31st

I have never had any memorable birthdays. Surprisingly, I have slept off early every 31st of August, looking forward to another year. The resolutions that I have made each birthday have been washed away like sand castles are on a beachfront.Painstakingly made over several hours with utmost care and shaped with passion.

And this year -- it's been one of the best that I have had (atleast till 6:40 pm ! ). I woke up late, but had a good time doing my daily regimen of yoga. The afternoon was surprisingly good. I got a chance to watch "Rock On !". A simple movie about how we make sand castles and then kick them without even giving them a chance to brave the seas. But then, you need one person to again start collecting these wet lumps and fashion them into castles once again.

I have never built any castles, but this movie has given me the hope that if I decide to build some and breathe passion into them, life will ensure that they will withstand the furious waves that it creates. I just need to hang in there .. hang in there - things will work out.

A new profile

I dislike cities and I dislike commotion,

I dislike people who talk as if there is no tomorrow,

I dislike scheming individuals.

I like quiet and green places,

I love spending Sunday afternoons sipping tea

and reading books.

I like writing and do pen down my thoughts

when I get the time to do so.

I love traveling in the countryside and observing

local cultures.

I like observing the idiosyncrasies of people.

I can spend hours in reveries imagining how I would

change the world.

I have lived my life for a quarter of a century.

For the most part I have lived someone else’s dream.

Unfortunately, to live my own dream I need to first have one.

And dreams are seen only in a deep slumber.

A deep slumber – how I wish I could have one !!

Cut off from the world and free of remnants of the old dream.

I plan to travel across India – from Kashmir to Kanyakumari

and from Arunachal to Bombay.

And then I’ll write my own “Motorcycle Diaries”.

It will be a journey of a lifetime – undertaken by few

and understood by none.

If you are still reading this and think that I am a

Che Guevara or some intellectual in the making,

then you are grossly mistaken.

I have a propensity to talk rubbish and sound intelligent only

when I am afflicted by seizures of madness.

The rest of the time I live my life like any other

-nameless, faceless and aimless.

Deep within a voice tells me that I am

destined for greater things.

But then that’s going to be a tough life.

And I love the pleasures of my current life.

I throttle this voice like I would squash a mosquito.

And continue with my existence.

But I have killed too many of these mosquitoes.

They keep haunting me in my sleep.

Hopefully, they’ll frighten away the vagabond in me,

And help me discover a new life.

Amen.

The Tamasha

I enjoyed every moment of it ! For two days I was hooked on to ibnlive and ndtv - keeping a track of the trust vote and theprojections for vote splits. Like most Indians I do not understand the finer details of the nuclear detail. Neither do I believe that we require the deal to secure our energy sources. If the government tries to curb distribution losses and also the theft of electricity I am sure that we will be able to satisfy our energy demands. If we crack down upon the coal mafia, we might be able to extend our reserves by some more years. New deals cannot be a substitute for inefficient use of resources.
But then, I wanted the government to survive. It had done nothing spectacularly bad to warrant its removal. The economy was growing and by and large there was status quo as far as most of the indicators were concerned. By signing the deal, my country's sovereignty was not being compromised ( I understood that part ). The general elections were due in little less than a year's time where the Indian electorate would showcase its amnesia. Right now, I want stable governance, I want actions to curb inflation and I want some real economic reforms. If the government had lost the trust vote, it would have meant nine months of bickering and communist overdoses. I was amazed to see how a faint ray of seeing her Prime Ministerial ambitions getting fulfilled galvanized Mayawati into action !
Well, Rahul Gandhi's speech was not spectacular. I do not think it deserved all the praises that it got. Dr. Manmohan Singh spewed venom and I loved it. That man had set us on the path of economic reform and for too long his quiet demeanor was taken as a sign of weakness. I think people underestimated his resolve and what a fitting reply they got ! Laloo was at his lovable best. He has perfected the art of buffoonery and knows how to take a dig or two at hs detractors without being vociferous. He uses humor to inflict sharp wounds - wounds that can only be felt by the victim and not seen by anyone. Omar Abdullah was passionate. He spoke from the heart and I was happy to see him lambasting the 'secular' parties. Wake up people -- the politicians of this country thrive on creating communal divides. They would never like communal harmony - would they ? Wouldn't they lose an effective instrument of garnering votes ?
I am no Congress supporter. But I was happy to see them winning the trust vote. At least it spares me the tantrums of all the Communists and their wannabe allies. And also ensures that I work for the next few months and not track the Breaking News tickers on ibnlive and ndtv.

Random Thoughts

It was a ritual for me. Every year I would travel to Pune – my birthplace. I could never condition myself to like Maharashtra in general and Pune in particular. In fact when my relatives would ask me which city did I like more – Pune or Calcutta I, with a straight face, would answer Calcutta. In spite of its filth and indiscipline I loved Cal. It exuded warmth like no other city. I loved the din of the markets and the tin sheeted buses with the wooden shutters that would prevent any sunlight from coming in.

I continued my love affair with the eastern part of the country well into my college years. I studied at Kharagpur and loved every moment of it. It was a small town with the IIT driving its economy. We were the kings of that place and feared no one.

But those were different times.

I started working three years back. I left my innocence in the cozy environs of IIT Kharagpur and stepped timidly into the corporate world, unsure of what was expected of me. I had not seen much of India except for Pune and Nagpur and I saw India through the eyes of my friends at IIT KGP who seemed to come from all parts of the country. I remember asking a friend from Srinagar how the city was like and he would describe the beauty of the Valley – another would talk about the prosperous fields of Punjab while the third about the sights and sound of B’lore.

In a matter of few months I traveled across the breadth of the country. I tasted the first JP miles and eagerly awaited my upgrade. I started maturing and also started looking at things with a different lens. My travels continued unabated. I have had the opportunity to work in Bihar for two years and also stay in grand hotels. I have spent time on the banks of the Ganges in Haridwar and in Munger. And every moment spent away from Cal has been a revelation for me. I came to know the India that loved to work. I have seen poverty in Mumbai and Kolkata. The difference was in how people dealt deal with it. Mumbaikars would want to work their way out of poverty. They were proud and hard working. In B’lore, the peon in the office was smartly turned out – clean shaven, decent clothes. And in Calcutta people would love to display their poverty. Inherently lazy and undisciplined they would stall all signs of progress. They would bask in the glory of their wretchedness. They would take five years to build a flyover and celebrate it as an accomplishment.

I am not ignoring the fact that the rest of India is also corrupt, if not more than West Bengal. But the basic difference is that the corrupt will extract their share but will also allow work to happen. No wonder people migrate from Bengal in such huge numbers every year.

I have started disliking Cal. It is steeped in lethargy. And things seem to get only worse. I have not been charmed by the materialistic delights of the other parts of India, it is only that I have actually come realize what India is capable of, which Cal in all these years prevented me from realizing.

Just trash what all the critics say about the new B’lore International Airport. Take a car and drive on the road that connects the airport to Hebbal. Your heart will swell with pride at what India can do. And if you are a Calcuttan you’ll grow green with envy.

The Vodafone Ad

There has been a significant shift in the world of televised advertising. Gone are the days of the ‘80’s when the product took centre stage during 10/20 second commercials. Today, companies connect with consumers by capitalizing on personal experiences and the storyboard ensures that the experience is the primary feature of the advertisement. Why this sudden sermonizing? A few days back Vodafone captured my imagination with the cute advertisement about the helpless girl whose fountain pen runs out of ink and then her friend helps her out. No jazz, no skin, no models, no over decked Indian housewives – and the ad still worked.

The kids were outstanding. I loved the setting of the advertisement. A classroom setting where kids in middle school are furiously writing their answer scripts. The teacher dressed simply in a sari and going around collecting papers. And the killer - a sincere student, ostensibly the topper, running against time. My heart broke when her pen ran out of ink and she started frantically looking around for some help. And then the knight in the shining armor comes to her rescue - a little boy who is writing his exam in a carefree manner when he spots this girl who needs help. He extends a helping hand and releases a few drops of ink on her desk – enough to last her for a couple of minutes and complete the paper. There was nothing fancy about this activity, but what stole the show was the transition in emotions on the girl’s face. From amazement, at being helped by a mate who she never regarded as of much use, her face showed delight at the thought of being able to complete her paper. And then comes the Vodafone product that needs to be sold.

Such advertisements reflect a distinct change in the psyche of the product manufacturers. In a market where the customer dictates the rules, companies have started talking less about the product and more about the customer’s need. In jargonistic terms they are listening to the Voice of the Customer. It is a refreshing change in the way that business is being conducted. And I do not mind – as long as they continue to make ads that I love !

That's My Seat !!

19:15 Hours : My car screeches to a halt outside Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose Airport. Shucks.. The heat has deprived me of two liters of water and even a pig would smell better. The driver hands me the requisition slip and like a dutiful manager I fill out all the details like closing km, time etc etc. I get out of the car and survey the departure area. Not much of a crowd.

19:16 Hours : My body is craving for nicotine. I take out my packet and light the cigarette. Before my car speeds away I flick the matchbox back to my driver to save myself the embarrassment of having to fish out the inflammable item at the security check in. As I take a long drag, I see a No-Smoking sign – Do I stub out my cigarette? No way .. I join the gang of ten other offenders who are desperately puffing away.

19:19 Hours: A yellow cab halts in front of me. And out comes a cute looking girl – and the predatory male in me starts surveying his prey. Hmmm.. nice figure, good sense of dressing and a great perfume. But then I belong to the race of those shameful losers in their mid twenties who like starry eyed teenagers keep gawking at girls. I look the other way and send a silent prayer to the heavens –“ God forgive me for all those sins that I have committed. Can I get to sit beside her in the flight? “

19:21 hours: A smart looking fellow asks me if I am taking the Jet flight. I say yes. And then he whips out his hand held terminal, punches a few keys and asks which seat I want ? Suddenly that girl appears .. and I see her proceeding towards the counter .. Shit, I should have been at the counter ..The only Jet flight that’s going to take off in the next hour is the Mumbai one … I would have heard which seat she was taking and then ….. What the hell … I think I am the world’s greatest sinner .. - . I look at the guy -- why the fuck did you have to see me ? Well, my brain is working over time and is on the verge of over heating – and then he says –“Sir, which seat do you want? “ .. I want to chop off your head … Then I do some quick calculations – hmmm.. girls usually like window seats – gazing at the city lights and squealing in delight .. I decide to confront the laws of probability once and for all … and I say “ Middle Seat” – “ But Sir – I have aisle seats – 10C “ – “ Middle seat” .. I say firmly. Probably this is the last time he would see a passenger taking a middle seat so easily .. he gives me the boarding pass. – 10E

19:35 hours: I have never prayed so fervently. Even the Gods are being stirred from their yogic sleep. Like a hawk I scan the waiting area and Voila !! I zero in onto my prey. She’s beautiful .. a mole on the upper lip .. I am going weak in my knees. And she’s reading “The 3 Mistakes of my life “. I feel like walking up to her and telling her – “Ma’m I just made the first mistake .. I should have checked in at the counter.” Hmmm… I am planning my move. I’ll take a cup of coffee and sit beside her and then start off a conversation. In a few minutes I shall have enamored her with my charms and got her mobile number. She looks distinctly Bong. Petite .. Hmmm.. Have I finally found my match?

19:38 hours: The waiting area is sparsely populated. What will she think if I go and sit beside her? And a voice inside me says .. Abe hero .. chance to le…
In twenty seconds I am sitting beside her. She does not even look at me. She’s engrossed in the book – Page 43. No ring – Good. And then that weird mobile blares the Airtel tune .. and she’s whispering into the phone. I want to snatch that mobile and throw it into the dustbin.

19:45 hours: Time’s running out. The call ends. My cup’s empty and I am going to make the first move. And then that sound Beep Beep – Beep Beep. THE SMS. And she’s smiling. I am going to cut off the fingers of the guy who’s SMSing her.

20:00 hours: I have given up. With my tail between my legs I walk to the security check in area. Thankfully the metal detector does not detect anything alarming. Thud Thud … The security guy stamps my boarding pass and deems me fit to board the plane.

20:10 hours: I am among the first passengers to board the flight. I am on 10E. And I am grumpy. I sit like a school kid who has not been given his daily quota of candy bars. There is a steady stream of passengers. And then I spot her… She’s walking towards me.. I wait with bated breath. And I am again praying. She has come close and then she gives me a nice smile – no girl has ever smiled at me like that – ‘Hi ! I think you are sitting on the wrong seat. “I have gone blank. I am staring at her.. Gosh ! She’s beautiful .. “ Helloooo…” I am back to my senses. This is the moment to floor her. I fish out my boarding pass and show it to her. “But 10E is mine.” She smiles at me. “ That’s fine… But you are sitting on 10B ! That’s my seat !” I look up at the seat indicators … She’s right .. And the world comes crashing down ! I smile sheepishly at her .. pick up my tail and sit on 10E. I am still shocked. And then the killer .. There comes a handsome dude .. sits on 10C and before I can blink my eyes he’s started talking to her… Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr….. Now I want to kill him.

20:15 hours: I am praying to ghost of H.G Wells asking for a time machine. I should have taken 10C. Me and my smart brain. Probability theory – trash it. I look to my left. They are talking like long lost friends… I close my eyes and slap myself a hundred times. Me and my fate.

( This work of “art” is dedicated to all those males who scan the railway reservation charts looking for any F 23’s sitting near their seats. This is also dedicated to souls who are JP Platinum Card holders and yet when they enter the airport they have only one prayer on their lips .. “ God. Forgive me for my sins. Can I get to sit beside a nice girl ??? “ )

911

8:55 AM : Munch Munch Munch .... If you were to look at me having breafast on a weekday you would think that I had just come from Somalia. The speed with which I am eating is faster than those souls who taste food after months of fasting. That seconds hand on my watch is moving too fast .. and why does it move slowly when I am in office.. What the heck.. I need to get it repaired !!
8:57 AM : The speed's doubled ... Newton's Laws of Motion in full flow -- Chomp Chomp Chomp .. I pick up the steel tumbler and guzzle half a litre of water in one go !! That should wash away everything in my throat. Well, even the flush is more efficient.
I polish off my plate and look at the roti with eager eyes .. Even the stray dogs are not so greedy. Anyway, I decide to end my breakfast with a wee bit of hunger still left.
8:59 AM: I am going to buy a pair of slip ons. It will save me 30 seconds of precious time. And yes, I need to polish my shoes or they are going to be hired by one of those shoe shine companies as exemplars to test the effectiveness of their shoe creams.
9:01 AM: Four yellow taxis all lined up ... Bastards ! When you need them the most they are not there. I am not going to spend the money on them today. Huff! Puff! Huff! Keep walking mister… with the 5 kg laptop hanging on my shoulders I look like a special forces commando. The difference is that under that weight my back has bent like a bow!
9:03 AM: I pass the cigarette shop. No No No … I am going to be clean. Hmmm.. Even Adam and Eve could not resist the lure of apple, and I was not even created by God. One stick’s not going to make a difference. I go to the shopkeeper, buy the stick and dutifully go to that jute rope coiled around a nail that’s been hammered into an old tree .. yuck .. the first drag tastes of burnt jute .. Misers .. they can’t even afford to spend 10 bucks on a lighter !
9:07 AM: The burning end has almost reached the filter tip! And I have 100 meters to go. Yuck chick … why can’t someone tell her that she is not made to fit in those denims. When Mr. Lee and Mr. Levi made them they had the Size Zero in mind ..
9:09 AM: Aaahhh .. The metro station. That’s the cleanest part of Cal. Took them twenty years to build. And thankfully people have not turned it into a garbage dump. There’s no queue at the ticket counter. I take out a five rupee coin and decide to play carom with the guy at the counter. Flick .. the coin speeds across to him. With one finger he stops it. Then slides it to one side .. “ Four Bucks” .. He punches a few keys, plays carom with a one rupee coin and throws the ticket to me as if he has calling out “Rummy”.
9:10 AM: The metal detector cries for a policeman to come. Hmmm.. they would sell well as scrap. The access gate is working – and I am running down the stairs. The weighing machine is lit up with bulbs of various colors. Two bucks and see your weight. I was 62 a week back .. and I have been running for fifteen minutes instead of ten. Suddenly I feel lighter. ( Hey .. what about those 5 mangoes that have crept into your daily diet .. Shhhhh.. that’s a secret ! )
9:11 AM: The train comes in .. The doors slide open .. I move in .. listen to the sing song voice announcing the next station and drift away into the darkness along with the train.