a lonely trekker

Hrishidaa is no more....

2006-08-29T14:03:00.000+06:00

Anand, Bawarchi, Guddi, Chupke Chupke, Mili, Satyakam, Khoobsurat,Abhimaan, Golmaal, Namak Haram, I have seen all of them and I feelthese movies were in a time where Indian Cinema could have been atits peak of presenting meaningful cinema. All these movies despiteof being from different genres were very much entertaining andmeaningful at the same time, a rare phenomenon these days.Hrishikesh Mukherjee, the creator of such movies passed away just acouple of days back and thus I felt like sparing a few thoughts inthe memory of this great, humane and sensible director. What hasbecome a rarity now was a penchant for this Bengali filmmaker. Iremember the beginning of Anand, one of the movies I would watch anygiven day, not just because it's a very emotional story but if youwatch it from the very beginning you would find how "sociallyrelevant" the film was, may be till date! In the opening scene thecharacter of Dr.Banerjee describes how in an age of soaring pricesand poverty, he would go around and learn how tough life was. Heseemingly was never happy with his profession because of themiseries of people he would observe and how just one man's entryinto his life changes his world entirely. Anand, a patientof "Lymphocercoma of the intestine" becomes the "joie de vivre" inhis life and brings in a reason to survive further more. Some scenesin the film are unforgettable and it was only Hrishidaa'sextraordinary sense of depiction that immortalized those scenes.Scene where Musabhai gets emotional on knowing about his illness,the excellent hindi vocabulary in which Dr.Banerjee is shown writinghis diary, the comic scenes and in fact, the entire movie is just sorealistic, and in the end the "Babu-moshai, ye jeevan ek ….kab kahakisko kaise…." sequence is so effective and well directed that….itwill make everybody ponder over questions of his or her life. Allother movies I mentioned earlier are similarly poignant at times,funny at times, thoughtful movies which will certainly make yourday. Please do watch any of his movies as soon as possible to payrespect to this departed soul, so that his messages may still keepspreading and I am sure you would like them, and please do spread aword about them.

those 2 minutes

2006-07-19T19:48:00.000+06:00

In my earlier life, I never realized “Silence” or “Moun” had such a great power. Rather this very thought took me back in time….

I remember like every ignorant child I would blatantly express my hatred for “Gandhiji”. Blurting those clichés…usne toh Bharat ko barbaad kar diya and all that. But once I realized that being “Gandhi” was no ordinary achievement I have had very high regards for him both as a human being and also as a spiritual guru. Having a dialogue on him is a different issue altogether but this particular essay is all about a sudden surge of thoughts and emotions I went through during those “2 minutes” of silence observed after a week of 7/11. I am amazed by the way this norm of using dates in this particular way has become an order of the day. Possibly it all started with 9/11, then 7/7, 7/26, and 7/11. Obviously all these dates connote disasters, possibly the greatest of all times. I still remember the evening of 9/11. Having just got up after a peaceful siesta, I never knew next couple of hours would shake me up forever. And somehow such disasters have never seemed to cease after 9/11.
President Kalam was at Mahim,a railway station which could easily qualify as the epicenter of 7/11 for a silent prayer meeting. Reports of the vicinity and station premises being cleaned and decorated were coming in from the morning but they scarcely caught my eye. How ironical is it all…? President gets a red carpet treatment for remembering those who have met their fate, in the background garlands of fresh roses dangle and it actually seems like he was there for his wedding reception…? Anyways, I had just returned from my office when this news caught my attention. At exactly 1820 hrs the sirens announced the beginning of those 2 minutes. Anger, guilt, helplessness, a feeling of revenge and such other emotions took over my brain which had almost become numb because of this sudden surge of all kinds of energies. The hatred had somehow made me clench my fists tightly and my brow to take a weird shape. That’s when my mother realized something was wrong and only after she slowly moved her hand on my head, I could come out of that state of mind. But while going through all this, I was still watching the television and could easily make out that “silence” can be such a unifying force. The cowards who did all this should have watched this telecast. Later in the evening I saw a group of young and old people singing some songs which most probably could have been about how we will face these conditions on the lines of “Hum honge kaamyaab ek din….” may be.
There have been times and still I believe that Mumbai is not a city that is actually alive anymore, but today’s experience has changed my perception to a certain extent. My views about Mumbai are again a different topic which I will keep on expressing time and again. But here I feel that whatever I saw today and whatever “Gandhiji” had always tried to teach have got some connection though indirectly. Let’s take it in a very ordinary sense….the silence of 2 minutes was a form of non-violence and in fact all of us, each one of us who observed the silence were together, unified and all of us prayed for nothing of this sort to happen again. The energy that I could sense in this silence was certainly more powerful than the impact the blasts have made. But what happens next?
Somewhere down the line, all Gandhian thoughts lead to changing the self. Once we start changing ourselves for the betterment of other, one fine day the entire world would be peaceful again. But I doubt that in present context and present conditions; though his teachings were very humane and apt, will hardly change this world. And time and again India has been losing precious grounds because of this very policy of tolerance and restraint. I know that these set of thoughts won’t change anything, but still I am yearning for days when innocent lives are not lost. Why don’t the terrorists realize that there are certain emotions, concerns and responsibilities to those who are killed because of their dastardly acts? Again there will be public dharnas, debates and sloganbaaji and all that about how we should tackle all these issues and after couple of days all such concerns will be conveniently forgotten.

what's happening?

2006-07-16T16:01:00.000+06:00

Those days are here again when I am really feeling that “Rationality” is really nearing its end. Time and again we engage ourselves into futile mental exercises and dialogues which yield not a single result. Here the case, of course is the recent inauspicious events that Mumbai found itself in the middle of. I don’t know why this is being done over and over again. Rather than revamping total system from its very root. I know I have been expressing my views after fairly a long time, but to be frank last couple of months have been the most politically unstable circumstances that a common man like me is surviving in. Earlier the reservation protests, Aamir khan controversy, Mini-riots thrown here and there, Shashi Tharoor issue, the rot in the quality of Music, and finally “The Mumbai epic” beginning with defacing the idol of Late smt. Thakare. I know even this essay after meandering through several alleys of strong views and opinions will within a matter of week will be shelved somewhere in vast enormity of the non-existent cyber world. My only wish is let these sentiments grow and become an echo strong enough that the almighty hears them and showers down some sanity, some patience at least. I still wonder what made Zizou commit the blunder of his life……is there any connection, well may be or may be not…!
This time around there are no suggestions from my end because I don’t want to crib over the fact that they fell on deaf ears…after all I am fed up handling so many clichés in life. I just want some chhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggeeeeeeeeeeeeeee……..remember the ad “Mujhe change chahiiiiyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeee” just like that…..following the Mumbai blast watching tele-vision had become such an ordeal that I almost felt like head-butting the idiot box just like Zizou…but it also informed me of an ex-colleague no more and an acquaintance seriously injured….this relation seems to me like as if I am in an infidel marriage…..! Whatever I felt was very well echoed in the debates on CNN-IBN. I beg to the lord to bring an end to all this nonsense! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…?

INQUILAB ZINDABAAD!

2006-05-17T00:55:00.000+06:00

Protest seems to be the buzzword this year. First the Jessica Lall murder case, Priyadarshini case, then the Narmada Bachao protests, the protests over a demolition of a dargah leading to riots in Baroda, and now, protests of over Quota reservations. Just tonight, I saw a discussion on CNN-IBN on whether the protests in Modern-day India have come of age? It involved some student group representatives, Rony Screwwala and such participants. They discussed several things like The “RDB” effect, middle class angst etc. But after the show ended I felt that half an hour time was not enough, and somehow I was not contended.
For last couple of days the visual media had been agog with the news and visuals of the Mumbai lathi charge on the agitating doctors. I was concerned for the young men and women in whites because they were having a peaceful protest and the way they were beaten up was simply brutal. I mean, is this the way democracy functions, and do we, quintessential modern and educated people do really have a right to have our say. It does not appear so rather. I personally have got serious reservations against this reservation system. We are well into the 21st century and still the government wants the whole nation to adhere to a crappy system of the past that is the caste system. I would not record my personal losses due to this system, but rather would like to think about the deserving students who miss the seats because of this outdated system. Through this entire episode I felt that there should be a system in place where such so-called underprivileged castes, the SC/STs should be brought on par with other castes, and classes by giving them proper training, employment and education so that they can upgrade themselves to a level where the competition is equal. It’s high time that the judiciary curbs the flourishing business of making fake caste certificates. After all, we keep on saying that ours is a booming economy and we are the second largest growing economy in this world, that’s just what we keep on saying. If we really want to become one, we need to throw such issues and controversies to dogs.
I remember one such story from one of Shashi Tharoor’s book, “India-midnight to millennium”. When the author was a child he would often visit his village during the vacations. Being from a big city and from a convent school, he was not aware of the stigma that the caste system was. His relatives would conspicuously avoid a diminutive, dark, lean boy called Charlis. The author was scolded many a times for playing with that boy, but somehow author had developed a liking for this boy. Then years passed, the author grew into a very knowledgeable young man, and around the same time his relatives were in a desperate situation due to some governmental policy. That’s when they go to take the help of their district collector, and this turns out to be that diminutive boy “ Charlis”, and he as expected helps them out. I am sure in this case, this backward caste boy, reached to those heights solely on his merits. But these days, such people get into these positions just to mint money, or rather plunder a nation!

A Few Good Men!

2006-05-15T16:53:00.000+06:00

Possibly there could be different interpretations of life for everybody; here are some of my own. As for me I live life in the slow lane. And in this entire journey of experiences and emotions we come across so many different people, different characters as such. Some times you feel completely bowled over by certain person’s spontaneity and sense of humor, while sometimes, you meet some irritatingly made up individuals. You get disgusted at the sight of somebody who is extremely show-offish, while sometimes you enjoy somebody’s company though he or she may not be special in any apparent way. This one account could sum up as my study of few characters, fictional as well as real, until now.

Today I watched “Being Cyrus”, the lead role enacted by none other than “New, Improved” Saif Ali Khan. It is a story about a young man, who has had a traumatic childhood, and after he grows up lands up with a family very much associated with his distant memories. I didn’t entirely understand the story but yes it was a reasonably well told one. May be after watching it a couple of times more, I would be able to elaborate it further well, to myself. Cyrus is the first character that I would like to talk about. At the end of the story, he parts his way from his previous life, I mean, he regrets his mistakes and his associations and starts all over again. That was his positive trait. I know even many of us do this, starting all over again. I have done it, when I would get unnecessarily involved with people, who should just have been people and nothing else. The first and the last scene of the movie is like, he is lying on an edge of a hill, from where he could see a new morning lighting up this rather mediocre world. In between this scene lies his story of growing up in trauma and subsequent his acts of Vendetta. He always knew what he is upto, and still he is happy with what he is doing.

Another fictional character worth a mention is “Meethi”, a schizophrenic girl from the flick, “15 park avenue”. Enacted impeccably by the enormously talented and beautiful, Konkona Sen Sharma. Hers is a similar story and a very enigmatic character. She is presumably schizophrenic since her childhood. She would think of a world to which we all are strangers. She would hallucinate, hear sounds we won’t, and do strange and painful things, which rather we won’t. When she is out of her schizophrenic being, she is a perfectly endearing, good looking, well mannered, soft spoken pretty lady. She has friends and is very much fond of her Jojo, aka Joydeep Sengupta. They were supposed to marry soon; but as it is her delirious world is jolted when she gets raped on one of her visits as a Journalist. This further multiplies her trauma. Jojo abandons her as he knows he is not that strong a person, and accidentally meets her almost 15 years later. Now she is completely lost in her unknown world, and Jojo somehow feels guilty about it. All through the tale Meethi keeps talking about a place called “15 Park Avenue” her home, where she, jojo and her 5 kids actually stay. Jojo decides to take her there and once she finds that place, she disappears, leaving us to think about where she went! Aren’t we a bit like Meethi sometimes, don’t we dream of some utopic world where every thing is hunky dory, where relationships don’t go sour, and everything seems picture perfect. Difficult to accept, but such islands do not exist.

Indu, one of the several co-learners I have had while learning. I used to sit in the first row in the lecture hall in the University, with my group. This thoughtful girl would attract me every time I would see her. For a couple of months, no messages could be transmitted. Then one fine morning I dared to barge-in into her personal territory.
“Indu”- interesting name haa!
Thanks Amit, this is the first time we are talking!
Yes, I know. Hey, but why do you look so lost?
A haa, sweet mysteries of life!
Hey Amit, the other day I heard you sing my favoritest song, you know!
Yaa, which one?
Jab koi baat bighad jaae…….
Hey you do sing pretty well too….

This was the first ever interaction with that enigmatic woman. Then we would mostly travel together on buses and local trains. But slowly as I got to know her, I thought she was being painstakingly expressive and so very girlish! That song was her “favoritest” song because here ex-boyfriend and she had sung it once together when they were all alone. And when she told me to sing it, she visibly shed a tear too. I mean are emotions so easy to come by? She would giggle when there would be no reason at all, and would get serious when the entire bunch was making merry. By the end of the year, I would actually fool her when we were supposed to meet after the lectures. She would always reiterate that she had “suicidal” tendencies in her past, and was seemingly perturbed when we were over with our lecture on “suicides” in behavioral studies. Once I felt the earth move from under my feet, when she declared, “ Amit, you remind me of abhi very much” I was ecstatic at being likened to The most eligible bachelor in the country, but then came the revelation. “ who abhi, Indu?” “My ex-boyfriend, remember jab koi baat bighad jaae…..”

Another such person worth mentioning is my Father. All through these years I have grown up, I could never sum up what was in his heart. He always appeared to us a serious looking man, always thoughtful but never discussing kind. Its only now, that we talk out several issues like finances, relations etc at home. But I admit in past many a times he would instill a certain degree of fear in us. But I also remember he would not mind to break into a jig, every time one of his favourite songs would be playing, the most recent one, ek baar aaja aaja, of course. Now what I make out of his tough exterior is that there lies a very lovable and emotional being inside. Now that I understand what it takes to be a father, he is the most valuable person to me in this world.

Sorry, because this blog has taken such a long time for me to write, I would end it here, because I don’t want to trash it even, and may be continue with a similar one later.

My Enigmatic Cousin

2006-05-15T16:50:00.000+06:00

This is a story about my relationship with my cousin. May be it was destiny that though being kids of real sisters, we were not meant to know each other as well as other siblings do know.In the course of couple of drinks, I came to know what gem of a person, he is. Being an elder brother, I tend to think that all these years might have been pretty tough on him and his even younger sister. Their parents separated when they were not even in their teens, and thus they hardly know how relations actually go sour. Last year our grandmother passed away, and that brought us all together, after so many years. Many years ago, when grandma and grandpa would host a Ganpati pooja of one and a half day we would all meet at least once a year, but since they discontinued this practice there was hardly any reason left. These ganesh poojas would become special because of this young kid, who could go on dancing effortlessly literally for hours together. He was so good at it that we were almost certain that he would make it big in dancing, but destiny had some other plans. With the relationship of his parents on the rocks, his study took the onslaught, and he is still trying to make for the loss. Meanwhile I got busy with my studies and could never even think of them, until last year, when I met my grown up “enigmatic” cousin, we would fondly call him “tinku” when he was a kid.

It’s been a year since grandma has passed away; it was her “varsha shraaddha” on 5th may. We ran for helping in whatever ways we could and the day went by. We were all tired by the night. The next day we both decided to go for a trek at Trimbakeshwar, on the steepest route. We started late and reached there when it was already scorching hot. During this trek we talked over many different issues, cricket, girls, movies, music, alcohol, food and what not. I felt he had a lot to talk about, and knew pretty much than I had expected him to know. I found him quite in tune with the songs; I mean he would sing reasonably well, and also he had a good sense of humor. He also talked about the agony of staying with just one parent and other problems. I really felt sorry for him. In the evening, we had a couple of drinks and the next morning we set out on our respective ways. And now I am pondering over this thought, “why do kids have to suffer when actually there parents are not fit enough to survive the relations?”

The Maiden that bowled me over!

2006-04-04T19:01:00.000+06:00

Two new, news channels were launched back to back. CNN-IBN and Times Now, though I liked IBN a lot for its sheer simplicity and sensible packaging, I thought I would never see Times now. The main reason being I do not like their newspaper. But this one news anchor, caught my attention, and till this day I am a loyal viewer to the channel, just hoping that I see her again. It was later that I realized that it had some good shows too, like Brand Equity and Foodie with Kunal Vijaykar.
Getting back to the point, I was talking about Ekta Kumar Nagpal, the brainy beauty, who clean bowled me. I am completely smitten by this beautiful petite and presumably intelligent lass. Her small but smiling eyes would speak a thousand other words, other than the news which she would read out. Her curly but elegant tresses would cascade down like an effervescent water fall. In a bid to search her photograph I used google to the optimum level, but alas, God had some other plans. She had this zing and a smile in her voice that very few girls do have, Sonali Kulkarni being one of them. Though she was made to wear that boring pink suit on the channel, I am sure she would look gorgeous in a white chudidaar even!
Please find her for me, at least a photo graph!
Until then let me sulk and pine and……..think about her…
“tu chupi hain kahaan……me tadapta yahaan…..”

Such an Unfair world!

2006-04-04T19:00:00.000+06:00

This is about Carol Gracias’ now infamous wardrobe malfunction. As the world already knows about it, all this started in the ongoing Lakme Fashion week in Mumbai. While “Mannequining”(yes that’s what I would call it) for a designer, Bennu Sehgal’s couture accidentally the ensemble that Carol was wearing got detached and she subsequently faced an embarrassing situation. It was Carol’s thorough professionalism that saw her still complete her walk and not run back to the dressing room. It was alright until this point. Even Carol and other female models are justified in expressing their ire over designer’s lack of proper preparation and careless attitude. But today I realized how one person’s agony can be somebody else’s fun. Carol might have been disturbed alright, but she maintained her dignity by not creating hoopla about this incident. But to further stretch this issue, Mumbai police has now initiated an inquiry as to why this happened! Now how do they ascertain that it was actually a deliberate attempt to embarrass poor Carol? In fact as this presenter on CNN-IBN herself pointed out that in fashion shows abroad many such incidents like wardrobe malfunction, or tripping on the runway have actually happened but neither media has intervened nor was it made an issue of policy.

I feel modeling, that too for females is a very tough job, and once a girl decides to model, she is expected to be ready for such hardships. But my question is why don’t we as sensible nation grow up? Take this police inquiry for example, its totally absurd. Take into consideration that this inquiry begins, the questioning starts, naturally Carol will be asked several questions? Won’t it cost her further humiliation? This all may see her eventually quitting this thankless job and disappear into oblivious darkness like several models have earlier done. I would like to sum it all up in one single sentence. I don’t know how these events are organized. But definitely there should have been some guidelines and rules already. Admitting that India is such a force in the fashion circuit, such stringent measures will only see it higher up the podium.
1. The fashion association should have certain quality standards. Only after passing them the designers should be allowed to show their designs.
2. The organizers should allow only fashion aficionados and fashion designers inside the venue. As for the media part they should hire a singular media company and air all the shows after necessary editions, just like so many award shows are broadcasted.
3. No cellphones and handycams should be allowed, apart from the permitted media company’s cameras.

These are just a few guidelines which a layman like me feels should be considered. Its not just because Carol is one of my favorite models, but after all they are also hard working professionals and each one of us wants to go home contended and happy. As for the spirit and professionalism these girls and even fashion designers work with I am sure other countries are taking India seriously.

Here’s a salute to the entire Indian fashion industry.

Thanks Carol for putting up a brave effort. I wish such things never happen again to you or anybody else.

As the time slips away.....

2006-04-04T18:58:00.000+06:00

You may call this as my prime weakness, may be everybody has it, making plans, expecting they materialize as soon as possible, and when they don’t keep thinking about what exactly went wrong. As for my long pending plans the planet of Shani is to be blamed (this theory is being sold by my astrologer, and has been conveniently bought by my parents and to some extent, me too). Anyways, this is all about my long awaited transfer to Baroda. Ullas had once said that it was strange the way life was coming a full circle for me, but wait, the course of my life still meanders like Sepang formula 1 circuit.
Within a month of arriving in Navsari I got this offer of mutual transfer and then I was so happy. I had already made big plans of resuming my tennis and cricket practice, joining the new “Gold” gym which has opened close by, and doing so many things altogether. But it has been more than 6 months since the agreement was signed, and still no signs of progress appear. All my plans have died down, and now I am just praying to all the Gods in this world, to let me be home, before this academic year begins. It has all been dramatic and so very expected of the bureaucratic machinery that I am a part of, we all call it Railways.
First on, the application is not accepted because it is not in the desirable format, then once I put up the file, it takes three months for an officer to sign it, and then when all the things are ready for the actual order to be released the entire bunch of my files goes missing. Ridiculous! The concerned Babu, tells me to present few papers again. I rush to Mumbai and get them to him as early as possible, only to learn from him only that some Godly “third party” has already given him all the papers and now I need not worry, the orders will be out soon. It has been fifteen days since then, enough for me to decide that I will screw that babu’s life once the orders are in my hand, but no, I will not do anything about him, because I will always need him, even to get my one day leave sanctioned. Why the hell is life so confusing? Bhagwaan ke office me bhi apni file itni thokare khaakar baahar nikli hogi?

Funny, but slowly I have learnt to deal with such delays, after all nothing is in our hands. And as my dad says, this is just the beginning!

I am not a Fidayeen!????

2006-04-04T00:47:00.000+06:00

The courtyard of my home is oft trodden by gunmen,
With fingers on the triggers and blood oozing through their eyes like rock,
The thud of homely willow bat has given way to rattle of the heavy rifles as of now.
The barbed wire fence and the rusted Iron Gate are as unfriendly as winter’s spine chilling winds, which dry out all our hopes.

The fear of death still lurks as The Sun relinquishes for another ordeal called “night”.
Slumber is orphaned only to walk barefoot, with weeping restless eyes, through the night of agony and turmoil. Ours are not ours and hopes are not often bestowed.
Faces marred with lines of anguish,
And Lotuses in the Dal are sad, for no one admires them.
No more could they be, for love of life, no more exists.

My home is not mine, like Gul Mohamed’s shikara was never his own.
I am not a fidayeen as I only know music.
I have a bleeding heart for fourteen years, so long.
All friends lost, just the paths acknowledge.
The childhood cheers and hurrahs echo in the near by deodar woods, to take me back in time.
For all those who are happy popping those grenades, I can sigh and appeal, let me in, it’s my home, my Kashmir!
I am not a fidayeen, I only know music,
And I am scared to say, I am a Kashmiri Pandit!

2006-04-04T00:44:00.000+06:00

Best of luck, li’l sis!

It was the greatest feeling of satisfaction and relief, when my sister broke the news about her industrial training being confirmed. There were quite a few tensions over this issue prior to this announcement. She is a hotel management student, and as per hotel industry norms she has to undergo through training at a luxury hotel anywhere in India. There was some tension because of her principal’s whimsical attitude. Apparently he would only help students from influential and affluent families. And it was pretty obvious that she would be placed somewhere in Baroda itself. Now given that Baroda is not such a big hotspot in the hospitality industry scenario, it was more than a concern for us all. If she would train in Baroda, she would get the future jobs keeping that in mind. And actually, Baroda has got hotels you can count on your fingers. Thought my parents were reluctant to send her away, I had briefed them up, about the pros and cons, keeping her bright future in mind. Hotel industry is witnessing a boom, off late. And this training seemed like a good stepping stone for her. After a fortnight of restlessness, she let us all know that, she has been recommended to one of Taj’s oldest heritage properties, Taj Rambagh Palace hotel at Jaipur. It has 90 luxurious suite rooms with one night rent beginning in excess of Rs. 50000, going upto Rs. One lac plus for the best suite. It was an erstwhile maharaja’s palace, and was taken over by The Taj group in 1925. On 29th april, coincidentally, its her birthday also she will take her baby steps in this industry of immense hard work. I am also going to Jaipur to relieve her.

She has a dream of setting up an eatery where every man could dine and go home satisfied; I am her joint partner in this dream!
May my Baby sister’s wishes and dreams all come true, and every footstep of hers bring her great fortune and luck!

The Stranger on the Pavement......

2006-04-04T00:42:00.000+06:00

I was walking on a bustling street in Jalalpore,
One of the endless evening walks had just begun,
My broken chappal was giving me few concerns
and it felt that she would occupy all my time this evening.
Like a miser I bargained with the cobbler and got it mended for
Two rupees. Two chilled glasses of tangy butter milk were enough to keep me going on the deserted road beyond Jalalpore.
As I passed the railway chawl, a lost looking gentleman called me, to talk to him. I was a stranger myself here, and then why would anybody call me. I avoided him, I knew, what he wanted from me.

He sat on a rather filthy pavement, colored with oblong guthka stains. “bhaaisaahab, oh bhaaisaahab”, and I was out of his firing range. But then my walk had just begun.
This man kept talking to me throughout that evening.
And why is that, I didn’t wait to listen what he had to say.
Money was all he wanted, from me, and had I talked to him, I may have given him, something nevertheless, but I knew, as I have been through this earlier as well.

What brings this well dressed, educated looking, well mannered man down to beg for alms from strangers passing by? It could be his father’s closed textile mill, or his mother’s impending dialysis, and may be even his sister long awaited marriage. What makes him lose his dignity, and sit down on a pavement like a lost soldier? Does he see a God in every approaching man and woman, and a demon once they are past him?

Or should I have seen myself, crouching besides him and listening to his worldly sorrows, and get up offering nothing. I would still have been an indifferent passer by to him. And then how do I know, what he really had wanted of me. Every evening walk of mine has such snippets of thoughts lying obscurely in my way.

After a very long time....!

2006-04-04T00:40:00.000+06:00

Due apologies to my non-existent readers, or if at all there are any, for not having posted anything for so long. But this craving to speak out about few things about myself shows up its head every few days. This time may be a large number of blogs will be posted at once because I have been thinking on so many things at a time, and now I have decided to spew out everything. This blog is about one ordinary situation that I faced and given that I am such a difficult individual to deal with, this was bound to happen. But sanity always overtakes silly, mad and disturbing thoughts.

To begin with, I remember I always used to score good marks in essays, in all the three languages I studied in school. That was may be because I would write everything that I felt about the concerned issue. My essays would be regularly published in the school magazine and even couple of my poems (that’s what we used to call those few words, then) were published in a express publication called “wee wonder”. The junior college days were quite memorable, as I wrote about many different things, and actually discovered how effective and enjoyable writing could be, thanks to my English professor, Mr. Tushar Anande. After a very long time, I discovered this practice of writing accounts on the net that is Blog. In between I would purchase costly diaries, and pen down few things, and then they were left to bite dust. I would show them to my poor friends, who would out of no way, appreciate those silly works.
Recently during a casual phone call, I asked my friend Ullas, who I look upto for his sheer élan at writing, about my writing skills, the flaws, the goods, in fact I allowed him to comment, about what he felt. Being a frank and intelligent person, that he is, he pointed out few things. He felt that may be I was forcing myself into writing and it was not coming naturally, it appeared as if I was trying to make an impression through my written words.
The after thoughts disturbed me. But eventually, I came down to few conclusions. I discovered that writing does not come as naturally to me as it comes to him, being in the industry that he is; he constantly comes across, many scenarios, many issues, and even so many ideas on the whole. Given the scenario and conditions I am in, I would confess, that the flow of my thoughts is bound to be haltered. And just not to lose whatever control I have over them I tend to write about things, and would continue. I wonder whether I had any flamboyance or anything good about my writing at all. Anyways, this was just an incident I felt writing about, and because I know no one apart from ullas reads it, thanks buddy, you have always been a great guide to me.

2006-03-06T15:44:00.000+06:00

Breathing in the changing airs.
I have always been fond of noticing the changes in the weather patterns, onset of the new seasons, the temperatures, the air flow etc. No, this is not a periodical report of some Met guy, but an account of just how much I favor changes, positive of course. Like seasons follow a set pattern, sociological changes also do follow a predictable, yet not definite pattern. Not falling into the depths of historical evidences, I would prefer to come immediately to the point.
Being a movie buff, that I am, I tend to think a little seriously about movies! Swades, was a movie that has left an indelible mark on my psyche. It truly was a large hearted effort and possibly Ashutosh Gowariker’s aim was to reignite that quite fire within all of us, Indians. As the movie is a history, and most of us, thinking individuals would have seen it, at least once, there’s no point peeping into its storyline, cast and credits and all that stuff. The main agenda here is to reconsider the subtle references in the magnificent oeuvre. Swades, took most of us, on a journey within ourselves, as it was what the director actually wanted. It gave us a sight of ourselves, and thus the journey towards our better selves began. Within a year of its release this journey has transformed into a very simple, practical and realistic effort called, “teamswades.in”, an interactive forum, where young individuals have come together to make a change for the coming generations. It’s a forum wherein such issues will be handled, which have till date undermined the growth of our vast nation, in terms of population, land mass as well as natural resources. Swades, gave us a glimpse into the practical approach of “participatory development” in the sequence where a small tank is built in order to operate a power generator. Similarly, if we educated people, get along, think over the shortcomings which we don’t want our kids to face, that in itself will usher a change. Teamswades is just a year old forum, and it is still taking its baby steps into this world of extravagant wastages. Their first effort is known as “Project Grassroots”. The core of this project lies in the dismal educational scenario in our country.
Rang De Basanti released some 6 weeks back, and given that it has been so popular with the audiences, I hope the message has gone down well. It’s truly a depiction of how effective this youth power of our country could be. Basanti, is an entertainer, and there’s no question of setting a wrong precedent, if someone would debate. The step the protagonists in the movie took was a radical one, but not sticking to the violence, we should accept the truthful message gracefully. Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra, the director of the movie has been living out of his suitcases, ever since the movie released, moving from metros to cities, and then towns, and then smaller areas just to gauge the responses of the audiences. In one of his articles, in Loksatta(Marathi) he said, “though I have been answering to lacs and lacs of people about the concept, nobody has ever mentioned anything about the violence in the movie”. That’s why I said, I hope the message has gone down well, and it was very simple, “Agar Kuch badalna hain, to Khudko Pehle Badlo”. Start participating; speak up for causes, yours or somebody else’s, talk it out with like minded people, get engaged in arts, music, and everything that gives you pleasure and at the same time keep intact the legacy of our culture and traditions. Never underestimate them over even tend to decimate them by sheer indifference. And start hating being a mute spectator.
Mr. M K Gandhi, my idol for a great life, always propagated non-violence but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a radical force. Just watch Richard Attenborough’s “Gandhi”, in that a scene wherein he sets off for Dandi, just count his followers, and also the zeal with which they stride together. The clouds of dust those arose then, themselves seemed to announce the arrival of freedom and an amiable co-existence. I mentioned Attenborough’s movie, because apart from being an extraordinary film maker, he was an outsider to this Indian system, still he got the matter of the fact so well. Every time, I watch or read “Gandhi” I realize I am a changed individual altogether. And see how we curse him, “Us Takle ne to Desh ko barbaad Kar diya”, “uski vajah se aaj itne muslim he desh me” and such crap. I feel ashamed when I hear somebody blurt such malicious utterances for a man, who single handedly shook the tyrannical foundations of an alien empire. He was a true saint, and a knowledgeable diplomat, who knew a lot of other things as well. For his concepts of alternative development and self sustenance, read “ Hind Swaraj” or a very moving book called “Bapu-kuti” written by Rajni Bakshi. This book is the one, where Ashutosh Gowariker took some lessons from while preparing for “Swades”. Let’s get real guys! “ Ek din sabhiko, isi mitti me mil jaana he” let’s not shame this beautiful world, our mother Earth any more by our indifferences.
Another welcome change, I witnessed was subtle movements coming off late. Now it is the widespread unrest over the failed “Jessica Lal’s murder case” where all the convicts were acquitted for lack of evidences, Manjunath Shanmugham’s Murder where youngsters and Bloggers created such an uproar that the Ministry of Petroleum as well as The PM had to take notice and promise real justice. I am happy for at least youngsters have found a voice of themselves, through blogs, over even silent protests, or any other medium. One such instance of a creative effort to bring about a change is “Blank Noise Project”. This project is actually based on a blogathon which will take place on the 7th of this month. As the name suggests, it’s a noise being made but still it is blank. The meaning lies in the issue it grapples with. “Street Harassment” or loosely speaking “eve teasing”! This issue is so widely prevalent, but there’s so much less done about it. There’s no law against habitual eve-teasers, perverts, or for that matter against individuals who don’t allow women, a chance and right of peaceful co-existence. This effort is all about that only. In this blogathon, we can write about any instance, story, or even about what we feel about this project in our blog and try to gather as many like minded individuals, who want to stand up and act against this malice. We as Indians are presumed by the world to be a progressive lot, and if such evils exist in our society that will only affect our status as a nation. When we sit down to talk about “issues of women in India” it is not just about street harassment, eve-teasing, sexual attacks, molestations, rapes and all that alone. It encompasses larger issues like skewed sex ratio in our country, the education among women, their health concerns, deaths during pregnancies, domestic violence, subjugated social status and many such things. Even today I know people who believe, “Aurat ko to mard ke pairon ki Jooti ki tarah hi rakhna chahiye” I work with people who refer to them as “machine”. “ aurat ki laaj aur sundarta, ghoonghat se aur badhti he”. “ aurat ghar ke andar rahe tabhi use gruha laxmi kehte hain” Anyways, I know such people will never have a say in making the new society, of which we all are laying the foundations, and they will eventually end up being losers. For contributing to this project log on to “blanknoiseproject.blogspot.com” I would like to pen off with a very simple but effective Sanskrit verse, I read during my school days….

“ Yatra Naaryastu Poojayante, Ramante tatra Devataaha”
(Where women are prayed and paid respect, Gods do have their abode there, and they remain engrossed there only)

Just a Random thought towards the end, while you return back home from your office or whatever, get fresh, take a wash and then tell your mother to sit down on a chair. Then just rest your head slowly on her lap. You will notice an “Urmi”(a peaceful warmth) enveloping you very soon. That’s what mothers are here in this mean and cruel world, to make it a better “home” with this warmth.

2006-03-06T00:17:00.000+06:00

A "Burkhaa" clad "Truth".
It was a very cheerful evening in a long time for me. Being stationed in a town which does not allow me the company I have in my home town or even Mumbai, I was longing for this one. It was a long time since I had been among young people; otherwise most of my days are spent among foul mouthed colleagues (those BC MC types) who are close to the respectable 50 years mark. Only god knows how much respect they do deserve! Anyways, this fine evening, my sister Ash, who is a hotel management student, had called some of her classmates and good friends for a dinner. Chole Bhature and pulao was on the menu, and as they arrived one by one, some arrived later and some kept coming and going, I could sense that they were a happy bunch of kids, and I was happy to be a part of such an evening. One of them was a pretty, medium heighted girl, called Avni. She was quieter than all of them, but whenever she talked, she gathered all the attention. She kept strutting in and out of the guest room, thanks to her constantly beeping cell phone. Between pranks and jokes, one of them asked Avni to recite an Urdu verse, possibly the one which is chanted in the mosque during an “Azaan”. She recited it so well that I liked it, just because it was fairly a long and tongue twisting one. On my asking her that how she managed it, she just smiled, the smile had nothing joyful about it. As all of them left, I just kept visualizing her pretty eyebrows!

This evening I casually discussed about this “blank noise project” with my mom and sis. And somewhere in between Avni found a mention. My sis just asked me how do you think she knows that “ azaan” so well. I guessed as far as my silly mind could reach. I told because she stays in Panigate(an area mainly inhabited by muslims, which was often razed during the post-godhra riots) she should be hearing it daily and that’s how she memorized it. My sis, too threw a similar smile, which had nothing joyful about it. And thus the story began.
Avni was an engineering student before she joined hotel management. She was forcefully married off by her parents without even checking the background of her “sasuraal”. Within 4 months of the marriage, she decided to part ways with her husband. The reason- after marriage she was sexually harassed several times by her father-in-law, not just her husband. Dowry was not the reason here. Just because she was pretty, she paid the price.

Baroda, my home town is a hot place, and dusty too. Girls while biking here normally do wrap their entire face with a cotton “chunni”, leaving eyes open, to protect them from heat and dust. Avni while driving to college does this so that her husband or any of her relatives do not recognize her. For them she is in Poona, studying. While coming to college she is in the usual uniform, but suppose you want to meet her outside college hours, she will turn up fully clad in a “ burkha”. I was shocked to know this. I feel this may look too simple to read, but imagine the daily trauma she has to go through. I asked my sister, then how did she memorize this verse? Because she wears a “burkha” she is apprehended many a times in the area she stays, and by chanting these verses, she can prove that she is a Muslim. She is just 23, a broken marriage, a society driven by lecherous passions, ever watchful relatives, and thousand such things!

I only pray to the almighty, please accept her every chant of the “azaan”, and let her get some real justice (she has filed for a divorce, but her sick husband is not allowing her that Right even!)

“Why is this world driven by so many extremes? Most of the Women in this country ask for whatever little they could have for themselves, but they are denied even that.”

2006-02-22T15:00:00.000+06:00

The walking man………?
Great minds think alike! As a matter of fact, this has been a title of one of Ruskin Bond’s essays, in which he speaks about his habit of walking it out, whenever he wanted to spend some time with himself. Truly, this connection, more than a coincidence, is an aspect which every one of us should realize. Walking, jogging, or even just strolling around before or after a meal, actually anytime, I feel it will always give a chance, one would need to introspect, and may be get close to his or her human existence. For somebody it might be fast biking, for some a game of badminton, or table tennis would suffice, but for me, it has always been walking nevertheless. Since my Mumbai hostel days, I had this rather miserly way saving a few bucks, but now it is my quick fix solution to slip into “Romanticism” mode. In Mumbai I would undertake such journeys on foot, for sheer cash crunch, but now these walks are my best friends. I remember a few of my walks, in wilderness, or within the concrete jungle, and would like to share the entire gamut of emotions and feelings such endeavors would evoke in me.
I was quite a regular, at the morning walks in the Sanjay Gandhi National park, Borivali. Once I decided to walk out right up to Kanheri caves and waterfall, because rains had just stopped and as expected the falls would be in good spate. It was still dark when I set out, being a clear night as it was, the stars shone from among the trees, for me to take a notice. It was so pitch dark that I even stumbled upon a tiny speed breaker, and thought, how we get away from the realities, as soon as we get into the cozy company of nature? Anyways, I had a light torch with me, to keep of any apprehensions and fears in mind. Mind well, it was a risky task, venturing in this forest, while still dark, and that too all alone. I normally walk at a brisk pace, and while walking I suddenly found myself in a dense part of the forest, with so many hills around me. I had never come to this part of the jungle before, and I only realized that those were hills, when the almost full moon, got hidden behind them for a moment or two. I carefully treaded the path, keeping a watch on sign boards, and every single human being on my path. By the time it was a little bright, I reached the historic caves. It is being said that Pandavas, through their many journeys had stayed here for quite sometime, and few Buddhist monks, had made those beautiful, and enormous caves. Throughout my walk, I was only with myself. No thoughts of office work pressure, nothing else crossed my mind. I only thought about every step I was taking to the destined location. Once there, I could hear the lovely li’l roar of the waterfall. It was just over from one of the caves, and it met the earth, almost 30 feet down from where I was seeing it. A small series of steps has been made to get atop those caves. It was a tricky thing, moving on them. The incessant rains had made them sticky, and a slip on them could see you running for a plastic surgery! Anyways, it was one of my most beautiful sights once I got onto the caves. It was like an amphitheatre, with a cluster of lush green hills, where the stage should be. A group of clouds, small and large, were busy doing a ballet, on a distant hillock. As they faded away into the wings of the stage set up by nature, another spectacle was about the unveil itself. The sun was about to lighten up this mean, noisy world. From behind the hills, I saw the rays, long and straight, bisecting few clouds, on its way, to reach unknown places in the sky itself. I sat there for almost an hour, relishing the sheer opportunity, life had bestowed on me. But once I realized, I was from a mechanic world, I rushed, to get back to my usual life. On my way back, I came face to face with a funny situation. I was near a cluster of illegal hutments. A stench of human waste lurked around, and few hens were grazing around. As they saw me taking a brisk walk towards them, they, almost 5-6 of them, started running towards me. It appeared funny to me, and I thought I would caress them, once they get close to me. But within few seconds, fear overtook my caring thoughts, as I could see them running towards me, as it to kill me. I almost left the tar road and ran for life, for 10-15 metres to get myself, out of their way. Once out of the situation, I thought I should turn back and look at them, so as to ensure that they are not following me. On looking back, I realized they were actually running towards an elderly man walking behind me, who, regularly used to feed them, pieces of stale chapattis! So, dangerously obsessive for food, funny, isn’t it? That brood of hens, seriously, scared the life out of me! With ritualistic Amla, wheatgrass, karela juice and sprouted moongs, I returned back to my dingy flat, with still some cold sweat dripping down my brow. Just think of the plethora of emotions, I went through.

Another such memorable walk was, in New Delhi, on the Raj path. This stretch really evokes that feeling of pride and patriotism, because of the architecture of various embassies, Amar Jawan memorial, and The India gate. Just recently, a sense of déjà vu’ struck me, when I was watching “Rang De Basanti”. As I walked besides the lush gardens on the road, and posh vehicles whizzed past me, I was looked upon by a quizzed look, by the security guards posted over there, nevertheless, it’s their duty. Ruskin Bond, at some point of time, also had walked on these paths. A walk inside the Jamia campus was also truly exhilarating.

Another place, where I enjoyed walking was Matheran. Ullas would definitely nod his head in approval, as walking on that moist, horse dung smelling, red earth of this pretty hill station definitely transports one, into an era, devoid of all material inclinations. Looking at the buildings, temples, homes, a lonely church, a fountain near sunrise point, it certainly feels that the place is still living in a different century altogether. A walk inside the woods makes one feel like a baby in the lap of Mother Nature, and at such times, I don’t mind behaving like a naughty child. Playing pranks, humming old songs, grazing on anything and everything, doing all such mindless things, talking about old movies, songs and similar such what nots. While on such sojourns I also make sure that I do not miss out with the local cuisine, even a home made steaming hot platter would see myself at peace.

Another such memorable walk was in Mhalshej ghaat near Mumbai. This one was amazing, on the most picturesque and enjoyable ones. Mhalshej is the place’s name, and a high way passes through it. We took a bus from Thane via Kalyan, to mhalshej. The beginning of ghaat is symbolized by a water fall, that falls directly on to the highway. And actually the buses pass through under that fall. We got off, after that one, but before a tunnel. As we crossed the tunnel, we could see deep ravines, with hundreds of water falls cascading down their lengths. The entire place was filled up with a stupendous roar of all these waterfalls. We were surrounded by waterfalls on all the four sides. As we walked a little further, we saw, two tiny falls, where we could take a bath. We had a ball of time, splashing in and out of water, playing mischief with each other, and then finally tiring ourselves to death. We felt so hungry that, only good hot non-vegetarian food could have satisfied us. It was drizzling all the while, and as we moved forward, we could see innumerous paddy fields, each sporting a different hue. Here we were amongst a few hutments, and as people looked us with question in their eyes, I told Mandy, let’s act crazy. He affirmed and started walking like those fast walkers in a walking race. We walked out of the village like that, and could see people smiling on turning back. By this time, we were able to see a big flock of Flamingoes, resting in a field near by. We slowly without making big noises got as close as possible to them, but they were smart creatures, they would distance themselves, as much further as we got close to them. Sometimes, on feeling the insecurity, they would just take off, fluttering their enormously long wings, with a patch of lovely pinkish red under them. It appeared as if they are breaking into a synchronized dance sequence, right from their homelands, may be cold climes of Siberia, or Russia. As we quietly watched this spectacle, we were apprehended by two old men, thinking that we were poachers. I immediately flashed my staff i-card and got away with it. Later we, had a satisfying meal and returned to the tunnel, where we had started from. But I felt, something still remained, untold, undiscovered, may be…….unseen for ages. As if Mother Nature had fixed this date, I wondered what was there at the end of that tiny path from besides the tunnel’s edge. Mandy was in doubt, whether to go or not, but adventure is father of all discoveries, just like necessity is mother of all inventions! We walked beside a mammoth rock, just about to break away and few metres, ahead of it saw the tiny trail, end abruptly. I sat down, out of exhaustion, with head close to my knees, eyes closed; I tried to get drowned into the deafening crash of water falls around. This is when I thought somebody was there. My eyes wanted to meet her eyes, in this crowded room, with such dense woods beneath and noisy child like water falls around. I was in a hurry, the state transport bus, I could see on another edge of the ghaat was inviting me to take a seat. But, still I waited, remember this was a date…….and there I see her. She was distances apart….may be I could have never reached her, because she was there, but may be she was not. Almost a kilometer away, she stood their, waving to me, opening her arms wide, as if to embrace me, and relieve me of all my worldly tensions. It was a beautiful waterfall, falling from a ridge exactly facing me. It fell down like any other waterfall, for almost 300 metres, and then rose again, to get dissolved into the moist chilly airs of Mhalshej. It’s hard to describe, but I know one thing, I fell in love, sorry, rose in love with her, just like she did….after falling. I am sure; I will show this lovely creation of God, to whoever I decide to spend my life with.
At the end of this all, I feel like having gone so far, still I am very much here. Those thoughts, those thrills, those smiling faces, silly situations, and ……such uplifting experiences have definitely made me a silly, crazy and untiring “Ro(a)mantic”. Wish me “Happy Walking” on the unknown trails of life. If you wish to join, I am waiting, with my arms spread out wide!

“basti se bahar jaanewali pagdandi hamesha bulaaya karti thi, socha chand baate karke jee halka kar lenge!,
Yaarana hote hi kambakht ne to sawaal poochna sikha diya!”

2006-02-21T16:42:00.000+06:00

Death at my doorstep. Part-2.(Obituary of Kuljeet Randhawa)
Model cum actress, Kuljeet Randhawa, killed herself a fortnight back inside her flat in Mumbai. Her suicide comes within a year of former Miss India Nafisa Joseph, a close friend, killing herself in a similar fashion, by hanging from the ceiling fan, with a duppatta.

Nafisa’s death was a shocker, she was very good looking, and in every way a great ambassador, for youth and fashion. I was in college then, and the morning we heard this news we discussed it in the class then. Coincidentally, we were having lectures on types of suicides, around that time only. Nafisa killed herself because of excessive integration with her own self. Though on screen, she was this bubbly, bundle of energy, kind of a girl, in the real sense she was immensely private, introvert, and a possessive person. She had everything that a young lady could have, still she took the step, and nobody thought she ever would. Similarly, kuljeet was good looking, confident and apparently and intelligent individual. She was doing well, with “CID”, “Special Squad”, “Kohinoor”, and innumerous, literally countless, advertisements. Then what is it that made these young beautiful people make this effort, to end this beautiful journey, so abruptly. Money, Fame, Assets, Fans…..everything they had, then where does suicide have a place. Or is it love that is taking its toll?
Modelling is a murky world of struggle and competition, these young ladies, had got, what some Rashmi Sehgal from Rai Bareilli, would just dream off! One a former Miss India, the other a Gladrags Super model? So strange and disturbing! I liked Kuljeet since her CATS days, she truly portrayed her role on the lines of charlie’s angels very well, even Nafisa was in it! I never miss this show, may be for the sheer vivacious presence these both had. But now, that both, have gone away forever, we can just remember their beautiful, radiant, smiling faces! May both these beautiful souls, rest in peace, forever. To catch up on latest of kuljeet, she is in the lated Maggie ad. But be sure, or blink and you will miss her!

2006-02-21T16:30:00.000+06:00

A perfect meal for me!
All these years, one preparation from my mummy’s kitty has been a hit, always. Here’s the recipe!

While you make the necessary preparations, wash adequate rice, and put it in the pressure cooker, to cook.

SOL KADHI WITH STEAM RICE.

Ingredients:
Milk of 2 coconuts, freshly grated.
Curry patta, 6-7 leaves.
A bowl of kokum (juice required).
Jeera, rai.
Oil for tadka.
Salt to taste
Sugar, half a spoon.

Preparation.
Heat a spoonful of oil necessary for tadka in a boiling or frying pan on a mild flame. Meanwhile, make the juice of soaked kokums. As the oil heats up, put jeera and rai in it along with the curry leaves(washed). Mix juice of kokum and coconut and mix it well. Taste the blend, it shouldn’t be too sour. As the tadka hots up, put the blended juice in it and immediately cover the vessel. Add salt and sugar to taste and boil the mix for 5-8 minutes.
By this time, rice should have been cooked.

Serve sol kadhi on rice, and in a separate bowl, when steaming hot. An extra helping of fried fish, pomfrets, surmai etc, will make the roads to heaven easy for you.

* copyright- Mrs Anjali Deshmukh.

2006-02-21T16:27:00.000+06:00

It’s been a long time, since I have blogged!
Hey dear readers,
I know a lot of water has passed from under the bridge since I blogged last, but it was my plain laziness that prevented me from doing any of the needful works. I have not even cleaned my official quarter for quite some time now, and now it resembles a haunted house in the woods along with the buzz of traffic that is always around. This was a strange phase again in my very adventurous life. The release of “Rang De Basanti”, the sudden surge of logical thoughts, followed with action, realization that Baroda is still too far, and the most important of all, a discovery of how “shaking” a ciggy puff could be. Let’s take it one by one.
“Rang De Basanti” released in a very unusual manner on 26th January, a Thursday, and that’s the way it was different. By avoiding any Friday fever the exhibitors decided to release it, one day earlier, and I think this will become a trend now. Just a Question, why do films open on Friday, after all? Saturday night, or Sunday evenings just seem perfect to me. RDB was more than a revelation for me, story wise, it was fantastic, and the cast was very realistic. All of them appeared so real, and believable. Here’s to you, Mr.SRK, go and learn something from youngsters, viz. Siddharth, Kunal et al. I have already seen it for four times, and may be I’ll see it sometimes more. The film is a big hit, and finally, I have started believing, that yes, there’s a force called youth in our country. As it is, my torrid affair with coincidences continues, before this buzz of RDB dies down, I hear of a political party called Paritrana, being launched, by few IITians. That’s what I call a beginning. I have already sent my joining form to them, now let’s see, “yeh raah kitni door le jaati he”.
India won the one day series, and lost the only live test. I had decided to not write anything on cricket, but may be the lost passion inside me refuses to succumb. I lost most of the action live, but anyways, there’s no point now, wasting the whole day analyzing each and every ball. But yes, whatever I saw was pure entertainment. Best of all the ODIs was the third one. The ball was seaming, and swinging, and bothering, and…….but after a long time, Tendlya plays a gem of an inning, for his 95 runs and sees his team at shore, and then MSD unleashes his WMDs, to finish off the ritual. Boy, he averages 50 in his first 30 matches, way to go boy. Mohd. Asif was a pure technician with the ball; I have never seen such good bowling in recent years, after Waz retired. About the debates, Inzy dismissal, Afridi’s antics, Malik’s Football misdemeanors, and lot of other stuff, I don’t want to comment, the bread has gone sour now.
I have decided not to waste my time on unnecessary things. Finally, I bid adieu to the foolish group that I had joined, “Ckpnetgroup”. After coaxing, and not cajoling the members to show up and participate in the activities, I have lost all hopes of resuscitating, the otherwise, “bunch of good for nothing loudmouths”. The main culprit, kunal, tried to pull me back, but I had no reason to go back. I have gone through a lot of tension for this group, and it all seemed like the group was my “unreciprocating” girlfriend. I am at peace now, I will never fall trap to these “caste-y” things now.
What the heck, my transfer is still so far away. The Baroda division has not yet finished the formalities, and it seems I will not be home before the “the great strike” on the 1st of March to further delay the processes.
My affinities for all things young is at a all time high these days post-RDB, just today I saw, A good video from, Rahul Sharma’s album, Amaan and Ayaan’s video, CNN-IBN(what does IBN stand for?), Times Now(there’s a gorgeous babe, giving away the news, she sounds so sweet!!!!) . Piggy chops and kareena endorsed cafechino is like a cough syrup, I have told my mom to get me new clothes etc etc. Here comes a special one, I admit that I have smoked at least 7 ciggies, before this revelation couple of days back. As usual I was down with loneliness, and I decided to have a puff, my able colleague gave me a tip for smoke. Earlier I would take a puff, and release the smoke from my nostrils. All these years! (Yes, those 7 ciggies have lasted for 6 years) I have been brand loyal with only “Gudang Garam” being my preference. He told me to swallow a little smoke inside the tummy, with a li’l “eeeessssssss” and then release the smoke. Being timid of experimenting in front of him (he is my father’s age!) I waited for him to go to sleep, and then ignited the stick of hidden pleasures. As I followed the ritual, first time round I almost choked myself with smoke, but “maine himmat nahi haari”, I tried, this time a little technically, like Rahul Dravid, and “ oh shit, …….what the fuck…..the world around me started playing ‘ringa ringa roses….’ And as I stood on the ground, I remembered the scene from “majboor”. My god, what a feeling! I tried it a couple of times again, and got high! But I will keep this for special occasions and there’s no point in getting addicted to it. As it is, “Aadato se mazaa nahi, ghulami hi milti hain” ….read a couple of days back that average age of kids who smoke while in school is 13 years……appalling!

2006-01-22T23:23:00.000+06:00

Let’s change the Social Order!
No, I am not out to kick up some revolution, or even, to do things those would unsettle lives of my close ones. But, yes these thoughts have occurred to me, just because I seem to acknowledge that, well, there are other people also, who, think a change is definitely necessary. I am not talking about those, who file PILs incessantly, so that there be could social upheavals, no, I mean I do not have, nothing against, Pratibha Naithanis, even, Mahesh Bhatts also. I thought about those, who just go on doing their jobs and never come in the public eye. As ullas mentioned in his blog, the man who planted trees on the roadside, baba amte, pandurang shastri aathavle, and many others like them.
This thought about change, has kept me busy for a while. And I have arrived to a conclusion that, nothing on this earth seems to be perfect. No government, no judiciary, no religion, no office nothing. And there are careful monitors over the factors those would ensue any kind of change. For example, Rang De Basanti, just a week before its release, it kicks up a storm, over the subject matter it has got. As it is famous now, still I would like to quote, a character in the film, a fighter pilot, dies in a MIG21 air crash, and thus his knowledgeable friends, tend to ask a few questions, but they are suppressed. Similarly, in order to see whether there was anything objectionable in the movie, MOD, all force chiefs, and Pranab Mukherjee watched the movie, and suggested few changes. That means there’s no kind of creative freedom either. And what’s there to shy away from the facts. Facts and agonies of those families who have lost their bread earners in such foolishly tragic accidents! Going by the numbers of such ill fated crashes it is very obvious that these mighty machines must be outdated or ill maintained, then why those hard working pilots are being sacrificed. Obviously MOD is at fault in this case. This film as apparent from the promos is about “change”. I am expecting a lot from the movie, frankly. I wish this movie works well, but seeing past trends, meaningful cinema in India has few takers.
Another thing, that I felt was even when there were revolutions, it was not like a sea change would have occurred overnight. Indian independence was also achieved slowly over so many years. Though I don’t know how it was with Marx in his times. As far as my mental capacity permits, revolution for me occurs really, only when the mindsets of people affected changes. It pains me when I realize that there are hardly any people who want change. Most of us are content with the ways we live and go to sleep. Earning a square meal is the biggest priority for most of us. For me, I know one thing for sure, had I been living in Assam or some naxalite pocket, I think, I would have turned into one of them!
We faced worst floods of our lives in June last year. When no corporator turned after the waters receded for relief operations, so called society administrators were enraged and fuming and said things like, “let them come asking for votes, we will break their limbs”. Last month, municipal elections were held peacefully, with “Bhaaratiya janata party” representatives winning all over, no reports of violence occurred in gujarati newspapers in Baroda. We are just loud motor mouths and when it comes to real action, the tails get tucked inside. When a rickshaw wallah overcharges we are scared not to ask him, because “pandu’ gets a “hafta” from him. And who has got the time after all.
This all may sound vague, but if we are talking about some kind of a change then this all will have to go away. Indian Express, my staple read, has interviews of foreign students, visitors in Mumbai, about what they like or hate, food preferences, etc. On being asked to one such person, what was a common Indian quote that she uses, guess what was it,“Sab Chalta Hain, Yaar”. Guess how deep Indian indifference is rooted?? Or is it that I am reading too much in these mere words of a very chilled out expression?? Please give me an answer!

2006-01-22T23:22:00.000+06:00

The city of lakes - “UDAIPUR”.
This is not the first time that this has happened. Just when I was dying to have a break from my routine life, it comes, like a fresh whiff of air, which reinvigorates me to take on further questions of life. As I reached Ahemadabad, to board a metre gauge train to udaipur, I knew this would be a special visit.
The flickering yellow bulbs, in obviously, uncomfortable coaches of the metre gauge train, took me close to nostalgia. The toilets were unusually clean and the coaches well kept. Being the off season, it wasn’t crowded to my respite. It took ages for the engine driver to blow the whistle, and then gallop his mighty chariot towards the destination. Being the winter season, I was made to carry few extra blankets with me, and thus I made a cozy “bichouna” on which I could retire. But unfortunately, the bed sheet kept skidding, on the plastic sleeper berth. As the train, started chugging and swaying sideways, I found myself slipping into a mood of carelessness, long away went the rules of good behavior, and the anonymity which embraced me, was my companion for the rest of the journey. The chill, though alarming, was quite enjoyable, and being tired of all the luggage shunting, I had done in the day, I immediately, switched into slumber mode. Before falling asleep, I knew one thing for sure; I must catch the sunrise, first of all. In the ghats of Aravalli range, “Kharwa Chanda” station, slipped away quietly, as if it was still waking up from a delightful sleep, and there behind a marble stone laden hill, I see the rim of the Orange globe, how peaceful, he rose to fill the airs with his golden arms. The rays lightened all the faces in the coach and a beautiful co-passenger smiled back at me, obviously, because she enjoyed the company, of nature, of course. My wet palms, after the brush and face wash, slowly dried out by the warm rays and then suddenly, the chill bit them, so pleasingly that I had to hide them in the woolen gloves, my Aajoba had lent me. I was happy for having caught the spectacle, and then population of udaipur, started making its presence felt. The familiar stench, smoke oozing out of “chulhas” meant to heat up, “Bambaas” of bathing water, kids lining up on a tiny trail to reach the school, the milkman humming a mysterious tune cycling along with the train, and birds flying away in calculated groups for work. By the time, I could satisfymyself fully, the scene gets changed and I am amidst, iron and ballast, and …..is it Udaipur city? A fellow passenger asks me, I try to hide my astonishment over the metamorphosis of the railway station, and assure him that it is Udaipur indeed. The change was all because of the gauge conversion, I discovered. Being educated placed me in a funny situation. I had decided to take a “chakda” to the training school, so that I don’t spend much. Here comes, a rikshawallah, who entices me in his “khatara” by saying that, “ saab, aaj to eid he, aaj sab chutti pe henge”. Ok, I struck a deal and reached the school, only to realize that I was fooled. Anyways, I got myself registered and after a wash, and necessary arrangements, I set off on, my foot!!!! Yes, on my foot, to discover the changes this historic city had gone through.
Within no time, I reached Fateh sagar lake, I was amazed by the sheer opulence of this magnificent lake, this time around it had rained well in this part, and thus, it looked as vast as an ocean with islands on all the four sides! As I walked briskly, a distant observatory caught my attention, and I felt the calling, from somewhere there only. As I sipped on a piping hot “Espresso”( this is how they spell it) I asked the vendor, about the observatory. His reply was, “saab, sarkari log jaa sakte hain andar, apne ko malum nahi”. I took the long road around the lake to reach there. On my way, I received few inquisitive glances from passer-bys as they were not used to see somebody walk so far. Before I could reach the observatory, a road took me to a place, from where I had heard those callings. Few minutes away from the lake, here was a village, which had all kinds of hutments found in India. It was called “shilpgram”. It housed rural artisans in it; they would sell their goods and thus earn a living. One such artist took my attention; he was a “warli” artist, from rural maharashtra. As I sat down to talk with him, I found the ground, coarse with cow dung “Leepan”. How happy was I to know that he was not one of those miserable people, who were dying to receive some recognition. His wife was from a village next to Baroda, and that, kind of, made us close friends. We both pondered over the dismal state of art and culture, and he felt happy that I understood his apathy. He offered me to, purchase a painting, but I told him that I was not as rich as his esteemed foreigner patrons were. He gave me a small painting, for 50 bucks, which otherwise would have fetched him a good enough, 300 bucks. As I set out to watch other things, another guy, a “madhubani” artist pulls me inside his hut to show his expertise. I chatted with him, and then left. Some 2 hours later, I was happy with whatever I got to see, and wondered who was calling me.
Now it was getting hot and I was hungry. Looking for food, I reached a stall, where I ate, very real “Daal bati choorma” for a reasonable 50 bucks, and then as decided, I entered a bar near by. The bartender was the owner of the resort himself. Being my shameless self, I asked him, “Boss, first time pee raha hoon, kuch tasty pilao” he could not stop laughing and that pressed me to clear myself, “jyada chadhe nahin aisa kuch, majaa aana chahiye”. “sir, Tom Collins pilau” Amit Deshmukh st. Destiny b. Bartender. He sounded as if he had preserved some Tom Collins ka pee and was offering me that. I asked what would the contents be, “lime juice, sugar syrup, and gin” he said. “Wine kitneki he, sir?” I asked. “ Sir, poora hi lena hoga”, “yahaan log kam peete hain”. I was an established drunkard it seems, in his eyes. “ nahi nahi vo Tom Collins vala hi pila do, badhiya banana ha!, majaa aana chahiye”.
He prepared a concoction, which tasted very much like limbu pani I have outside Mumbai central station for rs 2.50 only. Here I was doling in rs.130….????? I had it, along with peanuts as accompaniment, and then ….I left. The gin never appeared for me to make mighty wishes, and thus I was laughing on myself, for this wonderful deed. For the world, I had drunk, but for me, it was some augmented nimbu pani of sorts. By the time, I could reach the observatory again; I was not interested in it anymore.
I reached the hostel, where my other room partners had arrived. After a decent dinner, I resigned, and then had the most peaceful sleep in the past one month.
Rest of my tour went off thick and fast, as study began. And no sooner could I set out again, on that road, it was time to pack my backpack. Those were very tranquil, quiet and happy 7 days of my recent life.
It was nice meeting you, Udaipur and of course, Mr. Tom Collins!

2006-01-22T23:21:00.000+06:00

Whose truth should I purchase?
“let the truth prevail”, “khabar vohi jo sach dikhae”, “sabse tez”, “feel the news”, “ whatever it takes”. Loud enough! Aren’t they all? I yearn for those good old Doordarshan days, when it was just good Hindi, or even English for that sake, that made me interested in the evening news. Sensationalism was too big a word for a, 10 year old to understand. But, these days whenever I tune into, any news channel, I can’t stop thinking about one particular aspect of this, progressive trend. I would like to put down few incidents, and then continue, with my pondering references.
1. Some foolish old man, who claims he is a “jyotishi”, in some remote, rural, underdeveloped ghetto, pronounces that he will die, soon enough that, most of the television channels will reach there. Ultimately, he missed the pronounced “tryst with his destiny” and fails the test of time. He survives, leaving back, a question over credibility of news channels these days! I was shaken when; I learnt that even Prannoy Roy’s “NDTV” was there. (Where are you Mr. Prannoy Roy of yore)
2. Manjunath Shanmugham’s Murder goes almost unheard, when The Big B was going through, a normal, bowel ailment. Hours of air time went into this useless issue, but the whistleblower’s death, took ages to reach our PM’s ears.
3. People’s private lives become the most plentiful raw material, for the channels to reap benefit out of. Just today I saw, a woman being grilled, for allegedly beating up her step daughter brutally. There have been plenty of such showings. Masters of this art, channel 7, aaj tak, India tv!
4. What with “sting operations” becoming the order of the day. I don’t know whether shakti kapoor was all that guilty, but I mean this is not journalism. Its just, “shikaar” of some kind, where a trap is laid with a bait at the centre, the victim (like shakti kapoor) falls prey, and then what! Nothing. Its like “khel khatam, paisa hajam”.

Rajdeep Sardesai, one of the names, I respect, (for the sheer manner in which he has gained knowledge and has tried to impart it to the society) left NDTV and now has joined CNN-IBN, may be just because NDTV was walking the same path, other sensational channels were trudging on.
One thing rather strikes me quite blatantly is that; all this mutilation of facts is for the sake of TRPs. Less the TRPs, less the channel runs. More TRPs, more sponsors. People watch what is sensational. And to me this sensationalism appears a rather shameful act of perversion. Anyways, I do not want to make a statement about the Indian psyche, which, in its entirety is a very broad and funny topic. I dare say that we have got this eye for perversion, because, I have noticed a few times, that we (Indians) prefer to remain spectators, rather than stand up and act upon something. One phrase, I hate is, “kya karega, chalana padta hai” when one in particular, finds himself helpless, despite of his expected behavior being a very minuscule effort. We mob around an accident site, we turn our eyes when a mentally challenged girl is being raped (ref: borivali rape) and later throng to watch the victim, how insensitive! Spy cams, MMS videos, phone tapping etc ….what the heck.
Imagine a desirably intelligent student, pass out of a prestigious journalism institute, say Jamia, and then run around, places marred with controversies, sex scandals, terrorist attacks etc. Eventually, by the time, this young guy or girl is 40, they are totally exhausted with the plans, they had with their career, their dreams etc. Then later they write down a book, join a political outfit or otherwise take a sabbatical that never gets over.
These days, huge posters of CNN- IBN are all over Baroda. Another sexed up, extra masala product from the Times group is about to be unveiled. Times Now, a news channel will soon join the race for TRPs. I have only seen movies being publicized so well. I always wonder if truth was ever so sensational.
This is a very big topic, but I need to come to some conclusions, though they may not mean anything to the entire media enterprise. First of all, let people live their life. Secondly, stop running around, sit down and talk with people, this race isn’t taking anybody anywhere. And finally, try to empower people rather than projecting them as mere scapegoats, mere baits in a juggernaut of politics, corruption and indifference. Try to bring back the arts of story telling, painting, music, and a happy living.

2005-12-30T15:41:00.000+06:00

DEATH AT MY DOORSTEP…..
I have often had funny theories about death, sarcastic, mindless, and totally childish, they seem now. Last few days haven’t been easy for me, as I am still not able to come to terms with the reality of death of my Sanjeev kaka. And his death, has allowed me to think about this real, normal and difficult phenomenon.
I have read of few religions, in which the followers celebrate death. And that I was used to the aftermath of one’s death I had developed some strange and equally funny theories about death, which I thought would get rid of so much agony, the close one’s of the dead go through. I thought that, the one who is to die should simply disappear in air, or deep forests, before he or she dies so that the close one’s do not suffer so much, out of crying and mourning the death. But now, I realize it is not all that simple, to not to mourn. Saying that I have still not come to terms with his death is because, it seems that he knew he was nearing his end. He took us to his village where he was born, he brought us his favorite paan(betel nut leaf with spices), and to sum it all up, told me few things, which I never expected him to tell me, for I was still a kid for him, as he used to say. And now that he is gone, I feel I should have known a further more of him, his thoughts, should have shared his knowledge, and …….may be should have offered him my favorite “Paan”!

So easily, you walked away,
in the fading sunlight,
when it was a new morning for you and all,
the beard still scraggy,
but I touched it when you were not,
thou feet, like stone or ice,
but melted a sea of tears in my heart.
I cried like a baby, to get you back,
But you lay there, on your pire,
Your eyes still volatile,
I thought you would open those,
And talk to me.
With you on the pire, they placed heavy logs on you,
And the child in me shouted, hey watch out!
He may get hurt, no blood should come out of him,
It will pain him, while he is so dead, quiet.
As I still believed, you would rise, place that long arm of
Yours on my shoulders, and say,
Lets share a “paan” today, buddy!

2005-12-16T22:45:00.000+06:00

Right here, right now!
Should I call this kick-ass stuff? Yes, I should. It’s kind of funny, the way film songs give instant recognition to the movie as well as the actor. Emraan Hashmi, he is like L shivaramakrishna to me, like LS, in a brief career, he has made a mark, which at times seems unbelievable, but yes, it is the truth. Apart from the dubious distinction of being the most frequent kisser in Bollywood, he has another record to his name, most number of hit songs in such a short career of say, 5-6 films. “mere sapno ki rani” is to Rajesh Khanna, what “dekha na hai re” is to Amitabh, and this has been the case for years now, remember “tirchi topiwale” for naseer, otherwise known for his histrionics. Its difficult to get all such records on paper, but what made to think about this, unimportant aspect. It’s a song called “Right here, Right now”.
Abhishek“lambi race ka ghoda” Bachchan’s, “Bluff master”, got a decent opening throughout the nation. I am not concerned with its box office collections, but I enjoyed the flick thoroughly. A review will follow later, right now, I would just like to talk about this song. This song is kick-ass stuff, ‘coz it has got the most promising actor of the coming years, 4 hot babes and a good looking actress, the lyrics are jazzy and what else should I say. The first time, I saw this video, I was happy for unknown reasons. This video has got Abhi, Priyanka, Carol Gracias(most sensuous of all the babes), piya trivedi, anchal, and scherzade shroff. I wish Nina Manuel, and Sheetal Mallar were also in it. “ Dus Bahane” was a visual delight as well, and I confess that I wrote down this one to just appreciate this song and video. Here comes the serious one, I think abhi should try his hand at, some offbeat stuff, as well. Antar Mahal, hardly gave him a chance, I think. Until my next one, try to catch the video. I am totally bowled over……
“EK MEIN AUR EK TU HAI, AUR HAWA MEIN JAADU HAIN, …….” Where’s my Tequila ……

2005-12-16T22:33:00.000+06:00

CAN’T WE SLOW DOWN A BIT?
Move out of a throbbing metropolis and you’ll find your ears numb with the silence that is around. I prefer to call this “music of silence”, try to immerse yourself completely in that silence and you will yearn to get back to your noisy pandemonium, why? What lies there? Which strings pull you back to the place, which otherwise you strive to get away from, when you feel you should take a break from? Last night, I chatted with this “music of silence”!
Money is what drives this world now. We now kind of organize our lives around this precious metal. But may be this is the way it was fashioned to behave. There are fights, “mohalla” level or on international stages, thanks to this “ Hari Patti” syndrome. But just for a moment, change gear and bring yourself to gear “one” where you have got time to negotiate your craziest of thoughts, and also you don’t lose large ground. Then think, what will you get on lowering your naked limbs in a gurgling brook; or rather stare at the rising sun, from an edge of a cliff which faces it every new morning and not you. Life in the fast lane also has got its own thrill, but I feel it takes us all far from the reality, our mere human existence. This evening I saw a shooting star, I thought it is very girlish and simultaneously stupid act, to follow up a shooting star with a wish, but still, I allowed stupidity to take over my mind and wished “let good happen to everybody of us”.
This world is being dug deep and a dump yard is being made out of this mother earth’s womb! Strange, but truth! Man wants to get faster, faster and fastest, and after leaving behind the relics(read, shit) of his progression, he ponders over the cost of his achievements. This doesn’t mean I am against the development, but I have just got different set of ideas, altogether. Within a couple of months, a deadly quake rocks, PoK again. Cyclone “fanuus” follows up “baaz” which poured cold soup over Chennai. May be I will end this somewhere abruptly, but this will be only because I keep thinking about this every now and then, the way we are rushing towards our fate. Pardon me, for disturbing the order!

2005-12-03T17:06:00.000+06:00

A day in the life of India………
Amit gets out of his bed and finishes off the ablutions in a hurry and starts walking towards his drippy-cracky office of the Raj times. While he is walking, finds this nip in the air(had Irfan been playing at the lords, he would have done well!) which was hostile(Glenn Mcrath????). And he was actually cursing this bad weather for having almost pulled down curtains on the Chepauk test(time for trivia-chepauk has been the only place where a test was tied), even before it has kicked off( I wonder, when it again rains at chepauk, cricketers should resort to, ….soccer?).
Being on an idyllic counter no. 4, he had all the time to see the busy world, pass by. People rushing in and out of the dilapidated station building, a long queue on the neighboring counter no.3,a couple cozying up in a filthy corner(thanks to the proliferating guthka business), and few charming faces just vanishing into the sea of stressed out strangers, some thoughts still hung up over his mind, may be it was the “Shanmugham” episode? Then suddenly his reverie was shaken by………?

Amit : Oyyy! Idhar aa?! ( Hey! come here )
Mr.X : He, he, kya he, he(what ehh?)
Amit : Kya kiya tune abhi( what did you just do?)
Mr.x : kya kiya, ek rupyaa dena, re!
Amit : vohi pooch raha hu, kya kiya tune abhi, paise kyu
Maangta he logo se?
Mr.x : Bhook lagti he isliye, maai bheji naa paisa lane ko!
Amit : kidhar he mai,kon mai?
Mr.x : mai matlab mai, tereko mai nahi he kya? (A V Deshmukh st.Mr.x b. Mr.x)
Amit : Kidhar he mai?
Mr.X : Ghar me, Sachin me ghar he, mai udharich he.
Amit : Tune voh vada paav feka kyu?
Mr x : aise hi
Amit : fekne ka he to paise kyu leta he? Ghar pe jake khaa na
Mr x : abhi nai raat ko janekaa, nahi to mai maregi
Amit : kitna paisa jamaa karta he tu dine me? Naam to bata tera
Mr.x : KISHAN DATTARAM CHAVHAN!
Amit : pappa kidhar he tera
Kishan: Vo to bhaag gaya, kidhar to bhi!
Amit : Bhaag gaya, aur ghar me kon he?
Kishan: ek behan thi, par vo mar gai
Amit : kaise,?
Kishan : arey vo mai ne Sachin station pe pani bharne ko bheja usko, aur aate time hawa lagke vo mar gai!
Amit : Hawa lagke mar gai?
Kishan : Vo gaadi aati he Rajdhani, uski hawa ne fek diya usko, udhari mar gayi vo
Amit : Din me kitna kamaata he tu? 20-30 rupya hota hoga na
Kishan: (laughs and runs in the empty space as if he is announcing that amit is the biggest dumb ass in the whole world) 100-150 ho jaata he
Amit: (shocked)to ye paise ka kya karta he tu
Kishan : maa ko deta hu ghar jaake
Amit : Mai kya karti he ghar pe
Kishan : kuch nai khaana banati he,vo mereko machchi, murgi ka mutton, baida sab khilati he, mast theekhaa banake
Amit : tu padhta kab he?
Kishan : kab, ye kounsi gaadi aai( obviously ignoring the question)
Amit : Gujarat express?
Kishan : fir konsi?
Amit : pata nahi
Amit : padhna nahi he kya tereko?
Kishan : mai bhejti nai na!
Amit : par tu mangta he ki nai? Tujhe padhna he kya?
Kishan : nai re baba, kon re vo sab saman uthake leke jaaega roj roj

Meanwhile, a decent amount of time has passed by and suddenly one of Amit’s dignified customer’s shove poor Kishan away, Amit cannot scold this man for he was neglecting his duties while talking to this urchin, so called “ Bhikaari”. Amit just carries on with his work and by that time, kishan disappears to leave him back with his dust covered stack of tickets and papers and files, and fortunately, Gujarat express has brought in a fresh copy of Indian Express to him. Again the same roller coaster ride, shanmugham, natwar singh, madhumita, abu salem, saurav ganguly, sania mirza, che Guevara, amitabh bachchan ……………the names say it all, but switched on his daydreaming machine again, yes, but the protagonist changed, this time it is KISHAN DATTARAM CHAVHAN! Fighting against all odds and shaping up into what??? An illegitimate kerosene peddler! See how real dreams can get! Its high time I concentrate on my alienating work now!

HARSHA BHOGLE? THE NAME SOUNDS FAMILIAR,HAVE WE MET BEFORE?

2005-11-30T00:20:00.000+06:00

Not that because he loves cricket, not because he is a pass out from “IIM-A”, not because he is a Maharashtrian, not because he is rich, and not because he is famous, err……is he really, famous????????

God knows why but I always had high regard for this man, may be because his English was impeccable, may be because he appeared so, close, I mean so approachable and so friendly. I tried not to miss his articles, in newspapers and never came across his interviews, may be he was never interested in publicizing his humble self. But as it is, that I have a strange relationship with coincidences, this Sunday, had something unexpected coming my way. Channel surfing, just to catch up some news tid bits of news or some flick, I was overjoyed, when suddenly my mother’s pet channel had an announcement. Beautiful doc, Gautami Gadgil(who is dumb as an actress) announced that this Sunday’s guest of honor was none other than, ……Harsha Bhogle. I just jumped out of my seat, at the prospect of watching my favourite commentator in an interview. The programme was called “Maanachaa Mujraa” which in marathi means “salute of honor”.

As he descended down the spiraling staircase in the studio, he looked as familiar as ever. He humbly took his seat and began the Tête-à-tête. One after the other, he started giving out surprises. He was himself a cricketer when in college and would carry a tape recorder to tape the commentary of his ongoing match. He was doing commentary since 1980, and it was his father, who told him to try commentary, and he duly obliged and how? He and Azharuddin( till date I am his fan, strictly for his cricketing skills) played for the same team while in college. He started commentary on radio first, and still believes radio is the best medium of communicating with the masses, and he enjoys it a lot. On being asked who his hero was, he said that his hero is his elder brother,Shrinivas. Now that is where, I got the real punch, I mean we idolize actors,actresses, cricketers, and anybody who is rich and famous, but here was a man who thought his own brother was his hero. I was flat! On being asked, what if he fumbles on TV, and does a mistake, he simply said, I apologize. Then came in some, Mr. milind who also was a commentator, but he was strictly not needed, he spoiled the show. Then came his good looking wife, who was as spontaneous as Harsha was, but she left in no time, after talking on their executive motivation lectures and their company. In the end, Gautami, the hostess, took him through a rapid fire round of questions, his fav sports person,Anil kumble, I was stumped! Some of us believe, that Anil Kumble is a good for nothing guy, but mind well, he has won us quite a few matches, and he is the highest wicket taker in India in Tests. On being asked what he would have been, if not a commentator, he told in a child like innocence, I would have wandered here and there and might have written a lot of poems and songs. Now, this sounds very clichéd but, hey he is allowed to speak what he feels like.

I am clean bowled by this man’s simplicity, honesty, and spontaneity, as he says should be forte, of everyone who wants to be a commentator. A lucrative career on one hand and a silly game like cricket on the other,... and still he is doing so well. I wish, I could watch this broadcast again, or at least a test match soon,where he is commenting.

Glad to meet you, Mr. Harsha Bhogle. Hope to see you soon, again! Have a great life ahead.

The country of Intellectuals!

2005-11-30T00:16:00.000+06:00

THE COUNTRY OF INTELLECTUALS!
Pardon me if I am being sarcastic and may be while writing this piece, I may slip into modes which would sound like offensive but, the gist lies in the fact that, I tend to think for this country of mine. I have named this piece so, because everybody in this country, right from his royal highness, Lalu Prasad Yadav, to some layman called Amit Deshmukh, thinks that he is the brightest intellectual in this country of 100 crores civilians.

Beginning with an oft repeated statement, “ Rights come along with Duties”, I would say that each and every Indian claims his right, right to get proper service, a proper answer to his apathy, proper provisions, proper benefits oblivious of the fact that he is depriving himself from the benefit of the Right that he has got. Most of us Indians do not want, or even try to help themselves out of the situation. No doubt we are far too ignorant (ref: illiteracy as most of them point out, themselves) to know all this, but everything you require to know is to just a look around. We are just better off, cursing somebody else for our miseries, yes I mean it, till date, there are people who wear decent clothes, fake American accent and still curse the government for their problems.
I will surely come back to this point later, otherwise I would forget about what I actually had to write!

Last week was,kind of, say tumultuous for me personally( No, no heartaches nothing! I have switched on to ayurveda off late!) Disturbing it was to sense that, there is a tremendous amount of haplessness, and hopelessness in the air that surrounds this sub-continent. On one hand, we talk of being the most promising economic super power in the reckoning, and on the other, poor farmers are killing themselves for no reasons cited, leaving behind them, hordes of living dead! Last whole week was all about this country as such, controversies, controversies and more controversies, and god only knows how many conspiracies behind them all( here’s a juicy one, it is believed that, it was Dalmiya who urged the pitch curator to leave the Eden Gardens pitch unshaved, so that Rahul’s team loses that match and he did! Conspiracy of the millennium, Saurav Da behind the curtains!) I mean is it all that I want to read after waking to a smoggy morning, having gone through a nightmare in which I see myself as the only saviour of the Indian cricket team! God where are you? I want a decent slumber, man!
Khushboo controversy as Ullas rightly picked and understood, but the mighty media could not? For me it was really very simple, no hard talk, no hardcore issues! She was asked what about pre-marital sex, she just said its ok only if it is safe sex,(safe sex is still a buzz word), since AIDS has acquired such a monstrous proportion now, since a decade and a half ago! And see how media portrays her, as if she is some sleazy voracious sex brand endorser or what! It was good to see Sania jump on the bandwagon, provided that she has had her own share of controversies, mini skirts and all! I don’t know about Narayan and other celebrities, but I believe, it’s the biggest irony of this nation that nobody wants to really understand what one wants to say. And still if somebody speaks out clearly, rather blatantly, there are veils of morality, culture, tradition, decency and all that shit, thrown at the individual, to cover up the words.
Manjunath Shanmugam, I am sure this name won’t toll a bell, in any Indian’s head, but yes Mallika Sherawat’s will surely do! This IIM pass out could have easily crossed the seven seas and had a sophisticated life for himself and his next generations but, he was foolish enough to sneak into a governmental behemoth, called, Indian Oil Corporation. And what does he get to perform his duties? Death, the ultimate end, Mukti, Moksha, eternity, at the greased oily hands of the petroleum mafia, who he was trying to stop from offending. And now people want an answers from poor lad, Mani shankar Aiyar, who again has had his share of debates, in other words controversies, read the Iran-Pakistan-India pipeline issue. Now,will anybody please tell me, what can Mani Shankar Aiyar can do in this matter? The benevolent soul has already departed and as for punishing the culprit, our efficient judiciary should already have done that before the now culprit’s grandchildren shoot down another Manjunathan.

Another story, which has been biting me, since long is the Tehri dam issue. I think, a separate article on this issue is justified because by now, this issue has got too close to my heart. And it will take some 4-5 days for me to prepare as couple of days back, I have got a book called “The Doomsday Book” by Gordon Rattray Taylor. There is enough fodder in it for my stupid brain to graze, I guess. Sometimes, I tend to think, whether ours is the only country that looks out and out scandalous throughout, or are there others also, where each and every sphere of life is so exploitative that one wishes, he could have better been some other specie!

Here I will refer to an article, about which I had written earlier, “ Do Indians really think?”. My answer is yes, but not beyond, his Nokia6600 and such other toys! Coming back to the title of this article and the immediate afterthought, here are few Indian thoughts.

1. All politicians are chor party!( you elected them to power!)
2. Sex is still a taboo.(Except for those late night viewings on your cable tv)
3. Sachin Tendulkar plays his cover drive best when he pulls it and every fielder who gets him out is at point!( land of cricketing geniuses, Mr. Geoffrey Boycott, you better park your ass,somewhere else!)
4. Mallika Sherawat is so h……! intelligent(she really is, I bet!)
5. We pay each and every Government employee!( Really, Go and advice that sweeper to clean well! All you’ll get is expletives! M@#$$%#@d)
6. This government will not last its whole term(I know, after all one’s wife and ruling government are very similar)
7. Whole world is my spittoon!( I am here to distribute Prasad, never say no to Prasad)

Enough!
One thing I wonder about right now, is, why don’t initiatives last long enough to see the results for themselves! Even with me, initiatives I took died coming down the line, is this about the same killer instinct that Indian Cricket team lacks!
I am confused, let me restart my machine!

REALITY TV,hot or not?

2005-11-28T00:54:00.000+06:00

Is Reality TV really happening?

I know this sounds pretty out of place at this point of time, but I have blogged about this because I have been thinking about this funda for quite a while now. Let me sum up, few things for the readers. Indian televison history has got various eras per se. With the advent of television in India in mid 60s, it could hardly create a stir in the society, ‘coz it was only the rich who could afford erstwhile “Dyanora”, “Bush”, “Murphy” and what nots. Slowly the TV started casting its spell, and by the end of 70s the stage was set. Excellent Oeuvres like “ Buniyaad”, “Tamas”, “Nukkad”, “Intezaar”, “Hum Log”, “Mirza Ghalib”, provided the maturing society some food for thought. 80s saw a similar surge of good programmes like “Talaash”, “Ek kahaani aur mili”, estended runs of “Hum log” and the actual milestone of Indian Television. Roads looked deserted, the scorching sun beating the tars of Indian roads to pulp, Inflation was still a cause of concern for the middle class, which wasn’t as resurgent then, but yes they had got something which could make them sit glued to the TV screen. Poor neighbourers thronged the homes of rich , to have a peek at the black and brown box where deities played adventurous games with their bows and arrows. You guessed it right, Epic serials from Ramanand Sagar’s stable “Ramayana” and “ Mahabharat” were the brightest success stories on the Indian Television till date(Tsk,tsk heard that Bobby Bedi is producing a series of movies based on ramyana and mahabharat on the lines of The Lord of the Rings)
80s gone, these epics gradually lost their sheen and were closed down and then numerous such followed but few got counted. Then came the advent of satellite television in India, Doordarshan was immediately pushed out of the driver’s seat and a new game ensued, one with maximum TRPs won. Star Plus, ZEE, and flurry of such channels bombarded the Indian Viewer with varied choices. After opening up of the economy, “Kaun Banega Crorepati?” was the biggest welcome change, it brought good fortunes to both, Star and apunka babu moshai, Amitabh Bacchan. Then there was this most intriguing phenomenon of “ saas-bahu” soaps, in which I am least interested! KBC is ruling the airwaves again, but amidst all this lies a chaos, which throws up silly questions on the windscreen of my high speed cruise through these visual enrichments! Reality TV sounds big, but is it really that hot?

Reality TV e.g. Indian Idol, Super Singer, AXN’s dozen shows, MTV Roadies, Now, Nach Baliye, Indian Idol Season-2, even KBC for that matter. Are such real time entertainment or say emotional tours really happening?

Let this question remain here for some time, and move ahead. Indian Idol, Super Singer,Fame gurukul all offered a lucrative career to the winner with almost a crore of rupees and various hot deals, like recording a cd and all that stuff. But while on this tour towards this ultimate goal, the viewers were subjected to immense atrocities, according to my personal opinion. First the viewer identifies with most of the participants, he is excited at the selection of his/her liked candidate and rues their elimination accordingly. But how does the viewer feel when he sees his liked guy or a gal tumbling out bucketful of tears for having missed supposedly a deal worth one crore. I mean is it really, the unfulfilled passion that left them bereaved or hurt, or is it the money that really mattered? I always feel, still, I should have given a try to at least one of these shows to see what actually happens there, but something stopped me everytime. Fame gurukul was the best of all these tear jerkers, every now and then, you would see participants holding hands,hugging, and crying like small babies. And most interesting of all is the viewers taste, they vote in Abhijeet Sawant, Tauqeer Qazi, Rooprekha Whatever, That silly teacher Upadhyay of super singer, despite of all of them strictly average. I mean you are choosing the best in the nation yaar, and how come it doesn’t show. Judges on these shows are equally ridiculous, look at how impressed Farah Khan was with Rahul Saxena, despite of him singing so badly throughout.
By the way, I was severely hurt when even Sa Re Ga Ma Pa changed its format, just to catch up with these guys. It was really and is the most genuine talent show, but only one request, please go back to your old penchant.

Coming back to my question, are these Reality series’, all of them really hot? May be the answers lie with those who never chose to participate in them and just be engrossed in their own world of music and knowledge. I believe the entire experience with music is an inward process, I has nothing to do with money, as such.Any comments?

a little bit of thought!

2005-10-02T23:52:00.000+06:00

Growing up, I missed out on few precious things of life. Reading is one of those habit. I always enjoyed reading being a child, but distance from my home, almost deprived me of this extra indulgence, till date I regret it. But, its never too late, when one knows what he likes. My experience with, “THE INDIAN EXPRESS” is one such thing, I think if we both were friends, I would call this “ an on and off relationship”. When I was a school going kid we used to get these weekly free copy of this newspaper, with WEE WONDER, quite obviously a kiddy supplement. Wee wonder was reason enough for me to read,or rather see this paper. I remember few of my childish verses, were published then in this, now defunct, supplement. I have got those cuttings still,in my collections, time speaks out of it, with its mildewed texture, now. Forget it,few months back, I was recommended by a total stranger to read this,newspaper. But, I thought I had some inapparent reservations with it.

It always fell on my ears that, this particular paper is anti-government in its stance, and therefore I dettered from reading it. But, this stranger’s words reintroduced me to an excellent reading experience. I hardly remember those, but I have come across, some amazing stories, through it. Currently, eminent, people write on empowering India, with people’s participation. Its Sunday copy is the best pick, reason, it has got book reviews,film review, a section on art and culture,food,fitness, it sounds pretty much like, any other newspaper,but, still it clicks with you as it seems, very real, and though its not very hip, like The Times of India, but it’s a pleasant read. It is particularly low on the sex and sleaze material. And its really some journalism with courage.

Mumbai recently experienced the worst ever deluge in a single day and they covered it very well,so much so that you can feel the dampness, of people’s experiences. Last week, was quite dull, as far as the articles were concerned but, two of them, brought week to a fine close. The first one from a young writer,was how we Indians particularly, the current crop, don’t think. Think in the sense, that this India lacks the stock of great people like Mahatma Gandhi, Rabindra nath Tagore, JP Narayan, and so many of them. She argued the current crop of Indians don’t like thinkers, because in first place they themselves don’t think, they don’t read, they don’t talk out enough, and they ignore the issues. Lackadaisical attitude of our premier politicians is also a detrimental factor, with the education policy being the biggest culprit. It says we don’t have good writers, and even those who write,who call themselves Indians don’t stay in India. Those my description, may appear vague, but I think, there’s some “Tathya” in this entire discussion.
I think I should email the copy of that article, to whosoever, wants to think a little bit! How come I got so serious, about this issue?

TIME STOPS AT BORIVALI

2005-09-03T21:46:00.000+06:00

“Smile is the curve that sets everything straight”,
“smile is infectious, it makes others smile too”,
“A smile will take you miles”…. And so many other set of words about the actually infectious “SMILE”.

“TIME STOPS AT BORIVALI”
It was by sheer coincidence, that Abhi’s distant memory was rekindled. If I am not exaggerating,he felt as if, he himself is living the part of his favourite story. The connection was, the very loveable,Ruskin Bond. Abhi had been in the mad rush called Mumbai for some 4 years before this happened.2 years of junior college and later a job,prevented him from getting indulged into all kinds of knowledge attaining acts,his best time pass, was eating and sleeping.

This went on until, one fine Sunday morning,when,he took a fresh copy of The Times of India,and read an article on his favourite author,Ruskin Bond. It seemed to him as if knew about him and his works though, he had not read him. That article drove him like an uneasy,restless soul,until the day when he laid his hand on two of Bond’s books. “ A scene from a writer’s life” and “ Delhi is not far”, he read them both cover to cover within no time, and was very happy as he was reliving his good’ol childhood “Doordarshan” days, when, Sigma,Stoneboy,Ramayan,Gayab Aaya and “ Ek tha Rusty” were an instant hit. He grew up,dreaming about,once going to place where Rusty grew up,Dehradoon. Shining brooklets,lush greenery,several chai ki tapirs,lots of rabbits around,and intermittant drizzle now and then,was all he wanted to enjoy. But, destiny had some other plans.

Abhi’s father retired before he actually should have,and that invariably created conditions that, he had to take up a job. Fortunately, he got a job with Railways,but…then it was a big struggle for him. Juggling between sub-human working conditions,corrupt colleagues and nagging customers,he always managed to find joy out of whatever he had, and had learnt,and when he would do nothing, Rusty was always there. He would dream about him, and thus would be happy again. Time passed just like a “laal dabba” BEST bus whizzes past you,spewing that dark cloud of smoke around. Changes occurred and Abhi was now destined to work on the same counter everyday. Occassional brawls,short of money,new lessons,new people and new strategies,largely made his day.
Mumbai never sleeps,as the city proclaims,for me its already dead. Out of hundreds of irritating passengers Abhi would handle,a couple of cheerful ones would pep him up, to do well at his work. One such day,when he was working a quintessential girl-next-door came on his window and asked for a ticket, “ agar pass jama karna ho to nikaal ke dijiye?”. Abhi asked her in clear voice,in hindi. And for no reason apparent to Abhi, she smiled and said no,she didn’t want to surrender her ticket. But something left Abhi scratching his head. What was that something,her smile,her face, or something else. Abhi went on, before another month passed,and the girl appeared again, this time too,she smiled after Abhi asked,he too smiled. This went on for couple of months. Abhi by now was bugged up with the city, and decided to move out. He got the transfer order, and now the wait began. For all these months that smile had meant a lot to him, a reason to smile,in itself, and whenever he came to think of that girl, he would smile.
On his last working day in Borivali Season Ticket Office, he was tense to finish off the day as early as possible,for he never wanted the demons on his counters to emerge,he hated the brawls, the petty strategies he used to defeat his mammoth enemy,the public,his frequently spoken words were, I behave like what they have made me to,I was never like this before? Fine, but I think he knew how to remember,who is how? As the day closed to its end, Abhi grew further restless, and wished only once could he see her, smile, for no apparent reason. Time ticked away fast, and it was raining too, there was a crowd outside his window, and there was chaos, and there she emerges running towards him,(the window), their eyes meet and before he could say anything,she said, thank god,you’re (here),today was last day of my ticket,and before Abhi could repeat his oft-asked question, she herself said with that enchanting smile on her face, nahin hame pass jama nahin karana he! Abhi mustered enough courage to ask her name,despite of having her i-card and told her that he was leaving,leaving to some unknown destination,where,he will have to lookout for more smiles.Aarati,she told, and asked,why he was leaving,he smiled and just said, “ DESTINY”.

Abhi is now in a town called Navsari,happy with his job,and the people around, and these days he smiles a lot……….

Now what’s the Ruskin connection to this stupid story, for that you will have to read, “Time stops at Shamli”. Happy reading,folks.

IQBAL,the believable hero next door?

2005-08-31T09:35:00.000+06:00

“hello, ladies and gentlemen,its my pleasure to introduce you to the most happening player of the indian cricket team,within a matter of six months,he outplayed all ranji records to claim 123 wickets in 12 first class matches, at a staggering 10.2 wickets every match,and now having donned the indian blues he is the newest face ,having reached our hearts not with the “kookaburra” ball,but with his histrionics,on screen,with help of his evergreen mentor,nagesh kukunoor,I present , “ the kolipad express” to you, “iqbal khan”

Sounds something very normal, may be,but yes he is something special,that something special,which creates a rush of blood, in every “indian boy next door”’s heart. There are innumerous tiny tots in the “gullies and koochaas” of hardcore india and as a matter of fact even in Pakistan, who even in these days, want to become a Virender Sehwag or even, a Salman Butt. But, when I go back to those days, when cricket was everything to me, I tend to laugh back on my wild aspirations and so called “dreams” then,but I am happy for here is a great film maker,who feels,exactly like these innumerous, hardworking, Sehwags of tommorrow feel. There are very few film-makers in india who, have got there,hearts and brains in right places,(no offences intended Mr.bhatt,Mr.david dhavan!). for that sake,ashutosh gowariker, and nagesh kukunoor have got a lot that I should appreciate,not because,they both have made films on cricket,but for the fact that,they go ahead with their projects,irrespective of its “ HASHRA” on the box office.
If ashu, made ‘lagaan’,nagesh made ‘teen deewarien’, and if ashu,yet again comes out with a touching ‘swades’,nagesh,surprises us with ‘iqbal’’,I could sense this joy hidden in his heart,when he said that he is making a film on cricket,in an interview with a wry smile. Yes, ‘ iqbal’’ is a welcome sigh of relief when,mangal pandey, failed to arouse the masses, and cinematic experience for us indians is in a state of transition,with shoddy,sex potboilers,read,murder,zeher,fareb,kasak,bachke rehna re baba, and ……,,, I don’t care what, becoming coming attractions at a cinema theatre near you.
I don’t have anything against showing sex on the screen and cashing on the bikini clad (pathetic) out of shape babes, but when I see,moveis like swades,iqbal, not doing well,I feel the liking of the indian audience is apalling.forget this all, and lets come back to the point.
“Iqbal” is a story about a deaf and dumb,boy,in a fictional village called “kolipad”,in rural Andhra pradesh. A son, of a poor farmer,who is sensible enough of judging cricket as a foolish game,wants to donn the indian blues,some day. The story is all about the imminent challenges created by his handicap,and the high handedness of societal elites,when it comes down to selection in a cricket team. According to me,its rather “in your heart” saga,than being a “in your face” thingy. I appreciate the director’s detailing with the locales,cast,dialogues,story line and above all,the control of underplayed emotions,of its characters,especially,shreyas talpade,who plays,iqbal. The fictional village, is as endearing as Malgudi,or even, Adilabad for that sake. The research work is good ,and it shows the passion,the director himself holds for the game. Music is given by sukhvinder singh and somebody else,but its amazing. Kk is again on his way to become a motivational crooner,after “yaaron”, “tu hi dil hein…”,the songs are good and inspiring,here I am looking out for its cd at the nearest Crossword. As for its cast,shreyas,as I told is excellent,I knew he is good, as I am regular watcher of his marathi serials,he is quite a hit among pyts of mumbai and poona already,naseerji,hum kya kahein,ab to bas aap hi sunao,this man deserves more than what he has got,more on him later, Shweta prasad,as kid sis is very endearing,and, Pratiksha lonkar as iqbal’’s cricket crazy mother, is just perfect.Girish karnad,is as usual good,so is yatin karyekar. All in all, a great clean sweep,towards,the deep leg in my heart as well as other cricket loving folks. There’s just onething that I feel should have been different,instead of his induction,in our current team,nagesh could have taken the story a few years back,when we really had great “physically challenged” player like,Erapalli Prasanna! Mind well,he is till date one of the most successful indian spinners….and towards the end,a great cinematic experience,go watch it,friends, and ask Mr.Ganguly to accompany too. My rating-**** and half! ‘coz nobody is perfect not even Mr.S.R.Tendulkar?

there's something about leather and willow!

2005-08-31T09:27:00.000+06:00

Cricket,………………………….how does it feel? For me these days, this passion of mine is taking its last breaths,had I been an Angrez, I would have been proud of my national cricket team,but for me,cricket,sounds like a foolish word now. There are a few reasons, for me having chosen,this out of the “BLUE”, issue today. First of all, few questions,regarding Indian cricket, was Ganguly’s reign the best streak of Indian cricket?,why is Sachin’s career coming to an end so evidently, and so fast?,will it(Indian team) be a one off memorable performance in years,for the team? When will media stop playing with emotions of this cricket crazy nation? When will we have sachin, again dancing down the wicket, and hitting the red cherry,(as a matter of fact, I prefer test cricket, above one dayers) out of the stands? Will India ever win a world cup again? And, ……..? it seems there’s no end to my questions,’coz I was a person,who used to eat,drink and sleep cricket,but today is a different story altogether, I am not surprised whenever India loses,or even,wins,as a matter of fact.

I was always waiting to ask these questions to a faceless person,who perhaps knows everything about cricket,but as pundits say,you can never predict a game of cricket,the current Ashes, is testimony to this cliché.
Last proud moment,I guess, was when kaif snatched a victory from the angrez in the natwest trophy. I just got to hear commentary of the last few balls on the radio, and I could not resist pumping my fists in the air. Was the 1983 world cup win a fluke,or the teams performance in 2003 world cup? One of my close friends always reiterates a statement,when we sit down, chatting over this national hysteria, “it pinches my heart,when I realise the fact that sachin tendulkar would never win india, a world cup”,he is right. With,the much talked about “tennis elbow”, sachin is the not the best batsman in the world now. I relish watching, kevin pietersen, or even flintoff rather. Papers are gung-ho about indo-pakistan clashes not holding that thrill now, after so many regular ties, every thing appears so predictable. I blame the effervescent politicians of the indian sub-continent for this,in a bid to improve the bi-lateral ties between, two wary neighbours, they have killed the mother of all sporting extravaganzas.i will rue this fact for whole my life?
Friends, aren’t you astonished over my pondering thoughts,but I can’t help it. You may say, a passion of old is ignited again, no,baba,I am not taking to the field again,but yes,somebody has triggered my thoughts,like an old cannonball is reignited after a long time,though this blast is a lot subdued,you will keep hearing it over and over again,as of now,in my nex blog,I will introduce you, to my latest,cricket hero, “IQBAL KHAN”!

2005-08-06T00:26:00.000+06:00

ARE THESE SHEER COINCIDENCES,OR WORTHWHILE LESSONS OF LIFE?

Rains,Rains, stop a bit, come again some other day.Apologies for this lovely rhyme of our nursery days,but, this year’s rains have been great teaching force.To begin with,I will put down few things, which I went through.I left Mumbai on the th of june,it was rain quite well,mere drizzle,you see.Rains had taken a break of 2-3 days then,and I had heard that it was raining well in Gujarat,my home state,I was heading to.I took a noon time train to Baroda, and as the train chugged through the vast plains of southern gujarat,I could see all the fields water logged,all the rivers swollen,all trees battered, all the peasants along the track side a worried lot.I didn’t for what,in fact they should have been happy for it was raining well, but for us, urbanites,their parameters are different mathematics altogether.I reached home and the next day again started off for Navsari, my new work place.Being on a pick up as they say, I was allowed to run away ealy from the work.But the next day was unusual in may respects.That day broke various myths,many fantasies, and many images of rains,I had grown up with, and also romanticised a lot.

Next day,the train,I took,got stranded at a nondescript station called Nabipur,the scenario was grim and I was getting ready for the path I had never took.i ‘tinkied’ in the stuffy compartment with oldies for a while,that is 5 hours, and then I lost it. I called up home and asked my mom should I come back? Mom affirmed, and then it was a journey I would never forget.as the locals would have already sensed they were ready with vehicles to move,us stranded passengers, at meagre amounts.the old man left us on high way, and after trying a bit, we got into an open truck,going towards Baroda.the rain was battering like ice bullets were being shot at us. I saw that most of the fields throughout the highway were flooded and the water passed through even a small nullah like it would take away anything that comes in its way.some how I managed to return home safely.

After couple of days the state was declared flood hit and then after a gap of 11 years our area got flooded.6 feet high level of murky water engulfed our entire area of around 500 homes.though I was in navsari,I was in touch on the cellphone,I was worried,and wanted to runback home.i did having taken the consent of my officials,but when I reached Vishvamitri I was told not to venture inside the society,as the currents were strong ,and I would easily drown.i obeyed and moved only next morning.that night was the most troublesome night I have ever lived by.mornign arrived and I reached home to see,it submerged,helpless and deserted.thank god my parents had a shelter in the home of pradhans.two days later the waters receded and left along a mark on,let alone,on our homely walls, but on our psyche.heavy downpour now evoke a sense of fright,what could be done if this happens again.simple,tie all your valuables in “potlas” and put them on the higher spaces of your home.if at all our minds were “potlas” we would not have learnt so much from such an incident.

“ITS ONLY HIS HAND,ON OUR HEADS THAT MAKES US FEEL LIKE WEALTHY MILLIONARES,LET HIM MOVE IT AWAY, AND WE ARE , BACK TO OUR REAL SELVES,HELPLESS,HAPLESS,PAUPERS”.

THE PRAYERS ARE ANSWERED

2005-06-24T22:44:00.000+06:00

AFTER ALL THE DRAMA THAT HAPPENED LAST WEEK,FINALLY,THE THINGS ARE BACK ON TRACK.FINALLY, I HAVE GOT THE TRANSFER PAPER AND I CAN LEAVE THIS BUSTLING CITY,APPARENTLY,WHEN IT IS AT ITS BEST.BECAUSE MONSOONS ARE HERE,AND I LIKE MUMBAI RAINS LIKE,ANYTHING.BUT STILL, I AM HAPPY.IT SEEMS IT WILL BE HARDER LIFE PROCESS,HEREON.DAILY TRAVELLING,TIGHT SCHEDULE,AND I DON'T NO WHAT ELSE.
THIS PAPER JOBS ARE VERY TIDEOUS AND FRUSTRATING AND FOOLISH AS WELL.I WON'T WRITE DOWN WHAT HAPPENED,BUT IT HAS TO DO SOMETHING WITH A JOB,WHICH KEEPS ON GETTING DELAYED FOR SHEER LETHARGY OF THE PERSON IN CHARGE.

ANYWAYS,I HAVE FEW PLANS DRAWN,FOR I WILL BE SOON AT MY PLACE,MY HOME.
FIRST,I WILL TAKE A GOOD CARE OF HEALTH,AS THIS JUNK AND OUTSIDE FOOD HAS WREAKED A HAVOC ON MY TUMMY,I WILL TRY TO LOSE SOME WEIGHT,AND GET BACK IN SHAPE,NOT THAT I HAVE ADDED A LOT,BUT JUST TO GET BACK TO FITNESS,I EARLIER USED TO BE.SECOND,I WILL FIND OUT PLACES WHERE I WILL GET ORIGINAL MOVIE CDs,EVEN DOCUMENTARIES,AND OTHER GOOD THINGS OF LIFE.THIRD,I WILL READ A LOT DURING MY JOURNEYS,LETS SAY,I WOULD LIKE TO READ, THAROOR,AMITAV GHOSH,OF COURSE,RUSKIN BOND,MAY BE A BOOK CALLED ,SURFACE,GOOD PLOT IT HAS GOT.

I WILL SAVE SOME MONEY FOR OUR HOME NEEDS RENOVATION,FLOORS NEED LEVELLING AND I WANT TO MAKE SOME CHANGES TO MY ROOM AND LOO,OOPS!I WILL ALSO FIND A LOT MORE ABOUT PLACES AROUND BARODA,WORTH VISITING DURING RAINS.THIS WAS JUST ABOUT MY LEAVING MUMBAI.

ANOTHER THING THAT I AM HAPPY ABOUT IS THAT FINALLY ITS RAINING,IN FACT ITS POURING.I LOVED THE WAY THE MONSOON ARRIVED,WITH THUNDER LIGHTNINGS.IT WAS TRULY THE CELEBRATION OF GAMES OF NATURE,JUST YESTERDAY,THE LAND WAS REELING UNDER SEVERE BOUT OF SWELTERING HEAT,AND NOW ITS ALL DRENCHED UP.EVERYBODY THOUGH NOT ACTUALLY,SEEMS TO BE SMILING.AND HAPPY ABOUT THE RAINS.I HOPES THE HAVE NOT REACHED BARODA,SO THAT I CAN DRENCH UP MYSELF IN THOSE FIRST RAINS.

ENOUGH,FOR NOW,NOW THE NEXT BLOG WILL BE PROBABLY FROM MY HOME.

HOME,SWEET HOME.

I

"CHINDI" POLITICS

2005-06-17T23:03:00.000+06:00

INTERPRETATIONS OF MANY THINGS RELATED TO LIFE CAN BE ABSURD, AND SO, HAPPENED WITH ME.BUT THE WORTHWHILE LESSON THAT I GOT,WAS THAT,DO NOT CELEBRATE UNTIL THE JOB IS ACCOMPLISHED AND NEVER MAKE FRIENDS OR EVEN TRUST ANYBODY AT THE PLACE WHERE YOU WORK.JUST DROP IN,DO YOUR WORK,HAVE FUN,IF POSSIBLE,FINISH THE WORK ,PACK YOUR BUMS AND JUST GET LOST.
OUT HERE EVERYBODY WITH GREY HAIR IS SET TO BECOME GODFATHER OF SOMEBODY OR THE OTHER.IT IS JUST THAT I WAS TO LEAVE FOR NAVSARI,I WAS GIVEN COMMITMENTS OF RELIEVING WHICH KEPT POSTPONING,AND ONE FINE DAY I LOST MY COOL.AND I VENT A BIT OF MY FRUSTRATION ON A GUY CALLED AKRAM,NO HE DOESN'T RESEMBLE TO WASIM EVEN TO DISTANT QUARTERS.HE HELPED A GUY JUNIOR TO ME IN RELIEVING BECAUSE 'USKA CHALTA HAI' AND NOT ME,DESPITE OF HAVING GIVEN ME A WORD,OF LEAVING EARLEIR THAN HIM.'COZ OF THIS I GOT WILD AND JUST ASKED HIM IN PLAIN HINDI,KI ISKA MATLAB MEIN AUR EK MAHINA YAHA AAU KAAM KARU,AUR HILAAKE GHAR JAAU,BAS NAA?
AFTER THIS HE BLESSED ME WITH PLEASEANTRIES OF MAA BEHEN AND ALL THAT SORT.
AND MADE A BIG ISSUE.EVEN MAJORITY OF STAFF MISINTERPRETED AND CAME TO CALM ME DOWN.I MEAN ITS RIDICULOUS.I HAVE NOT ABUSED ANYBODY AND STILL THIS HOOPLA.ANYWAYS I WILL WRITE A BLOG LATER NOW OK

PLAYING FIELDS NEAR RAINVILLE

2005-05-30T22:25:00.000+06:00

around this time,every year,i start to play around with my thoughts, alot,more than in any ohter time of the year.monsoon will be here anytime,and rains,my god,even the thought excites me to an extent such that,i start behaving like a child,playful,naughty,unabashed.the thoughts with which i play around before the rains arrive are like,i metamorphose into a shepherd,and the skies are the meadows and those dark,brown,moisture laden clouds like the sheeps that i am heralding to some unknown destination,where there's just the lovely rains and me,nobody else.monsoon have always enticed me no end, and even today i can float around numerous paper boats,in a near by "nullah" if i find one.

there are vivid enthralling memories attached to the rain,the earliest one's while growing up,as a kid, my mom would push me out in the first rains, to get all drenched up,in order to get rid of the prickly heat pimples,"ghamori" i mean.and to tell you the truth,the prick that first rain drop induces is magical.the thrill of cold water hitting you on face is like no other bliss,in this living world,apart from the bliss i obtain,in my mothers embrace.

the whole feeling itself is like god is showering us,human beings,mean mongers,with his blessings in form of rains.i guess,in my last life, i should have been either a shepherd or a farmer,or a "chatak" bird,which keeps its mouth open for ages,looking towards the sky,in anticipation of the first rains.i would never know.another memory of rains,dates back to 1994,when my hometown was flooded, and we had no power,or food,anything for couple of days.i remember we would walk for a few kilometres to get "paani zyada" milk for exhorbitant prices,still i thought we were in a better condition because in those floods,lot of my classmates in school,had lost their notes and books,as they stayed near a canal,which flooded so much that it destroyed all their labour for study.nevertheless,this not supposed to be poignant account about the rains.

last year,me and my buddy set out for an excursion in torrnetial rains,on malshej ghat,on the western ghats.innumerous waterfalls,all further stunning than the earlier.carpet like pieces of farming land made the experience more scenic,and at last the matheran visit,and the thunder lightning and heavy rains that ensued.
all these memories will remain well etched out in my memory, and keep me yearning for more rains throughout my life.

i wish it rains well this year.

CHANGING TIMES

2005-05-29T21:52:00.000+06:00

ajoba(grandfather) always appeared to me as a very strong man,through my visits during school vacations,and lately through brief visits while i was working.yesterday,i was at his place,after 13 days,since my aaji(gandmother) passed away.but,around this time,the scene was apalling.he appeared very vulnerable and weak.and i realised of the negligencies,i had,performed.i seldom called up them,when aaji was suffering and ajoba was getting overworked.when i left nasik,early this morning,i could not hold up my tears,when i saw,the man himself,sobbing like a child

all this seems so,so,.....strange,in a way,the strange questions,life throws up,have answers,so blatant,so acceptable,yet so painful.imagine,losing your soulmate,when you need,him or her the most.suddenly their new appartment appeared just a residential compartment for him, and not the power centre he used to rule.

i fear such separations now,i confess,i never paid any importance ,to these relations,of mine,but now when,i have witnessed these changes,i make vow that i will be in touch with my grandpa whom i have always adored for his sense of humour,his unending energy levels,and his precision in handling events.

may aaji's soul rest in peace and salute to this man of a very special"ordinary" grit.

DRAWING PARALLELS

2005-05-18T17:58:00.000+06:00

HAVING SEEN "HAZARON KHWAHISHEIN....." FOR THE SECOND TIME, I FEEL, I AM IN A POSITION TO DRAW COMPARISONS,BETWEEN FEW BOOKS AND MOVIES, I HAVE SEEN,OFF LATE.LETS PUT IT LIKE,I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN FASCINATED BY THE COINCIDENCES THAT LIFE CATAPULTS US INTO.FOR EXAMPLE,A VERY BASIC ONE.I SEE "SWADES"(ONE OF MY FAVS) THE SAME YEAR WHEN I AM STUDYING SOCIOLOGY,BY CHANCE I GET THROUGH THE CREDITS AND CATCH HOLD OF A BOOK NAMED"BAPU KUTI" WHICH ASHUTOSH GOWARIKER ACKNOWLEDGES FOR HAVING TAKEN IDEAS FROM IT.I PURCHASE THE BOOK,AFTER A LOT OF SEARCH AND RESEARCH, AND FIND IT THOROUGHLY INTERESTING,THROUGH THE STORIES PUT ACROSS, ABOUT ORDINARY PEOPLE DOING EXTRAORDINARY THINGS.JUST IMAGINE,THIS SUCCESS STORY,IMAGINE THE LIFE IN THIS VILLAGE ,THAT MARS,TOLD ME ABOUT,WHICH IS FULLY SELF RELIANT,SOMEWHERE IN THE HEARTLAND OF GUJARAT."BAPU KUTI" HAS SEVERAL SUCH STORIES,OF AN IAS OFFICER WHO QUIT HER PRESTIGIOUS JOB AS A DISTRICT COLLECTOR,JUST BECAUSE SHE WAS NOT ALLOWED TO WORK THE WAY SHE WANTED TO.SHE QUIT AND DID WHAT SHE DREAMT OFF.OF RAVINDRA SHARMA,OF ADILABAD,WHO AS A KID,CHERISHED THE DAWN SINGERS,THE HYMN SINGERS AND LOCAL PERFORMERS,BUT AS HE GREW UP AND MODERNISATION SWEPT THROUGH THE TOWNS AND VILLAGES,THESE FOLKS VANISHED IS SUCH OBLIVION THAT,EVEN THEY THEMSELVES,WOULD NEVER COME TO KNOW.
"SWADES" WAS REALLY INSPIRING,I LEAVE APART,THE VIEWS OF FEW PEOPLE,WHO SAY IT WAS DOCUMENTARISH AND ALL THAT BORROWED SHIT.I BELIEVE IT WAS A STORY WELL TOLD.WHILE I WAS GOING THROUGH ALL THIS,I WAS ALSO READING,SHASHI THAROOR'S "INDIA-MIDNIGHT TO MILLENIUM"(MARS WILL JUMP OUT OF HIS SEAT I KNOW,IN PRAISES OF THIS BOOK,OF COURSE).THIS BOOK WAS ABOUT SOCIO-POLITICAL CHANGES THAT CAME ABOUT IN OUR ENORMOUS COUNTRY IN THE 50 YEARS AFTER THE INDEPENDENCE.I FOUND IT VERY INTERESTING,BECAUSE HE HAS JUST PUT EVERYTHING SO WELL,IN AN IMPECCABLE"ENGLISH".

EH,AGAIN A COINCIDENCE,WHAT IS IT WITH THIS "CHE GUEVARA" YAAR?
I SAW HIS IMAGE IN "HAZAAROON...",SUDHIR MISHRA'S INTERVIEW,AND WHAT THE HECK,KIDS ARE HAVING HIS NAME TOO THESE DAYS, LONG LIVE,THE COMMUNISM.I WONDER,WHAT IDEOLOGY,DO I BELONG TO?JUST KIDDING.WE'LL CONFIGURE THAT WHEN WE DON'T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO DO.RIGHT.GEETA,COINCIDENCE OR JUST PLAIN THING,ARE BOTH CHARACTERS IN "SWADES" AND "HAZAAROON....." WHO GO TO VILLAGES AND TEACH IN SCHOOLS,AND HAVE GOT VERY FIRM BELIEFS,BELIEF IN THEMSELVES AND THEIR WORK,FORGET ABOUT THEIR IDEOLOGIES.SECOND,BOTH EXTREMELY BEAUTIFUL,TALENTED AND PROMISING.GAYATRI JOSHI AND CHITRANGADA HAVE IMPRESSED ME SO MUCH THAT,SECRETLY,BUT SURELY,I MAY TELL MY MOM TO FIND A GIRL FOR ME,WHO TEACHES,AS WELL.JOKES APART,THE QUESTION THAT HAS PLAGUED ME SINCE,I HAVE WATCHED THESE FILMS,IS THAT,WILL GOWARIKER AND MISHRA BOTH STAY UPTO THE STANDARDS THEY HAVE SET THEMSELVES,WHEN "JODHA AKBAR" UNFOLDS AND MISHRA CHURNS OUT ANOTHER FLICK.

SOME FINE DAY,I WOULD LIKE TO GO TO "SEWAGRAM ASHRAM",OR EVEN "SABARMATI ASHRAM" TO LIVE THOSE MOMENTS OF THOUGHT AND PEACE WITH MYSELF AND SEE WHERE DO I BELONG.SOMEDAY,I WILL ALSO LIKE TO ENLIST ALL THOSE STUPID COINCIDENCES,WHICH HAVE MADE DEFINITELY SOME DIFFERENCE TO ME,SOMEHOW.MORE TO COME SOON.....

FOR BEGINNERS CHE GUEVARA(ISKO TO MEIN NAI CHODUNGA!) IS A MARXIST WHO WORKED ALONGSIDE FIDEL CASTRO,TO SHAPE UP A REVOLUTION IN CUBA,THE SUGARLAND.TIME TO REVOLUTIONISE,SOCIALISE,COMMUNALISE,POLITICISE,SLEEPISE,EATISE,,,....
SHIT,BRAIN HAEMORRHAGE,DOCTOR KO BULAO....BACHAO.

going ga ga over radio

2005-05-07T12:58:00.004+06:00

RECENTLY READ ABOUT OUR I&B MINISTER BEING IN THE PROCESS OF GIVING PERMISSIONS TO SOME 108 PRIVATE FM STATIONS,THE ISSUE OF MUMBAI UNIVERSITY'S FM STATION STILL NOT GONE ON THE AIR THOUGH IT WAS SANCTIONED COUPLE OF YEARS BACK,PUNE,HYDERABAD AND BANGALORE UNIVS GONE ON THE AIR,AND COMMUNITY RADIO BEING THE BUZZWORD OFF LATE.AND ITS GOOD THAT THIS CHANGE HAS BEGUN,I MEAN,THE WAVE OF RADIO STATIONS COMING UP.

RADIOCITY,RADIO MIRCHI,RED FM,WIN 946 WERE ALL ON AIR WHEN I FINALLY GOT A JOB IN MUMBAI,BUT INITIALLY BEING OUTSIDE THE GEOGRAPHICAL BOUNDARIES OF MUMBAI,I COULD NOT CATCH THE WAVES.BUT ONCE I STARTED TUNING IN,I WAS SELDOM UNINTERESTED.THERE ARE VIVID MEMORIES CLINGED TO THESE RADIO TIMES.AND AT A CERTAIN POINT OF TIME,I WAS SO IMPRESSED BY THIS NEW ENTERTAINMENT THAT,I EVEN TOOK A SHOT AT A RJ HUNT.

GROWING UP IN LATE 80s,MY EARLIEST MEMORIES ABOUT RADIO IS THE SHEHNAI RENDITION OF VANDE MATARAM,EVERY MORNING ON ALL INDIA RADIO,THEN FEW FUNNY TUNES ON VIVIDH BHARATI WOULD MAKE ME IMMITATE THEM AN WHAT NOT.
ABOUT THE RADIO PROGRAMMES THAT I GOT TO LISTEN IN MUMBAI,ALL HAD A YOUTHFUL FLAVOUR TO IT.I LIKED JAGGU AND TARANA,FOR THE SAME.THE ARE VERY CONTEMPORARY IN THEIR THOUGHTS AND HAVE A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOUR.

AS OF NOW,THIS THING ON RADIO HAS TAKEN A LONG TIME,SOMETHING ELSE SOON,MEANWHILE GO GRAB YOUR RADIO AND TUNE INTO YOUR FAVOURITE FM.
BYE.

]

countryside calling

2005-05-06T22:48:00.000+06:00

IT WORKED SOONER THAN I HAD EXPECTED,BUT,STILL,THERES A LOT OF TIME,TO START CELEBRATIONS.I AM HAPPY FOR I HAVE GOT A TRANSFER TO A PLACE CLOSER TO HOME,BUT AS OF NOW I DON'T HAVE ANY OTHER WAY OF SHOWING HOW HAPPY,I AM.I AM HAPPY FOR I WOULD BE HOME,MAKING UP FOR ALL THE YEARS I HAVE LOST NOT BEING AT HOME.NAVSARI,SURE HAS GOT A LAIDBACK LIFESTYLE,BUT THAT WOULD HARDLY CHANGE MY LIFESTYLE,BECAUSE MOST OF MY TIME WILL BE SPENT TRAVELLING FROM BARODA,IF AT ALL,I CHOOSE TO DO THAT.NAVSARI HAS GOT A BEACH,ITS CLOSER TO SAPUTARA,IT HAS GOT A LOT OF PARSIS AND BOHRAS SINCE AGES.I WANT TO EXPERIENCE,WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE WITH THEM.MUMBAI'S MADDENING PACE AND PEOPLE GETTING TOO CLOSER TO YOUR COMFORT SOMETIMES IRRITATED ME,BUT THERE ARE LOT OF THINGS WHICH MUMBAI HAS GIVEN ME,AND I WOULD SURELY MISS THEM.

FIRST,THE GETAWAYS THAT MUMBAI OFFERS,I WONDER WHETHER NAVSARI OR EVEN BARODA HAS GOT THAT MANY.MATHERAN,LONAVALA,KHANDALA,KHOPOLI,FORT AREA(FULL OF BOOKSHOPS),GORAI,NARIMAN POINT,NEW MULTIPLEXES,OR EVEN SANJAY GANDHI NATIONAL PARK WERE SO MUCH WITHIN YOUR REACH THAT YOU NEVER NEEDED TO PLAN TO VISIT THEM.THE HIGHWAYSIDE COFFEE,CHURCHGATE'S CHEESE-JAM-MASKA PAAV,EXCELLENT SEAFOOD EATERIES,SOME SWANKY MOCKTAIL OUTLETS OR EVEN CANNON PAV BHAJI AT CST,ALL THESE JOINTS WERE PAISA VASOOL AND ARE INTEGRAL PART OF MY YEARS IN MUMBAI.THE PACE AT WHICH I COULD MOVE IN MUMBAI IS AMAZING.PARTICULARLY,I AM FOND OF THE BUSRIDES I TOOK FROM DIFFERENT PLACES,GAZING PAST VARIOUS LANDMARKS OF MUMBAI,THE LAST WAS FROM BANDRA TO BORIVALI FOR RS.12 ONLY,WHEN I FOUND THE SHOW OF HAZAARON....TO BE HOUSEFULL.JEHANGIR ART GALLERY,NGMA,NCPA,NEHRU CENTRE,AND VARIOUS OTHER CENTRES OF ART ALWAYS TOOK ME INTO A MESMERISING WORLD OF PLAYFUL COLOURS,THOSE COLOURS WHICH COULD THEMSELVES SAY A LOT.

I WILL MISS THE RAINS OF MUMBAI,THE SPLASHING SEA WAVE AT MARINE DRIVE,THOSE NASIK DHOLS AND THE NIGHTS OF MUMBAI,THOUGH I HAVE SEEN ONLY A FEW.I WILL MISS MY FAVOURITE RADIO JOCKEYS,MALISHKA IS ALREADY GONE,BUT JAGGU AND TARANA ARE STILL THERE, AND SOUND SO MUCH LIKE ME,THAT......KYA BATAU HOW MUCH LIKE ME?MORE OF IT NEXT TIME,SOME THING ABOUT RADIO,IS THERE A MOVIE BY THIS NAME,I THINK THERE IS,UNRELEASED!C YA

the heat is on

2005-04-17T22:36:00.000+06:00

challenges thrown by life can get too much,sometimes.isn't it?india so frequently losing matches,buddies playing mindgames with you,parents faraway in baroda and to top it all,mumbai heat.habit of writing and reading has seen me logging in on this blog site.mars is finally in mumbai,but its not good,for whatever mars and me had planned is not happening.movies,trips and going to swanky eateries, is now not in my reach. a long sabbatical later i have decided to live a life that is not too adventurous,not to look at a career in theatre,sociology exam took a backseat,but, still i am happy,i am writing and above all,my imagination has not ceased.at least,i came to know how people for whom, i did whatever they asked and said,cheated me.nevertheless, i have found a new friend who is not too demanding,in this blog.thank god,as of now.chao