Der Gemütlich Winkel

Banker to every Indian.

2009-03-19T19:46:00.004+05:30

Over 16000 branches. $127 billion in assets. The only Indian bank to feature in the Fortune 500 list. A banking behemoth. And as a recent public relation activity suggests, the banker to every Indian. Yes, you guessed it right, I’m talking about State Bank of India.

The sweet pleasure of ‘feel good’ was sensed by the great Indian middle class. After all it is satisfying to know that even fishmongers can operate a bank account in our country, save their menial earnings and ultimately progress. ‘Jai Ho’. The government of India that owns a sixty percent stake in the bank couldn’t complain at a time when it has to play with a double-edged sword of ‘recession’ and ‘election’. Two words that send a chill down the spine of any government in power.

This blithe was shattered, at least on a personal level as I set forward on a tax saving mission just before the March end deadline. A well-wisher suggested opening a PPF (public provident fund) account with a public sector bank. And what better than State Bank of India, the best and largest of Indian public sector banks.

I set about on opening an account equipped with the addresses of most of the State Bank of India branches in the eastern satellite township of Delhi. Apparently an easy pursuit, I faced my first roadblock when I couldn’t trace where to ask about opening a PPF account. But my apprehensions were soon put to rest as I saw a small plastic board dangling on corner of the ceiling of the branch declaring ‘PPF/Senior Citizens’. Happy to see the board, I marched forward to know how I can become the ‘proverbial’ State Bank of India customer like they show in the advertisements. After negotiating a queue and spending some time near the counter, a young and smart officer, probably a direct recruitment from the bank exams, curtly asked my residential address. I was not expecting an oral revelation of my residential address and quite bewildered, I answered. I was further surprised to know that I cannot open a PPF account in this branch because there are State Bank of India branches nearer to my residential address. I never knew that bankers also had a ‘cable guy’ mentality of diving areas.

Imagine Swiss banks declining deposits from around the globe! The officer was however courteous enough to tell me which branch I should get in touch with. I rather reached the next branch with an air of high place as a much larger branch’s officer has confidently sent me here. Now no one could stop me from opening a PPF account. After all I was in the right place. I mentioned my purpose of being there to another officer, much older, probably pushing retirement. He brought out a printed paper with lot of things outlined. One set of points were documents admissible as identity proof and another set as address proof. I found I had almost all documents that pass as an identity proof like Voter ID, Driving License, Passport and, PAN card.

Now came the tricky part, address proof. One look made me feel I have them. Credit card bills, telephone bills, letter from an employer seemed quite familiar. But my world came crashing down when the officer with an acidic smile explained that these documents should be of a state-owned service provider or employer. I had none. Like most of urban Indians, I use credit cards of private banks, a private telephone company’s broadband and landline and work for a private limited company. For State Bank of India, I do not have a valid physical address. I do not exist!

I suddenly recalled the picture of the fishmonger on State Bank of India’s advertisement. I wondered does she have these address proof documents. I was also trying to think what I can say to this officer so that he agrees to open an account. I, like most Indians who have some experience of dealing with public sector banks, had asked for references or ‘introduction’ in State Bank of India within the people I know. An ‘introduction’ is an existing customer who will vouch for me being a nice person. And fortunately I had one.

When I suggested this, the officer slyly told me that this system has been discontinued. I had nothing more to say but was firm in my belief that such cannot be the system in a free democratic country’s state owned bank. So, I reached another branch that is near my place of work. I was left aghast when the guard stopped me at the gate saying I can’t get inside because lunch is underway. When did they start closing bank branches for lunch!

It was too much of repudiation for me to bear in a day. Lost all faith in Indian public sector banks all over again and State Bank of India’s public relation ‘gimmick’ and ‘Jai Ho’. When I discussed my affliction with friends, I was suggested correctives. Some also recommended good branches of State Bank of India with eager to help people.

Connection matters in our country where success is measured on a scale of number of ‘right people’ you know. I being reasonably connected for my age might end with a PPF account with State Bank of India. But the bargain is not at all conducive for a progressive nation and slumdogs turning millionaires remains a fairy tale. Or worse still a mirage following which people might get hurt.

Women and the Nuclear Energy

2008-07-07T21:07:00.004+05:30

I excuse myself for the choice of title of this write up if it made you think that the ultra women may hold the key to our energy woes. They do not. At least not directly. Rather impertinent it might seem to some, I have a simple yet undiscovered base to affiliate women to nuclear energy. But unfortunately this nexus between women and nuclear energy is not a win-win situation for the two.

The recent political drama about the Nuclear deal that ensues even as I write this article has been hitting headlines for time immemorial now. Twists and turns in the Nuclear deal even beat the recent Bollywood Blockbuster 'Race'. And last of these tacks (as of now) was Samajwadi Party's decision to back the Congress led UPA government at the center in case the Left withdraws support on the issue of Nuclear deal. While Samjawadi Party's official decree gave a kiss of life to the Nuclear deal, the event itself was laden with controversies. Firstly, Samajwadi Party was not very sure and only after an endorsement from ex-President and scientist APJ Abdul Kalam, could muster the political will to support. Secondly, critics say the decision was a last ditch effort by the Samajwadi Party to connect with the masses whose unhappiness is seeing them sit in the opposition benches of the Uttar Pradesh State Legislative Assembly. Lastly, the crutch that they are offering the Nuclear deal comes at a price. And one of the wishes of the Samajwadi Party is to drop the women's (reservation) bill.

One thing that surely shocked me was why did the media remain unmoved even at the hint of such a barter, which otherwise is very vocal about anything to do with women. For one, a 'popular' 24 hours Hindi news channel made a two hour program on all the women who want to win over wrestler Khali, not very long ago.

So, as they say, you cannot have it all. Not the middle class at least, who have to trudge the hard way to become successful. And yes, India is middle class, err, actually developing, as they say for countries (and not middle class that is meant for individuals). Maybe this is the problem. Like individuals have this 'middle class thinking' problem (that means a fear of dreaming and aiming bigger than what one has seen anyone achieving; according to my understanding, ofcourse), we, as a nation have this 'developing country thinking' issue. This leaves us gratified with whatever little our government does for us. We get used to (and a part of) the corruption, bad roads, power shortage, delayed trains & flights, long queues, poor housing, no social security, food adulterants, no 911, an unapproachable police, a must avoid judiciary, poverty, begging, casteism, regionalism, fundamentalism and politics based on all of these, rapes, murders and what not.

And only we are responsible for the ironical yet unfortunate trade off that might happen pretty soon. Women's Bill or the Nuclear deal. It is us who bring such incapacitated politicians to power who look like jokers whenever faced with a trying situation.

We are also accountable for coalition politics. Political parties without majority scour for partners who might help them lead (read rule) the country. Like-minded parties come together. But like-mindedness is love but coalition is like marriage. And these are different ball games altogether. The way the Left parties take it is, 'Hey Dude! So, you couldn't make it, eh? Don't worry, keep running, and if I don't like the way you run, I'll pull the trigger.' And for the Nuclear deal, 'Run Lola Run'.

I'm not favoring the Women's reservation bill, not because I'm against women. But more so because I'm against any kind of mindless reservation which is not socio-politico-economically aimed. But what makes me sad is the reason why some political parties are opposing it, and that they might become successful in doing so, thanks to some timely maneuvered political blackmailing.

So, the government, on behalf of a nation whose energy needs are spiraling and facing an urgency to replace petroleum as an energy source, requests all women to shun their political aspirations and the emancipation that might had followed. And in lieu of that, the government promises that you will not have to walk miles to get timber for cooking. Water will flow down taps in your homes and not at a hand-pump kilometers away. There will be electricity in your kitchen where you will cook with LNG or electricity run ovens. Somewhere around 2015. And if all of that does not happen, there will, surely be superfluous media coverage and nondescript news articles like this.

Mere Baap Pehle Aap: A review

2008-06-16T19:23:00.004+05:30

The movie opened to cinemas without much fanfare in midst of not-so-catchy trailers and thumbs down reviews. Even my decision to watch this movie was driven by a non-availability of tickets for others. All fears of a goofy, slapstick comedy with cheap songs were coming to fore with the cameo that the movie started with. End of the why-was-it-there Cameo. Enter Om Puri who plays the role of Madhav Mathur, an oldie bachelor who is desperate to get married. The actor makes a bad cut in the character with his acting talents severely suffocated.

He is the friend of Janardhan Rane, played well by Paresh Rawal whose son Gaurav (Akshay Khanna) is the owner of a mall. First few minutes are wasted as the director tries to tickle you hard (without much success) with putting Madhav and Janardhan in almost unconceivable situations that might seem funny for someone with a bad humor.

The storyline suddenly gets a breath of fresh air with the arrival of Genelia D'souza (Shikha Kapoor) who is playing pranks on Gaurav for reasons only the story unfolds. And Priyadarshan has taken us into his charm again. Only this time Genelia's warm smile coming to rescue with a few thoughtfully sprinkled and effective comic sequences. You might actually fall off laughing during some scenes.

Boy meets girl. Gaurav meets Shikha. But in what fashion. The girl taking a revenge for college ragging years ago by pretending to be a ditched girlfriend who happens to be the mother of Gaurav's baby even. Cute, eh? Laughter scores as Gaurav runs berserk trying to find out who is behind his discomfiture. The plight is set straight by the girl and the guy takes it sportingly. But they do not fall in love immediately. Not the girl. But ofcourse the girl gets emotionally attached with Gaurav's father, Baapu. Something is surely brewing.

A humorous first half transforms into a semi-pseudo-serious second half. The much ado is actually about Paresh Rawal's long lost love Anuradha, played by Shobhana, who is incidentally Shikha's aunt. Not much of a role for Shobhana though, the situation does bring up social issues like the remarrying of the elderly and the general apathy towards love marriages. Priyadarshan is able to handle the issue quite beautifully. Now Gaurav and Shikha will bring them together, against all odds. And fall in love in doing so. The story meanders okay, keeping you tied to the seats, waiting for the ensuing excitement.

Amid all the chaos, hulla-bulla, comedy, and some unexciting cha cha between Gaurav & Shikha and Janardhan & Anuradha, Madhav (Om Puri) continues to look for an eligible spinster and always landing in one or the other perplexity with some in your face slapstick comedy moments. In the end though, he is able to hitch up with Inspector Bhawani (played hilariously well by Archana Puran Singh) as they spent so much time together in the police station, the Inspector eternally picking him up from his misadventures.

The film has an happy ending like all Priyadarshan movies. Baapu-Teacher get married. Naseeruddin Shah who plays Shikhas' father brings up a well thought of surprise after throwing in some tantrums about the union of Shikha and Gaurav. Very cute.

Rajpal Yadav's character is also insignificant but he plays it quite well, in his typical style. The movie does not have memorable performances, and indeed not at all an unforgettable storyline. But as a whole, the story is able to make you laugh, amaze at a few very sweet moments that the script throws up and unwind totally. Isn't that what we watch movies for? A sure entertainer, do watch it once.

Protagonist

2008-02-18T23:28:00.003+05:30

I have endured,

gloomy rainy Sunday afternoons,

post teen addiction to cartoons,

worklessness and pleasure,

money and measure.

A kid’s yearning for a sibling,

vodka glasses tripling,

insomniac phases,

all night star gazes.

Painstaking school, college chores,

indecent dark alley whores,

those imperious cheeky garrulous bores,

sweet childhood crushes and heart sores.

I have overcome,

mid day drippy gut crunching games,

teenage goof-up shames,

family’s list of you should be’s

and inerasable infidel would be’s.

I have lived,

incessant teas and cigarettes,

abstaining lunch breaks,

marathon addas with friends,

without flinching about graduation grades.

Two accidents,

career setbacks,

unfounded ideologies,

fantasizing Maybachs.

Today,

I relish my pragmatic dreams,

whimsical chilly winter ice creams,

the first pair of a now torn Levi’s,

and my small world brimming with positive vibes.

I will live,

to realize everything I can,

move on from any futile plan,

for the smiles of people who love,

and for myself to prove,

I am a protagonist.

Love ?!#

2008-01-30T20:49:00.000+05:30

Long time...

This one is to all the bright women whom I was fortunate to know, while not being so privileged themselves...for obvious reasons...

No hard feelings...

Here goes...

I thought I could sense her

Her dreamy eyes I had always known

Her becoming smile made her my own

Fragrance familiar as my skin

All bearings to my heart akin

Said could never hurt me

Proclaimed,” Can’t live sans thee”

I felt we were destiny's own

A frequency seldom hatched

Chemistry, they said was unmatched

The fights were a course in escalating love

Sweet tranquil moments replenished like a paired dove

Profusion of an occasional honey-coated kiss

Reality or dream was this bliss?

Then the contrast came to the fore

Perturbing her every other moment

Like an eyesore

I was stagnant and paunchy

Contrary to the prince charming

Of her sanity

Each habit seemed to irritate to the core

How can one love any more?

All castles came crushing down

With a gust of materiality

Part did I with hell full of pain

An ironic yet bitter eventuality

Eyes still ache

With even the slightest immaturity

Of an amorous daydream

Nights choking with hysterity

Venturing along to fathom my alter ego

An untrodden body and soul

Myriad countenance of a woman

A frown occasionally stole

Icy images of separation

Can ever break this chain?

Man struggling to decipher

The deepest desires of a woman

All in vain!

Trudging a confessed formidable way

Playing my destiny’s game

Nandigram cauldron: An inbred dispute

2007-11-18T20:38:00.000+05:30

The SEZ dream has gone bust. Homes burnt, men, women and children killed. Nandigram today is a battle field, staging almost a civil war.

One is inclined to think what went wrong for an ambitious chemical hub that was supposed to generate employment for thousands of people?

For facts, the Indonesian conglomerate, Salim Group wanted to set up a chemical SEZ. Nandigram was chosen for the limelight due its supply chain compatibility with Haldia, home to IOC’s and Haldia Petrochemicals’ refineries.

But this was not to be. This huge aspiring project needed land and a lot of it. Call it miscommunication by the state, or a general aversion to industry and capitalists that ironically enough, the ruling CPM had created over the decades, Nandigram revolted to the idea of resettlement.

A stronghold of the CPM till that point in time, its men, women and children came out on streets demanding project be scraped or relocated. Misinformation ruled the roost and the good-for-nothing opposition tried to cash on this issue by saying that the CPM is selling the country to foreigners. There was also the impending fear of losing land, the common man’s main source of livelihood. There were talks of jobs coming from the chemical hub, but this was uncertain. No one had worked before in any industry and this change seemed to unsettle everything, including the pattern in poverty.

CPM’s impression was that of being a party of the peasants, the daily wage labors, the ‘borgadars’ who worked for share on farms of large landowners, the common man. The newfangled, pro-industrialization image of the CPM is yet to reach out to the masses, the people who have been almost religiously voting them to Writers’ Building every five years. (I really do not want to strike the booth-capturing debate right now, although it is quite arguable.) These people, who also lived in Nandigram felt cheated. How can we sell our land to foreigners to build something we do not even understand?

Rumors regarding job uncertainty, corruption in the deal and incorrect land valuation were ensured steadily by people who do not want the progress of West Bengal, not at least the CPM doing it successfully. Fuelling everything was the fear of losing the only asset people have, land. And then there was ‘violence’.

Most appalling of all the events related to Nandigram was the onslaught by the state machinery on the common people. Thousands of policemen marched in, to crush any protest for land acquisition for the chemical hub. It is a dreadful thing to think of. Man vs Man, Indian vs Indian, State vs people.

This brings us to the unfathomable argument of to what extent should the state machinery go against the people for development? Development that is aimed at the benefits of the same people who are protesting it. Should there be policies and legislations regarding this? If yes, then on what parameters?

This is a great constitutional controversy, involving a lot of insights into human rights and public policy, best suited for the constitutional experts.
But as commoners, cannot we understand what lies in the best interests for ourselves? People with basic education will know that agrarian economies cannot match the growth or living standards of industrialized economies.

Moreover, one reasoning that is always provided against land acquisition cases in West Bengal is that the land is fertile and multi-crop. This argument is utterly baseless, not because it is false but due to the fact that land in almost whole of West Bengal is fertile and multi-crop. Where do we find barren or arid land to set up industries? The few areas where the land is less productive, largely the areas bordering Orissa and Jharkhand and the hilly areas are far away from industrial hubs of Kolkata, Haldia or the Durgapur-Bardhman. Most undesirable to any business sense.

Furthermore, it is common knowledge that the same size of land when used for industry generates more employment for the people and income for the nation than agriculture. Then why this holding on to agriculture?

If we scour deeper for answers, we find it to be a ‘colonial hangover’. Land and agrarian activities are considered belonging to us, Indians. Anything resembling industry and affluence is connected with imperialism or colonialism. No wonder, we, the educated, employed class have taken from erstwhile ‘gora sahibs’ as the successor ‘brown sahibs’. Though Indians, we take pride when poorer countrymen call us ‘sahibs’ as if are the Indian britishers. We see class difference everywhere, though the gap is closing in with rapid industrialization.

But West Bengal where Nandigram is located is a case in isolation. Communist influence and trade unionism saw the ‘flight of capital’ from the state since early seventies. The state also missed the first bus when liberalization policies were introduced in 1991, again due to the same reasons. It had been such a long time that industry and capital have become as alien as britishers for the masses. Nandigram is not the first instance. Whenever there have been efforts for large industrial projects to come up, there had been repulsion from the masses, largely due to the inertia that was created over the years.

This public apathy needs to be cured from the minds of people, not by police lathicharge and atrocities. Using gram panchayat as a pedestal, the state can easily deliver the benefits of industrialization, albeit slowly but surely.

What happened in Nandigram was disgraceful for the state and the ruling party. But the opposition is to equally share the blame for spreading imprecise and unwanted knowledge across. The so-called Bengal intellectuals came openly out in public to protest atrocities by the police. Public rallies have become regular phenomena in Kolkata, already infamous for being the ‘city of processions.’ One simple question. Why did not they invest their energies in creating awareness among the people of Nandigram about the benefits of the chemical hub? Probably walking a couple of miles in the November sun in Kolkata is after all not that bad an idea to gain limelight, proving ones commitment to a cause than spending the summer months in Nandigram, walking village to village, making people understand, in absence of basic civic amenities.

The CPM might win this ordeal of a chemical hub. Or the Trinamool Congress might win in stopping CPM in its march against commoners of Nandigram. Some Kolkata celebrities and intellectuals might win a cause for the lifetime. But if this trend continues, West Bengal surely stands to succumb.

Moto's face-off with Nokia

2007-11-12T17:37:00.000+05:30

Hi! Wrote this one for a job test ;-) But kind of liked it...

Hope u like it too...and have some insights into the global mobile handsets market...

Nokia, a clear market leader in the global mobile phone market is facing stiff opposition from its long time competitor Motorola. Motorola, which fames to be the first company ever to make mobile telephony possible, was under attack from the Finnish mobile giant even on its home turf i.e. USA.

But the scene is fast changing. Motorola has revitalized its product range and launched a fresh new branding strategy. The company is brimming with new energy and come out with good phones with flaunting names like razr, pebl and flip. And the good news is that these are available at competitive prices to the global consumers. This is a definitive edge that Motorola is playing over its rival Nokia.

Moreover, Nokia was able to capture the global mobile market largely due to its investments on newer technologies like GSM. Motorola was happy making CDMA handsets that is the ruling technology in its country, USA. Nokia even dented into this market with flashy CDMA handsets. Motorola learnt a hard lesson as it saw its market share dwindling even in its dominion. Now, Motorola is beating Nokia on its own game. Not only has Motorola strengthened its CDMA range, its core strength, they have invested in and developed a modernistic array of GSM handsets.

Motorola has become a major player in the booming Chinese mobile handset market. Furthermore, Motorola is gradually eating up the market pie of the Indian mobile handset market where Nokia, not a long ago was ruling the roost with a more than 80% market share.

The key driver behind Motorola’s turnaround was a strong management determination which translated into a new branding strategy. The major issue facing Motorola was recognition. In all leading developing markets, Nokia and mobile handsets had almost become synonymous. The intention was now to create new products and build brands. Motorola hired world major, Ogilvy and Mather to take on the reins of building this strong awareness across the markets where Motorola was engaged in.

The endeavors have started paying off and Motorola is evidently giving sleepless nights to the top brass of the Finnish mobile handset major. If the direction and extent of this branding and marketing strategy by Motorola holds steam, we will soon see Motorola replacing Nokia at the numero uno slot.

Jab We Met: A review

2007-11-06T21:15:00.002+05:30

Jab We Met is a refreshing decamp from the typical hindi movie romantic plot that I had in mind before I saw the movie. To my pleasant surprise, it was a crackerjack of a movie with not one moment where the storyline seemed to be extravagant.

So, Aditya Kashyap is a heartbroken and messed up heir to a huge yet falling business empire. Played with quite maturity by Shahid Kapur, his charm wins over the crowd even with some tit-bits of overacting here and there. This aimless millionaire kid, left incoherent after the marriage of his beloved to another man, on top of business dilemmas, decides to dash it all and leave everything behind. Gets on train, apparently to get killed or go ‘far away from the maddening crowd’. Meets Geet, a mindblowing performance by Kareena Kapoor. Chatter box or talkative would be an understatement of the character that Kareena played, a chance wonderfully used to act in a full-blown comedy role by the glam queen.

Boy meets girl, but hang on, I told you this movie is different. Sad Shahid gets off the train while ‘Bhatinda ki Sikhni’ thinks it appropriate to help this mindless soul; in an attempt she is stranded alone in a lonely station. Finds the sad man, threatens him to help her and take her home. And their journey together begins. Misses her train again, finds him again, together they find a place for the night and ultimately their way back home. Every bit of it sounds unbelievable, but nothing actually is. The screenplay, dialogues, the chemistry and the cinematography, take care of the apparently fantastic propositions. One is so enthralled that such details seem to be meaningless and is waiting for what happens next.

Imtiaz Ali weaves humor and drama even into intense and emotional moments, making the movie all the more intriguing. We have a laughter riot in a lot of occasions with bubbly, chirpy Kareena making seemingly pointless remarks and declarations with bewildered yet smart Shahid trying to drive logic in the ‘Bhatinda girl’.

The two wannabes reach home (Geet’s) where everyone is planning Geet’s marriage with childhood companion Manjeet. Geet is not party to this and plans to sneak away at night. Aditya is somehow convinced and apparently elope together. Intermission again is well timed with Aditya leaving Geet at her boyfriend’s resort in Manali.

Now, the movie has some really amazing songs, shot in exotic locales with touchy and soulful lyrics. The one en route to Manali is especially a treat to the eyes. Pritam, I hope, came up with some original scores!

The movie also has some thoughtfully jutted in wisdom about life, not necessarily true but beautiful at least. This aspect adds that extra zing to this movie that can make one to see it again. Not forgetting the superfluous scenes brimming with laughter.

Mr. Sad becomes Mr. Happy while Geet’s boyfriend disowns her. Played by Tarun Arora, I couldn’t help notice how his character was assassinated. Well that brought up some laughter though. And how can he even think of taking the girl when cute and cuddly Aditya (Shahid) is around. He has to be dumb. Dumb, dumber, dumbest. OK. So, Aditya learns Geet is not home for months from her family and takes the onus of getting her home. This chase ends up in a lot of soul searching for both Aditya and Geet, whom Aditya finds in the scenic mall road in Shimla. Follows her and then meets her. Convinces her to come with him and infuse life into the skeleton of this erstwhile bubbly, chirpy, chatterbox of a girl. As she did when he was on the run.

Bad guy aka boyfriend aka Anshuman comes back and plays spoilsport by complicating the otherwise settled state of affairs. Geet is left wondering and Aditya, who by now is surely in love, agonized. In hindsight, otherwise the movie had to be ended right then without much of the ensuing drama, comedy, romance and making-an-ass-of-the-ex-boyfriend concert.

Somehow the girl gets a brainwave about what she wants and chooses Aditya over Anshuman. And what else? ‘Mauja hi Mauja’.

Kareena’s (Geet) seesawing was justified given the situation but her method was not convincing enough. But again, the chemistry of the duo is a class apart, finally and we are enticed into the way the story unravels.

A few thoughts. The train chase scene could have been done better and realistic which was ancient at best. Anshuman’s character could have been made more intelligent. In order to maintain the hatred of the audience, evilness could have been used. Aditya could have been a tad less distraught than what he actually was initially, not at all harming the movie’s essence but increasing the believability. A poorer Aditya would have been more real.

Most of the comic scenes are carefully carved in the screenplay and laughter comes spontaneously. The ones that dominate attention are, the scene when Kareena (Geet) meets Shahid (Aditya), Geet convinces ticket collector, shouts at the stationmaster, meets and hugs Aditya on the dark alleys of Ratlam. The entry into evidently indecent “Hotel Decent” (an ironically introspective name), inside the hotel room, Geet using Aditya to get rid of Manjeet, Geet abusing Anshuman, and the ones where Anshuman plays dumb.

In retrospect, the steam is lost a bit in the second half and the story meanders its way to arrive at a suitable end. Which it almost beautifully arrives with the all-essential item song at the end, in this deviating-from-the-conventional storyline. But even that is foot tapping and exciting with the Kareena-Shahid twosome putting in their best act together.

The movie has a fresh outlook on generic issues facing all lives, family problems, jilted love, dreams, passions and most importantly, an inclination towards being happy and spreading happiness. A movie filled with positivity. A must watch!

Red: A symbol of ...

2007-11-02T18:51:00.002+05:30

Yesterday. Same route. Almost the same time. Late evening. I was returning home from office. Ripping across the city, to my suburbia dungeon, the place I call home. Winding around vehicles, motorized or not, men, animals, inanimate derelict clots and craters.

One signal was against me, like many others before it. Glaring RED. I obeyed and stopped. Something made me take a second look on the red circular blob, erected so enthusiastically by the statecraft!

Red, a symbol of passion, love, beauty, blood, good luck, prostitution, and communism, among others. Glimpses of the soviet flag, the CPI(M) flag, the CPI(M) flag unfurling furiously on top of closed factories in the heart of erstwhile industrialized Bengal, dashed through my eyes.

Yes. Red, the symbol of economic equality for humans, across cultures and continents. In hindsight, it keeps all men poor and hence equal.

My thoughts immediately moved on to the cars, bikes and rickshaws that I had zipped past, which were now filling the gaps in the road, around me. I sadly drew a simile between communist red and the traffic red, despite my knowledge of the wavelength dominance that the color enjoys. Both putting people on the same podium, in total incomprehension of their individual skills, efforts, entrepreneurship and enterprise. One in the rat race for work, other in a rat race to it!

Red, a great leveler…

Plight of animals

2007-10-18T18:54:00.000+05:30

Animals have been treated quite cruelly ever since Neanderthal man starting killing them for food. Today, we hardly co-exist. Now, don’t count your pet, cow farms or the zoo as co-existence!!!

Here are a few pics that portray the plight of animals in our bustling cities. The elephant's was really out of the blue and shocking…

The clarity is not great, just 2 megapixels…

Outside a liquor shop in Noida...

This was on NH-8 in Delhi...

There was another truck just ahead with two elephants in it. But couldn't get a good shot due to reckless traffic...

The two trucks were stopped by police...

Were released after some hefty money transfer...

Thats so sexy!!!

2007-10-16T21:20:00.016+05:30

As a kid I remember a song from a Govinda-Karishma starrer being in the middle of a social degradation controversy. There was an intense imbroglio regarding the amount of harm that such morally, and by all Indian definitions, politically incorrect songs can do to our culture and children. May be even the future and economy of the country was in jeopardy.

If it still did not click, it was the song ‘sexy, sexy, sexy, mujhe log bolein’ from ‘Khuddar’. So, the media, which is quite bold today, blew the trumpets along with the moral police back then. Channels and newspapers were full of ghost stories about the future moral downfall of the society. Though some championed the cause of change like always.

Well. Honestly for most of us, it was a new word. And given the scale of the controversy, curiosity was at its crux. Oxford and Cambridge dictionaries came to rescue. Though I remember people, especially guys, across the teens' range referring to that ‘S’ word with erotic excitement for few months on.

Move over the ‘S’ word. Enter the ‘F’ word. Today we live in a society where ‘sexy’ is as good as ‘nice’. From food to drinks, advertisements to cars, even work and evenings can be ‘sexy’. But of course, men and women can also be that. That is not all. We happily curse situations, friends, enemies, ourselves, co-commuters, ex-lovers or worse still, present lovers and a host of other people and things with a wide array of versions of the ‘F’ word. We happily show our middle fingers to people, mostly when we are assured that the feedback will not be physical. Or maybe we are on an automobile and the receiver of our gesture is not.

Okay. Whatever be the reason or method. We are fine with this. I am not encouraging its use. We have to agree that we have been foul-mouthing our fellow countrymen for centuries now. I am only pointing out that we have embraced an Americanized way of swearing on people, while an Americanized way of appreciating beauty was scandalous not very long ago. Imagine the transition in less than one and a half decades. (Khuddar was released in 1994) So, the message is loud and clear. Proved again by the wheels of time. Everything changes. For better or worse, who knows? We as individuals, or even as a group of individuals cannot stop change. If the group is strong, the change can be slowed but definitely not stopped. Even ‘glasnost’ could not hide the benefits of capitalism led industrialization from the commoners of communist Russia.

And why do moral policing? Who decides right or wrong? Good or bad? All these are too subjective and should be left alone to the discretion of the individual. What tickles my funny bone is why people will not bother for obviously wrong doings in public? Leave eve teasing. Or a road rage fight. Indian males take pride in ‘pissing’ in public! And no one worries. One can ‘piss’ in public but forget that sweet ‘kiss’. Most people with whom I had the good fortune to discuss this issue have said that they will not like to kiss their beloved or be cozy simply because of the weird stares that might attract. And talking about policing, we will be doing a great job if we can achieve cent percent legal policing!

Whatsoever be the reason. Or the issue. I can feel the winds of change. Our metropolises are yet to reach western openness. Our hinterland is further away. We might not fill their footsteps at all. Our culture having a distinct identity might come up with a fresh cultural potpourri paradigm. In every walk of life, be it food, clothes, language or the social thread. And I think it will be fuckin’ sexy!

Happy Birth Day!!! (Contd.)

2007-10-10T16:18:00.004+05:30

Alright. I’m a day late. There are reasons though. I’ll first continue with my celebration news. So, these people bought a fruit cake at office. And I wasn’t able to cut it properly since wherever I put the knife, there was some fruit hindering my violence.

Anyway, so there was this ritual chitchat post cutting over the piece of cake that everybody got. Mrs. Boss hinted on some singing that I vocally refused. Someone also came with the idea of playing truth and dare. But even that did not carry out. Huh! Good for me as I always end up choosing truth and revealing things that I don’t want to.

So, Mrs. Boss played ‘Santa Claus’ and said that I can leave early. And I hit the road ASAP. Armed with the chocolate leftovers, I headed my ex-office. Met old colleagues and we went on a street-wandering mission. Not the perfect idea for a birthday evening, I know. But it was nice. Like the good ol’ days.

Mammam is here, so alcohol was out of question. But I had to treat the kids upstairs. So, the whole affair was planned at their place. I bought alcohol from Delhi; felt like a smuggler with more than a litre of alcohol under my seat.

We started late; I was still appreciating telephonic wishes. So, these guys still don’t know how to handle alcohol. Got drunk pretty soon. And soon the conversation was overflowing with girl talk, love, commitments, relationships and all related bullshit!!! And I resembled a veteran on these issues. ‘Been there’, ‘done that’ types. So, I was asked to comment on the multitude of their queries. Thankfully, one guy was so drunk that he will forget his query and start blabbering for minutes on. Better still. He won’t let anyone else speak.

By 12.30, Mammam was getting worried about mine and Ashwini’s dinner (yes, he was with me but didn’t drink, also gave me a chocolate box :-) ), so took my leave from the party. And Ashwini was feverish so I picked him. That meant I have to drop him too! That took some effort. And I carry this ‘don’t care’ attitude most of times so scooted off in my boxer shorts and tees. Within a minute I realized my mistake. It was fuckin’, freezin’ cold out there and speed was deteriorating my situation.

Was dead sleepy. Aggravated by the cold. But Ashwini thought it was the opportune moment of giving me some heartfelt advice. O.K. Everything for a friend. Listened to him as long as he wanted. I heard every word he said but I was thinking of only one thing, my bed!

Next morning there was the next set of pages in Orkut, wishing me a happy, rockin’, in a nutshell nice birthday. It continues till today. But with an additional ‘belated’. Some even sent a personalized e-mail. And one went overboard with an e-card. So thoughtful!

Yes, she called. Sounded like she is fulfilling a duty. But I was too happy to be subdued by her awkward behavior. Whatever!

I don’t know why, but the metaphysical is intriguing me since birthday. The beginning of a new phase in my life? I love this newfangled skill of mine. Re-inventing myself more often. Moreover, it seems to be a positive learning curve.

The only bad thing that still clings on is ‘the pain’. ‘The soul fracture’. I need to heal this...don't know how???

Happy Birth Day!!!

2007-10-08T15:24:00.022+05:30

So, it is my birthday today. Fabulous! I love the day! Everyone treats me so special. Have liked it since childhood.

Anyway, so last night the guys who live upstairs had put up a very nice show for me. They bought a cake, put balloons on the ceiling and sang ‘Happy Birthday to you’ with full zest. All this without my knowledge. In my home. I was surely surprised and touched by the endeavor. These guys deserve a party.

And Chiru sponsored the bracelet that I bought yesterday when I was out shopping with him and Moshu. Chunky-funky stuff. Chiru says it looks good. But I decided against wearing it to office today, even after trying it once. Too bold for the corporate culture!

O.K. So, after the cake-shake, clicking pictures and all happy-happy, I hit bed, planning to get my ass off to office on time next morning. It was already one hour past midnight. And I ate this sumptuous lunch, cooked with Mom’s love in the afternoon. I actually overate. Then the cook didn’t turn up in the evening. Apparently too happy to cook after Mom’s generous tip as a part of my birthday celebrations, in the afternoon. As an aftermath, we had some chinese for dinner which we bought on our way back from our Lajpat shopping spree. Too much good and rich food for a day. And I was all burpy-turpy. Uneasy in bed. I was also thinking how to make my birthday more exciting.

So, after quiet a while trying to sleep, I thought a couple of glasses of water can help. And I went ahead for the kitchen foray. Meandering my way to the kitchen door, before I could realize what hit me, I saw a fat cat springing away to safety. Must have been a male cat. Almost the size of Garfield. The type we call ‘hulo’ in Bangla. The ‘hulo’ hit me so hard that I got unbalanced and banged the doorframe, severely injured on my shoulder and right leg, where the ‘hulo’ collided in the first place. Intuitively, the ‘hulo’ had been thriving on the remains of our dinner and lunch for many days now. Or the whole neighborhood maybe. How wonderful! So many options to choose from. Like we choose restaurants. Reasonably though, our kitchen is an easy target as Moshu believes in keeping all doors open to the balcony on his side of the apartment. A cakewalk for any mammal that can bounce feets.

O.K. I shouted out. In mere astonishment of what happened. Great amusement for Chiru who was watching TV in the room adjoining the kitchen. So this asshole knew about the ‘hulo’ all the time. He also tried to ‘shoo’ it away twice. But the ‘hulo’ was determined and chiru gave in. Allowed it eat whatever it wanted to. I was still dazed from the event when Chiru declared that when people run for their lives, it is usually so reckless. I thanked him for the piece of wisdom. And suddenly realized that the ‘hulo’ was God send. It was God’s idea to make my birthday exciting that I was contemplating in the past minutes. True that a cat had never hit me before! So, my annoyance turned into happiness for having a new experience in life. Thank you God!

And now I am in office. I received numerous phone calls since morning. Few on my way. Even my ex-would be mother-in-law called. She is really a sweet woman. And there were three pages of scraps wishing me a very happy birthday on Orkut.

Anyway, so I thought of playing that school kid and presented all my co-workers with a chocolate bar. Well, some were amused by my apparent immaturity. But I felt good. And now I’m waiting for the cake cutting ceremony at office. Hope they ordered a Black Forest from Slice of Italy. Though I’m not particularly hungry or greedy today. My digestion protested to the sudden extravagance yesterday after months of subsistence eating.

Well. Don’t know what’s going to happen in the evening. Have no plans yet. Will probably treat the sweet kids (yeah, they are younger!) from upstairs for their emotional generosity.

But one thought is worrying me already. A lot of friends are good and I’m proud of each one of them. But its birthday time now. “Hey dude! Happy birthday and blah! blah! blah! So, where is the party tonight?” Trust me it is physically ‘almost’ impossible (nothing is impossible, ideologically of course) to bring all my friends together under one roof on a single day. So many fragmented parties. And economies of scale go for a toss!. I can’t even say that I don’t drink so I won’t treat you with booze. As many of my teetotaler buddies do.

Alright. Have to deal with both sides of it. Looking forward to all such evenings and celebrations. After all, do I spend less on booze if it’s not my birthday? But ironically, this month I thought I would start saving, for a change.

Anyway. Bye-Bye for now. Will keep you posted on all exciting happenings.

Cheers!!!

Shei tumi keno eto ochena hole..."The song"

2007-10-03T18:58:00.001+05:30

Shei tumi keno eto chena hole ..."Intro"

2007-10-03T16:58:00.001+05:30

Well, here I come again. With my never-ending stream of heartbreak melodies. Actually it depends on the way you take it. Such songs can either make you weak, or endow more strength to you. By giving you the chance to burn in the pain…till it stops hurting any further. And rise from the ashes. With more zest and enthusiasm for life. Like the phoenix.

Enough of my nonsense. Here is some serious music. Awesome song. Sei tumi keno eto ochena hole. A lover’s last-ditch effort. Maybe. But conjured in staggering lyrics and spellbound music.

The song is in Bangla(Bengali) so I’v translated the lyrics to English. To the best of my knowledge and ability. For the benefit of my readers who do not know the language. Even if you are not interested in the language or heartbreaks, the song has mind-blowing guitar, especially the strumming.

The first line is in Bangla, in English alphabet, due to my obvious inability to write in my mother tongue. The next is in English. And the whole song is translated in that sequence.

The lyrics...

shei tumi keno eto ochena hole?

why did you turn into a total stranger?

shei ami keno tomake dukho dile?

how could I ever bring pain to you?

kemon kore eto ochena hole tumi?

how could you be so oblivious to me?

ki bhabe eto bodle geychi ei ami

how much I have changed for you

buker-i shob loshto du haath-e shoriye

lets push away all our heart’s pain,

cholo bodle jayi,

come lets change everything,

tumi keno bojho na tomake chara ami ashahay!

why don’t you understand that I’m helpless without you!

amar shobtuku bhalobasha tomay ghire,

all my love belongs to you,

amar oporadh joto tuku, tomar kache,

I was answerable only to you,

tumi khoma kore diyo amay.

please forgive me.

koto raat ami eka kendechi

I’ve cried alone many a night,

buker-i gabhir-e koshto niye,

with pain deep in my heart,

shunyota-e dube geychi ami,

I’m soaked in this emptiness,

amake tumi phiriye nao,

take me back in your life,

tumi keno bojho na tomake chara ami ashahay!

why don’t you understand that I’m helpless without you!

amar shobtuku bhalobasha tomay ghire,

all my love belongs to you,

amar oporadh joto tuku, tomar kache,

I was answerable only to you,

tumi khoma kore diyo amay.

please forgive me.

joto baar bhebechi bhule jaabo,

whenever I think of forgetting it all,

aaro beshi mone pore jay,

your memories reappear with a vengeance,

phele aasha shei shob deen gulo,

the magical days that have gone by,

bhule jete ami paari na,

I simply cannot forget’em,

tumi keno bojho na tomake chara ami ashahay!

why don’t you understand that I’m helpless without you!

amar shobtuku bhalobasha tomay ghire,

all my love belongs to you,

amar oporadh joto tuku, tomar kache,

I was answerable only to you,

tumi khoma kore diyo amay.

please forgive me.

shei tumi keno eto ochena hole?

why did turn you into a total stranger?

shei ami keno tomake dukho dile?

how could I ever bring pain to you?

kemon kore eto ochena hole tumi?

how could you be so oblivious to me?

ki bhabe eto bodle geychi ei ami

how much I have changed for you

buker-i shob loshto du haath-e shoriye

lets push away all our heart’s pain

cholo bodle jayi

come lets change everything

tumi keno bojho na tomake chara ami ashahay!

why don’t you understand that i’m helpless without you!

amar shobtuku bhalobasha tomay ghire,

all my love belongs to you,

amar oporadh joto tuku, tomar kache,

I was answerable only to you,

tumi khoma kore diyo amay.

please forgive me.

Hardworkers @ Office

2007-09-22T20:30:00.000+05:30

Hardwork sucks out lotta energy! Need that nap!

Installment 1

Njoi!

Why

2007-09-14T11:56:00.000+05:30

Why don’t we trust ourselves?
Why don’t we give love a chance?
Why are our lives so meaningless?
Why are we not worth someone’s smiles of a lifetime?
Why won't our lives last long enough
... to afford such distance in relations?

Will you ...

2007-09-12T12:09:00.001+05:30

Will you love me if I do
promise to stay with you
be a pillar by your side
and chaperon you
from mean people
blood bias
career chaos
all stones on me
no veiled secrets
and care for everything you do?

Will you be with me if I do
behold you in my eyes
dreams and hopes
hold you in my arms tight
fender lurking menace and spite
when you need my shoulder
and let go when you want to fly
no strings tying you
do you promise you will come back?

Will you let me dream on your lap if I do
caress your hair
feel lost in your fragrance
bless my life in you
mind, body and soul
unflinching fidelity
with our togetherness as a goal
no one to violate this sanctity
will you value love of essence?

Will you be with me forever if I do
meliorate all your follies and
appreciate your doing that for me
connive time made decline
be a nice son to your parents
a terrific father to your kids
crackerjack partner to top it all
in lifetime ups and fall
no straying if you come with me
will you come with me?

Chak de India!

2007-09-06T17:33:00.003+05:30

India won. The best part was that the Indian team clenched the match from the hosts in a nail biting tie that seemed to sway either way many a times during the brilliant contest that it was.

I had lost interest in the match early in the evening when I learnt England’s score. Went out drinking with Amit. I came back to find there was no dinner at home and switched on the TV for entertainment. Adding excitement to my late night cooking endeavor, I was left dazed and delighted to realize that India needed 13 runs of 8 balls.

Those few minutes of the gut crunching game were accompanied by highs and lows for both teams. But Robin Uthappa proved his nerve & talent and ensured India’s win with a decisive boundary. And I exulted. Shouted, hooted and clapped as loud as I can, completing ignoring the hour. The title song from the latest hit Chak de India was played in the background. It further added to the nationalistic adrenalin rush I was experiencing.

So, you do not need 5 sixes in a row in an over to win a match. Just 2 dogged and determined boundaries can do that.

India has leveled a somewhat lost out series and looks promising for the final coup.

Cheers India!!!

Regression of Work

2007-08-31T18:52:00.001+05:30

Off late I have gone through situations where one feels like quitting his job. These made me philosophical and study the general symptoms that might indicate you need a job switchover. This is the first fragment of a huge collection of feelings that I might come across my work life. Enjoy!!!

You know that you have to change your job when:

You are caught sleeping at job more often.

Your motivation to go to work is breakfast and lunch.

Every morning, you think of reasons in bed for not going to office.

When you think of your activities at the end of the day, you find no work related achievements.

You suffer from stress less insomnia.

You start developing repulsion to any kind of work.

You find yourself calling more of your friends.

Your friends are busy.

You start pursuing/ look for ways to pursue your hobbies in office.

You have ample time for everything in life. (This is not good!).

Observations: Part 1

2007-08-31T17:27:00.001+05:30

Across lives, experiences and events must have taught all of us a lesson or two in various aspects of life. I endeavor to make an archive of my personal experiences in life. I call them observations. This is installment one. Cheers!!!

Delhi Police will not stop an Activa rider with a helmet on his head at any check post.

Same with Kolkata Police.

If you are looking for a job, Times of India is your newspaper.

Entering Okhla phase 3 during office hours is an art that has to be learnt, practiced and rehearsed to make perfect.

Same with exiting.

Always help a friend. You better your chances of getting a favor done.

Be your partner’s best friend. Love is volatile while friendship is enduring.

If someone or something means the entire world to you, treat appropriately.

Ctrl+Alt+Del and Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V are the two most useful keyboard combinations.

Someone or something that belongs to you will come to you, and the one that is not will ever come, no matter how hard you try.

Sanjay's Sojourn

2007-08-06T15:08:00.001+05:30

There had been a huge public outburst over the past week across the country. We have come out openly, in unison against the judicial system, despite our profession and the social strata we belong to. If one thinks it is against the delayed justice to any one of the scores of rape victims who are minors (or even majors), she is wrong. It is also not against the unexceptional murders and killings that are extending the nation with the killers getting protection under strong political clout. We are much less perturbed about the recent spate of robberies in Gurgaon and Noida and the perfect inability of the law enforcement agencies to contain the issue.

Our contention is much different and largely revolves around incarceration of our very own Sanjay Dutt aka Sanju Baba. Well, since he was found with real guns, some punishment was just. That also fits our all-accosting macho image of Sanjay Dutt. But six years? How can the judicial system be so unfair? Media who wanted to churn most butter out of the Dutt imprisonment milk interviewed scores of celebrities. Almost all came out vocally against Judge Kode’s decision. Six years in prison was too much. Honestly, it will be difficult for anyone, even hit men and serial killers.

But who cares about them? Sanjay Dutt is our star; the charismatic character of Munnabhai MBBS and its sequel are still animate in the memory. How can we let such a horrible thing happen to someone who can cure problems with a ‘Jaadu ki Jhappi’ (bear hug)?

We totally overlooked our ignorance of law and knowledge of which crime calls for a prison sentence of what duration. Notwithstanding our naïveté on Indian Penal Code, we matter-of-factly declared that Judge Pramod Dattatreya Kode who has been practicing law under various capacities for 25 years now, has proclaimed a wrong and uncalled-for sentence. The 1993 Mumbai blasts are over a decade old and lost in our (read public) memory. And after all these years, it really does not make a big difference what type of gun the ‘reel-life’ star of Vaastav was arrested with. We have all forgotten that and are lost in the magic of filmdom where Sanju Baba has been so successful.

While arguing with a well-informed friend on the humanity of the judgment, I was confronted with a assertion that Sanjay Dutt has already suffered so much in the thirteen year trial that another six years of imprisonment was simply too much. Well, for one, being out on bail and carrying out one’s life normally cannot be called suffering. Also, we are not sure whether the trial lasted so long only because of Mr. Dutt’s high profile connections. But the mental torment of the legal sword dangling over is duly accepted. But should not people think about it before being caught with deadly firearms? Two, a question comes irrevocably challenges us. Would our stance had been same if the personage involved had been of respective anonymity?

A logical thinking process and an ethical perspective of the judicial system, even for celebrities, will help us appreciate the decision. Judge Kode’s sentence will not be hard to accept even as distinguished jurist Soli Sorabjee commented that it would pertain to illegality if it had been less than five years.

Amidst the public angst and incessant media activity, one man is carrying out his ordeal of life gracefully, Mr. Sanjay Dutt. In tears (anyone will do that, isn’t it?) while leaving for prison, he has taken the sentence in stride. It will be really imperative for us, as fans and responsible citizens to let law have its course and the man his dignity. He will be surely a less morally burdened man after the completion of his sentence. And the media will do well by leaving him alone and not inflicting more humiliation by comparing him to Gandhi or brainstorming such ridiculous propositions.

One aspect this debate clearly brought out is the depth of friends that Sanjay Dutt has. Lets hope things remain status quo six years hence and we as fans accept him again as a bollywood super hero once he has ended his sentence. With the same zeal we are contesting the viability of the six-year jail term today.

Life in a Metro: A review

2007-07-17T16:53:00.002+05:30

A film that breaks away from the bromidic plots of the current spate of bollywood flicks, ‘Life in a Metro’ is a welcome break in meaningful commercial cinema. The story revolves around various characters who are loosely knit together. But the common thread that binds them and makes the movie course through their lives effortlessly is the fact that all these characters dwell in a metropolis. That quite explains the name ‘Life in a Metro’.

The movie has successfully and that too pretty boldly, been able to take up a burning issue that India is facing. The country is undergoing a sea change in its culture, societal norms and the value system. All generations, particularly the youth is becoming more open to western ways on all facets of life. The transformation is more evident and staggering in the metropolises.

In the backdrop of all this metamorphosis, we see the movie appreciating various complex relationships elegantly. We see a young protagonist, Rahul working in a call center with big dreams (played meticulously by Sharman Joshi) in love with a colleague Neha played by Kangana Ranaut. Neha in turn is in love and a physical relationship with her boss Ranjeet. The toughest of the characters, Kay Kay Menon again proves is mettle as an actor of pedigree by brining out the feeling of hatred towards Ranjeet through out the movie. Ranjeet is a typical Indian male without any stand in life. Immediate gratification is all that he is looking for. Ranjeet is married to Shilpa Shetty, Shikha in the movie. Ranjeet’s infidelity leads to distancing him from Shikha and all family affairs. Shikha finds solace in the company of artistically endowed and a born rebel Akash, a brilliant performance again by Shiney Ahuja.

Konkona Sen Sharma plays the role of Shruti, younger sister of Shikha and Neha’s roommate. She is eager to get married but is disenchanted with the men she meets and weary of making a mistake in her life, something that she observed in her elder sister Shikha’s married life. She meets Irfan Khan in the character of Monty through a matrimonial site and instantly grows a hatred for him, fallout of Monty’s roving eyes. Her boss later hooks her up with the radio jockey in her programme. But eventually she discovers that the RJ to hide his sexual orientation from his family has used her. Her boss and the RJ are gay partners.

The buildup between Rahul, Neha and Ranjeet is a nice reproduction of the 1960 hollywood movie, The Apartment. There is also a beautiful tryst that introduces Shivani, Shikha’s music teacher in school enacted by Nafisa Ali. Her lover from youth, Amol (played by Dharmendra) realizes the mistake of leaving her 40 years ago and wants to come back to her to spend his last days of life together. He is suffering from a fatal ailment. The moments they share together and their conversations are a treat to the mind and an outlook for people on the subject of relationships beyond time.

An excellent drama, director Anurag Basu is able to hold the attention and fill up a viewer with apprehension, hatred and liking for various characters in the film. A master storyteller Anurag Basu has been wonderfully able to blend all characters with the movie progressing along the lives of these people unbroken. Another point where the movie scores is mindfully thought symbolization. When Shruti’s gay boss is trying to manipulate her to hook up with the RJ, a poster of Brokeback Mountain in the backdrop sends subtle signals. The music is refreshingly different, rock, at times loud and yet fitting in all sequences. The perpetual rain throughout the movie is a strong pointer to the turbulence that all relationships are going through.

The movie comes to a happy ending, in ‘compliance’ with the trend in Indian cinema. Neha and Rahul are together and Shruti finds love with Monty. Though Shivani dies leaving Amol alone, death of one of partners was always eminent. The movie had been successful in highlighting the turmoil in lives of people, living in metros in particular. Nevertheless, the story has a few fantastic scenes like the one when Rahul tries to fix up a rendezvous for one of his seniors at his apartment. What seems like the whole world is cheating on his / her partner. Though extra-ordinary in nature, such extravagances can be taken in positive light when movies become a medium to drive a point home.

With all goodies strewn in the film with emphatic characterization by the cast, the film was a spoilsport on one aspect. Though this view is inherently personal, Shikha’s fate of knuckling to family’s bonds is an antithesis to the overall perspective of the movie. This happens after her husband cheats on her, further insulting her and doubting her chastity when she tells about her almost innocent affair with Akash. Shikha calmly settles with her family after biding a ‘goodbye’ to Akash who is moving to Dubai and eager to take on the responsibility of Shikha’s daughter. The movie sadly reinstates the sacrosanct view of an Indian marriage, even if the partner (most of the times the woman) is suffocating in the relationship.

With so many radical thoughts and ideas introduced in the movie, Mr. Basu would have done better to portray an emancipated, married Indian woman, at least as a prototype to follow.

A must watch for anyone with a heart and mind, or any of the two.

P.S. Few insights are credited to my well-informed and diligent friend Mr. Abhishek Das. An avid blogger himself, you can read him up at http://www.baghorchhagi.blogspot.com

I am back

2007-07-17T11:01:00.000+05:30

It has been a long time since I posted something on my blog. As a matter of fact I have been gathering wisdom on what’s going out there during the past weekends. Read a couple of books, saw a lot of current Bollywood flicks, visited a few places and had fun with friends. As a result, I am left with quite a treat of experiences to share, one at a time.

Do let me know how do you find them!

Now Dilbert comes to rescue

2007-06-25T18:34:00.003+05:30

Monday Morning Blues! After a long and happening weekend, I feel dragging myself to office, like everyone else. And the issue is aggravated by the fact that the workflow is stagnant for our company on Mondays. So it is dreadfully sleepy, the day refusing to come to an end.

But at the end of the day I find a comic relief in the way it all went. And I found it in the famous Dilbert comic strips created by Scott Adams. Typically taking satirical jeers at the top management at its skewed view of treating employees, there is something that even the workers, like me can feel happy about. I found this comic strip in the net, something that best describes my day today!

Thought of sharing it with you, hope you guys like it!

Love

2007-06-25T14:50:00.002+05:30

What is love? I have been intrigued by this question ever since I was able to think independently. For I found that even as a child I craved for love and my vision of age and youth was not in its sparsity.

Love has changed meanings over the years. At one point of time it was mainly attention, devotion of time and toys and comics. My judgment of who loved me revolved around who is willing to give these things to me. Then, I started cognizing its greater meaning that according to me were sharing, caring and being happy together, beyond the boundaries of time and benefaction. I loved my friends as I loved my family.

Then something wonderful and emotionally pleasant psychological transition occurred. First time in my life, I felt the necessity of being loved by someone of the opposite sex. Till this time, I took love as it came my way, from family and friends. But this mental transformation left me seeking it.

And this is when the justification of love became paramount. My observation of life for then helped me to jump to the conclusion that love is a feeling that makes you seek someone’s company all the time, so much so that you are willing to marry them. Another definition I remember, popularly used in idle chit chats was:

“Love is a feeling which you feel when you feel that you have felt a feeling which you have never felt before.”

Lot of feelings and love, eh? It was fantastic and just perfect at that age. Sadly today I know that even break-ups feel the same.

And then there was a special someone with whom I could easily spend a lifetime, life being the constraint. I was duly reciprocated and was in emotional bliss, which I presupposed as love. Empirically speaking, I was wrong. Maybe.

At this juncture, in my process of reasoning love, I am left with two conclusions. One, love is not permanent. It comes and goes. Like people unflinchingly say nowadays, “I have fallen out of love”. As if love is a chamber where you can fall in and out. The avid romantic that I am, the idea of mortal love does not appeal to me. That leads me to conclusion two. Love is indestructible. But I am back to the square one again. What are the exact signs to make you understand love, differentiate it from infatuation and physical attraction? I have personally felt almost all known, written and spoken emotions of love but still it seems to be elusive.

Is it caring, sharing and being happy together? Or being hopelessly in need for each other? The first feeling leaves you gratified, full of strength and contentment. The other might be whirlwind in the beginning but leaves you exhausted and weak in emotional strength. It also leaves you so blind with the excitement that you even do not have the time to judge your partner on more important yet subtle issues. Though lucky are those who pass a lifetime in this excitement, for most of us things do not work out like that.

Now a plausible yet quite preliminary premise for love can be drawn out to be in the sense of giving more than expecting, sharing more than wanting and caring. It is not about reciprocation, trading favors, put conditions for being together. The beauty lies in the acceptance of each other as the individuals that they are, appreciate each other’s strengths and cherish them. Who does not have flaws? If love were an admiration for perfection then its existence is a myth. Hence it is not. It has something to do with mental proximity, compatibility in ideas, mutual liking, happiness in intimacy and drawing strength from one another to face life more boldly.

I have drifted towards this assumption about love using wisdom from my years and observing life, mine and others’. But this idea of love seems to be too simple to be true. All the time I believed it to be something more complex, abstract and mystic. And to find out whether I am correct, all I need is one love and be in it till death. Only then will I be certain of love and its nuances. Or will it mystify forever?

2007-06-25T11:07:00.001+05:30

“My camera’s price did not leave me with enough money to afford a vacation.”

The Accident

2007-06-19T19:13:00.006+05:30

I am still shuddering on the inside, an aftermath of what I saw on my way to work.

I was driving lazily, just in time for a newly flagged off late morning shift. Then suddenly a traffic signal away from the expressway where I was desperately hoping it to turn green, something unnerving happened.

It happened so fast that I could not make out who broke the signal. What I saw left me dumbfounded, chill in my limbs. A mid size car screeched to halt but barely managed to do so. And when it did, the biker has already been rammed, his bike thrown meters away from where the car now stood. The biker first rolled over the car and then thrown by the car’s velocity to a place near his bike. The view was sickening. The biker seemed to collapse like mango pulp from the distance. I could not make out his injuries or the condition of his bike from where I witnessed this listless event. But one look at the car’s deformed bonnet was enough to take a guess.

Before I could think or react, few policemen standing near the signal rushed to the spot. The car driver jumped in and helped the policemen get the injured man in his car. The signal turned green. Police taking full control of the situation, I felt no reason to wait. I accelerated, very slow, numbness gripping me. Will the man live? How will his family know? When? The man looked to be in his thirties. Was he married? Does he have a child? Will they be able to see him again? Alive? Logical yet unanswerable tirade of doubts. Uncertainties that maybe forever remain so for me.

And then an eerie feeling settled in. What if it had happened to me? Unanticipatedly, I could see myself in the man’s place. Lying unconscious on the road. Blood oozing out of my head, ears, nose, chest and everywhere. Multiple limbs broken or damaged beyond repair. Being carried on a municipality stretcher on to an ambulance sans basic necessities. But of no help. I am cold dead, unable to sustain the impact. I could vividly see my mother wailing at her only child’s death. My father comforting her, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. I also saw Tanvi, crying, her face contorted with anger, frustration and helplessness. I could hear her asking agitatedly, “How many times did I tell you to drive safely, treat your Activa the way it is?

I shook myself from the concocted horror that I unwittingly indulged in. I wearily realized what had caused me to imagine such thing was the very fact that I have escaped a similar fate quite a number of times. Though I was twice unlucky. But not that bad.

The first incident took place on a bright, warm February morning in Kolkata. I was driving to work, my second day at the new place. My name was not on the company’s transportation roster yet; my Activa was there to suffice. I was skillfully though illegally overtaking a bus from its left flank. Almost successful, it was my turn to cut to right, now that the bus was behind me. Perfect but I left the dust accumulation on the side of the road out of my considerations. Physics played its due role. The relatively smaller Activa tyres skidded in the track transition. Before I could realize anything, I found myself facedown on the road. I heard a bus jam its’ brakes somewhere behind. I tried to get up even as bystanders and passer-bys rushed to me. I saw everything in slow motion. Frame by frame. Like Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan. I vaguely remember signaling a hand as if saying I am O.K. and do not need help. I put my body weight on my right arm, my stronger arm and tried to get up. But failed drastically, falling again on the warm pitch. This time no one paid any heed to my notions about my ability to get up myself. I was pulled to the pavement and made to sit there. Someone brought water and sprinkled over my face and head. People checked for blood but nothing major. A bruise here and a bruise there. Sitting pretty on the pavement, I saw everything vertically. A happy change from the horizontal effect of the prior seconds, lying on the road. I could see the bus still there, god knows waiting for what! Then I saw the bare meter that parted my Activa and the bus. I could have been easily hit by the bus, a mundane thing to happen on the streets of Kolkata. I thanked god and the bus driver! I also thanked the manufacturers of the helmet and clothes I was wearing. Both were undamaged from the impact, one that left me dizzy, reeling in pain and with a torn ligament.

The other accident is also crystal clear in my memory. And it is chronologically nearer. But I am sure to get beaten up by well-wishers if and when they read a blow-by-blow account. So, I will not divulge a single fact, not online about how near to death I went.

Meanwhile, the images of the afternoon accident are still agonizingly fresh in recall, the screech of the car still resonating in the subconscious. I have solemnly convinced myself on the expressway to drive as safe & slow as possible, stop taking risks, maneuvering, overtaking illegitimately, blah, blah, blah! Let me see how far I go with these resolutions or without them.

Just like that ...

2007-06-15T16:27:00.010+05:30

The windowpane near my cubicle is dusty and hazy. Maybe it has not been cleaned in some time. Or may be it was the dust storm. But I am detached from this fact. I am exultant. It is Friday again. That time of the week when the whole working world is glad. At least those who have a Saturday off. I have a Saturday off.

The weather is fabulous today, like yesterday, after days of raging heat waves. It is overwhelmingly cast. And there is a delightful mild breeze out there. I can make that out from my sealed cubicle by the way the tree leaves are tangoing with the gust. It looks so romantic. Romantic?!

I want to go out. I want to fly and drift aimlessly like birds. Have a panoramic view of the city. Unbound. Unabashed. Unchallenged.

But alas! I cannot fly and the material world is beckoning. I will settle with the next best POA. I will meet, shop, eat, drink, write, sleep and indulge. And Sleep. I am very sleepy. I have been managing on 5 hours of sleep for quite a few days now. I want to sleep. I want to sleep on a cozy lap that will not ask me questions. Questions that I hate.

How is work?

Now, why do you want to know! It is fucking boring and they are even planning to through me out! Will I not tell you if there is a problem?

What are you doing this weekend?

I am planning to murder you and then earn a government paid sabbatical to one of the central jails on grounds that I killed you in a schizophrenic spasm. And then the rest of my life will be a weekend! If you have a plan, tell me. We can meet and do that. And if I have not called you till 6 p.m. friday evening then I definitely lack one. And if I do not then it lacks you!

What have you thought about your future?

Oh yes! I made a terrible mistake by studying and now working. Though I can be someone important in a few years. But this does not give me the kick. Not ambitious enough. I will probably revive the rule of bandits in the ravines of Chambal. It sounds challenging. Instant fame. Pictures in publications across the globe if I can create a rightful amount of terror. Why worry so much for future dude? I will take things as it comes. Thinking has not helped anybody’s future anyway. The key lies in ‘karma’. So I work. Work all week in the belief that the work and job is taking me somewhere. Why talk about it for leisure? Lets have fun instead.

Did you talk or meet your ex?

Oh no! Not again. What good will this knowledge do to you? I am not answerable to you. And hence will not. I understand your concern as a friend and have told you the pain has escaped me. Let me be alone on this.

When are you getting married?

What the fuck!!! Why on earth should I get married? There is no girl who loves me enough to get married. And I am happy the way I am. Freedom. No reservations. And I am not even ready for marriage. Maybe there was a time when I was. But things have changed. Probably for good. I just got a new lease of life. Let me live it. Moreover, I am still a kid in many ways.

But there is no such lap. Not at least mine. Not now. Till then I am destined for my pillow. It is not as comfortable though. But it will do.

It has started raining. At last. It is so wonderful! Awesome is the word! I want to go outside, breakaway from my mundane roster. Get out, get wet. Everything is so dark, so green and so beautiful. A treat to the eyes. After the scorching sun of the gone days.

I need to get back to work. And look forward to my weekend with a sense of accomplishment. So long!

Quotes Unfounded ...

2007-06-14T17:41:00.005+05:30

I have been highly motivated by certain quotes from famous and not so famous people, from time to time. I have been in a persistent search since a teenager to find quotes befitting different facets, emotions and situations in life.

This unending pursuit brought me to some interesting quotes by important people and publications of their times. What makes their quotes amusing is the fact that if they are apprised on their haughty citations of the past, today, these will stare bluntly in their faces.

I have listed few of such quotes that I found hopelessly untrue for the day. I also thought of decking it up with a picture of one of these famous personalities. I could not find some one more apt and appealing that Mr. Bill Gates. Do read his mention.

"The information superhighway is a dirt road that won't be paved over until 2025."
- Sumner Redstone, CEO of Viacom/Blockbuster.

"Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?"
- H.M. Warner, Warner Brothers, 1927

"I think there is a world market for maybe five computers."
- IBM chairman Thomas Watson, 1943

"640k ought to be enough for anybody."
- Bill Gates, 1981

"Computers in the future may weigh no more than 1.5 tons."
- Popular Mechanics, forecasting the relentless march of science, 1949

"A rocket will never be able to leave the earth's atmosphere."
-The New York Times, 1936

"There is no likelihood man can ever tap the power of the atom."
- Nobel Prize-winning physicist Robert Milliken, 1923

"Television won't last because people will soon get tired of staring at a plywood box every night."
- Producer Darryl Zanuck, 20th Century Fox, 1946

"Airplanes are interesting toys but of no military value."
- Marechal Ferdinand Foch, Professor of Strategy, Ecole Superieure de Guerre.

"You ain't going nowhere, son. You ought to go back to driving a truck."
- The Grand Ole Opry's Jim Denny to Elvis Presley, 1954

"The concept is interesting and well-formed, but in order to earn better than a 'C', the idea must be feasible."
- A Yale University management professor in response to student Fred Smith's paper proposing reliable overnight delivery service. Smith went on to found Federal Express.

"Radio has no future." "X-rays are clearly a hoax". "The aeroplane is scientifically impossible."
- Royal Society president Lord Kelvin, 1897-9

Source: http://www.freemaninstitute.com/quotes.htm

Individuality ...

2007-06-12T12:11:00.004+05:30

"I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not."

- Kurt Cobain

My city, My Delhi

2007-06-11T16:17:00.002+05:30

I came to Delhi one hot April morning back in 2003, to pursue my post graduation with a dream of a high paying job, a smart and sure channel to high life. Delhi was the Eldorado, a city with an ever growing number of educational institutions, corporate & head offices of multinationals, the local economy thriving, all resulting in a huge job market. A market from where I contemplated my honest share. Life has not been a cakewalk, but Delhi has been a home ever since.

And suddenly a few weeks back I read headlines quoting Mrs. Sheila Dixit that immigrants from neighboring states like Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are creating infrastructural bottlenecks for the city. Even though she started her political career as a member of parliament from the Kannauj parliamentary constituency in Uttar Pradesh in 1984. Wonder did she migrate back and forth to Delhi! In the following days, this brought out huge public outcry by various sections of the society and political parties, eventually making Mrs. Dixit to backtrack on her indiscretion.

But the debate does not end here. The issue is more serious than what it seems on the face of it. This is a xenophobic hangover that the average Indian, moreover an average Delhiite suffers from. Appalling though that the much respected Chief Minister of Delhi jumped the bandwagon. “Pata nahin kahan-kahan se aa jate hain”. ‘God knows from where these people come from’. I have heard such comments on the slightest altercations with auto-wallahs, while bargaining on the fare (did you say meter?) or a request to take an extra mile that was not clarified beforehand.

But why this xenophobia? Have not we, the people of India solemnly resolved to constitute India into a sovereign, socialist, democratic, republic, with justice, liberty, equality and fraternity as our guiding principles. People who were not privileged enough to attend a school can be condoned for the time being. What about all those who surely read the preamble to the Indian constitution, that is, if they have passed school!

An explanation to such mindset is a struggle to get hold of the few jobs and business prospects that a particular geographical area offers. Dereliction creates hatred in a contest to chase the constrained resources. But this is incorrect by a huge margin in the context of Delhi. It is one of the most prosperous and opulent cities in India. There is profuseness of almost everything except for road space, water and electricity. Problems that can be tackled with careful and dedicated planning.

These thoughts have brought out another compelling and bewildering question. Who is a Delhiite anyway? The walled city was built and inhabited by Mughals who came from Asia Minor. New Delhi was built by the imperial British. Both these empires attracted common people from various adjoining and far away areas who immersed themselves in trade and the plentitude of employment generated by the flourishing dominions. Who is a native then? Someone whose family has outstayed the newcomers? The Punjabi and Bengali migrants from West and East Pakistan who made Delhi their home in 1947? Or the huge Kashmiri pandits expatriate population who settled here after the onset of militancy in Kashmir? Or the gargantuan bureaucracy that lives in the city to carry on the colossal government machinery, both central and state? A officialdom that found its way into the ranks of the civil service from diverse geographical regions in India. I am confused and believe that even a reader is.

But on second thoughts, why ponder on this issue at all? Delhi has reached the pinnacle of its glory where it is today due to its sheer pragmatism. A city that was just the capital of the country with a few institutions of pride couple of decades back, it has transformed into a metropolis with global imprints. The city is a major center for education, trade & commerce, industry and any other standpoint. This has been achieved by not clinging on its past and embracing change as it came. Something that other metros like Kolkata markedly failed to. Delhi, as a city is better off underpinning its dynamism that is not reflected in any type of xenophobic attitude.

So, we are all citizens of this country and cosmopolitan Delhi. Hailing from Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, West Bengal, Punjab, Haryana, Rajasthan, etc., we live in this city, work here, spend here and dream here. Antecedents should not come in the way of cementing a social framework that is vying to be global. Let us unite in this endeavor to make it a reality, make Delhi a global cosmopolitan. Pose a competition to New York, which has prospered by espousing emigrants from a multitude of European, African and Asian, races. And even outshine it by doing away with wantons like Harlem.

I am all for this view and am not going anywhere. This is my city, my Delhi!

Floyd comes to rescue

2007-06-09T21:43:00.000+05:30

Have you ever fallen in love? And let down. Left in the middle of a journey that was promised to be traversed together. All alone to wonder why this has to happen! Why me?!

Yes! Then it would have hurt. Hurt real bad! It would have felt devastating, tragic, heartbreaking, and catastrophic. You would have cried, waking up all night. You would have lost the will to live, move on. You would have decided to end it all. But could not muster enough courage to do that. Life would have been meaningless. A pain to persist. I can understand.

One needs to stand up and face it. Surmount and march forward. These are the lyrics of a song by Pink Floyd that might help. Coming back to life. Awesome song. For all friends and readers who have been through this feeling, or might be in future.

Though I sincerely pray not even my vilest enemies face this hazard.

Do listen to the song. The guitar and scale is mind blowing! You will like it. And if you have heard it, do hear it again!

Where were you when I was burned and broken

While the days slipped by from my window watching

Where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless

Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

While you were hanging yourself on someone elses words

Dying to believe in what you heard

I was staring straight into the shining sunLost in thought and lost in time

While the seeds of live and the seeds of change were planted

Outside the rain fell dark and slow

While I pondered on this dangerous but

I took a heavenly ride through one silence

I knew the moment had arrived

For killing the past and coming back to lifeI took a heavenly ride trough our silence

I knew the waiting had begin

And headed straight... into the shining sun

Me, Myself and Papa: A perplexing dialogue

2007-06-08T16:54:00.005+05:30

My father and me share a peculiar relationship. It is not that we are estranged or something, we simply live without each other. Yet, I love him, for just being there all these years and providing me with a good education. That’s kind of enough. And undoubtedly, he is a proud father. Though he never told me this himself, some emotions can be felt even if not spoken.

We rarely talk. Now that we live separately, it has become scarce. As a child I remember fragments of conversation that assiduously eluded anything emotional. In my growing years, the exchange picked up with monthly or quarterly status reports on my studies and life. The discussion was never cruel; a glimpse of what has been going on, few words of caution and a suggested way to success.

I aged to become a young man that I am now. Likewise for my father. But the situation remains unaltered. Our relationship did not transform into friendship that all father-son’s supposedly become when the son grows up. Maybe he does not believe that I have matured yet. Or maybe the state of the relationship is irreversible, beyond repair.

So, whenever we talk, it is on something very serious that needs immediate attention. And years of oblivion of each other’s frame of mind make things more difficult. I proactively dodge any such conference. I believe my father even does that. The last time we talked was five months back. And yes, the issue at hand was acidic.

I was talking to my mother on phone like always, telling her what I did all day, what did I eat and convincing her that her son is hale and hearty. Then the unforeseen struck. Mother announced that my father would like to talk. Following is the blow-by-blow account of that two-minute conversation between me, myself and Papa.

Papa: Hello!

Me: Hello!

Myself: I hope this is not serious! What happened now?!

Papa: Was wondering … where do you work these days?

Me: I think I told you …

Myself: Aren’t you supposed to ask how I am, first?

Papa: Well, you can always repeat that! What is the problem with that?

Me: Hmmm … I work with Indiamart …

Myself: Please remember it … it sounds so stupid repeating it time and again …

Papa: What do they pay you?

Me: (after few moments) Its 10 K …

Myself: How does it matter? I am following a dream, my dream! And please don’t ask me to save … I’ve already under quoted the pay fearing that …

Papa: (mockingly) Is it a stipend or something?

Me: No! Its my salary … Why? What happened?

Myself: Gosh! This is happening again … Can I just live my life, my way?

Papa: Salary? Rubbish! You call that a salary! It is peanuts. Where do you think you are going?

Me: Well, things are looking up … I believe I can grow in this …

Myself: I need to handle this carefully and avoid an altercation.

Papa: Grow?! Tell me about it! When do you think you will achieve that? By age 40?

Me: No, why do you think it will take so long … give me a few years … and I’ll be successful!

Myself: You know nothing about how the industry and job market works. Please leave this. I can handle it myself!

Papa: Whatever … I talked to one of my friends about a job that matches your profile … and the pay is much better …

Me: I don’t want to do it … I’m doing what I want to … just let me be …

Myself: Is this a joke or something? You can go and talk to anyone you like … I’ll stay pat …

Papa: WHY DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND …

Me: I DON’T WANT TO …

Myself: WHY DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND???

Papa: Is that your final call?

Me: Yes!

Myself: Do you doubt?
Papa: Talk to your mother …

Me: Yep …

Myself: God! Phew!

Total recall ...

2007-06-07T16:46:00.021+05:30

Though not much of a poet, I've tried to put together lines that rhyme, composing dialogues with self, since my years in graduation. These lines are a culmination of my years till now...

hope you like it...

I have endured,
gloomy rainy sunday afternoons,
post teen addiction to cartoons,
worklessness and pleasure,
money and measure.

A kid’s yearning for a sibling,
vodka glasses tripling,
insomniac phases,
all night star gazes.

Painstaking school, college chores,
indecent dark alley whores,
those imperious cheeky garrulous bores,
sweet childhood crushes and heart sores.

I have overcome,
mid day drippy gut crunching games,
teenage goof-up shames,
family’s list of you should be’s
and inerasable infidel would be’s.

I have lived,
incessant teas and cigarettes,
abstaining lunch breaks,
marathon addas with friends,
without flinching about graduation grades.
Two accidents,
career setbacks,
unfounded ideologies,
fantasizing Maybachs.

Today,
I relish my pragmatic dreams,
whimsical chilly winter ice creams,
the first pair of a now torn Levi’s,
and my small world brimming with positive vibes.

I will live,
to realize everything I can,
move on from any futile plan,
For the smiles of people who love,
and for myself to prove,I am a protagonist.

The Gujjar debate: A distinct perspective

2007-06-06T18:41:00.004+05:30

All’s quiet on the Western front! After a weeklong agitation in the western state of Rajasthan, Gujjar leaders have settled for peace. Though the calm is temporary on promises by the Government of Rajasthan that a commission will look into the demands of Gujjars, to be included in the schedules tribes category.

The week that went by saw huge destruction of public and private property by angry mobs, in addition to numerous valuable human lives lost in the clashes. Gujjars fought pitched battles with the police to make them heard and the Meenas joined in the fray, fighting Gujjars so that their interests are not undermined. So much for emancipation of backward classes of the society! Highways were blocked, trains halted & destroyed, buses burnt, private vehicles broken, an undesirable pledge to bring everything to a standstill. Even a ‘bandh’ was called in the National Capital Region that paralyzed large sections of the metropolis. I was left wondering that whether a community that commands such firepower and clout needs to be added to the scheduled tribes category?

My sudden curiosity in Gujjars ensuing this chain of violent events led me to some basic research into their background and history. Gujjars have been “kshatriyas” traditionally and some even “brahmins” under the primeval Indian caste system. It is a matter of intense anthropological and sociological study to verify these sources. Even though the Indian states of Jammu & Kashmir and Uttarakhand have already added Gujjars in their respective scheduled tribe lists.

There is another aspect to the argument. The foremost leader in the Gujjar campaign, Colonel (Retd.) Kirori Singh Bhainsala is believed to be a descendant of Bhonsles. Bhonsles were Maratha rulers and warriors with famous kings like Sivaji in their dynasty. Well, I guess castes and such absurd classifications do not change with time!

You must have jumped to the conclusion by now that I am trying to invalidate Gujjars’ claims for the scheduled tribes status. Well, no! I was intrigued and bewildered when I learnt these facts. Though, I do not have the resources to verify these pieces of information. More importantly, my concern is considerably deviated from the question whether Gujjars or not? Individually I have great respect for Gujjars. They are a brave warrior clan who have contributed to the nation’s cause repeatedly. They have fought invaders and plunderers from central and west Asia. They rose against the British in the first war of Indian independence. Generations of Gujjars have been serving in the Indian army, fighting our enemies valiantly and preserving our sovereignty.

My distress is drastically different. The anxiety is not whom to put in the scheduled tribe or the scheduled caste lists. It is why? Why should we carry on development in modern India on lines of a system that is ancient at best? A system that is illogical, unholy and inhuman. A system that differentiates man from man on basis of his profession, antecedents and such irrational factors. I believe the constitution, embodied in various laws wants to eliminate these social barriers. Are we not keeping them alive by doing so?

A boy born today will not think twice before playing with a dalit peer. They will happily go to school together, eat, study and grow up to become responsible citizens of India. Now, you suddenly tell him that his forefathers (whom he does not know!) oppressed his friend’s ancestors, being the members of a higher caste. This is the reason he will be harassed today and will have to compete fiercely at every stage in his career. Whereas his friend who got a similar upbringing will enjoy preferences in educational institutions and jobs because his predecessors were persecuted. And hatred is born again. Caste and creed that did not matter till this point in time have raised their ugly heads.

I strongly believe that economic emancipation of the downtrodden can be more scientifically and successfully achieved by basing the classification on firm economic indicators. A tribal or dalit may be socio-economically well off. For example, Colonel Baisala though belongs to the supposedly afflicted Gujjar community, but is not in any case an oppressed man. He served in the Indian army with dignity and retired as a Lieutenant Colonel. Two of his sons are serving in the army as colonels with another son and a daughter being a telecom executive and income tax official respectively. Surely, he is one Gujjar who does not want any quota benefits!

Trust me there will be more. Not only of Gujjars but even Meenas and all scheduled castes, scheduled tribes, and other backward classes. So, why to waste taxpayers money to subsidize education and other amenities for people who do not need it? Why to block vacancies for people who do not need a backdoor entry to rise in the social stratum? Had the gradation been made on stronger and flawless grounds like monthly family income, education level of parents or access to basic amenities like safe drinking water, food, electricity, etc., this miscalculation would never have happened. I agree that there are millions of people who belong to the aforesaid communities who are in serious need of government support for social justice. But they certainly will find their way into any socio-economic assortment founded on more convincing economic grounds, leaving out the privileged sections of these communities.

If this sounds logical why not act accordingly? Such measures will also ease out the tensions between communities who are vying for social division on primitive rationale. Is the government facing inadequacy of relevant data? Or a lack of political will?

The government has all the means and methods in place to class and help people on the basis of solid economics. And while the government is playing politics, I am rummaging through my family tree to find out whether any of my great-great-great grandfathers was socially oppressed or not. If not me, I need to think about my coming generations. What say?

The alpha

2007-06-05T15:25:00.005+05:30

“Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.” - Jean Jacques Rousseau

Am I? I renounce my immunity from servitude and resign to a daily slog for a reason. An excuse that sets me free. To earn. Acquire essential supplies to pursue my dream, my freedom. I am free, unrestrained. Ensuing my mundane drudgery, I return to my kingdom. A dominion where I rule. Indro rulez !!!

I live for my illusions. Illusions of love, hope, trust, caring, friendship, togetherness, perfection, happiness and fulfillment. These are my objects of desire. How to actualize these is a question that stares me. But I am unperturbed. Because I am free. I do what I want to. I eat when it suits me. I drink with whomever I like. I scoot when I am hit by wanderlust. I talk when I need and don’t in its absence. I sleep when I am drowsy and wake only for my profession. I think what I like and put together my act. And when I lay in my bed at night, I feel I have annexed my wants.

“Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.” – Albert Einstein

I am selfish. To a degree that my existence is governed by my freedom. My freedom. Read bold, all caps, underlined, times new roman, font size seventy-two. Ironical though, I cannot endure isolation except for intermittent doses. I need a screen of people who love or like me. A need for power maybe. With time I have devised a foolproof way to attain this. Live for those who like you and they’ll do the same. There might be people who won’t reciprocate. Well, they weren’t worthy to start with. I am happy with a fraction of those who acknowledged my effort. I bask in the warmth of their friendship, togetherness.

“Cogito ergo sum” - René Descartes

I think (too much!) I read, an inherent urge. And I opine. Like all pseudo intellectuals, I love to indulge in this sport. A continuity of conception on everything that surrounds me. Nation, politics, religion, region, sports, trends, industry, entertainment, life, human nature, myself, etc. This blog is my window to the World Wide Web on the impressions of my mind, appreciating these affairs. Welcome to my world, my comfort zone. A comfort zone that I incessantly change so that my faculties don't rust. The cozy corner! Die begrüßung der gemütlich winkel !