The Indian Incontinent

Almost in all major metros of the hot Indian subcontinent, a cloud cover is a welcome development with distinct foreboding overtones. Especially if it is a weekday, you know it's going to be cool outside, but you dread the traffic if it so much as drizzles. It's a good thing, but it's a bummer; you want to be happy, but you're being held back -- a schizophrenic feeling, adding to the already bipolar nature of an Indian metro, where the uber-rich live alongside the uber-poor,  where a Bentley is stuck in the same jam as a Luna. Why do they have to wait for a flood to declare a public holiday? Do it when you see the clouds in the horizon; we will telecommute. I promise I'll work! The geography of India is not weird, it's our cities -- they're just tumorous now. I can't help but crack a crude joke: "Is this the Indian subcontinent or the Indian incontinent?"

The Situation Room

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?"

Man and the Megacity

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.

I Am God

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

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 Dark Joker

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.

Office Worn

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.