Indi-Genius speaks...

Temptation

2011-10-10T03:13:00.000-07:00

Did you ever try to know temptation? Not fall into one. Not avoid one. Not judge someone based on his interaction with one. But get to know her.

To come to think of it, it works in fairly simple ways. Or at least they seem easy. That thing called temptation.

She sits there with smouldering eyes, eyes that enchant and subtly draw your gaze. Stealing glances at you.

Once she knows she has your attention, she knows her task is half over. The smile that pulls you near. Puts questions in your mind.

Just this once. What’s the harm. It’s not as bad as it’s made out to be. It’s a vicious cycle. He does it too, why not me. Oh I remember the last time. What if someone finds out.

While you’re busy grappling and wrestling with conscience, experience, knowledge and things that come to you, she’s busy with her next move.

She unravels herself in her full glory. She is next to you, enticing you, drawing you in, drawing you near, pushing the right buttons, her smell, her sound, her touch; it’s all there for you to pull you in.

Then arrives the moment of reckoning, the either or moment.

Will you forget the consequences, push God’s grace a little closer to the brink, blank out that portion of your mind, drown the small voice of conscience in the loud din of pleasure?

Or will you stand your ground?

The decisive moment awaits your verdict.

And then.

सोचो

2011-06-16T04:02:00.000-07:00

सच बोलना आज कल बिलकुल गलत है
किसी की मदद करना पछतावा लाता है

देखो उस शरारती बच्चे को, लाइफ में आगे जायेगा
कितना शांत बच्चा है, पीछे रह जायेगा

आगे बढ़ो ज़िन्दगी में, रास्ते बहुत हैं
कुछ भले है, कुछ नहीं भले हैं
क्या संत बने फिरोगे, सिर्फ अच्छा रास्ता चुनोगे?

अरे idealism छोड़ो practical बनो
ज़िन्दगी एक rat race है
Rat बनकर दौड़ते रहो

मेहनत, लगन किताबों में अच्छी लगती हैं
ऑफिस में पोलिटिक्स, मेहनत से सस्ती है

एक दिन तुम पहुंचोगे सफलता के शिखर पर
कितनों को रौंदकर, कितनों के पीठ में चुरा भौंककर

लेकिन सब से ज्यादा लहू बहेगा चरित्र का तुम्हारे
और सफलता के उस शिखर पर कब्र होगी उसकी

Hate Ok Please

2011-01-12T22:06:00.000-08:00

I was running late for work. As usual. Fortunately I got a cab real quick. The cab driver seemed the usual, North Indian with close cropped hair with a bit of grey showing, red threads on wrist, wearing a white uniform.

The journey began. I whipped out my book to read. I always get this real nice, rich person feeling when I sit in the back seat reading my favourite book. It’s no fun driving around in city like Mumbai.

Moving on, the cab stopped at the Cuffe Parade signal and a Bharat Gas cylinder delivery boy pushing one of those carriers-in-front bicycles came up next to the cab. The boy was merely 16-17 years old, wearing a very dirty uniform that was two sizes too big for him. His carrier was full of delivery cylinders and a few more were hanging off the outside railing as well.

As the boy struggled to keep the bicycle from rolling backwards on slight incline, my cab’s driver yelled, “Gaon kaunsa hai? Bihar?”

The boy seemed to ignore him.

The cab driver repeated his question. He shook his head and said, “Nagpur. Nagpur ka hun.”

Cab driver said “Kya baat kar raha hai? Raj Thackeray kaisa kaam karwa raha hai tumse. Ye kaam to Bihariyon ka hai. Pata nahi hai kya? Bolo Raj Thakeray ko tum ko accha kaam dene ko.”

The boy didn’t reply. Maybe he didn’t care.

The signal turned green.

Hatred festered.

Facebook-ed

2011-01-10T07:12:00.000-08:00

Oh what’s this Facebook?

I am on Orkut already. Who needs Facebook.

Ok what the heck, another social networking site. Let’s make an account. No harm done.

Oh, what’s this HOMEPAGE?

Who wants to know what everybody else is doing.

Ok maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

Ohhhhh…. Nice.

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha… that was a funny video.

Ok dude so you went to Goa. Am I really going to see 139 pictures of you in your ganji?

She’s in a relationship? With HIM? Women have NO choice these days.

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Sidin Vadukut is so funny. But his book is lousy.

So how exactly does he operate in an open relationship?

Wow! Manchester United won another game. Now the fans will like each other’s status messages and kill every other team in the league. These guys are so cool.

Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like. Like.

(After looking up the cute chick in office on Facebook) Oh, she has a boyfriend. As usual.

Facebook chat sucks. Seriously dude. Nowhere close to Gtalk.

25 people liked ‘I used to talk near the table fan to hear my robot voice.’ Oh so you’re a retard and you’re not alone and you’re showing that off? Nicely done.

The fatass of my class went to the US. For studies. On a grant. Oh.

Why do all these oldies type with the Caps Lock key on?

My dad and mom are on Facebook. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Hide the albums. Change relationship status to ‘Single’.

Oh, he got married. Must like and must comment on the relationship status change. Half the people don’t mean it anyways.

Oh, nice status message. Must like. At least.

Yes dude, we can see you’re holding the camera and clicking a self-picture. Poser!

To be continued...

Joy Salve: An Obituary by a grandson.

2010-10-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

My memory fails me but I can only see flashes of moments.

Him feeding me varan-bhaat (dal-rice) after I returned from kindergarten.

Teaching me ‘Yeshu tumhe bula raha’ while he played the harmonium.

Him following me as I sped away on my tricycle on his evening walks.

Sharing two half-glasses of sugarcane juice after the cycle ride was over and I was famished.

Always walking with quick steps, as though refusing to give in to senile decay.

His ever present smile that sometimes vanished when India lost at Hockey or Cricket. Hockey defeats would hurt a little more. He used to be a centre-forward himself.

The jokes and incidents he would always repeat and laugh heartily each time he recounted them.

Him kissing me as I left to be with my nuclear family, he’d always have a little bit of stubble that would prick a little. But over time, that came to be his identity to me.

Each time the whole family was together, he would insist we have prayer time before dinner. Most of us grandchildren would roll our eyes; stop all the fun we were having and troop in quietly, just because he said so.

It wasn’t fear. It was just adoration.

My grandfather, Joy Samuel Salve, passed away on 14^th October, 2010 due to renal failure.

He was 91.

His last days were inactive as he was bed-ridden. But he had already lived a life that would make his creator’s heart swell with pride.

Some one eulogised at his funeral that he was never seen empty-handed, always distributing tracts containing the gospel of Christ.

Once someone asked him, “Uncle, do you realise many people trample these tracts underfoot, not even bothering to glance through it? He replied, “A hundred might trample it underfoot, but at least one of them will read it.”

He left an indelible mark on my life and the surprising part was, he did it without even trying.

The seeds of faith that he sowed in me when I was toddler have taken firm root within, the songs he taught me move my heart each time I sing those lyrics, always praying, always questioning his loved ones and their little faith, always putting God first in times when God is often the last resort.

I didn’t weep when they brought in his body or when I dressed him in his best suit or even when he lay peacefully in his coffin at the cemetery chapel. But before they had to pick the coffin to take it near the grave, I broke down.

At that moment, phrases like ‘boys don’t cry’ and ‘be a man’ meant little to me. I had to mourn and let out the grief I thought I was handling well till then, sometimes concealing it under all the pre-funeral running around.

I realised how much he meant to me and the difference he made to my life.

My faith is too small and his shoes are too big to fill in.

I’ll miss you Azoba. Always.

Leh-Ladakh and tons in between Part I

2010-07-20T01:33:00.000-07:00

There are times in your life when you get into something, not really knowing what you’re getting into. I was just looking for a long overdue vacation. I had no idea I am going to be blown away, turned inside out and have a once in a lifetime experience.

I took a biking vacation to Leh-ladakh with my Elder brother/Friend/Most admired person around, David Sehar on his Royal Enfield, ‘73 model. Close your mouths now, it’s a superb bike, extremely well maintained. More on that later.

Much has been said about Leh-Ladakh and sometimes I suspect, the best things about the place, can never really be articulated.

A biking vacation isn’t really for those of you who like armchair vacations, with a butler at your beck and call. It’s tough. Almost like not being on a vacation. Only this time, you’re the only one kicking your own arse. And loving it.

Absolutlely mindnumbing butt aches. Very very few of us have experienced this in the real physical terms with our soft seat easy going lives. Especially if you’re riding pillion. The first couple of hours are okay, you can manage.

And then, it starts.

The only thing you really want to do is get off the bike, and stand. Yes, stand and not rest your posterior anywhere. At all. I’ve had quite a few meals and chais buffet style, only that they were at a roadside dhaba.

The road till Manali is very good being a national highway. The real fun was really after Manali.

Due to some technical glitches, we could only begin our ascent on Sunday evening. I had hired a Bajaj Avenger and so the butt aches weren’t really on the horizon.

Our first hurdle was Rohtang pass, at 13000 feet. It was just 50 kilometers from Manali but it took us a good three hours to traverse the mountain roads, bad roads, steep inclines, hairpin bends with steep inclines, narrow bridges. The view would just get better with every hairpin bend.

We reached Rohtang top at 8pm and the Sun was out. I tried to flick the headlights of my bike on. No response. Just the sound of flicking switches and swooshing chilly breeze. I had a mix of emotions. Fear, excitement, stupidity, mad rush of adventure among others. David and I decided to carry on because it made no sense going back. His bike’s headlights were working fine and I had done this before. Just as precaution, I even switched on the left turn blinker.

But well, we had no idea what on earth we were getting into.

Leh-Ladakh and tons in between Part II

2010-07-20T00:54:00.000-07:00

We began descending Rohtang pass and boy, the road just vanished. What we had in front of us was a combination of the mud that had flown on to the erstwhile road, with stones and small rivers that had chosen to flow through our path.

Our bikes would often get stuck in the shin deep muck but somehow we pulled through. It was getting even more difficult as we kept moving forward. Then, at one point both mine and David’s bike got stuck. My Avenger was a self-start so it started up and moved on without a stutter. But the bullet wouldn’t come to life at all. Besides, all this was happening in pitch dark, as David couldn’t keep his bike’s headlights on. It would’ve drained the battery.

So here we were. In the middle of nowhere, with steep mountain on one side and deep valley on the other, deep slush and muck at our feet, with no moon or stars or even a flickering light anywhere in the mountains around us, at 3 degree celsius.

We only had prayers on our lips.

And on this occasion, God did answer and very quickly at that. A Mahindra Xylo drove up behind us and he stopped to check on us seeing us stuck. He was a local and knew exactly how bad our situation was. He offered to follow us, showing us the road ahead with his headlights.

A little ahead, on another extremely difficult muddy patch, David’s bike was stuck again. This time even his strength gave way. The air is very thin at high altitudes and even a little effort takes away a lot from you.

The Xylo driver stepped out of his car and into the deep muck and helped David start his bike. He didn’t know the technique to start the bullet. Yes, there is a technique; it’s a bullet afterall. But he still tried and after 7-8 random powerpacked kicks, the bike came alive.

He followed us patiently for over 12-15 kilometers of treacherous terrain. He could’ve easily zoomed past us but he didn’t. He didn’t’ even honk once to hurry us on. He kept his promise and didn’t leave our side till we cleared the pass and reached the next village, Koksar.

Both David and I believe this was a real life divine intervention. We thanked this nameless man everyday of the trip.

For what it's worth

2009-10-15T11:25:00.003-07:00

It was early evening and we were running late. Somehow we knew we would make it in time. Nothing starts on time in India, including funerals. A decent crowd had turned up to pay their last respects. It was my friend’s father who had passed away. He was admitted to the hospital for diabetes. He succumbed to kidney failure. Renal failure as the doctor’s note put it.

It was strange how quickly a man with a name, with honour, with a life suddenly becomes a mere body. All conversations too refer to him as ‘The Body’. All that remains is a pile of muscle, flesh and fast clotting blood. Stripped of all decency, the body is wrapped tightly in a shroud, like an object being parcelled, labelled and mailed away.

I couldn’t help but think about the momentary nature of our lives. Right from birth to death to everything in between. So many questions kept darting back and forth in my head. All our plans, wishes, dreams, vices, egos, self-esteem, pride, glory, wealth, power, connections, mistakes, achievements, eccentricities, deepest darkest fears, all amounts to nothing.

It’s the end. Totally.

Yet we spend so much of our time in them, investing so much time, emotions, money. It all seems perfectly logical when we are alive and kicking.

So many enjoy life while they are here while many others advocate preparing for the next life in this life itself. Some even castigate their past lives. My moment of disillusionment was just with how insignificant we are in the scheme of things. Even the greatest men couldn’t bring life to a grinding halt.

Sometimes we really do lose sight of what’s really important.

Things that outlast life itself.

How long will that car last?

How good an investment is your flat?

How long will that meal at that fancy place be remembered?

Is winning always really that important?

How long will you hold that grudge?

How long will that hurt fester the sadism within?

How long will you abuse your body?

How long will it hold up?

Points to ponder, food for thought or maybe just plain bullshit.

Not another Goa trip post

2009-05-15T06:53:00.001-07:00

It’s been a very eventful Goa trip. Thinking of it, this is only my fifth occasion of coming to Goa and the boredom has already set in. Not that five trips is anything to boast of, I know some one who would travel to Goa every weekend.

As she puts it, things love makes us do.

Sorry to digress, but Goa has never really enchanted me the way it interests most other people. Maybe because I am a teetotaler and some the greatest joys or so that Goa offers are the ones I won’t indulge in.

What interests me always is how this place has face, an identity and a flavour that is truly local. In a day and time where every place wants to be a ‘me too’, Goa has retained its character.

Whether it is the distinctly Portuguese architecture or the names that have a beautiful ring of Konkani. Mapusa, Baga, Colva and many more.

What I personally find extremely engrossing is the kind of tourists who turn up and the effect of Goa on them.

You have the middle-aged uncle wearing a ‘I love Goa’ t-shirts, the ones with a palm tree and an orange setting sun. The tee is really tight and it displays his ample girth. He wears a very weary looking pair of shorts and has sports shoes to go with them. Mind you, socks included, that go up almost half way till the knees. He also wears the cane hat and really loud shades that harm his and our eyes.

Then there are the wannabe cool dudes who roam around in the stupidest of ganjis, trying to show off the ever-slight triceps that refuse to reveal over the folds of fat. They will find the freakiest corners of Shapora and Aguada fort to click pictures that declare to the world and the on-looking tourists of their fleeting bravado. These pictures then make their way to Facebook in albums titled ‘Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’.

I really and honestly pity the Maharashtrian aunties who go around Goa’s tourist ‘points’ in sarees. I can’t even imagine how it is to be in the hot sun, under so many metres of cloth and still appreciate the beauty of Goa. Even they have a moment of so-called turning modern by wearing shades and the cane hat. I guess all this is included in the package of being the good housewife.

Then you have the PYTs who really make us think that anorexia is really an issue next only to global warming. The crazy side of even the most demure girls will come out in a place like Goa. The flea markets of Anjuna are good enough to excite them but I will never come to terms with the idea of ‘Shopping’ in Goa. I really cannot digest the assumption that Goa is the only place where you get ‘this kind of good stuff’. Or then maybe I worship Colaba Causeway a little too much.
Then come the real cool dudes.

The Firangs.

These are the guys who really live it up. I am not exactly buried under the colonial burden of being the Children of a lesser God. But their free spirited approach and the love for life is contagious. Armed with the coolest bikes and well chiselled bodies, Goa is an experience for them rather than a destination.

Whether it is surfing in the sea, sunbathing, leafing through a book over a joint and vodka, making a distinct statement with their innumerable tattoos, mingling with the Goans as if they were blood brothers once or simply sitting by the Mandovi river making mental notes.

But I think most of all what Goa gives itself and every visitor is a feel of the most untangible feeling of COOL.

Like someone puts it, Goa is not a state, it’s a state of mind.

Random and not so random

2009-03-27T09:32:00.000-07:00

I hate people who stand inside ATMs counting cash when there are 20 people in queue outside

I think parallel parking is an art.

I think the best movie reviews are the ones you write yourself.

I am the guy making irritated sounds when you were on the phone in the movie hall.

On Facebook, who thinks up quizzes like, “What car are you?” What kinds of psychos actually get an ego massage if they are declared as Mercedes or Lamborghini?

Do people really keep in touch with 644 friends in their friend’s lists? Or is it just an ego trip?

I think napping at work should be compulsory. Research has proved it improves efficiency.

I am soon going to buy some land in the mountains. Someday not very far off, those will be the only places habitable.

I think Steve Jobs is fostering a whole generation that will go deaf far sooner than a generation before us. I still think Ipod is all hype. Don’t you think going through iTunes is a pain when copy-pasting files is far more easier?

80 GB of songs is IMPOSSIBLE to listen to.

I think amazingly cool personalities are rare. The rest of us get by with Nike, iPods and hip-hop.

After a lot of observation, I think the phrase “She is way out of my league” should be officially banned.

I think most of the tremendously talented people are also the most humble.

There are no accidents in real life. Everything has been planned before hand.

I believe life teaches you the same lessons over and over again till you learn them well.

Luck By Chance - A must watch

2009-02-02T07:21:00.000-08:00

“Maine death scene mein saara emotion nichod liya. Ab aur sad scenes kiya to movie dull ho jayegi.

We HAVE to move from highlight to highlight”

The words in bold are exactly the words the embody Zoya Akhtar’s second movie, ‘LuckByChance’. We all have seen great films. Some grow on you with every passing minute and then there are others that grip you from frame one. LuckByChance is of the second kind. I am going to concentrate on the writing aspect mostly because the script has set a standard for great screenwriting.

Right from the opening credit sequence, one can experience the rigour that has gone into the film. Beautifully shot and composed with an amazing song, the opening itself promises a great film. It seems as if its been created on a storyboard before it was shot and lived even before it was made into a storyboard.

One might argue that it is an easy subject to make a film on. But it is actually very tough to look within, to look at the strengths of this industry, its weaknesses and still come out on top without forgetting to hugely entertain.

The film is essentially an underdog story and how he makes it big with the help of many factors. The plots and the sub-plots seamlessly intertwine to bring about this story that is really engrossing.

The characters are beautifully written. I loved Farhan Akhtar’s character. Rarely do we see such an amazingly written grey character. He is hardworking, smart, optimist, gem of a friend, charming and at the same time he is street smart, a cheat and knows what buttons to push to get the results he wants. Awesome.

I think Rishi Kapoor has given the performance of a lifetime. Loud, colourful, deeply passionate about his work and a very emotional character. He has played the role of a film producer to the T. I can see Vashu Bhagnani written all over it.

Ending the movie with Konkona Sen was I think the finest endings to a movie. There are no happy endings in real life and the fact that she remained a strong woman throughout the movie, and not falling for Farhan even after he apologises was a refreshing break from the cliché.

Even the small character are written and played out extremely well. Be it Farhan’s school friend who is a better actor than him or Juhi Chawla’s sister who tries hard to fit into a world she doesn’t belong.

All throughout, we see the selfishness as a strong underlying theme. Be it Hrithik leaving Rishi Kapoor’s movie for a Karan Johar starrer or Konkona Sen letting Chaudhary exploit her for a big break or Farhan buttering up Dimple for his own gains. Maybe its human nature or maybe it’s the industry, but this theme brings out the best and the worst in the movie’s characters.

In one scene, we see an extra walking out of the frame with some very funny sticks and balls protruding out of her back before the bawre song. I think that one scene spoke so much. Our movies are so unreal in a very real world. In a real setting, that looked so stupid but when I saw the same thing in the bawre song, it fit perfectly.

All in all, it’s the kind of movie that makes you weekend. It made mine at least.

U there?

2007-07-20T06:18:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt the feeling of being left out? When you want to be a part of the action, the party, the fun, the thing to do or the place to be and all you get is your loneliness in the crowd. Its that extremely excruciating position where you are there but you are not really there. You exist, albeit in a different realm of existence.

I was once not selected in a cricket team. I love the sport. I mean I am completely insane about it to the extent that I can watch old test matches ball-by-ball. I got depressed and didn’t eat for two days when India crashed out of the World Cup in the first round.

It really really really hurt when I didn’t see my name figure in that list of names. I saw people leaving for the gymkhana. There were others who weren’t selected but they went for the match anyways just as spectators. I couldn’t get myself to go. I hate being a substitute. I had waited for that moment for two years and it almost came to me and evaded me.

I can still feel that helplessness. I sat out the whole day in my room.

Its so strange na. If you are on the other side, you really wouldn’t care too much about someone who isn’t part of the action you are enjoying. Oh there must be some reason why he/she isn’t a part of the fun. Cest la Vie n all that.

Life suddenly seems very unfair the moment you realise you are the excluded one too. All of life’s injustices and so called unfair moments come back to you. Life suddenly seems extremely unfair. You realise, life has only been unfair. If someone else has gotten something you haven’t, its always been easy for them, born with a silver spoon, rich well connected uncle or whatever. But you are the unfortunate one who has been heaped upon with life’s misfortune and luckless existence.

No I don’t intend to get philosophical about this queer situation because we all have our own mechanism to deal with something like this. I just accept it and move on. I mean, what can I really do. No gyaan. Just try not to let too much of heartburn happen, be candid about it and move on. But it definitely screws your happiness for the time being.

Keep walking dude.

The other side...

2007-07-20T01:05:00.000-07:00

I love reading the newspapers. Nothing like sitting alone on a Sunday afternoon and relishing the features, special stories etc etc in the papers. Though that doesn’t happen too often.

They say newspapers are the mirror of society, a reflection of the zeitgeist, showing the general mindset of the masses, the general goings on, the wheelings and dealings, information-communication-entertainment or the other way around and loads more.

Then we have the stories.

And sometimes I wonder if there is another side. I don’t doubt or discredit the journalistic capabalities of the scribes but my Rashomonesque curiosity eggs me on to think beyond the obvious.

Was Ganguly’s inclusion in the team merely on his meagre performances in the domestic circuit? Are you really telling me that all those other batsmen out there in the wilderness who score tons of runs consistently every season are not worthy of a look in? Take the case of Amol Muzumdar of Mumbai, the mainstay of the batting. Years of consistent performance have not given him a look in. Maybe the left leaders just couldn’t see their wonder boy out fo the team. Maybe Sharad Pawar had other implicit pressures or maybe Prince of Kolkata is really irreplaceable.

Who knows.

Not saving the world!!!

2007-07-20T00:52:00.000-07:00

We wakeup every morning and go to work and revel in the fact that we have a job. And that we have a very good chance of making a career. We are happy in the fact that we can pay our own bills and for a change you don’t have to butter up mom or dad for the slick new cell phone or some new fangled gadget.

But lets face it. We are not creating a cure for AIDS nor are we doing stuff that will be written about someday by someone in edits, op-eds or some insane thesis. Is our job really that great? No not really on an individual level. On a very universal level, we all moving like a herd. Same direction, same ambitions, same self-help crap to egg us on whenever our spirits are on the wane and the same issues in different camouflages hounding us.

But there are some people who do make a difference to our lives. I am not talking about the doctors who cure patients and the engineers who create environment friendly engines. I am talking about those unsung heroes who will never be entitled to a Nobel prize and the closest they shall get to appreciation is probably a paycheck that arrives on time.

One such profession for me is the BMC workers. These are the guys who keep the drainages clean and ensure that when we go to the loo in the morning, we can download peacefully and not worry about waste disposal. It takes something to go down into those morbid manholes which emit a repelling stench and actually do the clean up job that needs to be done. I wouldn’t do the job for a million dollars (Now don’t calculate how much that is in Rupees…so typically us!!!).

These guys still go on with the job, day in and day out. And mind you, many of these are graduates from good colleges but have stuck to this job because either father did it and he got a matchbox size accomodation as a perk and so the son was expected to take over the mantle and keep the shelter the family has had for years.

Its quite amazing how someone can actually do that for years and years. I might be sounding naïve but then I still have that childlike wonder alive in me. This job really is the most underestimated job and definately most unappreciated. Thankless would be an understatement.

And we revel in a great appraisal.

A new University?

2006-12-13T04:50:00.000-08:00

I was watching Rang De Basanti on DVD last night. Yea.. we all love the movie… we all laughed and cried and felt the same emotions and well.. I am particularly crazy about the bike sequence after the intro of DJ.. the wheelie n stuff with rock music for background score.. wow!!!

But I think the most resonating scene in the movie is the one between DJ n Sue while they are sitting in the SUV n Sukhi and Karan leave to drop Aslam off till him home. As my friend puts it, you got to have lived it to write that scene.

It hasn’t made more sense to me than today. It has been around a year and a half since I graduated. We did take on life the way it came our way. Nervous trainees. Scary bosses. Scarier clients. Crappy assignments. Interesting assignments. First salary. Opening your first bank account. Getting calls from banks to sell credit cards which you never need. Stress actually affecting your health. Missing college. Bunking lectures. Slipping outta class before the next lecturer came. Missing the careless and carefree life. Missing matinee shows. Missing cheap food in the canteen. Missing the mandatory diwali and summer vacations.

But what I miss most is my friends. No no no.. I havent lost any of them and we do keep in touch. But yea… that’s the deal… we keep in touch. We just manage to meet up on weekends. I know this is a phase of life too. I have accepted it. But without and iota of doubt… those days rocked. At the risk of sounding like an oldie… golden days man. Yea I do live in the past a lot… n I think its worth it. Somewhere I do feel like DJ within. Maybe we all feel like him felt at some point. Scared. Insecure. Feeling to stay in that protected environment forever.

Bahar ki duniya mein acche acche DJ pis gaye.

Can there be a way? Can there be a way to live it all over again?

I have been toying with this idea. There is a way out for all those who wanna experience insane college days once again. Maybe start a university which offers courses which are not in the main stream arena of education. Something like pottery, painting, playing the guitar, photography or anything that maybe we all wanted to learn but could never do for whatever reasons. For all you want it could be rock climbing or other adventure sports, gardening or horse riding.

Yea yea I know there are people and institutions that can teach you all of this. But is there a place that teaches ALL of these things under one roof?

And moreover as working professionals, its extremely difficult to find the time. And learning out here could be a welcome break from your hectic work life. You get a break from work, you learn something you always wanted to learn and feel the warmth of joy within.

Its an idea. I was scared of baring my soul and expressing this idea. But whatever. Now that’s out of the way. Its all yours. Hopefully if someday I have the money and the time and the drive, I just might do it.

Want to call it the “University of All Fun and No Regrets”.

The voice within...

2006-10-31T23:33:00.000-08:00

Do you have a still small voice inside you?

I bet I have one. No I am not really talking about conscience that stops you from doing wrong or so. I am just talking about that voice that you keeps talking to you all the time. Maybe I am the only one who has voices inside my head.

The voice that tells you to change to a faster moving line to a ticket window. Then the same voice rebukes you for changing lines because your previous line is moving faster now.

When you see a man bathing in the sea water, this is the voice that tells you how blessed you are to have running hot water back home all the time.

When you see a couple walking hand in hand, lost in eachother, you smile to yourself and the voice makes you thank God for creating love that does make the world go around for some very blessed people.

When you are rushing off to a meeting and your car stops at a signal, you see college kids, with their low slung bags going about life with absolutely no worries. The voice tells you , those were the days. You sigh, smile to yourself. The signal has turned green. Time to go.

Himesh Rehammiya and Rakhi sawant are playing on the radio. Out of nowhere a Lucky Ali song comes on. The voice tells you, this dude is just divine and you don’t curse the radio anymore.

When the smell of wet earth after the first rains fills your lungs and the voice says, God should open a deo factory. He would run axe outta business in no time.

When you see a toddler trying to sail paper boats in a puddle, the voice tells you that innocence is still alive in times of Ipods and Xbox.
You are batting on 41. 9 runs to go for your half century. Suddenly a bouncer comes out of no where.and gets you on your bottom hand. This is the voice that tells you to stand your ground. Don’t lose any psychological ground. Stand there and stand firm. 3 overs later you are still around with 54 n.o.

Its time to argue again. You say something. Your friend throws one back and the volley continues. Suddenly you lose your cool completely and say something. You say and realise you shouldn’t have said it. You feel like crap for the ensuing seconds. Your friend has a look of disbelief on his face. How you could you say that? You are asking the same question to yourself. Your voice tells you, its time to apologise. You were unfair. The argument became unfair. You crossed your limits. It no more remains about whether or not you prove your point. Just say sorry. You were wrong. You apologise. And hope things remain the same. Sometimes they don’t.

Listen to your voice. It speaks volumes if you pay attention.

Time Travel

2006-08-24T05:47:00.000-07:00

It was weird. The silence was eerie. I checked once again whether I had come back to the right house. It was the same. I gave a questioning look to my dad and he just shot back, “Nepal mein chor kyun nahi hote hain?”. I was like “huh?”. He replied, “Kyunki wahaan sab gurkha hote hain!!”. He thought it was really funny. Then I said “ok dude why is the TV off? Its time for mom daily soap opera dose.” Dad replied, “I already answerd u son, TV is off coz there is no reception. The whole gurkha joke was about that”.
Truly enough, there were no channels on air. I had mixed feelings. Firstly I was relieved that I had to no more bear with those soap operas which keep taking these 20 year leaps, have a lifetime supply of white hair colour and people just refuse to die or worse still.. come back from the grave. It can be a topic in itself.

On the other hand, I was missing the news, my car n bike show, the sports channels, the movie channels, National Geographic Megastructires season II(WOW!!!) etc etc.
For a moment I thought this was my chance to do some time travel. I was back in 1991. Pre-liberalisation era was back for two days. All we had to watch was DD national and DD Sahyadri. It wasn’t a weekend or else I would have been able to catch the weekend movie too. The nth rerun of Tezaab or Mr.India or someother bollywood potboiler. Radio was playing after ages and it was almost a novelty to hear, “Ye Akashwaani hai”.

I wonder if most of India even took note of this historical moment experienced by Mumbaikars. For one, most of India was not affected and secondly DD still is the only channel viewed by most indians as its reach is unparalleled.

Still the issue remains. How can one person decide what I Shud or shud not watch on TV? Its my TV, I pay the bloody cable bills whats your problem? There is childlock, what channels to program on my TV is up to me so why the moral policing? And honestly, there is always a way to beat the system and we Indians are brilliant at it.

All I wanna say to chaps who think every Mumbaikar is still in kindergarten… GROW UP ANF GET A LIFE….!!!

What a day...

2006-03-16T23:21:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those days which refuse to budge. I mean you almost imagine pushing it off a cliff and it just not moving even a milimetre.

It rained this morning and has been raining all day. I went down for lunch from my office and it was drizzling. Bombay looks a different city today. I look out of my 13th floor office and I see the city in a different light, literally. Those shades really spoke the character of the city. Grey, black, blue, the sun peering out of the clouds to all the hint of yellow. It was beaituful. The cranes of the docks, the victorian buildings, Rajabhai tower, VT station, the sea beyond, elephanta island.

It was a welcome break from the sweltering Bombay summer. The thunder and lightning isn't something you will hear every day in mid-March.

Also a thought crossed my mind that how badly have we screwed our environment that its raining like mid july in mid march. Just a thought. Most of don't even spare a thought for something so inconsequential as the environment. Or so I believe. Or am I generalising again. I am scared of generalising more than anything in this world after spending three years in a class with 60 ppl (40 most of the time!!!) who held fast to their opinion like leech to your legs (ok that wasnt a simile you will hear everyday). Speaking on anyone's behalf was a crime unpardonable.

Forgive me for digressing.

But for the love of life that we all are bestowed upon by the almighty, please take care of the planet that we are born on. That the only place you and I will ever have becuase atleast I am not looking forward to mars as an alternative accomodation. I don't want to go where the male kind originally belonged. We can just do small things to do our bit. Get your vehicle PUC done, stop using CFC products, don;t litter (its doesnt matter if everyone else does it, you can stop doing it). We don't need to join the armed forces to serve humanity. Somone's got to run the world. But even if each one of us does our basic civic duties, this world would certainly be a much better place to live in.
Think about it.
The situation in the movie "Day after tomorrow" may not be so far away after all.

It might be today.
(No apologies to shiv sena for using erstwhile names of places in Bombay)

Fa-toooo-rey

2006-02-21T04:57:00.000-08:00

My friend puts it really well.. till you graduate out off college, life is in autopilot. Nursery...Kindergarten...School..Junior college..College n then.... the D-Day arrives.. when you write your third year exams and after the last exam, a mixed feeling fills you. Wow..exams are over but with them the golden age of your life is over too. Too many memories, too many things about the past. But one thing that troubled me a bit too much was the future. I am a big fan of the movie "Lakshya", i have seen it like a good 50-60 times. And now here I am actually living it out.

You just sit back one day and just let your mind wander. There are ambitions and dreams, your passion about work, expectations from people, expectations from yourself. And the uncanny part is that there is no one defined way to achieve success. I mean for all you know, graduation is all you need to really go out there and achieve it. For some, a PG from a kick ass insti is a must.

Honestly, its not just about getting a good degree, getting a good job, buying a house, buying a car, bring financially secure.... none of this. These things i have come to realise that they will happen in their good time but what will define me? Will I be the only on who does can do/create/manage certain things? Will I be among the top 3 in the world in whatever i do? Will I be the only one who can do some stuff?

Future is hazy... but i know only one thing that i have to follow my heart and do what i wanna do. My passion's got to drive me. Rest I know is in God's hands. What ever happens, it will be in his will.

As they say "I don't know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future."

Bookstor-ies !!!

2005-11-14T03:11:00.000-08:00

You must have been to the these new bookstores that have opened...crossword...oxford...n so on...who supposedly have reinvented the “experience” of buying and reading books....well i dunno about the experience... but yes...they certainly have reinvented the pricing if nothing else...n im sure there is much more than just books tht they sell...so bookstore??? God bless branding !!!!
We have these hardcore booklovers who will take full advantage of the “largesse” of these bookstores and practically camp inside these places...complete with paani ka bottle and chips and biscuits ka packets...n they will quietly munch on these when the attendent is not lookin...some r quite bold n eat it quite openly...n offer some to the attendent too...of course they get thrown out coz u cant eat stuff from outside...who will hog on their cafe stuff then...cafe moshe...cha bar...
i m told these cafes are quite a daylight robbery...one of my friends offered something that “seemed” quite delicious and tasty and looked quite substantial....in the picture on the menu card that is....and when the order arrived...his mouth was wide open...not to eat but out of utter shock on seeing the miniscule quantity of the order....it seemed to be the liliputian version of the thing that he ordered...and well the price of course is inversely proportional...so her spent regretfully a lot of money to eat somethin that he never ordered...
and then of course you these housewives....who come in with their kids in tow...no not kids...brats would be quite the word for they create a racuous...and drive me to renounce the institution of marriage....for i dont feel like adding melee this world is undergoing...imagine reading the profound prose of vikram seth and you are just getting into the mood when suddenly an ear piercing cry disturbs your enchantment...a kid yells...” mum !!! i found the Harry potter...!!!” ...dude..SHUT UP !!! no...i am not mean...i dont hate kids...but there is something known as decorum...which mnust be inculcated from a young age...but well...as marvin would say...”i am too young to know better!!!”....and the noise continues in the temple of silence....
But apart from all the aberrations that i encounter everytime i visit any of these bookshops...the best part are the books....though i wish i could do somethin about their price...but well just being surrounded my tons and tons and tons of words...sentences...emotions...feelings...just senseless banter...is a great feeling.....so much to know...so mcuh to read...but alas such little time...but true love...the romance..lives on.

Cable "operators"???!???

2005-11-14T03:08:00.000-08:00

well...i decided against continuing my previous post on time...coz time seems to have taken offence against me for that article....i m having some real bad time around now...n i really can do with some good time...so till the fury of time subsides...i shall refrain from even thinking about continuing that post...
or maybe i m just feelin too lazy to continue on that....
but the other day...i was watching the India-Sri lanka match ...and absolutely relishing Dhoni's knock...n as he last 6 runs were left to be scored and Dhoni was on strike...we all waited with bated breath for him step out and pick the spinner for a six and as the spinner started his run-up.....guess what....my cable just goes off...blackness....or rather blackness and whiteness...which was absolute mess...and i hated my cablewallah like never before...
Its has happened so many times....i really dont know how he has acquired this uncanny ability to pull the plug...or to orchestrate this loss of service just at the moment when everything seems to be coming to a climax...an end.... a befitting finish... when landmark words are being uttered...when brilliance is about to reach its acme.... when the audience is approaching ne plus ultra in the whole experience...n then ....its all over...finished...missed the bus...regrets... paroxysm of pain and anguish over the loss of the moment....
and i live with only highlights and reruns to console me...

Time...me...you...all of us

2005-10-27T07:27:00.000-07:00

its is really weird...how time just passes away...rolls or floats away......sometimes it just beats me how does it pass just like that...i m not really philosophical but i find it kind of queer...or maybe i am the only one to ponder upon this point....maybe its not even a point to be pondered upon...but my holy curiosity stops me from from just leaving this question to status quo....lets see...I dont think we can fathom where time begins or ends for that matter, time really begins when we open our eyes from our slumber, from that beautiful time in our lives which is reducing in duration with every passing day...Time then starts...sometimes it even tries to get us started but those big yellow buttons on top of alarm clocks were specifically meant to foil all attempts to wake up lazy bums like some people I know. You wake up and are looking into the mirror and looking at that Aliens meets predator kind of get up which unfailingly appears every morning. You wonder when will the time come when u wake up and look into the mirror and find a Tom Cruise meets Pierce Brosnan kind of look. That time hasnt come yet and there is a good chance of it never coming. You look at the big wall clock in the living room and you realise that you are running out of time and if you dont get your ass out of that door soon enough, your boss will make sure that you have ample of bad time for the day. You reach the bus stop and find that the your bus was on time for a change and all your hopes of it running late have run aground. Then again you wait for that red beast to trundle around the corner and save you out of this torture of standing in the hot shiny sun and become a solar clock in modern times. After what seemed like ages, the eagerly awaited red beast ambles around the corner and so you think that good times are here again. You get in the bus and fish out your wallet only to realise that good time is a such a fallacy. You see a hundred rupee note staring back at you with that non-violence man smiling gleefully at you. You look at your wallet and then try and spot the conductor. Every passing moment seems like an epoch and every inch that he moves towards you, every ticket that he puches along the way sounds like the bell in boxing matches...time up !!!...but you hold fort and he finally comes near you, you hand him the 100 buck note and give him an apologetic smile. He gives you a nasty look, gives you the ticket and moves on. You are wondering whatever happened to the rest of the change. All the bad stories about corruption , injustice, nepotism, disillusionment, rot in the system , the glory days of the Raj, every thing starts doing rounds of your concious thoughts and you think is about time you do something about it and that the time for a change, a revolt, a revolution, a new wave of conciousness has come. But just then the conductor comes back and derails your glorious rain of thought and promptly hands you all the change that was due. All the high and mighty thoughts of everlasting glory take a backseat immedietly or rather they get thrown into the boot. With your subsistance lucre back with you, all that is hovering on your mind is yesterday's incomplete assignment. With time running out again, you jet into your office huffing and puffing only to realise that your boss has gone for a meeting and he wouldnt be around the periphery for the next 3 hours....atleast. You smack you forehead for all the trouble you took but then you look at the brighter side. Maybe the happy part is beginning now. ...Maybe its not such a bad day after all.

to be continued......

Sarcasm....

2005-10-27T03:10:00.000-07:00

Sarcasm, how often do wen encounter it? Many times…probably never…but all said and done…I LOVE SARCASM….a form of wit that is marked by the use of sarcastic language and is intended to make its victim the butt of contempt or ridicule….ok maybe not that serious…or that grave…but well it’s a fun way to let people know that they have stepped on your toes…I love Calvin for that…every strip…every bit of him…so amazingly put across…it cuts like a hot knife through butter…
Try sarcasm sometime…its FUN !!!

Firsts....

2005-10-26T00:53:00.000-07:00

I wonder what went into the minds of gret inventors when they made their discoveries/inventions public....anticipation...excitement...fame...money...glory....disappointment...hurt...pain...
disillusionment...n so on and so forth.
What is going on on my mind...i dont have a clue..
Here I am, joining the blogger community, the beacon of free expression and the newest idiom
to free thought. Calvin would have loved to be a blogger...loved to vent his disappointment whenever his voice was squelched...
Hopefully...this goes on well...see ya around