2006 – What a year it was. Fast-paced – ironical – eventful – shocking –expected. Team India created records – for better in West Indies and for worse In South Africa. The reservation debate saw no conclusion coming up. Only the divide between the "forward" and "backward" classes became all the more obvious. The 250th anniversary of Mozart was celebrated all across the world. Italy won the world cup. U2 were the big winners on the Grammy night. The third death anniversary of Satyendra Dubey. Cheney "accidentally" shot his friend in the face. Chile got it’s first female president. Agassi retired from the international tennis circuit at the Arthur Ashe Stadium. Bird flu spread waves of fear across Europe, Africa and Asia. Continuous bomb blasts rocked the local trains – the lifeline of Mumbai. Santosh Kumar Singh was awarded capital punishment for the murder of Priyadarshini Mattoo. Warren Buffett performed an unimaginable act of magnanimity – donated a huge part of his assets to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Aussies regained the Ashes. Gandhigiri was the buzzword after Lage raho Munnabhai released. North Korea conducted it’s first nuclear test. The Nathula Pass opened for trade after 44 years. Gangster and Fanaa were the summer hits in India. Edvard Munch’s "The Scream" and "Madonna" were recovered. . Bangalore virtually came to a halt for a day due to the death of the Kannada superstar, Rajkumar. Crash shocked everyone by winning the academy award for the Best Picture. Micheal Schumacher retired from Formula-1. Umrao Jaan and Don were remade - they received mixed reactions. The first death anniversary of Shanmughan Manjunath. A quote by the Pope about Islam faith sparked mass protests. UN got it’s next Secretary General - Ban-Ki-Moon. IE7 came into picture. Saddam Hussein was sentenced to death. President Bush visited India. Manu Sharma was awarded life sentence for murdering Jessica Lall. Shane Warne announced his retirement from international cricket. The Discovery Space Shuttle mission was successful. Saddam Hussein was executed.
Personally, it was a year of mixed experiences. Discovered Bangalore. Made loads of new friends. Some friendships fell apart – some stood the test of time. Read up quite a few books. Shashi Tharoor managed to impress me immensely. My list of must-read books continued to increase. Learnt up quite a bit about astronomy. Plan to buy a telescope sometime next year. Wipro continues to be a learning experience – workwise and otherwise. Hrithik – my crush of 2006. Might carry over the crush to 2007 :) Found another "to-do thing in life" this year – have coffee in Huesca. It was good – all of it – the tears, the laughs, the lessons, the people, the places.
Yesterday was a good day – at work and at home. Things happened at work. The code was working just fine. Got quite a few words of appreciation. Got to eat chocolate cake after quite some time. Got into a course at Microsoft, which I am sure, will be a good learning experience, if nothing else. Discovered a Levi’s store near my house yesterday. More shopping – am not complaining – no sir :)
One day away from 2007 – things seem set for a change –for better or worse, I don’t know, but I cant wait to find out. Happy new year to you all. Hope it turns out to be a mixed bag, just like the year gone by. To new beginnings.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Office politics
Sometimes 100 percent is not enough. Sometimes months of slogging are not enough. Sometimes 12 hours of non-stop work is not enough. Sometimes ignoring hard work is the easiest thing to do. Sometimes no matter what you do, you can never exceed expectations. Work is tough at times. Times when you fight back tears and continue to answer a non-stop series of mindless questions. Times when you are made the scapegoat. Times when you are the object of scorn and sarcasm for no reason. Times when you don’t find a reason to go back and face the next day at work. Times when you just want to scream out at the top of your voice. Times when for once you just want to be a loser, turn your back and run away.
At those times, what motivates you to return to your cubicle the next day? Continue with the same stuff? Listen to the same gossip? Read similar forwards? Have the same old over-dulcified coffee? How do you motivate yourself? How often do you remind yourself – "It’s not personal"? How do you "cut off" once you leave the office? How do you avoid the hangover? My dream – my goal - my motivation – my strength – my reason to smile - my raison d’être. They say - when the going gets tough, the tough gets going. Meanwhile, I stick my heel in and continue with my work - after all, its true – 100 percent is never enough.
At those times, what motivates you to return to your cubicle the next day? Continue with the same stuff? Listen to the same gossip? Read similar forwards? Have the same old over-dulcified coffee? How do you motivate yourself? How often do you remind yourself – "It’s not personal"? How do you "cut off" once you leave the office? How do you avoid the hangover? My dream – my goal - my motivation – my strength – my reason to smile - my raison d’être. They say - when the going gets tough, the tough gets going. Meanwhile, I stick my heel in and continue with my work - after all, its true – 100 percent is never enough.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Deja vu
I have been here before. I know this place. It was not very long ago. It feels uncannily familiar to me. I remember this smell. The musty smell of dried flowers. I can hear distant voices. It feels like they are calling out to me. Wait – this was exactly how I felt the last time I was here.
It is dark all around me. I try walking around. My feet can’t seem to find the ground. I want to turn around and run away, even though I know I might regret it. I stand still – undecided in mind – insecure in person. I am filled with a sudden urge to cry. Instead, I laugh. It doesn’t quite sound like me. I try saying a few words – distant – spaced out. I can’t seem to hear myself anymore. I try real hard to listen. No luck. I give up after a while. I try to slow down my racing thoughts. I make an attempt to silence them. It turns out to be a futile effort. All I hear now is the constant pitter-patter of rain drops all around me.
The realization dawns on me. It strikes me out of nowhere. I remember this place – this uncertainity – this nonchalance – this silence –this pain. I remember it all now – vividly. It’s a forgotten corner of my mind. I have been here before. I know this place. It was not very long ago.
It is dark all around me. I try walking around. My feet can’t seem to find the ground. I want to turn around and run away, even though I know I might regret it. I stand still – undecided in mind – insecure in person. I am filled with a sudden urge to cry. Instead, I laugh. It doesn’t quite sound like me. I try saying a few words – distant – spaced out. I can’t seem to hear myself anymore. I try real hard to listen. No luck. I give up after a while. I try to slow down my racing thoughts. I make an attempt to silence them. It turns out to be a futile effort. All I hear now is the constant pitter-patter of rain drops all around me.
The realization dawns on me. It strikes me out of nowhere. I remember this place – this uncertainity – this nonchalance – this silence –this pain. I remember it all now – vividly. It’s a forgotten corner of my mind. I have been here before. I know this place. It was not very long ago.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Satya Meva Jayate
Satya Meva Jayate - I read these three words while looking at a five-rupee note way back in school. I did not understand the meaning right away. I found it out later – truth always triumphs. Wonder how true is that. I have been brought up on a steady diet of tales from Mahabharata which, as we all know, is filled with acts of subtle deceit and questionably forgivable lies. Truth never always won in that epic saga – what makes us think it will always win in our daily life? The Bhagavad-Gita justifies and endorses a lie as long as it does not harm anyone. I wonder – which line of thinking is an idealist one and which one is the pragmatic one?
November 19, 2006: The first death anniversary of Shanmughan Manjunath - a graduate from IIM, Lucknow. He had an exciting future lying ahead. While receiving the coveted degree from the IIM, little did he know about his tragic end. He was just doing his job – loyally. He was canceling the licenses of petrol pumps, which sold contaminated fuel. For siding with truth, Manjunath was abducted, badly beaten up and eventually shot dead. His body, riddled with at least six bullets, was found in the backseat of his own car. Not many remember him today. Some wonder why he just did not shut up and let the status quo be. Some see his name pop up in a random "Indian of the Year" contest, try to recollect his claim to "fame", frown for a moment and then move on to the next channel. His parents continue to cry on prime time television. Satya Meva Jayate??
November 27, 2006: The media suddenly woke up to the memory of Satyendra Dubey. "Satyendra..err…who??" – that was the reaction of one of my colleagues when he heard of this news. Well, Dubey was the man who was killed just because he tried to bring to the notice of the PMO, the blatant corruption going on in the Golden Quadrilateral Highway construction project. He was an IITian with a bright future ahead. Today he is a distant memory and just a name tossed across in intellectual debates and discussions. His father continues to shed tears till date. Satya Meva Jayate??
Jessica Lall was shot on April 29, 1999. Manu Sharma was awarded life sentence on 18 December 2006. Priyadarshini Mattoo died in 1996. Santosh Kumar Singh was awarded capital punishment on October 17, 2006. Nitish Katara died in 2002. His case is doing the rounds in the court till date. Justice was delivered in some cases because of the intense media pressure and the mass involvement of people. What about the million of other injustices which remain untold and which go by unnoticed just because people do not have the guts to stand up and fight for truth, in those scenarios.
Satya Meva Jayate – Truth ALWAYS wins. Looking around me, I don’t think so. But, truth wins – sometimes. Having said that, what should prompt us to try and be on the side of truth, knowing very well that being on the side of truth need not mean being on the winning side. I guess the fact that all of us would want our children to inherit a society where Satya Meva Jayate – in the true, literal sense – always.
November 19, 2006: The first death anniversary of Shanmughan Manjunath - a graduate from IIM, Lucknow. He had an exciting future lying ahead. While receiving the coveted degree from the IIM, little did he know about his tragic end. He was just doing his job – loyally. He was canceling the licenses of petrol pumps, which sold contaminated fuel. For siding with truth, Manjunath was abducted, badly beaten up and eventually shot dead. His body, riddled with at least six bullets, was found in the backseat of his own car. Not many remember him today. Some wonder why he just did not shut up and let the status quo be. Some see his name pop up in a random "Indian of the Year" contest, try to recollect his claim to "fame", frown for a moment and then move on to the next channel. His parents continue to cry on prime time television. Satya Meva Jayate??
November 27, 2006: The media suddenly woke up to the memory of Satyendra Dubey. "Satyendra..err…who??" – that was the reaction of one of my colleagues when he heard of this news. Well, Dubey was the man who was killed just because he tried to bring to the notice of the PMO, the blatant corruption going on in the Golden Quadrilateral Highway construction project. He was an IITian with a bright future ahead. Today he is a distant memory and just a name tossed across in intellectual debates and discussions. His father continues to shed tears till date. Satya Meva Jayate??
Jessica Lall was shot on April 29, 1999. Manu Sharma was awarded life sentence on 18 December 2006. Priyadarshini Mattoo died in 1996. Santosh Kumar Singh was awarded capital punishment on October 17, 2006. Nitish Katara died in 2002. His case is doing the rounds in the court till date. Justice was delivered in some cases because of the intense media pressure and the mass involvement of people. What about the million of other injustices which remain untold and which go by unnoticed just because people do not have the guts to stand up and fight for truth, in those scenarios.
Satya Meva Jayate – Truth ALWAYS wins. Looking around me, I don’t think so. But, truth wins – sometimes. Having said that, what should prompt us to try and be on the side of truth, knowing very well that being on the side of truth need not mean being on the winning side. I guess the fact that all of us would want our children to inherit a society where Satya Meva Jayate – in the true, literal sense – always.
Forces of Nature
Movies – not my preferred pastime. They don’t interest me much. I belong to that really rare species that prefers to read up movie reviews and get a general overview. I don’t have the time or the patience to sit through for two hours in front of fleeting images. Believe it or not – I find movies boring and tiresome.
I make an exception for a few movies though. Forces of nature - one such movie. I saw it yesterday – again – for the fifth time. Starring Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock, the movie can be easily classified as a romantic comedy, but I feel this one is a little different from the rest. Everything that happens between the two protagonists through the course of the movie seems like an indication from nature that they are meant to be with each other – they are soulmates. Ben finds himself falling in love with Sandra, inspite of the fact that he is on his way home to get married. He admires the way Sandra embraces life. He hesitantly admits that he finds her smile to be infectious.
Affleck is truly endearing in the movie –as usual. Sandra, sometimes, is a little over the top with her zest for life – but given how good the movie turns out to be, you are willing to forgive and forget the sudden, out-of-place spurts of enthusiasm. I find the movie different because it is unlike any other Hollywood romance. It is not all about dreams, chemistry, mindless fights, petty quarrels, flowers and happy endings. The story never detaches itself from the mundanely irony of life, while it unravels.
Towards the climax, one finds the idealism of their attraction juxtaposed against the pragmatism of life. And the decision is simple. No drama - no tears. Simple acceptance of status quo. The nonchalance with which Sandra moves on with her life and the sheer normality with which Ben marries his fiancée makes a lasting impact.
The movie is a simple yet effective reminder about a very essential thing in life – priorities. A huge lesson in pragmatism every time I watch it –that’s Forces of Nature for me. I don’t think many people have heard about the movie. I am not certain if it was a huge hit. But I am sure about one thing – I can never get tired of watching it.
I make an exception for a few movies though. Forces of nature - one such movie. I saw it yesterday – again – for the fifth time. Starring Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock, the movie can be easily classified as a romantic comedy, but I feel this one is a little different from the rest. Everything that happens between the two protagonists through the course of the movie seems like an indication from nature that they are meant to be with each other – they are soulmates. Ben finds himself falling in love with Sandra, inspite of the fact that he is on his way home to get married. He admires the way Sandra embraces life. He hesitantly admits that he finds her smile to be infectious.
Affleck is truly endearing in the movie –as usual. Sandra, sometimes, is a little over the top with her zest for life – but given how good the movie turns out to be, you are willing to forgive and forget the sudden, out-of-place spurts of enthusiasm. I find the movie different because it is unlike any other Hollywood romance. It is not all about dreams, chemistry, mindless fights, petty quarrels, flowers and happy endings. The story never detaches itself from the mundanely irony of life, while it unravels.
Towards the climax, one finds the idealism of their attraction juxtaposed against the pragmatism of life. And the decision is simple. No drama - no tears. Simple acceptance of status quo. The nonchalance with which Sandra moves on with her life and the sheer normality with which Ben marries his fiancée makes a lasting impact.
The movie is a simple yet effective reminder about a very essential thing in life – priorities. A huge lesson in pragmatism every time I watch it –that’s Forces of Nature for me. I don’t think many people have heard about the movie. I am not certain if it was a huge hit. But I am sure about one thing – I can never get tired of watching it.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Who am I?
Am I unique? Born in a hospital, just like the others. Cried for hours together as a baby, just like the others. Went to the school, just like the others. Made friends, just like the others. Cried my tears – shared a lot of laughs - just like the others. Got bored in classes - just like the others. Idealized a few teachers - just like the others. Studied way into the night before exams - just like the others. Enjoyed teenage years - just like the others. Have a favorite actor - just like the others. Have a favorite book - just like the others. Learn my lessons - just like the others. Dream about my future - just like the others. Wish to live life on my terms - just like the others.
Am I just another face in the crowd? What makes me special? What makes me stand out? My face – everyone has the same two eyes, two ears, and one nose. My thoughts – all think of similar things sometime or the other during their lives – success, ambition, family, charity, religion – that does not help distinguish. My emotions – every one has felt love, hatred, jealous, compassion and greed at some point during their life – that is not a differentiating factor. My goals – everyone dreams of success, fame, money, goodwill – again, not much help from this front either, to severalise myself.
How do I define myself? What is my identity? Who is Dolly Dwivedi? What is her USP as an individual? What makes her special and irreplaceable? I am yet to find out the answer to that question. Meanwhile, I’d like to ask you – what do you think is your USP as a person?
Am I just another face in the crowd? What makes me special? What makes me stand out? My face – everyone has the same two eyes, two ears, and one nose. My thoughts – all think of similar things sometime or the other during their lives – success, ambition, family, charity, religion – that does not help distinguish. My emotions – every one has felt love, hatred, jealous, compassion and greed at some point during their life – that is not a differentiating factor. My goals – everyone dreams of success, fame, money, goodwill – again, not much help from this front either, to severalise myself.
How do I define myself? What is my identity? Who is Dolly Dwivedi? What is her USP as an individual? What makes her special and irreplaceable? I am yet to find out the answer to that question. Meanwhile, I’d like to ask you – what do you think is your USP as a person?
Saturday, December 23, 2006
What if?
What if we knew our destiny beforehand? Would that make life less interesting? Would we not make mistakes and misjudgments at all?
What if we could read what actually went on in other people’s heads? Would we never be duped again ever? Would we always want to know what people thought of us?
What if we could be in two places at once? Would that be fun? Would it be tiresome?
What if there was no technology around us? Would we be able to manage without it? Would life be much simpler? Would life be boring?
What if we were to find unconditional love? Would it be too good to believe? Would we be able to give back the same amount of love? Would we be tired of it after a while?
What if we could forget things that we want to forget, in a jiffy? Would life be less complicated? Wouldn’t that increase the possibility of making the same mistake over and over again?
What if all our dreams were fulfilled? Would we ever be satiated? Would we ever stop with our dreams and desires?
What if we got all the money in the world? Would that take away all our problems and worries? Would that be enough to make us happy?
What if there was no concept of money? Would that mean there would no poverty to deal with? Would we find a substitute for money – some way to distinguish who gets all the good things in life and who struggles for survival?
What if there was no hatred in this world? Would we stop appreciating love? Is it necessary for hatred to exist so that people realise and treasure the beauty of love?
What if we could fall out of love as easily and spontaneously as we fall in love? Would that ever be possible? Would it eliminate the word "heartbreak" from the dictionary?
What if you were to become invisible for a day? Would you enjoy it? Would you wait for the day to get over? Would you think of it as an identity crisis or would you treat it as an opportunity to steal as many ice creams as possible?
What if you could go back in time? Would you want to go back and meet Marilyn Monroe and ask her whether she actually committed suicide or was she murdered? Would you want to meet Hitler and ask him how he managed to perform such atrocious acts against people and still sleep peacefully at night? Would you want to stay in the present and leave the past alone for good?
What if you were asked to choose between love and money? Would it be a simple one? Would you choose money? Would you choose love? Would you be sure of your decision?
What if there was no concept of morals and values? Would that make life more fun? Would you miss it? Would you still manage to listen to your conscience?
What if you lived you life backward? Would you enjoy being a senior citizen first and then gradually becoming a child as life progressed?
What if there was no information and communication? Would you like that life of isolation and ignorance? On what basis would you form your opinions?
What if you could easily forgive and forget? Would you want to do that? Would you still love to hold onto your grudge?
What if you could be kids forever? Would you like to stay away from responsibilities? Would you like to be taken seriously after a while?
What if you never found your soul mate? Would you be okay with that? Would you make a compromise? Would you stay single all your life?
What if you could escape from reality at your own free will? Would you like that? Would you rather stay and face the problem at hand? Would you just wish the trouble away?
What if there was no art around us? How would we express our feelings and our creativity?
What if there was no God? How would we find our inner strength? How would the concept of atheists exist without the presence of God? Would there be no fights in the name of something else, if not religion?
What if we could not smile and laugh? Would we never come up with the concept of humour? What would make life worth living then?
What if we had a definitive answer to every "what if" we came up with? We would enjoy it? Would we prefer the unpredictability factor associated with it?
What if we stopped asking a "what if"? Would the world still progress? Would the world stagnate? Would we be bored with the status quo? Would we just love to stop thinking about it?
What if we could read what actually went on in other people’s heads? Would we never be duped again ever? Would we always want to know what people thought of us?
What if we could be in two places at once? Would that be fun? Would it be tiresome?
What if there was no technology around us? Would we be able to manage without it? Would life be much simpler? Would life be boring?
What if we were to find unconditional love? Would it be too good to believe? Would we be able to give back the same amount of love? Would we be tired of it after a while?
What if we could forget things that we want to forget, in a jiffy? Would life be less complicated? Wouldn’t that increase the possibility of making the same mistake over and over again?
What if all our dreams were fulfilled? Would we ever be satiated? Would we ever stop with our dreams and desires?
What if we got all the money in the world? Would that take away all our problems and worries? Would that be enough to make us happy?
What if there was no concept of money? Would that mean there would no poverty to deal with? Would we find a substitute for money – some way to distinguish who gets all the good things in life and who struggles for survival?
What if there was no hatred in this world? Would we stop appreciating love? Is it necessary for hatred to exist so that people realise and treasure the beauty of love?
What if we could fall out of love as easily and spontaneously as we fall in love? Would that ever be possible? Would it eliminate the word "heartbreak" from the dictionary?
What if you were to become invisible for a day? Would you enjoy it? Would you wait for the day to get over? Would you think of it as an identity crisis or would you treat it as an opportunity to steal as many ice creams as possible?
What if you could go back in time? Would you want to go back and meet Marilyn Monroe and ask her whether she actually committed suicide or was she murdered? Would you want to meet Hitler and ask him how he managed to perform such atrocious acts against people and still sleep peacefully at night? Would you want to stay in the present and leave the past alone for good?
What if you were asked to choose between love and money? Would it be a simple one? Would you choose money? Would you choose love? Would you be sure of your decision?
What if there was no concept of morals and values? Would that make life more fun? Would you miss it? Would you still manage to listen to your conscience?
What if you lived you life backward? Would you enjoy being a senior citizen first and then gradually becoming a child as life progressed?
What if there was no information and communication? Would you like that life of isolation and ignorance? On what basis would you form your opinions?
What if you could easily forgive and forget? Would you want to do that? Would you still love to hold onto your grudge?
What if you could be kids forever? Would you like to stay away from responsibilities? Would you like to be taken seriously after a while?
What if you never found your soul mate? Would you be okay with that? Would you make a compromise? Would you stay single all your life?
What if you could escape from reality at your own free will? Would you like that? Would you rather stay and face the problem at hand? Would you just wish the trouble away?
What if there was no art around us? How would we express our feelings and our creativity?
What if there was no God? How would we find our inner strength? How would the concept of atheists exist without the presence of God? Would there be no fights in the name of something else, if not religion?
What if we could not smile and laugh? Would we never come up with the concept of humour? What would make life worth living then?
What if we had a definitive answer to every "what if" we came up with? We would enjoy it? Would we prefer the unpredictability factor associated with it?
What if we stopped asking a "what if"? Would the world still progress? Would the world stagnate? Would we be bored with the status quo? Would we just love to stop thinking about it?
Friday, December 22, 2006
On happiness
Some one asked me to define happiness the other day. It did not take me much time to come up with an answer. To be honest, it was a spontaneous reply. Elusive – my answer. When I got the chance to think about it later, I found that a little strange about myself. Happiness meant something else to me in the past. I can’t exactly recollect what, but elusive – not that.
I tried to think of the times when I was 3 feet tall. I tried recollecting what made me happy back then. Simple things in life. A chocolate. A cake. Mangoes. Playing with friends. Ice creams. Watching Tom and Jerry. Listening to dad telling me stories before I fell asleep. Getting wet in the rain. Getting a 100 in a Math paper. Summer holidays. Fighting with my brother. Trying to play cricket and failing miserably. Getting my first pet home. Sit beside ma while she prepared dinner and bug her with all that went on in school everyday. Waiting for diwali sweets. Laughing for hours together with friends. Learning to ride a cycle. Understanding the meaning of a difficult word when some one else used it. Reading Enid Blyton’s books. Just mundane stuff.
It struck me that it did not take much to make me feel absolutely fantastic about life and myself back then. Somewhere along the line, while growing up, I forgot to celebrate small achievements and enjoy little moments of joy. I started to associate happiness with big goals and larger dreams. Small moments of rejoicing just went by –unnoticed - ignored. The standards of happiness increased – subtly – exponentially.
Happiness, at some point of our lives, seems elusive. I think that’s because we forget to celebrate what’s with us and run after what we think should belong to us. A wise man once said – Happiness is not about what you have – it’s about how much you enjoy what you have. It’s easier said than done I guess.
Well, the definition of happiness and things that make me happy will keep changing. But, I will remind myself to smile just a little bit more the next time I eat an ice cream. I owe it to that 3 feet tall girl.
I tried to think of the times when I was 3 feet tall. I tried recollecting what made me happy back then. Simple things in life. A chocolate. A cake. Mangoes. Playing with friends. Ice creams. Watching Tom and Jerry. Listening to dad telling me stories before I fell asleep. Getting wet in the rain. Getting a 100 in a Math paper. Summer holidays. Fighting with my brother. Trying to play cricket and failing miserably. Getting my first pet home. Sit beside ma while she prepared dinner and bug her with all that went on in school everyday. Waiting for diwali sweets. Laughing for hours together with friends. Learning to ride a cycle. Understanding the meaning of a difficult word when some one else used it. Reading Enid Blyton’s books. Just mundane stuff.
It struck me that it did not take much to make me feel absolutely fantastic about life and myself back then. Somewhere along the line, while growing up, I forgot to celebrate small achievements and enjoy little moments of joy. I started to associate happiness with big goals and larger dreams. Small moments of rejoicing just went by –unnoticed - ignored. The standards of happiness increased – subtly – exponentially.
Happiness, at some point of our lives, seems elusive. I think that’s because we forget to celebrate what’s with us and run after what we think should belong to us. A wise man once said – Happiness is not about what you have – it’s about how much you enjoy what you have. It’s easier said than done I guess.
Well, the definition of happiness and things that make me happy will keep changing. But, I will remind myself to smile just a little bit more the next time I eat an ice cream. I owe it to that 3 feet tall girl.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
There's a right time for everything
Is there a right time to do everything in life? This was the question that came up in my mind when I was talking to a colleague of mine the other day over coffee. I thought the answer was simple – there is no right time defined for everything in life – things can be done as and when you want them to be done. But, I realised that it isn’t that simple. Can an 18-year-old start going to school to learn things from scratch? Can a 40-year-old man go the pub and party all night long? Can a couple married for 20 odd years behave like love struck teenagers? I always thought that the answer to those questions was a unanimous, big yes.
Today, I realise that there are people who beg to differ. I have been meeting them of late. People who divide life into phases and move along. People who feel marriage at the age of 30 is madness. People who feel that the first two years of marriage are the most pleasant ones. People who think that studying beyond the age of 25 is foolishness. People who feel there should be an end to the learning phase of life. People who feel that old age is about pilgrimage, pills and meditation. People who feel that a display of love and affection between our grandmothers and grandfathers is an abnormality. Well, they have their own reasons and beliefs for their line of thought and I respect that, but come on people! Give it a thought once again – please!!!
Digressing away from what I have been wanting to say, the one thing which amuses me the most and which I think I have to mention here is the perception of knowledge among people. I have come across several people who hate reading, saying that their forced relationship with books ended way back in college and they prefer to keep it that way. Well, I feel sorry for the lot – do they have any clue about the huge gamut of ideas, notions, perceptions, thoughts and knowledge that they are missing out on? I can only guess. If it works just fine for them, all I can say is – good for you.
But, even otherwise, in our daily life, why are we, at times, bad learners? Why is it so difficult for us to accept when we don’t know something? I have seen people at my office – even when they don’t know things, they try and put on an act, accompanied by convincing software jargon, just to make you believe that they are technical big shots. Do they have any idea that their act is so transparent that their ignorance is blatantly visible? Why is it that after 8 years of working in the software field, people find it insulting to refer back to a book and get the right answers? The more I thought about it, the more I was asking one question to myself again and again. When do we decide that we need to stop learning? When do we feel that we know enough? Is it a conscious decision?
I have seen a scientist – a very good one at that. I think he’s one wise man and knows quite a lot about his subject, but I have seen him study for hours at stretch – daily - I have never seen him get tired of it. For him, studying is a habit. He tells me that I should inculcate that habit as well. I have always made an effort but when I look at him, I realise that I have a long way to go. That’s a timeless effort – for him, no time is a bad time to study. I am sure when he’s 90, he still will be reading, sitting on his favorite chair, with Kalam’s biography to his right and Bhagvadgita to his left.
Getting back to the discussion on time, this scientist was the man who made me believe that any time is the right time to do anything that I want to do. Time is money – an essential commodity – learn to use it well and more than that - learn to use it right. But most importantly, learn not to make it an excuse, saying this is not the right time for so and so.
Well, all said and done, time – excess of it or absence of it – can be a real, good excuse for several things. We love to believe that we are indeed using the time at hand well - there is a lot of time to do all those things I want to do – this is not the right time – this should have been done way back then – this is not the age to learn dancing – this is not the age to learn something about astronomy. Amidst all the alibis we keep searching for – frantically - in the past and the future, the importance of present is lost, somewhere along the way – we forget that what do we do with our now determines our next. Why do we underestimate "now" so much?
A cheesy line sums it up the best – where there is a will, there is a way and where there is no will, there is a hill. Now, time for me to stop here, but I would like to know what you have to say about the "right time for everything" concept.
Today, I realise that there are people who beg to differ. I have been meeting them of late. People who divide life into phases and move along. People who feel marriage at the age of 30 is madness. People who feel that the first two years of marriage are the most pleasant ones. People who think that studying beyond the age of 25 is foolishness. People who feel there should be an end to the learning phase of life. People who feel that old age is about pilgrimage, pills and meditation. People who feel that a display of love and affection between our grandmothers and grandfathers is an abnormality. Well, they have their own reasons and beliefs for their line of thought and I respect that, but come on people! Give it a thought once again – please!!!
Digressing away from what I have been wanting to say, the one thing which amuses me the most and which I think I have to mention here is the perception of knowledge among people. I have come across several people who hate reading, saying that their forced relationship with books ended way back in college and they prefer to keep it that way. Well, I feel sorry for the lot – do they have any clue about the huge gamut of ideas, notions, perceptions, thoughts and knowledge that they are missing out on? I can only guess. If it works just fine for them, all I can say is – good for you.
But, even otherwise, in our daily life, why are we, at times, bad learners? Why is it so difficult for us to accept when we don’t know something? I have seen people at my office – even when they don’t know things, they try and put on an act, accompanied by convincing software jargon, just to make you believe that they are technical big shots. Do they have any idea that their act is so transparent that their ignorance is blatantly visible? Why is it that after 8 years of working in the software field, people find it insulting to refer back to a book and get the right answers? The more I thought about it, the more I was asking one question to myself again and again. When do we decide that we need to stop learning? When do we feel that we know enough? Is it a conscious decision?
I have seen a scientist – a very good one at that. I think he’s one wise man and knows quite a lot about his subject, but I have seen him study for hours at stretch – daily - I have never seen him get tired of it. For him, studying is a habit. He tells me that I should inculcate that habit as well. I have always made an effort but when I look at him, I realise that I have a long way to go. That’s a timeless effort – for him, no time is a bad time to study. I am sure when he’s 90, he still will be reading, sitting on his favorite chair, with Kalam’s biography to his right and Bhagvadgita to his left.
Getting back to the discussion on time, this scientist was the man who made me believe that any time is the right time to do anything that I want to do. Time is money – an essential commodity – learn to use it well and more than that - learn to use it right. But most importantly, learn not to make it an excuse, saying this is not the right time for so and so.
Well, all said and done, time – excess of it or absence of it – can be a real, good excuse for several things. We love to believe that we are indeed using the time at hand well - there is a lot of time to do all those things I want to do – this is not the right time – this should have been done way back then – this is not the age to learn dancing – this is not the age to learn something about astronomy. Amidst all the alibis we keep searching for – frantically - in the past and the future, the importance of present is lost, somewhere along the way – we forget that what do we do with our now determines our next. Why do we underestimate "now" so much?
A cheesy line sums it up the best – where there is a will, there is a way and where there is no will, there is a hill. Now, time for me to stop here, but I would like to know what you have to say about the "right time for everything" concept.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
There is always taxes and...
A cold breezy Friday morning. I was visiting North Korea, with the words of Pico Iyer as my guide. I occasionally glanced at life passing me by, while my bus raced along, almost in a mad fury. It was then that I saw it. A murder. A fleeting image. The details – I don’t remember. I can recall seeing blood here and there. It must have happened the night before. It looked like he was asleep and just needed to be woken up. Tufts of grass around him. Policemen were barking orders and questioning two befuddled men alongside. Just another day at work for them. Well, I whispered a silent prayer for the man and was back in North Korea, within five minutes, reading about Kim Il-Sung’s conceit.
I could not help thinking about it later on during the day though. Death – a promise- made to all of us. Life –the very essence of our being. To take a life – one can only imagine the amount of pure hatred, blind fury, lapse of reason and irrational jealousy, which goes into inspiring such an atrocious act. People kill –in the name of peace, in the name of country, in the name of religion, in the name of love, in the name of wealth, in the name of power, in the name of God.
Death need not be necessarily limited to the body, it can be associated with the soul as well. At the risk of sounding morbid and pessimistic, I am sure I talk for a majority of people when I say that I get to meet dead conscience, dead souls, dead opinions, dead voices, dead thoughts, dead dreams, dead ambitions and dead words at one point or another during the day – day after day. Death lives incognito in our society, changing disguises, every now and then. We either don’t recognise it or ignore it with exceptional finesse.
That murder might not stop haunting me for quite sometime. I could not stop myself from wondering – while the murdered dies, does the soul of the murderer die a quiet, unnoticed death alongside? Cold-blooded murder – is it followed by a feeling of regret, guilt, self-hatred and shame or with a sense of relief, satisfaction and tranquil? One can only but ponder. All said and done, the eerie presence of death that Friday morning, seemed out of place and unnecessary amidst the slow, rhythmic pace of life. To paraphrase what Buddha said – " What one can’t give, one has no right to take". But then, I doubt if those words find even a remote relevance in today’s world, given the current political and social scenario.
Well, as for me, after North Korea, it’s Cuba. Bring it on, Iyer.
I could not help thinking about it later on during the day though. Death – a promise- made to all of us. Life –the very essence of our being. To take a life – one can only imagine the amount of pure hatred, blind fury, lapse of reason and irrational jealousy, which goes into inspiring such an atrocious act. People kill –in the name of peace, in the name of country, in the name of religion, in the name of love, in the name of wealth, in the name of power, in the name of God.
Death need not be necessarily limited to the body, it can be associated with the soul as well. At the risk of sounding morbid and pessimistic, I am sure I talk for a majority of people when I say that I get to meet dead conscience, dead souls, dead opinions, dead voices, dead thoughts, dead dreams, dead ambitions and dead words at one point or another during the day – day after day. Death lives incognito in our society, changing disguises, every now and then. We either don’t recognise it or ignore it with exceptional finesse.
That murder might not stop haunting me for quite sometime. I could not stop myself from wondering – while the murdered dies, does the soul of the murderer die a quiet, unnoticed death alongside? Cold-blooded murder – is it followed by a feeling of regret, guilt, self-hatred and shame or with a sense of relief, satisfaction and tranquil? One can only but ponder. All said and done, the eerie presence of death that Friday morning, seemed out of place and unnecessary amidst the slow, rhythmic pace of life. To paraphrase what Buddha said – " What one can’t give, one has no right to take". But then, I doubt if those words find even a remote relevance in today’s world, given the current political and social scenario.
Well, as for me, after North Korea, it’s Cuba. Bring it on, Iyer.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Delhi calling
Delhi – have been missing it quite a bit of late. Close my eyes and try to recall my previous visits to the place. All good times come back at once and bring along happiness in tow.
I vividly remember my first rendezvous with the city. I was seventeen. It was four in the morning. I had two sweaters on. My mind was exhausted. I had two suitcases to take care of. I had no book to keep me company. I had six hours of tiring bus journey behind me. My nails were blue with the biting cold. I could not feel my cheeks. My eyes watered voluntarily, every time a whiff of early morning air pushed hurriedly past me. I hated it. All of it. The cold. The quirky people. The crowds. The traffic. The chaos. The sheer madness of it all. I could not wait to get out of the city.
It changed. All of it. I don’t remember when I fell in love with Delhi. Maybe when I saw ten stores, in a row, one after the other, on a busy street, serving only cholay and rice. Must be when I giggled listening to ladies bargaining away with indifferent shopkeepers for tinkling baubles, shimmering fabric and everything else in between. Or was it when I hesitantly asked a stranger the directions to Connaught place and he gave me the most pleasant and comforting smile ever. Had to be when I stared in disbelief at the exorbitant prices of coffee at Wimpy’s. Or maybe when I was wondering whether to have a cheese pizza or not at Nirulas. Was it when we got lost in the maze called Connaught Place? It might have been when I found that there were bookstalls around every curve of Connaught Place, replete with the most eclectic of literary works. Just maybe when I was busy taking in the sight of sugar kissed candies, fresh baked biscuits and an entire array of creamy, delicious and exotic pastries – all at once. Then, I found that moment. It was when I first saw the silhouette of Red Fort, almost translucent, standing tall against a bright winter morning.
The defining moment for me in Delhi was to walk along the lengthy arcade inside the fort, leading right into the Diwan-e-Aam - to see the throne of Akbar - to imagine Birbal whispering a piece of advice or casting a wise glance at Akbar while the court was in progress - to see the ramparts from where the prime ministers of the nation address the people - to imagine the discussions happening about art, literature, history, politics and society in general between the princes, while I was sipping coffee in a restaurant within the confines of the fort, whish was earlier the prince’s quarter – engraving my name on one of those countless trees when I though no one was watching and smiling with pride for an hour, thinking that I had somehow become a part of history of this mystical place, albeit a small part –closing my eyes and wishing to go back to those centuries, when life resided here and the hustle bustle of daily routine was anything but uncommon. I opened my eyes. I was still in front of Diwan-e-Khaas. Studded with gems here and there. Lingering traces of a royalty long lost. No Akbar there. I checked - twice. I moved on to admire the delicate and exquisitely adorned walls of the queen’s chambers.
It was December 15,2001. Since that day, for me, Delhi has been synonymous with Red Fort. I have not travelled a lot till date, but hope to do so, extensively, in due course. I know that there exist places on this planet with monuments of higher architectural finesse and which, indeed, have a greater claim over history, but Red Fort, will always remain special to me, because, in my imagination, the boundary separating the past and the present fade away when I stand on those lands.
Four years. I kept going back to that city. My fascination grew exponentially. But, all good things come to an end. I remember my last visit to the city. I could not say a proper goodbye. I had things to attend to. In a way, am glad that there was no goodbye. I did not want to bid farewell to the city that housed Red Fort – that somehow kept the hope of a reunion alive.
I miss Delhi for the very things I hated at first. I don’t know when I fell in love with Delhi. Was it when – I guess I have come a full circle already. In those four years, I could never figure out a mystery –the roses and chrysanthemums sold on the streets of Delhi, somehow looked bigger and happier than those I found elsewhere. But then, maybe, I am, at the best, exaggerating facts or, at the worst, imagining things. I can’t help it though – I hold Delhi guilty of that one crime – it cast a spell on me and very conveniently, forgot to break it.
I vividly remember my first rendezvous with the city. I was seventeen. It was four in the morning. I had two sweaters on. My mind was exhausted. I had two suitcases to take care of. I had no book to keep me company. I had six hours of tiring bus journey behind me. My nails were blue with the biting cold. I could not feel my cheeks. My eyes watered voluntarily, every time a whiff of early morning air pushed hurriedly past me. I hated it. All of it. The cold. The quirky people. The crowds. The traffic. The chaos. The sheer madness of it all. I could not wait to get out of the city.
It changed. All of it. I don’t remember when I fell in love with Delhi. Maybe when I saw ten stores, in a row, one after the other, on a busy street, serving only cholay and rice. Must be when I giggled listening to ladies bargaining away with indifferent shopkeepers for tinkling baubles, shimmering fabric and everything else in between. Or was it when I hesitantly asked a stranger the directions to Connaught place and he gave me the most pleasant and comforting smile ever. Had to be when I stared in disbelief at the exorbitant prices of coffee at Wimpy’s. Or maybe when I was wondering whether to have a cheese pizza or not at Nirulas. Was it when we got lost in the maze called Connaught Place? It might have been when I found that there were bookstalls around every curve of Connaught Place, replete with the most eclectic of literary works. Just maybe when I was busy taking in the sight of sugar kissed candies, fresh baked biscuits and an entire array of creamy, delicious and exotic pastries – all at once. Then, I found that moment. It was when I first saw the silhouette of Red Fort, almost translucent, standing tall against a bright winter morning.
The defining moment for me in Delhi was to walk along the lengthy arcade inside the fort, leading right into the Diwan-e-Aam - to see the throne of Akbar - to imagine Birbal whispering a piece of advice or casting a wise glance at Akbar while the court was in progress - to see the ramparts from where the prime ministers of the nation address the people - to imagine the discussions happening about art, literature, history, politics and society in general between the princes, while I was sipping coffee in a restaurant within the confines of the fort, whish was earlier the prince’s quarter – engraving my name on one of those countless trees when I though no one was watching and smiling with pride for an hour, thinking that I had somehow become a part of history of this mystical place, albeit a small part –closing my eyes and wishing to go back to those centuries, when life resided here and the hustle bustle of daily routine was anything but uncommon. I opened my eyes. I was still in front of Diwan-e-Khaas. Studded with gems here and there. Lingering traces of a royalty long lost. No Akbar there. I checked - twice. I moved on to admire the delicate and exquisitely adorned walls of the queen’s chambers.
It was December 15,2001. Since that day, for me, Delhi has been synonymous with Red Fort. I have not travelled a lot till date, but hope to do so, extensively, in due course. I know that there exist places on this planet with monuments of higher architectural finesse and which, indeed, have a greater claim over history, but Red Fort, will always remain special to me, because, in my imagination, the boundary separating the past and the present fade away when I stand on those lands.
Four years. I kept going back to that city. My fascination grew exponentially. But, all good things come to an end. I remember my last visit to the city. I could not say a proper goodbye. I had things to attend to. In a way, am glad that there was no goodbye. I did not want to bid farewell to the city that housed Red Fort – that somehow kept the hope of a reunion alive.
I miss Delhi for the very things I hated at first. I don’t know when I fell in love with Delhi. Was it when – I guess I have come a full circle already. In those four years, I could never figure out a mystery –the roses and chrysanthemums sold on the streets of Delhi, somehow looked bigger and happier than those I found elsewhere. But then, maybe, I am, at the best, exaggerating facts or, at the worst, imagining things. I can’t help it though – I hold Delhi guilty of that one crime – it cast a spell on me and very conveniently, forgot to break it.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Once upon a time
A talk. A comment. A thank you. A joke. A wisecrack. A retort. A laugh. A computer. A room. A chat. A coffee. A cookie. A confusion. An apprehension. A drink. A car. A star. A song. A muse. A giggle. A stillness. A message. A look. An act of innocence. A pretense of ignorance. A moment in time. A time so fine. A church. A call. An endless road. A drive. A melody melting into the night. A drizzle. A blessing reflected off the skies. A smile echoed back. A magic mingled in the air forever. A farewell. A silent tear. A look ahead. A stolen glance at the past. A reunion. A photo. An auto. A movie. An IPod. A CD. A walk. A calm lake. A city explored. A city ignored. An evening. A talk. A ten rupee note. A thought scribbled. A joke shared. A goodbye said. A screaming silence. A chaotic calm. An inevitable fact. A false display of courage. A meek acceptance of future. A futile rebuke at the status quo. A reason to smile. An excuse to cry. A continued existence. A moment forgotten here. A moment frozen there. An episode of moments – comfortably ensconced – somewhere in the pages of time.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Dear,
There is something fascinating about catching up with old friends. It feels like meeting an old forgotten version of yourself, that you somewhere, somehow lost track of, along the way. It brings back many old memories and long forgotten jokes. You end up laughing over silly things like school kids all over again.
I was thinking the other day – the whole of last year has been a big episode of friendships for me. I caught up with many old friends after a real long time. We picked up from where we left off and it felt like it was just yesterday that we last spoke.
One particular friend deserves a special mention here. I met her first when I was all of sixteen. She was a shy, reserved and thoughtful girl. She looked like she was unsure about some things and certain about others. We had a hilarious time back then. After college, the conversations were few and distantly spaced in time. But, we somehow, managed to stay in touch, still giggling over the same jokes and discussing everything possible under the sun. I always admired her sense of the written word. I actually read Harry Potter after she yapped about it for several hours. Her heightened interest in literature managed to evoke a curiousity within me, a loyal non-fiction advocate, to browse through the works of Browning, Rowling and Tolkien for starters.
Years later, I met her again at the airport, while she was all set to leave this country, spent 10 odd minutes with her, laughed again over the most dumb things possible and walked back to the car realising that hers was the only friendship of mine, which was more or less consistent all through these years. I walked back realising that I cherished her friendship more than I thought I did. I walked back realising that I was going to miss her more than I thought I would. I guess it sometimes takes a goodbye to make one realise the importance of few people in life. She was one such person.
We still remain in touch. We both swoon at the mention of the name "Hrithik Roshan", read similar kind of stuff (though am more inclined towards non-fiction), get mesmerized by similar poems, we drive each other crazy by trying to outbeat each other at dumb jokes. I cherish her friendship more with each passing day. She always says that I was there for her through some very confusing times, but I think, it mostly was the other way round - she was there for me in many ways than she ever realised and I ever acknowledged.
She was a good friend then. She is an irreplaceable friend now. She will always remain a special and cherished friend. Its true- some friendships are like wine - they keep getting better with time.
I was thinking the other day – the whole of last year has been a big episode of friendships for me. I caught up with many old friends after a real long time. We picked up from where we left off and it felt like it was just yesterday that we last spoke.
One particular friend deserves a special mention here. I met her first when I was all of sixteen. She was a shy, reserved and thoughtful girl. She looked like she was unsure about some things and certain about others. We had a hilarious time back then. After college, the conversations were few and distantly spaced in time. But, we somehow, managed to stay in touch, still giggling over the same jokes and discussing everything possible under the sun. I always admired her sense of the written word. I actually read Harry Potter after she yapped about it for several hours. Her heightened interest in literature managed to evoke a curiousity within me, a loyal non-fiction advocate, to browse through the works of Browning, Rowling and Tolkien for starters.
Years later, I met her again at the airport, while she was all set to leave this country, spent 10 odd minutes with her, laughed again over the most dumb things possible and walked back to the car realising that hers was the only friendship of mine, which was more or less consistent all through these years. I walked back realising that I cherished her friendship more than I thought I did. I walked back realising that I was going to miss her more than I thought I would. I guess it sometimes takes a goodbye to make one realise the importance of few people in life. She was one such person.
We still remain in touch. We both swoon at the mention of the name "Hrithik Roshan", read similar kind of stuff (though am more inclined towards non-fiction), get mesmerized by similar poems, we drive each other crazy by trying to outbeat each other at dumb jokes. I cherish her friendship more with each passing day. She always says that I was there for her through some very confusing times, but I think, it mostly was the other way round - she was there for me in many ways than she ever realised and I ever acknowledged.
She was a good friend then. She is an irreplaceable friend now. She will always remain a special and cherished friend. Its true- some friendships are like wine - they keep getting better with time.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Where courage never died
To remain ignorant of things that happened before you were born is to remain a child.
"For God And His Country
He Raised Our Flag In Battle
And Showed A Measure Of His
Pride At A Place Called "Iwo Jima"
Where Courage Never Died"
Monday, October 23, 2006
She
567 pages. 38 black and white photographs. A loyal daughter. A silent girl. A confused teenager. A gorgeous lady. A passionate lover. A helpless wife. An astute politician. A frightened mother. A skeptical old lady. A bloody death.
She hated her long over-generous nose. She wished she was not skinny. She loved Kashmir. She fell sick way too often. She loved French. She hated Latin. She was the silent, sometimes uncomprehending witness of the Indian freedom movement. She was totally in awe of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She was not all that much impressed by Tagore. She proudly called herself "Indu Boy" because her cut resembled that of a smart, young boy.
She fell in love with her teacher during her teenage years – a touch of temporary madness to the otherwise sensible persona. She liked her life in London. She fell head over heels in love with a man, most unlike her in almost every aspect. She kept her engagement a well-guarded secret for quite sometime. She fought passionately to stay with him for life. She looked resplendent on her wedding day. Her marriage was eventually accompanied by a tragic inertia. Circumstances never gave her love a second chance. He left her alone way too soon in the very long course of her life.
She was bound to her father with an unquestioned sense of duty, rather than love. She was tired of living in his shadow, but still continued with it. She loved rubbing her head against his shoulders, while he talked to her about life, India, religion and philosophy. He was the most influential teacher in her life. Her nature, though, somehow irritated him at times. His intellect and charming personality always made her feel incomplete. They fought like kids. They did not talk to each other for months. She was able to open her soul to him in her letters - but, in person, both of them shared a mutual sense of apathy and the pain of her mother’s death, if nothing else. She held him sub-consciously responsible for her failing marriage. When he was around, she wished for a way out from his life. But, she missed him a lot once he was gone.
She was a doting mother. She tried not to repeat the same mistakes she felt her parents had made. She wanted to keep her son away from the infamous field of politics. She tried to give them as normal a life as possible, but she could not stop them from choosing their tragic fate. One son turned out to be her biggest threat in many ways – another son always stood beside her like her silent shadow. Both died a tragic, untimely and painful death – just like her.
She was proud to call herself an Indian. She was possessive about the Indian State. She felt that no one could take care of India like her – just like a mother feels about her child. She was almost forced onto the centre stage of Indian politics. She was the Indian Prime Minister for 16 years. She won two elections by a huge margin. She lost one election - again by a huge margin. India fought one major war against Pakistan under her and emerged victorious. She introduced the most drastic economic reforms amidst huge opposition. She imposed the State of Emergency in India for 21 months. She gave the nod for Operation Blue Star to proceed. She tried to make best out of the political circumstances around her – only to fail miserably. She had a premonition about her violent death and she was ready for it. The men, whom she was supposed to trust the most, assasinated her.
She wanted a normal life. She said there was nothing special about her other than her charismatic father and her strong willed mother. She never imagined that she would lead the country one day. She was the right person at the right place, albeit at the wrong time. She was the most inevitable accident of modern Indian politics. She continues to remain one of the prominent figures of Indian politics on global stage till date. The woman roused the feelings of awe, inane admiration, romanticism, skepticism, disgust, pure hatred, pity and understanding, as I hesitantly peeped into her life – piecemeal - with the words of Katherine Frank, guiding me along. She was Indira Nehru Gandhi.
She hated her long over-generous nose. She wished she was not skinny. She loved Kashmir. She fell sick way too often. She loved French. She hated Latin. She was the silent, sometimes uncomprehending witness of the Indian freedom movement. She was totally in awe of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She was not all that much impressed by Tagore. She proudly called herself "Indu Boy" because her cut resembled that of a smart, young boy.
She fell in love with her teacher during her teenage years – a touch of temporary madness to the otherwise sensible persona. She liked her life in London. She fell head over heels in love with a man, most unlike her in almost every aspect. She kept her engagement a well-guarded secret for quite sometime. She fought passionately to stay with him for life. She looked resplendent on her wedding day. Her marriage was eventually accompanied by a tragic inertia. Circumstances never gave her love a second chance. He left her alone way too soon in the very long course of her life.
She was bound to her father with an unquestioned sense of duty, rather than love. She was tired of living in his shadow, but still continued with it. She loved rubbing her head against his shoulders, while he talked to her about life, India, religion and philosophy. He was the most influential teacher in her life. Her nature, though, somehow irritated him at times. His intellect and charming personality always made her feel incomplete. They fought like kids. They did not talk to each other for months. She was able to open her soul to him in her letters - but, in person, both of them shared a mutual sense of apathy and the pain of her mother’s death, if nothing else. She held him sub-consciously responsible for her failing marriage. When he was around, she wished for a way out from his life. But, she missed him a lot once he was gone.
She was a doting mother. She tried not to repeat the same mistakes she felt her parents had made. She wanted to keep her son away from the infamous field of politics. She tried to give them as normal a life as possible, but she could not stop them from choosing their tragic fate. One son turned out to be her biggest threat in many ways – another son always stood beside her like her silent shadow. Both died a tragic, untimely and painful death – just like her.
She was proud to call herself an Indian. She was possessive about the Indian State. She felt that no one could take care of India like her – just like a mother feels about her child. She was almost forced onto the centre stage of Indian politics. She was the Indian Prime Minister for 16 years. She won two elections by a huge margin. She lost one election - again by a huge margin. India fought one major war against Pakistan under her and emerged victorious. She introduced the most drastic economic reforms amidst huge opposition. She imposed the State of Emergency in India for 21 months. She gave the nod for Operation Blue Star to proceed. She tried to make best out of the political circumstances around her – only to fail miserably. She had a premonition about her violent death and she was ready for it. The men, whom she was supposed to trust the most, assasinated her.
She wanted a normal life. She said there was nothing special about her other than her charismatic father and her strong willed mother. She never imagined that she would lead the country one day. She was the right person at the right place, albeit at the wrong time. She was the most inevitable accident of modern Indian politics. She continues to remain one of the prominent figures of Indian politics on global stage till date. The woman roused the feelings of awe, inane admiration, romanticism, skepticism, disgust, pure hatred, pity and understanding, as I hesitantly peeped into her life – piecemeal - with the words of Katherine Frank, guiding me along. She was Indira Nehru Gandhi.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Diwali around the corner...
Night enveloping the environs around me. Yet another day drawing to an end. A shuttle. A window. A pair of tired eyes. The bright headlights of the vehicles are, at times, soothing. The cool crisp October air on my face. The shimmering lights in the motley shopping windows. A phantasmagoria of colours while the shuttle races past them.
The dancing paper lanterns at Terrace bay. Stores screaming discounts and sales. Pizza hut with it’s bell and decorations. Café coffee day with it’s coffee and cookies. Nike with it’s "swoosh". Brisah with it’s style. Road side book stalls. Hoardings asking "Are you afraid of the stock market??" - No, I am not!!!
All buildings glowing. All malls decorated like tiny palaces out of those fairy tales. All people shopping like there is no tomorrow. Friends sharing a laugh while sharing a cone of ice cream. A kid with a grim frown sitting at the back of a scooter while his dad skillfully manipulates peak hour traffic. Wonder what he’s so pissed off about. Smile U little kiddo!!! Another kid with his mum – holding on tight to a balloon and following his ma obediently. The familiar road bumps on the flyover. The snail like pace of the shuttle at some junctions. A huge endless sea of vehicles. All in a mad rush to go somewhere. Reach somewhere. Everyone is real busy – real busy being happy. Wonder what it is about Diwali? Happiness everywhere.Have you felt the love and magic in the air of late? Nope? Well, hold your hand out – you just might catch the stardust floating all around.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
El arte es una mentira que nos acerca a la verdad..
Pablo Picasso...
Simple sometimes.....
Recondite on occasions...
Joyous at times..
Bleak at others...
Cubist mostly...
I met a genius long time back. I fell in love - today.
Oh well...
Saw an episode of Boston Legal today. Pretty intense. Phenomenal performance by James Spader once again. Wish I could be home early from work atleast on Wednesday evenings so that I get to be a regular viewer of this serial. Well, leaving wishful thinking aside for now, the case in question this time, was to do with capital punishment. All the dramatic speeches, all the pleadings, swearing, bribing could not save the man and he finally had to pay for what he did. He regretted what he did, he wanted a chance to reform, but somehow the jury had no time to consider that. They needed to close the case, find and punish the criminal- be done with it. It was heart wrenching to see him running away from his death, him furiously flapping his hands and legs helplessly while police officers strapped him on the "death-bed". A blank look in Spader’s eyes while he witnessed this scene with an eerie nonchalance. Suddenly, the credits started rolling and I was brought back to reality instantly– with a thud.
Weird coincidence. The editorials in India are passionately discussing the very same topic for quite sometime now – death penalty. While some say "Why damn debate about this? Be done with the fucker. He deserves nothing less", some say "Not fair, he deserves a second chance". The man in question is Mohammad Afzal. The whole ongoing debate reminds me of an article in Outlook which I read almost a year back, which attempted to explore the psyche of these terrorists. It explained the abstruse angle that is associated with this entire terror network. What drives these people to commit such heinous crimes without as much as batting an eyelid and later on, die a silent death feeling like a martyr, while in actuality, they are perceived to be a bloody animal that deserves to be killed – nothing more, nothing less.
How many of these "terrorists" are responsible for their opinions and views? According to the author of that article, most of these terrorists are simple, "normal" people, who believe or are led to believe that their countries have been wronged in more ways than one, in the name of money, religion, faith by the so-called "well-to-do" countries. They are led to believe that they are pursuing a noble cause. The mass killing is the will of God.
Taking a myopic view, the terrorists in Pakistan are made to believe that India is a country which has wronged Pakistan at every step since Independence - India is a country wherein the Muslims are ill-treated everyday for, well, being a Muslim - India is a country which does not deserve anything less than the worst form of terrorism. While in India to execute an operation, it is made sure that these "terrorists" do not stay in India for too long, else they would soon realize that India is not an extremist nation as they made it out to be. It is a living, thriving democracy – a potpourri of contrasting ideas, views – yet capable of maintaining the essence of harmony amidst all this. Having said that, I would also like to add that it would be a wrong notion to believe that Islam is associated with extremism. Kar Seva in 1992 led by a Hindu nationalist party, the mass pogrom carried out in Gujarat in 2002 are "glittering" examples that showcase the "non-existing" limits of lunacy of Hindu extremism. Well, the religious aspect of it – that makes subject for an entirely different post (will write about it some other time, not right away, not here).
Moving on. at a global level, these terrorists are made to believe that America and EU are out with a single mission of ruling the entire world (well, aren’t they doing that already?) Well, according to me, America and EU sure are super powers and have things their own way most of the times, but I would like to believe that they do make space for other nation’s viewpoints as well. There is a reason that there are 5 nations in the UNSC with a veto power. As Thomas Friedman put it, the world is divided into the "world of order" and "world of disorder" as of today. The world of order- the super powers and the emerging economies with their steadily increasing per capita incomes and steadily decreasing poverty levels. The world of disorder – the failed nations who blame the super powers for their status quo (which is true to a large extent) and not seeing any way out of their seemingly perpetual bad fate, thereby adopting this sadist attitude of spreading the ill will around. This classification precisely sums up the existing polarity in our world today.
Coming back to our case in point, whether Afzal will be hanged or not, I really don’t think I can foretell that because the arguments and points raised by both sides seem sensible to me. Catch 22 sorts. While one side argues that a strong message needs to be sent across to these terrorists and hanging him would do just that, the other side argues that death penalty is not in congruence with the fair and humane image of India. While one side argues that abolishing death penalty would amount to sustaining these criminals for their lifetime at the expense of the tax payer’s money, the other side argues that atleast one chance to reform is a pre-requisite when we call ourselves an understanding and open minded democracy. Well, I don’t want to add any more to the already existing debate.
Rwanda is making plans to abolish death penalty as we speak, as many as 69 countries have already abolished it, a sizeable number of countries continue to practise it, China even executes people aged below 18 depending on the intensity of crime - well, leaving all the statistics on capital punishment aside, I just like to remember one thing – criminals (terrorists) are not born – they are made. I guess it’s a romantic notion to pursue in these times of trouble, confusion and terror. But, those words give me a hope that everything is not wrong still –that room still remains for corrective action.
What happens to Afzal – I am sure that we really don’t care – because we all know that he is after all a miniscule link in an encompassing terror network. Does his presence (or absence) make any difference to the status quo? I am guessing the answer to that question is a no… but the debate continues.
Weird coincidence. The editorials in India are passionately discussing the very same topic for quite sometime now – death penalty. While some say "Why damn debate about this? Be done with the fucker. He deserves nothing less", some say "Not fair, he deserves a second chance". The man in question is Mohammad Afzal. The whole ongoing debate reminds me of an article in Outlook which I read almost a year back, which attempted to explore the psyche of these terrorists. It explained the abstruse angle that is associated with this entire terror network. What drives these people to commit such heinous crimes without as much as batting an eyelid and later on, die a silent death feeling like a martyr, while in actuality, they are perceived to be a bloody animal that deserves to be killed – nothing more, nothing less.
How many of these "terrorists" are responsible for their opinions and views? According to the author of that article, most of these terrorists are simple, "normal" people, who believe or are led to believe that their countries have been wronged in more ways than one, in the name of money, religion, faith by the so-called "well-to-do" countries. They are led to believe that they are pursuing a noble cause. The mass killing is the will of God.
Taking a myopic view, the terrorists in Pakistan are made to believe that India is a country which has wronged Pakistan at every step since Independence - India is a country wherein the Muslims are ill-treated everyday for, well, being a Muslim - India is a country which does not deserve anything less than the worst form of terrorism. While in India to execute an operation, it is made sure that these "terrorists" do not stay in India for too long, else they would soon realize that India is not an extremist nation as they made it out to be. It is a living, thriving democracy – a potpourri of contrasting ideas, views – yet capable of maintaining the essence of harmony amidst all this. Having said that, I would also like to add that it would be a wrong notion to believe that Islam is associated with extremism. Kar Seva in 1992 led by a Hindu nationalist party, the mass pogrom carried out in Gujarat in 2002 are "glittering" examples that showcase the "non-existing" limits of lunacy of Hindu extremism. Well, the religious aspect of it – that makes subject for an entirely different post (will write about it some other time, not right away, not here).
Moving on. at a global level, these terrorists are made to believe that America and EU are out with a single mission of ruling the entire world (well, aren’t they doing that already?) Well, according to me, America and EU sure are super powers and have things their own way most of the times, but I would like to believe that they do make space for other nation’s viewpoints as well. There is a reason that there are 5 nations in the UNSC with a veto power. As Thomas Friedman put it, the world is divided into the "world of order" and "world of disorder" as of today. The world of order- the super powers and the emerging economies with their steadily increasing per capita incomes and steadily decreasing poverty levels. The world of disorder – the failed nations who blame the super powers for their status quo (which is true to a large extent) and not seeing any way out of their seemingly perpetual bad fate, thereby adopting this sadist attitude of spreading the ill will around. This classification precisely sums up the existing polarity in our world today.
Coming back to our case in point, whether Afzal will be hanged or not, I really don’t think I can foretell that because the arguments and points raised by both sides seem sensible to me. Catch 22 sorts. While one side argues that a strong message needs to be sent across to these terrorists and hanging him would do just that, the other side argues that death penalty is not in congruence with the fair and humane image of India. While one side argues that abolishing death penalty would amount to sustaining these criminals for their lifetime at the expense of the tax payer’s money, the other side argues that atleast one chance to reform is a pre-requisite when we call ourselves an understanding and open minded democracy. Well, I don’t want to add any more to the already existing debate.
Rwanda is making plans to abolish death penalty as we speak, as many as 69 countries have already abolished it, a sizeable number of countries continue to practise it, China even executes people aged below 18 depending on the intensity of crime - well, leaving all the statistics on capital punishment aside, I just like to remember one thing – criminals (terrorists) are not born – they are made. I guess it’s a romantic notion to pursue in these times of trouble, confusion and terror. But, those words give me a hope that everything is not wrong still –that room still remains for corrective action.
What happens to Afzal – I am sure that we really don’t care – because we all know that he is after all a miniscule link in an encompassing terror network. Does his presence (or absence) make any difference to the status quo? I am guessing the answer to that question is a no… but the debate continues.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Requiem for a love
Sometimes, amidst all the lunacy going on in your mind, the sheer normality of life and people around can catch you off guard and leave you in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes, you are too confused to stay and too scared to leave. Sometimes, the choice is between temporary pain and permanent grief. Sometimes, the decision can be heart breaking and have a mind-numbing effect.
Given a choice, you want to avoid making that choice. You don’t want to ponder about your decision. You don’t want to predict and simulate the after-math of it all. Yet, you know, you must make that decision. You must make that choice. You must stand alone. You must hope that you are right. You must adopt the pain. You must smile. You must move on.
Every story does not have a happy ending. Nor does every story have a sad ending. Sometimes, the tales remain half-told, half-heard – you remember (or rather choose to remember) only the good bits – the jokes, the smiles, the intimacy – the sheer beauty of it all. Maybe, just maybe, it was too good to be true after all – was just blind all this while.
A chapter ends. A lesson learnt. A prayer said. A good luck whispered. A tear hidden. A smile worn.
Given a choice, you want to avoid making that choice. You don’t want to ponder about your decision. You don’t want to predict and simulate the after-math of it all. Yet, you know, you must make that decision. You must make that choice. You must stand alone. You must hope that you are right. You must adopt the pain. You must smile. You must move on.
Every story does not have a happy ending. Nor does every story have a sad ending. Sometimes, the tales remain half-told, half-heard – you remember (or rather choose to remember) only the good bits – the jokes, the smiles, the intimacy – the sheer beauty of it all. Maybe, just maybe, it was too good to be true after all – was just blind all this while.
A chapter ends. A lesson learnt. A prayer said. A good luck whispered. A tear hidden. A smile worn.
Of Tank Man, democracy and We
The entire scenario around us can seem quite hopeless and suffocating at times. There are times when you feel ashamed to be a part of "the system" that fails to provide basic necessities of life to majority of the population. When that cute little kid with tired eyes asks you to buy balloons while you wait at the traffic stop, when you finish your meal at a restaurant and a small boy comes along to pick your dishes and clean the table, when you see those small rag-pickers going through the garbage- hard at "work" . We actually get to see two faces of life living side by side on a daily basis – the good one and the dreaded one. The rich seem to be getting richer and the poor seem to be getting poorer. Your blood boils. You scream out quite a few names at the government, to the system, console yourself saying that the system cannot be changed by a single idea - single man - single vision, let out a sigh and proceed towards that shopping mall for a good time – the irony of it all!
Quite a few famous names (Gandhi, Nehru, Mandela, Guevara, Hitler et al) walked these very lands, who in their lifetime, made a difference to the world (in a good or a bad way) and whose names remain recorded in the history books till date. Those people sure are important and right in their own way. But, for me, the one person, who personifies the power vested in a single individual, who represents true democracy in it’s purest form is the Tank man. He is some one who continues to intrigue me till date. Nobody knows who he is for sure till date, people still debate about his identity, and people still continue to remain in awe of him.
Till June 5, 1989, he was a nobody, just another face in the crowd, joining protest against his government for a noble cause and suddenly becoming internationally famous during the Tiananmen Square protests. He came, he spoke, he waved his hands around and he disappeared in the crowd again. Those were his five minutes of fame. He never came back to reclaim the fame bestowed upon him. People still are not sure as to who The Unknown Rebel was and that will remain one unanswered question for a long time to come – Deep Throat took 30 odd years to reveal his identity after all! Well, as for me, I respect the fact that he did not falter when it mattered. He spoke his mind out – even if it was for two minutes. He was not just another spectator in that huge crowd, booing and crying out cat calls, while the tanks were driving along. He tried to do something about it – whether it worked or not –well, does not matter. Seriously, how many of us have that sort of guts?
For me, the influence that Tank Man has on people till date is in itself inspiring. At the risk of sounding preachy and cliched, I’ d like to say that this fact somehow reinstalls my faith in the fact that the voice of an individual CAN matter – we don’t have to be just another face in the crowd. We can be heard – we can make a difference –it is totally our choice to remain deaf, dumb and blind to all the atrocities and wrongdoing we see happening around us – we don’t have anyone to blame for that. When did we grow this numb to all of it? When did the system take over? Does none of us want to do anything about it? Do we just want to remain a spectator in the crowd, while some one else decides the way of life for us?
High time, we started speaking out. High time, we start trying to make way for a better tomorrow. At times, myopic vision towards life is good, but the big picture needs to be in sight always. That was the whole purpose (or rather the necessity) behind the conceptualization of the system of democracy – to make individuals matter – to keep the entire process of governance of the country as personal as possible. When did we allow democracy to loose it’s true essence? Do we have some one to blame for that? You don’t know us sir – we, the Indians (like our politicians) love to play the blame game - we are like this only (subtext: and we are proud of it!)
Quite a few famous names (Gandhi, Nehru, Mandela, Guevara, Hitler et al) walked these very lands, who in their lifetime, made a difference to the world (in a good or a bad way) and whose names remain recorded in the history books till date. Those people sure are important and right in their own way. But, for me, the one person, who personifies the power vested in a single individual, who represents true democracy in it’s purest form is the Tank man. He is some one who continues to intrigue me till date. Nobody knows who he is for sure till date, people still debate about his identity, and people still continue to remain in awe of him.
Till June 5, 1989, he was a nobody, just another face in the crowd, joining protest against his government for a noble cause and suddenly becoming internationally famous during the Tiananmen Square protests. He came, he spoke, he waved his hands around and he disappeared in the crowd again. Those were his five minutes of fame. He never came back to reclaim the fame bestowed upon him. People still are not sure as to who The Unknown Rebel was and that will remain one unanswered question for a long time to come – Deep Throat took 30 odd years to reveal his identity after all! Well, as for me, I respect the fact that he did not falter when it mattered. He spoke his mind out – even if it was for two minutes. He was not just another spectator in that huge crowd, booing and crying out cat calls, while the tanks were driving along. He tried to do something about it – whether it worked or not –well, does not matter. Seriously, how many of us have that sort of guts?
For me, the influence that Tank Man has on people till date is in itself inspiring. At the risk of sounding preachy and cliched, I’ d like to say that this fact somehow reinstalls my faith in the fact that the voice of an individual CAN matter – we don’t have to be just another face in the crowd. We can be heard – we can make a difference –it is totally our choice to remain deaf, dumb and blind to all the atrocities and wrongdoing we see happening around us – we don’t have anyone to blame for that. When did we grow this numb to all of it? When did the system take over? Does none of us want to do anything about it? Do we just want to remain a spectator in the crowd, while some one else decides the way of life for us?
High time, we started speaking out. High time, we start trying to make way for a better tomorrow. At times, myopic vision towards life is good, but the big picture needs to be in sight always. That was the whole purpose (or rather the necessity) behind the conceptualization of the system of democracy – to make individuals matter – to keep the entire process of governance of the country as personal as possible. When did we allow democracy to loose it’s true essence? Do we have some one to blame for that? You don’t know us sir – we, the Indians (like our politicians) love to play the blame game - we are like this only (subtext: and we are proud of it!)
The clock is ticking away...
Chanced upon this real weird site (thanks to a friend with a very morbid taste indeed!)- this one! It tells me that I will be gone from this planet in 2087. Okie, quick math – that gives me 80 years (approx) in which am required to squeeze in every element that defines life and makes it seem worthwhile to me – dreams, friends, love, fun, happiness, success, satisfaction, memories, knowledge, wisdom, ambition (to name a few and not necessarily in the same order!). Well, given the fact that most of my hours awake are spent executing the same, mundane routine, I can definitely vouch for one thing – life, on my terms, has not started yet!
80 years – phew! When do I get started on those ever-elusive guitar lessons? When do I try and coax out some beautiful tunes from that piano? When do I listen to Beethoven, Puccini and Mozart over and over and over? When do I get the time to visit and admire all those wonderful masterpieces of colours and creativity of Van Gogh, Monet, Kahlo, O'Keeffe, Da Vinci et al, spread across different museums throughout the globe? When do I get to soak in the experience of all those exotic places on this planet, which I have only heard of, read about and seen through someone else’s eyes, words and perceptions? When do I get the time to explore those nooks and corners of those awesome cities and small, forgotten towns, well hidden from the tourists? When do those busy cities and sleepy towns reveal their age-old secrets to me? When do I learn skiing and skating? When do I get to wake up in the morning on a houseboat, in the middle of nowhere, with only the faint whispers of water to keep me company, while I am in a trance? When do I get to read all those books which I have been dying to read and watch all those movies I have been wanting to see?
Friday night - 11:45. Worrying about the deadline due in the next 96 hours. So much for 80 years. Damn.
80 years – phew! When do I get started on those ever-elusive guitar lessons? When do I try and coax out some beautiful tunes from that piano? When do I listen to Beethoven, Puccini and Mozart over and over and over? When do I get the time to visit and admire all those wonderful masterpieces of colours and creativity of Van Gogh, Monet, Kahlo, O'Keeffe, Da Vinci et al, spread across different museums throughout the globe? When do I get to soak in the experience of all those exotic places on this planet, which I have only heard of, read about and seen through someone else’s eyes, words and perceptions? When do I get the time to explore those nooks and corners of those awesome cities and small, forgotten towns, well hidden from the tourists? When do those busy cities and sleepy towns reveal their age-old secrets to me? When do I learn skiing and skating? When do I get to wake up in the morning on a houseboat, in the middle of nowhere, with only the faint whispers of water to keep me company, while I am in a trance? When do I get to read all those books which I have been dying to read and watch all those movies I have been wanting to see?
Friday night - 11:45. Worrying about the deadline due in the next 96 hours. So much for 80 years. Damn.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Lessons learnt..
I read this very interesting interview of Sushmita Sen this week in Times Life. She was as usual talking films, beauty pageants and men. In the middle of all this, there was this very interesting question posed to her - What have been some of life's most interesting lessons?She sure did come up with a brilliant answer, but the question got me thinking. What have been life's most interesting lessons that I have learnt so far? Have I lived enough to present a compendium of the lessons life has taught me?
I could give a tongue-in-cheek answer by saying I have learnt that there is a lot left to learn and be done with it (which would not be a bad idea!) But, seriously, when I started thinking about it, there sure were many things that came to my mind. Things might be all serious around me. Nothing might be going my way. But, I have learnt that there is always an excuse waiting to be found for me to break into a smile or share a laugh. Life has taught me the joy of secret laughter. I have learnt that I never cease to surprise myself. Life has taught me never to underestimate others and most importantly - myself. Life has taught me always to be ready for the unexpected with a smile on my face and strength in my heart. Life has taught me that only those who dream big, make it big in life. Life has taught me never to trust some one blindly. Life has taught me that for every enemy there is a friend. Life has taught me to be gentle with the gentle and tough with the tough. Life has taught me to believe in my own ideas and not necessarily follow the crowd always. Life has taught me to laugh when am sad ; to not let everybody's opinion matter; to beware of too much sweetness; to have no shame in tears. Life has taught me that loving might be a mistake, but it's worth making. Life has taught me that nothing is permanent - neither success nor failure. The only thing that matters is consistency at doing your best. Life has taught me that every new day is an assurance of the fact that God believes in me.Life has taught me that at the end of the day, only my conscience matters and not what people think. Life has taught me that there is still loads left to learn! ( couldn't resist adding that tongue-in-cheek remark :) )
All of us learn some of these lessons- sooner or later - either the hard way or the easy way. That's the beauty of life. You get to keep learning all through. You get to keep unlearning all through. And, unfortunately or fortunately, you get to make that choice all through.
I could give a tongue-in-cheek answer by saying I have learnt that there is a lot left to learn and be done with it (which would not be a bad idea!) But, seriously, when I started thinking about it, there sure were many things that came to my mind. Things might be all serious around me. Nothing might be going my way. But, I have learnt that there is always an excuse waiting to be found for me to break into a smile or share a laugh. Life has taught me the joy of secret laughter. I have learnt that I never cease to surprise myself. Life has taught me never to underestimate others and most importantly - myself. Life has taught me always to be ready for the unexpected with a smile on my face and strength in my heart. Life has taught me that only those who dream big, make it big in life. Life has taught me never to trust some one blindly. Life has taught me that for every enemy there is a friend. Life has taught me to be gentle with the gentle and tough with the tough. Life has taught me to believe in my own ideas and not necessarily follow the crowd always. Life has taught me to laugh when am sad ; to not let everybody's opinion matter; to beware of too much sweetness; to have no shame in tears. Life has taught me that loving might be a mistake, but it's worth making. Life has taught me that nothing is permanent - neither success nor failure. The only thing that matters is consistency at doing your best. Life has taught me that every new day is an assurance of the fact that God believes in me.Life has taught me that at the end of the day, only my conscience matters and not what people think. Life has taught me that there is still loads left to learn! ( couldn't resist adding that tongue-in-cheek remark :) )
All of us learn some of these lessons- sooner or later - either the hard way or the easy way. That's the beauty of life. You get to keep learning all through. You get to keep unlearning all through. And, unfortunately or fortunately, you get to make that choice all through.
Monday, October 02, 2006
The rock star!!!
TIME magazine named The Dalai Lama, Lech Walesa, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez, Aung San Suu Kyi, Benigno Aquino Jr., Desmond Tutu, and Nelson Mandela as Children of Gandhi and his spiritual heirs to non-violence. Gandhi continues to be relevant, misunderstood and revalidated till date all across the globe. Why did we, Indians wake up so late to the man and his words?
Seven Blunders of the World: Wealth without work, Pleasure without conscience, Knowledge without character, Commerce without morality, Science without humanity, Worship without sacrifice, Politics without principle.
~ Gandhi
Whether humanity will consciously follow the law of love, I do not know. But that need not disturb me. The law will work just as the law of gravitation works, whether we accept it or not. The person who discovered the law of love was a far greater scientist than any of our modern scientists. Only our explorations have not gone far enough and so it is not possible for everyone to see all its workings
~ Gandhi
Generations to come, it may be, will scarcely believe that such a one, as this, ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth ~ Albert Einstein (circa 1948)
2 October 2006. India celebrates the man with renewed fervour. Gandhi seriously rocks! Long live gandhigiri!
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Whoopsidaisies!!!
La Mariée (The Bride) by Marc Chagall, 1950. Anna: I cant believe u have that picture on your wall.
William: You like Chagall?
Anna: I do. It feels like how being in love should be. Floating through a dark blue sky.
William: With a goat playing the violin.
Anna: Yes - happiness isn't happiness without a violin-playing goat.
~ Notting Hill (1999)
Comfortably numb...
How does it feel to be confused? When you have spent a lot of time with yourself and your thoughts? When you have had a lot of discussions and debates with yourself in your head over and over again? When you have gone over the pros and cons (point by point) a million times over coffee and music? When things don’t seem to make any sense anymore? Or rather, you prefer to leave the comprehending part for later. When you get tired of listening to your inner voice? When you have thought so much that your head literally hurts?
Well, it feels like looking into a kaleidoscope for so long that you forget to enjoy the colours and the abstract figures. It feels like looking at the ripples, created by throwing a stone in a pond on a lazy, summer afternoon, spreading all across and finally vanishing into nothingness. It feels like trying to sing along while listening to an old, forgotten tune, forgetting the lyrics here and there – filling the voids with your own words – just to make lines rhyme and not quite getting it right. It feels like looking through a marble held against the sun and not knowing which colour to watch out for and exclaim. It feels like losing the ability to distinguish where reality ends and imagination begins. It feels like travelling along murky, unexplored roads, knowing you are lost and still not doing anything about it. It feels like going with the flow – no questions asked, no answers offered. It feels like getting confused between tenses – you know you are wrong with the way you have framed the sentence, but you don’t exactly know where the mistake lies. It feels like being comfortably numb.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Then and now..
Last heard and smiled...
"For June who loved this garden from Joseph who always sat beside her." Some people do spend their whole lives together.
Last heard and frowned...
How is this to end? As stories must when love's denied: with tears and a journey...
"For June who loved this garden from Joseph who always sat beside her." Some people do spend their whole lives together.
Last heard and frowned...
How is this to end? As stories must when love's denied: with tears and a journey...
Talk to me!
At times, I get real bored on my daily journey to my office and back. I read - how long can you take the risk of becoming blind while trying to read microscopic letters in a dimly light bus, which keeps sprinting every 2 minutes, thanks to the well-laid roads (get the sarcasm right and then read further!) I see (rather stare) - I am tired of seeing (staring) at the same old hoardings, brightly-lit shops, haphazardly arranged display windows, same thatched roofs, same colleges, its BORING!! Why don’t I strike up a conversation with some one you ask? Well, I have made a few attempts at that, only to fail miserably…some don’t know where to draw the lines for the condtions to suffice for a normal talk to happen, some don’t know when to stop talking, some don’t know how to speak more than two words at a time…don’t get me..read on…
Scene 1:
Me (at my small talk best!): Which song is this one playing on the radio? Is it from that new movie Stalin? U plan to watch it sometime?
Lady1: Nope, it’s from (and she blurts out an incomprehensible telugu word!)
Me(smiling politely): Oh ya! Well, radio mirchi rocks! They always keep asking these interesting questions..something like if you don’t have money for a haircut, then how will you get one, or which three cricketers would you pick for our national kabbadi team, name three players from the Indian football team….blah blah blah..(I blabber on for 5 minutes about how innovative the guys at Radio Mirchi are while she listens silently and I finally ask)..isn’t that funny?
Lady1: (you are going to love this!!!) I don’t talk to strangers!!!
Me: Oh!!!! (Back to staring at the cow which just passed by and watch out for the approaching ISB campus…)
Scene 2:
Man1: Do you sing?
Me: (smiling) No (thinking) What the…beep beep..beep!
Man1: Let me see your hand..am good at reading them!
Me: (smiling) Nope..I don’t believe in stuff like that! (thinking) What the…beep beep..beep!
Man1: What is your favorite colour?
Me: Purple! (thinking) Any colour that repels you!
Man1: Really! I thought it must be black!
Me: (intrigued) why so? (thinking) mind blank!
Man1: Statistics suggest that smart and beautiful women like black..that’s why!
Me: (smiling) Thanks! So, what is your project all about? (thinking) What a cheesy line! Grow up!
Scene 3:
Me: So, you work for the IMG? That sounds interesting.
Man2: Yes.
Me: So, what’s your work about?
Man2: Not all that much fun.
Me: Ahem, okies, guess we all describe our work that way (and laugh thinking I have made a very witty remark)
Man2: (Silence..starts reading the newspaper)
Me(thinking): How rude!
Five minutes later…
Me: So, who won the last match?
Man2 (Hands me the paper and stares out of the window for the rest of the journey!!!)
Me: How rude!!!! Someone please tell the man that he is not in Britain!
Two minutes later, am deeply engrossed in the gossip section of The Times, educating myself about Lindsay Lohan’s weight loss and why the Aniston-Pitt breakup actually happened! When I read crap like this, I feel The Hindu sucks (pun intended..first get the sarcasm and then read further!) and yeah, the match was called off due to heavy rains.
Scene 4:
Me: Hi! So, how was your weekend?
Lady2: Oh, I saw Lage raho Munnabhai!
Me: Wow! I have…..
Lady2: Oh, you have to see it!
Me: Yeah, I…
Lady2: Vidya Balan looks so good!
Me: Yeah, she looks…
Lady2: There was this one scene in the movie…blah..blah..ha ha ha…blah blah…hee hee hee.
Me (nodding and laughing at all the right places): Really! That’s so funny!
Lady2: Oh, that’s nothing! You have to listen to this..blah..blah…ha ha ha…blah..hee hee..blah.
Me (Have tears in my eyes laughing that most realistic artificial laugh ever!)
Half an hour, a splitting headache, a coffee and a crocin later, I am in a team meeting. As Chandler would say – could life BE any better than this???
So, there you go! After a few "mind-boggling" and "humbling" experiences (to say the least!), my companions on my loooong, bumpy bus ride are The Hindu editorials, books and the senseless music blaring away on Radio Mirchi – 98.3 FM – Idi chala hot guru!!! (I miss the RJ screaming "sakkath hot maaga!!" ) Well, may the force be with me..phew!!!
Scene 1:
Me (at my small talk best!): Which song is this one playing on the radio? Is it from that new movie Stalin? U plan to watch it sometime?
Lady1: Nope, it’s from (and she blurts out an incomprehensible telugu word!)
Me(smiling politely): Oh ya! Well, radio mirchi rocks! They always keep asking these interesting questions..something like if you don’t have money for a haircut, then how will you get one, or which three cricketers would you pick for our national kabbadi team, name three players from the Indian football team….blah blah blah..(I blabber on for 5 minutes about how innovative the guys at Radio Mirchi are while she listens silently and I finally ask)..isn’t that funny?
Lady1: (you are going to love this!!!) I don’t talk to strangers!!!
Me: Oh!!!! (Back to staring at the cow which just passed by and watch out for the approaching ISB campus…)
Scene 2:
Man1: Do you sing?
Me: (smiling) No (thinking) What the…beep beep..beep!
Man1: Let me see your hand..am good at reading them!
Me: (smiling) Nope..I don’t believe in stuff like that! (thinking) What the…beep beep..beep!
Man1: What is your favorite colour?
Me: Purple! (thinking) Any colour that repels you!
Man1: Really! I thought it must be black!
Me: (intrigued) why so? (thinking) mind blank!
Man1: Statistics suggest that smart and beautiful women like black..that’s why!
Me: (smiling) Thanks! So, what is your project all about? (thinking) What a cheesy line! Grow up!
Scene 3:
Me: So, you work for the IMG? That sounds interesting.
Man2: Yes.
Me: So, what’s your work about?
Man2: Not all that much fun.
Me: Ahem, okies, guess we all describe our work that way (and laugh thinking I have made a very witty remark)
Man2: (Silence..starts reading the newspaper)
Me(thinking): How rude!
Five minutes later…
Me: So, who won the last match?
Man2 (Hands me the paper and stares out of the window for the rest of the journey!!!)
Me: How rude!!!! Someone please tell the man that he is not in Britain!
Two minutes later, am deeply engrossed in the gossip section of The Times, educating myself about Lindsay Lohan’s weight loss and why the Aniston-Pitt breakup actually happened! When I read crap like this, I feel The Hindu sucks (pun intended..first get the sarcasm and then read further!) and yeah, the match was called off due to heavy rains.
Scene 4:
Me: Hi! So, how was your weekend?
Lady2: Oh, I saw Lage raho Munnabhai!
Me: Wow! I have…..
Lady2: Oh, you have to see it!
Me: Yeah, I…
Lady2: Vidya Balan looks so good!
Me: Yeah, she looks…
Lady2: There was this one scene in the movie…blah..blah..ha ha ha…blah blah…hee hee hee.
Me (nodding and laughing at all the right places): Really! That’s so funny!
Lady2: Oh, that’s nothing! You have to listen to this..blah..blah…ha ha ha…blah..hee hee..blah.
Me (Have tears in my eyes laughing that most realistic artificial laugh ever!)
Half an hour, a splitting headache, a coffee and a crocin later, I am in a team meeting. As Chandler would say – could life BE any better than this???
So, there you go! After a few "mind-boggling" and "humbling" experiences (to say the least!), my companions on my loooong, bumpy bus ride are The Hindu editorials, books and the senseless music blaring away on Radio Mirchi – 98.3 FM – Idi chala hot guru!!! (I miss the RJ screaming "sakkath hot maaga!!" ) Well, may the force be with me..phew!!!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Sounds of silence...
People talking without speaking..
People hearing without listening..
People writing songs that voices never share..
And no one dared..
Disturb the sound of silence..
Silence could be the solution as well as, the reason behind many of life’s issues. With some people, even small talks seem like a waste of time, while, with others, silence seems to be the only language.
Hello darkness, my old friend..
I've come to talk with you again..
There are times when you feel like talking to someone, but there is no one around to hear you out! You end up talking to yourself on those occasions. You are the performer, you are the audience, you are the critic – it’s all about you, which, surprisingly enough, can be boring after a while!
But my words, like silent raindrops fell..
And echoed in the wells of silence..
Then, there are also times when you find someone, with whom you never run of topics to converse, debate and agree about, but then, you somewhere down the line, realise that they were never actually listening to you all this while, never bothering to comprehend what you had to say - you are not sure about the right emotion to feel - gives you the feel of being in a phantasmagoric trance.
I turned my collar to the cold and damp..
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light..
That split the night..
And touched the sound of silence....
That’s when I prefer the sound of my silence. And I, sometimes, get so used to it, that the next time I hear myself, I have a hard time recognising my own voice.
People hearing without listening..
People writing songs that voices never share..
And no one dared..
Disturb the sound of silence..
Silence could be the solution as well as, the reason behind many of life’s issues. With some people, even small talks seem like a waste of time, while, with others, silence seems to be the only language.
Hello darkness, my old friend..
I've come to talk with you again..
There are times when you feel like talking to someone, but there is no one around to hear you out! You end up talking to yourself on those occasions. You are the performer, you are the audience, you are the critic – it’s all about you, which, surprisingly enough, can be boring after a while!
But my words, like silent raindrops fell..
And echoed in the wells of silence..
Then, there are also times when you find someone, with whom you never run of topics to converse, debate and agree about, but then, you somewhere down the line, realise that they were never actually listening to you all this while, never bothering to comprehend what you had to say - you are not sure about the right emotion to feel - gives you the feel of being in a phantasmagoric trance.
I turned my collar to the cold and damp..
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light..
That split the night..
And touched the sound of silence....
That’s when I prefer the sound of my silence. And I, sometimes, get so used to it, that the next time I hear myself, I have a hard time recognising my own voice.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Liar Liar!!!
Long time back, I had seen this movie titled "Liar Liar". It was the story of a man who told lies for no particular reason - to make someone happy, to get out of problematic situations, to get a promotion, etc etc etc. When he was not able to make it to his only son’s birthday party, he came up with a lie even for that! Well, his son wished over the birthday candles that his father would not lie just for a day. And the wish actually came true. That’s when all the fun began. After all the confusion and confrontations possible, the movie did have a happy ending. But the point that I made note of was that the protagonist had only truth to fall back on and it did not provide a very strong defence at times unfortunately.
Well, is it true? Can truth by itself never really be sufficient? Does a term like "white lie" need to exist? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t say I have never lied in my whole life. I am no Gandhi. I know most of us would agree (at least secretly) that life does not run smoothly without a few white lies here and there.
The way I see it, we think that way just as long as one’s opinion on the issue is needed. But what happens when you are at the receiving end? When you realise that your perception about something/someone was just another "white lie". Can you stop yourself from feeling angry, hurt and cheated? Is it that easy to justify the whole "white lie" theory? Is it that serious a felony? Then why is it sometimes so difficult to come to terms with it? Is it that easy to forgive and forget? Is that the only way out of all the confusion and guess work? When such a thing happens, just what is the right thing to do? What are the right words to say? What is the right way to react?
Well, is it true? Can truth by itself never really be sufficient? Does a term like "white lie" need to exist? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t say I have never lied in my whole life. I am no Gandhi. I know most of us would agree (at least secretly) that life does not run smoothly without a few white lies here and there.
The way I see it, we think that way just as long as one’s opinion on the issue is needed. But what happens when you are at the receiving end? When you realise that your perception about something/someone was just another "white lie". Can you stop yourself from feeling angry, hurt and cheated? Is it that easy to justify the whole "white lie" theory? Is it that serious a felony? Then why is it sometimes so difficult to come to terms with it? Is it that easy to forgive and forget? Is that the only way out of all the confusion and guess work? When such a thing happens, just what is the right thing to do? What are the right words to say? What is the right way to react?
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Not just another day...
Its amazing how the same day can mean different things to different people. It might just be another day at office for some, might mean an important exam date for someone else, might mean just another day full of parties for some, else might mean another day added to a lazy holiday by the beach for someone else. Well, 23 September 2006 was not yet another day for me. It was a special occasion. I watched D, a very dear friend of mine, get married.
During the wedding, S (a friend) and I were reminiscing all the times we three shared together back at school. It was seriously funny. The way S and I used to finish D’s lunch box in the morning while she just looked on helplessly, the way we cheered her on when she took the head girl’s pledge, the way we always broke every single rule just to irritate D (the head girl !!! ) to the core. I remember she was the only one who did not laugh at me the first day I wore spectacles to school, she was the only one who never came up with silly jokes when I went to school with braces on, she never shouted at S and me no matter how much we irritated her, but just smiled along with us most of the times. Well, she sure has come a long way since then. To watch the same girl get married today gave us (S and I) a totally different feeling.
Well, things sure do change (and am sure this change in D’s life is definitely for good!), but, somehow at times like these, you just want to go back to the "good, old times" just once more. While you hug and wish this friend of yours all the happiness for life on her wedding day, you want to go back and giggle over a dumb joke with that little girl, who first became your friend, just one last time, because things are somehow never going to be the same ever again. Well, 23 September was not yet another day for me. It was a special occasion. I saw a friend of mine officially grow up in a short span of 4 hours.
During the wedding, S (a friend) and I were reminiscing all the times we three shared together back at school. It was seriously funny. The way S and I used to finish D’s lunch box in the morning while she just looked on helplessly, the way we cheered her on when she took the head girl’s pledge, the way we always broke every single rule just to irritate D (the head girl !!! ) to the core. I remember she was the only one who did not laugh at me the first day I wore spectacles to school, she was the only one who never came up with silly jokes when I went to school with braces on, she never shouted at S and me no matter how much we irritated her, but just smiled along with us most of the times. Well, she sure has come a long way since then. To watch the same girl get married today gave us (S and I) a totally different feeling.
Well, things sure do change (and am sure this change in D’s life is definitely for good!), but, somehow at times like these, you just want to go back to the "good, old times" just once more. While you hug and wish this friend of yours all the happiness for life on her wedding day, you want to go back and giggle over a dumb joke with that little girl, who first became your friend, just one last time, because things are somehow never going to be the same ever again. Well, 23 September was not yet another day for me. It was a special occasion. I saw a friend of mine officially grow up in a short span of 4 hours.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Good Morning Prof.Yadav!!!
When I first heard it, I thought it was a joke..a real bad one!! But then, rediff.com, NDTV, CNN-IBN and Google news don't pull off an April fool in the middle of September!!! So, guess it was true! Mr.Laloo Prasad Yadav would be teaching management fundas to the esteemed mortals in the hallowed interiors of IIM-A. That should be interesting, I thought with a sly grin. Just what could a dhoti clad, rustic old man teach the abnormally smart kids out there. But then, this could not be happening without a reason. Hmm... high time I took another hard look at the railway budget for these two years before writing him off completely.
I did hear the railway budget buzz just before the financial budgets were announced and all the journalists commending ( and secretly wondering!!! ) Mr.Yadav for managing to make Indian railways a profit producing unit in a surprisingly short span of two years. At this point, let me add that Mr.Nitish Kumar laid the foundation for this turnaround. But, it took the added impetus of Mr.Yadav for the results to finally start showing. 1-2 dedicated prime time news discussions later, the talks would again turn to the financial budget and what was cooking at the Finance Ministry Office! But, this recent move by the management of IIM-A to invite Mr.Laloo Prasad Yadav to deliver a special lecture, really made everyone sit back and take the man and his strategies more seriously than ever before!
Well, Google surprised me with the statistics it had to offer about the Indian railways over the past two years. The numbers and the tremendous turnover of this gigantic public sector definitely made for an interesting business school case study. This increase in profits without any increase in passenger fares and freight charges was another commendable feat. Loads of strategizing , planning and stream lining must be going into bringing forth this favourable change. Mr.Yadav sure must be busy doing sme awesome strategizing back there (Forgive me for my biased opinion, but I would like to believe that he surely must have kept away from the day-to-day management for it to function properly!) to bring about this turnaround.
Well, the arguments might be many. Some may say that this is just another vote bank politics gimmick of Mr.Yadav as he has a point to prove given the fact that he faced such a huge and embarassing defeat in the last year's state elections, while some say that Indian railways had to come of age without much choice, given the fast declining airfares and reducing number of passengers. Whatver the reason, this positive change is a good sign for the Indian economy and a great news for the Indian Railways passenger. At the end of it all, the man having the last laugh is Mr.Laloo Prasad Yadav, no doubts about that one Sir !!!!
I did hear the railway budget buzz just before the financial budgets were announced and all the journalists commending ( and secretly wondering!!! ) Mr.Yadav for managing to make Indian railways a profit producing unit in a surprisingly short span of two years. At this point, let me add that Mr.Nitish Kumar laid the foundation for this turnaround. But, it took the added impetus of Mr.Yadav for the results to finally start showing. 1-2 dedicated prime time news discussions later, the talks would again turn to the financial budget and what was cooking at the Finance Ministry Office! But, this recent move by the management of IIM-A to invite Mr.Laloo Prasad Yadav to deliver a special lecture, really made everyone sit back and take the man and his strategies more seriously than ever before!
Well, Google surprised me with the statistics it had to offer about the Indian railways over the past two years. The numbers and the tremendous turnover of this gigantic public sector definitely made for an interesting business school case study. This increase in profits without any increase in passenger fares and freight charges was another commendable feat. Loads of strategizing , planning and stream lining must be going into bringing forth this favourable change. Mr.Yadav sure must be busy doing sme awesome strategizing back there (Forgive me for my biased opinion, but I would like to believe that he surely must have kept away from the day-to-day management for it to function properly!) to bring about this turnaround.
Well, the arguments might be many. Some may say that this is just another vote bank politics gimmick of Mr.Yadav as he has a point to prove given the fact that he faced such a huge and embarassing defeat in the last year's state elections, while some say that Indian railways had to come of age without much choice, given the fast declining airfares and reducing number of passengers. Whatver the reason, this positive change is a good sign for the Indian economy and a great news for the Indian Railways passenger. At the end of it all, the man having the last laugh is Mr.Laloo Prasad Yadav, no doubts about that one Sir !!!!
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Love actually...
Why do you love someone? Is there any such thing as love at first sight? How do you define the chemistry between two people? Can any other feeling beat the "surreal yet nice" feeling of being in love? When do you realise you have found true love? Is commitment such a big deal? Is it possible to measure love? Is there any such thing like unconditional love? Is it possible to love someone just as much as they love you – not a little bit more, not a little bit less? Is it possible to be as committed as the other person is?
How long does one stay committed to a relationship? Does love stay forever? If not, what replaces that void? Do you have to work at a relationship after a certain point of time? Is there ever a "and they lived happily ever after" ending to a love story in reality? When do you realise that "things are not going to work out"? When do you actually do something about that realisation? Is everything over right after a breakup? Is there no hangover of all the lovely times spent together? Is it ever possible to unlove someone once you’ve loved them? Does the pain of heartbreak ever really go away? Is love better the second time round? Can "once-in-a-lifetime" happen twice?
Is "falling in love" more exciting than "being in love"? Does love make one weak or strong? Is love an addiction at times? Can friends become lovers? Can lovers ever remain friends? Is love really blind? Is love the only means to achieve happiness? Do people who write those soul-stirring love songs have love all figured out? Can words ever do justice to the emotion called love? Are we sometimes just in love, with love? Does love really conquer all odds? Does love always have to be this elusive? Does love always have to be that simple?
How long does one stay committed to a relationship? Does love stay forever? If not, what replaces that void? Do you have to work at a relationship after a certain point of time? Is there ever a "and they lived happily ever after" ending to a love story in reality? When do you realise that "things are not going to work out"? When do you actually do something about that realisation? Is everything over right after a breakup? Is there no hangover of all the lovely times spent together? Is it ever possible to unlove someone once you’ve loved them? Does the pain of heartbreak ever really go away? Is love better the second time round? Can "once-in-a-lifetime" happen twice?
Is "falling in love" more exciting than "being in love"? Does love make one weak or strong? Is love an addiction at times? Can friends become lovers? Can lovers ever remain friends? Is love really blind? Is love the only means to achieve happiness? Do people who write those soul-stirring love songs have love all figured out? Can words ever do justice to the emotion called love? Are we sometimes just in love, with love? Does love really conquer all odds? Does love always have to be this elusive? Does love always have to be that simple?
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Bande mein tha dum...
Ainak pehne, lathi pakde chalte the woh shaan se,
Zaalim kaape thar thar, thar thar, sun kar unka naam re,
Kad tha unka chota sa aur sarpat unki chal re
Duble se, patle se the woh, chalte seena taan ke,
Bande mein tha dum..vande mataram....
Bande mein tha dum..vande mataram....
I can’t stop humming these lines since yesterday. As you might have guessed it, I saw Lage raho Munnabhai finally!! I know I am tad bit late and all the possible discussions about the movie have exhausted by now, but still the movie needed a mention here because the movie made me fall in love with Gandhi all over again. Munna and Circuit did an awesome job but the show stealer according to me was Gandhiji!!!
"It took one remarkable man to defeat the British Empire and free a nation of 350 million people. His goal was freedom for India. His strategy was peace. His weapon was his humanity. His triumph changed the world forever." – That was the tagline of the 1982 Richard Attenborough movie titled "Gandhi". One among my favorites, I remember watching Ben Kingsley in Gandhi and going "wow!" almost every 2 minutes during the entire movie. Ben, with his awesome characterization of Gandhi, made me see beyond the man known as the Mahatma and made me fall in love with Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, for the man he was. That movie is among of the very few flicks which pa and me used to watch when I was a kid, and we used to cry and laugh at the right places together. That’s another reason I love that movie. I must have seen it 17 times but still can never get bored of it. In the movie, Gandhi was portrayed as this idealistic icon – some one to be admired and respected. Oh well, getting inspired by Gandhi in real life - the movie did not even venture out to deal with that, given the constraint of the biographical theme of the film.
Lage raho Munnabhai does just that - with Munnabhai, Gandhi sure has come a long way from the way Richard Attenborough and the world interpreted him till date - a luminary to be respected and held in awe, not someone to get inspired from, because, let's face it, Gandhism cannot survive in 21st century! However, Munnabhai Ver 2.0 brings Gandhi to the masses as a bindaas old man, who gave a hoot to the rules and who always had the right answer and the right approach to every problematic situation. Thanks to Munnabhai, Gandhism is suddenly the "in" thing!!
I was with my friend, S, just the other day, when she got a call. An animated discussion followed when the person on the other end insisted on telling the truth to someone about something, without bothering about the disastrous consequences, because that’s what Gandhi would have done!! S tried to convince her in vain. After the call, we both wondered about the why behind this sudden predilection for Gandhism among everybody? Wasn’t he there around us always? Weren’t his principles taught to us among the very first things we learnt way back in school?
Yes is the answer to both the questiones posed above, but it took a movie to bring him back in style for today’s generation! What remains to be seen is that will this penchant and love for Gandhism be there only till Munnabhai is the buzzword or will it continue to remain after that? That will be an interesting thing to watch. Sadly, the memory of "We, the people" is short lived. I am guessing Gandhi will again go back to the closed, forgotten pages of history. I would love to be proved wrong though.
All things said and done, one thing is for sure.."Bande mein tha dum!!!"
Zaalim kaape thar thar, thar thar, sun kar unka naam re,
Kad tha unka chota sa aur sarpat unki chal re
Duble se, patle se the woh, chalte seena taan ke,
Bande mein tha dum..vande mataram....
Bande mein tha dum..vande mataram....
I can’t stop humming these lines since yesterday. As you might have guessed it, I saw Lage raho Munnabhai finally!! I know I am tad bit late and all the possible discussions about the movie have exhausted by now, but still the movie needed a mention here because the movie made me fall in love with Gandhi all over again. Munna and Circuit did an awesome job but the show stealer according to me was Gandhiji!!!
"It took one remarkable man to defeat the British Empire and free a nation of 350 million people. His goal was freedom for India. His strategy was peace. His weapon was his humanity. His triumph changed the world forever." – That was the tagline of the 1982 Richard Attenborough movie titled "Gandhi". One among my favorites, I remember watching Ben Kingsley in Gandhi and going "wow!" almost every 2 minutes during the entire movie. Ben, with his awesome characterization of Gandhi, made me see beyond the man known as the Mahatma and made me fall in love with Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, for the man he was. That movie is among of the very few flicks which pa and me used to watch when I was a kid, and we used to cry and laugh at the right places together. That’s another reason I love that movie. I must have seen it 17 times but still can never get bored of it. In the movie, Gandhi was portrayed as this idealistic icon – some one to be admired and respected. Oh well, getting inspired by Gandhi in real life - the movie did not even venture out to deal with that, given the constraint of the biographical theme of the film.
Lage raho Munnabhai does just that - with Munnabhai, Gandhi sure has come a long way from the way Richard Attenborough and the world interpreted him till date - a luminary to be respected and held in awe, not someone to get inspired from, because, let's face it, Gandhism cannot survive in 21st century! However, Munnabhai Ver 2.0 brings Gandhi to the masses as a bindaas old man, who gave a hoot to the rules and who always had the right answer and the right approach to every problematic situation. Thanks to Munnabhai, Gandhism is suddenly the "in" thing!!
I was with my friend, S, just the other day, when she got a call. An animated discussion followed when the person on the other end insisted on telling the truth to someone about something, without bothering about the disastrous consequences, because that’s what Gandhi would have done!! S tried to convince her in vain. After the call, we both wondered about the why behind this sudden predilection for Gandhism among everybody? Wasn’t he there around us always? Weren’t his principles taught to us among the very first things we learnt way back in school?
Yes is the answer to both the questiones posed above, but it took a movie to bring him back in style for today’s generation! What remains to be seen is that will this penchant and love for Gandhism be there only till Munnabhai is the buzzword or will it continue to remain after that? That will be an interesting thing to watch. Sadly, the memory of "We, the people" is short lived. I am guessing Gandhi will again go back to the closed, forgotten pages of history. I would love to be proved wrong though.
All things said and done, one thing is for sure.."Bande mein tha dum!!!"
Just like that..
In life, a few relations cannot end instantly...just like that. They need to die a slow, unnoticed death. When such a thing happens, a lot of effort goes into making the entire process look as natural and expected as possible. When does the equation of a friendship change? It might, sometimes, take a huge chain of events or sometimes, just a simple conversation. There are times in life when you feel you just might have made a mistake when it came to judging someone. They say never trust your first impressions about some one – first impressions are almost always wrong. I thought that applied only to the negative ones. Things happening over the past week made me realise that it holds even for the positive ones.
You assume that you know some one real well, but then things happen and you just end up discovering a hidden dimension to that person, which you never thought existed. You end up feeling confused at such times. You end up doubting your own discerning capability when it comes to differentiating between the good and bad ones. You end up trying to search for your mistake in the entire issue. But, do we, at these times, fail to realise that we just might have been duped into believing something? We just ended up seeing something the way we saw it, because that’s how it was intended to happen according to the other person involved? Are we ever able to trust some one again, with an open heart, as spontaneously as before? I don’t know the answers to those questions, but yeah, as far as I am concerned, I am a changed person – for good or bad, I will let time be the judge.
I learnt only one thing from the entire issue – The wise people who say "Don’t judge a book by a cover" and "Don’t believe your first impressions" are also the same people who say "Always believe your first instinct" - which brings me back to square one, all over again.
You assume that you know some one real well, but then things happen and you just end up discovering a hidden dimension to that person, which you never thought existed. You end up feeling confused at such times. You end up doubting your own discerning capability when it comes to differentiating between the good and bad ones. You end up trying to search for your mistake in the entire issue. But, do we, at these times, fail to realise that we just might have been duped into believing something? We just ended up seeing something the way we saw it, because that’s how it was intended to happen according to the other person involved? Are we ever able to trust some one again, with an open heart, as spontaneously as before? I don’t know the answers to those questions, but yeah, as far as I am concerned, I am a changed person – for good or bad, I will let time be the judge.
I learnt only one thing from the entire issue – The wise people who say "Don’t judge a book by a cover" and "Don’t believe your first impressions" are also the same people who say "Always believe your first instinct" - which brings me back to square one, all over again.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Friends forever??
As we go on, we remember,
All the times we had together,
And, as our lives change, come whatever,
We will still be friends forever...
I associate this song with memories of various friends I've come across in life..it still brings a tear to my eye when ever I listen to it. "Friends forever"- catchy phrase but do you believe in it always? Does such a thing even exist? The events occurring of late are starting to make me believe that such a thing might just exist in theory. When does a friendship end? When do reunions become just another formality? When do we no longer have common jokes to share and common things to laugh at? When do awkward silences begin to fill the conversations we once used to share? When do you have to start thinking twice before mentioning something to each other?
Things would be a lot simpler if friendships were like relationships. Either the feeling is there or it is not there. There is a boundary - a limit. Maybe that’s why break –ups make a lot of sense. Though painful in the beginning, in the long run, they, somehow, make a lot of sense.
Where do you draw a line in friendship? How do you define your space? Why does a friendship end? There might be many reasons: distance, ego, failure, betrayal, hatred, jealousy, but it pains the most when time gives a friendship, a natural death.
All the times we had together,
And, as our lives change, come whatever,
We will still be friends forever...
I associate this song with memories of various friends I've come across in life..it still brings a tear to my eye when ever I listen to it. "Friends forever"- catchy phrase but do you believe in it always? Does such a thing even exist? The events occurring of late are starting to make me believe that such a thing might just exist in theory. When does a friendship end? When do reunions become just another formality? When do we no longer have common jokes to share and common things to laugh at? When do awkward silences begin to fill the conversations we once used to share? When do you have to start thinking twice before mentioning something to each other?
Things would be a lot simpler if friendships were like relationships. Either the feeling is there or it is not there. There is a boundary - a limit. Maybe that’s why break –ups make a lot of sense. Though painful in the beginning, in the long run, they, somehow, make a lot of sense.
Where do you draw a line in friendship? How do you define your space? Why does a friendship end? There might be many reasons: distance, ego, failure, betrayal, hatred, jealousy, but it pains the most when time gives a friendship, a natural death.
For the first time....
A yacht sailing past the Burj-al-Arab Hotel in Dubai.A beautiful lady, in the arms of a handsome man, pointing excitedly at the hotel. An interesting question, at the extreme left hand corner – "When was the last time you did something for the first time?" I am describing a hoarding of the Emirates Airlines I came across recently. Hats off to the team, which came up with such an innovative idea to market an airline. But, I was not thinking about that right away. The question caught my attention – when was the last time I did something for the first time? Hmmm…that should not be a toughie. I got thinking. Five minutes gone and I still had my thinking cap on. No, don’t judge me right away. I did come up with a few answers but they seemed too dull and mundane. Somehow, I wanted to justify such an innovative question with an equally snappy and innovative answer – something like touching the snow, or stopping the traffic, or go trekking in the forests, or skating around the block, or sitting in a chopper for the very first time, or eating an exotic dish or fruit. I did come up with an interesting answer finally. What my answer was, does not really matter. What I realised was there are very few such "first time" moments in our lives.
Why did we allow our life to settle into a dull and mundane routine? The same hangouts, the same discussions, the same friends, the same jokes, the same serials, the same games, the same comfort zone. When did we allow this monotony to secretly creep into our lives? When did the sense of adventure seep away? When did security and familiarity become the buzzwords? When did we become too busy to get a life? When was the last time we did something for the first time?
Why did we allow our life to settle into a dull and mundane routine? The same hangouts, the same discussions, the same friends, the same jokes, the same serials, the same games, the same comfort zone. When did we allow this monotony to secretly creep into our lives? When did the sense of adventure seep away? When did security and familiarity become the buzzwords? When did we become too busy to get a life? When was the last time we did something for the first time?
Monday, September 11, 2006
What next???
Sponsorship * shoes * James Spader * spas * Shawn colvin * Sensex * CII * Udayan Mukherjee * Venture capitalists * Vinod Mehta * Nokia 6233 * Premji * beer * dvd-player * NASDAQ * mid-cap * advertising * travel books * brands * health drinks * coiffures * Everybody loves raymond * iPod * Pankaj Advani * digital cameras * Ogden Nash * Steve Irwin * L N Mittal * coffee * Moto L7 * gossip magazines * quotes *ONGC * Adidas * Munnabhai * Budapest * D&G * Harold Pinter, Usher in his new broadway avatar * L'arc de Triomphe * Prof. Sabharwal * Cold Play * coffee mugs * Gandhi * Food world * EPL * national highways * Bangalore * Tissot watches * Serendipity * Chidambaram * repo rate * reservations * base ball * free will * Van Gogh * Taoism * Monet * Impressionism * Keller * Nihilism * oligarchy * Federer * US Open * Lahore Fort * LME * ASCII code * Yin and yang * Aparna Popat.
Where do you take your thoughts next, given the fact that this sequence is being processed by your neurons just 5 minutes before a test????
Where do you take your thoughts next, given the fact that this sequence is being processed by your neurons just 5 minutes before a test????
Thursday, September 07, 2006
To sing or not to sing...
7 Sepember,2006: The first centenary of “Vande mataram” – a song which is a reminder of our struggle during the pre-independence era.
Debate: To sing or not to sing it.
Participants: Politicians and religious leaders and the media.
Observers: Do "We, the people" even care???
The whole drama has been going on in full media glare for more than 2 weeks now and today is when the whole issue will reach it’s culmination point. Frankly, how many of us actually care about who sings the national song or not. Okie, fine, agreed, there are people amongst us who have been tracking the whole issue and have some very strong opinions about the whole fuss being created about the song. This stand of mine might be of some interest to those people.
I get goose bumps every time I hear the song “Vande mataram” being played, whether it be Rehman crooning away a spiced up version of the song or the original version, rendered in the soulful voice of Lata (again, a Rehman creation). There is something awfully inspiring about this song, the lyrics and the tune, everything just fits. Then, why was “Jana gana mana” chosen as our national anthem and not “Vande Mataram”?
I read this engaging piece in The Hindu editorial which explained in detail that during the pre-independence era, the overt hindu overtones in the song alienated the minorities who were otherwise eager participants in the freedom struggle. Perhaps, Nehru described the whole issue surrounding the song aptly when he said,” indisputably the premier national song of India with a great historical tradition and intimately connected with our struggle for freedom ... It represents the position and the poignancy of that struggle, but perhaps not so much the culmination of it”. This statement made by Nehru showcases the fact that somewhere, even the constitution framers realized that making Vande mataram the national anthem would amount to violating the secular fabric of the country given the strong cultural nationalism reflected in the song.
From where I see it, no body is interested in the song as such, the only point here is to make headlines and scandalizing ones at that. The players in the whole drama are the religious heads and the politicians. I really don’t care about their stand. The way I think, if am living in a democracy, the only person who gets to decide whether I sing the song or not is ME. No one else has the right to tell me what I should and should not do. Why should the Muslims prove their patriotism to their motherland by singing a song? Why should the Hindus insist that the Muslims not singing the song is an insult to the country? How many of us actually go for the flag hoisting on 26 January and 15 August?
The only reason the whole thing is being blown out of proportion is to create a divide between Hindus and Muslims. Yet another interesting anecdote in the vote bank politics archive of our “democratic and secular” country.
My only question to these “zealous” patriot-cum-politicians of our country is that when attending the flag hoisting on Independence Day and Republic Day has not been made compulsory till date, why so much fuss about a song? Will I get an answer? Knowing the political scenario of this country, I am sure I won’t.
Debate: To sing or not to sing it.
Participants: Politicians and religious leaders and the media.
Observers: Do "We, the people" even care???
The whole drama has been going on in full media glare for more than 2 weeks now and today is when the whole issue will reach it’s culmination point. Frankly, how many of us actually care about who sings the national song or not. Okie, fine, agreed, there are people amongst us who have been tracking the whole issue and have some very strong opinions about the whole fuss being created about the song. This stand of mine might be of some interest to those people.
I get goose bumps every time I hear the song “Vande mataram” being played, whether it be Rehman crooning away a spiced up version of the song or the original version, rendered in the soulful voice of Lata (again, a Rehman creation). There is something awfully inspiring about this song, the lyrics and the tune, everything just fits. Then, why was “Jana gana mana” chosen as our national anthem and not “Vande Mataram”?
I read this engaging piece in The Hindu editorial which explained in detail that during the pre-independence era, the overt hindu overtones in the song alienated the minorities who were otherwise eager participants in the freedom struggle. Perhaps, Nehru described the whole issue surrounding the song aptly when he said,” indisputably the premier national song of India with a great historical tradition and intimately connected with our struggle for freedom ... It represents the position and the poignancy of that struggle, but perhaps not so much the culmination of it”. This statement made by Nehru showcases the fact that somewhere, even the constitution framers realized that making Vande mataram the national anthem would amount to violating the secular fabric of the country given the strong cultural nationalism reflected in the song.
From where I see it, no body is interested in the song as such, the only point here is to make headlines and scandalizing ones at that. The players in the whole drama are the religious heads and the politicians. I really don’t care about their stand. The way I think, if am living in a democracy, the only person who gets to decide whether I sing the song or not is ME. No one else has the right to tell me what I should and should not do. Why should the Muslims prove their patriotism to their motherland by singing a song? Why should the Hindus insist that the Muslims not singing the song is an insult to the country? How many of us actually go for the flag hoisting on 26 January and 15 August?
The only reason the whole thing is being blown out of proportion is to create a divide between Hindus and Muslims. Yet another interesting anecdote in the vote bank politics archive of our “democratic and secular” country.
My only question to these “zealous” patriot-cum-politicians of our country is that when attending the flag hoisting on Independence Day and Republic Day has not been made compulsory till date, why so much fuss about a song? Will I get an answer? Knowing the political scenario of this country, I am sure I won’t.
What's in a name?
Dolly: My name is Dolly, My ID is 155. I will be doing my B.E. in Electronics. I have completed my schooling from Andhra Pradesh. My hobbies are singing, writing and reading.
XYZ: Dolly??? Isn’t that a pet name? What is your real name?
Dolly: Hmm…that is my real name.
XYZ: Oh okie…what ever.
That was a scene from one of my ragging sessions way back in college. In fact, I have had a similar conversation with various people at various points of my life till now.
To be honest, I never really liked my name while growing up. I used to have these "intelligent" arguments with ma asking her to give me one logical explanation for naming me Dolly. I used to ask her how would the name suit me when I was an 81 year old toothless, bespectacled woman. As one would expect, that conversation used to end with ma laughing away to glory and me, with a solemn frown on my face.
At one point, I almost won the argument when ma told me that I could change my name to whatever I wanted (only an affidavit was needed!!!!) . With a triumphant grin on my face, I set out googling for all possible names, which would be way better than Dolly. My friends though only saw me as Dolly n could not see any other name going with me and my nature. Damn them, I could do this alone very well. But, somewhere along the line, amidst all the googling, I realised something. My mother must have really loved this name like crazy to name her only daughter Dolly. It was her right to decide the name by which the world would know me and me trying to change it would somehow undermine her importance in my life. So, after a lot of thought, I made my decision. Dolly stayed.
People still go, "Dolly? Strange…isn’t that a pet name? What is your real name?" But, the difference is that I don’t care any more. The way I see it, the least I could do for ma was not to change my name and the most I can do for her is to love the name she chose for me . I chose to do both and I will never regret that decision one bit.
XYZ: Dolly??? Isn’t that a pet name? What is your real name?
Dolly: Hmm…that is my real name.
XYZ: Oh okie…what ever.
That was a scene from one of my ragging sessions way back in college. In fact, I have had a similar conversation with various people at various points of my life till now.
To be honest, I never really liked my name while growing up. I used to have these "intelligent" arguments with ma asking her to give me one logical explanation for naming me Dolly. I used to ask her how would the name suit me when I was an 81 year old toothless, bespectacled woman. As one would expect, that conversation used to end with ma laughing away to glory and me, with a solemn frown on my face.
At one point, I almost won the argument when ma told me that I could change my name to whatever I wanted (only an affidavit was needed!!!!) . With a triumphant grin on my face, I set out googling for all possible names, which would be way better than Dolly. My friends though only saw me as Dolly n could not see any other name going with me and my nature. Damn them, I could do this alone very well. But, somewhere along the line, amidst all the googling, I realised something. My mother must have really loved this name like crazy to name her only daughter Dolly. It was her right to decide the name by which the world would know me and me trying to change it would somehow undermine her importance in my life. So, after a lot of thought, I made my decision. Dolly stayed.
People still go, "Dolly? Strange…isn’t that a pet name? What is your real name?" But, the difference is that I don’t care any more. The way I see it, the least I could do for ma was not to change my name and the most I can do for her is to love the name she chose for me . I chose to do both and I will never regret that decision one bit.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
What lies beneath..what lies beyond...
Today was yet another dragging day at work but for one exception. I received a forward from a colleague, N. Yeah, nothing new about getting a forward when you are in the software industry (that’s how we spend half of the day right?). The exception was that it was not a mushy forward or a funny one, no sir, rather it was a hacker’s puzzle. I am a big sucker for puzzles and riddles and I got started on this one right away (with work pending, mind you!!!). There were 23 levels in all and I was able to clear the first thirteen. I was very proud of myself, even though I had 10 more levels to go. My PM screaming reminded me that I was in office and I reluctantly got back to work. Towards the evening, I started chatting with a friend, P, who was basically getting bugged. I sent him this puzzle just for the heck of it, but when he cleared the 13th level (fundoo P!!!), I was hooked. Then, we both sat n worked our way till we cleared the 23rd round (thanks to google btw). Basically, had fun solving it, the drive to get till the last level was amazing. Nothing much actually but the whole episode got me thinking about our penchant for the unknown and the unseen.
"The fear of the unknown"…that’s what the unknown is famously associated with..fear. But, I beg to differ. In daily context, I see the unknown associated with intrigue, excitement and mystery. Right from college days when your first crush was kewl, suave and mysterious only till the moment you got talking to them or when u sat in a circle with all your friends on a Saturday night trying to get talking to the spirits to know what happened after death, or when you just had to know how a particular movie ended (oh gaaawwwddd!!! I hope he gets her, he loves her soooo much!!! Why can’t she see it???) or what was Da Vinci thinking while painting "The Last Supper" or just what if his entire theory about Christianity is right or when u play a video game for the very first time and just can’t wait to see what the next level holds or when you think what you will be up to this very day the next year or when you read the "forecast for the day" on your way to the office…at several such instances, the unknown tempts us, excites us and yeah, I admit, sometimes, scares us as well.
I could never really figure out the why behind this obsession for the unknown. What do we find so exciting about it? The things that surround us do not really intrigue or bother us much. In fact, the things that are most obvious are the ones, which we miss out on most of the times. We are always on a quest to find out the story behind the story, the pages within the book.
But, today, when I thought about it on my way back home, it somehow made sense. The whole thing just fit. If not for this curious nature of ours, mankind would still be in the stone age, leading a life just like any other animal. Imagine no malls, no CCD’s, no Crosswords, no computers, no pizza huts, no Levi's, no shopping, no Sensex, no blogs (!!!) awwwww, that would be a boring time!!! The whole curiousity aspect of our nature has given a whole new dimension to our existence. Maybe this anticipation and excitement about what the future holds is the key factor in making life a journey to look forward to. Seriously, how many of us would be interested in living if we knew beforehand what exactly each day held for us??? Nah, that would be sooooo BORRIIINNNNG!!! :)
"The fear of the unknown"…that’s what the unknown is famously associated with..fear. But, I beg to differ. In daily context, I see the unknown associated with intrigue, excitement and mystery. Right from college days when your first crush was kewl, suave and mysterious only till the moment you got talking to them or when u sat in a circle with all your friends on a Saturday night trying to get talking to the spirits to know what happened after death, or when you just had to know how a particular movie ended (oh gaaawwwddd!!! I hope he gets her, he loves her soooo much!!! Why can’t she see it???) or what was Da Vinci thinking while painting "The Last Supper" or just what if his entire theory about Christianity is right or when u play a video game for the very first time and just can’t wait to see what the next level holds or when you think what you will be up to this very day the next year or when you read the "forecast for the day" on your way to the office…at several such instances, the unknown tempts us, excites us and yeah, I admit, sometimes, scares us as well.
I could never really figure out the why behind this obsession for the unknown. What do we find so exciting about it? The things that surround us do not really intrigue or bother us much. In fact, the things that are most obvious are the ones, which we miss out on most of the times. We are always on a quest to find out the story behind the story, the pages within the book.
But, today, when I thought about it on my way back home, it somehow made sense. The whole thing just fit. If not for this curious nature of ours, mankind would still be in the stone age, leading a life just like any other animal. Imagine no malls, no CCD’s, no Crosswords, no computers, no pizza huts, no Levi's, no shopping, no Sensex, no blogs (!!!) awwwww, that would be a boring time!!! The whole curiousity aspect of our nature has given a whole new dimension to our existence. Maybe this anticipation and excitement about what the future holds is the key factor in making life a journey to look forward to. Seriously, how many of us would be interested in living if we knew beforehand what exactly each day held for us??? Nah, that would be sooooo BORRIIINNNNG!!! :)
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