My thoughts out in the open

Chelsea - The road ahead...

2010-03-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

Well, only the football faithful will understand what I'll be talking about here, the others are advised not to read further if you have something better to do.
For quite a while this season, I have been concerned over the inconsistency shown by Chelsea and the season has started to go downhill for them after their defeat to Inter. I forecast a single trophy season again for Chelsea, and the only cabinet that will soon need expanding will be the one holding all the FA cups and nothing more. Chelsea these days reminds me more of the South African cricket team of a few years back, the biggest chokers in the game. SA have partly shed their tag since then, and Chelsea needs to do something to get out of the rut as well. Watching the same squad dish out more or less the same brand of football over time has made me question the club's reluctance not to develop some of its young talents over the years. For as much as Ancelotti has spoken about his desire to develop young talent this season, other than one FA cup game when 3 youngsters were fielded, he hasn’t really walked the talk. I can understand that a club like Chelsea has to win trophies with big names in the side, but it needs to develop its academy and have a sensible wage structure in place to become a long-term story. Abrahamovich has recently spoken of his desire to make the club self sustainable, which is a tough act to follow, given the space constraint in the stadium. A larger stadium is the need of the hour and if Stamford Bridge cannot be expanded (as many articles have made clear given the property disputes in and around the stadium), then a new location should be scouted rather than increasing ticket prices, which are already multiple times of some of the smaller sides in the country. But most of all, the club needs a look at its wage structure. Chelsea next season should bid farewell to some of its highly paid stalwarts who have not really produced a commensurate level of performance to justify their stay. So out with Deco, Farreira, Baletti, Ballack and Hilario for starters. Replacements should not be sought externally though but internally. Deco and Ballack's absence should be anyway made up when Essien returns from injury. Add Nemanja Matic to the fold, a youngster that Chelsea invested in last year and produced re-assuring performances whenever called on to do so, and Chelsea does not need any more cover. The best football Chelsea produced was when Duff and Robben terrorized Premier League defences by attacking the wings and interchanging positions. That time was 4 years ago and arguably Chelsea's biggest transfer gaffe till date hasn’t been the acquisition of Shevchenko but the sale of Robben to Madrid, something that was repeated by the La Liga club as Robben has become the fulcrum of Bayern's commanding performances recently. The Chelsea of the day needs that flair. While many would argue that the flame still burns in Joe Cole, I feel he needs a big kick up his backside to really up the level of his performances which have bordered on dismal after return from injury. This is where Chelsea should find a reinforcement, a name that immediately comes to mind being that of Dzagoev. That he is not off the radar means his signature will not come cheap but since he plays in one of the clubs which is influenced by Abrahamovich in the Russian league means that the deal should be finalized if he provides his blessings to do so. Chelsea has an abundance of talent in the middle of the pitch for it not to go looking elsewhere. Stoch should be recalled from FC Twente where he has become one of the dominant players this season, and Kakuta should be finally given a chance to show his real talent. With Molouda and Zirkoff thrown in as well, there is no dearth of flair in the Chelsea squad. Up front, despite talk all season, no reinforcements are required at all. Drogba's level of performance has convinced me that he is in his prime and with Anelka beside him in attack, a big name is not required. Anelka should ideally play in the space just behind Drogba, because for all his deadly accuracy, it is his movement off the ball and the dummy runs which makes him invaluable to the side. Add to the mix Sturridge, Kolou and Borini and Chelsea need no more strikers. Perhaps a case for extending Di Santo's loan spell makes sense, but to a better side than Wanderers who just play long balls in a hope to score. Maybe a Fulham or Wigan will make him a much better player and that is the way he should head. Bosingwa's return from injury means that Ivanovic can return to the centre of the pitch alongside Terry, with a slowing Carvalho still a dominant force but one that should be protected more often. It is a pity that Alex is in a side that has so many world class talents, for if he were in any other side, even United, he would have been a natural starter this season. But making sure he stays should allow Chelsea not to dip into their pockets for a defensive signing. There is a case for a left sided defender to be bought as a backup for Cole allowing Zirkoff to play further up the pitch, a position I believe he will perform much better in. A young goalie as a backup to Cech and Turnbull, who looked accomplished in the Inter defeat, should also be thought about. I reckon, these are the only 3 additions that Chelsea really needs, and the likes of Aguero who were demanding 200k a week as wages should be left for City or Madrid to pick up. No wholesale changes are required, but a wholesale change in the attitude is definitely the need of the hour.

London!!

2010-03-03T05:16:00.000-08:00

Its my second time here in this brilliant city called London. It is perhaps as chilly as my last visit near Christmas and that suits me well, I will take chilly over humid and warm any time. When I compare this place to Mumbai, there are many many many things that are better here than in Mumbai; clean air and environment, polite and warm people, awesome food and drinks, better roads, less of crowds, better party and night scene, much better shopping arcades, wide open and green spaces…and I can go on and on. Yesterday I started thinking of things that are better in India or Mumbai and this place cannot match. And I came up with surprisingly few. If I take away the friends and family that I have in my home country, I can think of pretty much nothing that India can offer me that this place cannot match and better. Yes, maybe the quality of advertisements here needs to be improved. UK has some of the most appalling scripts and actors in the commercials, and our adverts back home are way better any day, even the DoCoMo jingle crap will beat back anything that these guys show on air. Maybe the operational timings of the shops can be better, I mean downing shutters at 7pm on a weekdays is hardly justified. But then that’s it. I almost feel like not going back to India at all. Of course, that’s not in my hands and I will duly complete my 3 week stint and head back to the city of crappy infrastructure, crowds, dust and humidity. So maybe I should enjoy my time here the best I can. And it may just be that there are many things that I cannot perceive right now, which might surface if I am here for longer. In that respect 3 weeks at a time may just be the ideal way to come to this place. Like they say, all good things come in small doses!

Nawabs - Batch of 2005 -- Represented in 2018 by the next generation

2010-01-17T04:59:00.000-08:00

He came strutting in, a water bottle strap wound around his neck, supporting a small bright orange colored water bottle which moved from side to side as he walked in through the gate. He stopped looked around the place once, gathering the scene around him and then in one jerk, pulled his shirt out from the shorts, messed up his neatly combed hair and smiled like a devil would on surveying his favorite dwelling place.

"Thats Rajiv jnr", whispered Jacko in Akky's ear. "His dad was a maniac my dad tells me. He would hound poor souls all day long and pounce on the smallest of stumbles. Looks like he has inherited some of the traits from his father."

"Really!! I didnt know he was that way!", said Akky, from up on the tree trunk that he was perched on, legs dangling on either sides, hands holding down a two feet length of wood perpendicular to the trunk in front as if holding a bike handlebar.

"Yes, yes. Didnt your dad warn him from you?"

"No, not really. He tells me some stories, but most of them zooming across the highways on his Hayabusa", and continued twisting the piece of wood, as if steering his imaginary bike through thick traffic.

But Jacko had already drifted away, no longer interested in the conversation. He was busy tracing the path of a young slim figure making way to the school lobby entrance; bag dangling behind, water bottle to one side and busy adjusting the strands of hair that streamed the young face.

"Pffff", said Akky as he looked in the direction of the girl who was attracting his friend's attention. "Not your type!”

But Jacko was off, trance-like in the direction of his new crush-of-the-day.

Akky gave a smirk and resumed his animated imitation of a biker, very much in the thick of the action.

“Not again! Haven’t I told you not to do that? It irritates me to see you and your tomfoolery”, said Kabhi looking at him with an expression of exasperation.

“Why don’t you look away then? I’m sure there are enough souls that you can pester!”

Before a reply could be uttered, the school bell rang and Akky sighed, having to lose his favorite morning pass time. He thought if only his dad would give him a bike as present, instead of the yellow colored cycle that he had and so despised.

“Please settle down everyone and take out your answer books. I hope you have done your homework, rather, if I catch someone who hasn’t done it, it will be two canes for him/her. So let me not catch you with the homework not done!” bellowed the spectacled Mrs Das. She picked up the board duster and brushed off the scrawls on the board, stopping at one drawn on the bottom corner which particularly miffed her. “Who has done this? Who has dared to commit this blasphemy? If there is one thing I won’t tolerate, it is disrespect of the holy Gods and scriptures. Understand!!” The final word was delivered with such force, such hate and anger that first benchers quivered. The last bench was a different story altogether, with most suppressing smiles which bore complete disregard for the bellower.

“Damn!” I couldn’t complete my masterpiece, whispered Sparsh. “It would have been legen…wait for it...”

“Daary!” said Kabhi, beaming a big smile to Sparsh.

“Its dary and not daary idiot! How many times do I have to tell you that!” said a visibly upset Sparsh, having missed his opportunity to complete the one phrase that was his favorite.

“Ji malik. Galti ho gayi!”, this time Kabhi’s smile not carrying the same frivolity as before.

All this was done at suitably low decibel so Mrs Das continued. “If I find the one who has done this, mind you, nothing less than detention for him/her, you get that!”, she rubbed off the scrawl of an inverted cross, complete with a poor artist’s version of Christ. T’was enough though to offend Jakko who looked with positively venomous looks towards Sparsh who returned the look with a broad smile and a middle finger, which irked him even more.

“So, question 1 of yesterday’s homework. Where would you find the Great Barrier Reef?”

“Australia!” was the immediate response from the back of the class, Rajiv jnr, very excited to have answered.

“Who said that without turn! Stand up whoever it was who answered!” at which Rajiv stood up. “Look at you, it’s the first period and your hair all messed up, your shirt half tucking out of your shorts! Don’t your mom and dad see to it that you look proper for school in the morning?! Tuck it in now and comb your hair, and don’t speak out of turn. Raise your hands if you know the answer. Understand?!”

“So next question; where will you find a Great Wall, which is visible from the Moon as well?”

“Australia!” jumped Rajiv jnr from his seat almost before the question was completed.

This time though, Mrs. Das was not in a tolerant mood and made it a point to send Rajiv jnr out of the class for disrespect. “Get out you devil!! You rascal! You will be on my radar come the next parent teacher meeting, you get me! I will not let you off the hook that easily this time!” The class was hushed as the young pupil made his way out of the class. The walk out was silent and solemn but as soon as the class exit was reached, Rajiv jnr did a little pelvic thrust towards Mrs. Das as she had turned away. This sent the class into peals of laughter.

“What’s the matter with this class! I can’t believe what you people find so funny in this punishment. Keep shut or I’ll make sure each one of your parents get a good hearing from me come the parent teacher’s meeting!’, she screamed aloud obviously disgusted. Then calming down she continued, “So now, next question and please raise your hands before answering. We are moving on to some general mathematics questions now.”

A boy starts from home with 20 rupees with him. He has to buy a kilo of potato, tomato, ladyfinger as well as 50 grams of coriander leaves, also known as hara dhaniya in Hindi. All vegetables cost 5 rupees a kilo. So what does he spend at the shop to get all the vegetables?” Hands shot up in the class as this was one of the easiest questions in the homework and everyone wanted to be the hero and answer correctly in class. Mrs. Das picked Ishant though amongst all the students as he seemed almost out of his seat in an excitement to answer. “Yes Mr. Ishant, you seem to be quiet excited about this one, let us all know the answer please”.

“Very simple mam, 15 rupees”, he said with a big smile on his face.

This really annoyed Mrs. Das as she had expected that at least this one would be answered with ease. “Cant you even do a simple math problem Mr. Goyal!”, she bellowed. There are 3 kilos of vegetables to be bought all for 5 rupees per kg, that’s 15 rupees right there. Then he has to buy the dhaniya as well, what about that!! The answer can’t be 15 then now can it?”

“But mam, itni sabzi ke saath toh dhaniya muft milta hai!” said Ishant very matter of factly, to rounds of laughter from the classroom.

“Shut up! you acting smart Ishant! You want to join you friend outside the class as well?”

“But Meerut main toh milta hai. Main toh hamesha….” the answer was drowned out by the squeals of laughter from all round.

This had Mr Goel joining Rajiv jnr outside the class.

“Why were you arguing? I agree you made a good point, but then this was a math question, why argue?”, was Rajiv jnr's first retort as he had also witnessed the scene from outside the class.

“But yaar who pays for dhaniya when you are buying so many vegetables. Papa never pays, and he makes sure that hari mirch is added as well….”

But inside the class, there was mayhem again. This time, it was none other than chubby Bratyush who was standing up, wheezing and one hand holding a handkerchief to his nose.

“Mam, I just can’t sit in this seat, Dheeraj in front of me just applied some green colored grime to his head and it stinks really bad. My wheezing has come back!”

This had Dheeraj hopping mad. “I never says anythings to you when you uses your medicines and creams. My dad use this and his hair is very shining and I am also using this. It doesn’t smell, it is sort of different scents, but not smells.”

“Yes, yes, I agree with Dheeraj, hair is very important”, argued Ghastav, wearing a cap to hide his already diminishing mane.

As more people joined into the ruckus, Mrs. Das felt helpless; and not for the first time in her teaching career. She did nothing to stop the chatter, having given up and feeling utterly helpless. Her gaze scanned the breadth of the room in an effort to find someone who she could find for motivation, someone who she could proudly call a good student, a model student, a benchmark for others to follow. Her look fell and moved on from many students disapprovingly; Mr Thakur, who was enjoying the mayhem, Pepsi in one hand and Bhujia in the other, Labhijeet, who was doing his own version of “tum toh thehere pardesi” with clapping and imitations which could have put any eunuch to shame, Mr. Fachin, who was busy gazing at his Sehwag cards and occasionally looking up to admire the song his good friend Labhijeet was bleating out. And finally her gaze fell on one student and instantly she knew that he was the one she was looking for. Looking dashing in his ironed and starched shirt, neatly done tie and perfectly combed hair, sat Puneet jnr, looking disapprovingly at the others fighting amongst them. Not for nothing was he the topper of the class and the favorite of all and sundry. “If only others could be like him”, she sighed under her breath and turned to the fighting crowd in an attempt to bring the room to order……

Disclaimer -- This does not represent my judgment on anyone. Intended for a light read.

Of censors and bans

2009-11-24T07:48:00.000-08:00

So I was watching "Enemy at the Gates" the other day. For people who have not seen it, the plot revolves around two sharpshooters in opposite camps in the world war, trying to kill the other and win the proverbial bout. Well, for a such a movie, there is bound to be a sizeable number of shots fired, people bloodied and killed. Saw it a while back and sat down to watch it again, to relive the moments. But all I got to see were dialogues. All the shooting scenes were cut from the script. All the murders and killings removed. Even innocent kisses failed to get past the censor board. I was left with a feeling that was a concoction of fury, amazement and disappointment. I was ready to take a gun and kill the editor point blank, wouldn’t even need the scope.

Not to be undone are my society people. Now mumbai is a city of immigrants. It’s a city where young people out of colleges and universities come to work, earn and burn. When I first came to mumbai, the thing that I liked was that there are every strata of people here, from the poorest to the vulgar rich. Also all ages, from all regions of india with the same objective, make a living. No doubting that this is the financial capital of india. So first there was this tomfoolery about marathi manoos, as if they were rightful owners of the state and jobs should be reserved for them. Well, if that does become their stance, there is no doubt jobs will move elsewhere, bases will shift to other avenues. Good then that this died down. But the more perplexing trend is of no flats to be leased to bachelors. This reason alone makes a more compelling argument for marrying than anything else. But again a higly skewed perspective of the bygone generations. Anywhere else I would have accepted this conservatism, but to witness the same in mumbai is disheartening to say the least. Then there is the gunda mentality of the ruling polity that mandates the name of shops and organizations to be spelled in marathi or hindi. While we yearn to give an outlook of an open society, such censures, bans and diktats just accentuates our hypocricy. Time will only tell if people here truly open up or implode under the weight of all the rules it puts up under various pretexts. And im surely hoping that it is the former rather than the latter that happens.

Boogie Woogie dancin shoes...

2009-10-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

There are some triggers which bring back memories of your childhood. different people would have different triggers, some would have food, some places which remind them of their childhood; mine is music. and not just any song, the really old english songs which my dad taped during his time on the ship. in a way it was a great thing that he was in merchant navy and roamed the world at a time when there were no cellphones, no emails to let your near and dear ones know that you are safe. ships were slower, loading/unloading took time, and so my dad had plenty of time to visit all the places and stay at a port city for a week or more. so he taped songs on cassettes, almost obsolete these days. and we played it in our car stereo when we were very young, and one of the only families in the locality to have a vehicle. we went on many tours, every year someplace new, and the tapes would play all through the route. we didnt really know much about songs and music then, but some songs got embedded in my system. everytime i listen to them, it brings back a flood of memories of dad driving the car really fast, me and my brother jostling to get between the two front seats of the maruti and cheering him on to overtake any vehicle we could see ahead. and all the time, the tape was playing in the background. we used to play the same tapes when we got up and got ready for school, such classics as harry belafonte, percy sledge, songs like blue bayou, boogie woogie dancing shoes, songs that i once played recently while driving with friends and was dissapointed at their lack of appreciation for them as they made fun of them and said how they sounded like right out of some 1960 movies. maybe...but then like revisiting my childhood sometimes, and whenever i feel the urge, i just pop open my laptop and get transformed into a kid againwith such timeless melodies!

Butterflies!

2009-10-14T07:29:00.000-07:00

This boy always took the same path to school every day with his brother alongside; walked past the sweepers in the morning as they raised a plume of dust sweeping away leaves and sand on the graveled road. They didn’t mind, dust and dirt did not matter yet. They walked past mounds of sand that lay on the side of the road; occasionally went through them, which filled their shoes with sand. The boy liked the sinking feeling, like quick sand gulping him down. They walked through the park, despite it being a detour, occasionally riding the swings or watching others riding them; walked on the border path, past the flowers of mind boggling varieties, not knowing what they were called and not bothering to know, children playing Frisbee with their parents, people walking their dogs, their tails wagging in obvious delight. And finally he reached the destination, perhaps a few minutes late, but he didn’t mind, well who would mind getting late to school. Studies did not interest him, except a few subjects. What he did enjoy was the company of friends, the banter, the lunch hour, the mischief with the girl’s hair who sat in front and when the teacher was scribbling on the board, the games session when he ran mindlessly in the playing field, sometimes on his own, and the end of day’s bell which signaled an end of torture with the books. The way back was not the same as the one taken in the morning. It was a long detour that led to a marshy land which had acres of wild flowers and millions of butterflies. It was time for some of them to be petted. The one hour session spent chasing butterflies and then stacking them together in a jar to take home was seen as something of a ritual. Not that it came to anything, once back home, the jar was let open, for them to wander in the house, for mom to scream out in dismay as they flitted in the kitchen and then escaped through open windows.

Then college came, the path became longer, but the boy didn’t mind, he still walked on some days, took the over-crowded bus on others. He saw the sweepers as a nuisance; the dust had him hiding his face behind the handkerchief. It got in his head and on his shirt, which bothered him now; it would spoil his looks, his appearance in class. The mounds of sand were left un-noticed, no longer walked upon or even ventured near. The park was now no longer a detour, yet the path through it went right across, diagonally through the lush green field instead of around it on the path. Time became more important, attendance a word of importance in the daily vocabulary. The college was still though a place to meet friends, to discuss of plans for movies or eat-outs, plans of visiting new places. No longer was the teacher required to look towards the board for mischief to be done, impudence was cool now; being sent out of class a thing to be proud of. No bells rang for end of the day, people made do with their watches to remind the professor it was time for them to go. The walk back was with friends, stopping at the numerous stalls lining beside the road for “chai” or some snacks or for no reason at all, something that became called as “adda”. Fights became more common, mostly for girls as they were in short supply. Money management became very important, as money was also in short supply for the never-ending desire for newer clothes, movies, restaurants and “addas”. Gaming outdoor became less frequent; the new buzzword was LAN gaming with friends, into the dead of the night, eyes sore and rash throats from all the shouting.

Then came office and work, the path now was rarely walked upon, rickshaws were used. Time was of the essence. Same mounds of sand were cursed upon, for obstructing the path of traffic. The parks were left on their own, never visited, viewed from the outer as people went through their early morning jogs and walks. The office was no longer a looked forward to destination; it didn’t contain many friends, just colleagues, with families of their own, discussions always veering on the markets or general work. Here, the day ended when the boss told you that it would, 9 to 5 concept became something of a theory, something that existed on paper, though never to be followed. Here the path back was not lined with any tea stalls or marshes with butterflies, no friends walked alongside sharing their day or the latest gossips. The only companion was your everlasting shadow, never talking back or differing in opinion. Money was now no longer an issue. Gaming outdoor became a forgotten concept, gaming indoor became single player; friends almost never there at the same time.

This boy looks at his life now, he has everything that he could ask for, enough money for unlimited movies; enough games at home for a lifetime of gaming; what he doesn’t have is time, friends close by or those wonderful butterflies that ran amok in his house, spreading color in what has become a colorless life.

A Taxi Ride

2009-06-20T03:09:00.000-07:00

The drive from our hotel to the airport in Phuket was all of 40km.As is usual, our last minute follies ensured that we were hard pressed for time to reach the airport before the check-in counters closed. We exited our hotel in search of a cab to drive us to the airport, but the late evening ensured that the streets were vacant and the only taxis in sight were the motorcycle taxis which promised us “Boom Boom and cheap lady”!(a good alternative if we missed our flight) So we progressed down the small street (called soi in Thailand) towards a wider more frequented road in search of an elusive taxi when we heard a man calling out from a very old looking Ford vehicle (looked more like NE 118 to me). He would take us to the airport and would charge us pretty much the same as a normal taxi would. For lack of a better option, we decided to board the rickety vehicle and thus commenced a hilarious conversation that would be one of the longest that I have had with a native during my week long stay in Thailand.

He checked us up in the rear view mirror, eyes squinting. I had an impression he was trying to size us up. Not in a menacing way as Thais seemed to me a race unable or incapable of causing harm to others. After about 5 minutes, when he reached the highway, and I half expected him to speed up, he slowed down, changed lanes to one which had slow moving traffic and started speaking.

TD (Taxi Driver): “Where you come from?”

Us: India

TD: “Aah..India…..so you Hindu…or……(looking at us with a solemn expression)

Us: Yes Hindu

TD: (face lighting up) Gooood…..you no Muslim…….good…

Us: Why you say so? You no like Muslim? (When in Rome, be like Romans. I used improper English to make him understand)

TD: Noooooo….I can talk to youuuuu….Muslim……lower level…..u know….(smiling and gesturing with hands to signify lower…like to say smaller)…..I no talk to Muslim…..I can talk to you……

Us: Why?

TD: Muslim people no good!! Theyyyy….aaahhh…they tricking…they lying…they thieving….u know….aaah you know!! They near border……aah….no no…they no good! They bombing, they drugs….u know…..aah you know….Pakistan eh! (breaking into a knowing smile which we were forced to join in)…..Yeah….u I can talk to…..we respect….

Us: (No response other than a smile)

TD: India….aah…I like very much…..aah…..many computer…..u computer man?

Us: Yes

TD: Yes yes….you looook like computer man….he he….yessss….india very good in computer…….also…I like very much…..indian movie industry….yees…I like very much…..i see many movie….yes!! I like….that hero….aah…what is his name……aah I like very much……Indian hero….

Us: Amitabh Bachhan?

TD: No no….aah he come movie…aah I don’t remember name….Asssoka…aah

Us: Ashoka….Shah Rukh Khan?

TD: Yeeeeeeeeeeeeesss!!! Very good herooo….good looking Sharookh…..i see many movie….yes yes….a good man…..dance very nice…..I like very much

Us: But he is a Muslim (with a sly smile)

TD: WHAT!! (almost bringing car to screeching halt, looking in the rear view mirror incredulously at me….while I couldn’t stop laughing)……..no no…..Sharookh muslim…..oho……I not know…….oho……no no…Muslimma….no good!! No watch his movie from now….(Sharook muslim….muttering under his breath again and again while I burst laughing watching his transformation from being happy and gay to start moaning as if somebody died)

He was quite for some time, sinking in the new and very painful information. Then he started again

TD: You know…….aah….yes…there is no…*$%#@ here (I couldn’t quite get what he was referring to)…..so I can speak to u yees…..yes….i no like the king….yes yes I can say to you….cannot say that in open…..

Us: Why you do not like him? (Just to pass time rather than really interested in knowing)

TD: No no…..he not good…..he like monfoly……you no monfoly…yes?

Us: Monopoly?

TD: yes yes……aah he use monfoly……no change…..old people like him…..they yellow shirt….i red shirt…..i like change…u no….(holding the collar of his shirt to show its red..(was greean actually)…..king’s wife no gooood….take to much moneeyy….Thailand no doing good………….i like democaracy…….but that also has......what to say……some bad things…….i like prencc….u know….prencc…

Us: WTF? French?

TD: yes yes…..prenccc…..i like prencc very……they like democaracy……and communistic……and like both mix…..i like mix….take gooood of democaracy…..and gooood of communistic….and mix (whapping both hands together to form a ball..…like capturing a mosquito in between, incredulously, no hands on the steering wheel)………aah……u no America…….aah America……they very samart…..they know…..

Us: What? (Losing completely the track of where he was heading with this argument)

TD: U no sapechy??

Us: Specie?

TD: aah yess…..sapechy…..sapechy sapechy do not change……u no…(finds completely blank faces when he sees us through the rear view mirrors)…….aah like…….dog….dog is dog……dog not human……dog not cat……u no

Us: Okaayy (getting a feeling he was either drunk or delusional both)

TD: America……..they put pig flu in mexico………and they see……u know pig flue…

Us: Swine flu?

TD: yes yes…….pig flu……they put in mexico and they see…….they put that flu in china last year…..then they see……they see what happen………very samart……u no…pentagan…..aah yes yes u no….pentagan yes yes……they have lab under pentagan…….they make flu…..they make calone (clone)…..they very samart (pointing his fingers to his forehead to signal intelligence)……very samart america

We were amused more than anything listening to this conspiracy theory of his, unfortunately we had to ask his to quicken up, we were in real danger of missing our flight. He did so and got us there just in time. Along the way he asked us about India, places to visit, told the story how he got dengue fever and lost one year of pay and losing a lot of money, exchange rates, and much more. Needless to say, it was one of the most entertaining taxi rides I’ve had.

"The Wall" shall always stand tall

2009-03-25T05:30:00.001-07:00

I have often bred a distaste for cricket of any form in the near past as I feel the game is the bane of Indian sporting fraternity. So while other sports have been languishing for want of funds, the BCCI, governing body of cricket in India has been awash with it. So much so that it is the envy of even the ICC. With money comes power, amply illustrated by the impunity with which World Cup hosting rights were gazumped by the Indian body despite it being Australia's turn to host the big show. The mass marketing and appeal of the players attract imitations and hero worship from parents and their kids alike, which is why every street can be seen with makeshift stumps hunched kids, rather than a football and kids running helter skelter. The cricketers, every other one being hailed as the next genius by the commentators increases my distaste for the game and the word genius itself. While players obviously riding the cash wave and the celebrity status flaunt girlfriends and cars and bikes which make the other athletes look downright pauper-esque in comparison. But in all this hubris, one man has been my sole so called bright star in an otherwise dark night, the only man who has displayed dignity on and off the field, who has behaved like a Man both in victory and defeat and hasn't batted an eyelid when all his years of servitude to the nation have almost been overshadowed by every new kid on the block. The man is Rahul Dravid.
Starting his career on the English tour, with the seaming,swinging,overcast and cold blustery conditions is not the easiest introduction to cricket. Yet, in typical fashion, the successful introduction to cricket that Dravid had was overshadowed by Ganguly in the series. Coming in with India at 5-202 and just the tail enders to follow was not the situation for a traditional top order batsman to commence his test career. Yet Dravid took to the task like duck to water and gave a sumptuous display of strokeplay which had the purists cheering. With the South African home and away series next, it was baptism with fire for him. Yet Dravid gave a glowing account of his talent. People would forget statistics over time. But ask any cricket lover, and he would tell you that India folded up for 100 and 66 in the two innings of the Durban test in the 1996 season. Few would remember that Dravid stood unconquered in the second innings scoring nearly half the Indian total. He went on to top score for India on the unsuccessful tour, almost setting up a stunning victory in the final test, only to be denied by a Messrs Klusener and the timely intervention of rain.
Statistics confirm that Dravid has been the best away batsman for India over the past decade. Indian batting for long was also termed as the paper tigers, good only at home. Yet Dravid would be sole exception having averaged better on away matches than at home. It is then unsurprising that he has been the mastermind of many a famous victory, the one against Australia in Adelaide in the 2003-04 season being the most remarkable. For until Tendulkar's recent maturity in closing out matches notwithstanding, Dravid was the most dependable batsman in a run chase in difficult conditions. McGrath regarded him as the most difficult batsmen to get out in the Indian batting order, better than even Sachin when India toured in 2003. Nicknamed "The Wall" for his tight defence and ability to shut out opposition seamers, Dravid was again the unsung hero when Laxman became the toast of the cricketing fraternity in the famous Kolkata test against Australia, many forgetting that it was Dravid who held forte at one end while Laxman butchered the Aussie bowlers at the other. Many attribute that turning point to be the turning point of Indian cricket, when we metamorphosed into a team of believers. Fitting then, that Dravid was one of the vanguard of this change.
Few have been shuttled up and down in the batting order like Dravid has, having played at every position from 1 to 7 in tests. He donned gloves despite being a top order batsman in the ODIs to provide balance to the team. He opened the batting when no other dared to, made the number 3 position his own. Not surprisingly, it is the most important position in a batting line-up, coming in when an opener has fallen early with the responsibility to shied the middle order from the new ball. He accepted captaincy when others had declined, gave it up of his own accord, convinced that it was time for the younger brigade to take over, and lost his place in the ODI team shortly thereafter despite a healthy record. Protests broke out when Ganguly was dropped from the ODI side for poor performance, barely an eyebrow was raised when Dravid was. That in essence sums up Dravid's contribution to Indian cricket. Always willing to fight it out and ready to be the fall guy, sacrificing glory in the greater good of the team, but significantly, always staying out of the limelight and below the radar of any controversy, Dravid has quietly penned his name in the list of all time greats. As the sun sets on his brialliant career, it is time for us to appreciate and applaud a true gentleman, the likes of whom the game may never see again for generations to come.

Writer's Block??

2009-02-04T00:53:00.000-08:00

Been a long time since I put pen to paper (or my fingers to the keyboard to write more than a scrap or my email id). So today I write. Hmm…but what to write on. No, not the sorry state of the economy, the sorry state of my investments or the sorry state of placements in college affecting all my friends. That is a saga that has been going on for far too long and will proceed for another year if all economists and analysts are correct, which they seldom are. Hmm..So what to write on. No, not the idle time I spend in office daily, fretting on losing my job, doing a little more than sipping on vending machine brewed coffee, working out in the gym and going through the news which has made me a walking encyclopedia of corporate news, bankruptcies etc. No, not of the time spent with friends, visiting places just to kill the time and that of others too. Not of the expensive gaming console that I have bought which I stay glued to for a couple hours every night as a religion, the kaam-waali related issues which keep coming up every month and the recent movies, the over hyped slumdog which has captured everyone's imagination. The roadies and the made up banter and profanities therein which have all eyes glued to the show and its re-runs. Not even of the terrorist strikes, the meek Indian reaction to it, or of the first black president who has promised much en-route to his arrival on the big stage, towards whom the entire world is looking for some cues to bring an end to this crisis. I don’t even have the will to write about game which has me hooked to the tele, and my favourite club which must be setting records for tarnishing all previous game records recently. Not even of the exam that I have enrolled for, sunk in half a lakh rupees for and the books of which are attracting everything except my attention from me. So, I have pretty much exhausted all possibilities, and am left with nothing to write about. A heads up from any eves-dropper on my blog will be appreciated.

What is he looking at?

2008-12-20T13:44:00.000-08:00

Book Review - The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

2008-11-25T05:30:00.001-08:00

I have always held the notion that books that win accolades with the critics and literary prizes are almost always boring and not worth the read. But this book dispels all that. Its a simple story (something that can be summarized in 2 pages but presented nicely without complexities) was the recommendation from a friend of mine. And true to her word, the book had depth of story without the usual intricacy that tags along.

The story is that of a young man, who rises from the "darkness" of his village, a place called Laxmangarh to become rich and powerful on the dint of his hard work, predilection for eavesdropping and clear decision making of when to do the right (or wrong) thing to move ahead in life. The story captures the image of a deep rooted lack of ambition in the lower castes in India, and how they voluntarily give up a life of freedom to embrace slavery of the rich and powerful, who are elevated to the status of Gods and who become a law unto themselves by this meek surrender of the villagers. It also captures the images of corruption that plagues the top echelons of the potilical and social hierarchy in India and paints a gloomy picture of the society as such. Gloomy, yet very accurate. And it captures the two visions of India, the poor yet moral and the rich yet amoral. And it does so with the simplicity of narration that is hardly the flavor with critics. That it won the "Man Booker" is a testament to the wonder that Adiga has created. A sure-shot read.

Politics and progress dont go hand in hand (click the title to read the article)

2008-11-25T04:58:00.000-08:00

I was thrilled and saddened at the same time reading the above article. My heart had yearned for some political personality to rise above the idiosyncrasy of religion, to make decisions that are not religiously colored and who upholds the law against all else. So i was overjoyed when I read this report of Narendra Modi demolishing unauthorized religious constructions in Gujarat. Unauthorized constructions of religious structures for long has gone unpunished, and mostly due to the predictable yet obnoxious tendency of politicians to keep distance from all religious issues lest they attract controversies. For a very long time now, people have grabbed government land and the first thing they have built on it has been a temple or mosque and then their homes around it, safe in the knowledge that the structure would never be broken down, that even if it is touched by the authorities, they would take out a religiously colored protest against the govt and force them into submission. I have watched in dismay as the road widening operations right opposite my apartment building have been stalled as an unauthorized temple has come in the way, making that stretch of the road a bottleneck for motorists during rush hours. And then there are numerous other such cases as well, which i come across in my daily commutes, brazen lack of respect for the laws of the land in the name of religion. So, i hope that politicians see through the veneer of their self-created soft-spots and uphold the law of the land come what may. I hope Mr. Modi continues on his demolition drive and set a standard for others to follow.

Who lost what

2008-09-26T01:48:00.000-07:00

For the best part of this week and last, I tried to put pen to paper and jot down my agony as Lehman became bankrupt. I grappled for words which could best depict my helplessness, anger and desperation in the past week. I tried to put into words feelings which I realized I could not. And it is in these times of pain and agony that you realize what someone in a similar situation in another company or georgraphy would have undergone. For the duration of the uncertainty, you become brothers with that other unknown person. It is also these times in which you realize that fine line between friends and pretenders. And though I'm not out in the clear yet, I can still recall the events of the past couple weeks and have many takeaways from it. But most of all, I realized that I hadnt lost anything. Sure, my job and career was and still is at risk, the prospects in the job market dim and all my dreams and plans with the near and dear ones shattered. Yet I have a family to fall back on, my prior savings to keep me going for months and no real liabilities, wives or children to provide for. For all my senior counterparts, who have been in the firm for years, the loss has been substantial. Years of loyal service and hardwork were rewarded with handsome pay packages and benefits but most of them being in the form of stock options. What was designed for the benefit of the employees and the firm, with a view that employees with vested stock options in the company would have a sense of ownership of the firm, became the cause of grief for many. It was cruel irony for people who held on to the shares and watched it dive from $70 to around $20 and then down to zilch. It was as if they were being castigated for showing loyalty. The older the employee, the greater the loss. People lost their entire savings in the bankruptcy. Many had taken up huge mortgages against the securities and are now saddled with huge interest payments which have become unaffordable. For many, the Lehman Stock represented savings for the college education of a young one, for others it meant retirement savings. I had a conversation with my analyst immediately after bankruptcy and he sounded more despondent than anyone I have ever spoken to. I had naively thought then that it might have been a late night for him and therefore he was still drowsy after waking up. I recall that same tone now and realize that there may not have been much sleep that night for him and for many nights thereafter. He had some months ago talked avidly of the investment he had made in Mumbai and the plans he had of visiting his family in Jaipur and going to visit the Taj Mahal. All that went up in smoke in a matter of hours on that fateful Sunday. One newspaper had reported that Lehman's failure was personal for its employees. It couldn’t have been truer.

What have I lost in comparison. A job….Not my entire future.

Early bird catches the worm!! Certainly not….

2008-09-26T00:08:00.000-07:00

My travails started a couple of months ago when I booked my flight ticket from Mumbai to Delhi for Diwali. I marvelled at my foresight of getting them at the cheapest rates by virtue of having booked them 90 days in advance. As people began realizing that Diwali would be a good time to visit family, the interest in the flights started escalating and so did the prices. I was immensely happy when people started howling in obvious displeasure when they came across the ticket prices and bagan cribbing about the unaffordability of air-travel. But then, as has been a case numerous times in my life, lightning struck. Airlines slashed rates dramatically as the oil prices subsided to more reasonable levels. My foresighted-ness had turned into a curse. I realized that my ticket was 50% more expensive than the fares on offer as per the new rates. It was now my turn to howl and crib. And worse, I couldn’t do so as people would easily recall my sly smiles and artificial efforts at pacification when they were agonizing over the ticket prices. I could become the object of their sly smiles and placation efforts now. So, I had no choice but to cringe, seeth and crib all internally and accept my fate. Cancellation penalties were huge so I had no option left. The old adage that early bird catches the worm certainly had lost its relevance for me….

Mumbai v/s Delhi

2008-07-26T13:36:00.000-07:00

Now that’s a debate that’s been running for ages with obviously no one right answer. And it’s typically Mumbaikers and Delhiites who are at the end of such debates, which often turn into heated arguments. It’s almost as if quasi-patriotism for the native state overtakes the warring parties, which overrides all arguments. I, ironically, belong to a unique or rare breed of Delhiites who would stick my head out and say that Mumbai would score over Delhi, despite all of the capital state’s obvious advantages. I have been looked upon as a deserter by my Delhi friends and a hero by my Mumbai ones, which kind of balances it out. So I ponder over the course of this article, as to why Mumbai holds such allure for me and I hope I would have the answer by the end of it.

To start off, there is the most obvious differentiator which is the sea. It’s not so much the beaches that attract me as much as just the location of the place, the sea and the sprawling city that has developed on its coastline. Marine Drive is definitely one of the most beautiful stretches of road that I have ever been witness to. And going by the vast numbers that throng the place all day long, I would have lot of company to back me up on this.

Then there are the high rises. While Delhi spreads itself horizontally, Mumbai, by virtue of space (or lack thereof) has to spread vertically. And it is a breathtaking sight with high rises dotting the horizon. I stay in a 7 storied apartment in Delhi, and that is like the tallest that there are as far as residential complexes go. Not here. 20 stories is a common sight here. And then there is something about standing on the 19^th floor and gazing at the world below, a charm that is absent in Delhi.

Food definitely stands out. On all occasions that I’ve been out, the food has been tremendous. Yes, as I recently discovered, Mumbaikers do have a fascination with sugar, which they add in magnanimous quantities to most food items that in my view should be left alone. But that apart, food has been terrific in general, the same cannot be said of Delhi, where one would generally have a few places lined out for a visit, as all others suck.

The attitude comes next, towards the fairer sex in particular. While in Delhi, a decent girl would always have a reason to be cautious about the way she dresses, the time she stays out and the locality which she visits, the same is absent here in Mumbai. The taunts and the lecherous looks that generally follow any girl in Delhi would be a rarity in Mumbai. And so there is a great deal of equality here, which comes as a breath of fresh air in a mainly male dominated society like India.

Readers here would definitely point out that Delhi stands far ahead in infrastructure, space per capita, and greenery and what not. But all that is superficial in my view. What purpose does all the infrastructure serve when travelling from one part of the city to the other usually costs a fortune both in terms of time and money if owning a vehicle is out of one’s reach and what good is space per capita and greenery when all the vehicles spewing smoke make Delhi one of the most polluted city in Asia, far ahead of Mumbai.

So this in a nutshell was my view about the city. I’m sure there is more to Mumbai than just the points above, but then I have not been able to pin-point those intangibles till now. I hope to decipher those feelings sometime in the future. But one thing is for sure for now, I am a definite covert. Go Mumbai!!!

Laughter – the best medicine

2008-07-08T12:06:00.000-07:00

I have never been a very lecture-loving guy, preferring a more hands-on approach to the theoretical one. On very frequent occasions, I have sat through a complete lecture, with all the seriousness associated with a typical “maggu”, but have left the lecture not being able to recollect a single word that the professor had said. I advise all my juniors, peers and anyone who would listen to pay attention in class, doing so would reduce the after-work significantly. It is then ironical that I have been the worst practitioner of my own advice. So, when I joined my new job, although I was sad at leaving the college, recollecting all the days lazing and doing nothing or playing multiplayer online games all day long, at some level I was happy that I was escaping a life that was ridden by a compulsion to sit through lectures. Obviously I was dismayed then, when I discovered that I would have to compulsorily attend lectures on financial markets and valuation and accounting, and that too lectures spanning not just an hour or two, but several hours at a length, and many days in continuation.

It’s now almost the end of the class-room training, and I have come to realize that I have never learnt as much in a class setting as I have in the past few days. It has been a revelation being attentive in the class, and actually absorbing the views of the lecturer. And the one single thing that has stood my current instructors apart from all others in my college days has been humor. It has added spice to the otherwise bland and monotonous nature of the topics covered. Someone who has attended an accounting lecture will associate with what I mean. It is one topic that cannot be tutored without an element of fun involved. My attentiveness in these sessions can be attributed not only to my enthusiasm to learn, but also to my desire not to miss a single snippet of humor that escapes the lecturer’s lips. Below are some of the most hilarious lines I have ever heard

1. Prof: Muslims are always saying they gave us the Prophet and they gave us zero.

(The whole class erupts in laughter)

Prof: Err…Two mutually exclusive events of course.

2. Prof: I went to Aura (a bar) and I was really excited and all would have an Indian beer you know Kingfisher and all, and all they had was Stroh’s. I couldn’t believe it.

Student: But that’s an Aussie beer isn’t it? (The Prof is an Aussie)

Prof: Yeah, but we don’t drink Stroh’s in Australia. We keep all the good stuff and export Stroh’s to US, India, Japan…we say take it all, we don’t want it!!

3. I have been a very successful trader, and I have always without exception made a trade at a wave or a trough. And on one of those occasions, I maximized my losses.

4. …they think that if we use both sides of toilet paper, that they would stop global warming….

5. Nobody wants to sell steel today, everyone wants to sell Tata Steel.

6. …. jo kaam kiya,mehnat kiya, steel banaya uska pagaar 12000. Aur mba karke nikla uska pagaar 12 lakh….aur usse pooch kya kiya…M&A kiya !!

7. God does not give everything in life. So God asked humanity, what do you want; a good balance sheet and a crap P&L or vice versa. And for ages humanity has said, balance sheet ka kya karega, P&L achha do. Par ab ye private equity waala aya, bola P&L kaun dekhta hai, Balance Sheet achha do. And thus we are moving towards a fair value based balance sheet rather than cost based system earlier…..

Operations Management

2008-06-01T01:46:00.000-07:00

Here's one post that I have had for long, penned down during a lecture some 2 years back while I waged war against the sin of sleeping during class...

Operations management is such a pain,
Everything is so obvious, what is the gain,
Trying to remain alert in class,
Will definitely one day drive me insane.

Productivity, strategy – the book definition,
Just taught to us using a different rendition,
And even the glittering slide show,
Fails to enhance my erudition.

I wonder what questions can come in test,
The mystery deepens despite trying my best,
And I realize what an uphill task it would be,
To differentiate the relevant from the useless rest.

A Japanese word is all I learn,
Waiting for the class to adjourn,
How others manage to remain so interested,
Is a fact that I will never be able to discern.

And as the end approaches I start to pray,
That nobody asks a doubt to prolong my stay,
The end brings with it a relief unbound,
I am happy to have survived another day.

Are we all alone?

2008-05-29T01:54:00.000-07:00

Does life exist outside of our planet? The question that continues to haunt us. Millions of years into our evolution, hundreds of years since astronomers have been gazing the sky for signs of life but to no avail. Despite all our technological breakthroughs, we have still not been able to determine whether there was or is life on Mars, our closest planetary neighbor, leave alone our solar system or our galaxy. The real search has not really begun. When we struggle for our own existence, fighting ever shrinking resources and ever increasing demand, looking for extra terrestrial life is an indulgence whose time has not really come. But there have been efforts all the same; Sending out radio waves into Space with an expectation that somewhere, some intelligent specie will intercept and decode those waves. Sending video and audio recordings on all modules sent in space has been a ritual for decades. Yet success has eluded us.

For decades, there have been reports of sightings of UFOs; most commonly as disk shaped objects circling an area, bright lights emanating from the same. Yet most of these sightings and even pictures have been debunked by scientists to be either low flying balloons, or cloud formations that people have really imagined to be disks. There is tremendous data on the internet on UFO sightings from all around the world, pictures, videos and what not. And some pictures I have come across have actually left me dumbfounded. Then again, the authenticity of these pictures can be questioned, and many past digitally altered samples have awakened the cynic in me. A cynic who would not believe unless confronted by any such flying object.

But I question all the same, how can we be all alone in the universe? We are a young civilization still in terms of the evolutionary time scale that reaches into millions of years. And our solar system and Sun are acknowledged to be young systems. And there are hundreds of millions of Stars out there. Stars much older than ours, galaxies much bigger and older than ours that support many times the planets and stars that ours do. Even if the probability of life springing on any one planet is infinitesimally small, the infinitely large multiplier effect of all planets in the universe makes life outside of Earth a surety. Yet we have not come into contact with any such life form. We plod on nevertheless, and this struggle will only intensify in the coming years as Earth slowly ascends the ladder where people gravitate from concentrating on their own needs and start looking for answers to questions that have confronted all mankind for ages. But till a proven life form outside our own is found, I will continue to believe in the existence of the same. For as one movie dialog goes, “But I guess I'd say if it is just us... seems like an awful waste of space.”

My School, My Heaven

2008-02-18T04:15:00.002-08:00

Just came across my first school’s community in Orkut. And since then can’t help but recount all my happy years spent in school. From lining up near the gate to sing the national anthem every morning to swinging on the entrance gates and getting scolded almost every day.

Very few have ever been through the esteemed hallways of East Point School (yes that was the name, as ridiculous as it may sound), but I’m sure that everyone’s lives were somehow touched by the spirit and the culture there. Very few of my friends know about it, ‘cause I have almost guarded the knowledge from them in the fear of being ridiculed because of its name, as I was initially when i joined the new school, Cambridge. But I can’t be prouder of having joined EPS, my childhood could never have been be more enriched. I remember the weird arrangement when Japanese students joined us in the 5th standard. They were superlative in sports and were very fun to be with. I still remember all their names; Michael, Raphael, Elijah, Robert, Pauline and the attractive Rachel. They would be there just for the initial four periods and then head back home, and the periods were arranged such that English, Hindi and Math was taught in the mornings. It was a queer arrangement, and many would question as to why a school would go to such lengths to take just 6 students in class. But the school was perennially short of funds; even working capital needs were met with difficulty.

I remember the inadequate infrastructure, the school operated out of. One three floored building and that was it. Many of my friends lived in houses larger than that school building. No sports ground to speak of. Our sports periods were spent under the vigilant eyes of a teacher in a community ground of that place, just behind our school. Small classrooms, individual chairs and tables, a small library that housed few books, and one “khoosat” librarian. No canteen and no open spaces that I took for granted in my new school. But it couldn’t have been better. Smaller classes meant lesser students per class; I guess 30 in a class and 2 sections for that standard was the maximum that the school ever managed. Yet, it was this sole reason which promoted friendship and closeness both between the students as well as the teachers and the students. I remember the teachers fondly. Vandana mam and her cute daughter Sonali, Amita mam and her slightly British accent, Radha mam and her south Indian accent, Sharma mam and how she always disliked me, as I was poor in Hindi. I remember Christopher Sir, and how well he played the guitar. His Bon Jovi looks, long blonde hair would have floored many a girl. And Kanti sir and how he would slap both cheeks simultaneously, and how it used to hurt back then. I remember the classes, somehow I was brilliant right through till 8th standard; i remembered i got the best student award in every class till 8th and cried when i got 63 in Math in the mid terms.

You would ask as to why I left the school at all. But as luck would have it, the school did not have permission to conduct classes beyond 8th, neither could it, there was no space left. My academic career nosedived thereafter. I used to hold my new school culpable for that, with its typically overfilled and noisy students, uncaring teachers and poor teaching methods. But then, my old school had pampered me so much, that any place after that was bound to be a shock. Nobody can imagine studying in a class size of 11, yes 11, and that was my final year at school, with 6 girls and 5 boys in one class. You could imagine the level of closeness the teachers had with each students. Typically the students would be living near the school itself, and were within walking distance of each other’s places. We used to visit each other often. We used to shop for gifts together when any teacher had a birthday and then went all the way to our teacher’s home to wish her. Generally when someone joined the school, nobody left unless “better knowing” parents in the interest of their children’s futures would take them away. When I think of the past, I can remember zilch of my new school; I had practically no friend and precisely one teacher who I liked. So I have no memory of years from 9th to 12th, a time when most students have most fun in their lives, into their teens and about to enter adulthood. But I had had my fun early in life. And nobody could replace that, those memories are etched in my mind, none have faded. Some of the long lost friends, Anubhav, Sakshi, Manu, Gautam, Gaurav….I still remember them, have not talked to them now for like 8 years, don’t know where they are or what they are doing presently but I’m sure I’ll face no anxiety when I meet them, only nostalgia of what I had, and what I miss most in my life…..my school, my heaven……

Will any Indian movie win an Oscar in the near future?

2008-02-13T05:05:00.001-08:00

India is the producer of the largest number of movies in the world. Despite this, our movies have featured amongst the nominees of Best Foreign film category only thrice. India's first ever entry to the Oscars, Mother India got the nomination for the best foreign film, but couldn't win it at the Academy members didn't like the ending. Thereafter, a long wait of 31 years ensued. Salaam Bombay, a movie based on the miserable lives of street kids of Bombay, was the next to feature in the category. It was unlucky to lose out. And, we all know about legendary Lagaan which lost out to No man's land. One which we thought would break the shackles and bring us an Oscar, RDB didn’t even make the final cut.

There is no denying the fact that majority of movies made in India are not worth a watch, but the same can't be said about the Indian cinema of 50's and 60's with greats like Guru Dutt, Satyajit Ray, Shyam Benegal and many others .Satyajit Ray won the Oscar for “Lifetime achievement in Cinema”, but it is ironic that none of his movies were found good enough by the Academy to even be nominated.

This leads me to think that the perception of the world about India is still that of a third world country. Because movies that have made it to the final list of nominees - Mother India, Lagaan and Salaam Bombay - depict India as a third world country or a backward state. Perhaps that’s the reason why a movie like Rang de Basanti failed to get make the grade.

Shekhar Kapoor had once said that it all depends on market dynamics, India is not a market for Hollywood movies, so it won't be getting any Oscars. I don’t buy this line of reasoning. Because small movies from Algeria have also won at the Oscars, surely we are a bigger market for Hollywood than them. The problem then lies somewhere else.

Most of the films that are sent through are Hindi films whereas there are a lot of good regional movies as well which deserve attention. In the last 10 years, there has been only 1 non-hindi movie that was sent, Shwaas. The selection jury must ensure that the best piece of cinema from the industry makes the cut, not just the largest Hindi magnum-opus of that year.

Another crucial factor that places Hindi movies on a disadvantage is the lobbying or lack thereof. Promotions and media coverage does affect the opinions and preconceptions of the jury. Alas, this requires large sums of money that most of the times Indian entrants are not willing to commit. Movies like Shwaas are made on small budgets, hence do not have the wherewithal to spend the amounts on promotion as foreign flicks do. But even a large spend does not ensure a success, Amir Khan spent more than a million dollars to promote Lagaan to no avail.

So I am led to believe that Indian movies are perhaps just not good enough. Over the years the technical production has improved so we think that our movies have become world class. We conveniently forget that many of the movies lack content. What we need for an Oscar are some serious film makers who know their art. What we need are two words that are unfashionable today: sincerity and honesty. One ingredient required for a successful international movie is sincerity of the film maker, not making too many compromises for commercial success. Each frame should be a work of art and the story should be told as it happens. If we look at the Oscar winners of the past we cannot deny that most of them broke new grounds in cinema. None of our movies do that, they are made specifically keeping the mass audience in mind, hence they depend on gimmickry to make the films succeed.

We are living in a fool’s paradise when we say that our creations merit an Oscar. So when Amitabh Bachhan says that Indian films should not aspire to win the Oscar, that they require an Oscar to certify them as being good, was offensive to him, I cannot help but thinking him of a sore loser. Perhaps then he can downgrade the reputation of the Oscars as well by shedding light on its origins, that they were devised as a publicity stunt to promote sagging box office figures in the US in and around March. Sad but true.

My Childhood Revisited

2008-01-22T07:01:00.000-08:00

One windy Sunday afternoon, returning to my hostel room, all dressed in formals for an early morning presentation that made me wait for an eternity, I was enthralled by the presence of numerous kites of all colors right above my head. I searched for the source of the string, where it originated, and was thrilled to see that it was in the hands of a student in a lawn in my very campus. In fact there were hoards of people who were trying their hands at flying the kite. It was an informal event in our annual fest, Manfest. And boy I was glad. I could have hugged the person who came up with the concept of kite flying as an informal event. Instead, I ran towards the registration desk to find out whether I could participate or not. It was an indirect way of asking for the place where the inventory of kites and “charkhis” were stored. I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer anyway. On locating the inventory, I made a dash for it, much to the bemusement of the people enjoying their afternoon lunch in the open air canteen, the one I just ran through. I cared little for those looks. I was elated to see many kites strewn about in a cardboard box. I instinctively picked up the most colorful one, found thread to bind its “kanne” and raced towards the lawn, forgetting that I had forgotten to pick up the “manja” without which the kite could not take to the sky. On realizing my mistake, I ran back. I’m sure the speed at which I was running (un-necessarily) would have put any athlete to shame. Nothing could stop me now. Except the non availability of “manja”. “We ran out of it”, was the organizer’s evasive reply when I demanded it to be made available to me ASAP. “Maybe you can fly it with someone”, was his solution to the problem. So I ran my eyes across the field to see who I knew in the sea of people and could be coaxed into giving up his/her thread to me. As my luck would have it, I found just the guy. His unsuccessful attempts at flying the kite were amusing as he ran one side then the other, the kite barely lifting off the ground. I didn’t volunteer to help him. I knew that another 2 minutes at it and he would tire or the kite would tear apart or both could happen. And as per my wishes, the kite paper could bear no more of the violence and in one crisp tear, made the kite unusable. I was elated. You might think that it was devilish of me to act in such a manner. But then “kite ke liye kuch bhi karega”. I took his “manja” from him, half sympathizing with him and tied it to my kite which was ready by my side. The wind was brisk and in no time I had it in the sky. I was as if I was reliving my childhood. All the past memories flooded back to me….

- My old Delhi house, three storied at that time and one of the tallest in the neighborhood proved unparalleled kite flying experience. I remembered my father by my side, teaching me the tips and tricks of the trade. I remember I used to keep looking heavenwards, hours at a stretch at the many kites that filled up the evening sky like a pack of bees. I remembered that I used to cry myself hoarse with shouts of “i-bokate” when we won the battle of the kites, called “pench”. I remember accompanying my dad to the kite vendor. Fighting with him when he used to offer less thread than he should have for the money that we paid him. I still remember that turning, the face of that shopkeeper who used to sit in the shop and patiently listen to me as I made a hue and cry of everything under the sun. And I remembered that I had cried for hours when a guy near my house had used a stone and thread to intercept my kite in mid flight, and taken it away from my control.

- I remembered me flying kites all alone on the terrace, shooing away my brother who was inept at the art of kite flying and my cousins who used to be an irritant as they got the thread all mangled up. I remembered how I used to climb up the water tank above my terrace, precariously, and in complete disregard of all my relatives shouting at me not to do it.

- I remember moving to a new society, and watching from the glass windows as people flew kites from what was now the 8^th floor of our apartment block. I remember how, despite my fever, I summoned all strength to hail a “rickshaw”, travel some distance from our flats and buy the kites and thread and then finally fly them, amongst complete strangers, sometimes aggressive, on the 8^th floor. And I remember how I made some friends just by this kite flying ritual that I performed every evening, more regularly than anyone else

- I remember my friends telling me to study for the boards next day and me concentrating all my efforts on flying kites. I remember the dreams I had, of intense battles between kites, and how I managed to steer my kite away from the heat of battle, to take on opponents one at a time. I remember the sometimes, me being the only one flying the kite in the evening. I did not need anyone on those occasions as well. I used to have clouds as temporary barriers and used to circle my kite around, I used to try and take my kite near birds that came in view, it was an enthralling experience even without another kite in the sky. I remember….

I remember so much more. My happiness has no bunds. Kite flying made me remember my childhood like never before. I knew then what I had missed for so long. That one piece of rectangular paper, and brightly colored thread had so many memories wrapped around them, it feels makes me feel like I’m 11 again……..

Chak De India!!

2007-09-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

It’s 1 at night and I have nothing to do. At home and comfy, I have the option to sleep obviously, but all the days of the last semester have perhaps taken their toll on my sleep glands (I know there is no such thing). So I sit here, chatting away, when even the chat friends disappear one by one, busied by their own tasks. One chat friend after ridiculing my team (meaning the football team I support) goes to prepare for his early morning presentation of some case. The other says be right back and forgets to come back after half an hour, then another bids adieu as his mom calls him for some late night chore. And so I sit here. Nothing particular to do. I therefore engage in this activity called blogging that some of my friends call atrocious (by the fact that I am not that good at it). By I believe that practice makes perfect or its increases the standard of work at the least. It’s part of the “learning curve” as we say in management jargon.

So my topic of today’s effort is a movie called “Chak De India”. A cheesy name tag I thought at first. The songs were uninspiring when they came out and the promos were less than convincing. Usually I give such movies a miss. But this time I am glad that I went along with my friends for a screening. And what a movie it turned out to be. More inspirational than most Hollywood movies I have seen (yes I set Hollywood movie as the benchmark, don’t kill me for that). And yet the movie was enjoyable. Rarely have I seen such good acting performances from a bunch of nobodies. The do the job perfectly. The reason I am writing about this movie today (a full fifteen days after I first watched it) is because I went and saw it on the big screen again today, this time with my parents. The motivation for me to go and watch it for the umpteenth time (I saw it umpteenth-2 times on the laptop) was to show it to my parents and revel as they enjoyed it. Somehow, the fact that they enjoy something makes me even happier. So off I went with them, driving like mad, jumping queues (which was justified as I had pre-booked the tickets and just had to collect them) much to the annoyance of the people standing in the queue for long, just so that they would not miss the opening.

As I went through the emotion of watching the movie again, I saw many subtle points that I had missed on my previous viewing. And it was a whole new experience. Where the last time the theatre was silent right through the movie, this time, there were peals of laughter (many a time at inopportune instances which was irritating), and genuine clapping when the climax of the movie was revealed. I would say this has been a much better movie experience than the last time around (a large Pepsi and butter popcorn certainly helped the matter). And now that the spectacle is over, I reflect on some of the most powerful scenes that I have seen in Hindi movies for a long time. Like the one where the men’s hockey team salutes the women’s team for their gutsy performance against them, or the scene where little Komal Chautala passes the ball to her arch rival (in terms of goals scored that is) Preeti for her to slot home the equalizer in the final stages of the world cup final match against Australia. Great movie, great background music (including the tracks that appeared so cacophonous when listened to before I saw the movie); I guess this should surely get its star cast a host of awards at the annual film festivals. Perhaps this movie will make it to the Oscars as well. But then win it will surely not, because the emotion that egresses our hearts when we see the females fight it out against all odds and against a male chauvinist society like India’s will not be appreciated fully by the judges coming from contrasting cultures. But whether it reaches the Oscars or not or whether it is even considered or not, I must say that it has been a pleasure watching the movie, and is certainly one of the classics that I have seen in the past year.

IIM-L : Analysis Part 1

2007-01-29T12:57:00.000-08:00

All through my stay here, i have come across people of diversity that has enabled me to grasp the real meaning of the word. And when i say diversity, i mean a diversity of attitudes. Here is the documentation of a few such attitudes:

1. People who live in a superiority complex. Every action of theirs revolves around the single objective of maintaining superiority. And that need not always be a bad thing. It adds within a fire always to win and the seeds of a never-say-die attitude are sown. Yet these people also live in a fool's paradise. Being good in one field is not good enough and they want ( and not aspire ) to be known as the authority in all fields. And this sometimes gives rise to a i-am-the-best syndrome in situation where clearly the person is not. Such people also desire to be praised and hence talk a lot about themselves.

2. People who have a single minded focus on a task at hand and will try and fulfill it by all means possible. Such types put in an inordinate amount of effort often without a corresponding result. But try they always do. People like these often skip parties and jaunts with friends to study. The fun of being here is lost on them. People like these sometimes irritate people like us (and i will not describe my type ) by submitting work when no-one else has done it. They become stressed by academic activities which also form the majority of their discussions.

3. Then there are the i-do-not-care type. And these type scare me the most, especially when they are part of my assignment team. i shudder to think what kind of performance would they put up in companies when taking up responsibilities is as alien a concept to them as any.

4. The genuine studs, and there are a few of such people around. Their minds work in a different stratosphere and is as sharp as a needle. They might appear to be laggards, often missing classes for no ostensible reasons, sleep all day and still be groggy when they wake up but when it comes to decision making, they present an angle many would never have fathomed. Clarity of thought is evidenced in their arguments which are mostly foolproof. They garner a lot of respect due to these god gifted abilities and generally don't squabble over such insignificant things as marks.

Then there are many many more, but then it's time now for me to wind up this part and indulge in an activity that i have come to consider the most important in any MBA's life -- watching movies.

2006-08-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

Can you believe it...Pluto no longer a planet!!! Ramifications of this are just unimaginable. Some of them have been listed below:

1. First and foremost playing with the minds of people like us who have devised mnemonics to remember the names of all the planets there are in the solar system. Now we will have to devise some all over again.

2. Shattering dreams of so many people living near the equator of shifting to cooler climes of Pluto in the near future. Well they will have to do with Neptune instead. That is unless the scientists decide to downgrade it as well.

3. NASA's plans to send a probe to the farthest planet - Pluto. Well, they will in a sense save money by not having to send their probe so far off. I don’t think they will waste money on just an asteroid now.

4. The NDA and Congress will now have to make changes in the science textbooks again. What a boring job. No communalization issues no nothing. That is unless some religious sect comes up with a way of politicizing it.

5. One hurt pride of the guy on the left. He will have to be content with downgrading of his name now.

A good strategy

2006-08-25T21:12:00.000-07:00

In an era of intense competition in any and all industries, this is i guess a time tested strategy to advertise. Pick up a subject that is controversial and the media will do the rest. And yes, the bloggers play their part as well. This is something akin to the film industry where there is a controversy erupting before the release of any movie to grab the public's attention. I guess this guy's strategy is woking to perfection so far...

A bird song

2006-08-25T06:50:00.000-07:00

I dream that I’m drowning out,
I try to swim, to yell and shout,
But my cries do go in vain,
As nobody comes to alleviate my pain.

Oh apathetic world do hear my voice,
I am here not by my own choice,
I don’t remember how I reached this place,
All I remember last is a deathly face.

Long far off I see a ship,
Maybe some gay souls on a leisurely trip,
I wave and I shout trying to draw it near,
What if it leaves I am gripped by fear.

I see bright light and two loud bangs,
Here my life in the balance hangs,
And then the tide turns, there is a large wave,
Coming menacingly towards me, is this my grave.

I close my eyes and wait the end,
I end my struggle, what use to fend,
But still in my heart I pray and I hope,
That let not this be the end of the rope.

So many dreams that had to be covered,
So may avenues remain undiscovered,
And I am still so young, it’s too soon to go,
I need some time to let my thoughts flow.

A kind voice that echoes in my head,
Reminds me of what my dad once said,
Have all fun before the sunset,
So that when life ends, you have no regret.

And suddenly I’m embraced by peace and calm,
I instinctively know I’m out of harm,
I open my eyes to the chirp of a bird,
Don’t worry my dear, your message I heard.

Untitled

2006-08-23T08:14:00.000-07:00

Something that i thought of in the bathroom while taking a shower....

Craziness is in the air,
People don’t want to be just fair,
Competition is at its peak,
To be the best is what all souls seek.

But trampling the competition is not the norm,
Rubbing shoulders together we face the storm,
No losers here only winners abound,
Cant you hear that victory sound!

Heed our warning here we come,
The future is in the hands of us chosen some,
So yield to our fury, the new Chimera,
We are here to signal the dawn of a new era.

Read At Your Own Peril

2006-06-08T09:31:00.000-07:00

i have been gripped by a sesnse of dismay over the last few days. i know all too well of my not so great will power. i almost never ever do what i set out to do the day before. the problem is that i dont even try. and to top it all off i dont even try and change the fact that i dont try. and then i regret that i dont change the fact that i dont even give it a try. and then i set out again, set up a task again for the morrow and fail again. the cycle continues, i fail to learn anything from it. how can someone be such a big idiot. infact idiot is not the word to describe me. its something between a shameless ass and a faineant - someone who has a disinclination to work. i never get to the end of any book. mind it, the book im referring here is a study book of some sort. novels i run through gleefully. the biggest problem is that i know what the problem is, i know what the solution is and know that everything is in my hands, all i need is just a, little effort and that is what is missing on most occasions. on most, i must be joking. on all occasions. i dont have a recollection of when i have done something that has given me pleasure or satisfaction. i know that satisfaction is obtained when fruits are borne out of one's intense efforts and the more sweat and time you put in in a piece of work, the better would be the feeling when the desired outcome is obtained. the problem with me is that im uninterested, infact disinterested would be a better word, to put in the efforts. my will power is as brittle as anything. i dont know how to resurrect the fact that it is so brittle. infact i do, i know i have to put in efforts, small steps that will eventually help me in the long term. but thats where the irony kicks in. effort is what im not willing to put in. i know for a fact that winning is not just one off, its a habit that one has to cultivate, yet i expect myself to top at my next academic venture despite the fact that i have never done it in the past due to lack of efforts. im also perenially short of self confidence. i dont need my dad to point that out to me, though he has on occasions. i have stood silent many a time with the right answer, doubting myself..."how the hell could i know the right answers when the entire class doesnt...are they fools or am i a genius??"....is the line of thought that runs through my head. another reason is that i get embarassed easily. once pointed out that my answer is wrong, it has a kind of effect on me that just devastates me. it like puts me back a lot. it kind of makes me think that why i quacked in the first place. had it not been better that i had kept shut. opened my mouth and made a big fun of myself in front of the class.and in that respect i try and keep myself as low profile as possible. as i am writing my piece, i was just a while back interrupted by a call from time. they are asking me to come and speak in front of 2-300 people and with a lotta passion. i guess im just gonna give it a try. last time this happened i made a big mess of it. went on stage and i dont even reemember what i said. i guess from an audience of 300 people, 4-5 clapped afterwards. should have strenghthened my resolve never to get up on stage again. but i know i will have to doa lot of presentations in the furture, imn just taking this as a practice session. i'll tryu and do all those calming excercises. and then i'll coax myself to speak with a reassured pace and not just go out and blurt out word so fast that im actually saying stuff before i even think of what i am saying. lets see how it goes. ive been taking steps though to be a trifle more bold and not to get embarrsed easily. but then i have these notions that what the other one would be thinking about me and that makes me hesitate a little. i guess i have to learn that one cannot be loved by everyone simultaneously. i just have to gulp down this bitter syrup. well if you have got this far reading the gamut of drawbacks that i do have, i thank you. i can go on forever. this is just the tip of the iceberg. but then i dont wanna shoo away ppl from my blog. i want ppl to read it once in a while. so i'll end it here and go and study something that i had to yesterday as part of my plan. you can go and have your aspirin...this surely will give anyone a headache. hope you read my blogs again. bye and see you.....

My Trip to Pune

2006-01-04T23:32:00.000-08:00

As the year drew to a close, me and a few friends who have been lucky enough to stay at and around Pune decided that it was time that all of us had a meeting. it had been a long time since we bade each other goodbye at Howrah station in calcutta.destiny had taken everyone different places, but the common feeling of loneliness was what coaxed us into investing out time in this get together. so off i went to pune from hyderabad, was a one night journey in an uncomfortable and not-worth-the-price bus, bus was a little price to pay for the emotional replenishment that i was about to get.we were met there by some friends who were our batchmates alright but not close friends..i had to wait just a little longer for the time...and then it happened...when i came face to face with all the ppl that i had left behind after college. it was a strange feeling for me. didnt seem a long time since i left them although it was something like 5 months since we saw each other. maybe the memories etched in my mind never really faded. but i was happy. i dint speak for some time, that was in part because i wanted to listen to that light hearted banter again that i so missed.every one was having a laugh at everyone else, sometimes even at me. i received a few compliments on my weight which confirmed my doubt that i had slimmed down.we all sat around for maybe hours and just chatted amongst
ourselves...forgot to eat our lunch even and it was not until 4 and every eating joint was just about closed that we took off to fill our tummies.it was some of the best food i have tasted in a long time....it was because of the company maybe i dont know...but this hyderabadi food sure does taste bland again. then came the hard part, making a plan for the evening. our grp has been notorious for this....too many ideas and too much mulling over and finally we come up with the same solution every time..that enough time has been wasted and lets just go to the nearest decent place...so we set off...not before calling up our friend debasree in switzerland...i tried 5 times and it didnt connect..and then finally my friend pratyush did and it connected...i was so much hoping to talk first...that was not to be it. we sang the complete birthday song near that booth..many quizzical faces turned towards us...what is that grp of 12 doing there holding the receiver in their hand and singing happy birthday??...but that was the last of our concerns...then we took turns wishing her..all the time one eye on the bill meter which was running very much like a rigged auto meter in hyderabad...and then after a 3 digit amount was paid, we set off again to celebrate the new year eve...it was in a nearby bar cum disco and all....i admit one of the dumbest places to be celebrating new year...i drank a little but watched in amazement as my friends gulped down one peg after
another...i think ive never seen anyone drink as much as akhil did that day...still when the new year came, it did not come with a bang but a whimper...and we wished each other well for the new year...i had not expected what was in store for me this new year...we all went back home and had a good night's sleep...we had to set off for the nearby dam on the mulsi lake(i think it was this only) and that too early in the morning...that for us was about 2 in the afternoon...i didnt get reservation for hyderabad that day, so i had to take for the next that is 2nd...i didnt mind though...who wanted to go back anyway...not me atleast...so finally 10 ppl on 5 bikes set off for a 50 km sojourn through the hills...and it was a blast of a trip...i didnt wear a protective mask on my head, at that moment i thought why every one else was doing so...i realised later that sitting on a high speed bike for 2 hours and with wind and mud and what not blasting in your face would eventually lead to a very bad feeling on the face...not that it was much disconcerting....physical pains was the last on my mind...i was wearing my new trouser(almost new) and my fav sweater and i had taken all care to keep it as clean as possible...we stopped near the lake at one point and all came down to the lake, had a stone throwing competition where i stood maybe next to last...in my defence i would say that i wasnt trying too hard...again we sat there for an hour and just recalled past times, it was great, i clicked some fotos(which ill upload soon)...my friends urged me to take a few steps in the lake...and i said no...my new trouser was pulling me back...that done we set off again for the dam...although a new piece of news to us was that a dam was baing built...so no such structure existed till date...talk about a stupid idea...,but the breathtaking scenery and the time spent at the lake was
compensation enough for that...again we started this time without any plan where to go, just ascending the hills when something i least expected happened...the bike i was travelling on sitting pillion to my former roomie rajiv skid and fell and i was skidding along with it...someone who has been in an accident will tell you that life slows down during the accident and that you will most probably remember all that happened....exactly what happened to me...i could see the stones going past me, hitting me and i also saw the oncoming ditch...we managed to stop in the nick of time, not that it was by anything we did, just luck...a little more and we would have been hurtling down the slope...a little more than just bruises was what i got from that experience...but then again im happy that it happened to me...surprisingly that episode has made me even richer in memories, one thing that will never leave me...skidding along at 60 km per hour with nothing that you can do....when i stood up from that i looked down and saw that the trouser that i had been so protective of had been ruined...talk about irony...but i dont regret it...i consider it a small sacrifice for a great experience...i dont even have that trouser now,,,i gave it to my friend who said that he wanted it...i didnt for one minute finched..i guess ive never felt happier at giving away something that has been my fav...we came back...i was glowing all the way...my first accident..somehow it made me feel proud i dont know why...we stopped downhill at a restaurant, had lots to eat..and finally made it home at night....slept very soundly and for a long time...next day my friends all went to their jobs and i guess that was the most boring day...or so i thought...my friend called up to tell me that cat results were out...i gave him my reg number...i coulnt believe when he told me that 3 results were out and that i had all the calls....what made me even happier was the fact that pratyush my closest friend, i would like to say unabashedly, also got calls...i finally ended up with 5 calls...came back to hyderabad after giving my friends 2 treats..small ones but i hope a precursor to a larger one if i convert...and i believe it has been one of my most memorable new years ever spent...i have a lot more to tell..the ccd treat...emotional farewell with sharma(oops abhishek) and a lots more...but details for later...right now i just want to savour the memories that flood my mind......

Shopper's (dont) Stop

2005-12-14T00:40:00.000-08:00

I bought an electric iron from Shopper's Stop recently...exactly...3 months back an it malfunctioned about a month back..Since then we were always planning to take it back to the dealer from which it was bought, in this case Shopper's Stop. When i did take it, they first urged me to take it instead to a Philips repair center...the closest being i dont know an hour away. I refused to do so, instead showing them that it was clearly mentioned that in case of any fault, one can take it back to the dealer from whom it was purchased. Grudgingly they accepted, then told me that it would take time for repairs...started by quoting 2-3 days and ending up with 7-1o all the while hoping i would change my mind an take the iron someplace else. I was stood determined. Then they came up with a novel way to refuse. They told me i required the bill in addition to the warranty card, something that was nowhere mentioned. Again i pointed it out, handing them a little white lie that even while purchasing i was told that only the warranty card needed to be handled with care. They held out for some time, initially refusing to get the transaction details from their database. After having tried all their power of persusion, they grudgingly got that piece of information as well. Then in a last ditch effort, they said that there might be a charge despite it being in the warranty period. I told them to call me up before getting it repaired in case there was a charge although i did not expect a charge as it was still in the warranty period. Now i expect a call anytime, telling me that there would be a charge so that they would be relieved of this task of getting the iron repaired. Well, i have learnt one important lesson from this and would like to advise all of you reaing this piece as well...If its an electronic item you wish to buy, dont shop at the Shopper's Stop.

Begging - Hyderabad's largest employer??

2005-12-13T23:49:00.000-08:00

Begging...This word to me used to mean that the person resorting to begging is devoid of any resource required for survival. That the basic need of food and water is not being met an hence the person is resorting to begging. I looked up the meaning in the dictionary and this is what popped up....To ask earnestly for or of....Well here in Hyderabad, begging has taken a lot different meaning. Ive lived in diverse places such as Delhi, Calcutta and now Hyderabad. Ive also been o many other places. But Hyderabad deats them all in the sheer number of individuals one encounters while on a journey. Im confronted by beggars routinely and at all times of the day, even late at night. What came to my notice was the physical condition of the beggars. While beggars in Delhi were more or less disabled, which for me is a valid reason for begging(why...well thats for some other day), here in Hyderabad, ive hardly seen a beggar who has any physical disability. No wounds, nothing. People in worse conditions are working for a living. This makes these people all the more shameless. What i have observed is that there are some beggars who are like aboriginal to a place. And over a period of time, they keep changing. I can see one face comming up to beg for money every time i visit the nearby marketplace. For about one week this face remains the same. Then, inexplicably, someone else comes in his/her place. Its like a modus-operandi wherein a system of rotation is followed i believe. What could be the causes i pondered a few days back. Unemployment cannot be it. Work oppurtunities abound if one is seriously looking. Other reasons smilarly come to nought. The only discernible reason i can think of is that bgging is a lucrative money generating employment. The truth is out there and very much in sight for anyone to see. I was hit by a piece of fact by my friend a few days back. He said there are more than 2 lakh beggars in Hyderabad with a turnover i dont remember but i remember the per head figure i calculated that day which cae to something like 2000 rupees per month per beggar. Simply mindblowing. On one of my walks i took up a little silly exercise but which revealed a truth to me about begging. I started counting the number of footsteps it would take for me to come across a beggar. From the first beggar to the next it was about 357 footsteps an from the second to the third...about 381...shocking considering i was walking on a straight road. What this means is that begging is a very well managed "job" wherein the begging territories are chalked out beforehand by the "employees". So the next time you come across one of these beggars in Hyderabad, you should realise that you have just had a tryst with what is perhaps one of the largest organised industry in the state.....

2005-12-04T01:20:00.000-08:00

Our early morning venture at IIT-Guwahati

2005-12-04T01:19:00.000-08:00

Having fun by the lakeside

2005-12-04T01:17:00.000-08:00

Im making a face true, but absolutely not saying "No" as alleged.

2005-12-04T01:14:00.000-08:00

No cameras allowed inside the temple, so this was the next best option.

2005-12-04T01:11:00.000-08:00

Our day out at India Gate

Hmmmm

2005-11-29T23:50:00.000-08:00

well...the day seems so long ago that i wrote the last piece, i still cant remember the time when i sat to jot it down. the wedding seems a evanescent memory, satyam is what i have joined and have gone through the rigours of training. i felt it was more of fun and enjoyment than studies really. but what i have felt often, maybe more than what i ever had felt in the last few years is loneliness. im surrounded by 126 batch mates every single day, yet i feel a sort of vaccuum that cannot be filled by them. every day seems to be such the same as the last one. i manage to find pleasure in whatever i do, god bless for that otherwise i dont really know how i would have ended up. im back home now, in the comforts and luxuries that had eluded me all the time in hyderabad, my workplace. no television no radio or any kind of music, and i used to crave for that all the time. here i have been for a couple of days and already i have felt that television does not hold for me the same value as it did when i did not have it. maybe i will not miss it too much when i go back this time around. but the biggest thing going for me these last few years was the fact that i used to strive to be away from home as much as possible. the reason that i used to explain to myself was freedom could not be something that i could really get at home. away from home im a free man. not that my parents would hold me back for anything, i fact i feel lucky that i have them as my parents, some other colleagues i have seen are so bound by this pressure that their parents put on them. mine have been very very unrestrictive and im thankful for that. but now that i am at home, i feel a sort of responsibility that i had not felt for a long time. maybe time has come when i should think about moving back to delhi, my home place. i cant bear for my parents to be alone all the time. papa is very tough but even he requires someone to take care of him, he cant do that all by himself. and that is where i feel i should fit in. to do the chores that my brother performed when he was here and that i should perform as i am here. maybe its time to rise above my own selfishness and start repaying the debt that i owe to my parents, the time and effort that they have devoted all these years to make my life this easy. ill think along these lines from now on, and grab the first oppurtunity that i get to come back home.

Another Day in Paradise

2005-11-29T23:44:00.000-08:00

dated-sometime before july 2005

another day, and more time being spent on thinking bout ways of how to spend it. for my life has almost reached a full stop, and that almost is also because of the mba classes i attend at the end of the week. other than that, its back to the same routine, waking up early, going for a walk in the park, which in recent times has lost its allure, reading the newspapers, watching a crass movie on the tele, surfing the net on my ultra slow broadband connection(though that actually helps as it aids in whiling away time with the web pages taking an eternity to just open) , studying a little, sleeping in the afternoon and then maybe watch some more tele after which its time to call it a day. and yes not to forget, sometimes the phone calls from my friends helps break this monotony. august(when i get to join satyam computers) seems so far away, i just dread the in between time that is there. yes, there is a trip to calcutta, to give my final semester presentation at the end of the month and my cousin's marriage which is gonna be one hectic affair, the worst part about it being the fact that i hate going to marriage parties, and here im going to be involved. if that isnt bad enough already, all my friend have already started their jobs, already have started earning while im still at a stage where every week i have to spread arms before my parents for the petrol money and for everything i do, even if i have to go for a movie. my brother keeps busy in his friend circle(which i find a bit too high class to my liking) add to that my growing discomfort at not having my best friends here, and i have nobody to talk to and have to keep all my feelings bottled up. my weight's increasing due to all the inactivity, and im having a tough time trying to bring it under control. its hard enough to go on a diet(after all im at home and all the delicacies in the world that i missed at my hostel are very accessible). hmmm, im thinking can i add more shit on top of the already overgrown pile of problems. but hey, ive run out of time, the web page i opened at the start of this piece has finally loaded. bye then for now.

Math Joke

2005-08-01T11:30:00.000-07:00

Destiny

2005-06-14T10:38:00.000-07:00

What god has in store for me I don’t know. That he has something planned out for everyone is what I believe. My father was reading the palm of my hand and according to him, it has too many lines. As I now see it more carefully, it really does, tens of them cris-crossing my palm in every direction. He said that it means that the person is confused, not particularly about one subject but in general, in his outlook. He asked me at that time whether it was so, whether confusion was a part of my thinking. I kept quite at that time, maybe I shrugged. But I know his prediction was spot on. A few weeks ago, my cousin visited me. He is pursuing his MBA from Symbiosis. He met a IIM guy one time who asked him about his decision to join Symbiosis and not give IIM a crack once again. My brother told him that his desires of a larger pay packet would be met even with Symbiosis, and in keeping with this view, he had joined it. The IIM guy smiled wistfully and told him that he was sorry that my cousin had stopped thinking big. This was supposed to be just a little anecdote. But come to think of it, the one thing I have not lost in life as yet is to dream big. I still do that. How big I dream, I would never let anyone in on that, else I fear I would become the butt of many a joke. But will any of my dreams ever come true. I’m working towards making some of them a reality. Others I have left to destiny. Destiny. That is what I believe god has designed for everyone. What is in mine I have to just wait and watch.

2005-05-10T06:07:00.000-07:00

The world through my eyes

College My Utopia

2005-05-10T05:14:00.000-07:00

As the seasons change
Spring takes over from fall
I look ahead to the future
With a sense of pall

As the ones near depart
The joy fades away
The memories of being together
And having fun hold sway

The time has been unkind
Why does it have to happen
The ties we made are snapped
Shows the face of gloom misshapen

What has life in store for us
Nobody knows for sure
But the years of college like heaven
Were an addiction without cure.

Tears stream down my face
As i return to the empty house
Filled with memories of yesteryears
In feelings of sadness i douse