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.

Movie Going

Till three years back, I never used to go to the theaters. I found movies a waste of time and they did not appeal to me at all. I would occasionally catch up with movies on the TV but my big-screen total between 1990 and 2003 was, as far as I can remember, 8. I would sit through old movies on television, waiting eagerly for that priceless song in the usually ordinary proceedings. Else, who would sit through a thoroughly nerve-wrecking movie called Mahua - if not for the strong, poignant and rebel notes of 'Dono ne kiya tha pyar magar, mujhe yaad raha tu bhool gayi - Maine tere liye jag chhoda, tu mujhko chhod chali'. I did not watch a frame after this song was over, and frankly don't remember what I saw before.

With a proper fraction as my yearly average, I could barely be called a movie-goer. But this changed after I moved to out of house after college. I started going for the movies more frequently - and notched up quite a number of them by the time I moved to Hyderabad. With nothing much to do after work hours (and a 11-8 work hour at that), our group resorted to movies. I am not sure how many of us went for the movie itself, and many times people would turn up and ask - 'What's today?' Even though I liked quite a few we went for, including Dor, Rang De Basanti, Lage Raho Munnabhai, Parineeta and 'the different one', Being Cyrus, I have to admit the liking came after the show was over, and I never quite had a wishlist.

Anyways, it was fun with all those last minute plans, and I became quite an expert in identifying potential sellers outside the Box Office in the multiplexes, even in the first weekend of the show. The evening and night shows, which we usually went for, would mean we had to eat out either after or before the movie, respectively - and was an added incentive for a foodie like me. I remember going for a midnight buffet after watching Lage Raho Munnabhai - eating from 1:00 to 2:45.

All in all, it's good fun going out for the movies or have friends over at my place and rent a VCD. There's not much to do when you live away from home with new found friends who are, well almost all of them are, living away from home themselves.

Talking of movies, my favourite genre is comedy. Golmaal, Half Ticket, Munna Bhai and some Govinda movies top my list. I am also a great fan of Guru Dutt classics Pyaasa and Kaagaz Ke Phool.

And, on a very recent note (actually 2 days back), I'd suggest everyone who is reading this NOT to watch Salaam-e-Ishq under any circumstances. If someone tells you he'd pay for your ticket, or take you to dinner after the show, or whatever - please reply with a firm 'No, thanks.' Simply put, this is THE WORST movie I watched that I can recall.

Line of Fate

Yesterday will definitely go down as one of the worst days of my life. Little did I know about the outcome of going for a haircut, long due. The nearest barber shop was full - so I and my friend went to take a stroll. And, of all streets, walked to one that hosted a shop with an unbelievably attractive sign - "$4.99 hair cut". It was too tempting not to have a closer look.

Getting in, we found around 20 people cutting and about a 20 more waiting for their customers. Someone said - 'Sign in there'. We signed - even though the declaration above started with 'I hereby understand that the students working here are not professionals and are aspiring barbers... I understand that I might get injured in the process...' I have no explanation whatsoever as to why we did not come out of that den then and there. :)

I was directed by the student instructor towards a chair and asked what number I'd go for from the chart displayed above. Confused, I just said I want my present style to be preserved. So he instructed to his waiting student - 'Do a 4 on the sides, 6 on the upper area and scissors on top' -and went away. I could see the clumsiness in the first few clips and in the way he was going about the whole task at hand. Unknowingly, I joined my palms for a silent prayer.

The 4 was over and so was the 6. But his hands shook when it held the scissors. His ordeal showed in his face and found expressions in his frequent 'I'm sorry'-s. At one point of time, I told him he needs to hold the comb in the other hand to do what he was trying to do. Two deep cuts made me utter the only words I found that could save, literally, my face - 'Please go ahead with the blades if you are not comfortable with the scissors'.

His reply was that of a confident man - 'Definitely better - I'm a blade man, you see.'

Five minutes later, I realised there was no way I could save myself. I just decided to close my eyes and let him make merry. When I opened my eyes and looked at the progress, the hurt showed in my own reflection - and I was doubly sure to see my friend standing far away and laughing his heart out looking at me. Whatever little doubt I had went away after one glimpse of the look in his eyes. I could feel he had already got over the dissatisfaction over his own makeover - after seeing the still amateur craftsman giving the final touches to his, maybe first, creation.

The thing that took the cake was the razor clean hairline he made on my forehead. A straight line running ridiculously parallel to the brows, and demarcating hair from skin - is what anyone would see on my person if I stand in front. A deeper, sharper line runs where this blow cut across my bleeding heart.

Subway Stop

Coming out of my laziness, I took the subway today - despite having to walk a few blocks in the freezing cold. It's easier to come out, hail a cab and be home in 20 minutes. But the subway surely has more experience in store. For instance, today the train just stopped at Fulton Street for a full 10 minutes. No one knew the reason, no one showed any signs of restlessness. Most commuters here, even if getting down a couple of stops later, would open a book or plug in the i-pod and sink in. 10 minutes of a stoppage without any announcement does not make the New Yorker stir. I was sorely missing the presence of a fellow Calcuttan with me. Sounds of 'Ki Dada, train-ta cholbe naki?' were echoing inside my mind - would have surely come out if there were one. Loosely translated it means - well, the essence of comments like this cannot be captured in translations :)

TV again

I switched on the television after a long time yesterday. The channels I get here are from the basic package the cable company provides - and, hence, are not worth raving for. Morever, I am not a TV regular and do not fall in the 'everybody' group that loves Raymond. Neither am I an English movie/music buff. I am not into basketball, baseball and golf - that is shown almost always in the sports channels. This leaves me totally out of choices and I just managed a princely combined duration of 2 FIFA world cup matches and another 20 minutes in front of the TV in my apartment in five months.

Yesterday night was different. After a long time, I switched it on for the Australian Open Women's Semifinal match between Maria Sharapova and Kim Clijsters. The match turned out to be almost entirely one-sided as Sharapova cruised to a straight-set victory. Much to my disappointment, though - Clijsters, along with Justine Henin-Hardenne, is one of the two women I like in the circuit at present. Sania Mirza remains a sentimental favourite nonetheless.

Talking of tennis, if I were to pick just 2 of my favourite players, I'd pick Andre Agassi and Gabriela Sabatini. They remain my favourites from as early as I can recall.

I am not interested in the men's game after Agassi's retirement and would not want to watch Sharapova vs Serena Williams. So I guess I had my share of tennis viewing for now. Will Sania Mirza break into the 30s once again? Would there be any different champion in the men's grandslams this year ( other than the 3-1 between Federer and Nadal)? These are the questions I'd be having this year...

All About Laugh

We all love to laugh. But at times I get restive seeing some people laugh. I am talking of that class of people who you will find rolling in splits at something amusing - but reactive, angry and even vindictive when the joke is on them. I just do not like people who are like this. Most of us, however, would wait till the tide dies down when we are at the receiving end. And then - there is a small group who would laugh the loudest when in a similar situation. Laughing at myself - I have to admit - makes me happiest.

I have a very good friend who shares this trait. We rarely met after college- but whenver we talked over the phone, a great deal of talktime used to be spent on our recent 'achievements'. This done, we would move on to what others did - and conversations hardly went out of hilarious accounts/experiences. He came to the USA recently and we are having a rollicking time during the weekends when he comes over. We met for lunch today at a chinese joint near my office. Just as he picked up his fork to gorge on his chicken and rice, the man behind the counter came hurriedly and picked up his plate and went back. He apologised - saying that he had given him someone else's food by mistake. I could have given anything for the perplexed look on his face, the still down-pointing fork reflecting his state of mind. We had a good laugh over the incident and it made up for the disappointment over the overly sweet General Tso's chicken which he could manage to just half-eat.

He had come to my office after work a few days back and we had a very simple plan - pick up the one of my teammates from his Broadway office in our cab and go home. The friend would get a missed call and come out on the streets - and I assured him that my call would be so sweetly timed that he would come out to our braking taxi. I was, throughout, telling my friend about cabs since that was his first cab ride - how you stop one, rates, routes, tips, etc. It was all going well. But just as I picked up the phone, I realised that I did not have any minutes left on my cell. I tried to make my brain work beyond its capacity - and it retaliated brutally. As our street touched Broadway, I told him to take a right - on a one-way going left! He looked at the mirror and taught me a new meaning of 'if looks could kill' altogether. Then, why I don't know, I dialed my cell again. Failing at that too, I told him to wait at that junction till I walk down a few blocks, make a call from the building reception to my waiting friend, come back with him when he was down from the 13th floor. The cabbie said many things, which were supposed to bring a lot of curses on my being, but ended up in rumbling sounds at the most. I came to my senses and did the only thing I could do - settled the bill, with a 25% tip. As we were leaving the car, he finally got his speech back. "I don't know what kind of a passenger you are" is all we could hear.

I end here, and I hope I could bring home the point I started this post with.

Company

My office has suddenly become a better place. My friend from my India team finally joined me here yesterday - and we are having a great time working and interacting together in office. Makes things easy for him to settle in, and breaks my monotony that I unwantedly had to bear for the 4 months I was here prior to this. We talked throughout the day, and worked together. We even finished a short, impromptu photo session (short because the batteries gave way) sometime back. By the time I go back to India in 10 days, he would be knowing the people and process around him without having to explore. And, I will be happy that my stay in this office at least ended on a high note. 'All is well that ends in the well' - as someone said long back :)

Office back in India is so different - it's like being in a group of compulsive pranksters vying for the ultimate championship. It's fun and utterly nonsensical, let's talk about it in a separate entry here. It's time to leave for the day.

Smiles!

My First Sub

It is not that I had never had at Subway before, but that was in India where you hardly find any person other than those behind the counter. I could take my own time and customize my order as well. Still, I did not like what I had that time and could not correlate the word cold with sandwich while paying so much. Anyways, seeing the long queues at the nearby Subway joint everyday, I thought of trying to see if this was any different.

The first difference - Fast Food queues should move real fast. And so, even though I was around twenty odd in the line, it was hardly 3 minutes before I was to order - fully undecided about my order. The fast movement of the queue was apparent from the fact that 6 people were behind the counter. Your bread travels from one to the next till it becomes a sandwich and you pay to the last person.

The first person asked what type of bread. I replied - "I don't need." :D (He had pointed to a chart that had all the bread varieties, but the only thing I read was, add a delicious garlic bread to your subway meal.) Then he said, "How can I make it without the bread?" Finally I said I wanted the first bread type.

The bread passed on to the next person.

She said - Cheese? My reply - "No, thanks". That would have meant paying extra, you know. But on quickly running my eyes on the board I found no mention of paying extra for cheese. But it was already too late.

The bread passed on to the next person and I could not understand what she did other than passing it on. The next person gave me a look and I could understand she was expecting me to say something, but did not understand what. Finally she said - "What all you need?" Did not get her accent and thought she said something else. So I replied - "yes, fine." She said, pointing - "WHAT ALL? Lettuce? Tomato?" I got the point and continued - "Onion, ummm.. yes that's all." Then realised what all I should have said when the girl behind me replied to the same question - "Lettuce, tomato, onion, carrot, cabbage, pickle, jalapeno, olive…" I realised what I had missed because mine was already packed. And then came further grief when I heard the girl continue - "yes, mayonnaise, mustard, yes a little bit…."

The bread passed on to the next person who billed it and said enjoy your Sub! Enjoy I did!

Afterall, I unknowingly removed some extra calories from what they claim to already reduce. And, like the calories, I had taken away most of the taste out of what little it was supposed to have.

A Rare Purchase

I don't usually visit music stores to get my music - and normally rely on MP3s and online music sites. Youtube has been a recent addition to my musical destinations. It is because of this site that I could witness Ghulam Ali and Mohd. Rafi singing live, and also could unearth some very rare Rafi gems like this one.

9 out of 10 songs I listen to are either by Rafi Sahab or by Ghulam Ali. I have formed a decent collection now - 500+ Rafi and 100 Ghulam Ali numbers. If you want to know more about them, do a simple search in google or look up the wikipedia entries for MR or GA.

Opinions may vary and everyone is entitled to one's preferences, but in my book Mohd. Rafi will remain the best playback singer ever and Ghulam Ali the best ghazal singer ever.

Coming back to what I started with, I don't visit music stores often. But whenever I amble into one, either with my friends or just to pass time, I browse the Ghazal and the Old Hindi sections. In one such recent visit to Planet M when I was in India in December, I chanced upon this double CD Ghulam Ali collection called Kohinoor. I decided to take it at once, solely because of this one ghazal spanning 23 minutes - Apni Tasveer Ko Aankhon Se Lagata Kya Hai. I am simply speechless each time I hear this one. Smooth, soft and elegant - the rendition leaves me wanting for more despite the unusually long duration. Vintage one.

Kohinoor also has Dost Bankar Bhi Nahi Saath Nibhanewala which is right up there in my favourite list, mainly because of its maqta -
Tum takalluf ko bhi ikhlaas samajhte ho 'Faraaz'
Dost hota nahi har hath milanewala.

takalluf = formality
ikhlaas = sincerity

I paired it off with a different CD by the Ustad - one on classical raagas. I do not have a critical assessment of the CD as I don't understand the Raagas and their intricacies. But I love listening to this album as well.

Drops with a difference

I was walking out of office - headed to meet my teammate, who had just arrived in New York, in his hotel - when I realised my overcoat was all white. I brushed it off my sleeve and looked up. It was indeed snowing - white flakes floating all around. I had seen my first snowfall a few days back - and now I was walking in one. I wished I was not all decked up and could feel them all over me and not just the few drops on my face.

Anyways, I was happy beyond words. I knew I would like it. There are a few more invigorating feelings than getting drenched in the rain. It's been really long that I enjoyed a long stand under the crying sky. Back home, I'd come out whenever it poured heavily - and many times this happened just as I came out of my bath. My dad does it too in the summers, as cure for the dreadful heat-boils he gets. Standing in the first shower is almost a ritual for the both of us - rounding it off later with the deep fried onion pakoras. My brother joining in - too lazy to get drenched, too eager for the snack afterwards. :)

Walking on snow-covered streets is next on my agenda. My friend says she has slipped many times and it's quite impossible to avoid them - so am prepared for the bumps. Will update here when I experience my first 'snow-fall'.

Smiles!

About Us

The 'Us' above was necessary to bring forth the numerous perceptions people have about me. Although not drastically different from each other, people pick and choose the traits they have seen or imagine to build their own persons for me. And in this journal, I would have entries for all of them.

I'm 26, working as a Security Consultant (on paper, though - with no mind/aptitude for the field) with one of the Big-4 firms. I am from Calcutta, but work in Hyderabad. As I create this blog, I am in - what I feel the best place to be for me after Calcutta - New York.

I am intensely passionate about a few things - respect where it's due, my conscience, people I like, sports I follow and music I listen to. And I am a great worshipper of food - am sure many of the entries here would be testimony to that. I like writing down my thoughts - as poems or even while mailing or chatting with anyone. Which means, I am better at writing down my feelings than speaking them out.

More to come in the days ahead. Packing off for the day now.
Smiles!

Hello Space

After, literally, years of procastination I have finally created my profile. Each time I thought of starting my own blog, I always ended up not doing so - thinking I must be getting ideas to write something really interesting and meaningful to start off. And so passed three years - which could have been captured through their numerous interesting incidents and myriad experiences. Anyways, it is never too late to start something.

This is definitely not well-begun - and hence not half done :) Just the one post till now.