The Paper Estate Boom

There was a time when newspapers not only broke news; they even linked people and freed nations. For example, Sri Aurobindo Ghose, one of India's greatest sons, channelised his nationalist sentiments towards the greater cause of Indian Independence through the daily and weeklies he edited. What he wrote was of so much concern to the British that, even when he was long out of the extremism he had embraced earlier, Lord Minto went on record saying - "I can only repeat that he is the most dangerous man we have to reckon with."

It is said that editors and columnists were responsible for their positions and newspapers led the societal evolution. I am not sure whether it is after the permeation of the television and the internet with, so to say, the human bloodstream, or this being the time where only sensationalism sells - but newspapers today are defnitely not even the shadow of what they used to be in their responsibilities.

Each morning (well, you know it's almost afternoon when I get up, but I have a look at it the first thing each day) when I have a cursory glance through the pages of the Times of India, I know I am not missing much. More often than not, just browsing through the front page, the sports pages, the international page and the comic strips are what I do with the TOI. I hardly recall a really thought-provoking article or series being printed there. Even their seemingly patriotic 'Lead India' campaign is basically a means to fill the coffers through strategic marketing and publicity. Their sports page has also lost valuable space to what the wives and girlfriends (they actually use the word 'WAGs' for this!) of our sporting heroes are upto. I remember around fifteen years ago, when The Asian Age was launched - MJ Akbar resorted to bringing a tabloid in the size of a newspaper daily at your doorstep.

It was only yesterday - I fetched the TOI to read about Benazir Bhutto's assassination, her life and her times. The coverage was decent but on a day when Dhirubhai Ambani was born 'to change the face of India', she had to be pushed to start from Page 3. The first two pages were bought out well ahead - and we had to see a full-blown, smiling Dhirubhai on the cover. Again, in an attempt to showcase him as the messiah of the masses when honestly I feel whatever he had done was only to build a business empire with an acumen that was so much ahead of his times - his lifetime was written, ludicrously, as 28.12.1932 - Eternity. I don't think someone wrote like that even for Jesus Christ.

"Add the colours and spice it up
Sure, then, it is to sell."
"What about the reader, Mr. Editor?"
"Just ask him to go to hell!"

A near-fatal tread

"Hello, so you are back again?" I neglected the sarcasm in its voice and the sneer in its face, pressed the 'Quick Start' button and looked up. I was determined today - and decided not to fall prey to these rather caustic remarks the treadmill was making. It was perhaps speaking out for about a dozen of its brothers in Hyderabad, Chennai, New Jersey and New York - who had to uneasily bear my weight (pun intended) over the last 3 years. But never for more than 6 weeks at a stretch - and once, even for just a single day.

If you plot my appetite versus my exercise routine on a graph, you would surely come up with the solution for my staggering weight increase. Just today, someone - though a bit more on zeal than reason - called me a "200 pound godown of flesh". I need to get back to this person sooner than later. Hence, there was more reason for me to ignore the treadmill.

Anyways, the last time I went to a gym was in May and I tried to repeat something close to what I used to do then, in my first day today. So, there I was, panting my heart out after running for 10 minutes continuously at 10 kmph. I could not - despite taking 5-minute breaks in between exercises - complete either the cycle or the cross-trainer. One minute into them, my heart was fighting for space with my tonsils and I had to give up. It was not before a full ten minutes of sitting flat on the floor that I could regain my composure.

I was in luck. In this gym, the cardio and weight sections are in different rooms altogether and the trainer stays in the latter room. So when I, still breathing heavily, entered the room and he asked me if I was done, I could conveniently nod a yes before saying I had a call in 10 minutes and, unfortunately, had to leave. "See you tomorrow," I told him.

While coming out of the gym, I closed my ears tight and ran across the length of the cardio room. I did not want to hear the treadmill speak again. Knowing it and its like, I was sure it was bidding me farewell already.

Itni Haseen, Itni Jawan Raat Kya Kare?

I was tempted to post the photographs of a host of actors who came, or lingered longer, in the limelight largely due to a voice that they merrily lip-synced to. As I now browse through my collection and play from it randomly, the voice adapts and modulates effortlessly - bringing these faces up in memory. I shake my head, once more, in desbelief and look at the photo I posted instead. He smiles at me, as if knowingly.

I prefer not to write about his achievements in this post, least so assert why he was the best. If he were present he would have definitely not liked any of it. It was this love I, and countless other people in this world, have for him that he aspired for. Maybe it's just a coincidence that at this precise moment, he whispers - 'Saanson mein ghul rahi hai, kisi saans ki mahek'. The mind wanders, but he puts it in its place as he tells me its just a song - 'Daaman ko chhuu raha hai, koi hath kya kare?' He reads my mind, wraps the unexplained feelings in the most melodious way - "Jaage hai kuchh ajeeb se jasbaat kya kare?" Indeed, the emotions running inside spoil all efforts I make to write something coherent. I smile, pause the song and complete it myself - "Shayad tumhare aane se, ye bhed khul sake - hairaan hain, ki aaj nayi baat kya kare?"

If God was not so selfish, Mohammad Rafi would have celebrated his birthday with us today. He would have known that superlatives used for him in his lifetime were not mere words to extol his virtues. His voice, indeed, pervades time like time itself.

Mesmerising voice, a divine soul -
One who left, but never could go
How could we? When what you gave
Draws us close, closer than you know.

Remain you will, like this forever
All you've done will get back to you
For, each life you sustained, enriched
Is adding its years to yours, anew.

Taare Zameen Par

This is the second movie that I watched on the day of release. The only other one I remember watching - that is, when I managed to stay awake - on the first day was Koyla, way back in 1997. While that day burns in memory like smouldering ember even after a decade, this day is sure to shine in starry luminance in the future. Taare Zameen Par is, in one word, superb. But this is one movie that deserves more than this single-word encomium.

I am no expert in film-making and its technical details. So, I cannot even try to write a review on it. I'd rather try to present a 'view' of this film from an absolutely uninitiated, end-user perspective. From the first scene till the last - through a series of gripping, yet simple, trails - the movie keeps you captivated. Pause on this for a moment, and you would probably agree that a film that is not complete in all aspects - story, acting, screenplay, direction, dialogue, lyrics, music, cinematography and so on - would not extract complete attention from its audience.

Talking of the audience, it was pathetic to hear many people burst into laughter at completely poignant scenes. This is making me think as much as the message left by the film.

Powerful is the word that comes to the mind for the acting; lucid for the direction. Segments, like the aimless promenade of a boy who takes a day off to absorb all he can see in the streets of the city, while his classmates are made to extract definitive knowledge from their chapters - leave just about enough space that can accommodate exact, no-frills performances. How often would we want to let go of all the restraints that come packaged with our 'normal' minds and give vent to our feelings like the uncontrolled, animalistic laps around the basketball court? How often are we made to feel belittled and retract in a shell? I am sure once we can bring out the cause out of the context, the film would leave us with challenges that we all can identify with. Challenges which could be overwhelmed when confidence combines with character. Taare Zameen Par wraps these simple pieces in highly attractive performances and ties it with a taut direction.

You might resort to the scientific studies to show the actual ordeals one has to go through to overpower the grip of something like Dyslexia and say that film offered an easy way out for Ishaan. Do so at your own risk - and prove that you are still too bookish to accept the creative output of our capabilities. This is a film where the filmmaker presents us a story to assimilate, not a case study to showcase our analytical prowess. Hence the outcome of the painting competition where the pupil pips the teacher is more symbolic of his moving out of the latter's shadow than being the playground of logic and practicality. There was, perhaps, just one part - where Aamir Khan confesses to the boy that he had also suffered from the same problem - that could have been done away with. This would have given us more reason to think that an absolutely perfect person could be compassionate and make a difference as well.

Each person involved in the movie deserves a loud round of applause. In my opinion, the protagonist and his mother gave two of the best performances in the movie. I mean, let us not talk about Aamir Khan here. His performance, for the first time that behind the camera as well, conclusively proves the existence of the unbridled passion and undiluted commitment that characterizes both the professional and person in him. I strongly believe that he is the only one to have his feet placed firmly - among all other stars - on the ground.

Smilestone

Stumped! That's exactly what I felt today. There are times when you think you are doing a great job of something when you are brought down with a thud. Here I was, telling a friend how different a person I am for the world. 'I am another person altogether you see. People think I am extremely reserved and talk only when required,' I said. This notion is actually wrong - if I talked only when required, then I would not have blabbered these to her in the first place.

Anyways, I completed many sentences on these lines and waited for her reply - as if she would feel privileged to know that she exists in that select group of people and thank me profusely for that. Well, she did none of it. She did what a good friend would have done - put me to my place. So, as I was waiting to hear some neat words, she replied - "Yeah yeah.. i know that side of you! for me it was the first 3 months of knowing you."

Stumped off a wide ball, you can say.

Needless to say, she's a great friend and a perfect case-study for 'time is not an indicator of friendship'. She might not know what exactly I work on and I definitely don't know her sister's name. But we are definitely at ease when we talk and that is what matters. I would assume she is among the more patient people I know. She bears me - and an equally irritating friend she came to know through me - with a smiling face and a uncreased heart. She was very excited to tell me that she is preparing rotis at home these days. "My new roommate has got one," she said. Obviously I knew that by 'one' she meant the ubiquitous thing in the Indian kitchen - the chakla-belan. But I, feigning ignorance that was never there, asked - "Got one what? Roti-maker?" :D

No matter what she might have thought about me in the first three months, I am sure now she knows that there can hardly be a more pestering person she's going to meet in her lifetime. But I have not faced any such change of mind with her. She smiled when I knew her first, she smiles when I trouble her now. And this, among other things, has always bowled me over each time I think about it.

What else?

I call it the WES - 'What Else Syndrome'. (Ok, honestly I don't call it that - just felt that this might be a good opening sentence for this piece.)

Surely not something that has been discussed much, but this has been keeping me on thoughts for quite sometime now. I remember, when in school or college, I used to have a lot of friends. 'Friends' has been used in the loose sense of the term, because I am in touch with or think about barely a few of them now. And, as we know, real friends are for life. Anyways, with these friends would pass almost each day during and after classes. I remember our house was the hub of meetings during weekends and vacations - even in evenings. The point I am trying to make is whenever we met, in groups of anything from 2 to 12, we would always make a boisterous group - and the portion of discussions on serious topics started cropping up with age. But never, and I mean without exception, did it happen that we would sit idle or think about what to talk about.

Years on, now it's a different story altogether. I get to spend time with people who I am sure are very good friends. Its still fun of the highest degree when we are together - still in groups of anything from 2 to 12. But keeping the jokes, banter and laughter aside - there is very little that we talk. I mean, no discussions - only incidents. I was there, he did that, you know what happened, etc. But once these dry out - there is not much else. (This is not always apparent because we are more than capable of going on with the frivolousness for days on end. I talk to one of my friends over chat almost everyday - and we just keep laughing recycling around 50-odd funny incidents in our stock.)

This is more evident when there is a one-on-one meeting with my friends, either in person, over phone or on chat. No one has anything to discuss other than updates on the happenings. No music, sports or other interests discussed at all. A typical chat even with one of my closest friends would go like this -

I: Hi
He: Hello, what's up?
I: Not much, you say.
He: Going on..
I: Ok...
He: What else?
I: Nothing much, just the usual.
He: O, ok.
I: So, what else?
...

There is something seriously wrong. Is it with growing up? Is it with the so-called maturity or responsibilities? Is it something with our profession? Or is it something with me - do you find my feeling like this just an isolated observation? Let me know.

Simple Questions, But What Answers!

Whether it is an urge to talk more, or to show that we are witty, even to unwantedly display our knowledge - sometimes we really talk more than what is needed. Believe me, there are people who - if you ask them about what they are wearing - might end up telling you why Lalu Prasad is the best manager in the world. Time and again it is proved that there is a hidden Basanti in most of us.

There was this boy in my class, back in the school days. The instructions would clearly say - State whether the following statements are TRUE or FALSE. And he would go on to explain why a given statement was false. Worse, he would substantiate what was true and also mention what could have made it a false statement. So, for a question, asking whether rice would get cooked faster in a pressure cooker, there would also be an assertion that it would take more time in Darjeeling.

I keep hearing about this person in a friend's office - who is dreaded by the whole lot in the floor for his verbal assault. It is just a coincidence that his initials are AK and the postfix 47 was but a natural inclusion. Someone asked him the directions from point A to point B. And when that same friend came to my place after office that day, it took me some time to grasp why he was telling me the route to point B from at least twenty places in Hyderabad.

As always, there is a reason why I am writing this now. Of late I have heard a couple of weird answers to a very common question asked in any restaurant. Here is how two cool souls fared in bringing out their best in a seemingly commonplace situation -

Act 1

Waiter: Regular or bottled water for you Madam?

Madam (surprisingly, too cool for her 40+ years): Aquaguard water would do for me.

Act 2
Waiter: Regular or bottled water Sir?

Sir (cool, and cooler in the company of his female companions): What water do you use for cooking stuff here?

Waiter: smiles, looking confused.

Sir: I said, what water do you use for cooking?

Waiter: Regular water, sir.

Sir: So, get us that! (Turns towards his giggling companions and shrugs)

What can you tell in a situation like this? Laugh? Get angry? Or smile away? For me, on each of these occasions, the broth was not the only thing boiling in the restaurant after that. But let's not end on this vitriolic note. I just remembered something amusing in the same context which would be a fitting end to this tale. We had just settled down to eat that day. One of my very good friends thought he was going to be asked to place the order when the waiter came over and asked the same question about our preference for the water. It was too late to change the pre-meditated answer he had framed in his mind. And so, he replied - "Please give us some time, we will discuss and let you know."

I just asked her where she got her dress
Now Britannica will sell one copy less.

Brutal - Merciless Viv

Adding three short videos for quick viewing. How many batsmen can say they have scored 16 runs like these in their careers?

Incredible six off Imran.



A six and a four. If you were the bowler, you would have ducked as well.



This is what Richie Benaud says about the 'most quelling sight for any bowler'



The best in the business.

What was it?

One of the poorest jokes that somehow manages to bring out some laugh runs like this - "There was this really absent-minded person who suddenly dies. After some investigation, it was found that he forgot to inhale after exhaling." Though this might be the unattainable height of forgetfulness, what we still manage to do is also no easy task.

Imagine this - I called a friend who was about to leave for the airport and was in a hurry. After talking for sometime, she started sounding very tense and restless. It went on increasing when I was forced to ask if something was wrong. Her reply had me - and when she understood, her as well - in splits. What she had told me was, "I am not getting my mobile phone. Where did I keep it?" No wonder that whoever is out with her keeps gathering her mobile, wallet and other things from a gamut of unimaginable places. (Ever imagined that the door-key had to retrieved - just because she came home carrying some eggs - from the refrigerator?)

I also remember my father looking for his glasses - it's in him not to tell what he is not getting unless asked repeatedly - all around the house in vain. We could not fault him much - how could he find them if he was looking through them?

Like any other human behaviour, I am sure much research and studies have gone into tracing absent-mindedness to its roots. But what is the point? We will still keep forgetting. For example, when I started this post I had something interesting in my mind which is totally out of mind at present. I do not want to keep this draft for later since I am sure I am not going to recall what I was thinking. So pasting this anyways, however incomplete and incoherent it might read.


P.S. - I tried recollecting what I had actually intended to write for 10 minutes before publishing this post. But the only thing that I vaguely remember is that I thought of writing this post this morning as soon as I put the brush on the side-table and started stroking my shoe with my mobile phone.

The Tangent off the Spiral

It's that time again - and I have never spared much of a thought when it came to changing jobs. Not this time though.

One of the reasons for this can be that I have spent most of my career at this job (2.5 out of 4 years) and it has grown on me. Another reason could be that there is nothing really new or exciting in my next profile (which was not the case in each of my earlier shifts) that would keep me hooked on to the prospects ahead. And so, when now I know that the days are among the last few here, I am back doing something I love to hate - looking back.

When I came to Hyderabad in May 2005, it was as much of a change of place as it was a change of profile. All my colleagues in Chennai, where I was before this, who were from this city concurred that Hyderabad is the most happening place in India. And they brought out before me the experiences of their lifetimes in the city (which ranged from 'the roads are fully covered with pamphlets in Ameerpet' to 'the biggest Cafe Coffee Day outlet is out there'). "Not quite" - I thought, as I walked in a feverish daze (105 degrees) under a blazing sun (45 degrees) the next weekend looking for an accommodation.

"Quite alright" - I say now after knowing the city well enough to help settle any newcomer. And why not? I have made friends here who are as good as the ones I made anywhere else. When you have friends (and not colleagues and acquaintances) in and outside office, it does not really matter whether you are working in Manhattan or Mangalore. If I were to give an account of our escapades here, it would surely need a series of posts. I am not even trying to summarise them here - let it be for some other time.

At the end of it all, the reason why it evokes the mixed feelings is the fact that the association has imitated life to a great extent. It could well have been the story of someone in a rich and famous family - living with your siblings and cousins and reared by loving parents and scheming relatives. There is love as much as there is hatred, but then no one owes anything to anyone. And the feelings are always mutual. No big news when a gamut of emotions silently co-exist. No big news when someone walks out of the house one day. The attention gets more than divided among the new members of the ever-expanding family. And for the one who is making the new beginning, adjustment is just another extra life-process like breathing.

Nothing changes and nothing clutters your mind. Unless you sit down to think.

"I opened my eyes to glamour and sheen
Then closed; and wiped them clean."

View of Kolkata from the Landing Plane on Durga Astami Night

Heavenly!

I Think, Therefore I Don't Say

Someone told me the other day - "You are incredible. Do you ever have a problem with anything?" This rather curious observation actually stemmed from the fact that I do not voice or show my dislike towards things that I do not like. Whenever someone makes any plan and asks me for option, the only answer I give is 'anything is fine'. When people go berserk with the bad food served at the cafeteria, I am busy relishing my meal. Even when I am utterly put off by thoroughly irritating behaviour, I do not find it necessary to say anything - I just switch off from the situation to think something good or intense. Sometimes people mistake this detachment to be indifference. But for me, never ever responding to anything you do not like is same as shouting your heart out each time. People would anyways understand, and those who would not, would not in either case.

So for the reference of all who have not yet heard what I do not like, I thought of putting seven of my random hates here - listed on a first-thought-first-written basis. There are many, but am just keeping in sync with my earlier lists with seven entries.

• I do not like people fussing too much about anything. I mean statements starting with something like 'I do not like...' (The first sentences in the most of the points in this list also start with the same words, but these are out of scope :D )
  
• I do not like people who have no control on the language they speak. It is in no way cool to talk vile.
  
• You need not give respect, just remember everyone already has it. I hate it when someone violates that. So next time you call that waiter and talk rude when I am with you, expect some silence.
  
• Silly it sounds, but I do not like people opening glass doors pushing anywhere but the handle. You may not be a criminal, but that does not mean you can leave your handprints everywhere. Some person - who works ten times more and earns lesser than tenth of what you do - would have it a bit easy if you use the handles from now on.
  
• I do not like it when people try hard to show that they are smart, superior or knowledgable. If you have it, it shows - so why bother? And if you take it easy, it makes life easy for you, you do not have to act like your own media manager.
  
• I do not like remixed songs and videos. Hope there is no need to expand on this point. (In a similar vein, I do not like any artist with an ego. Humility and submission to the art makes you an artist, else how is art different from say, mechanics?)
  
• I do not like when people try to take undue advantage of their age or experience. After all, age is something that you could not defeat, and your experience is as proportional to your defeats as it is to your successes.

BRB

Taking a break from this for sometime...

Automagic!

Inspirations can come from all corners - so be at your absorbent best.

No one said the line above. I realised over a period of time that you can be inspired from the obvious highest peaks of success and the unsuspected lowest strata of struggle. I take an auto to office daily, and have been often amazed with the occasional conversations. I was going to office yesterday when a brand new Nissan Teana (see a review here) passed by. The young man in front was spellbound to see the car, and tried his best to keep speed with it till he could. He asked me what car it was and then said - "Where do people get so much money?" Very difficult question to answer - so I kept quiet and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

"How much does it cost?" - he asked. I said I was not aware but it looked about 15-20 lakhs to me (it is indeed 20, I checked later). His smile became broader as he said - "If I had 1 lakh, I could have changed my life. I know I will save and I will change my life." I smiled again as he manoeuvured through the traffic in one of the whackiest signals in Hyderabad.

Nineteen Seven

Two years ago, someone told me - "Mate, I tell you - you are 25 today, and life from now is all downhill." (25 seemed too less for such a statement to me, but he got the concession since he was an American, and did not have a cocooned upbringing like us.) And like all descents down the hill, I am indeed coming down faster than the trudge upwards - the last 2 years, indeed, went quicker than any other. And with at least one tangle in every possible corner in life, these words kept coming back with each stroke of the knife through the second cake I cut at the stroke of midnight. I was back after a foot-deep dinner with my friends, to be treated to this visual delight at home. (See picture below) The yummy chocolate cake against the backdrop of the candles was too good to resist.



Even 1 year back, the cake would have surely been over in minutes. But this year, it is lying almost unaltered in the fridge. Sure sign of age. And even when the snaps were taken, half of the mind was busy coordinating the alternate actions of breathing and holding the tummy inside lest the bulge showed up in the snaps. These two indications, surely justify the two steps downhill I have taken since that holy man decided to share his realisation and discoveries in life with me on a day he should have cheered me up. Whatever happened to people wishing 'Tu jeeye hazaron saal...'

Here's wishing for all the good things that I have been wishing for since so long! May today's feeling of senility and the words of Mr. Jim be buried under the bundles of joy and the brightness of smiles all through the year.

When Bad is Good...

Scene 1 - Normal Shift (2 - 11 pm):

• Meals: Lunch, snacks, dinner.


• Reach office at 3 pm, reach home between 10-11:30 pm


• Desk hunt - meaning go from one desk to another in sequence and chat/irritate your heart out until none is left. Then start all over again.


• Gym? - Yes.

Scene 2 - Night Shift (6 pm - 4 am):

• Meals: Snacks, dinner. (Very rarely a don't-know-the-name-of-the-meal at 2:30 am)
  
• Reach office at 3 pm, reach home between 4-6 am
  
• Desk hunt - ever seen a roaring, hungry lion in the Sahara. Actually, there is a chance you see at least a mirage in Sahara :D
  
• Gym? - NO!

I am playing my part in Scene 2 for quite sometime now. Made the above list just to give an idea of the state of mind I was in all this while. It's a weird feeling - staying up alone in the floor till the wee hours of the morning. In such a setting, the general mood is one dotted with anger, frustration, restlessness and irritation. So much so, that even the best selection from my music collection - maybe for the first time - was failing to lift my mood. And all of a sudden I had an idea - when your top order fails, push someone up to slog. And moving aside my usual trusted team, I called on the top performers of the 80's and 90's musical scene. Songs like 'Mai se meena se na saaqi se', 'First time dekha tujhe dil kho gaya', 'Aashiqui mein har aashiq, ho jaata hai majboor', 'Tujhe na dekhun to chain mujhe aata nahi hai', 'Dil mera churaya kyun jab ye dil todna hi tha' (can anyone beat this one - Sanu and Anu together, a deadly nasal and banal combo!) and so on...

In a matter of minutes, I was smiling.

When in Rome, be a Roman
And when in Hell, dance with the Devil.

A sense of guilt

A short note after a long break - thought of writing this down as some sort of a confession. There have been numerous instances where friends and other people I know have asked me for an opinion. Though highly varied in their content, the one common thing in all of them was that I have always given a true and honest suggestion. It makes me happy when someone remembers something I said/did that was of help to him/her. I hope I manage to be like this and make whatever little difference I can. The confession part comes now - it feels really awful when certain situations dawn on me and I do something that I would have never advised anyone else. I feel a sense of guilt thinking I do things which are not right, and do that in my senses - deliberately blurring the line that differentiates. But things really go a bit out of control at times, where one is left to choose from various evils or lose everything in choosing the solitary right. And not everyone can set an example by choosing the latter.

A Unique Dozen

'You are not experienced enough in life, you have not seen the world.'

Someone had told me these words sometime back. Though on that day I just smiled for an answer, I thought of breaking the silence today with a few laughs. I mean, without getting into the gory details of the crimes life has committed on me, let us focus on the scenes that bring comic relief. So as to not getting into writing an epic of my experiences, I would rather introduce 12 people and their rather weird habits.

• I actually know a person who has never used shampoo in his life. It's not that he does not clean his hair - and he knows fully well that you should not use the body bar for the purpose. The secret to his healthy crop - detergent!
  
• One is a firm believer that brandy and beer taste best when had with, err, bread-butter-jam.
  
• A relative calls up for directions each time he visits our house because he actually does not remember where to look to his right in the straight road to see our house. The only place he does not ask for directions is while travelling between his home and office.
  
• An untimely and unannounced visitor - after tasting the flawless chicken curry that my mother prepared in jet-speed - showed about 1/16 of an inch on his finger before saying, "The ginger is a l-i-t-t-l-e more than what was required."
  
• The earlier mention of chicken reminds me that there is a person who actually relishes his chicken curry with milk and rice. Well, that's too much to digest!
  
• My grandfather would argue with the salesman in the sweets shop over the better bargain in taking jalebis by the count or by weight. If he was told weight, he would say count - and when the person would proceed, he would go back for weight and so on... Finally he would go for taking them by the count, and putting them on the scale just before paying for it. You had to be there to fathom the hilarity of the this act.
  
• I have a friend who is so finicky that he would not have a roti without removing every black burn from it and not have anything sweet to avoid throat pain! (He happened to be my roommate for about 2 years and I can write a book on his antics.)
  
• One of the best persons I know, this friend joined his tenth job within his 2 years of working experience. His has been a very motivating example for me, but I have not been able to emulate even 1% of what he has done.
  
• I have heard about this person who would not have her afternoon nap without smelling on to a few napthalene balls tied at the end of her saree. If some of her hosts could not provide her with them, she used to manage that day with a tin of shoe-polish.
  
• One is a kleptomaniac who would latch on to each chance of stealing/cheating. He used to remove hard drives and memory cards from the computer labs, come out of the trial room wearing a trouser under his loose cargoes, sneak out of restaurants after a hearty meal and so on. And he claims that the world has made him like that. The best artifact I saw was the pair of shoes that a groom was wearing in a wedding. Sure to be married in the Bengali way, there was no chance that he could even wear them to his own wedding :)
  
• Before buying her lenses, a friend would go idol-watching during Durga Pujas with her glasses tucked in her handbag. She would wear them only for the 30 odd seconds she actually stood in front of the idol.
  
• One friend is so aghast by the cleanliness in the USA that he has taken it on himself to hang the carrybags of his takeaway meal leftovers on the branches of the roadside trees.
  

Impact Day!

My office has one day reserved for community service. We call it Impact Day and it was yesterday. It's a daunting task for the organisers and volunteers. Imagine, close to 4000 people going for 24 different threads, each in multiple locations - the planning and execution required. It's a matter of pride as well that this puts us in the Limca Book of Records for organising an event of such proportions. It also calls for working together for a day with many colleagues whom you do not otherwise meet in office. We had to assemble in office by 8:30. There were 24 threads ranging from Road Safety, to hospital/school/old-age home/prison visits, to Aids Awareness campaigns, and so on. I had registered for 'Street to Smart' - which aims to brighten up one day in the lives of street children. My destination was Divya Disha - a home for such children in the outskirts of the city.

It was a hot day and to make it worse, the traffic in the morning was bad. But the almost 2 hours for the journey had one good side-effect: it helped us break the ice with the other members in the bus. Luckily I had two of my most energetic teammates with me, who - with their songs, drama and comments - ensured that there was never a dull moment and everyone was beaming all through.

As we reached the school, there were around 200 children seated in a neat formation. Each moment was spent in amazement, happiness and reflection as they sang, recited, danced and played. On our part we had got them slippers, bags, books, games and chocolates. There were games and prizes to be won. It was for this day that I got the chance to play football after ages. Brought back memories, when it was a regular affair to play effortlessly in the sun. 30 minutes in the field almost took my breath away. And there was one more thing that I never thought I would be doing in this life. I got to actually judge the entries in the drawing competition. (Those who know my prowess in this art, are surely on the floor by now.)

After a long time, I felt good spending the day at work - far from the air-conditioned office floor where I spend my day doing things that do not catch my fancy. Something that I am stuck with because I have never known things that I'd love doing and have always flown with the tide. Overall, it was a great day to spend.

One such day in a year is definitely nothing to really make an impact on our society, but it surely makes an impact on you that is powerful enough if you decide to take it forward on your own.

Ocean's 15

If I were to single out one reason that I am logged into Orkut all day, it would be the music communities I am either a member of, or follow. There is so much to learn from really knowledgeable and passionate music lovers - what if the ratio of rants to good posts is very high? Passionate listeners, technical analysers, idol-worshippers, peace-breakers, peace-makers, fans, fanatics and fanatics dressed as critics - you find them all here. Anyways, that aside, let me come to the real reason I started writing today.

There was this thread of discussion asking for the 15 film tracks you would carry if you were to go to a desert island. (Assumptions play a major part in these discussions, else who will plan a trip to a desert island and pack!) I was thinking what would it be like if I were to actually face such a predicament. At once, I put my mind in its place by stopping it from cooking up a castaway sailor story. My practical simulation of a desert island is something where I am alone with no way to communicate to the outside world. (But where provisions and other necessities shop themselves to my home.) I would also steer clear of the Veer-Zaara angle and have a big house and natural surroundings to give me company. Something like a small cottage by the sea-shore (required to give the effect of an island).

So how would a day be like? Sleep when you are sleepy, get up when you are hungry. And since I am allowed to carry my music, I would be quite satisfied with this basic necessity as well. To round up the deal, how about a cellphone? Not bad. But still I don't think I will be able to sustain in such a setting. Afterall, even a recluse needs a society to disregard. I had once stayed for 6 straight days in a similar setting - within the confines of my one-room apartment in NY, without opening the main door even once - and the effect was quite unsettling.

And then, I think more. What is it that I am doing now? My daily routine is not much better off than that in this fictitious island. As I write this while listening to my favourite music, the world around is sleeping. And, when it bustles with activity, I am blissfully lost in my carefree slumber. I really get to talk to a lot of people all day long but what sense can be made out of all that? Most of the conversations are about the other person with a 'nothing much' when asked about my updates. What I talk all day is best described by the word 'blabbering'. And whatever is meaningful I don't speak aloud. What's the point? Where am I leading too? For the umpteenth time, I am taken over by questions that have no answer. I guess this is the ideal setting to turn a poet or writer :D

Anyways, for those who are interested and those who are not, this is the list of film tracks I would be carrying to the godforsaken island -

01. Pyaasa
02. Guide
03. Dosti
04. Ek Musafir Ek Hasina
05. Kashmir ki Kali
06. Do Badan
07. Half Ticket
08. Tere Ghar Ke Saamne
09. Baiju Bawra
10. Mere Mehboob
11. Mere Huzoor
12. Arzoo
13. Mere Humdum Mere Dost
14. Hum Dono
15. Dil Diya Dard Liya

Disclaimer: My collection of Ghulam Ali ghazals should be allowed separately.

Signs of a Degenerating Mind

Will vary from person to person. This is a first hand account.

• Whatever you think, your mind automatically puts a question mark after that.
  
• Even before you plan something, you think of alternative courses of action.
  
• You keep pondering, and then don't have an answer if someone asks what you are thinking.
  
• You are doing some work while talking on the phone, pressing it between your shoulder and ear - and a straining neck makes you realise that the conversation had ended long back.
  
• You know you need change, but don't know what.
  
• You falter in your conversation because you cannot recall words like 'sincere', 'appropriate' or 'revert'.
  
• You need a reminder for daily chores, and one more to set the reminder.
  
• Sometimes 5 days in the week pass faster than the weekend.
  
• Your chat conversations with even old friends have a 'What else?' within the first 10 lines.
  
• Your blog updates are rare, and the occasional ones all have the same label - 'Rambling'.

Fresh Start

This was an unusual day by my standards. First, I got up at 6 am in the morning, got ready early on, had a filling breakfast and reached office at 10. Then I went to the gym in the evening - after more than 7 months. One hour of cardio and free hands to start off was quite good. Dinner on time, work some more while listening to Rafi Sahab. Nothing much here, just a long day that was not tiring.

Web of Conflicts

Watched Spiderman 3 tonight - 3 of us, after a 3-course dinner. (I could have watched Namesake as well, since another Samarjit was there, too.) Just for the records, this was my first among the movies that come as a series these days and everyone seem to have seen them. Hence, there was no Spidey, Happy Rotter (thought of not changing the spoonerism after I wrote Happy for Harry, since somehow I am not very attracted to his antics), LOTR, Shrek prior to this one.

Coming to the point, I was not very keen on going for this movie since somehow, English movies are not something that I usually watch. But I am glad that we went. Watching one of my favourite childhood cartoon heroes in action (the other ones were The Phantom and Lothar) was indeed satisfying. The stand-out feature of the film was, undoubtedly, the visuals. It's unbelievable how real the scenes looked - as Spiderman and gang went along with their business in NY. That the story and acts were also put together very well made the film much more likeable. If someone with a penchant for techno-graphics went to watch the movie, and I guess this is what these films sell on, they would be thrilled. And if you remove the super-heroism from the proceedings and replaced them with normal human behaviour, you have a good thing on your plate as well. The way every major character has been shown in contrasting shades at some point or the other, it surely deserves credit. The ladies did not resort to conflicting personas - perhaps as a symbolic exception to the grey existence of most humans. There was no villain in the movie, which I felt was quite unique in a movie of this genre. We saw someone turning bad out of compulsion, one out of humiliation, one out of blind obedience and one (our very own Peter Parker) out of heartbreak. Finally, it was again the victory of the grey as the white (of the selfless friend) and the black (of the selfish adversery) had to meet untimely deaths.

And at the end, we are told - 'We always have a choice to do the right thing.'

Miles you go ... while I sleep

I just had a late-night conversation with one of my very close friends. We were in college together after tenth and - even though we started talking on a winter morning under queer circumstances - have been great friends since then, for ever. I remember during the final board examinations, I would struggle with Calculus and Organic Chemistry all night and before going to bed - puzzled, flummoxed and vain - I would wake him up so that he could start his studies. And then there was this similarity in our unwavering adherence to Rafi and good food!

So when he went to pursue medicine with a brilliant performance in the entrance (and I - looking here and there and not being able to see much beyond the newly constructed, incomplete structure near my house that I have to call my college for the rest of my life - went for engineering), our interactions became less regular. Now, if you picture two boys focussing on the next few, most crucial, years that would decide the course of their lives, then read on. The fact is - you have only got half the picture. Because, one of them would go on whiling away time like no one did in a while. (Not that he repents, but that is more to prove that some people never learn.)

Talking to him, at a time when I am at my reflective best, really brought back some very fond memories. He has always been there, even at times when - after a of belt-loosening eating frenzy in our favourite roadside restaurant - I would pause by the nearest sweet-shop on the way to the bus stand.

I remember when I was very young, one winter morning my mother dragged me by my hand out of the bed and straight to the bathroom. She had but an option to do that, it was 8:45 and school started at 9:30. And when she happened to pass by after sometime, she found me lying there, curled up on the doormat. :D

This was not to digress from the what I was talking about in this post. I just mentioned it in passing - as a sample of what I am capable of when I am asleep. And, my best achievement was at this friend's home. This was about 2 years back. Three of us spent the day at his place - where he stays alone. In the evening, when the other friend was gone, my friend had to go out for some work and I stayed back. With nothing much to do, I took to the pages of a book on medicine and in no time knew of its sedative properties. So, within 5 minutes of his leaving, there was a breathing log on his bed. I woke up to his vigourous shaking, and opened my eyes to a very worried person. His face had anxiety, relief and anger written all at once.

As I came into the situation, I understood what made him the way he looked. When he returned after half an hour and got no answer to the bells, he called me on my mobile (which was lying by the pillow I clung to like a drowning man with a buoy). When that did not work, he started calling my name at the top of his voice. He was really worried when this went on for about 15 minutes and there was no answer from inside his own house. After having no other go, he - with the help of the watchman - broke the lock at the grills and came in; pretty sure I was murdered. Only when he saw me did he realise that this death was rather temporary.

These memories make me feel great and forces me to believe that there is nothing that I cannot do. If I could spend all these years being the way I am, I can surely carry on till the day I bid these memories goodbye.

30/1 (No, it's not the score)

Take two snooker balls and make a bigger one out of them. Now that you have got the size in your mind, that was the size of the cauliflower I bought yesterday. But I could not believe it when I was told that it cost 30 rupees. What is the country coming to? Despite the off-season, I could not believe it could have been more than 10. Or is it the city, because not very long back, I used to hear cries saying we can have two of them for 5 rupees in peak season, and they used to be double the size of what I had in my hand yesterday.

Living in the southern cities - Bangalore, Chennai and now Hyderabad - I realised that the cost of fruits in this part of the country was abysmally bad. And now, I would say the same for vegetables as well. I remember, during the peak mango season last year, someone commanded Rs. 35 for a single piece! I had a strange feeling on hearing this audacious announcement, a feeling that could potentially lead me to touching his feet or smashing his head. In a spectacular display of patience and calm, I smiled at him and returned. I did not go near a mango that year. Time, as usual, has been a great healer and now - even though I do not usually buy them - an apple at Rs. 25 or an orange at 15 does not shake my heart to convulsions. Images of my dad bringing home baskets of the most delicious Himsagar mangoes flash back in my mind, and the miles to Calcutta multiply manifold.

I am feeling a bit dehydrated since yesterday. And whenever I am telling people why I did not go to office, I am feeling more sick. Because the unanimous verdict is - 'Have lots of fruits and juices!'

Words' worth!

I know I will not be able to express what I am trying to write in this post, but I will give it a try nonetheless.

I feel, we can categorise great poetry into two classes. One - pure good poetry, a good flow and rhythm, amazing choice of words that tells a tale within the confines of the meter. When you read them, you realise penning them down requires God-gifted talent. Someone like Rabindranath Thakur. He could create the same magic on the most complex and most trivial of topics. I believe, he could write a masterpiece - if he felt like - even on seeing the straining of tea at the roadside stall.

The other class is difficult to explain. These just leave you zapped. And it is impossible to imagine what thoughts, feelings and experiences lie buried in the foundation, upon which the words are erected. Written by geniuses no doubt, but it seems these breed of poets were taught by none other than Life himself. It is very easy to appreciate once you read them - but once you try to think what could have possibly brought such perspectives in their minds, you are bound to lose your way.

The essence of good writing lies in bridging the gap between feeling and expression - and one of the widest lies in me. And, if I am thinking a million, I can put only a hundred to paper and speak out just, maybe, ten. This remains the biggest reason that I have not decided to take up writing seriously.

Coming back to what I was saying, I thought of writing this after I was hearing one of my favourite ghazals sometime back. Though all the couplets are amazing, the one that made me write this was -

Iss shaher-e-be-charagh mein jayegi tu kahan?
Aa, ay shab-e-firaaq tujhe ghar hi le chale.

Each time I try to fathom what went through Nasir Kazmi's mind when he wrote these lines, I get baffled beyond recovery. It's something like this if I dare translate -

Where would you wander in this lightless night?
Come, o night of separation, I will take you to my home.

:)

Did I entertain you?

That is what Brian Charles Lara asked the packed crowd at the Kensington Oval last Saturday. A redundant question - that was replied with an even more redundant deafening applause in the affirmative from the crowd. Farther away, every true cricket fan (not bigoted fanatics) would have at least nodded a silent yes. For, that was what the man did - entertain. He is the last of the lot of cricketers who played their game for the love of it - and gave you joy in the process. You do not feel awe despite his thunderous presence, it always made you happy from within, a feeling one might get if one was to watch, and not read, poetry.

I am not going to the everlasting debate of whether he was the best player of his time. In my book, he was - he was simply above the rest in that his were genius acts, not rehearsed performances. Thus, he was highly unpredictable, susceptible to a luscious delivery and commanding impossible ones across or over the rope. Statistics do not count for players like him - despite the fact that he is right up there on that front as well - the fact that stands out is that he was best by miles on his day. Can you imagine any player to have scored 1276 runs in just 3 innings - and not out in 2 of them as well? I remember staying up till 3 am - despite my XIIth board chemistry exam the next morning - when he scored 153* in the fourth innings against McGrath, Gillespie, Warne and McGill, adding 70 odd runs with Ambrose (12) and Walsh (0*) for company. That was cricket - you had to see it to believe it.

I sincerely believed he had another 2 years of top class cricket left in him for sure. At least, he could have continued in the Tests. I am sure, he did want the same - since he had hinted about it so many times. But then he felt the undercurrents that ran in West Indian cricket and stepped out before it sucked him in. He had always spoken out against the powers that be for a range of issues - but decided to remain silent in his last act. He was surely not lacking in fitness or form, maybe his autobiography would talk about the decision when the dust settles.

It's a known fact that West Indian cricket is in the doldrums since around the mid 90s. But to make, break and rebuild records and be the best in the business amongst such ruins really shows the character and passion he had for the game.

With due respect to all the great players around, I have to admit that cricket has no charm left for me anymore. And - maybe leaving aside some decisive matches - I would not be watching cricket anymore. "Did I entertain you?" he asked. And as the resounding applause died down, he added, "If I entertained you I am really happy..." You bet you did Brian. And even though you managed to walk off one last time wiping just a single drop of tear, your bereaved team and countless followers would find it difficult to contain theirs everytime cricket is played without you.

God bless!

Revamped

Bored with the tiresome trudging of time through the sticky tar of the night, I thought of playing with the features offered in this blog. A quick quality check revealed a good structure and classification of the features on offer. So now I have a new font, a photo, link to pages I visit often, and other post options. Did not want to clutter the page with many features, nor do technical niceties attract me that much. I would rather go for an appearance that would look good on the page of a book, than at the Times Square.

What's more, my blog is now capable of posting in near-perfect Hindi as well. So let's not waste the chance of having a few (easier) lines here. This is from the immortal Mehdi Hassan gem Ranjish Hi Sahi, where he set the captivating lyrics by Ahmed Faraaz this haunting Yaman-Kalyan tune. One gem you should not miss -

रंजिश ही सही, दिल ही दुखाने के लिए आ -
आ फिर से मुझे छोड़ के जाने के लिए आ।

पहले से मरासिम ना सही फिर भी कभी तो -
रस्म-ओ-रहे दुनिया ही निभाने के लिए आ।

किस किस को बताये जुदाई कि सबब हम?
तू मुझसे खफा है तो ज़माने के लिए आ।

माना कि मोहब्बत का छुपाना है मोहब्बत -
चुपके से किसी रोज़ जताने के लिए आ।

जैसे तुझे आते है ना आने के बहाने -
ऐसे ही किसी रोज़ ना जाने के लिए आ।

Happy reading!

Time, wait for me (tide, you carry on)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... No, I am not showing off my counting skills here. Wondering then what it was all about? Well, take a guess as I say it a bit differently again - 11, 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... Makes more sense? For those who are still at sea as to what I am talking of, this is how the hours fly off every night. Yes, you are right - this is how the hours have been passing every night since the beginning of time - and what's the big deal? Don't mind my incoherence, all I meant was this is how I see the hours fly off every night these days. Hold on. Before you work your brain thinking I set hourly alarms before going to bed, let me, myself, clarify. Unread whatever you have read so far. Let's begin on a clean slate - I am suffering from sleeplessness at nights and have been waking through the nights for an unbearable span of time now.

I know, I know. There is this word insomnia. However blurred my thoughts are and however fatigued I feel, I would have used this exact word if it was appropriate. It is not insomnia, which is a chronic lack of sleep. My problem is exactly what I wrote - sleeplessness at nights - with a stress on the word nights. I feel terribly sleepy at the end of it all as the sun says 'Hi' and takes over from me. And I promise you - as soon as you promise me that you are going to take care of my living expenses - that I can sleep as if dead, every day, for at least twelve hours and show it to you that it is not insomnia.

Why is it like that? Well, it is one answer I'd love to know among all others. But you don't have to come up with an explanation. I have heard so many of them by now, but unfortunately, none of them are correct. I am not jet-lagged (imagine an intercontinental jetlag spanning 7 months now) at all. Neither am I worrying myself to death about anything. World Cup fever? With India's performance, the fever has made way to hysteric bouts. And the West Indies are also out as I write this. Leave a comment if you still think you know the real reason.

Now, before you come up with the remedies, let me tell you none has worked on me and I have tried them all. Apple and milk before sleeping, going to bed early, thinking of the most pleasing memories, not sleeping one day so that it will be ok from the next day, thinking of God (I do always, and wonder what made Him choose me of all people to go through this) - the list is long. And as far as jumping sheep go, I lost count after some 17,328 or something the other night. It spoiled the entire day that followed - as I was still seeing sheep wherever I went. Whatever was edible seemed to be mutton and whatever was worn looked like wool.

It is almost 6 now, and I am getting the first signs of sleep. It was all fine till now - the time of the biggest decision of the day. If I go to sleep now (which I did for the last 2 days), I'd miss my tennis class and be late for office. If I don't then I will play bad shots and fight to keep my eyes open at work. Worse - by the time I will be back home after work, I'd lose all of the sleep and the next night will just be marginally better. The scales do not tilt and I do not know which option to go for. I know you would ask me to sleep, but you have not paid for my tennis classes and nor can I get a job in your office when they kick me out for coming late again tomorrow. So I think I will stay up for today.

All is not rotten with this illness you know. With keeping up in the nights, I do not have a problem when I am to do night shifts. I could lose around 3 kg in real quick time, too. I do not feel like eating all day long. And it's given me a great opportunity to stay in touch with my friends in the US and be immersed in music. On a final note, I have gathered so many 'mythical' causes and cures for sleeplessness now that I could write a book. (Well, I did write this post on this, didn't I?) Though am no Emperor of the days of yore, I promise to give half of the money I have to anyone who can make me sleep from 11 pm to 6 am on a daily basis.

Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.
While, never to bed and never to rise
Makes you groggy, gives you red eyes.

First showers

It's raining for the first time this year in Hyderabad today. Too bad I am in office and cannot stand outside. Hope it keeps raining this summer to cool down the parched bodies and souls. Not too hard though, the mango produce should not get affected.

I was walking in the rain
I cannot recall where and when
But why do I want to know, again?
Since I was walking in the rain...

Play On

Last Friday was special. I always had the dream - and to watch as dreams unfold in front of your eyes is always special. Not many times in life we get the chance to be among the most privileged. I was on the said day. The ghazal maestro Ghulam Ali was to perform in Hyderabad, and there was nothing that could make me miss it. So I was there - well before time - waiting eagerly for the Master to take over as the accompanists tuned their instruments.

The sound was tested out and the evening started with his son singing two ghazals in his own composition. On a different day, I - and the crowd - might have liked them. But not on this one. People were there to listen to the God's own voice and they were not ready to settle for anything less. Soon, he took to the stage and - it seems he does not like to speak if the words are not set to tune - with a brief introduction started off with Ghalib's 'Har ek baat'. I sat awestruck for the next two and a half hours as he picked and served ten back to back gems from his endless treasure. Time stood still and all senses stood rapt in unison as Music sang itself on the stage in front.

The evening was sublime as only he could have made it. Interspersing his timeless ghazals with references about the poets, the underlying ragas and the meaning of difficult portions, the Ustad took us back to the days of poetic celebration and musical triumph. The best ghazals were presented in pure classical form - and one could never declare either words or the ragas victorius. It is this perfect blend that makes him inimitable. No one hums along in a Ghulam Ali concert, because no one knows what he is going to do next. You never know which notes in the five octaves he would use for a particular line - and that too with the same smiling face. I lose myself in trying to analyse how he manages to sing like that impromptu; ending up concluding that God has been highly partial and selfish when it came to making his own voice. So here are the songs he sang in sequence -

Har ek baat pe kehte ho ke tu kya hai
Tum hi kaho ye andaz-e-guftagu kya hai
- Mirza Ghalib

Bheed mein ek ajnabee ka saamna achha laga
Sabse chhup kar wo kisika dekhna achha laga
- Amjad Islam Amjad

Jab tasavvur mera chhupke se tujhe chhu aaye
Apni har saans se mujhko teri khusboo aaye
- Qateel Shifai

Ye baatein jhooti baatein hai, ye logo ne faylai hai
- Ibn-e-Inshaa

Ye dil ye paagal dil mera, kyun bujh gaya? Awaargi
Iss dasht mein ek shaher tha, wo kya hua? Awaargi
- Mohsin Naqvi

Mera shauq da nahin
- Punjabi ghazal translated from Ghalib's Persian ghazal.

Ni chambe diye band kaliye
- Punjabi geet

Dil mein ek laher si uthi hai abhi
Koi taazaa hawa chali hai abhi
- Nasir Qazmi

Chupke chupke raat din aansoon bahana yaad hai
Humko ab tak aashiqui ka wo zamana yaad hai
- Hasrat Mohani

Hungama hai kyun barpa thodi si jo pii lii hai
Daaka to nahi daala, chori to nahi kii hai
- Akbar Allahabadi.

As I mentioned just ten ghazals in two and a half hours and keeping the audience in awe is a feat that only Ghulam Ali can achieve. He sang each one of them perfectly - encouraging the musicians to take over in the interludes. When everyone shouted for Chupke Chupke, he calmly said 'Pehle ye suniye' and started off with the nazm 'Ye baatein jhooti baatein hai' - going to point out that it is actually a Muqaddas Ghazal, a unique form that has 5 lines to come back to the Sthaayii. And then did his usual variations of the word Laher in Dil mein ek Laher Si like only he can do. He created at least 20 waves - each different, difficult and sublimely divine. Again, you could actually visualise a lady rotating her bangle in when he sang - 'Kangan ghumana yaad hai'. When he said 'Tanhaiyaa' in Awaargi, he sounded as if he really wiped out all traces of life in front of him. He pointed out how the word 'Jahaan' is actually the start of the second line and why it is difficult to sing this couplet to convey the correct meaning of -

Logo bhala is shaher mein kaise jeeyenge hum? Jahaan
Ho jurm tanha sochna, lekin sazaa Awaargi.

All said, it was one evening that I am not going to forget.

Elixir

Gathering moments I passed the days
Alone, quiet - in the maddening crowd.
The TV and mind both kept on mute
Wordless thoughts blared in the nights.
Lullabies of the first sunrays
Brought to life, the world around.
More in trance than strength I walked
Blinded by the soothing lights.

Frivolous talks and vacuous smiles
Translated to happiness for one and all.
My self was left to but, myself
Sponging tears, lest they spread.
Yet far away - across thousand miles
Was the bloom of spring, to my wintry pall.
My spring of life, I drank unpaused
Albeit in dreams, while tossing in bed.


The pains slowly started to please
Sobs were showing up as grins
As I knew that day was close
When I'd be back to where I belong.
The fervent prayers began to cease
But hopes were kept, by all means
The Almighty showed all His might, but
Back I came to life, before long.

A single, soft hand in my hands,
A relentless heart that doubles my beats
Two more eyes to see me through
As I sleepwalk through the dunes of death.
As He looks down on the endless sands
And in a hurry flips the piles of sheets
Stopping on the page He wrote my life
To erase and re-write in bated breath.

Vivacious, Imperious, Victorious

Sir Vivian Richards turned 55 today. The most destructive batsman the world has seen, the most fearsome batsman any bowler can bowl to, the man with the most powerful presence each day he walked on to the field - you exhaust all the superlatives when you talk about this individual. We all read eulogies - but those for this dynamo always stand out. They reach the highest level of reverence, and go further to infringe the territories of worship. For, there are cricketers. And then, there is Viv Richards.




I thought of writing something for him, but then, I am not too good at overcoming my emotions. I would update this with one essay I wrote about one leader I look upto which is not currently in Unicode now. I am also compiling a document on articles and news on the great man from various websites. Reading his autobiography opened a whole new perspective on his personality. No one relates the word discipline to Viv, but - beneath his masterly swagger and legendary arrogance - it meant the most to Viv.




I end with one advertising campaign that Reebok used to run on the King in his playing days. A giant billboard with a close-up shot just read - "Also avaialable for mortals." Here's wishing you the best life has to offer, may your mind flourish in the same spirit and your physique defy your age for countless sixers to come!

A year goes by - March 2

As mentioned in my last post, today is my brother's first wedding anniversary. (Quite coincidentally, it is my dear sister-in-law's anniversary too :D)

What rendered a grand celebration impossible was around 90 degrees of longitudes between us. They presently live in the UK, which means we had to distribute the joys and celebrations evenly in three cities - Newbury, Calcutta, Hyderabad. My brother is a grand foodie who prefers to go only for the interesting cuisines (read non-vegetarian) in enviable quantities. And since the beginning of time, he always does it in style. He gets all the more rampant and 'hollow' when Maa prepares the (out of this world) chicken and mutton dishes or when he eats out. Go out with him once to know what I am saying. With such a 'broad outlook' (the twisted pun is intended), it is only apt that his wife would show so much enthusiasm to prepare what he likes. My parents in Calcutta went for a few good dishes to celebrate the occasion, we went out (read previous post to know where) but they did it in real style. The menu for the night is - crispy duck, prawn curry, stuffed salmon, chicken tikka strips and ice cream :)

He's not just about food like me though. He's among the smartest, sharpest and broadest minds around with unbelievable resilience and confidence. He's the one I look up to - especially for the last two traits.

I love my sister-in-law, she's one of the sweetest persons you can ever come across. You see less of her sharpness and more of her warmth, and instantly feel at home. Like my brother, she has immense and unquestioned faith on my abilities and I don't think both of them believe that I cannot do or fail in something. Other than cooking for my brother, she loves listening to old songs, solve jigsaw puzzles and not to forget video-chatting in skype and playing pool in yahoo with me. :) This is rather a very weak account of her but this is all you get to know when you have not stayed more than a few hours with someone and have always chatted online. Even though she does not sing much, her voice and laugh sound like music. Talking of songs, reminds me about a unique talent that could take her to Ripley's - she sings while sleeping almost every other night! Imagine the plight of my brother in the middle of the night when she suddenly breaks into, say - 'Dekh le, aankhon mein aankhein daal...'

We'd be celebrating in grand style when they come to India in April. So holding on for a month till the ambience is all food, music and laughter. Here's wishing the best in this world and beyond to two of the best around. As I wished today - 'Happy First Anniversary, let's keep counting till we lose count.' :)

Adonis wants to die

I am sure all of us are familiar with pop-ups promising out-of-the-world gifts ABSOLUTELY FREE just because we were the site's 1000000th (may vary with more number of zeros). If you do not close the window right away, you are in for an impromptu test of your patience. Same with emails claiming you have won a fortune based on a draw of lots on email ids! I get excited calls and messages from my not-so-conversant friends on such pop-ups and emails quite regularly.

So when I saw this mail in the morning about winning the Best Couple Competition for Valentine's Day, I was on my usual 'select, send to trash' routine when I gave it a second look. This one looked original with no fancy images or formatting and had names of real people. Even the mail was addressed to two real people, who happened to go out for dinner on the mentioned date. Soon I could relate 'mlc' in the sender's email id to 'Mainland China' - indeed the place we dined at. The body of the mail read, yes in ALL CAPS, thus -

CONGRATULATION ! WE ARE PROUD TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU ARE THELUCKY WINNER OF BEST COUPLE OF VALENTINE DAY OF 2007.YOU HAVE WON A GIFTVOUCHER WORTH RS 500/- WHICH YOU CAN REDEEM AT ANY OUTLET OF SPECIALITYRESTAURANT PVT.LTD (THROUGH OUT THE COUNTRY) WITHIN 13TH MARCH,2007.

Why wait till 13 March when there is so much to celebrate today? (Incidentally, this day last year my brother got married.) The food, especially the starters, were great that day and we ate to our hearts' content. An encore is on the cards tonight and I am thrilled about it. :)

I am happy to say the least. But also quite flummoxed at this newest title. Why? Well, there are two equal parts in any couple. And where one half is yours truly (and truly ugly, you bet), such a title keeps taunting in the mind. However charming my far-better-half is. If I were not myself and someone told me this, I'd be rolling on the floor by now - which is exactly what my friends are going to do.

All I can do is to thank her for always being there with me, making me a better person and sharing the joys together, even the embarrassing and ridiculous ones like this. :)

Way to go

There are three sportsmen I admire bordering on worship. And none of them are new additions to my list of favourites, it's since 1989-1990 that I am amazed by these superb athletes and following them closely on a regular basis. One each from my three favourite sports, they are the incomparable, adjective-exhausting Vivian Richards, artistic Marco van Basten and charismatic Andre Agassi.

Well, I could go on with unwavered enthusiasm about each of these greats, but let's keep it for some other time. I thought of writing this as an introduction to this speech by Andre Agassi after his last match at the US Open last year. My dream was to see him in the US Open 2006 since it was his last hurrah and I could have been in New York. But, as fate would have had it, I was in India during that time. This is what he had to say to all his fans wearing his professional gear for the last time. Quite impressive and inspiring. Times changed and so did his form, appearance and image - but in each of those 21 years he was there, the loudest cheer in any part of the world would always come for Andre. When a fan would say, "We love you Andre!" he would respond, "I love you too, man!"

Watch it here..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7lO23K8wi0

Irritatingly Yours

Sometimes we offer to do more than what is normal - solely for the sake of friendship. The difference between doing something out of sincerity and doing someone a favour is simple - you do not feel that you have done a good thing, and the other person does not stay thankful to you, in the former case. A favour, however, gives a sense of superiority to the doer, and a state of subdued presence for the one who benefits. What, then, is the differentiator? On the surface, it seems it is what you are doing. But actually it is who you are doing it for. You can risk your life, happiness, career, money and any other thing for a true friend - without thinking twice. On the other hand, you might hesitate to even ask a minor adjustment from someone who is not. Examples abound in scores and let's not get into that. But the irony is that we do not get many real friends in life and usually distribute our relations with varying degrees of genuineness and selflessness.

Well, the seemingly heavy start is by no means indicative of why I started this post. One of my very good friends came over this weekend to attend a function and we met up after almost a year. We were in the same group in college all through. I really admire her intelligence and unwavering love for coffee, chocolates and reading. But the best part about her is that - ever since I know her - I have always come up stupid remarks to all her questions, comments or observations and she has withstood them all for all these years. I just love that look of hopelessness and frustration everytime this happens. :D

We met for lunch yesterday and I was to come to office (office starts at 2 pm for me these days) after that. After a very good meal and even better time - regularly interrupted by calls from office for the both of us - I realised I was running very late as usual. She did not have much to do for the afternoon and was thinking of something interesting to do. So I offered her the best I could in that scorching Hyderabad afternoon - she could come with me to my office (around 15 km), wait at the cafeteria alone for about 30 minutes till I settle in, chat with me for some more time before I see her off to an auto again for her to travel the return journey to her relatives'. I vouch I could show such genuineness only to people like her. Already irritated and put off further by this rather unpleasant proposition, she did what she should not have done, given she knows me for all these years. She tried to reason.

- 'I don't want to go so far in this heat', she said.

- 'Don't worry, I would drop you midway on my way to office. You come back after that,' I said with unchanged earnestness.

That look! I could do anything for that look on her face. With unadulterated sincerity :D

P.S. - Nidhi, if you are reading this, don't get mad. You know I like you so much. :)

Beyond boundaries

This isn't going to be one on cricket after the one on tennis. Boundaries here, refer to the ones drawn on the basis of geography, language, culture, literature and music. Octave 2007 was being celebrated in Hyderabad, (the name is derived from the eight constituent states from the North East that participated in this fair) and yesterday was the last day. My earliest travels - thanks to my father's transfers - were all in the North-East: Assam, Meghalaya, Arunachal Pradesh, Nagaland and Manipur. From what little I can recall, there are two things that stand out in these states -

• The raw, stark and pristine beauty of nature.
• The naively simple, straight-forward people who are happy with what little they have.

Anyways, so off we went to Shilparamam Cultural Complex. I was initially disappointed as there were only a few stalls set up from these states and the rest were the usual fare you get there. I thought it would be another disappointing visit since all my earlier trips for other events ended without satisfaction. But it was different this time - as we could hear the strains of some soothing music from a distance. As we approached the dais and the words became clear, I could make out that the language was Assamese and the singer was singing like the legendary Bhupen Hazarika. I do not understand Assamese, but could roughly make out what was being said because of its similarity with Bengali and a few words I knew before.

My initial observation turned accurate when the singer said that Bhupen Hazarika was his uncle. Mayukh Hazarika indeed has a good voice - he is in that class when the voice alone tells that you are listening to a pro. He and his wife Laili sang quite a number of songs. I was waiting eagerly for 'Bistirno Du-pare' - the 'Ganga' song that is most synonymous with Bhupen Hazarika for all Bengalis. Mayukh sang it, in Assamese and Hindi, and it was indeed the song of the night. Gives me goosebumps, everytime the Mukhda reaches the crescendo - the first time, without music. He did full justice to the unparalleled rendition by his uncle and brought the entire audience to a spontaneous applause. I had my time's worth with that song alone.

I could only get a skimmed understanding of what was being sung, and many others there hardly understood anything more than what the singers translated - but the rendition and accompaniment was so soothing and the tunes so lively and simple that it never became a deterrent. It is said music has no language - it was beautifully exemplified before me yesterday.

Watch out Roger

I went for my first tennis lesson with exactly the above in mind. I had always had a great fascination for the game and always wanted to learn it. But, tennis was never a game for the masses and I had to contend with watching the game closely over the last 17 years. So when on the way for my first shot, I was excited to say the least. For those who know me, my interest and enthusiasm for this would be evident from the fact that the classes are from 7:30 am for an hour, six days a week. Given the deadly combination of my sleeplessness and laziness - both certified as exceptional by all and sundry - accepting such a timing was in itself a stupendous effort from my side.

Anyways, with my Wilson in hand and a my gear on, I walked to the courts this Sunday morning. (Fortunately the place is just a 3 minute walk from where I live, and it'd give me an extra 30 precious minutes to sleep.) I learned the technical details of playing the forehand. I have an inner feeling that this would last for sometime and deepen my interest in the game.

After an hour, I was told that I did quite well for my first shots at the yellow ball. However, before you visualise me hitting ripping cross-court forehands from the baseline like one Andre Agassi, let me tell you that the title of this post is quite literal - with balls flying higher and further with each subsequent shot. One of them could have easily knocked him down - wherever he was lifting his latest trophy that day. :D

Perceptions Of A Dormant Mind

Perceptions are hard to overcome. Our minds are often tuned to a certain thought or belief which we keep carrying on without realising. Sometimes - due to certain events - we come to know that what we believed had no basis, just that the mind started housing it for some unknown reason. Though we may actually rectify and go ahead with reason and thoughts, sometimes the mind is so programmed to what it had stored that it refuses to budge. I have never been able to understand the thought process behind this whenever it happens to me. And more often than not I lose my way midway - like I am losing it in writing this down.

Let me not get into the philosophy of it all and just give a few examples. One of my friends read my blog and remarked on a line in my profile - "I really like the quote you chose, 'Yesterday, today was tomorrow'. This is really one of the most concise and powerful quotes I have come across." I was indeed a bit flattered by the compliment till he asked me this question - "Whose is it, by the way?" I told him it was mine, I thought of it while in college. He did not believe at first, and kept on insisting that I divulge the name of the real author. When I persisted with my answer and he found honesty in my voice, the admiration in his did not last a moment longer. He said, 'But, somehow, it sounds a bit incomplete,' and went away. Perception - ordinary people cannot write original quotable quotes.

Some years back, a family was visiting us and my mother - in her usual enthusiasm and attention to detail - charted out what to treat them to a week in advance. And in the final, much-modified menu, was something that we all loved - fish chops. There was one more fish item, a curry. When the guests arrived, they refused the fish curry but they had already had the chops. We were told they get nauseatic if they had fish - while mentioning on the same breath that the 'chicken' chops were too good. :)

Let me wind up with something from my stable. When I was very young, there was programme on TV titled 'Hello Zindagi' and Jagjit Singh used to sing the title song for it. Somehow, I did not like the concept of pitting the words Hello and Zindagi against each other. The singer bore the brunt and I did not like any songs that was sung by the legend. This - thankfully - changed when I was in college and I became an avid Jagjit Singh listener.

After this, I normally try to reason out things and not get driven by pre-set notions. But as is the case, mostly our perceptions are formed and stay in the subconscious terrains of our mind.

P.S. - If I were to vote, I'd vote this post as the worst till date, but I am publishing it anyways because I decided not to have a quality check in this blog. If you read my blog, you need to accept my ordinariness and not form any perceptions which are unfounded. :D

7 Sure Signs

I know I am in -

1) Calcutta when I -

• feel happy for no special reason the moment I land.
• overhear a banter or a 'special comment' within an hour of reaching. Hear someone voicing out his support for Bengal and it's heritage - with all examples in past and future tenses.
• start sneezing and have itching eyes, whatever time of the year it is.
• have more sweets in the first few hours than what I had the month before. And by the time I return I have more than what I will have in six months to come.
• go to any random Phuckawala with full confidence that I will return fully satisfied.
• surely get back at least one 25 p coin the first day I go out.
• sweat and acquire that special sooty look on my already-repelling face.

2) Hyderabad when I -

• am making the stupidest comments and cracking poorest jokes imaginable all through the day, only to be replied with some highly competitive ones.
• wonder at the end of every working day what I really did all day in office. My checklist stays unaltered but the calendar keeps moving.
• look the other way when my companions are eating Paanipuri.
• am watching movies at an average rate of 4-5 a month.
• hear the loudest possible songs whenever I step in an auto - the female voice shrieking louder and coarser than you can imagine, the male voice trying to sound cool and putting on a funny accent.
• feel my life is easy - somewhat in tune with my laidback attitude.
• regularly overhear megastar Chiranjeevi is the best of them all, and that all hit Tamil movies are remakes of original Telugu movies, and all Telugu remakes of Tamil movies are better than the original.

3) Chennai when I -

• myself start speaking broken irregular English trying to talk to people when I am out - when I know both of us know we can have a better conversation in Hindi.
• forget the existence of winterwear and feel de-hydrated as long as there is daylight.
• regularly overhear superstar Rajnikanth is the best of them all, and that all hit Telugu movies are remakes of original Tamil movies, and all Tamil remakes of Telugu movies are better than the original.
• meet people from other states who are eye-opening followers of 'eat to live and not live to eat'.
• feel like hitting the driver unconscious and running him over with his own auto whenever I hear the answer to the question 'how much?'
• am made to hear everything Tamil is the best, from the language to the heritage, films to music, actors to singers, food habits (I have actually read in newspaper that idli and curd rice are best foods for breakfast and lunch, respectively and that there is no cuisine in India that is as varied as one that comes out of a Tamil kitchen!!). This reminds me of the actual caption in 'The Hindu' under the photograph of a newly wed Salman Rushdie and Padma Lakshmi. It read something like - 'Newly weds - renowned author Salman Rushdie and supermodel and actress Padma Lakshmi - after their wedding.... Padma Lakshmi grew up as a child in Delhi with her grandparents (so and so) who are now settled in Chennai.' This is what I call drive home a point!!
• forget everything I wrote above when I go to the beach and lose myself to the grandeur of the sea.

4) New York when I -

• sit up all night/sleep on alternate days - and hence, spend the maximum possible time online, on the phone and listening to/researching on music.
• am looking up maps and information regularly - and mostly for that one restaurant with rave reviews. (I missed quite a few, will surely make it next time.)
• am ready to go to Times Square as many times imaginable, the later it is, the better it gets.
• actually like my job.
• and people around me are at their courteous best, and smiling more than ever. Thank you-s when nothing is done, sorry when you have not done anything wrong. :)
• get bored and enjoy to the hilt on the same day.
• am in my best form of generosity - spending and tipping with no second thoughts.

These are what all that came to my mind at the moment of writing. Am sure I missed out on many more points that actually matter more to me than what I wrote.

Body blow - blowing out of proportions

Back in India, I did an assessment of what all tasks I need to be doing. To my surprise, the list turned out to be quite a long one. But topping the list of personal, official and miscellaneous to-dos in big bold letters is something that starts and ends with myself. Well, it is my ever-expanding girth that I am talking of here. All those midnight digs at the tempting ice cream buckets have left an impression on my being. Not to mention the well-researched plans for the weekends, always ending in lavish, multi-course meals. The aftertaste is gone, the after-state remains. The second thing that anyone I met here said, after the usual hi, was 'You have put on so much weight' or the more friendly 'Have you been eating all through your stay?'

So I put across this plan to get back in shape by the end of March. I'd keep the details of the plan to myself for proprietary reasons. But to assure the legions of fans of my magical appetite, cutting down on food has never been in my scheme of things. The eating will continue in the same spirit, would just try to incorporate some healthy habits and exercise in my static routine.

P.S. - The snap is of a typical Friday evening dessert ration, that would be over by the next Wednesday. :)

Adieu

Am leaving for Hyderabad tonight, will be starting in 10 minutes, and happy about it. New York was good, especially during the last one month. Will take over from India.

New! Orkut Video

Orkut is riding the highest wave these days, higher than ever. Have to admit, it's a great site to be in touch with your friends. Even though I joined it in its infancy (yes, long back in 2004), I started using it only since last June. And I have to admit, I am fully hooked into it since. I have never been in regular touch with so many of my friends - and rediscovered long lost ones, too. In the communities' discussion boards, I found a lot to learn and share, especially in the few music communities that I am a part of. A few days back, they added the favourite video section - and I have already added some of my favourite video links from youtube. This now conclusively proves the old-fashioned tastes that I am laughed at for by my friends. If my friends are around, there's always a state of apprehension that I'd start off with one of 'my' songs and bore them to death. I have put up a sample in the videos page for all to concur. :)

All, however, is not good with my aggressive orkut usage. If I were to single out one thing that's not so good, it's the fact that I have wasted so much of my time on this. I know, and can sometimes feel, that my friends get fed up of my nagging presence. I could have done so many productive things if not logged in to orkut for most part of the day - at least I could have started this blog earlier.

Broad Grins on Broadway

The wait was finally over. Yesterday, I finally went for a musical at the Winter Garden theater on Broadway. The wait was long and bred a lot of excitement, research and tentativeness. After a cursory search at the summaries, we had closed in on The Phantom of the Opera and Mamma Mia. Each had rave reviews and has been running for quite sometime now, 18 and 5 years, respectively. Finally we went for Mamma Mia - a musical interspersed with songs of ABBA. Given my idea of English music, it felt great that I had heard 2 of the songs before and could vaguely recall a few more. The music was refreshing, the stage and lights out of this world and choreography superlative. It was not much about acting, and was even overtly dramatic at times, but that's how it went throughout, what it was all about. All in all - complete entertainment, amazingly refreshing. Am a bit heady with about a combined 5 hours of sleep in the last 3 days. Otherwise, this post surely deserves more space.

Value For Money

Money sells. This is something that I am made to realise everywhere I go. Ambitions, alliances, art, activities - that's all of the words I could think of starting with 'A' - are all steered and driven by the paper that buys. Its presence is so pervading, at least in the urban population, that its impacts are no more disceranable. The present time, it seems, has put our minds on cruise control - we move on without even as much as thinking for ourselves.

In the Indian cities, at least in the ones I have been to, the masses are driven by a common goal to show off. The places you go are not the ones that interest you, the food you eat may not necessarily be what you like and what you wear is not what looks good on you. Places we go, clothes we wear and where (and not what) we eat, must qualify under the misconstrued category called 'cool'. Hence we have no choice but to 'hang around' in 'eating joints' wearing the 'popular labels'. And, surprisingly, no one realises - it's all so internalised.

One more way, for the booming IT fraternity, to be 'cool' is to hook an 'onsite trip'. I am not sure about the grass but, with US companies making up the majority of the parent companies/clients in the Indian IT sector, the money definitely is green. And it's all so easy - sit back while the company applies and sponsors your visa, go to the consulate for the stamping (with colleagues congratulating and relatives celebrating your 'success'), do some shopping from the foreign travel allowance and start off. The client takes care of most of your daily needs, so you don't need to worry about anything. Except, of course, your bank balance, expense reimbursements and money transfers to India. Just mention any number to an absent-minded professional and chances are high that he'd reply with a figure that's 45 times what you said.

I'm no ascetic who thinks money is 'maya', neither am I a spendthrift who leaves a trail of notes wherever he goes. Worse, I don't have a sharp mind for investments and returns. I just do not want to give it the unnecessary importance ahead of the simpler pleasures in life. If I am to do something I like, I wouldn't think about the money involved. But when it comes to spending for something 'cool', I don't ever have to convince myself to save. The answer is a clear NO from within.

It just stirs and makes me wonder when I see someone - who is making more than 7 times the money he makes in India - count single dollars or find convoluted ways to make more. The defining moment that left me flabbergasted was when one of my friends came to know the ticket price (after a 40% discount, though) for the Broadway show we are going tomorrow. If he said that the rates are far too exorbitant for his liking, I would be least thoughtful or bothered. But the first question he asked was 'How long does the show run for?' Either we like something or we don't - but liking something on the basis of amount spent per hour was something that made me think. Hence this post.