Enigma

The Tale of Two Legends

2009-05-14T23:03:00.000-07:00

Almost 11 years ago at Sharjah when Sachin Tendulkar whipped the ball past square leg to author the Part -1 of the Desert Storm epic , the excited Richie Benaud cooed in the commentary box “That’s his hundred….issh-teering India to a plaish in the finals, Wonderfoool Innigssh”. Not only India but entire world stood up to recognize the legend of Tendulkar had arrived. More than a share of the epic’s credit goes to the opponent he was playing against – The Australians at their very best and the battle within the war with the Wizard of Oz – Shane Warne. For the fascinating characters in a story makes an intriguing read. And by no measures that epic was short of mythological characters on which children stories thrive - A proud, powerful Roman dynasty against a bunch of Gaul villagers led by Asterix.

11 years hence, not even a single passionate Indian cricket follower, with even god gifted prophesying power, would have predicted that one day half of India would root for the vanquished proud Knight of 1998 Sharjah epic and wish that their very own Asterix – Sachin- be beaten in flight of that legendary top spinner, or ripping leg break and loose the battle of two greatest magicians the cricketing world has ever seen. The plot was still the same – A powerful dynasty against the bunch of rustic villagers – however, the roles were swapped. The twinkled eyed Warne leading the bunch of no hopers. And with no strange coincidence the ending was as mythical as in 1998- The underdogs usurping the carpet underneath the ruler.

What Warne meant to world cricket is evident, even today, the moment he sets his feet on the cricket field. Ali, Becker, Jordan and Sachin had that aura when they set adrenaline pumping in sporting arena. Warne doesn’t stop with the adrenaline rush, he intoxicates and hypnotizes you. The Hollywood-ian aura embodying sense of awe, passion , excitement, action, manipulation all bundled into one body with a twitch of vulnerability and bubbling optimism. Watching Warne on cricket field is almost like reading through the great gambler’s mind in a Vegas casino. He likes to play blind but with the unraveling strategy and quantum physicist mind which is almost impossible to preempt. He thrives when he knows he has one trump card in his hand against the set of Jacks and Aces in the hands of his opposition. Invariably he drives the game from onset and befuddles stunned opposition converting his crappers into trumps. More often than not he wins the battle of wits for he reads the game so well that he is always predicting three-four moves well in advance like a seasoned chess player.

What this year’s IPL has brought forth so far was distinct line of demarcation between International class players against the domestic novices. Today it defined another thin line – One between mere Greats against the Legends of the game. Between 6th to 13th over of the return leg IPL match between Mumbai and Rajasthan, Tendulkar, Jayasuriya and Warne were the protagonists of the Act. However the great Jayasuriya almost faded in the shadow of the two legends Warne and Tendulkar as if he was playing a sidekick to the contest between the two heavyweights. It was a Clint Eastwood versus Amitabh Bacchhan stuff with Aamir Khan playing a sidekick.

As it happens with the action packed movies the sidekick was consumed with consummate ease by Warne to refocus the plot on the original battle. The first delivery from Warne to Tendulkar was a loopy leg spin pitched on middle and leg which was played with deft wrists. Slowly but surely Warne drew Tendulkar forward floating one further up. And as has been the great batting maestro’s exploit in 90s, this time too he accepted the invitation and with nimble foot moved inside out to lift one over extra cover boundary – Pressure released. Rather than the battle it was the artistry at its very best from two champion Mozarts of the last two decades performing a jugal bandi.

Vintage Tendulkar threatened to thrash the mere cricketers and mortals in opposition to pulp when one last time the magician came back to perform his Impedimenta spell., Sachin responed with Confundus charm. The wily top spinner pitched on off held its line and beat Sachin on flight as he crouched to sweep one behind square. Warne knew the spell had worked as he stretched his hand to lend out the war cry. As slowly the umpire’s finger was raised, the changing times enraged the similar emotions of Asterix vanquishing the Romans – Only difference was 11 years down the line Warnie is playing the role of Asterix.

Gob smacked…Mesmerized….Enthralled.

2009-04-16T08:33:00.000-07:00

Wow!!!..what a way to come back to my posts!!

This had to be one heck of a day…Tired…exhausted and almost drained out, I sit by the window side of 95th Floor building at Taipei 101 to type about one of the most enthralling performances I had witnessed just an hour back. Among plentiful of opportunities that NUS has kept providing me over the two year period, this has to go down as one of the best…probably at the apogee of my excitement level.

The Global Business Conference at Taipei was something I had been waiting for weeks now. But what I didn’t anticipate was the kind of reception and pleasant surprises it had in store. Sitting amidst the cognitive elite of best of the best business school brains around the world, I for once am awestruck with the kind of ideas and opportunities bouncing off during the brainstorming session. But hang on…this post is not about any skills on Leadership or Management opportunities that I came across in a day long event – This is about the Traditional Chinese Opera- An hour long performance towards the end of the day which simply blew away the intense atmosphere of the day; leaving us gobsmacked, mesmerized, enthralled and spell bound.

I have a pretty doubtful mind when the word Opera rings in my ear drum. Somehow I visualize Shakespeare doling out his woeful ballads at snail’s pace amidst stiffed-upper-lipped-sophisticated ambience. Probably an ideal place to take your girl friend –if you have one – where she sheds tear and you shed dollars for those tears. With the similar kind of impression when I entered the performance centre, I was surprised to see a bright, sanguine atmosphere on the stage rather than doleful, gloomy background that I anticipated. On the one corner of the stage, the artists dressed in most colorful and glossy costumes greeting us with those innocuos smiles. Till that I point I didnt have slightest of idea of what was about to come.

Just to give a brief snapshot of the theme of the performance. This one was conducted by National Fu-shin troupe , a renowned Chinese Opera troupe of National Traditional performing Arts. Well, the story goes something like a fairy tale between a sea creature – probably a gelly fish, who impersonates herself as a beautiful damsel, and a young man from nearby hamlet. The impersonated sea creature sets up an enthralling romantic encounter with the young man on a Rainbow bridge. And when the young man wants to marry this sea creature, heaven breaks loose – literally and actually- as this is against the rules of the nature. The king of heaven – the Jade Emperor - sends across scores and fleet of soldiers to capture this sea creature. The sea creature gives her life saving pearl as a token of love. When defeated, this pearl converts into an elixir and defeats the forces from the heaven.

A simplistic story garnished with incredible martial art performance, breathtaking out fit, jaw dropping traditional somersault dance and topped up with mid air-kicking, weapon juggling and tossing with artistic finesse and incredible synchronization. In a stage size of 20 X 20 ft, holding a battalion of troupe without seemingly getting crowded, where every single movement of the performance was in resonance to the drum beats and traditional Chinese folk song. To fill in the interludes , repeated audience’s exclamatory response during the performance personified the grip, the troupe had, on every single soul witnessing the performance. The magnanimity of the performance infused such an infectious warm response among the delegates that we all stood up and gave a standing ovation and never-ending applause after the performance.

As I am typing the final few words...those reverberating beats and melodious symphony still ringing in my ear - Of course romanticizing is the last word that I know in English Dictionary - so you bet where I am coming from.

Time to sleep as I wait for another day in anticipation….and yes talking of bouncing off the ideas…a small piece of thought for you to ponder upon- Confucius style of leadership wasn’t much different from preachings across the border from our very own Kautiliya. That interesting dawning perspective I leave for tomorrow’s musing.

Cheers!

What it Required to Resume my Scribblings…..

2008-06-05T00:15:00.000-07:00

I know…I know….I betrayed most of you bunch of faithful readers who were expecting my next post from the high walls of NUS. Thursday Child, Mansee and few Anonymous-es due apologies for letting down you loyalists who believed I could write!!

Well it didn’t take short of a Mesmerizing, Amazing, Once in a Lifetime experience of watching the IPL final, along with a persuasive reading of Aamir Khan’s blog and also comfort of getting back to the closed confines of the office cubicle to propell me to shoot off straight from my key board. I had stated in my one of the writings that I write only when I feel strongly passionate about something around me. Perhaps today is the day when words haven’t stopped flowing.

Admittedly NUS MBA life has nothing to do with my long long hibernation….in spite of so much hype/aura created before you enter a B School about the time or lack of it…and the added responsibility of heading the Student Council, I never had dearth of time to catch sleep, to watch a cricket match on my favorite Sopcast and yes to indulge in bakwaas chit chat.

But first thing first – THE IPL FINAL!!!!..Yes Sir…I came…I saw and I was overwhelmed!!!...One of my biggest dreams has been watching a Cricket Match featuring India at MCG, at Lords and at Eden Gardens. Well IPL final if not superseded that expectation atleast matched my anticipation. And yes Aamir Khan too scribbled in his blog that he was there at the Stadium getting mesmerized by Sachin’s instincts and hunch to predict deliveries beforehand. Unfortunately he didn’t sit next to me else he would have been smittened by my comprehension of the game!!...Be it my predictions of Balaji about to bowl short one of the last delivery or Warnie putting a deep extra cover as soon as Dhoni walks in to bat or for that matter Sohail Tanvir’s about to bowl low indipper of penultimate ball of the innings…all predictions were bang on!! That too without playing a single International match!!!...Hope Aamir books his seat next to me in advance for the next match which we watch together.:-)….

Cricket is only thing in my life of which I am cocky and bullish about my and my stocks have never betrayed me!!!:-)

For almost hour and a half I was hooked to my seat with bloated eyes, grasping the atmosphere, soaking the ambience…drooling at the site of the ground…and trying to catch a glimpse of Sunny Gavaskar, Ravi Shastri and yes Shane Warne…The heavy aussie accented words of Bill Lawry were ringing in my ears…”It’s All Happening Out Here…Dear” and I could anticipate Ravi Shastri oozing with delight in Commentary Box suggesting to viewers ”The Atmosphere is absolutely Electric!!” ….

Leave aside superlative Laser Show, Acrobatic Feats and Bollywood remixes for the starters…the thing that send made me go bananas was Salman Khan’s grand entry on stage…Boy!!..He is a Superstar!!...A real Superstar and a hunk with perfect attitude and stage presence…Now I realize why these Superstars deserve to be seen on 70 mm screen…

The cracker of a match, albeit slightly ended on a disappointing note as Chennai Superkings were edged out, filled my appetite. The sumptuous delight of seeing of some of the greatest cricketers in flesh and blood from the stands near the midwicket/deep third man fence is still running through my veins. I am rushing off the stadium to jot down one memorable piece for my blog….

26 Years of wait was worth the Gold!! And yes the internship in Mumbai will always be remembered for this One Silver Lining :)…

Hopefully in coming posts I would narrate down the Harry Pottersque journey at NUS so far!!

Life @ NUS MBA – 2

2007-08-13T02:46:00.000-07:00

Gosh!!! At last I found some time to unwind after frenetic first week of intensive module. The Late nights or in fact no night sleep has begun and the droopy eyes yearn for an extra half hour sleep. “Catch me if you can!!!” that’s how The Sleep is mocking at my face. However, it can’t deter me to pen down my weekly post.

The Unique Cohort
Entire cultural globe is sitting with you in the class- You name a region in the world and you have an opinion on that. Welcome to International MBA. Think of diversity and “Abundant” is the word that comes to my mind. Other day I was sitting in "Management in Organization" class when there was an interesting discussion going around about the cultural clash in an organization. Incidentally, the MBA classes are better than the drowsy lectures of undergraduate days. Coming back to the cultural clash topic, it was interesting to know that Spanish people hate Norwegian by the tip of their nose. Corruption is the issue not only deep rooted in India system but it’s equally rampant in China, Korea, Indonesia and Thailand. Koreans don’t like foreign goods flooding their market. And yes George W. Bush consistently ranks first, across all countries, as the Most Hated Statesman of modern era.

Talking of the distinct characteristics of student, the Chinese and ASEAN students appear to be most humble, hard working and sincere in entire cohort. I wonder how India can be at political conflict with such soft spoken Chinese people. May be I am just skimming the surface of an unknown culture. The humane intent and values seem to hold more distinct proposition as you travel further east of Greenwich. Having said that, I have to admit Singaporean food isn’t as nice as people around here are. Every day when I coax through a bite of Singaporean cuisine, the words of Simba strikes my mind “ Slimy…. yet Satisfying!!”

However, when I think about Indians in the class, there was an anticipated fear which unfortunately proved to be true. Like other B schools in India here too you don’t form personal relationship, you only create professional leverages for yourself. I sense there is a serious gulf that surrounds people pursuing MBA. They wear a mythical veil around them to disguise their real persona.There is a fear gripping the mindset of the people, if you reveal yourself a bit extra, you might loose the race for that “Unknown” apogee. May be with maturity, people become increasingly suspicious about human presence around them. You don’t want to be stranded companionless, yet you don’t want anyone to come too close to you either. I had heard this refrain from my friends studying in IIMs. I am experiencing this first hand here at NUS.

Perhaps my understanding of human psychology is slightly different but I cannot befriend anyone just because I can derive benefits and advantages from him/her. Neither can I shirk from someone because I have anticipated that he/she won’t be influential in my career objectives. Relationship isn’t a business model. For me it is striking wavelength at right time with right people. I need to be there when people are looking for support and yearn for company. Leave aside professional goals, I believe if I can become a better human being with a knack of understanding human compassion and psychology, my objective for MBA is fulfilled. Else I too will keep running in the race which doesn’t seem to have any culmination point. Do I need to be super special to imbibe these human qualities? I believe not.

Outbound Singapore
The first step towards breaking that proverbial ice amongst the cohort was taken in Outbound Singapore program- A two day excursion trip to an island. Team building activities had been staple practices in companies where I worked. It carried rewarding experiences; however, the effect seemed to diffuse out with time. This time around it was different- here your companion’s life was at stake.

Yes I am serious when I mentioned last few words- The life was at stake. Rock climbing is an art. It is more than just physical strength. It is having firm belief on yourself to conquer the mounting adversary and having belief that your mates down below hold the metaphorical thread of your life. I had never done rock climbing before and for first time my stamina was touching the threshold. Every single climb seemed a gigantic leap towards the top. I failed to conquer any of the targets. Yet there was excitement and adrenaline rush when you are perched 200 m above the ground level, dangling in thin air on a rope. What a start to MBA program!! I was wondering- Why I never thought of joining army? At least I would have experienced such exciting physical errand million times.

Orpheus – A unique set of leaders
During one of the intensive module classes, there was a video played about Orpheus, a Boston based rock band. This band is a topic of case studies across top B schools in the world. One of the Harvard professors noted a very interesting thing about Orpheus. This band doesn’t have a music conductor. Meaning there was no leader of the band. Still each member of the band has immaculate synergy and synchronization.

People reflect upon their working style as new form of leadership where each member has the privilege of been the leader of the troupe during the concert. Think of decentralizing power- Here is the prime example. Orpheus has been playing bands in business and executive meetings as an example of coherent combined leadership. Frictions and clash of opinions and ego do occur within the team , still the troupe put aside the differences and work towards creating symphony and melody.

To round off there was an interesting incident that happened to one of my Indonesian class mates. He has big time fascination about Indian culture and people. As per his own admission he knows only two things about India- Taj Mahal and Infosys. So one day he decided to increase his repertoire about Indian Diaspora by watching a Hindi Movie. What better way to start than with “Guru”. This is what you and I may think but not this mate of mine. He went to watch “Guru” because somebody, presumably, recommended him this movie as a super hit porn movie. Now this poor fellow waited and waited for three hours, enduring songs after songs, fancying Aishwaraya Rai in every forthcoming scene. But the real action never began. Dejected and despondent about the “quality” of Bollywood movie, he put his idea of understanding Indian Diaspora on shelf for a while

I don’t know whether 16 months is an ideal time to interact with every member of the 2007 cohort or to utilize oceanic resources that NUS has in its mysterious cauldron. For that matter will I ever be able to explore every nook and corner of this sprawling campus bearing an inviting aura to explore the treasure. Before coming to NUS, the questions often pricked my mind “Why NUS?”, "Have I chosen right path?". After coming here confidence brims over the conviction- “Why not NUS?”

By the way my Sorting hat has further confounded my leaky conundrum filled thought process. It says follow your heart and you will succeed in your vision- Management Consultancy vs Finance job. One Gryffindoer, the other Slytherin. But mind says- Wait and Watch.May be there is some ray of light shredding this ambiguity- I prefer to wait for time being.

LIFE @ NUS MBA – 1

2007-08-06T04:57:00.000-07:00

To Singapore, my Hogwarts and my Matriculation day.

I am scribbling these lines cranked in between a weird Case study and a voluminous book to gulp down.

It has been almost a week since I landed in Singapore. Admittedly the last five days has passed in a wink of second. Welcome to the MBA program – Time waits for none, not for sure for MBA grads. Yet I don’t want to loose these times into oblivion because future, though unsure, yet appears to carry bucket full of surprises.

First thing first, Singapore as expected is amazing. When I say amazing, I mean every letter of A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. As you land on Changi Airport. Singapore welcomes you with an open arm and perhaps bountiful of goodies. No immigration hassles, no irritating custom officials and not at all those nagging tout taxi drivers outside the airport. Only place in the world where foreigners enjoy equal privileges to that of local resident. I was waiting for my “Meet the Greet” service personnel in airport lounge when I came across this interesting interview of the City Mayor on a local Television channel. One line that struck my thought waves was “With Freedom comes responsibility”. Outer perception suggests that authorities here in Singapore are autocratic. Singapore is fine because you are FINED for stupid reasons. However, discipline and social responsibility has been instilled in minds of local Singaporean to such an extent that it exudes in their mannerism in public place. If I break rules regularly, my offspring will assume the breaking of rule as a Rule. Democracy isn’t only about freedom and rights ,its about duties, obligations and responsibilities. The modern marvel that Singapore is – these words doesn’t seem to stick only to text books. In fact it exits here in physical form.

The wide roads and smooth traffic is so reminiscent of good old days in Chennai when I use to drive on my bike like free bird. Not a single cubic area did I find in Singapore where there was dust or pollution. And yes, how can I forget to mention the MRT link which is the lifeline of Singapore. A marvelous train network running across the length and breadth of Singapore with precision of a millisecond of the digital clock. I have heard that only millionaires can afford car in Singapore. The comfort of MRT presumably never allows the middle income group to instigate the fire of owning one for them. But and this one is important but, if you are a vegetarian, Singapore is not the place for you. In fact I struggled for two days to find a decent appetite for my shrinked tummy. There is a strange aroma that engulfs all the eateries that I moved around which kills my appetite. I am yearning for good , decent roti-sabji for days now.

I take a break from Singapore saga, for I have yet to explore the city to fullest. The subsequent posts will better justify my statement in previous paragraphs. For now, it’s over to my college- NUS Business School. NUS Business School is located in a sprawling campus with most modern facilities. You name it- They have it. My “Hogwarts” is indeed beautiful (By the way I am typing these lines from the comforts of my ultra modern MBA lounge). I had been waiting for my Matriculation day with similar anxiety as Harry Potter had about his first sorting night at Hogwarts. I was expecting my Dumbledore to come and unfold the arrays of magical enchantments one after another. And yes I was hopeful that my starving body will get some breather like the one Harry use to have on Halloween nights. My Dumbledore indeed came. So did Prof McGongall (leadership skills) , Snape(Finance & Accounting), Mad Eye Moody (Marketing ) , Fitwick( Management & Organization),Glideroy Lockhart(Business Policy) and yes Lupin (for the jinxed Corporate Strategy).

I expected the orientation to be dressing down session where all the profs would deliver threatening lecture about the core module. To my pleasant surprise, it turned out to be quite an amiable affair. Dumbledore was all praise for this cohort and his speech was warmest welcome that I must have received in similar occasion over the years. Truly, the faculty appreciated our maturity and treated us with respect. They never promised sky but never deterred us to chase the stars. There was a sense of sincerity in the words that Dumbledore spoke and perhaps in his wisdom lays my magical spells for next 16 months. The Sorting Hat on my head is dwindling with thoughts whether to follow my heart and passion- opt for Corporate Strategy- or choose more realistic path of Finance. Unlike Harry, it will take one full term to decide which path I follow- Gryffindoer or Slytherin.

Over past seven months since I first applied for NUS, I had been highly appreciative about the honesty and integrity with which people carry out business here. They never create unnecessary hassle and as they promised they delivered a perfect orientation. I hope I can justify their faith in me as one of the future ambassador of the college and head for Halloween to fill my empty stomach. :-)

One Last Hurrah

2007-07-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

The dust is finally settling down across the Northern skies facing my cubicle. It's peach dark outside. Those retreating rains are still beating ferociously on the window panes- perhaps resonating with the emotions which exemplify my stay at Manhattan Associates. Today is my last day at Manhattan and I still yearn for more of those enticing moments that drove me every day to the office. I am sitting in my cubicle, scribbling down last few words before those IT people scoot off with my most prized possession, my desktop. Those riveting memories of year and a half are zooming from all quarters across my cerebrum.

Manhattan Associates, an office...Naaaaah....It was and it is an institution for me. I left my college with excitement in heart yet with apprehension about unfathomed corporate world. I departed from Cognizant with disillusioned mind and strong revulsion towards professional life. I am bidding adieu to Manhattan with sense of accomplishment, fulfillment and gratification with scores of amazing experiences. Just a while back I was browsing through the lines that I wrote about my first few days at Manhattan.
http://horacruxinmind.blogspot.com/2006/05/wish-affection-is-bestowed-not-by.html
Indeed, for a change my judgment wasn't wrong. There was something different about Manhattan that drove me to scribble those lines during the beginning of my tenure. And there is a mystic aura about it which holds me back today to sit and pen down one final epilogue.

What was it that made my innings a sweet cameo at Manhattan? Very hard to pick one instance; certainly there are many vying for top slot but the one which tops my list is the respect that I got as a professional and as human being. A while back I was reading series of interviews by JRD Tata. A discernible point that JRD made in his interviews, time and again, was the emphasis on human values and welfare of employees in running an organization. Nothing can replace human quotient in an organization- Not work, not even money. He believed in it and that's why Tatas are most revered industrialist in the country today. In modern times when invariably all organizations are humming the mantra of "Cut Cost, Make Profit" at drop of the hat, the respect for human entity is slowly loosing it's relevance in corporate world. An ideal case in point is tagging fellow employees as Resource. I treat it as insult on individual’s existence and sensibilities. I hate it big time- I don’t want to loose my identity in crowd where thousands are ready to replace me in wink of a second. Perhaps, one of the driving forces to leave my previous organization. I love every bit of "Corporate De-toxifiction" that I underwent in past year and half at Manhattan. I hope to pinch out every bit of inhuman ingredient that I have imbibed in coming two years.

The most striking aspect that evokes my mind about Manhattan is as soon as you enter the premise; there is Margret, our receptionist, greeting you with a beaming smile. After all it doesn’t cost you fortune to pass a warm compliment early in the day. Being a relatively small organization, Manhattan carries lot of positives. People in responsible positions know you first hand. You don’t expect any favor yet there is a comfort zone enveloping your conscious that if ever I need some one there are people to help me out. There are several big organizations making hypocritical statement of employee favored environment. I suspect how many of them actually implement it first hand. I find there is a gargantuan gap between what these companies’ CEOs say and what the company actually practices I have a point to put across to these organizations- An organization is like a tree. It depends on its gardeners whether they want it to be a Eucalyptus tree- tall in size, arrogance personified but bearing no fruits or a Banyan tree- Dense, leafy yet erected with grounded humility. Excuses will be plenty to sabotage such seemingly utopian theory, yet very few possess zeal required to make a positive difference amidst people around.

An individual's ownership to the company begins only when he has personal association with every single brick of the foundation. I loved my first day at Manhattan because my cubicle had my name engraved on it and my desktop wasn’t meant to be shared with others. It may sound trivial and frivolous .But I had come from an organization where the moment you finish your project there are bunch of people hovering around your cubicle like vultures, ready to pounce on your desktop and occupy your space- Metaphorically, you are rendered homeless for days. At Manhattan my cubicle bore my name in big bold letters "Adarsh Abhineet" my desktop had single ownership with user id “aabhineet”- I possessed it and I have carried the insignia with me. One of the fallouts of growing organization is lack of association in succeeding generation of employees. I believe more than anything else it’s because of unplanned, inorganic growth. True there are demands to be met but what about existing plate that you have in your hand. Why do organizations prefer loosing an experienced goose in favor of hundred Turks?

The team that I joined at Manhattan saw a swift transition from elderly statesmen governing the show to youthful tyros bringing in much needed exuberance, passion and charm. What drives a person to office everyday? Work- I think very few would pitch in for this. Money- A sizeable lot but with passion lasting as long as daffodils live. Great team mates with fun filled work environment- I loved it and looked forward to every morning to see those beautiful smiling faces again. After all who likes a gloomy boss with stiffed upper lipped, ears crammed between big headphones, team mates??? Ironically, when I joined Manhattan it took me almost four months to get along with my team mates. Presumably, I was too skeptical about corporate culture that I never wanted to metamorphose a professional relationship to a personal level. I just grin at the suggestion made by my team mates that initial perception about me was of a serious, no-nonsense person with limited aptitude for words in the mouth. I regret now why I lost four valuable months in allowing the hypothetical veil, surrounding my persona, to uncover. People make a place/group charming or hackneyed and gloomy for an individual. Negative vibes, cynical attitude will always try to overwhelm system. It’s the human spirit complemented by camaraderie that drives a team, a project and an organization. I experienced it first hand at Manhattan and I cherished every bit of it.

Ah! How can I miss out mentioning my love affair with office gymnasium when I refer to Manhattan!! It was the sanctum where I spent maximum time with myself, my thoughts and talked to my sub conscious. Every day the gym stored a challenge for me- 4.5 KM in 20 minutes of treadmill, 225 KCal of cardio, 15 Ibs of triceps, 20 lbs of chest and so on. I used to fail one day. Come back, with intense vigor the next morning to surmount my adversary. Failed again!! Perhaps, determination wasn’t there. Third morning the intensity was more severe, grit more concentrated and target was well and truly conquered. It was fight within me and I rejoiced every inch of victory that I achieved. Gym was my meditative centre. The freshness and vibrancy after workout invariably escorted me through out the day. At times gym was my second home. Every morning seemed painful getting out of comfort of the bed, yet discipline overruled lackadaisical attitude and a habit was well and truly engraved in my mind.

People often cite innumerable reasons to leave an organization. I believe as long as every morning presents itself with challenge to conquer an individual’s Intelligence Quotient and every evening has an incentive to trigger an individual’s Emotional Quotient to return to the work place next morning, issue of iteration will never cripple an organization. It’s hard to achieve, but definitely not impossible to comprehend. Manhattan has and will have issues and as the organization will grow, there will be unforeseen ailments posing serious obstacle. But as they say:

Sweet are the uses of adversity,which,
like a toad,though ugly and venomous,
wears yet a presious jewel in its head

For the moment, I sign off as the last drop of the rain trickles down the window. The journey has come to an end and new errand is in offing. After all I believe in fading away from the scene when people are still wondering “Why” before they pose the question “Why Not?”

A Tale of Two Cities- II

2007-06-04T02:02:00.000-07:00

CITY CITY BANG BANG

In my previous blog, I had stated that Perceptions are indeed built on wrong foundation.
But what if perceptions overpower the reality and bring forth a disguised motif. The second half of tale of two cities is about my days in Bangalore.

It has been a year now since I physically “Bangalored” myself to the frenzy lifestyle of this once poetic tranquil locale. Never had revulsion been as strong against people and place as I had upon reaching Bangalore. From the land where people believed in conservative moderation, to the place where every spot seemed gloated with ostentatious display- A cultural shock had struck me big time.

How do I classify Bangalore- A hub of pampered riches or clumsy road links leading to chaotic traffic. Aah…Traffic!!..As I am typing these words I am struck amidst one of those endless queues of trendy cars, tattered trucks, nudging taxis and of course violent auto rickshaws. Rain is beating heavily on windshield of my office cab and I am mentally preparing myself for the timeless arduous drive back home. Somehow I never understood the logic. Why…why in the world did the city planner built a bus stand next to a traffic signal? Every time the traffic looks to move a big BMTC bus bumps into the way and thumps its chest, challenging the lowly cars, taxis and motor bikes. The short sightedness was never apparent as the one I see in the eyes of local authorities. Why these buses are blue, red and yellow in color? Why they are not Green? – Trivial aspects pricking my mindset. This was how I saw Bangalore with a biased vision.

Perhaps my disgust and dislike for Bangalore was more quantified when I found myself crammed in every single place where I went. There was not a single joint in the city where a people gave me a personal space. Every time where I stand or sit there was some one overlooking my shoulder or brushing aside. I started to hate driving. I thought twice before going to Landmark and scenes at restaurants or eateries always had a repulsive effect on my appetite. Claustrophobic was the word I realized in actual terms. Indeed India’s population has exploded in big way. Those wide roads of Chennai, tranquility of beaches and humility amongst people appeared to be distant memory. What is good in this city…I kept wondering and the search continued.

Where in the world was Pensioner’s Paradise?

But times change and so do perceptions crash- albeit it took tad longer this time round. The early chilly morning of autumn was greeted with those spirited voices of RJs in Radio City and Radio Mirchi. The ride to office was not that bad after all. Every morning those feet tapping music set the tone for the day. I had realized that I had shielded my eyes, my ears, my mind and my conscious in big way. These RJs are trying to spread a positive vibes amidst the chaos of the city yet I was refusing myself to yield. Am I really getting over critical about my surroundings?

Actually I did never possess an open mind when I set foot in this city. I was allowing the past to punctuate my present and over clouding my future. The best aspect about Bangalore that I was ignoring for a while was the discipline that I had inculcated in my life style. Not only professionally but in personal life- To beat odds and time I was utilizing my hours prudently and efficiently. Once I started accepting the people and the city, the picture started looking better. The best way to bond with a city is to befriend its people. My association with Chennai had deep roots because I had shared wonderful relationship with the people.

And here in Bangalore, I was blessed in company of people whom I treasure more than my life. Yet I was not attaching value to their association. At times I isolated myself from the people and lived in my own world. Loneliness breeds pessimism. Good times bring about positive mindset and feel good factor with it. Conquering the Goliath-sized challenges overshadowed all the nemesis that I had started associating with Bangalore. On hindsight when I look at this apogee of success, I realize how much this city has given to me. I came here with aspiring mind but in confused state. I am departing with clear mindset and definitely bag full of treasure.

Over period of time I have got used to demands that any growing city bears and the probable hiccups. Yet the striking aspect of Bangalore has been the buzz that you can hear wherever you go. Perhaps over-prosperous capitalism too is like hot egg- difficult to sustain. The office no longer looks gloomy and dull. I enter my dominion with enthusiasm and optimism. Who cares for those reviled traffic jams? Just check out some nice looking females in cars or bikes(incidentally in scarcity in Chennai) and move on when signal is Green. Landmark is crowded…What about Crosswords where people are there few and far between the aisles of books. And yes forget Bikes and Barrel of Chennai- 13th Floor here is awesome!! Looking for a long drive- just zoom through the roads of Mysore highway.

Its people that make a place good or bad- My realization was more conclusive when I visited Chennai this time round. Though I enjoyed my trip, I kept on missing Bangalore, its people, its traffic jams, its crowded malls, the people I left behind here, its temperate climate and yes the music on airwaves of Radio City.

A Tale of Two Cities - I

2007-05-14T00:20:00.000-07:00

Ennkka Chennai Pudichirukku

Often perceptions and notions are built on wrong foundation. Sooner they crumble to pieces, better the rumble results into some rewarding experiences.

Last week I paid a visit to Chennai, the city I left a year back. I believe and I hope it shouldn’t be my last visit to this mystic place. I vividly remember my maiden trip to Chennai to kick start my professional career. Perhaps I never had a more skewed perception about the place, people and region before actually going there. The numerous “knowledgeable” North Indian experiences had created enough negative impression in my mind to suggest that I won’t survive in this hellish place for more than a month.

On hindsight I give a grin to myself when I recollect and still hear that Chennaites are most inhospitable, arrogant people with strong anti-North Indian sentiments. Chennai as it is known for two specialties- Inhumanely hot weather and saline water. And perhaps those innumerable sarcastic smiles from mates and relatives on hearing that I am going to live in land of idli, dosa and sambhar didn’t do my confidence a world of good.

What I saw in Chennai that destroyed this perception is hard to say. It didn’t happen overnight nor did everything go hunky-dory for two years in this southern land. As a typical North Indian would, I landed Chennai with an apprehensive mindset expecting to bump into some snob Tamilians who would kick me out of the place first day itself. Such was my inflated anxiety level that I tried to camouflage my appearance so that nobody recognizes me that I am a North Indian. On first day itself I yearned to hear any soul speaking a word in Hindi or a face resembling a fairer look, suggesting that he/she is a North Indian. The Vasantha Bhavans, Sarvana Bhavans and Udupi eateries displaying bare cupboard in terms of staple diet of Roti and North Indian curry. The great Indian cultural divide was standing in front of me- bare chested and challenging my EQ, IQ and TQ( Tolerance Quotient). I can’t live in this place…No Way!!!!

Things turned even sour when most of my college mates left Chennai after initial two months of training period. Sense of jubilation, relief and ecstasy were written all over their place before leaving Chennai. After all who wanted to stay in this cursed land - The cool Bangalore weather, trendy Pune, downtown Kolkata, and Northie city of south Hyderabad were calling them with open arms. I was left behind to curse my ill fate and fight out this hostile environment. My alienation towards Chennai and Tamil speaking people grew to height of revulsion and hatred. The hard to pronounce localities of Thiruvanmyur, Purusvakkam, Thoraipakkam looked like dungeons.

Soon I was down with serious viral fever. And for the first time I realized cultural barrier can never super impose human qualities. My landlady and her family who can hardly speak a word in English, forget Hindi, was sitting there by my bedside day in day out. Doing my medication and nursing me through my physical and emotional vulnerability. I doubt whether she would have taken care of her son any better than what she did to me. The seemingly snob Tamilians in my office, whom I never bothered to interact with, were there by my side providing support.

During this period when I had nothing much to do, except watching Tamil channels aired on Television, I started interacting with my elderly land lady through sign language. I was speaking in English/Hindi. She was communicating in Tamil. Yet somehow we were able to follow what the other is saying. Human faces and gesture say a lot than what they appear to. My inclination towards reading proved to be an ideal foil for I picked up some of the wonderful Tamil literatures translated in English.

The best thing to come out during this phase was my revulsion towards Chennai soothed down a bit. With chance of moving out of this place looked slim, I readied myself to accept the land and the people. Thankfully with three of my friends ( the protagonists of my past blog “The Legacy of A-1 Raagamallika”) joining in, life took a U turn in Chennai. The more I interacted with Tamilians, the more I started liking them. Perhaps what struck me most were their humility, subtle wit and association with cultural roots. Most of them who later on became very good friends and some best friends of mine are as chill as anybody would be. It’s not the place but the people who make the place good or bad. The fond memories of Chennai are more because I kept on meeting some really interesting people one after another.

Interestingly when I landed Chennai, I was told it is land of three sexes: Males, Non Males and Females (who form 0.01% of entire population). Though the refrain is racist and at times irreverent and flippant, yet it is true. However, for me female percentage had far greater number for I had discovered some real hot joints in the heart of the city- Stella Marris, Ethiraj College, Loyola College, Bikes and Barrels, Sathyam Theatre and definitely Tidel Park on Fridays to name a few. And after all I never lived amongst up market Delhi or Mumbai crowd to set too high standards for myself.:-)

Chennai exudes prosperity in every nook and corner. The so called cursed city is admittedly best governed places in India with minimum of hassles in day to day life, unlike in other metros and big towns. The magnanimity of the city is bestowed in its “Spectra” Wide beautiful roads, smooth traffic, life size billboards and beaches. One thing that always rekindles my memory when I think of Chennai is zooming on top of the Gemini flyover on my bike with huge billboards of MRF , Sun TV and Hindu overlooking you. Its awesome experience!! If Mumbai is known for its high rises then Chennai has to be city of flyovers. Then there was always a Landmark and spacious Coffee Day in Nungambakkam or Cenotaph Road to fall back to when I needed a change.

However, the best place to unwind is ECR road. I can’t imagine cruising on any other Indian roads above 120 Kmph. If day is hot and sultry, the evenings are always temperate and cool. Driving on roads running alongside the Indian Ocean and in company with couple of crazy friends, scooting off to Pondicherry for a booze by the beachside- Those struggling days in Chennai were a distant memory.

I always heard that Chennaites hold a fervent view against Hindi speaking people. Surprisingly I never found them so. On the contrary I being the only Hindi speaking individual in my projects was always made comfortable in meetings or general discussions. There always used to be bet on whether I am able to learn Tamil faster or my Tamil mates learn Hindi quicker. While I struggled with “Yenga Irruka” ,“Apdiyaah”, and “Saapda Pollamaah” , these guys started speaking fluent Hindi including those rustic Bihari lingo “Boojhe“, “Burbak“ et al.

How can I miss out mentioning Chennai without referring to Rajnikanth fanatics. If ever there is something called Idol Worship or treating Hero as a God, then it has to be Rajni fans. Incidentally I was there when mega block buster Chandramukhi was released and can’t imagine a far more frenzied crowd. The experience of watching a Rajni movie in theatre in itself is riveting with the magnitude of preparation going into making the occasion look like a festival. I pity likes of AB and SRK - Whether they would ever receive such adulation for their movies, I doubt.

Chennai has to be the cultural capital of India. I never imagined that I would hold such strong affiliation towards theatres and drama before going to Chennai. Perhaps arts and dance for me was best reserved for late night slots on Doordarshan which nobody care to watch. I realized people genuinely appreciate their traditional dance and music. They never considered these less glamorous cultural diasporas as un-cool and non fashionable. Even most modern lot would associate themselves to cultural events.

On my latest visit, I found the city has grown better and bigger. Those lanes, which used to be my hangout, have added gloss to it.-Specially one across Tidel Park. The Beasant Nagar beach though more crowded still remains the hottest joint and definitely my favorite Landmark in Nungambakkam still remains readers’ paradise. More flyovers are sprouting up. And yes people are getting ready for Rajnikanth’s latest flick Sivaji is going to release.

For me neither a person can ever be perfect nor is a place. However, just as I try to chaff out negative traits of a person, I have started picking up positives of a place. I can never quantify what Chennai gave to me and how its experience has evolved me as a person. But one thing is sure, from an honest North Indian heart I say - I loved my stay in hot, hotter, hottest Chennai!!

Sojourn Diary - I

2007-03-21T02:33:00.000-07:00

March 2, 2007

I have just boarded a Bihar bound train. The quintessential, rustic ambience of a typical “Bihari” train is back. Even sitting in Air Conditioned coach I am sensing the warmth of the people around me. Somehow journey by flights has never caught my imagination. I always find it too cosmetic for my liking. The Air hostess or stewards never seem to effuse genuine warmth. People try to maintain a false air around them reaching a threshold of being Snooty and Snobbish. Though so far I have survived being claustrophobic, surely my resilience won’t last too long if I have to make frequent trips on Boeings.

The Air Conditioned coaches on train seem to replicate the flights but to a lesser extent. If given a choice and guarantee for a window seat, I always prefer traveling on 2nd tier sleeper coaches. The hustling chilly air that sizzles past your face when you peek out of the window gives that unbridled joy of freedom. For once even most cabined spirits and droopy eyes lit up when it encounters those violent gusts of winds sweeping across rice and paddy crops.

As the train enters periphery of Bihar dominion, the train trudges along lazily, at times crawling and meandering towards its destination.The sprawling virgin land embraces me with an open arm. The speed, or lackadaisical motion, of the train almost replicates the mood of the region and of the people. The sanguine sunshine fighting the dark smoky window of the coach lays forward an open invitation to bask in Spring Chilly morning. The vast wide fields, people giving you ample attention and ever slow moving cattle - I am back to my native place. Thank God!! That noisy metropolis crowd is a distant memory for time being. You love Bihar or you hate Bihar but you can never ignore my motherland.

March 8, 2007 ( Mid Afternoon – Evening)

Finally I got the window seat of 2nd tier coach of train bound for Lucknow. It has been ages since I set foot in North India. Ever since graduating from college, the mesmeric charm and affability of Southern India almost made me forget that there exist anything above Vindhyas. Before I scribble any further about skewed views that I carry about this Great Indian divide, I have to mention about my trip on a typical 2nd tier compartment.

A culture of nation couldn’t be better exemplified or rather seen in a better kaleidoscope than traveling in a railway compartment. Time hasnt changed since E.M Foster’s days when he wrote that masterpiece – A Passage to India. Even today any railway journey begins with minor squabble turned into ugly fight between co-passengers which in turn transforms into a strong amiable relationship even before train is half through its destination. The greatest virtue of forgiveness and tolerance is personified right in front of me. Just as the train reached a station, interestingly named Bettiah, few local passengers have boarded the train. The so called “ reserved” seats doesn’t hold any relevance if you travel in day time across Bihar or U.P. ( Admittedly I never mind that aspect, after all neither my butts are eight feet by six feet in size nor my waist size has exceeded gargantuan proportions). There is a feisty fight that has developed between the legitimate passengers and presumably some local heavyweight. But the skirmish doesn’t last even 10 minutes. Sanity is restored and both sides take their position with a grumpy face. The local heavyweight initiates the conversation and slowly the ice is broken. As the conversation unfolds and perspectives are understood, it turns out to be that both the legitimate passenger and the “encroacher” are relatives. Even Jack Robinson or Joe Bloggs could turn out to be your relative – This can happen only in an Indian train. The local heavyweight soon turns extremely benign creature, with apologies rendered from both sides and as mark of respect the “encroacher” touching the feet of the legitimate passenger before getting down in next station.

March 8, 2007(Evening – Past Midnight)

Even I have visited several places, those aroma and taste of Chiniya Badam( Fried Ground Nuts as common name) on a Bihar train lingers in my senses. Best of snacks cannot match the distinct sizzle that it sends through the taste bud especially if you complement the badams with a green chilly. To top it off, the unique voice mechanism that the vendors generate while selling this “Bihari” delicacy reverberates in my ears even days after I get over this journey. Perhaps the best marketing gimmick that I have ever seen is in Kiul Station in Bihar. There the vendors sell tea by announcing it is the “Worst Tea” he is serving. Yet customers are never hesitant to try this Kahraab Chai as it is called. Ironically if ever you have tasted the best of flavors in tea, this one would stand second to none.

The sun is setting in distant horizon as I leave the borders of Bihar and have entered U.P. I can sense slow deterioration in courtesy and affability of voice in vendors and passengers boarding the train. Call it my sketchy perception but the fact is as you move towards north of U.P. general mass seem to jettison their humility and reverence in oblivion. Somehow there is an overbearing and aggressive air surrounding their entity which is in distinct contrast to rustiness and humility of Eastern India.

I wind up my day’s chronicles with looming hand handedness of “Northies” lurking in my mind. Yet there is huge sense of excitement to meet old college friends dropping down from all parts of world in Lucknow and to attend marraige of one amongst us .It is nearing midnight I have reached Kingdom of Awadh – Lucknow.

March 9, 2007

Lucknow has changed a great deal since I visited this place nearly three years ago. The city has gone a distinct metamorphosis from semi urban to modern town. Those typical malls have sprouted in the heart of city whereas the regime has done cosmetic beautification more out of political gimmick than concern for local population. Yet the city looks beautiful in night. Best part about Lucknow is even there are modern buildings jotting famous Hazarat Ganj Chowk still you can find those old styled Tonga and rickshaw plying on main road- For a change I had an alternative to those honkings and wagglings of autorickshaw driver. The Old charm of city is still there. I took a packet of local moongfali(Another variety of ground nut) and set about strolling across the lanes of Ganj with my friend.

Taking a ride on an open rickshaw across the lanes of Lucknow is so reminiscent of Satyajeet Ray’s novel. There is no traffic jam (a relief if you are a Bangalorean), there is freshness about Spring Air and for a change you realize your pocket is not hurting at all while paying the fare. On one occasion I traveled some 10 km on local version of autorickshaw called Vikram and took out a 100 rupee note to pay the driver. My mindset was still gripped with that of metropolis town a la Bangalore/ Chennai/Hyderabad. It’s when the driver expressed is helplessness for charging 6 Rs on a 100 Rs note, I got back to my senses and realized in real India a 100 Rs note is still worth gold.

Traveling makes you wiser and aware about the world around you. Books can never transmit those unique perspectives that you can imbibe only when you see the real thing.
I wind up my day, awaiting for my batch mates who are slowly pouring in for a Class Reunion cum Marriage Function.

Of days of Introspection, Enlightenment and Self Exploration

2006-10-18T03:03:00.000-07:00

I always believe that exams, hurdle, challenges in life enrich people. They contribute to the development of personality, temperament, attitude and next pinnacle. Lately, I had been through one such test where a completely different level of self introspection and revelation kept nettling my entity. This examination is very unique in every essence for it doesn’t last for hours, days or weeks. It’s going to stay and probe at my conscience each and every moment I exert my cerebral cells.

Another unique aspect of this test is I have freedom to consult, explore, search whomever, whatever I want ,in quest of right answer. And perhaps for the first time I realized the complexity of this test when I found out that not a single person, book or site could provide me an appropriate key to unlock this conundrum. The best they could do is to assist me in how I frame my answer. But the disturbing part remained intact – where do I get the right content?

The questions are very short and simple. What defines you the best? What matters most to you in your life? How do you see your future? What measures you can take to meet your dreams? What changes would you like to see in yourself?

At first look, these questions looked a stroll in park. Just as I normally do with my blogs, I thought for a moment while scanning the blank pages of WordPad and set about typing ideas that floated my right cerebrum at that instant. However, after couple of hours or so, nothing came that matched close to the most definitive answer. With every thought, there were dozens of contradicting thoughts questioning my knowledge about “Myself”.
I brushed it aside, attributing it to lack of right mood and ideas at that moment and left it for another day.

Next day I again sat in front of monitor, this time probably with fresh mind and clear target. As I gazed through the first question – “What defines you the best?” –Once more a set of ambiguous thoughts crippled further flow of any concrete motifs. It was my nonchalant attitude that took precedence and I attributed my conspicuous failure to lack of right ambience for getting clear idea about myself. I still wasn’t ready to take a dive into my deepest pool of self-knowledge

Third day wasn’t any different either. I was still stuck in the quagmire of provoking questions that slowly engulfed my mindset. How can I ignore myself to such a long period that I have absolutely no idea who I am? Perhaps, I need to give it a break and come back with new mindset. Probably I am pondering way too much, that’s why I am not getting the right answers. In desperation, for first time, I completely stopped doing what I felt so much passionate about – Writing, writing what was there in my mind. I was not at all ready to accept the fact that there indeed was something missing in my way of thinking that needed to be addressed. Though the questions kept pricking at the back of my mind, I remained in illusion that somehow I will lay my hand on an elixir or genie like something which will give me a definitive answer.

After ten days break when I sat in front of the monitor, these questions remained brazenly intact,posing as they were on the first day, challenging my very existence. There wasn’t a clue in near vicinity to unscramble these supposedly innocuous puzzles. It was time for me to react – however, still long way from act with purpose.In wild frenzy, I set about searching Google, Yahoo, Amazon to find the right answers. Each book in my small library was rummaged around in pursuit to get the solution – Yet I continued to fail.

The last resort was to go back to my best counselors – Autobiographies of people I admire. I just wanted to know whether it’s only me who is stuck in such horrible mess, unclear about his very self. Fortunately, there was a semblance of hope and a slight satisfaction when I discovered that each and every human being goes through such phases of self query. Many brush it aside, some think for it for a while and move on and very few actually work on it and go on to become cut above the rest
I don’t want to put myself in first two groups
This was probably the first convincing thought that came in my mind after days of confusion, self doubt and mental confabulation

The next step was I needed to put thought into action – How do I avoid myself getting clubbed into the first two groups? And that was the entry key to this whole maze, which now looked more complex than Einstein’s theory of relativity or Maxwell’s thermodynamics equation. I find some how great people do wonderful service to the society by imparting their knowledge in whatever form they can in form of autobiographies, speeches or other communicative forms. I believe, such modus communico can inspire rest all individuals to think differently so that they can make the life around them glittering. However at that moment, my immediate task was to stop thinking about how others are going to be affected, first I needed to unravel the mystery about myself.

I started with my own question – Why do my friends, colleagues and relatives want to have relationship with me? I came up with a list of facets about myself that could have probably set the tune in their mind. The next question followed – Would they have easily found a replacement had I not been there? I discovered the list now grew shorter yet there were few distinct traits that nobody could replace mine. And rightly so, these facets defined me the best. I was close to solving my first puzzle…..

The Day when Mother Destiny gave me a pleasant surprise

2006-09-19T00:41:00.000-07:00

I have often believed that I can be anything in this world but a lucky person. If I have five minutes to catch a train and chances are at even Stevens of whether I would board the train, either the train would be before time or something impeding will happen that will spoil my pursuit. Over past 17-18 years of my academic life, the topics which I use to leave out during examinations inevitably used to prove a stumbling block in my final result. More trivial the series of events that veiled my tryst with Lady Luck, more stubborn my views would become that I am not a Destiny’s Child. Of late even the change in traffic signal from Green to Red, just as I am about to clinch that metaphorical Chequered Flag by crossing the signal, makes me grumble continuously on my ill fated luck – I am destined to miss out.

Such has been my maniac obsession with luck, or lack of it, that I never bestow good wishes to anyone who is undertaking any auspicious errand. I fear that if I do so my Anti Luck Syndrome would metamorphose my good wishes into ill fate for that person. Those hackneyed jibes that ‘I am maker of my destiny’ were used as a solace to make me feel comfortable. However, at times, life provides even a destitute with royal treat or for that matter a Mendicant too on occasions have surplus in his kitty to give away to the likes of rich and noble. Such reversal of fortune didn’t elude me for too long.

It all happened on a typical Friday office day during my stint at Cognizant. Somehow Fridays often carry an air of freshness, freedom, festivity and laid back attitude which keeps the dull and droopy slogging spirits quite high. That day the entire Industrial sub vertical of Manufacturing Logistics Unit were supposed to gather in main campus for the Town Hall Meeting. Usually these Town Hall meetings are drag and enormously boring. The Senior Project Manager keeps on chanting about the great contributions that we had made to the Vertical and Company en large. It’s only that day that you realize that checking/sending mails and surfing net is so valuable to Company’s profit. Normally, if given option I would prefer catching a nap on one of those bean bags or suthifying around the office campus than attending those Town Hall Meetings. However, In your formative years as a professional, you hardly have a say in what you should do and what not – so did I.

I always prefer farthest corner of the last row of the Hall, where associates conglomerated for the meeting. That day was no different; I picked up the safest spot where I could be away from provoking eyes of my superiors. My pranking antennae often are at 90 degree angle during such meetings. Something within me itches to create an out of ordinary incident so that I can draw everybody’s attention. Over period of time my teammates-cum- great pals too started picking up the sensory signals about my intentions. One of my protégé – if you can call him- and real good friend Karthik started to venture on those un-traversed alleys of bending the rules under my guidance.

The Town Hall Meeting started with our senior manager reciting those self congratulatory lines for umpteenth time. He kept on quoting those nebular facts and figures which somehow proved that indeed the team had achieved the pinnacle of success. For me, ground reality was completely different – that’s different story. I always read in books that you cannot fool all the people all the time. But somehow this unspoken rule never hold true for the clients. They kept getting fooled and milked without even realizing it. Anyways, so the achievements of fooling the client brazenly continued and so did my patience ran out.

I pricked Karthik’s devoted attention which imbibed each and every word that our SPM mouthed. He turned around sensing some weird though brewing up between my ears. It was Friday and I didn’t want to miss out the opportunity of ogling on few females who look remarkably gorgeous and completely different when they shed those formal dresses to Friday casuals. Probability of catching them at cafeteria was quite high as somehow they too know that their unknown fans and courtiers are just stone throw distance away. Definitely a cup of coffee would always complement the soothing sight that we use to behold.
“I had enough of those lectures…let’s scoot off to cafeteria. We can catch up with some hot stuffs!!” I whispered in Karthik’s ear.
His stern look with half smile and half grumpy face revealed his bewilderment and reluctance on my plan. A definite ‘No’ was on cards and that’s what I expected. But somehow, I believe, he too ran out of patience and gave an affirmative nod to my deal.

We decided to slowly scamper out of rear gate without pricking anybody’s attention. My plan always had a back up for I never believed in ‘Jumping and then looking Around’; always ‘Look around before you Jump’. I instructed another team mate of mine to send any warning SMS in case the situation gets messy. (God bless those inventors of SMS). We slowly trudged towards the rear gate.

“Now the time for annual prize distribution ceremony for outstanding contribution…”

The voice echoed at back of my nonchalant ears. One thing is for sure prize distribution ceremony is the last place where I find myself in coherence. I guess my life long achievements never synchronized with the judges who give away prizes, so a la Aamir Khan I too call it quits when there is an award ceremony – Wish my argument appears convincing to my fans and readers.

As we were about to tail-gate the rare exit with our access cards – “ Adarsh Abhineet”- A voice boomed across the hall.

“Shucks…Caught!!!...How could this happen…You are gone dude!!” – a plethora of repulsive thoughts collided with my brain cells. “Quickly think of an excuse…I was going to rest room would do…No no..that’s used many times…try using.. I was having a nausea….or may be I was feeling terribly ill…yes this one should look convincing”.

The thoughts were banging my hands while feet were rooted to the place where I was standing.

“Adarsh Abhineet”- again my Senior Project Manager bellowed – “… again my Senior Project Manager bellowed – “… can you please come on stage!!”

Fear, anxiety, apprehensiveness all colluded into one big round mass and stuck somewhere in my throat. Karthik, gave me a shake to bring my senses back to the reality.
“Go da… they are calling you!!”

My reluctant feet pushed forward, I started hearing sounds of clapping in resonance reverberated across the room. “What these fellas are up to??? Are they gonna shred me to pieces and enjoy the fun….God save me!!” The earnest plea went to the all mighty.

As I moved towards the dais totally confused further words of my SPM amidst those claps echoed in my eardrum – “ Adarsh has been highly dedicated and outstanding in his efforts over past year. His discipline, urge to crack difficult problems, analytical skills has seen him become an exponent in EDI. His wonderful achievement makes him our “Hero of the Manlog”. I request Adarsh to come to the stage and collect his prize”.

“What???? Adarsh…dedicated…discipline…analytical…is there something wrong .And what the hell is this EDI??I think surely they have goofed up big time. There must be someone else who was in line for this award. They have must committed a huge blunder…” – My apprehensiveness was replaced by a set of bemused and bizarre thoughts.” Are they planning to play a prank on me and then execute me for my misadventure?”

I stuttered near the dais and gave a side glance to my Assistant Project Manager. He gave me an impish smile and signaled me to collect my trophy and certificate. In complete trance state I shook hand with my SPM amidst those loud applauses from the people present there. This surely gonna be some dream. It can’t be true!! I returned with my prize to the place where me an Karthik were standing.

“Karthik…I think they are gonna award both of us…for cooking up such a great plan!!” I said Karthik with a slight grin. It took a while for whole affair to sink in. Meanwhile, I kept accepting congratulatory remarks and hand shakes from my peers and superiors. Unfortunately this time round the jury were incoherent with Karthik’s talent and it was only me who ended up winning the award.

Yet whole event was too good to be true and for the first time I could see Mother Destiny showering smiles on me. Later my APM enquired about my bemused look while I stutterd near the dais .When I told him about my plans and its failure. He gave a hearty laugh and said he had posted two people outside the exit gate so that I dont run away. He too started coming to terms with what was there in my head....

Rhapsodizing Gandhism with pint of chemical locha and titillating humor.

2006-09-08T04:35:00.000-07:00

Not often a do I get overwhelmed with urge to pen down about a Bollywood flick, not once but twice in succession. However, within couple of weeks the grandeur scale of two contrasting movies triggered set of emotions within me to go about keying in my thoughts about transcending realization on part of script writers to tickle the grey cells in the upper cerebrum. If the Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna left me, admittedly, disturbed and filled with sense of revulsion, Lage Raho Munnabhai was one were the grin broadened with every passing scene. It would be irreverent and flippant on my part towards Munnabhai if I further compare it with tear-jerker and cynical KANK.

When I was young and had discovered the art of breaking knuckles- the sound of ‘tuck’ gave me immense pleasure – I use to get a scornful and admonishing looks from one and all. Later I learnt that when you break knuckles of your finger, you in fact weaken your bones and hurt yourself. This trivial episode at young age is still embedded in my mind for it holds a cryptic message about basic human nature: How much we rue about falling moral standards and disrespect for others yet someone in the corner of our heart we hold love and concern for fellow human being even he is not distantly related to us. How many times In our life do we tread a path where we deliberately hurt ourselves yet remain blissfully ignorant until a prophetic mind shows us where we are heading to. Seeing two contrasting films within a week, I realized that very essence of mankind. I couldn’t tolerate seeing a protagonist been repeatedly hurt in one of them and on other hand I was swept aside by the very exuberance and feel good factor that the second movie exuded.

None of us like seeing or reading gory tales and subjected to mental whipping by seeing others’ woes. Apparently some where in those colorful light moments of Lage Raho…this was the implicit motif that the director and script writer wanted to convey. Gandhism, or perhaps Gandhigiri to be more apt, was preached with same philosophy. Yet the repackaging made it all that different where we could relate our modern times with immortal virtues of Gandhiji.

Over the years there are umpteen books, chronicles, journal and write-ups devoted to understand Gandhiji’s philosophy. Yet I feel they never came to justifiable conclusion as to what exactly he wanted his fellow countrymen to imbibe. At times his verses seemed contradictory and out of sync. Perhaps our understanding never broke that conventional barrier to accept a new philosophy of life. There is a fine line between self respect and ego, between determined and obstinate and that between non violent and coward. With passing time this distinction seemed to get blurred depending on ones own interpretation .For a change Munnabhai did, within three hours, what millions of words devoted to Gandhism couldn’t make us understand.

The most satisfying experience of the movie was revelation of an ‘open’ truth that even the most powerful and influential people, needs courage and guts to speak truth and be honest. Over the course of our life time we commit million mistakes and probably indulge in many more – implicitly. Yet we never have that courage to accept it even in front of our reflection/shadow. And that’s were the distinction between self respect and ego gets clearer. The ego never allows us to overrule our inhibition of accepting the mistakes and look to rectify it. Murali Prasad Sharma a ka Munna faced the similar dilemma whereby his ego almost ruined his relation with his Man Friday – Circuit. The mental confabulation and sense of guilt consciousness was brought forth when his chemical locha generated Gandhiji asked him to apologize to Circuit upfront. How many times in relation that sense of inhibition and egoistic nature deprive us of long lasting relationship?

For some historians Gandhiji was determination personified, for many others he was obstinate man. When you face adversary you need determination while when you look for personal materialistic possession and satisfaction, you become obstinate. When you stand for a human cause , fight for your rights you need determination and when you fight for your personal desire you become obstinate Presumably this very enlightenment changed the course of action in which duo of Munna and Circuit works. The 2nd Innings Cottage resembled a sense of bond for its inhabitants, Munna could have taken the easier route of either bamboozling Lucky Singh with his power or accepting his lucrative offer, Yet that sense of determination to fight for the symbolic territorial sovereignty of the old people lifts him above the mere mortals.

Finally, when Munna accepts the sermons of non violence and realizes its strength there is a sense of self-fulfillment in our part. It takes lot of courage to forgive your predator than go about ending his demonic motives. Leave aside common people, even the muscle flexing Munna and Circuit, who could mess around with anybody in the town, realized the courage that they needed to forgive their adversary Lucky Singh. By winning the emotional quarter of your adversary (I hesitate to use the word enemy) half the battle is won. May be Britishers realized that very power that Gandhiji wielded against them. There leaves no scope for your predator to retaliate in strong terms. As said earlier as human being none of us love to harm others, its just a moment of fit or mental sickness that drives us to cross the boundaries. What Gandhiji wished was such emotionally challenged people “Get Well Soon” and as a human being its our duty to send them metaphorical “Get Well Soon – Card and Flowers” as Munna did to Lucky Singh.

As a last word a special mention to the character of Circuit – a friend and conscience keeper of Munna.- who exemplifies Aladdin’s Genie. There friendship is the celebration of human relation which sees no hidden motives but love and care for his friend. Circuit’s triumph lies in Munna’s happiness. His ability to assimilate the vibrant mood of Munna and set the scenes on fire underlies his importance of a true friend in ones life. Wish each one of us has a “Circuit” in our life to trigger the electrons of positive and amicable ambience in and around us.

What Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna failed to convey..

2006-08-27T23:53:00.000-07:00

Marriage in Indian society is seen as an honored responsibility, a family obligation, extension of social ties, in some cases a fruitful conclusion of long revered love and more importantly a chance to add a different dimension to one’s personality where sacrifice and flexibility should rule over one’s ego , self centeredness and his/her own happiness. The ancient Upanishads and Vedas saw Grihashtya life as the one where a person has the opportunity to pay back to family and society in large by practicing all teachings and values of Brahmacharya life in real world. Perhaps these inculcated values that have passed on through generations are one of the primary reasons why Indian marriages have high success rate compared to its contemporaries across the globe.

Unfortunately, Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna failed to convey any of the virtues that hold a marriage together or in rather larger perspective any relation for that matter. It might be over sightedness or lack of reality check on part of script writer to convey what he wanted to say. Marriages are definitely made in heaven and more often than not people end up with partners contrary to their expectations, their life style, their thinking, and their personality. It could be seen as a divine test of character whether one can find fruits amidst the adversity. Yet if one starts pricking his partner’s self respect time and again, test his/her patience and more importantly starts creating a gulf of mistrust and hatred , I suspect whether he would ever live happily with any one else.

By glorifying the cause of two protagonists – Maya and Dev- who seemed totally at wrong pedestal, the script writer has failed to understand the very essence of any relationship. To start with the character of Maya, a somber, melancholic girl who sees darkness even in bright sunlight never ever thought beyond the confines of her self centeredness. In form of Rishi she had the best husband one could ever wish to have- Loving, charming, adjustable and more importantly able to ignore her fallacy and shortcomings. Yet for some unknown reasons which hardly seemed convincing she never gets along with Rishi. It is beyond anybody’s comprehension what exactly she wanted. Right from the day of her marriage, she shows signs of cribbing, apprehensiveness and anxiety which perhaps any newly bride would encounter. Most of them take this as a passing phase and wish for a better future. The character of Maya never seemed to get over this emotional conflict through out her married life for some eerie reasons. Was it her immaturity or was she never ever emotionally strong to get married? These thought kept floating in nebular silhouette of Maya.

The ultimate test of any relation is how you can share happiness and sorrow alike of your partner. There was couple of instances where Maya showed how weak her emotional quotient is. When Rishi’s father throws a party, rather than behaving as a daughter of the family and getting actively involved in the celebration, Maya prefers to draw herself in reclusive world. Definitely it’s upon ones own taste whether he/she likes socializing, party etc. But what her family just wanted was her bubbly presence which she never understood. Besides that at the moment of greatest tragedy when Rishi’s father expires and he was at his emotionally weakest point, Maya prefers to cut loose the Pandora box when the situation demanded her to be standing by the side of Rishi.

There are umpteen moments when one lets down his or her partner, breaks the trust and stray out of the way. Yet there has to be an understanding to learn the difference between hiding and bluffing – especially when the situation demands so. The situation demanded Maya to support her husband at the moment of crisis, dump her past in some closet and start afresh. And here is where the characterization of a woman fails. Any woman is far stronger emotionally and mentally to sustain the trauma at time of adversity. She is the one who takes the onus to face the calamity which strikes her family and relation. Without uttering many things she conveys the persona of fortitude and strong will. Here is where Maya never resembles a woman that we know in our society. Rishi’s marriage was not a failure, he married a failed person, and probably he was better off getting rid of her.

Perhaps, Dev’s character was more to realism considering a male ego which more often than not can’t see his partner as more successful. Yet his constant nagging and trite on Riya or for that matter even on Maya showed there was always a diabolical intent in his personality. Riya took the responsibility of the family for the good when Dev was crippled. Yet Dev demanded something which no body could understand. What exactly he wanted? Riya’s rebuttal on Dev’s remark that she is not a caring mother best exemplified her sensibility and level headedness. Dev couldn’t see the sacrifice she was making personally and professionally. It was not about Maya that drew him close to her. In fact his infidel state of mind could have got hold of anybody available in the proverbial park.

Even under professional pressure Riya was more willing to work out her marriage, do her bit in every aspect and help out Dev. But Dev seemed to get bored with her after spending so many years that he couldn’t find love and affection in what Riya was doing for him. He was not only responsible for breaking his relation but also instigated Maya to forfeit her responsibilities. His clandestine motive was probably evident only in the eyes of Rishi’s father. I suspect whether he would have ever continued his relation with Maya far more than a “Spring” season. Such people are the most dangerous species for not only a family but for any relation. They roam around the streets in clothes of sheep, wearing mistrust on their sleeves. Riya’s final subjugation lie in her words when she tells Maya that Maya would understand the true meaning of sufferings when she will start living with Dev.

Finally by allowing the union of both Maya and Dev – the scriptwriter has allowed a nebular conclusion to follow. Was it right on the part of Maya to leave Rishi at the moment of crisis? Was it correct on Dev’s part to follow the same path which forced the situation that he had to be kicked out of the house? And finally was Maya’s character so fickle and weak that she would allow the proceedings which broke her family, her marriage, and her happiness to overwhelm her? None of this could we all comprehend.

As a last word, those who believe that you should marry only whom you love, fail to understand one very facet of life. This love, affection, infatuation, liking etc is never everlasting. You can keep drooling about your partner’s eyes, his/her persona, his behavior for year or two or may be three. Once it fizzes out after that what? It all boils down to sacrifice, commitments, obligations, reinventing oneself, taking measures to develop new avenues of love, adjustments, flexibility, understanding and more so trust and belief that you won’t get a better partner than this one. Saying love is the only parameter that makes a marriage work is dubious and sacrilege remark on such a sacrosanct institution. Probably the best essence of the film would have been -Never say Alvida to your life partner come what may be.

A toss with a Beer .Swirling Motions behold….

2006-08-08T05:37:00.000-07:00

Over the years I have always held a selective prejudice towards alcohol. I believe if someone pays for my drink I shouldn’t hold my wildest urge to get tossed out. On the contrary shelling out even a shilling for a squint towards alcohol would bring out meanest of miser within me, putting even likes of Scrooge to shame. Early college days taught me to ignore the smell and taste, gulp down the acrid solution forcing through the esophagus -.at times just to boast in front of peers that indeed I am manly enough to drink a peg.
Later half showed the way to enjoy every sip of it, albeit on others’ expense – monetarily as well as physically.

There use to be numerous stories doing round of college hostels about certain guys waking up with a splash of beer on their face, using beer to rinse mouth, beer for bath, apparently even plans of filling the water tank on the top of hostel building with gallons of beer and passing an outlet in each of the parched dins of hostel aisle and bay. However, the reality never met my inquisitive eyes and salivating mouth. Outlandish it may seem, yet some guys use to get that extra kick of energy by the smell of beer. The group parties often accounted to famous anecdotes about people on the other spectrum of emotional un-stability.

I can recount my three experiences when couple of pegs drove me to the un-traversed land of fantasy and tranquility. Perhaps then I realized how good a beer or vodka can be when you are looking for a stress buster or adding a Xing to your one-dimensional persona.

On my first trip to Goa, I had controlled aggression towards attacking a mug of beer at shocker of a price; mostly because the seeds of morality and strangled wallet created a double decker huddle. Yet the land of sun, sand and beaches decided to bid me with one last splash to the elusive zone of getting bowled out – mentally .Martin’s – advertised as Sachin’s favorite joint - was the place where we rounded up our sojourn to Goa. The ambience was amazing and adding cherry to the pudding was the presence of Narain Karthikeyan , the then Formula 3 champion from India.

NK had won a car rally that day and apparently there was a party thrown from his sponsors at Martin’s. And as a part of acknowledging NK’s achievement, it was decided that the drink for all the people present at Martin’s will be paid by the benevolent sponsors. For few of us it was a monsoon rainfall on deserts of Sahara. Prior to that those odd rounds of Kingfisher or few Scotch was the maximum I knew about the drinks. That day it all started with Australian beer, followed by Mexican cocktail, topped with Russian Vodka and rounding it off with a French Wine. Metaphorically the world globe was pouring inside the goblet. And after the fifth round of Foster’s Beer , it was game, set and over and out for Addy. I never had prior experience of what it feels like when your senses looses its coherence . That day I sensed myself on the top of a Helicopter, swirling and gyrating at the speed greater than those fans .One moment the kick lifted me upwards, floating in the sky. The next moment I came zooming down like a bungee jumper. The harmonic motion of my adrenaline flow synchronized with every single breath I took.
In- I go upwards: Out- I mellow down
Finally I was carried to the apartment where we stayed.

In the wee hours of the morning my resistance gave up. I spilled over every single drop that I coaxed inside my body. Bucket full of slugs and swamps came rushing through my mouth, nostrils and eyes. The intoxication vanished as quickly as it had gripped me.Whole of next day I was crippled with severe hangover yet the sensation that I experienced last night brought a mischievous grin across my lips.

On another occasion, on my maiden trip by plane, I was overwhelmed by the very atmosphere of Chennai Airport. Those were the days when my credit card was the key to treasure of Monte Cristo. I had read in the card offer that I could avail snacks and drinks free of cost, at the airport lounge. What would have been the better occasion than this to celebrate my maiden trip on Air. Just to ensure that I don’t miss out the dollies , I pumped in couple of extra cans of bear. Now I was ready to fly- free of any anxiety and apprehension.

As my bad luck has always been, here too a woman in mid-fifties and another in early seventies, I presume, was my co-passenger. With nothing much to offer to these ladies in terms of intellect and humor, I decided to pour myself amidst the black sentences of daily newspaper. The occasional kick from the beer in tummy blurred my vision and suggested that I wasn’t in full control of my senses. In the midst of heavy duty world politics news , there was one full page article on World Bikini’s Day.

Man was I reading correct??? Or my senses have indeed got hallucinated???

I had heard of Mother’s day. Father’s day, Women’s day. Flower’s day, even Dog’s Day. But what is this Bikini’s day. The beer kick didn’t loose any time in me jumping on those lines searching for Pamela Anderson, Victoria Streisand or even J Lo. Playing a dampener to my spirits, there wasn’t any spicy stuff written or displayed to set about a humdinger in my fantasy land.

I laid back contemplating about such an august occasion of Bikini’s day. I was hanging there in mid-air where I couldn’t even surf those odd channels of Russian Television where I could truly appreciate the essence of the D Day. I turned my head side ways and found my co-passengers snoring with their head held high. The impish beer didn’t loose its trait. My fantasy broke a new barrier when I starting fancying these two ladies clad in skimpiest bare minimum representing India at World’s Bikini Day across the Bondi Beach in Sydney. I could see those sultry figure competing with rest of the babes running towards me...in an urge to meet my open arms….and then…

Smack!! I suddenly got a hit on my face. The fantasy swirled out into reality. I was back at my seat sitting beside an elderly woman. The effect of beer was gone because of unintentional slap from my co-passenger in her sleepy state. Perhaps she too caught the strong frequencies that the beer effect was sending through my antenna. My Bikini day celebration ended with it.

As the final part of the trilogy with the beer- me and couple of my friends decided to make a short trip to beautiful Pondicherry. The long drive from Madras to Pondi on East Coast Road around midnight is one of the awesome experiences. The cars rocket upwards of 100kph speed, at times loosing contact with the surface because of air gap generated at such high speed.
We reached Pondi around 2 o’ clock in night and immediately went in search for a local beer shop. Finally after handing the pub guard few extra bucks we managed to get hold of couple of bottles. It was enough to make our trip fruitful.

In Pondicherry ,alongside the beaches there are several government offices and of course a big Gandhi ji statue. That day the essence of beer threw kitchen sink against our nationalism. Three of us sat underneath Gandhi ji’s statue and started gulping down those myriads of fantasy and tranquil drops that the bottle carried.

However, the bout didn’t last too long .A local cop saw us, maligning the Father of Nation’s virtue and ideology, barged in.Perhaps his sense of nationalism paid him monetary dividends in huge measure.We had to shell out even the last coin that softly jingled in my back pocket. He drove us out of our senses , out of the beach and out of Pondicherry. Then and there ended our romanticism with the bottle of beer.

When Cops are caught at the wrong end of the stick….

2006-07-25T04:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my friend Kartik encountered one of the most hackneyed incidents happening on Indian roads – Breaching the rough side of the law and getting caught by a traffic cop. Apparently he too like many of us had to grease the palm of the “lucky” constable and scoot off from the scene, where the delinquent act was committed.

Often people, including me, wonder why is it that it’s the common people who are caught pants down in such scenario while influential breed move around scot-free. However my bewilderment didn’t last too long when I realized that on couple of occasions ,when I had rendezvous with the protectors of law, I managed to turn the table around. It was more about the wits, luck and presence of mind rather than any bravado which helped me hoodwink the premonition written in thin air.

One such incident happened a year or so ago. After my office hours, I decided to make a casual visit towards northern part of Chennai- Egmore. Engrossed in exploring the area and enjoying the dinner I didn’t realize, it was pretty late to return to my house . I was completely exhausted after yet another taxing day.With a laptop dangling on my shoulder, I trudged along the pedestrian lane to catch the bus for Velachery. As my luck had it, I didn’t have to wait for too long and found a fairly empty bus for Saidapet which was mid way between Egmore and Velachery.

I sank myself on one of the far end window seat reflecting on my day that passed by. At next stop, couple more passengers boarded the bus along with a cop. Perhaps, my conspicuous appearance enticed the policeman to take the next seat that of mine. As the bus accelerated, the cop threw first jibe at me in Tamil. Those days my understanding of Tamil was as good as my knowledge about Latin or Greek. I tried to ignore his physical presence and turned my face away from him.

The stink coming from his mouth suggested that he was drunk. I presume my nonchalant behavior hurt his domineering ego and instigated the fire in his belly. Within few moments he again said something to me in Tamil which I blissfully ignored. The bus sped through the empty lane towards the Mount road. The Cop’s temper, catalyzed by alcohol he consumed, flared up, resonating with the frequency that of the bus engine. He held my hand firmly and demanded to know in broken English what was there in the black bag, pointing towards the lap top that I carried.

Irritated with his meddling business I shoved my hand away and said in stern manner “It’s none of your business”. I think I stretched my luck a bit too far. Till that point in my life I never had one to one with any policeman. Perhaps I never knew the repercussion of messing up with a cop, never knew what exactly it feels like when you tickle their nerves. The Cop was slightly taken aback my foolishness rather than audacity. Anyhow it surely shot up the mercurial temper that he carried. In full throttle he started chiding me , occasionally pushing my lap top , brushing my shoulder, scowling at me. In broken English he finally threatened,” I want to frisk you. I will show you what my business is. We will get down at the next police station. I demand an explanation about the content inside this bag.”

Seeing the scuffle going on, the bus conductor and few passengers came for my rescue. They tried to persuade the Cop to leave me. However, the Cop’s pristine ego made him more adamant to teach me a lesson. The realization embarked upon me a bit too late that I had landed myself in a big soup. I had already set the cat amongst the pigeons. Now it was the time to reconcile and save my skin .I showed my company ID, opened my lap top bag, explained him that I am coming from office and that’s why I was carrying this lap top. An elderly angelic soul put my case forward in Tamil to the Cop. Somehow his words seemed to calm the flared up policeman.

After lot of persuasion from fellow passengers including the bus conductor, the cop cooled down and accepted my plea. The matter was over and the cop settled back in his seat. The bus crossed the Chennai Central and headed towards Spencer Plaza. I was fuming with rage and anger more on my stupidity than on Cop’s enactment The Cop turned around and asked,” Where do you live?”

I mumbled,” V…Velachery”

“What is your father?”

“ J..Judge..he is a judge, Sir..” I squeaked.

I first thought he didn’t listen to what I said. But then hearing the word “Judge”, he somehow got off balance. There was a distinct change in his tone and voice from thereon. Now his broken Tamil/English combo was replaced with more polished English. He started bridging the gap with a diplomatic lecture that I shouldn’t be venturing out with such expensive electronic items so late in the night. Chennai is not all that safe.Blah..Blah..

The rage within me somehow was replaced with a sense of crookedness. The prankster of good old college days decided to hit back with vengeance. After all what will the world say if they come to know that the son of a Judge is bullied by an ordinary cop. Perhaps it was my ego’s turn to strike. Sensing that he was drunk I decided to play my game

I said,” So... you know, he is a high court Judge in Chennai.”

Admittedly, my dad hadn’t seen this neck of the woods till that time.

“What?? I’m sorry son…I mean..he is high court judge in Chennai.” The cop responded in mellowed voice.

“ Yes.. and today there is a party in my house where top officials are coming.My dad is going to be very disappointed seeing me late. You have to escort me so that I can tell him what all you did?” I said in firm voice.
Now my co passengers again turned around sensing another drama brewing up.They say lightning doesn’t strike twice. That day shower of lightning struck on the head of poor constable. The affect of alcohol seemed to vanish in thin air. Now he was at my mercy.

“You are like my son…dear..I have a son who is as old as you are..” The Cop started

“So what…today you have to come with me to my house..” I was firm on my stance.

“Son…I am a lowly constable…I never wanted to get into this police force. I was a singer and dancer in my village…But destiny had its own ways and I had to forfeit my ambition and accept this job. I am very poor son…I just got drunk and told you several things…I never intended it..” The constable cut loose his whole story within a minute.

The passengers now seemed to enjoy the dramatic turn around in the events.

“Ok..ok…let me think…..hmm…so you sing??” I asked

“Yes son…I know carnatic music, I know to dance too…I can sing film songs, I can dance like Rajni..” The cop replied.

Smiling within myself, I decided to have just a bit more of fun.” You have to prove it…only then I can leave you...” I said ,faking a stern voice.

“Sure…sure son…I will go near the front seat so that everybody can hear..” , before he could complete the sentence …he was off at the centre of the “stage”

Even the bus conductor seemed to relish the prospect of entertainment from a city constable.

As the bus crossed the Gemini flyover, the cop started singing in his hoarse voice. The passengers complemented him with foot tap ans claps. The cop’s performance continued for ten minutes. When the bus entered T.Nagar, the conductor announced the passengers boarding down at Saidapet to get ready. The words from the conductor seemed to give a slap at the back of the constable’s head. He came rushing towards me explaining that he had to get down at Chennai Central itself which was 15 km from Saidapet. In this whole confusion he missed his stop.

He folded his hand and asked for final reprieve. In no mood to dally with any more danger I gave him “permission” to board down at T.Nagar. He breezed towards the exit gate. Before one could say Jack Robinson, he was off.Once he got down, the entire bus was full of laughter and claps. I shyly grinned at one of my fellow passengers.

Perhaps seeing a Cop facing the wrong end of the stick was a pleasant experience for them than the ordeal they faced for many years

When I look into a Mirror….

2006-07-17T04:02:00.000-07:00

Looking into the mirror is often a humbling experience. With an open mind you can exactly see the thought patterns on your forehead, in your eyes, in your lips, in your appearance. A guilt conscious mind often try to shove away from mirror as quickly as possible while a rewarding experience often leave you adoring , drooling those distinct smiling silhouette, for hours. That’s where the word Honesty plays its role. How much you can face yourself after committing a delinquent act? How much benign you are when you bask in the glory of success? The Russian roulette of thoughts makes me wonder do I have immense guts and belief to accept my mistakes in front of my reflection.

I tried it. More often than not I failed

Every time I look into the mirror a disturbing thought keeps haunting at the back of my mind …Am I really honest??? Often we judge the sacrosanct word Honesty to our action in public domain. More often than not it’s the other individual’s parameter that decides how honest we are in community and in society in general. Yesterday the propensity to this thought kicked towards a different alley when a friend of mine narrated about her experiences of putting her thoughts in a dairy. The thought treaded a new dimension - how many of us are really honest to ourselves?

I can’t claim that I am the One…

Often people pour in their emotions in a Pensieve, I can’t fathom precisely for what reasons. I guess every individual likes to open up his or her inner consciousness to someone or other. Some find other trusted human entity as the best way to cut loose their thoughts ,others prefer docile and genial mouth less pages of dairy where they can put over their feelings. Often human reactions are deceptive and inconclusive to comprehend others emotions – the silent words scribbled on those pages have a calming effect. However there is another set of people who simply don’t have courage to speak even to lifeless pages of dairy and simply present themselves in front of their reflection – unabashed, emotionally unraveled, without any prejudice and probably with an open mind to accept what I am .

I presume I fall in the last category

Often adoring ones reflection is perceived as sign of self consciousness, low esteem et al. I tend to counter that perception. I sense when I am really pleased about myself, am pure and truthful from my within…I spent invariably longer time in front of those light reflecting medium. I try viewing myself on those reflections what my future behold for me and where my present stands. I turn my chin around an imaginary locus of circle to get a clear view about my face to check whether each cell of my face has received that dose of compliment and gratitude. I suspect whether I would do the same if I have committed something wrong.

It’s the people who are honest about themselves and have the conviction to face the adverse remarks about their entity who dare to bring out his wildest of thoughts and most savage ideas out of those cabined closet of heart and mind. One, who has immense belief and conviction about his persona, his actions, his reaction, his decision, his mistakes, his fallacy, and his shortcomings, never hesitates to speak his mind and heart. I don’t know how many of us really can muster that courage. I often think how the opposite person will react if I am plain speaking. I often shiver with thought ‘What If’ he/she presumes I am Not what I was supposed to be in his/her eyes. That’s where I think I loose my honesty and betray my reflection

I try to snatch an ounce of those convictions from my reflection

The Legacy of Raagamallika Resumes...IV

2006-07-13T01:06:00.000-07:00

Of Bhatia’s Tour de Loo and Addy’s nightly adventures...

Saturdays and Sundays at A-1 Raagamallika use to be mixed bag for the foursome. The day started praying that Electricity people spare them from weekly maintenance, give them respite from the sultry heat of Chennai. Yet invariably the Saturdays passed by cursing, begging electricity people to restore normalcy. The sweat laden long mane of Bhatia, drooping nose of Chawla , drenched naked torso of Addy and oomph display of vital anatomical statistics of Party in extreme corner of the room made an idyllic description of their romantic tale with heat of Chennai.

Chennai in a way is one of the most distinct cities in the world. With beaches, wide roads, humble people and extraordinary ability to remain peaceful in spite of being a metro sets it apart from rest of the nation. Either you hate it for its hostile climate /food or you love it for its qualities. There is no mid way to this romanticism. Yet for the foursome the love- hate relationship with Chennai often fluctuated faster than a feminine mood swings.

Evenings often turned out to be a pleasant onset to the weekend plans. With weather shedding its ferocity , the stroll use to be directed towards Sathyam theatre to catch the latest Bollywood flick or towards Beasent Nagar beach to catch that bite of chicken and Aate di Roti at Dhaaba Express. On one such occasion Bhatia’s appetite gave even likes of Party a run for the money.

Perhaps days of forced starvation ‘cause of sulking office lunch had increased beast within his tummy by quantum leap. Finally after finishing the third course of the evening, Bhatia called the quits.One of the last ambition now left was to crash on those stinky pillows in the cozy air conditioned room of Raagamallika. Chawla, Bhatia and Party walked back to the nearest bus stop at Mount Road to catch the earliest shuttle back to Raagamallika. However, the restive alimentary canal of Bhatia evoked the first signal of revolt as they boarded the bus.
Hang On!! There is something wrong

“Pressure ban raha hai yaar!!!” Bhatia’s mellowed voice squeaked

Chawla and Party gave a grin sensing something impending happening and about to smell. However they had full faith in Bhatia’s ability to control the violent pressure, now entered the alley of his small intestine ,till they reach home. As the bus gained speed Bhatia swayed from one side to other just to give the pressure built in his tummy some extra compartment so that it doesn’t give him red blushes. Midway through the trip , the bus stopped at a traffic signal near Saidapet. The last drop of atheist quality in Bhatia gave in that day. He prayed and prayed really hard for the bus to move forward so that he can rush to the loo. Perhaps all the sins that he committed over the years came out in form of sweat from his forehead, eyes ,nose, ears.

The bus didn’t budge an inch.Every second seem an eternity for Bhatia. The pressure now started giving a Zidanesque kick to the last end of his alimentary canal – The Goal Post. Bhatia gave a sideways grin to Party and said

“Yaar…I can’t control it now!!”

The humane qualities within Party somehow rise amazingly when he sees any of his friends in real despair situation. The motivational guru within him persuaded Bhatia to hold on that extra bit for few more minutes, show that resolve of Dravid to stand like a wall, be like a Wall. But it all fell in deaf ears. The kick of Pressure ,now about to burst, must be giving even the likes of Pascal and Bernoulli an extra incentive to come back on earth and study its phenomenon inside Bhatia’s tube

Finally Chawla and Party decided to give Bhatia a leeway. They boarded down at Saidapet bus stand. As Bhatia struggled to stand , Chawla rushed around in search of a secluded place where Bhatia can relieve himself while Party zoomed to the nearest Confectionary story to get a bottle of Aqua Fina/ Bisleri so that Bhatia’s Goal Post can be washed once the pressure finds its natural outlet.

After frenetic search Chawla managed to find an isolated place near a railway yard. Party pushed sloth-like-unwalkable-figure to its destination and left him to relieve himself. Fifteen minutes of bombardment and fusillade of noise and gun shot like Bhatia’s dung had purified the railway track. The entire atmosphere bore a perfume like stink which was unbearable for Chawla and Party. He washed his Goal Post with Bisleri water, the smile was back on the face of Sardarji. The Pressure was gone. The three course chicken diet found its final destination.

Bhatia was back from his Tour de Penance a la Tour de Loo by the side of railway track. As he tightened his buckle , he promised himself he wont ever compete with Party when it comes to coaxing the tummy with chicken. As they walked back the three of them wondered…
Where is Addy lost in this fiasco?

As they made soft and noiseless entry late in the night to the Raagamallika Apartments, they found the Bed Room’s door ajar and light switched off. The Air Conditioner had taken its full effect and the room was extremely cold. Party slowly entered the room and found Addy laid there violently shaking over his tummy. For a moment Party presumed Addy is under some fit and thought of rushing to a doctor.
Goodness Gracious!! But there is some sound of kisses being blown in the air…What’s going on??

As always anything out of the worldly behavior often attracted Party’s consciousness. He moved closer to see the face of Addy in the darkness, trying to unravel mystery of his violent movements and kissing-like-sound. Just as he was within a striking distance, Addy’s one long arm flung across Party’s neck and shoulder, grabbing him firmly.

I love You…Sweet Heart…Lets make Love!! Addy’s sleepy voice hissed

AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!.... Party shrieked at the top of his voice

Both Bhatia and Chawla came rushing in. Addy quickly got violent surge to push him out of his dreams and get fully awake. The Lights were switched on..
What’s the matter!! The thunderous voice of Chawla and Bhatia bellowed in resonance. The smiling and blushing face of Party greeted them .

“ Nothing yaar…I thought Mr AD had got some wrong intentions!!!”

Meanwhile Addy adjusted his cover sheet and his blushing red cheeks and wet pants said the story.

“Yaar… I was dreaming about Pamela Anderson in my bed room!!”

For days the rest three spent sleepless / half asleep night fearing Addy’s nightly adventurous dream might not land them in Gay’s Club!! Often the flinging arms and soft kissing voice raised hackles to the likes of Chawla and Party…

The Legacy continues……III

2006-06-13T03:08:00.000-07:00

---> Party

Man we were killin' time
We were young and restless
We needed to unwind
I guess nothin' can last forever - forever, no

And now the times are changin'
Look at everything that's come and gone
Sometimes when I play that old six-string
I think about ya wonder what went wrong

Of the Snowspark food and Party’s enlightenment

The biggest worry for any North Indian traversing this neck of the woods is Food. Specially one elusive of Roti and Daal.. Give them a plate full of those staple delicacies and half the worries vanish in thin air. The Gang at Raagamallika wasn’t any exception. Initial months passed in search of that elusive Roti and a decent dinner. Lunch in office was as horrible as peeing in a public loo. Yet the spirits never drooped. It was decided the cooking will be imbibed as an essential skills of software professionals of “multi national software company”.

Most Sardarji have this uncanny knack of being a real good cook. Somehow in their genes the cooking skills dominate in obscene proportions. For the foursome nothing could have been better than this. Chawla’s whining habits never propelled his inclination to even earn a basic degree in cooking, Party didn’t like to mess with a thing which hasn’t had any glamour and extra terrestrial virus associated with it, Addy did meddle his hand at times yet the kitchen of A-1 Raagamallika belonged to Bhatia. It was Bhatia’s exclusive laboratory.

Initial experiments comprised of half cooked paratha , puris along with surprisingly delicious sabji. However even the genes within Bhatia couldn’t give the Picassoian or Mozart touch to the gourmet. The torture didn’t last too long when Party seeing his fast reducing waistline decided to get hold of a caterer called Snowspark which could fill his pythoinised appetite. After all “Khaane ka…peene ka…tension nahin lene ka….” - Party’s buzz word was under serious threat.

The dinner use to kick off with Chawla’s discernible scrutiny about the purity of Aata in the Roti , the content of oil in the sabji and the taste of daal to suit the tongue. Only after the judgment was passed by Scientist Chawla, in presidential style, about the defects and errors, lack of ISO certified compliances and missing of CMM level 5 adherences in the preparation, the rest three could do the jumpstart towards filling their starved tummy. Word floated in the air of Chennai that Chawla’s purity test and refined palate was impeccable and of most stringent order. If you can satisfy saliva of Connoisseur Chawla, you are the epitome of The Cuisine Art.

Meanwhile Party’s loitering mind decided to sense another dimension of intellectual bliss, an experience of writing the toughest examination in the country The CAT. Simultaneously Cupid too finally decided to bestow its blessing to his romantic quotient and introduced not one, not two but half a dozen species from Venus, the women – the elusive fairer sex - in his life for which he had been struggling for ages. Perhaps it was too much for his fickle mind to handle and probably for first time Addy, Bhatia and Chawla started sensing something humanly brewing up inside his physical frame. It was omen of something improbable to happen.

The clear motifs inside Party’s mind started conflicting with his new found intellectual and romantic blessings. The confusion prevailed to such an extent that he found himself distancing from his very motto of “Naachne ka …Gaane ka…dabaa kar khaane ka!!” Perhaps it was an ideal case where Party found himself at the cross road of his life on what to pick and what to leave. Which girl to get hooked to and whom to dump? Whether to bell the CAT or get 'belled' by torture of preparation?
CAT coaching classes were pain for him for they were not conducted in “air-conditioned” room. The usual wit and humor within his personality was replaced with silence. Procrastination became his character and virtue.

It was decided ,based on mutual understanding among Addy, Bhatia and Chawla , that time has come to relieve Party from this quagmire in which he has trapped himself. Somewhere down the line non-conformist attitude of Party was more endearing to them than this humanly conundrum that prevailed in his mind. The Party of old was lost somewhere.
Human touch of love and intellect had ruined his personality. Addy decided to be the Man to bell the Cat while Bhatia and Chawla will play the support crew in the proverbial CLASS where reality of life will be taught to Party.

The discussion started. For the first time the three spoke and for a change Party listened. Addy led the way with series of trite and remarks challenging his very existence, his very purpose of life. Also for the first time this bantering left Party pondering and thinking!! And finally it boiled down to the issue where Party found himself visualizing - standing in front of dozen feminine characters, who had romanticized his personality, with a garland in his hand. He had to choose one of them as his future life. It was an apt personification of his mental state.

Party was in love and that was his biggest ailment. It was too crude shock for him to handle. The words of Addy boomed in his ears – Party you have to choose one from the lot…Party you have to choose one from the lot…decide your life…seek the motive…..

Party crashed and fell like a wounded knight. The pressure of love and intellect was too much for him to handle.The class had left an indelible impression in his mind. For a week it was a completely transformed Harsh – who woke up early, attended coaching class, was serious about his life , had sought a direction of his future, was man with limited words….
”Party has changed…” Chawla bemoaned “He has become serious about his life. Finally he has found the purpose of his life.”
“Wait for a week. The clock will turn back!!” retorted Bhatia.

On the other hand Adarsh was completely elusive of the fact that his class had brought a serious transformation within Party’s personality.. Perhaps it was too big an achievement for him to comprehend.
“Finally I managed to change a person!!” he must have grinned within himself.

Bhatia was right.. it was all illusion. Within a week the romantic and intellect virus ,that had crippled Party, was jettisoned from his very mindset. ”Aaj dabaa ke khaaya…do chaar maal ka game bhi baja aaya!!”He boomed. Party was back and back with vengeance. His new motive of life – “Khaane ka…peene ka.. LECTURE nahin sun ne ka..tension nahin lene ka..maal sirf dekhne ka!!” Party decided one fine day that no body can mess with his existence. He was enlightened to the fact that his original self was the best for him and people around him. And definitely nobody can take his class from now on. Ladki ka sirf game bajaane…senti nahin hone ka!!

The usual routine resumed. Normalcy was restored at A-1 Raagamallika. The roles again were back to the original script. Room was filled with Party bellowing at the top of his voice and the rest three as the mute audience. Party’s life had came a full circle within a week

“Bomb nahin maarne ka…
Party se poochne ka…!!”

The Legacy of A-1 Raagamallika Apartment II

2006-06-09T04:15:00.000-07:00

----> Bhatia
Ghoomta raha door to kahin
Udte baadlon ki tarah
Kaha se tujhe aayi hai sada
Laut ke aa ab zara
Tera yeh aashiyaana..Mera bhi aashiyaan

The Gym freaks and Party’s tryst with Dental College Girl

Adarsh and Bhatia made it a point to smother any competition when it came to body building. The nearby Fitness Centre a la Akhaara proved to be their ideal budding ground. The day started at five o clock with Sardarji ready in his track suits pushing bleary eyed Addy out of the comforts of his bed and dreams of nightly mermaids.
Definitely Adarsh’s morning sleeps were far more valuable then those sweat laden T-shirts in Gym. Yet Bhatia’s perseverance drove him to sacrifice his sleep on many occasions.

By the way Party wasn’t left behind in getting hit by this fitness bug. After all Bhatia and Adarsh had presented sugar- coated- delicious stories about hot girls, in their skimpy clothes, venturing into Akhaara for training and aerobics. So one fine day Party too decided that its time for him to pull up the socks, leave behind the Not Yashi syndrome and net a new fish in the aisle of fitness centre. Early morning Party was ready, even before the Rooster could give the morning lark, in his exercise kit.

Sensing the impending danger in fitness centre both Bhatia and Adarsh wished their destiny bestow them one final luck – Escape from Party’s wrath on discovering the truth. At the counter normally any fitness aspirant asks about equipment details, fitness regime etc etc. But our Party’s first question was how many girls pay visit to the Gym. Surely even the manager of the Gym was taken aback by absurdity of the inquiry. He grazed across the Gymnasium with an investigative eye looking for Bhatia and Adarsh. Thankfully their innocent face suggested that they don’t have even distant connection with Party and were saved from being kicked out before getting hold of body building,

Unfortunately Party couldn’t sustain this trauma of being misled by opposite sex again and again. Hence this time he decided to pave the wave of his tryst with a girl in Cheenai on his own.

Party’s morning though started pretty early yet it took him ages to prepare himself for the biggest ordeal of his life – Reaching office on time. Sure enough he had arranged his means to lessen the pain of going to office by hiring MTC- NOT Madras Transport Corporation bus but one Mutthu Transport Service.

Mutthu was a genial , soft spoken Senior Associate in Party’s project Seeing the pain that Party had to go through every morning , he decided , out of humanity, to lend a helping hand to Party so that he can overcome this excruciating feeling of be on time in office. Poor fellow didn’t know the fact that if you give an inch to this guy he will make you run a mile. Instead of Party reaching office on time, Mutthu imbibed the habit of reaching office late courtesy Party’s hour long mental preparation before going to office

Out of frustration one day MTC stopped its service. Party was left stranded and inspite of his strong wishes; he had to report to office. It was time to take original MTC bus and suffer the hot Chennai weather. It’s said- Jab Khuda Mehrbaan, to Party Pehlwaan!!
Like a pool of water in desert , Party found a hot Chinki in MTC bus while on his route to office. Bhaad mein jaaye office..Ab to Game set karne ka!!

Party displayed his company tag and brazenly introduced himself as a guy working in
Multi National Software Company. The girl supposedly studied in Dental College. She was more flummoxed than flattered seeing the confidence with which Party approached her. Sensing danger to her dignity, integrity and whatever –ity you can think of , she stopped the bus and scampered through for safety. Party followed the suit and chased her all the way to her house. Whether it was his good luck or bad luck -it’s beyond anybody's comprehension- but from distance a guy came towards the Chinki and turned out to be her brother.

Seeing a risk to his life , Party ran away from the scene with the tag of Multi National Software Company dangling on his side. For days he had long lasting hope that he can have a peek at the girl of his dream. To fulfill his desire he continued venturing near the periphery of dental college, but all in vain

Meanwhile that day Party made his royal entry to office well past noon…and his punishment was that he didn’t return to our Aashiyaana for next two days...Project Manager had already planned to screw up Party's days of happiness

Aage ke episode mein....Jab Addy ne lagayi Party ki class..Bhatia ki laboratory....Chawla ne machaaya dhoom...

The Legacy of A-1 Raagamallika Apartment….

2006-06-07T07:38:00.000-07:00

The author disclaims any responsibility in case the following write up hurts the sentiment of any caste, society, religion, and ethnic community whatsoever. The readers are at their own risk for sustaining any intellectual Violence by reading this blog .

Chennai ek dum danger place
Where North India survive only if he has face
Deekhne mein ek dum changa
Climate ne kiya sab ka danda
Logon ne maara tamilian bomb
Acche acche shaano ka ban gaya tomb

The Union

A- Name – Adarsh …Adarsh Abhineet… known as addy to some…adarswa to lot..addu to many and for some Mr AD. Passion: Late night flights of fantasy. Every second ex-Gen women’s ideal son- in- law…for each new-Gen women ideal brother- in – law and for every future –Gen women ideal Bhaiyaa. Oh really!!!!...you got to believe your neighbor’s wife to trust the scripted description.

B- Train from Pune screeches to halt on platform no 9 at Chennai Central. Out comes a discernible, conspicuous Sardar. Name- Bhatia…Harmeet Bhatia. The Infosys placard announces…Welcome to the gallows of Chennai…Bhatia gives a wry smile and trudges along the pathway. Passion: Body Building, Sleeping and of course traveling on his rollicking G-51 MTC bus …A Sardar’s nightmare is Bhatia’s delight!!

C- Chawla…Aman Chawla…the third musketeer in the fiefdom called A-1 Raagmallika. Passion – Aatey di Roti…He can smell from a distance the purity of a Roti and percentage of maaida in it. With his melodious vocal and sneezing skills he can drive even Pakistanis out of Kashmir. Cacofonix is a distant second when Chawla sings. His gadget called “Fukni”- Nasal Inhaler- is his life line!!

P – My name is Party…Harsh Party..
Party ko chhod sab bakwaas…Party ka under jo rehta bindaas
Party ko jo dega kharaas
Ho gaya woh khallas..
Sab ka blood bana dega tomato sauce

Khaane ka… peene ka .
Hasnee ka..Ronee ka …
Chalne ka…firne ka…tension nahin lena ka..
Party se poochne ka…Kahan se aata hai…
I am Party!!

Welcome to the A-1, Raagamallika Apartment….And its strange world of inhabitants!!
AD, Bhatia, Chawla and Party.
5th December 2004, to be precise when unknown quarters of destiny propelled the union of four highly asynchronous minds pushing them under the same roof of brand new flat at Raagamallika Apartments. What followed for rest a year or so was one of the most enthralling experience of camaraderie, brotherhood, fights, freakiness ..

Naachne gaane ka...khaane ke.. peene ka..
Tension nahin lene ka...Party se poochna ka...

Of the Corn Flakes trauma and Not Yashi syndrome

Somehow the ambience of Chennai and motherly-in-law affection of the landlady transformed Addy from a filth and lousy creature in college into genial, meticulous and clean human being. The passion for cleaning of house, arranging things in a right way etc etc propelled his prospect, in the eyes of “Aunty’s”(Landlady) son-in-law, to astronomical heights . However, in the process the ordeal created a heavy baggage on the back of rest three. Party couldn’t do much but groan and tread the way of unfathomable alley of cleaniness…so did Chawla with his hanky wrapped nose and "Fukni" by his side.

The torture reached its crescendo when it was decided with mutual understanding that morning should be kick started with healthy diet of Corn Flakes and Milk. By that time the bug of fitness had crippled Adarsh to certain extent that he started seeing himself rivaling the likes of Arnie and Sylvester Stallone It was no big “ load” – as he would say- for him to gulp down those tasteless glass of milk soaked with Corn Flakes. But for the rest three it started taking on their nerves big time. Every morning kicked off with brown flakes floating on top of white membrane like fluid – challenging likes of Party to push the solution below his throat.. Thankfully the ordeal came to an end when Party revolted against the torture and ostracized the Corn Flakes diet miles far away from his physical existence. Bhatia and Chawla followed the suit.

Harsh has always been the Maverick and Hedonism personified - Challenging the very virtue of homosapien characteristics. The strong iconoclast image that he carried with himself somehow created a revulsion to the likes of Adarsh , Bhatia and Chawla.As the rumor goes: Every single so called "hot" girl is in danger if Party was in vicinity. Game bajaane ka is his motto. To temper with this attitude of Party , Bhatia and Adarsh decided to test his profound skills towards the opposite sex.

Bhatia had a major crush on one of the rare hot cakes in Infosys-Chennai called Yashi. The days talk use to revolve how Sardarji manage to lure Yashi for lunch, for coffee and those brush against her hands blah blah. Meanwhile Adarsh too once managed to get a lucky peek at this golden goose in the theatre and since then he too started fantasizing about Yashi. Unfortunately our Party got the sniff of whole affair and couldn't tolerate the fact that such a hot property - which is rare in circles of Chennai- is still elusive from his domain. Grrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!

Seeing a third contender jumping into already stiffened competition, Bhatia and Adarsh decided to push Party out of the game and built a derisive plan. Bhatia's past , present and future crush resembled almost identical name(how its possible...you got to read the complete story??)- Except the last character where I in Yashi was replaced with A -and the X and Y –Crush’s contact number was stored in Bhatia's cell. Desperate to hook the fish, Party raided Bhatia’s cell and in excitement misread Yash with A as Yash with I..

Out went the first call to Yash with A. Party’s flirting skills at its best.
Admittedly the not-actual-Yashi was honest in her response and acknowledged Party's mesmerizing talking skills by calling herself Not-Yashi. But the poor lad already in love with her voice took the deal of accepting his Yashi of dreams as Not Yashi. Calls followed for minutes. Minutes ran into hours. Bills rocketed to gargantuan heights. But Party was focused on his mission – To net the fish. Everyday the dinner talk use to revolve how Party is closer and closer to his target. While the rest three used to let out controlled grin boosting Party’s confidence in further enticing his babe.

The drama went for a month or so. Harsh was in total influence of cocaine like Not- Yashi syndrome. But the day when bankrupt Party received his Airtel Bill., the bubble burst with a BANG!!! The credit had crossed the limits in big way and poor fellow didn’t have a penny to pay the debt. Seeing the pity state of Party’s paranoia having a paradoxical conclusion, Addy played the party blooper- pun intended- and let the word out about Party’s foolishness. Down came the castle of dreams crashing down!!...the month’s effort gone all waste. The elusive love bug that had hit Party vanished into oblivion. While the rest had a hearty laugh and fun, our Party was heart broken.

But Party is One of his Kind!!! Again the normalcy resumed

Khaane ka Peene ka…
Hasne ka …Rone ka
Naachne ka…Gaane ka
Bomb Nahin maarne ka..
Party ko dekhne ka!!...

A new day and a new mission started…Party’s next big fish!!

Aey abhi khatam nahin hua dhakkan – Aage ka kahani kal padhne ka!!!

I yearn for P- P for Patience….

2006-06-06T02:31:00.000-07:00

A break from Raagamallika legacy...I felt this thought was striking vehmently in my mind for too long.Hence I share with you...my maniac odyssey of "The Legacy of..." will resume shortly..

Often the most trivial attributes in mankind grows into importance when confronted with outside world. We hear people talking them over and over again. Yet there is nonchalant attitude that surmounts our thoughts – ‘I have it in abundance…Its others who need to care about it’. Attributes like Integrity, Honesty, Discipline, Confidence, and Patience et al- we all seem to possess them. Yet there is always a defining line which demarcates a successful person who is proud owner of these qualities and the rest of the lot. The Success not necessarily associated with professional and materialistic term but the one where holistic approach of a person effuses prosperity.

Patience is the word I often use to hear in Cricketing circles especially in Test Matches. Test match arena is always perceived as real test of character, stamina and skills of player. Very few sport stretches the players’ mental strength session after session, day after day for a five day period on trot. The experts commenting about the quality of a batsmen or bowler, having “Patience”, to grind for hours and hours to reach that apogee of success. Players attribute their success more to their temperament than their technical skills. That left me baffled most times – why there is so much fuss about such a trivial characteristics which each and every individual possesses.

I was wronged and wronged in a big way. Not many of us in fact possess Patience. I can say about myself with regret that I don’t have “It” even in sporadic measures in my personality. More often than not I sensed my inners self or ego challenging me to make things happen rather than wait for it to happen. I don’t know which quality is more important in long run of a mankind. Yet I feel sometimes waiting for things to happen can lead to rich dividends than forcing it to work by hook or crook.

A quality in human being is often judged in relative terms. When the physical parameters is not supporting your strengths , its more than fruitful to allow those external circumstances that Fifteen minutes of Glory. Wait for the right time to wear it down and then strike with vengeance. Perhaps that’s what Patience is!! Unfortunately what I feel is my ego never allowed me to accept my adversary to bask even in that momentary and illusionary glory. Always questioning my manhood and strengths I presume that’s where life at times bluffs you- when you spent your energy trying to surmount far lesser goals than that final destination.

I was reading the Autobiography of Lance Armstrong, the seven time champion of Tour de France, few days back. Often these autobiographies works as mirror for me where I put myself in author’s mind and then start analyzing what would have I done if I was confronted with same situation. Remarkably I find myself thinking on the same lines as the author do yet I never tried to implement it in my day to day activities. Coming back to Lance Armstrong, he had already won the most arduous competition in the cycling circuit – Tour de France- when destiny cracked the biggest joke on his physical existence. He was diagnosed with Prostrate Cancer and doctor put his survival rate as low as 40 %. Leave aside his passion cycling, it was doubted whether he will be able to survive the affects of Cancer treatment.

Armstrong admits that till that point in his life he believed he can make anything and everything work his way for his happiness and success. He can vanquish any opposition with his skills and self belief Patience was the word which didn’t exist in his dictionary. For him waiting for right time was a defeatist attitude. Cancer taught him the biggest lesson of his life. At times in a battle you have to give enemy an extra inch to gain a mile. More often than not this enemy is none other than our very own Ego and Overbearing Consciousness.

Profession or in personal terms the life sets its own due course. Yet thinking too much about my future and neglecting my present I often run out of Patience. I look back at times when I could have gained more as an Individual whether in terms of my goals, ambitions or relationships had I given the circumstances, situations and adversary due respect and chose the appropriate time to strike back.

Certain things in this world are indeed beyond my control and I need to respect this cycle of Life. I yearn for Patience to understand this phenomenon…

Every day as the last day of your life…

2006-05-18T03:36:00.000-07:00

An intriguing thought pricked my mind when I woke up this morning – What would I do if today is supposed to be my last day on this earth? For a moment I was completely baffled and at loss about the hidden ambiguity in the thought that floated across my mind. The enormity of the question soon engulfed me when I realized that I was particularly clueless on what could exactly be my wish list when I am confronted with such doomsday prophecy. For a moment I brushed it aside saying such things cannot happen to me and I am destined to live jolly-few-more-scores to even contemplate about this thought. Still somewhere in the hindsight it kept my tummy lurching with thoughts that I know neither myself nor my wishes.

Like my usual routine I shot the first mail to my friends and close acquaintances as soon as I reached office - asking the same question. As I waited for their response slowly and steadily the thick veil of smog started to uncover that nebular motif that surrounded my mind. I could sense how much of a stranger I was to myself. I opened an Excel sheet and started typing some not so profound words. As my mind wavered across the various spectrum and ambitions I behold, I got the first response from one of my friends. She wanted to spend the last day of her life with her closest relations, duly apologizing for all the mistakes she has committed, let loose all those hidden words which were cabined in the closet of her heart and pass the entire day savoring the good times she had.

At least I got some idea about myself too. Yes definitely being with my family will stand out as of prime wish. All these materialistic gains and achievements would count nothing if my family is not there to stand by my side in case of such eventuality. Slowly more responses kept pouring in my mail box. Almost each one of them had a remarkable similarity of the way they associated themselves to their family and friends at times of adversary. What amazed me most was even though we human beings are spiritually, biologically and socially drastically different form one another still there is a common thread that binds us -The wish to remain inseparable with close ones.

Remarkable enough each one of us would like to celebrate this judgment day either by calling and meeting friends, eating delicacies or fulfilling all those hidden ambitions without worrying about the future. Another respondent of mine gave a thoughtful insight to her reaction on facing such a predicament. She said she would be thankful to God for giving her the opportunity to know when her end is nearing so that she could make it a special one. I guess none of us would like to leave this beautiful world with unfulfilled heart and mind.

When I was compiling the feedbacks and comparing them with what my half cooked wish list looked like, there was a strange deception about it. We talk about what we do when confronted with such situation but what if we start treating Every single day as the last day of our life. “Quite outlandish!!” rung the words in my eardrums. “Not Exactly!!” said my heart. I wake up every morning thinking about the worries and cacophonous skirmish of thoughts in my mind. I prefer worrying more about what I don’t have to what I have attained. I see myself in mirror and think that another dull day beacons me. I wait for appropriate time and destiny to make things working for me personally and professionally. Would I sit back the same way if today was my last day on this earth? ”No” boomed my heart and mind in resonance.

I want to be a writer then why not start today than waiting for an appropriate time. I want to be a singer then why not hum the tunes than waiting for someone to play the music. We come across several relations in our life – we prize some of them and don’t bother to mend the strained ones. But still I wish that all my friends, families and relatives be near to me when doomsday strikes. I wait for tomorrow to make the things better for me. I start on my route to meet my ambition but loose my way in middle worrying what would happen if I don’t achieve it. None of us would worry for tomorrow if today is supposed to be the last day on this world. I guess waiting for tomorrow, worrying for tomorrow had impaired my existence to great deal. I have plans for future but I don’t know how to use my present.

I sense the beam of ray penetrating this smog was provided by my friends within whom I could see my reflection, my present. There are lot of unfulfilled tasks that is waiting for me to get actuated. There are many to whom I need to pay gratitude for what I have achieved, there are lot more to whom I have to apologize for not meeting their desires. There are bunch of them to whom I waited to say how dearly I love them and be with them if not physically at least spiritually.

I think the luckiest are the ones who wake up in morning knowing what they have to do to conquer the present. Not only professionally but also on personal front. The spark of enlightenment first showed its sign when I called up my parents to just wish them a good day. Somewhere down the line I had started taking my family and friends for granted assuming to be there by my side whenever I pull up the strings. May be it is the time to treasure them in my life and pay the gratitude for their love, affection and sacrifice not only today but every single day. I apologized to some of my lost mates with whom gulf kept growing broader with period of time. It was time not to crib about mistakes I committed but take them as lessons that I learnt from them.

I wish this spark continues to bestow us with blissful and meaningful “today” everyday. I hope I can use my present to make my future brighter. I forget the past and stop worrying about future for present beacons me with an open arm.
By the way this morning the thought struck in my mind because I dreamt of the Monk who sold his Ferrari coming to me and asking the same question

Confronting Negative Wavelengths…

2006-05-15T00:31:00.000-07:00

Finally I finished reading the book “The Monk who sold the Ferrari”. Though pretty much lucid and concise in format it’s nothing sort of an epic. An epic of battle between mind and peripheral ambience which tends to sink a person into distress and oblivion. Its struggle about keeping oneself happy in face of adversity. It’s seeking opportunity even in time of distress and most of all its trying to understand any bitter experience not as mistake but a lesson in evolving a personality.

Through the pages I could distinctly identify the protagonist Julian and John with myself, with people associated with me in present and ones with whom I interacted in past. I have often believed that human mind is full of mixed emotions and it’s very difficult to chuck out negative thoughts straight away. It takes years for few people to practice this virtue, for some it even take entire life time. Few of us like me try to find peace in the words of writers who had experienced such conflict in their lifetime and showed the grit to imbibe such rare virtue.

But for rarest of rare it comes as an inherent quality. Negative thoughts never seem to cripple their life. No matter whatever the situation is, they face it with a broad smile and perhaps use it as a repelling force to push away all the unsynchronized wavelengths that disturbs the harmony of the mind. Sweet are the uses of adversity seems to be their mantra and I presume the tranquility that they possess has calming effect in and around their entity.

One of my really good mates Karthik Sampath is one such kind of a person. Smile seems to be glued to his face permanently and I presume it’s more to do with the tranquility factor of his mind that it never ceases to beam in full glow. Smile is much like a positive “virus”, its infectious and best cure for all the aliments. Unfortunately most of us somehow forget this basic art amidst the conundrum of modern times. Inadvertently once I asked Karthik “When did you last cry?” After long thought he said “I don’t remember”. I further poked him “When did u loose control over your anger?” Again after thinking really hard he couldn’t figure out when he exactly came across such situation.

Few people pretend to be emotionally strong. Many appear to be one. But the one who actually are need not require a designation. From the aura that surrounds them it becomes apparent about the charm and exuberance that they effuse. Karthik might have rift with many people, he might have engaged in brawl with lot more but it’s nearly impossible to etch out a bad word about anyone. Sometimes he may sound politically too correct but I guess this is his very nature and the way we have grown up in a cynical environment it’s difficult to imagine such kind of human existence.

It’s said “Perfection can’t be Bettered”. But I was blessed to live in august company of another such perfectionist Barat, one of the closest pals of mine. Normally we associate perfectionist with the profession and output we dole out. However after reading “The Monk…” I have started believing perfectionists are the ones who keep their virtues intact even when in strife. Like most Scorpions seeking pleasure in happiness of others seems to be the basic essence of his life and invariably he is right there next to you when you need a support. It’s almost impossible to quantify the worth of such a person unless they are separated by geographical constraints that you realize their real worth.

It requires tremendous discretion to view only the affirmative and affable side of a person to present your helping hand whenever the other is in dire straits. May be again the repelling phenomenon is quite high in his Emotional Quotient. The ability to present a strong persona nonetheless is portrayed in incognito by most of us for none of us want to be clubbed weak. But deep within we know there is a sense of insecurity of negative wave taking charge of our mindset. I guess people like Barat and Karthik personify one of the various facets that the author wanted to be transmitted into each and every individual. Their very presence at times becomes critical to surmount the unflinching challenges that confront us.

May be the tribe of their kind grow further.Ahem!!

Wish affection is bestowed not by words but by action

2006-05-09T02:18:00.000-07:00

I am completing my second year in the software industry and yet I wonder in spite of scribbling and presenting opinion on almost all facet of my life, I had conspicuously skipped professional motifs in my write ups. May be the passion and emotions that is required to unscramble the thoughts and pen down on piece of parchment never infused within my veins. Somehow there was an oddity about the environment and work culture which kept repelling me in imbibing the jargons, motifs, ethics etc.

Relationship with a person or an abstract thing like a company doesn’t require enough time to strike the chord. Either you like it or you don’t .There is no gradual shifting of affiliation. It’s been two days in this new company and remarkably I sit down on my desk to write on the topic which remained aloof from my mind for past two years, May be that’s the synchronization that I was referring to. I didn’t even have to ponder what I am supposed to write.

When I joined Manhattan Associates the most notable feature that struck my mind was equanimity and humbleness in the ambience. The cafeteria of the office is pretty decent and sober by software industry standards. There is a placard at the entrance which said “Please Help Yourself.” Very simple three word senetence which is insignia of any self service restaurant. Out here I could found the meaning of these words in practice. After finishing their lunch each and every employee cleaned their plates and properly stacked the bowl, spoon and plates in their respective compartments. There are companies boosting about the jargon of equality in the work culture, tagging their employees with designer words etc etc. I presume they miss out important people like office boys, maids and security guards who ensure our stay in office is pleasurable. This small reflection of culture practiced at Manhattan was an overwhelming experience.

I distinctly remember my first day at Cognizant. As a fresher with immense enthusiasm and aspirations I entered the fortress like campus of CTS. Still recuperating from the awe of the ambience , the mechanical precision with which Human Resources people doled out the ethics and rules coated with fancy jargons was enough to suggest that I am been shown a favor by been inducted in this large behemoth. A fresher brings in energy and ideas which is vital ingredient for success of any organization. Successful sporting teams will throw this distinct pattern that youth blended with certain amount of experience always reach astounding heights. Be it Chicago Bulls, Argentinean Football team of ’86 or our very own Indian Cricket team. For youth doesn’t carriage baggage of failure and sees every morning as the one of which he is the master. Unfortunately the IT industry hasn’t learnt this lesson as yet. The iterations in work, unmethodical chalking out the career paths, immense restrictions kills the bud within.

A new member in a family is welcomed with warmth, smile and flavor of festivity. A new born baby is cynosure of everyone. I had read in my school books the old verse of Kabir which said “Be like a tree who bends in humbleness because of uncountable number of fruits that decorates its branches.” I guess an organization is no different than a tree. Yet that humbleness somewhere gets lost when the family arc increases in diameter. I don’t know where Manhattan will stand ten years down the line in practicing the family like virtues. But the way I was welcomed into the organization somewhere left an indelible impression in my mind. From the security guard to the receptionist to the office boy to the HR people. Each one of them had natural warmth effusing from their face. No cosmetic jargons. No tread-of- mill repulsive lectures. No mistrust. No restriction. That’s what you want in your family …isn’t it??? Very basic virtues but I suspect how many organization practices it

I have often resisted been clubbed as a Resource in an organization. I believe be it a sweeper or a Managing Director of a company, he is human being. Not a raw material that you can stack up in your warehouse. An employee is your team mate not the piece of carton whom you can shelf when not required and pull in with a tag of “Critical” in case of emergency. No employee can be a resource or for that matter “Critical Resource”. Each one of them has a human existence and is equally important in growth of the organization. Just to sound fancy we are diluting somebody’s very existence. I don’t think any mother will ever refer one of her child as “Critical child” just because he has got the due opportunities that others missed out.

Parting away from a family is always a difficult proposition. You want to carry as many good moments as you can. I guess that’s why the concept of Farewell was introduced. Wherever you go, whatever you do…Our wishes will be with you. I presume by clubbing the employees as resources most industry have restricted their relations to highly materialistic level. I suspect how many of our parents will call us opportunistic if we endeavor for better career in far off place and leave the family fold. Presumably an organization is supposed to be like a family where old relations give way to newer breed.

Before bidding farewell to Cognizant I encountered an interesting incident. After finishing all my formalities at CTS I had to return my company ID. While coming out of the main exit gate I thought of taking the picture of the company building as a memorabilia. I took the way to entrance gate and was promptly stopped by the security guard. Now this was the same security guard with whom half and hour back I had jolly-good-friendly chat when I was in possession of the company badge. As expected he didn’t want to risk his job and even though he was aware about the situation he didn’t allow me to enter within an inch of premises. Finally to stroll inside the campus for 120 sec, I had to take a visitor pass. May be there was a poetic personification of my metamorphosis from an “associate” to a “stranger” in a “family” like organization.

Child and Beast within us

2006-05-04T00:29:00.001-07:00

Finally Pramod Mahajan had to yield against the Indomitable Death. John Donne wrote in his masterpiece poetry Death Be Not Proud:

For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow

I presume there has been plethora of paean and eulogy sung in memory of departed soul .And any further addition from this end will sound hackneyed. Today I sit down to write this blog not to lament but to scrutinize the feeble yet freakish human mind. There have been thousand and one conspiracy theories circulating in media yet nobody is taking the ostensible fact: A brother can be so raged due to negligence shown by his sibling that in fit of anger he can go and kill the person.

Truly it may sound as a dry excuse and I haven’t any distant idea of what criminal psychology is all about. Yet I would like to put up a very simple question. What will you do if you find out that your girl friend has dumped you when through out your life you had been devoting your mind and soul to make her happy? One fine day you discover that she is been wooed by someone else on pretext that you didn’t give her those usual dolly-good-last-night-kisses. For that matter take yourself as younger brother been constantly bullied by your elder siblings. Nobody paying attention to what you say and what is your perspective. When you are in crisis of your lifetime you find your self been shown a nonchalant and ignorant response from your blood relations. What will be your reaction?

I have no intention to rally for Pravin Mahajan , brother of deceased. Still I would like to believe that trying to sound virtuous and hypocritical that “How can he do it?”…we all are fooling ourselves. Its normal homo sapiens’ tendency to react strongly when you feel let down by the people with whom you have certain expectations. Just like different elements in Mendelif’s periodic table the level of reaction depends upon their stability which is mind in this case. A strong family bonding always provides an inert atmosphere which keeps human being immune from relational trauma. This person is no rank criminal which has been justified by his reaction and level headedness after the incident.

A Greek philosopher said “No man is an island”. How much self-reliant and emotionally strong we may be, still at some point of time you need a shoulder to rest your head upon, a lap where you can cuddle yourself like a child. People look for a boy friend/girl friend/life partners to cut loose those childish emotions which may look ridiculous in front of you and me. As we all grow up, we are expected to behave in matured way keeping all the innocence and childishness in shackles. I wonder how would a child react if he finds his favorite candies been stolen by his elder brother or his favorite toy been broken by his sister. Of course we never expect him to sit quiet and practice wisdom of life “Forgive and Forget”.

“The Child is father of a Man” said Wordsworth.Shakespeare described old age as “Second Childishness”. I presume certain philosophers could distinctly see that child quotient within each one of us. For some like any “abnormality”, which I refuse to term the word as, this quotient is pretty high. I won’t like my mother’s love and affection to be shared by any other person. Neither would I see my sister treating someone less at par with me and giving him a brotherly affection. I guess neither would you. Unfortunately in spite of having a beast and a child within ourselves we sound perplexed when some body can’t control this confabulation within his mind. His only mistake that it has become apparent in public eye.

I might have committed scores of crime in hiding where nobody could have chance of nailing me down. I have let out the beast within me to such an extent that it diluted my persona. The Jekyll and Hyde conflict rages within me every moment I see my self in reflection. Yet I try to sound virtuous by condemning a perfectly normal person for his indifferent ability to control the beast plus child within himself. Unfortunately I been a part of society am not willing to accept convicts within my periphery. I suspect whether you would do any thing different? Neither I nor my society is pragmatic enough to give conducive environment to people with such indifferent ability to rectify themselves.

We all believe Bad is as dark as the color BLACK and Good is as pure as color WHITE. I am white and you are black. That’s the human philosophy.

From Chernobyl to Bhopal

2006-04-27T06:25:00.000-07:00

Sitting on the crouch and flipping through the channels often lead you to complete passiveness and absent mindedness. For a change, yesterday while surfing through limited channels accessible in airwaves of Madras I finally paused on BBC and landed on something related to a place called Chernobyl.

It was 20th anniversary of Chernobyl disaster and Ukrainian government was commemorating the occasion by paying homage to millions of people who were severely affected. For people who are unaware about Chernobyl disaster, admittedly I never knew about it till yesterday, it was the worst human-engineered-disaster to struck mankind. In former Soviet Union exactly twenty years ago on 26th April 1986, one of the four nuclear reactors at Chernobyl power station exploded killing thousands, contaminating millions and crippling many more. It’s said the radiation was 100 times stronger than the atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The closest event that I can relate to the Chernobyl is that of Bhopal Gas tragedy. The fallout of uninhibited industrialization without control in under developed India. Despite the disaster striking the man kind in same fashion, how two different civilizations treat the magnanimity of the issue is quite contrasting. Entire Ukraine still stands for cause of people displaced or still settled in and around Chernobyl. The Head of State of Ukraine acknowledges the tragedy yet in no way the country restrains itself from harnessing its resources for further development. “We are blessed with Uranium and we have to live and die by it.”
An old lady refuses to leave her plot of land near the nuclear reactors for she considers it as her child.

May be when I consider my own country been struck by such disaster, the lack of sensitivity is alarmingly of high proportion. It was not until I tread through the pages of Dominique Lapirerie’s vivid description of the Bhopal catastrophe in “Five past midnight’ the enormity of event struck me. Yet it’s difficult to imagine India commemorate for the deceased in such large scale that it draws international media attention. I suspect how many of us actually know when such calamity of gargantuan proportion struck us. May be that’s how simplistically and spiritually we live in India.

Earlier in the show on BBC, there was an interview with Bollywood actress Priety Zinta on diverse issues crippling India. When she said that “In India Life is cheap”, I couldn’t find a better exemplification to substantiate the point. 9/11 has become a jargon, a fad to describe world prior and after a certain event. I presume none of us would associate Indian industrial dynamics with 3rd December 1984.

Yet amidst the difference of civilization and sensitivity, one thing strikes is the interminable resilience of survivor is remarkably similar. Be it Chernobyl or Bhopal none of the survivors want to get displaced from their roots. They still pledge to live and die for the land The still fight several ailments and post traumatic disorders in similar way. May be that’s what unite human beings across the race and civilization.

When writing for Trust...

2006-04-26T07:21:00.000-07:00

Trust is the word which invariably rings our ear drums when the word relation comes. People proclaim trust to their life. They crumble to ashes when it’s fractured. Often the repercussions are deep and stigma leaves an indelible impression on heart and mind. Relations inadvertently start metamorphosing trust into other form of emotions: belief, care, love, affection, martyrdom.

I often wonder what makes people trust each other. For we all have certain degree of veil surrounding our realm which evades us from exposing certain quarter of our consciousness to others. Whether it’s impish or innocuously charming, certain thoughts simply stay deep rooted within ourselves Even at the moment of reckoning we fear it getting exposed to the next human entity. Still we claim to be trustworthy. I sense between emotions of two individuals there is a void or perhaps conglomeration of feelings which is beyond comprehension. The void arguably treads the way of Boyle’s theory or Archimedes principle. Greater the trust, lesser is the void. Still it exists.

We as a human being often seek trust as an excuse to end a relation and perhaps apprehension to kick start a new one. We fear that some one else too might tickle those deep rooted thoughts which causes uneasiness for few and emotionally volatile for many. Yet amidst those deep rooted mystique corners there is a wish that is lurking about someone coming and reduce the void ness .How often we fell in for a much stronger bond or relation after someone has let down our trust. Perhaps the eagerness to cut loose ones inner consciousness which might have inhibited the past relations enables us to cross the boundaries

There are times when I surprise myself on hearing from people’s admittance that they trust me. It levies as an Atlas across my broad sub-consciousness with a bold question brazenly displaying “What if?” I take the solace from the fact that even I do not live up to expectations of some one may be I can hope to try harder to erase the mistrust I Frankenstein-ed. Still the questionable mind of human being becomes doubly conscious before providing those small peek to their inner periphery of thoughts.

People often claim to be let down by one and vow never to get into relations with other. But I promise each one of us secretly wishes that some one trusts us and someone whom we can trust. May be we are not bold enough to admit this simple human want. I remember a heart rendering story about one of my close associate and friend. Invariably I narrate this one to people who believes their trust has been burst like a bubble.

This friend of mine was a typical middle class north Indian easy-go-lucky girl who never knew bounds of her creativity and romanticism. An affable company often attracts jealous glares and dodgy remarks. Yet whoever use to be in her company often left bewildered how easily she mingles with people and allow others to express their mind. During third year of her graduation, she came in touch with her intern lead, a handsome young man.
The mutual consensus and liking for each other developed into strong relation between the two. Within a year it became difficult for us to think one without the other. We often used to talk how the pair complies to an ideal couple with immense understanding. My friend skipped her academic minors to take care for her beloved when he was down with viral infections. We all had presumption that anything short of marriage between the two will be under achievement for this relation.

Three years down the line I met this friend of mine on my way to Kolkata. With an impish grin, I asked about the guy and their relations. Her terse word came as shock when she said ‘He is dead.’ Before I could recover she continued ‘He is dead not for this world but for me.’ In spite of serious mental restraint, I couldn’t help myself without asking the reason.

The girl got engaged with this guy on completion of her graduation and went home on vacation. For days there were no calls, no mails, and no communication from her betrothal. Sensing something inexplicable she kept trying to contact him through his friends, relatives but all in vain. Then one day she decided to visit the guy’s native to figure out what the problem actually was. When she entered the guy’s house a young married girl greeted her who was this person’s wife for last three years. Hell broke loose on my friend on unraveling the truth. She left the place without meeting the guy and till date she hasn’t seen him again.

I presume from a female perspective trust reaches beyond quantifiable limits the moment she allows the person to take charge of her physically and mentally. Seeing my friend’s mental state I couldn’t gauge whether she was angry, hurt or fuming with vengeance. I wasn’t sure whether she is going to ever enter into any other relationship. Recently I came to know she is married to a Tamil Brahmin hailing from Madurai and have a sweet little kid. Presumably it’s a love marriage and perhaps a better person is in her life to soothe her sufferings and create a new glimmer of faith and TRUST

The Science of Law

2006-01-17T23:21:00.000-08:00

While contemplating on my previous blogs, I wondered whether I am doing justice to my intellectual pedigree by ignoring ‘it’ brazenly. How much Engineering intellect hovers in my mind, still the fact is Law- the profession runs in my blood. It’s tantamount that through these blogs I pay the tribute to the profession which once was aspired by elite students and best brains in the country.

Call it a flaw in our education system or sheer mismanagement that the profession that requires the best of logical and analytical brains has to be mostly content with people who see it as last option. Interestingly while the policies and media concentrate towards IITs, IIMs increasing their fold, there is hardly any buzz of setting up an institute of that stature in field of Law.

I am neither a policy maker nor an influential thought- processor who can change the way government perceives a thing. Instead what I would do is to substantiate the point I pen down the memoirs of most memorable of cases that I had the opportunity to come across through my father...It’s a precarious alley to tread in for I am hardly anything but a novice when discussing about such a refine subject. Yet I take courage to commit a seemingly delinquent act as a mark of respect to my family profession.

It was mid seventies. Still the society coming to the terms of anarchic rule of Indira Gandhi and her cronies. Mahesh Saxena a young ingenious Science graduate progressed to obtain an LLB degree from the renowned Law College in Bhagalpur. Following illness of his father he had to quickly mature into an independent advocate with hardly any tenure of apprenticeship. His father, a leading criminal case lawyer had set up an enviable reputation to live with. The cases which were destined to be handled by the seasoned professional were now in the laps of a tyro.

This was the first case of Mahesh as a defense counsel. Balwant Singh, a septuagenarian. and an influential farmer , was accused of stoning his neighbour Ramdev Yadav to death. Police had lodged the FIR stating that Ramdev Yadav was smashed by heavy boulder repeatedly. The Civil Surgeon, Dr Srivastava confirmed the reports stating multiple injuries found on the head and spinal cord area. Though there was no witness to second the FIR, yet Civil Surgeon’s observation was considered in metaphorical terms The Golden Truth

Frankly stating it was one of those proverbial Open and Shut case were defense stood hardly any chance.

The Crown counsel forwarded the case in the court of District and Sessions Judge and it was the final day of hearing.. The Public Prosecutor presented the case citing all the evidence that implicated Balwant of perfidious act and murder Now it was turn of defense counsel to put his last foot forward.

Up stood Mahesh, in his late twenties and the juvenile countenance suggesting apprehension, anxiety but full of exuberance to take the bull by the horns.
The court atmosphere usually is far from that hackneyed portrayal shown in movies where a judge behaves everything except like an arbitrator whose sole task is to curb the cacophony created during the proceedings. Infact the environment is far more amiable, humorous and quite fascinating where judges never restrain to take a dig at the lawyers or witness.

“Sir, my client Balwant Singh, son of Anant Singh, residing in village Khusropur in Bhagalpur district has been accused of Murder of certain Ramdev Yadav.” were the first lines that Mahesh spoke.

“Sir , the police has found certain set of evidence and the Civil Surgeon Dr Srivastava has stated in his observation that the police’s findings are correct. I request you to kindly summon Dr. Srivastava on witness box.”

Judge acknowledged the request and Doc was brought to witness box. The Civil Surgeon of a town used to be one of the venerable figures and it was implicitly understood that any queries to him should be coated with a sense of deference and politeness.

“Sir, in which year did you get your MBBS degree?” notwithstanding the stature of the persona, Mahesh threw his first bait.

“What do you mean by “which year”. Mr Advocate you must understand that I have dealt with kids like you on numerous occasion and know what you lawyers are upto”.. Retorted
the doctor

“Very true sir… You must have seen thousands of lawyers across the generations. But there is a slight difference from the past generation lawyer to the newer breed...We new entrants are basically science graduates who got into this field...so our understanding might be slightly different to the one you encountered earlier..” Mahesh replied back in a calm manner.

There was a grin on the face of judge for he was expecting something spicy to follow.

“Very well...let’s see…what you fellas are upto..it was in 1953 that I did my MBBS”
Doctor replied in a brusque manner.

“Sir, did you have physics as one of your subjects at time of entrance?” Mahesh queried.

“What the hell you are upto? How this is related to the case in any way? And by the way for your information you got to have Physics as your main subjects during intermediate. Judge sahib, I presume your lawyer has certainly lost his senses” scowled the Doctor visibly irritated by these abrupt nature of questions.

“Yes..Mr Advocate..how these questions are related in any way to the case. And why you are harassing and wasting poor doctor’s time” Judge queried with a wry smile on his face

“Sir…it is indeed related to the case...and I ask the question because during his time a student can get into Medicines with English, Biology and Chemistry as his majoring subject”..the defense replie calmly

“Very well...go ahead with your questions..” Judge gave the approval

“Yes …Doctor sahib... did you have Physics as a majoring subject in your intermediate days”
“I...I did have “ Doctor replied

“Very well…then you must be aware of the term Momentum in physics” The defense counsel asked the doctor with a smile on his face

“Yes…” replied doctor

“So what is Momentum doctor?” was the next question of Mahesh

“Momentum..er. Momentum is momentum” repled the Doc abruptly

“I would like to know the definition...doctor sahib” Mahesh insisted

“Very well…Momentum is something…like speed plus weight” replied doctor vaguely

“No sir you are wrong!!” Mahesh gave a stern look in doctor’s eyes.

“Then what’s Momentum?” Judge demanded to know

“Sir… Momentum is product of mass and velocity” Mahesh politely replied

“Hey...you lawyer… speed and velocity are same and it was just a slip of tongue” Doctor gave a harried reply

“Sir...if you had read physics in your intermediate days..you would never have said the thing..both are different entities...” Mahesh replied

“Anyways” Mahesh continued sighting the doctor’s confidence now completely shaken ”So by law of Physics Momentum is product of mass and velocity. Hence for high Momentum the Mass should be high...Right doctor?”

“Y...Yes” Doctor said

“This means for high momentum along with mass the velocity should also be ‘high’?” Mahesh continued. Now playing with doctor’s confidence and also the definition of the Newtonian term.

“Yes..it’ s true” doctor was now caught in the trap

“This means if a person has to b pelted to death by stone…he has to throw the boulder of high mass with a very high velocity to get that ‘HIGH’ momentum to kill the person”. Now Mahesh personified assurance along with confidence

“Yes..that’s true” Doctor gave timid reply

“Sir..the accused Balwant Singh..what’s his age?” Asked Mahesh

“About 75-76” blurted out doctor

“Does the physique and health of the person suggest that he can lift and throw a heavy boulder with a high velocity to a person so that person gets killed?”

“No…it’s not possible…he has got a frail structure” replied doctor

“That’s it ..My Lord..the civil surgeon accepts the fact that the Accused doesn’t have the strength to lift and throw such a heavy boulder to crush a person to death.Then how can he be punished for a crime which he has not committed..there is no other evidence to suggest the fact that he is the culprit..hence I request to kindly order a reinvestigation of entire case and acquit my client of the charges” were the final statement of Mahesh the defense counsel.

“Seeing the lack of evidence and statement given by Civil Surgeon, I order the Police Superintendent to reinvestigate the entire case and bring the culprit to book. I order the acquittal of Balwant Singh, son of Anant Singh of the charges and as per probation of six months he needs to report to local police station once in a week.The court is adjourned”
The Judge dismissed the proceedings with this judgment

Mahesh Saxena had got one up against the odds to notch an improbable victory for his client and more so for himself. That was Science of Law for you.
God bless Newton’s Momentum and his law of motions.

The Enigma called Marriage

2006-01-16T04:28:00.000-08:00

It’s always a nice feeling to get back doing what you do the best. In my case I love the role of a Raconteur.. As I scribble these lines, Sehwag is in middle of an amazing innings against Pakistan and probably his exuberance exemplifies what I scribble in the following lines
Being an avid reader I tend to observe contrasting perspectives of various writers on any topic under the sun. Amidst this plethora of opinions, I believe there is one such topic where invariably all the scholars, philosophers, sociologist et al come to an agreement-its Marriage. And apart from odd opinions there is a general consensus that Marriage is an Institution-the sancto sanctorum of a temple called Relationship
I am neither sociologist nor a marriage bureau expert to commit a sacrilege act by commenting on such delicate issue. Instead I had an experience of sorts which firmed the belief that if it’s not an institution in literal terms then it is indeed one in factual sense. Probably the closest metaphor that I can draw about Marriage-the Institution is - One when I was cajoled to join the primary schools much against my wishes.In the formative years of growing up, playing and socializing should have been paramount:-)
Anyways, the incident which gave thrust to such views is quite frivolous in nature.
The story goes like this..It was mid-June in 2003 when I received a marriage invitation from one of my college friend cum state mate, Veerendra. Being from same state always holds a special place for we Engineering College grads. In a sense such an invitation was bit scary but at the same time one generating 32-inch-broad –grin on the face. Often there is enormous curiosity of exploring unfathomed world.Now, when someone from the group is first in treading that mysterious path, a sense of anxiety rules the atmosphere
It was summer vacation time and I had nothing fruitful to look up to.For me, it was an ideal break from the monotony that was slowly creeping into the life. Typically, by looking a marriage function you can estimate the class, creed, financial health of a family. Particularly so in Bihar where each and every community has its own distinctive style. Ironically,I pity the attendants to my marriage. It's famous that a marriage in Kayastha community, to which I belong to, often test the limits of attendees. More often then not, the guest has to return with tummy yearning for even single drop of water, forget the delicacies. By no means I am scaring the readers to abhor the idea of attending my marriage:-). I will take best measures to ensure that you are served a delicious glass of thanda paani.
There is one more interesting community of bhumiars, the erstwhile zamindaars during time of Britishers, where marriage takes place at very raw age. My good friend was one such scapegoat. It was the first marriage of our batch hence I took special measures to attire myself in best of dresses with different varieties of facials and a funky hair cut to suit the occasion. One of my close pals Mansoor joined me as part of bandwagon called Baraatis. We traveled all the way from Patna to Begusarai to attend the function .Admittedly the reception was top class. The moment the girl’s side came to know that we are the Groom’s closest mates, special care was taken to make us comfortable and happy.
Varieties of delicacies along with the round the clock service of various form of entertainment kept us busy through out the day. During evening both of us got dressed in gaudiest of ceremonial dresses wearing special perfume and touch of nonchalance. For we were the second most important person in that entire conglomeration.
In baraat procession we danced all the way, leading from the front to the bride’s house. Keeping special attention towards the girls -whoever falls for us. The arrangement at the site was equally good. We filled ourselves to throat and apart from odd tiff with the host, we had an amiable going by any standards.
After the ritual of exchanging the garland- Jaymaal, was done and the bride and groom proceeded towards Mandap to perform the rest of the rituals.Meanwhile we both were left to mingle with the bride’s family members.Inspite of being full, we were forced to eat, drink and make merry.
However, the moment I gulped down the fifth glass of sherbet, I somehow started feeling intoxicated and next thing I remember was me lying on a bed in a closed, dark room
It was a creepy,eerie and dead dark ..and I could sense some body else was lying by my side. He was Mansoor.I was still trying to figure out where exactly I was. I waded my way towards the door. But to my dismay I found it been bolted from outside.
Where the hell I am stuck? I banged the door hard…shouted from the window…but nobody answered It seemed as if the marriage function was a distant dream.
With thirst slowly enervating my energy..I gave a finally spanking on the door..but no body trudged a bit..I shook Mansoor hard..and coaxed him to wake up.
Finally with bleary eye he got up..still wondering what the fuss was all about
“Man..we are stuck!!..somebody has captivated us in this room!”
“What?” blurted Mansoor..still recovering from his sub-conscious state.
“There is no one responding to our call..we cant get out!”..I freaked out
Probably the last line brought Mansoor fully back to the senses. Together we rushed towards the door banging it as hard as possible but in vain.Completely tired , we both collapsed near the door waiting for some inevitable to come.
After about an hour or so..I presume...there were sounds of footsteps approaching towards our door.I believe that was our last chance..we both shouted at the top of our voice pleading for the door to be open. Finally, it worked...We could sense some body unlocking the bolt.
We set ourselves few paces aside waiting for our unknown adversary. Slowly the door opened and entered a tall. dark cantankerous frame with a frail look , a monstrous moustache and a bamboo stick in his hand. There were three more guys who followed the person.
“What’s the problem?” growled our tormentor
“Why h..have you locked us in this room?” blurted out the feeble voice of Mansoor
“Ha..haa..haa” bellowed the man. ”So that you guys don’t scoot off?”
“Meaning?”..i queried still perplexed amidst this conundrum
“I am bride’s uncle”..growled the man” And I have three daughters. I queried about you both from Veerendra (my friend)..and came to know that you too are engineer like him. Where will I get the better match than this? What I offer is you both get married to my respective daughters.You choose which one you want.”
Still coming in to the terms with the whole affair I couldn’t digest the entire bombardment of those words upon us “I mean..how can I get married..I am still young”.. I squeaked
“Young…who said that” he groaned ”At your age I already had my second wife.The guys of this generation are cuddled to such an extent that they never grow up. But I won't leave you two unless you accept the proposal”
“But..but..I have to seek my parent’s permission” I pleaded
“You don’t worry about that.I will inform your parents and as part of dowry we will be offering you whole plot of land and weigh you in gold” The man said now in bit docile manner
“But..there is one more hitch..I am Muslim”…Mansoor literally played his last card. I presume this was his best bet
“I don’t care..I will convert you to Hindu. After all what is there is religion..you look like film star..educated..will soon start earning..what else??Now enough of excuses..either you agree to this proposal else I will tie you up and lock you in this room”…Uncle’s voice boomed
“That’s not possible..I need to have a word with Veerendra..You cant force me..this is obnoxious” I was agitated
“You can’t meet him…he has gone to his village with his bride to seek the blessings..you have to decide your self.”
“Hey.you.c.ca..” before I could complete the sentence Mansoor pinched hard on my palm. He signaled me not to speak
“Ok sir..we are ready.” Spoke a more sedate Mansoor
“Has he gone crazy?Is he holding his sense right? Does he understand the implications?” thought loomed in my agitated mind

“That’s better!!You are smart fella” grinned the bride’s uncle
“But,you must understand sir, that its wee hour of the day and we must go to answer the nature’s call.Atleast give us some leverage and allow us to go to nearby field to relieve ourselves”.Mansoor continued
“Hmm..Ok…but remember your luggage and other goods are in my custody...Tomorrow we will finalize the details.I am calling pundit ji”.. hissed uncle
“Ok..ok sir,we will surely do that..come Adarsh”..said Mansoor, dragging me towards the door Finally we came out in the open. Me still wondering about the the proposal. I was about to shout at Mansoor but decided to wait till we were some distance away from the house
Before I could let my lungs and throat loose, Mansoor whispered”Run!!”
“Where??” I was completely bemused
“To the railway track!!” he shouted
“But..but our luggage?”
“You idiot it’s a matter of our life..run…forget the luggage!!” shouted Mansoor. He clutched my arm firmly and throttled me forward towards the field."Run...Adarsh...Run!!"
I was still in dilemma yet I trusted Mansoor's undoubtable wisdom and ran as hard as I could.
We ran for about a mile towards the railway track. At times looking back whether somebody is following us or not. Finally we reached near the signal post.
“Listen this is a halt..the train for Patna stops here for 10 sec..we have to get in..it will be coming any moment” huffed out Mansoor
Waiting for those 15-20 min looked like eternity. Even the sound of woodpecker seemed intimidating. Any moment the bride’s uncle and his men will barge in..And that’s it..the end of our bachelor hood…
Finally the ray of hope appeared from the distant horizon. It was the sign of incoming train.
Down across the field we could see a cluster of torch lights approaching towards the railway track too .Our predators got a sniff.
Together we prayed hard to almighty…begged for mercy for any sin…and wished the train come faster But it was only our tormentor who appeared to be more discernible.
Ten..nine..eight… I counted as the train approached
Finally it stopped near the halt. Both of us rushed towards the first compartment. Our predators following the suit..But before even one could lay hand on us..the train started..we were free…
Marriage –the Institution gave us one reprieve

The First Year maniacs

2005-11-30T19:59:00.000-08:00

Its May,2051AD."Time to pack the bags and proceed for the bigger challenge"..that's what Dean Academic Affairs doled out in "Rukshat" ,the farewell function for final year students.Evening function was jotted with same staple dance and music program with love birds prefering a cosy corner of the audi to discuss their future rather than break their heads on what was happening on stage. The special dinner prepared for the function was worse than the regular mess food...in whole there was not much to cheer about for the members of Bajrang Dal ..those unfortunate/fortunate lot(..as you like to say) who were still deprived from cupid's blessings

People like Rashmi and Maneka preferred a stroll and have a puff along the railway track that bisected the college into two halves...At distant ,the dim light of incoming train personfied the inevitable..The parting of ways. "The Honeymoon is over and the corporate world opens its arms..blah..blah.." echoed the voice of the Dean across the microphone

Rashmi got hold of a high end job in a Bio Tech firm and was moving to LA in last week of May while Maneka got offer from a Sweden based Manufacturing unit..In true sense it was geographical,emotional,physical parting...nothing they could do about it..Both Rashmi and Maneka sat near a signal post,Maneka squeezing the last puff out of the cigarette...The train whistle drew closer and closer...and their Memories became vivid and clearer....... The scorching light of the engine flashed across their eyes, mind,ears.....And....

Year 2047.Its Autumn season and as the Reva,the indigenous Indian taxi,screeched near the entrance of Tagore Hostel(..the first year hostel) a crowd was awaiting Rashmi.Her father was on an official visit to Iraq, she had to come all alone to this college,Motilal Nehru National Institute of Technology.Rashmi secured 113 rank in AIEEE examination and just manage to get hold of the last seat in Mechanical engineering.She pulled her baggage down from the taxi and waded through the crowd near the warden's office

Rashmi could see that it was anxiety of the parents rather than the students who was driving the warden to crazy limits.The constant queries regarding the hostel allotment,start of classes,mess facilty etc etc...made warden and her caretaker hysterical.Rashmi finally managed to get inside the Warden's room and get hold of the Hostel application form.

At a distance she could see there were rows of table arranged,with a @HelpDesk billboard hanging over it.But there was not a single soul to bestow help at this moment.She realized that the volunteers ,supposedly, seniors of the college were busy grilling a fresher near the corner of a room..

"First year!!!" growled someone over Rashmi's shoulder.Heart beat stopped and pulse started raging faster as she turned back.A muscular,gym tuned frame with trendy Tees and ragged jeans was standing infront of her.There was a cut mark across her eye brow and her clumsy curly hair suggested that she is just back having a brawl with someone.

"Yes..Mam!"...

"You rascal..how you dared looking in my eyes..."She barked."How come you exist in this world.You filth...dont you know that you should show respect to your Mom"

Rashmi wondered whether she actually showed disrespect to her mom..last time when she left her house in Merrut..She touched her feet..took her blessings..promised her that she will page her once she reaches Allahabad...How come this bloke drew the conclusion.

"Follow me!!" commanded the girl to Rashmi and marched past her towards an isolated room.

Rashmi followed her with the application form still dangling in her hands..She had heard of something called ragging but didnt have any clue what was in store for her.

They both entered into a dark hall,where in one corner an old tattered table tennis borad was placed and adjacent to the entrance door was a television with plugs and wires hanging all over the place.Magazines and newspaper spread all over the floor. There was something that resembled carrom board on the far corner of the room but of late had become nest for spiders and moths.Across the wall something was scribbled with a Paint which suggested the name "Common Room"

"Intro?"...demanded the girl.

"My name is Rash...."...bang!!!... before she could finish the sentence she was hit flat on her face by ,what probably was, a metal palm..Instantly a drop of teared rolled down her eyes..

.
"Who will the ask for permission...you slimey old creature?"...raged The Predator.

"Madam..can i have y..yo..your pp..pppermission to introduce myself?"...

"Thats more like it...day by day these firsties are forgetting the manners"...declared the tormentor

"Permission Granted!!" said the girl with a sense of satisfction and pride

"Mam,my name is Rashmi Agarwal and my date of birth is 22 July,2034".

"I got 113 rank in AIEEE..and"...bannng!!!...this time the slap came from the other side...few more drops of tear rolled down the innocent eyes of Rashmi

"Didnt your dad teach your mom.... while reproducing you as a burden on this earth.... that NEVER utter the Acronymns while giving the intro!!!"fumed the boss

"Sorry....m...mam"

"I g..got 113 rank in M...m...Mechanical Engineering and I got All India Engineering Entrance Examination as my branch"....

"What???"......saying this the girl started laughing hysterically

"Sorry...sorry mam!!!"

"Hmm..so another daughter of Vivek Chandra??...You know who is VC?"

"No..mam"...sobbed Rahmi..her eyes fixed at her toes

"Well VC has screwed all the women of Allahabad and produced filths like you...he is HOD of Mech Deptt"

"So who is your father.....??"

"Rajat Agarwal"

Chaatttaaaaaaak!!!!!!!!!! another slap

"Didnt i tell u about VC...you are his illegal daughter!!!!...so who is your father??"

Within minutes the girl had changed the genetics,parentage,pedigree...everything that Rashmi resembled of in this world.

"V..Vivek Chandra"...thats more like it...

"Thats more like a good girl!!"...said the girl wryly"Enough of blabbering about your history..need to test your aptitude as an engineer.."

"Yes...mam" whimpered Rashmi

"Okies...babe...what about having a vivid description of my love..my dream date Jaden Agassi...Imagine him to take bath fully bared...and describe his contours in fully mechie terms''

Rahmi became red like an apple..never she knew that her first class as an engineering will be lewd and brazen...

"I said bark...you b.." shouted the girl

Tears were flowing like stream from her dark eyes...she hesitated and then started..

"Agassi is taking bath..in bathroom..the tap is open..the shower is running and.."

Slapppp!!!...this was the strongest of the four nasty blows that hit Rashmi's soft cheeks..

"Are you narrating a Ramayana or mouthing ugly shit....you fu.."

"What's going on??" before the girl could finsih her whipping,the door of common room burst open .Stood on the doorsteps were chief warden,warden,caretaker and couple of senior girls.

The girl froze then and there itself.."Mam i was just helping her out.."

"What's your name?" inquired chief warden.Chief Warden was a fat old lady with wrinkles all over her forhead..She wore a dark gown along with thick glasses,,Her countenance beamed sterness and discipline from distant itself.

"Maneka...Maneka Sinha" said the girl

"Which year?"

"F..first year ...first year..mam"..stuttered Maneka

"And why this girl is crying?"

"Mam..sh ..she is feeling home sick..isnt it Rasmi?"

For a second Rashmi felt kicking herself for being foxed by a first year then she realized that she has got a golden opportunity to pay back that bitch Maneka for her delinquent act..She can literally give a stronger reply to those four slaps which shook her up..Nobody had dared to touch her in past 17 years..Her mom and dad had brought her up like a delicate flower..and for the first time she was out in this world on her own...such a rude shock...Its time to teach this girl a lesson said her mind..but

"Yes..Yes mam..Maneka is right", said her heart and mouth in sync.

"Then what are you doing here and what was the noise about?" asked chief warden..his temprament now bit mellowed down

"Mam..i had to fill the hostel form and i didnt get a place..Maneka...Maneka showed me this room and was helping me to do the formalities...Sir...i am scared of sp..spider...Maneka was shooing one of them off..the noise came from that only"

"Ok...so have you done with your formalities.." asked the chief warden

"No..mam...i havent been allotted the room" said Rashmi

"Geetanjali ji..check the database and tell me which room is allotted to Rashmi..Rashmi what??
"Rashmi Agarwal..mam"

The caretaker took out the PDA(..portable database administrator)..and announced Room No 137.B-wing

"You both can leave now" announced the chief warden and dismissed the proceedings

As the gathering dispersed and Rashmi strolled towards the door.."Thanks..thanks Rashmi" words echoed in her ears.She turned around to face Maneka who was standing apologetically.
"I am really sorry Rashmi" said Maneka

"Better leave..the place and dont ever come in front of me or you gonna get a spanking from me" fumed Rashmi

"That I can't do"

"What??"..barked Rashmi

"That I can't do....I can't remove my bodily parts from your proximity"

"Why...??"Rashmi moved forward in menancing fashion

"Coz...I am your Room Mate..My room is also 137 B-wing"

"Shucks...I can't believe this...I am gonna get it changed" Rashmi said irresistably

"Hey Rashmi..I am not that bad yaar...nobody will stay with me mate...i am ready to pay for my mischief....you can hit me any where..."Saying this Maneka turned her back towards Rashmi and positioned herself so that Rashmi could hit her"

Even with so much hatred filled in her mind...Maneka's action brought a wide grin in her face..

She cluthced her hand and said "Hi..Rashmi Agarwal from Merrut....Intro??"

"Mam...Maneka Sinha from Patna,Bihar..." said Maneka with a smile

Rashmi gave a soft slap on her cheek and said " Is this the way to show respect to your Mom"
They both had a hearty laugh and dragged their luggage and bedding towards Room 137 B-wing..What followed next was four years of strong bond of friendship between the two..

2005-11-23T20:11:00.000-08:00

Of Reversal in sex ratio and surviving in Women Fiefdom

For those who are still aloof of harrypottersque mania and wondering what does "horacruxinmind" stands for.Shed off your inhibitions and enrich your Potter voabulary.Horacruxes are one of the ways to make yourself immortal.And by replicating this blog as a "Pensieve" another Potter lingua franca :-):-) ... i am trying to make weirdos like me immortal.

Too much of high funda stuff...:-P....Better, lets get back to the title of the blog.How come a feminine title figured in a blog which last night itself eulogized a great literary figure(...no hidden meanings intended).To be frank through these lines i am narrating one of secret desires which i had held for long time.

Trying to survive in the world where women is in majority :-).

Quite scary yet enthralling.For the obvious reasons that the skewed sex ratio of Indian population cant be better examplified than in Engineering College.Where girls are few and far between the crowd of boys and only boys.I guess Adam Smith the greatest economist never thought of such improbable Demand/Supply ratio while coining the word Deficit:-).World looks upto engineering grad as one to create new options and opportunities.Here the poor fellow cant even generate one(..obviously a girl) for his survival.

One night i earnestly prayed God that the sex ratio of this world be reversed.And what followed next was a ......

Bang!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Zoooooooooooom!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fast forward 2050 AD.National Institute of Technology,Allahabad(...couldnt dream about any other better place)..Dotted by structural frames,this campus which once used to be green and nature's delight has become an architectural jungle.With more hostels and more buildings sprouting inside the campus.

In the one isolated corner of a room of historical Tilak hostel on a sultry night Rashmi was busy scribbling through the tutorial sheets while Menaka was puffing a cheroot next to the door egging Rashmi to finish the work faster so that she can do the "taaping" work with elegant proficiency.Times havent changed much.when Rashmi's mom and Menaka's father were the students of this prestigious college.Still those Rajma Roti prevails the cuisine of Mess.And still those synchronized blackouts initiated by Electricity board during examination comes to haunt one and all. More so with more harmonic switching on/off power supply during normal days the sweating pheonmenon has touched a new zenith.

The room had a mystic aura about it with the puff of cheroot making it more intimidating.Boyie magazines spreadeagled all over the place..while a full blown hot stuff was running in full throttle on the Kampu...Rashmi's computer or dabba or Kampu as she prefers calling was considered the richest in the hostel with latest "pondies"(..you know what :-))..loaded.In far corner of the room Daniel Cruise the grandson of yesteryear hertthrob Tom Cruise brazenly displaying his body in full length poster ,decorated the wall.

In the third floor of the hostel there was some fracas going on... Alka strolling in her skimpiest shorts was mouthing profanities at top of her voice..directed towards Maneka.Over past few weeks her undies were mysteriously disappearing from her wardrobe...and someone leaked the word that it was Maneka who is the culprit.

On the side of the first floor balcony Radhika (..or Rads as her gang calls her) and her stooges were busy oogling at any guy passing by the roadside street.More so, one of them got hold of a binocoulars to view "hot happenings" inside the adjoining housing colonies.Of late they had been eyeing couple of hunks who shifted in the quarter at stone throw distance from Tilak hostel.

"This f**ker Alka needs a kick in her butt'...groaned Maneka."The bitch hasnt realised that i wont clean even a shit with her filthy undies"..That was some statement grinned Rashmi .

Both Rashmi and Maneka were the best pals since the first year.Now in the third year of their majors in Mechanical,they both have fallen for same Tronix(...Electronics) guy Sahil. That has created a bit of tiff between the two.But lately they both came to compromise that whoever manages to woo Sahil first will get the pie,other will facilitate the happenings,remove the glitches and move out of way.

Sahil..one of the most talked about guys in entire third year finally had a date with Rashmi in OCC (..or Old College Canteen) .And that was no mean achievement considering number of proposals he already received.Since then Rashmi has been feeling six inches taller and have become a sore of the eye for likes of Rads and Alka....Bastard must have got ready to bed with her....scowled both of them

Tonight she is furiously scribbling the notes because Sahil wants it urgently.After finishing the work she xeroxed one copy for Maneka from the roadside Kajal photocopier.The shop which once was crammed into a single room has bloomed into a multi storeyed building with each floor catering the needs of specific year...During end sem..this is the hottest joint in and around the college.God bless the inventor of Xerox machine who faciliated the production of top notch engineers year after year...

Around half past nine,when the cramming and creaking of gates of NBH(..New Boys Hostel) starting echoing the environs of college ,Rashmi dressed her self with strongest deos and gels to meet Sahil.This was a dangerous proposition considersing the strict measures taken by PB or Proctorial Board(..disciplinary board).She managed to hoodwink the guards and was now lying flat on Sahil's bed."You must not have come like..you could get caught...think about your future..." Sahil spluttered out all in one go..his prespiration examplified his anxiousness...while Rashmi was cool as cucumber.."Relax dude...those cheerkoot son of the guns will never ever be able to catch me..i betcha...You just get chilled..and tell me what are the plans for Culrav".

"I think i will be with some of my friends from Allahabad Agriculture college...The girls from that college are very decent"...Hell broke loose on Rashmi...all through these days she slogged day in day out so that she could escort Sahil on dance floor..now this bugger wants to move around with third grade college scums.

"But...Sahil why cant you be with me in cultural fest...see i have brought this aloo-paraatha for you from NCC(..new college canteen)..See i brought this card for you."

"Rashmi...we are just good firends yaar..and i always thought as you a good person...I cant move around with you in college...your gang will pass comment..."...As if i am asking him to get jagged publicly....Frowned Rasmi...

"Rashmi you should now leave...i am feeling sleepy..tomm i have got tutorials..".....Without uttering a word Rashmi left NBH.That night Rashmi and Maneka boozed massively.Both at their devilish best...cursing and abusing any guy that came in their mind.....

Two days later college was buzzing with Cultural festival fever...As expected most of the guys were already booked..Rashmi and Maneka decided to pass the day blissfully sleeping,boozing and fagging...after all there was no use getting frustrated seeing bunch of jokers dancing as couple on juke floor.

'Let's go and see some hunks from Agri college...i am getting bugged sitting here whole day.." drooled Rashmi..."Listen dear...when your luck is sucked even dogs give you a duck...thats a old saying...my dad use to say...No use dangling our goodies to the cheap stuffs just relax and chill"

"I think time has come to look beyond the options available...just watch the magic tonight" said Rashmi with a wink."The clock will turn back when the guys use to run after girls ..my mom use to tell stories when she was hot cake in the college...i will conjure the same magic"..Saying this,she vanished in bathroom leaving Maneka completely baffled.

After an hour the girl who stood infront of Maneka was hottest chick she had seen for long long time giving even a studd like her bit of goose bumps."Gee...never knew you were HOT!!..you planned something big today i guess"

Both Rashmi and Maneka walked towards college auditorium were the loud music,screaming,laughter convulsed into one big cacophony.

As they entered the entrance of hall..."Look that sexy!!!"....somebody said from sidelines...Rashmi turned to find Sahil standing there surrounding with his lot.

"Rashmi will dance with me tonight.........."

And what followed rest of the night was history..

Maneka meanwhile got hooked to an Agri guy ...both turned out be big time boozer and faggers....and damn cared about whats happening around them

"When you make your luck...even the Guys wont give you a duck".....blurted Maneka

2005-11-22T22:03:00.000-08:00

Rendezvous with Satyajit Ray
Right from my college days I have hold Bengalis in high esteem when it comes to intellect profile.More often than not I had been simply mesmerized by their passion to acquire knowledge and more knowldge about the world in and around us.And i can bet my last tooth on the quantum data that an average bengali holds in his brain,which can give rest of Indians a run for the money.
Make no mistake in inferring that this blog is of the bengali,for the bengali and by the bengali.Rather its a tribute to the society who most often than not is been clubbed as cowards or at best submissive.Notwithstanding our very own DADA revoloutionsed the way Indians played their cricket from being a good looser to a swaggerful aggressor.
One of my closest buddies in college days used to be a bengali,ankur chakraborty.In his comapany it was a humble and delightful experience to just have a peek into the world of bengali literature.Prior to that only notable name that echoed my mind as bengali literary figure was that of Rabindra Nath Tagore.But when i started reading the translated versions of the bengali literature,I was overwhelmed by the rich pedigree that they carry.
One of the most fascinating writers i came across was Satyajit Ray.A person whose nebular description in my mind was that of a film director and Oscar award winner.But to say he was a Leanardo Da Vinci of Bengal wont be an overstatement.Apart from being a film personality,he was a writer, painter,musician and an avid photographer.The first work of Ray that caught my imaginations was that of Feluda series of Adventures.
Feluda ,the sleuth, whose character was loosely inspired by the legendary Sherlock Holmes.But the similarity ends here itself.After that its the sublime quality of Satyajit Ray in weaving a spell binding story.What sets apart these novels are that they are more than a collection of detective stories,in a way its an odyssey to the greater mystery called India. Each novel is set into one of the scenic locales of this vast geographia of India.And through the storyline you are in for an adventurous ride across the length and breadth of the region.

The first story that i read in Feluda series was "The Golden Fortress".Set in desert kingdom of Rajasthan,through out the story Ray potrays a vivid description of history,culture and tourist destination across Rajasthan.From Jaipur to Udaipur to Jaiselmer.It turns out be a good Travelogue.Such was the impact of his writing that when i actually went to Rajasthan form Udaipur palace to Jaipur market to camel ride in Jaiselmer those words of the novel kept ringing in my ear and examplified my experience.

Apart from the stories of Feluda,Satyajit Ray wrote several short stories for Anand Bazaar Patrika(the first vernacular newspaper of India).His stories had the mystic aura were the real world meets the supernatural events.And it lives an uneasy buzz in your heart where you too starts accepting the possibilty of non-ordinary powers.These stories where later published in form of a book called "Indigo".
Satyajit Ray was director,producer,musician,editor,script writer and truly a doyen of Bengal society.
My first blog pays rich tribute to such an idol who inspires me to write more.