Random Reflections

2011, 1983 and a little more...

2011-04-03T08:24:00.000-07:00

I watched with my fingers crossed, as Dhoni hit a massive six over long on to grab the Cricket World Cup and made India the World Champions. As his teams-mates carried Sachin over their shoulders, a nation erupted into joy and celebrations. Last night I encountered some of the most wonderful and unbelievable scenes of celebrations on roads: people carrying the Indian flags on motorbikes and cars chanting "Bharat Maata ki Jai", crazy boys tearing their shirts off and dancing their hearts out; strangers shaking hands, hugging each other and giving high fives. Somehow all our differences just evaporated by the warmth of this victory. It may be for a day but atleast for a day, nobody seemed to be rich or poor, nobody was a Hindu or a Muslim, nobody belonged to a high caste or low caste. Instead, we all were common men and women, natives of INDIA, with a common feeling of ecstasy and pride. This feeling was something special, something grand.

Amongst this lovable chaos, my mind raced back to some past memories of the time, I had spent with my father. He was an avid cricket fan. We watched many matches together, on TV. We had a lot of heated arguements while discussing cricket as he used to always rank his generation of cricketrs much higher than my generation of cricketers. For him, Kapil Dev and Vivian Richards were the greatest cricketers of all time. We (me and my brother) used to roll on floor laughing when he kept emphasizing that the opening pair of Sunil Gavaskar and Chetan Chauhan was better than the opening pair of Sachin and Sourav. But the most irritating part of his conversations was his repetitive lores of the Indian victory of 1983 World Cup. He used to tell us how he and his friends and brothers cheered and chanted "Go India Go".... "Go Kapil Go...", how they celebrated the big occasion on streets and how much proud he felt watching on TV, his hero Kapil holding the World Cup trophy from the famous Lord's balcony. I never understood his passion for this event and especially for players like Roger Binny, Mohinder Amarnath and also Kapil Dev to some extent. I always thought that these players may be good but they can never match the genius of Sachin, Ganguly and Yuvraj.

But after yesterday's win, all his cricket conversations, are now making sense to me. I can relate to his passion and feelings. All these years, I have cheered for our team, much like him, with passion and pride and waited long for them to win the ultimate cup. Over the years many of the players of my generation have retired without living this dream.As these players were finding up new careers - some as commentators, others as state cricket board administrators, my interest in Cricket was slowing fading away. Only Sachin was the glue that kept me to stick to important matches, asking scores, criticizing young cricketers who were undoing all the good work that Sachin did for the team. I now can understand my father's favoritism for his generation of cricketers. I now can understand why he preferred watching the repeats of 1983 world cup Final match over the recordings of Sachin's marvelous batting of Sharjah cup.

The loud noise of crackers, brought me back to the present. As I watched my friends dancing and rejoicing, I made a promise to myself - I will narrate the stories of this day to my son when he grows up and I will not give it a damn if he is irritated by listening to it over and over again.

In the name of HONOUR (Final Part)

2010-09-24T07:23:00.000-07:00

(A follow up from Part-1)

Kamla looked stone-faced, staring into nothingness.

Khemraaj broke the grave silence, "Sister, why are you saying so? What curse are you talking about?"

But Rahul didn't gave Kamla a chance to reply. He, himself, angrily, jumped into conversation, "Now, this was the only idiotic thing left in this matter. A curse...What a joke. In 21st century, these people still believe in these stupid things. Curse...my foot. These people are illiterate and this is the only curse, I can comprehend. Khemraaj, pack your bags. We will leave today evening. I now have enough matter for reporting."

Rahul pulled out a cigarette in disgust and desperately, rolled down the switch of his lighter. To add to his agony, the lighter didn't work.

Khemraaj helped him lit his cigarette with his match-box and said, "Rahul sir, lets listen to her. May be she will tell us something worthwhile."

Kamla didn't wait for Rahul's approval and started speaking, "This deadly situation is all because of the cruelties inflicted on Tejas and his family by Sarpanch Joginder Singh. Infact, all the panchs including my husband and other influential people of this village were involved in this."

Rahul interrupted in between, "Khemraaj, this is not a time for listening to bed-side stories. Let's go."

Khemraaj looked in despair with a little anger towards Rahul but his position in the company forced him to change his expressions to helplessness.

He made a final attempt, "Sir, may be, what we are going to hear is all rubbish. But lets give it a try. This woman has come out from her home, to tell us something that she strongly feels we should know. We are unknown to her but she has a hope that we will listen to her and may provide some kind of help for something. Its not an easy step for a woman, in this village, to come out and talk to strangers in this manner. In their entire lifetimes, very few people are able to speak their minds. Let us, at least, respect her courage."

Rahul was dumb-struck. He had never anticipated that Khemraaj can be so mature. Atleast, he was, till now, unaware of his own immaturity as a journalist. Khemraaj seemed to be in-charge now.

Kamla continued, "Tejas was the son of Jairaaj, a farmer with a small piece of land. He was a hard-working young boy who toiled his land with his father from early morning to afternoon. In the evening, he worked in our home looking after our cattle. He was an ever smiling boy and the whole village was full of his praise. I don't know, how he came in contact with Gauri, who was the daughter of our village's Sarpanch Joginder Singh. I, still can't understand, how Tejas dared to even think that he can marry Gauri. Love should always be backed with possible consequences, atleast for the poor and weak. But this was not the case here. They started meeting each other in a mango-yard, near the main village well. Some people say that Gauri had plans of eloping with Tejas to a nearby village, to his relatives' place. But before they could do such a thing, their relation went public in the village. It was a matter of great dishonour for Joginderji. Then, followed a string of very gruesome and unfortunate events."

Kamla's eyes turned red, perhaps by the fury of the past. She struggled to control her tears and said, "Joginder Singh, along with my husband and some other rich villagers, burnt the home and crops of Tejas. His parents were burnt alive in front him. They tied Tejas along with their cattle and didn't give him anything to eat for 3 days. They constantly beat him for 3 days and on the night of the 3rd day, they brought Gauri to see him. Then, in front of Gauri, they cut his fingers one by one, abusing him and at their height of cruelity, they crushed Tejas into a wheat grinder. All the remains of his flesh were thrown for crows and vultures to eat. Sahab, Tejas died an extremely painful death.

Rahul and Khemraaj were shocked to listen to these gory details. Rahul, with a much softened voice now, spoke," What about police? Law? How can somebody do this to anybody?"

"There is no law here, sahab. Panchs are the law-makers and the law-breakers. Nobody opened their mouths or else they would have met the same fate"

"But why did they kill Tejas and his parents? And in such brutal way. They could have easily made sure that Gauri is not able to elope. They could have asked Tejas and his parents to leave the village. They could have married Gauri to someone else. There could have have been so many other possibilities. Why did they murder them so horrifically?"

"For their honour.....false honour" Kamla burst into tears.

"But what happened to Gauri? Is she alive?" - Khemraaj asked hurriedly, as though, fearing that everybody seemed to forget her.

"That's what is this curse all about, Sahab. People say that Gauri lost her consciousness watching the wickedness of his father. When she came to her senses, she had gone mad.One unfateful night, she came out to the main village well, where she and Tejas, used to meet. For hours, she kept weeping and grieving for her love. At night, she cut her hairs and fingers and threw them into the well, cursing the village for her situation. People say, she died on the edge of the well, and all her blood kept dripping into the well."

"Believe me, it is Gauri's curse which has brought the village into this situation. People say that her spirit still haunts near the well and in the near by mango-yard."

Kamla wiped her tears and said, "Call us illiterate, sahab but I challenge you to try all the methods your government plans to solve the water problem of this village. You can give any reason for this situation but I and all the villagers know the real cause of it. If you can, try to bring out the real cause in your magazine". She left for her home, may be to fled from the village soon.

Rahul was shaken. His education, his logic and his very being were defying the 'curse' part of the whole story, out rightly. But an inner voice was almost making him deaf and blind. He wanted to believe in this superstition.

While going back to Train Station, he went to the village well. The entire surrounding was engulfed into an eeriness. He looked into the well, not knowing, whether he wanted to see water or the blood. Nothing was there. He was in dilemna whether to report the scarcity of water or the scarcity of humanity!

(End Note: More than 1000 people get killed in India every year due to some form of Honour Killing. Visit this: http://www.honourkilling.in This country, which boasts of exponential GDP growth, rapid development and world leadership, still needs some strong legislation to deal with such heinous crime)

आज जब सुबह आई....

2010-09-13T22:43:00.000-07:00

आज जब सुबह आई; अंगड़ाई के साथ तुम्हारा ख्याल भी लायी ;

पीछे पीछे, दबे पाँव, एक शिकवा, वो एक गिला चला आया;

बीत चुके वक़्त का, एक सिला भी याद आया ;

एक कंगन की कहानी, वो मेरी छोटी सी नादानी ;

कुछ ख्वाबो का ताना बाना, एक बेतुकी जिद का फ़साना;

वो बात अब नहीं, पर फिर भी कोई बात तों है,

वरना आज अचानक् क्यों उस गुज़रे ज़माने का चलन याद आया|

In the name of HONOUR - Part-1

2010-09-09T00:58:00.000-07:00

'Don't give me such kind of assignments Prat! You know I am not good at this stuff. Besides, at first place, I even wonder why we have to do it, at all' - Rahul screamed at the top of his lungs.

'Look Rahul, this is not in my hands. The decisions have a say of many other people, apart from me. We have to do this cover story for our November issue and you have got full 1 month. Why are you panicking so much? Take it as an unusual vacation. Go to this village, roam around, talk to few people and prepare a write up. Its a chance for you to have a small break from the regular city life.' - Pratham said, emitting the cigarette smoke into the air while scribbling something on a paper.

'Its a chance for you to have a small break from the regular city life.' - Rahul mimicked angrily.

'Don't be a brat. It will be easy. Here are the contact details of Khemraj. He is our collegue and operates from the district to which this village belongs. He will assist you in your work.

Pratham handed over the piece of paper to Rahul. Rahul slipped it, deep into his pocket as if he did not want to find it out ever.

Rahul was working as a journalist in a news magazine office at New Delhi. He was assigned to cover a story about the sudden fled-ding of inhabitants of a village named 'Gurupur' in far eastern India. For Rahul, this assignment appeared extremely boring and tasteless. There was nothing to do here. There was scaricity of drinking water in the village and hence people were fleding from it. It was so much straight. He did not want to waste his time and energy, writing about it. Infact, there was nothing to write about, according to him, in this case. It ought to be a maximum 4 lines mention in a small corner on the second-last page of the magazine but his editor was asking to write a cover story on this.

The train stopped at a place that hardly looked like a train station. Rahul stepped down and instantly thought of getting back to Delhi. But comforting thoughts, very seldom, turn into reality. He pulled his suitcase and dragged himself towards the exit.

"Rahul Sir, electricity is a big problem here" - said Khemraj while placing the candle into the niche in wall.

"We will start from tomorrow. I have identified few people who we can interview" - he added.

"Khemraaj, now seriously tell me. What do you think about this? Why are these people are going away from their homes"

"Sir, there is huge scarcity of drinking water in the village. To remain alive they have to find a suitable place"

"Exactly..., then what are we doing here. What story would we cover, whats there to write about...Tell me"

"Sir, I am in this job for about 10 years now. Not everyday, you will get exciting or challenging stuff. Sometimes, you have to live through this kind of work too. I have arranged for some villagers to talk to us tomorrow. Lets talk to them and see what we can report."

Khemraaj succeeded a little in soothing Rahul's frustration. He pulled the bed sheet over his face to rescue himself from mosquitoes and searched for some sleep.

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The morning looked sad and deserted. While, strolling through the muddy village roads, they saw many people travelling along with their belongings and children. It was difficult to distinguish between the baggage and the children as both were being handled almost similarly. Rahul lighted up another cigarette. It was his fourth since morning. They were going to meet Ramdin, one of the Panchs of the village.

Khemraaj greeted Ramdin who was adjusting his hukka, "Hello Ramdinji, we hope you are having a nice morning." Ramdin smiled and replied, "Ram-Ram, come, I was waiting for you."

Ramdin arranged 2 chairs for them and ordered his wife, Kamla, for 2 glasses of water. Kamla disappeared into the kitchen, while Rahul tried to fit himself into the rickety chair. Khemraaj pulled out his recorder and started juggling with its knobs. Ramdin became alert and adjusted his clothes. Rahul smiled sarcastically. Ramdin became conscious and shyly said," You see, this is my first interview!". Meanwhile, Kamla handed over the glasses of water to Rahul and Khemraaj. Ramdin caught Rahul noticing that the glasses were only half-filled and quickly commented, "This is out of the last stock we saved".

"So, you are also planning to leave"

"Yes, we have to. There is not much drinking water left now".

"How did this problem arise. I guess you and other villagers have been living in this village for many years. What has suddenly happened."

"Nothing has suddenly happened, sahab but its quite straight-forward. For 3 years in a row, monsoons have not been good. All the wells in the village have dried up. There is no water to drink."

"But what about the initiatives of government. They have started the constuction of check-dams and deepening of wells. I heard, they have also formed a Village Water and Sanitation Committee here for the management of water-harvesting plants. What about all this?"

"Nothing is happening Sir. The government officials are just filling up their books and pockets."

Rahul asked some more routine questions and gestured Khemraaj to get up. He noticed that Kamla was looking at him, mysteriously, perhaps filled with a little fear.

From Ramdin's place, they went to meet some other people, interviewed them and went back to their place of stay. Ramdin's wife was standing at their door.

"This village is repenting for its sins. This situation is due to a curse on all villagers. Believe me Sahab, this is a curse."

Khemraaj and Rahul looked at each other. They were not sure how to react to Kamla's words.

---- (To be Continued)

Happy First Birthday!

2010-09-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Saatvik,

Congratulations!!!You are 1 year old today. Ah.....looking at these pictures make me feel that you are already a big boy by now.

I want to believe that you still have not learned how to handle nature's calls skillfully. But the naughty twinkle in your eyes makes me doubt that you are aware of everything and you knowingly soak your liquids on my clothes. Sometimes, on my face too(on my most unlucky days).

Last year has been an year of so many events and happenings. You, ofcourse, were the center, for most of them. Everything seems to be for you and around you. And why not? You have given so much joy to everyone of us. Infact, your grand parents seem to have got a new life altogether. I have never seen them behaving so childishly, lively and sometimes awkward, I must say. And your mom - what should I say about her. You are her most prized possession, more important than anybody, even much more important than me. I am really surprised by your unique connection with her. You are still not able to speak anything, but she seems to understand every little gesture of yours and every little thing you require. She knows exactly when you are hungry or thirsty, when you want to be held in lap or when you want to be left on the ground. She is perfectly aware of your wake up timings, almost to the precision of a minute. She knows everything about you. You, kind of, communicate with your eyes with her. I don't know how both of you just perfectly fit with each-other. May be, this is what mothers are all about. Am I jealous?

(Watch your finger kid!!)

Probably yes, because I am completely on the opposite end. I always end up holding you from the wrong side. Somehow, you always get uncomfortable in my lap after a certain period of time. You are always more interested in sucking my mobile phone than playing with me. Though you seem to enjoy when I make you jump in the air, but that fun lasts for only 2-3 minutes and soon, you start looking around, searching for your mother. I don't know why you start crying inspite of the fact that I try to take utmost care while holding you. Now, this is not fair. I sometimes make a cartoon of myself and work really hard to entertain you but guess what, it almost always ends up in a flop show. Your mother gives me tips about building a rapport with you, but frankly speaking, I find those tips completely illogical and irrational. Your mom says that I don't play with you, instead I mess with you. But I don't...believe me.....Perhaps, I am just so terrible at these things. Anyways, I have not lost hope. I will definitely make you fall in love with me one day.

There came a few lows in past year, as well and the biggest one of those was when you fell terribly ill and had to be hospitalized for 3 days. I was away from home for a month and nobody told me about this. I only came to know once you were back home. Your mother told that your whole body had swollen due to some kind of bacterial infection and you were in so much pain. I believe you fought bravely, with a little help from the doctor, to beat the disease. I am so proud of you for this and I feel guilty, I was not there in such demanding times. I missed you so much while I was away.

You have introduced me to the joy of being able to grow up again. I had completely forgot the simple pleasures of life. Now, with you, it seems I have re-discovered them. I am not in any kind of hurry now. I like sitting idle, watching you, trying to understand your strange and sometimes silly expressions. I like when you roll your tongue in awkward manner and close your lips, almost spitting at me. I don't know why you turn upside down and try to crawl with the help of your head. Its fun to watch, though. My heart comes to my mouth when you fall , at-times, trying to drag or stand up. But now, watching you, I understand that falling is an important part of learning how to stand up. You rise strongly everytime you fall. Nothing seems to be impossible to you. You try to grab the sun-rays , you try to hold your own shadow and you never care for the fact that you have reached to the end of the bed. Gravity simply doesn't matter to you at all. I like when you get excited and throw your little hands in air when a pigeon flutters its wings on our balcony railing. Never before, I had realized that watching pigeons can provide so much joy.

And I also like to play along you, with your toys. Here is one little secret. Though I show everybody that I am playing with your toys to make you happy, but the fact is, I myself enjoy them very much. You see, they make such wonderful toys these days. I especially like that monkey with the long neck. And you know what, these days I am searching for the big dolphin, I brought for you. Your mom has hided it from me. She says, I will break it. I like when she remarks that she is having a tough time in handling 2 kids - you and me. I feel privileged to be put in your class.

I like watching your mom trying to make you sleep. While doing so, she is so much full of love and care for you. Its amazing to see that contentment on her face. You see, mothers are people who spend their nights, awake, just to make sure that their kids sleep peacefully. Mothers...hmmmphhhhh.....I also tried to help you sleep many times but instead, ended up disturbing the sleep of neighbors. I promise, I will practice hard to improve at it. But I like it very much, when your mom or your grandmother compare your certain mannerisms with me and say: "LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON".

Happy Birthday once again dear! A large part of your birthday cake, I brought today, will be devoured by me but I am sure in the coming years, you will fight with me to have the most of it. I have one more thing to share with you. Before you, I was never ever a baby-friendly person. I was not a 'baby-hater' but I was also not a 'baby-lover'. I was reluctant to hold babies, never enjoyed their company and atleast never found them 'CUTE', for sure. But with you, I have changed and it feels lot better to be what I am at present than what I was in past. I am now not shy to accept that I am a baby person. Day by day, you are evolving into such a wonderful son. Its great to have lived some amazing moments of life with you. We have crossed 1 year and I guess, we are comfortably poised to enjoy the rest of our journey together.

No, I am not finished yet..... :)

I hope you will grow up to have the indomitable spirit similar to that of the person shown in the below video or may be better than him. I wish I can be a father like the one shown here or may be better than him. ;)

My Birthday Cake

2010-08-26T00:15:00.000-07:00

(This happened almost literally with me today. :) Thank You Dear wife for such lovely cake)

Birthdays are nature's way of saying to have more cakes!!

शबरी के बेर

2010-08-05T12:41:00.000-07:00

"माई, अनोखी पगली हो तुम! किसको पता की राम यहाँ आयेंगे या नहीं और वो यहाँ क्यों आयेंगे| क्या वो तुमको जानते हैं? क्या तुमने कोई संदेसा भिजवाया है? विचित्र बातें करती हो तुम| इतना बड़ा संसार है| उन्हें क्या पता की कोई शबरी कई वर्षों से उनकी राह देख रही है| वो राजा हैं| तुम तों ऐसे ही भगवान् मान के बैठी हो| अरे, भगवान् हैं तों आये क्यों नहीं अभी तक| इतने वर्षों से देख रहा हूँ - प्रतिदिन पूजा करती हो, गहरे जंगले से फूल और फल चुनती हो, भजन गाती हो, रास्ते के कांटे साफ़ करती हो, लोगों के अट्टहास का विषय बनती हो| पागल हुए जा रही हो| क्यों दुःख देती हो इतना अपने को| तुम्हारे ह्रदय की पीर का रामजी को कुछ नहीं पता| तुम समझ क्यों नहीं रही हो, वो नहीं आयेंगे, वो नहीं आयेंगे|" - कुछ खीज कर मैंने इस अध्-पगली बुढिया को समझाने का प्रयत्न किया| जाने कहाँ से वो यहाँ, ऋषि मतंग के आश्रम में आ गयी थी और जाने कहाँ से रामजी से मिलने का विचार अपने ह्रदय से लगा बैठी| गुरूजी ने भी ना जाने क्या सोच कर इस भीलनी को यहाँ रहने की अनुमति प्रदान कर दी| पर जो भी हो, शबरी माई ने अपनी लगन और सेवा-भाव से सभी आश्रम वासियों का मनं जीत लिया| इसी कारण, मैं यदा-कदा शबरी माई को ये रामजी से मिलने के व्यर्थ विचार को त्यागने का सुझाव देता, पर माई कहाँ सुनने वाली थी| लगता था, वो तों राम की भक्ति में लीन हो अपना विवेक और समझ, सब गवां बैठी थी|

मेरी बातें सुन, एक गहरी सांस छोड़ कर बोली, "प्रभु राम बड़े दयालूँ हैं| वो अपने भक्तों का पूरा ध्यान रखते हैं| मैं तों इतनी समर्थ भी नहीं की अपने मुख से उनकी सच्ची प्रशंशा कर सकूं| अगर वो नहीं आये हैं तों इसमें उनका दोष नहीं है| मेरी ही भक्ति में कुछ त्रुटि रह गयी होगी| पर मेरा मन जानता है की वो ज़रूर आयेंगे| जग वालों के लिए मैं अछूत हूँ पर मुझे विश्वास है की राम के स्पर्श से ही मेरी नैया पार लगेगी| तुम देखना, तरु, वो ज़रूर आयेंगे|"

"वाह ऱी मेरी भोली मैया| तुम भी कमाल हो| कितना सरल तर्क दिया है की अगर राम नहीं आये तों इसमें भी तुम्हारी ही कमी है| कहाँ से लाती हो इतना प्रेम और इतनी श्रद्धा| अब भोजन कर लो या फिर राम नाम से ही पेट भर लोगी" - मैं, दीपक जलाते-जलाते बोला और अपनी ऊँगली जला बैठा| शबरी माई तपाक से बोली, "और करो मेरे राम का उपहास| यही होगा तुम्हारे साथ"| हम दोनों हँस दिए!

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कुटिया के बाहर बहुत कोलाहल था| सभी लोग बदहवास से इधर उधर भाग रहे थे| एक पल के लिए मुझे लगा की किसी दानव ने आक्रमण कर दिया है पर लोगों के चेहरे प्रसन्नता से दमक रहे थे| उन पर भय नहीं, ख़ुशी व्याप्त थी| मैंने लगभग भुज का हाथ पकड़ उसे रोका और पुछा, "ये क्या हो रहा है, भुज| सब लोग कहाँ जा रहे हैं"|

पूरा मार्ग 'जय श्रीराम' के उच्चारण से गूँज रहा था| लगा, जैसे पक्षी भी यही चहचहा रहे थे| चारों ओर से पुष्प वर्षा हो रही थी| मैं आश्चर्यचकित, ठिठका सा खड़ा था| विश्वास ही नहीं हुआ की स्वय्मं राम और लखन मेरे सामने थे! कितना आलौकिक रूप था उनका, कितना तेजस्वी व्यक्तित्व | जैसा सुना था, उससे कहीं बढ़कर पाया| मेरा सम्मोहन, शबरी माई की वाणी से भंग हुआ ,"देखो तरु, मैं कहती थी ना, मेरे राम आयेंगे! मेरे राम, ये सब लोग मेरा कहा सुनते ही नहीं थे| पर मुझे सम्पूर्ण विशवास था की आप आओगे| कितना समय लगाया आने में| मेरी आँखें सूख गयी आपकी राह तकते तकते!" और ये कहते कहते वो फूट फूट कर रोने लगी! राम भाव-विहल होके माई को सहारा देते हुए बोले, "माँ, अपने पुत्र को क्षमा करो, मैंने बहुत समय लिया आने में!"

आज उस दबी, चुप-चाप सबकी बातें सहने वाली, में जाने कहाँ से इतनी शक्ति आई की उसने लगभग आदेश देते हुए कहा, "राम, सबसे पहले मेरी कुटी में जायेंगे|" बड़ी तेज़ी से, जाने कहाँ से, वो एक बर्तन में जल ले के आई और अपने आँचल से रामजी के चरण-कमल धो धो कर पोछने लगी| अश्रु लिप्त होठों से बोली, "आइये राम| अपनी इस भक्त का निवास धन्य कीजिये"| राम ने स्थान ग्रहण किया| हम सब बाहर से ही इस द्रश्य का आनंद ले रहे थे| शबरी, मंत्र-मुग्ध सी, राम को निहार रही थी और रोती जा रही थी! अनायास ही राम बोले," माँ, बहुत भूक लगी है| कुछ खाने को दो ना!" शबरी जैसे नींद से जागी, "ओह मेरे राम! मुझे क्षमा करो| मैं आपके लिए सुबह ही ताज़े फल लायी थी| प्रतिदिन लाती थी, यही सोच कर, की आप जाने किस दिन आ जाओ|"

मैं बाहर खड़ा मुस्कुरा रहा था और अन्दर, शबरी ख़ुशी में कुछ गाते हुए, अपने लाये हुए बेर एक टोकरी में भर रही थी| उसने पोंछ कर एक बेर राम की तरफ बढाया पर कुछ सोच कर ठिठक गयी| राम उसका चेहरा देख कर मंद मंद मुस्कुराये जैसे उन्हें पता हो की शबरी के मन में क्या चल रहा है| अगले ही पल मेरे पैरों तले धरती खिसक गयी जब मैंने देखा की शबरी ने उस बेर को चखा, मन ही मन कुछ बुदबुदाई और फिर दूसरा बेर चखा| इस बार वो बेर श्रीराम के हाथ में देकर बोली, "प्रभु, ये वाला लीजिये| ये अत्यंत मीठा है| हम सब ठगे से खड़े थे| लक्ष्मण भी कुछ विचलित दिखे| पर राम ने बहुत प्रेम से वो बेर लिया और खा केर बोले," सच में माँ, ये तों बहुत मीठा है"| बस फिर क्या था, अब तों शबरी हर बेर चख कर श्रीराम को देने लगी और राम बड़े चाव से उनको खाने लगे| कितना अदभुध द्रश्य था| जगत के स्वामी अपने भक्त के झूठे बेर खा रहे, और भक्त उनके प्रेम में डूबा, चख चख कर खट्टे और मीठे बेर अलग कर रहा था| शबरी की इंतनी श्रधा देखकर प्रभु श्री राम भी अपनी अश्रुधारा नहीं रोक पाए, फिर हम तों साधारण जीव थे| शबरी का प्रेम कितना सरल, कितना सच्चा और कितना गहरा था |

एक पल ऐसा आया जब मुझे पता ही नहीं चल रहा था की दोनों में से कौन प्रभु है और कौन भक्त| प्रेम ने आत्मा और परमात्मा के इस फर्क को मिटा दिया| मैं बस यही सोचता रहा की संसार में क्या शबरी के इन बेरों से भी अधिक स्वाधिष्ट कुछ हो सकता है?

Little Flowers

2010-08-02T02:32:00.000-07:00

He was standing behind the curtain, shyly. I could see a part of his white knicker protruding out from the side-ways of the curtain. I smiled and called him loudly,"Akshu, come here, you big boy. Will you not meet your uncle? I am here for only few minutes". He came out with his head down, walking reluctantly towards me. His mom, from the kitchen remarked,"He becomes so happy when you visit us. He never forgets you inspite of the fact that you usually visit after such long gaps. Its strange because he usually forgets people if he does not meet them for 4-5 days. I don't know why he is so much shy today"

Akshu looked into my eyes spreading his hands out, muttering ,"Brrcle". I hugged him and he rested his cheek on my shoulder. This was the warmest hug I had got in past so many days. I felt light and touched. I asked him to sit beside me but he outstretched his palm. Suddenly, that made me remember to put the chocolate I brought for him, on his hand. He looked at his mom who gestured not to eat it right now. He put it into his school bag and squinted his small eyes. I held him around his back and said," You have put on more fat Akshu. Whats this?" He mumbled something which I couldn't make out. His mom answered, putting the breakfast plates on the table,"He eats too much and don't know when to stop. Look Akshu, Uncle is also complaining. You should listen to me now". Akshu smiled at me trying to hide his face behind my back. I handed over his plate to him and he started eating in such a way as though this was the last piece of food on earth. I kept watching him while he had forgot everything around him. His full concentration was on having his breakfast. Finishing, he opened the casserole to take more but his mom shouted, "No Akshu. This is enough. Tie your laces or else you will fall and go wash your hands." I also tried to eat, with the same intensity as him and realized that while eating I never concentrate on eating. I always keep thinking about something else and never ever enjoy my food.

A van honked twice, from outside. Akshu hanged his water bottle on his shoulder and hurried outside with his mom. I also followed them. The gate of the van opened and all the children from inside, started shouting and waving. They all looked like Akshu. Akshu sat at the window and kept waving his hand at me, laughing aloud and muttering something fiercely. I was looking at the picture painted on the van's front which said, "Little Flowers - School for Special Children"

The van soon disappeared into the next street. His mom turned back with a trickle of tear in her eyes. She can never accept that her son is mentally retarded.

Tring-Tring

2010-07-29T06:45:00.000-07:00

A: Hello!

R: Hello....Who is this?

A: This is 'A' here. Seems like you forgot my voice too.

(Long...almost never-ending silence)

R: Must be a dream. I have seen this before also - you, calling me. But the morning ruins everything, every time.

A(sighing): So, how are you?

R: Is this real? I mean, is this happening? My heart is pounding hard. What on earth, compelled you to call me after 8 years? Oh...GOD, is this really you?

(The silence deepens)

A: You sound to be the same. This is how you used to talk, back then, also. How is everybody at home?

R: Everyone is fine and you are right. I am the same. Looks like I got stuck in time. All these years I used to dream that one day, you will call me, wanting to know how am I doing in life. I used to think about all the things I have to tell you -small and big, important and trivial. I used to re-hearse them day and night, waiting for my phone to ring. But that never happened. And now, I am feeling restless. Suddenly from nowhere, you have called me up asking how I am? I have no clear answer. Really, at this very moment, I feel blank. I am anxious about what to talk to you. I don't know for how much time, this call will last. What are the things I should tell you first? Should I tell you about my days without you or should I ask you - do you still care for me? Please help me.

('A' said nothing. 'R' did not know whether she preferred to remain silent or nothing came to her mind)

R: You also don't seem to have changed much. Earlier also, it was me who used to speak most in our conversations and today also, its me. I have to say so many things to you and I don't want to miss this opportunity. A lot of my life has been spent, or rather, is being spent, in imagining about the times we spent together and also about the times we could have spent together. I keep imagining myself to be apologizing to you about all the blunders I did and made you suffer. I am really really sorry for all the false promises I made, for all the wrongs dreams I showed you. I am sorry for not being brave enough, for not being considerate enough. I am sorry, I did not care for you when you needed me the most. I took you and everything favourable to me, for granted and messed up all the good that was there in my life. I behaved my erratic worst by trying to call you after your marriage, creating embarrassing situations for you. I am sorry for all this and more.

A: You are one stubborn person. You very well know that I have no regrets of any kind. Perhaps, time was not in favour of us. You should stop blaming yourself and stop being vulnerable.

R: You have always been stronger or should I say 'greater' than me. Why don't you realize and accept that I am an ordinary man.

A: Is this a taunt?

R: You see, after full 8 years we are talking to each other and we have started fighting already. I badly miss all of this. And I miss - you, going into the silent mode whenever you fall short of arguments, you, waiting for me looking out desperately from your window, you, finishing my assignments while I was busy watching cricket, and you, miserly saving every penny of yours to buy new specs for me. I miss your smile, your smell and your tears. I miss touching that deep mark at the corner of your left eye which was formed when you hurt yourself while stealing pickle in your childhood. I miss the feeling that once, I was so special for you.

(Again, a deep silence for few minutes)

A: I guess, I have to put down the phone. My daughter is starting school from tomorrow. I have to prepare for her school.

R: But wait, you have not told me, why did you call me after so many years, now? Will you not say anything? Why you always do this to me? Please say something.

A: I called you because like you, I am also an ordinary person. I am trying to 'move on' in life but occasionally I 'move out' of it. And I called to say Happy Birthday to you. Don't wait for my call. I may not call you again.

(The phone line got disconnected and 'R' kept sitting on his chair with a choked throat, trying to figure out how to start the process of 'letting it go' all over again.)

Last Day@RBS

2010-03-05T02:02:00.000-08:00

Today is my last day at Royal Bank of Scotland Group (RBS). I spent around 3 years here and as I move out today, I feel I have spent some of the most wonderful and craziest time of my life. Infact some of the most crucial time too. (I got married and had my first baby during this time. :) )

The first year of my stay was not so good. I was one of the youngest employees here and most of the people were already in their mid-thirties or above. The overall environment was dull and office culture was shabby. Previously I had worked in an IT service company. So RBS, being a captive unit, presented some challenges and drastic changes in my work-style. I thought I made a mistake joining here. But I was wrong in a big way. RBS was growing in India that time and gradually they introduced new policies and procedures. Lots of new hiring was done and I saw it growing from around 600 to 1500 people in a span of 3 years. Lot of energy and enthusiasm was pumped in, along the way. In this period, I got a chance to know and work with some truely nice and brilliant people. I learned some new technologies and was a part of some great delieveries. It was truely an enriching experience. And nobody, who worked here, can forget about the extravagant parties and outings, RBS offered. We spent some whackiest times of our lives.

I wish and hope that RBS will grow further and reach higher and newer grounds.

I made some life-long friends in RBS. These people broke my myth that you don't get true friends in corporate life.

Kalpana - You are a gem of a person. I am lucky to have you in my best friends' list. You were with me from day-1 in RBS and have been with me during all the highs and lows of life in past 3 years. You are an amazing person, very helpful and very down-to-earth. I know you laugh on my silly jokes to make me feel good. Thanks for that. Life becomes a pleasure when friends like you are around.

Ashok: I thought we were poles apart and as far as I remember our interaction started with a heated arguement over some crap issue.But gradually, I discovered a very humourous, fun-loving person in you. You are a rocking personality and a wonderful friend. We shared extremely funny days.You might be remembering the trip to Sachin's home. It was almost a real-life adaptation of the movie HANGOVER ;) and then the trip to 'Saat-taal'- what masti we had. I will always cherish those times. I have learned a lot from you esp Informatica. You are a champion in Data Warehousing and it was awsome to have worked with you in the same team. You are 1 person I can always lean on in times of despair. Thanks for everything.

Ok........... now stop crying ;)

Karthik: RAW INTELLIGENCE. Thats how I will like to describe you. You were like the angry young man of RBS who wanted to change everything around you. You always respond to my SQL questions giving better and faster solutions and I don't remember any single instance when you have failed to do that. Though we worked for a short span in a single team, but I am previleged to know you. I can never forget the mockery you made of 'SWINE' on our trip to Parvaanu ;)

Sonia and Kanika : You two, along with Kalpana are my angels, as our office-mates say but I don't like the word 'Charlie' for me ;) Thanks Sonia, for giving me the baby-sitting tips. They are really helpful. Kanika, you rock and keep up your spirits, always.

Manish and Kaushik : You two are the ICT champions and it was my good luck to share the same team with you. You both are so humble and modest. I definitely look forward to work with you again in future.

There are few of my closest buddies who had left RBS before me. They certainly deserve a mention here.

Sanjeev - You are a friend, philosopher and guide for me. I think, I earned you in RBS. :)

Manish Arora - You are the definition of simplicity. I am often surprised to realize that people like you really exist. :) Be the same all through your life. Missing you terribly.

Rakesh - Raka, you are machoman :) Thanks for being there whenever I needed you.

Zaib and Prateek- You are rock-stars. I am in process of writing a full post separetely about your story ;)

Nishi - Come back to Delhi. I am missing you. :)

My RBS experience can't be completed without the mention of following extra-ordinary people:

ATTITUDE MAATA : Thanks for being there. You were my daily dose of humour. Just watching you, your activities and your expressions is a top-notch entertainment in itself. ATTITUDE MAATA KI JAI HO!

AURO: You have a big head for a purpose. GOD wanted a large amount of crap at 1 place. So, HE chosed you. Big fellow, you sucked big time. Thankfully, I will not be able to see your face again.

JHINGALALA : I know you are not a human being. You have a form and flesh that exactly matches to our species but its just a camouflage. Your presence, actually is a punishment to the people around you. Though you were in my cab for just 5-6 months but that period seemed to be a never-ending eternity. Whenever, I see you I feel to stuff my socks into your never-closing mouth.

Future is, as always, uncertain. But as I move ahead, I definitely have a storeful of memories to cherish from RBS.

Warmth

2010-03-02T21:47:00.000-08:00

"Put on your sweater Rehan! The weather is still little cold. Listen to me" - Rehan's mother shouted from behind, almost running as Rehan hurried outside with a heavy school bag on his shoulders.

"Mom, I don't need it. Infact nobody needs it, except you. Summers have approached and its so hot. Please go back inside now." - Rehab waved his hand while closing the entry door of his home. He watched his mother's awful expressions who was shrugging her shoulders in disgust.

Rehan studied in XIth standard. His school was 30 kms away from his town. He used to take a Government Roadways bus daily for his to and fro journey to his school.

It was late February already and winters were receding but his mother was always asking him to don a sweater and a muffler, even now. He was angry about his mother's nagging. He felt, she was so uncool. It was enough for him to wear a full-sleeves shirt in such weather.

The bus started to drag and Rehan caught it, just in time. He looked anxiously at the vacant seats and grabbed a window seat. The glass of window was broken but it didn't make a difference to him. He settled down and looked around. There were very few passengers and almost all of them were daily travellers. It was 6:30 AM and he could see a layer of fog far away. He opened a book and tried to read but found it difficult in the moving bus, as always. The bus was now running at full speed and he felt a stream of cold air on his face. He extended his hand to close the window but drew it back quickly realizing that the glass of window was broken. He cuddled himself and sensed the cold. After a while, the air turned chilly, piercing into his bones. He stood up and was sad to see all other seats were now occupied. He started to shiver, trying hard to minimize the chattering of his teeth.

A loud voice from behind disturbed him. An old man, roughly around 60 years old, was pointing towards him and saying "Why are you not wearing any sweater? You new generation boys are hopeless. You don't listen to your parents, you don't listen to teachers. You feel that wrapping a muffler around your face is old-fashioned and stupid. Every sane thing from your elders looks a lecture to you. Movies and cricket - that is all you people care about. No disciplne, no proper food and sleep timings, nothing". Rehan's face turned red, partially due to the cold and partially due to this unexpected scolding from an unknown man.

"Take this" - the old man came closer to him and handed over a woollen shawl. Infact, he unwrapped the shawl, covered Rehan with it and sat back on his seat. Rehan could not understand how to react and slowly he, too, slipped on to his seat, still in dilemna. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the shawl.

The bus conductor was shouting loudly to a passenger, "Ask this boy to get up from sleep. His school is very near". Rehan rubbed his eyes, holding the shawl tightly to his body. He turned back and found that the old man was not there. He looked around but he was nowhere in the bus. The conductor told Rehan that the old man got out at the previous bus-stop while he was asleep.

Rehan stepped out of the bus. He was now warm, even inside his heart.

LORD of the TITANS

2010-02-25T01:36:00.000-08:00

We all need a hero. A person who sets examples for us, who makes us believe in miracles, a person who is larger than our lives. We need a hero for whom we can pray,cry,dream and cheer. A hero who tiles his own road, whose mental will surpasses his physical capacity, who gives meaning to the word 'champion'. We wait for hours to catch a mere glimpse of him, we stand in queues to scream and wave at him irrespective of the heat,rain,sweat and cold. We fight and argue with our closest buddies in favour of him, we wear T-shirts carrying king-size picture of him and we paint our walls with his color. We don't accept his failures, we don't count his vulnerability.Rather, we rever his passion and we idolize his commitment. We go crazy for him because we know that he is not just a winner. He is a champion filled with extraordinary compassion, commitment and modesty. His name is snynonymous with brilliance, purity and magic.And we know, if by any chance, we get to touch him, we will touch divinity.

We need a hero, whose story, we can narrate to our kids, years later, feeling proud of the fact that we were born in his era.

PS: I thought to write about Sachin and his achievements here, but quickly realized that I am not capable enough to describe him in words. He is above all statistics and comparisons. And after the last day's display of his 'supermanness', I feel there is absolutely no need to do this or to prove anything to anyone.

No Smoking

2010-02-04T08:33:00.000-08:00

(This piece of writing is about a person who was a chain smoker for 7 years and has finally quit smoking.)

The cigarette vendor at the other side of road waved at me while I parked the car in front of my office building. I smiled back and hurried my way into the office. I don't know why everytime, I experience a feeling of guilt when I make eye-contacts with him. I was one of his biggest customers over the last 2 years, and now if I have quit smoking, there is nothing wrong in it. On the contrary it is good, or as the people around me say, it is 'life-saving' for me. But my conscience troubles me for no apparent reason.

I put down the laptop at my desk and moved towards the smoking zone after preparing a cup of coffee from the coffee vending machine. One of my collegues smiled and gestured me to come near to him.I crossed a few square-shaped tiles of the floor and felt a gust of smoke on my cheeks. The person who was smoking, quickly apologized. I wish I could tell him how much thankful I was, for his action. My colleague started talking about the usual office stuff, while I concentrated hard on inhaling deeply, trying to suck every bit of air present around. I felt my true self returning to me. Thats what cigarette does to me. It makes me myself. It, kind of, prepares me to face the world, makes me realize that I can think and act. It makes me alive and kicking.

I felt the anxiety shoving up my body watching the faint twinkling red spark at the end (or at the start) of the cigarette, my colleague was smoking. I was sipping the coffee.Actually, simply pouring it down my throat, listening to him appreciating me for leaving this bad habit of smoking. A huge part inside me was longing for a puff, a deep one. But in my pocket, now lies a pack of medicines, where there used to be my brand of cigarettes. An unwelcome change. This is what the fear of death can do. It can force you to lose your self and it can mitigate your true sense of happiness and despair. When I used to smoke, I used to feel the intensity of all emotions - joy, sadness, victory, defeat, desire, contentment, courage and fear. Now after quitting, I am only living, adding more days to my life, but with no life in those days. I now, no more feel the vulnerability of being a human.

This is how my days converge into nights - cigaretteless but completely filled with the thoughts of smoke. I saw dreams where in I am smoking my way to happiness and then, I experience nightmares where in my lungs stop functioning and I struggle for breath. The world around me seems to be standing in peace. My nightmares have knocked out my dreams and I am deadly sure that I will never smoke a cigarette for the rest of my life.

STATUARY WARNING : SMOKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH.

PS: This is a work of fiction. I am a non-smoker and just tried to look at the world from a chain-smoker's perspective. :)

I WON ...... :)

2010-01-25T06:03:00.000-08:00

This is for the first time I have come first in any competition.

Anupam Kher started a competition on Twitter asking 'What is the definition of ACTING?'

And I was judged first among more than thousand responses :)

(Though it looks a little odd to appreciate myself, but I can't help today. :) Yahooooooo... I WON....)

He is calling me to attend a 3 month course in his acting school for free!! But you see, I am busy and will think about it. ;)))

Be An Idiot

2010-01-14T08:31:00.000-08:00

Here is my second toon. A view at world after 3 Idiots!! :)

(Click on the image for better view)

Female Bosses

2010-01-13T09:05:00.000-08:00

This is my first cartoon. I drew this on toondoo.com. (The reference of this site was given by Sanjay)

(Click on the picture to have a better view)

An Open Letter to my Son

2010-01-01T10:37:00.000-08:00

Dear Saatvik,
I am enormously excited today. Afterall, this is my first letter to you. You and me have completed 4 months today. You as a son and me as a father.Its so much fascinating to write about my nascent fatherhood and your nascent babyhood. Obviously I owe this to you.Though I had liked you to understand and possibly appreciate the things I am going to write here but I know you will take some more time to do so.

In the begining, when your mother first broke out the news(about your arrival) to me, I didn't know how to react. You must be feeling that I must had been very happy but I should admit, I felt 'I am not ready for this'. Please don't feel that I was not 'wanting' you. Ofcourse, I wanted you but at that particulat moment of time, this fact was un-digestible to me. You see, being a father is huge huge responsibility and I was afraid and felt myself incapable to carry this responsibilty.Your grand-parents and your mother, on the other hand, were on the top of their worlds. I hopelessly tried to share their excitement but I guess, I was more gripped with fear and uncertainity.

For days to come, I diverted my special attention to your mother(though she does not agree on this).Infact, I diverted my special attention towards you. You were growing in her womb and were quite demanding right from that time. ;) My first interaction with you ('sort of' interaction, you can say), came after a few months when we(me and you mother) went to the doctor for something called 'Level-2 Ultrasound'. The doctor applied some sticky fluid to your mother's belly and attached few strings to a monitor.She started rolling some device (I will like to call it a mouse as it was serving almost the same purpose) on your mother's belly. And then, you appeared on that monitor.In black and white, moving,breathing.The doctor pointed towards your legs,hands,head and fingers.Your mother was amazed looking at you but I was puzzled. I could not make out anything from those blurred black and white images of yours and I was feeling guilty about it. I was jealous of the happiness your mother was experiencing, watching you because I was so dumbly unaware of your presence.But it was just for a while.The magic happened when the doctor made me hear your heart-beats.I was speechless. Though my mind kept telling me that its a completely biological phenomena and Darwin's theory is true and there is nothing here to be amazed, but the fact is - I was thrilled to the core listening to your fast beating heart.I fell in love with you right away.Though it sounds dramatic, but my fear started to melt away and I found myself ready(kind of) to welcome you.

The following few days made your mother feel you more evidently when you started kicking and turning and doing all sorts of stuff in her womb.She was terrificly excited and I too occasionally got a feel of yours from outside.However, I was still not very much liking the small babies pestering their parents' in our apartment's garden and your mother jokingly kept reminding me of my possibly similar fate.But secretly, I was feeling happy about you and the coming days.

The D-Day arrived on 2nd Sep when you popped out into our lives.I had imagined and wanted you to be a girl but, you see, life always surprises me. Nevertheless, it was a 'Dhan-te-tann' feeling. Many things were changed right from our daily routines, sleeping times, discussion topics to my Google search queries. I was searching following stuff on Google very frequently:

1. Mac Tosh Sheet
2. Cotton Packets
3. Nappies
4. Wet tissues
5. Talcum Powder
6. Bathing Soap
7. Nappy Cream
8. Dettol
9. Feeding Bottles
10. Baby Nailcutter
11. Olive Oil
12. Dabur Lal Oil
13. Baby Towel
14. Malmal cloth...... and much more

The last four months with you have quite been an experience for me. Just watching you grow,inch-by-inch,is a pleasure. Infact its a luxury. For most of the first 1 month, you were sleeping and only scarsely smiled in your sleep. I wanted to play with you, to talk to you, to take you on drive, and to do everything fathers are supposed to do. But, infact, you have now taught me that certain things take time. You have taken full 3 months to stabilize your neck at 1 position, to be able to turn it to left and right. You still, almost daily, look at me with surprise, probably trying to recognize me. I produce funny sounds, do awkward dances and sometimes rotate you in the air to make you smile.But you seem dis-interested most of the times. You are happy in your mother's lap and smile when she holds you tightly. I can not beat your mother in this. Nobody can't beat mothers, you see.

I am impatiently waiting for you to grow up, to respond to me when I call 'Daddy is home', to gang up with me to tease your mother, to hit a huge six on my pathetic bowling, to feel that we are always on the same side. Take your time son, I am waiting. Till then, I will try to develop myself into as good father as I can. It will take a lot to be your HERO and I am working towards it.

;)

Your Dad

The Other Side

2009-12-30T22:10:00.000-08:00

The count of contact numbers in my phone equals to 246 as per today and its increasing month by month. Possibly, the phone memory or the SIM memory (whatever) will get consumed up one day. But, your number is not here. Technology can't help me to hear your voice. It can't make you to call me or remember me or to yearn for me. So, I turn to my study table to make sure that the coffee mug, you gave me is still there. I open the almirah and touch that old diary, that empty box of choclates, the Ganesh Idol and that unfinished piece of poetry. The mirror reflects my sad expressions and I try to smile a bit. I pick the pen lying on the floor, also trying to pick myself up to face another new 24 hours. There is a crowd around me, numerous voices, humming sounds and a buzzing life. In that crowd, I see myself, packing and arranging my life, meeting, laughing, playing, quarrelling, sleeping, dreaming, waiting, talking, writing, working, enjoying, travelling and living. The 'me' in that crowd smiles and whispers 'Happy New Year' making me realize that a new year has arrived. But, all I am waiting for, is a new life to be able to meet you again.

A SOUR hunt for a SWEET Home

2009-12-30T09:26:00.000-08:00

Jane Austen once remarked, "There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort". Few months back, I told this to my wife hoping that she will feel happy. She will infer that I love to stay at home which in-turn concludes - I am happy with her. However, she completely missed the point and emphasized more on the word 'home' rather than on 'comfort' in the above statement. She argued that we still live in a rented house and its high time to buy a home now. She also suggested that I should stop being an escapist and I should seriously think about this matter.

And so, I started the search for a home - a new home - my home.

I made a list of 'given' conditions :

1. Budget - <30 Lakhs
2. Requirement - Ready to move in 3 BHK Flat
3. Location - Noida or 5-10Kms from Noida
4. Facilities in the Apartment Society - Swimming pool, gym, library, tennis court and everything else

Having made up my mind for this seemingly huge decision, I thought it was obvious and OK to procrastinate my search for 2-3 weeks. My family kept pushing me to start my search and I kept pulling me not to move. Then 1 day, I finally gave up or I must say I gave in. To make matters easy, I thought lets start from the point where I was standing. Lets try to convert the rented house into the owned one. I asked my society president, if there were any apartments for sale available in our society.

He looked towards me for a few seconds and asked ,"Are you sure?". I carelessly smiled and said ,"Uncle, just arrange for this deal. I want to finish it in 10-15 days."

"How much will you pay in cash and how much loan will you raise?"- he asked.

"What is the total cost?" I sipped from a glass of water.

"65 Lakhs"

"65 Lakhs"- (I holded the glass tightly)What?? You mean Sixty Five lakhs!!!!

"Thats correct. So, since we have to finish the deal in 10-15 days, can we start working on basics"- he started pulling out some papers from his desk

"No no wait...." and I rushed out of the room.

That was a real eye-opener. The next few days I found myself amidst 'Property' Jungle where 'Sirji' is the most commonly used word. The scenes from the Bollywood movie 'Khosla Ka Ghosla' came alive in front of me. I met few property dealers and they all looked same - a fat gold chain around the neck, a fat ass below the waist, a paan or gutkha inside the mouth and lots of greed in the heart. I burnt enormous amount of calories and petrol, roaming in every hook and corner of Noida. I came face to face with 'Capitalism' at its height. These guys are selling 25 Lakh worth of property in a whooping 60-70 Lakhs and no body is even winking. Banks are hand-in-hand with builders, there is no government regulation and many people from small towns are selling their huge properties to buy a filthy apartment for their children here. It is simply disgusting.

Well, I realized that fussing about builders, banks, government and capitalism as a whole will do no good to me. I shrank my dreams and my home got shrunked from 3BHK to 2 BHK.

I redefined my 'given' conditions:

1. Budget - 30 Lakhs - 40 Lakhs
2. Requirement - Ready to move in 2 BHK Flat
3. Location - Indirapuram, Ghaziabad
4. Facilities in the Apartment Society - A flat to live in. Everything else will be a bonus :(

Another round of mad search began eating away all my saturdays and Sundays, all my cricket, all fun and all my peace.But it was all in vain. The size of home was getting smaller but the rates were soaring high.By now, I had became an expert in this 'property' vocabulary - 'High-rise Low-rise', 'Park-facing', 'Prefered Location Charges','EEC','Registry','Fixed-Floating Loans' etc. Inspite of my poor scores in Engineering Drawing in college, I am now pretty much comfortable in understanding the lay-out plans.

At last, 2 months back, one of the builder sucked all my savings till date. In other words, I have booked a 2 bedroom Flat in Indirapuram which they promise to give the possesion somewhere in June(which is a white lie. They will not give it sooner than next year). The loan installments have started and all my 'liquid' salary has started flowing. I now understand why they call Cash money as liquidity. Infact, they should call it fluidity. I find myself in dire state at the end of each month.

I don't know if I have made a right move. :(

Harshita Unplugged

2009-12-28T06:02:00.000-08:00

So, here is the first one (Check this out). I got hold of Harshita and here is what she had to share with us:

Lots of things are happening on Harshita's Chill out zone. Its really a fun-place to be. First of all accept my many congratulations for maintaining such wonderful blog. Lets find out more from you:

Your new mantra these days seem to be "Blogging blogging, tweeting, tweeting".How this bug bited you or did it happen by chance?

You were the one who inspired me to blog. Infact, taught me to. I donno if you remember that. :) I got into a travelling job and I started it as a means to replace my daily diary in a way. As for Twitter, I joined it just like that but Richa, my friend made me join it in full force and actively some time back.

Did anybody inspired you for blogging?

You. I think yours was the first blog I ever read and then I read Nidhi and then Aevi...and I was super-inspired to write my own

Hey... You don't have to take my name in every question. Its not a paid interview. ;)

List 3 of your most favourite blogs and give us the link of any post you read again and again.

It is difficult to do so as it is with choosing your best friends, if someone asks u to,u see. I categorize blogs on the basis of what they make me learn and how they make me feel. I will name 3 in each category here :

Happy Blogs : Nidhi, Mads, Americanising Desi

Humor : Nanhi Pari, Arjun,Confessions of a Rambunctious WhipperSnapper

Dark Humor : AD, Peter,Abhishek

Informative (sports,food,tech,travel etc) : Aevi,Skeeter, Hobo.

Personal Blogs : Richa, Ki,Zirelda

I am not mentioning you coz I dont want to sound flattering here. :)

You very often write about domestic violence in your blog. Have you seen anyone close to you going through it? What according to you should be done to stop this?

Yes. I have seen it closely. When and Where? I cannot be more specific here. But yes, I have met many victims and all of them shockingly, justified the violence they went through. Here is what the say most of the time - "Its okay, I shud not have replied when he was angry", "Its okay, it happens, he might be upset about something, may be he is sick and does not show", "Its okay, I am used to it, I have to live with it".
I think to stop domestic violence, we need to be more aware about it and not scare to speak about and against it. If you see someone going thru it, help them. Get them help. Make them realise that they don't deserve it for any sane reason and they should stand up for themselves. In most of the cases, women would never go ahead and file complaints against their husbands/boyfriends so the foremost thing we can do for them is get them counselling so they understand how serious a crime it is to hit one's spouse. It is not as easy as it sounds but we have to start from somewhere. I struggle to help the victims myself coz most of the times, they refuse help.

Why do you hate marriage? Many of your blog-posts suggest that you are perhaps against this institution.

I DONT hate marriage. I think this interview will clear the misconception. I do believe in marriage but not the ones where you meet someone for 2-3 times and then decide on the basis of God knows what-- that you wanna marry. This whole concept does not get into my head somehow. Also, I am a committment phobic myself but I am not Anti-marriage. I am just not up for it right now. :) Hope this clears the whole confusion.

How is happy singh these days? No updates lately on him.

Happy Singh is doing awesome along with his kid brother Rustam. Both of them have gelled well and are enjoying each others' company. :)

Do you think women writers describe men better than men do women?

Yes and No. Yes, because women see those aspects of a man's personality that he never shares with his male friends and I think women spend more time in understanding and analysing people and things as compared to men so they are better when it comes to writing about men-- AND-- No, because there are things that are mere perceptions from a woman's side but cannot be true in real sense. But then, writing is about perceptions most of the times and not the facts, especially when you talk about people.

According to you, what is the best and worst comment that you have got on any of your posts.

Hmm the best comment is from my gay-friend FIREBOLT on a post I wrote for Gay community... she was really supportive even when I was scared ki uska reaction kaisa hoga. :) and the worst comment : Well all the comments, where ppl pass snide n funny remarks on the serious posts I write for rape victims, violence against women, terrorism and suffering of other people. I won't hesitate to mention, I really wanna kick such people where it hurts the most. :P I am really nasty in such cases.

Have you thought of becoming a full-fledged writer?

I would be lying if I say NO. Yes, l do want to write some day. Infact, I keep forcing dad to tell me his life's untold story. I want to write my first book about him. :) He is an interesting man. LOL!! But my writing style is HING-lish and I cannot stick to English sophistication all the time so I donno what's my future there.

What are you reading these days?

I just finished reading 'Brida' by Paulo Coelho and '2 States' by Chetan Bhagat and currently reading 'EMMA' by Jane Austen.

Who are your best blog-buddies?

Best Blog Buddies : If it is only for ppl I never knew in person and I only got to know through Blog. Well, they are : Mads, Richii, Niddzzi, Peter and AD(Abhinav Bhatt). I can talk about anything under the sun with them.

Pick one from the following options:

Blogger or Twitter

Blogger

Harshita in UK or Harshita in India

Harshita in India (anytime) Loves Desh

Salman Khan or Brad Pitt

Salman Khan...Umm...Yummy!

Share any 1 thought that you have not written in your blog yet and your readers will know that through this interview.

Hmm, I write almost everything that comes to my mind. Okay! I think I already shared one, that I want to be a writer. But yes, one more thought, infact, something they donno, I have witnessed a child rape as a kid and could not help the victim and I still am not able to overcome it.

(Hmm... that was grave. I hope you get over from it soon)

Ok, 1 last question to irritate you. When are you going to marry? :)

Throws irritation in a corner* -- I will marry the day I will meet someone who'll make me overcome my committment phobia. Till then, am happy and single :)

:)) Thanks Harshita, for such wonderful answers or I must say, a peep into your life and thoughts. It was fun talking to you. I wish you all the very best for future and hope that next time I will be interviewing Harshita-the author.

Interviews of my favourite bloggers

2009-12-27T06:58:00.000-08:00

2 days back, an idea striked me. I will be interviewing few of my favorite bloggers and publish them here. Just to have fun and know more about these fascinating people.

Watch out this space for a candid interview with Harshita very soon.

My little 'son'shine

2009-12-24T06:15:00.000-08:00

Life Goes On......

2009-12-23T19:35:00.000-08:00

Tragedy unites us. After the extremely unfortunate demise of our sister last month, all my family members and we all cousins are together like never before. We are trying to take care of each other in every possible way, finding one reason or other to call each-other and remain in touch. May be its because the huge loss that we suffered is still so fresh and time, the immortal healer, will again make us return into our usual lives but deep down I genuinely feel that we all have changed irreversibly in some way or the other. Our sensitivities have been redefined and our certain mannerisms have been modified. We are now tending to take each-other very seriously and with utmost importance.Probably, the limit of endurance and bearing has also increased manifolds in each of us. We are trying to hide our vulnerability and posing to be strong.

Life is amazingly adjustible.On that day, at that particular point in time, my mind went blank. It was completely empty and I was in a state of great dilemna. But as days are passing by, normalancy is creeping back in. I am back to work and daily activities. Memories keep haunting and with sorrow-ridden heart, I pray for her soul to rest in peace.

Truth

2009-12-02T08:47:00.000-08:00

Life is not the same for me as it was before last Thursday, 26th Nov. It will never be the same now. I lost my cousin sister, Mona. Everything seems to be so stand-still. The fact that she is not there, is just not sinking in. She was merely a year older than me and we were childhood buddies. In fact, I wrote about some of our child-hood memories here:

http://fakegaurav.blogspot.com/2007/10/walk-down-memory-lane.html

And she kept asking me to write more about her, which I never did. She is stamped everywhere on my childhood. She regularly called me and we used to have long chats about almost everything.She was my friend and my guide.Being of almost the same age, we had a wonderful rapport with each other. There are so many incidents, so many things, so much life that I had shared with her. There are so many rakhis and so many gifts. There is so much to say to her, to listen from her. And in a moment, everything has halted. I am shocked at this brutality of destiny. This is the biggest reality-check I have received from life. Just 6 days back, I had tweeted , "Arre bhaiya! All is well" and a day after everything hit back.A phone call changed everything- my perspective, my thinking, me as a person.

How can I believe that Mona will never call me again? She was perfectly fine. Very healthy. Very happy. She was a wonderful person who genuinely cared for everyone around her. I am not saying this because I am her brother but even as a third person, I feel she was one finest people I know. She always tried to bridge gaps between the feuding family members, never held grudges for anything and always brightened the environment by her presence. She was full of love and empathy, completely untouched by any kind of ego problem. She comfortably fitted into every role - daughter, sister, a friend, wife and a mother.Writing about her in past tense is making me feel so horrible. For the past few days, we were talking about my new born son. She suggested me several names and we made fun, laughed our hearts out. And now just thinking about her 11 month old son, makes me shiver. How will he live now? I had always knew the importance of a mother but now watching my son with my wife, I don't have words to describe this relationship. A mother can never be replaced by anyone. I don't know what to do. Whom to blame. I feel so helpless and so much angry. My sensibilities have completely changed. I am afraid and aghast.

Yesterday, I deleted Mona's phone number from my mobile.I can not see her now. I can not hear her voice, her smile. Never. I now realize the real meaning of 'never'. Never means never ever. This is so much awful to accept but this is the truth. Perhaps, this is the only truth. Life is a dream, a myth that will end but nobody knows when. It looks so dramatic but its the only stark reality that our time is limited. May be we should always be on our toes, never take anything or anyone for granted, never lose any single moment to be close to our loved ones, never delay to say our sorrys and thank-yous, to smile, to feel grateful, to help, to live because we are running in an already lost race. Death will outrun us all.

Gurukul

2009-10-28T18:58:00.000-07:00

Its 4:45 PM already. Only 15 minutes are left. I am feeling very sad. Its the worst part of the day because I am going to miss my favourite show on TV. My mother is doing something in the kitchen, doing something non-sense for sure. My younger brother is playing with his toys in the living area. I am here in my study room waiting for my Tution Sir to arrive. He comes daily at 5:00 PM and never skips even once. I wonder he never falls ill also.

My name is Surbhi and I study in 6th Standard in Radha Krishan Public School.Its very near to my home.I don't like to study at this time because this is exactly the time when 'Tom & Jerry' show starts on Cartoon Network. How can my mom do this to me? Because of this tution, now I am daily missing it. I wept and cried but she did not listen. I missed my meals too but she did not melt. And she calls me a stubborn. It is she who is stubborn. I don't understand many things about elders. Most of the times, they behave stubbornly but call me stubborn.

My tution sir, though I hate his time of arrival, is good.At least he is better than my mother. He brings me chocolates because I told him once that I like chocolates(I wanted to tell him that I like Tom and Jerry but my mother frowned at me from kitchen. So I told him about chocolates) But I am not able to understand many of his things also. Probably, I am not that good at studies or understanding things. Few days back, he was teaching me a lesson 'Changes around us' from my Science text-book. He taught that when we boil water, its temperature increases.At high temperatures, the minute organisms like bacteria are not able to survive. Thats why, we should boil our drinking water. He told that this is also the reason why we should eat cooked vegetables. However, next day we were reading another chapter named 'Common Diseases and Their Causes'. He told that virus and bacteria are majorly responsible for many diseases and cause high fever. Now thats what I am confused about. The day before, he told that at high temperatures, the bacteria and virus die but the very next day he told that bacteria and virus cause fever. But fever should kill the virus because fever causes body temperature to rise and at high temperatures, virus can not survive. I am so confused. When I asked my teacher, he stuttered something and told that I am not understanding things.Infact, he became a little angry on me, though he rarely becomes angry.

Similarly once, while teaching the chapter 'Basic Algebra' from my Mathematics textbook, he told that multiplication is nothing but addition. Though, this seemed very difficult to understand in the begining but I think I got it. I understood that when we multiply 2 and 3, the result is 6 which can also be achieved by adding 2, 3 times or by adding 3, 2 times. My teacher became very happy when I expressed my understanding with him. But then, when he told me about the multiplication of negative numbers, I got very confused. I can not understand that why the multiplication of two negative numbers gives positive result. When I asked him, he looked sideways and said that I am not understanding and I should learn it and I ask too many stupid questions.I swear I try to learn very hard. I finish my homework on time. On somedays, I even skip playing with my best friend Niyati in the evening, to study and understand. But I am not able to understand many things and it makes me feel very bad from inside. I am missing my favourite TV shows, missing playing with my friends, getting scolded by my Mom, making my teacher angry on me and not understanding my lessons properly.

My mother is greeting somebody. I think my teacher has arrived.

==================================================================================

Its 4:45 PM. I have to leave, to teach a little girl in just few minutes. The sun is seting but it seems as though it is struggling to do so, amidst these huge residential buildings. I almost always feel little pesky butterflies in my stomach at this hour of the day. My name is Akash and I am doing graduation in Electrical Engineering. To have a little additional easy hand for spending money, I decided to take tutions. I have a class mate Rubina and I like her very much. I feel she is just on the verge of becoming my girl-friend. These additional bucks are helping me to cement that possibility.

But I had never imagined that it would be so difficult to teach a 6th Standard child. I thought it would be a cakewalk to just go there, narrate a few lines from her English book, do some simple addition subtraction stuff, make her learn the names of the planets and things like that and walk away with handful of bucks every month. But I believe my father is right. Earning money is not so simple. This child seems to be a prodigy. Her curiosity is almost killing me. She is so much original in her thoughts and has infinite questions in her store. I am literally puzzled by a number of her questions and I don't know how to answer and what to answer. Once I was teaching her a chapter named "Early Man's Life" from her history book. I told her that early men did not know how to count. They used some pebbles to keep track of the number of sheep they owned. So, once the sheep returned from the forest after grazing, they could count them with the help of pebbles. She immediately asked ,"Sir, if they could count the pebbles, why were they not counting the sheep directly?" I was left awestruck. I didnt had an answer. And I have regularly found myself in such situations with her. She can ask anything. Why do 2 negative numbers give positive result on multiplication? Why can't we see GOD? Why do hairs turn white with age? Why are planets round in shape? Why the ceiling fan rotates anti-clockwise but the table fan rotates clockwise? (I could'nt answer it in spite of my Electrical Engineering Degree. Infact, I never realized that the ceiling fan rotates anti-clockwise while the table fan rotates clockwise). So many unanswerable whys. I can not answer all this stuff. I am a person with a very limited intelligence who just want to spend more and more time with Rubina and get a decent job after engineering. Thats it. I know about certain facts but I am short of ideas. I don't care that why planets are round in shape and not square. May be she will also not care when she grows up. I feel guilty when I try to save myself by claiming her to be the culprit of not learning properly. Its a very uneasy feeling because she innocently agrees to me. My conscience pokes me hard.

Surbhi is a lovely girl. Very charming sometimes. I occasionally bring her choclates and her big eyes brighten up when when she takes them. She often tells me about the day she spends in school. I know now, that her school maths' teacher has a long nose, a boy in her class named Saksham, steals food from other children's lunch boxes and there is a mango tree in her school under which she planted one of her milk-teeth. She loves painting and I plan to gift her a set of liquid colors on her birthday next week. I wish her innocence and intelligence never gets corrupted with time and by teachers like me.

An 'un'noble Idea!

2009-10-09T23:14:00.000-07:00

Barack Obama is given this year's Nobel Peace Prize. This prize came as surprise to me. Infact, my jaw was dropped. I was just thinking about what may be the reasons behind the selection of Obama for this prestigious award. No doubt, he has emerged as the hope of millions of people. He is the face of a very promising 'CHANGE'. He set an example of extraordinary spirit and grit by becoming the first non-white president of the most powerful nation of the earth. He has a charismatic personality and possesses a silver tongue. His speeches inspire millions of minds and infuse light into millions of hearts. He is a 'mass-mover' and symbolizes co-operation and fraternity. Inspite of a very hostile attitude of the West towards the Islamic world, he dared to extend an hand of friendship and possibly meant it. He is in progress of creating a healthy international political climate and international diplomacy. Overall, he seems to be a extremely able leader and a genuine good human being.

But thats it! Thats all! Do all these qualities qualify him to join the league of Wangari Maathai, Shirin Ebadi, Kim Dae Jung, Aung San, Mother Teresa and others? He has completed just 9 months of his presidency and he still is possibly working on realizing all the promises he made to the people and all the hopes that he raised. But, I guess, this implementation is still too far. There are still American troops in Iraq. Afganistan is still reeling in blood. No nuclear country including India is ready for disarmament. No notorious militant group has stopped its activities. The terror-vulnerable countries are still being attacked intermittingly. So what has he practically done for world peace? This time, it looks like he has been awarded only for his image and passion. The Nobel commitee was in a bit of hurry this time......

Different Strokes

2009-10-02T12:38:00.000-07:00

(A scene from Room No.203, Kalpana Chavla Girls Hostel, South Campus, Delhi University - Time- 5:35 PM)

Jiya: Hey! What happened. You don't look your usual self. Looks like, that guy with blue eyes, in your class, was not distracted by you today.

Sehar: Jiya..... I am not in a mood for your 'happy-go-lucky' jokes right now.

Jiya: O O!! What happened. You are upset at something.

Sehar: Do you know, where I am coming from?

Jiya: From your economics class. Isn't that right?

Sehar: No, that's not right. I am coming from a dharna against our college management. You were not here for past few days and hence you don't know a fig about the turn of events that have taken place in the college.

Jiya: I had heard something in the morning about a bunch of fanatics who are demanding some stupid provisions to postpone the timings of their few classes for some idiotic religious reasons. These nerds...... there are always some jerks who try to corrupt the college environment in one way or the other.

Sehar(with eyes wide open filled with anger): My GOD Jiya. How can you so feelinglessly describe the whole situation in 1 fu*king stupid sentence. You don't know anything about the whole goddamn thing and you have concluded that these people are 'fanatics' and their demands are 'stupid' and their motives are 'idiotic' religious reasons. For your very kind information madam, your room-mate, thats me, is the same 'fanatic' supporting these 'stupid' demands for 'idiotic' motives. So do you have any problems? Do you want to complain? Do you want to throw me out of this room? You insensitive 'majority' shit.

(Jiya is dumbstruck. Silence prevails for next few minutes)

Jiya: I am sorry Sehar. I didn't know, you are so much involved with this. We are best friends and will always remain the same. Please tell me the whole thing. Have a glass of water. I am so sorry, darling.

Sehar(cools down): Sorry Jiya. I am just so upset. Forgive me for speaking those foul words and calling you the 'majority' shit. I don't know how my heart has got filled with so much hatred, with so much anger.I have become so bitter and perhaps, so broken.

Jiya(Massages Sehar's back while handing over the glass of water): Don't you worry for anything. Tell me what it is all about.

Sehar(Sipping a drop of water from the glass): You know, this is a very holy month for the people of our community.We need to offer prayer many times compulsorily and practise very staunch fasting all through the day for 1 month.Some of us, infact most of us, are facing problems in our morning prayers due to our early classes' schedule. All members of our community of college demanded the management to shift and adjust the morning classes' timings for 1 month so that it does not clashes with our rituals.Its as simple as this.But the college management refuted this demand outwardly. They didn't listen and some of them said few things that hurted the religious sentiments.Hence, we are protesting. And you know Jiya, there is not only this 1 thing. This is just a small peck of spark that is making me burn. There is a whole storm of fire which I am able to sense now.Its a question of our identity. I am shocked to discover that so many things were happening around me and my eyes were closed.Where was I? In some stupid, imaginative world of equality, fraternity and co-operation. But I am able to discern reality now.A stark reality that quantifies the differences.The difference between the majority and the minority.The difference between the oppressor and the oppressed.The difference between the right and the wrong.

Jiya(with some worried and awful expressions on her face): Sehar, thats deep. What has happened to you?As far as I know you, you were never so much inclined towards religion.I am totally surprised, may be confused now. You appear to be so different. Remember, the other nights, we were discussing about the evils and hardships that all religions of this world have infused especially on women.How, the few cunning people, have crippled the civic and human sense of society and made people fight and kill each other in the name of religion, for their own greedy motives.I don't want to repeat all that stuff that we mutually hold about religion in our minds. And that's one of the reasons we like each other.We don't believe in the bullshit of religion and the unnecessary rituals that are enforced due to it.We agreed that this ten thousand year old definition of religion needs an astounding revision in the context of this modern, liberal world. Don't we? What has got into you? Why are we discussing this crap.Infact, now I am thinking that you will demand for burqas to be allowed in college. You will hate me if I tend to discuss 'sex' with you. Isn't it so? Holy crap!! What has bitten you?

Sehar: You are getting it all wrong Jiya. Its true that I have never been a staunch religious person. And you know that I am not fasting this month. I am a person who lives with choice. I am supporting these people because I think they are doing no wrong. Their demands are not going to hurt anyone. Whats wrong with a little adjustment in normal routine for only 1 month? And religion has been the basis of mankind from the beginning itself. There are few problems with beliefs and rituals - I agree but in this case, there is no problem of any kind. You tell me. Whats wrong with this?

Jiya: There is nothing superficially wrong with this. But if a system is already in shape, its running fine, why to tinker with it. We are here to study and students from all communities must realize this. Our caste or our religion has no role to play in this. There are already enough holidays given to people of all religions. But now a demand for adjustment in class timings.... it does not makes any sense. If all people from different communities start making such demands for 1 reason or other, it will be a mess all around. There can't be any stable solution and if there is, it will be a very complex one.

Sehar: Jiya, I am not talking about a handful of people here. I am talking about some 200-250 students and I believe this number is sufficient to be able to demand for a little change in an establishment for a noble cause. It will ease the lives of these many. Doesn't this makes sense? I will be surprised if it does not. Education is an inseparable part of a civic society but it is meant to function with the overall scheme of things. But I think you will not understand this. You are at the other side of the line. The line of this division. And you know Jiya, this is not just about a small adjustment in the class timings. It has opened a can of worms for me. I am able to feel the injustice inflicted on innocent people in the form of false encounters in the city and ruthless rapes at the border. I am able to delve and discover the links through which these events are connected. That link of community, of minority, of the war of sentiments.

(There is a knock at the door. A small boy enters with 2 cups of tea. He smiles at both the girls, puts the cups at the table and leaves the room)

Jiya (handing over a cup of tea to Sehar): Sehar, just think. If these demands fo r the shift in class timings are accepted, will everything sort out? Will it end the fake encounters or the atrocities of few corrupt army men? No, it will not. There are serious problems with our state politics, with our leaders and probably with our set of beliefs. And I don't know how to handle these problems, to possibly rectify them but I am sure, this demand of yours, is not going to help in any way. It will just be leveraged as a yet another method to sow the seeds of hatred and violence in the hearts of youth. We need to bridge the gaps but this will just go on to create a new kind of rift.

(There is a long silence which is ended by a voice from outside)

A female voice from outside: Jiya, Sehar. Are you coming for dinner?

Jiya: You move on Vidhi. We will join you in a minute.

Sehar(to Jiya): May be you are right and may be I am wrongly linking up this event to the bigger problems that we face. May be I just got carried away. But still, around 250 people are fasting and hence this little demand still stands justified, to me. And I am not saying it to win a point here. I am saying it because I sincerely feel so.

Jiya(Getting up and holding Sehar's hand): I have never doubted your sincerity. May be, they find out a middle way to resolve this issue. Lets unburden ourselves with this and have dinner.

(Sehar moves after Jiya. Her steps are heavy and filled with doubt)

Hello World!

2009-09-03T01:51:00.000-07:00

"Hello World!" - exclaimed (I am assuming) my 'just-born' son on Wednesday, 2nd Sep 2009 at 9:59 AM and I finally understood why they name their first computer program as "Hello World".

:)))

I don't know how to put this piece of news into words. Until 4 days back, I was feeling that this is not an extraordinary event going to happen. The world population at this point of time is roughly around 6.5 billion and this event will just add '1' to this already huge number. But now, I am feeling special. Very very special. This is something very different, very unique. This excitement is entirely new. Its different from what you feel when you get your most favourite toy or an ice-cream as a child. Its different from what you feel when you fall in love for the first time. Its different from what you feel when you get your first salary or promotion. I don't know how to describe it. Its something 'pure', may be transcendental.

I was afraid to hold him.Very afraid indeed. I was reluctant, hesitant and restless. As my mother brought him near me, I started looking sideways and refused to hold him. There were so many things that could go wrong. I could hold him too tightly or too loosely. He could slip through my hands. I could slip. Anything could happen. There was a sense of discomfort and fear. I was not confident that I am able to hold him. I had a look on him from a distance and hurried into the labour room to meet my wife.

She was lying on the bed, relaxed, calmed down............victorious. We exchanged smiles and again I was short of words. I do not knew what to say to her. I holded her hand and said,"Thank You". I realized that 'delievering a baby' is one of the most tough and demanding tasks and the women who do it are real stars. They are the real champions and men can never equate their heroics. Deep down my heart, the respect for womanhood has increased manifolds. Though I was aware of this fact but to see my wife going through it for about 9 months, the heavy hormonal changes her body went through, the mood swings, the pains and finally the delivery-this all has humbled me. I am amazed by this marvel of womanhood. Its inexplicable.

All through the day, I was in the process of breaking out this news to friends and relatives. The shades of happiness, surprise and confusion kept sweeping me. I stayed at hospital in the night. The doctors gave a sleeping injection to my wife and she was sound asleep. Baby was lying in an inclined glass-wall nursery bed. I was still afraid to hold him. I glanced at him and took a photo.
I proceeded to the assistant bed and felt the day's fatigue. A little later, I hear ed a feeble sound, like that of a rat. I got up and looked around.No one was there. The baby was producing this sound. I came close to him and watched. He was stunningly small.He was like a bundle of cotton, neatly packed.He opened his eyes slightly.I was terrifically amazed-such small eyes,nose,ears,lips, a fine lining for eyebrows. I was wondering that is he able to breathe through such small nostrils. He moved a little exposing his extremely little fingers out at me.I could see the smaller nails at his little fingers. I wondered, "everything started from a single cell. This was a sample of extreme engineering." I decided to hold him. I looked around. My wife was sleeping. There was no one in the offing. I gathered courage and with utmost care, I tried lifting him. For the first time in my life, I was so much awake, I was so much conscious, I was so much aware, I was so much alert, I was so much responsible. I could hear my breathing. I was aware of every sharp edge, of every pointed thing around me. He was there in my hands. There was a stillness at his face. I realized that he is very safe in my hands. Nothing will happen to him. I was overwhelmed at this thought.

:)

PS: Since, there is no naming convention followed to name new babies, I am finding it difficult to find a name. Please help me doing so with your lovely suggestions. I will keep posting the scenes from my new life. Cheersss!!!!

The new 'evolving' me......

2009-08-27T22:00:00.000-07:00

I am feeling very very strange. Last few months have been a roller coaster ride between the highs and lows of happiness, irritation and sometimes confusion.It is being so difficult for me to make myself understand, what I am going through. There is sometimes a sudden rush of joy, love and caring but at times all the good is taken over by fear, anxiety and feelings of incapability. I am not able to focus at home or at work or at play. I am not being able to read anything continuously for more than 15 minutes. I am getting disinterested in almost everything very soon. My mind wanders in an unfamiliar territory. Its like watching and appreciating a very beautiful lake from your window and the next moment, feeling like drowning into the same lake, struggling hard to get oxygen.

There seems to be a paradigm shift in my observation and understanding of things. Things are getting re-prioritized and changes seem inevitable. I feel uncertain and overwhelmed.Few things that were crap and disgusting and hence unessential for me a year ago, are slowly making sense to me. I am realizing the 'newly-found' importance of those things and they are no-more a laughing matter.They need attention and I am giving it.

Am I finally 'growing up'? Or am I afraid and want to run away? Probably, things will take a more clear shape this Wednesday.......

Say NO to Drugs and Shoplifting

2009-06-08T04:03:00.000-07:00

And the reason is......................

John and Marshy

2009-05-19T07:23:00.000-07:00

It was a boring and uneventful day but still it was so hectic - thought John as he entered into his flat on 5th floor. During the past few weeks, he was feeling extremely bored in his office routine work. These days, his only favourite and much-awaited activity was reading a novel named 'Crimes' by a Russian writer. He thew his laptop on the couch and switched on the light. Marshy was standing in front of kitchen. He ignored her and went straight to his study table.

John grabbed the unfinished novel from the study table and turned the pages wildly. Page-157, second paragraph. 'The mystery will unfold today' - he thought and engrossed himself into the reading. Marshy, in the meanwhile, tried to turn his attention by ambling across the dining area into the kitchen, producing feeble yet audible voices by her feets. But John was undisturbed. He was infact, ignoring the irritating sound of the slowly rotating ceiling fan. It desperately needed a fix but John was avoiding it for some days now. It seemed as though the fan would dye off in the next rotation, but somehow it kept rotating, perhaps against the laws of nature. The paint on the walls had became very dull. Despite this, white-washing his apartment was not in his scheme of things of near future.

Marshy was loosing patience. She came close to John and looked straight into his eyes. John heaved and turned to the other side. Marshy expressed her anger by going back to the bedroom and throwing herself on to the bed.

John was increasingly getting excited by the amazing unfold of the plot in the story. He was wondering why a movie has still not been made based on this novel. He was desperate to finish it as soon as possible. However, the thickness of the unread pages showed he still had a long way to go. He gave a careful look around the room and was relieved to not find Marshy nearby.

His relief was short lived as Marshy soon came out of the room almost running. She kicked John on his legs but tried to keep this push gentle. John looked at her and for a minute she seemed confirmed that she has got his attention. But John buried his eyes again into the book. This was enough for Marshy. She went into the kitchen and jumped over the slab displacing some of the unwashed utensils.

John finally gave up. He put down the book in frustration,stood up and opened the fridge. Marshy heard this from inside and came running towards him. He went into the kitchen with the jar of milk in his hand while Marshy was dancing around his legs. He poured the milk into a big bowl and put it infront of Marshy. Marshy started licking the milk ferociously, quivering her tail wildly.

John watched Marshy - his cat. He was happy to see the contentment in Marshy's eyes. Marshy soon licked the last drop of the milk and put her head over John's feet closing her eyes while John restored his reading.

BEWARE !!!!

2009-05-09T02:29:00.000-07:00

Contemporary Boys!!!

2009-04-13T21:30:00.000-07:00

2009 Lok Sabha Elections - Be an Informed Voter!

2009-04-07T18:13:00.000-07:00

Google has launched a new webpage dedicated for 2009 Lok Sabha Elections of India. Its a wonderful and very informative site. Have a look.

Kabadiwala

2009-04-06T10:45:00.000-07:00

Asad is a 'man with the junk'. In hindi, they call him- kabadiwala. He is generally visible early morning when people of this city go for a walk with their dogs. He carries a big bag of almost the same size of him, on his right shoulder, wandering into the public parks and road-sides, in search of a number of things which, collectively are called 'junk'. His job is to get hold of those things which people get rid of. People, gradually, tend to get rid of a number of things. They throw away their old utensils, clothes, broken shoes, combs, plastic bottles, newspapers, crockery, rickety furniture pieces, beer and wine bottles, empty packets, plastic bags etc. For them, these things are worthless and not needed. For Asad, on the contrary, these things are worthy and needed.

Its easy for Asad to spot his workplaces. The smell of rotten things, which repel people, attracts him. He walks in the direction from where the people jerk away. The black or green colored, big or small, 'USE ME' containers in the parks or at the roadsides are actually best 'used' by him. He is often offered serious competition by street dogs in his quest into these bins. They search for the organic eatable items while he searches for the inorganic sell-able items. Asad feels that street dogs are the cruelest living creatures, even more cruel than the human beings. He has got attacked by them many-a-times. The holes in his carry-bag are the evidences of several dog-bites. He, infact, now understands the barking language. He has, over the period, developed the ability to sense the harmful barking or the warning barking or a rare friendly barking. He carries a wooden stick for his protection against the dogs. He even sleeps with it. He feels that dogs can ambush him in the dark also and he should be aptly prepared for this.

Junk can be interesting. It can bring pleasure sometimes. Atleast to Asad's otherwise monotonous days. For example, he becomes elated everytime to find an empty or an almost empty bottle of costly wine which fetches him more bucks than anything else. He sometimes makes sure to convert the 'almost' empty bottle into 'completely' empty by tasting the last drops of it and like other people, he likes 'Chevas Regal' the most. He recognizes Chivas Regal by its shining arrow-marked sticker. His jackpot is hit on the days when he founds the torn posters of Madhuri amongst the junk. For him, the poster of every hindi film heroine is Madhuri's. He came to know this name when he watched a drunked person kissing the poster and yelling - Madhuri...my Madhuri. These posters are his most prized possessions. He loves the tickle, these posters trigger, at the lower part of his body. He feels the same tickle when he secretly watches, from behind the park wall, the school-girls boarding their school bus. The common sight of copulating dogs makes more sense to him while watching these posters. However, he continues to derive the sadistic pleasure by hitting the dogs involved in the act of intercourse.

But junk can be quite disgusting sometimes- even for Asad. At times, he finds the blood-stained knifes or even small guns which the criminals dispose off occasionally. He feels quite afraid on discovering these items but he also can't quite resist the feeling of holding a gun into his hand and imagining of shooting the dog, sleeping a few foots away from him. However, the junk items can be more awful than this. Amongst the junk, he once found the little parts of a human-like body. He puked at its obnoxious sight. The road sweeper told him that it was perhaps, a female foetus. Are dogs really the cruelest creation of GOD? He, sometimes, doubts.

But whether, disgusting or exhilarating, it is only the junk which is the sole purpose of his living. He respects the uselessness and purposelessness of things. He lives 'for' and because 'of' this junk. May be, he himself is a part of it in someway or the other.

Post Box (Final Part)

2009-03-18T10:10:00.000-07:00

(* A follow up from Part-1 , Part-2 and Part-3)

Shourya Garg
Department of Mathematics
University of California, California

Date: 07-Mar-1998
Time: 02:15 AM

Dear Sheetal,

I love you. It never made sense to me, why you felt so happy hearing me saying this to you even after 2.5 years of our marriage. But today, I am writing this to you because it is making me feel warm all over inside. I regret for not writing to you, while I was away to other cities for my lectures. I know you waited patiently for my letters but I have always been so rigid and found no point in writing.

But today, I think I should not delay. I want to tell you that I adore you and the time spent with you have been the best part of my life. Its difficult for me to make myself understand that I can love you even now- when you are dead and no more physically present with me. We knew, this event was coming and the decision to marry was mutual in spite of the disapproval of my mother. But I must tell you, our marriage has provided me extreme comfort. I feel I am blessed to have had you as my wife. With you, I found my life a bit more simple, a bit more easier. You carved out a strange orderliness in my haphazard life and this realization gave me joy. Now since you are not present, this orderliness seems to be fading away. I am back to my old habits and ways, but still I feel changed irreversibly. I became a better human being under your influence and I cease to be the same even when you are now not with me.

Oh... I almost forgot to tell you. Last week, I was awarded the Fields Medal for my works in Number Theory in Norway. I know, you would had gone crazy if you had been there. To my surprise, I also do not reacted wildly, on receiving this honour. No doubt, I was very happy to receive it. All my life, I had dreamed of it. But you not being here with me, dampened my spirits. I was not sad but I was also not wildly happy. During my award acceptance speech, I was foolishly looking out for you in the audience. I know its absurd to behave like this.

I am meeting new people and visiting new places. Few of my new students are really sharp and worth having a class for. I am trying to concentrate more profoundly on my research works. I am looking out for new possibilities and riding on some new aspirations. However, I want to tell you that you, though being dead, are still better than anybody being alive. I love you and continue to do so for the rest of my life.

Forgive me for being 'unnecessarily' practical and stubborn some times. I will continue writing letters to you but will not be able to post them since I don't know your new address.

With love
SG

Grow Up!

2009-03-15T03:09:00.000-07:00

I am utterly being bored by growing up. I am literally fed up ambling across the higher side of age spectrum, year by year. It was fun to be a child and even more fun to be a teenager. Many of my past posts (like this and this and this and this) dealt with my pre-adulthood days. I am always very much excited to remember and write about those little incidents, that innocent happiness and sadness. But these days, I feel I am missing lots of stuff.

The most frustrating thing about growing up is the gradual change in 'expectations' of already 'growed-up' people around you - be it your parents, uncles, aunties, relatives or just anyone. You are expected to behave in a certain way, speak or act as per established social norms, or even probably think in a definite direction. From the last 6-7 years, my parents have only 1 big complaint with me at large- that I still behave as a kid in many serious matters and I am still a child by heart. They feel that I am not maturing at a decent pace. May be they are right but I don't feel this is an issue to be alarmed for.

Last week, I was at my in-laws' home. The next day I woke up at 5:30 AM early morning to watch the 4th ODI between India and New Zealand. I tried keeping the volume low but Sachin was at his excellent best and I was occasionally increasing the volume to be a part of cheers of the stadium crowd and commentators. My parents-in-law woke up and soon joined me. As Sachin came close to his century, I became ferociously excited. Without even realizing, I started shaking my legs, probably feeling more nervous than Sachin. As he whizzed past his century, I jumped in excitement and started celebrating loudly. After a few moments, I noticed that I am literally standing on the sofa and my parents-in law are watching me. They seemed a bit confused at my vociferous reactions. I don't know what they thought about me at that moment. Perhaps, they were regretting their decision of marrying their daughter to me. :(
I should have acted a bit grown-up and should have casually remarked, "Aaj to Sachin bohot accha khela" and after saying this, I should have walked into the washroom like a good boy for a tooth-brush session to get myself qualified for having the break-fast. But I didn't do any of these things. Instead I kept jumping, gulped a piece of bread-jam and dialled the number of my brother to congratulate him on Sachin's century.

I don't feel there is anything wrong in the ungoverned display of your child-like emotions. But people around you just keep reminding you of your age. Few days back, I was at the ring ceremony of my younger cousin. I was extremely happy and dying to dance. One of my uncles, perhaps, spotted my feelings and came by my side. He said, "Gaurav, tumhari to rank badh gayi. Tum to 'Jethji' ban gaye". I agree that my flat stomach has turned into a swollen tummy and I am in total possession of a 2 and a half chin, but I still don't look like a 'Jeth'. But you can't do much about it. As an elder brother, you have to take care of the guests and only 'occasionally' join your younger cousins on the dance floor while they are having a time of their life.

Its terrible to grow up. With time, persons, places, things and feelings have changed.

The fear of getting caught by Mom while spilling the milk into the wash-basin has been replaced by the fear of losing the job in these times of recession. I am growing up.......

The happiness of getting a 1 rupee coin for ice-cream by grand-ma has been replaced by the excitement of getting the appraisal letters on time. I am growing up.......

Disapproval of leaves by the project manager seems less hurtful than the disapproval of parents to watch the TV in exam days. I am growing up.......

Watching the ups and downs of share-prices has taken seat over watching the birds or stars. I am growing up.......

Repeatedly counting coins from the piggy-bank as if they will increase in number in the subsequent counting, watching 'moharram' processions from the roof-top, praying for the availability of electricity at the 'Chitrahar' time, ganging up with brother to steal the pieces of rosogullas from fridge while the Mom is asleep, that first kiss, feeling crazy at-times...... these memories are fading away....It seems I am growing up.........

Well, I think my parents are right. Its a cruel monetary world out there. You need to grow up to face it.

Post Box (Part - 3)

2009-03-08T09:38:00.000-07:00

(* A follow up from Part-1 and Part-2)

Mrs. Aarti Garg
B-12, Nariman Point
Bombay

Dear Shourya,

This is so awful. I am not able to understand why such things are happening to us. This is tearing me apart.

I met Sheetal yesterday. We communicated through letters and finally arranged to meet. She flew down here to Bombay. It was really tough, probably for both of us, to meet under such difficult circumstances.

I have met her before also and I know that she is a girl with lots of common sense and unusual intelligence.No wonder, you both are so much mad about each other. I was amazed by the amount of her liveliness, but at the same time, the dark truth about her future made me sink. I am more saddened after meeting her and I wish and foolishly hope that nothing of that sort happen to her. I can understand the pain she is going through and my helplessness to do anything is killing me. I can also very well understand how bad it is, for you, to face all this.

Its true that I am very very worried about the decision of your marriage. There is so much uncertainty, there are so many doubts. I don't want you to suffer about anything. Its a state of intense and cruel dilemma. On one hand, I am very proud about your love and respect for Sheetal but on the other hand, the inevitable tragedy of the near future is frightening me. I am truely afraid. Things can't get worse than this. I love you and can't see you in pain.

For the past few days, I am only thinking about you and Sheetal and about your marriage. I am still not able to manage myself to be happy about it and accept it for you. We need to accept the realities in full because we can not evade them. I know that you are aware of this fact. I am just re-stating it. Marriage is not only about love, care, concern and respect. It has many other simple but important dimensions as well. Its about day to day life. Its about learning new routines, new ways of handling things and new adjustments. Its about doing seemingly meaningless things like making sure of the availability of bread and butter every morning, going for a walk together, getting angry about the preparation of meals at home in favour of having it at hotel, fighting for TV serials, being rude at each other at times, sleeping on the couch leaving your partner waiting in the room. Its about creating and experiencing a lovely dependency for each other. Its about so many different things. Things that we generally don't care and take for granted.Things that make up our day-to day life without even our realization.

Why do you want to create such memories about so many countless events and things? Death is a certainty. It can happen to anybody anytime. No one can do much anything about it.But if one knows about it in advance, then what is the point in accumulating these memories which will become a source of extreme pain.I am so sorry for Sheetal and your relationship. But this marriage will only aggravate the already grave situation. I know you and your thought-process. That is why I am so much terrified. You are so passionate about everything-whether its your job or your research or your love. Spending 2 years with your wife and then losing her will be an irreparable blow to you. It will only pave the way to an infinite void in your heart and I just can't see you all through that. I may sound selfish but I accept I am being one. I do not want you to feel that acute pain. I don't want you to live under the silhouettes of Sheetal's memories for the rest of your life because I know you will never let it pass. You are so stubborn. You will never try or even want to forget her and move on.

I am so terribly sorry to be so rigid about your marriage but I have learnt from you only , about putting feelings in an unmodified state as they are. I do not approve this marriage and it hurts to know that my approval in this, perhaps, do not matter any more for you. However, I am with you always even when our thoughts contradict and I love you more than anything else in this world.

Praying for all the happiness and good things in life for you.
Your Mom

Ye Dilli hai mere yaar!!!

2009-03-01T04:39:00.001-08:00

Few Good Men and Women

2009-02-27T09:13:00.000-08:00

Right now, I am just wondering about life. Its a beautiful idea. I don't know, if everything that is happening is destined to happen, or is it just happening by chance. Whatever it is, it is a phenomenally unique concept. We meet so many people down the life. Some become friends, some remain acquaintances and some are forgotten.Some people inspire us while some just suck. The presence of some people feels good while the absence of some seems blessing. There are few, who come into our lives, share some good and bad moments and just go away without leaving a trail.

I wanted to jot down about some of the people whom I came to know but now, I don't know where they are. Infact, I don't even clearly remember the faces of some. There are certain glimpses of the time we spent together, in my mind.

Here are some tits and bits about these people:

1. Alok:

He was with me in class IVth. Probably we were in the same school from Nursery but I faintly remember him from my Class-IV days. We used to share food from our tiffin-boxes under the big mango tree. Infact, it was he who told me that the tree was of mango.We used to come and go in the same rickshaw from our homes, and I remember vaguely that we both were quite afraid of 'vultures', which we used to encounter on the unbuilt road to our school. I also remember him because he always got better grades than me and my mother always compared his report-card to mine. I think I was sometimes, jealous of him but I enjoyed his company. We used to play together in school. In class Vth, his father got transferred to some other town and we lost touch. I don't remember, whether I was sad or not. We have never met till this day. I don't know whether he remembers me or not.

2. Behanji:

She was an old lady living in our house on rent. Those days, we used to live in a joint family. Everyone called her 'Behanji'.She was a teacher in a girls' school. I don't know what was her real name and I remember her face very vaguely now. The 1 thing that I have not forgotten is that she used to gave me guavas in the evening because I loved guavas. My mother tells that she was very attached to me. I remember a funny incident when she was at angry at my father for playing the radio too loudly and my father was a little embarrassed by getting an scolding in front of me. She left our house when I was probably 9 years old. I never got a chance to see her again. Few years back we came to know from a distant relative that she has passed away.

3. Anjali :

She was my class-mate in class VIth and yes...I remember her face very clearly. She was the first one I really felt attracted to. Probably, it was too early to get attracted to someone at such a tender age but I clearly remember how much happy I was when I had forgot to bring my Hindi text-book and our teacher asked me to share her book. She frowned at me when I underlined some text at her book and I just managed to say sorry. I wanted to talk to her but I guess she hated me. She was the daughter of the principal of the school and talked only to very selective students. The next year, she went to some boarding school and never came back. :)
(Last year, I tried searching her on Orkut but in vain :( )

4. Rikshaw wale bhaiya:

He was the person who used to carry and 5 other children (Alok, Sonal, Rehab and the names of other 2...I don't remember) in his rickshaw to drop us at our school and pick us from there. I never knew his name. He carried me from Class I to Class V. I faintly remember that he used to beat loudly at the door early morning and yelling "Riskshawwwww". We, the neighbourhood children, used to run amok, each one trying to acquire the 'gaddi wali seat'. I fell down once and he came running, picked me up and carried me on his shoulders to rickshaw. I was crying and he made me sit at the bar, just in front of him, to soothe me. It was a nice ride. I remember, once he gave me his half-eaten apple and when I told this at home, I got a good scolding from my mom. In class VI, my parents bought me a bicycle. I loved going to school on bicycle but I guess, the rickshaw ride was much better.

5. Sister Charlotte:

She was my English teacher in class VIIIth. I had joined a new school and was terrible in English. She was a strict teacher and very peculiar about pronunciations. She almost daily punished me for wrongly pronouncing the words while reading and I was petrified by her. I remember asking my parents to change my school and I wept a lot alone where nobody could see me. The early days were horrible but gradually I improved a little and she also got used to my kind of pronunciation, perhaps. After Xth, I once again switched the school. I remember I had dropped a letter to her and she replied me with a Christmas Card. That was our last conversation. I wish I could tell her that I can pronounce the word 'amalgamate' properly now.

6. Himanshu Bansal and Gaurav Agarwal:

They were 2 of my best friends in Class XI and XII. We used to sit together in the class and spent the evenings together at the Pakoda Shop. Himanshu had a girl-friend which he had nick-named as Chavanni (I hope she does'nt read this) and he used to narrate us his little incidences with Chavanni at the pakoda shop. We, the both Gauravs, used to listen to his stories with awe. We went to tutions together, we studied and played together and spent some good time together. After XII, we just lost connection. I and perhaps they also tried to connect to each other all these years but couldn't do so. The homes got changed along with the telephone numbers.

There are so many other people who made differences, big and small, to my life one way or another. I guess I will keep updating this post whenever I will recollect something about them from my past.

With the latest development of technologies like Internet and mobile revolutions, these days its easier to remain in touch with the people you wish to connect to. Inspite of this, everyone gets so busy that the time passes by and we don't realize.

The Story of a Story-teller

2009-02-23T08:47:00.000-08:00

The loud noise at the door disturbed Rahim. He was succeeding a little in his attempt to sleep but someone was nullifying his efforts by banging hard on the door. The voice was Roshan's - the village priest. "Rahim open the door, open the door. The father of Ramendra has passed away an hour back. Please reach to Maun Ashram on time today evening". Rahim pulled over his kurta and opened the door. "Ohhh...Ram Ram.....Yes Roshan panditji, I will reach there at time".

It was little past afternoon. Rahim went back inside and took a little water from the pot. While gargling, he thought about his son who was somewhere, very far, in big city. He washed his face and looked into the mirror. The wrinkles of his face had deepened. He looked towards the heavens and prayed to Allah, reaffirming his wish to die in the morning time and not in the afternoon.

He had been living in this village named 'Shail' for all his life. He was born here, his father was born here and his fore-fathers had also lived here. For ages, he and his predecessors, had worked as the 'story-tellers' of this village. This village had a very unique and a mystic ritual. Whenever a person died, after mid-day, then his or her last ceremonies were not performed on the same day. The villagers kept the dead body in a hut called 'Maun Ashram' near the banks of the village river, the whole night. A group of 15-20 people would sit in the hut and a story-teller would narrate them a story the whole night to keep them awake. Only the next morning, the body would be cremated or buried.
Rahim belonged to that family of story-tellers. For the past hundreds of years, his past generations had carried this legacy of story-telling. There were thousands of stories, whose origins were unknown. These stories were the mirror of the old heritage and moral values, beliefs and superstitions of the village. The stories consisted of the accounts of cruel kings, mighty princes, beautiful fairies, wars, saints and demons culminating with great lessons of life. They taught about the non-permanence of life and the futility of deeds, about the pleasure of goodness and power of faith. Amongst big naked mountains, inside that small hut, in the dim light of a kerosene lamp, the story teller kept the villagers awake till the morning when the final rituals for the dead were started.

Rahim completed his evening nawaaz a little hurriedly and stepped towards the Maun Ashram. From the past few days, he was always thinking of his son Abdul, who had left the village 3 years back to do a job in the city. Abdul had little interest in listening to stories and had absolutely no desire to carry his father's legacy. He wanted to earn money and enjoy his own sense of 'happiness'. Gradually, he had cut short his visits to the village.

The days were passing by in Shail. There was a usual change in the seasons. The trees were periodically dropping their leaves and replenishing them. The river kept flowing behind the ashram and the stories kept flowing inside it.

One day, Abdul came back. There was a long procession of villagers outside the Maun Ashram. Every one was silent. It seemed as though the river was also waiting. The body of Rahim was lying inside. Abdul made his way into the hut and arranged for his father's final ceremonies. Rahim was buried in the mid-afternoon at the other side of the bank of river, the same day of his death.

The characters of all his stories and the ritual of the village died with him.

Baba Ramdev's Marketing

2008-10-23T23:31:00.000-07:00

so.....lets start Prayanama!!!!!

Last Few days and TODAY

2008-10-20T11:41:00.000-07:00

The last few days didn't go my way. We do not played cricket for the last 3 weekends, I was away from my blog for 1 reason or the other, 2 of my wonderful cab-mates- Rakesh and Sumit got their cab changed, there is no TV in the cafeteria of our new office and hence I am missing the action of the current Border-Gavaskar series. On the top of all this, I am down and out by viral fever and throat infection for the last 4 days.

The only gush of cool air came today a few moments ago, when India beated Australia by a whooping margin in the 2nd Test match at Mohali. I have never seen Australia in such a dire state. It was extremely pleasant to watch them bending down to their knees in front of Indian bowlers. Mr. Mathhew Hayden had no idea where Harbhajan will pitch the bowl. Mr. Ponting looked unbelievably at his shattered off-stump as Ishant celebrated his dismissal. Similar was the dismissal of other Kangaroos who were clueless to the fiercy Zaheer and the classy Leg Breaky Amit Mishra.

This match has been super special to me because Sachin surpassed the record of Brian Lara to become the highest run getter in Tests of all times. I can proudly say that I am and was never an atheist because I have always believed in SACHIN. :)

The mercury around my body has started to rise up. I am fed up with this fever but today I am happy and going to sleep with the sweet memories of this historic win.

My Blogmates

2008-09-17T23:50:00.000-07:00

The above picture shows few names which have visited or commented on this blog till yesterday.

This picture has been created at http://wordle.net/create

The idea came from http://hirdu.blogspot.com/.

Postbox (Part-2)

2008-09-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

(* A follow up from Part-1)

Sheetal Sharma
D/o Mr. A K Sharma
Punjabi Bagh
New Delhi

Date: 20-Jan-1995
Time: 10:55 PM

Dear Aunty,

Hoping that you are in best of your spirits.

Though we have communicated with each other so many times in the past, but I am feeling a bit awkward writing a letter to you at this point of time. I thought to call you but then changed my mind. I believe, by writing a letter, I can express myself much better. I know you have had numerous conversations with SG on phone and letters and obviously you are not very happy about this. I can very well understand the state of your mind and your reactions. Frankly speaking, I was also not in favour of this decision after knowing about my present health conditions. I have talked and fought with SG over this many times but in vain. I argued with him over the suddenly created 'meaninglessness' and 'futility' of carrying this relationship but couldn't reach to any conclusions. You know, mostly SG has final words in every argument. However, deep down inside, this time, I also wanted him to have final say in this matter.

It was very difficult for me(or perhaps for anyone) to accept that I am dying. Certainly not in this way. There are lots of wishes still unfulfilled and lots of dreams still unrealized. I am now facing a huge task of suddenly reprioritizing lots of things. Its almost like I have to compress 20 years of life into 3 years. This task has specially become challenging because of the love that SG has bestowed on me.

I was living a kind of very average life until I met SG here in Chicago. As you already know, I was his student in the Mathematics class. He was newly been appointed Assistant Professor in the Department of Mathematics at such a young age. I was struck by his clear-cut straightforwardness and the 'originality' of this thoughts. His great presence of mind, his 'mathematical' sense of humour and his flawless dedication towards his research, fuelled my attraction towards him. He introduced me to the joy of solving equations, watching the world through the eyes of logic and reason. I felt special in his presence, in knowing him as a person. He is simply a wonderful human apart from being a brilliant mathematician.

I can never forget that day when he was deeply discussing about a complex Integral Calculus problem with me. We were in the library and he was trying hard to make me understand the ins and outs of this problem. I was trying hard to follow his directions and explanations but the problem was just baffling me too much. I said, "Lets do it tomorrow." He was frustrated to the hell and screamed, "Lets get married. I will teach you at home". I was dumbstruck. Gradually and slowly, his face expressions changed. He smiled a bit and said "There is 1 more equation that is more complex to solve than this one. Its called the mysterious equation of love. Will you help me to crack it?". I was on the top of my world. It seemed as though everything is falling into place till we discovered that I am incurably ill.

My first reaction was obviously of deep anger. I holded SG tightly with all my strength. I do not want to lose him. A day before, I was dreaming of marrying him, taking care of his spectacles and books, preparing meals for him, attending all his paper presentations, cheering him in his struggle with numbers, dealing with his little idiosyncrasies, spending Sundays with him in the mountains, living with him for ever. A day after, everything was changed. For the days to come, I was surrounded by doctors in white dresses, green walls, medicines, surgeries and couple of chemotherapy sessions. I thought of returning to India. But SG holded my hand and showed me the way.

Aunty, I can not say that what we are doing is the only right thing to do under such circumstances. Its quite difficult for me to comment something on this. But I desperately want to meet you. Though, SG had some confrontations with you, but I believe that you are the most important person in SG's life. Much more important than his theorems and much much more important than me.

I will be here in India for 3 more weeks. I hope that you will give me a call after reading this letter and I will fly to Bombay to meet you. I tried my best to express my genuine feelings here and I hope I succeded in this attempt.

Looking forward to meet you soon.

Yours
Sheetal

John Howard and Immigrants

2008-09-14T23:13:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine forwarded this speech delivered by an Australian Prime Minister John Howard. Howard angered some Australian Muslims by saying he supported spy agencies monitoring the nation's mosques.

Quote:

'IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT. Take It Or Leave It. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali , we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians.' 'This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom' 'We speak mainly ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society . Learn the language!'
'Most Australians believe in God. This is not some Christian, right wing, political push, but a fact, because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture.' 'We will accept your beliefs, and will not question why. All we ask is that you accept ours, and live in harmony and peaceful enjoyment with us.' 'This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our Christian beliefs, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom, 'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE'.' 'If you aren't happy here then LEAVE. We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted.'

I don't know whether he is RIGHT or WRONG but I liked his attitude. Probably India needs somebody like him to tackle terrorism.

Life never gets back to track....

2008-09-14T20:34:00.000-07:00

12th July 2006- the day after Mumbai Train Blasts, newspapers and TV channels reported that life is slowly getting back to track after this mishap. The spirit of Mumbai is alive.

27th August 2007- the day after Hyderabad Blasts, media reported that the city is back to normal. People are back to their daily routines.

15 May 2008- the day after Jaipur Blasts, a news correspondent remarked, "The pink city will never bow to terrorism. The colors of this city will never fade away".

...

Some same sound clips came for Malegaon and Ahemdabad bomb blasts.

...

Yesterday, after the news of Delhi bomb blasts, while I was frantically calling the numbers of few friends, I suddenly thought that why to panic now? Life will get back to its normal state. We, the Indians, should be habitual to this by now. Its just a matter of luck now. I am plain lucky to be alive and be able to write this post since , by chance, I was not there in Lumbini park in Hyderabad(in 2007), or at CP or Karol Bagh in Delhi this Saturday. Its just a matter of random probabilities.

The scenes of mutilated blood covered bodies, crying people, shocked faces, police sirens, utterly anxious news correspondents, have slowly became so common at TV channels that I have somehow developed an immunity for all this. I usually change the channel to VTV or MTV and increase the volume to curb these scenes and sounds. 1 question stills wanders my mind :

Does life really gets back to track for the people who suffer such terrorist attacks? I don't think so. There is nothing called any 'spirit' of a city or 'never-fading' colors of a city. This is all bull-shit. 1 fine morning, a person leaves his home for work and never returns. Can the wait of his immediate family members, ever come to an end? Can the so called spirit of the city, be able heal the eyes of the bus driver who became blind? Some people will not be able to sleep for many days. Some people will not be able to hear anything for the rest of their lives. Some people will walk on crutches and mourn over their lost legs. Life can never get back to track for these people.

...

I don't know what that feeling is. Its so scary. I am doubting every other green-colored dustbin on the road. I am doubting every other unknown person.

Postbox (Part-1)

2008-09-12T02:17:00.000-07:00

Shourya Garg
Department of Mathematics
University of California, California

Date: 12-Jan-1995
Time: 01:15 AM

Dearest Mom,

I know you don't want to read this letter, but at the same time, I am sure you are reading it. This letter is my final attempt to make you believe that my decision is right and inspite of the differences in our opinions, I firmly believe that the bond between us will always grow stronger and stronger.

I want to once again state that I do want to marry Sheetal, inspite of the fact that she will die within 3 years. Its difficult for me to say such a thing so harshly but as life has taught that most facts are harsh-so be it.I am fully aware of her disease. Its not at all an emotional decision and is not taken under the fit of baseless feelings and stuff like that. Its a very conscious decision and we both (Me and Sheetal) have put a lot of thought on it. It was tough to convince her at first, and I know its tougher to convince you. Afterall, you love me so much and you care for me more than anything else in this world.

I have very objectively analysed the whole situation and tried to find out that why I want to marry her. I concluded that by doing so, its definitely not that I want to be a 'great' person. Its not that I want to avoid the guilt of breaking up a promise I made 2 years ago(under a different set of circumstances). You know me very well. I am not a kind of person who can decide the course of his future life for some promise made in the past. So, why do I want to marry her?

The fact that she is seriously ill has undoubtedly disturbed me. For the past few days I was sad and angry and not happy with life. But I realized, during all these days, this fact has never affected the harmony and comfort that we feel with each other. It has not taken away that 'fun' factor , that 'zing' , that 'purpose', which I experience with her. I definitely want to marry this girl simply because I love her. I want to take care of her.I want to carry the responsibilities and experience the uncertainties of a married life with the girl I love so very much. I don't want to miss the luxury of taking care of somebody who is so close to me. Its as simple as that.

Having 'decided' and said all that, it does not mean that I have not thought about the life after her. I love the concept of being alive and being able to do so many things. I am deeply attached to my research work here in this institution and I have many other dreams and desires. I am damn sure that the happiness of being married to my beloved, will only enhance my attempts. Yes, I do believe that the subsequent absence of Sheetal from my life will hurt but I am prepared for it and I am hopeful for life.

Sheetal has left for India yesterday to meet her parents and explain about the decision that we mutually have taken. Her parents have already gone through so much after learning about her illness and I hope our decision will provide them some comfort. (Though this is absolutely no reason for our decision. It may be a mere positive side-effect). She will write a letter to you and if you will approve, she will come to meet you. Upon her return to Chicago, we intend to marry as soon as possible.

I am sad that I am marrying inspite of your disapproval. I respect your viewpoints and concerns but I still feel that this marriage will not do any damage to anyone and will have constructive effects on me and Sheetal. Though our judgements differ, but I am sure it will not create any rift between us. I love you with all my heart and I am hopeful that you will lovingly accept this new phase of my life.

As always, waiting anxiously for your letter.

Your Son,

Large Hadron Collider and our News Channels

2008-09-11T01:13:00.000-07:00

I am sure everybody knows about the new mega project going on in Geneva, to lighten up up some of the dark secrets of universe. Thanks to our news channels for presenting some of the most absurdly fascinating, gory and imaginative footage on the whole experiment.It created a sort of panic among people who are oblivious of the terminology and effects of this 'UN-GODLY' sounding experiment. One of my uncles(whom I always try to avoid), caught me and started discussing about it. A part of this conversation was as follows:

Uncle : Gaurav, the time has finally arrived. Everything will be over now.

Me: Thank GOD, I will die atleast married. :)

Uncle: No jokes please. I am serious. What will happen now?

Me: Even the scientists are consulting the news correspondents of AajTak and India TV. The effects are somewhat like

-"AB AYYEGAA JALJALAA"

-"KAANP UDHEGI DHARTI"

-"MACH JAAYEGI TABAHI"

-"BAN JAAYENGE BLACK HOLES"

He interrrupted me in between and said: What are Black Holes? Will the whole earth become black?

Me: No Uncleji. Nothing will happen. These news channels have just gone insane.

Uncle: But tell me. What are black holes?

Me: I don't know much. If the density of anything becomes infinitely high, then that thing turns into a black hole.Nothing can escape from black hole. Not even light.

Uncle: If this is so, why it is called a hole? If we drop something into a hole, it comes out from the other side. Why not in this case?

Me: @?#&!*

Uncle: What are you murmuring? Do you know the name of machine they are using for this? Its something called Large Hadron Collider. It will accelerate some particles at a very very fast speed and collide them. This phenomena will create the same conditions that were present at the time of BIG BANG.Some new particles will be created which will give us an insight about how matter was created and how mass was generated.

Me(with eyes rolling): Wow!! How come you know all this stuff?

Uncle: I have only rote-learned it. I don't understand the inch of it. Its good to blurt it, in case of discussions. You are treated special when you say such things, you see!!

Me: Hmmm...

Uncle: But I seriously feel that such experiments are a threat to existence. They should never be allowed. Change the channel to NDTV India. Lets hear it from them......

Maa

2008-09-11T00:54:00.001-07:00

Momos

2008-09-08T11:14:00.000-07:00

From the last few months, while returning from office, we (me and my cab-mates) usually make our cab stop in front of a 'Momos' vendor to have some Momos. One of my cabmates, Rakesh, who is from Nainitaal (though he looks more from Nepal), is ultra-crazy about momos and he was the one who introduced the taste of this Tibetian dish to rest of us, for the first time. He always becomes extremely excited upon hearing the word 'Momos' and starts behaving like a kid who is going to get his favourite chocolate or a lollipop.

And hence, one fine evening ,the 'momotic' Rakesh asked the cab driver to stop the cab at his favourite Momos shop. He ordered chicken momos for himself and Manish and a veg Momos plate for me. I must say, this was the ugliest piece of food I had ever seen and my taste buds started screaming at its mere sight. It was round in shape, white in color, spongy in touch and awful in smell. (I am sorry if that description hurts any momo lover). I holded the plate and looked towards Rakesh. He was gulping 2 at a time and said, "Taste karo ....Taste karo....maza aa gaya yaar". I bited the smallest possible piece and felt like vomiting. The smell was hurting more than its taste. Right then, Rakesh remarked, "Arre chutney se khao bhai...maza aa gaya". I looked at the red chilly paste. It seemed to challenge me. I took a big piece this time, dipped it into the red bloddy paste and landed it on my tongue. Manish put his hand on my shoulder and asked "kya hua". My eyes were wide open. I screamed after a big pause- Paani paani.....abe cold drink le aa.arre baap re. kya hai ye." My nose and ears started burning and eyes became moist. I took an oath to never ever try Momos.

But Rakesh was confident that I will gradually like the taste of Momos. For him, Momos are the next best thing after beer. He convinced me to try it again. This time, he ordered a half veg plate for me along with a cold drink. He stood beside me to take the fear out of me. I took the first bite without the chutney. He waited for my approval. Just to make him happy, I nodded," It seems OK'. I feared that he will start clapping but he didn't. I some how ate 2 pieces and gave the rest to Manish.

The third evening was also waiting for this Momo party. This time, I felt a little adjusted to its taste. I tried the red chilly chutney also and drank lots of Pepsi to extinguish its fire. But I realized I was starting to enjoy it.

Gradually, after few more evenings, as Rakesh had correctly predicted, I discovered the taste in Momos. It was painful in the beginning but there was a unique pleasure amidst this pain. Rakesh took us to several other Momos vendors in Noida and I was also the one holding opinions about the quality and tastes of Momos of different places.

Few days back, we were returning from office. Rakesh was half-asleep. Manish was also trying to achieve this state. I said loudly, "Aaaj momo kayenge". To my surprise Rakesh answered,"Nahi yaar aaj mann nahi hai". But I was adamant. "Mujhe Momos khane hain....Mujhe Momos khane hai".

So here we are, the 3 momos-eaters, who take their dinner very late at night because almost every evening, they fill their bellies with wonderful and exotic white pieces of luscious momos.....

Run at your best!!

2008-08-12T22:10:00.000-07:00

The contents of the pic are :

Every morning in Africa, when the sun rises, a deer awakens knowing that it has to outrun the fastest lion or be hunted to death......

Every morning in Africa, when the sun rises, a lion awakens knowing that it has to outrun the slowest deer or be starved to death......

It doesnot matter whether you are a lion or deer, when the sun rises, better be running at your best!!!!

Cheers!!!

2008-07-31T03:11:00.000-07:00

Atlast , I found it....

A Long Pending Task

2008-07-22T10:00:00.000-07:00

Today my cab dropped me at 8:35 PM at home. We had started at 5:45 PM from office and the omnipresent traffic jam at each corner of Delhi, forced us to sit, sleep ,wake up, talk some crap, be silent for some time, lay down at the back seat and watch through the glass windows, for about 2 hours in the cab. I was tired and down and my cab mates literally 'dropped' me at my stop. I was expecting some very warm welcome at home. A huge pampering was perhaps required to allow me to forget about today's pathetic travel.
...
I smiled at this thought and pressed the door bell. My brother opened the door and straight away started talking about India Srilanka Test match ,cursing rains for disrupting it. I was least interested and looked out for my Mom. She was standing few feets away and gave me a dejected look. I realized something and searched for my wife. She gave me a 'super-dejected' look. I put down my head and replied my brother, 'Haan yaar, aaj ka din to kharab ho gaya!!"
..
I know that my Mom and wife love me the most but from the last 5 weeks, they are asking me to have an hair cut and I have not done that yet. So probably their love is slowly loosing its lustre and their anger at my 'non-action' was evident from their looks.
..
I am extremely lazy at having hair-cuts on time and hence my mom has to still follow me to get them cut. In my college days, I used to have an hair cut only when I came for holidays at home and that too, only due to my mother's vigilance. She had even asked a neighbourhood barber to get hold of me whenever I came down to my hometown. The person used to spot me from far away and jokingly used to ask me to sit on the chair in his shop before going home. During my ragging time at college, my mother (ironically) was extremely happy as I had to keep military cut hairs for several weeks.
..
From the last 5 Saturdays and Sundays, I have somehow managed to avoid a visit to the barber's shop. But now its becoming too difficult. I think all moms are really fussy about hair-cuts. Just wondering, for how many weeks does Ishant Sharma's mother is following her son for an hair cut. Probably 200 weeks or so!!!

A Few Losses....

2008-07-19T11:35:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am listening to some mind blowing music from a forth-coming movie - 'Rock On'. I am particularly liking this song ,"Pichle saat dino maine khoya". Ironically it is also making me remember those things that I have lost in past few days:

1. My this year's Form 16. I had collected it from my company and perhaps brought to home. But now, when I have to file income tax, I don't know where it is?
2. A new towel. I had put it into the changing room of my swimming club and forget it there. The next day, to my least surprise, it was missing.
3. The key of my bike. I have completely no idea where it is? It was supposed to be in my drawer but ..... I have searched through the whole home, every corner, even the insides of my pillows.Its nowhere. Thankfully I have another duplicate key.
4. A 5 rupee note. Till yesterday, around 11:00 AM, it was in the right pocket of my trouser. But at night, while changing, I frisked through my pockets only to find them empty. Perhaps I dropped it somewhere while pulling out my mobile.
5. Few passwords. I had maintained an excel sheet keeping in some passwords of few applications in office. The excel sheet was accidentally deleted and now I am not able to fill up my time sheet, apply for a leave and things like that.
6. Few Bills. I had collected some Petrol Bills to utilize them for reimbursement in office. They went into the rotating water of washing machine, along with the pocket of my shirt and never came back. :(
7. Fountain Head. My most favourite novel. My neigbour had borrowed it and he got transferred to Calcutta along with it.
8. Faith. I have completely lost faith in my cricketing capabilities. From the last few week ends, I have been a super 'under-performer' in our matches. I am scoring not more than 5-6 runs, giving an average of around 12-13 runs in bowling, running like a tortoise between wickets often getting run -out. No wonder, the team for which I play usually loses and now nobody takes me into his team. I am, usually, the last choice when teams get formed.
..
Farhan Akhtar is singing ,"Pichley saat dino mein maine khoya, kabhie khud pe hasa main aur kabhie khud pe roya".
..
Thankfully, my wallet and mobile phone are still in the pockets of my trouser.

'First Name Middle Name Last name'....Where does the Nick Name fits in?

2008-07-17T12:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a college friend called me. Its always a rejuvenating feeling to get a call from an old college pal. His opening lines were:"Aur Boga, kya haal chaal. Saale kabhie phone nahi kartaa. Kaisa hai tu." and I replied, "Tikloo bhai....jai ho...main badiya tu suna" We talked for about 15 minutes, recollected some good old college memories and cribbed over our current obnoxious life. Just then, I noted the names by which we were refering to each other: Boga and Tikloo. It was really amusing to hear 'Boga' after quite a time. This was my nick name in college and I had almost became unhabitual to hear 'Gaurav' for me.

..........

In college, we had a nickname for everybody- friends, teachers, hostel warden, lab assistants, librarian...just every body. Few of my close friends were 'Ulti', 'Tikloo', 'Chamanlal', 'Mirchi Seth', 'Raaka' and 'Buddha'. There was a person whose sir name was Waghmare. We used to call him 'Makkhi bhi naa maare'. The person with sir name Seelvant was called as 'Seelkhuli'. One of our class mates was very fair in color but was very fat. His name was 'Safed haathi'. Then there was 'Chyavanprash', 'Golu', 'Daanav', 'Bargad' and 'Pyaasa'.

......

A friend of mine, looked liked a jungle boy. He was named 'Bheel'. This name became very popular and even the juniours also called him 'Bheel Sir'. Whenever he used to enter into his room, we used to sing,

" Bheel ro. Bheel ro. Shyam rang Bheel ro.....

aaye ho kis jungle se....

Nadiya ka paani peeke, kacche falo ko khake,

Bakre ki khaal mein tum,

nukilaa bhaala leke...aaye ho kis jungle se ....

ho tum...........ho tum...."

(It was pun on song 'Bumroo Bhumroo' from the movie Mission Kashmir)

.....

The girls were also no exception. There was 'Vamp','Badi bhabhi', 'Chotu maa', '33 Daant', 'Mr Universe', 'Pataakhe wali gali', and 'Chuimui'.

....

But those days have now flied away. In this sophisticated corporate world, we have enough of Mr. Guptas, Mr. Goels, Mr. Sharmas...........but no one like 'Bheeku' or 'Pappulal'.

....

The 'boga' inside me is struggling to survive.

Working Woman - After Office Hours.....

2008-07-17T03:56:00.000-07:00

Well, the picture says it all.......

The Examination Fears!!!

2008-07-14T09:37:00.000-07:00

This is a serious post. It narrates the valiant efforts of a 10 year old who, by his beautiful presence of mind and instant pro activeness, saved a 12 year old from turning into a shameless cheater for the rest of his life.

The story goes back to 1993. A bunch of students are sitting in an examination hall, scratching their heads, looking at an almost unknown question paper. Two examiners are marching down to and fro, like a pendulum, across the room. The previous day, they both probably got operated to get a pair of vultures' eyes. These eyes help them to locate those miscreants who try to justify the money of their parents by cheating in the exams. The examiners are alert and sharp. They are just waiting to pounce upon their prey. Their heads are moving like a radar to catch any faint sound or sight of anything fishy.

A guy looks deeply puzzled and has a constant 'know-nothing' look stapled on his face. He is constantly watching the precise moves of the examiners-cum-Scotland Yard guards and waiting for that small time frame where he can ask the answer of a question to his mate who is busy in jotting down the answers in his answer book. As soon as the left examiner passed him, he glanced at the right examiner who was about to take turn. This was his little time-frame. He lowered his head and whispered, "Abe, 2nd question ka sahi option kya hai......2nd question.....2nd question". His mate rolled his eyeballs towards him without moving his head and muttered "C, aur third question ka bhi C". The time window had closed but the job was done. Our hero smiles and raises his head. Suddenly the junior class student who was sitting besides him stands up with his head high and screams, "Sir ye bhaiya, un bhaiya se pooch rahe hain ki 2nd Question ka sahi option kya hai....ye wale bhaiya...ye wale" Whattttt the hell!!!!!!The sky came running down right over the head of our hero.....

The examiners came to his side with a wry and cunning smile and said, "Gaurav...stand up. You have lost your last chance. Get out. You will be marked absent for this exam. Boy, you are gone. Call your parents this friday."

Yes...that was me. I was in class 7th. While leaving the hall, I looked ferociously at Aman, the 5th grade 'snake', who had ruined my day. I was filled with all kinds of feelings....revenge, murder, fear and a 'little' shame. I kept walking keeping my head low and eyes glued to my feet. Everyone was looking at me. The girls in the front row were giggling covering their ugly and unbrushed teeths with their hankerchiefs, probably muttering..."Look at the loser. He even failed at cheating". That seemed to be the longest walk of my life.

When I sat into my school bus to return to home, the news was very publicly out. I had always wanted to be a centre of attraction but surely not in this way. Even the peon was amusingly looking at me. I was filled with deep fear. I thought, "my parents will hang me today in the playground, in front of every neighbourhood kid and the people will narrate my story to create terror into the minds of their kids, so that they study better. I was almost fainting at these thoughts. However, nothing of that sort happened and I took an oath to never ever cheat in exams in any form- asking or telling.

But its said, that childhood ghosts never leave a person. They keep haunting him every now and then. The year was 2001. I was, once again in an examination hall giving final exams of my 2nd semester. I was, as always, struggling to accumulate the passing marks in the exam. Amidst that confusion, I heard a whisper ,"Gaurav, question 4 ka answer dikha, abe question 4...haan...question 4" It was my best friend Gopal who was sitting just behind me. I was terrified. The class 7th incident rolled down in front of my eyes. A terror wave ran down my spine. I looked here and there. The guy at my sideways was smiling and gestured at me telling that Gopal was asking something. I thought ,"I am in Engineering. There is no Aman here. We all are now grown up." But...I was not able to muster enough courage. The voice of Gopal, now came with a pinch of anger. It was like a scene of the film Sholay, where Dharmendra was asking ferociously to Thakur to help him acquire a gun but Thakur was not listening to him. Dharmendra was unaware of the fact that Thakur had no hands and the shawl that he used to wrap around was not any style. Here , I was Thakur and Gopal was Dharmendra. But like Thakur, I was not able to help Gopal.

At the end, Gopal was very angry at me. Our friendship was at stake but I told him everything innocently. He couldn't stop laughing hearing all that crap and I also smiled intentionally.

But till today, I am afraid of cheating in exams (Though now there are no more exams). I always feel that some Aman is watching me constantly. :)

Those 'invisible' threads......

2008-07-13T10:13:00.000-07:00

We, the human beings, connect to each other in many ways. During the course of our lives, we meet many people. Some of them are like us and some are different. We make friends, we share our joys and sorrows, we create bonds. We build relationships, we grow together and we live our lives riding through the crests and troughs of life.

....

Among my most prominent experiences of life, the one that strikes me the most is - "'Suffering brings us close to each other." And if the type of suffering of the 2 people is same, they begin to share a very strong bond that does not require any blood relation or any kind of friendship. Its just mutual connection.

My father is a kidney patient and is living on Dialysis for the last 4 years. During all these years, he has undergone through several surgeries, intense medication and painful times. Usually I accompany him while he goes to hospital for dialysis, which is approximately a 4 hour process. As soon as he enters into the dialysis room, he steps over the weighing machine to record his weight and asks the medical staff about Mr. Gupta's condition. Mr. Gupta is another dialysis patient who visits the same hospital. I have never seen him but I know everything about him. My father, on our way back, usually tells me about Mr. Gupta and his family. Mr. Gupta was admitted to the hospital in an emergency situation. His both kidneys had stopped functioning and he was now on Dialysis. My father had met him several times in dialysis room and the two had shared about each others' condition. I observe that my father is now always worried about him. He once told me that Mr. Gupta has had very tough times and his agony is almost similar to him. The medical staff told me that Mr. Gupta is also very much worried about my father and always asks about his condition whenever he visits the hospital.

Now, here are 2 people who have absolutely no relation to each other, who do have any farthest acquaintance, but still are genuinely concerned about each other.

At my native place Amroha, there is a lady who is also a kidney patient. He regularly calls me and my mom to know about my father and his present condition. She once told me over the phone that whenever she goes for dialysis, she always thinks about my father, about the medicines he is consuming and about his daily routine. She told me that she feels greatly attached to all people who are fighting this disease.

I have heard about cancer patients communities, the strong emotional bonds that the patients share with each other irrespective of the caste, color or creed. Probably, the fact that they are not alone gives them the strength and stamina to endure their sufferings and courage to fight with their disease.

Its true. We, the human beings, connect to each other in many ways.

A complete end of an incomplete story

2008-07-10T10:20:00.000-07:00

He looked into her eyes. This was the last time he was looking into those bluish mirrors. His image on that reflection distorted as the tears came out of her eyes. He wanted to say something. She wanted to listen something.

He pulled the belt of the bag to his shoulder and took a deep sigh. It was over now. He was wondering how did it all happen in a matter of just few days?How can their relationship end in such a pathetic way? Can 'love' be so weak that it can't hold them together anymore? They had shared each others' joys and sorrows, good times and bad times. They had cared for each other, they had prayed for each other, they had waited for each other, they had spent so many sleepless nights for each other.............. they had lived for each other. Was everything a silly compromise? Why she is not stopping him? He turned towards the door.

She wanted to stop him with all her heart. Her lips shaked as her tears touched them. She would not be able to see him ever again. She would not be able to find him by her side anytime, anymore. He had always been her guiding light, her protector, her 'wishes-fullfiller'. She had always considered him some magic boy, some wizard of Oz, who could just do anything for her, to make her smile, to make her feel contented.He never ever gave any chance of expecting something from him because he always did much more than expected, for her.They both were just too perfect for each other. But she can't stop him inspite of the 'meaninglessness' and vacuum that his absence would create.

He wanted to turn back and have a last look at her. His ears were wide, wide open dying to capture her slightest and faintest call to return. But there was no such voice. There was only a dense, heavy silence. He closed the door and left.

India vs Sri Lanka; Federer vs Nadal; Me vs Fever

2008-07-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

Today is a super Sunday. There is Asia cup final between India and Sri Lanka on the charts starting at 3:30 PM India Time. And there is Wimbeldon Final 'war' between Nadal and Federer. I was deperately waiting for this Sunday. I had already declared at home that I am not going anywhere this Sunday and there should be no last minute assignments. I made sure that there is enough coke in the refrigerator and I was successful in convincing my wife to prepare enough sandwiches. Thankfully there is no planned arrival of any guest today.

The stage was all set till today morning when I woke up and felt something wrong with me. I was not feeling the same enthusiasm and zing , I used to enjoy every morning. I closed my eyes. My eye-lashes were burning. I touched my forehead. It was hot. I was clearly running through fever. I tried to move but felt acute pain in my back and legs. I was angry at myself. How can this happen to me today? This is not done! Its not fair. Just then, my mother entered into the room. I tried looking down and act normal but moms are moms. She straightforwardly asked,'Is anything wrong?' I had started to say ,'No' but her hand was already on my forehead and she was worried, 'Tujhe to bukhaar hai.Bistar se bahar nahi nikalna.' It was not a good omen. I looked at the watch which showed 10:30. I had time to relax a bit and went for some sleep.My eyes opened and I hurriedly looked at the watch. It was 2:00 PM. I took a sigh of relief. I did not want to miss even a single ball. I tried getting up but my body refused. I gathered all my remaining energy and got out of bed. Megha was standing at the door. She was obviously not in favour of me watching the match in this condition. She tried convincing me but in vain. My Mom also came and I found me trapped between these 2 ladies-the enemies of my matches. After a whole lot nagging and crapping, I finally made my way onto the sofa and switched on the TV.

My legs are trembling. I have fallen flat on the sofa with a blanket wrapped all around me. The match is going to start in a moment. I am struggling to open my eyes and my voice is feebling down....."Go India Go..... Go Federer Go......

Common man and Inflation

2008-07-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

I read this beautiful poem long time back in a newspaper. It fits appropriately in today's conditions where inflation has reached in double figures.....

जब आलू महंगे हुए तों मैंने बच्चों को प्यार से समझाया
शरीर विग्ज्ञान का लंबा डोस पिलाया
बच्चों, आलू खाने से मोटापा बढ़ जाता है,
शरीर पैर चर्बी का बोझ चढ़ जाता है
जब प्याज महंगे हुए तों मैंने समझाया,
प्याज खाने से मुख से दुर्गन्ध आती है
मन मस्तिष्क में तामसी व्रती बढ़ जाती है।
फिर जैसे जैसे बढती गई महंगाई,
मैंने बच्चों को नित नई कष्ट व्यथा सुनाइ।
बेचारे मेरी विवशता का भावार्थ समझकर मेरा साथ निभाने लगे,
चुप चाप तेल चटनी से ही सूखी रोटी चबाने लगे।
परन्तु जब बाज़ार से तेल भी गायब हो गया,
तों मेरे अपने मन का धीरज खो गया।
मेरी हालत देख कर बच्चे बोले,
'पापा, खून के घुट पी लेंगे
राणा प्रताप की तरह घास की रोटी खा कर ही जी लेंगे।'
सुनकर मेरी आँख भर आयी।
मैं रोक न पाया अपनी रुलाई।
सिसक कर कहा -
'बच्चों बाज़ार में घास के लिए भी खीचतान मची है,
लालू यादव जैसे चारा चरणे वालों के कारण खाने के लिए घास भी नही बची है।

Appeal to general Public by an Autowala

2008-07-03T22:56:00.000-07:00

Autowalas are not Universal Bhaiyaas. Please respect their feelings ..... :).

Some simply 'complicated' stuff.....

2008-06-19T20:11:00.000-07:00

These days, the thing that irritates my wife most, is my inability to put on the buttons of my shirt properly. I mean, yes, I am probably the only 27 year old human being on planet earth who daily fiddles while tieing up the buttons of his shirt. This is plain and simple idioticity. I don't know why I feel that the round buttons in a shirt are the most complicated stuff discovered by mankind. There should be a zip instead of buttons or there should be only T-shirts or sweat-shirts. I mean, we have to hold two sides of a cloth together. So why we have opted for buttons?Not only, buttons are complex to use, they are also ugly and spotty. I just hate to hold a button into my hand, push it into the groove and repeat this process for atleast 6 times to wear the shirt. Its so boring and mechanical.

To aggravate my situation, our office has banned the T-Shirts for all days of week. I have to daily go through this 3 minutes trauma of pulling the shirt on to my body and buttoning it up. My wife is very much surprised and now shocked to discover this fact that the thing which is so trivial and unimportant for every person, is so much troublesome for me. She is convinced that I have got some serious mental problems due to which I am not able to perform the ultra simple day to day tasks. May be she is right because :

I am not at all comfortable with the laces of my shoes. They keep loosening every now and then and I just hate to tie them.
I have got faulty taste-buds. I usually can not decide the taste of almost any food which I eat. I eat only to quench my hunger. The taste almost never matters.
The quality of ear-phones does not make any difference to my listening. Every song sounds same to me on the best of the best or the worst of the worst ear-phone.
I am very much concerned with the design of handles of the doors. I usually fuss for those doors where the user can not decide whether to pull it or push it. I believe the design of handles on doors should automatically tell the user, which way the door will open. But my wife believes that I should be more concerned about her and family than the 'bloody' handles.
Playing cricket on Saturday and Sunday is my top priority and I can not compromise on it.I wake up at 5 AM in the morning to play and usually sleep through the day to compensate this. As a result, I unavoidably avoid the daily home routines on Saturdays and Sundays and end up upsetting my wife and mother.

You see.....simple things are not so simple!!!

mukhaute

2008-06-16T09:48:00.000-07:00

.....................मुखौटे...................

शहर में है एक बाज़ार ऐसा भी ,
होती है जहाँ खरीद फरोख्त मुखौटो की ,
देव के,
दानव के,
मानव के,
सुहावने डरावने दीन-हीन मुखौटे
मन के किसी अंधेरे में दुबके चोर को
खलनायकी हँसी से दहकते शकुनी के मुखौटे।
अहम् के एहसास का दंभ पाले दुर्योधन के मुखौटे।
आंखों को बरबस ललचाते सोने के हिरन के मुखौटे।
गुजरता जा रहा हूँ एक अरसे से इस बाज़ार से होकर
घूरते से लगते हैं अब ये मुखौटे।

Stubborn....

2008-06-15T23:13:00.000-07:00

When I left college, they said I was being stubborn

When I was leaving home, my Dad said I was stubborn

When I left my first job, my boss said I was too stubborn

Well, I hope they are right, because I hate hammocks

and I do not believe in half days or long weekends......

I will not take life as it comes.

I will scratch and claw and fight every obstacle of my way.

for I have met my fate.

She can be pretty mean when she is not in the mood.

So I will collect all those words of discouragement

and make paper rockets out of them and fly them in strong cross wind

Society has a name for guys like me -

"STUBBORN"

...... - (Written by some very stubborn person)

Weight is just a 'natural' number

2008-05-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

(A scene of a 8th standard classroom of a school in the year 1994 somewhere in North India)

=======================================

A new student has joined the school and today is his first day in the class. He is very nervous, looking constantly downwards and is very very conscious of his surroundings. His whole body seems to be shaking.Everyone around him is noticing him and ignoring him almost at the same time. Just then, the teacher enters into the room and everyone stands up to greet her. She looks unmoved by this daily routine, puts down the books on the table, adjusts her glasses and the pallu of her saari and asks the students to open their books.....but wait.....she looks at that little boy and says..Hey you!!I think you are in a wrong class. This is class 8th. The junior classes are at the back of this section.Which class are you in?The boy seems afraid and mutters in a feeble voice,"I have joined the school today in class 8th". Everyone bursts out laughing. The teacher tries to curb her smile and says "You are so thin and small. Are you sure you are at the right place?"

=======================================

Time to end up the suspense. The boy mentioned above was me and its a truly true incident. Back then, I was so thin and small and weak that everyone thought me to be a small kid without ever knowing the fact that I was starting to experience the 'adolescence'. The boys in my class were all bullies. I was the one who was always in front of morning prayer lines of the school. The boys were extremely sure that I will not be able to play football in our games period.So nobody wanted me in their team. In the school bus, my class mates took out the most comfortable seats while I was forced to sit with Class5th students. The girls of my class found me harmless and the one who can't do anything wrong. I seriously thought that my parents are lying to me that I am 14 years old. May be I am just 10 years old and they probably want me to finish my studies as soon as possible.

I clearly remember that I weighed 35kgs when I was 15 years old. The doctor told that I am atleast 14kgs under weight.Inspite of my mother's all valiant efforts to make me fat by feeding all types of energy drinks and cow's milk and nutritious diets, I still looked far more young than my age.In college also, many of my juniors mistook me to be their junior and tried ragging me. One of my friends' mother remarked "Gaurav, build some body or else no girl will marry you".

All auto rickshaw drivers found that they can easily adjust one more person ("sawaari") besides me.I hated my 'bidi' hands and 'cigarette' legs.I am sure all the pretty girls of my neighbourhood that time were jealous of my waist.

When I joined Satyam, my first company, one of my team mates said" You look as if you are in Class12th". It was humiliating. Though I manged to get some girl-friends but I was constantly under a fear that they will leave me for some more matured and macho looking guy.

But from the last 3 years, when I came to Hyderabad, things started to change. I don't know what happened?May be it was the relief of getting a job or the effects of Hyderabaadi Birayani, I started to gain weight.I did not myself realize but my old friends were alarmed to see me. Mradul, the second most thinnest person of my college, asked me for some tips and tricks.It sounded good but the problem was, it happened exponentially. I was 'thin and bad-looking' and then suddenly became 'fat and more-bad looking'. There has to be some state as 'healthy and good-looking' between these 2, but I missed that and I don't know when. It appears as though I was thin, and one night I slept and became healthy and wonderful for few hours but when I woke up next day, I found myself fat and disgusting. May be I realized it late.Its late because the children of my society call me 'uncle' and my friends say that I look like a father of 2 children. I am probably 70 kgs now (I am afraid of weighing myself.Its a guess).I have now got a pait of 'over-chubby' cheeks with a pair of eyes lost inside this fat.All my trousers deny to hold my waist and I don't require a belt now.

=======================================

(A scene from an apartment in 2008 somewhere in Noida, North India)

A fat ass is sitting on a chair in front of a laptop writing this post. There is no gap left between him and the table because his tummy is in between. He is reluctant to switch on his web cam because his face covers all of the screen. He is feeling hungry but trying to avoid this urge. He is thinking of joining a swimming club. He is taking an oath in his mind to always use stairs and avoid elevators.He is cursing himself of not being able to wake up early in the morning to exercise a bit.He is eating his nails.He is moving his legs in despair.He is thinking about the loss of Mumbai Indians in IPL.He wants to lose some weight.

==========================================

Few Cryptic Emotions

2008-05-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

These feelings keep haunting every now and then. The feelings of emptiness, of meaninglessness, of falling down in a 'bottomless pit', of hollowness. There is a fire somewhere inside without any smoke or sparks or even heat. There is an imbalance and probably a dire need of some equilibrium. There is an infinite absurdity admist the daily chaos of reality, pain, suffering, joy, illusion, selfishness, misery, love, greed, hatred, desperation, happiness, possibility, ignorance, beauty, liberation, faith and every other human or inhuman emotion or action. This 'void' seems inevitable. It envelops the very existence anytime anywhere, eating away the mental silence. Every 'pattern' seems to break and every motion seems to be coming to a stand still. What is it that never calms down? Is it unreal? Is it untrue? What is 'it'? There is a never-ending clash between the idea of fruitful living and the mere useless existence, between the utility of goodness and the surity of evil. Does life always needs a good valid reason to live or these reasons are just a way to keep oneself and others busy?

.....

These are nomadic thoughts which, inspite of being purposeless, sometimes seem so real and true. Probably, something or someone is waiting somewhere. Its just a matter to find 'it' out and deal with it face to face.

I don't like changes.....

2008-04-05T22:47:00.000-07:00

Change is not always good. There are things which you don't want to get changed but destiny has always some other plans folded under its collar. This last Wednesday evening, I was taking a training and had to catch my regular office cab back to home. Everything was in place until I called Manish (my cab-mate) to tell him that I am waiting for him. Manish picked the call and nervously said that our cab has been changed. He looked obviously worried and told me that he was trying to figure out what happened. The cab is changed - not a big deal...Nope.....Its a big deal when you are asked to share your cab with some people who are not in your route, with people who always want to adopt the route in which their home is more near(even if it means to go to Pakistan from office and from Pakistan to their home) and people who have a very bad track record of frequently creating problems in their previous cabs.

Manish came down with a new list of names in his hand. His eyes were speaking it all. His innocent face was reflecting the words "This is not fair". I bombarded him with Why?How?When?Now what? but he replied it instantly "I don't know but from now on we have to take this new cab only". The only streak of relief was that atleast we both were still together in the new cab. (Don't get any wrong ideas!!!).

So, our office journey in the new cab has begun. I am not at all liking it. It is getting the shit out of me but nothing can't be done. I am missing my old cab mates and want to miss the newer ones.

I am borrowing a line from an Hindi movie "Mohabbatein" where the old but strong Narayan Shankar (Amitabh Bacchan) frequently says , "Mujhe parivartan pasand nahi...I don't like changes". Same goes with me too....

Saturday Blues

2008-03-29T00:37:00.000-07:00

Today is Saturday and I am extremely extremely happy. I slept till 11 today and kept tossing on my bed for half an hour more after waking up. I lazily got up rubbing my eyes, came outside of my room, stretched out my arms, took a deep breath and went back to my room to go back for sleep. :-) After my marriage, probably this is the for first Saturday, I am completely free. I have not to go to any relative's place. Wowwww................

cdjsj

In the last 2 months, the every single Saturday and Sunday of my life has been butchered mercilessly. This is the biggest negative after-effect of marriage. As soon as your lovely honeymoon gets over, a 'family' voyage takes over. You are required to visit to your every close and distant relative with your wife. I mean, you have to go to even all those people whom you don't like and you have to be nice to them. Imagine , after living 5 days full of daily meaningless rut, madness and nothingness in office, the coming Saturday you can't go to play cricket because that day you have to visit to your Mausiji's place. The next Saturday you can't complete your long pending book because you have to go to her mamaji's home. The next Saturday you can't sleep for 2 hours more because you have to visit to your buaji's place and you have to start early to avoid city traffic. And it goes on and on and you keep shuttling between your chachaji's home to her nanaji's home to your tauji's home to her younger mausaji's home to your mamaji's home............Last Saturday, I had to visit to my mummy's mausi's home. Now, what was that? I dont even know them but my mother was stringent and so I had to go there. All the relatives have 1 thing in common. They get offended very soon. There is even a cut-throat competition for whose home the newly-wed couple will visit first. People dont spare a taunt at you for not visiting their place first and you have to tell them some stupid reason explaining why you visited your mamaji's home (or whoever) before coming to theirs'.

cdsad

However, the series of events and the environment is more or less same in your every visit. The table in front of you is full of circular plates carrying every possible biscuits, namkeen, milkcakes etc. manufactured in this world and you are expected to devour every single bit of it. You have to eat atleast twice of your diet in lunch and even more. You have to talk about things and places you are least interested in and you have to tell about your daily routine to all those people who will forget it as soon as you finish it. When asked about your current job , as soon as you tell them that you work in Royal Bank of Scotland, you have to clarify them that you don't open an account or deal in credit cards. Instead, you work something(even I don't know) in software. The most pathetic part comes when you ask for leaving and people start giving you some money as 'shagun'. Then you tend to refuse it and then they tend to force it. You look at your wife only to find her in the same situation. At last everyone mutually agrees on something and you promise them to visit very soon again.

dss

So today I am pretty relaxed. I have to go nowhere. I can write this post while Sehwag is batting beautifully against South Africa. My brother is clapping loudly at the smashing four Sehwag hitted just now. Life seems so good.

dsa

A Wireless Connection

2008-02-17T00:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I felt a small pinch of sadness when my friend handed over to me my new dazzling Sony Ericsson's 800i Mobile phone which I had asked him to bring from UK. I myself was surprised, feeling this. It was a foolish emotional surge as I have now to part with my beloved Nokia 1100. It sounds so melodramatic but .......................

I got my first Salary on 2nd January 2005. It was a long run towards the nearest ICICI ATM at Food Court, Near Paradise Hotel , Hyderabad but I made it, breathing heavily as I stood up in the line in front of the ATM waiting patiently for my turn. I was beaming up with joy. It was an unexplainable feeling. I mean, you get your first salary in 5 figures and somehow you want to buy the whole world around you. You want to hum a song, lie down on your bed carelessly, and then get up and dance like mad. You get an ice-cream for yourself and you wish the clouds to shower little drops of joy on you. You just feel at the top of the world.
I inserted my card, punched on my PIN and entered 5000 as the amount. The machine started processing, producing the lovely sound Grrrrrrrrrrrr... 10 impeccable and virgin notes of 500 popped out . I grabbed them and hurried outside. I had waited for this quite long but now came the time to buy my first mobile phone. Yes....I bought my first mobile in the year 2005. It sounds so outdated especially when most of the mobile owners had already started switching from 1 generation of mobiles to another. But that was it and there I was standing in front of Nokia Showroom looking through the glass display wherein several new flashy Nokia Models were gazing outside.

I entered the big showroom with little to choose. Keeping inline with my budget I had already decided weeks back that I am going to buy Nokia 1100 from my first salary. It was a simple device with basic features, monophonic ring tones , limited message capability and yellow backlight. But it was special for me because it was my first prized possession.

Apart from using it for obvious communication and messaging purposes, I went crazy for the in-built game "Snake II " and played it almost all the time - while sitting at the back seat of my training classes in Satyam, while feeling bored in a movie hall and even while brushing my teeth to make myself skillful in playing it single-handedly. The built-in flashlight fascinated me like anything and I found it extremely useful while searching for the match-box when the electricity went off or looking out for our cricket ball or coins under the dark corners of furniture. One of my roommates in Hyderabad used to read the Debonair magazine by its bright flashlight after switching off the room's lights... It came handy in many ways.... :)

For the last 3 years, I have never ever thought of changing it inspite of the plethora of fascinating, powerful and yet cheap mobile devices in the market or inspite of the taunting comments of some my relatives who attach mobile phones to 'living standard' or 'style' or just anything.

It has survived my carelessness number of times. It fell down to the ground uncountable times, blowing off into pieces with every single part apart. But it has always worked on bringing them together. Everything about it has been close to perfect until for the last few days when I found some serious problems with it. The calls are dropping intermittently and the battery is performing very poorly. The keypad has scrapped off and all keys are invisible. The phone keeps switching off every now and then. For the first time, I have started to believe on my friends who say that it looks ugly.

Time has come to replace it with something new.

Hence......

gives way to .........

Happy Birthday!!!

2008-02-09T00:26:00.000-08:00

The cake really looks very "YUMMY". Thanks to Google Image Search ;-))

Happy Birthday dear wife...

I am feeling a bit stupid today. I want to say so many things but with every passing second I am preferring to be silent. I am growing impatient. I am feeling as though I am waiting for lots of things but I don't know what are those? I want to lose my 'self'. I don't know what I am talking and thinking about but I want to write everything here and much more. I feel to laugh loudly at the most pathetic jokes, I want to cry for silly reasons and I wish this non-sensible behaviour to last forever. I know this is sounding so dumb and stupid. Probably, "LOVE" is a stupid thing.

Through out my whole life, I have always felt that greeting cards are the most hateable waste of paper and money but I hope you will love the card I bought for your birthday (I agree it took me only 17 seconds to select it).

I know you feel awkward when I stare blankly at you whenever you ask me about your new dress or sari. Though I am completely clueless but I accept , I should genuinely try to figure out something about it and say 'nice' or 'very nice' or 'not so good'. Whenever you ask me about the food, I always tell and yell "Bhindi". You are absolutely right that we can't have have Bhindi every time in breakfast, lunch or dinner. I should be more open to other eatables and I should appreciate your hard-work for preparing 'samosas' and 'dhokla' at home. Somehow , now it seems to me that activities like, getting an hair-cut on time or cutting the nails of my feets or switching the geyser ON early morning, are not so tough. I will soon learn all of them.

I will try to avoid making weird faces while talking to your relatives on phone...oh sorry!! I mean ... 'our' relatives.....

And you know what, I have finally realized that there are many other Malls in NCR rather than just the SHIPRA MALL (the closest one to our place) and I will take you to those as well to try for shopping (I will keep and keep and keep trying to not get bored at shopping) . We will have a nice conversation in Barista Coffee because you will not find me reading the old newspapers there, from now on.

Of all the few 'easily-countable' compliments I have got, I remember that the most beautiful one came from you. I felt on seventh heaven when you said to me, "You are ill-tempered, weird, insensitive, worst-organized, extremely rude, heartless and dumb-head but I love you for being like that. My parents found a gem for me. "......Though I pretend like not caring a fig for it but the fact is : Its a WOWWWWW feeling and I still cherish those words.

1 last thing - that day when we were going out to get our passport-size photographs, I was actually looking at the girl in blue dress. It was a white lie when I said that I am looking for the book-shop out there..... But you see , you have to accept the fact that she was a head-turner. :)

Well, thanks for being with me, improving my life with your presence. I want a treat on your Birthday and don't forget to order Bhindi Masala......

Happy Birthday!!!!

Saare Zameen Per

2008-02-02T00:34:00.000-08:00

"अबे ये तों और गीर गया".... I heard this voice from my back. I was a bit disturbed by this as I was deeply thinking something. I turned back and found many people looking pissed off. They were worried and puzzled. I looked around and found a panicky situation all around. Few people were murmuring something , some were dialling their phones fervously while some others were just wearily smiling. This was a scene at my office on 21st January as Indian Stock markets crashed and Sensex was facing its biggest fall of the day. I am an alien to terms like stocks, shares, dividends, IPO, nifty, and others and so I was unaffected by this seemingly 'enormous' fall. I got up from my seat and asked my collegue next to me "Kya hua"?? He answered in a heck of a second "18600". I made up after a minute that he was talking about the latest Sensex value. I found a person, almost shouting on his phone : "I am giving you thousands every week. You should have atleast a little consideration for me". Somebody told me that he was talking to his stock-broker. I made my way to cafeteria. There was a group of people standing there in front of TV. All were anxiously glued to it watching CNBC. The finance minister Mr. P Chitambram was making some statement about the current position of the markets. I noticed the prices of all stocks had gone down , being indicated by a wide red down arrow at the bottom of screen. A person was holding a pen and paper and was jotting down something. No wonder, he was the most worried of all. I heard that a person had lost around 3 lakhs because he had invested his money in something called "future options". Ohhhh.....

It was a mess all around. My urge to know about stock markets has also gone down, perhaps in the same proportions as Sensex. Lately I was following the articles and news bits about the growth and strength of Indian Economy , about the decoupling of Indian markets from global financial movements and about the independence of BSE and NIFTY from the US stock indicators. However, all that seemed futile now.

Its a risky business...definitely. I can't comment much on this but I will like to provide a small advice which I read somewhere :

"Invest only that money in Stock Markets which you can afford to lose."

Everyone has his own road

2008-01-25T03:36:00.001-08:00

When I was a small kid , I always wanted to become a doctor. In my neighborhood, there were 3 doctor families and they all were looked upon with great respect , dignity and honour in our town. People used to attach the adjective "sahab" with their surnames and wished "Good Morning" or "Namaste" to them whenever they passed through their way. I wanted to be a doctor because I craved for the same respect and honour for myself. I wanted to see myself in the same elite category, in which my neighbors - Goel sahab, Jain Sahab and Kaushik sahab , fell. I used to imagine myself with a stethoscope around my neck , holding the wrist of patients, thinking something deeply and then scribing some curved lines and words on the prescription sheet.

As I grew, my imagination blurred. I realized that I was somehow more interested in physics than biology. Topics like physical laws of motion and rotation, movement of celestial bodies, electricity and magnetism, thermodynamics, special and general theories of relativity etc were more absorbing and sensible to me. Moreover, the fascinating programs about the cosmos and planets on Discovery channel fuelled my interest and I decided to become an aeronautical scientist. I started to imagine myself as an astronaut dressed in white ballooned uniform sailing into the space in search of extra-terrestrial life. However, I was not selected in any university for any course on Aeronautical Engineering. I realized I had only more 'interest' than 'knowledge' of the subject.

I gradually landed up doing a graduation in Electronics but found computers more interesting and I thought this time I am dead right. I started to believe that I have a passion for computers. Another round of imaginations- "I am a computer scientist writing some most complicated computer programs , developing some new fancy algorithms to drive the digital world". However, nothing of that sort ever happened. I got a job in IT industry but most of the times , I am literally not even close to what a 'real' software engineer is or does. Currently , I have no new idea or new innovation to contribute to computer science. Infact, I never had. I am still very poor at some of already 'established' fundamentals of computer science.

These days I am finding myself inclined to banking and finance areas. Should I become an investment banker? The idea seems interesting for the "money" part but very boring for the "work" part. Sometimes, I think I should be a social activist or a Lecturer or a script-writer or a cartoonist or a dog-trainer or ....I really don't know.

It sucks to have completed 26 years of life and still not knowing who am I and which road I have to take or even where I have to go?

Everyone has his own road. I am still in search of mine.....

Successful Failures

2008-01-22T00:43:00.000-08:00

His home was close to the railway line at the suburb of the city. He used to watch every train through the window. Some were too fast, some were slow and some only dragged. He was sure . Very sure. One of these trains was the one for which he was waiting. His ears had well adjusted to the different sounds emanating from different sources when a train passed by - whistle of the train, sound of the railway track, whispers of the almost dead leaves of the surrounding trees, surreal voice of the blowing cold wind, collision of small stones and pebbles and the disturbance of the feeble vibrations left when the train wipes off the sight.

The melting wax had crumbled along the side of the burning candle giving it an ugly disoriented shape. He snuffed the candle with his hand and turned towards the door leaving behind a fumbling streak of white-colored smoke. He came outside with heavy steps and a heavy heart. This night seemed to be uncomfortably silent. There was no sign of any kind of motion. Only silhouettes and shadows. Everything was still and surreal. Moon was gazing at him from behind a piece of cloud. He looked at it and started walking towards the railway track. The position of moon indicated about the arrival of the next train. The eerieful silence was suddenly broken down by a barking dog somewhere far away. He sighed heavily and hurried towards the track. The faint street lights from the distant city felt like laughing at him. The city was wicked and its inhabitants were inhumans.

The train was approaching. He reached to the track and touched it. It was hot. He looked at the surrounding trees. They were all standing straight holding their breaths as though waiting for his next step. A gush of cold air pierced through his bones. The train whistled loudly. It was the sound of his much-awaited death. His face lightened up partially due to his anxiety and partially due to the headlight of the train. The train was near, ready to swallow him. In the split second , he had to throw himself in front and everything would be finished. But he felt some very heavy weights attached to his legs. He could not pull himself, he could not drag himself. He closed his eyes and heard his heartbeats. Loud...Strong...Non-stopping.....the train whiz passed him.

The trees looked relaxed, city lights were dimmed, the dog had stopped barking, the moon hided behind the cloud and he had failed again. The silence was restored as he headed back towards his home.

Morality-Striken Individuals

2008-01-20T19:56:00.000-08:00

There has been a great social drive for charity in the last month at my office. Several NGOs were called , many presentations were made , few stories were shared and a large pool of money was collected as a result. Being a keen observer , I was trying to notice the different reactions of different people for this 'supposedly' good cause. Most of the people were rightfully excited appreciating the great efforts of the activists and contributing in every possible way. But at the same time , there was a section of people who were over-emphasizing the notion that 'everybody' should contribute. No doubt, they themselves were contributing to a great extent but it was evident that they wanted a rule saying "everybody has to contribute". Now, this felt disgusting to me. I felt as though the whole purpose and reason of charity is being polluted by this. I don't know what these people think about charity , its mechanism and its purpose.

Probably , some people need the existence of poor, homeless , unblessed and destitute so that they can show their sympathy to them. They can allow themselves to feel better by giving money and urge others to do the same in turn convincing themselves that they are good benevolent people with big hearts and deep kindness. Most often, these people project themselves as some highly concerned 'enlightened' individuals looking down upon those who are somewhat reluctant to charity or those who doubt about the process. These people are often in a state of competition of who will contribute more? They don't realize that in the urge of giving money and sympathy (and satisfaction to themselves) to the underprivileged , they are not giving respect. Infact it appears to me as though these people have camouflaged the objective of salving their inner conscience by self-imposing the goodness of giving money to the downtrodden and literally forcing others to do so.

Last week, a Donation Box was put up in my office. People were pooling in money there for a group named 'Jamghat' that works for street children. I was shocked to see a person who was originally carrying a 50 rupees note in his hand , changing it to 100 rupees note , when he saw the guy ahead of him dropping a 100 Rupees note. I don't know what was running through his mind while he was doing so.

*********

(Few days back I happened to read some wonderful thoughts of a person here:

http://brainyard.blogspot.com/2007/11/on-contrary.html

The term 'morality-striken' is coined by him.)

Trapped between Past and Future

2008-01-13T23:14:00.000-08:00

For the last few days I am mostly living in past, thinking about the past events , ranking them in ascending order of despair , stupidity and troubles they brought. I am thinking of things I tried to change but was not able to do. I am thinking of the follies I commited and about the measures I did not take to rectify them. I am thinking of people and places which do not carry any significance to me now.Hopelessly, I am thinking of everything which is past having no essence in any damn way on any thing or any person that is connected to me. It sucks to look back at time because its already gone. You can't do anything about it. Its dead and buried. I desperately want to shut these windows through which I am peeping back at time.

It seems more exciting to think about what the future holds. Its more fun to dream and desire. Perhaps its more fruitful to ponder about the life ahead. What it should be? What it can be? Its far less boring to classify the Do's and Donts for the days to come than contemplating on Dos which should have been Donts and Donts which should have been Do's in the past. 'Tomorrow' can be manipulated but 'Yesterday' is out of reach. But is it really worth to think about the future. We make so many plans , we nurture so many dreams and we envision so much brightness but a little tweak in events changes everything and we find ourselves making poor adjustments to the sudden shocks of life. The ultimate realization- "its futile to think about future" . And hence I desperately want to shut those windows through which I am peeping towards future.

Note : There is no "present". Life is a persistent process of 'future' gradually transforming into 'past'.

A picture is worth more than 1000 words!!! Proved!!!!

2008-01-07T20:58:00.000-08:00

Ever More......

2007-12-16T22:33:00.000-08:00

Ever More dreams to Follow..........

Doors to Open.........

Paths to Explore..........

Ever More Heights to Reach..........

Ever More Joys to Find..........

Ever More Life to Live..........