Till the Journey ends...

Wishlist for Bengal

2011-05-18T09:13:00.001-07:00

It's really been a long hiatus from the blog sphere. I have tried to mend my way over and over again, since the heady days of "one-blog-a-day" of the first half of 2006 to the lethargy of "one-post-a-year" of 2011.

A lot has changed around me as well, perhaps the reason why I never found time to reflect and document everything that went through my head. I got married, India won the "cup that matters" and the 34 year old left front government in my home state was asked to leave by the masses swayed by the ‘winds of change’.

After having spent a nice relaxed weekend and deciding to let my work rule the designated 12 hours of my day and not more, I finally found some time to reflect on what I would like to see in the City of Joy and the towns around it, now that the much hyped change has finally happened. It's not too ambitious, hence not too difficult to fulfill either. Things that we would need for our capital city to stand at par with Chennai and Delhi (I would rather not want to get Kolkata comparable to Mumbai for obvious reasons), things that we would need districts, cities and towns to stand at par with those of the more developed states across North India and things that will make reaching my native village not a task akin to some less celebrated adventure sport.

So, here goes...

Infrastructure

1. Roads - Maybe we could start with mending the broken ones (in Kolkata and the district towns) before building new ones in the towns and leading to the villages. Given the lack of public transport that uses rail or waterways in the state, not only will roads open the door to realization of the dream of a strong public transport system in the state; it will also open up the state in terms of investment in the lesser known regions. Though the “investment-driving” roadways like the National Highways continue to be the prerogative of the government at the centre, the capillaries will need to be built by the state so that connectivity provided by the National Highways are able to deliver the benefits through to the deep pockets of rural Bengal.

2. Urban Infrastructure

Sewage Systems - When we are talking roads in Bengal, can sewers be far away? :P The sewage systems in a lot of cities, Kolkata being the foremost, can do with some serious urban planning and rework.

Public Transport System – Why do we have to face jams and pay out an insane amount of money to travel 200 kilometers in an AC bus in a state which pioneered the Metro Rail? I can’t say the public transport system in Bengal is terrible (being a resident of the Millennium City where public transport is quite a joke). But there could be role models to follow, like the city of Chennai in particular and the state of Tamil Nadu as a whole.

Electricity & Internet – Penetration of the internet in Bengal continues to be one of lowest in the country. Load shedding is a common phenomenon in the towns and villages, though Kolkata seems to have managed to get out of its clutches pretty effectively.

Airport – Having a single Airport in a State is a shame. Period. For the sake of numbers though you can pull in the airport at Bagdogra. However, in terms of connectivity, Kolkata airport alone serves as the single operational airport for anyone who wishes to fly out of the state and even some parts of Jharkhand. One might be surprised to note that almost everyone who lives in Dhanbad and needs to board a flight has to do so from Kolkata. Hence the completion and opening of the planned airport on the Durgapur-Andal stretch will be a major performance point in the new government’s report card.

Industry

3. Services – Thankfully, during the last half decade of its rule the left front government decided to remain uncharacteristically quiet about the software giants setting up shop in Kolkata. Perhaps because their beloved CITU couldn’t make a headway into the hitherto unknown culture of an organization without a trade union. The services industry seems to be well grounded in Bengal, with the presence of Wipro, TCS, CTS and Accenture in the capital.

Maintaining healthy growth of the services industry will prove to be a major challenge though. While it has the capacity to attract talent back into the state, the brand new software set-ups will take some time to gain the same strength that they have in Bangalore, Hyderabad, Pune and Gurgaon.

4. Manufacturing – Here’s where the mammoth rebuilding exercise lies. Except for a dying mining business and the once-sick steel industry (both centered on the Raniganj-Dhanbad coal belt), there’s hardly any other manufacturing organization alive in West Bengal. The likes of British Oxygen and Dunlop have been clear victims of the Unionism in Bengal.

Investment in green field plants, capital projects, logistics management, construction and commissioning activities have to be invited in every area of manufacturing including Oil & Gas, Automobile, Steel and Cement. Engineering a re-birth of the manufacturing sector, in my mind, is the toughest challenge faced by the new government

Education

5. Basic Education – The communist government is perhaps solely responsible for handicapping a generation of students who could not afford convent education by removing English from the curriculum. Thanks to my parents, I have never had to worry much about not knowing English, but not everyone is as lucky.

Cleaning up the curriculum, getting the right people to teach in government schools through sanitizing the School Service Commission examinations and transparent and timely administration of the education machinery could bear fruit within a decade.

6. Education Hub – West Bengal is one of the only two states in the country to have a fully functional IIT as well as an IIM (other one being Uttar Pradesh) along with six government run medical colleges, such exalted and revered institutions like the Indian Statistical Institute, Jadavpur University, B.E. College (Shibpur), the Presidency College and St. Xavier’s, other than the NIT at Durgapur and more than fifty other Engineering colleges.

The opportunity for the government to make the state one of the most sought after destinations for a complete education is present and very much realizable. Though it might sound like a distant dream for a state still struggling to get it’s economics in shape, it does have the potential to brand the state for what it was known in the it’s days of glory, intellectual supremacy.

Agriculture

7. Productivity and Yield Improvement - In one of my older posts, I have wallowed over how sophisticated machines and extensive farming practices have done for Uttar Pradesh and Haryana what intensive farming and age old techniques of hand-sowing of paddy couldn’t do for our farmers.

I always felt it was not only about who owned the land and who got the grains that grew on the land. It was much more. It was about how much we are reaping from an acre of farming space. Our paddy fields are perhaps not best suited for the sophisticated machinery, but we can definitely find ways of increasing yield of the crops and productivity of our farmers.

Health

8. Public hospitals – In one word, the public hospitals in Bengal are scary. I haven’t had a change to enter a public hospital in any other state, hence am ill-equipped to make a comparison. However, on an absolute scale, we can do much better as a state. I have seen mice of the size of moles scurrying around the floor, mosquito nets strung on saplings in a feeble attempt to protect malaria patients from further mosquito bites. Anyone who has spent some time of his adolescence reading Bengali newspapers (like Anandabazar Patrika, Bartaman or Pratidin) would definitely have come across incidents of stray dogs found roaming around in maternity wards. There’s a lot of scope for improvement. I shall leave it at that.

9. Public Distribution System – A number of kids from my generation would have had the experience of standing in serpentine queues in front of Fair Price shops for wheat, sugar and the occasional kerosene distribution. It was a fortnightly fixture on my weekend from 4^th standard to 9^th standards (after which I was told that spending my time standing at the ration shop queue is of lesser consequence than studying for my board exams). There were so many instances when people never got their quota because they were late by a day or because they were at the end of the queue. Maybe, the PDS system will get cleaned up as a byproduct of cleaning up the party cadre which has imbedded itself in the fabric of government “work” in Bengal. Perhaps it will need more effort than just that.

Tourism

10. Bengal is again unique in being one of the few states which have a beach (Digha), the geographic specialty in form of the swamps of sunderbans and the mountains of Darjeeling. Its historic & spiritual richness is unparalleled (the city of Kolkata, Dakshineshwar, Tarapeeth, the terracotta temples of Bankura and Bishnupur to name a few) and its cultural contribution to the country is significant.

Tourism, which can be a huge revenue earner for the government, is being abused by quacks and home grown tour companies which sometimes leave tourisms stranded, further destroying a high potential industry through its callousness and greed. West Bengal tourism needs to be revamped and re-constructed to popularize the state and bring in the much needed cash to reinvest in welfare.

Khwaja Chowk... long awaited Sunday lunch

2010-12-12T06:11:00.000-08:00

The last time I spent more than ninety minutes at the lunch table was when I got into an argument with a friend over something, long back in a mess at BITS. It's been a long five years hurrying my way through lunch after that. Obviously, there have been those treats at Barbeque Nation when eating was the sole purpose of the visit, the spread was too huge and the starters never stopped coming. It's been long since those days.

The venue for lunch today was more of an instantaneous decision. The only criterion being, a place while will not be too full of people at one in the afternoon. Khwaja Chowk kind of fit into the bill and off we went.

The initial disappointment of the restaurant being a bit narrow in it's selection of beer (Kingfisher premium and Fosters were the only two brands of beer available while the drink menu did mention Carlsberg as well) was quickly dispelled by the really well cooked platter of Tandoori Chicken and Mutton Seekh Kebabs. Both in the same league as any I have had at other places. It would have been great if the Seekh Kebabs were a little less chewy though. The Tandoori Chicken was absolutely top class. If I were to crib about the platter, I would only crib about the serving size.

We managed to time our main course orders pretty much in sync with polishing off the starters. Lachcha Parathas and Chicken Peshwari was brought in. There was nothing very different about Chicken Peshwari than any other Chicken dish cooked in tomatoes, Onions and garam masala and I have come to accept that. The Lachcha Parathas were different though. Vrey light, soft and very well cooked. The general apprehension while eating Lachcha Paratha is the fact that the inner layers might be on the rawer side that the layers on top. In this case however, every layer was uniformly cooked and they didn't come apart and you tore through the different layers.

We wrapped it up with the ostentatious Rocket Kulfi. No rocket science, just a normal Kulfi, tapered at the top and comes on a stick thicker than usual.

Overall, a nice quite place. We managed to get a table on Sunday for lunch without a reservation. Not too pricey. I won't call it a regular haunt though. But it's good nonetheless. Decent Northwest frontier food, a little understocked on beer, decent ambience and normal service by Gurgaon standards makes it a place worthy enough for a second visit.

Weekend Evening alone...rantings

2010-12-10T19:19:00.000-08:00

There is not food in the house. I am not cribbing, just stating a fact. Not that I am the only hungry freak living in my house. Sometimes, on a lazy Saturday afternoon when you are sitting at home alone and stealing sheepish glances at the bottle of Antiquity lying next to the TV stand, the only thing you really long for is something to munch along.

But then, there is no company and hence the first cardinal rule of drinking is violated. Thou shalt not drink alone. So said the wise drunkard who managed to give it up. Hence it looks like the Antiquity has to wait till there is company.

From one random thought to another.

The other day I was talking to someone at office about how the whole micro-blogging scene has taken the charm away from blogging and how a decent enough programmer could write a spider to run on twitter and create a news channel of his own. The whole exercise of mulling over an idea, putting the right words, thinking of a length and flow of the prose - most important of all, expressing an opinion - have all gone up in vapour. It has made blogging a hurried exercise of prematurely expressing half baked ideas in a stipulated number of characters. Worse still, in some cases it's been reduced to reproducing segments of "breaking news" that got flashed on some website. I shouldn't be blaming such applications as twitter for this though. We are indulging in micro blogging every where. Be it Facebook status updates or Gtalk status messages. Where it hurts, is when it starts replacing some nice piece of creative writing with a link which is reproduced. Sometimes, retwitted.

There used to be a time when I followed a number of blogs religiously, unfortunately only Arnab and Kray are still potent enough to hold my attention (the span of which has reduced to that of a fruit-fly or less, I agree). True, some of those blogs have become irrelevant to me over time and the rest have either been bulldozed by continuously building repertoire of professional excellence or a more than fulfilling personal life (which repudiates the need for a blog any further) or micro blogging.

I can't live without cribbing I guess, hence the outburst on micro-blogging. But well, that's the purpose of a blog, to let people know your opinion, not to show them what the news channels are already flashing on their proprietary portions of cyberspace.

One of those days...

2010-12-07T08:23:00.000-08:00

..when you get back to find the cook waiting. The gas lighter is not working. You ring your neighbour's bell, but he doesn't open the door. You go and borrow matches from the watchman at the gate and the cook finally begins cooking. Then she lets you know that she's been closing the pressure cooker wrong for quite some time and either the whistle or the gasket has gone kaput.

One more little box to check on the already overflowing weekend list.

She leaves and you attend one call that was scheduled before and you could not reschedule it in time, you miss a call that you wanted to attend, you schedule a call after the existing call and it gets cancelled for some reason. You kick yourself mentally for being such a prick. Then you decide to teach yourself not to get so angry, cool down and go have dinner.

Mistake.

The daal has more salt than your breakfast and lunch put together. The sabzi has more chillies than it has cabbage. You don't remember shouting at the cook ever. Maybe she also had a bad day.

One little box to check tomorrow. Scream at her.

You throw away the food and chew up the chapatis (after rolling some sugar within). Three chapatis with sugar don't make too bad a dinner. You send status reports for the meeting. You shut down the office laptop. You turn on the TV. Some arbitrary fight movie is being aired on one of the zillion channels. Something to let the steam off.

You open the personal laptop, update blog, publish long pending comments and decide to crib online.

One more little box to check tomorrow. Get back to blogging, it's a little more relaxing than you thought it was.

Okra - Scary!

2010-05-23T11:01:00.001-07:00

Yeah, seriously! Had I been in Bangalore or Kolkata and someone served me a bowl of semi steamed rice, sautéed in thick vegetable oil , coloured in different shades of yellow, orange and red, with a couple of hard boiled pieces of chicken stuffed into it like the first paddy thrust into the soft water logged soil, instead of the chicken Biryani I ordered, I would have called for the next person higher up in the hierarchy. But I didn't do so for two reasons, one, this is Gurgaon, its a place well known for its insolent waiters and despicable service and the next higher person in the hierarchy could be just another bigger and more insolent goon. Two, I was a fool to have bitten the bait of a tag line like, "Life is too short for average food". Most obviously, what they meant was, "when we make you pay through your nose for food such as ours, you will realize that the food you eat on a daily basis is far above average." At least I realized that they serve manna for my Sodexho lunches at office when compared to this food!

But this is not the only issue, for someone who first got introduced to galouti kabab at BJN group's Samarkhand, expecting anything close at Okra is again a sin. The galouti kababs that was served were shapeless discs of carelessly flatten ground meat, too oily and smelling of groundnut/chana dal paste that went into making them. Thankfully, we had ordered some Pepsi to go with the food and we ordered some more of it to down whatever we had ordered.

The poor service helped us at one point though, the gentlemen got so late in serving us the plate of Mutton Biryani we had ordered in fits of ravenous hunger, that we managed to gracefully cancel the order before being punished for our foolhardiness. Also, thankfully, we hadn't ordered any dessert.

Never step in, unless you are on a tropical island starving for food and the last of the tender coconuts have been stolen away by some Okra-fearing sane creature!

I am back...

2010-05-03T08:52:00.000-07:00

...and its about time too. After the two years lost in a whirlwind of activities, from which I emerged partially victorious (if you can call the realization of one's multiple shortcomings a victory) in terms of figuring out who I was.

Its kind of co incidental that the last post I wrote was regarding the Mumbai attacks and I return to this site on the day that Ajmal Kasab got convicted of waging war against the country. Interesting observation though, 'waging war against the country'. I still maintain that he should have been quietly slaughtered in some dingy cellar on the premised of the Taj than being brought out in the sunlight and given another year and a half to live. In some ways, it helped in getting Pakistan into the fray, but then, we already knew it was them, didn't we ?

Sometime I feel appalled at my indifference about everything under the sun, but there are times which really make me proud about the fact that I know my boundaries, I know what I can change and what I cannot. I don't judge and I prefer not having an opinion about everything under the sun. It helps, it kind of leaves me alone to focus on things that need attention. And in great detail.

One of which being my blogspot :)

Change of address - finally!

2009-07-18T03:34:00.000-07:00

After being undecided for a long time, I have decided that the address of my blog needs to change.
I blog here now.

We have a new home minister!

2008-12-01T09:03:00.000-08:00

Finally, its over. The last of the crackpots has been killed (apparently one is still alive and kicking in costody and pleading to be killed. I would have loved to grant his last wish in the most brutal manner possible, had he not been young enough to divulge a little more information). The Taj Hotel might not look the same again. The death toll is uncertain. As most of my fellows demanded, Mr. Shivraj Patil has stepped down and our beloved PC has taken over his office as well (why do I get this feeling about us as a country having only one decent minister on the board? Maybe I don't like PC or maybe I am just ruthlessly objective in noticing that PC is also in charge of the Finance Portfolio in a country which might be on the threshold of suffering from huge home loan, car loan and credit card loan defaults, which has a faultering growth rate due to the global meltdown, whose benchmark index was at 21000 in the beginning of the year and is still shy of 9000 on December, 1st. Also, Mr. Chidambaram is supposed to present the interim budget for an election year, come February!)
Maybe I am just over reacting in thinking that the Centre is really looking at the whole issue as only a matter of replacing the Home Minister with another person who commands respect among the people.

Operation Mayhem

2008-11-27T02:35:00.000-08:00

I don't care if they came in a speed boat. I am not bothered about where they came from or what their ideology is. I don't know if they came from the lands of our friendly neighbours of if they are 'highly motivated'. I have no interesting in finding out if the gunmen were Deccan Mujahideen or their brethren from Damascas. I want them chopped to death in some dingy corner of the laundry room in the basements of Taj. No glory, no martyrdom.
All I care about is that a hundred of my countrymen are dead, one of our most prestigious landmarks has been mutilated and the common man in the country's financial capital, after losing much of his hard earned money in the market meltdown, is now scared for his life.
Hence like any normal human being, should I not proceed to look for the first and most visible scapegoat? Most of my friends would say, "Sure! Pull the shirt off Patilji's back!", "Bring out Afzal Guru and hang him right away!", "Lets bloody drop a nuke somewhere west of Wagha!"
Since there are so many people already looking at these myriad interesting solutions to the problem of blatant man-slaughter in the name of some fundamental dictat (which I refuse to buy because I am 24 and I know that no regilion asks you to kill)
I would prefer to look at the mirror and think if the person on the other side has had something to do with it.
The world knows how divisive a crowd we are becoming in India. Eighty percent of us don't know what's happening in our neighbour's house. We are just not bothered. We are happy competing amongst ourselves to earn more money, fame, grades, contacts, cars, houses and foreign trips. We are least bothered about what the country goes through. We have reduced ourselves to that crab tank which doesn't need a lid. Why so? Because whenever one crab gets too close to jumping out, the others pull it back in. Hence people come to our country in speed boats, kill a hundred odd innocent folks and leave the country paralyzed.
Oh, an observation I totally forgot to mention. I haven't heard anything from the great Marathi saviour, Mr. Raj Thakarey. Is he too scared to get out of his hole and wave his tongue uttering filthy incantation in pure Marathi against the people from northern India? Or does he think that this massacre is another dastardly act of our brothers from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh?
He has probably played the biggest role in dividing the city at a regional level.
My country lives on though and I must get back to my books because I also belong to that tank of crabs, I have a TT match in the evening, a session of Toastmasters after that and a presentation and a quiz on Saturday! They are still important.

The nightmare refuses to get over!

2008-11-25T04:35:00.000-08:00

I don't know if I deserved this. I have no idea what went wrong and I don't even have the inclination to fight it out any more. I just want to escape. Yes, I accept, for this one time, I had rather be an escapist than fight a losing battle.
I don't know how to make contacts or use them, I don't think I am as useless and mundane as the people here make me out to be. I have no idea if all my accomplishments till this date are so insignificant that they don't matter at all to anyone involved today.
I am not fit to join the great clubs on campus, neither am I fit to get decent scores in my papers. Nor do people think that I am worth a pence when it comes to the two painstaking years I spent at Mathura working my arse off on multiple project estimates and piping designs!
Its been a downhill journey since the time I came here and my confidence has been shattered in every possible sphere in life.
Now-a-days I am scared to open my mouth to speak, lest I said something inaccurate and people came after my blood for not being as suave as everyone around them is. I don't even look or feel good these days. Every time I try to pull myself together and try to fight it out, another huge hit grounds me .
Life has become totally insipid now, hardly anything to look forward to any more.

Dope is a good thing

2008-11-06T13:14:00.000-08:00

I don't say so. In fact I had written "Hope is a good thing" on my white board a couple of days back. But when my team mates left my room after a project meeting, I noticed that the H had been surreptitiously changed to D behind my back without much hullabaloo.
The mood on campus is very much like that as of now. Except the handful of brilliant people who feature on every firm's shortlists, there are many who are yet to find their names on a company shortlist. Yet, given the fact that we are at one of India's premier business schools we may still stand up and say that we will be placed and placed real fast.
But till that point in time arrives, we don't know what's in store for us. With the Investment Banks busy taking care of themselves and the Consultancies looking to pick only the best of the lot, it's a tense time on campus.

It's just an unending roller coaster ride. And I hate to hang on to it for too long.

But then again, if you have seen the cloud, maybe the silver lining is just eluding you.

Sometimes...you have got to let go

2008-10-17T15:15:00.000-07:00

Yeah...sometimes, you just have to let go. No point building the castles when you have that gut feeling that they are going to come down crashing while you stand alone looking helplessly at them and try and make things work for yourself.

Life becomes horribly difficult to get along with. But then again, you can never summon enough courage to get over with it either. Hence you keep living and keep complaining like the algae that floats on the water and keeps it looking beautiful while killing it slowly. You keep showing a facade of perceived brilliance while people, with their incisive and presumptuous natures, gnaw through your armors and threaten to expose that soft spot that you were trying to hide from the world. You become a miserable fraud who doesn't have the courage to speak the truth to himself or the shamelessness to let the world know that he's worth nothing more than an eroded dime lying on the walkway for eternity.

Life goes on and you keep waiting for the almighty to give you a chance to find out if you really fit into the play or you were born to play a supporting role all through your life.
The story keeps rolling till you have lost faith or sometimes, if you are lucky, you are dead before that.

But some people are just not born lucky. They live through it, telling themselves that they are doing something good for people who matter till the day when its time to go.

Time out!

2008-08-31T00:58:00.000-07:00

Its been too long since I did something out of impulse and just because I wanted to do it without binding myself in a predefined time frame and work schedule. I called up a cousin of mine only to find that he was spending time with another one and I was the missing out on catching up with people. I slipped out of campus and came straight down to meet my cousins. No questions asked, no plans prepared, no ideas exchanged.
It felt liberating, as if I was breaking out of a prison of my own mind in deciding to be spontaneous and not stay bound by my own prejudices. As someone in my class keeps reminding us all, "In the long term... we are all dead." So why bother so much about the long term when the short term is what you actually have.
Guess he has a point. I feel weirdly happy to have been able to get out of campus without giving anything else a thought. I hope this keeps happening more often and I finally figure out what is most important to me. I hope this last academic tryst becomes a true journey of self discovery and not something that will always be measured in marks, grades and salaries. Because, at the end of the day (assuming the day is long enough) we are all dead.
Therefore, its imperative, we keep taking the occasional time-outs, or else, we'll have very little of short term gain to show.

The beginning of being...or is it?

2008-07-06T09:49:00.000-07:00

Just around a month and a half ago I was living in Mathura and working in a refinery, not quite sure of my bearings. Forty days hence, nothing much has changed. I sat through a cultural program put by my batch-mates as is the tradition at IIM Bangalore. But something was conspicuous in its absence. That feeling of belonging still hasn't sunk it. Perhaps its about those two years spent in Mathura like a gypsy that always prevents me from trusting people and traditions blindly. The lack of trust in systems, people and traditions continue to bug me and keep me wound up in myself for as long as it takes. It takes a lot more than just wanting to do something.
People have to let you do it. Life grows difficult with time and we have to start teaching ourselves that in the end everything evens out. Hope it does, for if it doesn't, it will be an uphill task right from time it ends.
Cryptic again. Helpless me, again.

IIM Bangalore - The Initial Impression

2008-06-30T05:09:00.000-07:00

I have been here for more than a week now and classes begin tomorrow. However, the activities of the first week were really hectic and time-consuming and I never quite found time to do or think of much else.
However, I did manage to click a little. Till I find time for the next post, hopefully the snaps will give some idea about what I have been up to.

Strings of pearls

2008-06-16T23:12:00.000-07:00

Crowded streets

2008-04-27T23:20:00.000-07:00

I had to go to Kolkata for a relative's wedding during the last visit home. Hadn't been to Kolkata since the last visit I made to take CAT in the early winter of November. This time however, there was nothing to worry about, test or the distance of the location I was supposed to reach or the time by which I should be there. Instead of taking a direct train to Dumdum (as any sane human being would do) I decided to take a round-about route only the be able to feel the pulse of the city once again. I decide to reach Howrah by a train, then take a minibus to the nearest metro station (depending on the route followed by the bus it could be Central, Esplanade or even Park Street), go to Dumdum on the metro and take a rickshaw to my relative's house.

As the designated day came I got onto the Howrah bound Agnibina Express (still known as Bidhan to the common man - sometimes a change in the name only popularizes the older name to a greater extent). The journey to Howrah was quite uneventful, if I decide not to mention the way in which the twenty something commuter letchs at every female form of any age, seated anywhere within the limits of visual contact. Looks to me, the average working male in the Asansol-Kolkata belt is starved of female company!

Alighting from a train at Howrah station has always been a different feeling altogether. Its been one of awe mingled with fear in the beginning (but that was mostly because a visit to Kolkata was usually made for the purpose of writing a test) which slowly transformed to one of distaste (in the formative years, I used to think of Kolkata as a huge, dirty city filled with beggars and undernourished children running along the footpaths) and finally into a feeling of recognition and love for the city that is the symbol of all Bengalis to the World. I am not scared of the city any more, neither do I hate the beggars and childern on the footpaths. I enjoy the tussle of the numerous mini-buses that fight for a passage from the conjested alleys into the broad crossings leading onto the Howrah Bridge. I have learnt to become a part of the crowd the moment I get off the train. But I haven't been able to give up looking at the different faces and trying to decipher the story behind each one.

I reached the exit of the station within a couple of minutes after getting off the train and jumped on to the first bus that was leaving the parking area. Once inside, I paid for my ticket (five bucks for a ten minute ride to Park Street is definitely costly by Kolkata standards, but then communism in the city is dead for good and costs are going to rise) and sat by the window as the bus started on its ordeal to reach the windy boulevard of the Howrah Bridge. When three buses fight for the place of one, there are bound to be a few scratches and "thuds", but as long as they are not near my seat, I enjoy the fun. Finally we did manage to get onto the wider road, only after a traffic police thumped the front of the bus with his Lath . This is the only place in the world perhaps where traffic police is still equipped with a plastic whislte and an unenviable lath to control rogue buses and unruly traffic!

By the time I reached Park Street it was office time at its peak. I never quite accepted the fact the getting to office from home was a big thing. For me its just a 7 minute motorcycle ride on NH2 where the concept of a traffice jam is hardly considered. In Kolkata however its different.

As I got off the bus and crossed the AJC bose flyover to get into the park street metro station, I stole a glance at the best chicken roll shop I had come across, the little shack called hot kati rolls a couple of steps down park street after passing the Asiatic society building.

Walking with the flow is easy, standing against the flow, difficult and walking against it, next to impossible. I am not getting philosophical here, just trying to explain the act of walking down the steps leading to the platform of Park Street metro station. Everyone in the building was leaving it while I kept decending the stairs. The air was thick with smell of hairoil, deodorant and even traces of perfume. The anxiety of the working youth to reach their office on time was palpable. The numerous earplugs shoved into their ears gave them this eerie image of robots being controlled by that little peice of wire dangling out of their ears. reminded me of Agent Smith from the famous movie. We are all running after something, but to understand the significance or insignificance of the whole act, we need to stand out of the crowd and look at it from a distance. Its worth the pain.

The rest of the journey was insignificant though, the same old yellow compartments of the metro train, the stench of Dumdum railway station, the finicky rickshaw puller trying to extract an extra buck from me, guessing my unfamiliarity with the place from my attire,the same relatives welcoming me with open arms. The typical bengali family engaged in the nitty-gritties of a marriage. I was home, but not before I had walked down the crowded streets to which I belong in the larger race of life.

S#$% Happens

2008-03-18T02:47:00.000-07:00

There was a famous phrase in college which people frequently uttered after tests. Two words which could give you a clear idea of what happened inside the examination hall.

It went like, "S#$% Happens."

However, the problem comes when it happens to you in real life and when the effects seem to be unending. When life just refuses to let go of you and keeps pulling you back into the quicksand of non-existent problems that refuse to let you live in peace. Whether its your body, your mind, your soul or your surrounding is immaterial. There are times when the suicidal tendency takes over and you sit quietly on your bed stealing a glance at your ceiling fan every now and then. Or when you decide to ride your bike at above ninety kilometres only hoping that something makes you brake really hard and the pain ends once and for all.

But some of us get so deep into the S##$ that we are never able to pull ourselves back and we just keep going deeper till one point comes when it doesn't matter any more. When everything we do is ignored with a little understanding nod of the head, when people say, "He used to be a brilliant chap, but after a point he lost all interest, s@#$ Happens"

No one bothers to sit with you and help you out. But then again, why should someone do that? Don't they have some work of their own? Why should someone try to help you when they might as well help themselves.

Then comes the time when the you embrace the mediocre safe life that every other normal mortal is living in the world.And when you die, the last words you tell your folks is "Shit Happens!"

About plain cheese 'moinee' and CDC class...

2007-12-31T00:47:00.001-08:00

Two chaps, during their undergrad days, used to walk all of eight hundred meters to a corner of the campus for a break. One of them used to eat an ostentatious sandwich with one plain slice of cheese, smothered in mayonnaise, in between two really thin slices of bread. The other guy was content with just a tumbler of coffee. What concerned the other guy the most was that the shopkeeper had gotten himself into believing that mayonnaise is always pronounced as mo-ee-nee. Besides, the idea of eating raw eggs (a prime ingredient of mayonnaise) irked the other fellow.

But that was the past. It was a totally different story last evening when the other chap had to have plain cheese and mayonnaise sandwich and cheese omelette for dinner. Suddenly, all the memories came flooding back. Of diverse plans to change world, that were hatched, sitting on the horse shoe bench or lying supine on the soft grass of sky lawns. Be it Criticism of literary work, music or just hard-to-ignore spendthrift habits, they found stuff to discuss, everything ranging from innate to insightful. It is often said that people change with time, but I have this gut feeling, if those two guys were sitting at the same place, eating the same stuff, they might just become two undergrad students ready to change the world. All over again.

An afterthought, plain cheese moinee doesn't taste all that bad after all.

The end of another year...

2007-12-29T02:10:00.000-08:00

Another year comes to an end. Nothing much happened. Except that, time and again, my physical resilience was tested and time and again, I failed. Reminds me of a less know top-gun remark by the bald commander, "Son, your ego is writing cheques your body can't cash!"

But all said and done, there were some things to feel nice about. The ability to work twelve hour shifts, whether at night or day was a revelation to me after all the illness. On the workfront, it was a year where I learnt more than I had in the four years in college. I guess they are right when they say college is where you make the grades, you learn when you work.

Then there were three visits home. Quality time spent with my folks, cousin getting married, overall, it was a great year at home too.

The year peaked in the end though, with one visit to Delhi that, I hope, has changed my life forever and another visit to Kolkata that only consolidated the belief that I remain a changed man. Too cryptic, but too personal as well.

By the time the next new year comes, I have this gut feeling, I will be sitting somewhere else, doing something else. But till then, there are no qualms about another year going by.

Travelling on Business

2007-12-25T19:21:00.000-08:00

Some observations about travelling on business, especially if its within the country:

1. You don't have to look at the 'total price' line on the air tickets
2. You have no Check-in Luggage
3. There is no need to make the difficult choice between an autorickshaw and a taxi. (A taxi is a natural choice :P)
4. Never bother about finding a Hotel in any city. There is a guest house in every concievable corner of the country.
5. Never bother about long distance calls. They are always taken care of.
6. Never worry about gatepasses as they are always waiting for you at the gates of whichever refinery you visit.
7. In the end, its always fun to be travelling on work.

(Non)Violence

2007-12-11T18:48:00.000-08:00

There have been times when I have tried to think about social issues that face the country and what we could do about them, to think in terms of masses and people below poverty line. How positive change could be brought to their condition. But alas! I have so many real problems (or conjured ones) of my own that I hardly find time to think and talk about them.

I came across this article today about two kids killing off their school mate in style. Real english movie way. Shooting at point blank range. Just that they don't understand the stigma they have brought upon themselves for the rest of their lives.

In our country I think there's a basic need to be strong and resilient in the face of adversity. We have to put to practice some really simple principles of restraint and continued effort to get us what we want and at times what we deserve or what is most rightfully ours. More often than not we have to fight for our rights, and if we decide to kill people for every little trespass, we are done for.

Come to think of it Gandhi's idiology was not too bad at the outset, the only difference in opinion lies in the fact that Gandhi expected the adversary to be softened by continuous non-violent persistence at reaching the goal and the softening would give rise to empathy, in most cases however, its sympathy (if the opponent is too powerful) or just plain irritation (if he is just another one of those sarkari babus) that works. But as long as the ends are reached through reasonably non violent means, I guess I am successful. There are places where sheer force is of no use and others, where sheer force is not even called for. All these situations can be countered by persistence. And in the end, obviously, if there's a need for force, you must have the balls. That's when the guns need to come out, not before. Reminds me of the famous Munnabhai line,

"Jab doosre Gaal pe padh jaaye tab kya karne ka, yeh Bapu ne nahi bataya"

The second day...

2007-11-29T20:02:00.000-08:00

Another Review, but this time a true one. Unfortunately we just had a very good reason to view a movie and again, since Beowulf I had stopped believing what a review said about a movie. Hence I walked into Audi 1 of Fun Cinemas in Agra at 9:45 in the night to top off what had, till then, been a rocking day.

Being from Bengal where every kid has a natural affinity for soccer and having spent the first fifteen consious monsoons of my life kicking around a soccer ball in the slush in every position from centre-back to right out, I thought I would enjoy the film. But alas, that was not to be.

It just didn't have the feel of a soccer movie about it. The grounds were small, looked more like the ones we use for six-a-side tournaments than the actual 52 yards. The people involved were lack-lustre and there was almost no eye for detail! Its basically a really sad movie. The dialogues were repetative and the emotions seemed to have been lifted from different situations of different films. The old refrain about a past hero returning to redeem his honour, the battle for survival in a cruel world, the inevitability of shaky decisions...everything seems to be in line with the two other prominent sports movies made in the country, Iqbal and Chak De. But somewhere, the individuality was missing. No game can be won by appealing to the players' self respect only. You have to talk tactic, talk jargon, talk formation and strategy if not to teach people, at least make your viewers think that they are watching football. There was none of that in the movie. The film was definitely filled with a few mistakes and one blunder that came at the fag end and destroyed any shade of positive that could have been taken back from the movie. Have you ever seem a soccer player move up fast along the left flank and centre the ball inches away from the goal-line and then run faster than the ball itself and head it past the goalkeeper into the net?!

It's ridiculous! It's no faux pas, it's a blunder.

Arshad Warsi should stop doing roles like the one he did in Goal if he wants his career to remain on the same curve it has been following since Munnabhai. John Abraham was acceptable as a career concious footballer, but Basu appeared too promiscous. Not that she could do anything about it, it's the script that is to blame. Boman Irani was good as the coach, but even he couldn't work magic with a half-baked script. Everything that was good with the movie seemed to have been eaten away by poor editing, worse dialogue selection and a deplorable Footballing sense.

If I were asked to describe the movie in one sentence I would say, "Its a classic example of a unresearched, poorly edited and hurried attempt to cash in on the sudden craze about sports films and like any product which is a result of skewed objectives, it must fall flat on its face."

The adrenalin was not there, it just did not seem like football. Sorry guys, this one was so not watchable.

That makes it two flops in as many days!

Twice in two days!

2007-11-28T23:05:00.000-08:00

I was duped! First by the film critics and again by the film critics, with a little aid from my well meaning friends.

It all started with reading a brilliant review of Beowulf (where, to my disgust at a later stage, Beowulf was likens to the peice of art that is 300 in terms of technique and eye for details!) in the TOI and rushing off to agra on a bike to catch the movie before it was too late. All I got in return was a Hindi dubbing where the king of Denmark welcomes Beowulf with the very Familiar expression, "Haan Beowulf... Aur Batao" (!!!) Since then it was a complete down hill journey. There was only a squirt of blood (which didn't even come close to justifying the word "gory" used more than once in praise of the film) here and there (and to compare that with the scarlet fest in 300 is like comparing red wine with Bloody Mary!). And before I forget, there was the much hyped golden nude scene which wasn't even worth a dry whistle from a fourteen year-old getting his first glance at the female form.

Come to talk about the storyline and you suddenly realize there isn't one. Maybe the dubbing blurred out most it, but even then, transition from one scene to another was more like a random draw of coupons than anything bound by a defined outline.

The characters of Beowulf seemed a watered down version of the hero that was depicted in the British Epic and even the facial expression were really difficult to decode. Fear and Anger seemed to be the same emotion. I had this idea that only human beings can't act, for the first time someone proved to me that even animated characters can be bestowed the same distinction. But then Beowulf was good considering the tragedy that happened the next day.

The Butcher's Son.

2007-11-06T01:38:00.000-08:00

He stands at the corner of a tin shed, beside the only wall of the otherwise open shelter where the goats and broilers are kept. He wears a stained lungi. He is not more than twelve and the first strands of a fledling mustache have just started appearing above his upper lip. He does not know his tables, alphabet or even his national anthem.
Yet he is learning his trade well. He catches chicken from the cage with unsure hands but locks their wings with a deft twist of a finger. Once his brother finishes weighing the bird, he transforms. From the adolescent, still unsure of his bearings, he becomes the hardened executioner. Quietly, he twists back the throat of the fidgeting fowl and takes it out of public view by lowering it into a large plastic drum before slitting its throat with a couple of strokes of a blunt knife. The dying bird is dropped into the canister to reach its eventual destiny coloured in its own blood.
The butcher's son cleans his hands, not looking at the bird even once, not bothering about the stains on the wall, but then he takes the apron off and looks at his new spotless lungi. A few red dots appear, quickly spreading out as they are soaked into the fibre. The butcher's son is devastated, it was his new lungi. He couldn't hide his tears, its not everyday that he get a new lungi. He is still a kid, but then, he is the Butcher's Son.

Spotting the difference

2007-10-08T19:46:00.000-07:00

Its that time of the year again. The time when we are all supposed to feel happy for some reasons which keep changing with age, location and circumstances. I would not like to indulge in another non-conformist observation of the bengali Phyche, I am just trying to figure out the need to feel happy or or-not-so-happy JUST because its Durga Puja.

Its been five years now since I was home for Durga Puja, I am sure its the same for many other people, but hardly anyone whose travel plans are not hindered by prohibitive flight costs and visa problems. These five years have changed a lot about the way I used to percieve the totality of this festival. I had taken for granted that the ambience will be thick with sound of fire crackers and the air, heavy with smoke of gun powder on the morning of the first day of Navratra as people celebrated the arrival of the Goddess. AsI had seen it happen for eighteen of the twenty three years I have lived. Once out of Bengal, Mahalaya was nothing different from just another day, but even then there were people (Staunch Bengalis, needless to mention) who would get together in a hostel common room on a chilly October morning and take control of the Television after a squirmish arising out of regional sentiments to make sure that the thirty minutes program on the arrival of the Goddess was not missed.

However, even this proposition was lost last year when I woke up to a sunny morning at Bombay to suddenly realize that that was the day when the air was supposed to be thick with gun powder smoke.

The size and scale of celebration of Durga Puja vary with the ambience as well. Somwhere its a modest little celebration for a closed community (Pilani), at places its a wasteful show of wealth and redundancy of the same (Hiranandani Gardens, Mumbai), somewhere its scale is an indicator of the strength of the community (Refinery Nagar, Mathura) and yet somewhere else its just what its meant to be, a festival celebrating the spirit of humanity where we all gather around one place wearing new clothes, taking part simple rituals and sharing the joy being where we belong (my little hamlet, somewhere on the brink of modernization, which I call 'home').

Of life, love and ....sex.

2007-10-01T01:07:00.000-07:00

Once again, I am back to praise the bold new face of Indian Cinema. First, Guru, then Nishabdh, followed by Life in a Metro and finally Dil Dosti etc. I had half a mind to not go for the movie after reading the "two and a half review" in TOI in the morning. That coupled with a disastrous AIMCAT ( not that I usually crack them out of shape, but this was one a bit worse than the usually unsatisfactory ones) almost flushed the plans for the movie out of my mind till someone called to inform us that six tickets were already booked. All the way to the Theatre the only things that were going through my mind were cut-off, time-management, math, DI blah blah.

Had to miss lunch to get into the theatre in time... but in the end it was worth the watch.

A glorious flashback to the great college days, of asking weird questions like, "what is life? what is love? why am i doing what I am doing? or Did I always want to do what I am doing or is it just a circumstantial response to the sweeping away of well-laid plans by one swift ruthless stroke of destiny?"

I was back in my world of delusion, trying to figure out the significance of Godot or trying to delve in the confused emotions of and decyphering the cryptic dialogue in Look back in Anger. For people who like a movie that sticks to predetermined format of a screenplay, strong character, weak character, song and dance, don't go for it guys, you might as well watch Jhonny Gaddar and get entertained. This movie is all about gray, there is no head or tail. As Apurv says, "What do you do if the coin just refuses to drop flat on one face?"

This movie is different in a number of ways. The existential crisis of a fresher is beautifully projected in the foreground of a rapidly changing social mosaic where sex is not as much a blasphemy as it was. The search for the meaning of love takes our protagonist to the shady bylanes of the famous GB Road in Delhi. While romancing a schoolgirl (who, true to her school girl logic, believes there's only black and white, no shades of gray) on one hand spending nights together with a common whore he tries to delve in the complexities of love and sex and why each is different in her own way. Imaad Shah has done well in playing the character of a confused yet not cocky youth, to perfection, looking for the meaning of life, even at the risk of sounding like a pseudo intellectual. If there were a stock exchange in tinsel town, I would put my money on this guy. Shreyas is Brilliant as the typical middle class bihari, with an impeccable, "Thok De Ka!" though his accent does slip at places. He's got to do more films like this than stuff like ASMM where his talent is neither fully utilized nor appreciated. Nikita Anand plays the confused wannabe-supermodel well enough, however either due to editing faults or poor selection of dialogue, her character never totally opens up, but then women are always mysterious. The music is hummable and screenplay, commendable. This one's a must watch for people like me, still suffering from the post college blues. And here goes the clarification for those who still think you can take your kids and go watch the movie- DON'T!

Gobbledegook.

2007-09-12T01:02:00.000-07:00

I stand at the sideline and look at all the big players, playing and winning at every possible game. I look at their happy faces and try to touch their intangible achievements with the hope that that'll give me the feel that I could never give myself. But there again I fail because there's something God never gave me, the ability to pick up my pieces and make another attempt, the ability to be the proverbial phoenix. I am sorry because I am just another normal human being with big dreams, bigger limitations and mammoth failures to my name. I try not to indulge in self pity and put up a smiling face to the huge wide world. I try to hide that feeling of deficiency with a wry smile scratched across my face. But at times, all the restraint fails and all thats left of the being that is me, is heap of smoldering remains of what started off as a crackling fire. There again, I smile and say, "Its better to burn out than fade away."

I hear people laughing and talking about what he did or she did, what he made and she found. I smile and think about what I could have done and I didn't do. And I sit on this chair, in front of this computer and keep pumping incoherent chains of random thought into the internet.

Thanks to Google, they've made so much space on the net, nobody would deny me my cribbing domain.

RAW ENERGY

2007-09-11T22:24:00.000-07:00

Now this is what I call Mud Surfing!

I couldn't take my eyes off this snap when I came across it in The Hindu a couple of days ago. It's a glimpse of the annual cattle Race at Palakkad in Kerala.

Why Gump pipped Shawshank...

2007-09-06T04:50:00.000-07:00

4th September was the day when I finally unravelled one of the biggest mysteries of Hollywood. I used to hate this highly acclaimed film called Forrest Gump because it took away all the Oscars from Shawshank Redemption which millions of people, along with me, think, is one of Hollywood's greatest creations. However, there definitely are some reasons why the best film award went to Forrest Gump. Firstly, the movie speaks of hope more forcefully than Shawshank Redemption and hope and faith in the face of physical disability always seems to work better than the hope of a prisoner, however wrongly imprisoned, does. That's the kind of hope that's a little difficult to accept, let alone idealize. That way, I would like to think that the only thing that killed Shawshank is its gory background, the cruelity of prison life, the bare truth. And, everyone know, the bare truth is not so well accepted as the doctored one.

Another thing that pulls an American towards Forrest Gump is the sarcastic take on the image of the American war Hero! The way the american lieutenant thinks its better to be blown up by your own bombers than live on after the war and make a life for yourself, drives the viewer to the wall. I mean, dude! there's some thing beyond all the bloodshed! Forrest Gump is everything that is acceptable to the American Society of 1994. Opposition to war, the heartfelt loss of some of America's JFK, the demystification of Watergate and all of it seen through the life of a cripple who runs due to a miracle, loves due to another, gets on the cover of Fortune magazine due to another one, plays football by chance and lives because he could run. The wayward Jenny gives you the views of the radical American kid with a tortured childhood and with Forrest fathering a physically and mentally excellent kid, it all fits in like clockwork. Something that will inspire one and all. From the peaceseeker to the hippie. From the soldier to the Shrimp Farmer. These kinds of film are made for oscars. I would still maintain, Shawshank deserved an oscar for all the right reasons, its a pity it was released in the same year.

One last observation, say what you may, Tom Hanks couldn't do half of what Morgan Freeman did with the Narration!

Biking

2007-08-28T23:55:00.000-07:00

Took a detour to Agra on my bike last Sunday. As a part of common practice, Sunday mornings are too scarce to be whiled away on a motor cycle on a moderately busy highway. But with the level of boredom coupled with intense frustration with life in general and job in particular, I decided to make the journey. Only to have a look at something different for a change.

The landscape has got much lusher while we were busy toiling at our piping and erection work. The babul trees lining the highway wore a gleaming, bright green hue along with dense foliage that has sprung forth from all nooks and corners. The fields on either sides of the highway are at different stages of being ploughed and planted, one of the farmers has even built a raw shack with four hovels for support and a thatched roof. Something thats typical of Bengal but hardly ever noticed in UP. Notably, the farming techniques in UP are much advanced than those of Bengal where you could still spot the farmers egging on their bullocks tethered at the end of the tortured plough. UP has taken to mechanical ploughs, harvestors and threshers in a big way. Its a matter of concern when you have a look at the rotary threshers seperating tonnes of grains from chaff in a day in comparison to the meagres 40 bundles of paddy that is thrashed manually by the harvestors on wooden or concrete slabs in my Bengal.

But then, I am prevaricating. The lusher landscape freshens up the mind like no other entertainment. That coupled with the wind blowing hard against the face, forcing the unwilling tear to fly past my sideburn along the unconventional arial route instead of streaming down a stubbled jaw, the fatigue in the elbows and knees from long hours of biking at average speeds of 85 to 90 Kmph bestow a feeling of retribution for all the wrongs done unto myself.

Its good. Good for the soul.

The best and the worst

2007-08-24T04:33:00.000-07:00

The last post was followed by a blur of events and activities which happened so fast that there never was enough time to devote to updation of a blog. On another hand there was a lingering feeling confirming my fall from grace in my own eyes. I couldn't bring myself to believe that I was significant enough in the whole huge scheme of things to make my musings matter.

Two trips to Delhi one after another, followed by a Plant Shutdown when I was taught the importance of real hard work, continued illness for more than three weeks, a desperate journey home to get back to acceptable physical shape and mental state before my sister's wedding. Stuff happened, lessons were learnt and ideas were formed.

But that's the past. I am back from home after the longest vacation since June, 2006. I am back at my desk, making estimates, paying bills, calculating pressure and temperature and trying to feel happy and optimistic about a dreary future. Someone told me, an optimist lives longer. My answer was, it only increases the pain. Poor chap decided against counselling me further.

But thats not what I sat down to write today....

Have you ever moved from a state of ecstasy to despair within a couple of seconds? I never knew it could happen in reality till yesterday. I was listening to an old bong song last evening, about how the same colour means different thing to us at different ages. ( red, for example is the colour of a ball when you are 4, the colour of lips when you are 14 and the colour of communism when you are 24). I started laughing out loud and then as the realization dawned I ended up shedding tears like a weeping ninny. Times stolen past my vigilant eyes.I turn 24 next year.

Rantings...

2007-06-23T04:54:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at office kicking myself mentally for having started my professional life with the largest business house of the country when I started scribbling something on a sliver of paper lying on my desk... and just so that I don't lose the scribbling I decided to digitize the effort:

"Every person is born with a purpose. No one is free, no one is useless. The moment you understand your purpose you will learn to live. But till then you will be embroiled in the constant existential crisis about one uncomfortable question, WHY ME. Why so much mediocrity after the exposure to abandance of excellence? Why this imporvishment of faculties after the cornucopia of sensual pleasure? Why does my life alone have to roll down hill without a stop? Why do I keep asking "Why me?" every night before I sleep. Why me?

This is called a lack of freedom. This is called being bound to senses. This is why you are not free. You have to learn to live for yourself, without regrets, you have to make decisions that you wouldn't want to blame on anyone else. You have to stop asking for advice. Live for yourself. For a change."

Cardiology = Pump Maintenance

2007-06-14T01:36:00.000-07:00

We work with huge devices that run with a roar and lift volumes of fluid to dizzy heights. Large, dangerous machines which have given us the capacity to move the world, the kind that are too huge to imagine unless you stand in front of them and see them work. Life is easy with them.
But think of having to work with such a critical pump when its running continuously. When you are not allowed to stop the machine and still have to remove a snag in it. My engineering sense will call it an impossibility in the beginning and foolishness at a later stage. But thats exactly what a cardiologist does.

Everything that happens to the heart can be compared with the working of a pump in general and a reciprocating pump in particular. Be it surge, pressure drop, cavitation everything can be talked about in terms of a reciprocating pump in every sense. When these people wearing white coats and grim expressions amble along the sterile corridors filled with tense relatives of patients, you realize that even without the grease, spanner and an odd peice of emery paper here and there, these people are very much maintenance engineers. Just that they are involved in the most unenviable task of working with devices they cannot willingly declare "Redundant".

Waiting for the rains...

2007-06-09T03:44:00.000-07:00

It hasn't rained yet. Life seems more parched and thirsty than ever before. Physically I am drained beyond recognition and the mind is running around in directions unknown. The plethora of feelings that I used to experience once upon a time have shrunk into an ugly petrified stone. I have nothing of myself left.

Life is hanging on hope. Hope that I will be able to get out of this place in this lifetime. Hope that the tunnel won't be too long after all. Because I still am hanging on to those words,

"Hope is a good thing. Maybe the best thing of all."

Medicine Shop

2007-05-08T05:06:00.000-07:00

List of all the medicines I consumed ( and was required to pump into my body through a puncture in my left hand) in the last 10 days:
1. Metronidazole
2. Paracetamol
3. Norflox
4. Avil
5. Dexona
6. A variety of Vitamin Capsules
7. Anti inflamatory Analgesics ( Basically a lot of paracetamol with a little bit of something called iboprofen or something like that!
8. Zinetac
and another three different pills that looks really sad!

And now that I am finally off medication... breathing seems like a gut wrenching exercise!

"What's wrong with you?"

2007-05-02T03:11:00.000-07:00

There are some things in life we take for granted. Some of them being society of like minded people, a set of physical and emotional conditions that keep you mind balanced and a definition of happiness.. at times, the sheer absense of sadness is defined as happiness and at times there is something more that we look for... probably this is one time when I am looking for that something extra.

People ask me objective questions like "Why are you sad?"," Why are you cribbing?", " There is nothing wrong in your life, why do you make it sound so bad?". I never answer those questions.

They never adress the problem at hand. If I knew why I was so sad, I would definitely have adressed the situation.

I just don't know. I am depressed for no reason that I can think of, I should be prefectly happy and upbeat, but something just doesn't seem right. Probably I still haven't recovered from the culture shock that I was not prepared for.

Back to the Canvas

2007-04-20T03:45:00.000-07:00

I found my motivation! Its time to go back to the empty canvas...

"...Take me out to the pastures and shoot me."

2007-04-16T02:06:00.000-07:00

How would you feel when there's absolutely nothing to look forward to when you go home from office tonight? oops! did I say, home ? I didn't mean home, home is what I get to go to only in August (if everything works out well, that is) I go back to my room... to my beloved virus infested laptop and the same spik'n'span clean room with everything in its place.

Sometimes, the absence of anything great or different to do drives me crazy... sometimes its preserves my sanity and sometimes... its just flowing with the current...

There's absolutely nothing to look forward to...there's nothing to look forward to when I come to office and there's nothing to look forward to when I go home. Now I know why people go mad. Because nothing is happening. the gray mist never clears, the mundane reigns supreme in life and the urge to finish it off once and for all gnaws at my bone.

But I persist in my attempt to look for it a little longer, and please don't get me wrong; the presistence if more a result of the lack of conviction in my decisions than the hope of spring boarding back to being alive.

Saalam Saab

2007-04-12T03:51:00.000-07:00

There is something different about working in a managerial position in a company which requires a lot of unskilled labour and people who hardly know anything more than earning their hundred bucks at the end of the day. You get a glimpse of the bigger picture of the country known to the world for its kings and elephants and now for its fast expanding cyber tentacles. Please don't confuse me with a typical cybercrazy Neophyte who figured his life cannot go on without a few hours spent in front of a computer tapping into the internet or a nihilist on his way to changing the world order and sweeping the cyber dependence away from our lives altogether.

I am talking about that unskilled rigger whose complete day's work comprises moving pipes. Just moving pipes. starting from the smallest of sizes and progressively moving higher. I am talking of the fitter who's only job is to align pipes and get them ready for welding. I am talking about the welder who creates one joint after another with a bidi break in between.

For these people their Saab is their God, the sole provider for their families. They'll make an extra effort to come and stand in front of you, maybe catch your eye for a fraction of a second and touch side of his plastic safety hat with the tip of his finger to say the customary Salaam and give you an apprehensive smile. And if you happen to smile back, you will get the biggest smile in return. Because for them, its not just a smile, its recognition, its an assurance that the Saab remembers him.

That face is the true face of our country. The face that is eager to please for that handful of foodgrains for his family, the man who works throughout the day pushing pipes.

They are my people and at times, I can't deny the pride I feel being called Saab by these people, because I can swear to God, I cannot do the kind of work they do with such painstaking accuracy and precision.

Deeper down...

2007-03-27T00:51:00.000-07:00

I walk back to my room with drooping shoulders after spending eleven and half hours at office doing material estimation like a machine, opening multiple windows in SAP and running half a dozen code searches before ascertaining the availability of little component in a whole huge piping scheme. Life continues mocking me and keeps taking me to the edge every evening while I languish alone in my room with books and magazines opened around me. My eyes refuse to read the newspaper, I truly feel dead, if ever there was any feeling like that.

Even after spending more than 7 hours in the bed under a blanket I am just as tired as I was the previous evening. The fatigue seems to have a cumulative effect on the mind and the body. No effort seems to freshen me up. As I stand under the cold spray for the customary 5 to ten minutes, there is no effect. I just stand there like a corpse propped up with poles. And then I take out a shirt, a pair of trousers and clean socks. As dead as ever I walk off to the mess for a breakfast and finally board someone's car and go to office. I am scared for driving my bike lest I drove it faster than I could control. I have decided to take lifts till I feel more alive again.

Once I am in office, the reticence to talk to people or socialize return. I work as long as I sanely can and then I go insane. The same things go over my head, over and over again. I don't read mails, I don't reply to them, I am just indifferent to people and why shouldn't I be?

Only I am responsible for the mess I am in today and no one can really bring me back to life, therefore where's the point? where's the point in putting up a facade when I am not that good an actor off the stage?

There is no positivity anywhere... there is nothing good happening.

I have started accepting it now, everyday as I walk back to my room with the drooping shoulders, I am dead. truly, dead.

Relapse

2007-03-22T19:57:00.000-07:00

Just when you start taking the wind under your wings for granted, one little jolt grounds you with sudden devastation of getting hit by a sledge hammer. Life is fine as long as you are looking at it within a fixed framework of people, job, salary, expertise and skill. The moment something from the outside probes the walls of the fragile comfort zone you had started building around yourself, the discomfort returns.
The feeling that eats you away from within, leaving behind an empty shell, devoid of a soul; a canister empty of its contents. The contents that have been burned away by circumstances, luck, fear and at times, even misplaced trust and thoughtless ambitions. Groping for the good old past and refusing to accept a dim future, you tread your present like a zombie, confounding every second of a life that would better not be there, since its being wasted anyways. When twenty three years of existence gives you only 3 and a half years worth of memories, there’s absolutely nothing to feel great about. Such a life is a failure.
There will come a time when you’ll not be able to get in touch with your peers because they are much more advanced and socially acceptable than the rustic vagabond that you have made yourself.

But then its too late now, isn’t it. There’s no turning back and you can already see life sporting that mocking grin as the sun rises to herald another day you have to live through to make the journey a day shorter, desperately groping for something to remember, a little conversation, something to remember. Something to take to your grave. Because life, as it is being lived, will not last too long.

As good as it gets...

2007-03-22T19:45:00.000-07:00

The last time I saw this movie from beginning to end without moving the mouse to the progress bar was at Sujan and Aney’s Flat, in Bangalore on Deepti’s Computer along with Bhargav and Sikandar. That was the last time we buggers spent some time together before being thrown to corners of two different countries.
But as Andy puts it,
“Hope… is a good thing, maybe the best thing” And I am still hoping that the day will come when all of us will sit around a table and see this movie once again.

This time however I viewed it on Shobhith’s computer in a Hostel room along with Shobhith and Patel. But this time the hope line had receded in the back ground, guess I have already put it into my system…. The fact that hope is probably the best thing.
The lines that caught my attention this time were,
“Some birds just cannot be caged, their wings are too bright”
I hope to fly away someday to a better place, a better neighbourhood… to a better life and not become institutionalized as would be the case if I did hang on for too long.

The one movie that everyone should see: Shawshank Redemption, because “Salvation lies within”.

blah!

2007-03-16T05:13:00.000-07:00

And then again.... after the fun comes the time of reckoning.
I remember in Class three I had a teacher called Mrs. Gayner who was probably one of the best teachers one could have when he is in third standard. She would let us go and play around and still make sure we never broke those formations we were made to walk around in.
But that is not the point, the subject of this post is something that she had said in the broken hindi with a thick Irish accent,
"Pehle majaa, phir sajaa".
Sometimes things remain with you for eternity, I haven't seen Mrs. Gayner for more than 14 years now, but everytime I think how bad I feel now that I have to work so much after those carefree days in College, I always come up with that one sentence,
"Pehle Majaa, phir sajaa"!

Honeymoon Travails

2007-03-05T01:39:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: Opinions expressed, questions raised and comments made in the following article are completely my own and should not be interpreted to represent the view of anyone related to me.

1. Why would you, (anyone for that matter) want to go on a Honeymoon with a bus full of other couples who are perfect strangers?

2. What kind of people bark and purr on the first night on honeymoon?

3. How often do honeymooning couples from all over the country, across communities travel in the same bus for honeymoon?

4. How does a Gay Indian man differ from a Gay NRI?

5. How does a Bengali woman drape her saree so that it comes off at every half chance?

6.When do superheroes find superheroes to marry?

7. How do you follow a bus on an imported sports bike without being noticed?

And last question....

8. How do you define a totally mindless comedy?

Your answer lies in the heading... go watch the movie and before you set out for the theatre, please extract your brains and leave it well preserved in the house. Exposing it to so much anomaly can take its toll!

Disappointing silence

2007-03-04T23:23:00.000-08:00

The woman is brilliant. That is, she's brilliant considering three things, one, She's from the U.S.A, two, She's a newcomer and this is her first silverscreen appearance and three, she's just a kid!

The storyline is non existent. There is no story, as expected though. The whole film rides on the theme. There's nothing much supporting it. The story of a man falling in love with a girl less than a third of his age is too big a first statement for the director to attach something to it in the form of a well thoughtout story line, proper characterization of the supporting actors or even a thoughtful end to the story. Someone has to tell our man that silence is not a great medicine for all circumstances. The same silence that awed the audience in Sarkar seems overused throughout the movie and even thrust on the actors at certain places. Just like you shouldn't typecast an actor, you shouldn't typecast an art, in this case, the art of using silence to higlight emotions... at times it just doesn't fit.

Jiah Khan impresses alright. But the character is essentially flawed. She plays an estraged kid traumatised by the loss of a father and an extramarital relationship her mother is involved in. The fact that her attraction to Vijay could even be a daughterly inclination has been grossly overlooked to give the movie a 'Lolita' angle. It would hae been a more complete portrayal of the situation had that angle been explored in a couple of scenes.

The character of the wife and her brother looked really stiff. Except for the one places where she loses her cool, Vijay's wife is just another suspecting Indian woman who gives up everything for the family and expects the family to give up everything for her, in turn.

And finally, the trauma of a girl when she finds out about her father having an affair with her friend is also underplayed. There could be two reasons for it, either the person playing the role wasn't upto it or the role itself was weakened to highlight 'the other woman'. Eitherways, these are some points which could have been explored more at the expense of the long Nishabdh scenes which were meant for the audience to track the path of Amitabh Bachchan's tears as they roll down his cheek.

There's no point talking about the man himself for he's made a habit of surpassing all his previous performances in every new film he does and whether its weeping for a seperated wife in Baghban or shedding tears for an 18 year older lover in Nishabdh he does it with equal wizardry.

All said and done, Nishabh would have been a great watch had there been a little more shabdh in it.

Saturday

2007-03-04T22:49:00.000-08:00

There was no hangover! I slept like a kid till eight in the morning and since the guys hadn't awakened by eight, I had to sleep for another couple of hours before it was time for the "household" to rise and decide to conquer PVR. Yeah, thats exactly what was decided!

We (thats suhel, Arjun and I) decided on a Goan Lunch at Bernardo's (which turned out to be the best lunch I have had in more than six months. The last time happened to be our farewell lunch at Inchara in Bangalore) and go watch Nishabdh and The Last King of Scotland.

By the time we decide to leave the flat, time was already running out. The lunch was ordered in a hurry and gobbled up in 10 minutes flat.

The other two people would agree that we didn't talk too much while having our lunch, especially after making the error of assuming someone else's lunch to be ours and smirking to ourselves when we figured the truth, while that someone else, rather, the two 'someone' elses considered us to be nothing less than hungry hogs.

Nishabdh couldn't live up to expectations and by interval we were sure that we wanted to watch something else to lift our mood before we went in for Forrest Whitaker's magnum opus.

Therefore, the decision to go in for Honeymoon Travels Private Limited was made and the tickets, procured in a jiffy. I was lined up for my first true movie marathon of my life! (Three Shows starting at 3:40, 5:15 and 8:45 respectively!)

Honeymoon travels wasn't too bad a movie as long as you left your brains at home and sat there to enjoy the mindless comedy, but then again, you would need your brains to appreciate the brilliance of Boman Irani and Shabana Azmi. And if you were planning to get into the theatre for another movie called The Last King of Scotland, you had better run home and get your brains, whatever little bit of it you have.

We walked out of PVR at 11 in the night and I can bet that beside the movies, I probably had the greatest variety of flesh I ever had in one day. Starting with hot and sour fish, Goanese style Chicken cooked in coconut paste and spicy pork, moving on to chicken Hotdog at the theatre and ending the day with half a grilled chicken! Thats a lot of flesh and I can say with full conviction that I enjoyed every last bit of it!

One hell of a Saturday!

A Beginning...

2007-03-02T12:45:00.000-08:00

The get away seems to be working perfectly. Imagine how the expectations would shoot when a weekend starts with the teacher's scotch whiskey, two perfect strangers who don't remain strangers the first time they talk. Endless chat sessions about Simon and Garfunkel, Floyd and everything under the sun that we have talked about at lengths in college. Sitting with the tall glasses under a star lit Gurgaon sky, for a moment I thought there are too many other things in life which i am either ignoring or am totally ignorant about... lets hope the next 48 hours help me discover at least something that I might be missing.
A rocking start to what promises to be one of those few remarkable weekends that somehow manage to leave a lasting mark on your life.

Its an ordeal...

2007-02-23T00:17:00.000-08:00

to leave the past in the past and move ahead. To accept that the past is all that was and never will be again. To teach the self that how much ever you try to go back to the past, you'll only end up hurting yourself.

To deny the present is a crime, the resist the future is a greater crime... but to yearn for the past is the greatest.

What was there, will always remain, whats there now will move into the "was" account with the setting of the sun and the turning of the wheels and what's still there will silently pass us by to become a part of the "was" while we still try to get back to it and salvage some happy memories...

This'll sound pure gibberish, but its an ordeal all the same.

They Banned Orkut!!!

2007-02-14T23:18:00.000-08:00

Finally the penultimate nail in the coffin of my newfound communication enthusiasm was hammered home by the systems administrator. Officially orkut has been banned at Mathura Refinery.

Come to think of it, its a good thing for people like others who spent a lot of time on orkut, but not the honest and sincere officers like me who would indulge in a little harmless flirting every now and then! Maybe its a blessing in disguise.. I'll at least use my net surfing time for more productive causes...

But let this be the commemorative post marking the sudden removal of orkut from my otherwise mundane life.

And I will be totally cut off the day they decide to cut Blogger out... Maybe I should start thinking about an alternate blog already.

Another one of those days...

2007-02-14T01:26:00.000-08:00

This again used to be another one of those days when the man suddenly felt how stoic he had been in ignoring this one day with all his might. He never quite had any plans for this day, never had time to see if anything could be done about the fact that he never have time for the day and never thought the reason for not finding time was the simple fact that he never had anyone to spend that time with.

Since the day the knowledge about this brilliantly expensive day was registered in his brain he tried to think about a lot of different ways in which he would like to spend (on) the day, but the only gap that remained was the absence of a human entity to spend the day with him. Slowly the boy grew up into a man, the little bit of hope that still remained in him turned into stark cynicism and the man decided that he had had enough of stupid "western" traditions and that he would join Shiv Sena if he didn't find himself a girlfriend within a certain timeframe.But then, our man wasn't as thoughtless as he thought he was and he finally managed to do neither of the two things he thought he would do. Neither did he join Shiv Sena, nor did he find a girlfriend.

In fact, it was she who found him.

And yet, the story doesn't end here.. whether they lived happily ever after or they just finished off after a tea break still remains to be seen.

Rain drops keep falling on my helmet...

2007-02-12T19:16:00.000-08:00

Finally, I could summon enough courage to drive to office on a rainy morning. The glistening higway gave the impression of the typical "slippery" surface that all the moms in the world will ask you to avoid. The trucks and cars drove past me like shooting stars! And the pitter-patter of the raindrops on my helmet reminded me of Simon and Ganfunkel...

Even before I started out on the bike, I had this feeling that I might get terribly drenched even before I was halfway through, but somehow, the "freedom" idea got better of me and the final decision was taken the moment the engine roared to life, the first time I kicked it!

By the time I reached the highway, it had started poring.

The dark, forboding sky overhung like the sulky attendant you find in most of those second grade restaurants. The cars and trucks zooming past me left, right and center didn't increase the comfort level either. The landscape however was a treat for the eyes. The usually greyish leaves on the babul trees lining the sides of the higway wore a rich green hue, as did the shrubbery covering most of the otherwise barren landscape. The kind of thing that makes you wonder, "This place isn't as bad as I though it would be!"

The dripping visor of the helmet, the drenched trousers and same raindrops pricking the uncovered tips of my fingers with the severity of surgical needles somehow made the whole experience worth it...

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red

Cryin's not for me

'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'

Because I'm free

Nothin's worryin' me

This one's for my little girl.

Another Week...

2007-02-11T19:46:00.000-08:00

I know its become more of a rule than exception now. But I came to office on a Sunday yet again. This time however, the work had to be done before I got my sense tickled by the blood sucking contractors again. Therefore, I decided to make the 6 km trip on the highway to office for one good reason, to make preparations to issue as much material as possible to keep my contractors busy.

Then there was the big decision to make... whether to have lunch at Mac'Donald's or drive all the way back to the mess for the Sunday lunch of chicken and steaming rice? (The kind of difficult decisions one is forced to make when there's absolutely nothing important happening in his life!)

The bike made the decision for me. I hadn't been riding it too much and have to clock at least 300 kms before the first service date which happens to be the fifteenth of this month. Therefore, an extra dozen of kilometers were clocked and lunch was consumed at the mess with the usual gay gluttony and an extra bowl of the spicy gravy!

The second half at office was more productive than I had thought it would be and by the time I was satisfied with the day's work it was already past four thirty! Another ride back home, a couple of rounds in the township and a piping hot cup of tea in the windy morose weather punctuated the evening.

Ended up watching American Pie yet again at night and slept off feeling really good :)

A nice Sunday, even though I went to office!

My Country...

2007-01-31T18:51:00.000-08:00

My Country...

Words will pollute the sanctity of pictures, click here for more

From Good Morning to Namaste

2007-01-23T23:25:00.000-08:00

The metamorphosis of the Missionary School-educated, English bugger continues...

There was a time when we were taught that we have to wish our teachers wherever we saw them, be it the corridors in school or the famous stinky Maach Bajar near the Burnpur Railway Station. There were instances the the fear or awe of a teacher made me forget the time of the day and blabber a poorly articulated "Good Morning" standing under a street light at seven in the evening.

But that was a long time back, by the time I reached college I had perfected the art of wishing anyone who looked like a professor and at times I was even lucky enough to get replies from some of them. I can still remember hearing a faint "Good Morning" from Dr. M Ganesh everytime I met him in the dark corridors of Faculty Division III... But again, these incidents belong to a fast fading past. I am still in the process of getting into my present life.

When I stepped into my present role of an officer in a Nationalised company where every bit of official communication has to happen in Hindi as well as English, the futility of my Proficiency in the Art of Good Morning slowly dawned upon me. Except the handful of people at office who still accept english as a mean of official communication, its really difficult not to feel a bit disillusioned about the fact that the first eighteen years of my life were spent off in learning a foreign custom! All you have to say here to get noticed and nodded at is Namaste, whether its a workman, an officer, a stranger or even the Big Boss.

The sweeper who wipes the floor says "Saab Namaste"and the casual labourer who usually fills my jug from the cooler says, "Namashkar Sir" with the Sir trailing off into silence as if the utterance of one english word scathes his soul.

I guess I am just getting absorbed into the Indian Customs of which I was never a part, and its about time I did.

GURU : A review

2007-01-19T18:40:00.000-08:00

GURU is the story of one man who dared to dream, and dream big. Through and through its a celebration of the human ego, the perception of being intensely alive and intensely aware of the fact that we just cannot stop at one point of time and tell ourselves, "this is enough, this is what I had bargained for, nothing more and nothing less", for there is no limit for more.

This is probably the first time that an Indian movie has dared to move away from the beaten track of "love and truth and the ultimate victory of both". The fact that neither love nor truth form an indispensible part of our everyday existence is underlined time and again in GURU. For a change we have been able to bridge the gap between idealism and realism through GURU, and the film is commendable for that bare fact, if nothing else. Another aspect of the film is the sublte yet positive treatment of capitalism. In the present scenario where we can see a steady decline in the communist sentiments all across the world and more so in India, perhaps this emphasis on the ultimate importance of profit could not have been timed better. Munafa is all that matters and thats exactly what has been pointed out. Even though the moral issues have been slightly undermined, I can only recall what Mario Puzo quoted in the beginning of his magnum opus, The Godfather, "Behind every Great fortune, there a Great Crime"- Balzac.

Coming to the film itself, this is definitely the comeback vehicle for Abhishek Bachchan, even though some people claim Sarkar to be the the movie that turned him around, we have to understand that after Yuva this is the first movie where he hasn't shared screen space with his dad and still delivered a powerhouse performance. Definitely the big B's pride is not un called for. In Abhishek's portrayal of Gurubhai, one could see the emergence of one of the most prolific and resourceful actors of the present day. We can only hope that this is just the beginning of a long and entertaining career. Aishwarya Rai is brilliant in her role as the wife of a business tycoon, rising above the normal cravings of a lower middle class woman to fulfill the needs of her dreaming husband. Mithun Chakraborty, Vidhya Balan and Madhavan did their bits convincingly, but every bit of brilliant acting complemented each other and made the experience really enriching. No mention needs be made of Rahman's music. Its brilliant, but then thats routine. His consistency is enviable, though there is a scarcity of humable tunes in this particular album. The cinematography is also crisp and a treat for the eyes.

Though there are traces of movies like The Godfather (Gurubhai keeps making "offers they can't refuse" and keeps talking to "reasonable men"), The Fountainhead (During the final discourse in the courtroom, I couldn't help seeing glimpses of Howard Roark) and A walk to remember (The poignant story of Maddy and Vidya Balan) in GURU, at the end of the day... its a winner in all the departments, bold theme, powerful acting and the Hallmark of Mani Ratnam's Direction.

A must watch.

Bike... Finally!

2007-01-19T03:14:00.000-08:00

That's what my Bike looks like... I am really sorry about the background though.

End of days

2006-12-30T01:13:00.002-08:00

Another year comes to an end. Definitely the most eventful one in life till date. Lots of people have come and gone, lots of places have been visited. I have travelled to almost all the corners of the country during the Internship and training periods. Bangalore, Vadodara, Mumbai, Agra, Delhi, Mathura and Pilani. That makes it a little of east, west, north and south of the country.

I have gone through periods of extreme loneliness and isolation, mental turmoil and I have moved from sharing one cubicle with three other people to having one of my own!

I have bought the three basic necessities of solitary living a camera, a laptop and a bike.

And I have successfully managed to push myself to the depths of self pity and come bouncing back to feeling good...

Everything put together its been a year worth remembering for all it had brought along and everything it took away.

Indulgence

2006-12-25T18:45:00.000-08:00

Its been a really long time since I had indulged myself like this. One evening I decided to relive one of those innumerable college evenings we'd spent, watching one movie after another. This time however, I had to limit my indulgence to one movie, I chose Khosla ka Ghosla as I hadn't seen it till date and people who'd seen it had a nice thing or two, to say about it. Therefore I decided to rent out the CD, buy some Bhujia and a bar of chocolate ( the kid inside is still painfully alive :P)

I had an early dinner, just like the BITS days and then snuggled under my razai with the computer on my lap, the packets of bhujia on one side of my bed and the munching on the chocolate, I commanded my indulgent self, "Let the movie begin!"

What followed was a watered down version of Jeffrey Archer's Not a penny more, not a penny less, brilliantly Indianised. But now a days, you don't need to do much to Indianise anything, do you? Add a couple of cut shots of the busy and filthy streets, a plan view of a dilapidated Slum area, the typical Indian dream of going abroad, the dad opposed to the idea in principle, the tearful mother and the very familiar helpful neighbours. The formula just cannot backfire. In each of these six elements there's something that each Indian identifies with and therefore all the director has to do is to integrate these elements seamlessly into a story and voila! Even some of the European Classics can be used to portray the Indian Household!

But I shouldn't prevaricate, I would grade the movie at three and a half stars. The performances of Boman Irani and Anupam Kher are commendable, its always a joy to watch these people on the screen. Sometimes you have to accept that the best actors come straight from the theatre.

Ranvir Shorey was brilliant with his accent, not for a moment did it seem that the guy was acting. Everyone else was mediocre, in this regard, a special mention has to be made of Tara Sharma, someone needs to put a knob in her throat to regulate her volume with respect to the dialogue she's delivering.

However, by the time the movie got over, I was happy with the choice of movie. Light hearted comedy with a nice ending. The eprfect choice for stress free viewing.

To Chitra and Arun...

2006-12-14T18:35:00.000-08:00

Sometime in March,2004: Two students were sitting in a public car parking outside the grand hyatt at the Bikaji Kama Place in South Delhi and proof reading a sheaf of pages which happened to be the first daft of Cactus Flower, 2004, official magazine of the students’ Union of BITS,Pilani. One of them turned out to be a budding playwright and the other ended up with an engineering job with one of the foremost public sector concerns of the Country.

December, 2006: Two men walked into the lobby of the posh head office of Engineers India Limited. They were on an official tour to EIL to gather some information required for some forthcoming project. Of the two men, one was a fresh graduate and new employee and the other, a veteran in engineering activities in Indian Oil Corporation.

The common string connecting these two isolated incidents is that same boy who happened to land himself an engineering job. Me.
The way life changes your outlook is really amazing. Imagine the same me sitting at a car parking today and reviewing my stress analysis files! I can’t. The place has remained the same. Just that Arun isn’t there with me sitting beside me and pointing out one error after another. People running to office, the early morning hawker selling his ware to whoever has enough time to lend him a ear. The palpable busyness of the area was almost haunting. Somehow I missed my companions of the past too much.
This one is for Chitra and Arun for having made my first Cactus Flower trip unforgettable. The memory remains.

I walk a lonely road...

2006-12-12T21:18:00.000-08:00

I have a list of ‘nice blogs’ on the right hand side column of my weblog, there are certain characteristics about each one of these blogs that I love and I am sure I cannot achieve. the outspoken sarcasm and cynicism of Satya, Abilin’s philosophy, Kray’s free flowing amalgamation of myriad emotions and simple narrative, Sujan’s nonchalance about anything that comes his way.
They are all unique in the way they look at life and the way they assimilate each scenario they are put into. But somehow I find their reasons for maintaining a blog totally different from that of mine.
My sole purpose in having a blog was to be able to offload disturbing thoughts in an organized manner so that I can go back to them if ever the need to go back to some of them arises. I have never been a romantic of sorts, true I love certain hues of nature, like a sunset or a sunrise at a beach. I am cynical and I am emotional, but I can offload neither my cynicism nor my emotions confidently in my blog for the fear of being discovered and questioned. Of course, I have the right to remain silent ;) but somehow the idea of remaining silent was never appealing to me.

I was a friend’s place till pretty late last night. On the way back to my room, I could see the changes a job had brought about in me, previously, while in college, I hated returning to my room all alone, I enjoyed the company of people and I was disappointed if there was no one to accompany me back. Yesterday, while walking down the deserted township streets with only a few stray dogs here and there, I had almost accepted the loneliness. I didn’t feel the urge for company neither did I think it was weird to have to walk back all the way alone. Somehow, the idea of being alone has totally been accepted by the subconscious.
And therefore, I walk alone. But this time there’s no fear, for I have figured out my path. The loneliness has been countered; I have successfully devised a mechanism.
I am not afraid of being alone anymore. I have grown beyond the realm of love and hate. I have learnt better than craving for unwelcome companionship. I am ready to face the world all alone till its time. The worst that can happen is that the time might not arrive, or I might just burn out before that time arrives…
Either ways, I prefer being alone.

Everyone says I am fine, but....

2006-11-27T03:48:00.000-08:00

You Are 83% Perfectionist

You're a total perfectionist. So go ahead and congratulate yourself on a "perfect" score.The truth is, everyone is sick of living up to your standards. And you're probably even sick them yourself.

Are You a Perfectionist?

Sunday... after a long time

2006-11-26T19:08:00.000-08:00

This was the first Sunday in my working life that truely felt like a Sunday. There were absolutely no plans to go anywhere or do anything. No fear of the dreadful alarm going off. After a late night gaming session on Saturday I turned in only at quarter to two.

It was nine in the morning before I woke up and decided to start the day. Even in hostel we had to get up in time for breakfast, but here breakfast stretches for as long as you want it to stretch. Therefore, by the time I reached the mess it was already 9:30.

A super oil-rich breakfast comprising the ubiquitous chole bhatoore awaited me along with a newspaper splashed with brilliant images of Vidya Balan and justifications as to why she's the kind of girl you can take out to a night club and and even to meet your mother. I haven't got much idea about the kind of girl I might want to take out to a nightclub (In most cases I would look forward to getting hooked to one at a night club only), but I agree with "the taking to your mother" part. Definitely... but there are a few people already in mind, Vidya Balan can wait.

I can understand the reader widening his/her eyes and condemning this blatant egoistic comment.

After breakfast, two peaceful hours were spenting in poring through the Sunday Times. Life, Horoscope and some really comical matrimonials. I am not joking, if you want to ready some really funny, grammatically minimalistic literature, Matirimonials is the place to find it! Some 45 year old woman looking for "tall, handsome, middle aged male"is just one sane example. There are so many things about the matrimonial pages that are just hilarious. Some day, with a little more time at hand, I should be able to write something about the matrimonials. ;)

Then there was lunch, right from the day I joined BITS, Sunday lunches have always remained attractive and it hasn't ceased being so even here in Mathura. The spicy chicken curry with the red gravy and shreds of onions and cubed tomatoes, the warm rotis with melted butter, the fine long grained steaming rice...mouthwatering!

This was followed by some reading in the mellow afternoon sun and a nice siesta. The persistent ringing of the mobile broke the sleep, on the other side was a long lost friend. A conversation spanning every topic we'd ever discussed, right from friends' girlfriends to drinking habits...

Evening was spent in buying a razai to defend myself against the life threatening winter. This was my first visit to a Gandhi Ashram Khadi Bhandar. In case you have a chance, go and check out the variety of stuff they make.

The mess is usually closed on a Sunday evening, we had dinner at the "most happening place" of mathura. A family restaurant called "Brijwasi Royal". The crowd was good, the food mediocre and the ambience third grade. But one really cannot complain much. After all we are at Janmabhoomi.

A winter's day...

2006-11-24T18:59:00.000-08:00

Life has changed a lot since I updated my blog last. Much to my surprise, I have become really busy these days, not only at office, but also at home. I have a Laptop now and therefore a lot of music and movies and games have come back to life. I am trying to learn a few new softwares and update my knowledge in a few older ones. I have even managed to clean up my kitchen and make it usable. Tea, coffee and noodles are not constraints anymore.

Its getting really cold here, sometimes it reminds me of the beginning of winter in Pilani. We could never conciously enjoy the beginning of winter in Pilani because of the impending compre s, but now that I have a chance, I must say its brilliant. The chill of the morning slowly gives way to the golden warmth of a lazy sun as it creeps out of the horizon, the 5 minute bus ride on NH 2 as I come to office every morning when the little hamlet of Badhgaun awakens from a deep slumber and gets about the daily chores of a typical north Indian village. The slow ignition of coal and cow dung cakes in the black soot stained sigri giving off the familiar fumes. Cowherds coaxing their wards off to the fields, with an occasional lashing to the most disobedient one of the herd.

And the moment the bus ride gets over, I am sitting at my office in a regulated atmosphere, looking at a computer screen and rattling off lines on the monitor.

There's so much of the winter that hasn't been covered yet... But I shall be regular hence forth. By the way, here's my laptop, for those who know about my "tiger biscuit and peanuts" and "saving up for laptop" stories...

Demented...

2006-11-03T03:23:00.000-08:00

Another one of those days when life just remains average. Everything is just 'O.K'. Nothing great, nothing exciting. Therefore....no reason to upload a throughly mundane blog of a thoroughly bored bachelor. But I still felt like hearing the clattering of the keyboard and the sentences appearing in neat arranged rows right in front of me. I had decided not to crib and try and find out the positive aspects of my "life and time" in mathura. But how long can someone keep looking for something that doesn't exist?!

There is no life in Mathura and the time spent over here can be summaried in one sentence. "It was boring." The only life that I have is that of a guy who works more than he needs to. There was a time when I used to tell people that I study for the want of something better to do. The statement remains the same, just substitute study with work. You have me again. I am slowly becoming the workaholic I didn't want to be.

Someone said , Life is beautiful. My answer, beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. And the beauty just doesn't seem to show up.

Back!

2006-10-30T18:56:00.000-08:00

I am back from what was the shortest visit home. It was a totally different feeling this time. No explanations about courses and evaluations, no need to think about the dreaded C.G.P.A., no reason to stand at the balcony and look out at the horizon and wonder what lies in store for me.

I know what lies in store for me... at least for the next couple of years.

There have been times when I have had nothing to worry about. But they are the most unsettling times . The moment there is nothing to worry about, there is a fear of stagnating. The fear drives me to think of new things to do, new avenues to explore and get worried in the process. The vicious cycle continues...

Homeward Bound

2006-10-23T21:04:00.000-07:00

Going home had never been this mundane. I have a ticket for a train at 1:30 in the morning. I have to reach a godforsaken station somewhere in the heartlands of Uttar Pradesh by bus and I am still not sure of the route I am supposed to take. All I know is that a car will drop me off at the bus stop and I have to take a bus to Agra. The route from there is yet to be discovered.

There was a time when going home was a big thing, when I packed things 4 days in advance. I can still recall the joy of going home in the middle of my first semester. I had finished packing my bag three clear days before my train left delhi station and I had to unpack my bag several times in the middle because I had packed off stuff which I actually didn't want to take!

Four years down the line, once the bag is packed I don't have to open it up and to remove stuff packed by mistake.

Lets hope the train doesn't take too much time to reach Asansol, the one I am boarding is supposedly one of those trains which run 12 hours behind schedule as a habit. God help me.

Too tired to crib!

2006-10-18T06:14:00.000-07:00

This place is the one I use to crib when there is no other person to crib to... but sometimes you are so down and so tired that you can't even crib.. thats exactly whats happening to me right now.. another 45 minutes and I'll be working for 12 hrs straight with exactly 35 minutes break for lunch!

I can feel the angst deep down, but I am just too bloody tired to crib...

Is this the life I had bargained for?

I have to be up and running by the time the first rays kiss the tree tops and get back to my room only by 8 in the evening. With an average of 4 hrs a days of non-sleeping free time, I don't think its worth the pain...

But again, I'm tired.

Pizza I want!

2006-10-15T00:29:00.000-07:00

Saturday evening in a public sector company is just as sweet as Friday in a software firm.

The next day being the one day when you know that the Alarm clock won't marshall the day for you. When you can take your own sweet time to move yourself from the bed to the bathroom. When you can walk slowly in the golden winter sunshine to the mess for a long leisurely breakfast accompanied by the newspaper with the all-so-familiar accidents, manhunts and deaths being reported with wartime efficiency.

What I mean to say is that everything remains the same, just that for one day, you are allowed to slow down and adjust your bearings before flying off for another six days of early mornings and stereotype evenings.

However, this post is about the evening before the beginning of this beautiful day.

In this backward land of Mathura which according to me hasn't moved much ahead since independence, we set out in search of Pizza at a remote Shopping mall called Highway Plaza which was about 10 Kms from the Township.

Highway Plaza does justice to its name on two counts, one, its bang on the Delhi-Agra highway and two, its exactly what the dictionary meaning ("Mercantile establishment consisting of a carefully landscaped complex of shops representing leading merchandisers; usually includes restaurants and a convenient parking area; a modern version of the traditional marketplace") reccommends a plaza to be. However, after the stint in Bangalore a Mall without babes and MacD's doesn't look or sound like a mall. Therefore it took me quite some time to actually come to terms with the idea of being in a mall on a saturday night and not being able to letch!

The pizza was mediocre, but a welcome change from the typical "dal-sabzi-roti" routine.

I am still thinking though.... a mall without babes...

Mathura Mediocrity...

2006-10-12T20:20:00.000-07:00

In Mathura after stopovers at Baroda and Mumbai. The last time I updated a Blog, I was at Bangalore, sitting in from of a PC in the corner of a shared cubicle, typing whenever I am not coding. The scenario hasn't changed much, except for the fact that now I don't share a cubicle any more (I have my own :D) and am typing whenever I find a little time... and believe me, its quite a bit difficult to find time when you are a full time employee and an "officer" at that :P With all the "Responsibility" and associated ego, you obviously wouldn't want to be caught spending valuable office time on cyberspace! Life has changed in so many different ways that I have stopped keeping track of all the changes.

I have decided to flow with the current. Resistance is futile. Just flow along and let the stream decide whether to leave you on a deserted bank or a crowded embankment. I shall very soon come up with the typical "daily routine" post. But as of now, I have to start being less cynical.

This browser sucks...

2006-10-08T20:12:00.000-07:00

The browser in the office sucks !!! I am not allowed to upload photos or even format my text, only for blogger though. I'll have to shift my blog to some other more usable host.
Blogger still remains my first love though... shall post my new blog site once I am done setting it up.

Update: I have downloaded and installed all the required updates to make the browser usable... therefore.. I AM NOT MOVING OUT OF BLOGGER! yuhoo!!

Return of the Kafir.

2006-10-04T02:26:00.000-07:00

This was religion to me. And i had still given it up to prove some theory to myself. The theory failed and I am back on the old battered track. I can't live without writing.I can live if i don't crib. Hence, I shall crib,I shall write and I shall give myself some decent sleep at night.
This is the beginning of the much awaited and much maligned second innings, but even though I have returned to my faith, I still remain a Kafir.
A rustic of the soil who refused to accept the gloss of the dazzling new world. I renounce the new world and dive down the depths of past glory to retrieve whatever I can. I stand convicted of indecision and condemned to the only result of such renunciation, eternal darkness.
I promise you a new faith, a faith in which i will be accepted as a founder rather than be maligned as a Kafir.
I have arrived. Again.

The lonely path ahead

2006-05-19T03:05:00.000-07:00

He pushed back his chair, removed his spectacles, turned his neck in the two possible directions, yawned and got back to staring at the screen.
Lines of his new book were right there in front of his eyes, but he couldn't decide on the ending. He's been writing it for quite sometime now, weaving new incidents into the same plot, new characters entering and exiting his story every now and then. But the ending had always remained elusive. At times he even had nightmares about not being able to finish his book for the want of a proper ending. However, he could never think of a proper ending.
He wanted it to have a dashing end which wasn't predictable. But as they put it, he was scared of making it "predictably unpredictable". So he wrote on... every evening saw him insert new people into the story and every afternoon saw him taking them out in the light of some newly thought ending. But the quest for a better end wasn't quenched. He continued writing.Mixing his emotions with those of his characters. Giving them names, traits, failures and successes out of his own life. Living many lives through them.
But this is not what he always wanted to do, how long could he keep trying to find a new ending? It was time he went ahead and lived at least one life of his own. Not the imagined lives of his characters who could walk, run, laugh, cry and strike out in anger. But he wasn't interested.
As he pushed away from the table with the three plastic fingers of his left hand and balanced the wheel chair with the remaining ones on the right, he looked out at the tinge of red covering the horizon. The story had ended long back. The sun had set. All that remained was the path ahead... the lonely path ahead. He wasn't strong enough to make the journey on his wheelchair and he wasn't weak enough to give up all he had in form of his book, his characters, his plot, his life. Turning his wheelchair back, he started typing frantically.
There has to be a better ending...

Wanting what we don't have

2006-05-10T05:58:00.000-07:00

What is it that you don't have ?
If its Freedom, snatch it
If its Money, earn it
If its Love, deserve it
If its Time, create it
If its Attention,demand it
and...
If its Self Respect....

Go kill yourself.

All about music...

2006-05-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

There are so many songs attached to so many memories, people, incidents and feeling and everytime you listen to them, they seem to make those feelings, thoughts and emotions, so real!
There have been songs related to every unforgettable incident in life.
Those rainy afternoons in august when my brother had first started taking guitar lessons. He used to be very possessive about his beloved instrument and I got a chance to have a go at it only when he was asleep. Another of the the sweet sacrifices you have to make for being the older one. Hence I strummed the chords when he slept. I remember mastering a little peice called kafi ( its a raag i guess) and playing it sitting on the balcony overlooking the railway track at a little distance while it rained. The cowherds managed their cattle along the bright green fields, the trees looked much greener than otherwise and I lived those few moments of self created music , intensely.
The first few days on campus, the ragging sessions and the scary recitals of the then-famous score, Baanch ke tu rehna from the movie Company, followed by those rare occasions when we grew out of our shells and walked in groups, unafraid of any 'senior', singing Jaane kya hoga rama ra, form such a precious part of my campus memories.
Then came the golden days of graduating into Hard Rock from John Denver and Cliff Richard! The whole of second year say me humming Aerosmith, Guns n Roses, Metallica, Nirvana and lots of other bands. The hours spent in front of Gupta's computer playing Max Payne and listening to Joe Satriani, Steve Vai and Jimmy hendrix.. unforgettable!
Third year saw me return to the softer version of all music, Simon and Garfunkel came into life. On the other hand Aab na Jaa became a hot favourite with a little romanticism creeping into my
mundane life. Hmmm.. but some things are not meant to last.
Soon it was time to move on, in search of more rewarding yet less demanding relationships. Soon it was time to accept and analyse the magnitude of loneliness I was destined to get used to.
Finally it was time for Boondein by silk route: a time to understand how I have whiled away the best time of my life in some of the most inconsequential pursuits. It was time to understand the value of true friends, to draw the line between friends, aquiantances and "Hi-Bye"ers.
Farewells: the feeling took a lot of time to sink in, the fact that the dream is over. And with Save tonight and Time of your life I bid goodbye to the campus.
One fine January morning I found myself on the streets of Bangalore humming Boulevards of broken dream.
Life goes on. And every song releases an imprisoned memory or a dream. And I cherish each one.

22 tango

2006-05-02T22:59:00.000-07:00

I am 22 at last! though I remember little about the last four or five birthdays I had, one thing was common about all of them, I always had to study on my birthdays..the last three years on campus, I had exams on the third of May always, Linear Algebra in First year, Principles of mangement in second year and Prime Movers and Fluid Machines in the third year !!
Finally I had a break and it was beautifully celebrated!
All the calls and mails I had expected ( and a few that I had not :P) came in. Mom called up at the exact hour, precisely 7:10 in the morning. Somethings never change, and I am happy they don't. As fate would have it, two of my oldest friends from college also had to come down to our office and we went out for lunch.
The day was great at office, one day when I didn't write a single line of code, nor did I do anything vaguely related to the project.
The evening was the best time of the day, lovely room mates got the most delicious cake I have had in Bangalore and then we hogged on the chicken and associated stuff till we were light headed enough to dance to some obscure song playing on channel V. We went for a walk in the middle of the night and return to the room only because we were too thirsty and dehydrated.
In all, a rocking beginning of the 23rd year of life!!

Monday Monster!

2006-04-30T23:25:00.000-07:00

I knew this!
Somewhere deep down I knew I would be sitting at my desk on monday and typing away something !! We got up frigging early today to catch the morning show of Ice Age 2 at PVR, but even before 10 in the morning all shows of the movie were booked! How extraordinarily ridiculous!
Total frustration saw us walking all the back to office, turning on our systems and getting down to some work-blogging-chatting-associated activities.
I wish there never were any holidays!
Monday Monster has its own ingenious ways of driving us to office even in the most improbable of circumstances. When some guy in some advertisement said, "I always wanted to quit on a monday morning.", I didn't give it much thought. Now I know.

Freaky Friday

2006-04-28T06:21:00.000-07:00

Prakash went to Chennai. Randeep went to Pondicherry. Varun went to Goa. Srinivas went to Hyderabad. I stayed back. Another weekend looming large with no specific job at hand and a wild urge to run home, but 2000 kilometers is something you can't run whenever your mind urges you to do so. Going to Goa was an option but on a trip like that, the company matters a lot and the gang going to Goa was just not my kind. Again, it will be very difficult to describe what is my kind!
But there are some people we just know we can't go around with, don't we?
Life in Bangalore seems to be just rolling down hill. Initially there was anitcipation, followed by excitment and finally a well deserved comfort in the office and back in the room. However, once the malls, movie and play theatres were visited, there was nothing left in Bangalore. Nothing great or really attractive, only a number of false weekend promises of relaxation and the feel good "big city" factor.
I shall go back to the room and spend ages staring into the TV till I fall asleep. I Noticed one brilliant thing about Star movies yesterday, was watching The day after tomorrow which started at 1:30 in the morning and there wasn't a single commercial break! Long since I had seem a movie without a break.

Water water every where.. not a drop to drink

2006-04-25T22:25:00.000-07:00

Yeah, the water tank supplying water to the the Aquaguard was empty. At 11 in the night we were left without a drop of drinking water. The shops were closed and we couldn't buy mineral water. We walked all the way to the landlord's den, but as expected it was locked. Frustrated and thirsty tenants, we came up with a lot of vengeful idea like stealing the water jar from another room or getting bottles and filling them up from the jars present in the rooms of other tenants. Ideas ran wild, and unfotunately I was the one to suggest the dumbest of them all - "Lets put a couple of buckets of water in the empty Syntax tank, if the water level rises a little maybe there'll be just enough flow into the aquaguard and we could filter enough water for the night. But all of my room mates gave nice little smirks and walked off.
Finally it was decided that the best course of action would be to borrow a couple of bottles of water from considerate neighbours and wait for the municipal water supply to fill the tank.
Such is the life of a poor unemployed intern.
"Boond Boond paani ke liye taras jaate hain!"

Childhood... once more

2006-04-25T02:46:00.000-07:00

On my way to the office the other day, I walked past a park and saw a number of kids playing cricket. The first thought that struck me was, " What day is it? How come there's a holiday today? and if its a holiday why am I going to..."
It was then that the facts struck me. I go to an office and not to attend classes anymore... the kids playing around means nothing other than the fact thats its summer vacation, the days of a long vacation are overfor me though... we need to go to office and meet deadlines and no more of happy afternoons flavoured with home made cookies and notebooks filled with holiday homework.
Its time to move into reality. Gone are the days of running around and begging the powers that be, to accelerate my growth so that I could go to office like dad and have enough money to buy myself a large candy bar every day. I want to play cricket once more and live without having to worry about what I would have for dinner tonight, but then, that time has passed and its time for the much coveted "wild bachelor life".

Who is backward ?

2006-04-20T23:55:00.000-07:00

Who is backward?
The guy who doesn't have enough money to eat, who is not educated enough to read the price printed on the package of rice he has to buy, who cannot afford to send his kids to school, who finds it difficult to procure enough medicine to save his dying relative ?
Or the guy who eats 4 to 6 times a day, maintains a decent living with his family and kids, has a number of pets and is a member of some of the local clubs and societies?
If we have to take care of the backward people of the nation , its imperative that we have a clear method judge who's backward and who's well placed in the society. What if a brahmin doesn't have enough money to eat a square meal a day and a dalit maintains a cowshed of over a hundred cows ? Who is in need of reservation? Even a dumb blonde can answer that.
But I guess our government has lost the ability to reason and to think of such anomalies with the most qualified prime minister in the whole wide world at the head, ashames me further.
For how long will we keep turning a blind eye to the actual needs of the nation in favour of uplifting the mythological backward classes. Gandhi worked for untouchables when there were untouchable. Who are we trying to help with our reservation policies now? People who've already built a fortune by being allowed to surge past the hard working and more deserving 'general category' just because they were born into a family who happen to have been declared backward by some survey conducted in the early independence era?
But who care... with the best Universities in the world looking forward to training the best Indian minds trying desparately to escape the skewed government policies, and recieving encouraging response from us, its already too late.

Then there were none...

2006-04-19T23:58:00.000-07:00

Its all about countdowns... I had contracted this dangerous disease of starting countdowns from my mom. Intially, she used to start countdowns for me during the end term examinations to motivate me to study. The countdowns were meant to make me feel there weren't too many days left and I hardly had to study for another week before the long vacation beautifully punctuated with trips, swimming classes and a customary get together at our country home. She always managed to make me feels nice about the number of day being ticked/scratched/erased off the list. But one thing she did best was deciding the time to start the countdown, so that at no point of time did I feel that there are far too many days left before it gets over!!!
I never manage to get the timing right. The first time I left home for college, I started the countdown the day I reached campus, it definitely doesn't make a fresher happy to think there are a hundred and thirty six days to go before he had a chance to get back home ! Even during exams I started my countdowns far too early and ended up frustrating myself before the last day was struck off the list.
When it came to leaving campus for good, I shouldn't have started a countdown in the first place, it was horrible to even think that I would never step back into that place as a student, ever.
the occasion and timing of a countdown still eludes me :(

End of The mania

2006-04-18T23:18:00.000-07:00

The countdown has truely begun. There are less than two months before I am home, after a long time. The internship ends in another fifty odd days and then there will be a really long holiday !!
The insomnia gave way to peaceful sleep even while Pakistan kept inching towards a comfortable win in the Abu Dhabi match. Channels were changed to have a look at the Champion's League semi final between Barcelona and AC Milan. But that match also turned out pretty boring during the first few minutes I managed to stay up.
Shantaram seems like a nice book for the first hundred odd pages I have managed to read, the most exciting thing about the book is that, for the first time I get to see our culture, dressing, food habits ..almost everything, from the point of view of someone who is not Indian and for whom everything is a different experience!
Especially the description of a Salwar Kameez and that of a Pan vendor, the way we fight to reserve a seat in a local train. The village folks, the livestock that travel in the local trains with as much comfort as we allow ourselves... I have never been to Bombay (never quite got used to the 'Mumbai' word) but the description of the slums, roadside shops, shady bars and the underworld definitely accentuates the impression already created by movies like Satya, Company, D and Sarkar. Hope the book doesn't disappoint me in the end.

Insomnia!!

2006-04-17T22:37:00.000-07:00

Its confirmed now. I have insomnia. For two nights now, I am able to sleep only after the first rays of light cross the sky. Sunday night I fell asleep only after five in the morning and last night it was well past four before I could become acceptably unconcious of the surroundings.
Its the end of the era where sleep used to be an accepted phenomenon. Perhaps the brain is just not tired enough or maybe its the body.
The laziness of sitting in front of a comp seems to be taking its toll! Nothing seems to make me fall asleep...one hundred pages of shantaram, an old bengali movie watched in bits and peices while checking out the cable network channel in the perverse hope for some forbidden visuals (last enjoyed on someone's computer on campus).
The dogs sleep off and everything is totally quiet by three and that last one hour till four is like death. Not a sound and lying there in the silence broken by the mechanical twirling of the fan and the muffled thud of the deoderant bottle dropping off the table onto the matress, hit by the curtains flung around by sudden gusts of wind every now and then.
Then sleep decends like a welcome retreat from the real world into the unconciousness. I am safe finally, tugged away into my world of pure dreamless sleep far far away from the pain of the real world.
It hurts a lot when your only hours of unconciousness which you treasure so much are taken away from you.

Bong, at Heart...

2006-04-16T23:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, at the end of the day I am so much a Bong. To be able to sit cross legged on the floor and dig into a plate of hot rice and curry after almost a hundred days of ' chapati and paneer', was heavenly! Thanks to my cousin who made a fabulous start to the new year weekend for me.
Then the saturday evening, when we ( a friend of mine, whose idea it was in the first place and I) trudged through the muddy crossings of the Bangalore roads to make our way to Bangaliana, a well known Bong restaurant in Kormangala to have our first taste of Luchi (huge puris made of white flour) and Mangsho ( Mutton cooked in the typical Bong style) since the day I left home in January. However, I really couldn't help noticing the bong obsession with English, while we were gulping down our luchis at a breakneck pace, two gaudily dressed women walked in and announced in heavily accented Benglish, "Its too stuffy here!I cannot eat like this!"
One great dinner it was, otherwise !
Humming half forgotten bong songs ( much to the annoyance of the autorickshaw driver, we could figure out) in the autorickshaw all the way back made up for all the lost bongness thanks to a life totally deprived of the bong culture for the past four months in the great garden city!

Bangalore: Uneasiness to Anger

2006-04-13T23:04:00.000-07:00

4:30 p.m.,Wednesday,12th April,2006: "Dr. Rajkumar has expired, crowds have gone berserk, please go home and be careful on the roads"- Multicast from someone in the office

Did he die a natural death? YES
How old was he ? 77
What did he die of ? Cardac arrest

In that case why the riots? NO ANSWER
We'll just walk home from here. lets hang around for some time, we'll go after the things settle down a bit.

5:50 p.m.: "Guys, we have instructions from BITS to send all PS students home. Take a leave tomorrow also, if need be. Leave office right now and make sure you don't pass any comments on the way. just reach home safely" - Mr. Atul Gupta, our Guide

Ok Guys! this is big. lets go.

We stopped at a half opened stall on the way back to eat something, and even before we had finished our meagre plate of idly some fan(atic)s came and asked the owner to shut down! he pleaded with them to let the last of his customers leave.

9:30 p.m."the office will be closed tomorrow. if you haven't had dinner tonight, you can go to office, there will be dinner over there"- Sunil called up

Lets get back to office! Anyways, the bread is inedible!

11:30p.m. " Sir, there's curfew outside, please go safely" - Security guard at the office

Wow, only this was left!

April 13th:

Its was a holiday alright, but nothing to eat, not a shop open. Thankfully, I had some friends living close by and I just went off to their place. It was a horrible day as far as promoting the picture of a peaceful, tech-savvy Bangalore was concerned. People breaking house, cars,bikes,buses, setting buses on fire, killing constables! ( All you had to do to save your property was just place a picture, a xerox copy would do, of the late Film star on it!)
No doubt, there are two Bangalores, one of the local youth seething with anger and vengeful hatred towards the "North Indians" who've made their Bangalore what it is today. The other of the computers, fab malls, multiplexes and pubs. I guess we have been foolish to have expected the local unemployed and uneducated youth to give up their own right to the city of Bangalore (Is it Bengaluru yet?) to some MNC's who want to set up centers of extra ordinary profit in and around the city.
Or am I just being too presumptuous and sarcastic?

Home, sweet Home!

2006-04-11T23:24:00.001-07:00

Never felt this home sick since the first week of my first year. But I still don't know if this is the typical 'April homesickness' thats common to every BITSian or I really really want to go home. Just that life has become totally insignificant in every respect. There is no single element of change in life. I know what I have to have for breakfast, I know what code I have to rattle off the keyboard, I know what lunch I'll get and exactly how many hours I have to wait to have a go at the TT table! Dinner, fixed, TV, boring and sleep ,vanishing gradually. Looks like I am becoming an Insomaniac completely!
The reservation thingie is causing quite an uproar among the (prospective) student community and as I happen to be of the same community, I have to shout my lungs out! Its frigging ridiculous, Minister !! who do you think we are? A nation full of morons who will sit quietly and lap up the spoilt milk you lay before us in form of an outrageous bill to reserve half the seats in the best colleges in the country for certain classes!
The number of people going abroad to study and ending up working abroad is increasing with every passing year and if our dear worthy ministers don't understand this, all the people who can afford to go abroad will definitely go and the general category people who are unfortunate enough to have had a little feeling for their country will soon vanish off the face of the country dogged by the fear of failure to secure a seat in the premier institutions of the country in the face of the great reservation policies of the vote hungry government.
I am ashamed to be a citizen of this nation governed by people with such narrow political objectives. Its ridiculous and every person who is capable should contribute to the protests in every possible way.

Chicken and Play.

2006-04-09T22:01:00.000-07:00

I Had a pretty fulfilling weekend. It had been a long time since I saw a play, till this saturday when I finally decided to go for this play called Harvey written by Mary Chase. Two reasons why I went for the play, one: the usual one, boredom; two: The play had been performed by the English Drama CLub in BITS before we had joined and I wanted to check out the standard of plays our audi had seen.

However, the Audi ( JSS Auditorium) was much smaller than expectations and the sound system was also pretty rusty) , but the stage set-up and performances made up for anything that was missing. Extraordinary performances, each one, the actors were very much in character even during the curtain call! However, the articulation of dialogues in the first scene were slightly muffled and unclear, could very well have been a sounds screw up though. Overall, a really nice way to spend a Saturday evening.
Sunday was spent in bed, more than 13 hours of pure, dreamless sleep! We decided to break the 'No Chicken' phase with a Maharaja Mac burger at Forum. I have a very relevant complaint against the Maharaja Mac, the amount of wrapping involved is just too much!! by the time you you are done with the paperwork ( which comes in form of tissue and card paper trying desperately to keep the burger in shape) you have your fingers covered with mayonaisse! However, if you can succesfully ignore the oh so ill mannered stares of all the junk food experts and the table mannered smarties, the burger is delicious, especially if you are having chicken after a haitus of almost a month!

Classic : Nothing beats this !

2006-04-06T23:23:00.000-07:00

It was the beginning of second year, I was sitting in Goyal's room trying to get some pressing work done. At that point of life, I was one of those ardent , 'ROck Suck!' Bong Soft Music Lovers! He started off with November Rain and I pleaded with him to stop the torture. All I got in return was , "This is Heaven, just look at this man and his guitar and try to listen, not just hear and for the last time, ROCK DOESN'T SUCK! " Obedient junior that I was, I settled down in front of the comp and thus was initiated into the religion of Rock.

The Most appealing Images were however of "this man and his guitar". Some of those images will always form my very conception of Rock Music. The long haired, cigarette smoking arrogance of the master. Slash playing the incredile solo in front of the church definitely forms one of my most favourite parts of the song, the best however came when he walked on top of the Piano for the heart rending solo ... nothing beats that !

We have spent so many evenings watching that video and mumbling , "god level!", or " no one beats him" ..or similiar phrases. Slash will definitely form a great part of my college life.

Here's to the greatest lead guitarist of all time!

Simon and Garfunkel

2006-04-06T22:25:00.000-07:00

I hadn't heard their name till third year, and I hadn't heard more than one song of theirs till Final semester, but thanks to Srinivas, there are some of their best songs on my playlist now and they are good, to say the least!

There aren't many slow songs in English that I really like, but somehow, all their songs seem to have something very different about them. Be it the quite contentment of leaves that are green or the soft, lively tone of the sound of silence or the compassion of Mrs. Robinson, they always seem to touch some hidden chord in the brain too crammed with the tunes of an electric guitar or the drums. Their tunes are different, yet there's something that binds them all together to form an extraordinary collection of soul stirring lyrics and tunes.

Another thing about them is that I find their tunes pretty similiar to another bengali band I liked a lot, Mohiner Ghoraguli. Somewhere they match a lot when it comes to the thoughts they portray.
However the song I liked best was the first I heard, thanks to Ramya, called I am a Rock.
Check it out,

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Favours and misfortunes

2006-04-05T23:02:00.000-07:00

Have you ever done something as a favour to yourself? Sounds weird, doesn't it? Isn't everything we do a favour to ourself?
Yeah..lots of questions, but seriously, giving up or disassociating yourself with some things can really become favours to the self if they become painful and difficult to give up, at the same time. Thats when you have to make and extra effort to break lose, let it go and move on. Thats when you do a favour to yourself by deciding that there are other things in life.
However, the scar remains and definitely comes back to haunt you, it becomes difficult to figure out whether its a lesson you learnt or a fear that will never leave you. Whether it helps you to avoid similiar mistakes or not take chances at all, is something only time can tell.
Again, time or distance don't seem to be the best healers. You just have to be strong enough to cure yourself rather than wait for time or distance to do the needful.

The favour is done and its time to find the strength.

Sweet Reminder

2006-04-04T22:07:00.000-07:00

Its Randeep's birthday today. Just like 'nice' roommates would behave, we went around looking for a proper cake for him, but there were none. Partly it was our fault, 9:45 in the night is a little too late to go looking for a cake and partly it was the guy in sweet chariot who had only closed half his shutter when we reached his shop and very smugly he told us, "We are closed". The delicious chocolate cake with dark syrupy chocolate and cherries was lying there right in front of us, but it was too late. Finally we had to settle for some chocolate pastries
But 12 o'clock was fun! just like the great old BITSian days we wrapped up all our phone calls and pulled him out of bed and started the bumps session cerimoniously, but there was a techincal problem, with only three people, two of whom were always required to hold the birthday boy, only one person could hit at a time !
But we couldn't let any such problem spoil the fun, could we? :P
Sapre, being the darling that he is (to randeep) abstained from the 'dreadful' activity of kicking a fellow human being, leaving only varun and me to do the honours. Kicking had become too difficult for us, therefore only 'rapid fire' ( the term for slapping one's @$$ with his own slippers to cause the maximum amount of pain ) was executed with practiced efficiency. After that the usual hugs and 'happy birthday, da ' followed and we polished off the little pastries in 10 seconds flat. The only thing missing was the 'ANC treat' but in this weird city of Bangalore, its not possible to find any shop open after twelve.
Whatever be the case, in the end it was a really sweet reminder of all the great birthdays in celebrated in BITS !

Random thoughts

2006-04-02T23:11:00.000-07:00

These are some of the things we (Sapre ,Varun and I) talked about, this weekend. They seem to form such a clear picture of whats going on in our minds...how clearly they portray our boredom and disgust for the city of computers...
1. "12 weeks gone ; 11 more to go"
2. "Too long be , I have never been away from home for this long!"
3. "Job life bhi aisa hi hone wala hay saale!"
4. "Kal, main SHUUUUR gym jayoonga"
5. "Kuchh kam bhi to nahi hay"
6. "MacD's mein Khaatein hay aaj, yahee dinner khaa khaa kar pak gaya hoon"
7. "Going that far is a pain!"
8. "So jaao saalon!"
9."Utth! Aalsi ! jab dekho sota rehta hay!"
And another weekend suddenly goes by, another week starts off in utter hurry to get struck off the count-down list in a corner of my little notebook. Home beckons, we are not homesick, just totally bored with our lives.
Monday morning follows the familiar pattern of shaving, bathing, crunches and breakfast (Shifted from bun to a slightly better breakfast of juice and cake on the insistance of a friend who thought I was running the risk of getting stomach ulsers due to insufficient breakfast, the weird thing people think about in life!)
And I settle smoothly into this couch cum chair and start rattling off lines of code on the very familiar key board... another 10 weeks to go after this one!

CAMERA ...finally!

2006-03-31T22:30:00.000-08:00

Finally ..I have my camera ! Bought it in somewhat of a hurry, not hurry exactly, but this time I didn't take too much time to do the necessary research ( one of the pros of working in a software development company, unlimited internet access, be it in terms of checking out different manufacturers and specifications or seeking my 'geeky' and 'gadget crazy' friends' opinion :P)

It was only day before yesterday that I came across this Sony model, which rests happily at the bottom of my cupboard right now. Another day was spent in comparing Kodak, Nikon, Canon and Olympus equivalents and the evening, in reading some n number of reviews of the performance of the camera, written by different users all over the world. Information made space for itself somewhere in my already crowded little brain. About half a dozen calls made to the dealers in Bangalore and I was all set to shell out a considerable chunk of my painfully accumulated savings for this desperately required new toy!

Guess I was the first person in the shop today and by the time the deal was closed I was pretty happy with the biggest purchase I have made all by myself (Dad had gone with me when we bought the comp) , till date. Will post the first batch of snaps once the Bats are charged and I have learn the troubleshooting manual by heart :D.

Holiday (Optional)

2006-03-29T20:49:00.000-08:00

Its fun coming to office on a holiday! Every thing is different; 'relaxed' as a friend of mine would want to put it. To start with, the parking lot, with only half a dozen bikes and as many cars would be empty enough to play short pitch cricket!
The office would be really empty and its a wierd feeling to sit in my little corner when I know there are only 5 people instead of the regular 25 on a normal day, sitting there. The cafe would be less crowded and so will the be the TT room.... That reminds me, someone encouraged me to play as much TT as possible today as I wouldn't have to fight for the bat, nice. Lunch would be pretty frustrating though.

I am obsessed with Don McLean's 'American Pie' right now..its one master piece of a song.

To sir, with Love

2006-03-28T21:15:00.000-08:00

It was ten minutes past seven in the morning when my phone rang. As usual I was in a deep ,all encompassing slumber when I picked it up. Its common knowledge that only my mom can take the liberty to call me up this early in the morning, but I was REALLY surprised to hear a long forgotten voice on the other side... It was Prodipta Hore, my maths and computer science teacher in class ten!!! Talk about long lost friends, and long lost teachers! And the memories came rushing back, all the tamtrums we threw in class, the tuition class where we tried to make life difficult for him in every possible way, his dissapointment at my screwing up computer science....
It takes so little time to get back in touch and he actually found out my phone number and gave me a call! Thats touching. And all this after 'zero' contact for six long years. The last time I met him was in August , 2000.
But we'll definitely meet sometime in the next week and the past life will be resurrected and we'll laugh at our younger selves and reflect on the future.

If your are destined to meet someone, somewhere in some way, it will definitely happen, but till it happens, keep the faith.

Drifter...

2006-03-26T21:00:00.000-08:00

I am NOT influenced by "Being Cyrus". But its a nice movie, none the less.

Worth watching, if nothing else, for Dimple Kapadia's 'old age babe' portrayal of an aspiring woman being stuck with a wasted, day dreamer of a husband. Boman Irani as the hot headed, chick brained parsee banker and Naseeruddin Shah in all his dreamy mastery in the enacting the aforsaid "wasted, day dreamer". Saif, as usual, is in brilliant form, I hope his 'Italian' luck doesn't abandon him too fast though. Its a brilliant movie, no huge messages, no great mushy love talk... no moral in the end. Looks like Govinda style entertainment (read: 4 songs, 5 dance sequences, 114 Jharkhand accented dialogues , 3 car chases and an odd fight sequence) is truely over !

Otherwise the weekend was a celebration of "solitude"! Long, lonely bus rides through Bangalore. Somehow, I have come to like these long winding bus rides on the 201. Sitting alone in some corner in Crosswords and reading the free flowing narrative about Swaminathan and friends (hope that book is still on the rack when I go there next). Spending "quality time" with myself on the terrace trying to find a star in the night sky, waiting for my eyelids to start drooping, the last walk down the narrow staircase and the final act of barbarian self defence by swating a dozen mosquitoes before I am tired enough to drop off.

Google Rocks ( Thanks for the Idea, Ojas :P)

2006-03-24T22:34:00.000-08:00

Self Explanatory :P

Short Cuts...

2006-03-24T04:19:00.000-08:00

There are none!
If you want to find one, start building it right away.
If you want a morsel of food, run and get it, don't wait for some s#$ o$ a B#@$%h to get it for you. If you are expecting some favour from someone, stop expecting. Everything has a price attached to it...and if you are expecting a little bit of sympathy from the world for what your state is right now, just go screw yourself.
When it becomes difficult to grab a Table tennis bat without being uncivilized or stubborn or outright kiddish, that is exactly what the world looks like.
Every person we come across is a loser in his or her own way, its just how well we hide him within us and put up a facade, and right now, it seems, none of us are bothered with the hiding part. Since no one is bothered about what is right and what isn't, why care?
Reminds me of a caption on Steve austin's T shirt, "Don't expect mercy @ 3:16" ....
Just replace mercy with maturity and we have our whole new world!! Ha Ha! I am so excited...

Solitude

2006-03-22T20:44:00.000-08:00

Sitting in the corner of a comfortable office floor, with a computer connected to the internet and window right beside me to allow all my "staring into space" activity and ill advised thoughtfulness at times, I enjoy my solitude. I wouldn't call it loneliness, but a solitude which is comfortable and unnerving at the same times.
Come to think of it, there is no one (other than myself) in the world who actually knows what I want, what makes me happy, what are my insecurities or fears and hence I am less vulnerable, but I am lonely too. As much as I savour my solitude, I wouldn't mind letting some people enter my life and understand me, give me some company, help me know myself better. But some deep seated fear of being hurt again by allowing people to come really close, of becoming utterly predictable kills the urge and sends me back to enjoying the solitude of a quiet anonymous life.
People will say I am contradicting myself again, but I guess we can live sanely only if we are well aquainted with both the sides of the coin.
Listen to this song sometime...

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
and I'm the only one and I walk alone

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone

Read between the lines
What's fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...