Born Spectator

Jack & Jill went up the hill

2011-01-10T06:42:00.003+05:30

Memoirs of skiing on the Ragged Mountains in the pristine town of Camden, Maine.

I had mugged up the term 'self-motivated', amongst others, during the CV making and interview days in college. Not that I ever was. I always believed that just like most of the things in life, with almost anything to do, there are people behind who push you into it. And once you are done, they morph into the "I-told-you-so" mode, the tone of the phrase adjusted based on the outcome of what you did.

The drive up to the hills in Camden was smooth; it had snowed less than an inch last night and the plowers had done a good job on US-1 to ensure I didn't have to bother much about not having an AWD car in this part of the country. Amidst some bollywood music in the background, during the entire drive, my thoughts candidly imagined myself - wearing my duck-feather jacket on a t-shirt on a thermal inner on a vest, and a jeans on a track-pant on a thermal inner on a Jockey brief - swooshing in a perfect wave on those white mountains and fields on both sides of the road, occasionally giving a slight push on this side with the two poles in my hand, turning on that side with a slight pressure on the left toe, wavering on the hills for miles at a stretch. I didn't think about any cheerleaders waiting for me with red and yellow flags at the bottom of the hill, god promise; after all, I thought, this was a private moment, when I wasn't going to do something like those city half-marathons where your entire purpose is to get your photograph clicked and published in the weekly office newsletter - this was where I was going to do something to 'unwind' myself, for the sole purpose of enjoying it - I was kind of self-motivated, yes.

This was the only part where I actually skied.

I pulled over in the parking lot of Camden Snow Bowl. Looking at the number of cars, I congratulated myself - today must be a really good-weather day to ski; and the flashy imaginations from the drive quickly replayed in my mind.

In this country, I have learnt to be comfortable with all sorts of people unloading all sorts of sophisticated-looking equipment at all possible places. Earlier I used to get nervous at the sight of guys unloading huge kite-board sails from those giant SUVs at a lake, or surf boarders near the beaches, or mountain bikers at various trails - I've now come to terms with myself on this part - don't think too much, they are 'professionals' - helps. People around here looked the same - the elegance with which the snow-boards and skis and boots and poles were being unloaded from 'trucks', I had to pass them off as 'professionals' - helped.

The white mountain in front of me was dotted with all colours - multitude of people in red and blue and green jackets could be seen swooshing down the hill just the way I had skied in my mind during the drive. Ah, the moment of glory, I am minutes away from that!

The cold wind slapped me on the face as soon as I stepped out of the car - it was still snowing mildly, and the head-band wasn't much help in braving the cold. I walked up closer to the hills and could see the human forms more clearly. Tiny kids, of size exactly equal to the length of my right leg, were gliding happily round and round on the snow in their duck-toe looking skis. I particularly noticed the kid in a pink jacket, she was cute, and she immediately reminded me of my first few days at swimming back in Bangalore. A kid her size had dived just before me in the 15-feet-depth side of the pool, smiled gay-ly at me, swam to the other side; and a few minutes later, I was throwing my arms and legs splashing the water and desperately gasping for breath at the same spot, till I was thrown a car tube by the instructor. Well, nevermind.

I signed up for the $50 'Beginners Special' - something which included lessons in the morning, after which you could ski on your own the whole day. I was handed over all the equipment, and excited enough, I started with putting on the boots. The ski boot is quite a remarkable invention - once you wear them, you can't bend your ankles anymore, it's like a plaster cast below your knees - probably made to ensure that in accidents, your toes, heels and everything down there don't move at all to get broken or cramped. It also means that you almost can't walk wearing them, you can't sit on the ground without your legs stretched (no squatting), and you can't stand up from the ground. Try the last part, stand up from the ground without bending your ankles. If you think it's easy, go take a walk. Literally, in those boots.

The first fall was uneventful. I came out wearing those boots and carrying my skis and poles, went slowly down the three steps that opened up at the base of the hill where snow had hardened to make a layer of ice, stepped on that ice, and slipped. It was tough to stand back up in those boots, and I managed by holding the railing and struggling my way up. I consoled myself, its fine, I just need to get a little further, cross the ice part, and then walk my way on the snow to the assembly point for group lessons. It wasn't as easy as I imagined, every time I tried to walk on the ice, it was like a Michael Jackson moon walk step, I was walking at the same spot, much slowly. The guy in the renting area looked at me, and said - don't worry, you'll make it. Duck-walk, crawl, sit and walk, do anything - people have done it!

With an air of confidence, I managed, crossed the ice, and then walked up slowly to the assembly area. The second fall came unexpectedly. This was the smallest of the hills with the minimum slope, and you could go up the hill holding a conveyor rope, and then ski down. Looking at everyone going up, and thinking that the lessons might be going on up there, I clicked my boots in the skis, followed someone to see how to catch the conveyor rope, went up the hill on my skis, and just when I released the rope at the top, fell sideways. The fall wasn't that bad, the getting up part was. The two skis were stuck to the my feet like cockroach antennae, and anything I did resembled those cockroaches hunting for food - the skis criss crossed, kept slipping, but there was no way to get up. I had to remove the skis from the boots, and then someone offered me help so that I could get back on my feet.

The next fall was sensational. I clicked my boots back in the skis, and they started gliding slowly down the hill. It seemed fun for a few seconds, but before I could fully comprehend it as a moment of glory, the daunting realization came looming on me that I'm sliding down, and there is no way I can stop. I sat, tried to dig my fingers into the snow like the final scene of Matrix, the speed reduced slightly, and I ended up at the base of the hill with a full-body-roll in the final seconds. A girl in her teens asked me - "Are you ok? You need help?" Wish she was hot. I told her that I can't stand back up with those boots, she offered her hand, I tried to get up, couldn't, and finally managed to get up only by supporting myself using a wooden bench nearby.

The next few falls were under the able guidance of my instructor, Barb, a middle aged plump woman, who somehow knew from the very beginning that I am going to be her career-worst student. The first time I fell in her presence was when she taught me how to stop myself while gliding down by making an inverted V by moving my toes inwards and stretching the legs. While attempting that bravely, my legs were stretched almost to the extent of those stretching exercises in your kiddish martial-art classes, and I could feel that my body was about to be torn apart into two halves like Mahabharata's Jarasandh vadh. Before that could happen, destiny decided to have mercy on me, and I just toppled over in the snow, on my face. The cute kid in the pink swooshed around me on her skis, in a perfect round.

Next one was slightly dramatic. I didn't actually fall, but was gliding down the hill with the same speed as my very first attempt, fully out of control, and Barb shouted 'stop, stop' at the top of her voice. Another instructor who was taking lessons for another group down the hill grabbed my hand, and this time, I didn't fall! "Nice grab!" he said, and I smiled at my few seconds of skiing success.

She actually had to shout 'stop, stop' two more times, to the conveyor operator. The first time was when I was gliding up the hill clutching the rope, my skis decided not to be friends anymore and part ways. They switched from being parallel to each other to a 20 degree angle, and before I had a chance to set them straight, I found myself thrown to one side, and the cockroach antennae saying hello to Barb. The second time was when Barb was skiing exactly a feet away from me, just so that I am prevented from further misfortunes, and leading me to a purple post slightly down the hill. I was thinking on my feet, but somehow my feet decided to do more thinking than me, and as Barb explained later, my right foot had more pressure than the left even when I was going to the right side down the hill. This led to an almost 180 degree of turn towards the left, away from Barb, and I started gliding straight towards the conveyor rope, hit it on my face, tripped over, rolled on the grass on the other side of the rope, and landed up on my ass. The feeling wasn't as great as Tom Hanks getting shot in his buttocks in Forrest Gump - he at least had loads of ice-creams offered later.

After multiple such adventurous ups and downs on the hill they used to call 'Mitey Might', I was sweating and panting with every muscle of my body demanding justice. Barb realised, and exuded a sympathetic sigh, just like different people had exuded the words 'awww', 'are you ok', 'need help', 'oh crap' etc every time I met them down the hill, not on my feet. The pink kid was still swooshing up and down, the smile broadened a bit. I told Barb that I'm tired, and I'll rather return in the afternoon after lunch. She said I just needed some practice, till my feet 'get a feel of it and start thinking on their own', and I will definitely get better - and she sooo did not sound like office HRs. I packed up, managed to limp back to the rental shop, returned the rental equipment, and drove straight up to the harbour for a well-deserved lobster.

The snow-capped mountains on either side looked just as beautiful without any images of me swooshing up and down. This time I thought of taking pictures, rather than skiing on them.

काश ये खिड़की बस थोड़ी और खुल पाती

2009-11-18T14:45:00.005+05:30

वो रौशनदान जिससे बाहरी बरसात से छनकर
आता उजाला छुपकर झाँक रहा है
वो शीशा जिसे भिगोकर अलसाया
भूरा बादल बस ऐसे ही ताक रहा है
काश बस थोड़ा और बड़ा होता

वो ड्योढ़ी जिसमें पहाड़ों से आई
गीली हवा घूमकर शोर कर रही है
वो दरवाज़े की दरार जिससे आती बूँदें
जमी धूल को एक ओर कर रही हैं
काश बस थोड़ी और बड़ी होती

वो खिड़की जो अपनी चौखट बार बार
चूमकर बयार का होना जता रही है
वो अटारी जिसपर बने घोसले के तिनकों को
पानी की फ़ुहार बस छू कर बढ़ी जा रही है
काश बस थोड़ी और बड़ी होती

आत्मविश्वास की वो पूँजी जो मशीनों के
कलपुर्ज़ों के बीच से कभी कभी आवाज़ लगाती है
वो इच्छाशक्ति जो अब भी दरवाज़े के उस पार
और खिड़कियों के पीछे से अचानक सर उठाती है
काश बस थोड़ी और बड़ी होती

Driving in the rains

2009-08-18T00:26:00.001+05:30

Cluck-squeesh-cluck-squeesh-cluck-squeesh

The wipers are desperately fighting the incessant droplets banging on my windshield. The excitement of the commuters leaving early from work seems to be compounded by this heavy downpour gracing their return journey – as if the skies are celebrating their little joys of saving a few hours on a Monday. The road ahead, barely visible, is glittering with red and yellow lights from all directions.

Legs are busy negotiating the three levers below and mind is busy reviewing the changes being filmed like a flashback. The helmet visors which needed frequent wiping with the palms a few months ago have been replaced by this windshield. The hands which expertly maneuvered the handlebars and steered their way through crowds are impatiently waiting on the bulky wheel – the grip a little lose by sweat or moisture. The heart had reasons then – reasons which reason didn't understand – to remove the helmet, to feel the wet winds gushing on the face, to feel the prickling droplets beating against the skin, to twist the throttle. The heart has reasons now – reasons which are seemingly reasonable – to press those tiny buttons which close the windows, to cut the wet winds coming inside, to decelerate the pace.

Cluck-squeesh-cluck-squeesh-cluck-squeesh

The sound of the wipers is more distinct now – pronouncing their existence – the existence of an anti-force, trying to erase tiny signs of life from a distant glass surface. The windows have just sealed the doors with a thud – almost insulating the honks, the engine roars, and the noise of waters splashing everywhere. The leather shoes, the formal clothes, and probably even the laptop carry-case are thankful that they aren't getting spoilt – those non-living creatures glimmering with the thought that they won. And life lost it. Its still beating against the numerous windshields, window panes and jammed roads.

Some other day: A snapshot from 'K'

2009-05-30T10:07:00.004+05:30

NOTE: All characters and events are purely fictional.

It's 03:30 AM. Nibbling on lose strands of NC's (Night Canteen) special maggi, the mind wanders over the persisting dominant thought - 'Shall I call her?'.

It had rained yesterday, the last few days of retreating monsoon giving respite from those incessant days of heavy downpour usually associated with the God's Own Country. Last night's showers have bathed the hilltop in perfect viridian. The wind feels chilly against the body - probably the Backwaters T-Shirt is a little too thin to brave the cold, and jackets are never in fashion at kampus. Eyesight wanders towards the oblivion, soaking the NC-view of the carpet of lush green grass meticulously laid over the amphitheatre - shining like crystals in those white floodlights. The hilltop is covered with the usual dense white fog. The auditorium and the classroom blocks are faintly visible, braving against the natural limits imposed by aimlessly wandering clouds over the hill. Moon glistens right above the north tower, it's still a few days before it'd be a full moon again.

'She might be asleep' - thoughts continue. A bird just flew from the canteen's railing, landing on a parapet alongside the tiled, covered walkways below. 'Was it a nightingale?', colourful feathers of a few rare species are always a feast for the eyes.

The plate is empty by now - a few noodle strands spilled on the granite table giving away the contents of what was just gobbled up. A decision on whether or not to have a fresh cup of coffee is pending. 'Shall I try sending an SMS?' - the easterly breeze rustling past the ears suddenly seems to be slightly wet, it might be raining somewhere far away. A dog starts barking below the NC indicating human movements. A quick glance in the dials shows 04:00 AM - even the steel of the watch feels cold against the skin. "Hey!!" - the loud sound is more like a belch than a note produced by a human throat. More noises follow, and a group of human figures toppling over each other is visible towards the stair case. 'It isn't weekend yet, nor was it someone's birthday last night as far as I can recall' - a sudden thought flashes across - 'what makes them drunk? Must be those hostel L fellas'.

"You want maggi?" - one of the voices is really addressing me, coarse and sheepish, as if the syllables were smelling somehow. "Naah, I just had. I was about to leave, have a morning class guys. See ya!" - the pending decision on the instant coffee automatically happens in an instant as I get up and leave.

'It really isn't a bad idea to send text, I won't get a reply if she's asleep, what's the harm?' - the thoughts persist as the stairs seem to disappear behind the floaters, one at a time - as if it's the earth moving backwards, not the human body descending above it. Legs involuntary proceed towards the crossroads, sleep doesn't seem to be anywhere close to the eyelids yet. The cellphone rings, coarsely, disturbing the tranquility of space, as if messing up with the smooth flow of time itself, 'Why don't these cellphone companies close their business hours for at least a few hours in the night and leave us at peace?'

"Hey, we are meeting up in L. That sponsorship issue. We need to finish it tonight. I would be off on a biking trip over the weekend to Alleppey tomorrow with hostel guys. Come over now.", a fellow Council member explains. "I was about to sleep...". "Baah! Just come over." From the NC to L is a long descent, must've been at least a hundred steps - stairs do not disappear by themselves this time and every step seems to require effort. The large room of the double occupancy hostel is already hosting the other five from the Council and the air-conditioner seems to be working overtime to keep away the smoke of puffs being passed on from one hand to another. Mind is preoccupied with other thoughts, eyes are wandering outside the window losing themselves somewhere in the valley, and the watch is being anxiously peeped at after every passing minute. It's 05:15 AM, and a conclusion seems to have been reached. A decision to grab a quick cup of coffee is taken in an instant and the body suddenly finds itself absently running up the stairs in a crowd of six.

A lazy cuppa seems refreshing - resembling raising a toast to the first rays of the morning sun. People move away one by one. 'It's really late now to call or message her' - once again the thoughts return. Sleep is still far-fetched and a morning stroll in the fresh dawn pops up next on the unplanned agenda. A longer route, covering the entire walkway encircling the hill is chosen to return to the crossroads before proceeding to the hostel room. A few steps ahead, just before the library building, the breathtaking landscape on the right becomes visible. The valley seems to be rising up to meet the human form, partially lost. Clouds are hung in the sky below, like fluffy cotton, interspersed with patches of green - those partially visible spreads of rare flora down the hill. The first rays of the sun impart a unique diaspora of colours in the sky - vibrant shades of cobalt, white, orchid, crimson and viridian competing against each other before they'd vanish into a nearly yellow monotone a few hours hence. The floating mountains are visible as well - that rare sight of a few Western Ghats hills rising above the clouds resembling solid masses floating in the sky - indicating that it might remain a clear day today.

Dew sparkles on the parapets along the sides, and wind seems to be hitting from all directions as soon as the Harvard Steps are reached. Thinking Point stands tall in a distance, leaves of trees above it over laden with water and moisture. The moment seems perfect - 'Wish I could take a walk down the hill, if only I had called or smsed her then itself'. A guard would hoist the national flag below the Harvard Steps in a few minutes, precisely when the hands show 06:00.

There are people waiting below the NC. Bike engines would be fired in a few minutes when they'd zoom off for the morning's basketball practice. It's fairly bright by now and lights in the NC are being turned off, one by one, excusing themselves to let the nature itself take charge for the long day ahead. The guard outside the hostel gate is packing up - it's time for a change of shifts. There are loud gunshots booming out of the woofers in the second room - someone is still busy killing someone else over LAN's Counter Strike. Psychedelic trance is heard from one of the rooms, doors are open, lights are put on, and the occupant is lying on the floor - 'Must've been with the L guys in that party' - logic concludes. A pair of hurried footsteps descend from the stairs - a short, slightly overbuilt figure in running shoes approaches with a loud "Hi" and retreats with the same quick velocity towards the gate, the grin suggesting that he is probably lucky going out for the biggest health discoveries ever by mankind - a morning jog. Middle floor is calm, thankfully, as the eyelids are getting heavier now.

The table clock displays around quarter to six. The day's class schedule is hastily scanned on the laptop - all classes in the first half, one in the evening - not a great Friday by any measures. 'She didn't have the first class, I could've called her at 03:30 itself, she wouldn't have slept by then' - the excel sheet for the other section's schedule provides the thoughtful conclusion with a heavy sigh. The inbox is spawned with Course Coordinators' reminders about readings and cases for the day's lectures, spams of lost pen-drives and external hard discs with promised five-star treats for obligors, winners of last night's 'Hollywood Special' Atharva quiz, some disgruntled soul's advice on how bikes should be parked in the parking area so that they do not disturb others etc etc. IP spams are full of invitations to join AOE, reminders of servers set up for CS, notifications of radios starting up, requests for hot videos, 'first-cut' pictures of a couple caught on camera sipping coffee at 2 AM in the NC, hoaxes of surprise quiz the next day etc etc. It's time to crash on the bed, with a half-hearted determination of attending the first lecture - personal stats are in doldrums and missing lectures could cost dear with grade drops.

There is a loud banging on the door. Amidst overflowing hatred for the visitor, personal cursings are mutely passed to the half-asleep brain regarding why everyday it is being forgotten that the door has to be left open before sleeping. "Give me the calci, fast, I've a quiz" - the visitor announces, speaking loudly, hastily as if he's about to miss an olympic medal. The table clock displays 09:05. The class is in ten minutes - 'Didn't the alarm go off, the thing was set for 08:45 itself!' - mute cursings to the cellphone follow.

The gallery outside the classroom is abuzz with people teeming in from both the doors visible just a few meters ahead, amidst heavy breathing caused by a jog up the stairs to ensure a timely entry. By the time the handle-knob of the door is reached and pushed in, a silence has already wrapped the classroom interiors and the door's slightest noise seems to be intrusive. The professor standing in the teaching well glances at the unkempt intruder in slippers, crumpled pajamas and T-shirt, almost at the same time as all other chairs in the class rotate to face this reality. The glance of the professor shifts to the huge round clock in the back - 09:18, it proclaims. Few other eyes turn to the clock too, as if replicating whatever is done in the teaching well below is a natural act, almost involuntary. The glance shifts from the clock to the intruder, and back to the papers on the teaching dias, suggesting that the moment is over. An air of indifference from all parties for the next split second announces the silent verdict - late entry is forgiven.

Emptiness of the stomach is belittled in front of the emptiness of mind about sourcing strategies of some Canadian garment manufacturer - after all, the case being discussed was never even looked at due to a 'busy' night. The class seems to be running till eternity, and every question thrown at students by the professor draws my involuntary response - the act of looking down with zero eye contact, even stooping a bit, scribbling random notes on paper, keeping the body perfectly still to ensure no creeks from the chair or any sound from the friction of slippers against the floors - nothing which can attract the slightest attention and re-direct the questioning towards this direction. The huge round clock seems to be running slow - probably because of its sheer size and weight, even the batteries aren't able to generate the required rate of rotation in the seconds hand. Eyelids droop sporadically, but a third row seat brutally snatches away the luxury of momentary rests.

"You! Yes you, yellow T-shirt." Dozens of eyes shoot in this direction heralded with the creek of almost all chairs in the classroom, everyone naturally replicating the act being carried out in the teaching well - the professor looking in this direction. A quick glance through the corners of the eye at the huge round clock shows 10:24 - 'Had it been running at its normal speed, probably it would have been six minutes ahead, ending the class' - a mute, cursing mind thoughtfully observes. "I've been observing you since the beginning of this class. Get out, wash your face and come back. You are spending your time sleeping in this lecture." Standing up quickly, stout and erect amidst numerous watchful eyes turned in this direction to witness the 'action' live, legs start moving cautiously towards the gate. The heart is rejoicing with joy - 'Baah! It was just because of drooping eyes. At least questions relating to the classroom discussion were spared!'

Human bodies rush towards the mess, stomping the amphitheatre grass - almost dried up by now under the warm, September sun - in a pursuit to grab plates before the closing time of 10:30, right when the class ends. After flickering through the non-edible remains of morning breakfast, the decision to grab a pack of fruit juice from the NC is taken to ensure reduced hunger pangs and droopings during the next lecture. The day is hotter by now, and beads of sweat on the temples and a slight prickliness here and there act as reminders of a bath overdue for days.

Mental faculties do not seem very supportive of the idea of attending the next lecture, but a cautious warning from a calculative brain about past history thrusts the decision of physical presence. People are yet to return with half-eaten, jelly coated toasts in their hands and the classroom gallery, in its wait for living beings, seems to be basking in some strange pleasure probably known only to non-living objects. Winds from the valley seem to join this invisible celebration of static existence of concrete, hissing against the gallery like an open tunnel, flapping a poster or two on the notice boards to keep themselves in wide view of the gaping bricks, observant windows and onlooking glass doors. Something is fresh about the day, the sun shying away behind the clouds reassures.

And the reason reveals itself, slowly, almost notoriously. Tall, slender, immaculate - the precision of approach probably magnified with the sleek, dark black, velvety gown covering a tender body sculpted to the most serene perfection of curves, volumes and bends. Air seems to be frozen into dried ice and the legs seem to be almost cutting across them - neatly, swiftly. The sprinklers suddenly seem to be overworking, rotating with probably double their normal speed, ensuring that the path is flushed into a carpet of lush green - grass blades competing against each other to get martyred below the small, elusive tip of the heels. The winds, idling away all this while, playing with worthless pieces of paper stuck on the notice boards, suddenly seem to change directions - shyly moving past the ears, barely managing to lift up a strand of hair or two, ensuring that the perfectly straight and smooth tousles do not move anywhere close to an entanglement within themselves. Sunlight, playing hide and seek behind the clouds, occasionally dares to show itself up on the small round earrings, dangling as if drunk, moving up and down with every measured step taken forward. A small, rectangular, metallic pendant seems to bask in the glory of its fortunes to lie carelessly on the supple skin between the halter neckline strips.

Time seems to have stopped, and so does everything else around, with the only exception of the approaching magnificence in front. People running towards the classroom, including those from the other section, seem to be frozen in space. Visibility seems to be impaired, with only a clear conical view in front with her at the fulcrum, and dissolving green all around. Sprinklers obey the sanctity of the new physical axioms suddenly wrapping the earth, turning their heads and water jets away just when they are to be crossed, ensuring that the waters do not dare touch anything else except the heels.

The stillness of time and space defies all laws of land, including the absence of any realizations of unacceptable personal grooming with unclean pajamas and T-shirt and an unshaven face, and the absence of any urgency to rush inside the classroom when the professor is already in. A quick smack on the head combined with a sharp, discrete, campus adjective spouted in the ears about the immediate requirement to get inside the glass doors suddenly disturbs the prevailing calm. Noises are back, visibility is restored, and tranquility is shattered. A distant hope, however, toys in the heart - probably there was a faint acknowledging smile visible on those coral lips for a fraction of second just before the 'moment' snapped, and probably it was in response to the smile at this end. Probably.

The next seventy five minutes of physical presence inside the hesitant classroom are an interplay of esoteric thoughts - mental musings of the possibilities which the seemingly apparent faint smile presented, reminiscences of the last few months at college and the numerous occasions of longing stares at her interspersed in them, remembrance of the lost opportunity of forming inter-section groups in one particular course last term, and the immediate possibility of a quick glance once again as soon as this class ends. Amidst resigned gapings at the slow, huge round clock already crossing the position where the hands meet at noon, the thoughts change into haste, frustration, anger and pray - in that order. It's 12:08, when destiny finally obliges, albeit, not completely - the other section has already dispersed with no lectures to follow. The opportunity is lost, and the good world has become bad again.

Lack of concentration is evident in the absent-minded flipping of slides to be presented during the next lecture due in a few minutes - someone just reminded about my absence in last night's group-meeting in which the presentation was made by other group members, and the group's unanimous decision to allocate the task of presenting to the absentee. The T-shirt seems sticking to the back with sweat, and the air inside the classroom seems sultrier. Tinted glasses of the classroom offer a disguised view of the outside - an emerald sky spread over a turquoise campus - as if it's one of those clear spring days.

Was it the presentations which ended early, or was it the huge round clock which somehow moved faster in order to make-up for its day's sins, the class ends at 01:22. The queue in the mess is still short, with a few plump seniors overfilling the plates with salad, probably in vain hopes to lose a few extra pounds by remaining on fibres. The group from L which was stumbling in the NC last night is visible at a corner - dirty shorts and Tees and uncombed hairs signaling that their mornings haven't happened more than a few minutes ago. A small bunch, all dressed up in messaged Tees, denims and shoes, some of them even sporting goggles inside the mess, is glued to the TV - the chatter box irritatingly filling the mess premises with loud cheers of a football game happening in some unknown location in a faraway land.

'She might have finished her lunch at 01:00 itself, she didn't have a class' - an uncomfortable realization blazes past amidst silent nibblings of a cold chapati. People have started pouring in now, the mess suddenly transforming itself into something of a busy marketplace in India. Amidst the incessant chatter of curious faces trying to figure out the names of dishes cooked by largely failed chefs and the hastened scuttles of 'conscious' souls trying to handpick measured calories and fats from the nearly monotonous colour of overcooked items, the mess staffs are roaming around hurriedly refilling empty containers. After a few more minutes of silent observation of this vibrant display of life in its full form submitting to one of the most basic of human needs, a quick nap in the comfort of the room is involuntarily given a higher preference over already waning thoughts of a bath.

The last, 03:15 class for the day seems to start and finish probably at the same time. Events like a mild scolding for not reading the case, standing absent-mindedly at a side when the project group is making a presentation in front of the class, stealing a power nap without being caught etc are wrapped in a package of hopeful thoughts about the immediate weekend, making time fly faster and the huge round clock saner.

'It's still an hour to go before sunset. How about asking her out for a drive to the beach?' - the hopeful part of the brain tries to argue with the rest of it, as it marvels at the novel idea generated immediately after the class dispersed at 04:30. Moving towards the NC with the rest of the crowd, a few light gushes of slightly cold breeze bring back the hopes of a cold, comfortable night which appeared remote a few hours ago under the ember sky. The head appears heavy again, probably registering its discomfort with some part of the head itself, caused by a busy past week. Alternating thoughts of a seemingly boring weekend, few unfinished individual assignments and hectic schedule for the next week occupy the mind, while the steaming paratha overloaded with extra greasy dollups of butter seem to keep the hands and the mouth busy. Vague hope of a remote encounter permits luxuriously slow intake of the NC delicacy and a long aimless chatter with curious creatures.

"Sea Queen?", the voice at the other end of the cellphone excitedly announces. "Who else going?", goes the reply combined with a swift, discrete glance at the watch - 06:20, the hands obediently project their glass wrapped realities. "Entire mid, get your bike. NC, 15 mins." - the decision is presumed at the other end.

The bike starts with a stutter, engine roaring to life, burning fuel rapidly to quickly proclaim its hot supremacy over most of the metallic parts below, till now wrapped with cold dew and raindrops. The sun has already given way to bright orange streaks interspersed with sienna lining the oblivion, retiring itself from a hectic hide-and-seek game the whole day, and promising a lazy return for a Saturday morning. The tires jerk forward with a screech, in a quick farewell to the crushed grass and mud below. The drive itself is as new as ever, the drizzle assisting the glide of the accelerator wire, and the winds helping the hairs align themselves to the blaze of the metal below - straight, swift, on target.

Drops of alcohol, left after a few gulps, seem sweet against the throat. The evening sea, visible from the corner table of the open-roof area of the restaurant, is wrapped with the usual tranquility caused by the weight of wishes and curses and dreams and opinions of numerous people who took a walk on the sands earlier during the day. The waves seem to carry the weird demands, mute ambitions, hesitant confessions and silenced truths to a better place, an infinite miles away, visible only as a silver line at the far end - somewhere to a world where they can be weighed, balanced out, and distributed equally amongst all living things inhabiting the small planet. The sound of the waves seem to produce interference beats against the ear when mixed with the moist breeze, reverberating with the thoughts of the overworking brain recently lubricated by ethanol. Mental rehearsals repeat themselves - of exact statements which would be uttered when that call would be made, of exact time and venue from where the bike would be started, of exact route which would be taken, of exact potholes which would be avoided, of exact food which would be ordered, of exact discussions that would be initiated. Mental commitments are made to place that call, some other day.

On the purpose of existence

2009-03-31T13:09:00.003+05:30

Better late than never. Finally had a chance to go through The Fountainhead, the masterpiece from probably one of the most analysed authors of all times, Ayn Rand. The gyst of the book, as far as my limited mental faculties allowed me to understand, were represented in the following piece of conversation between the book's two central characters. Given my negative literary standing, I can't dare to analyse or interpret it. Reproducing the original text:

"I've looked at him – at what's left of him – and it's helped me to understand. He's paying the price and wondering for what sin and telling himself that he's been too selfish. In what act or thought of his has there ever been a self? What was his aim in life? Greatness – in other people's eyes. Fame, admiration, envy – all that which comes from others. Others dictated his convictions, which he did not hold, but he was satisfied that others believed he held them. Others were his motive power and his prime concern. He didn't want to be great, but to be thought great. He didn't want to build, but to be admired as a builder. He borrowed from others in order to make an impression on others. There's your actual selflessness. It's his ego he's betrayed and given up. But everybody calls him selfish."

"That's the pattern most people follow."

"Yes! And isn't that the root of every despicable action? Not selfishness, but precisely the absence of a self. Look at them. The man who cheats and lies, but preserves a respectable front. He knows himself to be dishonest, but others think he's honest and he derives his self-respect from that, second-hand. The man who takes credit for an achievement which is not his own. He knows himself to be mediocre, but he's great in the eyes of others. The frustrated wretch who professes love for the inferior and clings to those less endowed, in order to establish his own superiority by comparison. The man whose sole aim is to make money. Now I don't see anything evil in a desire to make money. But money is only a means to some end. If a man wants it for a personal purpose – to invest in his industry, to create, to study, to travel, to enjoy luxury – he's completely moral. But the men who place money first go much beyond that. Personal luxury is a limited endeavor. What they want is ostentation: to show, to stun, to entertain, to impress others. They're second-handers. Look at our so-called cultural endeavors. A lecturer who spouts some borrowed rehash of nothing at all that means nothing at all to him – and the people who listen and don't give a damn, but sit there in order to tell their friends that they have attended a lecture by a famous name. All second-handers."

"If I were Ellsworth Toohey, I'd say: aren't you making out a case against selfishness? Aren't they all acting on a selfish motive – to be noticed, liked, admired?"

"– by others. At the price of their own self-respect. In the realm of greatest importance – the realm of values, of judgment, of spirit, of thought – they place others above self, in the exact manner which altruism demands. A truly selfish man cannot be affected by the approval of others. He doesn't need it."

"I think Toohey understands that. That's what helps him spread his vicious nonsense. Just weakness and cowardice. It's so easy to run to others. It's so hard to stand on one's own record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can't fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is the strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It's easier to donate a few thousand to charity and think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It's simple to seek substitutes for competence – such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence."

"That, precisely, is the deadliness of second-handers. They have no concern for facts, ideas, work. They're concerned only with people. They don't ask: 'Is this true?' They ask: 'Is this what others think is true?' Not to judge, but to repeat. Not to do, but to give the impression of doing. Not creation, but show. Not ability, but friendship. Not merit, but pull. What would happen to the world without those who do, think, work, produce? Those are the egotists. You don't think through another's brain and you don't work through another's hands. When you suspend your faculty of independent judgment, you suspend consciousness. To stop consciousness is to stop life. Second-handers have no sense of reality. Their reality is not within them, but somewhere in that space which divides one human body from another. Not an entity, but a relation – anchored to nothing. That's the emptiness I couldn't understand in people. That's what stopped me whenever I faced a committee. Men without an ego. Opinion without a rational process. Motion without brakes or motor. Power without responsibility. The second-hander acts, but the source of his actions is scattered in every other living person. It's everywhere and nowhere and you can't reason with him. He's not open to reason. you can't speak to him – he can't hear. You're tried by an empty bench. A blind mass running amuck, to crush you without sense of purpose. Steve Mallory couldn't define the monster, but he knew. That's the drooling beast he fears. The second-hander."

"I think your second-handers understand this, try as they might not to admit it to themselves. Notice how they'll accept anything except a man who stands alone. They recognize him at once. By instinct. There's a special, insidious kind of hatred for him. They forgive criminals. They admire dictators. Crime and violence are a tie. A form of mutual dependence. They need ties. They've got to force their miserable little personalities on every single person they meet. The independent man kills them – because they don't exist within him and that's the only form of existence they know. Notice the malignant kind of resentment against any idea that propounds independence. Notice the malice toward an independent man. Look back at your own life, Howard, and at the people you've met. They know. They're afraid. You're a reproach."

"That's because some sense of dignity always remains in them. They're still human beings. But they've been taught to seek themselves in others. Yet no man can achieve the kind of absolute humility that would need no self-esteem in any form. He wouldn't survive. So after centuries of being pounded with the doctrine that altruism is the ultimate ideal, men have accepted it in the only way it could be accepted. By seeking self-esteem through others. By living second-hand. And it has opened the way for every kind of horror. It has become the dreadful form of selfishness which a truly selfish man couldn't have conceived. And now, to cure a world perishing from selflessness, we're asked to destroy the self. Listen to what is being preached today. Look at everyone around us. You've wondered why they suffer, why they seek happiness and never find it. If any man stopped and asked himself whether he's ever held a truly personal desire, he'd find the answer. He'd see that all his wishes, his efforts, his dreams, his ambitions are motivated by other men. He's not really struggling even for material wealth, but for the second-hander's delusion – prestige. A stamp of approval, not his own. He can't find no joy in the struggle and no joy when he has succeeded. He can't say about a single thing: 'This is what I wanted because I wanted it, not because it made my neighbors gape at me.' Then he wonders why he's unhappy. Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self motivated, not to be touched. The things which are sacred or precious to us are the things we withdraw from promiscuous sharing. But now we are taught to throw everything within us into public light and common pawing. To seek joy in meeting halls. We haven't even got a word for the quality I mean – for the self-sufficiency of man's spirit. It's difficult to call it selfishness or egotism, the words have been perverted, they've come to mean Peter Keating. Gail, I think the only cardinal evil on earth is that of placing your prime concern within other men. I've always demanded a certain quality in the people I liked. I've always recognized it at once – and it's the only quality I respect in men. I chose my friends by that. Now I know what it is. A self-sufficient ego. Nothing else matters."

Sleepless nights and Jagjeet

2009-03-01T07:14:00.005+05:30

A piece which played multiple times tonight, or should I say, morning:

फिर कुछ इस दिल को बेक़रारी है

सीना जोया-ए-ज़ख्म-ए-कारी है

(जोया : to search)

फिर जिगर खोदने लगा नाखुन

आमद-ए-फ़स्ल-ए-लालाकारी है

(आमद-ए-फ़स्ल : arrival of the harvest, लालाकारी : spawning a particular red flower)

फिर उसी बेवफ़ा पे मरते हैं

फिर वही ज़िन्दगी हमारी है

बेखुदी बेसबब नहीं ग़ालिब

कुछ तो है जिसकी पर्दा-दारी है

Jagjeet Singh mesmerizing with his poignant voice over Galib's masterpiece. The original gazal has quite a few more shers than the recitation.

Recession & Entrepreneurs

2009-02-23T17:42:00.004+05:30

Recession is probably the haven for entrepreneurs. In bad times like these when everything else stops, and when one spends daily office hours apprehensive about every next email being the pink slip, it's time when people start thinking about other avenues. Of course, it's even more difficult to set off on your own during hurricanes, but martaa kyaa na kartaa. :)

In the flurry of startups I happened to look at in the last couple of months, a few were really novel ideas. There were hordes of 'me too' businesses which I came across, albeit, each trying to improve past attempts in the domain. It's an interesting observation, that entrepreneurship is mostly, in layman understanding, restricted to 'new ideas'. I always wondered why - same idea presented differently can't be as good as a new one - why not 'me too'!

I happened to come across a similar 'me too' attempt - eveningflavors.com from Bangalore. There were popular customised-to-Bangalore sites like hungrybangalore and burrp which had similar features for foodies like me, and eveningflavors is just another addition to the list. However, there are some good things about the latter which made it different.

In the first visit, it might look kind of repulsive - all monocolour, default font homepage without those modern day spiced up 'flashy' pages we are so used to. There are a couple of spelling mistakes here and there too, giving away the amateurity. However, when you look closely, you might find a justification for the simplicity. Man, you are looking for a good place to eat, not a great website to browse with amazing flashes! If the website's homepage gives you everything at one place, what else do you want? Eveningflavors throws everything at once - basic search boxes for a quick look, links for area-wise searches, special offer prices at various eateries, and of course, the Special Attractions chosen by users. The site is yet to pick up, and hence might not show too many user reviews currently, but who cares, I can at least get a comprehensive list for my evening.

Talking about food and Bangalore makes me real nostalgic. Ah, those days of exploring everything from Chandni Chowk and Grameen and Aranya and Udupi to Roomali and TGIF and Gufa and Queens! There are times when you miss city life, but most of the times, you actually miss your friends!

Food for thought III

2009-02-13T02:16:00.003+05:30

Happened to get a chance to attend a screening of the 1999 flick "Tuesdays with Morrie", an adaptation of the Mitch Albom novel of the same title. Some lines from the same justifying the title of this post:

On life and death

Should I tell you what it's like? Dying? That's another subject that makes people uncomfortable. You know, dying is just one thing to be sad about. Living unhappily, that's another matter. When you know how to die... you know how to live.

Don't look so sad because I'm gonna die, Mitch. Everybody's gonna die. Even you. But most people don't believe it. They should have a bird on their shoulder. That's what the Buddhists do. Just imagine a little bird on your shoulder... and every day you say, "Is this the day I'm gonna die, little bird? Huh? Am I ready? Am I leading the life I want to lead? Am I the person that I want to be?"

If we accept the fact that we can die at any time, we'd lead our lives differently. So every day you say, "Is this the day?" If you did have a bird on your shoulder... you wouldn't put off the things closest to your heart.

Death ends a life, not a relationship.

On living

Work, money, ambition. We bury ourselves in these things. But we never stand back and say, "Is this what I want?"

We think we don't deserve love. That if we let it come in, we'll become soft. Love is the only rational act. Let it come in.

Yeah, it's a sweet little story. See, there's this little wave. And he's out there bobbing up and down and havin'a grand old time. You know, just enjoying the sunshine and the wind... Right. Until he see... Until he sees the other waves. Yeah. He sees the other waves crashing into the shore, so he gets scared. And another wave sees him and... He's like, "Oh, my God. Look at what's gonna happen to me." And another wave says to him, "Why do you look so sad?" And the little waves says, "Because we're gonna crash. All us waves are gonna be nothin: Don't ya understand?" And the other wave says, "You don't understand. You're not a wave. You're part of the ocean." Part... of the ocean.

It's what I call the tension of opposites. Life pulling you back and forth like a rubber band. Pull you one way, you think that's what you want to do. Pull you another way, you think that's what you have to do.

- So, who wins?

- Love. Love always wins.

Forgive everybody everything! Now! Don't wait! Not everybody has the time that I'm getting.

On other topics

What is it about silence that makes people uneasy, huh? Why do people only feel comfortable when they're filling the air with words? Hmm?

You know what's funny? Some people just don't like to be touched. I always found that rather odd. When we're babies, we live to be touched... to be held, cuddled by your mother... comforted. We never seem to get enough of that. We need it so badly.

I'm dependent on others... for just about everything, you know... eating, urinating, blowing my nose. The culture says I should be ashamed of that. There is nothing innately shameful about being dependent. When we're infants, we need others to survive. When we're dying, we need others to survive. But here's the secret. In between, we need others even more. We must love one another or die. Once you learn how to die, you learn how to live. If you listen to that little bird on your shoulder, you'll believe. It's kind of hard to get in touch with your inner bird.

That's from W.H. Auden,

my favorite poet.

"All I have is a voice...

to undo the folded lie...

the lie of authority...

whose buildings grope the sky.

No one exists alone.

Hunger allows no choice

to the citizen or police.

We must love one another...

or die.

We must...

love one another...

or die."

The feeling of getting old

2008-10-09T01:33:00.003+05:30

You probably wouldn't get the feeling behind this post unless you have a firsthand experience. Last week, I happened to visit the NIT Calicut campus for some work. The college was bathed in a festive mood with students celebrating their annual fest, Tathva.

Two young voices sitting on the registration desk announcing timings and registration details for about-to-start events sounded fresh on the microphone. Teens frantically pacing all around between different makeshift stalls were effervescent in their colourful tees and shredded style jeans. Those unconcerned couples were spotted walking carelessly chewing peanuts or licking icecreams. Moving a bit farther, there was a small gathering cheering a bunch of guys dancing on a small stage probably made for impromptu competitions. The onstage mood seemed to reverberate across the spectators - jubilant and ecstatic, clapping noisily, everyone seemed to be engrossed with the display of energy, youth, excitement, life!

And there I was, standing a couple of yards away across the road with thoughts moving to and fro my mind like those students cycling past their Hero and Avon cycles on the campus' main road. Nostalgic reflections of college days were the first passers by - the festive spirit of Srijan at ISM bounced back with all its fervor - what energy we had to roam around and shout and at least witness everything that used to happen over the three days! There used to be life - amidst canteen and hostel backyard chats, amidst elocutions and solos and JAMs, amidst bonhomie of the entire campus at the upperground, amidst midnight trips to GT Road's Khalsa or to Ram Charitra Singh's tea stall on Dhanbad station. And it's hardly the same now - the euphoria has been waning over the years.

To wash the thoughts all away, I went for lunch at the good old Lovely Dhaba just outside the NIT campus. It didn't prove much of a respite. The place was thronged with even more students - small groups of teenage boys and girls chatting incessantly on topics which I feel I have come a long way from. You yourself don't realise when you changed, or got so much subdued with the waves of time ironing out many of those bubbles of your personality. You don't realise, or probably don't want to accept, the difference which time brought into you with those few months of job and higher studies interspersed between college life and present. And pretty much ironically, its time which throws you back sometimes to ensure you understand the reality, that things do change. It's not a good feeling though, to know that you have aged.

The Last Lear

2008-09-23T21:53:00.000+05:30

"From the time you wear your costume till you take it off, its one single shot."

>>You know what makes an actor?

>What?

>>Film.

>Observation?

>>The desire to perform. Nothing else matters. The first day you walked the ramp it was difficult for you. But actually its the first day that you performed also.

Simple facts of life, woven marvellously around actors and stage. Anjana Basu and Rituparno Ghosh writing those dialogues effortlessly pass on the innate rationale - the day 'desire' to live differently and the passion to perform ends, that's the day of being transformed into the lesser mortal. And the use of actors and stage, well, the movie talks all about Shakespeare: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."

A Thousand Splendid Suns

2008-08-27T19:07:00.002+05:30

I love train travels. Flimsy excuses like paucity of time don't let me enjoy a lot of them these days, but a few interspersed ones are true times of leisure. Tucked up in a blanket, eating chewing and reading for hours and hours is a well deserved reward after a few months of seemingly busy life.

Finished this off in one go. Probably the second book ever which I finished in one sitting. I wanted to read this leisurely – savoring all words and not losing thoughts and connections by breaking off in between – wanted to do it for all the recommendations about it. And it was worth it. Few stories are just narratives, few can raise a lump to your throat, and to some particular tit-bit of all of them, you can always relate your own life.

Khaled Hosseini is probably the best story-teller, and doesn't require my humble appreciation. If his last book had the potential to move you deeply, this second one goes one step beyond just watering your eyes. A fable of war-torn lives interwoven with deepest of human emotions and love, it portrays the entire history of Afghanistan. With the book, one can walk the streets of Kabul, Herat, even the fictitious Gul Daman, and witness the destruction of the country and its rich heritage year after year under different regimes, none of them really transforming the lives of people, or their deaths.

Hosseini vividly describes the state of women in Afghanistan, the perpetual grief and fear under which human lives keep on trudging – defiant against all odds. And amidst the description of these tangibles, he inserts his infallible knack – putting into words what human hearts feel. He narrates the separation of friends and of mothers and daughters and of lovers, the undying love of two children and adults, the grief of leaving one's homeland. Love is the prevalent theme of the book, and perfectly depicted, it does hurt.

Email Forwards

2008-08-02T03:09:00.003+05:30

Forwarded mails are an interesting phenomena I've always been intrigued with. You receive those long emails, chained ones, wherein you can see the exact trail of how many IT industry offices the mail has traveled through before reaching you! They are great in the sense that you receive them from the most oblivious of people. One fine day, you check your mails, and there is a forward (rather a Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Fwd:) from someone you least expected would drop you a message. A good thing, I must say, to at least maintain the illusion of keeping in touch in this everyone-is-connected-and-no-one-is-in-touch world.

And the messages themselves are quite interesting ones! One of them actually mentioned why the guy sending me is a great friend of mine because he at least bothered to send me a forward when he didn't have time to write a personalized message, while making me realize with those funny cartoons inserted in between, how emotionless I'm to lose contact. Partially true, I must agree. Majority of others I receive are photographs from here and there, sometimes quite funny ones, sometimes just beautiful. The most hated ones are those which claim to bring good luck if I forward them in turn to ten or twenty more, and to bring extremely harsh luck if I don't. Decent ones are those which have a collection of quotes, or anecdotes, or bearable jokes. Here's one of them which came to me about twenty one rules in life:

Rule 1:
Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.

Rule 2:
Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.

Rule 3:
Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.

Rule 4:
When you say, 'I love you', mean it.

Rule 5:
When you say, 'I'm sorry', look the person in the eye.

Rule 6:
Be engaged at least six months before you get married.

Rule 7:
Believe in love at first sight.

Rule 8:
Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.

Rule 9:
Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.

Rule 10:
In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.

Rule 11:
Don't judge people by their relatives.

Rule 12:
Talk slowly but think quickly.

Rule 13:
When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'

Rule 14:
Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

Rule 15:
Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze.

Rule 16:
When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

Rule 17:
Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.

Rule 18:
Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

Rule 19:
When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

Rule 20:
Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.

Rule 21:
Spend some time alone.

Nice ones, eh? ;)

A day perfectly spent!

2008-07-26T02:04:00.004+05:30

2:30 AM - Start getting stoned! You lose count of time. Forget count. Its like there was / is no time. Its eternity. You 'observe' yourself. You can feel your breath. You can feel your beats. You can feel your own temperature. You can feel yourself moving. You try to sleep. You 'revolve'. You drive, you fly, you try to control yourself. Its madness! Just perfect! You 'know' you are experiencing madness. Your brain is 'thinking' that it can't think. Perfect!

Sleep. Was it, wasn't it. You don't care. You were traveling in some other world. Probably time travel. And its suddenly the perfect morning, but its the same day. You don't remember when you went to sleep, if at all. You don't care either.

10:30 AM - You're lazy to get out. To do anything. The 'revolving sensation' of the earlier part of the day seems to have ended, but some part of you wants to retain it. Illusions are always good, eh! You want the same space back. You want to hold on to that receding madness. That was, probably, at all levels, much better than the reality. The virtual truth, which dared to counteract the real truth for those few hours of bliss, and did that successfully as well. You want to hold on to that virtuality. And in between, you get on with tit-bits of something called a movie.

And you are hungry, you are human and have humane limitations. Its raining. How about a drive?

12:30 PM - Winds! Wet winds gushing through your hair, cold breeze slicing through the chest like razor sharp ice. You don't care. You persist. You are drenched to the last bit. And its like you wanted this since you don't know when! Your every bit wants to get drenched in this moment of requiem. And yet again, you don't care! Its like this is the very moment, passing on with this blazing speed of the wheels, which you know is your redemption.

05:00 PM - Winds again! And madness again! How about another movie being caught drenching in the rain? And you set out! Wheels rotating, somewhat like you yourself were doing early in the morning! You notice something though. That scent on your skin left by the trial at that Oodh shop guy. It doesn't wash off with rain. Movie: comes and goes, who cares? You care about the sea blazing past you on way to Sea Queen. The place is still the same. And alcohol too. And you again notice, that scent on your skin at the back of the palm is still there!

11:30 PM - Blowin' in the wind! Again and again! The return drive with modest rains, probably looking with awe and showering itself affectionately. You are loving the trance! And probably that's the reason you are driving extra safely. You don't have any hurry to return on time to attend that birthday. Half of the things have ceased to matter. Including thoughts.

01:00 AM - Trance! Psychedelic Trance! Thanks to my neighbour for it. A random visualization and trance music at high volume. Its taking me to some other world. Time travel probably. Yet again. I'm running from reality. Yet again!

Biography of the helmet

2008-07-11T15:59:00.003+05:30

It was a regular busy evening in the month of August of the year 2006. The city of Bangalore, with its ever snarling traffic and forever romantic weather was witnessing the daily tantrums of riders on its busy J.C. Road. Air seemed to be still, and so did the tiny dust particles laden all over it, and so did the vehicles strewn all across the width of the street.

The moist, stale smell of thermocols and cartons hit the nostrils of the young man still exuberating with the heart-thumps caused by riding a new motorbike as soon as he entered the helmet shop with the almost-faded signboard at the junction. In a perfectly styled manoeuvre, he had just finished twisting the keys of his new shining black bike bought recently through an EMI scheme under faint hopes that his parents would help him out paying the monthly nuisance. The bike, being new, and as happens with all new relationships in the life of a guy, had suddenly seemed to him as his better three-fourth, as if this is 'the one' he had been waiting for all those years, the one for whom there are no comparisons, and nothing better can ever happen in his life again - finally in love! Anything inferior for her would have been a contempt to him. The guy was KV, and the bike was the KA-51J-4725 Bajaj Pulsar.

He enquired for the best available helmets in the shop. Various helmets in various colours and shapes and tattoos on their backs screened past his inquisitive eyes, but none seemed fit for the beauty standing outside in that magnificent, side-stand pose. He was looking for something just perfect! After all, for every future trip with her, this particular helmet would ensure he didn't get too uncomfortable or fumble while communicating.

And then, suddenly, as if the destiny itself had bestowed unto him, he spotted it! A shining black "Volga, Born to Guard, The Life Partner of your Choice on the roads", with white flames painted on its sides - the helmet was smiling at him, and he knew at first sight that he couldn't get anything better as a companion on all his future rides with 'her'. The deal was struck! And hence started his long-term commitment to both the helmet and the beauty waiting outside.

The helmet, in the initial days, tried to compete with him. There were times when he forgot to take the helmet along on voyages with her, and the helmet, through some black magic in-sync with its colour, ensured that he was caught on one traffic signal or the other by a paunchy policeman on the charge of riding the magnificent beauty in a one-eighth naked state (read, without the helmet).

The situation improved fast as both discovered each other as complementary - none could exist without the other when it came to riding the beauty, and both developed some sort of a tacit agreement to the fact. The first 'woman' to share the space with him on the bike was a colleague from office. She was kind-of good looking, and the helmet ensured that the sacred act of looking at her in the rear-view mirrors was perfectly shielded by its black visors. It was a trade-off, the woman's 'colour' was dimmed by the tinge of the glass, however, the 'form' was up for however minute observations without even being noticed. The helmet, in return, was given a chance to sit in the woman's lap with some pretext of why he didn't want to wear it.

The helmet never complained. Once when he was slightly drunk on a Saturday morning (rather a long Friday evening), and he decided to undertake an 'extra-long' night ride with her all the way from Bangalore to Mysore at 2:30 am, the helmet was terrified at first, but never resisted. Its visors had to undergo the terror of being the graveyard of numerous white-green flies all along the way, sticking their juices and lifeless bodies on it. At the end, he didn't even bother to clean it and the black visor lost its sheen and true colour amongst spots of all possible colours of the spectrum. At another instance, the helmet was tucked at the back of the bike, its body handcuffed with a helmet lock, and was left to bang its head continuously on the rear number plate. The silly reason was, he wanted to feel his adrenaline by riding her amidst heavy rains, but wanted to retain the helmet for safety purposes at traffic signals. For him, it was the joy of feeling the heavy droplets falling on his body with largely unbuttoned shirt and the excitement of wet winds gushing in his hairs, while for the helmet, it was the torture of being inundated with water with scant care to the soft foam inside. At other instances, the helmet even had to undergo the difficulties of adjusting to the bad breaths of his numerous friends borrowing it, many a times, the effect accentuated by a slight excess of alcohol in their throats. The helmet, however, never complained.

The helmet always remained loyal. When he moved out of Bangalore, the helmet ensured that in spite of all weight considerations, it was included in the final checklist of the Calicut consignment. It maintained its undying respect for 'him and her', even though, as time had progressed, he had kept on getting better, and the beauty had kept on getting worse with marks of age. His love for her, as happens with all old relationships in the life of a guy, had already started getting past the peak of the 'normal curve' of attraction. The helmet, still, remained a loyal companion for all their wild voyages exploring Kerala.

One fateful day, and he didn't even care to remember the date or the person involved, the helmet was suddenly gone out of his life! He didn't remember whether he was drunk and asleep, or simply asleep, or busy-with-nothing in his hostel room, when someone borrowed it, and because he never really cared for the loyal helmet, he didn't care to ask it back as well. And when things are gone, as happens with all lost relationships in the life of a guy, he started feeling the pinch. He had to borrow a helmet from someone every time he wished a ride on her, and he craved for his lost companion more than ever. He made a tacit resolve that he would clean the visor and its body with a soft damp cloth if ever he got it back. And he has been waiting in grief ever since.

A different route

2008-07-04T20:34:00.003+05:30

In 1998, an album 'Boondein' debuted at #1 and scorched the charts with its fresh, evocative soundscapes, including the underwater video 'Dooba Dooba'. ‘Boondein’ won rave reviews for its creative song-writing in Hindi, English and Pahadi. The band behind the album was Silk Route, which is now formally over, and not doing any more recordings, concerts or public appearances.

Was randomly scourging through my collection today and happened to hit this song from the album:

गँगा नहा ले चाहे, तिलक लगा ले
किस्मत का लिखा हुआ, टले ना टाले

वो है खिलाड़ी, तू है खिलौना
किस्मत का लेखा, होनी का होना

पूजा करवा ले चाहे, हवन करवा ले
किस्मत का लिखा हुआ, टले ना टाले

The rendition is simply phenomenal! They have truly justified the simplicity and bluntness of this small, powerful lyrics with the most poignant music. The track flows smoothly like those numbers from Raincoat (2004), but is far more touching. Next time, I'd top it up with 3 pegs, no lights in the room, and "Battery: Randomization" visualization in Windows Media Player! I'm sure it has the capacity to throw any soul into the most efficient 'search' mode.

New Batch: Welcome and more

2008-06-25T16:26:00.000+05:30

PGP12 is here. And here in 'large' numbers. Welcome to K fachhon.

Yeah, it is a dry welcome, for obvious reasons, because I can't find any enthusiasm to say, "yeah, aao fachhon, waah, we are proud to have amongst us a bunch of achievers and mature individuals who have the drive to..." blah blah... Crap. You belied all our 'hopes'! You suck! You know what, your seniors (better start calling them 'sirs' and 'mams' from today) were counting days by measuring solar displacement across the horizon through a sophisticated telescope, in the meantime, adjusting their angles of repose with those little-little filtered 'news' bits coming in from Sangams or that Yahoogroup (where you spammed like shit). You think I'm talking in Mayan language? Naah, I'm that frank blunt sadistic prick who is asking you directly - "Where the hell did all the chicks go??" :x You bunch of frustu despo voracious (wo)man-eaters, what happened to those eenaa-meenaa-deekaas about whom we used to hear stories from one Sangam or the other? Earth ate them or the sky? You suck. Big time. Dare come to me and say "don't worry (sir), PGP11 girls are babes" (I know your name dude, don't smile by reading this, I would remember you till I'm at campus).

And yes, who gave you the permission to start off with your DCPs (better go and find out what that means rather than protruding your jaw like an idiot towards your monitor, you moron) in that guest lecture? Do you even know what guest lectures are supposed to mean? Its meant to be a practice torture-session for all you first year idiots so that you are ready for the atrocities which would be inflicted unto each one of you in that air-conditioned auditorium when we (tumhaare baap) would be giving our presentations and lectures (and you won't get even a susu break, and the air-conditioner would make you freeze to death, together with that perpetual chill down your spine to accelerate your nervous breakdown). And you, in addition to those DCPs, were taking notes? Ever heard about cutting trees and ecosystem and paper conservation or any such shit? Came through CAT or COW? You suck.

And who are those guys who keep on troubling with their cellphone connections, and bank loans, and laptops, and shirts, and pants and trousers and... What the fuzz? Have we opened up an absolutely free settle-your-family consultancy at campus? If you signed your CAT forms in ink (and not a left thumb impression), and you can read this article rather than being narrated by your equally stupid roommate, better go and find out where to get your stuff. We are busy. We don't have time for stupid jerks like you who don't know where to buy a bucket to wash your nappies. And listen, the next time I find you in the loo when its my time to relieve, you would be made to stand and run, halfway through your nasty act. Better get up early in the morning and get your leeches off. Get a copy of my class schedule from the CC and don't dare to venture into the bathroom area 30 minutes prior to all my classes.

And because you are large in numbers (guess the admissions office got confused with the misnomer CAT, they thought its an exam for animals, and they filled you like rats to be eaten by cats in our pristine, 230 acres, luxury, resort-like campus and you started to dig ratholes everywhere), better note this for your mess and NC. Rule one, each one of you, eat your paunches full within 45 minutes of mess opening time during all meals, and get out of the mess area before making everyone (tumhaare baap) smell your belches and farts. And rule two, NC is not for you. Night Canteen, as long as its functioning in the night, is for us. If you want to use NC, better use it during daytimes with a hard-stop limit of 7 pm. I don't want Salman or Ranjeet to delay my parathas because a bunch of morons are asking him "Canteen mein kya-kya milta hai?" Yahaan rat-food nahin milta. Fuzz off. You suck.

And listen. Hello. Who gave you the permission to even dare think that the tasks given to you might be just for fun? Its not funny. Next time when your faculty gives you a task, ask him on his face, "Sir, this assignment wasn't sent through an IP address which... blah blah blah". You bloody IT engineers. Grow up. Oh, my bad. You can't. So, better stay obedient even after your parents (two thirds of you morons anyway needed mummy-papa so that they can help you get an admission) go back home happily in the illusion that their wards would soon be polished into global-decision makers who would move and shake the world. In the meantime, you chickens would still suck for your entire stay at campus.

Ok whatever. Last point, I AM NOT RUNNING A CHARITY AND GIVING MY LAPTOP FOR YOUR ASSIGNMENTS. Don't even venture on my floor. Fuzz off. You suck.

Once again, welcome to IIMK :|

बेशर्म लौ

2008-05-06T08:39:00.000+05:30

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मोमबत्ती की रौशनी से नहायी खाने की मेज़ पर
तुम्हारे होने भर से सबकुछ जीवन्त सा था
धड़कनों की टाप बढ़ाता रात का वो किस्सा
कुछेक क्षणों में सिमटते हुए अनन्त सा था

बाती छोड़ती हुई सी मोमबत्ती की बेशर्म लौ
तुम्हारी आँखों में ही टिमटिमाती थी
गालों पर बस हल्की सी लालिमा जताने को
रौशनी स्वयँ सकुचाती थी

पानी की खुशकिस्मत सी वो पतली परत
तुम्हारे होठों पर ही ठहर जाती थी
बेशर्म लौ इठलाती सी रहती उनपर
बाती जल-जल कर बस पछताती थी

कानों में मचलते हुये दो छोटे झुमके
अपनी अनवरत सी तड़प की कहानी बतलाते थे
बीच-बीच में छिटकती बेशर्म लौ से लड़ने को
निरीह से इधर-उधर कसमसाते थे

शीशे के गिलास में छलकता सजीव सा पानी
बेशर्म लौ की लालिमा में शर्माता था
छोटे घूँटों के बहाने होठों से लगकर शीशा
हर बार बस चकनाचूर हो कर रह जाता था

शरारती आँखों पर सवार दो काली भौँहें ही
बला सी तनकर बेशर्म लौ को ललकार पाईं
सब कुछ देख मुस्कुराती स्पष्ट सी तुम्हारी रूपरेखा
जाने कब हृदय को किस नगर छोड़ आईं!

Convexity Theory of Salaries

2008-04-30T09:02:00.000+05:30

I don’t think I would be surprised if someone comes up to me and throws a statistic which says that 74% of the productive time of a current generation salaried employee working in one of the Tier 1 cities is spent in mulling over his / her current salary package, and over future avenues of getting an incremental benefit in the same.

I put some more thought into the phenomenon, and came up with my “Convexity Theory of Salaries”. Apparently simple, the theory propounds my idea of a mutually convex satisfaction and effort curves with incremental salaries. The following figure explains the theory in some detail:

Any Tier 1 city employee can be classified into one of the three zones at various stages of his / her life. Different zones have been segregated based on salary ranges, and a creature falling in one zone has characteristics totally distinct from creatures in other zones. In addition, a creature in a lower zone would almost always strive / crib to jump to a higher one.

ZONE 1 – The Laggard Worker

Zone One incumbents spend a large chunk of their time in office. Their work includes mundane jobs, generally of a repetitive nature. They might attend late night calls (support work), verify and document processes (Ctrl + C/V work), spend time on Orkut, YouTube, Monster and Naukri, ensure that the coffee vending machines and smoking zones in the office reach their optimum utilization, and tweak something or the other in their CVs for a few minutes as a daily routine. They are good at narrating stories in their families about how their work at an MNC keeps them busy for more than 12 hours a day but because of a centrally air-conditioned office building and a personalized cubicle, at least the job is satisfactory. However, they are of the most unsatisfactory lot and are proud contributors to the largest bulk of CV movements across job consultancies in various cities. They spend at least one weekend per month participating in recruitment processes for jobs which might elevate them to Zone Two.

ZONE 2 – The Aspirant

Zone Two incumbents are of the ambitious lot. Their office timings become a comfortable 9 to 6 and their work generally involves low-value-add-to-the-company endeavors. They might write codes for small fragments of larger applications, search the net working as analysts sniffing for data, appear for certifications, or jugaado for onsite opportunities. A few towards the right (light green) portion of this zone might actually work on something which might positively contribute to company’s bottom-line and are the cause of envy for their peers on the last day of each month. With their sufficient income levels, Zone Two’ers can afford 2-BHK flats on a twin-sharing basis rather than those Paying Guest (PG) arrangements of Zone One mortals. They even pay the EMIs of their two-wheelers from their own salaries and are the largest contributors to the Friday night crowd at city pubs and restaurants. Some of them start fitness routines and Yoga for the purpose of telling about the same to office colleagues. Their CVs are normally stagnated and a majority of them start attending classes for management entrance examinations on weekends. Even though they are at the vertex of the satisfaction convex, their aspirations keep them cribbing for a slot in Zone Three without anticipating the disaster.

ZONE 3 – The Fallbacks

Zone Three incumbents are classic portrayals of grandma’s greed-is-a-dangerous-evil. They are the fallen back Zone Two’ers normally with a one or two year management education interspersed in between. They spend the maximum time in office working upon presentations which would eventually attract partners’ and clients’ brickbats, excel maintenance for resource allocation, team meetings etc. Their discussion topics amongst office colleagues witness a paradigm shift from Zone Two’ers talks about girls, boss-cribbings, PVR movies and new cellphones in the market to Zone Three thoughts on entrepreneurship and related gassings, plans for apartment purchases, investments etc. Their Orkut albums are replete with their international stints and other sweet memories of Zone Two days and usually a with-my-team snap from their first few days at Zone Three tragedy. Their working hours, stretching to the better portion of twenty four, put them towards the tail end of the satisfaction convex into a situation which their last-day of the month creditings in the bank cannot compensate. It’s already too late for them to get back to the previous two zones and quite a few of them, feeling retired towards their middle age itself, start watching fatso babas on dhaarmik TV channels giving gyaan about life.

Zone Two, according to the Convexity Theory is the Utopia of human existence. It does not take much effort for an average employee to enter this zone and enjoy weekend trips and Friday dinners. A slightly focused strategy can even place most of them towards the right end of this zone which offers comfortable salaries coupled with a relaxed lifestyle. However, the mere attraction to cross the boundary proves lethal.

“Sometimes the majority only means that all the fools are on the same side.” Think before you play ping-pong within these zones.

Collage

2008-04-02T22:57:00.000+05:30

Kozhikode

Ended the first year of my Post Graduate Programme in Management. Won’t say that time passed away in a jiffy – it didn’t! Courses, with however little to learn from; projects, with however worthless endeavors; term papers, with however smart Googling; and exams, with however sleepless weeks – time crept slowly. Students’ Council work was a tough fun; joining the Council after two terms of a somewhat chill life at IIMK wasn’t an easily affordable luxury, I must admit.

An year at a B-School might not give someone much edge in the ‘science’ of management, but it surely gives a ‘feel’ of it. A sneak-peek into de-la-corporata; a feeler of work, life and related imbalance; an aptitude to pay utmost regards to the four sacred whole numbers – 23:59; and an acumen to perceive what can go wrong – guess that sums up the last nine months at college. The coming two months of summers at Hyderabad are going to be the first-hand trailers of the corporate oven.

Bangalore

The city has welcomed me with open arms ever since that wet morning in the early July of 2006 when I had first disembarked at the Kalasipalyam bus stop. I miss IBM, and work as well, the sole reason probably being the life at Bangalore. The city has never been too harsh – it provided me with ample opportunities of drenching in the rain, driving out in the night, and lazing around facing the winds in the office food-court after lunch. The mini-ISM Dhanbad at BTM Layout has lost very little of its sheen with a few defectants moving out. It still gives the luxuries of sitting in circles, talking the same language, drinking the same way, smoking the same brands, eating the same food, playing the same card-game – reliving the same times.

Experience this time was a feel-good as usual. Relieving the stress of exams in the past week was easy with just the smell of city air – was fed up with the purity of oxygen in my nostrils while living on the hills and needed a break. Home and food were relishing after mess and NC and spending time in cooking was awesome. Met a friend after quite a few months. Witnessing a cheerful face of the one who has seen almost all vagaries of life has been inspirational – guess her smile would keep me out of my fits of cribbing about life for quite some time. Missed getting back to those whose office addresses shifted to the northern and eastern ends of Bangalore, or to other cities altogether.

Journey

Travel back home this time was memorable than ever. Was lucky to get a 09:15 Jet Airways flight to Calcutta at a cheap price. Thankfully the airport hasn’t yet shifted to that no-man’s land 40Km away from Bangalore, and catching a morning flight after a ‘high’ night is still peaceful.

Apprehensions of missing the 14:10 train from Howrah due to the 30 minutes delay in departure from Bangalore were swept aside in a corner with the flying experience. The poignancy was accentuated because probably for the first time I didn’t fell asleep flying, and because the skies were crystal clear all the way from the source to the destination and one could actually ‘see’ the earth even at the flying altitude of around 10 Kms. The child in me always gets back during ascent, the houses becoming smaller and granularity gradually fading away. Witnessing a whole, a continuum, an equal world, a uniform patch where ‘humans’ live; provides probably the best semblance of equanimity.

Calcutta bound flights from Bangalore ‘break-off’ from land twice to fly above the sea, once somewhere along the Eastern Ghats in Tamilnadu or Andhra Pradesh to fly over the Bay of Bengal, and once again after crossing the Delta in West Bengal. The first break-point is wrapped in simplicity – the nature probably shying away innocently from showing off its might to the unaware soul wandering 10,000 mts above. A uniform patch of viridian green, a yellow-ochre streak of sand just a few centimeters in width, then an almost non-existent faint white probably suggesting that waves too exist there, followed with a plain, almost uniform expanse of cobalt blue. Looking from the window towards the front gives a glimpse of sky almost trying to establish the law of symmetry – matching itself in colour and form with the vast below. Nothing, not even the tiny Boeing 737 seems to disturb the tranquility of space.

The ‘re-entry’ zone of the aircraft offers a splendid view. The majestic area of the Ganges delta is magnificent for the uninitiated – while flying, one moves in the opposite direction of water flow, from the sea towards up north and the aircraft flies past through almost all colours of the spectrum. The visible land merges into the sea in an unidentifiable boundary – a burnt sienna amalgamation of land and water stretching across thousands of kilometers feebly demarcating the estuary. Followed by this black-brown span is the heavenly glimpse of numerous tributaries and distributaries of the Ganges forming strange shapes. Thousands of streams appear to be white, glittering snakes lazing in the sun fostered with each other at different places – an artist’s daydream with multitude of colours. A few minutes further, boundaries between the land and the water become clearer. Interspersed with black-brown patches of islands in different shapes (one almost looked like a giant pomphret fish and other like a dolphin) is the huge green-blue water mass, probably the Hooghly. The aircraft starts its descent by then and luckily, a few steamers (or ‘launches’ of Kolkata) might be visible as tiny dots followed by white streaks in the water.

There is yet another break-off point to the Bay of Bengal somewhere amongst this after which the descent to the visible land is more pronounced. Wet palm tree-tops extend a warm welcome to the humid Kolkata and one can almost see the moisture laden air of the city. Welcome to Netaji Subhash International Airport.

Kolkata

Irrespective of how much I detest the Bongs and associated ‘intricacies’, I have developed a somewhat penchant for the city Kolkata. The reason is probably my numerous transits in recent years through its antique streets and lanes and saranis every time I travel from the airport to the station. Kolkata offers the first smell of home – north India to be precise – it’s humid and somewhat stale air puts one back into the hot, populated India which ‘goes-on’. It’s strange how I feel more at home amongst the sweating crowd reeling under the hot sun rather than in a city full of air-conditioned cars.

Visual delights of the old-age Indian charm, buildings and shops with inscriptions saying they were built in that year (which is normally decades ago), people thronging all possible alleyways narrowed down with peddlers and hawkers, crowd with a mix of every possible income group in the budget announcement, from the worker carrying wheat bags on his back to the paunchy merchant chewing betel leaves outside his shop or office, trams still continuing sluggishly at a few places trying to find their way amidst the rogue taxi-wallahs edging their way past everyone with scant regard to those faint, almost grayed out colours at the signaling posts, people clutching the handle bars of the over-filled city buses, rickshaw-pullers perpetually ringing their small bells in desperate attempts to get the humans and animals away from their path, hand-rickshaw pullers still continuing in their plight with utmost tenacity trying to pull the triple-sized ladies with double-sized shopping bags, non-initiated-to-real-life teenage couples outside AC Markets and other areas probably whispering to each other that ‘life is beautiful’, hawkers selling everything from books prescribing home-treatment for all ailments, general knowledge and learn English to torches and belts and key rings having glowing LEDs – Kolkata offers the largest gamut of ‘Indian’ experience. It’s great to roam around the city observing life of all sorts trying to ‘live’ and the city moving on.

By the way, I didn’t miss my train from Howrah.

Jamshedpur

A very old television commercial of something started with an NRI girl returning home and exclaiming – “kuchh bhi to nahin badla” (nothing has changed). The same feeling comes back irrespective of the gap after which I visit Jamshedpur. The town continues the same, and so the people – local Hindi newspapers still continue with their decade old claim of the place becoming a ‘model town’ in the ‘near’ future, MPs and MLAs of different parties state the same thing year after year, people do not bother about what’s being said, written or done, but still continue with the faint hope that utopia for the town is just round the corner! Irregular constructions here and there have filled up the skyline of Jamshedpur but the cleanliness hasn’t been done away with completely as of yet. Stories at home about the entire locality pour in – that one’s husband went to Germany from Tata Steel, that one’s son has joined a hotel management course, that one’s brother was asking about your number to enquire about CAT, that relative’s daughter is getting married the next month there.

Food is great, visits to relatives’ places are too many, friends are too few but the relaxation is complete. Lazing around, surfing and waiting for my departure to Hyderabad. Signing off.

Nusrat Saahab

2008-03-17T02:26:00.000+05:30

Revisited the maestro after a long gap with "Ye jo halka halka suroor hai". There's this strange thing about music and literature - whenever you re-visit them, there's always something new you'll notice; in effect, they never go old! This was the surprise today:

साक़ी की हर निगाह पे बलखा के पी गया
लहरों से खेलता हुआ लहरा के पी गया
रहमत-ए-तमाम मेरी हर ख़ता मुआफ़
मैं इन्तहाँ-ए-शौक़ से घबरा के पी गया

पीता बग़ैर इज़्न ये कब थी मेरी मज़ाल
दर पर्दा चश्म-ए-यार की शह पा के पी गया
समझाने वाले सब मुझे समझा के रह गए
लेकिन मैं एक-एक को समझा के पी गया

पास रहता है दूर रहता है, कोइ दिल में ज़ुरूर रहता है
जब से देखा है उनकी आँखों को, हल्का हल्का सुरूर रहता है
ऐसे रहते हैं वो मेरे दिल में, जैसे ज़ुल्मत में नूर रहता है
अब आदम का ये हाल हर वक़्त, मस्त रहता है चूर रहता है

ये जो हल्का हल्का सुरूर है...

Garnished the mood with "Hai kahaan ka iraadaa" and "Pilaao Saqi"; and topped everything up with "Wo hataa rahe hain parda". One nicely spent midnight, eh? :)

Randomization

2008-02-29T01:40:00.000+05:30

Life is moving sinusoidal. And the amplitude is high. And the frequency too. Its not a great feeling to 'feel' too many different things in the same day, many a times within hours or minutes. Its been this hip-hop of moods for quite some time now, and I'm fed up of it. Whoever stole it, give back my calmness to me prick.

I'm overworking. Or might be busy for nothing. I've to study a lot, might be I'm just feeling that I've to, for the sake of it. Started swimming once again. Feels good - not as good as it used to be in Bangalore. Possibly because I was 'freer' then, at least mentally. Quizzes keep on cropping up here and there; they stopped mattering long ago, still keep on nagging me. Term papers and projects are due, well I'd learnt long back the technique of 'sticking to the deadline' - the pester at the back of mind however prevails. No one called up since many days, personal 'network' problems I guess. As a timepass, fortunes and unfortunes of the senior batch guys in the placement season keeps on coming up from here and there. Small small troubles forced me to take a few tablets and capsules too over the last week, aggravating the perpetual dizziness I've been slumbered into since the beginning of this term. No time to continue Doctor Zhivago from where I'd left it a month ago when I was traveling - I've almost forgotten the story and would have to re-read, if Hyderabad summers provide me some semblance of peace. Newspapers are a bore, would change the subscription to something else, just for a change; getting time to open that business magazine only in the class, yeah there are too many of classes as well. And finally, cribbing for no time perpetually. That friend is correct - Life is random, so am I.

कब आओगे तुम

2008-02-03T02:50:00.000+05:30

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आसमाँ का नीला रँग उतर सा चुका है
हर वो बादल गरजकर थक सा चुका है
रातों की चाँदनी स्याह हो चुकी है
ठण्डी हृदय की हर आह हो चुकी है

रँगों का वो भेदभाव नष्ट सा हुआ है
अवसादित श्याम रँग स्पष्ट सा हुआ है
चीत्कारता हृदय अब परास्त सा हुआ है
कब आओगे तुम, जीवन निरास्त सा हुआ है

तुम्हारा संदेश पढ़ने को आँखें पथरा चुकी हैं
एक स्पर्श भर को उँगलियाँ थर्रा चुकी हैं
सूखे होठों पर विरह बरस सी रही है
गले लगाने को बाँहें तरस सी रही हैं

हर वो छोटी बात बताने को व्याकुल सा मन है
तुम बिन हर सफ़लता इक निरर्थक सा क्षण है
अनायास ही ध्वनि तुम्हारी सुनी हो, लगता हरदम है
कब आओगे तुम, अब तो मृतप्राय संयम है

तुम भी कदाचित होगी थोड़ी तो व्यथित
नहीं, ये सिर्फ़ हृदय के विचार नहीं कल्पित
याद है मुझे, थोड़ा सा प्रेम तो तुमने भी किया है
प्रतीत न करवाओ ये सिर्फ़ मेरी मृगतृष्णा है

शायद आजीवन तुमसे फिर मुलाकात न हो
अमूर्त से मेरे प्रेम पर भले तुम्हारा हाथ न हो
सच कहूँ, मैं सजीव नहीं जब तुम साथ न हो
कब आओगे तुम, तब तक कहीं सब समाप्त न हो

Mahé

2008-01-06T19:14:00.000+05:30

Mahé is the only west-coast district of Pondicherry which is a Union Territory consisting of four small unconnected districts. The other three, Pondicherry and Karaikal (both enclaves of Tamil Nadu) and Yanam (an enclave of Andhra Pradesh) are on the eastern coast of India.

Our 75 Km journey to this 9 Km square small picturesque town started around afternoon. With plans of witnessing a sunset over the sea, we comfortably reached Mahé by the evening. The town is small and quiet and possibly the vicinity of Kerala seems to have encroached its French colonial outlook. I was expecting a stark difference from the rest of Kerala, somewhat like Pondicherry which stands out from Tamil Nadu. Mahé isn't much different from a regular coastal town in Kerala apart from a few architectural citings and churches spawned throughout the city, which, probably, compensated towards my discontentment.

We saw the famous St. Theresa's Church from outside and decided to enter that while our return journey, though that never materialized. Our next stop was the Thalassery Fort. Around 7 Kms from Mahé, this small fort is around 300 years old. It is said to be a formidable strong hold in the past and is currently a national heritage monument.

We had plans to visit the 400 years old Ramswamy Temple at Thiruvangad and the Overburys Folly in Thalassery town, but in our excitement for the sunset, we decided to head straight to the Muzhappilangad Beach instead. Muzhappilangad is 14kms from Mahé and is Kerala's only drive-in beach. The fun of sitting in the car and driving along the waves on the sand was an experience which promptly led me to the resolution of revisiting the place within a few weeks with my bike.

Black rocks protect the beach from sea currents making it largely shallow with extremely calm waves. The best beach I've ever been to, one could venture inside the water to as much as 50 to 100 mt without the water-level rising above the belly. The beach is said to be a swimmer's paradise and I'm grateful to my Goan friend who taught me the best swimming position I've ever learnt - lying lazily on the back, gazing at the sky and letting yourself float without efforts.

It was an experience of a lifetime, giving yourself to the majestic seas, without efforts, without filthy fights - those desperate hands and legs movements to prove yourself superior to the infinitum. A peaceful surrender - complete obedience to the vast. And then comes the beautiful part. Sleep on the waves, gaze at the other blue infinitum above, while the waters would caress you, let you play on them like a cradle, slowly and slowly drifting you to drop you at the shore! It's the vibrancy of life I felt. Let yourself flow with the waves of the uncertain future without as much as caring about drowning in them, and you lead the best existence on earth.

Food for thought II

2007-12-11T18:01:00.000+05:30

"You are generally sadder by what you couldn't do, than happier by what you could. That's the cause of most of the troubles in life."

Reality: The illusion caused by lack of alcohol

2007-12-10T12:47:00.000+05:30

How did I suddenly become so boring! It's a terrible feeling - finding haze all around. You are neither happy, nor sad. Neither good, nor bad. You are doing something and you don't know why. You say you don't like doing this, and you can't think of anything else which you'd like doing perpetually. You say this place is bad, and you can't think of any other place which was always good. You thought you need to talk to people, and you feel worse.

A type of madness is induced by alcohol. Another type is probably induced by the lack of it, or by something which I can't understand. And the former one is better.

पिछली मुलाकात

2007-11-24T01:28:00.000+05:30

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सामने बैठी तुम तो लगा मानो
संसार इतने में ही सिमट सा गया हो
इस बार भी "पहली" मुलाकात के लिए
हर बार की तरह समय थम सा गया हो

पलकें उठीं तो लगा जैसे
संसार में अब भी काफ़ी कुछ अच्छा सा है
पलकें झुकीं तो एहसास हुआ
मेरा प्यार सचमुच सच्चा सा है

मुस्कुराई तुम तो संतोष हुआ
नाममात्र ही सही, थोड़ा प्यार तो तुम्हें भी है
शरमाते चेहरे की लालिमा से आभास हुआ
तुम्हारे हृदय के एक छोटे कोने पर अधिकार मुझे भी है

मेज़ पर अंजाने में ही तुम्हारा हाथ छुआ तो लगा
थोड़ा ही सही, मेरे जीवन को आज भी अवलंबित करती हो
खत्म न हो रही बातों से लगा तुम मुझमें
आज भी उत्साह के कुछ शब्द अंकित करती हो

वापस जाने का वक़्त हुआ तो लगा जैसे
उन कुछ क्षणों में कैद मेरा संसार हुआ
थोड़ी देर रुक जाने को जब कहा तुमने
तो मानो हृदय पर ही प्रहार हुआ

किस गति से निकले थे वो कुछेक क्षण
अभी तो तुम्हें बस देख भर पाया था
हमारी पिछली उस मुलाकात की यादों का
सिलसिला आज फिर ख्वाबों में आया था

Food for thought

2007-11-18T01:07:00.000+05:30

"Some emotions don't make a lot of noise. It's hard to hear pride. Caring is real faint - like a heartbeat. And pure love - why some days it is so quiet, you don't even know it's there."

- Erma Bombeck

CAT Tips: What to do the day before and on the D-Day

2007-11-16T19:08:00.000+05:30

“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.”

- Elbert Hubbard; The Note Book, 1927

The penultimate

Relax! Your part of the job is already done! If you happen to be an engineer too (which I presume with a 90% level of confidence), recall the days when you used to laugh looking at people messing their heads with “Irodov” and “Krishna’s IIT Physics” on the day of the JEE! If you weigh intelligence and perseverance in terms of importance towards cracking CAT, trust me, this cat is way too sexy to be tamed just by slogging hard for it – I would rank intelligence higher when it comes to getting her! If you count in attitude and thinking-on-the-toes as components of intelligence, you are made for an IIM. Tomorrow is your day to prove that you are great not because you are amongst the crowd of those two hundred thousand guys writing the exam each one of which has the brains to solve those easy Quants and DI problems, but you are great because you are more intelligent in terms of choosing the right ones out of the twenty five questions and calm enough to crack them within fifty minutes. Adding to it, you should be intelligent enough to understand that you don’t need to slog tonight to prove yourself tomorrow!

If you want a personal experience, I had enjoyed a mug of beer in Bangalore’s “Just Another Pub” at Koramangala the day before CAT, chilling out with a bunch of college friends (and I got a “blacki”!!) The point out here is not about alcohol (remain strictly within 50ml!); just relax in the best way which suits you. Stay calm, have a dinner with you girlfriend (if you aren’t as lucky as me who doesn’t have any such filthy burdens), and remain confident that you are made for the big day. It’s meant to be a laid back Saturday, let the essence remain – you’re doomed to be back again to the rhetoric of office or classes from Monday!

The ultimate

Ever actually seen how “mornings” are like on Sundays? The exam is at ten, make sure you wake up in time keeping in mind your transit time to the examination centre. You haven’t taken a bath for past 4 days, do it today (yes, do it even though it’s a “sun” day; it’s the second best thing in the world to refresh with a cold water shower on a November morning!) Feel like revising formulae or something? Personal opinion – it’s of no use. It’s only the easy formulae – which you already have used a lakh times – combined with your sheer presence of mind that is required to sail through CAT problems. Get to the examination centre by 09:45, check out all girls allotted the same centre if you are writing CAT in a real town and, finally, take your seat at 10:00.

The 10:00 to 10:30 period when you’ve to wait in the examination hall for the question paper is the worst torture you might have ever faced in life. Here’s how to make best use of the time. Get your brain working before the exam starts. After you are done with the form filling stuff, this is the time to revise your formulae. Your brain is already at peace with the relaxation you offered it yesterday, let it start afresh. Mentally start recalling simple geometry and mensuration’s areas, volumes, equations and stuff. If you remember some problem you had ingeniously solved (ever), think about the solution again, you’ll bolster your confidence. Start building your focus fifteen minutes before you’ve got the papers. Once you get them, it’s the regular easy trick. Pick up the most comfortable areas (personal favorite – geometry in Quants); steer through rough uncomfortable terrains the last. Constantly look for easy problems, spot them right and you are through the cut-off. Get ready to enjoy the Sunday evening once again!

All the best!

Hemant Kumar and Gulzaar

2007-10-19T02:12:00.000+05:30

Just happened to browse through some old music collection. Was left mesmerized with Hemant Kumar's voice to Gulzar's creativity in this song from the 1969 film Khamoshi -

होठ पे लिए हुए, दिल की बात हम,
जागते रहेंगे और, कितनी रात हम
मुख़्तसर सी बात है, तुमसे प्यार है
तुम्हारा इंतज़ार है...
तुम पुकार लो!

दिल बहल तो जाएगा, इस ख़याल से,
हाल मिल गया तुम्हारा, अपने हाल से
रात ये क़रार की, बेक़रार है
तुम्हारा इंतज़ार है...
तुम पुकार लो!

The 'Angrezi' Culture!

2007-10-14T00:23:00.001+05:30

For the 'swadesi' me, it has been rather difficult from the very beginning to assimilate the 'angrezi' culture of B-Schools. A die-hard supporter of desi-bhashaa-swadesi-vyavahaar; there are thousands of irritating things out here which have constantly harassed my mental peace.

One of them is that most ubiquitous of the several phrases used by those 'Yo-dudes' (for the 'uneducated': if you are having difficulty picturing them, just imagine a bunch of gays chatting in shorts and 'I'm Pagal' Tees and 3-inch heeled sandals called 'kittos') - "rock".

Rock is everywhere. The 'about me' section of someone's orkut profile would say 'I rock!' The dinner suddenly becomes eatable one day and the 'Mess Committee rocks!' They haven't seen a sea-beach in their entire lifetime, and the first exclamation would be 'The place rocks!' The most 'jhamtee' guy in the class solves the problems for the next day's submissions and everybody copies it, 'He rocks!' The only good teacher of the last term becomes 'That prof rocked!' Why do you always have to "rock"? Why can't you 'jazz' or 'hip-hop' or 'heavy metal' or 'country blue'? Or rather, can't you simply 'aalaap'? He 'aalaaps', he 'thumrees', he 'qawwalis'… might even go like he 'bhajan-kirtans'!!

Now don't argue with me for the word meaning of 'rock'. The dictionary is clear about it. Current usage isn't what the word is meant to be. I'd selectively quote a few of the dictionary meanings-

rock: \ˈräk\

–noun

1. a large mass of stone forming a hill, cliff, promontory, or the like.
… … …
2. offensive term: an offensive term for the testicles ( slang )
… … …

–transitive verb
1. to move back and forth in or as if in a cradle
… … …

–intransitive verb
3. to sing, dance to, or play rock music
… … …

–Idioms
1. between a rock and a hard place, between undesirable alternatives.
2. get one's rocks off, Slang: Vulgar. to have an orgasm.
3. on the rocks,
a. Informal. in or into a state of disaster or ruin: Their marriage is on the rocks.
b. Informal. without funds; destitute; bankrupt.
c. (of a beverage, esp. liquor or a cocktail) with, or containing, ice cubes: Scotch on the rocks; a vodka martini on the rocks.

–Related forms
rockless, adjective
rocklike, adjective

So, whenever I hear someone saying 'he rocks', I usually tend to think about the second meaning of the word as a noun, mentioned in my list - poor guy, whatever might've happened to his 'rocks'! To sum this post up, all I want to convey is, can't we use the word in its more interesting forms, rather than the gay-usage? Look at the second and the third idioms in the above list. There are pretty 'rocking' usages of the word, can't people just 'get their rocks off' once and for all and stop this particularly irritating usage of making anybody rock?

दिवास्वप्न

2007-10-07T11:07:00.000+05:30

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कल स्वप्न में तुम्हें देखा था
पानी पर फिसलते शिकारे में तुम्हारी मादकता का एहसास था
झील की सतह सहलाते तुम्हारे बालों से भँवर सा आभास था
तुम्हारे चेहरे पर तितली की टिप्पियों सा मधुर हास था
तुम्हारी आँखों की गहराईयों में परावर्तित सारा आकाश था

कल स्वप्न में तुम्हें देखा था
पानी में भिगोई तुम्हारी उँगलियों में भीनी सी छुअन थी
किनारे की डालियों में तुम्हारे चेहरे को छू जाने की तड़पन थी
तुम्हारी हथेली पर आने को कमल की पत्ती पर की ओस व्याकुल थी
बादलों के बीच से तुम्हारी झलक पाने को सूरज की किरण आकुल थी

कल स्वप्न में तुम्हें देखा था
तुम्हें स्पर्श करती उस पार से आती बयार मेरी ईर्ष्या बढ़ाती थी
पानी से छलकी दो बूँदें तुम्हारे होठों पर बैठ मुझे चिढ़ाती थीं
तुम्हारी उँगलियों से खेलती धार मेरी निर्बलता का एहसास दिलाती थी
तुम्हारे बालों से उलझती कुछ शैवालें मेरा परिहास उड़ाती थीं

कल स्वप्न में तुम्हें देखा था
हृदय के दूरस्थ कोने में छुपे उद्गारों को हवा देता स्वप्न
एकांत जीवन की निरर्थकता जताकर मुझे झकझोरता स्वप्न
खुली आँखों में तुम्हारी मृगतृष्णा समान मँडराता स्वप्न
असत्य, व्यर्थ, मूर्खतापूर्ण, क्रूर "प्यारा" सा स्वप्न...

Placements, IIMs et al

2007-10-04T10:59:00.000+05:30

If you "analyse it objectively", you can conclude that there are only two things in the life of any run-of-the-mill IIM grad - "summers" and "finals". Both these are celebrated as festivals and are the sole reaps targeting which we spend sleepless nights in studying.

IIMs are less of academic institutions, they are "glorified placement agencies" in essence, and you hardly come to learn, you come to get placed! Given this level of importance to the process, we have two official placement seasons, "summer placements" for first year students and "final placements" for second year students. Both the gala ceremonies have an equal importance with same number of companies fighting to recruit candidates. Within two weeks after admission process completes in an IIM, the preparations for the "festivals" start off. CV building, targeting big-shot companies and booming sectors and finally, "returns". Placement rules are more sacred than all religious practices of the world put together, and deviations, which might have been tolerable by God, are not tolerated here.

My suicide attempts of trying internships on my own failed with the expiry of the Placement Committee's "guilt free pass" (the pass reads as - you are granted a limited period boon to try and do any off-campus kill-yourself thing without the Gods being infuriated). I'd managed positive responses from a rare few, and most of the HRs had "ditched" me, "dumped" me, and that too with the worst possible break-up line - "Hope you can find yourself a good company that will give you a useful exposure". As if, someone is really waiting for me to expose oneself!

As the "festivals" back at K would take off, I'd join the "single and looking" band for that one fool who'd hire me for two months hoping I might turn useful. ;)

A slice of life

2007-08-20T15:24:00.000+05:30

"In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous."
- Aristotle

Last Saturday, enjoyed a well deserved outing to a local Panchayat called Mavoor. The trip was meant to be a field visit for an academic project, though, it ended up more as a picnic.

The countryside in Kerala has been discriminately blessed by nature. For a philosophical mind, a drive on its narrow roads can be alluring at the least - it inspires many moods at once. The breath-taking vistas abundantly strewn across the land's vast fabric are catalysts for poets and heaven for photographers.

Trees flanking the roads provide a natural respite from the sun

The roads are narrow but well laid for most of the stretches, including many National Highways. The abundant greenery and the calm blanket of peace spread across the entire landscape can provide a good food for thought for creative minds.

The Stretch to Mavoor

Water is the most abundant of all elements in the "God's own country". Monsoons bless the earth in Kerala for as much as 4 to 5 months in the calendar year and large stretches can be found covered with water during June to September.

A snapshot from our bikes

Many rivulets emerge only during the rains

Coconut is one of the primary floras of the area and those classic picturesque scenaries of tall pine like trees can be spotted almost everywhere. Drying coconut is one of the primary occupations of local people and inhabitations are located across most of the rivulets besides which such trees are found in abundance.

Most parts of Mavoor are on the banks of "Chaliyar". Heavy coconut vegetation can be noted in the background

A local coconut drying unit

In terms of education, which was one of the major thrust areas in our study, I found the state to be pretty well "advanced". Even the small village had a decent higher secondary school complete with all basic necessities. A healthy male-female ratio, low drop-out rates and a sufficient number of teachers, all constitute a substantial arrangement.

The Higher Secondary School building at Mavoor

Imagining a school this large in a small village is tough for people coming from most parts of northern India

The trip as a whole was the best enjoyment I've had since coming to this place. An exhilarating journey, a wonderful respite from the mundane work and a first-hand experience of the God's own expanse, all contributed to the hearty smile on everyone's face!

A part of our group

They ended it all with the customary sutta!

P.S. All pictures courtesy Kajal, the "unofficial" trip photographer! :D

तुम

2007-08-18T16:18:00.000+05:30

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व्यस्त जीवन के कुछेक बेचैन पलों में जब
तुम्हारी यादों की क़सक होती है
जड़-चेतन हर तत्व में हर ओर
सिर्फ़ तुम्हारी झलक होती है

इन अनवरत बारिशों में
तुम्हारे नटखटपन की मिलावट है
इन विस्तृत घाटियों के खालीपन में
तुम्हारी उत्कटता की आहट है

इन घुमावदार सड़कों के उस पार अब भी
तुम्हारी परछाईयाँ अठखेली करती हैं
उन पर्वतों में डूबती-उतराती घटाएं
यादों की आँख मिचौली करती हैं

रात्रि के तीसरे पहर वाले सन्नाटे में
तुम्हारी मोहक-अविरल बातें गूँजती हैं
रौशनी के नीचे असँख्य कीट-पतँगों की भन्नाहट में
तुम्हारी उच्छृन्खलता खलती है

माना आज तुम साथ न सही
पर इक सुखद अनुभूति तो है
वो चंचल मुस्कान आस-पास न सही
भरोसा उन यादों के प्रति तो है

जीवन से कुछ प्राप्त हुआ हो न हो
पर स्वयं पर इतना अभिमान तो है
तुम्हारी चेतना में क्षण भर को ही सही
आज भी आता मेरा नाम तो है!

I need a miracle

2007-08-16T10:49:00.000+05:30

The marvellous Bon Jovi...

"He said
I'm just one man, that's all I'll ever be
I never can be everything you wanted from me
I've got plans so big
That any blind man could see "

There's more to it...

"Your feet are grounded still
You're reaching for the sky
You can let 'em clip your wings
'Cause I believe that you can fly"

And the best part...

"It ain't all for nothing
Life ain't written in the sand
I know the tide is coming
But it's time we made a stand
With a miracle"

आओ मिल कर बैठें

2007-08-10T15:36:00.000+05:30

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कई वर्षों की ख्वाहिश है
तमाम ज़िन्दगी यूँ ही बिताने की
कुछ गिले-शिकवे मिटाने की
कुछ पुरानी यादें सजाने की

वो रंगीन किस्से, वो छोटी मुलाकातें
उन जामों का हल्का सुरूर, वो दिल की बातें
वो परिंदों सी आज़ादी, वो सुकूनी रातें
फिर साथ आने की, वो बाज़ियाँ बिछाने की

कुछ पुराने साथी, कुछ पुराने मंज़र
कुछ दिलफेंक नज़ारे, कुछ हसीन खंजर
कई आड़ी तिरछी राहें, कई अजीब सफ़र
हमाम में एक बार फिर, वही नज़्में गुनगुनाने की

कोशिश तुम्हारे ग़मों को फिर अपनाने की
एक ही थाली में फिर हर रोज़ खाने की
तुम्हारे दिल का वो कोना वापस पाने की
ख्वाहिश है, एक बार फिर दिल-से मुस्कुराने की

Inspired by Chandra's post.

The frosted glass

2007-08-10T08:05:00.000+05:30

Something seems to be going against the natural. I am being taught to divide life - into grids. And its being blatantly preached with such simplicity as if the world has always been like this, in a two-by-two matrix. It started off with a minor discomfort, theories to divide businesses into grids. Moved on to a more disastrous idea of dividing problems and solutions into grids. Consequently followed division of the population - they named it segmentation. And they didn't stop. Our "education" seemed to be incomplete without including the outrageous ideas of dividing personalities... I'd rather use the direct term than the metaphor - dividing "humans" into grids.

The system thus goes on. After all, you must learn this "art" to secure your 14th storey office in an uptown location (By the way, "I LOVE NY" is a common phrase on T-shirts of "humans" studying here). Find out what characterizes him: "high" on this, "low" on this. Pat, here's your chance to spot the "opportunity". "Target" that, encash that, you are suddenly the winner. Applause.

Its been a mixed experience in terms of my own life in the past one and a half months since I am here. Its a good feeling when you observe that your parents have a sense of proud because you are here. Friends have a reason to bask in glory; juniors have reasons to ping you up in the hope of some tips which might just work. Your own demeanour changes when you walk on the roads in other cities with that IIMK T-shirt.

The other half - I'm slowly learning how to be a programmed machine integrated with time-management functionalities so as to generate maximum possible outcome. I learnt DC++ usage so that I can search for sunrise pics on the network - the sunrise which nobody here would see in their two years' stay and which is always covered by others' cameras. I learnt to repeatedly boast of the natural beauty of the place to friends on phone, though I myself experienced it just once with that Kappad trip in the initial days. When I sometimes feel to drown into alcohol on weekends (its a different story that the time never permits you), it goes against my own old-days preachings - people drink not because they want to ward off trouble, its rather to have good times with friends. Everything is too artificial from all perspectives, I'm learning to pretend to be happy.

It rains for almost half of the year in Kerala. And I am dying to get drenched...

Too much of a pessimist I am, huh?

काश

2007-06-01T14:40:00.000+05:30

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काश मेरे पास बस थोड़ा कुछ होता...
एक कतरा आसमान का विस्तार
एक दोने भर नदी का बलखाना
एक थैली सागर की उठती लहर
एक मुठ्ठी पुरवईया का झोंका
एक साँस भर भीगी काली घटा
एक नज़र भर इँद्रधनुष का रँग
काश!

मैं ज़्यादा कुछ की लालसा नहीं रखता...
बस एक नग सरसराती पत्ती उस झाड़ की
एक दामन इठलाहट पेड़ की डाल की
एक चुटकी भर महक पहली बारिश से नम मिट्टी की
एक छुअन चुलबुली मचलती उस गिलहरी की
एक चुल्लू खुशबू बाग़ के सारे फूलों की
एक हथेली पसीना माली की मेहनत का
काश!

मैंने सीमित कर डाले हैं अपने ख़्वाब, चाहिये अगर...
तो बस एक हिस्सा ऊँचे पर्वत की हिम्मत का
एक चमकीली किरण ढलते सूरज की
एक आईना तालाब में बनती चाँद की परछाई
एक मीठी सिहरन रात को समन्दर किनारे की ठण्डी रेत की
एक चेतना ऊँचाई से गिरती झरने की इक बूँद की
एक थोड़ा बंजारापन उस रेगिस्तान का
काश!

मैंने अपने लिये तो कभी कुछ चाहा ही नहीं...
बस एक मुठ्ठी विवेक से भरा मस्तिष्क
एक झोली मिठास से भरी वाणी
एक पर्वत भर ऊँचा विश्वास
एक चींटी भर जितना धैर्य
एक सागर भर गहरे प्रेम से भरा हृदय
और एक सम्पूर्ण "आत्मा" से भरा शरीर
काश!

काश मेरे पास बस थोड़ा कुछ होता...

Raincoat

2007-05-30T16:54:00.000+05:30

The other day, was watching Raincoat for the nth time. Just happened to note a small sequence when Anu Kapoor (the house-owner) has finished explaining Ajay Devgan (Aishwarya Rai's old lover) how he's been bluffed by the woman about her prosperity, and how he'd have to force the couple out of his house for not paying the rent. Ajay Devgan offers to pay the partial rent and requests him not to evict them from the premises.

The owner accepts the money, and says -

"Ek baat poochhen baabu?....
Ye aapka praayashchit hai....

ya pratishodh?"

Is it a remorse or a revenge?!! What can you say? :)

काल्पनिक

2007-05-28T22:40:00.000+05:30

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कई वर्षों पुरानी ये छोटी सी कथा
एक छोटे बालक की बड़ी मनोव्यथा
जब पहली बार हृदय हुआ लाचार
लगा उसे, बस यही है "पहला प्यार"

बालक ही था, क्या जाने प्रेम की परिभाषा
हर दिन डूबता-उतराता, कभी आशा, कभी निराशा
तेरह वर्ष की उम्र में ही, जीवन लगने लगा इक स्वप्न
कारणों से अनभिज्ञ, बस बेचैन सा रहता मन

हाँ, माना वो भी कुछ कम न थी
इक कली, तब तलक किसी की हमदम न थी
उस प्यारी सी बच्ची का, ऐसा गज़ब का आकर्षण
बालक बेचारा, थम सा जाता हर क्षण

मूर्ख, अज्ञानी, सच से अनभिज्ञ, पूरा नादान
अरे प्रेम को समझ न पाए ज्ञानी-महान
अगर तेरह वर्षीय बालक को सचमुच प्रेम हो जाए
तब तो मानव-शुचिता पर ही प्रश्न लग जाए

प्रेम है वो अग्नि, वो शक्ति महान
जिसमें हृदय खोता नहीं, पाता है पहचान
बेसुध मन हो, फिर भी इक विचित्र अनुभूति
प्रेम ही धरा, प्रेम मानव, प्रेम स्वयँ प्रकृति

ख़ैर, दर्शनशास्त्र वाचन नहीं इस कविता का उद्देश्य
वापस चलें उस बालक के हृदय-प्रदेश
बालक था परेशान, विकट समस्या, न कोई निदान
कैसे हो भावनाओं की अभिव्यक्ति, मिले कोई समाधान

दो वर्ष बीते, तथाकथित प्रेम में आई थोड़ी तीव्रता
पर वही पुरानी कथा, दोनों की थी "बस मित्रता"!
बस कुछ दिन और, विद्यालय का होने आया समय समाप्त
बालक को लगता, हर दिन मानो हृदयाघात

बालक के कुछ अन्य मित्र, भाँप गए उसकी परिस्थिति
जो उससे हो न सकी, मित्रों ने कर डाली वो कृति
वो समझ न पाई ये सब, उम्र में थी वो भी नादान
तोड़ डाले हर बंधन, नष्ट की मित्रता की हर पहचान

जीवन में पहली बार, लगा हृदय पर घोर आघात
प्रेम नहीं, सिर्फ़ आकर्षण ने, छीना एक मित्र का साथ
स्वप्न तो भहराए, पर साथ हुआ एक अपराध-बोध
अपराध? अर्थात् न था प्रेम वह, साबित होता बिना शोध!

प्रेम नहीं, पुनः मित्रता पाने को, जुटाकर साधन सकल
बालक ने किया अथक प्रयास, रहा सर्वथा विफल
समय चक्र न रुका है कभी, बीते ऐसे ही वर्ष दस
बालक रमा अलग जीवन में, तुच्छ मानवों की यही बिसात बस!

अन्दर कहीं न कहीं परन्तु, व्याकुल हृदय था कचोटता
तेईस वर्षों का हुआ बालक, पर अब भी याद आती वह मित्रता
आज भी उसके वही सिद्धांत, रिश्तों को समझना पूँजी प्रधान
रहा न गया, दस वर्षों पर्यन्त, कर दिया दूरभाष हृदय थाम!

थोड़ी बहुत बातें, यूँ ही हालचाल, जैसे मिले हों अजनबी
समझना न सही, पर भूल न सकी इतने दिनों बाद भी?
मैंने ऐसा क्या किया गुनाह, बालक ही तो था नादान
दस वर्षों बाद ही सही, मित्रता का थोड़ा तो करते सम्मान!

हूँ अज्ञानी पर सुन लो, कहता हूँ इक अनमोल वचन
कल न तुम रहोगी, न मैं, बस इतने से सच को कहते जीवन
अगर कभी कम हो मलाल, लगे ज़रूरत किसी अपने की
बेहिचक याद करना, राह देखूँगा मित्र तुम्हारे लौटने की...

I love traffic jams!! :D

2007-05-16T13:06:00.000+05:30

Ask about Bangalore, and any proud Bangalorean would tell you the (scary?) stories of endless jams. Last week, had gone through a forwarded mail from someone claiming to be a "jam-lover" and thoughts on how interesting the traffic jams can be, started propping up. They only strengthened, when today onwards, a new rule was implemented at office - be there by 9:30. Its the time I used to spend enjoying a light morning read, but sadly, orders are orders! And following this one order, changed my outlook on what jams could be!

Setting out at nine on weekdays with a bike on Bangalore roads can give you a whole new perspective towards life. Its a battlefield, and you are the yoddhaa, with one 150cc deadly weapon in your hand. The first lesson here, perseverance.

Just don't let it go. The Maruthinagar stretch is filled up, with sepoys from all ends. Its a complete ghamaasaan. And there are no rules - an apt living reality. You are alone, fighting only for yourself. No help except the throttle in your hands, your destiny. And you can't let go, you can't decide to get back, because there is no back, its jammed, its life. You persist. Persist with only one aim - win. And the second lesson here, goals.

You've to make it on time. Its a daily business, no excuses. You must be focussed, not only today - but daily. No yuddh-viraam in this, the battle continues till eternity, and your goal remains. And you know you are reaching it, inch-by-inch, minute by minute, persistently. You realise that slowly and slowly you are being caught in the time's web of deceit, and you ponder anxiously on your watch. Its time! Time to kill! And blop comes the third lesson, risk-taking.

You've a goal, and to achieve it, you decide right then, to move forward, destroying enemies at both ends. There is a horde of lesser-beings, inefficient bulky fighters towards the left trying to keep up in the same direction as you, and there is the crowd of yoddhaas coming from the other end. You decide to confront, to twist the throttle and move on the other lane meant for sepoys coming from the opposite side. There might be a risk of a head-on if a similar desperate fighter decides the same from the other end, but that's why you are there in the battle-field, to fight and to persist! Looking at the kraantikaari step you just took, a wind of inspiration flows in the sepoys behind. The fourth lesson at this point, leadership.

You are moving, confronting the enemies from the opposite ends, and a group of brave fighters follow you. Suddenly you've your own platoon! You become the senaapati- the leader, no official communications required for this promotion! You lead the platoon crushing all attacks, taking the ownership of moving ahead at the signal-less junction even when a giant yoddha with a 1300cc truck is desperate to cross the road and has already reached halfway. Some of the fighters in your troop fall back, when you take the ultimate decision to cross the signal at Eejipura, when the lights have just turned red from yellow. But you persist, because your cause is to fight, and the followers are bound to be dead if they can't keep up! The fifth lesson, competition originates just after this.

Ring road is here! And you put in your final efforts with speeding fighters. You twist the throttle to the max, its a double road, and here there are no rules and no opposition. You just have to get past everyone moving towards the same office, same goal. You persist to compete, edge out each one in the battleground. The competition reaches fierce proportions and you just have one thought which you want to yell to everyone - "Lead, follow, or get out of the way!" And finally comes the destination. You relax beneath that small fan in the elevator, recalling all calculated risks you took, and how you wielded the talwaar to get past everything, feeling the sweetness of success which you are to taste everyday!

The jam is an excellent teacher, and as somebody had rightly pointed out, with freebies as good as sights of young teenaged girls in that SUV waiting at the signal, its the best recreation you can have! The jam is the momentum, its the energy of life; how aptly it fits in the definition of the word energy - "A jam can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only be transferred from one junction to another!"

The Thundering Sound of Silence

2007-05-08T21:08:00.000+05:30

I am afraid... I always was, of heights - acrophobia, logophiles would correct. Its just around 4 mts high, but still its scary. The sky is faintly lighted with a few scattered rays stolen from the morning sun which has decided not to show up so early. The water below is deep blue, like clear shining crystals, in the floodlights flanking the swimming pool. The spring-board feels cold on the naked feet, the light morning breeze colder on the scarcely covered body. I try to move to the edge, prompted by the trainer; taking as small steps as possible, as if, vainly trying to stop the board from shaking. It doesn't stop, keeps on with its minute up-and-down. It must've been just a few inches of movement, but it aggravates the fear.

I look down, and a chill runs down the spine. Instructions come to look straight to the front. The huge sign-board on the other end of the pool with the name of the club in bold capitals gleams proudly, defying me, mocking me, standing erect braving the cold and warding off all materialistic fears that we living creatures have been doomed with.

A voice beats my ear-drums - "Jump!!" I look down once again, as if vainly trying to recollect myself, to try hard one last time and convince myself that its just water below. The voice repeats - "Jump!!!" My brain stops, all body functions too. All I can feel is silence. First, the roaring air, then the thundering water. Both completely silent. There is a tickling somewhere inside, though; and somewhere it feels good. A free fall, of however small duration, the feeling of liberty, the feeling of being free. The air doesn't block my way, nor does the water, nor my own brain and thought processes, nor the fears - nothing in this world. Its the joy of freedom I feel...

New Template!!

2007-04-10T20:01:00.000+05:30

Finally doing it after chucking the thought for a trillion times! Guess its decent enough...

Mangalore, church, et al...

2007-04-09T00:24:00.000+05:30

It was close to 7:30 p.m. in Mangalore. I had just reached the Hampankatta traffic signal from Manipal and customarily cross-checked with my travel agent about my Bangalore bound bus scheduled to depart at 10. I had plenty of time to kill and owing to my natural self, chose to roam around and have a look at a little bit of Mangalore.

Started off with the Milagres P.U. College there itself. The four erect square buildings flanking the concrete ground on all four sides made me remember my old school. It also had a large concrete space where the morning and afternoon prayers were held. It had buildings on only three sides though.

Came out of my nostalgia and saw the Milagres Church nearby. A mass or something was going on. There was a festooned image of Christ on some sort of an altar, and a lot of people in the church campus. The lights seemed to be beautiful, the hymns being sung almost infectious. Felt like getting in, but chucked the idea and gave priority to the most important thing in my life - food! Departed off to as far as M.G. Road and subsided a bit of my hunger with some pizza at Bharath Mall's Pizza Hut. Junk food hasn't been in my favourites, but an appetite loss and bad health since last few weeks convinced me to have something of a different taste so that it can atleast go down the throat.

Saw a lot of Mangalore in the way and returned back around 9:30 to Hampankatta. The thing going on in the church had finished. People thronging the place half an hour back seemed to have been evaporated somehow. The Christ's idol seemed to be alone and the church bore a silent look, though the lights were still overlooking everything brightly. I felt like a strange pull to get inside. The guard on the front gate informed me that the timings were over. Still, I checked in from behind, there was no one at the back gate, and I got in.

There was a strange calmness all around. No, not a graveyardy silence, but a silence which seemed to be pacifying. I roamed around, pausing at different statues of different saints, Mother Mary, Christ and others. A few candles were burning steadily near all of them, their faces sort of reflected the lights of the candles. I sat for a few minutes inside the main hall. Nobody was there, but I didn't feel alone or afraid. Rather, I just felt happy. As if, whatever I've done till date was so correct, and whatever I'm going to achieve in future is going to be so wonderful. There was peace and solace - in perfection.

I am agnostic and somewhat a nihilist. Theists would immediately say, that's what being in God's place means, being happy. I don't want to argue. The experience was good, the attraction to get in was strange, and the bottomline is, it left me happy.

Just another day?

2007-03-15T10:12:00.000+05:30

The second guy is back. At his first sight, the third one hastily went out of the waiting hall. Its his turn finally. His facial expressions defying all his efforts to hide the impending ordeal which his organs are sensing, he occupies his seat on the sofa outside the interview room. Watching him nervously flipping through his certificates and documents, I casually passed him a smile; it might have helped him ease a little, I think. I was to be the fourth one.

It was to be my sixth experience of appearing before an IIM interview panel. I was relaxed; rather perfectly, I would say; allowing myself the luxury of taking small walks and a lazy cup of coffee. I have always abhorred the idea of last minute preparations. People anxiously sifting through business pages of newspapers and magazines in futile attempts at devouring as much junk as they can, discussing what-nots with each other, pounding on every person coming out of the interview room to extract as much info as they can; all these have always been a funny sight for me.

I couldn't afford to get back to the CCD next-door to this hotel as I had done in my last interview. My turn was soon to come and unable to bear the crap going on inside the waiting hall, I come out to have a chat with the guy sitting on the sofa. He is nervous, for sure, and didn't seem to be much interested in any discussion.

A man with a medium height is arranging plates on a small table outside. Slightly unproportionally built, with some extra flabs at a few places and a small moustache, he appears rather suave and humble. He neatly places cups, thermos of milk, tea bags, spoons and small plates on a tray; arranges everything to as much perfection as his rugged hands allow. Then, he places a few sugar cubes on two of the spoons with much effort, stands erect as elegantly as he can, arranges his bow tie, straightens his short waiter's jacket, getting ready for, I think, the most delicate part of his job - serving morning coffee in rooms. He casually asked me, as if delaying his departure, "Are you from Panel 2 sir?". "Yes", I replied indifferently, too engrossed in observing him.

A girl comes out from Panel 4 room. White shirt, black trousers and a black waist coat - nicely dressed in this perfect business attire. I recognise her - she is the one who had occupied the seat besides me in the morning during document verification processes. She appears confident, all smiles, walks out happily; possibly because she has faired well, or might be because her last and final ordeal is over, or so I thought. I look all around once, as if assimilating her freedom and suddenly becoming conscious of my waiting state. We pass each other brief smiles.

That waiter looks at her as she walks towards the waiting hall. He still seems to be delaying his departure. "Hi mam," I hear the voice; coming back from my split-second wanderings of how I would do everything after just this final half-an-hour blah-blah gets over; and I get back to my work of observing the man. Its his voice. The waiter's. To the girl, who just came out of an IIM interview. I am still too busy in observing him to put some thought to what it actually is.

"Yes?", the girl replies, anxious, suspicious, indifferent, but still managing a smile; possibly too busy in her mind thinking about what happened inside and how fairly she might have went through the interview process. "Mam, can I have your number?", the same voice, this time quivering a little. As if a sudden jolt makes me aware. This man - clearly defying the world! His face is completely white, as if, he himself doesn't know what he is doing. Eyes all too low to convey any expression, I possibly saw some tremor in those same rugged hands which were impeccably arranging the tray I was busy observing.

"My number? What will you do?", the girl says; coming out of her interview thoughts, still expressionless, unable to take stock of the situation, but managing a forced smile. "No, no..", possibly I hear him uttering with much effort, in a trembling voice. He starts to pick up the tray, as if suddenly becoming aware of his stature. He is a poor man. How can a poor man dare to do this crime? A waiter talking to an educated high-profile girl! No, no; its impossible, it might have been a fit of madness, he probably is thinking. His expressions now turning to somewhat remorseful, I observe. Afraid, he must've been. What would happen if this girl even mentions the incident to some other higher staff in the hotel? A poor man, he is; this job is all he has. And there are thousands like him waiting in line for a position he enjoys. He is a poor man, and poor people should not have feelings, he possibly asserts to himself. Yes, he must've been mad; and he hurries with the tray to one of the rooms; not daring to look back, possibly praying in his mind to be saved, resolving to himself that he would visit the local temple daily so that his mind doesn't wander like this again. So that he manages to dedicate himself to the arranging of trays and room-services rather than resorting to such dastardly criminal acts. He rushes off.

I take a look at the sofa besides. The third guy is already gone. I missed to notice when he went inside. Its my turn next. I try to focus. I am going to be "free" soon.

Are you searching for a reason to be kind?

2007-03-13T11:04:00.000+05:30

Following is a song by A.R. Rahman sung for Nokia India's charity project 'Pray for me, brother' which is the UN Theme song for poverty alleviation mission.

Below is the lyrics. Notice the texts in bold. I found them to be the most poignant.

Pray For Me Brother (2007)
Composed by A.R.Rahman
Lyrics by Blaaze
Singers: A.R.Rahman and Blaaze

Pray for me brother
Pray for me brother
Pray for me sister
Are you searchin’….
Pray for me brother

Lookin’ for the answers To all the questions In my life
Will I be alone Will you be there By my side
Is it something he said Is it something he did
I wonder why He is searchin’ For the answers
To stay alive

Could you ever listen Could you ever care
To speak your mind
Only for a minute For only one moment
In time

The joy is around us But show me the love
That we must find
Are you searchin’ For a reason to be kind, to be kind…
He said… Pray for me brother

Pray for me brother Pray for me sister
Pray for me brother Say
what you wanna say now
But keep your hearts open
Be what you wanna be now
Let’s heal the confusion
Pray for me brother

Don’t let me take When you don’t wanna give
Don’t be afraid Just let me live
Don’t let me take When you don’t wanna give
Don’t be afraid Say what you wanna say now
But keep your hearts open

Be what you wanna be now Let’s heal the confusion
Pray for me brother Pray for me brother
I’m ashamed ah, brother be dying of poverty
when he down on his knees its only then he prays
And it’s a shame ah, brother be dying of ignorance
cos the world is a trip and everybody’s a hypocrite
Need to stop ah , taking a look at the other
I’m not ashamed of poverty
need to be making his life better
So think about it, think about it once more
cos life is a blessing and it’s not justa show, ah
Round and round the world is spinning around

We need to be singing a prayer, we need to be singing it now
Round and round the world is turning around
We need to be singing a prayer, we need to be singing it now
Need to be feeling the power, need to be feeling the faith
We need to coming together just to win this race

Need to be feeling the power, need to be feeling the faith
We need to coming together just to win this race (twice)
Are you searching for a reason to be kind?

IIM Lucknow

2007-02-15T15:25:00.000+05:30

Disaster Venue: Monarch Hotel, Bangalore (Panel 3) 10:00 am on 15th Feb 2007.

GD:

"In business, the rear view mirror is more clear than the windshield. "

10 minutes for writing an essay and 15 minutes for blah-blah-blah...

Interview:

Characters - A female prof (F), a male prof (M) and B, the Bakra (Me!).

F: Vivek what were you doing from 2001 to 2002?
B: Mam I was preparing for IIT-JEE.
F: And then you joined Electronics at Indian School of Mines, Dhanabd...
B: Yes mam. The admissions at ISM Dhanbad are through IIT-JEE.
F: What do you do at IBM?
B: Mam I am working in the AT&T Project. It is a big project going on for past 10 years and the major amount of work these days...
F: I asked what do you do?
B: I am working on the Universal Service Request Platform of AT&T which are used by its end-users for ordering various applications. It is a Java based application and I am a part of the testing team. In addition to this, I have recently got an additional responsibility of handling production issues. They are delicate issues arising at the time of production.

F: Where do you come from?
B: I have been brought up at Jamshedpur.
F: Tell me something about business developments in Jharkhand in past one year.
B: (Blank-face-speaking-with-efforts..) Over the years, the state has been trying to attract investments. The Arjun Munda government earlier...
F: I am not talking about politics. You are here for a business course. Tell me about the business developments. (Whom-are-you-trying-to-fool-looks)
B: Mam I don't think that the state has progressed much in those terms. The Tatas are there in Jharkhand but they too are expanding mostly outside Jharkhand.
F: There is a global player trying to enter in the state...
B: (Blank-face)
F: Have you heard about Mittals?
B: (Sensing-trouble-enroute) Yes mam. They are trying to set up a plant in Jharkhand.
F: What plant?
B: Mam I am not updated about the issue.
F: You are from ISM. Are you interested in mines?
B: Yes. (Anticipating-a-disaster-look)
F: Have you heard of the place called Chiriya?
B: Yes mam. Chiriya is a mine in Jharkhand. (I-don't-know-look)
F: They are trying to tap that and the state is going to become very rich... (dekh-dekh-tujhe-nahin-pata-looks)
B: (Accepted-defeat-looks)
F: What are the roadblocks they are facing in Chiriya?
B: Mostly political. The mindset of the politicians and the issue of jobs-to-locals....
F: Apart from political? (I-am-not-going-to-leave-u-easily)
B: Mam I don't have an idea.

F: What do you think you would learn in management.
B: Firstly, it would give me an opportunity to diversify my portfolio. I can look towards other sector apart from the IT sector in which I currently am.
F: What other sectors are you looking forward to? (Aaya-pahaad-ke-neeche)
B: I would say the services sector. IBM is much into it. Apart from all this, a management course would help in enhancing my leadership and teamworking abilities...
F: So you think you don't have leadership or teamworking skills right now?
B: I do have, but there is always a scope of improvement in anything. Besides, I would also learn about business, the knowledge of which I lack.

M: Show me your documents.
B: (Handing-over-the-file-with-a-forced-smile)
M: And what are those other things you are carrying?
B: Sir it contains my experience letter and other documents.
M: So? Don't you have to show that to us? (How-dare-he-looks)
B: Sure sir.
M: And where are the other documents? Doesn't your call letter says you need to produce other things? What will I do with these certificates of volleyball and other stuff? They don't mean anything for me. (Hands me the call letter and says "Read what are the documents required." Abhi-bataata-hoon-tujhe-looks)
B: The interview call letter...
M: Yes this is the call letter... next...
B: CAT Admit Card.
M: Where is it?
B: (I take that out from the envelope.)
M: Next.
B: Original marksheets/certificates of examinations passed.
M: Where are they? You have kept it with you! Why, you don't want to show them to us? (Chataak-chataak)
B: Sir I had kept them separately because the file I have given you contains only the certificates. I have kept all other documents in this envelope.
M: I am not bothered about your certificates.
B: Sorry sir. Its my mistake.
M: (I-will-kill-you-looks. Flips through my grade sheets.) What did you read in Managerial Economics?
B: Supply and demand... (haklaate-haklaate..)
M: What was the managerial aspect of economics in this paper?
B: Sir I don't think it had specific orientation as such towards management. It was more of...
M: Tell me a scenario when the demand is inelastic.
B: (Daya-karo-looks...)
M: That means you haven't read this paper.
B: (More-daya-karo-looks...)
M: What is Control Engineering?
B: Sir Instrumentation and Control...
M: I am asking about Control. Tell me only about that.
B: Sir it deals with process control...
M: How do you control a process?
B: Sir a process is represented by a state matrix. Input equation is then formed and output is predicted....
M: Digital Communication... hmmm.... What are the two types of digital communication?
B: Sir digital communication is done in many ways like Pulse code modulation, PSK, FSK...
M: There are two broad classifications of digital communication. I am asking about those two.
B: Sir communication can be classified as analog and digital communication. But digital comm..

M: That's what I wanted to know. Vivek you have this beautiful certificate (most-sarcastic-possible-looks) of something called the 9th International Youth Leadership Conference. What was this about?
B: Sir the conference focussed on...
M: What is leadership?
B: Sir leadership is not only about making people follow you. Its more about excellent teamwork. How you can make people believe in you and your ideas and make them generate newer and newer ideas...
M: Tell me five business leaders.
B: N.R. Narayanmoorthy, Azim Premzi, (thinking thinking...) Ratan Tata...
M: Why do you think Ratan Tata is a leader?
B: Sir the aggressive expansion which he is doing for the company, for eg. the acquisition of Corus and new plants for Tata Motors. Secondly, the corporate social responsibility which the Tatas carry...
M: What do you know about Tata-Corus deal? What are the salient features of that deal?
B: Sir the Tatas have acquired Corus at six hundred and eight..een... (nervous!!) pence a share..
M: 608 or 618? (Sahi-bole-to-noch-khaaoonga-looks)
B: Sir 618 pence a share. (Dumbo!! I knew the correct figure and yet messed that up!)
M: And?
B: The acquisition was hyped in the media because of the entry of a third player CSN which...

M: If Vivek had to emulate one personality, who would he/she be?
B: Sir it is difficult to find one person who has all the qualities which I look forward to...
M: Have you read about the Mahabharata?
B: Yes..
M: What happened to Draupadi? She wanted different-different qualities in different-different people and what did she end up with? (Five-husbands! Ab-bolo! I-am-here-to-rag-you-looks!!)
B: Sir if you are specifically asking for one name, I would say N.R. Narayanmoorthy of Infosys.
M: Why?
B: Sir the very basic tagline of Infosys, driven by intellect...
M: What?
B: Sir the middle-class values which have led to..
M: What values are called middle-class?
B: Sir I am talking about the priniciples on which Mr. Murthy has build up the organization. Honesty and hard-work...
M: Do you know about the background of Mr. Moorthy? When was Infosys started? The fifty's?
B: Sir a group of five software professionals came together and...
M: Five?
B: I think so.
M: Were they freshers or were they working somewhere?
B: Sir I think they were working.
M: Where? (I-know-you-don't-know-looks)
B: Apple... (question-mark-looks)
M: Are you asking me or are you giving an answer?
B: Sir I am trying to answer...
M: Ok thank you very much Vivek you can go.

Disaster ends!!!

"Enigma"tic Night

2006-11-06T11:54:00.000+05:30

Sometimes, time forces you to be the biggest hypocrite in the world. Your "self" preaches you good old ethics, you tend to think otherwise.

It was just like any other weekend. We decided to stop-by to have a couple of drinks at a pub after a few hours of frenzy shopping at Marathalli.

Koramangala's "Enigma" served us much more than alcohol on this eventful evening. For the usual "me" - the table opposite to a teenage couple was a complete paisa-wasool. Forty five minutes of the passionate "show" was reason enough to feel more than contented compared to the small bill. They were drinking... the hugs and kisses followed. Combining that with the scene created near the loo - all created an atmosphere enough like a movie.

The ethical "worm" inside pestered me with digressive thoughts. Is this India? Their actions were proofs enough that they are going to end up between the sheets. An unmarried couple barely in their teens, drinking their brains out and smooching at 11 in a pub - where's the culture?

And above all is my hypocrisy! I can preach the closest of my friends for 5 hours that this is wrong. And yet, I enjoyed the "show". A part of me would sing along - "Koi maalamaal hai, koi tanghaal hai..." and another would still lament - "Dekh teri duniyaa ki haalat kya ho gayi bhagwaan, kitna badal gaya..."

Don't you wanna fly!!

2006-10-03T11:08:00.000+05:30

Ever thought of flying like a bird and get lost far far away? The pic is copied from a newspaper article. Its poignancy left me immersed in thoughts for hours!

So near, and yet so far

2006-09-22T09:47:00.000+05:30

Your eyes -
Those pair of dreams
Those glitters of life
Those depths defying oceans
Those exuberant blinks
Those fluttering lids
Those mischievous glances
Your eyes.

Your lips -
Those dry-crisp ashes
Those loquacious wet streams
Those impeccable petals
That infectious smile
Those longing watery pinks
Those immortalised springs
Your lips.

Your hairs -
Those clouds of hope
Those flowing rivers
Those moonless nights
Those "colourful" blacks
Those dense tousles
Those dangling inspirations
Your hairs.

Your face -
That serenity of heavens
That radiance of moon
That calmness of lakes
That beauty of roses
That incessant chatter
That shyness of leaves
Your face.

You-
That perfection of the Master
The defiance of times
The epitome of love
The 'falling' for many
The 'rising' for a few
Ah! You're the twinkling star,
So near, and yet so far!

Love, BC... what the hell??

2006-09-20T12:17:00.000+05:30

he : oye?

me : .......

he : pichhle 36 minute se dekh raha hoon, kya soch kar chawanni muskaan diye jaa rahe ho?

me : chup be! la remote la, ghatiyaa channel hai ye!

he : *** ke baare mein soch rahe the na?

me : dimaag kharaab ho gaya hai tera! dekh khaana ban gaya ki nahin.

he : ho gaya hai tujhe...

me : karoge bakwaas? sab kuchh to bata rakha hai tumhen uske baare mein, phir kaise aisa soch sakte ho? paagal ho gaye ho tum...

he : wo sab mat sikhaao. tum to gaye!!

me : hadd ho yaar! sab pata hai phir bhi liye jaa rahe ho!

he : ek hafte se kah rahe ho padhaai band hai, office jaldi jaate ho late se aate ho, yahaan se dinner ke turant baad kat lete ho... tum to gaye!!

me : hadd badtameez ho! phokat mein sar khaa rahe ho! badlo channel phataak se.

he : meri salaah maano. doosri naukri dhoondh lo, bekaar mein wahaan...

SPEED

2006-09-02T23:05:00.000+05:30

A 10th grade Physics book says that human body can feel only acceleration and not velocity. My experience dares to contradict. Cruising at 110 Kmph at 2:30 hrs midnight wasn't just any other adventure. It was an experience of a lifetime. I felt velocity and not only acceleration.

The 150 Km odd stretch of Mysore-Bangalore highway is not just a pitch road; it's a runway - and driving on it at the wee hours of night is like flying in the star-studded sky. Two seemingly infinite streaks of yellow stars on the sides and one streak of red stars at the centre - radium indicators gleaming with light - complete the magnificent sensation of a heavenly abode. After a non-stop 80 Kms in the fulminating winds, my pillion companion couldn't resist asking me for his share of ecstasy. It was around 4 am when we stopped at a CCD outlet. A warm cup of coffee in such a cold night together with a free view of some beautiful girls were reasons enough to take a half an hour break. The remaining miles to the heritage city were covered effortlesslly sitting back and watching the space-time fly-by. After a few hours of get-together with friends at Mysore, we set out for our journey back to Bangalore. Time flew by on the roads but the memories would stay along...

Searching solace in solitude

2006-09-01T11:32:00.000+05:30

Dissatisfaction is one trait ingrained in humans. Its strange how a man craves for solitude (calling it "some space") when surrounded by people, but seeks company when left alone. Happiness seems to be an alien species on a non-understandable planet called life. Various identification-attempts of the species serve as alibis for various sections of people who tend to explain it differently. Happiness in solitude is often related with an abstract attainment - given the name eternity or divinity by certain sects. Happiness in normal life is mostly identified with the surroundings. A man is "happy" if things and people around him are. The previous sect would reject this perspective as "temporary" or "worldly".

Whichever school of thought you subscribe to, remaining happy is a mammoth task. Whichever excuse you provide yourself as a reason for being happy, on a wider perspective of heart and truth, everything boils down as artificial. A peaceful mind and a contented heart constitute that elusive combination which every man craves for. Only the rarest of mankind actually achieve it.

Living in Fools' Paradise

2006-08-17T11:51:00.000+05:30

Here comes today's actual post. Its going to be rather long, but owing to negligible readership of my blogs, I feel I should continue with my typewriting skills without bothering much about your patience level. I regret if you have been forcefully directed here, but if you chose to, or came across this accidentally, its your luck. Recently I happened to read a TOI article about how a majority of bloggers revolve around the 'I, me, myself' syndrome in their posts rather than writing about general things. Without commenting much on it, I would just say that I am a die-hard democrat, and I usually go with the majority.

The City

Things have changed quite a lot since the previous post. I am in this Indian city called Bangalore which makes sure that every engineer being churned out of the Techy-machines throughout the country-span spends a part of his/her youth here. Managers use the term differently; for the layman called me, I would still say I am 'Bangalored' by IBM.

The city is small enough, end-to-end cross-drive wouldn't be of more than 25 Kms, and the excessive population (believe me, there are more engineers here compared to the number of street dogs) leaves the roads choked like North-Indian colony drains. Leaving aside the offices of MNCs in a few areas, there is nothing high-tech about the city as perceived by we poor North-Indians who just go by the usual media-manufactured oomph about Indian Silicon Valley. Here too, the traffic-policmen use hand signals when the RGY signals are out of order and leave you for a hundred bucks if you are caught flouting a traffic rule. The number of vehicles jamming the roads and consequently filling the air with as much fumes as the old engines can, betrays Bangalore's already waning claim of being a Garden City.

Once while sitting outside Riviera Food Court in my office premises in one of those rare times of partial solitude enjoying the weather (which happens to be the only great thing about this place), I had this thought of how this city is being plundered by people outside India who are bosses for the thousands of lesser-mortals working their brains-out in all these high rise buildings around me - IBM, Microsoft, Dell, Yahoo.... I am working (however little I may be) for this US client called AT & T, and similarly everyone around me for somebody or the other far across the border. They give it a beautiful name - "outsourcing", paying us in the range 15-20k. What are we supposed to do? Spend that in McDonalds' or Domino's or just in buying drinking water - a cash-back scheme of these multinationals because there is only a little fortune which you are actually spending on indigenous products or services. There was a hoarding near Koramangala signal which I read. A pretty girl saying - "Shouldn't the customer queues be reduced through automated processing?" and a caption below proudly announcing - "Hindustan Service Centre made it possible". It was about TESCO HSC. I have been in a TESCO store at Prague, they have truly unique sales ideas and they are proclaiming that many of these ideas are generated here in India. Then why aren't there any TESCO stores in India? We people are presumed to be cheap labourers. There seems to be a basic flaw somewhere amidst all this existing system, something which is the root cause of this "virtual bran-drain". Sometimes, it seems like that particular section of political activists is doing correct opposing entry of foreign firms, goods or services in the country, however criticised it is.

Professionalism, et al...

It feels good moving-in in your own rented flat, driving your own bike, sending your own money to your sister on Rakhi. It is nice being independent - yet is seems lonely out here. With only a small circle of friends in the city and a handful in office, life isn't the same it used to be. 'Professional life is going to be hard' is what seniors had told, and its only getting harder. There is a complete 'team' in office, but they are mere 'resources' - flesh and blood on skeletons, lifeless machines just working in shifts - cluck-tic-cluck-tic-cluck-tic... First of every month should apparently be the best time, when your salary is credited to your account. However, with it comes hell lot of responsibilities - pay flat rent, bike loan EMI, phone bills, this that... hell lot of everything about which I never used to bother about.

There were two experiences worth mentioning. First was when I visited a restaurant called T.G.I.F. on a senior's treat. The menu card with figures in the right column much more prominent than the alphabets on the left, people all around, drinking and enjoying; the place seemed to be mocking my status and my self. A question subconsciously settled in some corner of my mind - would I ever be able to visit this place with friends without bothering about my debit-card balance?

The second one was more thought-provoking. Sitting in this restaurant called "Firangi Paani" at The Forum, a deep thought stirred my mind. Here I am, sitting in the most exotic place I've ever seen - interiors decorated magnanimously with the "British" theme, people spending profusely to have a nice time. And there sits a beggar on the street just outside - spreading his hands infront of everybody; hunger and thirst being the only prominent enunciations of his mute eyes. I am a disbeliever of God, but is this what the master thought of? And the million-dollar question bounces back to me, unanswered since it first originated in my mind at school-level, what is it that I can do to reduce this disparity even by a minuscle.

Life

Finally justifying the title of this post towards the end. This office is a fool's paradise. The kind of work I am doing doesn't require a first class with distinction engineering qualification. Filling up data in forms and checking whether the form is responding correctly requires a sixth-grade child's effort. And yet, it is hectic and inherently boring. Anyway, I guess, its worthless bickering about all this.

Personally, I am dying to listen to some quality music. Without my comp, three-fourth of me is already dormant. Local FMs rarely diversify from regular Hindi-English concurrent worthless hip-hops to let me pacify a little with gazal, sufi, hindi classic or soft english numbers; can't even remember when I last played Madhushala. Reading is the next thing which has been marred by this job. Couldn't even finish one book since I have joined. Bangalore has one very good thing - pirated copies of excellent literature are available at every nook and corner at dirt cheap prices. I couldn't resist myself buying 5-6 titles till date but sadly am still stuck with the first one I started.

Good food is the next thing on the unavailable list.

For a person who never compromised on quality fooding, eating outside daily is a menace; that too when you are craving for a food of your choice. A subtle breakfast about a week ago at a friend's place (which she had cooked herself) seemed to be the only "food" I've had in Bangalore. I guess, I would soon start off with cooking on my own.

Loss of my cellphone has struck me at the worst place - I don't have my 350 people phonebook anymore. Remaining in contact with friends used to be my lifeline and it seems impossible to get back to everybody after this. Got a couple of good friends at office but the one with whom I used to hang around the most is leaving. It seems there won't be much charm left in office as well.

In all, life is giving me enough reasons to feel all fed-up. My own laughter seems to be artificial to me - as if I am making futile attempts to live by "looking" for reasons to be happy. I am still flowing as I used to, but its not as seamless as it was; it is all manufactured. Its not my pessimism speaking, its me; or probably I have already been engulfed by it. My creativity is being lost, my soul is becoming hollow, my "self" is dying. I badly need a rediscovery - of someone called "me".

I NEED A BREEEAAAAAAK!!! (July 1, 2006)

2006-08-17T11:36:00.000+05:30

This was written around 50 days ago. I never got time (or rather, solace) to complete it or at least just post it. Finally today, I guess, its best to puke it on this page, rather than throwing it off...

Finally, I have joined IBM India Ltd. at Pune. And the effects are evident. Getting time (or rather taking out time) for blogging has come after more than an entire month. Life has been all messy since I have been at this place. Getting training so that you can effectively work at the end of the hierarchy chain in your company (in IT industry they call it Application Programmers analogous to what manufacturing industries call shop-floor labourers) requires motivation, dedication, innovation, passion and all blah-blah as spat out by MBAs hired by the company specifically for employee orientation purposes. In a matrix organisation like this, you work for two such blah-blah guys, one known as the Project Manager who would assign you the task called "project" (so that you don't get time to blog or live) and the other known as the People Manager who makes sure that you are always on a "high" - in their parlance, you are "motivated". The second guy has another important responsibility, to make sure that you do not try to jump to a higher level and keep on changing your position at the lowest chain itself - the action being called "expanding your skill-set" - so that the company can suck out enough from you before you decide to finally quit.

Many more things have been difficult. I am living at a friend's place and the travel time from here makes sure that I leave home at 7 in the morning and come back not before 10 in the night. The rains are incessant and a penniless pocket takes care that rather than thinking about a raincoat or something, I should first think about daily restaurant bills and travel costs and remain contended in being slightly drenched on a regular basis. The city as my friends say is "expensive" - I have experienced that only through market food and travel. I was looking for a flat to move in to ease-off my friend's burden (which, I guess, he prefers not to disclose in front of me) and as soon as I became ready to settle, they say that you are to be relocated to Bangalore. Due to "heavy business volumes", they require immediate deployment of "resources".

Dilemma?

2006-05-21T12:41:00.000+05:30

I always considered myself to be one of those "organised" guys around. Clear about life, goals and all those seemingly abstract terms one can encounter in self-help books. But then, life isn't so easy always.

What when it comes to the self? Something happened twelve days ago. And it's pestering me till date. I consoled myself - Not deciding something is a decision in itself. And one of my friends pointed out - Hah! That's what is known as "indecision"! On one end, there's something called heart, on the other, the thing called mind. The same age old contentious topic - love - seems to be coagulating my otherwise wonderfully going on life...

I guess there are only two ways to end this dichotomy. A few hours of perfect solitude - I am craving for which being at home; or some quality time with a wonderful friend - oh I suddenly miss ISM so much!

A "different" experience

2006-05-16T23:52:00.000+05:30

"Life is a compromise between what you want to do, what your experience tells you to do, and what your inner self lets you do."

How does it feel to be rebuked by a girl? Bad... How about when you know the thing you are doing would lead to it and you still do it? Let's say - indifferent... I was in a situation, can't say that to be typical, but yes, different from all my past experiences.

Female brain works in myriad ways. In my circle, a discussion goes on many a times in which we unanimously agree on a few things which females just can't do : they can never be good at maths, they can never be good at driving, they can never understand logic! There are positive sides as well. As far as I consider, a female brain has larger areas allocated for emotions and love. Its interconnection with the heart is stronger than with other parts of the brain itself. In essence, it can teach you "life".

I have learnt many different aspects of life from my female friends. This experience was a similar one. Try doing something which makes a guy happy and he would say - "What's the matter with you?" Do that with girls and they would be in seventh heaven. In my case, it gives me a personal satisfaction when I can be the cause of somebody's happiness.

Can't write the details owing to the sanctity of this space, but it was a mixed experience : now I have got a person on this earth I would be ashamed to walk past. But I have also added to my friend list one more person in whose life I was able to add some happy moments. Compromise? I guess that's all I am about!

Aankhon mein namee, hansi labon par...

2006-05-14T01:32:00.000+05:30

It's all over. A degree called engineering, much vaunted about, but actually a pile of nonsense, is finally accomplished. The only part which was great about it was this place. Four years - the best days of my life; great friends - who made the life "best"; and our share of happiness residing together - it's impossible to mix up the ingredients again in whatever proportion and recreate the magic. Alas! Moments can only be cherished, they can never be replicated.

People have started leaving now. Each one to some strange unknown world as it seems. Doesn't matter whether or not they give me a destination address together with a contact number, it appears to be granted that they are "gone". I would be - as people say - "remain in contact", but technology can't bridge hearts - it can only try somehow mending the connection.

Today I bid farewell to the "first shipment" - Sanjiv and Thakur. Seemed like somebody snatched away a piece of my heart.

"Kambakht aankhen dagaa de gayee, warnaa dil to hamaaraa bhi mazboot tha..."

Couldn't stop tears. It sounds strange - as every other truth in this world - crying because a friend is leaving. At times, actions defy logic. Things just happen - viscerally, somberly - there is no explanation to it. All you have to show are emotions, nostalgia... and... "heart". Trying to laugh when I couldn't, trying to talk when I couldn't, it was even impossible to stare directly at their faces. I wonder how the guy called me became so weak.

I don't know what's still binding me with ISM. A part of my heart has no strength left to bid good-byes to more people; another part wants to devour the last moments - cherish every fraction of the seconds left at this place.

Farewell

2006-04-23T13:04:00.000+05:30

This is what I had quoted from Illusions (Richard Bach) in the farewell invitation I had prepared for the outgoing batch of 2005:

          Don’t be
         dismayed at good-byes.
   A farewell is necessary before
you can meet
       again.

                And meeting
              again, after moments or
                  lifetimes, is certain for
                  those who are
                friends.

It was easy to write at that time, it was difficult to face it “now” – the final nail in the coffin; stamping you officially out of this place which has been much more than just home for the four best years of your life. My odyssey at ISM had to come to an end – every good thing ends sooner or later – I would also be wrong in saying that I wasn’t prepared for it; yet, any amount of preparation always seems less when you actually confront it. The day comes, leaving you flabbergasted, shaking you from inside – wake up; you are about to be thrown into the mayhem outside, enough of the cocoon of hostel life – look how bitter and dirty the world outside can be.

The ceremony was great. Clad in my only black cotton trousers and a white shirt borrowed from a junior, festooned with a garland, drinking early and then dancing with the band they had arranged for, I thoroughly enjoyed the “informal” ragging and then the introductory sessions at Opal. I was overjoyed with the sudden downpour starting around midnight, exactly the time at which I was out for party-hopping – attending the two other farewell parties arranged in different hostels on the same day – giving myself a good excuse to drench when Chandra and Kundan accompanying me weren’t much interested in the idea. After this wonderful drenching-in-the-midnight-when-drunk experience, drank some more, danced some more, got everything above waist torn to tatters, ate a bit around 4:30 a.m. and then called off my day with a 5:30 a.m. RD session.

Its afternoon now. My muddy trousers are hanging in my room besides the torn shirt. The soaked up leather shoes haven’t dried yet. The socks are strewn on the floor. Everything says that yesterday night has ended. The mind knows its not going to come back. The adventure is up, the only reminiscences being the few pictures stored on my system. Yet a part of my heart wants to stay here “forever”.

PJs

2006-04-18T22:31:00.000+05:30

After numerous senti blogs, getting back to my "natural" stuff. Inspired by the daily one hour postprandial PJ session at RD each night; taking liberty to assume myself to be one amongst the greatest PJ'ers;, here is what I can "manufacture" to be written immediately :

What is this?
a question mark...

What sucks the most?
tongue...

To "fall" in love (From an old movie): Chalo dildaar chalo, chaand ke paar chalo...
and I say moon's acceleration due to gravity is one-sixth of earth... you would "fall" with lesser velocity and it's better on earth...

You are sitting in a room with a pretty girl with no one in the house...
and you say : Kyaa aap mere saath coffee peene chalengi?

You tell a married girl that she is looking beautiful...
and you are making her April Fool...

It says : Shoot for the moon and you will atleast land up among the stars!
and I say : Why should I be disposed, I am not a nuclear waste!

A hotel room has glass doors... a couple is staying up in the night...
and you watch through the keyhole!

A dwarf wants to suicide...
and he jumps from the sidewalk on to the road...

You tell me to show a woman who can drive well...
and I show you a crooked No Parking board...

Drenching in the rain

2006-04-15T16:03:00.000+05:30

Rain rain where thou art
Bless the earth before it shatters apart

This unrepentant sun and this sultry sky
Gnawing my heart wherever I lie

My dry lips and my thirsty mind
And pains and agonies of all kind

My hands which could never learn to pray
And my heart which has only one thing to say

That its eternal hope sees that elusive light
That one speck among the existing plight

Move on where your dreams take you
Who says they don’t come true?

Treading forward on this thorny path
Whatever be the fury or the wrath

For, there awaits my dream, my soul
O rain! Drench me and make me ‘whole’.

Potpourri

2006-04-14T21:31:00.000+05:30

Long time no blogging. Coming back after two months with a pessimistic note. What has been going on in my mind in the past few weeks is hinted by the following informations glanced upon here and there :

Two people in a small Himalayan village exhumed a dead body and then consumed it after cutting its head. They were "tantriks" who believed that consumption of a dead body would give them supernatural powers.

A woman delivered a baby in a lavatory bowl while answering to nature's call. The head of the baby was stuck in the hole of the bowl and by the time some fire brigade personnel broke the bowl and rushed the baby to the hospital, it was dead.

Around 50 people - whose charred bodies with a terrible stench were kept on ice slabs for claims - were engulfed in a fire which ran through three air-conditioned pandals of an exhibition in a city named Meerut.

In parts of Pakistan and Afghanistan, people have a callous carnival in which they cheer on attack dogs mauling at a defenselessly tethered bear in an arena for the bear baiting bloodsport. In parts of India, little bear cubs are blinded and neutered and then dragooned into dancing with thick ropes driven into their sensitive muzzles pierced with hot iron rods and other merciless multiple mutilations.

And finally, the protagonist Winston Smith of my present novel 1984 (George Orwell) is being tortured by electric shocks and blood thirsty rodents attacking on his face in the Ministry of Love of Oceania.

Bon Jovi's "Is it you and me or just this world we live in?" comes to my mind almost instantly. And then follows "Gonna take a miracle to save us this time"! Amidst all this potpourri of "strange" thoughts, I could reach to just one conclusion - the world is a dirty place and all our present actions are knowingly or unknowingly directed towards finding clean spots here itself, isn't it?

Concept of God

2006-02-11T16:10:00.000+05:30

William F. Buckley, Jr, founder of the National Review magazine says - "It is intellectually easier to credit a divine intelligence than to submit dumbly to felicitous congeries about nature."

Is that the reason why some people believe and some don't on the existence of a supreme power? For a few, it might qualify as a nice excuse to actually run away from the rhetoric counter-point used in such debates - "Hey, look at the stars and tell me how these arrangements could have existed without anything?" For any tangible object in this world, this camp would point to the inspiration towards its making rather than the creation itself. Beethoven's compositions, Leonardo's masterpieces... do all these exist because something else exists which inspired the physical being towards extraordinary works? I disagree.

I am not being solipsistic. There is much more beyond the self. But why should we move beyond the world? The scriptures state that the Reality is beyond the ken of the senses and the mind. Then why bother about it? There is enough one can do within the realm of 'senses and mind' and within this world itself. The problem starts when you try to define Reality. For some, it is God in a definite form or shape, for me, it is what we live in.

Chanting verses like the Gayatri Mantra and contemplating on the Absolute with meditations, wouldn't that have been a waste of time for Beethoven and Leonardo da Vinci? I am not a hard core nihilist. Religious rituals and practices are merely different means of one's share of solitude. But, exaggeragte that into a necessary and only path to achieve oneness with the Supreme, and you are moving away from yourself. You lost the very purpose of solitude.

This I believe : There is no need of a God for my present existence on this planet.

Rang De Basanti

2006-02-09T23:56:00.002+05:30

It says - A Generation Awakens... And it tries the best shot.

In this contemporary rendering of the legendary story of Bhagat Singh, director Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra passes on the message to the young generation brilliantly and almost effortlessly. In an unusual but highly effective format, the scenes shift from historical to contemporary settings flawlessly and it's easy to assimilate the smooth transitions. A.R. Rahman's music with Prasoon Joshi's lyrics create a magical effect.

With its great script, the movie keeps the audience spellbound. The imagination, however, becomes too much in the latter half of the movie when, in protest of Ajay's flight accident, the five young men shoot the defence minister and then broadcast their feelings on the radio.

The movie poses a problem - of the nation gnawed by politicians. But, leaves it at that without giving a solution. It fills the youth with enthusiasm, with aggression, with devotion, but stops at that. Swades, on the other hand, was more realistic with a direct message.

P.S. One particular line which I found more than impressive : "College de gate de is taraff, hum life ko nachaatte hain... to dujji taraf life humko nachaatti hai... dhim lak lak dhim dhim lak lak!!"

Back again

2006-02-05T15:01:00.001+05:30

It's been four whole months since I scribbled this space. I am personally convinced that this is my longest stretch of an open display of procrastination. Many events crossed by, many a times I actually got down to writing, but then...

Life has taken a U-turn I guess. CAT, XAT this that... all passed away, and now I am waiting for the 90 day countdown after which I'll be out of this place. New year passed without any resolutions or fanfare. Did nothing in the winter vacations as well; except yes, a few good books. Am feeling too lousy to write about them though.

A compelling novel

2005-10-05T22:19:00.000+05:30

In this story running through three generations, covered beautifully in a 692 page work, one keeps on hopping from one facet of human relationship to other; each one so intricate and yet so minutely dealt with, that it keeps you stuck without even a slightest hint of boredom. An impressive novel encompassing everything called 'life'.

A few excerpts :

"Habit and awe are harder to overcome than people realize until they actually try to circumvent the conduct of years."

"And gradually his memory slipped a little, as memories do, even those with so much love attached to them; as if there is an unconscious healing process within the mind which mends up in spite of our desperate determination never to forget."

"And ignorance breeds ignorance; an unawakened body and mind sleep through events which awareness catalogues automatically."

"The land was so beautiful, so pure, so indifferent to the fates of the creatures who presumed to rule it. They might put their hands to it, but in the long run it ruled them. Until they could direct the weather and summon up the rain, it had the upper hand."

"Perhaps no human being is equipped to judge which is worse: inchoate longing with its attendant restlessness and irritability, or specific desire with its willful drive to achieve the desire."

"Every man has sadness in him, and it is no sin to remember a grief."

"We all have contempt for whatever there's too many of. Out here it's sheep, but in the city it's people."

"Love! What's love? Nothing but figment of women's imagination, thaf's all."

"For only those who have slipped and fallen know the vicissitudes of the way."

"Each of us has something within us which won't be denied, even if it makes us scream aloud to die. We are what we are, that's all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast, singing its heart out and dying. Because it has to, it's driven to. We can know what we do wrong even before we do it, but self-knowledge can't affect or change the outcome, can it? Everyone singing his own little song, convinced it's the most wonderful song the world has ever heard. Don't you see? We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it."

"No man sees himself in a mirror as he really is, nor any woman."

"Who on earth ever said people most moved don't weep? They don't know anything about it."

"Perhaps that's what Hell is, a long term in earth-bound bondage. Perhaps we suffer our hells in living..."

"It must be the demon of destructiveness in us, the impulse to poke the guts out of a fire. It only hastens the end. But what a beauriful end, isn't it?"

Do you agree?

2005-10-03T19:11:00.000+05:30

This is a dialogue from 100 Girls which I was watching today:

"Men have this anti-intimacy force field around them.. that is powered by sarcasm, humor and a version."

Any comments?

Mood Swing

2005-09-27T19:01:00.000+05:30

Mid-semesters ended last week. But yet, I have vowed to study hard until the 20th of November, because currently, on the top of my agenda is CAT '05 due on that date. Today, though, I didn't feel much like intriguing myself with those 35 second per question thing and decided to do something different. Old spirit of fine arts came back to my mind but owing to unavailability of my painting equipments, I resorted to doing some pencil work on my room wall itself. This is what I ended up with:

Got a lot of views and comments from those who saw it: about the mood of that character, or about my mood itself when I drew that. Few called it mischievous, few just good. What do you say?

The 'Sportive Instinct'

2005-08-30T18:50:00.000+05:30

Something has suddently got over me. In better terms, let me put it as - Sportive Instinct. I get up at 5 in the morning just to try my hands on Lawn Tennis. Tell that to somebody out here who hasn't seen me returning back (just because everybody is asleep at that time!) and he would think - have I gone mad? Getting up before the sun is up atleast by several degrees above the landscape is a sort of offence if practiced in hostels - the only thumb rule which dictates the time to get up at this place is, get up around 15 minutes before the first class, so that you can catch it up atleast within the 'acceptable' limits of +15 minutes.

The evening daily consists of a bit of volleyball. I am not a very good player though, but - every age is the right age to learn! On the top of it, the court is filled up with amateurs like me, not causing too much of troubles. I know I can play fair if I continue this zeal.

First Day First Show - "The Rising"

2005-08-12T23:22:00.000+05:30

"Once upon a time dawned on this earth a man with ..."

The saga of Mangal Pandey depicted in the latest film portrays his rebellion against the East India Co. with all the required spirit and literary style. Aamir Khan has done justice with this elusive character who enlightened the torch of India's first freedom struggle.

I found the movie to be conveying much more than just the story of Mangal. It kept on depicting in the background India's medieval society with all its existing dogmas. The untouchable lower caste people, the girls being sold from one hand to another and finally ending up as prostitutes, the sati system ... This complete framework on which the strings of the film are knit hurt you somewhere in the heart. All these things existed in our own country in the middle of 19th century, and we still can't claim that they have been completely wiped out.

Nobody is perfect. And neither was Mangal. He never touched the sweeper in the street because he was from lower caste and his entire transformation into a freedom fighter from a loyal English sepoy was due to cartridges which used skins of pigs and cows and this was against his religious beliefs. But, it's the brighter side we should ponder upon. He was the one-man-army who motivated the entire 34 regiment at Barrackpore to fight against the Britishers. He sets himself apart as an epitome of bravery when he stands all alone infront of the entire Rangoon regiment and once again by shouting 'Halla-Bol' just before he was to be hanged.

Another interesting character in the film is that of Gordan who is shown to be in an internal tug of war between his friendship and his loyalty. The concluding notes in the film where it is said that he was finally fighting against the East India Co. after the death of Mangal is worth noting.

Overall the film is sure to impart a poignant effect on your mind and heart.

Travelogue IV (Day out at Paris)

2005-07-31T06:14:00.000+05:30

Its rare I get lucky! But it happened. Getting an entire day out at Paris, all that for free, is not just a small luck, its a gift chhappar phaad ke! After landing at the high-tech Paris airport, when I reached the appropriate terminal to get a boarding pass at the Air France counter for my journey back to Mumbai, I was baffled by the reply of the staff - "All seats in this flight are full and you can't travel today. Wait on that side and I would tell you what is to be done." Still unaware of many rules in hawaai yatras, I ranted at her - "How can you give my seat to somebody else? I have a confirmed ticket!" She politely replied - "Sir, do you know what's going on in Mumbai? People are dying in Mumbai!" I thought for a moment, so what's the big deal? People keep on dying in India due to one thing or the other!...but suppressed my urge to say that out aloud. She continued - "There is water all around and our flights are not getting permission to land. Yesterday's flight was cancelled and those passengers are travelling today." Finally, after spending much time on her sleek computer system, she told me that there is no other option and I would have to travel the next day. They arranged for my stay at a nice hotel together with meals and had a free transport available from airport to Ibis Ville.

I only had my hand baggage with me and there was no option of changing my clothes. After having lunch (this was much better than Czech food, atleast the fruits were intact and not spoiled with the application of a ghatiya fruit salad recipe, and on the top of it, there were those familiar french fries!), I decided to set out to have a city visit. With the experiences of a city travel in Prague, I took a map and set out all alone to discover as much of Paris as possible in that single evening I had. Major tourist destinations were marked on the map itself and I covered around 5 of them.

My first stop was, of course, the Eiffel Tower. The familiar picture of the structure embedded in every child's mind in India, courtesy his GK books, was infront of my eyes. You can't really imagine the actual span of this marvellous design unless you see it. I decided not to go on top (partly because I didn't have time, and partly because there was a heavy rush at that 2 Euro elevator and I didn't have enough energy to waste by using the stairs). Paris was expensive, and I was lucky that I had around 5000 Rs in my hand baggage which I got converted at the airport.

From the tower, I decided to walk to my next destination to have a good sightseeing and to enjoy the beautiful Seine river. The river flows centrally through the city and is flanked by huge structures on both sides. It's not very wide, but the approximate 50 to 60 mts. width is enough for the numerous floating restaurants and small tourist boats offering a paradise to the onlooker's eyes. Paris is different from Prague in almost everything - it's modern and high-tech, Prague was a bit ancient and historical.

After a few more site visits until it was around 10 in the night, I decided to move back to my hotel. A sumptuous dinner (again with French fries, French bread, lots of fruits and above all: the red wine) ended my Paris day-out.

Travelogue III (Phoren life & Prague)

2005-07-28T00:36:00.000+05:30

Its not a very good practice to start off with a pessimistic note, but I am more than tempted to write this off - If you are a vegetarian, think ten times before travelling abroad without an alternative food arrangement (like your wife to cook!) I have been pissed off with what all you get here in the name of food: tell that to somebody back in India and he would exclaim - sirf ghaans khaate the kya? For vegetarians, they proudly announce the salad on one side of the buffet which was filled up with strange dishes of pork and beef (for which I needed a friend for identification) or some ugly vegetables cooked with ... I don't know what. Yesterday in lunch, they even had the pasta which actually sucked! I have been hungry since last three days, surviving only on the bread-butter and yoghurt of the breakfast and moving only by the little power provided with that 32 Crown Coca-Cola Burn energy drink.

The conference is going on great - though a bit hectic. Today was the closing ceremony in fact. It has been great chatting with people from around the world - each one strange in his own ways. The day before yesterday I talked with a guy called Bill from Hungary. He had been to India for 6 months all alone and was sharing some experiences. He had arrived at Mumbai on a Diwali night and was astonished at the sight of crackers all around. It was funny in a way, I could imagine him jumping and running all along to get away! There is a girl called Louann from Trinidad with this typical accent we seldom hear on televisions and this lad named Achala from Sri Lanka who finds the Indian accent strange! Writing about everybody is not what I intend to do in this space.

I bunked a complete session yesterday afternoon and roamed around the city with a fellow Indian Ashish Gupta from XIMB (Yup! Bunking is something which characterises a typical Indian, and is inevitable when you are an engineer!) This guy was experienced - he had been to London and Japan before and knew the ground rules of travelling in an unknown city. I think I would never have been able to cover all these beautiful places in Prague, had he not been there for my rescue. With a map in hand and a good knowledge about the city owing to his huge pre-preparations about the place on the internet before coming, he was a nice company all around. We went to almost all places he told was worth visiting - Prague Castle, Charles Bridge, Old Town Square, Wencelas Square, National Museum etc.

There are a few basics to enjoy a foreign city - have an extreme stamina to walk, a great sense of direction and a lot of common sense! We walked for almost 15 Kms on that very day, and I kept myself moving with frequent Coca-Cola Burns. The city is great - and I have read that it has some historical importance related with the USSR times. Christened the Banaras of the West and the most beautiful city of Europe; we roamed quite until it was 11:30 in the night. Its strange of European summers - the sun comes up around 5 in the morning, but sets only around 11 in the night! The night had actually just started to cover up the Prague skyline when we decided to wrap off to catch the last train to Celakovice.

And ask what I had for dinner - a cheese patties bought outside the TESCO Supermarket. After searching in almost every McDonald's and other restaurants and asking for anything vegetarian, I finally got a patties! Ashish was, though, comfortable with his hot-dogs and burgers (which had pork inside.... Erckle!). I had to buy water (available at a hefty 26 Crowns for half a litre - that's around 50 Rupees!) to quench my thirst just because they don't offer it for free even at restaurants! The coke was cheaper than water, though, available at 15 Crowns for a glass and I had sipped it twice.

On returning back, every other guy in my group was astonished how I bunked a session, and I was astonished why at all do they think its such a big deal anyway! Today evening, there was a scheduled city visit and we utilised it only to do some shopping from the stores we had cautiously set aside in our minds yesterday as providing the best prices - again, a typical Indian!

Today was the closing ceremony and it felt bad to part from everybody else. After all, it was a nice share of time which I had enjoyed with them. Tomorrow, I would be leaving this place to ride on plane which would "Fly me home" (The three words symbolising the Deccan airways which I read on a girl's baggage while looking at her at Paris airport!) Better than here, atleast I would get good food to eat and free water to drink!

Travelogue II (First Impressions)

2005-07-25T13:19:00.000+05:30

I think I am not yet finished with my Delhi post. After everything was in place by 22nd, I thought of making a trip to my Mausi's place in Behrod, around 130 Km from Delhi, midway on Delhi-Jaipur highway. So, on 23rd morning, around 6 O' clock, I left to Dhaula Kuan from Noida, and caught a comfortable 2/2. (2/2 buses are a luxury in Jharkhand and Bihar considering the heavy rush and abundance of 3/2 seaters). It was nice to find a scarce headcount, both in that DTC I had boarded and in this Haryana State Transport bus.

After spending around 8 hours in home, both Mausiji and Mausaji came to drop me all the way to Indira Gandhi International airport. There was a traffic jam near Gurgaon and the bus took a different way through the Gurgaon city - I was lucky to get the city view and kept on getting amused by the skyscrapers.

We reached the airport around one and a half hours before the scheduled departure and I was sad to know that visitors were not allowed anywhere inside the security area - I had to go inside all alone and they didn't even get a chance to actually see me off. Unknown of the formalities and wandering inside to get an idea of what all is to be done to fetch a boarding pass, I was wondering how bewildered and dumb must I be looking to others! Its always strange, you can easily identify a 'fresher' in any domain by his activities; not always because he does things incorrectly, but just because he asks for it first and then does that with extra care.

Finally, after much embarrassment, I got a boarding pass, and I decided to make a call back home. By this time, I had started feeling a bit nostalgic and, though, its not the best thing to be done at such times, I made a call atleast to inform everybody that I am ready to depart.

The aircraft finally took off, and I found myself cramped in a small chair with seatbelt tied around and some strange sort of pressure inside my ears. The seats were 2-4-2 in one row and I was in the worst of them, the middle one in the 4 series. Stretching my legs was difficult and sleeping impossible. I remembered all rosy paintings of air-travel which are pasted in your mind throughout your growing-up stages in school life, and wondered how amongst many worthless things taught in school life, such falsified images of comforts-which-money-can-buy are firmly erected inside your mind. I was hungry, but something inside my stomach kept prompting me, fill with anything and I am ready to throw it out! The artificial environment was worse and I was wondering whether I would actually survive for entire 10 hours in that condition. A newly wed Indian girl was sitting besides me and just to feel a bit better, I initiated a conversation.

She was going to US via Paris and was travelling with her father-in-law. For the first time, I tasted some French food and this girl helped me out in identifying the vegetarian items. It was strange, and I couldn't eat anything except some French bread and butter, settling everything in place with some orange juice.

The ordeal finally ended and we landed in Paris. The pilot announced the outside temperature to be 17 degrees. I disembarked at terminal 2A and couldn't find that girl anymore. A bus took the passengers of connecting flights to terminal 2C and in the entire way, I kept getting mused at the mesh of concrete flyovers passing one on top of another like the ones in science fiction movies. I had about 2 hours before my next flight to Prague and I roamed around in the cold terminal clicking a few snaps with my camera. The second flight was a bit comfortable with 3-3 seats in a row and I had got a window seat. The food again was strange and I managed again with good old bread-butter.

Coming out of the Prague airport, I felt for the first time, that I was out in broad daylight at some place which is far away from India. The taxi which took me from the airport to the conference venue in Celakovice was a Volkswagon, and the entire 40 minutes drive, I kept looking outside with that childlike innocence of videsh yatra. Being fascinated by the cruising speeds of 160 Kmph, I was wondering what would happen if a pothole appears in the way! The car accelerated and deccelerated most swiftly than ever imagined, and I was preparing a nice lecture in my mind about the Indian economy vs. the West in my mind which I can give to my friends upon returning back - which was never delivered in full, except a few comparisons now and then.

"Where's everybody?" is what any Indian would immediately ask while looking around at this place. Habituated of a country (somebody told me that the entire Europe lives in India!) with heads all around, it seemed strange. The taxi promptly stopped at every red signal - I don't know for whom, there was nobody around - and re-accelerated to its full pace. A few bikes passed-by from behind, with a 'relative velocity' same as the normal speed of cars in India, and I quickly added a figure of around 60 Kmph with our meter reading of 150 to get a rough idea of the speed with which those guys were cruising!

Its afternoon here, and I am heavily jet-lagged. This hotel is comfortable, and truthfully, the most comfortable place I have ever been to. I have decided to take a nice nap before I check out what's all there in-and-around.

P.S. The toilet is difficult to use, it has only papers!!

Travelogue I (Delhi)

2005-07-22T21:22:00.001+05:30

Its seldom that I travel far away from home all alone. I have been to Delhi before many a times, but this time, it was different. Travelling 24 hours in a train alone is a difficult task - and the difficulty increases if people like us start travelling in air-conditioned compartments! We middle-class people constituting the majority of Indian population are much more comfortable in the familiar and 'active' environment of sleeper 3-tier coaches with beggars and vendors visiting frequently.

Anyway, I stepped down at New Delhi Railway station and took an auto-rickshaw straight to Noida. I have been here after almost 3 years, so changes in a metropolis are quite natural. But the pace at which Delhi has changed appears remarkable. With flyovers constructed at almost every crossroad, traffic congestion has been substantially reduced, not to mention the extra beauty added to the city. The pollution scenario has been greatly improved as well - thanks to the CNG changeover. The air here is far better than the streets of Dhanbad.

Its been four days since I am here. I met one of my seniors yesterday who is in Noida itself. He passed out from ISM just 3 months back but it seemed like we were meeting after almost an year. Working hard in his software firm, his incessant schedules gave me a fair idea of how hard life is going to get once I am out of this heavenly abode called ISM.

I have been travelling much in this place since last 3 days ('much' is the only term I can use based on my Dhanbad and Jamshedpur reference frames) to get a visa approval. The DTC buses, all crowded at the peak 9 O' Clock time were the only option and I sincerely wished metros should have existed in South Delhi as well. People here are more friendly than one can expect, everybody including the conductor can strike out nice conversations even while standing in the buses and it didn't feel much bad to me being cramped altogether with my file in hand and my tie around my neck - the ready-for-the-interview posture.

If you lack sufficient walking capabilities, you are going to have a difficult time here. I have a nice habit of long walks and it wasn't much difficult when I got the most common reply of 'paas mein hi hai' to anywhere I asked for, be it a place 4 Km away. The longest one became real tiresome, though, a full circle around the Niti Marg searching for the Czech Embassy during the most hot-and-humid climate imaginable. It felt as if I had travelled across the entire globe (I walked past the embassies of almost anywhere) minus my destination - the Czech Republic. I have always suffered from this peculiar problem in these so-called posh areas - you can never get anything which can be qualified as a public transport, and you have to finally rely only upon your feet. This area didn't even have the ubiquitous water-vendors of Delhi to offer me a quench.

After much difficulty with that guy called Mr. Store (the difficulty was three fold - sitting in that ultracool chamber which felt like a corpse house, probably trying to give a feel of the Czech climate; understanding his entirely different accent; and finally convincing him why this conference was important to me) my visa was approved and its now certain that I would finally set foot on a winged carrier which would take me outside the realm of this country on the 24th.

The difficulties didn't end, though. I had been desperately searching for some woolen garments since yesterday and after much wandering to places like Ansal Plaza and Patel Nagar, I finally resorted to good old Atta of Noida to manage a single piece of a Levis jacket in a single store. A sleek 4.1 Mega pixel Sony cybershot digital camera is the latest substraction from my 'to-have' list, which I also bought from this market.

The stage is finally set, for, tomorrow would be the take-off towards my experience of a lifetime.

They said so

2005-06-04T23:43:00.000+05:30

Following are a few excerpts from The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry. Each one of them is highly thought-provoking and brilliantly written. No comments from my side:

"...which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating."

"It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do."

"...(she) went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task dear friends--a mammoth task."

"Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them."

The third one is much more special and conveys a lot more than those few words.

Meandering through

2005-06-01T21:03:00.000+05:30

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अस्थिर अशांत सा इस बियावान में
लहरों सदृश हिचकोले खाता
बेचैन मन,

घृणा, तृष्णा, अंधकार, हाहाकार...
अब तो इस बीहड़ से
भाग उठने की लिप्सा मात्र है।

धरा पर बिताए इन कुछेक वर्षों में ही
लगता है जैसे -
सत्य की पराकाष्ठा समझ आ गई हो...

संस्कृति एवँ परम्परा का झूठा दम्भ,
मखौल बनते मानवता एवँ निष्ठा
सरीखे किताबी शब्द...

एक दूसरे को ही नोच
खाने को आतुर
गिद्ध की तरह डटे लोग।

निरर्थक से किसी लक्ष्य को
प्राप्त करने की होड़ में
कलपता अंतर्मन...

एक पारदर्शी छवि प्राप्त करने की आकांक्षा
परन्तु फिर भी बाकि है।
कभी तो प्राप्त होगी वह
अलौकिक जान पड़ती दूरस्थ आकृति...

कभी तो मिलेगी वह विचित्र अनुभूति...
इसी पागलपन के मध्य
शायद कुछ वर्ष और व्यतीत कर लूँ!

Friends drifting away with time

2005-05-29T21:13:00.000+05:30

Ever noticed how at this stage of life one by one our friends have started drifting away from us - transforming into formal acquaintances from close friends? Some reason or the other, we are getting separated from each other. It troubles me, might be because the adolescent kid inside me has not yet been able to give way to adulthood so as to have enough strength to face these harsh realities. I still find myself immature, troubled with slightest difficulties... In about an year, I would be away from the close ones in my alma-mater. Few of them from my school are even getting married! And it descends upon my heart like a melancholy for no obvious reasons.

Will friends stay close with the passage of time? Its difficult to predict, even more difficult to observe yourself. Sometimes I feel I'm getting too much involved in things, or getting too much social, but what's the problem with that? I wonder if there would be a day when everybody would be busy in their professional lives and would lose meaning of our friendship. I just wish that never happens. I read somewhere - Friends don't drift apart universally with time. It's your own decision to shut off your eyes, so that you don't acknowledge them.

P.S. I don't believe in star tracks, but just after finishing this blog, here's what I found in today's Graphiti -

Virgo (August 21 - September 20) This week Virgoans are on an emotional roller-coaster. Cast aside insecure feelings. Draw comfort from family and friends. You may also feel lonely or unloved, but do not slip into a depressive mode. You just need to ask yourself whether this self-pity is justified. Chin up!

Quoting a line from my own previous post - you start believing in everything when you want to.

My friend gets married!

2005-05-28T13:38:00.000+05:30

This wedding I attended was entirely different from all my previous experiences of such an occasion. Earlier, on all such occasions, I had been with my family, going for a maximum of 3 to 4 hours, rhetorically respecting entire family members gathered and returning back to enjoy a good night's sleep after a tiresome day.

This was different in many aspects - first and the foremost, I was well acquainted with both the bride and the groom. The bride happened to be a close friend from my school, and the groom is my senior. Its a nice feeling when you are in a situation like this, being known on both sides! Next, the meeting with seniors from my college in the evening - I re-experienced the same senior-junior relationship tradition of ISM about which each one of us are proud of. I had never seen or met anyone before, but we sat together, chatted and drank like we had known each other for years.

Then the baraat - for the first time I attended one after consuming a little alcohol! We danced a lot just like any other party at our institute, but there was a difference - there was a camera rolling! It was fun, dancing on band party instruments is much more exciting than even a DJ.

It was different, I saw her in that bride's dress and she was looking beautiful with a handsome match standing besides her. I was happy for my friend, she's stepping in a new life. Congratulations Madhu!

The WET Friday

2005-05-14T16:31:00.000+05:30

Myself and Chandra hosted a small party on the occasion of our campus selections. Too late, of course, its been 5 days since we have been through, but the sequence of events during the week didn't allow us an early treat.

Alcohol in all its splendour, people with all their emotions, we drank and spoke our hearts out. A blend of everything - happiness and pain, frustration and exasperation, love and longing - all present in many flavours. I had witnessed the failure of a brilliant mind the entire week, I can see the agony of separation with the seniors, I can feel the terrible time when we would separate from our friends in just an year, I can't stop my tears looking at my frustrated friend....

We danced, we drank, we cried, we celebrated, we encouraged, we separated .... and all this from dusk to dawn. A warm cup of tea at Ramdhani on this Saturday morning marked an end to the wet Friday, but the feeling lingers on.... and it pains in the heart.

And finally a success

2005-05-10T01:30:00.000+05:30

The pursuit of success is far more exciting than the success itself.

Today, I landed up with my first job - IBM Global Services.

Friends ask me - you must be feeling in the airs, huh? And I can't explain to them, not at least in words - that I am not feeling in the air, but firm on the ground, firmer than I ever felt. Its an achievement, of course, but it hasn't left me that happy that I would jump around. The pursuit of success - I was enjoying that part. Preparing for the campus selections, going through everything about the company, and finally gearing myself up for those tricky HR questions, it was wonderful! And it was troublesome. Anxiety day and night, mixed with a fear of rejection - I myself did things which appear strange to me; like trying to feel confident even though a part of my mind never was! Analysing yourself, short term and long term goals, strengths and weaknesses.... All those things which are the toughest to think about! Who can think of his own weaknesses? Even if you think of many, babbling those in an interview would lead to nothing but rejection. Analysing myself! One thing which lacks in most of the humans - swaadhyaya as it is put by Maharshi Dayanand Saraswati. The day I learn that, 90% of the troubles would wither away by themselves.

The success itself? A little masti overnight with friends, a little consolation to those talented ones who got rejected, and finally a good night's sleep after days of examination. The end of success celebrations! Who would say I am feeling in the air?

But one strange feeling dawns on me - how a yesterday kid of a small locality is getting transformed into a professional. I imagine myself playing cricket in that nearby ground and attending school classes in that sombre uniform I always disliked - and then here I am - soon to land up in a job like the uncles in the colony do, soon to attend a conference in Europe... and soon to get out of my college as an engineering graduate. Things have changed, and possibly my perspectives as well. There is much more to come in life!

Tera peechha na, main ...

2005-05-04T02:31:00.000+05:30

I think he is angry with me because I never quoted the full law, but just babbled out how it affected me in all my previous posts. In the simplest of terms (it can be much more complex at times!), Murphy's law states that - "If something can go wrong, it will go wrong." And this month, it has untied all his strings to show me to the fullest extent how devastating it can be.

Starting off with May 1st. The May Day - the labourer's day. I was doing more than required labour for the semester exams starting from 2nd. When you are in an engineering college, you must learn how to avoid studies the entire semester and then how to complete everything in a single night. Its a difficult task - but engineers come to the rescue for every difficulty in the world. So, lying on my bed with a chotha (college slang for every type of study material except the required textbook) in hand, and with my legs doing slight aerobics in the back when my head was juggling with something called Digital Communications, the right leg struck something kept on the window. My mirror fell on the ground and the head-on collision broke the glass into two pieces. The pieces didn't fell apart but remained in the frame and I decided to use the mirror until I got time to go to the market and buy a new one.

The next morning, May 2nd. The D-Day - the start of semester examinations. At about 3 O'Clock when I was about to go to sleep, I pulled the curtains and the thing fell again. This time, the mirror was broken into pieces and I had no option but to throw it out. I don't believe in superstitions, but you start believing in everything when you want to. Somebody had told me that a broken mirror is a bad sign and had suggested me to throw it out immediately when it was broken the first time. So, to give myself a reassurance (and others an explanation!) when I would be doing bad in the exams, I decided to remember it as a point to be mentioned for the reason of my performance. Then came the exams - I answered so badly that I am flunking in the paper! The first time in my life - I am failing in a subject.

May 3rd. The Asthma Day - no correlation with my sequence of events. The next paper - VLSI design. With half of the sleep required for a normal human being, I went to give the exams. After about one and a half hours, I got a terrible scolding for using unfair means in the examination. That's one terrible thing on part of the profs, they happily segregate even the tiniest of acts performed in an examination hall as unfair means! After a long lecture on honesty and all, I was atleast allowed to answer the paper.

Tomorow I am appearing for Microprocessors based systems. The syllabus is a complete epic in itself. Let's see what's more in store to come during this entire week!

Purani Jeans

2005-04-22T00:35:00.000+05:30

We all were sitting in a room with seniors of the outgoing batch. There was a small party arranged for us as Thursday was the last working day for them. This particular song from Sandesa sung by Ali Haider was being played many times and we all were singing together...

Bas yaadein
Yaadein
Yaadein reh jaati hain
Kuchh chhoti
Chhoti
Baatein reh jaati hain
Bas yaadein..

I could feel the emotions in their heart. The pain of being separated from their alma-mater, the farewell to the four precious years of full throttle enjoyment, the agony of being parted from the great frineds with whom they have lived each and every moment of their stay at this place - all could be clearly felt in their voices. We were feeling almost the same. We would immensely miss our great share of times with them; there would be nobody on top of us to throw away all our administrative troubles, to get free of cost pertinent suggestions on academic issues, and above all, these great friends of us.

Everything which has a begining has an end. For them, this is the end of the four years of a rosy world where everything seems perfect and great - to a begining of the realities of the harsh new land outside. For us, this is the end of our share of treasured moments with them, after which we would probably just be friends with a telephonic contact. We would miss the treats, we would miss the alcohol, we would miss them.

To Hell with these bugs..

2005-04-19T23:07:00.000+05:30

I thought I would abstain from telling this openly, but its better to puke out what bothers me terribly. I can't withstand the bugs. These tiny ugly creatures literally give me shivers. The world would have been much more beautiful without them. We wouldn't have bothered to shove them away everytime they landed up just anywhere without permission! And count on that the trouble caused to your hands when you have to move them all around behind your neck or your spine in a rapid swift motion before they dare to enter (highly unashamed as they are) inside your shirt. And a few even notorious ones take the liberty to fly and sit peacefully on your hands when you shove them. A few real ugly ones make your fingers smell so badly that you would faint if you didn't wash your hands immediately. They show their presence everywhere, falling in my water jug, anytime I forget to cover it, and sometimes even in my glass of milk left for a few minutes to be cooled off. (And, it costs me Rs. 5/- per glass!) Sometimes, they can be found comfortable on the bed meant for a single human being.

You can't even kill them. I once saw a friend crushing such a creature with a book which sort of squeezed out a jelly-like thing from its pulp-like body and the scene had enough potential to make anyone puke! I am helpless at the pathetic sight of these bungy-jumpers on my book, challenging any human soul trying to concentrate on it. And, the problem is even worse because I use a table lamp. Anyway, I have no other option but to bear these dirty things until my exams are over because this is the small period when my table lamp glows.

P.S. : I can't even close the window to prevent them from entering the room, it's too hot!

200 seconds drenched in emotions

2005-04-13T17:50:00.000+05:30

It lasts for just a few seconds over 3 minutes, but is sure to remain in your mind for another 3 days. The desolation, the longing, the desperation and the agony - all beautifully interwined constitute the following song from Raincoat.

hai kitne baras beete tum ghar naa aaye re ..

hai kitne baras beete tum ghar naa aaye re ..

raah dekhe saawan bhaado, dariyaa pahaad ..
raah dekhe saawan bhaado, dariyaa pahaad ..
o re tere liye raah dekhe sajnaa saara sansaar re ..
dil tarse, phir barse mere baalam ke liye ..
dil tarse, phir barse mere baalam ke liye ..
hai kitne baras beete tum ghar naa aaye re ..

raah dekhe kaale meghaa, nadiyaa kaa paani ..
raah dekhe kaale meghaa, nadiyaa kaa paani ..
o re tere liye raah dekhe balmaa saari zindagaani re ..
dil tarse, phir barse mere baalam ke liye ..
dil tarse, phir barse mere baalam ke liye ..

o re laut aao sajnaa mera dil bulaaye re
o re laut aao sajnaa mera dil bulaaye re
o re laut aao sajnaa mera dil bulaaye re ..

The song is written by Rituparno Ghosh who has directed the film himself. Debojyoti Mishra's music together with Shubha Mudgal's poignant voice accentuate the thwarted love affair. And, if you have watched the film, rethink about the situation in this song! If you haven't seen it, you are missing something great.

Silver lining of the cloud

2005-04-05T22:29:00.000+05:30

Definition of my life
starts from distress;
Sadness and agony
and pain and frustration...
Oh! the master,
If at all you're there,
give me that ray of hope!

Life comes a full circle
after these 20 years...
But has something changed?
Except this false happiness of youth...
Oh! the master,
If at all you're there,
give me that ray of hope!

Not even a semblance
of peace or satisfaction;
Not even a virtual
solace in alcohol...
Oh! the master,
If at all you're there,
give me that ray of hope!

The sun never sets
and the river never rests
and the trees never complaint...
Strive for yourself;
Oh! poor creature,
Look at the silver
lining of the cloud!

Awake, arise and
listen to your heart...
Says the master within
my sacred soul;
Oh! poor creature,
Look at the silver
lining of the cloud!

When its all crap

2005-04-02T01:02:00.000+05:30

Blogging is not an easy thing for lousy people like me. I have read a few marvellous blogs by people who have poured in all their thoughts and emotions. But, I can rarely be that creative and all I have to write is pure BC, including those book reviews or some astray things in day-to-day life. Only once after I started writing blogs did I became the most creative I could be and ended up with that poem-sort-of thing about love but that too was triggered due to extreme memories of the past.

But one thing I enjoy a lot - writing comments to what others have written. You might think I am too much of a critic, but one of my good friend says that I am the one who always shows the other side of the coin (and, of course, I love him!) I would thank my father for one great thing, he made me learn typewriting when I was 10. Now, its like I literally play with my keyboard to fill up all my thoughts without losing them in between. Today, I wrote one such comment on one of my friend's blog and he was astonished; the comment was a total of 3074 characters in length, even larger than the original post!

This post is again a crap, but I can justify this - I started this blog presuming it to be a place for my diary entries, and that's just what I am doing! After all, it was too many days since I wrote the last post and its better to stick something in between before going for another dumb looking book review of the work I am about to finish.

HoLi @ Jamshedpur

2005-03-27T23:43:00.000+05:30

Holi! The best festival throughout the year! I like the festival for one very good reason, it gives me an opportunity to remain in contact with the most forgotten ones. Haven't you noticed that there are a few friends whom we meet only once in an year, on Holi? At least, its so in my case. There are quite a few who used to be my good friends in school, but now its only one day that we meet. But, I find it pretty good. Its much better to keep in touch at least once an year rather than loosing contact at all, isn't it?

Another strange attitude of people I happened to discover this time. Why at all can't we learn to let go? Let me explain a bit. We had a family gathering as usual. When one of my uncles arrived (and he happens to be one of those best humorous people I have met) and I tried to rub the red gulaal on his face, he refused saying, "After their death, we don't celebrate holi anymore with colours." (Two of his family members had died an year back) I understand his sentiments, but what is this? I mean how can you afford to live your entire life black-and-white just because somebody close to you is no more alive? Life must go on. My mother died two years back but does that mean I stop enjoying my own life? And in no way does it imply that I didn't love my mother. Their are more than a thousand people dying on this earth everyday and if everybody starts mourning, this earth won't be like what we see it today!

Anyways, Holi does provide you an opportunity to assuage bitter relationships, strengthen old bonds and of course, make new ones. That's the true spirit of this great festival!

To you with love

2005-03-22T17:00:00.000+05:30

I'm not perfect
rather far away from it;
I haven't done anything
till date...
no achievements to boast
no accolades to brag.
But does that mean
I can't love?

I look plain and dry;
with worst sartorial tastes.
I shirk from responsibilities...
I’m a freak.
But does that mean
I can’t love?

I am dumb and inept;
I never became a good guitarist
I never became a good artist
I never became a sportsman
But does that mean
I can’t love?

I'm austere...
I have conscience
and a golden heart
which skips a beat
everytime it remembers you;
My love! tell me,
why shouldn’t I love you?

Small Wonders

2005-03-21T03:22:00.000+05:30

Have you ever wondered how sometimes the tiny little things happening in our lives leave us amused and happy? You are sitting at a restaurant thinking about how that girl you didn't knew waved at you the other day and a smile comes up on your face. Suddenly the person sitting opposite asks - "Hey, what happened?" and you are speechless!

Or consider a different situation. Its the very first drizzle in the spring, totally out of season. Sitting in your room, you suddenly want to jump out and get all wet together with enjoying that great scent of earth. But, of course, its seldom you actually do it!

I can cite numerous examples. In one of your old school notebooks which you happen to discover when the house is being cleaned up, you get an old group photograph of the batch. Your heart ripples with the feelings of your childhood; or possibly by looking at that girl you had crush on! Or just remembering those great friends down the memory lane.

A similar such thing happened with me today. I had given all my clothes to the washerman (It always happens in a hostel that the entire closet becomes dirty at once!) and I had no other option than to resort to an old shirt kept safe inside my briefcase for months. When I took that off this evening, I sensed something in its pocket. It was a parking lot ticket.

Looking at the date and the vehicle number, the memories of that day immediately flashed back all at once! It wasn't an ordinary day. It was last year's Durga Puja. My sister's Activa was still new and I had passionately geared it all through the day! That DP, I had visited a lot more of Jamshedpur than any of the previous years, and the same day I had been to Babua Ji stall for the first time! All these memories kept flashing for a better part of an hour, and of course, left me immensely happy!

So the next time when you accidentally discover a cinema ticket in your pocket, or just a peacock feather in one of those old diaries, check out yourself for the veracity of my words!

Midnight again!

2005-03-19T01:39:00.000+05:30

I am a strange person. I sometimes find my own acts weird! Sometimes I get involved in things to the extent of obsession and sometimes I just don't care even about the most important ones. But that's not always due to me. The best of the laws in this universe apply to me at the worst of the times. Ever heard of Sod's law, or Parkinson's law or that Pareto's law? All these souls come down on me heavily with all their might!

Leave all this aside! It all came to my mind for absolutely no reason. Midnights! This zero hour of the twenty four hour stretch has started loving me all of a sudden! Be it drinking (don't get shocked, I do drink!) at midnight, or just a pure lukkha visit to the station for that Ram charitra singh ki chai, midnights have started playing the most important part of my life. Be it one of the sensations of life which I discovered late (Read below "Biking at midnight") or today's midnight catastrophe!

Guessed right! Coming to the topic after lot of bhumika! I gave an exam today at midnight! Unbelievable - if these are your words, listen to the complete story! There was a programming contest called Overnite in the college techfest. I am over enthusiastic in things related to programming. And, its to the extent of obsession! But today, Murphy was at its best! I couldn't believe myself - the best programmer in my school; I didn't qualify the prelims! It shook me, shook me like nothing else! The midnight catastrophe! The lesson: never take anything for granted! Even the best ones tumble, and overconfidence is the reason.

Recent movies & comments

2005-03-16T00:12:00.000+05:30

Sometimes I watch a few movies which might feel obscene to others. Yup! If you have gone by my profile, you might have seen entries like 'American Beauty', but as far as I think, what's the big deal? I don't recommend nudity, but movies like these are pure fun! And if you think they aren't, then you are of the type who won't even enjoy that great series called FRIENDS. I mean, OK its not at all about plain sex, but its simply far better an entertainer than some other typos. I just finished off with a similar one - 'American Pie'. Its again about friends, virginity and all college entertainment; but of course, not at all nudity. If you can't enjoy works like 'The Girl Next Door' or 'Replikate', then that's not my problem dear!

Five Point Someone

2005-03-15T02:16:00.000+05:30

Ahaan! I read it in one go! Normally, it requires lots and lots of patience to complete a 270 page work in one sitting; and when it comes to me, its a definite no-no. I read it uptil 3:30 in the morning just because I couldn't resist myself leaving anything for the next day! (And, pat me on the back, I attended the 8 O' Clock crap class today as well!).

The book truly portrays the insti life, though, I feel that the three chaps got somewhat overscrewed! The lucid writing style of Chetan Bhagat keeps you stuck throughout the narration and of course, when it comes to something as close as yourself, you just can't stop appreciating. What do you think instances like this one suggest - "We are underperformers, but do you realize that its people like us who bring the average down so that even moderate ones can feel they are not far from it!" ? For me, its one thing for sure - positive attitude! Boy, forget your moral science lessons and see the logic in the above statement!

And, I am incomplete if I don't mention the best part. No points for guessing correctly - the beautiful Neha! The tiniest of female characteristics have been explored while Bhagat revolves around this character. Girls think repeating an adjective makes it more effective; girls do this all the time, say something half-funny, and laugh at it themselves; pretty girls have this power to turn Mary, making lambs out of people; hand-painting cushion covers, how can girls waste their time on such useless pursuits; how good it feels when a girl cries becuase she missed you..............
And the worst part - girls are beautiful, let's face it, and life is quite, quite worthless without them! Man, the last one is bittelry true.

The sucking profs, the great hostel and of course the Vodka! There is not a single front which the author has missed. I wish ISM had a nine storey building to offer me a rooftop to have my doses of "Signature"! Anyways, the stars look the same anywhere, isn't it?

Biking at midnight!

2005-03-13T04:49:00.000+05:30

Man, that's the most beautiful thing I was still missing! Shame, isn't it that I never drove a bike at midnight? (Hans lo Mumbai waalon!) Yup, I gave it a go today! No, it wasn't mine, I don't possess one like most guys here in Emerald Hostel. It was the new, exciting Pulsar of Pahaad Sir (Hmmm, go by the name literally!) which I happened to get for an "urgent" work. (Come to my room to get the definition of "urgency at midnight"!)

And the ride? Mesmerizing! A long stretch from Saraidhela ICICI ATM to Station was the half-way share I got! The other half : courtesy Mr. PritiNarayan. If you are wondering what the hell I was doing at an ATM outlet at midnight, you are aspiring for that definition I talked about earlier!

And, my friend, if you haven't yet experinced the magical exhilaration of a midnight biking, better give it a go! Acceleration is the word which defines life!

Love Story again!

2005-02-26T02:38:00.000+05:30

This time I watched it rather than reading it! Arthur Hiller has recreated the magic of Erich Segal's much acclaimed 'Love Story' in Howard G. Minsky - Arthur Hiller Production's film. Though it was released much earlier, I could manage a copy just a few days back. The book was the best I had read till date, and now, this film. The austerity of the starcast and the apt background music leaves the audience spellbound. Performances of Ali MacGraw as Jenny and Ryan O'Neal as Oliver were just marvellous. The film depicts the novel on celluloid in its full spirit. Watch out for yourself to believe my words.

A walk with my friend

2005-02-25T01:41:00.000+05:30

It was around 9:30 pm. I was sitting in my room studying. Mid-sems are only after a week. Chandra came to my room and said - "Chalo." He is not that kind of a guy from which you can expect something like this. He can actually refuse when you tell him something highly 'unspecific' like this! I nodded. We went outside the hostel. I was expecting something from him. Surely he wants to tell me something. Strange of him! It was full-moon. I love strolling in nights illuminated by moon. We just kept walking. To initiate some talking I asked - "Do you wanna go to the musical night?". "No" was the plain reply. Nothing after that.

He took the longer route to the main gate, that's the route normally used by vehicles; another strange thing from his side. He is the one who is the first to deny whenever I suggest walking rather than taking a rickshaw to the gate anytime we go outside the campus. I felt awkward: you can't just walk, together with a friend, in dumb silence. At the crossroad, he turned left. We reached the lower ground. He wanted to sit for sometime on the stairs beside the ground. Another strange behaviour, I mean, nobody does that at quarter to 10 in the night. I nodded anticipating something from him. No reaction again. We sat quitely for sometime. I was appreciating the decorations of all the buildings glittering with different colours for Sunday's Basant - annual alumni meet of ISM. He remarked just once about a couple seen distantly near the Ruby Hostel - "Watch out, the guy has accompanied her to the hostel and they are stealing a final few moments!" I replied back - "Yup! The last fifteen minutes before the girls hostel entry closes at 10." Silence after that. I kept gazing the stars. A few minutes later he called back - "Lets go." I nodded.

We took the normal route back. This meant almost a full circle of the campus. I thought I must ask him straight - "What's the matter buddy? Are you OK?". I kept silent. We reached the hostel gate. This time I couldn't resist - "Did you took me out only for a stroll?" He nodded. I knew he wasn't telling the truth. I tried again - "I would have accompanied you even if you had told that in my room." Nothing again I knew he was hiding something. What? A confession, a decision, a thought, a problem, or something else?

The world for me

2005-02-22T02:13:00.000+05:30

Reassuring : When I sit with my friends
Beautiful : When I was in love
Desirous : When I visit my village
Indifferent : When I am drunk
Different : Everyday
Exhaustive : Before exams
Difficult : During exams
Deceitful : Sometimes
Marvellous : Rarely
Exciting : On tours
Peaceful : When I stroll in the moonlight
Exhilarating : When I drench in the rain
Rejuvenating : During festivals
Strange : ALWAYS

A book which speaks

2005-02-21T14:58:00.000+05:30

I happened to go through "Out Of My Mind - A flight into the realm of thought and spirit" by Richard Bach. A great book on self-discovery. An inspiration towards hope, joy and wonder in oneself. I had read Bach before in "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" and "Illusions - The confessions of a reluctant messiah". Jonathan was a marvellous creation. And then this one. It literally speaks out my feelings: the profuse imaginations of my heart and above all - hope.

A paragraph says : "Everything is exactly as it is for a reason. The crumb is on our table not only as a reminder of this morning's cookie, it is there because we have chosen not to remove it. No exceptions. Everything has a reason, and the tiniest detail is a clue."

A little later, it is said : "The design exists, Richard, the possiblity of just this combination of elements in just these relationships, the design for this machine existed at the very instant that spacetime began. Whoever first draws the plans gets to call it whatever they want to call it. Every world has its own laws and ideas about who owns what, they're mostly different."

In essence, it simply turns out to be that nobody owns anything, its just that this world believes that you own it. And if you have read Illusions, the it mentioned in the last line is nothing but an illusion!

Muhurat

2005-02-20T15:29:00.000+05:30

I have never been a good writer, not even a good orator. Both of these skills require a certain amount of exposure, which I never have been through, possibly because of my own negligence. I used to write diaries for a few years in my school days. It was a great respite from life's troubles, a good place to vent out everything. I intend to do the same with this blog, though, there is a slight difference: it can be read by anybody.

This is one thing I have realised, hiding something doesn't solve the problem and never relieves from pain. Its best if you tell that out aloud and just get out of that mess.

So, finally a place for me is created with these few lines, and, this space would be used for nothing but my diary entries.