Living in Fools' Paradise

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)

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?

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

"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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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'

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"

"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)

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)

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)

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!!