I have always been very close to kids. I don’t know whether it’s because our mental levels are comparable or whether it’s because like kids, my heart is as pure as a driven snow. Whatever the reason, I have always been accepted into their world as one of their own and have seen their world from the inside.
It’s not a nice world.
Kids have this amazingly rigid socio-economic structure. When we were kids the economic part did not exist. Someone was branded a whiney, for example, irrespective of whether he was the son of the local coal shop owner or the son of the para doctor. There was no concept of differentiating people based on their parents’ money, stature or social position. Now I see these kids leading sheltered lives in enclosed residential complexes, with no exposure to the outside world and no idea of how people less fortunate than them are living in the outside world. Most children (and unfortunately their parents) are downright callous and indifferent about the poor and homeless. My son’s idea of charity and social responsibility is that when one of his toys breaks he keeps it aside saying that he would give it away to a street child to play with. Similarly, my contribution towards poverty eradication is to pay for the education of a couple of faceless girls through monthly deductions from my credit card. But then again, I am rambling.
Coming back to the kids, their world beats the competitiveness and ruthlessness of any high-pressure, performance oriented MNC or the machiavellian schemes of a coalition political party. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, allegiances are sworn and forgotten at the bat of an eyelid, bosom friends discarded and ridiculed in front of newly found soul-mates, shy insecure loners ganged up against and banished to their pitiful ignored existences and loud, brash, aggressive kids (or quiet, arrogant kids with the latest Nintendo or Gameboy) suck up to, adored and followed around. Only the fittest can survive here, and ‘fit’ is a person who doesn’t form any lasting friendships, who doesn’t display any conscience pangs and who can go with the tide and always duck the big wave coming their way.
I make no judgment or attempts to influence their world. I won’t stick around long enough to either change their directions or witness the world where the kids of today have taken over. But I can’t prevent my heart from feeling a twinge of regret or a shaft of fear, for innocence lost and purity killed.
Dec 28, 2006
Dec 26, 2006
My son's christmas wish
When i asked him what he wanted from Santa he said he wanted a tree in the house which grew money instead of leaves. That way I would be able to stay at home the whole day and play with him, instead of going back to Delhi.
Sniff.
Sniff.
Dec 20, 2006
Briefcase
I dont know if any one of you is old enough to remember the briefcase. From my earliest childhood, it was something that symbolised the transition from youth to manhood. Muhalla bhaiyas who used to lounge around in the club-rooms, playing carrom or cricket or generally discussing global issues, day in day out, without break or dip in enthusiasm, suddenly became respectable and serious when they landed jobs and started taking the 8:55 bus to office with a briefcase in hand. You no longer could greet them and ask them the East Bengal Mohun Bagan score of the previous day's match, or whether the latest Mithun starrer was worth watching or not (you could of course ask him these when he held court in the club in the evenings, but then you would have to wait till he has finished a lengthy discourse on how office politics is ruining the work culture in India, or how had ticked off his boss when he had dared to ask him stay an hour after office to complete some urgent work).
Not everyone was so lucky though. There were some poor souls who got jobs where the office did not give them briefcases to carry (after all, not everyone can aspire to be an Insurance Salesman, Maintenance Engineer or Sales Executive). These guys were treated with absolute disdain and we used to ridicule these poor bastards when we used to occupy our newly inherited positions of importance in the club house. 'Imagine', we used to say, with a superior smirk and knowing winks, 'Biltuda goes to office without a briefcase and have you seen the superior expression on his face? As if we dont know what a shitpot he must have joined'.
One such dada must have shared the same opinion as us. And after scrapping through his BCom Pass and landing a job somewhere, he started for his first day in office with a gleaming VIP swinging in his hands, looking as if the moment he would be approached, he would point the damn thing and mutter 'go ahead, make my day'. But we knew Keshtoda, and his academic record and his personal magnetism. And we were pretty sure that it was quite beyond him to secure a job that would require him to carry a briefcase. This was discussed in great detail over the next few days and finally a courageous handful of decided to waylay him one morning and demand to inspect what was inside.
That fateful morning, we waited at the curb, with hearts beating slightly faster, but secure in the knowledge that the para would get a scoop that would be talked about for ages to come, ensuring out place in para folklore for eternity to come. Sure enough, Keshtoda was challenged, his briefcase siezed, opened, while he blabbered in forced indignation, shoulders already stooping, downcast eyes fighting back tears as we all stood around his open briefcase containing a ridiculous collection of children's books and stuff and his tiffin of a banana and 2 slices of sugar sprinkled bread.
In the evening it all came out. Frustrated at not getting a job he had joined some social organisation that goes to slums and teaches children how to read write and stuff like that. They pay conveyance (state transport) and a princely sum of 20 bucks a day for lunch. We all had a great time that day, ribbing him for his worthless life, the other successful dadas explaining to him that he should have gone to them, they would have arranged something for him, why even the peon in their office gets 750 bucks a month!
Keshtoda took all this quite well. He just sat there quietly, sometimes giving a rueful smile when someone said something particularly funny (like Ajitda telling him to start helping our uncles with their housework and chores and then all families in the para will pool in with some contribution for him), sometimes clenching his hands when Romada declared that these NGO-s basically supply young women and children to the Arab world (and Romada would know, his uncle was settled in Canada for the last 28 years), but generally disappointing all us neither by breaking down or trying to fight for and defend himself.
Anyway, from the next day onwards Keshtoda started going to 'work' with a jhola slung on his shoulders. Initial ribbing died down soon enough as our interest moved on to other topics and targets. We all moved on in life, in turn got briefcases of our own. Some fell, some soared. The briefcase no longer generated respect. Kids were moving around with mobile phones and laptops. Some carried only combs to work. Some sat at home and earned trading shares on the phone. But all of them had one thing in common. Everyone moved like an automation. Nobody smiled, nobody stopped to talk to people they crossed in the streets. Nobody came to the club room anymore. Nobody knew whether their next door neighbor was alive or dead. Nobody had anyone to talk to when they felt lost and hopeless and needed someone to talk about their memories or their fears or their hopes.
Except Keshtoda. He looked as serene as ever. He looked fulfilled, satisfied and totally at peace with himself. Someone was saying that he was working as an advisor to Unesco. Someone was saying that he might go to the US soon to deliver a paper. But one thing I knew. The briefcase I had lent him when I started using a laptop looked like it had finally found its way back home.
Not everyone was so lucky though. There were some poor souls who got jobs where the office did not give them briefcases to carry (after all, not everyone can aspire to be an Insurance Salesman, Maintenance Engineer or Sales Executive). These guys were treated with absolute disdain and we used to ridicule these poor bastards when we used to occupy our newly inherited positions of importance in the club house. 'Imagine', we used to say, with a superior smirk and knowing winks, 'Biltuda goes to office without a briefcase and have you seen the superior expression on his face? As if we dont know what a shitpot he must have joined'.
One such dada must have shared the same opinion as us. And after scrapping through his BCom Pass and landing a job somewhere, he started for his first day in office with a gleaming VIP swinging in his hands, looking as if the moment he would be approached, he would point the damn thing and mutter 'go ahead, make my day'. But we knew Keshtoda, and his academic record and his personal magnetism. And we were pretty sure that it was quite beyond him to secure a job that would require him to carry a briefcase. This was discussed in great detail over the next few days and finally a courageous handful of decided to waylay him one morning and demand to inspect what was inside.
That fateful morning, we waited at the curb, with hearts beating slightly faster, but secure in the knowledge that the para would get a scoop that would be talked about for ages to come, ensuring out place in para folklore for eternity to come. Sure enough, Keshtoda was challenged, his briefcase siezed, opened, while he blabbered in forced indignation, shoulders already stooping, downcast eyes fighting back tears as we all stood around his open briefcase containing a ridiculous collection of children's books and stuff and his tiffin of a banana and 2 slices of sugar sprinkled bread.
In the evening it all came out. Frustrated at not getting a job he had joined some social organisation that goes to slums and teaches children how to read write and stuff like that. They pay conveyance (state transport) and a princely sum of 20 bucks a day for lunch. We all had a great time that day, ribbing him for his worthless life, the other successful dadas explaining to him that he should have gone to them, they would have arranged something for him, why even the peon in their office gets 750 bucks a month!
Keshtoda took all this quite well. He just sat there quietly, sometimes giving a rueful smile when someone said something particularly funny (like Ajitda telling him to start helping our uncles with their housework and chores and then all families in the para will pool in with some contribution for him), sometimes clenching his hands when Romada declared that these NGO-s basically supply young women and children to the Arab world (and Romada would know, his uncle was settled in Canada for the last 28 years), but generally disappointing all us neither by breaking down or trying to fight for and defend himself.
Anyway, from the next day onwards Keshtoda started going to 'work' with a jhola slung on his shoulders. Initial ribbing died down soon enough as our interest moved on to other topics and targets. We all moved on in life, in turn got briefcases of our own. Some fell, some soared. The briefcase no longer generated respect. Kids were moving around with mobile phones and laptops. Some carried only combs to work. Some sat at home and earned trading shares on the phone. But all of them had one thing in common. Everyone moved like an automation. Nobody smiled, nobody stopped to talk to people they crossed in the streets. Nobody came to the club room anymore. Nobody knew whether their next door neighbor was alive or dead. Nobody had anyone to talk to when they felt lost and hopeless and needed someone to talk about their memories or their fears or their hopes.
Except Keshtoda. He looked as serene as ever. He looked fulfilled, satisfied and totally at peace with himself. Someone was saying that he was working as an advisor to Unesco. Someone was saying that he might go to the US soon to deliver a paper. But one thing I knew. The briefcase I had lent him when I started using a laptop looked like it had finally found its way back home.
An apology to the Sachins of the world
I suddenly realised that I am in the same league as the Sachins, Sharukhs and Amitabhs of the world. For you lesser mortals this concept will be difficult to grasp, but its absolutely true, believe you me. Where previously the fingers used to fly over the keyboard, for the past 6 days I have been struggling to think of something to write about. And its all due to critics who dare to question my greatness. Me!! Nowadays, whenever I am about to penn something down, I stop and force myself to think whether the 'true meaning' will be understood by those pea-brained nincompoops. And i can understand how Sachin, about to launch into a cracking cover drive, checks it just in time and tries to guide it towards point and nicks one to the keeper. All the time thinking what Harsha Fucking Boghle will say if he missed the drive.
To all couch critics of the world...FUCK YOU TOO!!!!
To all couch critics of the world...FUCK YOU TOO!!!!
Dec 14, 2006
The long walk
Suddenly decided yesterday to walk from point A to B. Maybe it was the thought of the traffic snarls, or the lovely northern breeze or the bimbette who passed me as i was opening the car door. Anyways, I was glad I did.
I dont go to gyms or malls, and these are the only places I see people walking these days. So the walk brought back a lot of memories. There were times when we used to walk home from college just for the heck of it, prolonging the meaningless banter with friends, or delaying the return and the mandatory pointless sessions with an open text book. 90% of my first affair was walking together in winding bylanes for hours on end, feeling on the top of the world, feeling the thrill of the everpresent danger of someone seeing us and reporting the incident.
There have been memorable walks in my life. A 140km trek in the Kumaon has to be the best. But not far behind are the winding streets of Dublin, or the white sand beaches of Thailand, or beautiful countryside of Goa and many more. But gradually over the last couple of years, the mechanised home-office-home routine has squeezed out this activity from my life.
Anyways, it felt good. I discovered a lot of things I had never bothered to find out. The security guy at the gate has a beautiful 3 year old son, there is a gap in the hedges from where one can see a not-so-bad view of the surrounding neighborhood, the reriwala makes a great concotation of peanuts, onions, masala and nimbu, the stray dogs understand bengali, the neighborhood ladies give 'interesting' looks..
Ours must have become a developed first world country. If our lives have become such that these simple things now give us pleasure, then it must be so.
I dont go to gyms or malls, and these are the only places I see people walking these days. So the walk brought back a lot of memories. There were times when we used to walk home from college just for the heck of it, prolonging the meaningless banter with friends, or delaying the return and the mandatory pointless sessions with an open text book. 90% of my first affair was walking together in winding bylanes for hours on end, feeling on the top of the world, feeling the thrill of the everpresent danger of someone seeing us and reporting the incident.
There have been memorable walks in my life. A 140km trek in the Kumaon has to be the best. But not far behind are the winding streets of Dublin, or the white sand beaches of Thailand, or beautiful countryside of Goa and many more. But gradually over the last couple of years, the mechanised home-office-home routine has squeezed out this activity from my life.
Anyways, it felt good. I discovered a lot of things I had never bothered to find out. The security guy at the gate has a beautiful 3 year old son, there is a gap in the hedges from where one can see a not-so-bad view of the surrounding neighborhood, the reriwala makes a great concotation of peanuts, onions, masala and nimbu, the stray dogs understand bengali, the neighborhood ladies give 'interesting' looks..
Ours must have become a developed first world country. If our lives have become such that these simple things now give us pleasure, then it must be so.
Dec 13, 2006
The month that was - Nov 2006
(Sing along to the tune of 'We didn't start the fire')
I dont know who is right
Greg Chappel John Wright
But I know the men in blue are a bunch of arseholes.
Dada on the sideline
Sachin missing ball's line
And all the fielders' hands are full of gaping holes.
Tata offers thousand jobs
Streets full of fighting mobs
Didi says that she wont eat until farmers get back their lands.
Dalits on the rampage
Someone abused their sage
Smashing cars stopping trains and taking law in their hands.
Hakla in takla out
KBC starts a new bout
Ash kiss beau hiss
Big B looks like losing clout.
Heat kills cold kills
Children starving in the hills
Jobless men trudge door to door
I cant take this any more.
I dont know who is right
Greg Chappel John Wright
But I know the men in blue are a bunch of arseholes.
Dada on the sideline
Sachin missing ball's line
And all the fielders' hands are full of gaping holes.
Tata offers thousand jobs
Streets full of fighting mobs
Didi says that she wont eat until farmers get back their lands.
Dalits on the rampage
Someone abused their sage
Smashing cars stopping trains and taking law in their hands.
Hakla in takla out
KBC starts a new bout
Ash kiss beau hiss
Big B looks like losing clout.
Heat kills cold kills
Children starving in the hills
Jobless men trudge door to door
I cant take this any more.
A revenge on Loky and Vikas
So..u dont like my poems do you? Okay then. Henceforth, all my boring posts (rants against the system, country, countrymen etc etc) will be in glorious verse.
So proclaimed Bhishma..and the heavens opened and the crows shat on his head.
So proclaimed Bhishma..and the heavens opened and the crows shat on his head.
Dec 8, 2006
A poem for Britney
Britney went to a party
Forgetting to wear a panty
Shutters clicked and the media screamed
But i thought she looked pretty dainty.
Forgetting to wear a panty
Shutters clicked and the media screamed
But i thought she looked pretty dainty.
Dec 5, 2006
Oh Calcutta!!
Just got back from a short trip from Cal. This was after a gap of almost 18 months and I just loved it. December and January are the best time to visit Cal. The nip in the air is divine. And if you want to compare the weather with that of Bangalore, I would like you to consider an incredient that Blore sadly lacks..and you would get that if you sit on the banks on the Hoogly, with a steaming hot 'bhaar' of tea in one hand and a packet of 'jhalmuri' in the other. Bliss!
Things have changed but if you dont seek them out you will find that your nostalgia will remain intact, safe from the marauding hands of progress and growth. No one I know grew up in Rajarhaat or Eastern Bypass...so no one will feel like an alien if he decides to visit his old para, or his old dating places, or his old hangout places. These remain the same, comforting you with their ageless solidity, enabling the celluloid of your memories to remain in crystal clear DVD quality.
And as fate would have it, didi obliged her little brother with the one experience that i thought I would miss out on this trip. But, thankfully, the cruel industrialists decided to build factories that would provide jobs for a thousand families and open doors to other such elements to enter the state and spoil our culture, heritage and tradition. So didi obliged me with a bandh.
Last night, at a friends place, finishing the last peg before heading back home, and concluding the open items in our discussions on Osho, genetics, Taoism , tantrik sex and degradation of the grilled prawns in Tyangra, I thanked my stars for such a perfect experience of my roots. But...it was still not over.
After all, what would a nostalgia trip be without the women of Calcutta? You can keep your Ibizas and Rivieras and Mardi Graas or whatever provides fodder for your fantasies. If you havent experienced the Calcutta girl, your life has been one of utter wastage. So, as I was sitting alone in the share auto, my heart did 27 sumersaults, when she languidly raised her delicate fingers and signalled the auto to stop. She was like a fresh daisy, the way a daisy looks when the early morning sun passes through a dew drop resting on its petals. None of the brashness of the northern indian sisters, or the excessive conservatism of the southern sisters. She sat close to me, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, ankle to ankle, demurely looking down, riding the speedbreakers, jumping potholes, swerving the minibuses, in perfect harmony, in a ritual dance synchronised to perfection.
She got down a couple of stops before. As she did, our eyes met for the first time, and in them i saw an answering look of ecstasy, a knowledge that what we shared will be with both of us for a long time to come.
I was walking on clouds when i got down. Can life be any more perfect? Should I finally start thinking seriously about taking a tranfer to Cal? Should I postpone my ticket tomorrow and wait at the auto stand at the same place and same time? Should I pay a 100 bucks to the auto driver?
Thoughts of money brought me back to harsh reality. The driver was waiting impatiently with palms outstretched. I aplogised and fumbled for my wallet.
It was gone.
Things have changed but if you dont seek them out you will find that your nostalgia will remain intact, safe from the marauding hands of progress and growth. No one I know grew up in Rajarhaat or Eastern Bypass...so no one will feel like an alien if he decides to visit his old para, or his old dating places, or his old hangout places. These remain the same, comforting you with their ageless solidity, enabling the celluloid of your memories to remain in crystal clear DVD quality.
And as fate would have it, didi obliged her little brother with the one experience that i thought I would miss out on this trip. But, thankfully, the cruel industrialists decided to build factories that would provide jobs for a thousand families and open doors to other such elements to enter the state and spoil our culture, heritage and tradition. So didi obliged me with a bandh.
Last night, at a friends place, finishing the last peg before heading back home, and concluding the open items in our discussions on Osho, genetics, Taoism , tantrik sex and degradation of the grilled prawns in Tyangra, I thanked my stars for such a perfect experience of my roots. But...it was still not over.
After all, what would a nostalgia trip be without the women of Calcutta? You can keep your Ibizas and Rivieras and Mardi Graas or whatever provides fodder for your fantasies. If you havent experienced the Calcutta girl, your life has been one of utter wastage. So, as I was sitting alone in the share auto, my heart did 27 sumersaults, when she languidly raised her delicate fingers and signalled the auto to stop. She was like a fresh daisy, the way a daisy looks when the early morning sun passes through a dew drop resting on its petals. None of the brashness of the northern indian sisters, or the excessive conservatism of the southern sisters. She sat close to me, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, ankle to ankle, demurely looking down, riding the speedbreakers, jumping potholes, swerving the minibuses, in perfect harmony, in a ritual dance synchronised to perfection.
She got down a couple of stops before. As she did, our eyes met for the first time, and in them i saw an answering look of ecstasy, a knowledge that what we shared will be with both of us for a long time to come.
I was walking on clouds when i got down. Can life be any more perfect? Should I finally start thinking seriously about taking a tranfer to Cal? Should I postpone my ticket tomorrow and wait at the auto stand at the same place and same time? Should I pay a 100 bucks to the auto driver?
Thoughts of money brought me back to harsh reality. The driver was waiting impatiently with palms outstretched. I aplogised and fumbled for my wallet.
It was gone.
Nov 24, 2006
A Greek Tragedy
w: come closer
m: huh?? what's got into you?
w: just come. feeling funny
m: yippee!
w: mmm
m: mmm
w: mmmmm
m: mmmmmm
w: stop that! not now
m: what the..?
w: just hold me like this
m: (groan)
w: mmmm
m: mmmmmmm
w: take your hand out
m: christ!
w: let me
m: mmmmmmmmmm
w: take it out
m: (pant)
w: mmmmmmmmmm
m: (pant)
w: dont stop
m: (gasp)
w: (pant)
m: shit!
w: what?
m: sorry
w:
m: shit
w:
m: sorry
w:
m: i love you
w: good night
m: huh?? what's got into you?
w: just come. feeling funny
m: yippee!
w: mmm
m: mmm
w: mmmmm
m: mmmmmm
w: stop that! not now
m: what the..?
w: just hold me like this
m: (groan)
w: mmmm
m: mmmmmmm
w: take your hand out
m: christ!
w: let me
m: mmmmmmmmmm
w: take it out
m: (pant)
w: mmmmmmmmmm
m: (pant)
w: dont stop
m: (gasp)
w: (pant)
m: shit!
w: what?
m: sorry
w:
m: shit
w:
m: sorry
w:
m: i love you
w: good night
Nov 22, 2006
Not again!!!
Ordering that last one for the road proved to be a drastic mistake. As me and J stumbled into the deserted platform, we realised we had missed the last train home. And except for a few beggars bundled up in newspapers, there was not a single bastard in sight. The walk home was about 3 Km from the station, and it was not a very nice one. Especially on that cold, deserted winter night.
Perhaps the whiskey took the decision to start walking. Perhaps it was some suppressed desire to emulate adventurers who had plunged into the unknown to discover new lands. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.
This was a section of the city which was largely avoided by the everyday crowds. I mention the word 'city', but this 9 odd square kilometres could have been copied from here and pasted in Nevada and it would not have been out of place. It was a dumping ground at one time, when the municipality decided to turn it into a park. And as expected from their efficiency, the dumping stopped but the park was not constructed. And so it was now a deserted wasteland, used for drug deals in the daytime and dumping murder victims at night.
Thankfully it was a full moon night. To me it looked more of a fool moon night. Walking through the deathly silence, through mountains of waste bathed in that horrible cold white light, I finally realised what fools we had been in trying to attempt this. J must have started having misgivings as well, for he suddenly stopped. I turned to ask him what was wrong, but he was staring fixedly at a point about 100 yards to our right, and following his gaze I saw whatever it was that was staring back at us.
It was partially hidden behind the remnants of a smashed up maruti, but the upper half was visible. My screaming brains told me not to panic, that this was a human form, at worst a junkie who will whip out a knife and rob us, at best a beggar or a deranged man who probably stays here at night. But in my thundering heart I knew that junkie or beggar or lunatic - whatever it was, it was when he was a breathing, living man; now he was a creature from the other side.
to be continued (perhaps)...
Perhaps the whiskey took the decision to start walking. Perhaps it was some suppressed desire to emulate adventurers who had plunged into the unknown to discover new lands. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.
This was a section of the city which was largely avoided by the everyday crowds. I mention the word 'city', but this 9 odd square kilometres could have been copied from here and pasted in Nevada and it would not have been out of place. It was a dumping ground at one time, when the municipality decided to turn it into a park. And as expected from their efficiency, the dumping stopped but the park was not constructed. And so it was now a deserted wasteland, used for drug deals in the daytime and dumping murder victims at night.
Thankfully it was a full moon night. To me it looked more of a fool moon night. Walking through the deathly silence, through mountains of waste bathed in that horrible cold white light, I finally realised what fools we had been in trying to attempt this. J must have started having misgivings as well, for he suddenly stopped. I turned to ask him what was wrong, but he was staring fixedly at a point about 100 yards to our right, and following his gaze I saw whatever it was that was staring back at us.
It was partially hidden behind the remnants of a smashed up maruti, but the upper half was visible. My screaming brains told me not to panic, that this was a human form, at worst a junkie who will whip out a knife and rob us, at best a beggar or a deranged man who probably stays here at night. But in my thundering heart I knew that junkie or beggar or lunatic - whatever it was, it was when he was a breathing, living man; now he was a creature from the other side.
to be continued (perhaps)...
Nov 16, 2006
What a strange man!!
On one of my fortnightly travels to Mumbai, I was approached by a young guy as I was about to enter the terminal. He was a sorry looking bloke, and it seemed that the weight of the entire world was on his puny shoulders. And as his story came out, i realised why.
You see, what happened was that he had come to Delhi from a small village near Patna. Some friend of a friend of a friend had promised him a job and had asked him to meet a guy outside the airport. He met a guy answering to the description given, who assured him that there was an agent who will place him, in return of a fee of 1500 bucks. You can guess the rest right? He had 1200 on him, the guy magnanimously waived off 300 bucks, asked him to wait right there while he got his scooter..and never came back. So, for the last 3 hours, he was reduced to begging for whatever he can manage, to at least purchase a train ticket to go back to his family.
What can I say? I told him Delhi is full of cheats. I advised him to be more careful in the future. I admonished him for chasing wild dreams, leaving everything for a fools errand. I paid him 300 bucks.
Tears of gratitude flooded his eyes. His trembling hands retrieved a dog eared notebook from his tattered pockets. He made me write my address down so he can send the money back. I gruffly told him, with a lump in throat, that it wont be necessary. But he would have none of it. His parting words made me feel good about myself..here was someone who has finally realised what a wonderful human being I am.
It says that lightning never strikes the same place twice. I found out that its not true for some poor bastards. When I came back from a Mumbai a couple of days back, who do i find standing outside? You are right, it was the same guy! And he came up to me and told me the same story. I listened with rapt attention, wondering the courage it must take to be able to take such misfortune, that too twice, and still be able to fight back and try to survive. While I was taking out my wallet, I saw him taking out his notebook, and told him not to bother, reminding him that I had already jotted down my address a couple of days back.
I dont know why he ran away!! I would have paid him again.
You see, what happened was that he had come to Delhi from a small village near Patna. Some friend of a friend of a friend had promised him a job and had asked him to meet a guy outside the airport. He met a guy answering to the description given, who assured him that there was an agent who will place him, in return of a fee of 1500 bucks. You can guess the rest right? He had 1200 on him, the guy magnanimously waived off 300 bucks, asked him to wait right there while he got his scooter..and never came back. So, for the last 3 hours, he was reduced to begging for whatever he can manage, to at least purchase a train ticket to go back to his family.
What can I say? I told him Delhi is full of cheats. I advised him to be more careful in the future. I admonished him for chasing wild dreams, leaving everything for a fools errand. I paid him 300 bucks.
Tears of gratitude flooded his eyes. His trembling hands retrieved a dog eared notebook from his tattered pockets. He made me write my address down so he can send the money back. I gruffly told him, with a lump in throat, that it wont be necessary. But he would have none of it. His parting words made me feel good about myself..here was someone who has finally realised what a wonderful human being I am.
It says that lightning never strikes the same place twice. I found out that its not true for some poor bastards. When I came back from a Mumbai a couple of days back, who do i find standing outside? You are right, it was the same guy! And he came up to me and told me the same story. I listened with rapt attention, wondering the courage it must take to be able to take such misfortune, that too twice, and still be able to fight back and try to survive. While I was taking out my wallet, I saw him taking out his notebook, and told him not to bother, reminding him that I had already jotted down my address a couple of days back.
I dont know why he ran away!! I would have paid him again.
Nov 14, 2006
Some weird dream
I was desperately climbing to the roof. The staircase was caved in and there was no way up. But I just had to go up, you see. And so the only way up was from the outside.
The first floor wasnt a problem. One of the window shutters was open and I was able to use the grill to reach the parapet. But after that it was hair-raising. As i inched along desperately clinging on to any projection I found on that blank, unforgiving wall, the top looked like some impossible dream. I had the standard scares I have seen in countless movies, pigeons suddenly flying out from a hole above my head, one toe slipping and almost hurtling down, looking down and seeing the ground way down below etc. But finally I triumphed. I looked around and saw the world at my feet. And decided to jump.
And then suddenly, Harindranath Chatterjee was at my elbow. He gave me a severe hearing about the futility and cowardice of suicide. He took me home..and i started afresh.
A solemn vow. No more egg curry for dinner.
The first floor wasnt a problem. One of the window shutters was open and I was able to use the grill to reach the parapet. But after that it was hair-raising. As i inched along desperately clinging on to any projection I found on that blank, unforgiving wall, the top looked like some impossible dream. I had the standard scares I have seen in countless movies, pigeons suddenly flying out from a hole above my head, one toe slipping and almost hurtling down, looking down and seeing the ground way down below etc. But finally I triumphed. I looked around and saw the world at my feet. And decided to jump.
And then suddenly, Harindranath Chatterjee was at my elbow. He gave me a severe hearing about the futility and cowardice of suicide. He took me home..and i started afresh.
A solemn vow. No more egg curry for dinner.
Nov 6, 2006
Oct 31, 2006
The arrest of Doctor X
Sergeant Jack: Sergeant Bob! Where are you?
Sergeant Bob: I am in the police station. What happened?
Sgt J: I just heard that Doc X is robbing a bank.
Sgt B: OK. I am coming! All police come to the bank! Wait!! Let me bring the walkie talkies and the guns!
Sgt B takes out his Lego set and builds 2 guns and 2 wireless devices. He hands a pair to Sgt J and together they race towards the bank.
Sgt B: I am going in now! You call the others!
Sgt J: Ok!!
Sgt B dashes in, rolls on the ground and gets up with gun poised.
Sgt B: Oh no! Doc X is escaping from the back door!
Sgt J: Oh no!
Sgt B: Wait! Look what he has let behind!
Sgt J: What?
Sgt B picks up a Stephen King novel lying on the table.
Sgt B: Its a diary! "All About Me" by Doc X it says!
Sgt J: Wow!
Sgt B: Look! His house address is written here! Lets go!
Sgt J and B rush into Doc X's house. They spot him and Sgt B goes for the kill. Soon the camera crew rush in and surround a panting Sgt B.
Reporter: Sgt B! How does it feel to have finally killed Doc X?
Sgt B: Good. And I am warning all criminals! I will find all of them! Be careful!
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Sgt B was my 6 year old. Sgt J was me. The dialogs and storyline were my son's. They were unrehearsed and impromptu.
My son is a genius!
Sergeant Bob: I am in the police station. What happened?
Sgt J: I just heard that Doc X is robbing a bank.
Sgt B: OK. I am coming! All police come to the bank! Wait!! Let me bring the walkie talkies and the guns!
Sgt B takes out his Lego set and builds 2 guns and 2 wireless devices. He hands a pair to Sgt J and together they race towards the bank.
Sgt B: I am going in now! You call the others!
Sgt J: Ok!!
Sgt B dashes in, rolls on the ground and gets up with gun poised.
Sgt B: Oh no! Doc X is escaping from the back door!
Sgt J: Oh no!
Sgt B: Wait! Look what he has let behind!
Sgt J: What?
Sgt B picks up a Stephen King novel lying on the table.
Sgt B: Its a diary! "All About Me" by Doc X it says!
Sgt J: Wow!
Sgt B: Look! His house address is written here! Lets go!
Sgt J and B rush into Doc X's house. They spot him and Sgt B goes for the kill. Soon the camera crew rush in and surround a panting Sgt B.
Reporter: Sgt B! How does it feel to have finally killed Doc X?
Sgt B: Good. And I am warning all criminals! I will find all of them! Be careful!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sgt B was my 6 year old. Sgt J was me. The dialogs and storyline were my son's. They were unrehearsed and impromptu.
My son is a genius!
Oct 13, 2006
My killer instincts
Although I always try and convey a 'rough, tough, hard-hitting' image, sometimes I get these sneaking suspicions that it may not be true. Anyone who goes roadside-shopping with me will know that in a minute or so. Stories of how I have been duped by sorry-looking salesmen have been doing the rounds for years now. But what happened last month was really incredible.
You see, it was a typical hot Delhi summer afternoon and I was watching TV with a cold beer in my air-conditioned room. The bell rings and I open it to see two men waiting outside, sweating oceans and looking on the verge of collapse. In a croaking voice they ask me if I can spare them a large container. I asked why (see how smart I am?) and they say that they have brought down a beehive and want to drain the honey out of it and sell it. I weigh this over and decide that in response to this the least I can do is lend them a container.
So the container changes hands (a 10 kg jar I thought I would keep rice in) and the transfer process starts.
Within no time the jar is almost full and it must have been a big load on their minds, because no sooner was their work done that their backs straightened, their glazed eyes took on a sharpish look and they took out their weighing scales and pronounced that I owed them 800 bucks. I feebly told them that I hate honey, have consumed a total of 10ml in my entire adult life and that it would take me about 83 years to consume the 8 litres that they had poured out. They looked hurt, maybe shocked at my insensitivity, at my disrespect for the hard labor they had put in, at my total ignorance in not being able to appreciate the health and culinary benefits of pure raw honey.
I decided that it was time I produced the ace from my sleeve. Triumphantly I told them that I had only 500 bucks in the house. They thought his over for about 3.5 milliseconds, and the deal was done. A Gandhi changed hands, they packed their stuff, I carried the jar to the kitchen, lit a cigerette in self-congratulations (i HAD saved 300 bucks you see), and started preparing a list of lucky people I would distribute the honey to.
A few cigerettes and beer bottles later, when I could account for about 500ml of the stuff, I finally realised that I had a problem in my hands. The brainwave came when my bai came. Magnanimously I told her that she can take the honey home when she leaves. Surprisingly she wasnt too thrilled (it would pose a serious storage problem it seemed) but I was not in a mood to take no for an answer (my aggression and people handling skills come from years of Project Management experience) and when she left with the jar I closed the door a happy man, reflecting on all the victories I had achieved that afternoon.
I reminded her to bring back the jar when she came the next day..and then reminded her every day for the next 4 days. She hasnt brought it back yet.
I think that it was the jar she needed all along.
You see, it was a typical hot Delhi summer afternoon and I was watching TV with a cold beer in my air-conditioned room. The bell rings and I open it to see two men waiting outside, sweating oceans and looking on the verge of collapse. In a croaking voice they ask me if I can spare them a large container. I asked why (see how smart I am?) and they say that they have brought down a beehive and want to drain the honey out of it and sell it. I weigh this over and decide that in response to this the least I can do is lend them a container.
So the container changes hands (a 10 kg jar I thought I would keep rice in) and the transfer process starts.
Within no time the jar is almost full and it must have been a big load on their minds, because no sooner was their work done that their backs straightened, their glazed eyes took on a sharpish look and they took out their weighing scales and pronounced that I owed them 800 bucks. I feebly told them that I hate honey, have consumed a total of 10ml in my entire adult life and that it would take me about 83 years to consume the 8 litres that they had poured out. They looked hurt, maybe shocked at my insensitivity, at my disrespect for the hard labor they had put in, at my total ignorance in not being able to appreciate the health and culinary benefits of pure raw honey.
I decided that it was time I produced the ace from my sleeve. Triumphantly I told them that I had only 500 bucks in the house. They thought his over for about 3.5 milliseconds, and the deal was done. A Gandhi changed hands, they packed their stuff, I carried the jar to the kitchen, lit a cigerette in self-congratulations (i HAD saved 300 bucks you see), and started preparing a list of lucky people I would distribute the honey to.
A few cigerettes and beer bottles later, when I could account for about 500ml of the stuff, I finally realised that I had a problem in my hands. The brainwave came when my bai came. Magnanimously I told her that she can take the honey home when she leaves. Surprisingly she wasnt too thrilled (it would pose a serious storage problem it seemed) but I was not in a mood to take no for an answer (my aggression and people handling skills come from years of Project Management experience) and when she left with the jar I closed the door a happy man, reflecting on all the victories I had achieved that afternoon.
I reminded her to bring back the jar when she came the next day..and then reminded her every day for the next 4 days. She hasnt brought it back yet.
I think that it was the jar she needed all along.
Oct 4, 2006
Scent of a woman
I wont dare to try and write a review of probably the greatest movie of all time. What I would do is copy two of Lt Col Slade's monologues, ones that I could listen to a billion times and not get tired of, scenes I could watch a million times and still get goose pimples. So, here they are:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Women !
What can you say ?
Who made 'em ?
God must have been a fuckin' genius.
The hair --They say the hair is everything, you know.
Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls...and just wanted to go to sleep forever ?
Or lips --and when they touched yours, it was like...that first swallow of wine...after you just crossed the desert.
Tits ! Whoo-ah ! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya...
like secret searchlights.
Mmmmm.
And legs --I don't care if they're Greek columns...or secondhand Steinways.
What's between 'em....passport to heaven.
There's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a time I could see.
And I have seen.
Boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off.
But there is nothin' like the sight...of an amputated spirit.
There is no prosthetic for that
As I came in here, I heard those words: "cradle of leadership."
well, when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and it has fallen here.
Makers of men, creators of leaders. Be careful what kind of leaders you're producin' here.
I don't know if Charlie's silence here today...is right or wrong; I'm not a judge or jury.
But I can tell you this: he won't sell anybody out...to buy his future !
and that, my friends, is called integrity.
That's called courage. Now that's the stuff leaders should be made of.
Now I have come to the crossroads in my life.
I always knew what the right path was.
Without exception, I knew, but I never took it.
You know why ?
It was too damn hard.
Now here's Charlie.
He's come to the crossroads.
He has chosen a path.
It's the right path.
It's a path made of principle...that leads to character.
Let him continue on his journey.
You hold this boy's future in your hands, Committee.
It's a valuable future, believe me.
Don't destroy it. Protect it. Embrace it.
It's gonna make you proud one day, I promise you.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Women !
What can you say ?
Who made 'em ?
God must have been a fuckin' genius.
The hair --They say the hair is everything, you know.
Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls...and just wanted to go to sleep forever ?
Or lips --and when they touched yours, it was like...that first swallow of wine...after you just crossed the desert.
Tits ! Whoo-ah ! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya...
like secret searchlights.
Mmmmm.
And legs --I don't care if they're Greek columns...or secondhand Steinways.
What's between 'em....passport to heaven.
There's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a time I could see.
And I have seen.
Boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off.
But there is nothin' like the sight...of an amputated spirit.
There is no prosthetic for that
As I came in here, I heard those words: "cradle of leadership."
well, when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and it has fallen here.
Makers of men, creators of leaders. Be careful what kind of leaders you're producin' here.
I don't know if Charlie's silence here today...is right or wrong; I'm not a judge or jury.
But I can tell you this: he won't sell anybody out...to buy his future !
and that, my friends, is called integrity.
That's called courage. Now that's the stuff leaders should be made of.
Now I have come to the crossroads in my life.
I always knew what the right path was.
Without exception, I knew, but I never took it.
You know why ?
It was too damn hard.
Now here's Charlie.
He's come to the crossroads.
He has chosen a path.
It's the right path.
It's a path made of principle...that leads to character.
Let him continue on his journey.
You hold this boy's future in your hands, Committee.
It's a valuable future, believe me.
Don't destroy it. Protect it. Embrace it.
It's gonna make you proud one day, I promise you.
Oct 3, 2006
Getting old
I was never a fanatical durga puja bong. As a child, it was just a time for new shirts and pandal hopping. Things started getting better after crossing 15, when puja started to represent 4 days when there are no curfews, no questions, no rules. Till the time I left for B'lore at the 'tender' age of 20, those 20 days spreading across those 5 years gave me a lot of firsts of my life - my first drinking binge, my first girlfriend, my first visit to Sonagachi (returned unopened, I assure you..the atmosphere scared the living shit out of me), my first experiences of mob rowdisms (atop a truck, going for the 'bhashan') and so on and on and on.
But then life moved on. I became independent, first personally, then financially. All the rules of my life fell apart and 4 days without rules lost their significance. Friends moved on, muhalla kids grew up and started to occupy the prime seats in the pandals and puja time lost its charm.
The fanatical bong carried on. Taking vacation to visit Cal during the pujas was something that had to be planned months in advance. Spouses leave applications synchronised, children school leaves planned, tkts booked at exhorbitant rates...and then coming back with stories of drinking sessions and bad food and mad queues.
I have always felt myself to be 'above' these people. Once I left Cal I have never missed being there during the pujas. So it came to me as a shocker when suddenly, out of the blue, I felt myself desperately yearning to be in Cal on the oshtomi. Drop by on all friends and relatives, soak in the special treatment that is usually accorded to someone settled outside Cal (and the treatment is the same regardless of whether you settled in Bombay or Bahamas), eat phuchka at 2 AM in the morning, wake up to the beating of the drums and to that amazing shorot sky and the slight nip in the air..
Its official. If your root has started calling to you, you have finally crossed youth. Goodbye youth, welcome middle age.
But then life moved on. I became independent, first personally, then financially. All the rules of my life fell apart and 4 days without rules lost their significance. Friends moved on, muhalla kids grew up and started to occupy the prime seats in the pandals and puja time lost its charm.
The fanatical bong carried on. Taking vacation to visit Cal during the pujas was something that had to be planned months in advance. Spouses leave applications synchronised, children school leaves planned, tkts booked at exhorbitant rates...and then coming back with stories of drinking sessions and bad food and mad queues.
I have always felt myself to be 'above' these people. Once I left Cal I have never missed being there during the pujas. So it came to me as a shocker when suddenly, out of the blue, I felt myself desperately yearning to be in Cal on the oshtomi. Drop by on all friends and relatives, soak in the special treatment that is usually accorded to someone settled outside Cal (and the treatment is the same regardless of whether you settled in Bombay or Bahamas), eat phuchka at 2 AM in the morning, wake up to the beating of the drums and to that amazing shorot sky and the slight nip in the air..
Its official. If your root has started calling to you, you have finally crossed youth. Goodbye youth, welcome middle age.
Sep 26, 2006
Why I broke the vow
Yesterday was 'expats night out'. We have some consultants working with us on contract and we all went out for a couple of beers yesterday evening. And after having a sweet lime soda, I finally ordered a beer because of the direction the conversation veered towards.
You see, these guys are paid something between 500 to 1200 USD per day. So the topics under discussion were:
1) How to open accounts in Cayman Islands for taxation purposes
2) Whether to go to Thailand or Malaysia for the coming 2nd October long weekend
3) Whether or not to take the next contract that would pay 1100 GBP per day
4) How expensive it has become to buy a place on the Riviera
I drank.
You see, these guys are paid something between 500 to 1200 USD per day. So the topics under discussion were:
1) How to open accounts in Cayman Islands for taxation purposes
2) Whether to go to Thailand or Malaysia for the coming 2nd October long weekend
3) Whether or not to take the next contract that would pay 1100 GBP per day
4) How expensive it has become to buy a place on the Riviera
I drank.
Sep 20, 2006
Salute! And Sorry.
This is for all my non-drinking friends who have given me company while I (or me along with other drinking friends) have had our drinking sessions. I realised yesterday the depth of your friendship, patience and indulgence.
You see, I have quit drinking since this last Sunday (now I dont want to see those smirks and rolling eyes, you alcoholics out there. The statement is open-ended; i did not say I wont ever drink again) . The first 2 days I was alone and it wasnt a big deal. But yesterday, a friend of mine had come down from Cal and came to meet me at my place with a bottle in his hand. My cousin, who also stays me, joined him when he got back from work, and it took a lot of consistent refusal from me to finally convince them that I wont drink.
Anyway..after a couple of pegs they started a typical daaru-table-discourse - topics ranging from global poilitics, social maladies to socialite cleavages. And since i was sitting there wrung-out-dry, in about an hour i went from being bored to irritated to downright angry. The evening ended in me retiring to my bedroom in a huff, while they continued to discuss the Iraq situation till 2.
Even though I hope my friends will vouch for me when I say I am a sensible drunk, I shudder to think if there have been occassions when someone has thought of me the way I thought of these 2 last night. This thought is motivation enough to think of quitting for good.
Like I said.."salute"...and "sorry".
You see, I have quit drinking since this last Sunday (now I dont want to see those smirks and rolling eyes, you alcoholics out there. The statement is open-ended; i did not say I wont ever drink again) . The first 2 days I was alone and it wasnt a big deal. But yesterday, a friend of mine had come down from Cal and came to meet me at my place with a bottle in his hand. My cousin, who also stays me, joined him when he got back from work, and it took a lot of consistent refusal from me to finally convince them that I wont drink.
Anyway..after a couple of pegs they started a typical daaru-table-discourse - topics ranging from global poilitics, social maladies to socialite cleavages. And since i was sitting there wrung-out-dry, in about an hour i went from being bored to irritated to downright angry. The evening ended in me retiring to my bedroom in a huff, while they continued to discuss the Iraq situation till 2.
Even though I hope my friends will vouch for me when I say I am a sensible drunk, I shudder to think if there have been occassions when someone has thought of me the way I thought of these 2 last night. This thought is motivation enough to think of quitting for good.
Like I said.."salute"...and "sorry".
Sep 14, 2006
Hats Off!
I know I had written this a few months back. I still feel the same about Sachin. But I take my hat off to him for his temperament. A century on comeback, that too with trademark style. I wish our Dada had also let his bat do the talking, rather than resorting to the shit he did in the last 3 months.
Congrats Sachin on your 40th. Who knows? Maybe Amitabh will make a good movie now!
Congrats Sachin on your 40th. Who knows? Maybe Amitabh will make a good movie now!
Sep 8, 2006
How to overcome blogger's block - Mel Brooks
Nothing! I have nothing to say!
Have any of you guys seen 'History of the world' by Mel Brooks? If not, watch it today..mixed with some typical slapstick Mel humor, its got some screamingly funny moments, looking at the evolution of mankind, starting from the jurassic age right up to the french revolution.
So there was this scene depicting the utter poverty in France under Louis XVI, showing a marketplace where people are selling dead rats, apple cores and banana peels and a guy standing with an empty cart calling out 'Nothing! I have nothing to sell'..hilarious!
So if you have NOTHING to write, you can write "Nothing! I have nothing to say!"..
Have any of you guys seen 'History of the world' by Mel Brooks? If not, watch it today..mixed with some typical slapstick Mel humor, its got some screamingly funny moments, looking at the evolution of mankind, starting from the jurassic age right up to the french revolution.
So there was this scene depicting the utter poverty in France under Louis XVI, showing a marketplace where people are selling dead rats, apple cores and banana peels and a guy standing with an empty cart calling out 'Nothing! I have nothing to sell'..hilarious!
So if you have NOTHING to write, you can write "Nothing! I have nothing to say!"..
Sep 6, 2006
Had it coming
So? You thought this would be a tearful, respectful orbituary did you? HAAH! You havent known me that well then! Here's what i think.
He had it coming for a long time. When I first saw a show of his in Discovery I was amazed at the guy's guts. But it took me 2 episodes to decide that this was a guy who belonged in a circus, not a wildlife channel. The feeling I was left with everytime I watched an episode was that deep inside him, he had no respect for these animals. So you saw him wrestling reluctant crocs in the water, pulling out snakes from holes, kissing the world's most poisonous snake on a dare, prancing around with a croc with his 8 month old son cradled in his arms, playing catch-me-if-you-can with a pond full of alligators in front of a sell-out stadium blah blah blah.
He was in absolute contrast to the sensitivity with which guys in NatGeo and Discovery treat their subjects (was that the reason he was moved to the more 'racier' Animal Planet'?). Can you imagine a NatGeo show where the protagonist is provoking a lioness by playing around with her cubs so that she will get angry and give some good 'action shots'? Blessed with a typical cocky aussie bastard attitude perhaps Steve had assumed that all animals in his shows will play according to the script.
Well, one animal thought different. So here's a message to you. Whether you are a hotshot naturalist or a run-of-the-mill city dweller - dont underestimate nature.
Else, get fucked.
Sep 4, 2006
What a character!
"I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered."
Best on spending.
"In 1969 I gave up women and alcohol - it was the worst 20 minutes of my life."
Best on discipline.
"I was in for 10 hours and had 40 pints - beating my previous record by 20 minutes."
Best on the blood transfusion after his liver transplant
"I've stopped drinking, but only while I'm asleep."
Best on alcoholism
"The greatest footballer in the world".
Pele on George Best
Aug 25, 2006
Are you insulted?
12 Indians were deplaned from an airline yesterday because they were 'acting suspiciously'. The Indian media was full of righteous indignation and it seems that the entire nation, race and species has been insulted. And before you start feeling the same let me tell you of my experiences about Indians I have traveled with.
But first, the important thing you have to remember in this case is that all these people were part of a group who were textile merchants who had gone to attend some trade fair. The US marshals swooped down on them when they did not heed repeated requests by the cabin crew to sit down and fasten their belts before take off. They were also passing around their mobile phones (presumably showing each other nude clips they have surreptitiously clicked of the whores they had picked up) even when the switch off phones message was announced. While I agree that these actions don’t brand them as terrorists (is the xenophobia rampaging in the west really unjustified? I don’t know, that’s the topic for another post), but YES, these actions completely justify throwing out such arseholes.
As for how we (and hooligan English soccer fans) behave in groups, I have had personal experiences of both. Traveling to Bangkok from India was an eye opening experience for me. There are 2 types of groups that travel to Thailand. The first are the corporate groups who are traveling to attend some kind of sales meet or ‘team building workshops’ (both are companies’ ways of preventing attrition by providing pussy…PAPP shall we say?). The other is what are called ‘pigeons’ or ‘kabutars’. These are guys that are sent to buy electronics or computer hardware parts in bulk to carry back to India and sell at Indian rates.
And how they behave makes me ashamed that I am an Indian. The first group talk to each other LOUDLY across rows, click snaps of each other, discuss the vital stats of the cabin crew, get drunk and generally make life for everyone else miserable. The second group change into lungis, start card games, drink themselves silly when they realize that drinks are free and then puke between their legs. Can you believe it when I tell you that the Thai Airways security announcement video says ‘Sitting on the floor is not allowed’?
Deplane them? I think these guys should be deplaned when the flight is 30000 feet in the air.
But first, the important thing you have to remember in this case is that all these people were part of a group who were textile merchants who had gone to attend some trade fair. The US marshals swooped down on them when they did not heed repeated requests by the cabin crew to sit down and fasten their belts before take off. They were also passing around their mobile phones (presumably showing each other nude clips they have surreptitiously clicked of the whores they had picked up) even when the switch off phones message was announced. While I agree that these actions don’t brand them as terrorists (is the xenophobia rampaging in the west really unjustified? I don’t know, that’s the topic for another post), but YES, these actions completely justify throwing out such arseholes.
As for how we (and hooligan English soccer fans) behave in groups, I have had personal experiences of both. Traveling to Bangkok from India was an eye opening experience for me. There are 2 types of groups that travel to Thailand. The first are the corporate groups who are traveling to attend some kind of sales meet or ‘team building workshops’ (both are companies’ ways of preventing attrition by providing pussy…PAPP shall we say?). The other is what are called ‘pigeons’ or ‘kabutars’. These are guys that are sent to buy electronics or computer hardware parts in bulk to carry back to India and sell at Indian rates.
And how they behave makes me ashamed that I am an Indian. The first group talk to each other LOUDLY across rows, click snaps of each other, discuss the vital stats of the cabin crew, get drunk and generally make life for everyone else miserable. The second group change into lungis, start card games, drink themselves silly when they realize that drinks are free and then puke between their legs. Can you believe it when I tell you that the Thai Airways security announcement video says ‘Sitting on the floor is not allowed’?
Deplane them? I think these guys should be deplaned when the flight is 30000 feet in the air.
Aug 10, 2006
Stories of B
When B came back after attending his first day in IGNOU he was ecstatic. The girls there were out of the world, he said, and every evening we used to sit around him, green with envy, as he recounted his flirtations with the Neerjas and the Somas of that Utopia. Soon enough, Bhan started pestering him for an 'intro' and then came the fateful day when B pronounced that he had invited some of them to his house for a get-together next week. That week was spent in frenzied preparation, doing push-ups to tone up the body, dabbing Clearsil on those dastardly pimples that had an uncanny instinct of emerging just before these momentous occasions and trying to wheedle out 50 bucks from our mothers to buy a new t-shirt.
A couple of days before the big day, we were in B's house as usual, making plans and allocating the girls amongst ourselves. B was unusually quiet that day and when prodded he said 'look guys, one thing i must tell you is that these girls i have invited are not too hot'. His comment was swept aside in our collective enthusiasm..at that time anything in a skirt used to be good enough for us. However, during the next couple of days, B kept on, his descriptions of the girls involving newer and more strongly worded negatives and eventually some seeds of doubts got planted in our minds.
Sure enough when the big day came our suspicions came true. Me and Bubai were always the 'look before you leap' types..so we decided to check out the girls from Bubai's balcony when they arrived. And boy! They were a sorry looking lot, even for our highly compromising standards! Bhan, shaved, perfumed and freshly scrubbed from his monthly bath, however was not so lucky as he was already in B's house by that time. So, after sitting through a horrible afternoon, an understandibly furious Bhan launched into a tirade when we reconvened in the evening in B’s house. B took this for about 10 minutes, then barked out ‘don’t you talk to me about bad looking girls. Your girlfriend is the worst sample I have seen in my life’.
And you know why that was totally below the belt? B had once gotten interested in a girl who used to move around with a girlfriend who was, shall we say, a bit ‘problematic’. So B had this brainwave. He convinced BH to ‘appo’ the girlfriend and then through her got to know the other girl. B had his fun with the girl, BH ended up marrying the ‘problematic’ girlfriend.
B was amazing!
A couple of days before the big day, we were in B's house as usual, making plans and allocating the girls amongst ourselves. B was unusually quiet that day and when prodded he said 'look guys, one thing i must tell you is that these girls i have invited are not too hot'. His comment was swept aside in our collective enthusiasm..at that time anything in a skirt used to be good enough for us. However, during the next couple of days, B kept on, his descriptions of the girls involving newer and more strongly worded negatives and eventually some seeds of doubts got planted in our minds.
Sure enough when the big day came our suspicions came true. Me and Bubai were always the 'look before you leap' types..so we decided to check out the girls from Bubai's balcony when they arrived. And boy! They were a sorry looking lot, even for our highly compromising standards! Bhan, shaved, perfumed and freshly scrubbed from his monthly bath, however was not so lucky as he was already in B's house by that time. So, after sitting through a horrible afternoon, an understandibly furious Bhan launched into a tirade when we reconvened in the evening in B’s house. B took this for about 10 minutes, then barked out ‘don’t you talk to me about bad looking girls. Your girlfriend is the worst sample I have seen in my life’.
And you know why that was totally below the belt? B had once gotten interested in a girl who used to move around with a girlfriend who was, shall we say, a bit ‘problematic’. So B had this brainwave. He convinced BH to ‘appo’ the girlfriend and then through her got to know the other girl. B had his fun with the girl, BH ended up marrying the ‘problematic’ girlfriend.
B was amazing!
Bappa
It was the eve of the Cost Accountancy entrance exam. The paper was GK, and a shell shocked B was sitting with an open quiz book on his lap, his mouth slack, rounded eyes staring vacantly into space. He had just discovered that Indira Gandhi wasn't the daughter of the Mahatma!
There are a zillion stories about B but till date I haven’t had the courage to write about them. Some won’t pass the censor board, some will lose their flavor in translation and some are so unbelievable that no one would believe them. But I would make an attempt anyway, else these stories would get lost in the damp corridors of my alcohol soaked brain.
The time was 1988 to 1992. I had met B when he joined Xavier's in class 11 and we somehow hit it off immediately. Bh and Bu were his pada friends, and soon the four of us became inseparable. And B was the star of the show. He was the original eccentric who used to perform antics that used to leave us spellbound. At a time when our sexual experiences were limited to having fantasies about the middle aged neighborhood ‘kakima’, B was going through relationships like he was born in the free-loving swinging 60-s, picking and dropping gorgeous girls at the drop of a hat, selling his cycle to assist a girlfriend through an abortion, ‘accidentally’ getting into a physical relationship with a girl he had brought home to teach her yoga, carrying a nan-chaku to his tuition class to ward off rival suitors and so on and on. The list was endless and to us he was absolutely larger than life.
Those years were probably the best of our lives. We were so damn content with each others’ companies, least caring about the rest of the world, cocooned in our absolute belief that we would be together forever, and that life would go on just like that, no worries, no ambitions, no plans, just the fact that we would meet again the next day and the next and the next.
Bh got married and broke off all contact. B is in the US and he doesn’t take a step before consulting his wife. Me and Bu are carrying on, wistfully remembering those days whenever we get together and wondering why we ever grew up and grew apart.
PS: Bu, I really tried to write about the cassette library, the confrontations with Kaku, the walking with his underwear locked around his knees, his conversations with Bh...its impossible. Either I am not a good enough writer, or B is too large to be captured on the pages of a blog.
There are a zillion stories about B but till date I haven’t had the courage to write about them. Some won’t pass the censor board, some will lose their flavor in translation and some are so unbelievable that no one would believe them. But I would make an attempt anyway, else these stories would get lost in the damp corridors of my alcohol soaked brain.
The time was 1988 to 1992. I had met B when he joined Xavier's in class 11 and we somehow hit it off immediately. Bh and Bu were his pada friends, and soon the four of us became inseparable. And B was the star of the show. He was the original eccentric who used to perform antics that used to leave us spellbound. At a time when our sexual experiences were limited to having fantasies about the middle aged neighborhood ‘kakima’, B was going through relationships like he was born in the free-loving swinging 60-s, picking and dropping gorgeous girls at the drop of a hat, selling his cycle to assist a girlfriend through an abortion, ‘accidentally’ getting into a physical relationship with a girl he had brought home to teach her yoga, carrying a nan-chaku to his tuition class to ward off rival suitors and so on and on. The list was endless and to us he was absolutely larger than life.
Those years were probably the best of our lives. We were so damn content with each others’ companies, least caring about the rest of the world, cocooned in our absolute belief that we would be together forever, and that life would go on just like that, no worries, no ambitions, no plans, just the fact that we would meet again the next day and the next and the next.
Bh got married and broke off all contact. B is in the US and he doesn’t take a step before consulting his wife. Me and Bu are carrying on, wistfully remembering those days whenever we get together and wondering why we ever grew up and grew apart.
PS: Bu, I really tried to write about the cassette library, the confrontations with Kaku, the walking with his underwear locked around his knees, his conversations with Bh...its impossible. Either I am not a good enough writer, or B is too large to be captured on the pages of a blog.
Aug 5, 2006
Houseguest problems anyone?
I am paying a huge price for a tiny mistake i made. The wife's friend's brother was coming down to delhi for a month or so for some work and he called me up to ask about places to stay. The wife's friend was a bomb, and because of flashes of her sacred memory i offered that he can move in with me for some time and then look around.
Mistake.
He has moved in permanently. That by itself is not a problem. The problem is he has ALL the characteristics that turns me off completely. He talks incessantly. He is one of those people who feel insecure when not mouthing off. Be it summarising a newspaper article while reading the morning paper, admiring a new car that is being launched, opining about any issue while watching the news, anecdotes about office colleagues, the state of the telecom industry, the infrastructural problems indian cities are facing etc etc etc. You must be wandering what my problem is. These are everyday topics that are discussed all the time in conversations with friends. Agreed. The gaping hole in that logic is that as 'conversations' these make sense. You see, throughout all these, i sit like a statue carved out of granite.
Thats right. All these are monologues. I dont participate. Does that dry him up? OH NO..he goes right on. I have tried leaving the room, he goes on. I have tried opening the laptop and typing seriously (like now), the words flow on. I have tried conversation stopper replies (like 'if thats your point of view we should stop this conversation right now'), he carries on with a beatific smile. I have tried putting on a movie he likes, just so he will shut up..he reads out the subtitles. I go and stand in the balcony, he starts playing a game on his cell phone, and for my benefit does a running commentory (thats level 1, yeah, now come on Dronzo the Dragon..).
Last night I really wanted to be alone for some time. Some peace, some introspection, some solitude to take a few decisions (if you have read the last post you would know why). So i worked out a strategy. I came back home, had an early dinner, yawned copiously, then said that its been a dog's day, goodnight. Went to my room, feigned sleep for 30 mins, heard the living room lights go out, heard the door to his room close, waited 15 minutes, then tiptoed out, stood in the balcony, took a long drag on the fag, exhaled out to the cool full moon night, revelling in the silence, welcoming the end to a stressful week, trying to recharge the batteries to prepare for the fight I knew I had to fight in office in the coming week..he comes up from behind and tells me 'Thank god you are awake. I was getting so bored'.
I didnt deserve this. I seriously want a shoulder to cry my heart out. MOMMY! I NEED YOU!
Mistake.
He has moved in permanently. That by itself is not a problem. The problem is he has ALL the characteristics that turns me off completely. He talks incessantly. He is one of those people who feel insecure when not mouthing off. Be it summarising a newspaper article while reading the morning paper, admiring a new car that is being launched, opining about any issue while watching the news, anecdotes about office colleagues, the state of the telecom industry, the infrastructural problems indian cities are facing etc etc etc. You must be wandering what my problem is. These are everyday topics that are discussed all the time in conversations with friends. Agreed. The gaping hole in that logic is that as 'conversations' these make sense. You see, throughout all these, i sit like a statue carved out of granite.
Thats right. All these are monologues. I dont participate. Does that dry him up? OH NO..he goes right on. I have tried leaving the room, he goes on. I have tried opening the laptop and typing seriously (like now), the words flow on. I have tried conversation stopper replies (like 'if thats your point of view we should stop this conversation right now'), he carries on with a beatific smile. I have tried putting on a movie he likes, just so he will shut up..he reads out the subtitles. I go and stand in the balcony, he starts playing a game on his cell phone, and for my benefit does a running commentory (thats level 1, yeah, now come on Dronzo the Dragon..).
Last night I really wanted to be alone for some time. Some peace, some introspection, some solitude to take a few decisions (if you have read the last post you would know why). So i worked out a strategy. I came back home, had an early dinner, yawned copiously, then said that its been a dog's day, goodnight. Went to my room, feigned sleep for 30 mins, heard the living room lights go out, heard the door to his room close, waited 15 minutes, then tiptoed out, stood in the balcony, took a long drag on the fag, exhaled out to the cool full moon night, revelling in the silence, welcoming the end to a stressful week, trying to recharge the batteries to prepare for the fight I knew I had to fight in office in the coming week..he comes up from behind and tells me 'Thank god you are awake. I was getting so bored'.
I didnt deserve this. I seriously want a shoulder to cry my heart out. MOMMY! I NEED YOU!
Aug 4, 2006
Inevitably..
my cynicism triumphed. The past month was spent in hectic work, the drying up of posts must have proved that. It was a time when I actually felt I was doing meaningful work, part of a team of dedicated guys working together to surmount a major challenge.
it all came crashing down yesterday..wont bore everyone with the details...but i am finally convinced that we indians are generally a bastard race. and i have sworn that before i quit i will write a mail to Sam Palmisano our CEO, telling him exactly what's going and advicing him to take his shop elsewhere.
sorry bubai..couldn't come up with a positive post even this time.
it all came crashing down yesterday..wont bore everyone with the details...but i am finally convinced that we indians are generally a bastard race. and i have sworn that before i quit i will write a mail to Sam Palmisano our CEO, telling him exactly what's going and advicing him to take his shop elsewhere.
sorry bubai..couldn't come up with a positive post even this time.
Jul 27, 2006
Kotoi Rongo Dekhi Duniyay (Oh fuck! is there no end to the crap i see?)
Watching Sahara Samay now (i rarely get time nowadays to watch TV..whenever i do i make it a point to either watch a news channel or a 'lifestyle' channel..gives me something to write about..
anyway...sahara is covering a car for the past 1 hour which has 3 occupants..a girl who is driving, and 2 other friends..they are high, waving at the camera, and they drove their car right up to the PM's residence!! (as if its their problem, not the security agencies) and its still going on...
Now a very seriously concerned correspondent is linking the episode to the nuke deal that US signed today and the mumbai blast..
this looks promising..now they are trying to get cleavage shots of the girl who was driving as she is walking into the police station...
this looks good..logging off now..HAIL INDIA NEWS CHANNELS!!!!
anyway...sahara is covering a car for the past 1 hour which has 3 occupants..a girl who is driving, and 2 other friends..they are high, waving at the camera, and they drove their car right up to the PM's residence!! (as if its their problem, not the security agencies) and its still going on...
Now a very seriously concerned correspondent is linking the episode to the nuke deal that US signed today and the mumbai blast..
this looks promising..now they are trying to get cleavage shots of the girl who was driving as she is walking into the police station...
this looks good..logging off now..HAIL INDIA NEWS CHANNELS!!!!
Jul 20, 2006
Madness 3
the girl was something i dont even want to talk about. not even on my diary. in fact, i have reached this stage of self control where i dont even dream about her. i dont even think of how she screamed..and then laughed..in that high pitched voice kids have that drives me crazy, like hearing a hard chalk on a blackboard, or a steel cup scraped along a floor, or that incessant meaningless loud chatter when a group of them accumulate....sounds that makes me want to ram something down their throats, something short and abrasive, something that will scrape and scratch and shred their oh so soft pipes, drawing blood, raping that thing that the educated call the 'mucus' or whatever..i think of muck when i hear of that word..muck, shit, slime..all the words in the english dictionary that define these pests.
it was all right till the time i had one 'of mine own'. i fact, since i wont lie to my diary, let me confess that the only reason i finally decided to allow one of these smelly bitches to share my bed and commode was the fact that i could have one of these things to play with, away from the prying eyes of neighbors and 'concerned' doctors and teachers'. dont get me wrong here..i am not one of those choots who are (what the educated call) paedophiles...how can one think of sex when all one wants to do whip those bastards into total compliance? there's another english word for this of kind of fetish as well (i dont remember, nor do i care)...we live in a world where every abnormanility can be termed (and thereby justified) by some medical or psychological (or whatever term)..this so called abnornamility that i had had nothing to do with all that..is discipline an abnormality?
when the time came when i had to start listening to the clamors of marriage, all i used to think of was having some of my own..and after the first 7 months of our marriage (yes, dear diary...i had made sure that the waiting time was as less as possible..the bitter half was chosen accordingly) things started taking a rosy turn. in fact, i couldnt wait to get back home, when the doorbell rang and i could heard the sound of pattering feet, hear the scraping of the lock as he struggled to open the dual locks, hear the frantic struggle to take out the latest 'painting' he had excreted, hear the bitch put on the final touches to her hair before the door swung back....and then see the expressions change when they looked at my face, see the shrinking away, almost hear the pounding hearts, almost smell the naked smell of fear when i stumble in with my whiskey breath and bloodied shirt.
it was all right till the time i had one 'of mine own'. i fact, since i wont lie to my diary, let me confess that the only reason i finally decided to allow one of these smelly bitches to share my bed and commode was the fact that i could have one of these things to play with, away from the prying eyes of neighbors and 'concerned' doctors and teachers'. dont get me wrong here..i am not one of those choots who are (what the educated call) paedophiles...how can one think of sex when all one wants to do whip those bastards into total compliance? there's another english word for this of kind of fetish as well (i dont remember, nor do i care)...we live in a world where every abnormanility can be termed (and thereby justified) by some medical or psychological (or whatever term)..this so called abnornamility that i had had nothing to do with all that..is discipline an abnormality?
when the time came when i had to start listening to the clamors of marriage, all i used to think of was having some of my own..and after the first 7 months of our marriage (yes, dear diary...i had made sure that the waiting time was as less as possible..the bitter half was chosen accordingly) things started taking a rosy turn. in fact, i couldnt wait to get back home, when the doorbell rang and i could heard the sound of pattering feet, hear the scraping of the lock as he struggled to open the dual locks, hear the frantic struggle to take out the latest 'painting' he had excreted, hear the bitch put on the final touches to her hair before the door swung back....and then see the expressions change when they looked at my face, see the shrinking away, almost hear the pounding hearts, almost smell the naked smell of fear when i stumble in with my whiskey breath and bloodied shirt.
Jul 18, 2006
Hail Democracy!
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action--
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
-- Rabindranath Tagore (1901)
It took India 105 years to finally disqualify itself on ALL counts among the parameters listed above. Whatever the situation we were in till date, at least the common man had a voice. Its not important whether that voice acheved anything or not. At least he had one. Not any more. The Indian government has banned blogs, logic being that these are being used by terrorists to communicate. So 18 blog sites, containing 'objectionable, anti-nationalistic' sentiments (like calling that sardar an arsehole) have been blocked. As Daltrey sang these lines..
'And the men who spurred us on
Sit in judgement of all wrong
They decide and the shotgun sings the song
I'll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution'..
But guess what? You know how one can access the blogs (how i am posting that is)..there is a Pakistani site that has the hack to open blogs that are blocked in India, China and Iran. So basically, Indians whose voices have been shut because of Pakistan backed terrorist can now open their mouths aided by a site hosted by Pakistanis.
Bravo India Bravo!!!
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action--
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
-- Rabindranath Tagore (1901)
It took India 105 years to finally disqualify itself on ALL counts among the parameters listed above. Whatever the situation we were in till date, at least the common man had a voice. Its not important whether that voice acheved anything or not. At least he had one. Not any more. The Indian government has banned blogs, logic being that these are being used by terrorists to communicate. So 18 blog sites, containing 'objectionable, anti-nationalistic' sentiments (like calling that sardar an arsehole) have been blocked. As Daltrey sang these lines..
'And the men who spurred us on
Sit in judgement of all wrong
They decide and the shotgun sings the song
I'll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution'..
But guess what? You know how one can access the blogs (how i am posting that is)..there is a Pakistani site that has the hack to open blogs that are blocked in India, China and Iran. So basically, Indians whose voices have been shut because of Pakistan backed terrorist can now open their mouths aided by a site hosted by Pakistanis.
Bravo India Bravo!!!
Jul 13, 2006
Sub chutiye hai.
I am thankful to the media. Thankful to the news channels, to the papers, to television..to everyone who somehow manage to save me at the last moment whenever it looks like i might shake off the comatose state and do something constructive. If you have read the last post you might have started getting worried that maybe finally i would wake up and do something..here's what's been happening over the weekend:
1) riots in mumbai becos someone painted thackeray's wife's statue black..buses have been burned, trains stopped and traffic disrupted...there's the Mumbai Spirit for you...2 days after the city was innundated and people waded thru shit to reach home.
2) surdies fighting amongst each other in ludhiana..akali dal faction fights...all the hockey stick 'interactions' live on tv
3) neighbors pouring ink over a 60 yr old professor because he is having an affair with his 22 yr student (covered EXTENSIVELY over 6 hrs in all news channels)
4) patient comes to AIIMS and docs are on strike..patient has 60% burns..not admitted..but reporters cover him, sitting outside the hospital, waiting for treatment..they dont take him to another hospital..oh no..they wait....and sure enough..the guy succumbs from his burns..and NOW, they are taking on the system and the administration.
5) guy threatens immolation over some fucking issue (i am least bothered, dont even remember)..time and date fixed. media reaches there, cameras on, guy immolates, dies, cameras rolling, 3 days of debate, lamenting the system.
6) bombay blasts..people walk home, smile on camera, people staying overnight at stations, food getting served, picnic atmosphere..BOMBAY SPIRIT!
FUCK INDIA! WE ABSOLUTELY DESERVE WHAT WE HAVE. CONSULTANTS!!! MAIL ME.
1) riots in mumbai becos someone painted thackeray's wife's statue black..buses have been burned, trains stopped and traffic disrupted...there's the Mumbai Spirit for you...2 days after the city was innundated and people waded thru shit to reach home.
2) surdies fighting amongst each other in ludhiana..akali dal faction fights...all the hockey stick 'interactions' live on tv
3) neighbors pouring ink over a 60 yr old professor because he is having an affair with his 22 yr student (covered EXTENSIVELY over 6 hrs in all news channels)
4) patient comes to AIIMS and docs are on strike..patient has 60% burns..not admitted..but reporters cover him, sitting outside the hospital, waiting for treatment..they dont take him to another hospital..oh no..they wait....and sure enough..the guy succumbs from his burns..and NOW, they are taking on the system and the administration.
5) guy threatens immolation over some fucking issue (i am least bothered, dont even remember)..time and date fixed. media reaches there, cameras on, guy immolates, dies, cameras rolling, 3 days of debate, lamenting the system.
6) bombay blasts..people walk home, smile on camera, people staying overnight at stations, food getting served, picnic atmosphere..BOMBAY SPIRIT!
FUCK INDIA! WE ABSOLUTELY DESERVE WHAT WE HAVE. CONSULTANTS!!! MAIL ME.
Jul 6, 2006
India shining!
Increasingly these days, I get approached by young guys, asking if I can get them some work. Their profile varies from a daily wage labourer to a qualified chartered accountant. I feel desperately sorry for these guys and sometimes I wonder how I would have handled a situation where I have to approach unknown people for a job. I have seen a lot of such guys, as well as office peons earning 1000 bucks a month, traders sitting on pavements selling used pins, broken radio parts and what not, jobless graduates standing in the midday sun requesting passers by to fill up a credit card application form....and have wondered how they can manage to support their families.
Yesterday I had to go to a place about 3 kms from my office where there are major hassles finding a parking slot; so i took a mini-van. Suddenly a huge rucus started in the front - the conductor was asking a guy for fare and he was saying he just wanted to travel for one stop. Finally the bus was stopped and he was bodily thrown out. At that time i cursed him for the delay..later i started thinking what possible situation a man might be in that he has to resort to such things to save two bucks?
What kind of a future can they dream of? Or do they even dream any more?
In a country such as ours, I sometimes feel ashamed of the industry I am in and the so called 'work' that I do and the pay packet I take home doing that. But then, I will only write about it..i am too lazy to do anything constructive about it.
Yesterday I had to go to a place about 3 kms from my office where there are major hassles finding a parking slot; so i took a mini-van. Suddenly a huge rucus started in the front - the conductor was asking a guy for fare and he was saying he just wanted to travel for one stop. Finally the bus was stopped and he was bodily thrown out. At that time i cursed him for the delay..later i started thinking what possible situation a man might be in that he has to resort to such things to save two bucks?
What kind of a future can they dream of? Or do they even dream any more?
In a country such as ours, I sometimes feel ashamed of the industry I am in and the so called 'work' that I do and the pay packet I take home doing that. But then, I will only write about it..i am too lazy to do anything constructive about it.
Madness -2
It had all started about 3 months back - when I first started seeing the faces. Faces of a woman and two children. Faces with their expressionless eyes. Faces motionless, just staring at me, like vultures waiting for a prey to breathe its last. I still remember the first time distinctly. I had taken my car keys out of the dressing table drawer and looked up in the mirror and saw her. She was standing just behind my right shoulder, and though outwardly she looked perfectly ordinary, I knew that she was rotting inside. I could smell the graveyard earth on her, I could feel the emptiness, the nothingness inside her. And she just stood there, not making idiotic scary faces or exposing dripping canines or puking green vomit. She just fucking stood there motionless, even as the terror inside me finally erupted out, as i blindly lashed out and swept everything off the dresser, struggling to breathe, struggling to push air into my starving lungs, to unlock the muscles of heart and get the bastard ticking again. Then she was gone, and I began screaming, screaming till I felt my vocal chords about to break from the strain, screaming till i could hear the pounding on the door, till the neighbors finally broke in and forced me to lie down, till I could feel a prick on my neck and then oblivion.
After that it became quite common. I saw her again one day looking at me from the balcony outside my bedroom as I tossed around waiting for sleep to come. And then the children started. The first time was a boy of about 6. It was a power cut that day and I was climbing the stairs to my third floor apartment with a torch in hand. I rounded a corner and the torch fell on his unflinching eyes as he stood 4 steps above me. He was dressed in a school uniform and it was drenched with blood. Oh dear sweet god, there was so much blood! Again I felt my throat closing up, my heart locking and as i frantically clawed at my throat the torch fell out of my nerveless fingers and in the dark he(it) brushed by me and i actually felt the cotton shirt and the sticky blood and tissues as he went past. I had a screaming fit that day too and had to be put under sedation for 12 hours.
..to be continued (tough job..have to finish soon and get on with cribbing about life)
After that it became quite common. I saw her again one day looking at me from the balcony outside my bedroom as I tossed around waiting for sleep to come. And then the children started. The first time was a boy of about 6. It was a power cut that day and I was climbing the stairs to my third floor apartment with a torch in hand. I rounded a corner and the torch fell on his unflinching eyes as he stood 4 steps above me. He was dressed in a school uniform and it was drenched with blood. Oh dear sweet god, there was so much blood! Again I felt my throat closing up, my heart locking and as i frantically clawed at my throat the torch fell out of my nerveless fingers and in the dark he(it) brushed by me and i actually felt the cotton shirt and the sticky blood and tissues as he went past. I had a screaming fit that day too and had to be put under sedation for 12 hours.
..to be continued (tough job..have to finish soon and get on with cribbing about life)
Jul 4, 2006
With apologies to none
A very close friend of mine, a regular reader of my blog, a guy totally opposite in character to me has been increasingly concerned regarding the sheer negativity of my attitude (in life in general and in this blog in particular) and cynicism. His standard question to me after one of my monologues is 'Is there anything in life that you like'? Agreed with him completely..until yesterday, when the 'Madness' post proved too much for him and he send me a link to a blog of a couple who blog together, sharing their favourite songs, travel plans, inform the readers how they miss each other and how they enjoyed their family function.
Here is my response to that..and to everyone else who feels that way about me:
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ok..let this be a litmus test between your optimism and my cynicism. if u know them and follow their lives let me know what happens..not what they write in their blog but what actually happens (if u get to know about it that is)
and by the way..i am sorry but i hated the blog..reminded me of sooraj barjatiya..he will be happy in bombay..with his hindi love songs and walking thru waist high water with floating shit. i found the blog totally depth-less, in total disconnect with the real world.
by the way..i have had a great life...people who know me know how much i love life..thats why i try and collect experiences as varied as i can possibly can. i dont know anyone personally who has as many good memories as i have. when i die it would be without regrets. my blog is a place for all the other things in life..all the fuck ups and all the crap that is making this world a screwed up place. the REAL world is somewhere between the blog you sent and my blog.
its anybody's choice what their reading material should be like. an electric shock or a sugar coated sleeping pill. and that's all right with me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here is my response to that..and to everyone else who feels that way about me:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ok..let this be a litmus test between your optimism and my cynicism. if u know them and follow their lives let me know what happens..not what they write in their blog but what actually happens (if u get to know about it that is)
and by the way..i am sorry but i hated the blog..reminded me of sooraj barjatiya..he will be happy in bombay..with his hindi love songs and walking thru waist high water with floating shit. i found the blog totally depth-less, in total disconnect with the real world.
by the way..i have had a great life...people who know me know how much i love life..thats why i try and collect experiences as varied as i can possibly can. i dont know anyone personally who has as many good memories as i have. when i die it would be without regrets. my blog is a place for all the other things in life..all the fuck ups and all the crap that is making this world a screwed up place. the REAL world is somewhere between the blog you sent and my blog.
its anybody's choice what their reading material should be like. an electric shock or a sugar coated sleeping pill. and that's all right with me.
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Jul 3, 2006
Madness
The place deep within the centre of the brain had started itching again. It was maddenning, an itch that was was somehow both physical and psychological at the same time. And the more i thought about it, the more it seemed to pulse and throb and grow, like an alien mass of jelly that i had seen in those thousands of sci-fi flicks of the 70s.
I realised that i was slowly going mad. I could actually visualise myself cowering in the corner of a room, furiously scratching my head and face, drawing blood, bashing my head against the wall, lashing my back with a belt, trying to make my brain forget about the itch, trying to bring it back from the brink of that bottomless black void it was tottering on the edge on, a void from which there was no clawing back, a void at the bottom of which slithered silent, cold things, things one couldnt hear but can feel sliding up your body, surely finding out the orifices of your body and making their way up to the brain, as if guided by some beaming signal sent out by the rotting, metling brain.
...to be continued (maybe)
I realised that i was slowly going mad. I could actually visualise myself cowering in the corner of a room, furiously scratching my head and face, drawing blood, bashing my head against the wall, lashing my back with a belt, trying to make my brain forget about the itch, trying to bring it back from the brink of that bottomless black void it was tottering on the edge on, a void from which there was no clawing back, a void at the bottom of which slithered silent, cold things, things one couldnt hear but can feel sliding up your body, surely finding out the orifices of your body and making their way up to the brain, as if guided by some beaming signal sent out by the rotting, metling brain.
...to be continued (maybe)
Jul 1, 2006
Dont worry
OK..I am out of it. To all my dearest friends (and I am lucky to have all you guys), people who have started to worry about my mental state here are the changes:
1) I am not leaving IBM. I will stick around for a couple of years more and then see what the company can offer. If I manage to get a transfer to Pune in the near future then that will be an additional boon, else Delhi it is.
2) I have started cooking. Yesterday's mutton was slurpalicious.
3) French classes start from 10th evening.
4) Serious work starts from 3rd morning.
5) Detox starts from 10th evening.
Impossible is nothing.
1) I am not leaving IBM. I will stick around for a couple of years more and then see what the company can offer. If I manage to get a transfer to Pune in the near future then that will be an additional boon, else Delhi it is.
2) I have started cooking. Yesterday's mutton was slurpalicious.
3) French classes start from 10th evening.
4) Serious work starts from 3rd morning.
5) Detox starts from 10th evening.
Impossible is nothing.
Jun 30, 2006
My last poem
imagine
a life without tears
a world full of laughter
a mind without darkness
a heart full of hope.
imagine
an day without boredom
a week without fear
a month without anger
a year well spent
imagine
a poetry with meaning
a blog without pretensions
a shuv who sticks to prose
your life without my ramblings
a life without tears
a world full of laughter
a mind without darkness
a heart full of hope.
imagine
an day without boredom
a week without fear
a month without anger
a year well spent
imagine
a poetry with meaning
a blog without pretensions
a shuv who sticks to prose
your life without my ramblings
Humanity
Read this and be ashamed. This is what we have achieved over a million years of evolution. What went wrong? What circumstance can drive a man to do this to his fellow man?
I, of course, have all the answers. If u ask me about africa (please ask me) i think it went horribly wrong when the white man came and tried to civilize the continent. When i was in Nigeria i had read Chinua Achebe where he had described how the social structure of a village is destroyed when a missionary comes with his concepts of religion, democracy and western society laws. Read 'Things Fall Apart' if you get the chance. It will give you a different picture of what 'civilization' has done to the human race.
I think the word 'humanity' should be scrapped from the dictionary now..or at least, redefined.
I, of course, have all the answers. If u ask me about africa (please ask me) i think it went horribly wrong when the white man came and tried to civilize the continent. When i was in Nigeria i had read Chinua Achebe where he had described how the social structure of a village is destroyed when a missionary comes with his concepts of religion, democracy and western society laws. Read 'Things Fall Apart' if you get the chance. It will give you a different picture of what 'civilization' has done to the human race.
I think the word 'humanity' should be scrapped from the dictionary now..or at least, redefined.
Jun 29, 2006
Movies that make you cry
I have noticed this trend in me and some of my friends. Old age is making us simultaenously cynical and maudlin. These two characteristics usually dont go hand in hand; a cynical guy is rarely moved to tears. But thats how it is.
I remember when i was a kid i used to bug everyone while watching tear jerkers like 'Anand' - my favorite past time was shining a torch into my father's while he struggled to hold back his tears. Now the same movie invariably makes me cry (i particularly love that scene when Johnny Walker breaks down). There are sequences in Gandhi that moves me to tears, I cry with Mukul when he sees the ruins of his house in Sonar Kella, I cry when Forrest meets his son for the first time and asks if he is normal or like him, I even fucking cry when Vinny wins the case in My Cousin Vinny.
Pretty fucking disgusting I think.
I remember when i was a kid i used to bug everyone while watching tear jerkers like 'Anand' - my favorite past time was shining a torch into my father's while he struggled to hold back his tears. Now the same movie invariably makes me cry (i particularly love that scene when Johnny Walker breaks down). There are sequences in Gandhi that moves me to tears, I cry with Mukul when he sees the ruins of his house in Sonar Kella, I cry when Forrest meets his son for the first time and asks if he is normal or like him, I even fucking cry when Vinny wins the case in My Cousin Vinny.
Pretty fucking disgusting I think.
Jun 28, 2006
Wanderlust
wan·der·lust (wŏn'dər-lŭst') noun: A very strong or irresistible impulse to travel.
[German : wandern, to wander (from Middle High German) + Lust, desire (from Middle High German, from Old High German).]
When I was 17 I met this American guy in Calcutta airport. I was doing a part time job for the Ministry of Tourism, the job being to fill up a questionnaire about tourism experiences of foreign tourists in India. This 20 something guy was sitting on a suitcase when I approached him and when I asked him what his permanent address was he patted his suitcase and said this is it. He had left home at the age of 17 and for the last 10 odd years he has been travelling around the world, working his way through one country to another, staying for as long as he liked and then moving on. He had come to Calcutta hoping to do some work with Mother Teresa and hopefully to roam the rest of India. I went home and after eating food my mother prepared and keeping the unwashed plates in the sink for the maid, I went to my room, turned on Floyd and thought 'what a life this guy has! how lucky he is that he can afford to do this'..
I met a similar guy in Bangkok..this guy was an electrician in Denver and he takes 6 months off every 3 years and roams the world. I met him when he was on his fifth month, when he had reached Thailand after staying in Japan and Australia. Again i went green with envy, wishing I had the dollar power to be able to live such a life.
Wanderlust is common among bengalis. Any tourist place you go to in India will be full of the bong traveller, unmistakeable in his monkey cap, cardiganned wife and shawled mother. I asked a shopkeeper in Kumaon (last month when I went there) what the tourist season was like. He answered that usually its March to October, except for bengali tourists who come in the winters as well. But even these guys are not the true travellers. When I was a kid I had heard so many stories of bengali globe-trotters, who had left home in their teens and had worked their way across the world and came back home after 25-30 years.
I salute these guys. These were the guys that prove to couch dreamers like me that you dont need dollars or a permissible society to pursue your dreams.
[German : wandern, to wander (from Middle High German) + Lust, desire (from Middle High German, from Old High German).]
When I was 17 I met this American guy in Calcutta airport. I was doing a part time job for the Ministry of Tourism, the job being to fill up a questionnaire about tourism experiences of foreign tourists in India. This 20 something guy was sitting on a suitcase when I approached him and when I asked him what his permanent address was he patted his suitcase and said this is it. He had left home at the age of 17 and for the last 10 odd years he has been travelling around the world, working his way through one country to another, staying for as long as he liked and then moving on. He had come to Calcutta hoping to do some work with Mother Teresa and hopefully to roam the rest of India. I went home and after eating food my mother prepared and keeping the unwashed plates in the sink for the maid, I went to my room, turned on Floyd and thought 'what a life this guy has! how lucky he is that he can afford to do this'..
I met a similar guy in Bangkok..this guy was an electrician in Denver and he takes 6 months off every 3 years and roams the world. I met him when he was on his fifth month, when he had reached Thailand after staying in Japan and Australia. Again i went green with envy, wishing I had the dollar power to be able to live such a life.
Wanderlust is common among bengalis. Any tourist place you go to in India will be full of the bong traveller, unmistakeable in his monkey cap, cardiganned wife and shawled mother. I asked a shopkeeper in Kumaon (last month when I went there) what the tourist season was like. He answered that usually its March to October, except for bengali tourists who come in the winters as well. But even these guys are not the true travellers. When I was a kid I had heard so many stories of bengali globe-trotters, who had left home in their teens and had worked their way across the world and came back home after 25-30 years.
I salute these guys. These were the guys that prove to couch dreamers like me that you dont need dollars or a permissible society to pursue your dreams.
Jun 27, 2006
Firsts
1) Driving around alone in the hot afternoons just so as not to stay at home alone.
2) Agreeing to go out with colleagues for a beer.
3) Trying to stay at office for as long as possible.
4) Eating out.
5) Sitting at Barista's and drinking coffee in the evenings.
Thanks vikas you bloody fool.
2) Agreeing to go out with colleagues for a beer.
3) Trying to stay at office for as long as possible.
4) Eating out.
5) Sitting at Barista's and drinking coffee in the evenings.
Thanks vikas you bloody fool.
Jun 22, 2006
Goodbye and good luck
Vikas is leaving today for Australia. BIG decision, BIG uncertainties. Hope everything works out brother. Will be rooting for you. Go get them tiger.
Jun 20, 2006
Quirkyalone
Quirkyalone: noun/adj. A person who enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) and generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple. With unique traits and an optimistic spirit; a sensibility that transcends relationship status. See also quirkytogether, perkytogether, quirkyslut.
There are some really great people doing great things out there man!! I mean all these years I grew up thinking that I am freak of nature when lo behold!!! I visit this site and find out that I belong to this thriving global community!
I am choking with emotion. Let me go to a corner and spend some time with myself alone.
There are some really great people doing great things out there man!! I mean all these years I grew up thinking that I am freak of nature when lo behold!!! I visit this site and find out that I belong to this thriving global community!
I am choking with emotion. Let me go to a corner and spend some time with myself alone.
Disclaimer!
Before i am banned from peoples' houses or family get togethers let me state that..
'Not all opinions expressed on this blog are mine. Some are deliberate attempts to provoke comments on a slow office day'.
Phew!! Some reactions are scary man!!
'Not all opinions expressed on this blog are mine. Some are deliberate attempts to provoke comments on a slow office day'.
Phew!! Some reactions are scary man!!
Jun 19, 2006
Promiscuity in the modern world
'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's companion'...one of the bloody ten commandments
How can one exactly define 'loose' morals these days? In this day and age of failing marriages, dead relationships and robotic existences why is adultery still such a big deal? How does one justify a person who never cheats on his spouse but at the same time has a meaningless marital relationship? Is such a person a hypocrit, an escapist or is he the future of the institution called marriage?
Why is it that people can forgive a person who has a platonic relationship outside a regular relationship (be it marriage or otherwise) by justifying that 'everyone needs a shoulder to cry on'. Why is the same person labelled a cheat when the relationship becomes physical? Nowadays, people hardly meet someone they can talk to or relate to. All relationships are structured, all players all careful to play it according to the book, all of us are actors who mentally rehearse each line we speak before we utter them. When we find someone with whom one can be one's true self, is it a sin to bare one's soul to that person? And if one has bared one's soul, what is baring one's body?
Why are 'sacrifice' and 'adjustment' such holy words?
How can one exactly define 'loose' morals these days? In this day and age of failing marriages, dead relationships and robotic existences why is adultery still such a big deal? How does one justify a person who never cheats on his spouse but at the same time has a meaningless marital relationship? Is such a person a hypocrit, an escapist or is he the future of the institution called marriage?
Why is it that people can forgive a person who has a platonic relationship outside a regular relationship (be it marriage or otherwise) by justifying that 'everyone needs a shoulder to cry on'. Why is the same person labelled a cheat when the relationship becomes physical? Nowadays, people hardly meet someone they can talk to or relate to. All relationships are structured, all players all careful to play it according to the book, all of us are actors who mentally rehearse each line we speak before we utter them. When we find someone with whom one can be one's true self, is it a sin to bare one's soul to that person? And if one has bared one's soul, what is baring one's body?
Why are 'sacrifice' and 'adjustment' such holy words?
Jun 14, 2006
Arindam
I 'inherited' Arindam's friendship through by elder brother. Dadamoni and Anupam (Arindam's elder brother) were class friends and me and Arindam got introduced to each other when we joined class 1 in Xavier's. We were good friends till class 6 and even though we were in the same class right till class 12, that childhood bonding faded away by the time i was 14.
Arindam was the first boy in class throughout. He was brilliant in the arts subjects, was a good orator and a fantastic footballer. I personally believe that if he had gone pro all football lovers in India would have heard of him. But..this is what finally happenned to him.
He was always shaky in maths. Till class 10 it doesnt really matter as the science and maths syllabus are quite easy. Then there is a quantum leap in the higher secondary syllabus. He scored 85% in 10th (a lot in west bengal board standard) and expectedly was instructed by his parents to take up Science (all good bong students have to take up science and then become docs or engineers..its the law of the land). He somehow scraped through the board exams but did not crack any of the competitive exams. His family still were unable to reconcile the fact that their topper son was not cut out to be a science student, and he was forced to sit at home for a year and prepare for the next years entrance exams. He failed again and tried to commit suicide. I lost track of him after that. Then a couple of years back i heard that he has become a drug addict.
To all of you who have children please let this incident be a lesson. Please identity the inclinations and strengths of your children and help them pursue their dreams. Let us make sure that there are no more Arindams.
Arindam was the first boy in class throughout. He was brilliant in the arts subjects, was a good orator and a fantastic footballer. I personally believe that if he had gone pro all football lovers in India would have heard of him. But..this is what finally happenned to him.
He was always shaky in maths. Till class 10 it doesnt really matter as the science and maths syllabus are quite easy. Then there is a quantum leap in the higher secondary syllabus. He scored 85% in 10th (a lot in west bengal board standard) and expectedly was instructed by his parents to take up Science (all good bong students have to take up science and then become docs or engineers..its the law of the land). He somehow scraped through the board exams but did not crack any of the competitive exams. His family still were unable to reconcile the fact that their topper son was not cut out to be a science student, and he was forced to sit at home for a year and prepare for the next years entrance exams. He failed again and tried to commit suicide. I lost track of him after that. Then a couple of years back i heard that he has become a drug addict.
To all of you who have children please let this incident be a lesson. Please identity the inclinations and strengths of your children and help them pursue their dreams. Let us make sure that there are no more Arindams.
World Cup Soccer and India
Do you know the population of Togo? Its about the same as Andheri, a suburb of Mumbai where we used to stay. They are also a poor country, not having the natural resources that Nigeria or South Africa have. They have, however, qualified for the world cup. Should'nt we be ashamed of ourselves?
But wait...did you know who has supplied the balls for this year's world cup. Its a bloke from Jallandhar, Punjab. He had landed the 5 million dollar deal, and these are the first stitchless balls in the world. There also has been a lot of praise for the balls in terms of the movement and balance.
Good for you man! At least we are somewhere on the soccer map!
But wait...did you know who has supplied the balls for this year's world cup. Its a bloke from Jallandhar, Punjab. He had landed the 5 million dollar deal, and these are the first stitchless balls in the world. There also has been a lot of praise for the balls in terms of the movement and balance.
Good for you man! At least we are somewhere on the soccer map!
World Cup Trivia
Brazil won the world cup in 1994. Before that, Brazil had won this title for the last time in 1970.
If you add up: 1970 + 1994 = 3964
Argentina won the world cup for the last time in 1986. Before that only in 1978.
And 1978 + 1986 = 3964
Germany, though, won the world cup in 1990. Before that, Germany won in 1974.
Look: 1990 + 1974 = 3964
This could lead us to guess the winner of the World Cup in 2002, since it should be the winner of the 1962 World Cup (In fact 3964 - 2002 = 1962).
And Brazil won the world cup in 1962! (And, in fact, Brazil won the 2002 WC)
This numerology seems to work...
And now, who would be the winner of the 2006 world cup?
Let's see, 3964 - 2006 = 1958
And who won in 1958?
Oh, Brazil did!!!
If you add up: 1970 + 1994 = 3964
Argentina won the world cup for the last time in 1986. Before that only in 1978.
And 1978 + 1986 = 3964
Germany, though, won the world cup in 1990. Before that, Germany won in 1974.
Look: 1990 + 1974 = 3964
This could lead us to guess the winner of the World Cup in 2002, since it should be the winner of the 1962 World Cup (In fact 3964 - 2002 = 1962).
And Brazil won the world cup in 1962! (And, in fact, Brazil won the 2002 WC)
This numerology seems to work...
And now, who would be the winner of the 2006 world cup?
Let's see, 3964 - 2006 = 1958
And who won in 1958?
Oh, Brazil did!!!
Jun 2, 2006
Fear Factor
Generally dont watch it but yesterday's episode was so gruesome that I just couldn't flip the channel. Usually, people are made to eat ants or lie down with a million rats or spiders or perform similar intellectual asks. Yesterday, the grand prize was a year's free mortgage for which the participants (4 mother and son pairs) had to perform these simple tasks (fastest pair wins):
1) From a murky water filled blocked kitchen sink (drain blocked with hair and garbage) take out a set of keys using their mouths.
2) Open a glass cage filled with vipers with these keys and take out a box (first one has to unscrew a couple of screws holding the box. everyone got bitten).
3) Open the box and transfer 6 scorpions from the box to a bowl...using their mouths.
4) From a bottle of spoilt rotting milk transfer the contents of the bottle to a bowl using a straw.
5) Drive a low sports car alongside a 12 wheel truck at 60mph and 'undertake' the truck..that means cross the truck from underneath and overtake from the other side.
Each of these had to be done by BOTH the mother and son, separately. And ALL of them did all of this, no one failed to complete the agenda. The winner was decided on time. The expressions on the mothers' faces were to be seen to be believed...but they did it all.
I guess mortgage is important to these guys. Personally...i would rather pay my EMIs.
1) From a murky water filled blocked kitchen sink (drain blocked with hair and garbage) take out a set of keys using their mouths.
2) Open a glass cage filled with vipers with these keys and take out a box (first one has to unscrew a couple of screws holding the box. everyone got bitten).
3) Open the box and transfer 6 scorpions from the box to a bowl...using their mouths.
4) From a bottle of spoilt rotting milk transfer the contents of the bottle to a bowl using a straw.
5) Drive a low sports car alongside a 12 wheel truck at 60mph and 'undertake' the truck..that means cross the truck from underneath and overtake from the other side.
Each of these had to be done by BOTH the mother and son, separately. And ALL of them did all of this, no one failed to complete the agenda. The winner was decided on time. The expressions on the mothers' faces were to be seen to be believed...but they did it all.
I guess mortgage is important to these guys. Personally...i would rather pay my EMIs.
May 30, 2006
Review - Crash
I wont go into a cinematic discussion except to say that I loved the movie and the performances. I also missed Denzel Washington in the role of the black inspector..that would have added one more oscar to the kitty for Crash. No, this will more of a discussion about the issues the movie has highlighted.
Of the situations portrayed in the movie, I could identify a lot of scenarios that hold true in India today. We also have our divides, be it religious, regional or socio-economic and a lot of that create the same frictions as those the whites, blacks, hispanics, chinese and arabs are facing in the US today. We have our problems with the 'minority' muslims and they have the same with the blacks. States like West Bengal and Assam have Bangladeshi immigrant problems while they have the same with mexicans in Florida and LA. And the rich versus poor divide is always there.
There were 2 protagonists who were characterised very interestingly - the racist white cop and the racist black mugger. Both are portrayed as extreme cases of bigotry, who see the entire world through some invisible coloured glass, where any incident can be traced to some problem caused by the 'other' side. We have frightening similarities amongst our communal Hindu and Muslim brigades, and its a divide that seems to be deepening each day. There is also Sandra Bullock's character, who is a closet racist, who is surrounded by all kinds of immigrant population who are the domestic help, who finally shows her true colours once she is mugged by a black and uses that excuse to come out in the open with her parochial views.
There was another interesting sequence in which an episode of a soap was being shot and the director asked for a retake because a black guy didnt talk 'black' enough. Made me think of how bongs are portrayed in movies and tv. I mean how many bongs do you know who says 'Oooribaba, arey tumi kya kaurta haay'. Bongs and Tambis have been stereotyped for ages now. Padosan was one of the roots for the anti hindi movement in the south. There were other scenes in the movie where Americans are ridiculing arabs or chinese people for their accents and grammar (as if those fuckers speak english) and this was also portrayed as one of the factors why immigrants dont feel they belong.
All in all, I felt that the movie was really balanced. It managed to portray both sides on the picture without trying to analyse who is at fault. And even though I generally think the average american is an arsehole, I can kind of understand the situation they are in. True, when their economy was booming they had welcomed all kinds of immigrants to do their dirty jobs - mexican gardeners, puerto rican housemaids, indian coders, chinese cooks etc etc etc. Now that they have a job crunch they are cribbing about outsiders taking their jobs. But dont you get it? Its their bloody country and they have every right to give out AND take back jobs when they want. There was a scene in which a Syrian is ranting and raving to the authorities after his shop is burgled. I mean, why dont you go back to fucking Syria then? There you will be lucky to have a slum to stay in. How would you feel if Bangladeshi illegal immigrants staged a dharna in Calcutta because they dont like the conditions of their settlements? Forget about immigrants, how would you feel about your countryman who is studying in AIIMS because his grandfather washed toilets, or a muslim who has 4 wives and 20 children who feels muslims in India are persecuted?
THINK.
Of the situations portrayed in the movie, I could identify a lot of scenarios that hold true in India today. We also have our divides, be it religious, regional or socio-economic and a lot of that create the same frictions as those the whites, blacks, hispanics, chinese and arabs are facing in the US today. We have our problems with the 'minority' muslims and they have the same with the blacks. States like West Bengal and Assam have Bangladeshi immigrant problems while they have the same with mexicans in Florida and LA. And the rich versus poor divide is always there.
There were 2 protagonists who were characterised very interestingly - the racist white cop and the racist black mugger. Both are portrayed as extreme cases of bigotry, who see the entire world through some invisible coloured glass, where any incident can be traced to some problem caused by the 'other' side. We have frightening similarities amongst our communal Hindu and Muslim brigades, and its a divide that seems to be deepening each day. There is also Sandra Bullock's character, who is a closet racist, who is surrounded by all kinds of immigrant population who are the domestic help, who finally shows her true colours once she is mugged by a black and uses that excuse to come out in the open with her parochial views.
There was another interesting sequence in which an episode of a soap was being shot and the director asked for a retake because a black guy didnt talk 'black' enough. Made me think of how bongs are portrayed in movies and tv. I mean how many bongs do you know who says 'Oooribaba, arey tumi kya kaurta haay'. Bongs and Tambis have been stereotyped for ages now. Padosan was one of the roots for the anti hindi movement in the south. There were other scenes in the movie where Americans are ridiculing arabs or chinese people for their accents and grammar (as if those fuckers speak english) and this was also portrayed as one of the factors why immigrants dont feel they belong.
All in all, I felt that the movie was really balanced. It managed to portray both sides on the picture without trying to analyse who is at fault. And even though I generally think the average american is an arsehole, I can kind of understand the situation they are in. True, when their economy was booming they had welcomed all kinds of immigrants to do their dirty jobs - mexican gardeners, puerto rican housemaids, indian coders, chinese cooks etc etc etc. Now that they have a job crunch they are cribbing about outsiders taking their jobs. But dont you get it? Its their bloody country and they have every right to give out AND take back jobs when they want. There was a scene in which a Syrian is ranting and raving to the authorities after his shop is burgled. I mean, why dont you go back to fucking Syria then? There you will be lucky to have a slum to stay in. How would you feel if Bangladeshi illegal immigrants staged a dharna in Calcutta because they dont like the conditions of their settlements? Forget about immigrants, how would you feel about your countryman who is studying in AIIMS because his grandfather washed toilets, or a muslim who has 4 wives and 20 children who feels muslims in India are persecuted?
THINK.
May 23, 2006
Hail Male Bonding!
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The progression in the pictures tell an amazing story. Ayush and Shirley were as thick as thieves over the past couple of years. 80% of their waking time at home was spent together and it looked like they would never get tired of each other's companies. Harsha was the haddi in this kabab, and sometimes it saddenned me to see how these 2 used to gang up against this 12 year old. He used to be left out of their games, ignored in conversations and falsely accused when either of these 2 got hurt playing (kids can be damn cruel man, read Lord of the flies).. Suddenly in this trip i witnessed a change. Ayush is becoming a man, and he seems to be prefering Harsha's company. Shirley is more interested in discussing the latest Imran Hashmi kissing scene and trying to enact it with Ayush (scary!!) while Ayush is happier discussing the latest Power Rangers episode with Harsh. Ayush is getting into the physical games boys enjoy, like punching each other around or hammering away at a video game keyboard, and Shirley is not being able to keep up with the pace. The inevitable has started to happen and these 2 are now ganging up against Shirley. I did some reading on the net and found out that this usually happens to kids when they are about 5 or 6 when they start preferring same sex company. Am I happy?? MCP that I am, YEAH!!!
May 22, 2006
I am back (BOOOHOOOHOOO!!!!)
But what a great trip it was!! And instead of writing a looong post which no one will read, I will penn down thoughts about each place we visited as well as about some special incidents. Till then, enjoy this..
May 12, 2006
BREAK!!
'Pyare bhaio aur behno' (in Amin Sayani's voice)..it will be a couple of weeks till the 75th post is going to be penned. The wife and son are coming and then we are going on a looong trip to Kumaon (yipeee!!!). And the next one will be about that trip, pics galore. Till then....toodle doo.
May 8, 2006
A different world
Went to Saldana, a village near Meerut, for a day outing yesterday. Me, Bubai and Vikas with his school friends. One of his friend Sumit is the brother of the village pradhan there. 'Bade bhaiya' is the mai-baap of the entire region, and the region we are talking about (Meerut to Muzaffarpur) is the worst crime belt in India. He was part of the infamous Tyagi gang at one time, then went into legtimate business and then politics. His drinking buddies make up the rest of the region's who's who, and our main agenda was to experience what it felt like to be the guest of such a person.
The ride was hot and dusty and to combat the discomfiture everyone got busy in going through a gigantic database of MMS scandals that one of the guys had on his phone. By the time we reached there it was high noon, and everyone got down to their chaddis and plunged in the deliciously cool tube well tank. The next 5 hours was just sit in the water, get your drinks served up to you and talk.
What was amazing was how these guys recieved us. It was bade bhaiya who cooked country chicken for us (absolutely mindbogglingly delicious, with real spices), chote bhaiya who served us our drinks and a member of the village panchayat who served us food. These guys are not only politically powerful, they are also stinking rich. But i havent seen any guys of this stature who are so down to earth. When it was time for us to go they promised us that the next time they will get permission to go hunting and asked us to try and make an overnite trip (THAT will be one memorable post I can assure you).
At the end of it all I was pretty confused. These are the real criminals of India, who have broken all laws of the land, raped the political system and destroyed thousands of lives. On the other hand, personally, they are wonderful, warm and down to earth folks. How does one reconcile these two things?
Choose!
Bubai does 20 minutes of Pranayam every day. Vikas and Paplu do not. Whether you will start or not is up to you. I have.
May 1, 2006
Darna Zaroori Hai - Review
waha waha ramG (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
movie kya banayi (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
mera aur vikas ki (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
band kyu bajayi (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
sub chutiyo se badi hai chutiya jo aise bakwas picture banayi.
waha waha RAMGEEEEEE.
movie kya banayi (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
mera aur vikas ki (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
band kyu bajayi (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
sub chutiyo se badi hai chutiya jo aise bakwas picture banayi.
waha waha RAMGEEEEEE.
Apr 28, 2006
Six degrees of separation
I am sure all of you know this theory that has been around since 1929 that proposes that anyone on earth can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of acquaintances that has no more than four intermediaries. So basically that means that I only need to trace 4 people connecting my servant Deep to Demi Moore and I will be able to meet her. This has been proved by mathematicians in 1950 using a lot of statistical mumbo jumbo and sociologists who have spouted how humbling and noble this concept is.
I believe its all hogwash, but thats not the point. The point is, do watch the movie by the same name. The plot of the movie (starring Donal Sutherland and Will Smith) was inspired by the real-life story of David Hampton, a con man who managed to convince a number of people in the 1980s that he was the son of actor Sidney Poitier. Its a fantastic movie (you need to follow the dialogs carefully though) and brings out the incredible differences between people living next to each other in big cities - the ultra-rich surrounded by the gutter poor, and how they cope (or 'uncope') with this dangerous situation.
Try it.
I believe its all hogwash, but thats not the point. The point is, do watch the movie by the same name. The plot of the movie (starring Donal Sutherland and Will Smith) was inspired by the real-life story of David Hampton, a con man who managed to convince a number of people in the 1980s that he was the son of actor Sidney Poitier. Its a fantastic movie (you need to follow the dialogs carefully though) and brings out the incredible differences between people living next to each other in big cities - the ultra-rich surrounded by the gutter poor, and how they cope (or 'uncope') with this dangerous situation.
Try it.
Apr 25, 2006
Nightmares
Delhi has suddenly started giving me nightmares. All of a sudden, a hydra headed monster of infrastructural problems have raised its ugly heads. There is no water and no power. Power cuts happen at times like 11 PM, 4 AM and sleep has become a struggle (coincidentally, i am reading King's Insomnia now). And after tossing around at night, you can imagine my mood when I come to work. Had a fight in office just yesterday, and I am sure this will be one of many more to come. I think I will have a heart to heart with my boss soon. Dont think I will be able to survive this for long.
Amidst all this, can you imagine what nightmare I had last night? Vinod Kambli has been recalled, and that too as an opener. There is a huge debate in the media, and a disgusted Sourav has announced his retirement. I mean seriously guys, isn't there a limit as to what extent this game dominates our minds?
Amidst all this, can you imagine what nightmare I had last night? Vinod Kambli has been recalled, and that too as an opener. There is a huge debate in the media, and a disgusted Sourav has announced his retirement. I mean seriously guys, isn't there a limit as to what extent this game dominates our minds?
Apr 24, 2006
Comfortably numb
"The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb."
- Roger Waters
For the past 2 years I have worked as an island. Office is a place I somehow survive for 8 (sometimes less) hours a day. I dont interact with anyone, shun attempts by people to strike up friendships, work only to meet targets and nothing beyond. For the last 2 years, I dont know the names of any of my colleagues who sit around my cubicle.
The last 2 years has also seen the biggest growth in my career.
I am totally confused.
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb."
- Roger Waters
For the past 2 years I have worked as an island. Office is a place I somehow survive for 8 (sometimes less) hours a day. I dont interact with anyone, shun attempts by people to strike up friendships, work only to meet targets and nothing beyond. For the last 2 years, I dont know the names of any of my colleagues who sit around my cubicle.
The last 2 years has also seen the biggest growth in my career.
I am totally confused.
Apr 21, 2006
Munich - a review
Watched Spielberg's Munich yesterday. It was a landmark event of my life as I have redefined my career path after watching the movie. Here's what I will do:
1) Become a CIA agent
2) Go undercover in the middle east - Operation Brown Mongoose (to kill Osama)
3) There will be 73 million dollars deposited in a numbered account in Banque Nationale de Suisse for operational expenses.
4) I will take out the money, come to India and invest in MF, blue chip equities and real estate.
5) I will return to Dubai (didnt I say middle east before) and stay undercover for a year
6) When the 73 becomes 125 million dollars I will return to India and cash in.
7) I will go back to Virginia and tell the CIA ops head that I was unsuccessful and return 81.76 million dollars (principal plus 12% interest).
8) I will come back to india and invest 41.24 million dollars in MF, blue chip equities and real estate.
9) I will buy a maruti swift and a pair of Police sunglasses.
10)I will then retire and concentrate full time on my blog.
If you see any snags guys please point them out to me. I am serious!
1) Become a CIA agent
2) Go undercover in the middle east - Operation Brown Mongoose (to kill Osama)
3) There will be 73 million dollars deposited in a numbered account in Banque Nationale de Suisse for operational expenses.
4) I will take out the money, come to India and invest in MF, blue chip equities and real estate.
5) I will return to Dubai (didnt I say middle east before) and stay undercover for a year
6) When the 73 becomes 125 million dollars I will return to India and cash in.
7) I will go back to Virginia and tell the CIA ops head that I was unsuccessful and return 81.76 million dollars (principal plus 12% interest).
8) I will come back to india and invest 41.24 million dollars in MF, blue chip equities and real estate.
9) I will buy a maruti swift and a pair of Police sunglasses.
10)I will then retire and concentrate full time on my blog.
If you see any snags guys please point them out to me. I am serious!
Apr 20, 2006
An amazing song
It seems like yesterday
But it was long ago
Janey was lovely, she was the queen of my nights
There in the darkness with the radio playlng low
And the secrets that we shared
The mountains that we moved
Caught like a wildfire out of control
Till there was nothing left to burn and nothing left to prove
And I remember what she said to me
How she swore that it never would end
I remember how she held me oh so tight
Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then
Against the wind
We were runnin’ against the wind
We were young and strong, we were runnin’
Against the wind
And the years rolled slowly past
And I found myself alone
Surrounded bv stranners I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my way
There were oh so many roads
I was living to run and running to live
Never worried about paying or even how much I owed
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
Breaking all of the rules that would bend
I began to find myself searchin’
Searching for shelter again and again
Against the wind
A little something against the wind
I found myself seeking shelter against the wind
Well those drifters days are past me now
I’ve got so much more to think about
Deadlines and commitments
What to leave in, what to leave out
Against the wind
I’m still runnin’ against the wind
Well I’m older now and still
Against the wind
But it was long ago
Janey was lovely, she was the queen of my nights
There in the darkness with the radio playlng low
And the secrets that we shared
The mountains that we moved
Caught like a wildfire out of control
Till there was nothing left to burn and nothing left to prove
And I remember what she said to me
How she swore that it never would end
I remember how she held me oh so tight
Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then
Against the wind
We were runnin’ against the wind
We were young and strong, we were runnin’
Against the wind
And the years rolled slowly past
And I found myself alone
Surrounded bv stranners I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my way
There were oh so many roads
I was living to run and running to live
Never worried about paying or even how much I owed
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
Breaking all of the rules that would bend
I began to find myself searchin’
Searching for shelter again and again
Against the wind
A little something against the wind
I found myself seeking shelter against the wind
Well those drifters days are past me now
I’ve got so much more to think about
Deadlines and commitments
What to leave in, what to leave out
Against the wind
I’m still runnin’ against the wind
Well I’m older now and still
Against the wind
Apr 19, 2006
The amazing world of spam
Nowadays I diligently go through my spam mails before deleting them. There is a world of entertainment hidden there. Here are the top 5:
1) Very common are the ones with the plight of a terminally ill child who is paid 12 cents by the service provider for every person you forward the mail to.
2) Congrutaltions! You have 2.75 million dollars jackpot in the Online Lotto draw! Just open an account with us with a minimum deposit and we will transfer the winnings to you.
3) This one i got today. Its great news! Some solicitor has traced my name as the sole beneficiary of an estate worth 5.3 million dollars belonging to a man who has died hierless and without a will. This diligent bugger has traced me based on my last name and is willing to file a claim for me in return of 40% of the amount.
4) Natasha is looking for you! Along with 2347789 beautiful females!! Only at bharatmatrimonials.com
5) But the winner is Penis Enlargement Pills. Herbal, no side effect, gauranteed increase upto 4 inches. YIPEEE!!!
1) Very common are the ones with the plight of a terminally ill child who is paid 12 cents by the service provider for every person you forward the mail to.
2) Congrutaltions! You have 2.75 million dollars jackpot in the Online Lotto draw! Just open an account with us with a minimum deposit and we will transfer the winnings to you.
3) This one i got today. Its great news! Some solicitor has traced my name as the sole beneficiary of an estate worth 5.3 million dollars belonging to a man who has died hierless and without a will. This diligent bugger has traced me based on my last name and is willing to file a claim for me in return of 40% of the amount.
4) Natasha is looking for you! Along with 2347789 beautiful females!! Only at bharatmatrimonials.com
5) But the winner is Penis Enlargement Pills. Herbal, no side effect, gauranteed increase upto 4 inches. YIPEEE!!!
A north indian wedding
Actually it was a pre-wedding cocktail party. Went there expecting a stag affair where everyone gets roaring drunk and a couple of fights break out. Turned out to be a family affair with plenty of women and children. What I loved was this punjabi culture of dancing. There was a strobe lit dance floor which was filled to capacity. For women whose husbands were too busy drinking, they were quite happy to take on 12 year old partners. And the best part came when the grooms parents came on the stage on popular demand. Uncle and aunty danced to 'Ae mere zohra zabin' and it was wonderful. I wish I had seen my parents dance to a romantic number. Will agree to marry once more just to see that.
Apr 13, 2006
As usual, I was right
Remember this post and Loky's optimism? I had given him 3 months before he changed his mind. It, in fact. took him 3 weeks. Here's what he said yesterday:
1) He is sick of Kannadis
2) He is sick of the infrastructure issues
3) He is sick of the inefficiency of the people around him
4) He wants to go to some onsite project soon.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MERA BHARAT MAHAAN!!!
1) He is sick of Kannadis
2) He is sick of the infrastructure issues
3) He is sick of the inefficiency of the people around him
4) He wants to go to some onsite project soon.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MERA BHARAT MAHAAN!!!
Rantings and ravings (censored)
Statutory warning: Explicit language. Skip reading if you are too cultured
Bangalore is shut down because Rajkumar died. People have burned vehicles, blocked roads and closed markets. The so called silicon city of India, hub of the new face of india, home to the most 'happening' population of India. Tum sab kannadio ki !!&&**%. When I was in blore, there was a 7 day riot because Rajnikaant had come and during a speech, someone from the crowd abused him. This started a riot between !!&&**% Kannadis and !!&&**% Tambis that shut down the city. What the !!&&**% is the problem with these rasam guzzling !!&&**%? And the media! If this had happened in Kolkata, the channels and papers would have been full of how bandhs have ruined Bengal. When it comes to Bangalore, its 'genuine and spontenous outpouring of grief'.
Sehwag said 'Ganguly is history'. !!&&**% doesnt remember those days when Ganguly voluntarily broke up the most successful opening partnership (between him and Sachin) so Sehwag can open. !!&&**% does not even have the performance platform from which people like Dravid can dare to speak from.
Salman's lawyer has said killing a black buck is equivalent to killing cows, pigs, goats, fishes and chicken for eating. I am sure he will get a lot of support from the !!&&**% cow belt and from that !!&&**% Maneka. In India, the concept of animal protection is ludricious. So we have wild elephants destroying crops and forcing people to starve and people multiplying more than rabbits and eating up all forests. Maneka pass a one family one child law first u !!&&**%.
US has sounded a warning to Brazil to control deforestation in Brazil. Those !!&&**% are the biggest consumers of power. Cities are lit up 24 !!&&**% hours a day, heaters are on 12 months a year, they have started screwing up the Antartic for oil exploration digs and they dare lecture others.
Vivek is taking his wife to Vaishnodevi. Saale ko bola upar pohuchke ek friendly push de dena, saala gussa ho gaya. Take decisions and become pro-active, else stop cribbing.
Buss.
Bangalore is shut down because Rajkumar died. People have burned vehicles, blocked roads and closed markets. The so called silicon city of India, hub of the new face of india, home to the most 'happening' population of India. Tum sab kannadio ki !!&&**%. When I was in blore, there was a 7 day riot because Rajnikaant had come and during a speech, someone from the crowd abused him. This started a riot between !!&&**% Kannadis and !!&&**% Tambis that shut down the city. What the !!&&**% is the problem with these rasam guzzling !!&&**%? And the media! If this had happened in Kolkata, the channels and papers would have been full of how bandhs have ruined Bengal. When it comes to Bangalore, its 'genuine and spontenous outpouring of grief'.
Sehwag said 'Ganguly is history'. !!&&**% doesnt remember those days when Ganguly voluntarily broke up the most successful opening partnership (between him and Sachin) so Sehwag can open. !!&&**% does not even have the performance platform from which people like Dravid can dare to speak from.
Salman's lawyer has said killing a black buck is equivalent to killing cows, pigs, goats, fishes and chicken for eating. I am sure he will get a lot of support from the !!&&**% cow belt and from that !!&&**% Maneka. In India, the concept of animal protection is ludricious. So we have wild elephants destroying crops and forcing people to starve and people multiplying more than rabbits and eating up all forests. Maneka pass a one family one child law first u !!&&**%.
US has sounded a warning to Brazil to control deforestation in Brazil. Those !!&&**% are the biggest consumers of power. Cities are lit up 24 !!&&**% hours a day, heaters are on 12 months a year, they have started screwing up the Antartic for oil exploration digs and they dare lecture others.
Vivek is taking his wife to Vaishnodevi. Saale ko bola upar pohuchke ek friendly push de dena, saala gussa ho gaya. Take decisions and become pro-active, else stop cribbing.
Buss.
Apr 11, 2006
Another firang rape?
Was sitting in a bar in CP last sunday. It was a typical 'theka' kind of place and was filled up by typical middle class regular drinkers. And in a corner there was this beautiful Japanese (i think) girl sitting alone with a bottle of beer. Everybody's eyes, minds and other things were focussed on this girl. Next to the girl there were 3 young guys who were trying to work up courage to start exploring options. As expected they could not come up with the guts, but unexpectedly it was the girl who struck up conversation with these guys. Things progressed from talking, toasting, offering cigarettes, offering beer, taking snaps, taking closer snaps, hand-accidently-brushing-tits moves, hands-casually-resting-on-thighs moves to requesting the girl to take turns with each of them for 'friendly' photographs. Everyone else in the bar was mentally cursing these guys for their incredible luck, rueing their own table selection fate and asking god what they had done in their past lives to deserve this. I was thinking whether I will be reading tomorrow's paper about another rape in a car. But then these arseholes screwed up. They got so excited that one of them made a call and in about 5 minutes in walked 3 of their friends. The ones that came in were total taporis, answering perfectly to the 'jeans jacket-love locket- comb in back pocket' category of delhiites. They all crowded at the same table and the ratio now read 6-1. Some warning bells went off in the girl's head and she excused herself, got up, paid the bill and beat it. Everyone cheered (mentally) and smiles and conversations started all around the bar. The 6 sat there scratching their heads and wondering what went wrong. What arseholes!!
Judiciary going overhead
Saw a banner in Chandni Chowk yesterday. It read:
'Haseena marti hai to sarkar hilti hai,
Gareeb vyapari marta hai to sarkar kyu soti hai?'
The reference was to the hype over the Jessica Laal case and the recent High Court decision to demolish all shops in residential areas in Delhi. The demolition issue has 3 aspects to it:
1) Why was permission given to construct shops in residental areas in the first place? Who will catch the MCD and court officials who had been bribed to allow this to happen in the first place?
2) The court has ruled that Chandni Chowk is a residential area. Its a bloody 200 year old market! From the very first city plan it had been designated as a commercial area. Now one judge's ruling has changed all that.
3) The traders have also said that they are willing to relocate if they are provided land elsewhere. Their point is when u demolish slums u relocate beggars and squatters, whereas we have paid for these establishments.
I agree with the traders here. The court has suddenly started taking on a totalitarian role. There have been other excesses by the court in the near past. I am no fan of Salman, but 5 years for killing a deer?? Isnt that a bit too much to swallow?
'Haseena marti hai to sarkar hilti hai,
Gareeb vyapari marta hai to sarkar kyu soti hai?'
The reference was to the hype over the Jessica Laal case and the recent High Court decision to demolish all shops in residential areas in Delhi. The demolition issue has 3 aspects to it:
1) Why was permission given to construct shops in residental areas in the first place? Who will catch the MCD and court officials who had been bribed to allow this to happen in the first place?
2) The court has ruled that Chandni Chowk is a residential area. Its a bloody 200 year old market! From the very first city plan it had been designated as a commercial area. Now one judge's ruling has changed all that.
3) The traders have also said that they are willing to relocate if they are provided land elsewhere. Their point is when u demolish slums u relocate beggars and squatters, whereas we have paid for these establishments.
I agree with the traders here. The court has suddenly started taking on a totalitarian role. There have been other excesses by the court in the near past. I am no fan of Salman, but 5 years for killing a deer?? Isnt that a bit too much to swallow?
Apr 7, 2006
World Test Playing 11
Toughest post till date..comments please.
- sunny
- greenidge
- lara
- richards
- sachin
- dujon
- roberts
- holding
- warne
- imran
- lilee
Apr 5, 2006
It happens only in America
True story (courtesy Suro)
A lawyer purchased a box of very rare and expensive cigars, then insured them against fire among other things. Within a month having smoked his entire stockpile of these great cigars and without yet having made even his first premium payment on the policy, the lawyer filed a
claim against the insurance company. In his claim, the lawyer stated the
cigars were lost "in a series of small fires."
The insurance company refused to pay, citing the obvious reason: that the
man had consumed the cigars in the normal fashion. The lawyer sued .. and won!
In delivering the ruling, the judge agreed with the insurance company that
the claim was frivolous. The Judge stated, nevertheless, that the lawyer
held a policy from the company in which it had warranted that the cigars
were insurable and also guaranteed that it would insure them against fire,
without defining what is considered to be unacceptable fire, and was
obligated to pay the claim. Rather than endure lengthy and costly appeal
process, the insurance company accepted the ruling and paid $15,000 to the lawyer for his loss of the rare cigars lost in the "fires."
NOW FOR THE BEST PART...
After the lawyer cashed the check, the insurance company had him arrested on 24 counts of ARSON!!!!
With his own insurance claim and testimony from the previous case being
used against him, the lawyer was convicted of intentionally burning his
insured property and was sentenced to 24 months in jail and a $24,000
fine.
A lawyer purchased a box of very rare and expensive cigars, then insured them against fire among other things. Within a month having smoked his entire stockpile of these great cigars and without yet having made even his first premium payment on the policy, the lawyer filed a
claim against the insurance company. In his claim, the lawyer stated the
cigars were lost "in a series of small fires."
The insurance company refused to pay, citing the obvious reason: that the
man had consumed the cigars in the normal fashion. The lawyer sued .. and won!
In delivering the ruling, the judge agreed with the insurance company that
the claim was frivolous. The Judge stated, nevertheless, that the lawyer
held a policy from the company in which it had warranted that the cigars
were insurable and also guaranteed that it would insure them against fire,
without defining what is considered to be unacceptable fire, and was
obligated to pay the claim. Rather than endure lengthy and costly appeal
process, the insurance company accepted the ruling and paid $15,000 to the lawyer for his loss of the rare cigars lost in the "fires."
NOW FOR THE BEST PART...
After the lawyer cashed the check, the insurance company had him arrested on 24 counts of ARSON!!!!
With his own insurance claim and testimony from the previous case being
used against him, the lawyer was convicted of intentionally burning his
insured property and was sentenced to 24 months in jail and a $24,000
fine.
Apr 3, 2006
Is this cricket?
Munia was disgusted with me for not being happy with India's victory today. My point that it was not good cricket, England being without 7 members of their ashes team, did not wash water with her. The truth is that I dont consider this to be an Indian team bcos this is not the best 11 we have. Adding to that Chappel's arrogance, More's blatant high-handedness and Dravid's shameless spinelessness....no, there's no support for this team from within me. I do like it when youngsters like Sreeshant or Raina come good..but support for the team? NO WAY! How do you guys feel?
Koi Mil Gaya
Watched it for the 23rd time last weekend when I went to Bombay. Although the last 22 times have been at Riju's request (demand?) I have enjoyed each and every viewing. And its not just because of the great acting (Hrithik was brilliant), or the marvelous cinematography or choreography or script. Its watching the movie with kids that does it for me every time. Its a movie that not only makes a kid have a rolloicking time but also makes him think things out. It feels great to give a high five to my son when hrithik smartens up and tells the computer teacher 'aadmi computer ko banaya, computer ne aadmi ko nehi banaya. kisiko chota dikhane se pehle yaad rakhenge sir ki har chota ekdin bada hota hai'. Or to applaud and cheer wildly along with all the kids when hrithik manages to come with a fantastic dance step after trying and failing thrice.
And about making a child think, here is last saturday's conversation with my son:
Self: Achcha ayush tell me..this jaadoo becomes weak when there is no sun, so why doesn't he store his power in the day time?
Ayush: Like you charge your mobile and use it?
Self: Yeah?
Ayush: The sun is like fire and the moon is like a sea. When you pour water on a fire what happens?
Self: It goes out.
Ayush: Same. All powers of Jadoo goes out when the moon comes out.
Amazing or not?
And about making a child think, here is last saturday's conversation with my son:
Self: Achcha ayush tell me..this jaadoo becomes weak when there is no sun, so why doesn't he store his power in the day time?
Ayush: Like you charge your mobile and use it?
Self: Yeah?
Ayush: The sun is like fire and the moon is like a sea. When you pour water on a fire what happens?
Self: It goes out.
Ayush: Same. All powers of Jadoo goes out when the moon comes out.
Amazing or not?
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