Rocky: A Belated Obituary

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...

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

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

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

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

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..