberately)
I simply could not believe it. After this agonising wait and trauma, I was going to have a new passport. It was certain. At least it seemed so. Next day, I was before time, for the first time at the CGI Office. One of the first few to enter the office. My application with all the documents except the letter which I was carrying was already with the Passport officer. I had also carried £ 84 in cash as the fee for issuing a new passport in UK, so that the process is not interrupted in between. The officer took the letter from me, attached it to my application, asked me to change the date of application and sign at the changes and then directed me to the counter where I needed to pay the fees and hand him the receipt. I paid and handed him the receipt. He asked me to come back after two weeks to collect my passport, as that is the time they generally take for student’s passport. I was so amazed and relieved that I cannot explain it in words. It all happened so smoothly that I could not believe it. The Lady Luck must have gone on a short excursion or must have been busy somewhere else. All this was totally unexpected in her perfect plan, I thought. But, I was soon to be proven wrong. I reached home in 3 hours and was unable to wipe that smile for all those 3 hours. I was exhilarated, but not for long.

Those two weeks seemed the longest wait amidst all the waiting I had done. All the planning was taking place. I would get the passport on 12th. Fill in the TOC (Transfer of Conditions) form of UK BA and post it by 13th. Should be able to get the passport back by the mid of August. Enough room for delays to accommodate, and still make it for my scheduled trip to India in the last week of September. All this was well worked out. Or so I thought. I had ignored Her in all this planning. Still, it was 12th of July. I was there again. First in the queue at 2:30 pm. Passports were supposed to be collected only in the second half of operations of the office. Excited, I reached the passport officers window. He went through his file and disappointedly looked at me and said, it is not ready yet as the passport printing machine is under repairs, come back next week. I was a little disheartened, but still hopeful that one more week…No problems…will wait! Another week passed and again on 19th I was standing in the front of the queue. I should have realised that day that standing in the front of the queue was not that auspicious for me, but did save a lot of time. This time, when I was on the window, the passport officer was alarmed himself. He said that it does not take this much of time; there surely is some problem with my application. He asked me to come back again the next day, he will make a check about where is it stuck in the process. The machine had started working fine and all the pending applications were cleared. So he needs to ensure as to where the problem is. I was ok with the response as he had promised some action. This time instead of going back to Leicester, I stayed over at Birmingham at a friend’s place.

Next day again I was in there and the officer also had the answer with him. “Patna Office, from where your passport was issued, has not sent back your PVR. We are waiting for that. In fact, after you went back yesterday I found that your application is awaiting PVR, so I sent another fax to them demanding the PVR. Let’s hope they send it soon. Until it arrives, nothing can be done!” WTF? I had shivers down the spine. Goosebumps all over my body. What do I do now? How does Patna office get involved here? My God! They do not utter a word from their mouth without being bribed, how will they send my PVR (Police Verification Report)? Even if they accidentally send it forward, there is nobody at my home to attend to the verification and bribe those Policemen who visit. This is a well known fact to all those who have applied for a passport, that your PVR is not sent across till you bribe at least Rs 500 to Policemen. Now what do I do? I will have to inform my family. They will panic for sure, but have no options available. Again, you can witness a brilliant plan at work. My Lady Luck had worked on each and every intricate detail. The intricacy of this plan was further realised when I requested the Passport officer at CGI, Birmingham to pass me the telephone number of Patna office. I wanted to take a chance of sorting things myself first. High Hopes! I know! But it was more of desperation.

Anyways, I made the call to the Patna office, an international call. Explained my situation to the first person who picked the call, he transferred my call to somebody else. Again I blurted out the same story, again a call forwarded. Third time lucky, I spoke to the right person. He asked me to hold on as he somehow remembered receiving such a fax from Birmingham. He drew out the fax or my application; I guess and said “हाँ भाईसाहेब! हमको ई बताइए …जब आपका पता झारखण्ड का है तो PVR पटना काहे आया है? इसको तो राँची जाना चाहिए ना? हम हियाँ से झारखण्ड में पुलिस भेरिफिकेसन कैसे भेजे? हैं? बताइए? आप fax राँची भिजवाइए ऊहे लोग कुछ करेगा …हम कुछ नहीं कर सकते परनाम!” (Dude! Your passport states and address of Jharkhand state so the PVR request should go to Ranchi, instead of coming here to Patna, Bihar. We cannot direct Jharkhand Police to do verification for us and hence send your PVR request to Ranchi. We cannot help.) Shocked? At least I was. A fear unlike all the fears, except and of course what happened after the initial shocks, had gripped me. Everything started flashing in front of me. My passport was made in year 2001, and although the separation of Bihar and Jharkhand had occurred, Jharkhand was yet to open a passport office. Hence, my passport was made in Patna and hence this office has sent a request there. I immediately ran back to the officer. Waited for my turn and blurted out the problem. I asked him to send the request to Ranchi. He said, he cannot do that, as the Place of Issue on my old passport is Patna, and even if he does so, Ranchi office will come back saying that they did not issue it and hence they cannot carry out any requests for the passport.
Another deadlock? I was doomed! What should I do now? I will never get my passport. My Lady Luck has perfectly crafted this plan. There is no way out!

(A new drama unfolding…only one more part to go!)

And you thought SHE had spared me? - Part III

2011-01-13T17:10:00.001+05:30

Days turned into weeks and months, and I did not hear anything from the CGI office. My Lady was winning bouts after bouts. I was knocked out. Completely! She had decided this time, probably, that she is not going to let go off me…easily! She had had enough of these small little quarrels and wanted some big action. A total dominion. A war to prove her final authority. A trap from which I cannot find my way out without cutting off a limb. Quite frankly…I was also prepared to do so.

The wait, as I had said, was never ending. After a few initial mails I guess CGI had forgotten about me…or so I thought. I would ring them up religiously every day, but no one would pick up. Here’s a BIG information for all the Indians in UK, the CGI, Birmingham office have officially stopped entertaining phone calls, so no point calling on the numbers provided by them on the website or directory listings. Anyways, when after one my exams ended, I paid another visit to the office in May last week. Yes…you heard it right…it was May last week already. Almost two months had passed since I lost my passport, but I was unable to even put forth my application for a new one. As usual, at the office, the queues too were never ending. From 1st floor where the main office is, through the stairs, down to the ground floor. I was probably the 150th person in the queue. People of India, if you are listening, consider this as my humble, sincere, honest request, that it is high time we check our population. Soon there will be no part of the world left where we Indians won’t be queuing up for one or the other thing. It’s not a joke anymore. You thought it was bad in India? Well…Wake up! Wake up! We have not spared any part of the world now. You think Government Babus are inefficient only in India? Wake up again! They are Indian Babus…inefficiency is probably a criteria for their selection. Anyways…let’s not go there. Let’s stick to the wondrous work of My Lady Luck!

With so many trips, so much of running around that small office, I had become friends with every nook and corner, except the Babus of the office who have probably no knack for friendship. Forget friendship, they are absolutely emotionless. There was a huge emotional scene that day. An Indian family who had got British citizenship and British passport wanted an immediate/emergency visa to be issued to them as their mother had died in India. But, they had been back from India only a few days ago after visiting their ailing mother. The visa officer, in such a situation, was demanding a death certificate from them. Can you imagine? The lady, whose mother had died, was barely in her senses because of the shock. And the brilliant officer was demanding a death certificate of her mother, someone who had died only a few hours ago. Amazing! Isn’t it? Well! That’s a dose of Indian Babudom for you.

My Lady Luck was undeterred with all this. She kept her focus on to me. Continuously! When finally I arrived at the Passport Officer’s window, after an agonising wait of two small hours, all he had to say was that I should come back after a few weeks; and they are in talks with the Constabulary to work out a solution.

How amazingly encouraging that was? Only a ‘few weeks’ more of wait? I can do that. Have been doing it so far, can do it further. Add to that, the reply to my another question of why no one picks the phone here? – “Oh! We have stopped entertaining phone calls as we do not have the man power to manage that…if you have any queries come directly to office”. There were several implied conclusions in the statement. 1. Do not bother to call ever again. 2. Do not bother to e-mail, ever again. 3. Keep running from Leicester to Birmingham, which is four hours and £ 10 to and fro by Coach, or two hours and £ 20 to and fro by train.

All righty Sire! Whatever you say! As long as you are on to my case, I will do whatever you ask me to. Back to Leicester. The wait was even more agonising as I had learnt that, I will have to reapply for my Student Visa i.e. a duplicate of the one that was lost along with the passport. The procedure takes four to six weeks and costs £ 380. I had not paid this much, even when I had applied for it from India. In India the fees are only Rs 12,500. I had no source of income, my bank balance was depleting at the rate of knots, I could not ask my family for more money as I would have to tell them the reason, and exams are appearing as a swaying sword just inches above my neck. Brilliant situation! Wasn’t it? I need NOT to reiterate now, how perfectly planned this war was. She had thought about each and every detail, while I was completely off-guard and clueless about each of my next step.

Most of the June passed by amidst examinations, career events and prep for dissertation, when on the glorious morning of 27th June, I received an unexpected e-mail. I had been called to the CGI office as Passport Officer wants to meet me. Wow! They finally write to me, after almost 2 months. They had the manpower this time who could key in a sentence on that e-mail “Kindly report to Mr Hazari Lal, at CGI, Birmingham office at the earliest”. And off I go!

Soon (not to be confused by this word as it involved 20 minute walk to Train Station Leicester, 40 minute walk from Birmingham New Street Station to Jewellery Quarters where the office is and another rigorous wait of one hour), I got a chance to speak to Mr Hazari Lal, who recognised me immediately. What he said afterwards was –unbelievable – to say the least. I could not believe my ears. How was that possible? Had she given up on me? Or was this another one of her tricks? I would soon find out. The Officer-in-charge for issuing new passports at CGI, Birmingham said …

(He He He! Sorry! More to come…in the next parts! If you like or do not like what you are reading I would be very delighted to read your comments. Please spare a few seconds to appreciate or denounce/criticise/mock me! Thanks!)

And you thought SHE had spared me? - Part II

2011-01-12T20:36:00.002+05:30

7 days and £ 80 poorer, I had no clue as to what my fate was. Will I ever get a passport? Will I ever get to leave this country? Will I be deported? What? The questions kept on haunting me and I had no answers…from anywhere. I had written to the High Commissioner, I had written to the Consulate General, I had met my University’s Student Welfare Officer, I had met 5 Constables. There were no answers. I got a reply from High Commissioner’s office the next day, which was again a disappointment as it stated that only the Consulate General Office in Birmingham could help me. I was off for another trip to Birmingham. In the meanwhile, I had procured all the other documents required for the application of a new passport in lieu of the lost passport. A stamped affidavit from Notary Public stating I am not seeking asylum in UK – Check. Four Passport Size photographs stamped by Notary Public – Check. Copies of my old passport and Visa – Check. Cost involved in Affidavit - £ 8 for Affidavit + £ 60 for registering with him. Cost involved in Photographs - £ 7. Total expenditure till 8th April - £ 165. Net result – Zilch! Add to that the misery of not being able to speak to any of my family members, so that they do not panic…especially my Mom!

Cheers to the Lady Luck! For the first time ever, she was able to kill my fighting spirit. On the bus, that day, on the way to Birmingham, for the first time I was literally begging her to go away and leave me alone. I had accepted my defeat. I was not willing to fight her anymore. But, she…no no no…she was not done with me yet. She wanted her revenge and made sure it was slow and painful.

I was again at the office. This time at the correct window at the first go, but only after a good long wait of more than an hour. Mr Hazari Lal, the Passport Officer at CGI, Birmingham was there. He went through the policy change document. Spoke to the Officer in Leicester Constabulary. He was more bamboozled than I was. At loss of words, he stammered and muttered “Oh…aa…mmm…then…then…this requires a change in the Gazette of India…I will have to escalate this to Ministry of Foreign Affairs”. Change in Gazette of India? Ministry of Foreign Affairs? Was he playing with me in those dire moments? Was I hearing things? Was he serious? Am I dead?

I had to actually pinch myself to get back to senses. He then asked me to leave my application with him, not to pay my fees for the passport at that moment and once he has a clarification from his superiors he will get back to me. He asked me to leave all my contact details with him and wait. Wait. With no specification on the length of time…With the change in Gazette of India involved…and With Ministry of Foreign Affairs of India coming into picture…I could, at that time, only imagine about how long the wait is going to be?

With heavy heart and heavier steps, I walked back to the bus station. My wait had started…an almost never-ending wait. One of the e-mails in between had surprising new information from the CGI. It was only the Leicestershire Constabulary in the entire UK which had brought in such a change of policies. All other Constabularies were still taking the reports for lost passports. Oh Wow! How could I have not seen that coming from the Lady? Of course! It had to be only my constabulary and on the day these changes were brought into effect. Well done lady! As always…Perfect! This implied that there could be no change in the Gazette for one constabulary. It also implied, in a way, that I am stuck in UK for life…At least, it seemed so, at that moment.

(Part 3 Coming soon…The war for the Passport continues and add to that a new battle for the Visa!)

And you thought SHE had spared me?

2011-01-12T20:20:00.003+05:30

I am the kind of man, who absolutely cherishes to have people around. Solitude scares me. Even the MBTI Assessment results proved that. (MBTI is a personality assessment where one of the tests is about the source from where we draw our energy i.e. whether we draw our energy from the outside world – extroversion or from within ourselves – introversion). I am a certified Extrovert. I enjoy the company of people. I enjoy talking to absolute strangers. I enjoy forging new relationships. Also, I value friendships or relationships more than anything else in my life. I believe that my friends are the only income I have had in the past 27 years (not ignoring the fact that my bank balance is in debt, whether in terms of Rupees or Pounds). I hate losing any of them and hate breaking any relationships.

But…Sometimes…just sometimes…you just can’t get rid of someone from your life…No matter how much you hate them…they still keep on loving you…keep on showering their (unwanted) blessings…provide their (unneeded) services… undeterred by the dreary and lacklustre response I give…only sometimes…just sometimes…I act like a dog that gets a flea near its tail and keeps going round and round in order to bite the life out of this irksome flea.

Oh Dear! Now that I have called her flea and totally ignoring the fact that I called myself a dog, I am wondering what blessings she will shower now. There seems no respite for me, from her… my Lady Luck…In case you did not get it till now!

She loves me way too much. She cannot live a day without letting her presence felt in my life…and what an emphatic presence she has.

Well, to begin with, I lost my passport. Not today…not yesterday…but in April last year….to be precise…on 1st of April, 2010. Yeah! She made a fool of me, quite well! I was shifting from my University accommodation to privately rented house, as they are much cheaper here. On that dreadful day, I do not know how, I lost my passport. Got scared so much that was almost ready to poop in my pants. I ran immediately towards the Police Station (Not to poop…but to lodge a complaint). The nearest one was closed as everything in this lovingly cold country closes down at 5pm. Made a rush to the main constabulary office. Quite a hike it was. Thoughts for the answer of one simple question “Now what?” were flashing at a rate faster than what an Intel i8 processor can handle. By the time I reached the main constabulary it was 7 pm and most of the constables had left. An old lady graced the reception, and after asking all possible queries that police officers ask to quench their thirst of questioning (though she was quite gentle and polite in her questioning), she said “Our policies have changed. We DO NOT register complaints or provide crime reference numbers for loss of any 3rd party IDs i.e. Non-UK Passports, Driving Licenses or any other ID not issued in UK, anymore. These changes have been implemented only from today. I am sorry.” I stood stunned. “WHAT?” was the only word I could utter. Probably for the second time in the day and fourth time ever, I was looking so fair. I must have turned into some shade of yellow or brown from black, due to sudden disappearance of blood from my body. Even the Lady Constable noticed the sudden change of shade and tried to calm me down. She explained, very politely, the change of policies again, and asked me to contact the High Commission of India for further details or help and even if the Police are able to find my Passport or somebody is kind enough to return it, it will still be sent to HCI, London.

Well Done My Lady! As always, you timed your blessings to perfection.

Next day was even more dreadful. Called up HCI, London but they directed me towards Consulate General of India Office, Birmingham. Made at least 100 calls to that office, but no one answered. Had to rush to Birmingham immediately as I panicked further. Well! My panicking was for no small reason. It was 2nd April. A Good Friday. A public Holiday. A waste of £ 30. But money was of no concern at that time. A wait of 3 annoying days for any progress. Meanwhile, I brought both my accommodations upside down. Searched the entire 4 bedroom house, the room of University Accommodation, and all the shops on the route to my estate agents where I had thankfully given a copy of the passport and visa for rent agreement (the only copies I had). Result – more disappointment. This war was lopsided. She was winning every bout. It was Monday – Finally. Another trip to Birmingham. Another waste of £ 30. It was Easter Monday. Again a public holiday, about which they had no mention on their website and nor on the notice board when I was there on Friday. Bloody Bu&&%£$! I almost went down on knees and was about to cry when an Indian Sardar gentlemen asked me about my worries. I blurted it all out like baby. He calmed me down and told me it will be sorted. I needed to Come back the next day.

Next day, by the grace of the almighty Lady Luck and a poor decision taken by me to travel by bus, I was 3 hours late of my scheduled arrival. By the time I was at the office, it was Lunch. Had to wait 3 annoying hours for them to reopen. (Who the hell has Lunch for 3 freaking hours? Apparently Indian Babus do.) When they reopened, I had another of my “Pale Moments” (and not before I had to wait another hour for my queries to be answered and being thrown around from one desk to another). The officer-in-charge said they cannot do anything until and unless I have a formal Police complaint, as that is the gazetted rule of India and they have not received any notification from the constabulary about any of the changes I mentioned. Bravo! Back to Leicester. Back to the Constabulary. This time around, the officer who was present went ahead and gave me a copy of the policy change document along with his contact number and Officer number, so that the officer’s in CGI can call him up and verify the notification, which according to him was sent across to all the High Commission offices in UK.

Another trip to Birmingham the next day. Another long queue. Another disappointment. The officer in-charge was on leave. He had called in sick.

If you, only at this point, think or feel it’s an exaggeration, I would suggest you better not read further. Or if, you are feeling sorry for me, save it. This is just the beginning.

(As this, unlike all previous one’s, is not a short battle which lasted a few hours or a few days…but infact a full scale war, which lasted exactly 152 days, I am breaking it down into a series of post. Hopefully you all will enjoy the tussle! So…tada! till tomorrow!)

जी करता है!

2010-12-21T19:24:00.002+05:30

कभी कभी यूँही हमें

पंख लगा, दूर गगन में,

उड़ जाने को जी करता है!

भूल दुनिया की दुनियादारी

रस्मे, कसमे, रिश्तेदारी

अपनी उड़ान अजमाने को जी करता है!

किसको क्या दिया? किस से क्या लिया?

अनभिज्ञ हो इतने बरस क्या जिया?

सब बिसराने को जी करता है!

कहाँ जाना है? क्या पाना है?

बेमानी से लगते, उठते

इन सवालों को ठुकराने का जी करता है!

क्यूँ हम नींद में भी जागे?

क्या होगा… जाने आगे?

पथ छोड़, खो जाने को जी करता है!

धुप की तपन तन जलाएगी,

या बसंती बयार शीतल कर जाएगी?

ऐसे अनुभव पाने को जी करता है!

भूले सारे अरमानो में,

बिसरे बचपन के गानों में,

एक नया प्राण फूँक जाने को जी करता है!

पंख लगा, दूर गगन में,उड़ जाने को जी करता है!

My Affair With Talent

2010-12-15T19:32:00.000+05:30

Talent is one thing which I have never possessed in my life. My parents always used to say, in fact, are used to saying that there has never been a dud like me in the whole family. And I have been trying to make up for it throughout whatever life I have had. And there is no need to say I have failed miserably every time. I find it a miracle that I have made it so far in engineering. As I was saying, I have goofed up every time I tried to do something clever. So I thought if I give my parents a talented daughter in law perhaps that will make them happy. And so my affair(s) with talent began.

First up I thought that talent meant getting good marks. So I started to look up for the most intelligent girl in my class. And there she was! She was always the topper from my class. With her thick glasses and a large load of books on her shoulder, she wasn’t exactly the most beautiful girl, but as I said, very ‘talented’. And you won’t believe my luck; she fell for it (I later discovered it was because no other boy liked her)! So we started going out. I overlooked any whispering and giggling – when we passed by any group – very righteously and contemptuously. I made myself believe that they all were jealous of me. But to be honest, being with her wasn’t really exciting. She kept talking about books, subjects and marks (I hated the last part). She also vowed that she will make me study harder (I shuddered) and help me get good marks. But I endured. But finally when she proposed I had to let go. She said, “You are as inevitable to me as a human skeleton is to biology” (my friends still double up with laughter when I tell them this story). Considering my thin body (I would prefer to call it slim), I wondered whether I literally was important to her in the same way (considering her inclination towards medical science). And so, as I said, I let go. Later I remember overhearing her talking about ‘an excellent chance gone begging’.

Then I started looking for other girls who may be talented. And then I thought I had found the ‘Miss Perfect’ for me. She was the best in athletics in the whole school and also in the district (I never believed the latter). Again she was not the most attractive girl around but ‘talented’ nevertheless. So one day I asked her for a date and guess what, she said yes ( I later found out that it was because no other boy asked her out as she was taller than all of them)! Being with her wasn’t much fun either. She kept talking about people like Carl Lewis and Sergei Boobka (Who the hell was he? Or she?). She was also a health freak. After looking at my thin (slim) body she put me on a strict fitness regime to improve my health. As a result my weight dropped further. The regime became even harder. And I became even thinner (Slimmer). But when on a Valentine’s Day she proposed I had to let go. She said she loved me and added that “I will do everything in my capacity to make you as strong as Arnold Schwarzenegger” (Friends react in the same way as in the last case). I later heard that she referred to me as ‘that skinny street dog’. But I could put up with that so long as I did not have to do 25 push-ups and deeps each.

So this time I told myself that I have to be more careful. I did not want to mess it up again. I again started looking for ‘talented’ girls. This time I was a bit choosier, so I let many of the girls pass. And then I settled on one. She was strikingly beautiful and extremely good at music. She could not only sing very well but also play a handful of instruments like flute, veena, tabla, harmonium and saxophone (I like the sound of that). So I found it surprising that she was still single (I was to learn the reason later on). So when I asked her out she agreed and I was overjoyed. And so our affair started. I was amazed to know that her whole family was made up of musicians and singers. Then when she told me that her family wanted a son in law (Wasn’t she being a little too fast?) who was good at music too, I was alarmed. But I thought I could do it. So, she forbid me from eating any sweets, from drinking soft drinks and obviously no oily stuff was allowed (how I missed butter chicken!). I kept my nerve. I went on through all the boring chats about classical music and even more boring music lessons she gave me on our dates ( Can you imagine that! Lessons on a date!). And obviously I wasn’t improving at all. So when she said while proposing that she will make me a great singer even if “I have to make you stand in cold water on freezing winter mornings” I had to say no thanks (For this one friends sympathize).

By now I somehow had a reputation of dumping girls so no one else accepted my proposals anymore. This way my affair(s) with talent was abruptly halted. But I have not given up. In fact if you are a talented girl reading this, will you go on a date with me?

हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब|

2010-12-08T22:08:00.000+05:30

नीला सा आकाश
सुनहरी सी माटी
तुलसी की छाँव में
वो दिए की बाती
और आँगन में खिलते गुच्छेदार गुलाब
हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब

चार की सीट पर सात सवार
अक्टूबर के महीने में लू की बयार
जेनेरल के डिब्बे में सारे होशियार
करें एक ही विचार
कि साला! यहाँ का सिस्टम है ख़राब!
फिर भी ... हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब

सड़कों पे दौड़ती सरपट
नियमों को तोडती हर पल
भोंपू को बजाती ज़ोर
उसमे जोड़ो भीड़ का शोर
और इस अफरा तफरी में, ठाठ से घूमते मिनिस्टर साब!
हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब

जिधर जाओ उधर मेला
नया मॉल, पुरानी टपरी या समोसे का ठेला
सब ने सबकी टशन को झेला
कहते है सब जनसंख्या का खेला
नौ बच्चों के बाप, फिर भी क्या रुबाब?
हम्म! हिन्दोस्तां! तू है लाजवाब

है दूत कहलाता शांति का
है सम्मिलन तू भिन्न-भ्रान्ति का
फिर भी फोड़ता है एटम बम
दंगे भी नहीं होने देता कम
और क्या करें भ्रष्टाचार का जनाब?
बोलो भैय्या! हिन्दोस्तां लाजवाब

All The World's a Stage

2010-12-02T20:32:00.000+05:30

People say and are free to say whatever they wish to (this should NOT be, in any which way, interpreted to be in favour of or against Ms Arundhati Roy and the recent unnecessary fiasco she has created). However, a saying becomes a quote, only when it finds rhyme and reason with proletariat. How they interpret it then is, again, their prerogative. One such quote is from the strong man of USA, Thomas Jefferson. He once said “Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear”. Quite wise of him to say this; and an even wiser aspect for the hoi polloi, if they understand.

But, from where I look at it, this particular quote is flawed – in its fundamentals. I am not trying to challenge the greatness of Mr Jefferson; instead I am trying to draw home the point that, merely asking questions does not serve any purpose until it has a firm support of a strong urge to ‘seek answers’. Asking questions is good, but is of no use if the zeal for posing these questions again and again until a satisfactory answer is obtained, is absent. What use is a question, if there is no answer to it or even the answer is not chased by?

That is where the difference between fools and wise arise. Even a fool can ask questions, but the wise will seek answers. This leads to a further construal, that the proletariat, the common people, are nothing but herds of fools being driven from one pasture to other by a small group of shepherds. They are shown a path and a rosy picture is painted that they will find greener pastures down that path, and these flocks keep travelling on the calls of their shepherds, while these shepherds rejoice over the wool and milk they rear and sit on the pile of wealth. If any of these sheep has the audacity to turn around and ask the shepherd about why they are being driven continually, at first he is not answered or given the impression that his question is being thought about. If, during this process, he forgets about the question he had asked, shepherds have no issues in driving this sheep again. Else, if he tries to act smart and keeps insisting, he is picked out and thrown into a slaughter house.

Then why ask question?

What purpose does asking these questions serve? If eventually the answers are never given or are misrepresented.

Why try and act smart or show off that “I dared to ask the question”? Fool! Where is the answer? What is the answer?

Baffled?? OK! I apologise for this long banter and blah blah (…again…L) before coming to my exact point.

What has been running through my mind is, the poor state of common people who have no power to exercise any of their fundamental rights, are being exploited…time and again…in fact, almost every day…and still go about their routine lives…merrily. I fail to understand the reason to why they have become habituated to being fooled and why they enjoy it so much. It is not just the Indian people in context here. It is the common people world around. They have been fooled ever since the days of intellectuality finding its first roots in brains of human beings…ever since the people needed a leader to lead them while they were hunters…and to this day…a group of few is still fooling billions around the globe.

This is not any conspiracy theory which I am brewing up…nor will this article help the cause of the foolish…I guess they deserve the treatment they are being meted out…and no one can help. But it is interesting to note how this brilliant con…a magnum piece of perfectly scripted drama…is being performed…at a global stage. The words of Sir William Shakespeare have been given life “All the world’s a stage”.

The fiasco Wikileaks has created; the way it is being shunned by governments all over the world; ‘Red Code’ being issued for Julian Assange…even worse – a Swedish court issuing arrest warrant for him…all this while no action is being taken on the revelations of these leaks. Funny …isn’t it? Or is it how it is meant to be. Let some ruckus spread, pay no head…People will definitely forget. That’s how they are.

This is not just the first incident; many such incidents have been taking place throughout human history. Every theory has its corollary and contradictions. ‘Conspiracy Theories’ have been making rounds, especially in our beloved United States of America. They have been shunned and Questions remain unanswered. But what is interesting is how easily people have forgotten about them. They love to watch such documentaries on TV, let some people like Jesse Ventura make a living out of it…but in reality, when it comes to taking action and not just believing in them…they quietly subside into the warmth of their homes…never go out in the quest…never seek the answers.

Some of the commonly known questions from US History have been:

Was US successful in sending man on moon?
Why was Vietnam War raged for so many years?
What actually happened in 1993 WTC bombings?
What is “Clinton body count”?
Was 9/11 an insider job?
What was Watergate scandal?

Though some of these are widely debated questions till date, the consequence is – no definite answer. However, actions have been taken in some cases like the Watergate Scandal and impeachment of Bill Clinton (although on an altogether different issue).

Our country India too, is no stranger to such unanswered questions. It also has its share of unanswered questions. Some have been hidden in a most conniving fashion; some have been dealt with in the eyes of public but eventually left unanswered when the public forgot about it. India too has developed several interesting tools to obscure facts and keep the hoi polloi into darkness. The NCERT books, the RTI Act, the provision to appeal in a higher court against the judgement of a lower court, CBI, RAW and IB are a few examples of these tools. How and why I have arrived at such an inference will be explained in subsequent posts. Since, whatever happens in USA is given so much consideration and is fondly read and watched, I have thought of coming up with a series of posts dedicated to the unanswered questions of Indian History and Politics. Here is a list of questions to which, I feel, answers have not been arrived at, and nor will my attempt to answer them put a full stop; instead, it will just be a foray into these questions, a first step towards seeking answers.

Here’s the list:

Why was Netaji Subash Chandra Bose shunned from Congress? Was he living as the Gumnami Baba of Firozpur till 1985? Is he actually dead now?

What happened to Lal Bahadur Shastri in Tashkent on the night of 10th January 1966? How and Why did he die?

Indira Gandhi or Indira Khan? The politics behind keeping the lineage alive.

What caused the ‘Emergency’ of 1975 and What went on behind the scenes?

Who was Sanjay Gandhi and What caused his death?

What is the politics behind the Quota System and what was Mandal Commission?

What was Bofors Scandal and what is its status now?

What happened to the accused in “Fodder Scam” and what are the proceeding till date?

What happened to Ms J. Jaylalitha’s 10000 pairs of Sandals and what are the proceedings in the “TV Scam”?

How can a convicted murderer, who served term in jail and is still not acquitted like Shibu Soren, be appointed as Chief Minister of a state?

Why and how have influential leaders of Congress party like Mohan Kumaramangalam, Sanjay Gandhi, Rajesh Pilot, Madhav Rao Scindia, Sunil Dutt, YS Rajshekhar Reddy all died in accidents of one form or the other? How did Morarji Desai escape one such accident?

I understand you all can ‘google’ all these questions and get your answers, but I will try and present my answers with my perspectives and opinions, and would definitely love to hear your take on them. After all, we the people, the mob have a habit of forgetting and need to be reminded of the treatment that has been meted out to us.

To, end this perplexing saga, I would like to quote the words of Carl Sandburg which describe the situate of the common people quite aptly:

I AM the people--the mob--the crowd--the mass.
Do you know that all the great work of the world is
done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the
world's food and clothes.
I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons
come from me and the Lincolns. They die. And
then I send forth more Napoleons and Lincolns.
I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will stand
for much plowing. Terrible storms pass over me.
I forget. The best of me is sucked out and wasted.
I forget. Everything but Death comes to me and
makes me work and give up what I have. And I
forget.
Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few red
drops for history to remember. Then--I forget.
When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, the
People, use the lessons of yesterday and no longer
forget who robbed me last year, who played me for
a fool--then there will be no speaker in all the world
say the name: "The People," with any fleck of a
sneer in his voice or any far-off smile of derision.
The mob--the crowd--the mass--will arrive then.

Let me know what you think, by posting your comments J

Again...

2010-11-12T21:51:00.000+05:30

Oh My God! I am back! Again? Ya! Sort of! Or maybe not! Don’t know! This winter has lasted too long, and whenever I try… to sprout my head, out of my shitty hole…to come out of hibernation and walk my strides…there comes a huge gust of chilly, exasperating wind, which forces me to grab my tail between my legs and get back into that hole again…back to my sleep…away from the world which is fighting this blood freezing gust ...and doing what they have to do…doing what it takes to feel alive. Whilst me? Me is happily snoring… blowing the winds out of my snout…lost in the merriness of the wonderland of my dreams …Sometimes I do have nightmares …quite frightening ones…but only sometimes…and I make sure to let them whizz off… to be profoundly lost into my wonderland…again!

I guess, I am not the only one who does so…I guess, I am not the only one dreaming…I guess, I am not the only one who is in that shitty hole…I guess, there are only a few, out there, walking in this blizzard…I guess, only a few keep walking.

I have always wondered…and probably will be left bewildered… about what it takes to keep walking. How come those who do it, are able to do it? What do they have for breakfast? Or what do they not have for breakfast? Where they muster the courage to walk? How are they able to fight this winter? What is the force that drives them? Can that force be bestowed onto us? Or is it something they are born with? Did their mothers have some extra dose of some secret serums that made them what they are? Where did these mothers get the secret recipe from? I do not believe that the winter made them strong…I am experiencing the same winter, and I do not even think of daring to fight it. It has to be some drive within them…some need, some want…which makes them stand out and walk…and I wonder again…When will I have that need? When will I have that desire? Or…Is it that they have the capability to convert some simple desires into something extraordinary for themselves that makes them larger than life? How do they do it then? What the heck is it it? Will anyone be ever able to give this ‘it’ a name? When will we, the non-Einstein, daft and dippy breed of men, be ever able to understand the mettle and endeavour it takes to stand up and fight? I mean is it really possible to teach those qualities? If it was so, we have been taught…We have read…heck! We have even had experiences about those great men and their great deeds…still…we stay lost…Lost in the crowd of a gazillion similar faces…Lost, becoming just another ordinary face…and I guess, here lies a little explanation of all the queries my brain keeps bombarding me with…I guess, the reason why only a few are great, remembered and followed, is because not everyone can be great…not everyone can achieve what they have achieved.

But again…this explanation is a mere consolation for losers…for people like me who have never even dared to take the first step…to break their shells and feel the brunt…face on. I wish to do all this… There is something within me which keeps telling me, that I do not belong here…in this hole. There’s a voice within me that points at me and says that I have taken a lot of wrong steps, in the wrong direction…I am clueless about my next step, once again, as I have quite often been..What is inhibiting me to turn around and start…I do not know! My playground is that snow laden field with wind ripping my skin off, its gust deafening me and the snow blinding me. …I wish to break out…I wish to stand tall…I want to act…I want to walk…

I ask (to whom I do not know) the same question…which Bob Dylan asked in 1963…

How many roads must a man walk down,
Before they call him a man?
.
.
.

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind

Abstract

2010-04-27T05:55:00.000+05:30

Abstract – A funny word, I would say.

Sitting here, staring the immense white screen of my laptop, brightened even more because of the absence of the black letters on the white background of the word processor software, I ponder. I have ‘abstract’ thoughts. I have a broad-spectrum of ideas, ideas of here and beyond, ideas that do not pertain to the soil and I am not fixated to the real. I have to write an ‘abstract’ of my thesis on ‘Financial Crisis: Beyond the 1929-2008 comparison’. And as far as I can comment on that piece of meticulously written, overwhelmingly ingenious, brilliantly offered piece of crap is – Its Abstract. Well, if you did not get me, don’t blame me. This is one of my ingenious capabilities – churning out solid gold shit and presenting them as an ‘Abstract’ Art. Something that does not depict a scenario in veracity, but caters to daft and dippy, who wish to project themselves as the ingenious elite of the society, by presenting to them patterns and qualitative figures which can be interpreted as per the whims and fantasies of the meticulous mind. Still don’t get me? J Well...That’s my Abstract Art for you. And all this, most of the times, seems to ‘abstract’ the ‘me’ from me. It seems to draw me out of the person I should be, and takes me into the beautiful wilderness of my imagination.

The abstract world, with its abstract beauty and love, abstracting you out of your worries, merely by displaying the abstract of its whorls, seems an abstract idea at prima facie, but if you get even a glimpse of what I am trying to convey it will be of a great help for me to continue further.

Well, all I wish for you to do is...Write an ‘Abstract’ of whatever you could interpret from the meaningless natter I just did. You are also welcome to say that you did not get anything, but it’s an earnest request to whosoever bothers to go through this unbearable torture and reach till here...to please leave a comment. Thanks a lot for your help. J I will be obliged.

The Constant Itch!

2010-04-07T19:34:00.001+05:30

There’s been a constant itch…and it is kind of funny…as normally to get rid of an itch you would scratch…Scratch to get a relief…And I know I am on the verge of making it sound gross…but the itch would trouble you to make you do something about it…But, not me…and that’s why I called it funny…The itch has been there…it bothers me…but I do not scratch…I do not fancy the annoyance…but I am also not doing anything about it…Why? Now that is a difficult question to answer…Are my hands engaged elsewhere? (Don’t you all get ideas now!) No… Am I very busy with my studies? Not quite so…Am I busy with the course work? Not exactly…Am I working elsewhere? No…Then why are my hands not scratching the itch? Hmm!! Difficult to answer…and left with no excuses…Hence…a regular feature of most of my actions now…An apology!!

I apologise for being such a bum, and not responding to the itch of writing…I apologise for absconding and abandoning this place…and I would like to stop here…without any promises of being regular…or following frequently, as I have done enough of that …and failed miserably…always.

Now… since that’s that…here’s what I had to say…I was in India…for almost 2 weeks…And it was wonderful!

I had never thought… that the constant, deafening and the previously perceived annoying honking of the horns of vehicles would amaze me…so much. I had never imagined the hot and humid weather, with temperatures soaring above 40 degrees Celsius…to be so pleasant. To see the sun in its full glory would be so refreshing. I had never thought of requirement of people in swarms on roads, in the buses, in the train station, in the trains, in the malls, in the cinema halls and everywhere…to be such bliss. The freedom to piss on the roads is at times a freedom far great in substance, than the freedom of speech. The puff of a Classic Milds and the sip of Royal Stag, are far more fulfilling than Marlboro and JD. The never ending traffic jams and the ever so blabbering rickshaw drivers are so enchanting. Overtaking while driving and cutting lanes makes driving so much more a thrill and fun. And parking anywhere on the road is a fundamental right everyone should have. Frequent or even once in a while power cuts are so god damn important. Fans and pressure cookers are not actually archaic. 256Kbps is the max speed and it is still amazing. Even holding hands of your loved one in the public, has to be done very carefully, which kind of adds to romance…and not that you can make out wherever you wish, you actually have to get a room. Getting a maid to do you dishes and cleaning doesn’t make you a millionaire. You are still alive, even though your hands do not feel the chill. The smell of the wet soil from the first drops of rain is invigorating. The smell from your mom’s kitchen makes you go crazy, literally. The front yard is larger than the backyard, and it displays in its full glory the sweat of your mother, that has soaked the gardens. A short nap in your bed is like a sound sleep of 12 hours. Your home is your home. Nothing makes me miss a foreign land. Nothing can beat India.

India! You’re truly amazing…and the people make you much more amazing…you will always give me that constant itch of coming back…again…and again!

India Amzaing

(P.S. – Much more to come…hopefully very soon…)

All Izz Well!!

2009-12-31T10:30:00.000+05:30

All Izz Well!!

I am not a film critique and this is not ‘just another’ review of the incredible piece of art - 3 Idiots. In fact this is not even an attempt to review the marvel. This is like kneeling down, bowing and presenting your head to the movie. Sajdah (if you know the exact meaning of the word) is what I am going to do.

I mean... How many times has it happened that... You have come out of movie and were so absolutely mesmerised by the experience that you started missing it from the very moment the screen went blank, and there was a streak of smile that simply refused to vanish for hours and hours at stretch? You were enchanting the dialogues almost after every single sentence you spoke? You did not realise that how did time fly and that too, a stretch of almost 3 hours? You were absolutely fixated on the screen, no distractions, no chit chat, no changing of positions...total concentration, and yet you literally rolled on the floor laughing? You absolutely hated the intermission and wished it should not have been there?

I may be going over the board for some people, but I don’t give a damn to them. I have fallen in love with this movie...or rather a piece of art. Yes...it is a piece of art, as you love some movies for their direction, some for the story, some for the visual effects, some for sheer acting of the actors, some for the message they conveyed ...but this one...you just cannot classify or categorize into just one of these. The story was absolutely brilliant. Acting – superb. Visual appeal – awesome. Comedy – nerve bursting-ly stupendous (This was for the first time ever in my life that I was holding on to the armrest of my seat and jumping on it while laughing...never ever have laughed so much). Message – clearly out there.

I have never yearned to go for repeating a movie as much I am yearning for this one. It was the last show of the day, so could not enter into another show immediately. I will do it certainly the next time I go to the theatres. The movie made me relive my college days, over and over again. It was perfect. The messages have been sent out so subtly and yet they resonate so powerfully within you. ‘Friendship is the real money you earn’. ‘Let the fears in your heart not surmount you, convince it believe that All Izz Well’. ‘Do what you like, what you really want to do and then...do it with passion’. We all know this. This is was nothing new. But, the mannerism it was let out – awesome.

When we talk of Bollywood, plenty of movies have blown up my mind and heart earlier. Omkara gave me a headache I pleasured. Rang De Basanti made me think and awe. Ek Chalis Ki Last Local was a surprise. Dev D was stupendous in its presentation. Sholay is cult. DDLJ sucked for me...too melodramatic. Dil to Pagal Hai was confusing and stupid. Kuchh Kuchh Hota Hai was over the board. Fanaa made me think, somewhat. Lagaan gave me a sense of unity. Dil Chahta Hai defined friendship. Rehna Hai Tere Dil Me defined Love. But, 3 Idiot, is simply put – perfect.

Yes, yes...go ahead...call me biased and prejudiced...but I will not refrain from me calling myself an ardent Amir Khan fanatic...That penchant for perfectionism...That splendid resolve of delivering one marvel a year and leaving the responsibility of blowing the trumpet of your calibre and magnificence to your performance. That is called ‘A True Actor’. Go Amir. Not to forget the brilliance of support provided by Bomman Irani, R Madhavan, Sharman Joshi and Kareena Kapoor ...in that order.

Rajkumar Hirani and Vidhu Vinod Chopra, I will again kneel and bow down to you for this astounding piece of art. How come do you have the ability to deliver the Munna Bhai Series and 3 Idiots back to back? And how could you find humour in the grimmest of situations? The eczema and roti scene. The hospitalisation of Raju Rastogi. The birth of the baby. These are just to name a few. I feel each and every scene was so carefully looked into and worked upon, that it made me relive, my past right in front of my eyes.

Khumaari...Hangover...as it is better known, has a new found meaning for me now. I never knew that celluloid can give you so much of a high. I am drunk, in the sheer entertainment I experienced tonight. A gazillion thanks to every single person associated with this jewel. You yourselves have raised the bars to an all together different realm. Please remember to live up to your own standards. Thanks once again.

Escapade United Kingdom…the story so far

2009-12-23T09:21:00.001+05:30

A hue of Orange, Green and Blue on the horizon. A thick, woollen carpet of clouds underneath. Four magnificently huge, metallic birds flying alongside. This is how England welcomed me into its boundaries. The first sights of the astonishingly huge city, London, were awe-inspiring. Everything till this point, including the landing was smooth.

The excitement, the anxiety (of sorts) and the anticipation had taken the better of me, while I was standing in the Immigration Queue, obviously oblivious to the unfolding, fate had designed for me. Little did I know that this pleasant welcome was to last only for a few hours and a calamity of greatest magnitude was to shake my world and change its landscape forever. Within a few hours of my arrival, I was on a flight back to India. I had lost my Dad, in an accident.

I was unsure of returning, I had no clue of the steps to be taken next. I saw no future. It was a devastating blow on my family. Everything for the time being seemed – fallen apart. Yet, I was sent back after 8 days, to pursue what was supposed to be my Dad’s dream. Leaving behind my Mom in the safe and strong hands of my sister and support of my entire family. Leaving behind all my loved ones and the most loved one too. I thought, at that moment, that this was in the best interest of everyone. I still wish to believe it.

However, I came back. Joined the class very late. By then everyone had been quite nicely introduced to everyone. And I had only one acquaintance.

The journey after that has been quite an experience. Got into trouble. Had dangerous quarrels with my dear one. Got into financial trouble. Made some awesome friends. Enjoyed my visits to several places. Had plenty of new experiences. Got to know that time zone differences can mean a lot. Not being physically present also hampers a relationship. First few examinations were good. Cold is very bad. People are quite relaxed and appreciative of your efforts. All in all an amazing place to live in. And the most important lesson…In GOD we must trust, for he will never take away what you deserve and what you have earned. You may face catastrophic difficulties, but he will definitely reward you.

Attaching some pictorial memories of the journey so far…

First Step into England

Coming Back again...

In University Overalls

Beautiful Landscapes all around

View From My Room

Diwali at Leicester

Blackpool Beach

You can guess

My Awesome Friends (except for Robbie Williams)

P.S. – Henceforth, I will make all sincere efforts to keep you posted.

अपने लिए जिए तो क्या जिए...Part 2

2009-10-14T03:08:00.001+05:30

When in college, Amta Prasad developed keen interests in fields not pertaining to academia. He came into personal touch with great and well known Jai Prakash Narayan of the JP Movement. He was also regarded very highly by the professors of BCE, Patna. He made friends for life time there. Friends... who accompanied him from the college to the crematory.

Since the college fees were Rs 10 higher than his School fees, and his scholarship hadn’t increased, his sisters had to drop out from school. His money could only fund the fees of his brothers. That was quite a setback for him and he started saving every penny. I remember him telling that he would travel from Harding Park to College, on foot. But, his enthusiasm for movies also did not die. When Mughal-e-Azam was released in back in 1960, theatres in Patna had not been equipped to show the Movie. So, when it was to be released finally in 1963, Amta Prasad watched the First Day First Show of it, and he was very proud of the fact. He had to stand in tahe queue a day prior to the opening of Box Office, stay in the queue for the entire night, sleep there. He had spent around 16 hours in that queue, at the 5^th position, to watch that movie (there were more that 100 people behind him). More than anything else this incident talks about his will power and grit.

Well, when it was time to graduate and get the degree of B.Sc. Mechanical Engineering he missed the Gold Medal just by 2 marks. He was not disappointed about this, nor had he ever been crazy about marks. But, getting a Gold Medal would have meant a direct placement at the Fertilizer Factory at Sindri, Bihar...the most coveted job at that time. Thankfully he didn’t get the required marks as the Factory got into ruins in the 1990’s. He had his own destiny. His job hunt started. 1968 was not the time when Indian youth could find jobs and earn livelihood easily. His scholarships stopped. He had no income. And his family was heavily reliant on the money sent by him. He got selected in the Indian Navy, Engineering Corps as Sub-Lieutenant. But, his father was opposed to the idea of him joining the Armed Forces. He had to refrain from joining.

Then came an opportunity that could have changed his destiny and could have written his name in History of India. He cleared the written examination for the post of Junior Research Scientist at Bhabha Atomic Research Centre, and was called for the interview. By that time 6 months had passed since he had left college and his scholarships had stopped. His only formal trouser had torn near the knee and he had to get stitched (ruffued). Also, his shoes had given way and he wore chappals to the interview. All other candidates who were present there started making a mockery of him, as they were neatly dressed with ties and blazers. He was unperturbed by all this. He was confident about his knowledge, and he knew only that would sail him through. And that’s what happened. The interview panel was completely satisfied by his answers. He actually answered all the questions. None of them even looked at his chappals. He was given the results then and there and he was on cloud 9 after that. But soon his dreams were crumbled under peer family pressure. He was given a No-go by his father as Trombay would be too far off from his homelands Bihar and would cause problems. Back to square one. His struggle to find a job continued till in 1969, Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru decided the location of Asia’s biggest steel plant to be at Bokaro. He was the 514^th Engineer to go on payrolls of Bokaro Steel Plant, with a whopping salary of Rs 500 per month (Yes! Indeed Rs 500 was a lot in those times, he was able to buy a Lambretta with his first salary). Soon his friends followed him there.

He gave 36 years of his life altruistically to the plant, right from its construction phase to the phase where the plant was making profits of Rs 700 Crores. In these 36 years he acquired 2 more engineering degrees through correspondence from the college of BIT, Sindri in the disciplines of Chemical Engineering and Civil Engineering. He became popular in the entire plants as an encyclopaedia of Mechanical Engineering and Plant Maintenance. He was recognized by the Indian Government for carrying out all of his official work in Hindi (nobody else in the plant wrote all his reports in Hindi and English and could sign in Hindi). He was also dreaded by Hindi and English teachers of the school where his daughters went for schooling, as he would fire the Teachers left and right for teaching wrongly or committing any grammatical mistakes. He was promoted to the ranks of General Manager (Mechanical Maintenance), Coke Ovens and By Product Plant, Bokaro Steel Plant. He was awarded the ‘Metallurgist of The Year-2002’ award by Confederation of Indian Industries (CII), Kolkata Chapter for his resurrection of Battery Gates of BSL and saving a whopping amount of Rs 5 Crores. He took a Voluntary Retirement from the Services in the year 2005 to rest and lead a retired life. But, that life did not lure him much and soon after, he joined Bhushan Steels as Vice President, Operations in the year 2006. He was handed over the charge of setting up a 1 Million Tonne capacity plant in Orissa. But his ailing health did not allow him to continue and he had to return to base, after which he lead a normal retired life.

As soon as he got the job in SAIL, in 1969 the pride of that small family in the village of Bhagar, started soaring to new heights. There were actually queues outside his house of the people who had come with marriage proposals. But his father was also a very balanced man. He chose a perfect bride for him, Saraswati – who came into the family as an incarnation of Goddess Saraswati. Even though she was the only daughter of a very wealthy Zamindaar she adapted to the small household impeccably and supported the family ever since.

Amta Prasad had the responsibility of getting his 2 sisters married (one had got already married by the time he got his Job) and finishing the education of his 3 kid brothers (the eldest one after him being 15 years younger to him). His own family also had started. He had 2 daughters and a son to look after. But, he always said I have 8 children. He looked after his siblings equally well. It was his inspiration, motivation and guidance that all his ‘kids’ did amazingly well in academia and have now made his family one of the very influential families of Bihar. Amta Prasad used to say that, I am doing a job of an engineer; I do not want any of my kids to do the same kind of job. So, all his kids followed his instructions. His eldest Brother completed his engineering from RIT, Jamshedpur and is now an SDO (Chief Engineer), Irrigation Department, Government of Bihar. His next brother topped the forest examinations and is now, DFO, Research and Development, Government of Bihar. His youngest brother runs a publication house and is an editor of a Competitive Examinations Magazine ‘Spardha’. His eldest daughter cleared the Civil Services Examination was Dy. Collector, Bokaro. His youngest daughter became a fashion designer was the Manager of Textile Section at a very big Export House in Delhi. His son was altogether a different story, and it would be better if we talk of him later.

He was not just an inspiration for his family, but many of the sons of the soil of Tahsil Siswan idolised him. He touched the lives of many. He would give strive for jobs of all the needy. I do not have a count of how many got jobs in the steel plant because of him. He was once almost suspended, for keeping the son of his father’s Man Friday into his BSL allotted quarters and building him a house in the premises. He even impersonated for one of his friends, on his repeated request, urge and need in a Government Examination, but did not let his friend join it, as he thought this would not help him. Amta Prasad instead got him a job through his contacts and on the basis of his friend’s merit. He went to jail when Jaiprakash Narayan gave a call of ‘Jail Bharo Andolan’ after Emergency in 1976. He led this campaign in Bokaro.

When his daughter was preparing for the Civil Services examination, he developed keen interest in subjects of History and Geography. Within a time span of 1 year he had mastered India’s Ancient and Medieval History and Indian Geography. He then, started exploring the world of Humanities. And within a short span of time, except for the knowledge of operating a computer he knew almost everything. He started being known as ‘The Complete - Walking and Talking Encyclopaedia’. One of his juniors at the steel plant, who was also one of his favourites, used to seem very frightened in front of him. He later explained that its only the fear of uttering something wrong in front of him and losing the place he has. The amount of respect he generated for himself, everywhere he went was fabulous. He led by example. He never chewed Paan even, so the question of consuming any other form of intoxication never arose. In fact, except for the undying thirst for knowledge and his penchant for perfection, he had no other bad habits or flaws.

He had an amazing ability to correlate Science with Literature, Philosophy and Humanities. He used to explain lessons of Science by quoting Ramayan to his kids. He was so well known for his mastery over languages, that kids of his friends and kids of the neighbourhood would quite often come over to his place for their language assignments, preparation of speeches for debates or quite simply to ask for some good quotes. His letters to the editors of news papers of various publishing houses, were almost a regular feature.

He was also very saintly. He did not believe in Materialistic Pleasures of the world. He invested in them, only for the needs of his family. He would always be seen around in the simplest, yet smartest of attires. He just had a fascination for shoes, probably because he was tormented a lot for them. He would also make sure that his kids get to understand the cost of every single penny. His son, being the youngest of the lot and who although had seen quite a lot of the bad days of the family, had started going astray. He took notice of it and remedied it in a fashion that brought him, well, quite back on track.

...to be continued...

अपने लिए जिए तो क्या जिए...

2009-10-10T17:17:00.003+05:30

अपने लिए जिए तो क्या जिए...

Greatness is not reliant on fame. Greatness is not about being covered by Media. Greatness is simple. Greatness is about winning hearts and souls. Greatness is about being immortal, not just in the memories of your near and dear ones...but in the memories of everyone you came into contact with. Greatness is about bagging a place in History.

The story of greatness which I am going to narrate has never been told before. And it may take two subsequent posts, to complete it. Although, I am not of any stature to comment anything about the great soul – Amta Prasad, yet I would like to tell you all about how he lived...and will be living forever.

Amta Prasad incarnated in a very poor peasant family of a very unknown village Bhagar, of the then Saran District of Bihar, on the day of ‘Bhai Duj’ in the year 1945(Officially his D.O.B. is 30^th August 1947). His father, although owner of a very small piece of land, was known in the entire village for his will power and radical thoughts. This got magnified several folds and passed on into Amta Prasad, known as Niranjan in his early days. With 3 sisters and 4 brothers to look after, he grew up as an idol to them. He never bought books, during his primary and secondary schooling...simply because he did not have money to buy them. Instead he used to copy down the entire books with his own hand. To save some extra money, he used to write on the note books with pencil first and then used to rub them all and reuse the same notebook. He did all this while helping out his father in all the farm related works like cutting grass to feed the oxen, cleaning up the barn, watching the fields when the crop was ready. By the time he reached standard eighth he had become an idol for all the kids in the village. He was also called upon by most of the Munshis of the village to do accounting for them.

Then in Standard Eighth he was introduced to an alien language – English. He learnt the alphabet for the first time. His mastery over all the subjects taught grew and his name started spreading around in the neighbouring villages too...as a Child Prodigy. All the literates and educated men had started telling stories about him to their children already. In the year 1961, the District Chhapra, which was carved out of earlier Saran District, came into some limelight as a 16 year old had written a very small yet one of the introductory chapters of its History. Amta Prasad from the District of Chhapra had stood 5^th in the Matriculation Exams of Bihar, Bengal and Orissa Combined Board. His copies of the ‘Sent-up’ examinations held in his school ‘Hare Ram Brahmchari Ucch Vidyalay’, Gangpur, Siswan, are still preserved and demonstrated to the students as an inspiration. During those times the NTSE Scholarships were given out on the basis of the marks obtained, and he started receiving Rs 125 per month. This came as a huge relief for him and his father. The fees and expenditures of Patna Science College where he joined for his Intermediate (10+1 at that time) studies was just Rs 80 and he could spare the extra Rs 45 for the studies of all his younger siblings. Joining Patna Science College was another big achievement. Nobody from the peasant’s family of Tahsil Siswan had ever been there. His Father was suppressed a lot by the Big Shots of the Tahsil, from abstaining of his admissions there due to which he reached late. Yet, he was admitted considering his marks.

He never knew what Engineering meant till he started his classes at Patna Science College. He was told that if he obtains first class marks in the college he will be given a direct admission into Bihar College of Engineer, Patna (Now known as NIT, Patna). It had a regal charm in those days. Also, during his stay at the hostels of Patna Science College, he encountered a wash basin and toilet pan for the first time and got to wear shoes and full pants.

And it was not that he was a book worm. There’s an old saying which you all must be knowing “Bhagwaan jab deta hai...to chappar phaad ke deta hai” (When Lord showers his blessings...He blows the roof top with them). It holds true for him too....when it comes about talent and not money. Money never lured him. He became an ace Badminton Player in that one year... was into Football, NCC, Students Union and even mischief. When his shoes got stolen at Hanuman Mandir, Patna he stole somebody else’s shoes and wore them back to his hostel. He loved watching movies too...and remembered which movie he had watched on what date in which hall even after 40 years. Well he got a good scolding too once when he was caught by his father. And then for almost a year he didn’t go for the movies in repent. He had memorized Ramayan by heart, and by the time he completed his Intermediate, he had an equal mastery over Hindi, English, Sanskrit and Bhojpuri.

He passed out of Patna Science College with flying colours too. He was one among the 2 students who got first class marks that year. He was heading towards another golden chapter of his life...Engineering. Bihar College of Engineering added many facets to his already vast baggage of talents. He got into poetry, politics, research and above all became an emphatic Mechanical Engineer. A solution to all the problems of everyone.

...to be continued

Life...espescially since 10th of August....

2009-09-28T13:53:00.000+05:30

They say-it takes just a few seconds for fate to take a miraculous u-turn. They say-destiny takes its own due course, and that the events in this course may seem miraculous. Fate, Destiny and Miracle...the three words I had absolutely no belief on.

I remember that after losing the Inter School Quiz Competition and standing 2nd, in class X^th, I almost broke into tears. The Teacher accompanying us said “There’s something called destiny”. I got very cantankerous by her statement, and retorted that I write my own destiny. I guess it was since then, that I developed this hate against fate and destiny...and also miracles...and kept on raging an unending war against them.

But then, Me being a mere mortal...what stature do I have to hold them back. They subdued me and made me surrender to their might. Now, I too, am their patron. (If you guys remember...that I used to be their ‘Victim’). It was only their might and valour, that after being rejected once in the interview of Amdocs Pvt. Ltd. (a company which bars such candidates from reappearing for any interview for 1 year)...I was called again for another interview. And this time I got selected, that too with a pay hike of almost 80% and, the icing on the cake was, the promotion. I was supposed to join as a Senior Subject Matter Expert (SSME). I come home, jumping and hopping and dancing already amazed by the turn of fate...only to find the ‘Unconditional Offer’ of a seat in the MBA course of University of Leicester.

For the next 2 minutes, I was like, how? I exceeded their deadline to submit the recommendations. I did submit the recommendations, when they made a request through e-mail. The School of Management, University of Leicester is ranked 2^nd in UK for Business and Management, by The Guardian Newspaper. It was the most ideal University for me, if not the dream University. And I have got an admission there? I mean, how? And, of course, WOW!

Then the reality sinks in...My days are changing...Things are happening for me. But, two many things, all of a sudden, on my head. Both equally lucrative(at least, at that moment, they seemed so). Both equally difficult to achieve...and I have both in my hands. And again..my mind saying..Now what?

A raging debate starts....Prolongs...for days to come. Participants are many-Me, My Mind, My Heart, My Parents, My Sisters, My Friends, My So-called Friends...And the arguments...from absolutely marvellous to absolutely outrageous...from completely prudent to quite nonsensical. Comparisons were being drawn, judgements were passed...Sometimes it used to get quite heated up...Sometimes it crossed the manors of sanity...Very few people supported the idea of joining Leicester. Rest all wanted me to remain a face in the crowd.

After all this, I decided. I decided...to walk a path less trodden...I decided ...not to remain a face in the crowd...I decided...to experience the New. Risks were...and are many...but so will be the profits...when the gamble pays off. And I cannot be sceptical... I hate being the one who has eyes only for faults, and shortcomings...I cannot think of bad and worst scenarios only...and act accordingly. I like to see the glass half full...I believe the day will be the brightest, when the night was darkest...I believe that good things will happen to me...as and when I start believing in them. We need to be positive thinkers always...that’s how we’ll attract good and better things in our lives..that’s what is the secret of life... ‘The Law of Attraction’(A whole new concept which will be taken up in some other episode).

So, as the fate would have it...things again started happening. I got funded by My Uncles. Arranging for fees and finance ceased to remain a problem. Got the loan sanctioned for the remaining amount. Applied for an early exit and not serving the complete notice period in the company...that too got sanctioned. Applied for the Student Visa, quite late, and got it well within time. Well! All the things mentioned here did not happen as smoothly as I have mentioned here, there were plenty hitches and glitches and hiccups...all probably again because...at the back of my mind I always keep thinking...that my things cannot happen so easily...and hence the results are those hiccups...However, I also always believe that my things will get done ...eventually...and they do. Law of Attraction at work in full force. J

As I am writing this(another piece of crap), in probably one of my last train journeys in India for the next one year...I was reflecting on, how quickly the time flew in the past 45 days. I stayed in 7 different cities, finished a heck lot of work, met a gazillion number of people...and to look at it...I never even had 5 hours to spend with myself. Today, I also left from the city of Pune...I guess forever...The city was my tormentor, my mentor, my hate, my love, my enemy, my friend...I left behind odes of memories...but not a single friend has been left...I left behind a shelter...in the hope to make a home...I left behind an organization...but not any company...It will be very emotionally difficult for me to go down the memory lane and single out events. It was a wholesome experience.

(P.S: Ending it right here...because I have lost track of what I have been writing...I started somewhere else...and now have started going down the emotional lane...Also because the memories somehow started haunting me...

And...Anu! If you ever read this...I Love You my friend...I don’t know...what I would have done without you!)

A Letter to the Irresponsible and Stupid - Indian News Media

2009-08-15T02:14:00.001+05:30

(Disclaimer: I own up to every single word written in this letter and apologise to general reader for the graphic nature and verbosity of this letter. I am sorry for using the abusive words and inappropriate language. I am really very sorry but I could not help the cause as I could not find any suitable replacement for those words.But please mind...that this apology is only to the General Reader and NOT to the Indian News Media.)

Hello to All Dumb Asses, Morons and Fuckers of Indian News Media

I am writing to you with no hope of you even understanding a single word or the motive behind this letter. Yet, I am writing to you only to take out my frustration and agitation, you guys have filled me up with your absolute stupidity and foolishness. I would like to present some facts before you before I hurl out more of abuses you deserve.

Fact 1: Number of Deaths in Road Accidents in Pune = 477 (year 2008 : Source – Traffic Police, Pune)

Fact 2: Number of Casualties in Road Accidents in Pune = 1617(year 2008 : Source – Traffic Police, Pune)

Fact 3: Average annual cases of Poisoning in Farmers of Pune and Ahmednagar = 107(2003-2006 : Source – Research by Ashok Vikhe-Patil, pro-vice chancellor of Pravara Rural University, Loni)

Fact 4: Population of Pune district = 72,24,000

Fact 5: Total reported cases of Swine Flu Infections in Pune district = 221

Fact 6: Percentage of people infected if H1N1 Swine Influenza Virus = 0.003%(approx)

Fact 7: Number of reported cases of Swine Flu in USA = 5500(How many of you know that? If you didn’t know earlier Why?)

Fact 8: The only news that sells is BAD News

Fact 9: TRP of news channels at all time high after 26/11 Mumbai attacks.

Fact 10: Indian News Media acting in a highly irresponsible manner.

Fact 11: Flock of Untalented and Under qualified Reporters and “Journalists” spreading the Panic at a much faster rate than the Virus itself.

I have become sick, not of the Swine Flu but of the News Channels, which have forgotten that there is anything else happening in the world apart from Swine Flu. Bloody Fucking, Brainless, Dumb farting Assholes of reporters and journalists which we have in our country is making me agitated and angry. There is no sense of responsibility. You, so called reporters, have forgotten the use of the most precious gift god has given you – Brains.

You have scared the shit out of the already innocent people of India. And I do not blame the people, you will obviously start believing in what is shown and said to you over and over. For god’s sake Indian reporters and News Channels ...GROW UP. You are not only scaring the people ...you are ruining our economy...ruining our lives. Instead of spreading awareness...you are reporting “How will a Traffic Cop blow his whistle whilst his mask is on?” Assholes! Get a life!

If you have to report or spread any kind of awareness, which obviously you are least interested in, tell the people that Swine Flu is NOT necessarily Fatal. It is curable.

And IF you are really concerned about people (I have all doubts on that)...Tell them to wear Helmets (and NOT necessarily the foolish masks) as not wearing Helmets causes more Deaths in Pune everyday than not wearing masks. More farmers die of hunger and grievances everyday than they will ever die of Swine Flu. You guys are absolute Morons...and now you are stamping it with more of your stupidity.

It was because of your irresponsible reporting that the terrorists in Mumbai were so aware of all the Police movements and managed to survive so long.

It was your irresponsible reporting that brought such panic, losses and shame to our country during the 1994 Gujrat plague.

You guys have become a bunch of laughing stock by reporting that “Bagh to Baghin se Pyaar ho gaya” (Tiger falls in love with Tigress)

You think reporting about the story lines of the Daily Soap Operas is amazing for your TRPs. TRP is all you think about, be it any which way.

You watch and record a man being brutally beaten by a few men; You record in your video cameras a woman being molested and disrobed in public by ONE man...and yet you stand their without shame, disgust or angst and keep on recording. Infact you do better...you bring back the tape to your telecast office... sensationalise it with your mind numbing language and then telecast it as “Breaking News” ...Fuckers!! Do you even know the meaning of that word-News?

The list of your foolishness is endless...but you won’t STOP...right? Your foolishness and stupidity has become your bread and butter...right?

Why do you think that people have not come to know of the situation of Swine Flu in US, when the numbers there are much more disturbing than in India?

What makes you think that by scaring the shit out of people will bring you money? And is that the money you would like to feed on?

You heartless, dumb farting morons are the new age TERRORISTS...and I hereby propose with full vigour that there should be BAN imposed on you all because of your mindless acts. Especially...and at least on India TV. A sincere request to one Mr. Rajat Sharma of India TV – Please own up to your faults and stupidity, and IF there is any wee bit of shame left in you...CLOSE down your, so called, News Channel. Please!

Your Fuckingly Agitated and Brutally Brain Molested

Friend

I Drive – Bokaro to Siwan via Koderma on NH-31…Part 2

2009-07-30T14:58:00.000+05:30

(Recap: I had started for Siwan, Bihar from Bokaro Steel City, Jharkhand(Now) in a Maruti 800 with 3 of my cousins at 5pm in the evening. We had to cross the dangerous valleys of Koderma, in the night and around 10pm we were just about 30kms from that dreaded place.)

Koderma 32kms is what the mile stone read. Fear, more than anything else had encroached me then. All the excitement and adrenaline rush had taken a back seat. Thanks to horrifying scenery created by Lord, and the absence of any other vehicle. I was pushing the sorry little car to its limits, taking the liberty of empty roads. Somehow, Big Bro was also not bothered about the speeds at which we were going. Everybody, I guess, was thinking of getting out of that place, as soon as possible.

There was also an added problem in those days; Mechanics and garages catering to Marutis were not that readily available as they are now. My nerves started rattling when I was able to feel that the car is hiccupping on pressing the throttle hard and was not getting the appropriate response. Damn! Why now? I still thought of continue pushing it. Did not even inform or hint at any such behaviour of the car to any of the bros.

But Big Bro noticed the sweat on my forehead and got concerned and tried avoiding. He ordered “Tell me!” and I uttered everything. Now everyone was scared. On the edge of their seats, urging me silently and without words… “Go faster buddy! Get us out of here before this Car breaks down!” And we were in the Ghats now. The curvy roads began. Whooshing of wind past our Car and probably through the trees was all we could hear. And to top it all the road was blessed with innumerable potholes. I was not able to push the car past 60 km/h and had to break a lot, and as used to I removed the foot off the accelerator paddle for braking, the hiccups were increasing in intensity turning it into jolts. We were shit scared. I pulled the choke knob(Yes! The earlier versions did have choke knobs) a little, not to let the idling go down.

But, something was definitely wrong and I was damn scared that the Car can go kaput anytime. What could it be? Radiator not working? Heat? Naah!…The weather was too cool to make the engine boil. The Coil? Nopes! It’s a new one. Then…then…then…Oh Shit! Blockage in petrol supply…The garbage in petrol tank must have blocked the filter, and now there is very little supply of fuel to the engine. I panicked. Pulled the choke knob a little more.

My brothers still hanging on to their seats, looking both ways for any suspicious looking thing. In the middle of the Ghats, it became even more silent, as the rain had stopped and we were able to listen to the crickets making those irritating noises from their legs. And suddenly, out of nowhere a couple of headlights flash in the rear view mirror. What the heck? There was no vehicle ahead of us which we overtook, there was none behind for the past 40-50 mins, then from where did this thing come? All my bros turned back, trying to figure out which vehicle is that from the shape and width of the headlights. It cannot be a car. Not even an Ambassador(the famous HM Car)…and the gap between the two is not wide enough for it to be a Truck. Then? What the heck is following us? And why?

I started pushing the Car harder, overlooking a few potholes but the car refused to go any faster and that ‘thing’ was gaining on us, very quickly. Everyone had panicked by the time it was close enough to be recognised as a Mahindra and Mahindra Commander Jeep. It overtook us comfortably and two hands started waving, asking us to stop. Well, when it came in front of us, through our headlights we could make out, it was a Police Jeep. Believe me, for the first time in all our lives(and especially in Bihar), we breathed a sigh of relief after seeing Police. We stopped immediately, although Big Bro was a little sceptical of them and asked me about all the required papers and DL. I had all. I turned off the engine and we all stepped out. For the first time we witnessed concern in the eyes of Policemen. They asked very politely – Where are we heading? Why so late? And after getting convinced they offered to escort us out of the Ghats. Phew! What a relief…Right? Nopes…Wrong!

When we stepped back in the car, the car refused to start. I kept on cranking, it wasn’t responding at all. I mean the battery supplied enough electricity, the dynamo enough charge, the engine cranked…but there was no fuel supply. Damn! The Policemen kept watching…as we came out perplexed and hassled. We got clear instructions from them – Make it fast…or even they would leave. Big Bro asked them to wait…I quickly went under the petrol tank …and again an expert comment from the Policemen…Why am I not under the engine and under the petrol tank?

What bloody? You be concerned with your job of protecting us…I know what I am doing…Did I ever ask, why you are not present and places you should be present? Anyways…I quickly took out the Petrol filter…asked Rahul to hold the outlet pipe closed tightly to prevent loss of petrol. When I brought the filter in front of the headlights…another shock was received…It was choked to its max capacity. And it is impossible to clean it now. Plus, they were not meant to be cleaned…They were replaced every time. Now what? Can’t connect the fuel pipe directly, as the garbage would damage the engine cylinder and piston lining.

Just then it struck me that we have another Petrol Filter in the boot, although dirty, but in a better condition than the current one…and by the time it reaches the maxed out condition we will be in some city…in the morning where we will be able to procure a new one. Thanks to Dad…who had foreseen such a situation and not disposed that filter. Quickly fetched it from the boot…put it in place…and wham! In two cranks the car started. Smiles spread across…even on the faces of those police men. Thanks also to the Policemen who lit up the chassis from below with their huge battery torches. It was scary for them too, to stand amidst that jungle in the middle of the night with just a .303 being there saviour.

Well, we were escorted out of the jungle by them, as promised…soon we crossed Koderma city. Through Newada, Bihar Sharif, we reached Patna at 6 am in the morning without any hassles. The Filter worked fine…and I guess we had drained out a little amount of garbage when we spilled a little petrol while changing the filters. We had a sumptuous breakfast at Patna. All of us slept for about an hour waiting for a garage to open. Bought the Petrol Filter, got it fixed and sailed off again.

One flat tyre replacement(sans the help of any of the bros, as they did not know anything) and one tea break were the other two halts we took. And by 1 pm we were in our village. The Children had started running behind the Car, as they always did(as the only other vehicle which frequented our village was either an HM Trekker or the Horse Cart) upon seeing a Car. The news had reached our house, well before we could reach that a Car has entered the village. Everybody was at the gates waiting desperately for us. All the faces had a big question mark drawn in bold fonts. What had happened? :) Well…we gave our answers. Enjoyed the festival there on..

But, even to this day…I wonder…What if the car would have broken down there… in the absence of any Policemen?

The lessons learnt:-

• All Indian Policemen are not Bad.
• As small a part as a petrol filter can be crucial, so you better get your vehicles double checked by professionals before embarking any long journey.
• Never travel in the night, especially when you know that the route isn’t safe.(What rubbish? We all know that…Right?...Still, please do not travel in your personal vehicle at nights)
• Never ignore the Tool kit in the boot. Always have the minimum required tools well oiled and clean.
• If you learn to drive do learn to - at least change a flat tyre, if not anything about the engine and repairs(Though I feel, knowing a little bit won’t harm).
• Don’t make trips(at least such long ones) based on your whims. The reality might be quite different.

Well, I learnt all these ‘Don’ts’ on that very trip, and they have helped since then – a lot.

I Drive – Bokaro to Siwan via Koderma on NH-31

2009-07-22T12:15:00.001+05:30

Chhatth is the biggest festival for us Biharis. Celebrated for 3 days, it is an occasion for a family reunion. And it was the same for me…rather us. It was Chhatth of 1998. I was a 10th grader and my2nd Terminal Exams were ending just a day prior to Chhatth. Our hometown rather the village being around 400 kms away from our the then temporary residence, My Mom and Dad had left for the place 3 days ago. And to my utter disbelief they had planned a nice surprise for me. I was asked to drive our car from Bokaro to Siwan(our hometown)….Yippee! Yeah! The only catch being 3 more of cousin brothers, who would reach Bokaro after my exams get over, would accompany me to Siwan…and 2 of them being quite elder to me would make up for Mom and Dad’s absence(of being watchful and guiding) on the trip. I had no issues with that. A drive of over 8 Hours. Superb! Mind blowing! …In fact, I was so elated with the idea of such a long drive, that I finished my 3 hour long paper in just 2 hours and 15 minutes(and eventually managed to just pass)…and rushed home.

Big Bro(Rajan Bhaiyya – as we used to call him) and Rahul (the only one younger to me) were already there. Only Babloo Bhaiyya kept us waiting a little bit. In the meanwhile I double checked the car. Engine Oil – Up to the Max Mark. Brake Oil – Full. Coolant – Full. Gear Oil – Max Mark. Headlights – Working in both dipper and High beam. Tyre Pressure – Ok in all the 5 tyres. Tool Kit – Appropriate. Petrol Filter – Quite Clean (1998 was still the time when we used to get Petrol mixed with loads of debris to increase volume and max the profits for Petrol Pumps). Fuel – Full. Explained the route map and pit stops to Big Bro. I had done quite a homework on that department. The road map of Bihar in size 18” X 24” had the entire route we were supposed to take marked in red. The distance between each pit stop and expected time marked, with the help of thread and scale provided in the map. All the important towns and villages we would cross – underlined. Big Bro was quite happy with my work and I was super excited. We were all ready to rock…Sail on to my first road trip(sort of) at 1 pm… Big Bro although quite responsible and sensible was in a jovial mood and was also loving the idea of such a trip. The hitch for the moment being Babloo Bhaiyya. The wait for him was getting tiresome. We waited for about 4 hours when he finally arrived at 4:30pm(thanks to the superb efficiency maintained by Indian Railways)..and our plans almost got ruined.

We had worked out that it would take us about 10 hours to reach our village. So, if we start by 1pm we would reach by 11 pm, crossing the mischievously dangerous valleys of Koderma Jungles in bright daylight. Well, Kodarma Jungles even to this day are famous for two reasons :- 1. The abundance of wild life, including Tigers, Leopards, Bears and Elephants and 2. The abundance of wild life, including Maoists, Naxalites, Bandits and Goons. Even to this day no vehicle dares to trespass the territory of these wild creatures, at nights. And by the way, Koderma lies right in the middle of NH-31 connecting two of the most important cities of Bihar and Jharkhand, Patna and Ranchi.

Cell phones were still unheard of in those days. My Village is yet to experience the phenomenon of electricity(Yes! In the year 2009)…so forget about the Telephone lines then. There was no medium through which we could have informed any of the family members of the situation we had gotten into or even they could not have enquired anything about our whereabouts. So, after much deliberation of about half an hour all of us decided to go ahead and start from Bokaro at 5pm. My entire plan was ruined. Now according to new plan, we had to reach Hazaribagh or Barhi, halt there at night. Start from there by the first stroke of light, cross Koderma as fast as we could, and reach our village by 10 am. That way we would miss only the morning bath(known as Naha-Kha in Chhatth terminology). Since it was Big Bro’s plan we rolled on it.

We reached Hazaribagh without any hassle and in a very quick time of 2 and ½ hours(thanks to my enthusiasm, no speed limits being set by my Mom and the jovial mood we brothers were in). In this time, we had forgotten about the worries of where to stay for the night in Hazaribagh and how to spend the night. Once at Hazaribagh, our search for a cheap Hotel started. But sadly, we could not find any which matched Big Bro’s expectations and the budget set by him. Hazaribagh, after all is a very small town of Bihar and has very few tourists or visitors who would look for options in Hotels. Then, Round-2 of deliberations started …whether to sleep in the car…or take an expensive Hotel…or (and the most exciting one) keep moving and cross Koderma in the night? I insisted that we keep moving(as it should be obvious). I said we do not have much cash on us, so even if we are rounded up by any of those Wild Creature which resemble Human beings closely…we won’t have much to lose. Plus our chances of getting caught are very bleak, as Maruti 800s were capable zipping pasts the Ambassadors they use and the Road Blocks they set up for Busses and Trucks(their main targets). It’s now I realise, how bad a decision maker I have been…all these days.

We set off from Hazaribagh, as Big Bro somehow got convinced(His conviction can be attributed to the Soldier like streaks he had, and which was in complete oblivion then. He went on to join the Border Security Force of India, and is currently posted at Watlab Sector, Pooch, Kashmir as the Dy. Commandant of 135th Battalion). Babloo Bhaiyya too gave in to the arguments and Rahul’s opinions didn’t count much as he was being considered just as a luggage. We had a light Dinner. Gud(Raw form of Sugar) and Chapattis, the festive food for that day of Chhatth.

I experienced a strange kind of adrenaline rush within me which was mixed with some amounts of fear and responsibility too. I had to drive through the extremely curvy roads of Valley of Koderma, in the night, with Wild Life galore and cover this thoroughfare as quickly as possible. To add to our injury, it started drizzling as soon as we left from Hazaribagh and the chill in the air of that cold November night made us roll up all windows. The scene became quite scary within minutes. There was no vehicle ahead. No headlights flashing in the rear view mirror. The silence-gory. The Rain clouds had made the night darker. There was hardly any flash of light visible…and it was just quarter to 9 pm. We forgot our chit-chatting. All eyes were fixed on the road. And also, at times, looking at both the sides. One milestone flashed brightly …Koderma 32 km. God! Save us for these 50 odd minutes

(I guess…you all can wait till tomorrow…to know, what other happening happenigs took place on the journey…and Why NOT do people travel through Koderma at nights? Won’t make this any more tiring though! )

I Ride – Prelude to the Journey!

2009-07-21T20:50:00.000+05:30

To think of it…I must’ve been a driver of some very busy personality in my past life…coz till this date I do not know how I learnt driving or riding. One fine day, when I was still in Standard 5 but had grown around 5’6” tall, my uncle (Mamaji) gave his driving seat of my dad’s Maruti 800 to me in an open field and asked “Wish to drive?”. And I was like “Of course…why not!”. He was a bit scared that I may make it zip off like a galloping horse…and started giving instructions and the knowhow. But, I did not listen to him at all. Sat behind the wheel, started the engine, pushed the clutch paddle down, shifted the gear to first, slowly released the paddle, and accelerated just the perfect amount for the most perfect lift off.

My Mamaji was staring at me in total disbelief. Then I shifted into second, third and soon into fourth…making the car go round in that 500m X 200m dirt track as smoothly as he himself had never done. Soon, I was on road, amidst the traffic…no panicky and cruised through to home. Since that day I became an unpaid…most convenient chauffer for my Mom…and Dad had to get me my driving license when I was still in Standard 7(Yes! It is possible…Legally! I have forgotten the exact procedure but try going through www.fmsi.com and the procedure to procure a Rallying License).

Riding also came naturally. My Dad must’ve been a Biking enthusiast himself in his glory days(I have never discussed this with him as I am too watchful of my words in front of him…But that, is a different story!). He owned a Yezdi D250 Classic… a 250 cc, vertical piston, twin exhaust, 3 gear, kick and shift combined shaft, 180 kg bike – A lift off from the more famous bike – Java. One of the most exciting bikes to have run on Indian roads and also one of the most difficult ones. Difficult because a. the Kick and Gear Shift was rolled into one shaft b. there was no decompression mechanism and the kick back while starting was awesomely hurting c. wheelbase for such heavy bike was too short and d. I was just too thin that time to balance the weight of this magnanimous bike. Still the very first day I got its keys from my Dad, I took to it like a duck to water. Nothing was taught again. How to convert the gear shift into kick…or how to balance out its weight…or anything. It started with first kick and became my best friend for the next 5 years in school.

My first ‘trip’ was in Standard 8^th when I took my Family in the same Maruti 800 from Bokaro Steel City to Jamshedpur(both cities in Jharkhand now), covering a meagre distance of 140 kms. Nothing special happened in that trip, everything went as smooth as it could and we reached our destination in the estimated time of 3 hours and 30 minutes (Roads of the then Bihar used to be pathetic and such short trips too were hectic). I remember that trip only because it was my ‘First Long Drive’. Thereafter, it’s been mayhem. I have made short trips, long trips, very long trips and very very long trips…spanning from a distance of a mere 60 kms and an hour to over 2000 kms and 15 days. From participating in Drag races to Monsoon Rally(amateur level)…I have been there done that. But still…It’s not that my thirst is quenched…not that I claim to be an expert…not that I will stop…not that you will get to know what all places to visit and what all things to do…I guess, what you will get to know from this series of posts is – What all not to do in any trip and How to be safe! Also…I am of the kinds who loves the journey more than the destination…So, the descriptions will be more about the roads than the place.

Tomorrow the journey starts. From Bokaro Steel City to Siwan, Bihar. My first trip in the car, sans any elder member of my family and as always…very dramatic.

I ride!

2009-07-20T19:52:00.002+05:30

I ride. A long straight road. Black tarmac glazing. Sun’s glory narrowing my vision. Landscape, a concoction of brown and blue and red and green. Winds hath the feeling of scraping skin from flesh and then roasting it with heat they laden. The view ahead a mirror image of the view in rear view glass.
Nobody pillion. Nobody leading. Swooshing of wind is all I hear. Palms sweat, legs tremble, spine twitches, lips are dry…with anxiety? with fear? with fatigue? Don’t know.
I see the end of this road. Will be there in sometime. Or is it the end? Why does it seem like a split? How come I see two roads now? Both alike…going nowhere? Or are they? Will anyone of them take me home? Will both of them take me home?
The heat still forms the mirage. Both alike.
Some people treading on … far ahead. Don’t respond to my loud bellows.
Can see Lightening. Will it rain? Left road or Right? Which one will get me to the showers first? Need to quench my thirst.
Its already raining there. The smell of soil soiled with first drops of water has diffused till here. The heat’s been rounded by rain there. I can sense a little cold. The breeze has founded. It’s refreshing, it’s heaving me, urging me to start.
Which road to take? I don’t care.
I ride!

With this, I hearby announce a series of posts about the several trips, rides, drives and travels I undertook…and which till now were just a part of my memories. I am not a travel blogger…I travel just for My whimsical sake…Hence, I haven’t described any of my trips anywhere till now…But, I guess, there’s no harm disseminating some information…and some caution…Life’s too small to commit each mistake and learn from it…We should learn from other’s mistake too (Relevance? You will get to know as I begin describing each trip!)

So…behold…here comes my nerve rattling, magnanamatic, stupendous and thrilling series of post.(Over exaggeration? Yes …It is! )

Matrix OR Bhagvad Geeta? Belief and Choice!

2009-07-10T17:06:00.000+05:30

The lesser, non-Einstein, daft and dippy breed of men(like me) would have viewed the movie ‘The Matrix’(trilogy) for the sheer visual delight it was. But, over the years, watching it frequently, I have realised that it isn’t anything more than ‘The Bhagvad Geeta’ translated into an assortment of contemporary woes and perplexed English. Morpheus, the apt and apposite modern day Lord Krishna with Neo playing the befuddled Arjun, entailing the help of Morpheus in finding himself. However, all through the trilogy the prominence has been on two very elaborate lexis – Belief and Choice(apart from the other major preaching of Bhagvad Geeta like Karma and Moksha ). Let’s take the two, successively.

Belief – Faith, Conviction, Trust, Confidence, Certainty, Idea, Principle…These are the synonyms that will surface when you look up the Oxford dictionary for the word ‘belief’. Each of them, although seemingly very analogous, define a whole new realm of the diverse chattels a Man/Woman should have to pilot his/her living. I believe the ‘belief’ we have or develop, cannot be contributed to singled out factors like somebody’s preaching, your experience, somebody else’s experience. It is not formed just because you say something to yourself repeatedly. I believe, your ‘belief’ is a very meticulous assimilation and blend of the surfeit of transactions you go through, carried out by our super scholarly brain, in the subliminal; with you having a single deterministic accountability of letting that ensue. Your ‘belief’ is what you are, what you posses. In a nous, it stands for you, when everything else seemingly absconds leaving you amidst soreness and lament, it is your ‘belief’ that makes you stand tall. Some, however, rename that belief into ‘Faith in God’ and ‘Religion’ . I do not have any issues with that as long as it helps you fight, but please, do not put down any tenets in paper, for the generations to follow and suppress their knack of forming their own beliefs on their own. Your belief is yours, very unlike, disparate, individual. Take pride in it. Let it be that way. Only the degree of its vigour is similar or dissimilar in all of us. If your belief tells you you’re a looser, then nobody can stop you from losing. But, if it tells you that you are special, if it says you can fight there is again no stopping you. All I was trying to suggest through all this mystified natter was to say ‘Believe in what you believe!’…Don’t let any other circumstance or situation impede it.

Now, Choice – Alternative, Preference, Variety… Again, very akin terms having a utterly different connotations depending upon the perception of your belief. If your ‘belief’ is a cause the ‘choice’ you make is its effect. If your belief tells you something is wrong, the choice of acting in opposition to it or standing and merely scrutinizing is the effect of how strapping the ‘belief’ is. We may not comprehend this fact, but intuitively all the choices we make are the upshot of our beliefs. We only need to understand the choice we make and how does it adhere to our beliefs or non-beliefs. If today I am an Engineer/Doctor/Service Men/Artist, how and when did I make the choice of becoming so, and most vitally Why did I make the choice. Every time we make a choice, and do no question the rationale for making that choice, the belief in the milieu which made us make that choice wanes. Choices are in attendance at every moment, some for a lesser cause, some very deterministic. We just need to understand the causality.

But again, while this is being discussed, we may come to a conjecture which in itself is a corollary of Faith and the choices we make out of ‘free will’. That will be taken up in a separate chapter, as I feel I have made this quite flummoxing right now.

I can recall this famous quote by Anonymous at this moment which is quite befitting for the explanation I was trying to make:

I chose and my world was shaken.
So what?
The choice may have been mistaken;
the choosing was not.
You have to move on.

Manor Of The Ardent

2009-06-26T02:16:00.003+05:30

Manor Of The Ardent -Quite an absurd place it seems on the onset...doesn't it? Lets try and decipher what it can be? What is it? A Manor..a villa...simply a place ...a gathering of ardent people.

Why Ardent? Well, just because obstacles fail to deter these people from doing what they like...Ardent... because each one of them is driven by passion...Passion for Love...Love for the country and its people...Passion for Music...Passion for travelling...Passion for Science...Passion for Living life less commonly...So... this place will witness an extravaganza of sorts.

But still, what is it? In a smaller, understandable form..its a collaborative blog. And I feel it's the least we can say about it...as it is much More than that... Its an assemblance of bloggers from all genres, with an amazing fetish for sharing of knowledge and experience . Its a commemoration of Love and Respect...for people...for their work...for the admiration of their work...for the longing...for the sake of not missing their effervescent pieces of art...more commonly known as posts.

Its more than a collaborative blog. A venture...unseen...A lovechild of people who, till very recently hadn't, even met. A befitting example of organizational bond developed amongst its associates by an intranet blog. A community of people who know each mostly through a very effective medium of blogs, who have now ventured out into the open with their plethora of experience and knowledge...into the manors of a wider audience.

So...How did they come together? A common background of working or having worked for the same organization and being in an unforseen bond.

14 people...of varied experience...of varied interests...of varied knowledge...of varied calibre...driven by varied passions...come together to start this extravaganza...which in its first week of conception has set records and standards of the highest levels...Just a small example of this claim:
Visits (total in 8 days) : 1700 (approx.)
Average visits per day : 200 +

Total Posts : 45

No. of comments : 500 +
Visitor locations : 300 (approx.) from all around the globe

Amazing? Not yet! As the wonderous potential this space holds is tremendous. One writer is on the verge of starting an All India Trip on foot for the mere Love of this Country - India..Another one is an already an acclaimed blogger for his travel, advertisements and consumer review blogs...One writer is brimming the release of his Music Album, One has already released One...Another is a movie database...One is very health conscious...Another one has a passion about bicycling...and the list goes on...and on...This post is actually too small to describe even a single one of the writers...

So...what should you expect in the space? Everything! Travelling...Movies..Music...Reviews...Books...Humour...Politics...Society...Personal Statements...Experiences...Diversity...In short ...the space will be a wholesome infotaintment.

Now...what are you waiting for?...Go!...Get hooked and book a permanent space in the Manor! :D ;)

Thank You Lord! The Love Lord...You Win! Finally!!

2009-06-22T00:45:00.005+05:30

Things are falling into place! At least for now...it seems...and I am happy for that! Yippie! And the beginning could not have been better...Just got the news that the parents of one of my nearest and dearest friend and his girlfriend agreed for their marriage...on their terms...at the time they want!

Superb! I am feeling so ecstatic...couldn't help but write this down...God Bless You My Friend! As he has always done...You are one of his favourites...And You Yourself are such an ardent admirer of him too...Believe in him...He will definitely sort out other things too...And at the same time...just have faith in yourself...as You've always been having...I am so happy for you! And please...Just a small request....don't swap places/role of preacher and the preached...I hate preaching! Damn! You know that...Don't you? So from tomorrow...Back to Normalcy! Sigh! Relief!

Thank You Lord!

एक...अकेला...

2009-06-21T23:00:00.001+05:30

एक छोटी सी वार्तालाप से हमें ये मालूम पड़ा की दुनिया के सबसे मुश्किल कार्यों में से एक है - अपने दिमाग में सुविचार लाना. अपने विषय में अच्छा सोचना. अपने जीवन से जुड़े विषयों पर आशावादी रहना.

इसी दौरान एक और अद्भुत दृष्टिकोण भी उजागर हुआ - अगर गौर से देखा जाये तो हम अपनी आधी ज़िन्दगी एक ऐसी तैय्यारी में गुजार देते हैं जो हम कभी करना ही नहीं चाहते थे...दुसरे शब्दों में ...हम हमेशा एक 'सुरक्षा' के खोज में लगे रहते हैं, "अगर थोडी सी सुरक्षा मिल जाये तो हम वो कर लेंगे जो हमें करना है"..."थोड़े से पैसे बन जायें तो हम सब छोड़ के वो करेंगे जो हमें करना है"...कब तक? आखिर कब तक? सिर्फ उस सुरक्षा की खोज में हम वो सारे कार्य करते हैं, जो हमने नहीं सोचा था की हम करेंगे...और जो हम करना चाहते हैं वो सपना इस 'सुरक्षा' की खोज में खो सा जाता है... मैं बस ये जानना चाहता हूँ की हम में से कितने लोग अपने सोचे हुए, चाहे हुए कार्य कर रहे हैं? क्यूँ हमें अपने आप पे भरोसा नहीं होता? ऐसे ही कुछ विचारों का समावेश है ये कविता जो मैंने कुछ दिनों पहले लिखी थी ...

एक…

एक…एकता…एकाकी…अकेला!
इस ‘एक’ की ताक़त ने,
इस ‘एक’ की ज़हमत ने,
जाने कितने मुसीबतों से खेला!

एक ने आज़ादी दिलाई,
एक ने जीती लडाई,
एक ने यम् की थामी कलाई,
एक ने उन्नति लायी,
एक का ही नाम हुआ,
एक ने ही शोहरत कमाई !

फिर क्यूँ, इस ‘एक’ ने, खुद पे से खोया भरोसा?
अपनी नाकामयाबी पे, किसी और को कोसा?
क्यूँ हर ठोकर पे, ढूँढा किसी का कन्धा?
क्यूँ अँधेरे में खुद को समझा अँधा?

तू भूल मत, अपनी ताक़त को,
इस कलयुग के रामायण का,
तू ही हनुमान है, तू ही जामवंत,
इस महाभारत का
तू ही अर्जुन है, तू ही श्री कृष्ण!

तुझे अकेले ही फतह का ध्वज लहराना है,
तुझे अकेले ही कुछ ऐसा कर जाना है,
जिसे, सदियों तक, ज़माने को दोहराना है!
सती सावित्री की ही तरह, लेकिन इस बार,
अपनी जान, यम् से, छीन कर लाना है!

तू बढ़ आगे,
तू तोड़ वो जंजीरें,
जो तुने खुद बाँधी हैं!
तेरे हाथ की लकीरें,
तो बस लकीरें हैं.
छोड़ इन सब बातों को,
पहचान इस ‘एक’ की ताक़त को,
और बहने दे,
बे रोक-टोक,
बिना किसी अवरोध के,
तेरे अन्दर जो आंधी है!

पहचान इस ‘एक’ की ताक़त को,
पहचान इस ‘एक’ की ज़हमत को,
जो तुने,
पता नहीं क्यूँ,
अपने अन्दर थामी है!

Money, Paisa, Currency...Damn! I love Barter!

2009-06-17T21:28:00.004+05:30

The good ol' days of barter are gone...where you could get the stuff you wanted in exchange of the stuff you had. How easy it would have been then. Damn! Now you need a rectangular piece of paper, mixed with cotton, silver and what not, with the face of a National Leader printed and valued arbitrarily(at least that's what it seems to me). It has some amount printed on it and you can now get stuff worth that amount in exchange of that Paper.

Funny! Isn't it? Well if not to you it will be definitely funny and foolish for our forefathers, if they were to return somehow. And sometimes it seems funny to me too...I do not know where this paper, named currency, comes from? I do not know how a price is tagged to it? And at times, I and most other people are not sure whether it is authentic or not? Still...we all are in a race to get more of it. So much so...that every aspect of our lives has become associated with it. We cannot excercise 'Our Free Will' until and unless we have 'enough' of these currency notes stacked in our bank accounts. Damn! Now they do not do that even...Our banks hold just the information of how much we would have of these currency notes and shelve them out when we require...again...I do not know from where.

This is all so confusing, so frustrating...and yet I am pursuing the same path which billions of other people have treaded and are treading. I do not wish to believe the economics and financial fundas behind all this. I very well know the Gold Bullion postulation which got banished by the 'New Age' commerce theory where the import, export and the purchase of the currency determines its value. But again, who would believe that? And how will you explain to your House Maid who demands more of it every month, in lew of her services, without understanding any of this Commerce or the current Economic Scenario?

This whole race to get more of it has reached a different level of madness. Nuclear Weapons being made, Countries invading Countries, Terrorism, Destruction, Economic bans, Pollution, Recession, Unemployment...Damn! Why the hell all this?

And amidst these...How a man, who for no fault of his is now facing a bankcruptcy, supposed to feed his hungry stomach and take care of his family? Man! How I would have loved to live in those days of Barter system! Damn!

Highway to Hell

2009-06-10T00:58:00.005+05:30

In the past two months…I have been frequented by this new found phenomena in my life called – Illness. Damn! It is so very difficult to be ill. Prior to these two months, the only memory of any kind of illness I have had is of Mumps I developed when I was in Std. 5 or 6. After that it had been nothing. I never noticed this, till a few months back, through some conversation I started recalling that I have not been ill, not even suffered from fevers or cough and cold for a long long time…and Wham! I was gifted the sweet blessings of Jaundice! Then this terrible Ear Drum Rupture…and now Sinus.

Yes, yes, yes! In this hot and sizzling month of June, when Sun Lord showers down his most powerful blessings, I have amassed a bona fide cold season disease. And adding to the crowning glory was an incident, unparalleled and unforeseen. I was bashed up by gang of six hooligans.

Nopes! This is not a work of fiction. I was actually bashed, smashed, squished and sloshed by 6 full grown men whom I caught stealing petrol from my bike stationed at a lonely parking at 1:30 am. Well not all 6 of them were stealing…it was just one of them, but as soon as I caught him and roughed him a little(could administer him with exactly 2 slaps)… Voila! Out come 6 brawny men from nowhere and start giving me the feeling of the punching bag hanging in the middle of a boxing ring. Six kick boxers all around me taking their best shots. Left hook…a right…centre hook…flying kicks…full swing…K.O.! They win! They win! Within a minute I am lying on the ground..splat! Groaning…and bruised! Suddenly I realise there’s blood…shucks! My forehead has busted open…blood was trickling down my face, onto my neck and torn shirt...and like a typical, baffled and absolute - buffoon...I was rolling all over the ground...sorry... all over the tarmac... in terrible shock. Yes, not in pain but in shock! Didn't know what to do? How to run away? How to save myself?

Then...I had the most unexpected of the saviours...The Thief himself. The guy whom I had roughed up...ok...salpped twice, came to my rescue. Lifted me up...tied my shirt around me somehow...and asked me to head home as fast as I could. This itself was quite a shock...but the biggest of them came when I looked around and found around 6-7 security guards of nearby ATMs, societies and shops... all assembled there, and...just enjoying the show...standing there idly! Got really pissed off by that...but had to save my arse...so ran to my bike. Surprisingly, I was not feeling any pain...at least at that moment. But, I guess those kick boxers hadn't had enough...they started following me on their bikes. They followed me to my Society's building and then wandered off.

It took me sometime to get out of all the shocks I had had, and assess my injuries. A busted forehead, a blood clot underneath right eye, a swollen neck, 3 blood clots on chest and a terrible pain in abdominal area. Whoof! I was let off! I am saved. No broken bones...No major injuries...No internal bleeding...No stitches required.

Lord be praised! For giving me such wonderful experiences and so horrorless moments. I am thankful! I'll always be.

And yes, People...a few words of Caution here:-

Never wander alone in the streets late night,as it doesn't matter whether you are in Australia or India, there are goons out there.
Even IF you decide to wander, let the goons do their job. Do not interfere.
IF you wish to interfere, let it be verbose and NOT physical inerference.
And, the most IMPORTANT lesson: All the above lessons are 'Parental' in their origin...so you DO NOT necessarily take them. Do your thing. Enjoy your experiences. And laugh them off! What say?

However Lord! You can keep them coming...I will take them on...Head On...and will keep on singing this:

Living easy, living free
Season ticket on a one-way ride
Asking nothing, leave me be
Taking everything in my stride
Don’t need reason, don’t need rhyme
Ain’t nothing I would rather do
Going down, party time
My friends are gonna be there too

I’m on the highway to hell

No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody’s gonna slow me down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody’s gonna mess me round
Hey Satan, paid my dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey momma, look at me
I’m on my way to the promised land

I’m on the highway to hell
(don’t stop me)

And I’m going down, all the way down
I’m on the highway to hell

-AC/DC
Highway to Hell

Take me home to Africa!!

2009-05-29T11:59:00.000+05:30

Long time…it’s been a really long time(almost a week!) since I broke my shackles of melancholy and wrote something worth reading. And I guess, I cannot blame myself alone for it. Anyways…no more imprudent talks about what happened and what did not. But, what should I talk about? My bouts with Lady Luck? Naah!…I guess, I have tormented you all enough about her…she can wait a few more days to be glorified much more…Then?… My philosophy? Naah!...Too tedious for this moment…Then…Then??...How about ‘Me’?... Yessssss!! As it is…talking about yourself is the most interesting topic anyone can think of…plus you will get to know me much better…And… you all can have an inspiration, an idol to look up to.

I am the kind of guy who can cause envy even to the superstars(mind it… ‘superstars’) of… African Film Industry (Kenya, Nigeria, Sudan, Somalia, Rwanda…If…If at all movies are made out there…I really don’t know at this moment…and Somali Bandits! Please don’t feel offended after reading this…I did not have any intentions to hurt your sentiments…Please don’t kill me! :( ).

Do you still have doubts?

I have the skin color of richest of Black shades. My superiority here(criterion being skin color) can be challenged only by the bush-men of the Kalahari Desert. Also, I have a much better physique than any of them. Take my word…none of them can flaunt the paunch I have…or even the flab hanging out from almost every part of the body. My receding hair line with a blossom of grey hairs(I must remind I am just 25), my pearl white teeth(with Tar depositions due to a prolific habit called Smoking), protruding eyes, misaligned ears(one being lower than the other…thanks to my chivalrous childhood and the subsequent reward I got as burnt right ear…the marks somehow have disappeared now:(:( ), the double chinned jaw line, cheeks highlighted by acne craters comparable to Moon’s surface… make my candidature for stardom in Africa almost inevitable. The only disappointing feature is my nose :(…somehow there’s nothing good about it(Very unlikely of me! :( …You are still welcome to suggest its qualities after going through my ‘dashing’ portfolio pics).

That was about my looks(impressive…eh??)…Now I give you the honor of knowing some of my inherent and exorbitant qualities…and my persona. The topmost feature on that list is-My Voice. ‘Karkash’ is how it is described in Hindi. For those who have difficulty understanding that word…try refreshing your memory and answer these…Have you heard the soothing, serene sound coming out of a lorry’s air horn? Have you ever heard the melodious Transistor play at any Beetle shop(Paan ki Tapri)? Have you heard the superb symphony of the Public Address system at any ST Bus Stand? Have heard the melodramatic Villains(in Bollywood) of yesteryears like Jeevan, Ajit, Amrish Puri or Amjad Khan laugh there characteristic humble laughs? If you are still not able to identify…I am sorry you will never understand how emphatic and pleasing my voice is…and will never be able to appreciate my singing abilities. I must tell you that…although I have not had had a formal training…my singing is appreciated so much by my friends, near and dear ones and even my neighbors that every time I start singing they ask me to savor it and save it for my professional appearance in the African Film Industry.

Another indomitable skill I have is – dancing. I know, I belong to the African Film Industry whenever I see a recorded video of me dancing. The way I sway, swing, hop and jump… I can beat those tribesmen and Zulus from the deepest of the forests of Africa, in any form of dancing they know. My specialty in Dancing – My Pelvic thrusts and my Pseudo Dancing by mere movement of hands(coordinating hands and feet is something most people can do…but to make them believe that I am dancing just by the movement of hands is an art..which I specialize in.) My Pelvic Thrusts are ‘superb’(as described by my friends)…Its something which will make even Mithun Da hide into sheets of inferiority. They are, as described by my younger brother, so vulgar that he has pledged not to dance with me ever again.

By now, I have started believing I was destined to be a super star in Africa, but by some miscalculations of the Lord was sent to another beleaguered state - Bihar. I can see myself making history in that Industry. I would become a multi-faceted film personality there. I would get into script writing too. My ‘short and crisp’ story telling technique(which you should have noticed by now), the unsophisticated vocabulary I use and the kind of variety I have in my write ups…make me perfect for the job.

Dad! Had you been able to identify these traits much before I had the wisdom to…Imagine…just imagine…The kind of money I would have been making by now… Those Somali Shillings or Rwandan Francs I would be bathing in... Those sexy African babes that would be dying to marry me…. The kind of living I would be having in those countries. I have missed a lot…but will soon make an attempt to recover. Don’t worry folks…I have to…and will make it big there! I think it’s my destiny…I understand you guys will miss me a lot here…but don’t worry…I will keep sending you DVDs of my movies…after all you don’t deserve to miss a super-talent like me. Till then…Cowabunga!! (See…I can speak Zulu too :) :) )

Going Mad!!...Or Am I?

2009-05-26T21:35:00.011+05:30

I once had a status message on my office communicator...which was also something I believed in...and amazingly, loads of people found it very funny. It read " The Only Difference Between Me and a Mad Man is...I am NOT MAD!!"

Lately...The line is diminishing. At least I feel so...Everything and anything even remotely connected or concerned with me has been going berserk...And I do not have any control over any of them...I am losing it!

I feel like this:

Helpless and clueless. Zoinged! Dunno even what that means...I guess now I am justifying the title of this blog...Whimsical...although it seems an understatement for my current situate...And probably this man describes precisely what I am going through:

And just wish that Crazy Harry had his detonator wires glued to my brain

Then I stumble upon this:

And I suddenly start feeling...mmm...Enlightened! And yes... Elated!

Thanks to my fellow blogger at my organization - Ronak...I could lay my hands on this....

I guess...for the moment...I should hold on to myself. What say?

The Fist Of Love!

2009-05-24T17:33:00.005+05:30

The fist...as you can see...hides off... the truth, the beauty, the Love. And the fist...not as you can see here...has many manifestations...many interpretations. The fist also has the capability to give you two good hooks and leave you with a black eye! The fist can be a somebody’s inhibitions surmounted by societal policing and the subsequent upbringing. OR it can be Love itself. Yes, an unforeseen, untold, unheard of ...Love.

A Love so deep and profound that sacrifice and acquiescence, witnessed new heights. A Love, which defies all normalcy. I heard of such a love for the first time. It swayed me off. It was an awesome story. Hard to believe that someone is actually living the story. A story which brought tears and smiles, together. And I was absolutely clueless of the outcomes and results. But, who cares about destination (only in such cases) when the path is so beautiful? I have been swept off my feet. I am awe-inspired. I am humbled. I feel richer, just by listening to, and witnessing the existence of such a feelings and emotions. I feel the eloquent story has given me a breath of, much desired, fresh air.

I just wish...that fist of Love would vanish, somehow. Give way to happiness and togetherness. Hope this story has a happy ending. Hope I can be as ecstatic about the outcome, as I am about the proceedings so far. Also, I believe...Every story has a happy ending...and if it does not...it is not the end. (Yes, I have picked it from a movie...but it’s apt...Isn’t it?) Somewhere...I also have a feeling in some corner of me...telling me...that I actually...do not wish for this to end. I just do not like the existence of that fist anymore.

Also...Sir Elton John's words would be only an understatement, yet a little fitting to commemorate this awesome Love Story.

Its a human sign
When things go wrong
When the scent of her lingers
And temptations strong

Into the boundary
Of each married man
Sweet deceit comes calling
And negativity lands

Cold cold heart
Hard done by you
Some things look better baby
Just passing through

And its no sacrifice
Just a simple word
Its two hearts living
In two separate worlds
But its no sacrifice
No sacrifice
Its no sacrifice at all

Mutual misunderstanding
After the fact
Sensitivity builds a prison
In the final act

We lose direction
No stone unturned
No tears to damn you
When jealousy burns

I love you my friend...I'll be with you...through thick and thin...You can count on me!

Deafening!!

2009-05-22T19:54:00.005+05:30

We all love the ol' saying in Hindi "उपर वाला जब देता है...तो छप्पड़ फाड़ के देता है। " (Deciphered: When God showers his blessings on thou...He busts open the ceiling with it!) I too love it and agree with it. Completely. Without an iota of doubt. And for me, God's 'One of the Favourite' Child ...this saying has come true quite a few times now.

I love him. Everytime he does that to me.

Answering a few of these, might help understand what I am trying to say.

Have you ever had that pain, in any part of your body, that you wanted to roll all over the floor and kick the air around your feet as fast as you can?

Did you ever feel...that terrible...horrible pain...that you believed its the end of your life?

A pain, so mind numbing, that you come to know of a Blackout for the first time?

Alright...I'll explain.
I was, till very recently, suffering from a nightmare of disease(as Iam an ardant fan of products rolled out from United Breweries) , called - Jaundice. It meant, no oily food(of the likes of Zinger, Chicken Maharaja, Tandoori Chicken :( and plenty more..), no form of alcohol and no exhertions(i.e. no weekend, short bike trips) for me.

I had just started to come to terms with such a living, that all of a sudden, out of nowhere a pain-with the objective of killing me, arises in my left ear. That pain, almost succeeds in achieving its objective. I am rushed to the Hospital, half-dead with pain. A Doctor pokes around my ear, with apparatus meant to draw out my ear, rather than save it. Then, he punctures my sorry bottom, with two sharp, long, nail-like needles...with an excuse that this heinous act would help subside the pain.... Ya! Right!

I was still lying numb on the Doctor's bed, shocked by the two devstating events that had happened in quick succession...and his evil device still plugged in to my ear, that he speaks those magical words.
I heard them loud and clear.
You will understand the irony of the last statement by this: The Doctor said "Mr Deepak! Your left ear drum is 75% depleted."

What? What the heck? Hello! Are you sure? What does this mean? Depleted?

He explains "The tympanic membrane or the ear drum is ruptured, almost 3/4th of it. It has been eaten away by the Mid-ear infection you have incurred. We will have to keep you on medication for 15 days and then look out for options"

This is how a rupture looks!

Options? What options? Be specific Mr Doctor!
Then he revealed...THE OPTION: Grafting a new ear drum, with the my skin, courtesy a small surgery.
Expenses: Not sure yet...approximately Rs 10000.
Convalescence Period: 2-3 days.
Effect: Huge amount of losses. Monetary and hearing.

WOW! As if You were not happy to see me blessed already, and wished this to happen.
Thank You Lord! Thank You so much! I feel blessed! Keep'em coming!

But, this was...to say the least...quite Deafening! :(:(

...An honour!!...For me!!...am Obliged!!

2009-05-19T22:10:00.006+05:30

This was a surprise! And for a change...A good one! Me being awarded...the thought itself is Amazing, Overwhelming and without much exaggeration - Powerful ...But, as Uncle Ben says “With great power...Comes great Responsibilities”. This time it’s a responsibility of being honest...not once or twice, but 10 times...Hmm! Difficult it seems on the onset...I will try and give it my best shot, but not before I pay my due regards to the man who passed on the award to me...Mr Hashir Tufail or Hash...after his ‘Saga of Nicknames’ ...I am obliged, to say the least, Sire! Thanks a lot for the consideration. I will cherish this forever.

And now, to the responsibility part. 10 facts about me:-

I am a Biking enthusiast, which I guess people know. Have ticked around 15000kms on odo of my T-Bird in the past two years, around Pune and a little far.
I am an even bigger fanatic of Cars. Driving brings out the best of me. Give me a Maruit 800(the lowest end car) or a Skoda Laura (the highest end car, I’ve driven), I will be just going gaga about the fact that I am driving.
I am the kind of guy, who does not have the knack to pick up and learn from other’s mistake. I have gotten into a habit of committing each one of them and then learning.
I can draw a little, write a little, dance a little, play a little...basically – an awesome example of ‘Jack of All Trades’(at least, that’s what I love to consider about myself), except for a very important trade-singing. I cannot sing, not even hum.
I have tremendous amounts of ‘Mental Energy’. Ya! I can go on and on and on...much more than a Duracell...if I am liking something...and I won’t dare say ‘I am tired’.
I have, at this moment, a very faint idea as to where my life is heading.
I have a considerably good memory. I remember things. Although, at times, I am able to imagine that I may have seen or heard something, because of which I utter out a few incorrect examples...otherwise...I prefer to speak only when I know they are facts.
I am 5’ 11.5” (182 cms) tall, but never give that tall effect, one of the saddest fact, I feel, about me.
I have an opinion about almost everything in and around my life, but seldom give them words as I have this strange paranoia, that people will not get what I am speaking. Hence, I tend to get too elaborstive.
I worship my father. He is my only God. I Idolise him. Although, this will be quite a small mention to what he means to me, I would still like to say, the day I feel I am even half of what he is, I will be the happiest man walking the face of Earth.

Humph!! Done!!It was one of the most difficult tasks.
Thanks Hash. Now, to pass it on...not in any order of preference...
Braja

Tys

Sleepwalker

Hip Hop Grandma

Stargazer

Each one of them being very special...and more importantly - Stalwarts...that I do not even know, whether I am the right guy to pass them this...I just hunbly bow down and request!
This, was one of my most honest scrap(and probably the most devoit of interest for readers)...yet, I loved it! Thank you!

Witnessing History - Indian General Elections 2009

2009-05-18T21:12:00.007+05:30

Last Two Days - Perspective of an innocently ignorant Indian!

When you are twenty something, and have been a witness to only a few overwhelming events like the Kargil War, 9/11 attacks, Attack on Indian Parliament, the Afghanistan attacks, the devastation of Iraq, 26/11 attack on Mumbai and a few others of which you have only a faint memory like the advent of Terrorism in Jammu and Kashmir, the Gulf War, Demolition of Babri Masjid, the 1993 Mumbai blasts and riots – events about which your grand children will read in their History text books; you can only marvel at the last two days.

The last two days are all the more special for an average wage earner in any Industry, who has had a very small career to speak off, and to be more specific – his recent experiences with the global scenario-be it economic or political, have sent a chill down his spine, if not scared him outright – made him worry about his future.

Although, not quite as dramatic as the incidents mentioned above. Although, not as media frenzy as some of the recent events. The last two days have rekindled the light of Hope in the gloomy eyes of a young lad, who had just stepped into the realms of Career, Growth, Family, Investments, Savings and Future. He is witnessing History in the making.

He will be able to raise his head, keep it held high, and will be able to say that, in a Democracy like India, with such dwindling political scenario – he witnessed the rise of an Intelligent Voter – A voter, who voted for Performance and not his caste; A voter, who voted for the Growth of his country and not his region; A voter, who did not foray into the woods of communalism and rather walked the path of betterment; A voter, who gave a clear mandate – not just at the centre but in the various states too; A voter, who dared to go against the stalwarts; A voter; who could think of Stability as the first step towards his better future.
Important: Hereby, I am not proclaiming that only a particular party which has come into power would have provided stability, growth or prosperity, instead, I am talking about the clear mandate which the voter has shown after almost two and a half decades – and that too not riding on the sympathetic waves of the death of a charismatic National Leader.

The result was not just a smile on the faces of all those voters or the common man or the young, who had had enough of the daily chagrins of the Economic Recession, the lack of resources and opportunities, the grandeur of scams and bankruptcies, the falling indices and the rising annoyances – It was a restoration. Restoration of faith – in Democracy. Restoration of belief – that Work gets rewarded. Restoration of the saying – the evil will lose eventually(read: the stalwarts, who used to win based on their dirty politics, but this time losing out on all fronts). Restoration of Hope – The future will be better.

And what better way to express all this, than to pull the ‘economic indicator’ – The Stock Markets to new found heights in a single day. This was again a history in the making. You will again be able to say that – you witnessed the day, when never before in the history, nor in the near future, the investors of the country expressed their solidarity with this new found enthusiasm, this display of Stability which the country showed – by pulling the markets up by almost 18%. The day was phenomenal. The markets opened for just 60 seconds. And in these 60 seconds BSE Sensex grew 2100 points stronger and the NSE Nifty 650 points. Anyone who has the faintest of idea what these indices are will acknowledge this as a phenomena, which, we can only wonder when will be repeated.

We witnessed History – the very making of it. History of quite a different kind, from what we have observed till date. There was no bloodshed, there was nobody dying, it wasn’t a far cry from humanity, it wasn’t scary. Instead, It gave us a reason to smile. It took off some of the weight we had put on our shoulders. It somehow, was a sigh of relief.

Stability was given its situate. However, It’s still not the time to go gaga about anything. It’s still not the end of all worries – It’s just the first step. Lot many steps are yet to be taken. Lot many improvements still to happen. Patience is a virtue. And it pays!

Stability also found its way in our neighbour’s home. Sri Lanka got the news of the death of its biggest trouble maker, thereby the end of a very stretched and distasteful clash, for the demand of a new state, and a final restoration of peace.
How often do you get to witness such pleasantly eventful days? We are blessed!

Here’s a list of events and turn a rounds which deserve a mention:-

Dr. ManMohan Singh becomes the first Prime Minister to return to office after serving a full 5 year term, after Pt. JawaharLal Nehru
The Left Front lost its main battleground West Bengal and Kerela. They are reminded that gone are the days of mindless vandalism.
The caste based politics of Mr Lalu Yadav and Ram Vilas Paswan was booted away by the voters. RJD reduced to a mere 4 in LS and LJP getting no seats.
MNS too was shown that mere sensationalising of issues will never take you anywhere. No seats won by them too.
All the big talks were cut short and the braggers were brought down to their knees. The leading examples being Mr Amar Singh of SP, Mr Varun Gandhi of BJP and all those who claimed the government could not be formed without their support.
For the first time we reached close to a clear mandate for a pre-conceived alliance; post the death of Indira Gandhi and 1984 elections.
For the first time the Stock Markets responded so over enthusiastically to any good news, pulling the markets up by 18% in a single day.
Prabhakaran, Leader of LTTE either committed suicide or was killed by the Army of Sri Lanka, thereby ending the more than two decade long armed struggle.

P.S.: Please feel free - to correct any discrepancy in the data provided OR to mouth your opinion against any of the argument presented.

Here's how to grow a beard?

2009-05-11T03:00:00.001+05:30

I am growing a Beard Do you need to disfigure it any more?

Occasionally, I've been known to be somewhat opinionated. Oops. Somebody just caught that typo. I am told I have been known to be VERY opinionated. I have at least two opinions on just about every topic. I am sure there are times when people have felt like rearranging my face.

Unfortunately (for them!) there is no legal method for them to do that. Being a kind and generous individual, I have been searching for ways to help these unfortunate victims of my over-active opinionation. Finally, I have found a way to rearrange my face. To help them out, I have grown a beard. It was so easy, you can do it, too.

Here is how to grow a beard. (Ladies, please don't try this at home.) On Day 1, I did nothing. On Day 2, I did nothing again. On Day 3, I did nothing twice. On Day 4, I verified that nothing was still being done. Then I simply repeated the cycle. It's been about three or four weeks, and my face is definitely rearranged.

Is my growing beard the inevitable result of declining budgets at the Witness Protection Program?
To tell the truth, the decision to grow my beard was not just to atone for my hyperopinionation. In fact, what I really wanted to do was to see how I looked in a beard. Yes, curiosity is the real reason I have been growing a beard. Oops, there goes my ever-efficient critic, catching a typo again. I am told that line should have read: "Laziness is the real reason I have been growing a beard."

Truth be told, I did the four-day nothing cycle more by accident. When you work out of home and have nobody to impress but a skunk under the porch, a stray cat meandering about, the withering cherry tree sapling and a handful of flocking sparrows, the days can just kind of get away from you. Before I knew it, I had the foundation of a growing beard. That's when I got curious. And lazy.
Some have suggested that I am growing my beard to make up for my receding hairline. I've heard it all.
"Once upon a time, your hair was on top of your head. Now, your head is on top of your hair."
"Your hair must have slipped off your head, and now it's hanging on for dear life."
"That solar panel you had installed up there is really fueling a growth below."
"The 'Hanging Gardens of Babble-on'"
Ha, ha, very funny.
I think my curiosity is settled. I am still lazy, but I am ready to shave off my beard.
Unfortunately, my mother has not yet seen it, so I am keeping it on by special request until she can see it. Due to a heavy schedule, that visit might take a while. But sooner or later, the beard will have to go. I don't want to be mistaken for Charles Manson. Nor Fidel Castro. Nor Josephia Quade, whomever she is.
And summer is not the best season for growing a beard. It would make more sense in winter. In summer, it will only make my face sweat. But what will finally end my curiosity – and my laziness! – is food. When something sufficiently ooey and gooey gets stuck in the beard – something that I just cannot identify – that will probably scare me into shaving it off. Besides, all this beard-growing is probably of little comfort to those people wanting most to rearrange my face because of my vocal opinions.
Knowing how to grow a beard won't solve their problem.

A stapler might.

Bill of Rights

2009-05-03T23:55:00.002+05:30

I am not a purist or perfectionist. I have always been taught to look for faults in myself, before pointing fingers at others. And, I follow this because I believe in it. I have also somehow, never been able to market myself. I can never speak and say - Look! This is what I have done. I believe my actions, my work and my deeds will speak for me, as and when required. So, I do not talk, try and refrain from bragging.

I have also realised expecting the same from people is foolishness. Pulling down my morale is another foolishness. I have to stop behaving as an emotional fool. I do not have the capability to realise the motive behind people talking. So, I should not judge people by their talks.

All this was troubling me, when I spoke to one of my closest friend and also one of my mentors. And, like he always does, he spoke to me some magical words which changed my tempo, flipped my morale from sogging low to refreshing high. Me and one Mr. Manyu(another of my closest friend) always thank our stars that, this guy is present in our lives to grant us 'salvation'.

He gave me a Bill of Rights. He read it out for me. Explained it to me, although the bill was quite explanatory itself. And it worked wonders for me. I am trying to make a sincere attempt to reproduce the bill, although I know I have missed a few points. But, still...ammendments and additions are most welcome. Especially from you CMT. Here it goes.

I have the right to have my needs and wants respected by others
I have the right to my own needs for personal space and time.
I have the right to make decisions based on my feelings.
I have the right not to give excuses or reasons for my behavior
I have the right to be uniquely myself.
I have the right to ask for what I want.
I have the right to say no to requests or demands I can't meet.
I have the right to express all of my feelings, positive or negative.
I have the right to change my mind.
I have the right to make mistakes and not have to be perfect.
I have the right to follow my own values and standards.
I have the right to determine my own priorities.
I have the right not to be responsible for others' behavior, actions, feelings or problems.
I have the right to feel scared and say " I am afraid".
I have the right to be in a nonabusive environment.

Do I have a soul?

2009-05-03T18:02:00.004+05:30

History is one subject which has amazed me always. You get to know so much about your forefathers, your culture, your heritage, but its significance lies beneath a much deeper and profound knowledge of yourself and your reason of existence. I am no Mahatma or Sage nor a Scholar Historian or Anthropologist. Whatever questions or thoughts that arise in my quintessential intellect are all my simple and non-perplexed observations of daily life. I used to be pretty amazed by the holy epics integral to our ‘Hindustani’(no pun intended) way of living :- The Ramayana and The Mahabharata. I was able to draw plenty of contemporary similarities from them, I used to think the societies then and now were quite similar except for one thing – the evil which prevailed then was and is much less compared to the evil today. There’s a bit of Satan prevailing and pervading in all of us. In fact, it much more looks like Satan ruling this world these days and yet Lord, the Almighty is not making his presence felt, is not showing his divine interference to us to get us rid of our fears, the way he did in the days of Ramayana and Mahabharata. I used to deliberate over this a lot. I even believe in his non-existence, that there is no supreme power called God and that man’s saviour is none other than man himself. Whatever God we talk of resides only within us.

But, yesterday, while going through an online translated version of Shreemad Bhagvad Geeta, I came across a famous sonnet whose meaning I understood for the foremost time – Our souls(which we claim we have) is never born nor it dies, it simply changes its form, gets passed on. This, if you all agree with and is true, leaves an unsullied doubt in my mind at least – that how come then is the population of this world is increasing? How come new souls are taking birth, if the soul never takes birth? Is this soul present only in human beings and animals? If this is so, hasn’t our numbers increased over the ages? Where is the soul in our bodies coming from? And, then there was a question, which left me in complete silence and void which raised an element of doubt on my whole existence – Do I have a soul?

My Dear Friend - Black!!

2009-04-27T02:37:00.003+05:30

Not being much interested in Biology, I can only marvel how thin strands of micro-microscopic DNA be the cause of everything we are…Right from the colour of our eyeballs to our behaviour…so miniscule to so macro. I also do not have much complaints about their functioning, except for the fact that they also determine the colour of your skin, seemingly at random. I use the term at random, because the shade of black which they chose for me cannot be explained by any logic. People say it’s your parents or grandparents whose skin colour we inherit. But, surprisingly, in my case, my Mom falls into the category of ‘Fair’, my granddad was the fairest of the clergy, all my other grandparents can be considered fair, my Dad although is a bit on my side of the shade card…still, I am not able figure out why was I supposed to be the darkest of them all…to be more precise and exact…Black!

Not that I have any grudges, or complaints, or inferiority-complex(I have risen above this particular form of discrimination… way early)…but, somehow, Black has become an integral part of my life…it has become my identity…rather it is one of my identities ever since I was made to step out of the confines of the cosy, calm and tranquil –home. During my kindergarten days, since there was one of my namesake, I was known as the ‘Dark Deepak’…A name, which, changed manifestations and annotations… metamorphosed…all through the different stages and different group of friends… and now after enough twists and turns has almost gained a constancy and loyalty of everyone…. I am now widely and universally known as ‘Kallu’…pronounced as ‘cul – loo’. I find it very surreal though, as it lacks the innovation and creativity you would generally find in other nick names assigned to your friends. I am black, and my name is just a mere translation of ‘ a black guy’ in Hindi…and although it has been so widely accepted…it is much boring than my previous names like Black Beauty(when I was a 3rd grader and we had a story to read in our curriculum by the same name, about a horse, and the sense of humour of an average 3rd grader is of levels where they are just very satisfied by naming you after any animal), or Kallu Kaalan Kaaliya(named after the famous character played by the famous actor Gulshan Grover in the not-so-famous movie Pyar Ke Kabil, and also because of his famous dialogue from the same movie… “Mera naam hai Kallu Kaalan Kaaliya…Log dete hain mujhe gaaliyaan” :)), or Thodanga(pronounced as ‘Thho-daan-gaa’) aka Thodi (a famous villain of Raj Comics who posed serious threat to the world sitting in his hut in the Jungles of Africa…and who was finally sawed to death by NagRaj…for people who have not read Raj Comics or NagRaj…please enlighten yourself!)…Anyways…I am still ‘OK’ with the name…as I guess people find it very difficult to part Black from my identity. I feel, black may be beautiful, if not gorgeous…and I personally am in love with black...be it black cars… black bikes… black mobile phones… Black Label..oops!...I am just head over heels in love with Black

I guess the DNAs were playing a mystifying role ever since my Mom conceived me…as, when I try and recall my earliest days…I had this fascination without any of the external factors playing any role…I remember getting thrashed by my Mom because I used to paint the walls, refrigerator doors…basically everything within my reach into black...I used to be very happy on Friday’s when I was in kindergarten as we had to wear black shorts…My Dad bought a Maruti 800 when I was a 1st grader…and I cried, instead of being ecstatic, the day he brought it home…as it was not black(the bike he owned was a Yezdi-250Classic in pure black, and I loved it so much that I had to literally rebel against my Mom and Dad not to sell it...even in the year 2004)…I got scolded by my Granddad, for the first and the last time when I was a 12th grader…because he got to have a look in my wardrobe which had only…different shades of black(and of course blue jeans)and which he disliked a hell lot for reasons unknown…My favourite music is Death Metal with Black Sabbath as my favourite band…My current bike a Royal Enfield Thunderbird is black.

If I am asked to write a message to black…it will be:-

“My dear friend Black...I am not sure of what you imply to the rest of the world and in what connotations you have been used by them...I am also not sure as in why you are disliked by a majority, and why your shade of skin is not preferred…but, if this brings any respite to you(and even if you are oblivious to hate or love you get from people) …I will always be your loyal admirer…your best friend…your ardent aficionado…Take care…Love You!”

I am not an atheist [:(]

2009-04-23T03:15:00.001+05:30

Point taken! I am not good at writing short stories( or the Loooong short stories). Not many readers of the story(I better call it A Desription of an Event in My Life now) I posted last. May be I am becoming too reader centric, in terms of writing what they would like to read and not writing What I Feel(and I, obviously, know that all my posts are about me and not the readers). I also got the point, that I can never write to appease the readers.

Also, the past few days have been quite an experience. I saw a few ups, and a lot of lows. Pointless to reiterate the fact that, most of the times things do not go according to your plan. Heck! It is not even, ever close to your plan.

I was supposed to attend a very near and dear friend's wedding. I could not. Because?
Well, first my WL/1 Ticket to Lucknow in First AC did not get confirm, although I had booked it quite a few days in advance. Then, all the Trains to Lucknow from Nashik arrived jam packed, that it was impossible to even set foot in the Sleeper Class Coaches. And during all this I even witnessed the most horrible scene in my life. A poor girl, probably 14-15 years of age, who earned her bread by cleaning the compartments of the Train, got slashed while getting off one. There was a shower of blood all around. Squeals. Screams. Chaos. And all that remained on the platform, after, was her body sans head and arms. I could not stand the sight. Why did she deserve such a horrible death?

Continuing. I was supposed to get around Rs 40,000 from my organization as My recievables, with the help of which I was supposed to clear all my debts I have incurred during my illness. Instead, I get a message : We have processed your Bills and Payments, but at this moment, in the current scenario, we cannot attach a Date to the Payment of the same. Regards, Payroll Department.
What else did I need pals?

I was supposed to see one of our(My Friends and a li'l bit of mine) beloved endeavour alive, kicking and most importantly Online, latest by Friday(of previous week). But, its Friday morning and I am yet not sure whether we will be able to give it life, even today.

I did not get through the interview of any of MBA colleges I had applied to(DOM, IIT Delhi/VGSOM, IIT Kgp/Symbiosis...and as you can make out from the list, I did not have calls from any other). I do not consider my job great enough to add value to me in the next one year. I seriously need to endow a better path, but I am stuck, at the same place I was in four months back, still pondering what to do next?

To sum it up in a shorter sentence: I am facing a huge crisis.

What will happen? I do not know!

I am from a middle class family. Our roots are in a village which has not witnessed modernisation of any kind, and till very late 90's was often vandalised by dacoits. Infact, and I do not have any shame in saying, that we belonged to the poorest of the poor families of that poor village. However, My Dad and My Mom are quite brilliant, laborious, persevering and sacrificing; and their rigorous, unselfish and undying efforts pulled out our family(not just me and my sisters, but all my uncles and aunts- paternal and maternal) from those trenches of poverty onto the roads of growth, prosperity and most important of all - Respect.

My parents did teach me about the most valuable virtues, according to them, in times of distress:
- Patience
- Ability to Strive even Harder
- Farsightedness
- And, Faith in GOD, that he will make everything alright.

Well, I practice the first three without any doubt. Even today. The last one... I have trouble following. Not lately, but probably ever since the first chapter of the lesson was being imparted to me. I could, somehow, never develop a faith in 'GOD being responsible for everything'.

I have always believed in GOD. I have always prayed [:(], even though it was for the sake of my parents or at times when I had no other shoulder to cry at. I try and talk to Him, quite often. And it turns out I am talking to myself and nobody else. Still, I believe in Him. That he is there. Supreme. But, only as a mere audience. I must reiterate though, that, I am not an atheist.

The problem I have is - In the end, when things do seem to turn in our favour, Why does he get the credit for everything we do? I mean, Why should I thank him for the perseverance I displayed? Why should I say It was because of Him I could pass through the phase, when it was me struggling? And, even when I am in a situation, troubling me like I have never been troubled...Why should I blame Him? Why is he rsponsible for anything bad happening to me? Am I not the master of my Life? Then, why should I credit or blame anybody else for the events and happenings in it?
Doesn't make me Great when I thank him. Nor do I prove to be a genious for blaming him. Then why?

GOD, I know you are up there...and listening or may be reading all this...and I do not hold anything against you. You have given us a wonderful World to live in.Thank you for that.
I am just looking for some Answers...and I do not know whom to ask.

A BITian!

2009-04-22T01:37:00.005+05:30

BIT, Mesra(...and No! Its not BITS, Ranchi)...is where I spent 4 of my most memorable years...Got so much...that it is difficult to put it down in words ...here in this space of a small post.

So, I just started reading, what other of my fellow BITians have ever written about it. Found plenty of GREAT articles. But, the most interesting piece(for me) was the one I have sufficed here.

The following notes are taken from Mr Sidhartha Maheshwari's FaceBook Notes. Couldn't help but copying and publishing it here. Its an awesome note. A must read for every BITian. And...also, A must read for every unfortunate Non-BITian. :) Sorry! But, that's the fact ...the life in an engineering college is uncomparable...especially at BIT, Mesra. And Dude!(Sidhartha) I am sorry for cutting a few points out from your original post...as in our times, we did not have DC++, nor did the Toilets Stink...and few more of the stuff i did not agree with.

You know you're from BIT, Mesra when...

1. You get a blazer cloth in the first semester even though there’s no uniform in college.

2. You have laughed, cried and occasionally shouted at the sign which says “Site for Swimming Pool”. (Even the sign board used has not been replaced for the past 50 years)

3. Your pleading to the professor on the very last day of class just got you beyond 75% in attendance.

4. You can’t remember the last time you took a bath.

5. Or ate breakfast for that matter.

6. The classroom fans stopped working during the examination of the semester’s toughest paper.

7. You make members of the student placement committee your best buddies for two months of your final year.

8. You cursed the dispensary doctor for refusing you an extra day’s medical leave for your non-existent illness.

9. You know Piya Milan Chowk. period.

10. You wonder why BIT doesn’t have a united cultural and technical fest on campus.

11. You can’t help going to the canteen again and again despite its crappy food of dodgy quality at inflated prices.

12. You’ve stood on other people’s feet in the student bus while two other people did the same to you.

13. You didn’t know what ‘pouwa’ or ‘proxy’ meant till the day you arrived and have become something of an expert on the subject now.

14. You shudder every time people call out “oh, so you’re from BITS Ranchi”.

15. You totally believed that MESRA meant “Military Engineering Services Restricted Area” the first time you heard about it.

16. You’ve scratched your head countless times over the presence of a roundabout in the middle of a jungle on the OC road.

17. You’ve fantasized about whipping the Electricity Dept people from cutting off power just before the exams.

18. You wish Ranchi prison had the same level of security, curfew times and amount of barbed wire as the inmates of hostel 9.

19. You’ve found books from every part of the universe in the library – except for the one you’re looking for.

20. You wished that winter timings could be carried over for just a wee bit longer.

21. Your common room is used only once a year: to store your luggage.

22. You know that the male:female ratio in the mechanical batches sucks.

23. You can’t wait for Bitotsav for a chance to sleep for 4 straight days.

24. And love the vc for cancelling the morning half after it’s over.

25. You’ve added the choicest bhojpuri slangs to your vocabulary.

26. You managed to pass 3 semesters with a single notebook.

27. You’ve learnt not to mess around with the Babas.

28. You’ve eaten a truckload worth of potatoes in 4 years time.

29. You wonder why he’s called ‘chaddi singh’ before comprehension hits you.

30. You know another accreditation team is coming when the buildings start getting painted all over the place.

31. You can’t be bothered with mundane activities such as classroom learning.

32. Or remembering the professor’s (real) name.

33. You see half the class disappear from the lab after the attendance is over.

34. All your exercise in the gym goes into fighting with the crowd for the few pieces of equipment lying around.

35. You make sure to lay the first claim to all the comics, magazine & newspapers circulating in class so as to not fall asleep.

36. You try fruitlessly to sing the ‘institute song’ (written in gobbeldygok) at the back of your lab journal.

37. You even know that the institute has its own song (no, i’m not talking about the ece one).

38. You never forget to pray, just before the vivas.

39. You know the exact force and angle required to hit the guy sitting on the 3rd bench to the right with chalk.

40. You visit bajrangi, the class topper’s room and mishra xerox (in that order) to prepare for exams.

41. Your dream company’s criteria just about excludes you from sitting for it.

42. You hate the NRIs.

43. There’s more hair on your pillow after a night’s sleep than on your head.

44. You declare yourself above all the bitching & dogfights behind club posts, and then contribute to it.

45. You know the exact auto fare to town, but never fail to haggle with the driver.

46. You rightly recognise any disgusting pink and pale yellow coloured building when you see one.

47. Despite your efforts, attendance in the 8 o’clock class remains permanently low.

48. You remember Khalsa and Munna’s menu better than your mess’ food.

49. Your final year project report is copy-paste job from the world wide web.

50. Munna Bhaiyya(you know who) gives you all the inside information of the college administration.

51. There's never a chance that at a given point of time everyone in the Hostel is sleeping.

52. You look for food at 4 a.m. in the morning, and you find it.

53. Tea and ParleG is integral part of your diet.

54. Almost every alternate night, you do not sleep in the room alotted to you.

55. You spent the better part of 15 minutes reading this post and totally loved it.

Any and every contribution to the above are welcome.

Love to Be the Victim of Luck 2 - The End

2009-04-17T19:17:00.006+05:30

While all this was happening to me, and I was so pre-occupied in saving my soul(a much more expressive and apt word has been replaced because of its graphic nature),that I was not able to sense the giggles, all around myself, which had started since I do not know when. I looked around, and I could hardly believe that all those faces which were pale white the last time I saw them, were turning red in the process of smothering their laughter. Every head was down, making their best of efforts not to offend Dr J*****…but somehow, nobody was able to cover it up enough to hide it from me.

Me standing there could not understand the cause and at that moment I could only return them my even perplexing looks. That somehow added fuel to the fire. I was later informed by my Gang that the reason for everyone’s giggles was the situation…out of nowhere Dr J***** pointed at me…and the way I was scared…and the way my facial expressions were changing with every passing second…it was giving Goosebumps in everyone’s stomach.

Anyways, I was still there, facing all the heat all alone…Miss VL was just getting a feeler of how it seems to face the ‘Terror’ in his full fury… meanwhile Dr J stood there not exactly aware of what step to take next, as it was a bizarre incident, in his career too…I guess. In a haste he made the Gang member sitting next to me stand up…and asked him the same question..Where was he, during the period? I do not understand to this day, as to how the fortitude to face terror had engulfed the entire class then…as he along with around 10 more guys who were made to stand up by Dr J…one after the other…had the audacity to say to him, in his face…that they were not there in the class...and Miss VijayaLaxmi could not confront them, even though she was able to identify a few of those who were standing…as the one’s present yesterday.

I was simply, loving the sight of the happenings. One after the other, each guy was standing up, facing him with better confidence and even better excuse of not being present in the class. I assure you, you would never have heard so many impeccable excuses for one cause, cropping up the mind of so many different people at the same time. I can also assure you of one more thing, that never in his career had even Dr J come across such imprudent bunch of students, it was so evident from his face…he was feeling helpless. And, I on the other hand was preparing myself for a celebration… “Here you go Lady(Luck)! I finally win one! You cannot pin me down, so easily!”…and that was it…I had underestimated her…The biggest mistake in the battlefield was committed…

She(Lady Luck) immediately grabbed upon this opportunity…and directed Dr J(who was on the verge of blowing up with anger and frustration) towards the most unpredictable guy of the class…He was not a part of any gang…Not loyal…neither a turncoat…nor has he ever displayed any signs of sensibility…We lovingly called him Bhaand(it is just an abridged version of how he pronounced Bond, so please don’t give wings to your imagination yet). He stood up lazily as if all through this wonderful drama…he was sleeping…and the fact is he actually was Sleeping.

I seriously wonder, that how come all of the masterpieces of extremities humans can be, were dumped into the same class…My class used to get onto the nerves of everyone…and today it was taking its toll on Dr J. He simply could not believe that someone had actually dared to doze off in his presence. Somehow, he managed to gather his calmness…and I lost mine. Not him…out of all the people..please Lord!...Not him…I could see the odds swinging back to her favour and a broad smile on her face…And on the face of my classmates…anticipation…

The same question was put forth to him…And hereby I am providing the exact words that came out of his mouth without any alterations and refinements…No one in the entire class has forgotten this historic statement…so how could I… and please believe that it is no work of fiction on my part…every single word was his… Here’s the Bhaand said…“Actually Sir! Yesterday…The weather was very hot. The Fan was Rotating in full speed…So I was feeling very sleepy…and I was sleeping!!”…

That did it…It blew the lid off which was holding down the anger of Dr J…Had he had even a single strand of hair on his head he would have plucked from his head…torn it into pieces with his own hands…and stamped on it a fifty times…At least, I would have done that, had I been in his place…That was way over the board for him to tolerate…and even the entire class…Guys were actually biting their tongues, pinching themselves, hurting themselves…so that the pain helps subside their laughter…but…they failed…miserably…and there was a huge burst of laughter…again…which sounded more as death bells to me…It was since then that I made my remarkable observations - Laughter of Class is Directly proportional to Me getting screwed(I will someday publish a research paper, giving the entire thesis). There was a loud roar, which silenced the entire cheer. Dr J yelled “ALL OF YOU ARE SUSPENDED!!…The notice will be on the Main display board within 15 minutes…Those who wish to revoke their suspension can queue up in front my office, RIGHT NOW!!”…And he walked out.

She had won another bout…I was back in the same state where I was at the beginning of the class…Pale White. Numbness in all my organs, no pumping of blood…I collapsed into the chair…Finally, I will be suspended…some or the other guy will tell him my name…Suspension of others will be revoked…I may even be terminated, the kind of disposition the ‘Terror’ is in…Now even me rubbing my nose in his feet won’t save me…I am dead! I somehow raised my head…and saw all the guys standing all around me…Nobody..not a single one of them had rushed to queue up in front of his office…They all were looking at me…and without uttering a single word they had assured me… “Don’t worry Buddy! We all are going to stand for you!”…

To end it, without any further drama and trepidation… All of us queued up in front of Dr J’s office, prepared to be suspended together, rather than letting me suffer alone. He got agitated again with the crowd in front of his office and unable to think of any method to tackle us, unable to think of any solution…asked all of us to go back to our class…The girls had quietly, withdrawn to their hostels. They were excluded of the suspension, obviously, so they enjoyed their Saturday. We were kept waiting for an hour…during which the class had regained normalcy…everyone was assured that now..no action would be taken…The suspension notice did not come out during that hour, neither was Dr J to be spotted anywhere…but we still waited…till our Cultural Coordinator(better known as Laal Baal for his mehendi died red hairs) arrived… Gave us a good lecture on morality and ethics, on discipline and respect, of almost another hour, and which eventually became torturous enough to be accepted as a punishment. He also, did try to scare us in between, by mentioning that he does know who has done it, but wouldn’t disclose..and everyone just kept smiling at his antics. Actually, it had become more of a fun filled event in the end, as my classmates, having had enough of the lecture, had started passing comments and mocking him. As we came out of the class after his final words “You can go back to your hostels…and resume your classes from Monday!!”, no one could stop smiling, laughing. And I walked, the Earth that moment as the most satisfied Man .

The episode was over, I was spared…I would rather call it my victory over her(Lady Luck)…rather ‘Our’ victory…as it was not just me against her…as ‘We’ all stood united…And, I got the best of my friends for a lifetime …Friends who had enough strength in their spine to stand up for any fight and against any odd…Friends who were ready to face any dire consequences just for the sake of friendship…Friends who would never let any situation become grim and serious…Friends who would sport a 1000 watt smile in the toughest of situations… Friends who you get to meet only once in a lifetime…Friends, who I know will always be there for me…

Lady Luck, I am grateful to you for putting me into whatever mess it was…I hope you had your pleasures…And I absolutely, do not have any grudges or hard feelings …It was fun…I got the best of rewards, a Man can ever get, for just two days of trouble/problems…I hope you enjoyed the fight…I will always be your Loyal Opposition…

Love to be the Victim of Luck 2 - Part 2

2009-04-16T10:10:00.006+05:30

A Lovely view of my Lovely College.

The next morning was as beautiful as a Summer Morning can ever be. Bright and sunny, but not hot, and the cool breeze from the Oak wood plantations of the College was astoundingly pleasant. Well, if you study at a college whose almost 500 acres of the 765 acres are covered with lush green trees, you seldom worry about the heat, Sun Lord showers upon. So, I started my day as usual, and the thought of attending the BEE period never crossed my mind until one of the Gang Members reminded me of the same on the mess table.

I got stuck into my chair, couldn’t gulp down a single bite there on…all the events flashed and my brain again started processing and producing the images of all the possibilities at a rate that would make even the Param10000 at our Campus ashamed. I thought I shouldn’t attend the class today, but was pulled into it not just by my Gang Members…but also by the sheer excitement and anticipation of what’s going to happen.

Yes, it was kind of exciting, as this was stuff I had only seen in nonsensical Bollywood flicks of 90’s and even at that time it seemed, such horrid events are something which can never take place in a college; but never did I imagine that one fine day, with all the blessings of Madame Luck, I will be a culprit of one of such episodes. Four of the five periods slated for that day(Saturday being a half day, had a max of 5 periods) passed almost uneventfully, except for the few usual pranks being played in the class and general mocking of the Teachers. But, I could see that even in the casual approach of my classmates, there was an extra effort being made–
1. To stay away from the Black Board and
2. Not to target the ladies of the class in any of the Pranks.

The Lady Luck was also playing games of her own, she had made so relaxed by the time BEE class was about to begin, by the sheer lack of any hints of what she had in store for me that I had almost stopped processing the possibilities; and preparing the Contingency Plan. I do not remember who the Teacher of the Fourth Period was, nor do any of my friends, I guess only because of the normalcy of things in that period. But, everyone remembers every second of what happened next.

All those who were loitering in the lobby, started to run back to their seats, fear(as if they had seen a ghost or blood thirsty Tiger on prowl) was written all over their face. They were only able to utter “P C J****…P C J****”(taking names is being avoided)…and that was enough to turn every face into pale white, even me being black in shade, would have looked my fairest at that moment.

The reason being that P C J****, is not just a name at BIT, MESRA…it is the face and anatomy of your worst nightmares, it is how we spell terror at our college. P C J****, Dean – Academic Co-Ordination & Student’s Welfare is a sign board nobody even wishes to look at. And imagine him walking along with Miss VL(remember the BEE Teacher) towards our class room. The sight was obviously too much to handle for anyone. There was absolute numbness in the class. Before the duo could enter the class, I was already saying my thanks to Madame Luck, and was also able to prepare a solid contingency plan “Start packing my bags!”

Had the door been opaque and closed, no one would have ever imagined that the room is full of 65 of the most notorious students. They both walked into the class. Miss VL, already enjoying the sight very calmly stepped back and allowed the ‘Terror’ to take the centre stage, and he, without wasting a single moment came straight to the point “Tell me the name, or all of you are suspended Pending Enquiry”.

Pending Enquiry – the term which has been used so elaborately and judiciously by him in all the suspension notices we had the opportunity to read, that it immediately struck a chord with every guy. A suspension Pending Enquiry is like indefinite suspension, till the truth is found out and there after you get a deserving Punishment. To make it simple, for everyone. It means ‘Pack your bags, head to home, stay there for ONE year at the least, and then come back to join your juniors’. But somehow, no one seemed perturbed by the mention of the phrase(except a few phattus who had started to sweat). I could see a few ‘tough’ guys giving cold stares to Miss Hull-a-Boo, as if saying that “You dared to challenge us? Now see what we are made of!” I could also see a few faces, paying absolutely no heed to his words…and I thought of reminding them that ‘Dudes! Its Dr J**** himself…Wake up!’ and just then it occurred to me…this is the best Contingency Plan…start acting as if you are least interested…as if it is not bothering you…as if you do not know what is he talking about. I started acting my part. Started not to listen him. Got involved in my book as if I am on the verge of giving the world a new Theory of Relativity...I for a moment was relieved.

Bang at that very moment, My Lady Luck smiled, and said “Dude! Do you really think I am going to spare you?”. I heard the Dean’s voice almost cracking down like a thunderbolt upon me “You…You 4th row, 4th seat….stand up!!” Every head that was down till that moment, either in fear or in the process of avoiding an eye contact with him, rose up immediately, including that of me…Everyone had the same thought “Kaun gaya? Kiski band baji?”, including that of me…and then I started realising that all heads are turning towards me…What the F? Why are you suggesting him anything? Look straight …I almost yelled these words…until I realised…4th Row, 4th Seat… was me…Yes me!…Dead! What now? What do I say? My face turning white from yellow…no strength in my knees to make me stand…there was no blood flowing in my veins…any cut on my body then, would not have resulted in a single drop of blood shed…my heart had stopped pumping…all the energy my body used to provide it to pump blood was now being delivered to the sweat glands, who were producing more sweat than they have in my entire existence…I was not able to see anything from my eyes…there was bright white light which had blinded me…and then suddenly another thunderbolt of words “I said….STAND UP!!”…filled me with enough ‘fear-energy’ that I stood up in a jiffy…and started giving him looks of sheep, that is ducking in front of a sturdy Lion.

He was staring at me as if he would eat me up in a single gulp and won’t even burp…He slowly started his prowl towards me…did not utter a word…and when I was in range where even his breath could have burned me alive, if he exhaled a little more heavily..he stopped. Giving me looks, as if he has been sent down on Earth by the death lord, to hack me to death…and after a lot of search he has finally found me. It was becoming unbearable for me. For a second a thought came that some phattu must have pointed towards me, but it did not exist for long, as I had the ‘Terror’ himself staring at me. Had he stayed that way for even one more second, without saying a word, I would have gone down on my knees…straight onto his feet…and would have confessed!

But, I feel, the look on my face, and my situation was so pathetic, and The lady Luck was deriving so much pleasure from it, that she forgot to put the right words in Dr J****’s mouth. He said “Were you…Were you present yesterday?”…and I did not believe my ears…I thought I am hearing things now…the fear has taken its toll on me…so I did not reply…and just gave him a confused look…which was, I guess, much better than my previous look…so, he repeated “Tell me…what were you doing, when that statement was being written?” Not believing the sudden turn of events…I still stood there…but I realised, if I do not come up with something…I am Dead. Also, the blood had started flowing through my brains again sensing the ease in pressure…and I do not know how I came up with “I was in the Library…I…I did not attend the class yesterday!”…humph!…humph!…Spare me my lord, my almighty…and I would never scribble anything on a Black Board ever again…I thought. The Lady Luck, too must have gotten surprised by this twist, as there after nothing of her plans were working. Dr J**** immediately turned towards Miss Spoil-Sport and asked for the attendance register…Now, it was time for her to make a sorry face, as she said she had not taken the attendance of any of the boys and she does not remember whether I was present or not.

It was all happening so fast, and so not My Lady luck types, that it was hard to believe. I wanted to smile, jump and touch the ceiling. I was almost admiring the sorry look on Miss VL’s face and a frustrated look on the Terror’s face. Just then it occurred, to me, that I need to calm down. The lady Luck may have spilled her barn a bit, but she will soon re-arrange herself, and get back to doing what she does the best - screwing me!

So calm down, relax, wait and watch!!

(Can I be really Lucky?? Was I actually spared?? What happened next?? What course of action did the ‘Terror’ take?? …Find out…same time…TomorrowJJ)

Love to be the Victim to Luck 2 - Part 1

2009-04-15T20:54:00.006+05:30

Well, by now, you all must be acquainted with the kind of relationship I share with ‘The’ Lady Luck(and for those who have still missed it…well, I can be called her prey…a victim…a fruit of her true odium), and so if you were wondering that based on only a few incidents I have coined our relationship in this way(i.e. that of a Predator and a Prey), here’s another account of her blessing(preying) upon me!

We all have relishing memories of our college days. Everyone must agree that those days taught us a lot of lessons, gave us the best of friends…the best of nostalgia you ever have is also of college days…there isn’t, simply, any comparison to that. One of my ‘luckiest’ days ‘luckily’ is also from my earliest of my college days. I studied at BIT, MESRA(and for General Knowledge, there is no ‘S’ at the end of our college’s name, as presumed my most…it is present only in the name of our better known sister, yet rival, concern – BITS, Pilani) which, I guess, is one of the most disciplinarian Universities, where even the daughters and sons of the most influential Politicos, like our beloved Mr Lalu Prasad Yadav, aren’t spared, if found guilty.

My story is of a day which has been etched into my memories as one of the scariest and into my classmates memories as one of the funniest and fulfilled. It was towards the end of Second Semester, probably the time by which you learn to gulp down the laid back…chilled… ‘Ho Jayega Araam Se…Abhi Jaldi kya hai?’ style of living. It was just around that time, that my class mates had learnt about how to get their attendance sheet marked by the Teacher …the art which my ‘Gang of Friends’(cannot disclose the popular name which we coined for the gang… on a public forum) called..‘The Art of GP’ or The Art of Girna-Padna(on the feet of the Teacher). I mention this as an Art, as we thought, it cannot be practiced by everyone and requires very fine skills of perseverance, guts, whining, creating sorry stories in jiffy…and the most important of all - insult toleration. It was also a very essential to master this art, as an attendance of less than 75% in any of the subjects would mean, repeating the course next year, and mind you there was no respite.

So, it was one of those days…where the entire class was present…packed to the capacity…all 65 faces…and each one refining their own form of GP in between the breaks, when we got the news that there won’t be any Maths – II(better known as M-II) class. The news came in as a breeze of cool and revitalizing air, in the middle of a desert, soaking up all the sweat we had poured in tolerating the 6 absolutely dull and dreary classes in continuum prior to that. Within, 5 minutes of the news the class got so charged up, that it soon metamorphosed into a ‘Disney Land’. From Arm Wrestling to Chalk Shooting to Fencing using ‘imaginary swords’…games of all sorts had started…And the Girls, being the absolutely perplexing creation of God, instead of joining the fun, staged a walk out of the class in anger as one of the Chalk Shooters misfired, unintentionally, and the chalk hit one of them(this is true, as he was the non-eve-teaser kinds…and I also feel the Lady Luck was more involved here, than that poor old chap)…Still, Why is it that the girls, especially, if they are a little attractive, have this air around them that all the guys in their immediate vicinity are hitting on them? Anyways, this is topic which will be taken up some other time.

I was watching all the different Olympian events taking place in the class, perched silently on my seat with a news paper in my hand and deliberately asking the Goddess of Sleep to shower her blessings on me(only, for the sake of the AOE match later that night, and not because I was the typical studious, uninteresting types). Had anyone seen me then, it would have been inconceivable for them to believe, that I would invite any trouble for myself…at least in this century.

So, I was there, browsing through the pages of the paper, when suddenly my eyes got fixated on the TV listings, and the particular piece of information packed me with enough energy to make me rise and walk up to the black board to share it with all my class mates, who were also my hostel mates. Before, I go any further, I must tell that our hostels had a huge common TV rooms, each equipped with giant 54 inch projector TVs, and if the entire ‘Gang’ would gang up in there, even the grimmest and saddest of the Operas used to turn into a laughing riot…It was basically fun to watch some special events with the ‘Gang’…And this was one such special event being aired, I thought. So, I walked up to the Black Board, picked up the chalk, without giving it a thought as there were no girls inside the classroom…also, with calligraphist and the Hindi fanatic, inside me on the best of their rolls….wrote in a striking handwriting in large font size…

(Deciphered: A must watch movie - Kamasutra...Tonight at 11 pm...on Zee Cinema...Please oblige us with your presence in the TV Room!)

and promptly came back to my seat, in total oblivion of the kind of aftermath it was going to rake up, and the kind of game ‘The’ Lady Luck was trapping me into.

For a few seconds, after I came back to my seat, there was absolute pin-drop silence in the class, every guy concentrating on the black board, much more than they do during the class, busy trying to churn out the meaning…and then, almost unanimously, there was a huge burst of laughter, probably louder than the hooter, which blows every 50 minutes and is audible at every nook and corner of the 765 acre Campus! This was another move by her(The Lady Luck), as it prompted the Teacher of the next period, Basic Electrical Engineering aka BEE, and who was by another turn of fate, a Lady… walk inside the class along with the 9 other ladies of the class…5-6 minutes prior to the start of it. No one was expecting, this to happen me at the least. I had in my mind all through the flurry of excitement and madness that had occurred after the statement, that, I have to rub it off before the hooter blows and the Teacher walks in. But, as it happened, she walked in without notice, and stood stunned at the sight of the notice on the board. Me on the other hand, had already started the Crisis Management and Contingency Plans. Thoughts at the speed of light were travelling across my mind.

Now what? Will she make a hull-a-boo of it? How will she go about finding the culprit? Is there any ‘chicken’ in our class, whom we have not yet identified, who will break and utter my name at her single lash? How will she threaten the class? If somebody, does break and speaks out my name, what action can be taken against me? What would the girls think of me? Will they also try every trick under their sleeves to find out who the audacious culprit is, and then turn me in? Who all are the guys who will fall for such tricks of theirs? Will the Dean get involved? Will I be suspended? Naah! I thought, it’s a very minor offence…I will be pardoned…especially as it was unintentional and She walked in before her destined time. So, should I stand and say, “Here I am Ma’m…I did it”? Or, Dude! Wait! Let her react!

And her reaction was – she rubbed it off and without uttering a single comment, she commenced her usual ‘Junction and Nodes’(this is the only bit of Electrical Engineering I have ever understood and remember). I breathed a sigh of relief. All through the lecture, none of the guys uttered a single word, did not create a single nuisance…it was very unlike the 'Section F' thing…It seemed as if all of them were standing with me, in support of me, that further reassured me that I will be spared. The class ended without any abnormality. And then again, the Lady Luck, spun the wheel, and Miss VL(the BEE Teacher...name not to be revealed), whom I had just stopped hating, announced ‘None of the boys are getting the attendance’ and walked out.

Oh hello! The entire day I had been slogging myself…sitting on the same stupid seat since 8 in the morning to now 4:10 pm, all for getting this measly attendance marked, and you walk out, depriving me of my wage for the hard day’s labour? How could you Ma’m? I accept, there was a fault…a slip up from our end…but you can’t be so harsh(at that moment, it did seem harsh…as I did not have any idea of the harsher steps she was going to take the next day)…and the other guys too felt the same way, in fact much more than I did, as it was no fault of them for which they were being punished. I saw a trail of almost 10-15 guys immediately run after her, to get themselves marked. Just then the fear re-appeared…What if one of them goes down to the extent of telling my name not to get himself the attendance?

My gang somehow, manage to reassure me that- I am in no trouble…nobody has or will tell anything to her…and we have her class again tomorrow…we will pataofy(pacify) her. So, the day passed almost uneventfully there on except for some hints being dropped by the Lady Luck that – Dude! Come tomorrow, I ain’t goin' to spare ya!!...like, for the first time that day I suffered a major defeat at AOE, that too from the team whom I had taught the game… Louis, our Tea Guy at the mess was absent…and so we cannot have our regular 1:00 am Chai and Parle-G break(believe me…it was a very important meal of the day in the hostel)…And keeping everything well stacked in back of my mind, I went to bed, a little anxious of what’s going to happen tomorrow.

(To be continued…Tomorrow:):)…Find out the answers…as to What happened next day? What can possibly go wrong now? How ugly can the turn of events be? Did I really get suspended? Did somebody tell my name? How come the Dean-Acad. come into picture? All this and more..so don’t miss outJ…see ya same time…tomorrow!)

Love to be the Victim of Luck!!

2009-04-14T06:30:00.000+05:30

Destiny, Fate, Fortune, Providence, Luck, Kismet… to think of it, what is it? When I look at it…Luck…has two different connotations.. To some it is the most imperative and essential element in their lives; people who can be called patrons or clients of Luck. If they pause and reflect, they would realise…it is their Luck which has made them sail through plenty of situations and difficulties, and may be its their Luck because of which they are at this moment enjoying success in their lives.

And then... there are some, like me, who can be called the victims or preys of Luck, people whom Luck hates. For us Luck has not given us anything except more of troubles and difficulties. But, for us too, Luck is imperative…as without it our lives would have been so dreary and lacklustre(at least I feel so!) There would absolutely be no adventure or fun. I cannot even imagine things going right or ‘My Luck favouring me’ when I am up to something.

My day doesn’t seem usual until and unless something or the other goes wrong. And I love such days…When I am supposed to pick up my best friend from the station… drop him at my place and then come to office, all before 11’o clock at least…and instead…I land up in the most immense of traffic jams… make him wait at the station for an hour…then again go through that jam only to find out I have ran out of petrol…push my bike to the Petrol Pump and when I look into my wallet I do not have any cash and the Pump doesn’t accept any cards and the ATM machine at the Pump is not working…then will have to hire an auto rickshaw to the nearest ATM… fetch enough money and return to the place where I had parked my bike…this time to find out …the bike ain’t there…its gone…has been picked up by the Traffic Police…then rush to the Police Station… beg to the officer…pay him a bribe of Rs 250 -300…After that, somehow manage to get my friend back to my flat…this time to find out the flat key is missing in my key ring…Then again rush to the office…get the key from my Flatmate…come back…open the flat…make my friend at home…rush back to the office…the time by then is 2’o clock and my TL is on the verge of blowing up …as that particular piece of my code is not working on which several other modules are dependant…Stand in front of him as a Mujrim...get a good bash for the error…then while debugging find out that it isn’t a error in your code, but some data is missing…

After all said and done…in the evening…when it’s time to head back home…and that feeling of ‘It’s all over’ has set in…My lady luck smiles back…points at my bike and says… ‘Dude! Look at your bike…it’s a 200kgs Royal Enfield…parked at 2nd basement…and the rear tyre is puncture…so gear up…it’s not over yet! :) :)’…somehow, mustering up all the courage…I push it again…against the steep incline of the parking…telling to myself ‘The Tyrewala is right next to the gate’…I push it… come to the gate and Voila!...The repair shop is closed…so Dude! Push it…2kms further..to the next shop…

Well…that’s my LUCK…and I love to be its victim…In fact, when eventually it’s the end of the day…and I lay back on my bed…reflecting…on the day…I just have one thought… ‘Had everything gone smoothly…would it be… The same FUN?’

PungAmental.com

2009-04-11T17:24:00.004+05:30

It's here...It will be alive...It will be kicking...Very soon. The promise to be an avenue of Challenges...a vista of Conviviality...an escape from Weariness...and as I have heard...
A new address for Passion....PungAmental.com

We are waiting...with hope..aspirations and anticipation. All the best!

The following chain of thoughts occured in complete dischord of the above...yet, thought should keep it here:-

All along the day, we are affected by a large number of forces. Genes influence our intelligence and willingness to take risks. Social dynamics unconsciously shape our choices. And yet, there is a point at which the influence of social forces ends and the influence of the self-initiating individual begins.

Most successful people begin with two beliefs: the future can be better than the present, and I have the power to make it so.

I believe- That heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

Nice no?? I can be a li'l intellectual...What say? OK...I am Mad...agreed! :):)

Azab Surat ki Gazzab Photu!!!(Wierd Face...Strange Photo!)

2009-04-10T02:09:00.007+05:30

NO...this is not a pic from the Most Wanted file or board of any Police Station. Don't start looking for him for the sake of any Cash Rewards. There ain't any. And YES...you are allowed to laugh as much as you wish...as this is no one else but me.

Office mates! You have seen this...and had your share of laugh...so please!...you can stop now. My ID card bears this pic. And even the ERP system displays me as this. As if changing my name to 'Kumar D' wasn't enough.

I thought of finding out my pic in the DB today because one of our very respected and adored blogger at the 'Corporate Blog' of my Organization quit. He reminded us(all the bloggers in that space) that how we have not met...and yet bonded so impeccably and intimately. There was a comment made on his last post to at least have a look at each of our pics in the ERP Database. And that made me lay my hands on the piece of crap provided above.

How could they do this to me? First, I am transformed from the charming Deepak Kumar to the enigmatic Kumar D(Eventually I came to terms with it and then have proclaimed myself as the same)...and now this. I mean, I am THE most handsome guy according to my Mom. And even she will refuse to recognize me from that pic. I wonder how the security staff at my office let me inside the building with that pic hung around my neck?

This pic only helps boost my candidature for a Rwandan Superstar(OK...I am happy about that...and People of Republic of Rwanda -Respect!)...but....Hey! people in the HR, CS and ERP...don't you think its time to upgrade the photo to something like this:-

Impressive!...eh? Ya! Ya! Guys are hereby allowed to get jealous and ladies I am sorry, I am taken ;)...after all God and this World has not been fair to everyone...ever...So just look and sigh!

Mom! You can be proud of your Son...and his looks. Telugu, Tamil, Kannada and Malayalam Film Industry...Here I come(Provided my Organization transfers me there...and also provided you guys have enough Bank balances to pay my Signing amounts at the least!)

Jokes apart...this is one of my best pics... ever clicked...So you can imagine the sorry state of affairs! Agreed...I need a hair cut badly...need to remove those 'Nagraj' locks...and yes, I have deliberately hidden the other ear which is at a lower level than the one displayed. But...hey! Who's perfect?

I also know...I am going to be called a 'Self Obsessed Guy' once again...and I am sorry for that...Can't help it...I am Self Obsessed...Who isn't? Just that I am able to express my obsession...and hopefully build on my chances of becoming a Superstar of some film industry.

And a very important note...before I sign off ...
I DID NOT GET THIS PIC CLICKED FOR A MATRIMONIAL AD. Please! I am just 25 years and 10 months old...and not that desperate to get married!

$ 5 Million

2009-04-05T18:28:00.006+05:30

All this lazying around for all these days(more than two weeks now) has taken its toll on me. I have started spending way too much time on the internet...And NO...not Orkutting...I hate it...And it's my opinion...so NO arguments on that. I have just been reading a lot...and also more often than not land up at weird sites.

Like this one: http://www.stimator.com/

It supposedly calculates the value of any website based on several parameters like Web Recognition, Web Volume, Social Score etc. etc. According to it the value of Google.com is more than $ 1 Billion. Quite true. Yahoo.com also doesn't fall behind much. And other popular websites also are in close range.

But, here's the funniest part. I, out of my sheer curosity had the audacity to check the evaluation of my blog. And look what it has to say:

Yes! My blog is worth $ 5 Million...Rs 22 Crores...Can you imagine? I am sitting on this bounty.

But how do I realize it? Where do I go to get it encashed? Who will pay me this amount? Any takers..Please respond a.s.a.p., else who knows the value may increase! So hurry up...Corporates, VCs, Google, Yahoo. anybody willing to fish out that amount..take notice!

Well jokes apart...here's the secret to such high valuation:
At least I guess so...but I decided to check out the other even more popular blogs. And the result was startling...none of them showed a valuation of more than $5000. It was quite surprising. I am still wondering about the authenticity of the results.

Anyways...I am just happy about the fact that...I have a virtual asset worth $ 5 Million.

...And This is How it has been! All these days!!

2009-04-04T14:55:00.002+05:30

A Lot of people say or would say that Mr Murphy, of the Murphy's Law fame (and if you are still wondering what Murphy's Law?...please abandon reading right now!)...is an outright pessimist. Well, I am not writing this to change anybody's opinion...I just wish to state that I love the observation power of that man. His accuracy in statement of incidents. And his sense of humor.

His Universal Law states "Whatever has to go wrong, will go wrong!"

And that's what happened. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, went wrong with me. Except for the night out with Manyu and CMT(two of my soul mates ;)).

Well, the day ...it all began...began like any other normal day. I was supposed to reach office before 10 am so that I could catch my train to Delhi in the evening with ease. I did reach office by 10 am, and that was the only thing that went according to plan. Thereafter ...mayhem.

I had only a few jobs to finish off when I reached office, that would have taken only a few hours. But the moment I logged on to my mailbox, wham!...I was loaded with work...An amount which was not feasible even in two days. Then I had to get all my marks sheets attested for the interview in Delhi. Then, I had to pay off my bills. All this before 5 pm.

Could not finish my work. Somehow got the mark sheets attested. Could not pay the bills. Managed to catch the train just in time. My sweety was there to see me off...A very big respite and comforting feel. I was off...to Delhi. After 2 years I would be setting my foot there. Plenty of plans and excitement all through the boring journey of 27 hours. No happenings. No chit chats. No amusements. Just me, my plans and issues of BusinessWorld.

I landed at 9:30 pm. My cell dead. No communications with my bro who was there to receive me, yet somehow we manage to meet. Embraced him after 6 years. Was an awesome feeling. So many years have passed. He sports a stubble now. His paunch much bigger in proportion to mine. His eyes a little wet, same as mine. For a moment we are short of words. Where to begin with? Its strange how in a family small disputes magnify in proportions and then it all subtle down, with parents kissing and making up and the kids still bearing the brunt. Frankly, for a moment it was kind of awkward. I had not spoken to him in 6 years, and today when its something I need, here I am standing on his doorsteps for help. But, I guess that's what family is for...support...unconditionally.

A little chit chat in the night with him and his girl (who is, quite contrary to the family's belief, very adorable and sweet...Mamaji and Mamiji...this girl is perfect for your son...I give my thumbs up!) I gear up for the next day's interview. Check my documents, my file...Everything in order(supposedly).

We leave in my bro's car for IIT,Delhi...all suited up...I keep giving myself morale boosters...it is a very important interview. The last of my hopes. The only light kindling. We enter the campus and after a struggle, questioning and wandering of about 20 mins we finally locate the Department of Management Studies. And the hiccups start.

First, I find out...I do not have the copy of my call letter attested. I even do not have a copy of the call letter. It wasn't mentioned anywhere...or was it? Yes...in the last of their mails...it was. how could I have overlooked? Panic! I rush to one of the coordinators... a student...helping out professors...he suggests me the solution...get the copy from 4th floor...self attest it. Sigh! A little relief. I get this done and stand in the queue for document verification.

Wham! Second and one of the most nerve rattling shocks! I do not have the copies of my mark sheets I got attested. Heck! It cannot be! I had kept them in the file. Where is it? I come out of the queue, search every leaf of the file. Its not there. I find out I still have time...I can provide it in the next 3 hours. I call up my bro..ask him to check my bag. It isn't even there. It cannot be. I got it done in the last moment from Pune. But...now what? What do I do? Sweating and quite obviously disturbed...I stand in a corner...wondering. The looks on my face, I guess were so disturbing that one of the proffs couldn't help but come to me and ask the problem. I tell him. And the solution again the same...get the copies...self attest. Humph! Humph! I am saved...again.

Next...is the GD. Started of well...then turned into..as it is popularly called a 'Fish Market'...and I have a very little or no experience of selling fish. I am stuck. I try and raise my voice ...put my point...all in vain. Not happy with the way things turned out...I come out very disappointed.

Then the big one...The Interview...The Decider...of my fate...After a wait of 3 long hours..finally its my turn. The moment I step in...I am able to make out...the Proffs are exhausted. they need a break...and I will be their snacker.

Mechanical Engineer!... from BIT, Mesra! Hmmmmm!!! Come on Dude! We'll test ya!

Prof: What's a system?
Me: ??#@$%">#@$%
Prof: What's a Production System?
Me: ?????@#$%#%$@#%$">?????@#$%#%$@#%$#@
Prof: Ok! How do You define this room in terms of a system?
Me: In terms of Length, Breadth, Height and probably colour? (How else?)
Prof: No! No! You are not getting it...Ok tell me what's the input and output of a Production System?
Me:(Yuppie! This is easy) Input - Raw Materials and Output-Finished Jobs
Prof:(Absolutely Puzzled and Disgusted) What? Do you have any idea about systems in terms of Mechanical or Production Engineering?
Me:(If I had..don't you think I would have answered the first there questions...Mor**!) I am sorry sir! Its been almost three years since I passed out and have not really been in touch with Mechanical Engineering. I am a software engineer and my current work has no relation with it.
Prof: Ok...can you name the subjets you had read in engineering?
Me: (What the heck?) Yes I can...SOM, TOM, Thermodynamics...blah...blah blah...blah blah blah...Planning and Control
Prof:(With his eyes lightening up)Stop! What? Planning and Control? OK! tell me what is Planning? What is Forecasting? What are the types of Forecasting?
Me:(Shamelessly!) I do not remember sire! Its been 3 years.
Prof:(Disgusted again!) Still...you must have prepared some subject for this interview?
Me:(A little scared and hesitantly!) Thermodynamics and Operations Research
Prof: Can you draw the graph of Adiabatic Expansion in Carnot's Cycle?
Me:(Start scribbling on the pad immediately)
Prof: OK...Name an algorithm used for Linear Programming?
Me: Simplex Method
Prof: What's a Transportation Problem?
Me:(Murmur...)
Prof: What's so special about Transportation Problem?
Me:(again)?????
Prof: (Completely Disappointed starts speaking to another Prof..)Do you have any questions for him?
...Morale of the story...I am doomed! The candle...extinguished! The hope...lost!

I come out...quite exasperated ...only to find out that Our(Me, CMT and Manyu's) Plan is postponed till evening. We were supposed to meet right after my interview and then drink our guts out. But both of Manyu and CMT get caught in work.

We still meet in the evening. Its been more than one and a half year since we all met. We had a 'group hug' on the roads of Gurgaon and it was like I lost 2 kgs of load I was carrying on my head. Felt so relieved. We left as per our 'Plan' and after a two hour long drive...land up at PVR Saket. Gulp down two pegs each of Bacardi but decide against continuing there and rather sit at home. Get food from McD's, Bacardi at Gurgaon border and we are all set...for a night of pure, solid gold...Bakar. And thank god...that did happen.

But the next morning when I woke up...I was trembling with fever. Thought it is because of the drinking and ignored it. A big big mistake. Still...Went up to meet another friend from college...back to my bro's place...rested a bit and then back to 'Dilli Bhraman'...had awesome Momos at Dilli Haat...another one of my mistakes.

Next day had my train back to Pune...The fever attack had increased...was feeling damn cold and had terrible stomach ache. All that almost disappeared as I entered my bogey. My compartment was full of ladies. 5 middle aged women...and yet very sexy. Two teen aged girls probably 18 or 19 and super hot. This was happening to me for the first time. I had female company during the journey. I was excited. But liitle did I know that that excitement was going to turn sour. They were the nosiest bunch of ladies I had ever come across. They were behaving much more stupidly than school or college students on a holiday trip. Plus my stomach ache was killing me. Could not sleep. The fever was making me shiver. The AC was on full blast. Even two blankets did not help.

I landed in Pune at 2 pm. Rushed straight to office, as I was somehow feeling a little better. then around 5'o clock, the shivering started again. I decided to see a doctor. The reactions of the doctor scared me. She said "Get admitted immediately...you are suffering from Hepatocellular Jaundice"...Well for those who did not understand(as I, initially)...My liver has stopped processing bilirubin, a yellow breakdown product of Haemoglobin. The result its levels have increased to dangerous proportions, I may suffer from Hepatitis B if not admitted and everything in my body is turning yellow. My urine, my nails, my sweat and my eyes:-

I rest for the entire week in the hospital, getting 3 bottles of saline with some injections everyday. Jaundice also means your Liver has become very weak. You cannot have any oil in your food. No spices too. Only rice, some dal(sans the masalas), lots of juicy fruits like oranges, watermelon, grapes, cucumber and Juices of mausambi, sugarcane and other fruits. Basically...your tongue cannot have any pleasures.

Well...that's my story of days I have remained absent...from this space...from bugging people's life...from annoying them.

Embarassment To The .....'T'

2009-04-03T18:04:00.000+05:30

I guess, I’ve articulated many a times now of my philosophies and brass tacks, and enough of philanthropic, benevolent gestures thrown at your face. This time around I wish to hurdle over my customary, pain staking, idiotic preaching and wander into the manors of – embarrassment…That’s right, there’s no typographical error…I am going to tell you all about the most embarrassing moment of my life. A moment, where I had no other alternative but to cover my face. A moment which has been etched into my memories with deep engraving acid.

Before I begin reliving those horrifying moments, I think I should give a small prologue about my wonderful family. My family is a quite diversified one, in every terms you can think of. Be it age, gender, generation, profession or level of lunacy, all vary from the lowest to the highest; and we are the craziest bunch of cousins, gelling together so impeccably and madly, that whatever one of us says we simply follow without bothering to rethink what who has said, and this habit more often than not has landed us into big time troubles.

So…it’s time now to begin my appalling tale…It was summers of 1998 when I was a 9th grader, old enough to be embarrassed by embarrassing situations and understand the aftermaths of such moments. My entire family had assembled for the baraat of my uncle at Allahabad. We were put up at a nice, clean lodge near the railway station with plenty of baths, but still the number was not sufficient for host 5 dozen of absolutely maddening crowd. The problem had escalated as our crowd also had a plethora of female species who have this uncanny capability of spending hours inside an extremely compact, low on ventilation, enclosed space with just one advantage of a large, highly reflective, piece of glass.

This had infuriated my gang of brothers in arms, and all of us hastily decided to bath at the Railway station which was at a pebble’s throw distance. Unfortunately for us, our lodge was at the leeward side of the entrance of the station and to add to our miseries a new platform was being constructed towards the side we entered the station premises. It was almost deserted, flanked only by a few stray dogs who could not have even imagined to foray into the territory of we brothers - who were louder than public address system of the station and fiery than the mob of 50 strong men. Actually, it was then when I counted that our number was three more than a dozen. And, it was almost the moment I had finished counting that the youngest amongst us spotted a new, clean, freshly installed array of water taps and which was large enough to accommodate all of us to bathe under them. So, as always, without contemplating the idea, rushed under the taps. I just imagine, now how great it would have been, had anyone thought of the consequences. But, as great Mr. Murphy says “If something has to go wrong…it WILL go wrong.” As soon as we reached the taps, we looked around, and found out that, there was a leeward side to it, which was not visible to anyone from other platforms(this one being the last one) and we could easily slip down to our bare minimums as there was just one track adjacent to this platform and no train could be made to arrive on that(that was what we thought, at that moment, in the heat of the excitement of getting a good shower).

So, all 15 of us ranging in age from 12 to 25 stripped down to our under wears. Blue, black, green and the worst coloured undies you can ever buy – brown, also, it was the year 1998 when the majority of men’s population was unaware of brands like Jockey, CK, Tommy Hilfiger, and undies were available for mere Rs 40 or Rs 50. Men of that era were also unaware of the phenomenon called ‘six packs’ and were proud to have pot bellies. Now, imagine the situation, 15 of such men, on the platform, all covered with foam of Lux soap(the only good soap available then), in the worst attire they want women to see them, bathing carelessly…. get to hear a loud honk…and voila!

A train…a fully fledged, doubly occupied, overflowing with people arrives…right next, merely 10 metres from us. If this is not enough, and even before we could react to the shock of this sight…the ladies bogie, booked by some women’s college, occupied by some of the most B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L. members of the opposite sex, I had ever seen with my eyes, with no such thing called as a TV screen between me and them…stops right in front. For a few seconds, all of us, even the 12 year old did not know how to react, we were all standing, all of us without even battling an eyelid, as if the thing that covered was not foam but quick dry cement which had frozen us into those postures. Nobody moved, until all the girls started giggling, shying away from the window, laughing. It was then when I looked that it was not only me who had his hand glued to his hair…everyone was awestruck, by this amazing game the wheel of fortune had played with us. Nobody, still moved or tried to scamper anywhere, until one of those brave and beautiful ladies had the courage to make us do so. She came, walking straight towards us…our body unable to react, caught in the dilemma of shock and admiration, still stood its grounds…only till the time she said “Aaplog zara side hatenge…paani bharna hai mujhe!!” Till that time it had never struck me, actually, that I was wearing a brown coloured underwear, and with water and foam it was difficult to make from a distance that whether I had one on or not. I had just started analysing my look when I lifted my head to see…all my brothers had vanished, disappeared…there was no one for my help…for my assistance…to guide me…I was left alone for the staring eyes of those girls to savour and laugh about.

And, me being the brave one, a valiant 15 year old …did what any other valiant boy of my age would have done…stood my grounds…with tears washing off the foam from my face…and gave one more reason to laugh to those lovely ladies.It has become horrifying enough already… and what happened after that is something I do not wish to recall or tell anybody...It is simply too insulting to the ego of a chauvinistic pig(as we men are called) to mention anywhere। I have made it a point though, that I won’t step on to a platform until and unless I am either boarding a train or receiving somebody…and please do let your younger one’s know…that the most dangerous adventure sports of all time, where insult and injury is a must… is bathing on a Railways platform!!:( :(

The Resurrection Day.

2009-03-15T23:52:00.006+05:30

Today was kind of a resurrection day. I resurrected my Desktop. Something that was biting dust for the past more than 2 years. I plugged it...and it played. Sadly though I had to format the hard drive, as there were plenty of bad sectors detected on it and I lost plenty of treasured data. The huge collection of Hindi Songs being one of them. Almost 22GB of them.

But, my hard disk resurrected, saving me the collection of all my Rock favourites ...all videos are intact...all the albums are still in place. And again the twist, I do not have the driver for my sound card. The old version of Realtek AC 97. It was difficult to locate on the net, and with a 256DDR1 RAM trying to download it from the net would be like waiting another 2 years.

So, I resurrected my old LAN Switch hub. I plugged it in...and it played. The next task was to quickly set up a LAN connection on systems with working sound drive at my place, and share my collection. Play it via them. And after almost 2 hours of buying LAN cables, RJ45 connectors and laying up the LAN cables 'properly'...It Worked...

Yessss!!...It worked...and all my videos and albums were back...alive...ready to rock the floor...or may be even the entire building...

I started browsing the Videos Drive...I was looking for the perfect song to start...the perfect video to begin the rocking night ...and somehow, even after looking at songs like 'Good bye Blue Sky', 'Wish you were here', 'Highway to hell' and plenty more...I played this...

Everytime that I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face gettin clearer
The past is gone
It went by like dust to dawn
Isnt that the way
Everybodys got their dues in life to pay

.
.
.
Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
Sing with me, if its just for today
Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away

...Dream On
A song by Aerosmith...and by the time it was about to end I was staring at my ceiling...no thoughts...no bright ideas...absolutely blank.

I have to have a look in the mirror...long time it has been.

T-Bird: Royally Blue

2009-03-13T03:04:00.006+05:30

Found this lying in some archive...SEXY...isn't it?...

Well I am talking about the bike...Its a Suzuki Intruder M1800R...One of my neighbours is a proud owner of this battle tank of a bike...To get a better idea...have a look at this... But...being brutally honest, judgemental and biased...T-Bird still RULES!!

Little did I knew...Pune!!

2009-03-13T00:54:00.002+05:30

(Concept and the first three paragraphs courtesy my dear friend, my schoolmate, my one of the mentors, my consultant, my at times banker, my source of superiority complex in regards to baldness -Mr Ashish Prasad - visit http://backtosqaureone.blogspot.com/ for more of his stuff)

"If you have to make a movie on a part of Pune, which part will you choose and why?" The radio kept on repeating and my brains kept churning. I guess its quite normal for your brains to wander when you have slept for less than 7 hours in last two days and spent more time in office cubicle than in fresh air and home combined.

So, which place will it be!!! Oblivious of present day situation, the first rendevouz with Pune was in February'06. It seemed a nice city then. Little did i knew then, that this city would be my bread and butter. Little did I knew that this city would see my dreams come true. Little did I knew that I would face the greatst adversity of my life here. Little did I knew I will lose love here. Little did I knew that I will discover love here. Love would be my life. Little did I knew I would find serenity here. Little did I knew I would find animosity here. Little did I knew my perceptions would change. Little did I knew my values would get further concrete. Little did I knew that I would be transformed from a Bihari babu to Deepak Bhau.

If there will be a contest to identify the city which is a true representation of youth, Pune would win hands down. Pune is truely by, for and of the youth. Because of which this city has never seen a riot or a terrorist activity. (Touchwood). The city is not governed on the loose theories of fundamentalists or relegion or racism or any colour of shits. This city is exemplary of the awareness and capabilities of the youth.

And...About my loves...So many of them ...I love...the nerve rattling, absolutely rocking, nearly deafening screams of the Sukhoi-SU30MKIs and Sukhoi-SU30MKKs acting as my morning/wake-up alarms...

I love.... the view of the Konkan Ghats I get, while having the morning tea and cigarette, from my balcony ...

Although they are not visible here...and I did not have any other pic on my cam

I love...the neighbourhood, the Symbiosis Campus, the lovely hot babes of that campus :)...and their lovely admirable attitude...Unfortunately no pics to suffice my words...but I guess, the name Symbiosis should stand the testimony.

I love...the sexy, black, smooth... piece of tarmac which is right next to my place and is called the Airport Road, which makes me fulfill my speeding thirst. Trust me.... you seldom find such beauties in India and that too almost vacant at any point of time in the day, in a city which is racing towards the acme of the list of cities with maximum traffic jams.

I also love...the Pizza from Smokin' Joes, the mindblowing Chicken wraps from Wrap A Round, the proximity to Gold Adlabs, the proximity to the Royal Enfield authorised service station, the proximity to oen till 4 a.m. liquor shop,the proximity to almost everything I need.

The answer to the question was right there, next to me, in fact, all around me, always...Viman Nagar....Viman Nagar was the area which gave me shelter, when every other area reused on terms of rent, obligations and availability....Viman Nagar is the area, which has given me so many memorable moments... Viman Nagar is the area where my Love found love in me....Viman Nagar would be the area I would make a movie on.

Although...Little do I know about Pune...Little do I know about its potentials...Little do I know about its charms...Little do I know about its traditions...Little do I know about its modern outlook and approach...Little do I know....yet!

I do not know....

2009-03-09T14:16:00.000+05:30

Why? Why are we bothered about everybody else’s life so much? What makes us so intrigued about the happenings which is neither related to us nor is going to affect us? What pleasure do we derive of it? Why can’t we be happy with our own lives doing what we like for ourselves and not be concerned with what other’s are doing, at least in their personal lives? What puts that cunning, wry smiles on our faces when we get to know something which the other person did not wish to let us know? It doesn’t bring any change, neither in us knowing him/her nor in us being benefitted by it. Then, why do we still do it? What pleasure is in talking at somebody’s back? When we have our own shortfalls to take care of. When we ourselves need to improve a lot.
None of us are perfect.

None of us haven’t done or had things which we do not wish people to know. None of us love to be talked about at our back. Yet, when we have an opportunity, we always do it.

My Dad always says, the greatest of our incapability is realizing and accepting the wrongs in ourselves, the shortfalls in ourselves. If we are able to see and understand our shortfalls, our inactions, our wrongs – we will, one day, excel. But, if we keep hiding those short falls with our big talks, never are we going to take a step towards success. We can always lie to people, but we should never lie to ourselves. We should know what we are, what we have done, what actions we are capable of taking and how much of that capability we have put in action. We can all talk big about ourselves, no one can stop us from doing that, yet after that, if we know, we haven’t been able to put any of those words into action – we are a failure. And still nothing is lost if we have this realization and work for it sincerely, this time without talking big.

I do not know, why I wrote this. Nothing of the sorts had happened. Yet, something is troubling me. Something, somewhere is wrong. Need to figure out what and where? Is it me? Is it my actions and my thoughts? Is it me who has been a source of trouble(which I am sure, I am, often)? But, how do I do that? How do I figure it out? How many more rounds of introspection? How do I stop being the buffoon I am? How do I not care about everyone’s feeling? How do I stop trying to make everyone happy? How do I stop the child within me? How do I not be the grown up I am? How do I tell people I wronged? How do I tell people they wronged? How do I tell them how much they mean? How do I tell them I want to help? How do I tell them of my problems? How? Confused! Yes…I am!

1000 and counting...Thank you all!!

2009-03-06T15:46:00.001+05:30

Two months of sheer dedication and sincerity. Two months of diligence and toiling. Two months of inventiveness and ingenuity. Alright!...Alright!...I know…it’s enough…got to be honest now…Damn!... Two months of lack of work, lack of dedication at work, lack of indulgence, lack of funds for indulgence, lack of funds at all, lack of any ‘happening’ happenings in my life, lack of any happenings in my life(except for the happenings in the life of my Organization…Whew! That was huge!)…made me start my own blogs at Blogger…the very next day of the 1st of January. And today, the hit count stands at 1000. In just two months and two days…seems like loads of other people around who have nothing better to do.(Yikes!! No offence meant…please don’t stop reading and visiting. I love you all!)

I feel quite elated today. I have readership. People read my stuff(for whatever reason…I don’t care!). They visit my page. It is like the state of Bihar(my home land) joining the race of modernization, and faring pretty well. I did not have this expectation when I started(nor does Bihar in the near future).

In fact, to be brutally honest, all the accolades I get(except from a lady), although put a smile on my face, but keep me wondering as to – How in the world did anyone liked what I wrote? I never had any writing skills(I don’t consider it even now). I scribble. I always have-only scribbled. But then, only for today, I am thinking…People still read what I scribble. Or do they?

My StatCounter shows that. By some weird script it runs. And I believe it. Also, this day, this moment… reminds me of Robert Frost:

Woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go, before I sleep.

**it Happens!!

2009-03-03T17:35:00.005+05:30

Melancholy strains everywhere(especially in my organization). Problems and issues being discussed at stretch. Too many setbacks. And to top it all… attack on the defenseless and harmless(only outside the Cricket field) Sri Lankan players(a dastardly and shameful act). I got really very sick by all this. Decided to pay a visit to the Doc. Got myself thoroughly diagnosed.

His findings and the subsequently prepared medical report has given me a sigh of relief. Here’s what Doc read out from the report for me:-

• I have a malformed public-duty gland and a natural deficiency in moral fiber, and that I am therefore excused from saving Universes.
• Low amounts of laboriousness and ardor in my blood, spare me from working hard.
• My grey cells are already dead and hence I do not need to bother about grave issues like ingenuity and intelligence.
• There’s a huge deficiency of Vitamin-planning and Vitamin-thoughtfulness, hence my farsightedness no longer exists.
• My digestive system does not secrete enough juices to help me keep a secret, keep a secret. So people around me are advised not to tell me one.
• Overdose of preaching has depleted my ear-drums to the extent that I won’t be able to hear any more advises.
• The mucous membrane of my nose has become incapable of smelling anything except the smell of Scotch, Whiskey, Vodka or Rum.
• The oxygen absorbing capacity of my lungs is still very good, so I can smoke them out.

And

• The Sense of Humor tissues have taken a serious beating, are injured and the Doc is skeptical that they will never recover to the extent that anybody would be ever able to laugh at whatever I say. I am comically dead!

All that is left to say after this is …’Thank you Doctor. You saved my life’.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Update:-

I just received a call from the Doc. He says I have a severe thrombosis/blockage in my Writing Skills Vein and therefore I won’t ever be able to write any sensible stuff.

Well! What can I say? He saved my life once again!! 

Friends are.....Indispensable

2009-03-02T15:19:00.008+05:30

The title may make this post seem like something about a computer geek...but it isn't...This is a story about me…and maybe you too…or maybe about more people…I guess it’s about all of us…because it speaks about someone very innate and inherent in all our lives. Yes, may be…you guessed it right…it’s about a Friend. A partner for life, a relative…who’s not forced onto you…but is present only by choice or heck! even without that choice...

I do not know how…or why… but…He’s there…always…even at 4’o clock in the night when you’re completely drunk and sullen…he picks your call, listens to all the crap you have to say and then when you start sulking, he even consoles you. You tell some of your arbit problem to someone else, he gets to know of it… through some channel…and solves it…even before you plan to think of deciding whether it’s worth telling him or not. There are also some times when you think that he is a pain in your a**…but when that pain is not around…you miss him . He at times wants to get some work done…and somehow you’re unable to do it…he calls you back, curses you, gets very furious…but the next day…this call never gets discussed…as if it never happened. You do stuff which he particularly doesn’t like and more often than not lands you in trouble…so he’ll yell on you…but then he’s the one who’ll be covering it up and rectifying things before you even come to know things have gone wrong.

You just picked him up from his place, drove off to some deserted landscape outside the city...sat atop a hillock...got absolutely wasted over a bottle of Bacardi...had the absolutely meaningless argument...drove back home...no questions were ever asked...and you never forget...that day...that relief...ever.

His parents trust you more than him over your wisdom…and your parents trust him more than you. You feel you’re crippled on the day of your Sister’s marriage…when he is nowhere to be seen…and its only 10’o clock in the morning. His Dad is not ready to proceed the baraat of his elder brother because your flight got delayed. His sister confides in you more than him. Your sister tells you to seek his advice on any issue you discuss with her. He lands in India from US after 2 years…and the first place he visits is yours. He calls up his home, informs his parents that he is with you and his parents do not question him anything further.

Back in school days…he used to land up at your place at wee hours, every fortnight…asked you to come with him…without explaining where and why…you would oblige…only to find that after 10 minutes …either you are beating the hell out of someone or you are getting squished…yet you would go with him the next time he lands up. He takes you for a granted…and you…somehow…like that. You’ve shared anything and everything with him…even your crushes…You’ve done absolutely foolish and whacky stuff alongside him… Never has there been any grudge…any competition…any complaint…any jealousy…any comparison…between you and him.

People say they fall short of words when it comes to explaining what Friends and friendship means to them…I say…words rather start overflowing…whenever I talk of friendship…Even then, with so many words, I am unable to convey what He means to me. I guess, only because the definition and explanation varies for everyone. But, there’s one uniformity in that explanation and definition… ‘He is indispensable’ …Even though you do not speak to each other for months…Even though you haven’t met for years…Even though you live in the same house and have quarrels every day…Even though his ideologies and thinking is exactly opposite of what you have…Even though he gets angry with you and walks out….He will always be - indispensable…You won’t have the same strength if he is not there…and when he is there…you feel…you can even climb the Everest.

I somehow got deviated..from what I was originally planning to write…so changed the subject…to what friendship means to me. This was going to be a short story kinds…but, again that overflow of words took it into some other direction.

(P.S.: Its not just one of you I am talking about...I guess...you all should have figured that out by now...You all are mentioned...its about all of you guys!...I love you all!..)

Paradox....It is!!

2009-02-26T14:55:00.005+05:30

Your life is a paradox now because those things in your immediate reality seem unreal, yet when you think about your long-term goals, your plans can be quite exacting. The problem is that it may be difficult to turn your detailed strategy into action. Letting go of control and simply rolling with the incoming waves could be your most productive move today.
By Rick Levine

This is what my horrorscope reads for me today. Not that I believe in horoscopes, But, I had a huge laugh. Control? Over my life? Right now? It was the most hilarious thing that anybody could have said to me this morning. But, yes! It was true about two of the things in context with My life:-
a. It’s a paradox now
b. Its rolling with the incoming waves.

Only the waves are not just waves, they are tides, or I guess, tsunamis …which are not just making me roll…they are picking me up, tossing me high in the air and slamming me down... hard…Bruises, all over, can be seen. And I am still tumbling. Drowning. Reappearing and drowning again. Salty taste. No signs of land. No ground beneath. Nothing to hang on to. Not even a grain of sand.I am trying…trying to stay afloat…trying to swim …learning to swim…I know, I do not know how to swim…yet I have to swim.
Strategy? I have none.
Long term goals – I have plenty.
Paradox – it is.
What do I have to do then? For the moment…I try and stay afloat. Keep my eyes open.
Breath. Live. Lively.

बड़े हो कर क्या बनोगे?

2009-02-25T13:05:00.003+05:30

Twenty five years…it has been…since I opened my eyes and took my first breath…and almost fifteen years since that most imperative question was posed to an innocent and naïve adolescent…that “ Dude! Bade ho kar kya banoge??”

I stood there as a dumb*** then. Had no answers. While all my fellow fifth graders came up with some or the other occupation as their ambition, with a sense of pride and excitement in their voice. I sat on my seat, absolutely lost, having no clue, looking at the ceiling of the class, as if I would find the answer scribbled there. And, even today, when nobody else, except me, myself pose the same question I find, things haven’t changed much since then. I scratch my head in the same manner, look towards the ceiling…only this time that look towards that ceiling lasts for hours and hours at a stretch.

That one question starts chain reaction of questions…something similar to a nuclear fission…in my mind. I ask myself first and foremost, that, is this the place where I wanted to be? Was engineering my dream? Why did I do it then? Just because everyone else around me was doing it? Even then, if I chose Mechanical Engineering as a stream for graduating…why did I land here in IT sector? Something which has nothing to do with Spur Gears, Cam Shafts and Heat Flow? Is it again only because I had no other option? How long will continue this way? Following the beaten path when I am not able to carve one of my own or even find one? How long will I just flow with the flow? When will I learn to swim against it? Or, do I even have the guts to flow against it? I certainly feel so…that I can swim against the strongest of the current…but am just not able to find a concrete, unyielding rationale for it. And, again, how will I find that? When again I am standing at the verge of another major step in my career - of whether to go for an MBA?

The rationale fails again here. Why should I do an MBA? Only because it will give me a higher rank and better pay package, after an investment of 2 years…which I would otherwise have spent earning…rather than giving to it some school…just to get its seal mark on my qualifications? Is it worth investing that much? What if after landing up there,I realise, 'No! I want to be a public servant, or an artist for that matter'? How would that degree help me? What if even then I go forth? Land up in some Consultancy, after graduating? Tell the so called non-intellectual breed that I am intellectual and you ought to listen to me as I have the stamp of a Finance Manager from a B-school on my forehead, when I myself know jacks*** about it? Will it be the satisfactory answer to the question which was posed to me fifteen years back? If I would have answered to that question then, would the answer have been the same? If NO, then what do I really want to be? How will I find that out? Who will help me? Who can answer that on my behalf then? When will I have that enlightenment? Help me! Please!

SlumDog Smear!!

2009-02-23T18:59:00.003+05:30

Well! First of all my heartiest congratulations to Mr. A R Rehman, for winning 2 Oscars. Good work! But, unfortunately, not better than his work in Bombay, Dil Se, Taal, Rang De Basanti or even Delhi-6(These, still being just a few of his greatest works). He deserves much more accolades for his work. And, in fact, he has received it too. Composing music with a great like Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber should hold a higher place in his achievements list than getting an Oscar.

Accepted that Oscars is big, but somehow it is not the only platform which recognizes talent. It is meant only for Hollywood. Meant to cater to the taste of English speaking countries, namely USA, UK and Australia. Meant for the Rich and Prosperous countries. Meant to, only according to me, show the world their superiority. I am not doubting the authenticity or grandeur of Oscars. It is grand. But, it is not universally bounding. It does not look into cinema from a global perspective. It hardly even tries to cross the language barrier. It simply overlooks the technicalities involved with ‘Foreign Language’ Films. And hence, there’s just one award in this category. The individual aspects of films from around the world is not even given a thought, as it is done in case of English movies. Hence, the result is movies like Slumdog Millionaire get so much of an accolade.

What I mean to say is, a movie like Slumdog Millionaire is an awesome story for somebody residing in Beverley Hills, Los Angeles. For somebody who moves around in swanky cars and lives in posh apartment. For somebody who has not witnessed the vast expanse of the slums at Dharavi. For someone who does not have the slightest idea about ‘How India works?’. For someone who relishes the idea of poverty and backwardness and wishes it remains constrained to the so called ‘Third World’ countries, so that he can keep raking in his moolahs. For someone who enjoys the sight of others being poor and downtrodden and he can point fingers at them and have his laugh, and when it is criticized he can label it -‘Reality’.

Heck! We know that’s the reality. We see it happening everyday in our lives. Every walk we take on the roads would give us much more of an awesome story than the story being acclaimed so much. For us it should not be something to be proud about. Yes! I am proud that an Indian stood on a ‘First World’ country’s stage and took away an award. But, I am certainly not proud of the fact that somebody else is making so much money, and is getting so many acclaims by showing my country in a poor light. It is like proclaiming to the world that we are still- a land of snake charmers. We are still very poor. We still can be looked down upon. They still can buy us out with their money. Never have they (it should be clear that whom I am referring to by ‘they’) accepted that we are a fast growing economy, and that we too can own swanky cars and posh bungalows.

Keeping this too aside. There was nothing striking about this movie. Please enlighten me as to what was so great about the story? If compared a story like ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’. What was so great about the cinematography? If compared to the cinematography of ‘Changeling’. To think of it, the story isn’t even original. And sometimes is very illogical. Answer these to clarify.
How can a boy educated only till junior school (or was it standard III), that too run by Municipal Corporation end up with an accent of a proper American?
How come he learnt to operate the Computer? He only served Tea, he was not taking lessons. Right?
Had this been a Bollywood movie, would it have been given so much of appreciation?
Salaam Bombay, or for that matter and to draw comparisons, Ek Chalis Ki Last Local, were also fantastic stories depicting ‘Real India’ and followed a rags to riches story, and yet there was no acclaim for them. How many have even watched them?

So, why has this movie been promoted and hyped so much in the west? Why have we followed it like crazy? Why would something that appealed the audiences from the ‘First World’ need to be appreciated in our Country? Only the cast was somewhat Indian. The backdrop was Indian. That’s it. Rest everything about it was ‘Imperialistic’ in modern times. It was like crumbling of our achievements of past sixty years with our own shoes and bleeding our pride with shots of anesthesia in the form of calling it ‘Real India’, so that we do not feel the pain. We have been fooled. We have been made a victim of the British Raj once again, who were not able accept our colossal growth in the recent times and wanted to get back to us and tell us we are ‘Slumdogs’ . Yes my dear friends, Mr. Danny Boyle is a British and did you ever hear of his films like Trainspotting, Sunshine, 28 Days Later? When Mr. Shekhar Kapoor supposedly had the audacity to refer to the queen as ‘quinnie’ in just one of the dialogues, the censor board of Britain imposed a ban on his movie Elizabeth. But here we all have been referred to as ‘Slum Dogs’ and we are all going ga-ga over it. I pity. Why have we associated it with our pride ? When it is something to be thought over and worked upon, if not be embarrassed. I fail to understand. Please think over it.

ना उदास हो मेरे हमसफ़र...

2009-02-20T15:28:00.006+05:30

दिल ना-उम्मीद तो नही, नाकाम ही तो है,
लम्बी है ग़म की शाम, मगर शाम ही तो है।

ये कुछ ऐसी पंक्तियाँ हैं, जो मेरे इस छोटे से दिमागे के उस छोटे से हिस्से से भी निराशा और नकारी के हर छोटे अंश को मिटा देती हैं, जो कभी कभी वहां डेरा बना लेते हैं। इस गाने में एक अजीब सी ऊर्जा है, एक अजीब सी आशा। शुरुआत में लगता है, कि ये एक आम ग़ज़ल या उदास सा कोई गीत होगा..किंतु जब तक गीत का अंत आता है..आपके अन्दर कि सारा निराशा धुल चुकी होती है। अब ज़्यादा घबराने कि ज़रूरत नही है, मैं इस बार कोई आशा-निराशा पे भाषण नही देने वाला हूँ...इस बार सिर्फ़ यह गीत है...अगर आपके पास हो, तो ज़रूर सुनिए...अन्यथा यहाँ से निम्न्भार (download) करिए : http://www.meragana.com/hindikaraokemusic.asp?scode=SAA0005W

फ़िल्म : 1942 A Love Story
गीतकार: जावेद अख्तर
संगीतकार: राहुल देव बर्मन
गायक: शिवाजी चट्टोपाध्याय

दिल ना-उम्मीद तो नही, नाकाम ही तो है,
लम्बी है ग़म की शाम, मगर शाम ही तो है।

ये सफर बहुत है कठिन है मगर
ना उदास हो मेरे हमसफ़र...

ये सितम की रात है ढलने को
है अँधेरा ग़म का पिघलने को
ज़रा देर इस में लगे अगर
न उदास हो मेरे हमसफ़र ...

नहीं रेहनेवाली ये मुश्किलें
की है अगले मोड़ पे मंजिले
मेरी बात का तू यकीन कर
न उदास हो मेरे हमसफ़र...

कभी ढूंढ लेगा ये कारवां
वोह नयी ज़मीन नया आसमां
जिससे ढूंढती है तेरी नज़र
न उदास हो मेरे हमसफ़र ...

ये सफर बहुत है कठिन है मगर
ना उदास हो मेरे हमसफ़र...

Free Will! Bigger Plan! Heck!

2009-02-18T17:47:00.001+05:30

I have been introspecting. Yes…laugh as much as you wish to, but, it’s a fact that I was revising my life’s chapters for the past few days. Yes…Me, a slapdash, irresponsible junkie was trying to scrutinize my life and was looking for plausible enlightenments which I may have missed during the course of the journey. Now, please don’t start thinking of me as a Lunatic after this, I am happy with the consideration that I am not. But, I encountered a serious question during this tedious process which is making me reconsider my consideration.

We all have heard and know so much about a delusive concept – ‘Free Will’. Whenever a talk of God and his greatness consumes the grey cells of intellectuals, they mention Free Will as great weapon for all of us. Free Will, presumably is something even God cannot oppose. It is one concept which has brought revolutions all over the world. Free Will gives us the right of choice…the ability to pick an option, as and when we have these. This, if thought over, tells us that we are the masters of our lives. All the turns we take, choices we make, doors we open or keep shut…are all… our own actions…Free Will. Now, let’s park this aside for a moment.

There also exists another, much more delusive and perplexing a concept – ‘ The Bigger Plan of God ’. I do not claim, hereby, to have understood this plan…but, ever since we all learnt to recognize faces we have been exposed to idols and depictions of God, and it has been reiterated that he is there to take care and has a Big Plan for us. Something goes wrong and unwilling, we say, pretty carelessly, ‘God has bigger and better plans for us’. Considering such a plan does exist, and not doubting his meticulous abilities of planning and execution, everything that is happening is happening according to his will, his given choices and his premeditation. We aren’t the actors, but mere puppets, at his mercy, in his ‘Bigger Plan’…It’s something, quite emphatically described in almost all conversations of God we come across, by God himself…be it any religious text(and not mentioning Titles).

So now, how can both the explanations be true? One of them has some fallacy hidden in it, which we or rather I am not able to see. It brings about a huge question mark…Do we really have a Free Will?... OR… Does God’s ‘Bigger Plan’ exist? Aren’t we just fooling ourselves in either of the case? Help me. Please!