Motley Musings

Umbra

2011-12-01T15:02:00.001+05:30

As the queen's shadow rose higher,
higher than even the Sphinx;
The Great Pyramid was dismantled,
inch by inch by inch.

Many a king lost his crown,
Many a general lost his sword;
Trust was in the gutters of Cairo,
and shame in the waters of the Nile.

Soon Egypt will be in ruins--
a corollary of fears, desires and whims.

Paper Tigers

2011-11-15T09:33:00.001+05:30

Tiger, tiger, burning bright;
Made of paper, serves you right.
Tongue of steel but fluffy butt;
All you can give is a paper cut.
Proud of rank but courage scant;
Your middle name is psycho-phant.
Questions aplenty, answers none;
If we question, we are done.
Silent footsteps and hidden claws;
Playing us around with wicked laws.
When its good, you scowl and hover;
Trouble brews and you run for cover.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright;
Made of paper, serves you right.

Billu

2011-11-12T15:56:00.001+05:30

Billu is a lone ranger.
Billu has no one.
But he's also lonely.

Billu limps.
His head keeps shaking.
Even in his sleep.
Perhaps he had an accident.

Billu feels cold at night.
He wants to enter our house.
For food and warmth.
And love.
Perhaps he belonged to someone.
Sometime, somewhere.

Billu is somewhat silly.
He wants belly rubs.
He'll lie down belly up.
Then he wont budge.
And I'll drag him away.
Grabbing his front two legs.
And he wont mind.
His silly grin and lolling tongue.

Billu loves meeting people.
He sneaks up on them.
He sniffs them happily.
And startles them.
But he's no threat.
His silly grin and wagging tail.

Billu is always hungry.
He doesn't get enough grub.
I don't know his day food.
Some cookies maybe.
From some agreeable soul.
While I give him dinner.
Some rotis and some milk.
The only good thing I do.
In my 6-to-11 day.

A Pretty Good Me

2011-11-12T15:55:00.001+05:30

I may not be a Superman,
Forget about an Übermensch.

A Lincoln's a far cry,
A Mahatma? Not in millennia.

Am a poor facsimile of dad,
My bro's got a better mug.

But one thing I’m sure of:
I’m a pretty good me.

And the day I become
A poor imitation of I,

Sincerity will take a hike
And I’ll stop flattering myself.

Just Coz You Got It...

2011-11-12T15:54:00.001+05:30

Off-duty soldier to his wife: "I want to cut the vegetables."
Wife: "Why don't you do jhadu-pochha instead? I'm good here, please get out of my kitchen."
Soldier: "Well, then I'll go out and pick a fight."
Wife: "Are you insane? Why do you want to do that?"
Soldier: "This shiny, sharp sword has to be used somewhere!"

Time

2011-11-12T15:52:00.001+05:30

And days rolled on
like wheels on a black chariot
on a never-ending journey
through limitless void.
Heroes and villains rose and fell.
Theses and antitheses were made and marred.
Kings were rebels once.
Villains are heroes once.
And Time made history of them all--
time and again.
An unchanging history
of follies of man
and glory of man;
illusions of grandeur
and unannounced twists of fate.
They thought they'll change history,
but history never changes
and like a motion picture stuck in a loop,
just repeats itself--
over the rotting corpses
of heroes and villains,
of villains and heroes,
of pawns who wear gilded caps
and kings who wear ragged crowns.
And days rolled on
like wheels on a black chariot
on a never-ending journey
through limitless void.

Hierarchical Sloth

2011-11-12T15:50:00.001+05:30

"What the fuck is this?"
"What? This is the final product."
"You're going to sell it like this?"
"Yeah. What's wrong with it?"
"This is crap! This is bullshit, man!"
"Hey, it's been approved by the top-management. And we don't have time to re-do it. We have to meet our targets, the retailer is waiting for stocks, the designer has been paid once already and no one really gives a shit. Just let it pass, dude."
"No I wont! Coz I FUCKING CARE ABOUT THIS SHIT!!"
"Suit yourself, bud. It's your funeral."

How Much Time Should It Take?

2011-11-12T15:47:00.001+05:30

Zed the crab: You're late.
Kleist the tortoise: I don't drive like a maniac.
Zed: Well, you know, I like to go fast around the bends.
Kleist: Well...
Zed: Wait, wait, I know what you're going to say,"Delhi roads are not the Buddh International Circuit."
Kleist: Yup. And real life has no formula, whether 1, 2 or n. In the long term, you're endangering your life!
Zed: What is this obsession you have the "long term"?! I reached office before you, didn't I?
Kleist: Ugghh! Get out of my cubicle, you bone head!

Too Much of a Good Thing

2011-11-12T15:43:00.001+05:30

There was once a crab named Zed. Zed, like all crabs, walked sideways. But Zed had a problem: he could only walk towards his left. And once he walked left for so long that he ended up on the right. And he was proud about it. Little did he know that he had ended up on the right, when all he wanted to do was go left.

A Real Conversation

2011-11-12T15:40:00.001+05:30

"Switty switty switty tera pyaar chahida...," rang out Stefan's cell phone.
He cuts the call.
Guru: "Who was it?"
Stefan: "My vice-captain."
"Why didn't you take the call?"
"Coz he's a smart-ass..!"
"Stefan, you're the first person in 7 years years, 11 months, 3-and-a-half days to visit me. And you seem like an intelligent fellow. While you're here anyway, why don't we talk for a while? God knows that I'm dying for a real conversation! I'm tired of speaking to people only through Facebook!"
"Ummmm...well...OK...what's the harm? I anyway need a breather before I start back."
"Awesome! BTW, don't you think it's time you updated your ringtone? Heard of 'Wanna be my chhammak chhallo' yet?"

None the Wiser

2011-11-12T15:38:00.001+05:30

Nineteen-year-old Stefan was a restless soul. He went to the mountains looking for the the wise man. After a difficult climb and countless bruises, he reached the peak where the rag-covered, white-bearded guru sat in meditation.

The guru opened his eyes and asked, "What brings you here my son?"

Stefan asked the guru brimming with expectation, "How can I run multiple apps on my iPhone 4S without depleting the battery?"

The Guru was incredulous, "iPhone?! Move on dude! Check out my Samsung Galaxy S II," he said taking the device out of his pocket.

Stefan was shocked and hurt, "Just because you're older doesn't mean you're wiser."

The guru paused for a while and said, "Ummm...you're a start-up."

The Situation Room

2011-11-04T15:21:00.000+05:30

Sanjay: "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a grave situation. From where I stand, I can’t see shit!"

Agatha: "I’m pretty sure it was the butler. Why else would the tea be cold?"

Albert: "Totally out of tune, totally out of tune! He couldn’t have been going that fast."

Ali: "I should’ve moved sooner. The bloody butterfly stung me!"

Coco: "Frills, frills, frills! Come on people! Show some class!"

Mohan: "Can we all just calm down for a while? Look, guys, I’m not in favour of this division."

Howard: "What? You want money? Money you want? Let’s start all over again."

Marie: "If she can do it once, she can very well do it once more. I wish I had some lead in me!"

Winston: "I say that we go for Cuban cigars. The lightning bolts here make me edgy."

Joseph: "Ah! Finally! Glad you agree. I’m going to continue west. And I’m going to sunbathe naked."

Yudi: "Thanks, guys, for your vote of confidence. I’ll be honest: people are dumb. So it’s settled. It’s going to be strip poker. Yay! Where’s Tommy?"

I think...

2011-10-12T10:07:00.001+05:30

Crystal Ball
Respect is a self-fulfilling prophesy.

Identity vs Structure
Life for me is a constant struggle against getting defined by a structure that thrives on subjugation.

Animal Firm
Men are like sheep herding themselves to the slaughterhouse.

The Tempest
As I traverse the river of time, I build sails of axioms from every storm that rocks my boat.

Posterior for Posterity
Every generation has to find its own solutions to the mess left by the solutions of the previous generation.

'Sup Dawg?
Good friends are those who you can ignore without offending and call up without surprising.

Counter-intuitive
The most difficult thing to be: YOURSELF.

Scabbard It!
Every thought is a double-edged sword.

Gift Rapped
The greatest disillusionment of my life was the realization that I am not special.

Jack in the Box
Sometimes, what I think is in it for you isn't what you're looking for in it.

Course Correction
Every boulder that falls into the river of life changes its course ever so slightly.

Review - Motorola Charm MB502

2011-10-12T09:41:00.002+05:30

I'm posting this on my blog because a) I want to share my views on the product and b) Flipkart website just wont take my review! Always server error!

-----------------------

Pros:
    1. By far, the best keypad. It also has arrow keys! And I can't tell you how important arrow keys are. They keypad is the closest to QWERTY in the market. The numbers are lined up at the top. Typing on this keypad is a zip!
    2. Although it is one of the older versions of Android, the integration is very good. Apps work great, download is easy. Emails, chats, texts, everything works very well.
    3. I think the speed is great for a smartphone that's running multiple apps.
    4. Gorilla Glass screen is so smooth that I still can't believe it! Also, it is very resistant to scratches (but don't try deliberately to scratch it!).
    5. I think the MotoBlur interface is well thought out and intuitive. Just takes a little bit learning to understand how to tweak the settings. But the features and options are well thought out.
    6. Great Widgets--both Motorola and Android widgets are very useful.
    7. The unusual candy bar shape is unique, attractive and useful. It looks quite beautiful! And I must say it is a fantastic blend of a casual+professional phone. If you're a young professional, this phone creates the best image, even better than an iphone or blackberry.

Cons:
    1. Battery life is less, especially if you're running too many apps simultaneously and are connected all the time on 3G.
    2. Resolution is below what you would expect from a device with so many features! But then, for this kind of price, it would be criminal to expect more. BUT, I will have to say, the resolution is perfect for my kind of use. It is quite good and very bright.
    3. Camera doesn't have anything to talk about. The camera software is very good, but resolution isn't good. But for this price, I think it's fine.

Tips:
    1. To save battery, use the Battery Saver mode. Limit downloads, chats, syncs (especially on 3G). Stop background apps that you do not need connected.
    2. Be ready for increased GPRS/Internet charges on your phone bill. Adjust your usage over a period of couple of months.
    3. Make sure you do not ignore your spouse; don't fiddle with the phone endlessly, especially when you have company! :)

Overall, a great phone at a great price--highly recommended. The cons stole a star away :)

To Hell With It!

2011-09-23T06:53:00.000+05:30

Another year, another autumn...

A swinging club,
and yet another yell:
"Move along, move along!"

A sign for the caravan
to pack up and leave.
To move on...

Ma'am destiny,
you think you're very funny?
Alright, I'll play along:
"Ha."

But, to all your vicious barbs,
here's my repartee:
"To hell with it!"

The World Won't Stop Just Because It's Raining

2011-09-16T11:37:00.000+05:30

Twenty-one kilometers of mayhem
Heaven's blitzkrieg of shards of glass
A retribution of sorts
For plunders and extorts
Committed by mankind crass

Don't know what made me go on
What drove me through that insane maze
As I peered out of the windscreen
And Metallica thumped within
All I could see was a sea of haze

The clouds were very angry,
big, dark and deep
But I had to attend to the files
So I snaked through the miles
Of uncertain dangers and seep

Close to my final destination
My nemesis had wreaked horror
I began to have serious doubts
About my mental whereabouts
Hell, I charged forth like a conqueror

Makes me say what I'm saying
(Hey, I made it after all that straining)
As I open my intellectual chop shop:
Fellas, the world won't stop
Just because it's raining

The Most Powerful in India

2011-08-25T12:18:00.000+05:30

The most powerful institutions in the world are based on ideas; powerful ideas that have been put on paper, like the Code of Hammurabi, the Magna Carta, or the American Declaration of Independence. And the most powerful set of ideas in India is the Constitution of India—not the legislature, not the judiciary, not the executive, not the majority, or the minority, neither the rural, nor the urban, not the rich, not the poor, neither facebookers, nor twitterers—only the Constitution of India. The idea of independent India is the fragrance emanating from the Constitution. It has my allegiance, trust and full faith.

Poesque Skies

2011-08-23T14:54:00.001+05:30

A sleight of hand
Over mortal land
A change of season
For no rhyme or reason
A sinister pall
An advancing squall
The early night
Inciting fright
Of rain and gloom
Of chaos and doom

Inside [~] Outside

2011-08-21T20:45:00.000+05:30

Inside [~] Outside
Amber glow [~] Slatish skies
Busy murmur [~] Silent rains
Clickity clack [~] Tippity tap
Soundproof windows [~] Happy clamor
Cubicle walls [~] Strawberry fields
Order [~] Aria
Pyramid [~] Woods
Work [~] Life
Without [~] Within

This Is How You Do Things in a Democracy

2011-08-19T09:42:00.000+05:30

First of all, if you want to bring about a change, VOTE!
If you want to change the laws, ask your elected representative to represent your opinion in the parliament.
If you think there are more like you who want the same changes, gather them and ask them to talk to their elected representatives. If there are enough representatives voting for the change, the change will happen. That's how legislatures work.
If you do not like your representative, or if he/she does not agree with you, vote him out in the next elections and vote in someone who agrees with you.
If you do not find a candidate who agrees with you, then stand for elections yourself and persuade your constituency to support your opinion and vote you to the legislature.
If you do not want to vote and do not want to stand for elections yourself, approach the courts for redressal from unjust laws and illegal acts.
If you do not want to do that either, then you can’t do much in a democracy. You can try other forms of government.

वार्तालाप

2011-06-09T16:44:00.000+05:30

कुत्ते से भो भो
बिल्ली से मियाओं
कबूतर से गुटर गुटर
और इंसान से:
क्या बात है, बड़े स्मार्ट लग रहे हो आज?!

Tedium

2011-06-07T15:20:00.000+05:30

Tedium, Sisyphean tedium

Still, in the middle of the Pacific
Hot afternoon sun and pin-drop silence

Slow...dead slow...
Calm...dead calm...

Not a ripple in the skies
Not a gust in the waters

Breath sucks molten lead
Thoughts pushing shut synapses

Steady beat of a sluggish heart
Noisy gush of thickened blood

An unending rhythm that doesn't change
A drummer in a silly silly trance

The flickerless glow of fluorescent lights
The muffled hum of the AC plant

Tick tap taps of keys on keyboards
Mechanical murmur of official kinds

Printers puking mundane manuscripts
Shredders editing them to rest

Yesterday, Today Tomorrow
Tomorrow, Today Yesterday
Today, all over again

Tedium, Sisyphean tedium

दिल्ली किसकी है?

2011-06-07T12:07:00.001+05:30

दिल्ली किसकी है?
किसीकी नहीं...
इसे अपना बनाना पड़ता है --
कुछ ज़ोर-ज़बरदस्ती से,
कुछ चपेट खाते हुए |
दिल्ली उसकी है जिसने नदी के बहाव को
मोड़कर तैरना सीखा;
जिसने मुस्कुराते हुए
टूटे शीशे पे चलना सीखा;
जिस ने सीखा की मेरी पहचान
एक शहर, एक पिन कोड से नहीं है;
मेरी पहचान मेरी सोच, मेरी ताकत से है|
मेरे लिए पूरी दुनिया दिल्ली है|

The Fastest Gun in the West (Or East)

2011-05-20T10:35:00.000+05:30

We go through life like drunk, raving cowboys with guns blazing at our hips. With our wit, intellect, and ego we shoot down any thought, gesture, comment that moves. In the process we don’t gain anything other than a perverse sense of superiority. Many bonds die and, if we have a tiny conscience chugging in our hearts, we wake up the next day with a bad moral hangover. Restraint is one of the toughest tricks to master.

All That Needs To Be Said

2011-05-20T10:28:00.000+05:30

The more I listen,
the less I have to say.
All that needs to be said,
has been said already.

But the brain tricks me into saying
things that have already been said:
The vacuum around me fills up
with words that gush out like a geyser
and lead to another blank sheet
over and over again
in a silly unending loop.

Damn you, brain!

All that needs to be said
has been said already.

Wisdom

2011-04-05T10:10:00.000+05:30

Zen Master to his pupil: Son, answer this question: What is wisdom?
Pupil: Master, I'm not sure...I don't know.
Zen Master: Well done my son, that neatly sums it up.

9 Success Lessons from Cricket World Cup 2011

2011-04-03T12:41:00.001+05:30

1. Success is a Slow Process

It is not a lottery ticket, it is not a windfall gain, it is not bungee jumping, it is not a sprint. It is a trek, it is a marathon. More often than not, the road to success is bland and boring. To try and shape the process otherwise could lead to premature burnout. It happens very frequently with the ambitious and the intelligent. Plodding cannot be overemphasized even for the ambitious and intelligent. Success is its own reward. But if you want to spice up the journey, break it down into sub-projects and sub-goals, and enjoy the achievement of each milestone.

In some respects, yesterday’s match was somewhat slow and unexciting. Only 6 wickets fell for Sri Lanka and only 4 for India. Jayawardene went on and on. The two crucial partnerships that built India’s innings (Gambhir + Kohli; Kohli + Dhoni) didn’t have many fireworks; just slow, steady run-making. And that is what, in the end, piled up the runs that won us the match.

2. Consistency is the Key

It is better to have consistent above-average successes rather than one big success at the beginning or one big one at the end. Consistent performance throughout the lifetime of the project is more important than starting with a bang or ending with a slog. The pressure is evenly distributed and your reaching your goal is more assured.

The two big partnerships displayed amazing consistency of scoring. They made up for the lack of big boundaries with several, well-earned singles, doubles and triples. This consistent run-making is what helped not put pressure on the batsmen in the later stages, when they could’ve been more error-prone. It was important that the team did not repeat the domino effect of previous matches.

3. Have a Well-balanced Team

It is better to have several above-average team members rather than one or two high-performers. Depending too much on high performers is risky. They could leave you anytime. And there may not be anyone to take their place. It is better to have several above-average performers in your team and train them to become high-performers. Your risk is spread out and the increased average performance will add to total performance in time.

Even though we lost the openers in the early overs, thanks to our batting depth, we were able to recover from that setback. Gambhir and Kohli reclaimed the innings brilliantly. But also, we cannot underestimate the fantastic, textbook fielding that our team showed yesterday. They must have saved us at least 50 crucial runs. This is the kind of balance that every team must have.

4. Follow Your Training

Textbooks and training lessons are there because they teach us how to do things. It may sound counter-intuitive, but the best leaders are the ones who are able to follow their training when under tremendous pressure. Many a men have buckled under pressure by compromising their education and succumbing to their emotions. Being impulsive in a crunch situation is only going to make you error-prone. The leader must tune out all noises in his/her head and just follow his/her training.

Everyone knows that Dhoni is a big hitter. Where were the big hits yesterday? They were missing because under pressure, Dhoni did the right thing –– build the innings. He played regular, careful cricket, piling up runs, strengthening India’s scorecard. He relied on his training and strategy sessions to do what he has learned to do.

5. Silence the Expectations

As a leader, you must only think of the goal and not about the expectations of your peers and bosses. Expectations are one goal multiplied by several voices. And this multitude of voices may cloud your judgement. It is best to set your own standards and work toward the goal.

This principle was displayed by the captain brilliantly. Despite the fortunes of the nation pressing down on his shoulders, Dhoni’s judgement was crystal clear. He didn’t let the expectations of a billion make him act impulsively or become nervous.

6. Nerves that Twang and Balls that Clang

Courage is a great quality to have in a leader. Courage allows the leader to take daring risks. Courage allows a person to silence the noise of expectations, take decisions that really matter, stop unforced errors, command respect of the team and peers. The catch is that not everyone is equally courageous. Courage is an in-born quality that is built on the foundation of strong principles and unyielding will power. You may not be very courageous, but everyone knows what courage looks like. So, if you think you lack in this department, the next best thing is to ‘act’ courageous and deal with your jitters in private. At least it would have the desired impact on your team.

Fortune favours the brave. It favoured M.S. Dhoni yesterday, when he promoted himself up in the order to take on the responsibility of building the score. It takes balls to face the challenge head on, especially under the kind of pressure that the Indian public can exert on its cricketers. Dhoni was cool as cucumber, almost cocking a snook at us all! But he did it for us. Perhaps, he has more steel in him than all of us put together.

7. Failure is a Clarion Call

Failure at any stage is a call to action. It tells you that it's time to tighten your belt and roll up your sleeves. It's a heads-up to an opportunity to undo the mistakes you've been committing. Failures are perhaps more common than successes and the path to success is a series of course corrections.

The dramatic collapse of the batting order in our match against South Africa indicated to Dhoni that players are unable to take pressure and stick to the wicket. The course correction showed result yesterday when the top order, despite the early departures of Sachin and Sehwag, plodded diligently to ensure that the middle order does not face the pressure.

8. Do It for the Special Person in Your Life

We all have a special person in our life. It could be our parents, our spouse, our best friend, or children. It could even be a colleague or a senior you look up to. If your own ambitions and self-actualization needs fall short, then think of that special person in your life. Think how you will add value to that person’s life. Think how you will make her/him happy. Imagine how your effort/contribution connects you with her/him more strongly and at a deeper level. There can be no greater reward than the love, affection and respect of your loved ones and peers.

The Indian team did it for the very special person –– Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. There couldn’t have been a bigger motivation.

9. Destiny Plays a Role

I don’t know how to prove it through this world cup, but destiny does play a role –– sometimes minor, but always there. A few missed catches, a few opportune wickets, a fortunate match fixture, a timely advice, an untimely injury –– the chance element, the probability factor is always lurking in the shadows. And the only way to keep her on your side is to train well and act courageous.

The Moment the World Froze

2011-03-25T15:12:00.000+05:30

Somehow, by prior arrangement or divine intervention, the bat connected the ball and the ball repelled. Sahil Joglekar's heart stopped. For reasons beyond his control, his eyes were tightly shut.

In the subsequent days, and even years, people would ask him whether it was fear or desperation or both that made him shut his eyes in that defining moment. He never had a clear answer. Perhaps he didn’t want to ask himself. Perhaps there was no need to ask that question.

***

World over, Sahil was toasted as the best batsman ever. His records were astounding, better than any other cricketer in the history of the game. His averages made statisticians dizzy and fans drool. His stroke play was said to be stuff that made pundits revise their textbooks.

His scoring consistency was like the beating of a healthy heart. He has had his highs and lows, but he was the best, the crowning glory of the Indian team. He had raised the game to the level of an art form, his rivals applauded him and felt no envy.

But Sahil never felt complete. He had done it all but one.

He had entered international cricket at a very young age. He broke record after record and matured in the game at jet speed. But one achievement kept eluding him—The Cricket World Cup.

In his fifteen years of international cricket, he had played in three world cups. He was a newcomer, and then he was a senior, but he was always the promised one. The vagaries of a team sport ensured that his reputation and stroke play couldn’t see the Indian team through.

But Sahil knew that everyone had tried his best. His reasoning was different for the world cup continuing to elude him. He wasn’t superstitious, but he sure was god-fearing. And he was certain that god had kept the world cup away from him because he didn’t want him to have too much success too soon: What would be left to strive for? He was a hard-working, practical chap. He believed that success needs maturity to carry it; otherwise you stumble and fall.

It had been too long…and this was the moment.

***

The ‘tock’ of the leather on the willow sent massive shock waves through Sahil’s body … and through the opposition … the stadium audience … and all the TV viewers and radio listeners all over the world who were watching and listening to that last ball of the last over with bated breaths.

Three runs to win—last ball of the 50th over. At that exact moment, Sahil left his body.

***

Floating above the pitch, he could see himself—frozen—with eyes shut, the ball in mid-air, not yet across the pitch, bat swung back. He thought he looked silly with his eyes shut: “Why am I doing that?” As he rose further above, he could see the bowler frozen in the follow through, with a devilish grimace on his face. Fielders—some gasping with open mouths, some staring hard at the ball, as if their looks could halt its advance.

Sahil could see his teammates in the pavilion. Skipper had an expression that was somewhere between ecstasy and shock. Some junior team members had covered their eyes, but he could see that they were peeking through the gaps between their fingers. The coach was calm, as usual, but with a grim look on his face. The entire stadium, Indians as well as others, were either jumping or beginning to. And, like the fateful ball, they were suspended in mid-air.

Strangely, in the horizon, he could see his wife, kids, mother and other kins watching him on TV. His wife had turned her face away, his mother was praying with folded palms, his brother was a replica of the stadium crowd.

He rose further…

He could see hundreds and thousands of Indians all over the world frozen, motionless, their eyes on that ball. Had they forgotten their beloved Sahil Joglekar? No, but it was their defining moment too! A moment they could brag, or alternatively, despair about, for the rest of their lives. A moment that an entire generation would identify itself with. A moment thousands will take inspiration from. A moment forever frozen in time like a glass palace in the middle of a windless desert.

A moment when Sahil Joglekar had to shut his eyes tight to not let the cacophonic light of the expectations of millions blind him.

***

[Unfreeze]

He knew now why. And he swung.

He knew he had connected well. It was as if it took him ages before he could gather enough courage to open his eyes. He just saw the ball distancing itself from him in the direction of mid-off. At that stage, no one could gauge where it would land. He neither had the time nor the patience to do that.

India needed three runs—just three runs. And Sahil ran like a maniac!

He didn’t care anymore—he just had to do this—everything else could wait. Did he get caught, hit a six, a four?—no thought crossed his mind. All he could do with his breath right now was this—run like the wind!

Some Indians may not be good at driving, but almost all of them are very good at judging the trajectory of a flying cricket ball. Even before the ball crossed the boundary, [unfreeze crowd] the polarization was complete, clear and overwhelming. Even before the ball hit the stands, the Indians were shouting with joy and hugging each other. On the other side, the rivals were frozen, again, with shock and despair on their faces—“IMPOSSIBLE!”

Sahil kept running; so did his mate on the other side.

It was close to two runs when they noticed the changed patterns of the crowd. Sahil didn’t trust his senses and kept running, but his mate stopped and looked at the umpire.

It was a SIX!

He jumped with joy and ran towards Sahil, hugging and lifting him up. Sahil was furious: “What the hell are you doing! Why are you not completing the run?” It was then that he let the scene seep into his senses, and it dawned upon him.

India had won the World Cup!

Providence had taken a long time, but Sahil knew that now, after years of slogging, literally as well as figuratively, he deserved it and could carry it on his broad shoulders. He stood in the middle of the ground with his bat and helmet raised. Another frozen moment—he absorbed it all—the cheers and the tears, the silent thunder of the applause. He became, for that moment, one with them. That was his reward, the uplift, the spiritual, ‘in the zone’ feel—he absorbed it all.

The moment had made its definition and he felt complete.

***

It is said that destiny is a lady who favors the brave and the impulsive. That moment, as he swung hard with all his might, Sahil won over lady luck. He now knew why he had shut his eyes. But there was no need to ask that question anymore because they had won.

But if you ask him in private, his answer would be simple—blind faith.

Who Am I?

2011-02-04T14:49:00.000+05:30

Who am I?
Who am I to question?
Who am I to question the labels put on me?
Who am I to say who I am and who I'm not?

Who am I but shifting dunes of desert sands.
Who am I but stale porridge of fading memories.
Who am I but an uncertain chimera of a broken imagination.
Who am I but a tiny speck of cosmic dust.

Who am I to say what is and what isn't?
Who am I to say I'm right?
Who am I to say I'm wrong?

Who am I?
I'm not sure.
I guess...I don't know.

The Cynic

2011-01-25T13:09:00.000+05:30

Cynic, n, Someone who takes a pessimistic view of human motives and actions.

It's easy to be a cynic when you're young. You believe that your motives and actions are resulting in something good for mankind. Or, at least, your motives and actions are so uncoloured by complexities of physical and psychological survival that you feel relatively purer. As you grow older, you get mired in cross-persuasions and cross-actions that mar honest efforts in real world. Unwillingly and unwittingly you may end up doing things that you are not proud of. There may be a point in your life that you are so disgusted by your own actions that you want your conscience to shut the fuck up. Eventually, to a large extent, it does. There are murmurs of dissent, a few "yikes's" and "uh oh's", but nothing that will make you sweat. Then comes the time when you enter fully into the denial mode. It is important to be in denial. Else, you will end up sabotaging your own work, your own survival. You HAVE to believe that you add value to your family members' lives, to the corporation you work for, your team members' work, to the society in general, and the environment at large.

People will tolerate a cynic only so much. Not only because he's a pessimist, also because, sooner or later, he begins questioning the intents and productivity of everyone around him, and that too without actually doing anything himself. If you continue to remain a cynic while being gainfully employed, it won't be long before you're expelled from the 'circle of trust'. If you were born a cynic, then it behoves you to make the transition from a cynic to 'management' as soon as possible. Your income, expenditure, and conjugal life might depend on it. It is important to plan, even if you do not have the resources to execute it. It is important to talk of quality, even if you cannot afford it. It is important to appear employee-friendly, even if you can’t do anything to retain them. You see, as a society, an individual is weak, but as an 'individual', an individual is strong. And if, by god's grace, an individual-individual decides to execute that plan (which actually happens once in a while), cynics, non-cynics, we all benefit.

But let's not digress from the natural course of a cynic. You're surrounded by outstretched arms, grotesque heads chanting guttural grunts in strange harmony, awkwardly marching toward you, and it just takes one strategic bite—sooner or later, every cynic is taken into the fold of the other side. And it is crucial that you remain in denial till your dying day. God help you if you realise your 'real' self a day before you die. You will die a horribly restless death and roam the earth till eternity as a cynic ghost, taking a pessimistic view of the motives and actions of humans and spirits alike.

In Search of Excellence

2010-08-27T15:07:00.000+05:30

The reluctant minion has tears in his eyes.
And a grimace on his face—
   He has he been crying...
   Or... Has he been laughing?!

Blind to his torment and predicament
   the lordships roar timidly into
   the imagined horizons of gold and glitter.
They ride on shifty waves of delusion;
Powered by gusty winds of arrogance.
Self-righteousness is their only map.
And the destination, a vague presumption.

The minion surveys the flagship and sighs—
   Where are the oars?
   Where is the rudder?

A Hustle Amidst the Bustle

2010-05-06T11:36:00.003+05:30

Life―
Is a tussle,
a hustle amidst the bustle,
of alternatives and choices,
made worse by
oxy-morons and paradoxes.

A trade-off―
between pros of this and cons of that;
between cons of this and pros of that;
between the safe and the right;
between bank notes and sleep good night;
between what they say I ought to do,
and what I say I want to do.

But I am not one of the fighters;
Just an arbiter of destinies
of fictional characters.

Let me retreat
to the refuge of the world
of make-belief and rosy tints,
of veiled protests and subtle hints,
of safety of my family,
lovingly, warmly and cozily;
Where courage shakes hand with prudence;
Where ambition makes room for convalescence.

Life is a tussle,
a hustle amidst the bustle.
But I am one of the fighters
who armed with ideas and characters
wage war against might and muscle.

The Great Promise

2010-05-05T10:22:00.001+05:30

On the infinite beaches of life,
along the vast oceans of time,
we're boulders of our imaginations,
but grains of our decisions.

Little Men

2010-04-27T14:07:00.001+05:30

Dreary dystopia and despondent chance
        siege me from all sides;
Miniscule men with mammoth shoes
        stomp into my cube;
Demented dwarfs with duplex heads
        butt away my scrolls;
Lazy leeches with large mouths
        suck the life out of me;
Machiavellian maggots do a manic dance
        and eat the insides of my head;
Indignant inferno in incandescent rage
        come rescue me to cinders;
Fearless phoenix with felicity and grit
        rise gloriously from my ashes.

Yep!

2010-04-21T10:47:00.000+05:30

Yep! Wipe that sweat off your forehead.
That is real real. The only real.

The road behind, a trail of flummoxed dust.
The road ahead, a mirage of unreal impossibilities.
And all around you, catch-me-if-you-cans of
all things dear to you,
Poof-poofs of brick, metal and flesh.

Yep! Wipe that sweat off your forehead.
That is real real. The only real.

The Crushing March of Inevitability

2010-02-16T17:03:00.000+05:30

The earth was pulsing in an uneasy rhythm
I could hear the distant thump of time
As I lay splayed on its barren path
Waiting...
...waiting for it to overrun me
The crushing march of inevitability.

Day In, Day Out

2009-12-11T23:48:00.004+05:30

Day in, Day out
Day in, Day out
Day in, Day out
Day in, Day out
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work

Yawn

Brush Brush Brush Brush
Brush Brush Brush Brush
Brush Brush Brush Brush
Brush Brush Brush Brush
Splat Gloop Poo
Splat Gloop Poo
Slurp Munch Glug
Slurp Munch Glug
Damn Damn Damn Damn
Damn Damn Damn Damn
Damn Damn Damn Damn
Damn Damn Damn Damn

Vroom Honk Screech
Vroom Honk Screech
Sonofabitch!
Vroom Honk Screech
Vroom Honk Screech
Yikes!

Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Lick Lick Lick Lick
Lick Lick Lick Lick
Lick Lick Lick Lick
Lick Lick Lick Lick
Type Type Type Type
Type Type Type Type
Type Type Type Type
Type Type Type Type
Yikes!
Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck
Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck
Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck
Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck
Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry
Lick Lick Lick Lick
Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry
Lick Lick Lick Lick

Vroom Honk Screech
Vroom Honk Screech
Sonofabitch!
Vroom Honk Screech
Vroom Honk Screech
Yikes!

Nag Nag Nag Nag
Nag Nag Nag Nag
Nag Nag Nag Nag
Nag Nag Nag Nag
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Work Work Work Work
Yikes!
Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry
Kiss Kiss Kiss Kiss
Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry
Kiss Kiss Kiss Kiss
Slurp Munch Glug
Slurp Munch Glug

Yawn, Fuck, Zzzz

Day in, Day out
Day in, Day out
Day in, Day out
Day in, Day out

A Pile of Trashed Files and Empty Binders

2009-09-30T21:51:00.000+05:30

Carcasses of discarded arguments;
Empty shells of history
   of acts of men and machines.
An unwanted pile of incidents –
   like no one really cares;
   like now no one really cares.
Orphaned bastards of commercial transactions;
A past being buried unremarkably;
To be consigned to flames without ado.
Hope they burn bright;
They have burned many a life.

Code Brown

2009-09-27T12:39:00.003+05:30

The baby plopped out of its mother’s womb —
Nameless, classless, creedless, casteless.
No, don’t ask its sex.
No, don’t ask its colour.
We will raise it to discriminate anyway.
A baby is a baby — delicate, innocent, pure.
And before it could get naughty — potty.
Welcome to the human race, babe.
Potty — the last bastion of your form-free self.
Henceforth, you may prejudice
And be prejudiced against.

Shit —
The conclusion of an existential dissertation.
The end of a churning voyage.
The putrid punishment of past sins.

You cannot deny its existence —
In your life, in your bowels.
Howsoever you may hide your fetid crop,
Howsoever you may camouflage your greedy guts,
You can’t escape the daily dump.
While you wallow in it throughout the day,
It wallows within, out on its way.
And when it gets too much to take,
You excrete and sigh away.

Every day millions of tonnes of faeces
Rush through the gutters of human bowels —
Silently, indiscriminately.
There's something saintly about excreta —
It treats all mankind equally.
It doesn't stop in its track
Just because you're rich or famous or fair.
It doesn't ignore your anus
Just because you're poor or unknown or dark.
In front of the noxious altar of ejectamenta,
EVERY–ONE–SQUATS.

Shitting —
The amoral exposure of self,
The crude down-to-earther,
The ultimate equalizer.
The only voluntary involuntary act you will commit
Every day of your life.

The Hindu does it,
And the Muslim too.
The Shia shits,
The Sunni shits.
The Catholic shits,
So does the Protestant.
And I'm sure, every prophet worth his salt
Shat — somberly, religiously.
The statesman does it,
And he did it too when he was a politician.
The electorate does it,
And it does it too after the elections.

The ‘holy’ Brahmin poops.
The ‘lowly’ Dalit poops.
Even the person claiming to be pure,
Poops.
Even the person cleaning all the poop,
Poops.
The twice-born craps,
The once-born craps,
The born-again craps.

The corpulent minister in the red-beacon car —
He takes a dump before dumping the nation.
The mafia don with his balls in the gun —
He craps before he beats you to crap.
Your dimwit boss with a chauvinist stride —
He shat in the office loo before he shat all over your daily happiness.
Your object of lust, the sexy star —
Thank your stars you don’t see her shit.

In the secluded privacy of your restroom
You hide your dignity from all mankind.
You hide from your husband,
You hide from your kids,
You hide from your girlfriend.
But you don’t hide from yourself.
Not copulation,
This is your weakest moment.

Look at yourself —
Sitting in a limbo,
Waiting for nature to take its course,
Exposed to the mercies of the elements.
Where is your vanity?
(Oh, I’m sure you look fabulous!)
Where is your arrogance?
(Oh, I’m sure you’re the king of the world!)
It's laughable that you seek
A clean and sanitized life
When sanity is finally restored
Only after the labored strife.
Coz when you’re finally done,
You clean your own gooey mess.
No one does it for you.
No one does it for you.

Everybody who's somebody
And everybody who's nobody
Begins or ends his day
By prostrating before the lavatory.
And stool is the common string
That runs through all hues of mankind.
The cream pie and the chocolate mousse,
The chicken tikka and the stuffed goose —
Beautiful, fragrant, delights on the tongue —
End up in a heap of distasteful dung.
And that is life, the long and the short of it —
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, shit to shit.

Disambiguation

2009-09-15T10:32:00.005+05:30

Life's a merry-go-round,
Mary, go round roll up a joint.

Someone's losing weight,
Someone's gaining weight,
Someone's just not getting the point.

Man and the Megacity

2009-08-25T07:35:00.004+05:30

It's middle of the night...half past one. As I drive down the wide, open roads of the megalithic city, I feel intimidated by its cold vastness. These unwavering, unrelenting sodium vapour lamps cast an orange, shadowless blanket on the roads. The concrete buildings on both sides stand at attention like grim medieval knights dressed in burnt orange armour. But beyond the afterglow lies a vast darkness of the unending urban sprawl.

I am not alone, yet I feel helpless.
I am all alone, yet I feel afraid of someone.

The car feels like a refuge...an escape pod with some semblance of deflector shields..an apparition of safety. The world outside stares me down with its dark, invisible eyes. I can feel them all around me. I try to hide from their gaze by focusing on the trailing brake lights of the stately trailer trucks in front of me. The tyres of my car hungrily gulp down the black tarmac of the toll bridge. They understand how I feel. The river below is a limitless chasm that doesn't seem to end. There is a eerie calm under the star-spangled night sky. They're watching you... (I hope they're watching over me.)

I want these roads to end. I dont want to be a castaway in the middle of civilization anymore. I want to reach my destination. I want to be home -- a place where the space is of my comprehension, the habitat befits my courage; a place where the indifferent city does not creep in -- my oasis in the midst of a mortar desert, my atoll in the middle of a dark, electric ocean.

Creatio ex nihilo

2009-08-20T11:22:00.005+05:30

Perhaps...perhaps I had a bit too much to drink. Perhaps I needed the courage. Lying on some horizontal surface, in a drunken haze, with eyes wide open, I'm numb, yet aware. I cant feel anything, I cant move a limb. I am acutely aware that if wolves came and chewed on my toes, I wouldn't be able to shoo them away. I feel like a heavy mountain that is made of grey puffy clouds. I wish to pass out, but cant. In this cloud-like floating state, I'm afforded an immense clarity, and I wonder. What is this? Where am I? Where did I come from? Where did all this come from?

Relax. Let the dust inside my head settle down. Or the dizzying heights of extra-cosmic time travel will make me puke.

But wandering is the natural state of a mind - drunk or sober. And I flowed towards flashes of Shyam Benegal's Bharat Ek Khoj...hymns of Rig Veda...there was no existence, nor non-existence, no air, no water, no space, neither life nor death. Where was it? What covered it? There was nothing but formless void.

Creatio ex nihilo.

The simplest explanation that man could conjure up was God -- that God created everything. Even my drunk mind asks a simple question to take the air out of creationism -- Who created God? Kaput.

Alien spores, interplanetary relocation, evolution...nothing really answers the fundamental question -- Where from?

Maya... It's a thought-cloud floating around, engulfing the entire creation. It's a snapshot of nobody's dream. A billion light years in a nanosecond. Its existence is no proof of its existence. It's no one's vision, yet it's visible. It grows from nowhere. It reaches to no end. Perhaps it began where it ends. Perhaps life is a freak of nature. Perhaps nature is a freak of time. Perhaps time is a freak accident. Perhaps there is no perhaps. And I'm none the wiser.

Maybe it's our conception of time that is the root cause of all our enquiry-driven angst. But kya karen? My creaking joints have a metaphysics of their own.

Sleep glorious sleep...

Mediocrity

2009-08-18T12:14:00.003+05:30

He is bobbing like an unnamed cork
in a sea of mediocrity.
And there is a tempest of inanity
thrashing him about.
There's a storm of inefficients
lashing him about.

The behemoth of a system --
A spherical rock-mountain of rigidities,
A juggernaut of ghastly proportions --
It pardons those who abide,
Protects those who lie,
Nurtures those who shirk and
deify its mammoth edifice.

Mediocre is the new norm.
It's the garb of official uniform.
Mediocres love mediocres.
And despise everything out of box.
In the warm, cozy embrace of their likes,
Inefficiency is lulled to sleep
with sugar-coated excuse pills.
Ah! You don't recognise
the efficiency of inefficiency?
Cap your imagination buddy.
Or off to Section '84!

The boulder rolls on inexorably.
Dragging the coins
of the unsuspecting benefactors
in its wake --
They who out of humble reverence,
believe -- Mass Is the New God.

If money is the new token of your worth,
Once, I was afraid to die mediocre,
Today, I'm afraid to live poor.

And I'll Live

2009-07-23T09:17:00.001+05:30

A mass of clouds
A grass of rain
A stalk of joy
And a lighter vein..

A shock of heaven
A sheaf of earth
A gust of wind
And a baby's mirth..

A heart of gold
A head of steel
A hand of fate
And a hearty meal..

A house of love
A yard of care
A beach of mates
And a silent prayer..

And I’ll live!

I Am God

2009-06-10T22:13:00.001+05:30

The Christians say that it took me seven days to build this world. Actually it was so long back that I don’t remember any more. No, I’m lying. I do remember. But if I reveal it and if it’s more than what humans thought, my workmanship would be suspect. Humans will say, “He took so many days and still he produced such an inferior product!” Or, if it’s less, they will say, “He was in a hurry and he made a mess of it all.” The fact is, the only inferior product I ever produced is the human race. Ok, I’m being judgmental. But hey, being God has its own privileges!

I can build this mess all over again within the blink of a human eye. I am an incessant creator, a restless potter, an untiring sculptor. The cosmos is one of my smaller creations, but a cute one. I like the ‘Earthy’ patch on it. Quite interesting! I didn’t actually plan it that way but it’s nice the way it has come out. Though if you look at it closely, you may be disappointed by its apparent ugliness. Is life on earth really ugly? Do all earthlings really think that way? Do they think I can be blamed for their misfortunes?

I have created billions of life forms all over the universe. That’s my garden patch. Full of life! But these humans think that they are somehow special. Of course, every life form in every galaxy has that right. The special thing about the humans is that I have given them the power to judge. It was an experiment that went haywire and the humans were born—my ‘Frankensteins’. I don’t complain coz they can hardly harm me. But they have reasons to complain against each other and they are doing so. Their intelligence and their judgment allow them to take decisions that are not necessarily for their own good. I created all other animals in a way that they control their numbers automatically. There is a delicate balance in nature. But who the hell told the humans that they could go for an expansion? Must have been what they call the ‘Devil’. But believe me, I’m all alone. There’s no one called the Devil. It’s the humans’ excuse for their own frailties and mistakes.

To tell you the truth, I have absolutely no control over the humans. Maybe over their surroundings, but not on them. I can change their environment, but I can’t change the way they think. I am all-powerful, but not powerful enough to control their minds. That’s what went wrong with the experiment.

[2004]

Jazz and Life

2009-06-09T23:27:00.000+05:30

We were there to feel the profundity of life…without feeling insignificant ourselves. On the contrary, Jazz gave us meaning. A sense of place in the middle of all this; a sense of importance of the role we are playing; a sense of hope that there is order behind this seeming chaos; a hope that things will be calm and settled and moving on an even keel, just like Jazz.

The piano and the sax alternated now and dueted now; like two lovers having a lovers’ argument, a passionate flirting of a beautiful lady and a handsome gentleman. A love affair of unending youth that age cannot put a label on.

The drum brush and bass guitar were knocking a steady rhythm that closely mimicked my heart. Or was it the other way round? Now the piano and the drums were talking to each other. Piano talked, drums listened. Drums talked, piano listened. And now they agreed and nodded together. This was the art of conversation at its best.

The Woman across the Street

2009-06-09T22:38:00.000+05:30

I leaned on the lamppost with a leisurely bend. I languidly placed the cigarette between my lips and inhaled lightly. And that’s when I saw them—those two perfectly sculpted, beautiful feet. Hugged by extremely feminine, strappy shoes, and leading from slim churidar-clad legs. It took me some time and a lot of curiosity to peel my eyes off those masterpieces and look up to see whom they belonged to. I saw the essence of femininity.

[originally written on 28/06/2004]

Zack and Bill

2008-11-19T17:28:00.001+05:30

Zack and Bill

went up the till

to fetch a bale of clutter.

Zack yelled down

and choked his frown

and Bill came mumbling later.

Does this remind you of some people you know?

The Royal Palace

2008-09-23T20:50:00.004+05:30

Once upon a time, there was a great King. He was very powerful and prosperous. So he built a huge palace for himself and his 76 queens. It was a magnificent palace with gold, silver and precious stones. It was the most beautiful building in the whole of the world. Other kings were jealous of this king's palace and were in awe of its beauty. People used to travel many miles to come and have a glimpse of this palace. But then, one day, the King became ill. He became weak and could no longer rule. The princes killed the King and fought amongst themselves. One of them emerged the most powerful after killing all his siblings and made himself the king.

The next day he called the royal architect and told him, "You're an incompetent fool, a nincompoop! You don't know design from horse dung! You don't know how to design buildings or palaces! This palace has been made unprofessionally. I want a rework. No, I want to break this palace down and build a new one! Bring me new designs, show me new schedules, give be fresh budgets! But this aberration must go!"

The royal architect was shocked and disheartened. He said,"But sire, it took 21 years to build this palace, it is the most beautiful palace in the world! People from far and wide come to see this magnificent structure. They sing praise of our kingdom and its king. How can you say that this heavenly palace ugly?"

The King replied,"Because now I am the King, and what I say is the truth. Do as I say and you'll be richer than you can ever imagine. If you refuse, I'll decimate your entire clan."

The royal architect learned his lesson and decided to rebuild. At least he retained his head and his job.

The Dark Joker

2008-08-16T22:38:00.000+05:30

Who won? The script. The Dark Knight was a masterpiece because it was written like one. Not a single word superfluous, not a single take redundant. But more importantly, there was darkness. A lot of darkness of the the world, the soul, humour, sadness, system and resolutions. The action was just the icing. The dialogues and the story were the real stars. Heath Ledger did justice to the script brilliantly. The screenplay and editing were also very good. Had they not shown some efficient editing, it would've been a longer movie for sure. The music! Listen to it once again. The tempo builds with the sinisterness of the scene pushing you to the edge. Wonderful. The Dark Knight touches you in your own dark corners and you dont even know. You ask questions of yourself that you cant even hear. The Joker makes you laugh a nervous laugh as you read "UP". Look at the irony of the humour: Why So Serious? And let it rip.

The Undoing of Communism

2008-07-19T12:25:00.002+05:30

The problem with communism is that it imposes standards on human beings that are not biologically backed up. For instance, equality, the basic foundation of communism, is actually just an outcome of human thought and conscience. Human beings are not biologically/naturally geared towards equality. Man's desire to excel above his peers betrays his need to be unequal. So, to achieve this inequality, you can either pull yourself up or push others down or do both simultaneously. It doesn't help that homogeneity is against nature's design.

As opposed to capitalism, which is purely an economic system, communism is an econo-political system. It propounds a way of society, while capitalism just expounds a system for circulating money and value. Capitalism has as its ally, democracy, which is actually the political system that lets capitalism proliferate in the most prudent fashion. Still, because of the overarching nature of communism, the communistic thought has been popular with thinkers and liberal intellectuals over the years.

If humanism is the doing of communism, then human nature has been the undoing of it. When a nation-state is established and governance begins, greed easily overshadows conscience, and misplaced concerns and myopic judgement supplant the basic ethos of communism.

Have you ever wondered how capitalistic consumerism appeals to most of the masses? People may complain about economic inequality, but will sooner indulge in conspicuous/inconspicuous consumerism when they lay their hands on money, than share it with their fellow citizens. "Have money, will shop!"

It all boils down to choice. The history of the evolution of the human species is one of overcoming limitations and inventing options; of struggling to find an alternative to what we've been handed down. It is a history of not being satisfied, itching for improvement, finding an easier, better way, working hard to become lazy and taking the long way to find a short cut. Human beings are naturally attuned to bettering their lot, of wanting to have an option, of wanting to express themselves creatively. This is where communism fails. It simply stifles people. The collective smothers the individual. And that just wont do in the long run.

Democracy, on the other hand, lets the collective and the individual coexist in a kind of an uneasy state of truce. It is aided by capitalism in this effort. While democracy maintains the collective decorum, capitalism lets the individual have choices, options and creative outlets. It is only when capitalism starts playing dirty that the truce falters. Therefore, sometimes democracy has to reprimand capitalism and restore the truce.

It is true that given all circumstances, capitalism can succeed only as long as it does not breach the limits of human sensibilities. Greed, among humans, will be tolerated only so much. People may eat meat, but they still love their pets and appreciate wildlife. Excess of anything is bad. But maintaining that state of equilibrium between greed and conscience is a very delicate affair and an extremely difficult one. As of now, democracy is our best bet. But what's next?

Office Worn

2008-07-06T13:59:00.001+05:30

It is not surprising that you tend to remember people's clothes in
your office. Most people have a limited set. Some have a larger set.
Every one wears his clothes on a rotational basis. The idea is to
remove, as much as possible, the memory of that dress from heads of
your colleagues. People don't forget really, but at least they wont
remember it distinctly being worn sometime recently. Is it snobbish?
Pretentious? Persnickety? It is most certainly wide spread. What is
the optimum time before you can repeat a shirt or a saree or a top?
One week? Two weeks? Considering five working days, I would need 10
shirts to have a two-week rotation for each shirt.
Ummmm...ummmm...blah blah blah.

Anupam is...

2008-06-21T14:25:00.001+05:30

I am a social Road Runner. I keep in touch with all my friends. I know what they're up to, how they're doing, what their kids and wives are doing and who is about to have an affair. I know their deepest emotions, greatest joys, biggest fears. I get blow-by-blow account of their mood shifts. I know where they are and what they're doing and what they're planning to do and perhaps will not do. I know what they're hinting at and when they're bluffing. I know when their Sensex is going up and when their fortunes are about to fall. They tell me everything, reveal all and are not shy to open up. Not just to me, but perhaps to the entire world. I aint no magician. It's not my touch. Just see their status on your favourite social networking site and you'll figure.

It's funny how you know more about your friends' moods, activities and plans through Orkut or Facebook, rather than a chat or meet or even email. There is something utterly functional about this, yet something extremely cold and emotionless. I don't know...maybe its just me. I orkut. I facebook (check out the verbification of those). But I guess somewhere along the way, I couldn't shake off my old-fashioned 'deviations'. There is something really really weird...almost promiscuous about broadcasting your deepest emotions on a social networking site. It's like telling the world, "'Come! Therapy me!" I tread that path cautiously. People may call me a wimp or a recluse...or even a traitor to the medium. I've tried to follow suit. I've tried to put myself 'out there'. But I could never get myself to completely expose. I would sooner go 'commando' to play Rugby.

You, human being, are unfortunate to have been caught in the Big Bang. The universe is nothing but constantly expanding. Take it as the first truth and first act. Now think about your life on this planet. It's evolving. It's changing. The species is changing and so are social dynamics. Oft repeated, an infinite loop and forever relevant, is the adage 'Change is the only constant'. If you don't surf the wave, you'll get dunked. I know, it's terrible to be on your feet constantly. But tough luck, that's how it is here. Adapt or perish (rather, get murdered). I can imagine what people felt like when Graham Bell rang in telephony. I'm sure romantics might have found the concept of purely vocal communication, without the aid of the visual, extremely pathetic, even lamentable and cruel. Some said it's a passing fad (it's as if they could see into the future!). I dread the day when I'm flooded with phone calls from friends and relatives (and sundry associates whom I owe money) asking me about my health, well being and peripherals. Why? Because my status message on some faceless book just said...

Anupam is...

A Person in Love

2008-06-09T21:42:00.003+05:30

A person in love
...can never be an atheist.
...can never be too sure.
...can never be out of hope.
...can never be God.

A person in love
...will be a little scared.
...will be a little spiritual.
...will be a little selfish.
...will be a little unsure.

A person in love
...has to keep trying.
...has to keep caring.
...has to keep giving with both hands.
...has to keep belonging heart and soul.

A person in love
...may one day cross seven seas.
...may one day soar in the skies.
...may one day bring back the moon.
...may one day become ONE.

Murders on Camera

2008-05-13T22:59:00.001+05:30

The nausea is palpable. It has always been - whenever I read about the barbarity of Gujarat riots - of ripped foetuses and ravished little girls. I cant take it anymore. I cant rationalise my/our existence along with what we do anymore. I dont think the human race deserves to survive after the evil we do and have done. What game is this? If this is how we are supposed to be, then let me not have the ability to feel the pain, to remorse, to shed tears on the mutilated genitals of an innocent man. Thinkers, citizens, sages and worldly-wise politicians - all suggest not to be sad because there is enough goodness still remaining in this world to justify our continuance as a race and to salvage us out of our misery. But tell that to the man whose children were chased around before being hacked, piece by piece, in front of his eyes. Aren't we somehow a part of that brutal melodrama? Aren't we related to those children in that faraway part of this country? Aren't we responsible somehow? I can see the salvaging goodness in me, my friends, my family and several general people all around me. But somehow, all that goodness does not aggregate in a way to compensate for all the evil in us and for all the vile, ugly things we have done. It's just not fair! And I can't take it any more. I wish an asteroid would hit us and wipe out the human race. I wish an earthquake would flatten us all. I wish a black plague would make us extinct. We all deserve to die. Either that, or just me.

She

2008-05-13T22:51:00.001+05:30

She is still a wisp of imaginary mist floating somewhere in eternity.
She's like a wide open door, beyond which there are wide-open skies.
She is not a person, she is a feeling.
Something that everybody wants to feel in himself.
She's the alter ego I always wanted.

Deprivation

2008-05-13T22:43:00.004+05:30

Only few things in this world make it worth living - beauty of nature, music, and the love of your child. And the irony is that we're stuck within walls, inside cubicles without being able to enjoy any of the three - nature, music or your child's company - trying to eke out a living that does not leave life worth living. We're living in just thoughts of these beautiful things: company of child in the evening, smell of a flower someday and FM radio in the car. We try to snatch 'quality time' from our 'scheduled automaton' of a life. We feel guilty both ways - at home and in the office, and along the way too. We look forward to the next weekend from this weekend. The weekend seems to be the sanctuary where all our troubles and all our fears will be resolved. The weekend is the place where we will be reunited with our loves and loved ones. But weekend is the only time when you get to pay your bills, fix your car, do your accounts, fix the broken stuff around the home. And then there's just enough time left for you to catch up on some sleep to compensate for the entire week's deprivation.

Uncomplicated

2008-02-29T11:40:00.001+05:30

Have you ever heard the wind blow through the leaves of a Peepal tree on a sunny spring afternoon? The patter-tapper of thousands of green hearts beating against each other? It sounds more like a buzz, a hum, a constant exhortation, a celebration of freedom; or maybe of love of the leaves with the wind. The afternoon sun, with its weak yellow, almost amber light, filtering through those leaves and playing with their shadows, making it look like a carnival is on in broad daylight. Go closer, push your face into the forest of innocent vibes that have no meaning and no purpose. Do you feel the peace, the calm, and yes, the joy? Don't you wish your life was as uncomplicated? Think about it, empty your mind. Yes, you ARE like that. You were born like that. Go back. Deep and far back. You will see the wind of sensations blow nonchalantly through the leaves of your mind. Oh yes, you are OK. Yeah, I'm OK. I'm good.

Kickback Grandé

2007-11-26T16:25:00.000+05:30

When it comes to the sheer scale of corruption, we Indians are nothing short of nanobots. Western nations exist at the scale of Diplodocus Giganticus! Poor Rajiv Gandhi got bludgeoned for a measly 64 crores of Indian Rupees and the ghost of the Bofors Scandal has never left the tail of the Congress party. Fortunately for them, corruption in India has risen like the inflation and the Dearness Allowance paid to Central Government employees. 600 crores of Lalloo's is a benchmark now. But the UP bureaucrat who got caught recently is insisting on putting all politicians to shame. I kinda feel happy that Indians have so much loose cash to grease palms. On the other hand I feel sad that majority of Indians are getting cheated out of some quality public utility.

International defence procurements and kickback-grandé go hand in hand. Since childhood I've been shocked and very much amused at how governments pay off governments so that one government can order stuff from another government. Defence manufacturers world over, be it Bofors or BAE or Boeing, are privately held only for the name. They are government enterprises for all practical reasons. They get subsidies, research and technical support, and they even get commercial intelligence through commercial espionage by the country's spy agency. The embassies of their countries go whole-heartedly into promoting their cause. Their parliamentary representatives push their case whenever they visit the buying nation. Is this their weakness or their strength that they have to seek government support? And why this blatant acceptance of bribery in Defence deals the world over? Shouldn't business logic and economics triumph automatically?

Here is an article that puts several things into perspective. I really liked this insightful article into corruption in defence deals. It's a backgrounder on the ongoing Saudi-BAE corruption scandal. It's fun to see the Americans walking over red hot coals coz of this deal! ;)

ETHICS ARE DEAD. LONG LIVE BAE!
Larry Elliott, economics editor
Monday December 18, 2006
The Guardian

Imagine that you are the French trade minister, keen to derail the global trade talks for fear that they will result in a wholesale dismantling of the Common Agricultural Policy. It's been an uphill struggle but at last help is at hand.
The next time Tony Blair calls Jacques Chirac to insist that he must face down protests from angry French farmers and stand up for free trade, there is a perfect one-word response: BAE.
Imagine you are the leader of a small, poor, African country with a troubled past and a cavalier approach to pluralism and democracy. Indeed, the crackdown on dissidents has become so blatant in recent months that the Department for International Development will cut off British aid unless the standard of governance is improved. As Hilary Benn repeats his prime minister's mantra - help for Africa is a deal for a deal, aid in return for a crackdown on corruption - you whisper one word: BAE. Read more..

The Tatas are planning to get into the Military-Industrial Complex in a big way. With their strict adherence to ethics, will they be able to survive?

Why was Robert Killed?

2007-11-22T22:42:00.000+05:30

I just finished watching the movie 'Bobby' based on the events leading to the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy. The movie ends with the following speech. As I heard the speech, I was surprised at how relevant it is now as it was then! Haven't we changed at all? What about America? This was in 1968. Robert Kennedy was championing withdrawing from Vietnam and end to the rift between races. Where has US come since then? Who killed Bobby? Why did he have to die? Just because he was on the side of what humanity actually stands for? What lessons can India derive from the history of our Democratic elder?

The movie is a good watch but the following speech is a must read! If you can hear it toward the end of the movie, the whole speech will actually hit you.

Remarks of Senator Robert F. Kennedy to the Cleveland City Club, Cleveland, Ohio, April 5, 1968, aka, "On Mindless Menace Of Violence" speech.

"This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity to speak briefly to you about this mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.

It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one – no matter where he lives or what he does – can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on.

Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr’s cause has ever been stilled by his assassin’s bullet.

No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of the people.

Whenever any American’s life is taken by another American unnecessarily – whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence – whenever we tear at the fabric of life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.

"Among free men,” said Abraham Lincoln, “there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lose their cause and pay the costs.”

Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire weapons and ammunition they desire.

Too often we honor swagger and bluster and the wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach nonviolence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.

Some looks for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear; violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleaning of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.

For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly, destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is a slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.

This is the breaking of a man’s spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all. I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we known what must be done. “When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies – to be met not with cooperation but with conquest, to be subjugated and mastered.

We learn, at the last, to look at our bothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community, men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear – only a common desire to retreat from each other – only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this there are no final answers.

Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is now what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of human purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.

We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of all. We must admit in ourselves that our own children’s future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.

Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanish it with a program, nor with a resolution.

But we can perhaps remember – even if only for a time – that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short movement of life, that they seek – as we do – nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.

Surely this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our hearts brothers and countrymen once again." (Source)

Click here to listen to the speech.

Dudette Discovers Garlic!

2007-10-25T11:25:00.000+05:30

FADE IN.

GREATER KAILASH, SOUTH DELHI BUNGALOW. A POSH HOUSE TASTEFULLY FURNISHED.
The camera pans the drawing room and moves toward the kitchen as Dudette passes in front of the camera straying into the kitchen by mistake.
INT. KITCHEN. DAY.
Mom has a white thing in her right hand, trying to crush it on the kitchen granite slab.

DUDETTE
Mom what is that?

MOM
It's a pod of garlic beta.

DUDETTE
Garlic as in garlic bread and vampires?

MOM
Ummmm...yes.

DUDETTE
Pod as in IPod?

MOM
Ummmmm...distantly related.

DUDETTE
Wow! Cool! Wait till I tell my friends
that garlic came from IPods!

MOM
No no it's just the word! Actually
garlic came first. Try to...

DUDETTE
Yeah whatever mom. What are you doing
with it?

MOM
I'm removing its skin.

DUDETTE
Oh okay. But why are you killing it?

MOM
Oh, I'm just crushing its knotty head
so that its easier to peel its skin!

DUDETTE
Awesome mom! Can you imagine the world's
reaction when it knows how easy it is to
skin a garlic pod? Wait, let me record
this on my cell. It will get millions of
hits on YouTube! I'll be famous! I'll be
rich!

Mom slaps her forehead with her left palm and shakes her head left to right looking down at the garlic pod.

DUDETTE
Hahahahaha! That was so funny! Wait wait,
do that again, do that again!

FADE INTO BLACK.

Sacrificial Pyre

2007-10-25T08:23:00.000+05:30

Dear Editor,

I have tears in my eyes.
I don't know what to do with them.

I sit here in my room
with your paper in my hands
reading the gory tale of horror
where a bank manager, a lawyer,
a panwalla and a broker,
all common Indians created
a bonfire of their neighbours.
Roasted them alive in the name of
religion, without feeling the pain
or the fear of the fifty odd
innocents trapped inside
that house, hiding their babies
in their bosoms and wombs,
their fathers, mothers and infirms;
they who could neither fight nor
take flight. Just shout.
And scream and scream as the
searing flames gnawed on their
helpless skins. While their
neighbours outside celebrated
with joy, the victory of their
religion over weak, innocent,
scared and nondescript humans,
like butter into the sacrificial fire.
I want to see that god to whom
this pyre of a sacrifice was
meant to please.
I want to see his face once before I die.

I hope he has tears in his eyes.
And I hope he knows what to do with them.

Yours...

Immigration and the True Citizen

2007-10-19T09:49:00.000+05:30

There is a huge debate going on in UK, Europe and other nations that attract immigrants in large numbers. In light of terror threats, governments have come to the realisation that immigrants are just not immersed enough into the culture and tradition of their host nations. Therefore, they feel disjointed from the society and harbour a deep sense of disenchantment and dislike that expresses itself in the form of terrorism or support for radical causes. Hence, the governments feels that the best way to resolve this issue is to 'localise' the immigrants and give them 'strong incentives' to adapt to their host's systems. Governments are not understanding that you cannot force-feed culture. Migrations and the results thereof are much more complicated than asking people to take a quiz that they can just mug up. Immigration is neither a win-win nor a lose-lose game. You win some, you lose some.

Human beings have always migrated - to look for food, shelter, safety or conducive weather. Most people who are migrating to UK and Europe from elsewhere are still looking for the same. These people are not migrating to a culture or religion. They are migrating to money, to a legal system. They are not beggars who need to be grateful to a benevolent Britain. Most of them are fortune hunters who had to go through severe hardships - to reach Britain, and even after reaching there, just to find their feet. They have worked hard and are still working very hard because they know they are in an unlike country, a dissimilar nation. They're not good with the language or the culture but that doesn't dismay them because there's good money to be made and they always have their own culture and religion to take solace from. The immigrants win some. And so do the hosts. Immigrants effectively lower costs of basic services. Young immigrants make sure that the demographics are not uneconomically skewed on the side of the elderly. Immigrants supply skilled and unskilled labour in severely shortaged markets. They also pump in huge tax dollars into the exchequer.

It is the power of economics exerting an influencing force on culture, tradition, systems, laws and government. If you cant take the change then forget about the economic benefits. Concessions have to be made, tolerance has to be shown. In search for the definition of a pure and true citizen, we must not insist on a rapid or drastic cultural adaptation. It is neither fair nor practical. Which South Asian ever emigrated to UK because he loved Fish-n-chips or felt grateful toward the Magna Carta? While asking the question about the true meaning of Britishness, people are forgetting that the world has moved on. Just as the moon exerts some influence on the earth's orbit and makes it a little wobbly, so will immigrants exert some influence on the culture of their hosts. Thats been happening for thousands of years in India. India was supposed to be a sexually liberal nation at some point in history. You have to see our temples to believe it. Where did Kamasutra come from? So what happened in between? How come we've become such prudes now?

Cultural change due to migration of human population is like mixing two matters with dissimilar properties. For instance, hot water and cold water. Put more hot water and you'll scald yourself. Put more cold water and you'll freeze. Too much of hot water changes the character of the water towards the hotter side. Similarly too much cold water changes the character of the water towards to colder side. But its never completely hot or completely cold; unless there is massive invasion of one matter. Then the identity of one engulfs the identity of the other. Immigration is like that. If original white Anglo-Saxons think that they can sit easy and politely ask the immigrants to try and gradually become more 'British' then they are in for a big disappointment. If you allow immigration, be prepared to get influenced in some ways. Prepare to change your own culture in some ways. Friction and turbulence are given. The definition of a 'British' person changes every time a new person crosses the immigration desks of Heathrow.

Is the approach of governments right? We need to define what a nation stands for. What is the definition of culture, identity and boundaries in this age of mixing and mingling. I insist on the basics. What makes a nation what it is? What are the values that attract immigrants? Where does the safety, the shelter, the food and the prosperity stem from? Where is the culture of the nation - on its face or in its heart? Multicultural democracies like India, UK or USA cannot be defined by one culture or one religion or even one political party. These nations can only be defined in terms of values - values that are enshrined in our founding documents - freedom, equality, opportunity to pursue happiness, and so on. The British government must relay messages of these basic values rather than external manifestations of culture. UK must help the new members of the British family to understand that the safety, security and prosperity that they have come to ticks because of these reasons.

"This nation is not what it is because women here do not wear burqas, but because women and men are treated equally. This nation is not what it is because people can speak English, but because everyone can understand each other, speak freely and express anything. This nation is not free and fair because it is populated by rich white men, but because long time back in its history, a great document called the 'Magna Carta' was written and adopted. Beyond this, you are most welcome to love(or hate) either Fish-n-chips or Hilsa in mustard gravy!"

Tips for a Good Morning Walk

2007-10-16T12:33:00.001+05:30

[Glorious outcome of a recent bout of insomnia, acquisition of heavily discounted walking shoes, and mending of centrally torn track pants.]

Wash your face, brush and have half a glass of water before you leave. It helps to feel fresh and recharged and alert enough to avoid the odd early morning rash driver.
Leave five minutes before sunrise so that you can watch the sun rise over the horizon just as you're beginning. It’s beautiful! Like a bright orange Poppins sneaking out of its hiding place.
Don't drive your way to the nearest park. Your tubeless radials will lose weight, not you.
Don’t force yourself to walk fast. At least to begin with, in the first few days while you're still gathering the enthusiasm, just amble, just stroll aimlessly, saunter, drift, meander, loiter leisurely. Look around. Take in the sights and sounds. Think of childhood games and sports. Or don’t think at all.
If you're as lazy as I am, then don’t impose a target or objective on yourself. You will never wake up in the first place! Mind games! These days, the objective is not to lose weight or become thin. The objective it to prevent muscular atrophy and joint logjams.
Keep changing your routes. It’s boring to go round and round the park bumping into the same people who you've seen everyday but don’t know anything about. Also, its really really awkward!
Avoid routes where disadvantaged people relieve themselves. Respect their privacy and your olfactory nerves.
Talk to dogs on the way. Shoo away cats. Shout at birds. Stay out of the way of cows and bulls.
Don’t make eye contact with anyone you can’t talk to. And if you do have company, then talk lightly, don't shout like a hick.
Don’t stare at women, fat people and people making strange movements and sounds. Be conscious of your own gender, flab and wrong timing of birth.
Dress flatteringly. No point flaunting your skinny calves, flabby triceps and sagging gluteus maximus. It’s important to look stylish so that everyone can enjoy the view in the park.
Hum. Occasionally.
Travel light. Just carry your tiniest cell phone. Or none at all. Leave your wallet at home. You can’t buy your way to good health. Don't expect to get solicited either.
Walk for at least 20 minutes. Or just enough for you to not scramble to reach for your inhaler.
Don't get too ambitious too soon. Get medical insurance before you bust a lung or pop a vein.
Jogging is NOT walking. It's a whole different ballgame that is outside the purview of my experience, understanding and imagination. It's a separate matter that I don't have medical insurance either.
Walk close to home just in case you need to rush back to take an urgent call from nature.
When you're back home, don’t lose the get-up immediately. Preserve the show for some time. Feel the health seeping in. Watch the smugness on your face in a full length mirror. Feel the adipose being disposed. Walk around or read the paper like that till you start feeling too hot for comfort. Or till your better half reminds you of you being the worse half.

----

Jokes apart, this blog post is the most popular on my godforsaken blog. Lots of people come here looking for genuine information on walking and morning walks. I almost feel like a cheat by making light of the whole thing :) So I thought I should add some 'useful' information. Here are some links:

I hope this helps. Let me know.

Terror Fatigue

2007-10-15T21:29:00.000+05:30

My Dear Terrorist fiend,

At the risk of being called insensitive toward your cause, let me just give you a heads-up - terror fatigue has set in. Your TRPs(Terror Rating Points) have fallen drastically and the Indian public is neither amused nor saddened by your show. There is no shock, there is no awe, there is not even one hee-haw. Your indiscriminate bombing of poor helpless souls is boring, tedious and old news. One looks much like the other and no one remembers which was the last one. Your 'bijli bums' are bummers leaving audience scratching their bums and wondering what was that all about. You think you're having an orgy of gore, but no one in the public is having an orgasm; just bore. Come on! Excite us! Use your imagination! Give us a show that we can gossip about even a week later! Dont forget that you're competing with scores of 'saas' and hundreds of 'bahus'. Even an afternoon soap causes more heartburn on a daily basis than you do in an entire year.

I say, if you really have to massacre in acres, why mow the people who still sow? Why kill people of faith, and those who still have faith; lives that make this nation valuable and yet are not valuable lives? Talking about 'valuable lives', the Indian public still fondly recalls the day when you guys decided to flush the house of representatives off the representatives. But your hand just didn't reach the lever. Don't you want publicity? How can you get publicity without becoming public? Why don't you show your face? Why don't you engage? We don't even know who you are or what you want anymore! What is worse is that we really don't care anymore! Your bips and boops of cellphone bombs are neither catching the signal, nor taking a call. Even Andrew Symmond's outburst makes a bigger bang than your burst out. You're hurting innocent individuals but your random pokes carry nothing but nuisance value for a nation as vast and varied as India. Get real, willya?!

I would think that you need some consultants from Hollywood to jazz up your show. Or maybe some wedding planners from Delhi to add masala to your pelvic bursts. But the problem is that the people don't really know what you stand for. You don't represent a demand; you represent frisking at malls, random roadblocks and breaking news. Thats it! You're so annoying that you cant be called a terrorist (maybe annoyist!). Your fundamentals are so screwed up that you cant be called a fundamentalist. You're hardly causing a movement to be called a revolutionary. And I wont insult any religion by calling you a holy warrior. You still don't get it, do you? In a democracy like India, the chorus is more popular than the lead singer. So where is your voice? Where is your chorus? Where is your real protest? You will find that in India, its easier to wash off blood stains from the floor than a mass movement from popular consciousness. If there is any truth in your claim, then why don't you ask for it? Come out, congregate and shout! And for a change, try something that really worked - Satyagraha.

Hope you're not doing well.
Please don't take care.

Yours dead bored,

AC.

Realpolitik Republik of Pakistan

2007-10-14T17:01:00.000+05:30

I don't know how many people in India or abroad would be admirers of Pakistan, but in a world where every major power is just dying to screw your sovereignty, I cannot help having a grudging admiration of the Islamic Republic. It feels good to see at least one nation clutching the balls of two big powers and screwing the rest of the world without a tinge of worry for the future. I sometimes feel amazed at how Pakistan has been able to lie in the same bed with two bitter rivals - US and China - at the same time! The puppet seems to have become the puppeteer! Nothing has been able to budge Pakistan from those two nations' favourites list. Not even 9/11. Pakistan has always received American aid and Chinese weapon systems. 9/11 just increased the flow.

If you want to learn realpolitik, become a Pakistani diplomat. I think they are the best diplomats in the world. I mean, just look at what all they have to defend - military dictatorship, nuclear bazaarisation, religious radicalism, promoting/harbouring terrorists, human rights violations, Taleban and Osama connections, honour killings and rapes and what not. And yet, they speak proudly and defend vociferously. This despite their constant flip-flops between causes - for taleban/against taleban; for democracy/against democracy; for the bomb/against the bomb; for India/against India. Lets call it their 'diploggression'.

Imran Khan recently proclaimed that Pakistan is a Banana Republic. Who do you blame? The Soviets for occupying Afghanistan? Or further back, the British for cleaving the subcontinent? Apparently, there is no place for scruples in international diplomacy. In a world where increasingly greed and myopia are veiled as realpolitik and passed off as pragmatism, a nation has to be on its constant guard so that it is not caught with it's pants down and gets buggered by sundry kings and king makers. There is no substitute for a national conscience. Pakistan seemingly doesn't have one. But then you can't blame her. Between a rock and a hard place, conscience seldom comes to your rescue.

But is Pakistan really a Banana Republic? How is it working? Isn't the General governing the nation well enough? Aren't the systems working? Isn't trade and economy booming in Pakistan? Isn't Pakistan making good use of the Americans and Chinese? Or is she still their stooge? Hasn't Pakistan developed better relations with India? She may not have a conscience, but doesn't she have ample judgment? Who is thinking this up? My question is, who is really controlling Pakistan these days? And herein lies the seed for my next article, my wackiest conspiracy theory.

New Lands to Explore, New Wars to Wage

2007-10-01T10:09:00.000+05:30

US started an Africa Command yesterday (see news article). Promises a lot of media excitement in the next 100 years. The Dark Continent is soon going to have arc lights planted across its length and breadth. New oil, new dictators, new puppets, new intrigues, new rogue states, new terrorist masterminds, new operations, new democratisations and lots of new promise for many future US presidents. Like common men need God, politicians need issues. Africa promises loads.

From my scale of global events, India and China are old news. Africa is a timed explosive device that is going to boom anytime soon. It is not just a hinterland for your raw materials, it is going to be a significant market and a strong influencer of world events. I think in another 10-15 years we will stop referring to Africa en masse, and start referring to the individual nations, like, Burundi, Chad or Western Sahara. Depends on who first gets under the benevolent gaze of crusaders of the free world.

African nations are getting rich and smart simultaneously and hence are resisting international arm twisting. For a change, they are looking after their national interests. Oil is pumping money into the veins of African nations. Sudan, Zimbabwe and Somalia have already made names for themselves by mooning US and other western powers. God only knows how much more wealth is lurking in the belly of that dark continent.

China has already set up large field camps which dole out generous aid and take out generous minerals. Indians are thinking. Europeans had cut up the cake and distributed it amongst themselves in the 1900s only. So they have their children playing hide and seek all around the park. Poor Americans are way behind. They never got to become imperialists (they got to play only consumers of trade in 'bonded human workers' from Africa). Now they have an opportunity to make up for it. But you never know...maybe CIA already has plans to lodge Condiben as a Hutu warlord in hotel Rwanda.

US's growing interest in Africa is going to bring a lot of necessary attention to a continent that has been treated like a step sister by rest of the continents. In the end, everything is the same. But there are miles to go before we reach the end. And those miles are going to be littered with exciting milestones. So media companies, start stocking up on arc lights and digicams.

I can see Ladenbhai taking Swahili lessons.

Nothing Changes the World

2007-09-30T04:57:00.001+05:30

There is nothing that changes the world, I posit.
I don't know why I said that, but I said it.
And here's the thesis unfurled;
There is nothing that changes the world.

Neither love, nor a shove.
Neither peace, nor caprice.
Neither books, nor crooks.
Neither sex, nor a hex.
Neither pictures, nor scriptures.
Neither threat, nor a bet.
Neither god, nor a broad.
Neither poker, nor a smoker.
Neither yes men, nor god men.
Neither deity, nor piety.
Neither alms, nor qualms.
Neither boredom, nor freedom.
Neither you, nor your view.
Neither I, nor my cry.
Neither nerds, nor words.
Neither mimes, nor forced rhymes.

And finally, neither does this silly poem.
(That doesn't rhyme with anything, ahem!)

Nothing changes the world, I still insist.
But if change is something you want in your midst,
Then my dear shrink-wrapped Freud,
Wait for the next asteroid.

P2P 2 Networked Brains

2007-09-03T08:50:00.000+05:30

Nicole Kidman's latest movie "Invasion" is a little low on the scare quotient. Or so I thought. But fear is not what I wish to talk about here. There were other such movies in the past. We call them Zombie movies. Like "Night of the Living Dead". Expressionless, man-subjugating, blood-sucking part-human and past-human creatures that strangely move in a regimented fashion. A friend found it interesting that so many people could share a common thought and a common purpose. So, doesn't that make zombies better than us? Interesting thought. No wonder that in 'Invasion' all world problems seemed to get resolved by the common cause alien zombies. Can we ever develop brains like zombies?

Just a thought. Peer-to-peer file sharing - millions of computers worldwide networked through instantaneous connections, hosting games, music, movies, porn and God knows what else. Isn't this the precursor of a singular entity-like humongous hard disk cum operating system? Sun Microsystems proudly says that "The Network is the Computer." Sun sees a future where your digital work, play and identity are all 'online'. Google is already cashing in on this convergence phenomenon (Google knows everything about you). Predicting this future was never difficult. One look at the Zombie movies and you can predict even farther. Internet is already a sort of common cause, a universal transport bus. When computers are networked, they 'talk'. Soon P2P networks will evolve into machines with shared operating systems and hard disks; machines that share infrastructure (processors), defence (anti-virus and firewalls), money (credits and bandwidth), tools (applications) and finally the most zombiesque of all qualities - a common cause (seen I, Robot!?).

All that leads to here. Let me bend the space-time continuum and take a quantum leap into the future of digits without shifting any paradigms. I see what? I see Matrix-like brains that can be plugged into your reigning digital machine using a wireless technology (called 'Yellowtooth'??). I shift the slider on the time scale a little and it gets more interesting. I see Person-to-Person networking by connecting the minds of all humans on this planet (and elsewhere). At the thought of a click, you are connected to the brain of a man relieving himself in the loo of a crater-side cafe on Jupitor's moon Titan. Implications and possibilities - Sahil can scrap Sagarika from a beach and Sagarika can text Sahil from the middle of the ocean - different galaxies, if you want. John can check out Jenny's lesbian memories and Jenny can check out John's SuperPowerPoint slides. No need to download anything at all! Just browse! The next step? A common cause. When our survival depends on a resource that itself depends on we all holding it up together, then a common cause emerges (think, the Earth). Here comes the scary thought - could we turn into zombies in the future? Could we become so much like each other that we're indistinguishable? Could we agree so much that all dissent is banned? Finally, could we invade planets using our seamlessly communicating minds? Maybe fear is what I want to talk about!

But thank God for the double helix that humans are neither a common cause nor a common thought life form. We humans crave to retain our genetic identity by compromising our consciousness induced standards. Somehow our survival not only depends on having variety in physical characteristics, but also in thoughts. Still waters stagnate. For growth, it is important to question established thoughts as well as the establishment. To disagree on the way to an agreement is the best form of decision making. That is why Democracy rocks!

Last request - with the future in mind, could we at least agree on a common cause? Or two? One - saving the Earth. And two - not checking out Jenny's memories.

Fate and Defeat of the Individual

2007-08-31T08:04:00.000+05:30

Its not easy being an atheist. Who do you complain to when things don't go right? To yourself? To the earth? To space? Or to a book on probability?

What is the probability of things screwing up for you? If you believe in probability, then the probability is a rational number. What do you call it when it feels like there are other-worldly forces conspiring against you? Spooky! You don't believe in destiny, but can you call this even destiny? A bad phase even? Is there a fate machine that some alien keeps tweaking for his own enjoyment?

Do you believe in fate? Doomed if you do, doomed if you don't. We human beings don't want the truth! We just want a simple explanation. Like God, for instance. It is such a defeat of the individual to fall on his knees and plead for deliverance. Sick! Sicker even, if it works.

His legs are bent and he may be on his knees soon. So what if his spirit is crushed under some mighty cosmic thumb, at least the rest of him will survive! What ego shall he nurture? We all live a pretense anyway.

hw dz it mattr nywayz?

2007-05-31T12:01:00.000+05:30

Middle-aged, potbellied and hairy Rajiv Ji enters the cyber cafe with his lanky teenage son Ishaan in tow. Rajiv ji is wearing an oversized t-shirt over longish ‘shorts’ and pair of worn hawai chappals. Ishaan is wearing a black tee, blue jeans, black sandals and a sombre look.

Rajiv ji to cyber café guy: “We want to check IIT-JEE results. My son heard that they’re releasing it online today.”
“Do you have an account Sir?”
“No.”
“Ok, you could browse for an hour for 20 Rupees or you could take a membership and one month validity coupon for 50 Rupees.”
“I don’t have much work, so I think first option is ok.”
“Take the coupon. You can use it again if you don’t finish it today. Its valid for a month.”

Rajiv ji looks at Ishaan and asks, “What do you say? Will you use it?” Pause. Ishaan is staring at the floor. “Bolo! If you will use it then I’ll take it. Its valid for a month.” Ishaan slowly nods his bowed head from left to right, indicating ‘OK’.

Slowly, Ishaan sits on a comp. His dad sits next to him. Ishaan opens a notebook. Reads something from it. Carefully types on the keyboard and a page starts downloading. Rajiv ji peers into the screen trying to decipher the digital mumbo-jumbo. Ishaan is reading the text without speaking and is clicking from time to time. Rajiv ji can read it too, but after a while he asks Ishaan.

“So? What does it say? Are the results out or not?”
“No Papa.”
“Then when is it going to come out?”
“I’m checking papa.”

After 5 minutes more of checking, Rajiv ji is impatient.

“What is it?”
“Doesn’t say anything Papa.”
“Then how will you know? Ask your friend Vidur.”
“I asked Papa. I will email them Papa.”
“Ok you do that. I’m going home now. Come back soon.”
“Ok Papa.”

Rajiv ji’s second foot was not out of the café before Ishaan’s fingers started flying across the keyboard.

“dublyoodublyoodublyoodotorkutdotcomenter.”

Ishaan’s profile photo has him in low waist anti-fits and spikey-gelled hair and his best mate Janice by his side.

23 new scraps.

Scrap from @$$k!kr: “hey hus da chix in da pix?”
Reply to @$$k!kr: “ma buddy kul 4m skul. nw fukoff k?”
Scrap from ne~^~ha: “hey hansm watz ur futr plans?”
Reply to ne~^~ha: “no idea dn care nywayz. Dads goin bzerk!”
Scrap from \/iduR: “hey bro sup? reslt ka kya hua? tensd!”
Reply to \/iduR: “No nus yt. gand fati padi hai! u cumn 2 chil @ priya evng?”
Scrap from $/\m|r: “dude u online?”
Reply to $/\m|r: “q? kya hai be? u alwyz on orkut! no odr wrk jakazz?”
Scrap from \m/ju$t|n\m/: “yo lissn lifs bitchn dun fink I’ll mak it.”
Reply to \m/ju$t|n\m/: “okzzz jus hang on. u hafta luk 4 smthn difrnt.”
Scrap to shirley: “hey babe meet me @ priya @ 7 k?”
Scrap to ananya: “hi sweets wana meet @ priya 2mrw 7?”

Ishaan hollers at the café guy, “Bhaiya! Why don’t you have limewire on this machine?”

Disco Deewane

2007-05-27T10:51:00.000+05:30

Its just a memory now. I cant even say for sure whether its true. But I remember that in the 80s, in Bombay, my parents used to host awesome parties. Red and yellow chandeliers, breezy atmosphere, latest Phillips cassette player with two separate stereophonic box speakers. Lilting music of ABBA, BoneyM and Nazia and Zoheb Hassan. Why is it important to me now? I was born in 1977 and the entire 80s was the time when I registered impressions that were going to stay with me forever. 80s was the age of Disco. I became a willing slave to that music for the rest of my life.

My eyes started heavily lacrimating, as I listened to 'Tere Qadmon Ko' by Nazia and Zoheb, today morning. I was teleported to that drawing room with dim lights. I can see my parents and their friends dance to 'Dancing Girl'(I don't know if thats how it really was. But thats how I'll always remember it.) . I can see myself jiving to 'Sunny'! I was living that joy, that hope, that carefreeness, that love, that warmth, that energy, that rhythm... that D.I.S.C.O. I was a Disco Deewana. And I still am. It would be cliched to say that they don't make music like that anymore. But let me still say for the sake of my childhood- they don't make music like that anymore.

I remember my mom loved to sing 'Tere Qadmon Ko' with a look of intense pleasure. I think she had a crush on Zoheb. But me, I was madly in love with Nazia Hassan. Ah! Nazia! I deeply loved her voice. If you could make love to a voice, listening to Nazia made me feel like hugging that voice, kissing every modulation of it, caressing every intonation of it; my soul rolling with the amplitude with its rise and fall and an orgasm at every high pitch. That smooth, finely balanced, delicate, beautiful, wise, innocent, stable, pure and slightly nasal voice in the modern, liberated, sexy setting of disco. That voice that gave you an intense emotional erection, yet instead of making love to her you would love to just keep looking at that heavenly mirage bursting with sexuality that was waiting for the slightest touch of yours. I think that voice shaped my own sexuality to a large extent. I still imagine my ideal mate exactly like that voice.

And what was about that music? That immortal, ethereal, infinite, that here to forever, that inside and everywhere music. That music that hit your head and splashed it across all known universes. That music that had just the right amount of echo. I always felt that Biddu was possessed when he composed 'Baat Ban Jaye'. And if you get the hottest item babe of that time, Zeenat, to perform that on big screen, then man!Main Insaan Hoon, Farishta Nahin...

I really don't know who that Brown Girl in the Ring was, but I sure felt like playing with her every time I heard her song. Those were good days. You could write a song on just about anything. Ma Baker or Sunny, Belfast or Rasputin. Today if Avril or Christina sang about Darfur or Putin, the music company will perhaps go out of business. Remember 'Oceans of Fantasy'? I remember. I remember while listening to that song I could always imagine myself surfing away on a wave of psychedelic lights in a river that led into dark and vast eternity dotted with a billion little twinkling stars. Man! What was with that music?? The composer surely composed it when he/she was high on LSD or Marijuana. You could tell. You could feel.

"Can you hear the drums Fernando..." I lost touch with that music in the late 80s and entire 90s. There was a long long pause. Then, suddenly, one day in the late 90s, while watching an Australian film, Muriel's Wedding, on Star Movies, I heard 'Dancing Queen' and I sat up. As usual, whenever there is such an instant regression, my eyes welled up, goose bumps all over and throat choking, involuntary and without warning. I said what the heck! I know that music! I've heard it before. I've danced to it. And I went to the music store, bought ABBA and danced to it. "You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life..." I dug in the Dancing Queen so much that she never fails to inspire me. Although now I know that she wasn't trying to inspire a boy of 5 or 6. ;) Why did I let her go??

"Yes, I've been brokenhearted
Blue since the day we parted
Why, why did I ever let you go?
Mamma mia, now I really know,
My my, I could never let you go."

Chronicles of Bunty: It Could Be You!

2007-05-26T17:44:00.000+05:30

Bunty cut sharp left and screeched to a halt next to the footpath under a shady tree. He took out his Nokia N70 and called Pummy.

"Where are you?" he barked.

"Arre I'm just reaching na!" came the reply.

Bunty's face contorted. He made a quick calculation. 'Just reaching' would mean another 30 minutes. He replied 'ok' and disconnected. 30 minutes to kill! No point in getting bored inside the SUV even though it was slightly hot outside in the May morning.

Bunty got off his limited edition black Safari and adjusted his tight shirt's unbuttoned top button. He shook his hairy wrists and got his gold bracelets into position. He pulled up his Diesel jeans and knocked his pointy leather shoes on the tarmac. He looked left and right through his oversized shades and walked to the cold-water vendor on the footpath.

"How much for a glass?" he asked.

"Fifty paise, saab."

"Ok. And how much with Lime?"

"Two rupees."

There was a pause while Bunty inspected the cart leaking saline water from its bottom. Bored, he shifted his attention to Bidi-Cigarette vendor.

"Saab, should I give you a glass?" asked the water vendor.

Bunty turned sharply and said half laughing and half mocking, "Abe you have understood me a chutiya? I dont want to die by drinking your water!"

The water vendor was dejected. The Bidi vendor heard this and tried not to catch Bunty's gaze. Luckily, Delhi in May of 2007 wasn't as hot as most years. So you could stand outside in the mornings at least. Shades were especially cool. That, and his boredom, prompted Bunty to hum the latest Himesh Reshammiya number, a bit too loudly.

A traffic cop drove up and parked his yellow, aged and thumping bullet behind Bunty's Safari. He removed his helmet and took out what used to be a white handkerchief and wiped his face.

He looked at the SUV and then at Bunty and asked, "Is everything alright?"

Bunty stopped humming and straightened up and replied in a friendly manner, "Ya ya, just waiting for someone Sir."

The cop began watching the streaming traffic keenly. Within no time he took a step forward and extended his two and half feet hand and blocked the twenty feet road. A hapless scooterist was caught in the net. The pillion rider didn't have a helmet on.

"License and registration please" ordered the cop.

Bunty was watching this with much amusement. One thought crossed his mind. "Chutiye saale!" A grin plastered across his face. After some negotiations, the transaction was done and the scooter was allowed to proceed. Bunty stepped up to the cop to strike a conversation. He still had some time to kill. And no one like a cop for some masculine BC-MC chitchat. He might as well make up for the mush-talk time he's going to spend with his nagging girlfriend during the next two days in Kasauli.

"Haraamzaade, never seem to learn!" started Bunty, "And then they blame the traffic police of harassing them..."

The cop took the friendly cue, "Yeah! You tell me, what more can we do if these village idiots act like animals? How can we educate them? They don’t understand the laws or the traffic signs..."

Bunty asked with a crooked smile, "So how much did you fine them?"

"He he he...forty bucks" said the cop with a grin, "Poor buggers needed money for lunch. I'm a fair person you know..."

"How's the business doing these days?" Bunty dared further, knowing that Delhi cops are very friendly if you talk to them in a friendly and knowing manner.

"Things have actually improved after the orders of the High Court. People never learn you know. They still drive rashly, still don’t get pollution check done and still talk on phone while driving. With the higher fines, they're keener to deal with us than going to court. So yeah, things are looking up!" said the cop with a smile of contentment.

Suddenly the cop jumped and darted to the middle of the road and stopped a cargo company's Maruti Van. Traffic cops had 'Spider Sense' for violaters. The driver was taking instructions on his mobile.

"Licence and registration please." Another round of negotiations followed. Bunty was by the side of the cop this time but didn't open his mouth. Transaction closed at Rs. 100 and both of them retreated to the shade.

"Today is the first birthday of the Sub Inspector's son. We're all contributing. I have to finish this before midday. No point standing here in the heat." the cop said.

"Oh ok. I too want to move before it gets too hot. Driving to the hills for the weekend. With my girlfriend." Bunty said with a wink.

Bunty got a call from a business associate of his father's and assured the 'uncle' that he will definitely visit the vendor 'tomorrow' and get the work done. The traffic flow had reduced to a trickle. The cop was getting impatient.

"How fast does that go?" he asked looking at Bunty's Safari.

"Fast enough to tear apart other car's asses!" guffawed Bunty.

The Cop went up to the Safari and walked around it appreciating. It was one mammoth machine with huge Hankook tyres, beautiful golden trim, VIP dark film and sexy fancy number plates. Bunty walked along with him gloating over his possession. When they got back to the rear, he asked, "How did you like her?"

The cop looked disinterestedly at his wrist watch and then at the sun's angle, and said,

"License and registration please."

Just Another Girl

2007-05-23T14:45:00.000+05:30

Mary Magdalene in the City of Djinns,
took upon herself the curses of mankind.
With a fragile dignity you carry on
the fate you have been consigned.

The Father dealt you an ugly hand
and you are reluctant to contend.
But the game tumbles inexorably
towards its logical end.

Late breezy evening you look up and wonder,
"A star maybe soon, but is this what I want?"
A daydream or night one, its all the same to you.
Nearsighted, censored, nightmares that haunt.

"What will I do with dreams
that come with no wings to fly?
With not even limbs to walk, to keep breathing,
a sick joke on which to rely."

Inevitability has made you bigger
than we ever could be.
Near and dear and loved ones here,
you revel in their victory.

A momentary scorn, the peak of protest,
but thats not your memory.
Hop skip and jump with family and friends,
are your three steps to glory.

Mary you lie on a bed of needles,
in a slumber of anyone's ability.
And every drop that springs from you
is a path to immortality.

Let me hold an earthen pot
and feed the children where it begins.
Let them know the inferno you walk
to take away their sins.

Let me sit by your side
and caress your scar turned blue.
Let me drink from that spring of pain
and become one with you.

You straddle the three worlds of worth
and know what happens eventually.
We behold your holy walk,
with dismay pretense and homily.

You turn around and smile at us,
the scared and ignorant world.
Your eyes whimper, dark deep and moist,
"I'm just another girl."

The Ordeal

2007-05-21T18:11:00.000+05:30

I felt a great surge of agitation envelope me. I did not know if I was dead or alive. I realised I was in one of those deep slumbers that makes you feel almost dead. Was I having a nightmare? The ringing of the distant mountain bells was coming closer and closer. Finally it pierced my skull and started drilling into the grey matter within. It was intolerably painful! I regained some consciousness - it was the wake-up alarm of my cell phone.

I willed it to switch off automatically. But that didn't happen. I fumbled along my bedside like a drunk and managed to get hold of the phone. It felt like eons before I could manage to switch it off. And then the peace that followed was enormous! But the realisation that it was the first day of 2003 AD and I had to go to work soon made that feeling very temporary.

Delhi was having a very chilly winter. The warm blanket felt like a mother's womb. It was 6 am. I knew that it would take me another twenty minutes to muster up enough courage to expose myself to my cold room. I lay there thinking and gathering will power.

I thought about the people I loved and the people who loved me. I planned the day's work. I wondered about my next assignment. I felt bad for the condition of the world. I decided not to have breakfast. I tried to cook up an excuse against getting married anytime soon, that I could give to my parents. Somehow all my problems seemed to get solved if I could just do one thing right now - go back to sleep!

I was warm but stiff. I tried moving my arms, but no success. Wiggled my toes - some success. Let me try and move a bit. I'll open my eyes the last; no point in feeling any worse than I already am. It took so much planning just to get out of bed on a winter morning. But it wasn't working. Finally, with a quick jerk, I threw the blanket onto one side and sat upright. I was numb. I opened my eyes but didn't move them. I was born! First day of the rest of my life! Quietly I cursed to myself, "Happy New Year asshole!"

Somehow, surviving in adverse conditions gives you a kind of satisfaction that you do not get in normal and more comfortable situations. There is an immense sense of achievement even out of small things like getting up in the morning or driving to work through thick fog. You feel good about yourself. That was a challenge - a compulsory one - and I made it! Its my accomplishment for the day!

Two hours later I was done with the newspaper, tea, motions, shave, bath and dressed to kill. I locked the house and strode off to the car with a purpose in life. I don't know what it was, but I felt it there - somewhere within.

I did have breakfast - an apple.

Nothing But Fragile

2007-05-20T15:08:00.000+05:30

A blade cuts a finger.
I bleed and hurt.
I trip on a pebble.
My face is in the dirt.
I am nothing but
fragile.

Love cut my heart.
Heart bled to death.
A tear drops with every breath.
I am nothing but
fragile.

I am betrayed.
Disillusionment and hate descend.
Is this my end?
I am nothing but
fragile.

I betray.
Guilt and self-loathing ascend.
This surely is a dead-end.
I am nothing but
fragile.

I take a chance.
I lose my worth.
All hopes are abandoned.
Despair takes birth.
I am nothing but
fragile.

I say something.
They hear something.
I mean this.
She understands that.
Bridges are burnt.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Where is the sea? Where is the shore?
I am nothing but
fragile.

This thing called ego
I lug around as I go.
Bursts like a balloon with every blunt touch.
What to talk of friends?
Even my family I forgo.
I am nothing but
fragile.

After an epic climb
I finally arrive at the peak.
I know I have proven.
But now what? NOW WHAT DO I SEEK??
I wish the full stop had been a comma.
I wish the peak had been a crossroad.
I am nothing but
fragile.

To be or not to be
is the question I ask of destiny.
I wish I knew the answer she would give.
All I know is this,
my life is destiny's prerogative.
I am nothing but
fragile.

Five elements in God's five fingers.
Five zillion ways of rubbing out a life.
Five billion years the Earth has lived.
Just five seconds could wipe out her constant strife.
Hey Man! You are nothing but
fragile.

Rags to Witness

2007-05-14T23:47:00.000+05:30

Morning. Rituals. A Mug full of strong ginger tea and Hindustan Times. Like many others, there's a "Please Don't Disturb" sign hanging on my face. I don't know how many people of my generation and the subsequent generations enjoy this age old ritual these days.

The famous BMW case. The case that was the precursor for many such branded cases to come. The case that defined witness manipulation. The papers said today that the last witness is going to depose. The rest of them turned hostile. They reached a compromise or were bought off. Threats are futile. Money is a great motivator.

Raju, a peon at a small courier agency in Jangpura. Tries his best to make ends meet while chewing gutkha. His twin daughters are ready to go to school. But what about books, clothes, slates, chalks and so on? His employer sometimes borrows 502s and Rajdarbars from him. So it would be ridiculous to ask him for a raise. Punjab Kesri was always somewhere nearby. Raju was not illiterate. And definitely not stupid. He knew stuff, you know! So off he went to the temple to ask for a fair chance.

"God, you are my maibaap, you are kind, you are generous. You heart is like a river. Please cast your kind gaze upon me sometimes. I'm not asking for too much. I'm not even asking for something that is not mine. I cycle 9 kilometers every morning to office. I cycle back late sometimes. So many drunk people are driving on the roads of Delhi. Then why not give me a chance? All I ask is just one BMW or Porsche (I dont mind the brand as long as its luxury segment), one rich kid, drunk silly should provide nirvana to a fortunate soul in front of MY eyes. God all I ask is this- make me a witness! Leave the rest to me. I will earn every penny that they stuff into my mouth. God please grant this one wish and I'll put 1100 rupees worth on your feet."

So the news channels are raking up the back of Tendulkar coz he thinks his cricket strokes are nothing short of pure art. Many of us would agree. The CAG does not. They have absolutely no cricketing or artistic sense. Anyway, there's this artist category which gets substantial tax exemption. The Income Tax department will soon come up with a new category called the 'Hostile Witness' category. The Finance Secretary has noted that the government loses a lot of revenue in this category. They need to be appropriately taxed. If needed, give them a small exemption in view of the trauma they had to go through, but get them under the tax net.

I heard Witness Protection! Who said that? Who said witness protection?? Are you stupid? You think the government is stupid? Remember, the government is never stupid, just not informed enough. In this case the government knows how much it costs to protect witnesses who are better off making big bucks as hostile witnesses. The government cares for the greatest good, for the greatest numbers. There's always one victim but so many witnesses. Why victimise them? Let witness protection be the sole responsibility of the defence side. We, the government, are already burdened by the ridiculously high salary of the public prosecutor. Hey, we don't want to screw around with the Budget Deficit any more. Okay?

Rocky: A Belated Obituary

2007-04-25T17:14:00.000+05:30

The first time I met Rocky was when I moved into his neighbourhood, Andrewsganj in mid 2001. Rocky's initial belligerence was understandable. He didn't know me, I didn't know him either. But it was not long before we bonded fabulously. I guess he liked me for the way I treated him and his family. It also helped that his family loved me a lot. On the other hand, I liked him simply because..well simply because he was he.

By all calculations Rocky was middle aged. He was certainly older than either Joyattam or Jayeeta. I being the eldest of the set, perhaps he liked my mature outlook. He would get excited every time I visited their place. We would go for long walks together. He loved nature, so did I. But while I did all the talking, he would just take in the fragrances of the environment. He loved my company, I loved his. But I could never be as energetic as him.

Rocky had that senior feel about him. You would never see him prance around or get over-excited about something. He loved to rest, sleep, eat and throw an attitude. The only person he was afraid of was Kaberi aunty. Rocky was quite guarded. He loved his family and made sure that they're safe from any intrusion. If you wanted to be friends with the Dutta Roys, first you had to be friends with Rocky. Once you had Rocky's trust, you could truly enjoy the great hospitality of the Dutta Roys.

Rocky could eat like an elephant and Kaberi aunty is a great cook. I and Rocky both loved the fish and chicken made by aunty. Aunty was a bit strict on Rocky, but that was all for his own good. Once, I was at Dutta Roys with just Rocky for company and we had a fight over who will sit on the sofa that was near the cooler. It was hot and the cooler was blowing away cool, humid air. We both wanted to sit on that sofa but Rocky, the sly thing that he was, took the seat before I could stake a claim. We had a series of pushing and pulling but he didn't budge. I even poured some water over him, but I think he enjoyed that even more! Finally, I lifted the couch and turned it upside down thereby dropping Rocky off it. Rocky accepted defeat and went to lie on the bed. We didn't talk a word that evening.

Rocky was not allowed to eat too much sweet. But he loved cookies and an odd roshogolla. whenever I'm there, aunty makes it a point to serve me with some strong, sweet tea and biscuits from a bakery in Kotla Mubarakpur. I used to sneak a few pieces to Rocky, who would eat with relish and demand some more without worrying about aunty's scolding. I've been caught a couple of times and have been reprimanded for that too. But I and Rocky were buddies, so it was ok.

Rocky was getting old and losing health. From the beginning of 2006, his health began to deteriorate very quickly. First to go was his eyesight. He had cataracts and could hardly see where he was walking. During our walks in the the neighbourhood, he would frequently stumble over stairs, footpaths and stones. He simply couldn't see that they were there. It was becoming too sad for me. His diet went down. He tried eating but he vomited most of it. When I visited them, I made it a point to take him for walks, but by April he had become so weak that I had to lift him while walking. I could feel each and every bone of his frail body. There was no muscle left on his skeleton. He would just look into my eyes as if saying "thank you." He couldn't even cry and tears would well up in my eyes. Towards the first week of May, he stopped going out. He would lie prone on his belly and very lightly acknowledge my presence by just lifting an eye. I would caress him and talk to him for a while before my throat choked up. It is painful to see any living thing in that state.

I don't remember when was the last time I saw Rocky and I'll regret that forever. 17th May 2006 was my birthday and I was treating a couple of old friends at Ansal Plaza. I parked my car at Andrewsganj and informed uncle and aunty. While leaving I glanced towards Rocky. It was dark in his room and I couldn't see him. Normally I would go and talk to him, but that day I had neither the time nor the courage.

I asked uncle, "How is he?"

"Not good. Might go anytime now" he replied.

I just hoped it wasn't anytime soon because I wanted to see him once more and say goodbye to him.

The next day I came back all the way from Vasundhara Enclave to meet Rocky. But he was gone.

"He went away last night" uncle said.

I hated myself for not talking to him the previous night. I hated the fact that my birthday fell on that day. I tried to take it in with as much fortitude as is expected from a twenty nine year old. I just wanted to say goodbye to him. Why couldn't he wait for another day?! I sat there numb and silent.

"Its ok, he was suffering. Good that he went" uncle reassured me.

I drove back home with moist eyes and a heavy heart. I kept repeating inside my head, "Goodbye Rocky.."

Doodh Ka Doodh...

2007-04-18T21:57:00.000+05:30

Mrs. Sharma was a long time resident of Doctors Apartments. Her buttocks were so heavy that you would think that they were a part of the apartments' foundation. Mrs. Sharma was a stickler for hygiene and cleanliness. Thats why she would often look outside her balcony with disgust. The thing was that the footpath across the south west corner boundary of Doctors Apartments had a massive Delhi style garbage dump and the garbage always spilled out onto the road, which attracted all kinds of gourmands. Cows, crows, dogs and rag pickers were regular patrons of the joint. What Mrs. Sharma couldn't digest was the stench that wafted into her house whenever the southern winds blew a bit too excitedly.

"Chhi!" she would remark, "Good I didn't vote for anybody during Municipal election. MCD anyway doesn't clean this mess. One day I'll die of this stench. Why dont you do something?" she would lob at Mr. Sharma who would try harder to evade her gaze by burying his head deeper into the morning papers.

"Are you listening? Do you want me to die?"

Mr. Sharma always wondered if he will be arrested or ostracised if he actually answered that question. He wasn't the kinds who like to shake things up. Moreover, his nose had become insensitive to the smell that disturbed the residents only once in a while.

You could give the credit for Mrs Sharma's excellent rump to Ombir's milk. Mrs Sharma wanted only the best for her family. So she only trusted fresh cow's milk.

"Oh God Mrs. Gogia, have you seen how they carry that Mother Dairy milk in trucks. It looks like it was produced in a petroleum refinery. And God only knows how old that milk is. Our Ombir brings only the milk drawn in the morning. Have you seen how much 'malai' I get out of it?"

So thats the secret of Mrs. Sharma's health - the cream from Ombir's milk. Mrs. Gogia would only nod her head in mock agreement and hate the fact that Mrs. Sharma's hind was more majestic than her own.

Mrs. Sharma kept three litres of Ombir's milk everyday. She forced four glasses down the throats of her teenagers Roshan and Roshni - two in the morning and two in the evening. She made tea, kheer, gajar ka halwa, shakes and many other healthy items out of that milk. She loved it so much.

Ombir was a strapping Jatt from Dallupura village. If only he'd shave, he'd look like Arjun Rampal. He had a small dairy that belonged to his family. He made a good income supplying milk to residents of Vasundhara Enclave and Mayur Vihar. His prized posession was his powerful Enfield Bullet that never had a legible number plate. He was also proud of his young milch cow 'Doodhia'. No she wasn't called Doodhia because she gave good milk, but because she was white like milk. Nevertheless, Doodhia would loyally squeeze out of her udders 3-4 litres of milk every morning. Ombir made sure that it was appropriately 'monetized'. So he would shout out to his nephew,

"Oye Jitender! Make sure you mix equal amount of water. These meydum jis and their kids in the high-rises have weak stomachs. I don't want any complaints of impure milk."

Jitender would diligently get 'clean looking' water from the local rusty municipal tap or handpump or from wherever he could, and make 8 out of 4.

Now Doodhia being young, was also foot-loose. Her light feet took her farther than other cows. She would roam around Trilokpuri, Dallupura, Vasundhara Enclave and nearby areas. She was free to go wherever she wanted to, but she would instinctively return to her master at sundown. She was free to choose her own grub. Ombir, being the liberal he was, never stopped her from experimenting. So off she went checking out various diners in her area of influence. Grass was good, juicy leaves were better but those were hard to come by. But last night's shahi paneer, rajma masala and sundry vegetable peels? Well, now we're talking gourmet food. Now and then, she would join other regulars, Kali, Tommy, Kaw-Kaw, Raju and such, for a hearty meal; often at the dump opposite Mrs. Sharma's. More than once Doodhia has noticed Mrs. Sharma casting a disgusted look towards her.

"She's just jealous of my rear end." Doodhia would conclude.

"Chhi chhi chhi! These animals eat anything!" Mrs. Sharma would say while loudly slurping her morning tea made out of Doodhia's milk.

Let Me Summarise - Our Love of the Gist

2007-04-16T10:05:00.000+05:30

I took this pop-quiz that rates your life. Even while you're answering the really straightforward questions, you can make out how you're doing. But then there's the joy of watching all that in the form of bar graphs and decimals.

We human beings have a strong attraction for summaries. We love the fact that our birth chart can predict when we're going to 'drop out'. We love the thing that the lines on our palm can tell others how screwed we really are. Isn't it great that your percentile score in CAT or GMAT can almost accurately predict your pay package in 3 years time and yet reveal nothing about your ethical character?

Corporate honchos have a special love for charts, graphs and figures. They can see their popularity, commission and wife's love rise and fall with the revenue and profits graph. I would say that one look at the faces of your employees early Wednesday morning can tell you more about your company's performance than all the stats churned out by your overpaid accountants.

'Screaming Headlines' Do headlines really scream? Yes, they do. They scream out the entire story in a few words. Its supposed to attract your attention to the story but what it really does for me is that it tells me whether the story is worth reading. The louder the scream, the more suspect the content. But I too fall into the trap of sensationalism sometimes. News these days is more entertainment than news; more advertisement than information, even if it is about rape, murder and elections. I guess we still read and watch news just because we want a pre-packaged, easily digestible, least involving, distance maintaining, hygienic way of interacting with society at large. Its a hard-to-resist summary of the world around you.

Every religious leader worth his donations account and every prophet worth his sombre look has tried to summarise life for us. Some such aphorisms come to my mind - Love thy neighbour (but don't get caught); God is Great (but Devil comes close); Take the Middle Path (but don't get crushed). [The words in brackets are not mine but additional notes by charlatans and realists down the ages] Don't we just love these lines? Sometimes they inspire, sometimes they simplify and some other times, they rectify. Religion is nothing but spiritual fast food. Pre-packaged, quickly delivered, easily eatable and quite filling. On top of that, inexpensive. Just imagine how much more difficult life would be if each one of us were to develop his or her own personal religion. (But some of us like to rough it out.)

I guess we love summaries because life is too complex to be understood in bits and pieces.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.5
Mind:	7.5
Body:	7.3
Spirit:	7.5
Friends/Family:	4.9
Love:	1.4
Finance:	4.7
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Gathering, a Storm in Russia - Dissent and Democracy

2007-04-15T08:34:00.000+05:30

MOSCOW (Reuters) - Russian police detained several hundred people, including chess champion Garry Kasparov, on Saturday as they snuffed out an attempt by opponents of President Vladimir Putin to protest near the Kremlin.

I can't imagine something like that happening in India anymore. Thank god for chaotic, true-to-form democracy! My generation has grown up knowing and believing that protests, rallies, gatherings are completely natural. Political protests, Dam protests, Reservation protests-you will never hear police trying to thwart them from even happening. Of course we have seen umpteen incidents where protesters were water cannoned and a few bundled off to lockups when they are literally at the Parliament gates. But allowing a protest to happen is perhaps as sacrosanct as our constitution itself. When this sanctity is breached, you can tell that the state of the nation is in jeopardy.

"Thanks to the well-coordinated actions of the riot police and Moscow police, we were able to prevent an illegal gathering being carried out," he said.

When the authorities begin to get scared of 'gatherings' then you know that they truly have something to be afraid of. Luckily, we in India, have areas very clearly marked for this purpose only. If you get caught in a traffic jam somewhere near Parliament street, Boat Club, Jantar Mantar or Raj Ghat, you curse at the protesters. But they might be doing you a great service indirectly.

Kremlin loyalists say the protesters are dangerous extremists plotting a revolution.

Since when revolutions were plotted in the city centre square? And since when is a gathering extremist? Does the ruling party truly have something to be afraid of? Are they fearing another Russian Revolution? Anyway the Russian Intelligence agencies must be tapping each and every phone involved and bugged each and every protester's house by now. I'm sure they know of all the plots.

Dissent is a characteristic of the original political systems that gave birth to democracy. Right from the days of Cicero and early Greek Senates, the right to debate and disagree are held fundamental. Protesting in public is just the masses' way of saying "I Disagree!" Vox Populi, Vox Dei.

Imagine this - you're filling a jar with sugar granules. You shake it a few times so that the granules align with each other and more space is made to put in more sugar. Dissent is that chaos in a Democracy. There are some shakes, but it makes for a more unified society in the long run. Cherish it, nurture it, indulge in it, coz without dissent democracy and liberty will die.

Poor Garry has a lot of Check Mating to do. Unfortunately, politics is far more complex and far less objective than Chess. Nevertheless, protest on Garry!

KBC, Shah Rukh aur Tum

2007-04-07T16:02:00.000+05:30

So the other day I was at the Dutta Roys in Andrewsganj. KBC was going on flat-out on the flat screen. It may seem idiotic, but I don't own an idiot box. So whenever I'm here, its a novelty to watch TV. I love quizzing too, so I was gleefully answering Shah Rukh's questions(all correctly) and had reached the 6 lakh Rupees mark. Piyali's odd remark broke my concentration.

"Bhaiya Shah Rukh khan ko manners nahin hain." She said.

"Matlab?" I asked.

"Wo badon ko bhi 'Tum' bolta hai." Piyali explained

"Kya baat kar rahi ho? Ho hi nahin sakta!" I said incredulously.

"Haan bhaiya, use baat karni nahin aati." Piklu seconded with force.

Now I had to see and hear this for myself. I couldn't believe that Shah Rukh, a pucca North Indian, didn't know the basic manners of addressing people and elders.

Dominic(Dom), a late fortysh gentleman from Mumbai, was on the hot seat. With some white strands and some appropriate wrinkles, he looked much older than Shah Rukh. This was a real test now. Just then Shah Rukh Khan said something like, "Tumne first stage paar kar liya hai.." or something to that effect. I was flabbergasted! Afsos! Galat Jawab!

Once while riding my Bajaj Super scooter, a tiny bug fell into my left eye. The feeling was similar. It was sudden, unexpected, it was odd, incongruous, out of place and stung like hell! The thing is that in normal Hindi conversation you always address strangers, youngsters and elders as 'aap'. 'Tum' is reserved for your wife, girlfriend, little kids, friends and some other categories of economic class (like your maid or driver or car washer). 'Tu' is strictly for close friends, brothers, sisters etc. It is normal for me, having lived in Delhi for almost fourteen years, to follow this linguistic culture. Most people I know follow these rules. In fact I know no one who doesn't. The Dutta Roys are Bengalis, I'm an Oriya and we too know these nuances. Thats why when I heard what Shah Rukh said, it didn't just come across as wrong, it came across as if something is not right with the picture. Something just doesn't fit. Like a smudge on a clean mirror. Like a mole on Mona Lisa's nose. It wasn't just wrong, it felt ugly.

The other thing that really puzzles me still is that Shah Rukh Khan has lived in Delhi long enough to know this. Then why would he commit such a disgrace? Does it have to do something with Bollywood's scriptwriters, who for ages have made heroes address the villains as 'tum'? Since a long long time, I've noticed that many Hindi film heroes do this, "Main tumhein nahin chhodunga!" Or, "Tum mera kuch nahin bigad sakte!" Of course the villains reciprocated, "Main tumhari maa behen ek kar doonga." Whats with all the respect? 'Tu' should be the word here. If you want to check if this is right, then go watch the usual brawl on Delhi roads. I think Bollywood is obsessed with 'Tum' and therefore, the professional that Shah Rukh is, the script has just seeped into his neurons. Its high time someone corrected him. This is a live family show, not a Bollywood matinée.

The English have it easy. No degrees of respect. So no confusion and no disrespect. Most Indian languages and cultures are developed enough to have two or three degrees of respect. Although, the respect denoted by 'tu', 'tum' and 'aap' can be different for different languages. For instance, in Oriya, 'Aapono' is for strangers, 'tommay' is for elder relatives and 'tu' is for real close relatives, friends and brothers and sisters. So I address my dad as 'tommay', my mom, my mausis, my nani and cousins as 'tu' and my brother as 'kutte'. ;)

Pimp my Cricket

2007-04-06T18:03:00.000+05:30

India's Cricket World Cup 2007 Debacle

After 3 bottles of greedily gulped down Kingfisher light beer, I was too drunk to have patience, or hope. So when Dhoni's wicket fell, I finally asked my good friend Sumanta to switch off the TV. He readily agreed being equally drunk. But I could feel his pain coz he's a big fan; and a Bong on top of that. I went to sleep immediately not wanting to know the result. The next morning I woke up still not wanting to know the result. I truly didn't bother. Nor did Sumanta. Though we did see on a news channel in the passing that India had lost miserably. Life has to go on you know. And sports is entertainment. It is also a nationalistic expression in some ways but a facile one.

But there were others who didn't take this lightly - many fans, the BCCI, the media, corporates, betters and bookies. I can understand the anguish of people who had hoped to make a profit out of this extravaganza. But what I don't understand is the way some fans reacted to this debacle. Blackening the posters of our cricketers, breaking and stoning their houses?? So you can deify and vilify the same person within a few hours? I mean what kind of really silly behaviour that? Who needs who more? I'm sure that our sports persons need their fans more than the other way round. So how about due to the absence of support during a cricket match, later the cricketers come and smash the houses of fans for failing to show up? Is there some kind of contract here? In a civilised society outpouring of public sentiments should limit itself to peaceful means. And in the case of something as harmless as cricket, fans really need to chill.

In fact I'm pretty sure that the insanely high expectations of Indian fans had made our cricketers so damn nervous that they forgot to play their 'natural game'. Looking at a genius like Sachin get out definitely made me feel so. The Bastard Cricket Czars of India act like a local politician, the fans act like lustful customers, the advertisers act like pimps. Where does that leave our poor cricketers? Can they still play cricket for the love of the game? Anyway they are not paid as much as Bollywood stars. Also unlike Bollywood stars, who do subjective entertainment, our cricketers perform objective entertainment. Either you win or you lose. A film star makes the same amount whether the movie flops or hits. A cricketer loses a lot if the team doesn't win. Nobody gives a shit if a movie is a hit or a flop. Everybody abuses our cricketers if they lose one. Why this step-motherly treatment? Do they need to succeed in every match they play?

I'm not a great fan of 'Success'. I've never been very successful myself. Moderately, somewhat, but not massively. The thing is, success as an end is as hyped as 'nirvana' is as an achievement. Too much focus on success makes us look at life not as 'line' but as a 'dot'. A line can be straight or curvy and extended to make beautiful shapes. A line is a journey, but a dot is...well, a dot is a dot is a dot. Nothing else. Of course, success has its place in situations where success means ending a living creature's misery. But success in a cricket match? Surely, you cant say that you were miserable before India went to play the World Cup? And that your misery could only end if India wins the world cup? Ironically, Cricket in India, is a victim of its own popularity. But its still a form of entertainment and recreation. We must not make it an issue of life or death. Definitely not the death of the players or coaches. I think a nation's morals can be gauged by its predominant form of entertainment. At the peak of the Roman Civilisation, people paid money and sat in huge stadia just to see human beings chop each other off. The fans screamed, shouted, howled, clapped and whistled with every limb being severed and every eye being gouged. Free concessions for the audience made matters worse. And that was perhaps the real peak. The slide began soon after that. If we have to save our nation and not disintegrate then we must have a more sensible approach towards our entertainment-whether its cricket or saas-bahu serials.

The kind of money that is pumped into cricket defies all sensibilities. So partly media and corporates who look at viewers as milch cows are responsible for the state of affairs. Of course all this attention has helped the cricketers in getting paid, but I'm sure that if Sachin had not been a sports person, he would've been good at whatever he did. Thats the kind of person he is! The characters surrounding the cricket drama have only overdone the whole thing like a gaudy nautch girl. No wonder the fans are reacting as if they've been denied a good night's romp after having paid for it. And the local politician has no accountability and all the control. If we can fire the coach, the captain, why not the Board President? Are only the players answerable to the fans? That really isn't fair at all! BCCI is nothing but the emperor who gives the thumbs up or thumbs down to decide the fate of the 'down but not out' gladiator.

My grouse against BCCI is that it is an enterprise meant to promote a concept but headed by people who have nothing to do with the concept and have no love for it. Why do you think Sharad Pawar, a politician, is the President of BCCI? Is it because he was a star wicket keeper in his youth? Or is it because it will ensure a good sugarcane crop in Baramati? More of the latter I think. The immense success and appeal of cricket in India has meant that politicians and businessmen have successively controlled BCCI. It ensures power, popularity and spotlight. Just imagine that Google's CEO has the controlling stake in Google, and Larry and Sergei are just hard working coders.

Whoever names a promotion and lobbying body 'Board of Control '? I mean you're here just to control, is it? Is Cricket going out of control in India? Maybe it is! Right from the media to the fans, everyone is going berserk. Then there are the bookies who must have gone berserk after India's exit. Poor Woolmer bore the brunt of one shock. I wouldn't be surprised if a few similar incidents happen in India too. But then the people who bet big on India's matches live all around the world. We will never really know how many lives were destroyed that fateful day. But sure there are a few who must be still stuffing their mattresses and pillows with banknotes, their insane guffaws still trembling the corridors of betting syndicates.

They say that hundreds of crores or Rupees has drowned in the Caribbean seas. When you see the ads of Hutch and Kingfisher and many other Indian companies swamping the West Indian stadia, you feel, "is this match happening in India?" Indian money is traveling far and wide and has almost bankrolled the 2007 world cup. Indian fans from the world over were supposed to stuff the pockets of Caribbean hotel owners. Now that they are not coming, the hotels, the stadia and the streets seem empty and worthless. So I think the biggest actual stakeholders of this charade are Indian corporates and Caribbean tourism. So to be fair to everyone, why not just give India a confirmed berth in the finals? I'm sure the Indian fans would love that. I'm sure the corporates would love that. And I'm sure BCCI would see merit in that idea. After all it is flexing its muscle! I don't know who can be more shameless in Indian Cricket today.

A few days back I got an sms rumour that India made it to super eights because Bangladesh was caught doping. I almost puked with indignation.

PS: Hell, BCCI doesn't even have a website of its own. What kind of promotion are they doing God only knows. Well, Devil may care..

Lions and Paper Tigers

2007-03-31T11:26:00.000+05:30

The way poachers killed 3 lions in Gir reminds me of the days when my mom or grandmother used to pick out lice from my head. I was in school in Calcutta and lice infestation was common. But finding lice and catching them needs careful technique and some practice. Something poachers have but forest officials dont.

You take a tourist to Ranthambhore or Sariska, you wont see a tiger. But of course for some extra fee, the really determined kinds can have a dekko. How so? It seems people know where the tigers are when commerce knocks on their doors.

Only poachers see commerce in tigers, lions, rhinos and tuskers. Not the government and definitely not the rest of the public. Who goes to Ranthambhore or Corbett because they want to save the tiger? Honeymoon maybe, vacation yes, post safari booze party most definitely! Poor wildlife activists try hard to enlighten the public. The same public that doesnt hesitate to lynch a scared leopard that 'mistakenly wanders' into territory that was his to begin with. But then he doesnt have the voting rights. Even if his species had, we'd make sure that their numbers are so less that they cant make any meaningful changes to the existing laws. We might even have to set up a minority commission just for them.

Minority commissions are set up for wild life. But those are there to give a patient hearing to activists really. Who cares about wild life? About trees? You think city dwellers? All they care about is that the trees in their avenue should not be cut. Not because of the shade or the oxygen or the fruits, but because it looks beautiful and increases the value of their real estate. Hell, a small shopping mall in Delhi would get more footfalls during a regular weekend than Gir receives in an entire year. You think villagers care? All they want is that elephants dont trample their crop, leopards dont carry away their cattle and that there is more land to give away as dowry. What about the government? You know, in some ways, the government is the keeper of public conscience. Yes, government is active in that area. It is busy making sure that people below 25 can vote, copulate, raise kids, gamble on stocks, but cant drink alcohol. It is making sure that kids who get raped and molested by their own relatives are not exposed to any suggestive sexuality on television. Government can only do so much. After all we are the government. Government does what we want and what we want is a facade of propriety.

And a facade is what we shall get. A few years down the line, your kids and mine, lugging 'artificial oxygen' cans on their backs will go on a weekend trip to the local zoo to see something called Wild Life. The only problem is that it no longer exists in the wild.

I feel like watching 'Planet of Apes' once again.

Global Warming and World Economy

2007-03-29T10:45:00.000+05:30

Humans are Opportunists and Survivors

Global Warming and Global Super Freeze are phenomena that happen once in a megaannum. The Earth too tends to balance itself. We are lucky to be living during a warm time. The early effects of Global Warming will only be rising sea levels, warming up of land, air and water, and harsh weather. Some land will be lost to sea and some regained from ice.

Humans are versatile and know how to survive even in adverse conditions. To protect ourselves, we'll definitely develop some technology to cool us or heat us, as might be the need. But the thing is that amidst all this, man is already seeing commerce. There is already conflict between Canada and certain Scandinavian countries over territorial rights on some frozen islands in the arctic region that are de-freezing. Why? Because they're rich in minerals and oils. Thats opportunism.

If oceans become a little warmer, fish cultivation will go up. Man will have more incentive to develop ocean based habitats. A new Atlantis maybe! Ocean is still highly unexplored. Once the right technologies are developed, ocean beds will be more accessible. That means more oil and more metals and more energy. In the long run, economy will always survive, because humans will survive. In the short run, a warmer climate will only fluctuate the graph a bit. In the long run only thing that can truly devastate world economy would be either an asteroid hitting the earth or a trigger-happy egomaniac letting off a nuclear bomb. What must we as individuals do? Get an air conditioner; non CFC of course! :)

Organisation as a Mother's Womb

2007-03-23T09:00:00.000+05:30

Employees are profit centres and should be treated likewise- as investments.
Employees should be called stakeholders; in fact, Primary Stakeholders. There are good/bad organisations and good/bad performing organisations. Employees are most affected if the organisation is good or bad. Hence, they are the primary stakeholders.
Everything an organisation does, is done by people. These people are the actual profit generators. Therefore, they must be nurtured, nourished and taken care of. They are the atoms that make up the matter.
Employees should feel secure, happy and relaxed working in the organisation, just like a unborn child feels inside mother's womb.
Like a mother, the organisation should take care of the worker- providing love, structure and guidance. Even when the employee eventually leaves the organisation, he must feel unhappy about leaving. He must feel happy coming back to visit his 'alma mater'.

Smile At Will

2007-03-09T14:20:00.000+05:30

Smile every opportunity you get to do so. Even if you dont, look at a tree, a leaf or the sky and smile. For me, I have this photo of Preity Zinta on my desktop. Sometimes I just look at her and smile. Smiles are so important. For me, when I smile, I feel so invigorated and optimistic. Suddenly, everything's just fine. :) Earlier I used to take my smile for granted. Then came a period when people made me very conscious of my smile by telling me what effect it had on them. But of late, I'm happy about my smile because of the effect its having on me. I smile best when I smile alone-at a thought, a tune, a view, a sound, a face, a gesture or just Preity smiling back at me :) A smile is the quickest way I can cheer myself up-and I need a lot of cheering these days. So I dont lose any opportunity to smile. :)

Overcast Morning

2007-03-05T13:42:00.000+05:30

26 May 2002
New Delhi

I don't remember what woke me up but I vaguely remember the noises emanating from the kitchen. I'm a light sleeper. As my mind regained consciousness, I started becoming aware of the cool wind blowing from the fan above me. It was cool; it was soothing; it was so comforting! I hadn't felt so pleased early in the morning in a long long time. I was a bit annoyed about the noises in the kitchen but at the same time I was glad that I was awake to enjoy this soft breeze. The windows were open too. I had rained last night and the sky was overcast - a rare event in Delhi. It seemed beautiful outside. I was becoming more and more awake. But what finally made me get out of the bed was the urgency of my bursting bladder. I hated this part of a perfectly fine Sunday morning. I didn't want to leave the bed but I had to. This was so irritating!

I stumbled into the loo half asleep. My eyes opened just enough to position my member. Nature's call should have a more meaningful connotation. My eyes were shut involuntarily and as the warm urea-filled water gushed out of my body, I could hear nature calling outside. Subcontinent birds and animals of all kinds - sparrows, crows, squirrels, cats, dogs, humming birds, bumble bees, parrots and many other birds and creatures whose names I didn't know. It was a delightfully melodious cacophony. Either they were quarrelling or they were competing in their celebrations. It was a party, a rave! I tried to open my right eye to look at the Mango and Bel trees outside in the hope that vision would aid my hearing. All I could make out were fresh clean leaves, sparkling green, dark and light hues. It was so fresh and bright that I had to shut my eye; even though it was an overcast morning. But I was enthused.

I finished the job and walked towards the bedroom windows. It was beautiful outside. A lovely silky cool breeze was coming into the room. I wished it would remain the same the whole day, the whole month! I had to go for a movie around noon and it would be easier in this weather. The fragrance wafting in made me nostalgic. It reminded me of my village, which looked, smelled and sounded like this for most of the monsoon season. I felt very relaxed. Especially, the breeze was heavenly! I gave a longing look towards my bed. It was a Sunday for god's sake!

I went and sat on the edge of the bed unable to make up my mind. The fan was blowing away. I gave it a fond look and flopped onto my bed - mmmmmmmmm this is soo good! I guess we're allowed such little indulgences. I went back to sleep, dreaming nothing at all.

Rain and Thunder

2007-03-02T09:41:00.000+05:30

25 May 2002
New Delhi

It sounded as if the cat was up to some mischief, knocking over something or scratching some object. Then I thought someone was knocking on the windows from outside. Was the cat trying to get in? It had been lightning for quite some time. It was a full moon night as well. Maybe the cat was getting edgy. But I heard the hail minutes before the rain started pouring. As soon as I realised that it was hail, I got excited. That should cool Delhi down. It didn't occur to me that it could rain too. It had been so hot and dry the whole of last week that I couldn't imagine that there was any water left in the skies.

I left my writing desk and opened the windows. I was dark outside. I could hear the hail stones crashing against terra firma and the walls of my house. But I couldn't see anything. The sound was happiness enough.

Then the water came. At first in in a few drops; big ones that make a lot of noise. The earth let out the rainy dusty earthy aroma that everyone, without exception, loves so much. I'm yet to meet someone in this dry subcontinent who doesn't like that scent of mother earth. The magic never fails to wonder me.

The storm came very suddenly; quite suddenly. I didn't expect it to rain, let alone a storm. A torrent of thunderous streams of angry water came charging against the parched but indignant earth. It was like a battle of epic proportions. It was like copulation between celestial objects. In short, it was very violent. But this violence will calm down and bring peace to many hearts in this starved city. I wish this would happen every evening!

The wind was so strong that it brought in rain water through the windows. I left them open so that some freshness creeps into out blast furnace of a house. I got more than I asked for.

My mother was happy. I was happy. I guess the cats were happy too. They had been suffering this heat silently. I mean they did meow a lot meaninglessly, but nothing compared to mom's cribbing. The bed was next to the windows and the pillows got wet. Momentarily mom was angry at me for that. But only momentarily. Then she settled down with her dinner, feeling cool and happy, chewing away to salvation. I rested my pen for a while.

No One To Talk To

2007-03-01T13:23:00.000+05:30

Miss you
Miss you
No one to talk to
But never liked
Talking to you
Too much love
Too much pain
Not again

Forgive you
Forgive you
Wasn't your fault
My love in a vault
Everything looking for
Found in you your
No wasn't looking for it
Never knew looking for it
Found you pretty thing
Found all everything
Soul mind
Rhythm divine
Body matter
Vision character

Talking to you
Water for a desert lost
Had to pay a cost
Poisoned with love
Killed me with every mouthful
I greedily gulped

Knew
Had to let go
Didn't you know too?
Poisoned me you
Didn't you know?
Never, you didn't, no
Wasn't your fault
My love in a vault

Forgive you
Can't forget you
Too much love
Too much pain
Not again
And now
No one to talk to.

From over me, from over you

2007-02-20T17:55:00.000+05:30

On a micro level, you arrive at the same conclusions as I have;
On a macro level, I arrive at the same conclusions as you have.

On a micro level, you sometimes act quite stupid;
On a macro level, you are a greater human being than I am.

On a micro level, I love you very much;
On a macro level, you care for me very much.

On a micro level, I'm really very confused;
On a macro level, I have a lot of faith.

On a micro level, we're going to part ways very soon;
On a macro level, guess what, ultimately, we'll meet at one place.

On a micro level, I'm wondering if I'm conning myself;
On a macro level, I don't give a shit.

You have influenced me a lot and I've decided to break free.

Theism, Conscience and Faith

2007-01-31T19:43:00.000+05:30

If at all there is a consciousness left after death to perceive the presence of god in case he comes/does not come in front of that consciousness, then I think it would be more disappointing to any consciousness to find out the truth after death that there is no god. I know I would feel cheated after living my entire life believing that he is there. That is only natural. On the other hand, if I live as an atheist and after death find out god, I would be very happy because it would explain a lot of things that are unexplained right now.

Attributing a personality to or personification of God is a psychological phenomenon. God is nothing but the HCV (Highest Common Virtues) of the consciences of all people in this world. Believing in that HCV and implementing it is real theism, real deification, real prayer.

God is spiritual democracy; an overwhelming majority vote for higher virtues. That is how this world is surviving. That is how this world has not completely fallen into depravity. And that is why it is important that this democracy remains a democracy and not turned into a dictatorship by the self-appointed ministers of God.

It is important here to talk about why, in many cases, we cannot escape looking at God as a benevolent superhuman who can take our pains away. Human beings are unique in that only they have the capacity for pure reason and rationality. In spite of this, in moments of crisis and deep trouble, all rationality comes to naught and we end up praying to God for deliverance. And it helps. That is called faith. And as a Little friend pointed out, it has nothing to do with rationality (thank God for that!). Faith is as irrational and useful as hope and as intriguing and beautiful as love. Faith is the intangible, unseen bridge that connects us to the God concept. Without faith, God would've been a crumpled sheet of rejected idea lying in a wastepaper basket somewhere. Without faith, humans would have been much less courageous, much less benevolent, much less patient and much more violent than they already are.

Perpetually Cursed

2007-01-14T19:10:00.001+05:30

Red sand flowed through the desert rivers.
It sprang from a child who lied in tatters.
Tattered was his face.
Tattered was his bust.
And everything else that told you
he was one of us.

Tattered was the soul of the desert.
Tattered was the essence of humanity.
Naked, yet arrogant we were.
Shameless we went on without pity.

Oh convenience! Thou art so powerful!
It wasn't convenient for the powers too.
The bloodshed must go on.
Time and again, eon upon eon.
They didnt matter, we didnt mind.
Perpetually cursed the human kind.

And blood flows like rivers,
cutting deep across the landscape
of our conscience.
Conscience?
Whats that?
Who cares?
Let it flood.
Let it irrigate.
Let it fertile.

And blood flows like rivers,
quenching the greed of hollow men.
But it carries the fatal conscience dust.
Is it lying somewhere in your guts?
You know that you know,
but you show not and turn to go.
Its going to get you one of these days.
Perpetually cursed the human race.

Celebrity Sighting

2007-01-09T13:57:00.000+05:30

I think eighty percent of the charm of seeing a celebrity in real life is the feeling of deja vu.

"Oh shit! I've seen him somewhere! He looks so small this time!"

Of course you moron! The last time you saw him was when he jumped off a cliff, rang the bells of a temple, swung from a tree, swept off a dame, splashed into a 5-star swimming pool and touched the feet of an elderly lady; all the while singing a duet. On top of that you witnessed this on a twenty feet by fifty feet screen. Even your extremities would look big on it!

I have had my celebrity encounters. The deja vu is just so strong! Its the same face! Has this encounter happened before? Of course thats the mock reaction. I know that thats the guy from the screen. Half the time I'm trying to figure out similarities between the on-screen and off-screen personalities. The other half is spent cursing myself at staring at him, lest I'm thought of as a desperate, servile celebrity worshiper. That is so not cool!!

PS: The rest twenty percent is feeling like a celebrity yourself- Proximity Glorification.

God is Great

2007-01-09T13:36:00.000+05:30

The universe has been in chaos since it banged real big. The earth has been a bubbling cauldron since it got ejected out of the sun's womb. Its been more than 4 billion years since her birth and we still cant give rational credit for millions of deeds and misdeeds that occur upon us every year. Its time responsibility and accountability are fixed. God is the way out.

Terrorists gunning down poor labourers. Why? Children hacked to death after being brutally raped. Why? Street urchins freezing to death in biting cold. Who? Parents fighting and separating. How? Planeful of passengers disappering into thin air. Where? Spring in New York in the middle of winter. What?? How?? What the...!?!? Hell?

God is the sole and final arbiter of all truths. He decides, he executes. Period. At least that is where all our scientific knowledge gained over centuries hits an impregnable wall.
I can hear the top scientist speak, "I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen, we have not been able to find the person responsible for your mess, so you will have to do with God for the time being. But of course we are still looking for God in person. You will be duly informed of his finding as and when it happens."

In the back row of the press conference, the bishop smirks, "Find God? Over my dead body..and a billion billion years. Ha!"

The person next to him whispers, "But what if they really find him?"

Bishop replies, "Oh come on Rabbi, get real!"

The priest ponders, "We must thank him immediately for remaining omnipresent but invisible, omniscient but unresponsive, omnipotent but unaccountable! We must have a grand yagya with ten thousand pundits!"

The mullah takes a deep sigh of satisfaction, "Yes, we must thank him asap. If it had not been for him, our children would have starved to death. There is only one god and god is great!"

If one day, suddenly, god would appear in our midst, in person, what do you think we would do? I'll tell you what we humans would do. We would bow down real low in deep reverence, then we would lynch him to death, then we would mummify him for all future deification purposes. Thats how we humans would fix accountability and responsibility. A mummified god would perhaps be as useful (or more) as an invisible god.

Looking for God is perhaps as futile as looking for glasses that you are already wearing. You are looking, but are you seeing? Its interesting being a human, living in human times, on a human planet, doing inhuman things once in a while and trying to preserve humanity all along. The contradictions, contraindications, contrasts, contracts, contractions and the whole rigmarole of paradoxes just twists you around like a wet cloth being drained of water. (In the end we too are hung out to dry.) As a human, I can say that if it had not been for the small mercies that each of us metes out on our fellow creatures and on nature herself each day, we would have become extinct long ago. If you are looking for God, look for him in those small mercies.

Lazy Bones and Creative Minds

2007-01-08T19:08:00.000+05:30

The winter this year in Delhi seems especially trying. Its such bone cracking chill outside and inside the home that I have to keep drinking tea and coffee and run to the loo every half hour. Pissing is almost as annoying as getting out of the bed in the morning. There's just too much exposure! My grey cells have gelled like the diesel in my car. My car refuses to start in the morning. My brain refuses to start forever. Even in summers. I was wondering if I'm chronically lazy. Or terminally. Or genetically, coz my brother shares some of my lazy traits. Either I'm too distracted or I'm in a stupor. Mind is either a cesspool of bubbling slimy ideas or is squeaky clean like my just harpiced toilet bowl. Well what do you know, there are others in this world who mirror me and my predicament; who share my guilty conscience. Read this interesting article on laziness - http://positivesharing.com/2006/03/my-lazy-life. My guilt at not being able to accomplish on a daily basis reduced considerably after reading it. I'm just not that! Of course I remember the days when I slogged like a beaver on a mission. But thats the point, I need a mission, something creative enough, and some freedom to think and act. Alas, 'mission' and 'creativity' have ended up becoming PR catchwords for corporations desperate to attract talent. But they don't understand that talent is developed, realised and retained; not attracted. There are three kinds of workers - Ants at one end of the spectrum and Leo Da Vincis at the other end. And transition guys in the middle. Employers should realise who is who and assign work to them accordingly. Otherwise creative people are easy to frustrate. I wish I could become the transition guy. I know I was at one time. But time and age push you towards rigidity of ways and hierarchy pushes you towards conformation to systems. Now thats another big dilemma!
I tell you, when you are lying on your bed and wondering where your next meal is going to come from, there are no dilemmas.
Thats when it helps to just close your eyes and fall asleep..ZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

The Epic Trickery

2006-11-17T17:34:00.000+05:30

It was a pyrrhic victory. Emperor Kamong sat exhausted on a mound in the middle of the battle field of Uberbia. He now controlled eight directions, twenty races, all horizons and was next to the gods. But he had lost almost all of his gallant soldiers who made him what he was today. He wiped off the blood dripping down his eyebrows with the corner of his loin cloth and surveyed the corpses and half-deads moaning around. He was filled with rage and roared into the heavens,"If we have to die anyway, then why suffer living? What is the logic? Who or what compels us to stay alive? Why are we afraid of death, of inevitability? Where is volition? Where is individual will? What is this epic trickery? Who is in charge here? I demand an answer!" There was no answer. He got up and hurried off to tend to the injured. They were all he had. They were the ones he could depend on. They were the ones who always replied.

Whats the point?

2006-11-17T17:09:00.000+05:30

Sun hardened face of ol' Ned hid eyes wisened over years on the sea. Voyages had taught him a lot. His palms were as hard as the ropes he pulled aboard the Beagle. He took a fancy to young Charles' work and would often listen to him. After listening intently to Charles' theories, he sighed, "If humans didn't interfere with nature, nature would keep perfect balance of all its creatures. If self preservation is so important, then just for the sake of survival of the human race, the next step in the evolution of humans would be loss of the ability to think. The ability to think has actually jeopardised our survival more than anything else. We multiply and kill. Whats the point?" Saying that he traced the crevice like lines on his right palm with the thumbnail of his left hand and thought, "Them monkeys seem to have so much fun!"

Generalists

2006-11-03T15:46:00.001+05:30

Young Leonardo lamented, "Generalists like me who see the big picture are called either evangelists or rank amateurs."

Sanity

2006-11-02T10:54:00.000+05:30

The female chimp Lulu recently broke up with her boyfriend of three months, Karlu. So she shared her pain with her best friend Milu, the lime green macaw. She said, "It is really unfortunate what all life can teach you...and this is one of my 'unfortunate' lessons - either you can emotionally hurt other chimps once or hurt yourself again and again. There is no ready substitution for self esteem. We chimps are really imperfect, but we must try and remain as sane as possible. That is more important than being rich or successful."

Motley Musings

Umbra

Paper Tigers

Billu

A Pretty Good Me

Just Coz You Got It...

Time

Hierarchical Sloth

How Much Time Should It Take?

Too Much of a Good Thing

A Real Conversation

None the Wiser

The Situation Room

I think...

Review - Motorola Charm MB502

To Hell With It!

The World Won't Stop Just Because It's Raining

The Most Powerful in India

Poesque Skies

Inside [~] Outside

This Is How You Do Things in a Democracy

वार्तालाप

कुत्ते से भो भोबिल्ली से मियाओंकबूतर से गुटर गुटरऔर इंसान से:क्या बात है, बड़े स्मार्ट लग रहे हो आज?!

Tedium

दिल्ली किसकी है?

The Fastest Gun in the West (Or East)

All That Needs To Be Said

Wisdom

9 Success Lessons from Cricket World Cup 2011

The Moment the World Froze

Who Am I?

The Cynic

In Search of Excellence

A Hustle Amidst the Bustle

The Great Promise

Little Men

Yep!

The Crushing March of Inevitability

Day In, Day Out

A Pile of Trashed Files and Empty Binders

Code Brown

Disambiguation

Man and the Megacity

Creatio ex nihilo

Mediocrity

And I'll Live

I Am God

Jazz and Life

The Woman across the Street

Zack and Bill

The Royal Palace

The Dark Joker

The Undoing of Communism

Office Worn

Anupam is...

A Person in Love

Murders on Camera

She

Deprivation

Uncomplicated

Kickback Grandé

Why was Robert Killed?

Dudette Discovers Garlic!

Sacrificial Pyre

Immigration and the True Citizen

Tips for a Good Morning Walk

Terror Fatigue

Realpolitik Republik of Pakistan

New Lands to Explore, New Wars to Wage

Nothing Changes the World

P2P 2 Networked Brains

Fate and Defeat of the Individual

hw dz it mattr nywayz?

Disco Deewane

Chronicles of Bunty: It Could Be You!

Just Another Girl

The Ordeal

Nothing But Fragile

Rags to Witness

Rocky: A Belated Obituary

कुत्ते से भो भो
बिल्ली से मियाओं
कबूतर से गुटर गुटर
और इंसान से:
क्या बात है, बड़े स्मार्ट लग रहे हो आज?!