Eternity

Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk

One paints the beginning
Of a certain end,

The other, the end of
a sure beginning.

Fin

We come across people – daily. We have almost a hundred conversations on a daily basis – how do you end a conversation - ever thought of it? I met a friend after several days – we were talking sense – sometimes – nonsense – almost all the time. In middle of the conversation, he mentioned the various ways in which people try to end a conversation –the subtle hints – the blatant yawns.

Well – it’s true – there are so many ways to do it. People can be real creative in these matters. Keep glancing at your watch every 2 seconds – gets the other person to say a bye himself. Tell him/her that his/her vehicle must be out in the sun for a long time and he/she better do something about it. Mention casually that you are getting late for your bus/some other work. My personal favorite is the glancing at the watch bit. Not really subtle - not at all offending - real effective. Almost never goes wrong. Depends on the skill with which you execute the act though. Sounds too technical. The thing is – it is technical. As months pass by and I turn older in this corporate scenario – I notice that there is a fixed methodology to many things – the subtle hints – the unasked questions – the reluctant answers. Most of the communication happens through body language. You can make out when is the best time to approach your PM – when is the right time to stop talking about your idea in the meeting – when your presentation is going great guns – when it’s the time to wrap it up all and have a seat. Its all out there and yet I notice that people are not cautious about their body language. Well - the sooner they learn - the better.

On a totally different note - after my friend left, I was thinking of awkward situations similar to ending a conversation effectively - I remembered one mentioned by a friend long time back. How do you ask people whom you have met already their name once again? That one is a serious catcher. He told me several ways to do it – extremely witty ones - but that makes space for a totally different post.

F5

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

~JRR Tolkien

Bleak

The sun is the same in the relative way, but you’re older: shorter of breath and one day closer to death

~ Roger Waters

Not ready to make nice

Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I'm not sure I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I'm still waiting

In life, sometimes, the most difficult thing is to forgive and forget. There are times when people are mean to you – when people just want to hurt you – people try to break you – people ridicule you – people cheat you. What do you do? Forgive? Forget? Is it as simple as it sounds? Is it really possible to forgive and forget?

I'm through, with doubt,
There's nothing left for me to figure out,
I've paid a price, and I'll keep paying

Trust – the most underestimated word. Doubt – the most damaging word. Over time, I have come to realize, that, any relationship first and foremost, needs trust, for love to even breathe anywhere near it. I used to think that love led to trust. Experience made me realize that in life, the order is reverse.

I'm not ready to make nice,
I'm not ready to back down,
I'm still mad as hell
And I don't have time
To go round and round and round

Is it very bad to be selfish and think about yourself once in a while? When you just want to be mean? When you don’t want to think about the right and wrong? When you don’t want to know the other side of the story? Is it necessary to always to put others before self forever?

It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

Is it never late to give some one a second chance? Is it fine that you don’t want to give some things a second try? When you are just tired of everything around you so much that you just need a break and want to be by yourself? Is it okay that infinite number of sorries don’t seem to make any difference to the damage done? Is it okay that you still pretend to assume everything is fine and take each day as it comes?

I know you said
Why can't you just get over it,
It turned my whole world around
and I kind of like it

Is it okay that, some times, some action of some one, some where, changes your entire perception about things, perhaps forever? Is it okay when you want to hold a grudge forever? Is it fine to move on, in life, from here – being a little low on the trust factor? Is it fine to leave some tales in life with no endings?

Long forgotten..

Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened into the rose-garden. ~ T.S. Eliot

Memory – I wish I had a selective one. Sadly, it will only remain only that – a wish. We all carry a small ache somewhere in our heart - which makes us happy and sad alongside. About some long forgotten events – long lost people – old times. You start living in the present and conveniently forget about them. But then, who has been able to escape the past? A wise man once said – “ You can’t explore your future without fully acknowledging your past”. True – I just thought I could be an exception to that rule – but guess am not.

Well, was reminded of something today after a real long time. The message brought a smile to my face and a old, forgotten thought to my mind. There are a few people in everyone’s life, to whom you just react with a “what could have been if?”. I just came across one such person of my life, today, after a long time. Memory – a child walking along the seashore – you can never tell what small pebble the child will pick up and store away among its treasured things. Had a rendevous with one such treasured memory after a long time. But that’s what they will always remain – memories.

Let go..

This one goes out to a very dear friend of mine...just to give him a reason to smile, while he's busy finding himself.

As children bring their broken toys
with tears for us to mend,

I brought my broken dreams to God
because He was my friend,

But then, instead of leaving Him
in peace to work alone,

I hung around and tried to help
in ways that were my own,

At last, I snatched them back and cried
"How can You be so slow?"

"My child", He said, "What could I do?"
"You never did let go"

~Unknown

Shards of genius

"As a writer, one spends a lifetime, journeying into the heart of language, trying ot minimise, if not eliminate, the distance betwen thought and language. At The Hague, I stumbled on a denomination, a sub-world, whose life's endeavour was to mask intent - they breed and prosper in the space that lies between what they say and what they sell"

"This loss of any sense of words inevitably leads to a dimunition of the faculty of imagination, for imagination has to have solid, precise categories, so as to be able to leap across and between them. "

"The only dream worth having.... is to dream that you will live while you are alive and die only when you are dead....which means exactly what - To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty in it's lair. To never simplify what is complicated and complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget."

Money Matters

Found this draft, while clearing out my desk earlier this morning – thought of posting it, because this is one of the few topics I am seriously passionate about.

"Frankly speaking, I don’t understand money and it does not bother me – it’s a boring thing to discuss and to think about as well - I have more important things to worry about you see" – this is what my colleague had to say when some thing related to an LIC policy came up. It was a lazy Friday afternoon at work. The work for the day was done. And I heard those lines. Wow – ignorant and proud of it as well. Sadly, she is not the only one who takes pride in the fact that she does not understand how money works – what happens to sensex – how the hike in reverse repo rates affects her in the long run.

Money – you come across it everyday – when you pay for our daily ride to office – when you buy your lunch – when you buy that latest CD from the music store – you need it at least once during each day. You are earning big – you are earning well – you have enough bank balance – you spend – you spend big. You buy an iPOd – you buy a digicam – you buy the latest luxury phone model in the market – you go shopping in the malls every weekend. Money – responsible for giving you all those "good things" in life - yet you fail to understand it – you find the business news boring – you don’t understand the hype and hoopla surrounding the budget every February. You are more than glad that you just need to declare your savings and invest a lakh somewhere so that you get the annual tax benefit. That's where it all ends.

Has the word investment ever struck a bell in your head? "No – my husband/dad manages that for me. I don’t like looking into those matters you know." Awrite, I hear you lady and I keep mum. I don’t think anything I say or tell will make any difference to her thinking. But I fail to understand what mindset will her child be inheriting money-wise? Not my bother you say – and I agree with you. She’s pretty fine with her thoughts and she’s sure she is right. One simple question though – your money – you earned it – why is some one else investing it for you? Okie – he is your husband or your father – but you at least need to be aware about where your money is going. I know I sound pessimistic when I say this, but no one can be trusted in today’s world. You shout at the top of your voice that you are an independent woman, then why not be independent in the real sense lady?

I read a book once when in college - Rich dad, poor dad. The book talks about how understanding money and how it works can put you a step ahead of the pack. But the one thing mentioned in that book that struck note with me and will remain with me forever, was to always make sure that even if one earns a paltry sum, make sure your money is working harder than you – not wasting itself sitting in the bank. I think too much about all these money matters maybe because am the daughter of a banker – but trust me I have seen both sides of the coin. I have a ma, who is very particular about money matters and I have a pa, who prefers to stay away from money matters. I agree with the former, while disagreeing with the latter, regarding this issue. You might say that it all boils down to one’s personal perspective and choice - but only one question to you – how can you possibly afford blatant ignorance about the one thing that you interact with, on a daily basis, day after day?

Guts...what's that?

“World cup collapso” - “The dream is over” - “A billion hopes sink” - “The big three fail” - “Port of Pain” – few of the several witty headlines to declare the fact that India was virtually out of the World Cup . Saturday morning was not a good morning for you if you were an Indian fan. Emotional reactions, mock funerals, all the drama unfolded as the day progressed. Every possible news channel had some Tom, Dick or Harry yapping about how India should have got it right, how Dravid did not deserve to be on the hot seat any longer, how Chappell was a devil in disguise for Indian cricket. The theories were weird – the reactions were extreme – the media was excited – people were frustrated – the captain was sad – the coach was agitated. Well, the weekend is over and humour has taken the place of frustration and pure, unadulterated anger and frustration. SMS jokes about the Indian team's abysmal performance are the toast of the day.

Among all the opinions hurled all over the place against the players, I heard a common phrase time and again – “killer instinct”. They called it attitude – they called it guts – they called it body language - they called it strength – but they all were hinting at one thing : Indians just aint that strong enough mentally to take on big challenges. "Oh come on", they said, "history is the witness. Look at 2003 world cup. Look at any major final of a cricket tournament. Indians give up on the fight long before the game is over".

My first reaction – that could not be true. I mean come on – how can one explain a Ambani, a Tata, a Birla, a Nooyi. Surely, Indians weren’t weak mentally. But sadly, I could come up with quite a few “glittering” examples of an average Indian’s love for mediocrity.

Take a look at cricket - we have a Dravid – we have a Tendulkar – we have a Dhoni – but do we have a team which performs? Indians perform more for personal records, than to win. Personal records mean more adulation, which implies more endorsements, which means big moolah. Sehwag was hell-bent to be on the team to feed his ego, rather than to make India win. Ganguly had more of a point to prove than anything else when he got back to the world cup squad. We just were not a team – we lost – surprised? Well, don’t be.

We are asking for the removal of the captain, but do we have a replacement? " Nope – we are no Aussies man". That’s what we have to say. Its true but isn’t it? Aussies had no Shane Warne – no Brett Lee – but any difference in their aggression? An Australian player announces retirement and they have an able, competent player to take his place. We, a nation of a billion people, in a world with a population close to 6 billion, cannot come up with 11 men to go and win us matches? The “killer instinct” – Aussies made 377 against South Africa and the Proteas put up a strong defence for the first wicket, making nearly 165 runs. Did the Aussies flinch? Was there any change in their body language – their aggression? I could very well imagine the nervous totter of a Harbhajan Singh and the frantic pacing of a Dravid if the Proteas did the same thing in a match between India and South Africa. Do Indians lack that killer instinct?

Take a walk down Dalal Street - we don’t invest as much in the stock markets – our risk appetite is surprisingly low – the smallest piece of news can send our Sensex levels on a tailspin. The NYSE has been bullish for the past fifteen years – it has seen it’s share of falls and rises. Sensex has just started seeing that trend. The average joe is more than eager to get on the high wave, when the Sensex touches unprecedented highs – but when the sensex falls, he is the first one to remove his money from the market.

Any economist will tell you that you need to understand the markets and invest when people are running out of the markets. I mean you go to a discount sale and buy maximum things. Have you ever heard of people waiting for a time when the price of products is exceptionally high, to make their purchases? But, an average Indian does not really get that approach. He makes little or no effort to understand the markets and just throws in his money into the markets like a gambler. The risk appetite is there – it is more foolish than calculated move. Some people still believe that investing ins tock markets is equivalent to gambling and frown up it. We are taught from the beginning that ambitions are good as long as they are limited. We make movies, wherein a person who wants the best things in the world, ends up losing everything towards the end. Are we taught to lack that killer instinct?

Some call it the colonial hangover, still extant amongst us Indians – some called it self-contentment. Call it what you want, but our culture does not teach us to dream big. It teaches us to be satisfied with what we have – some one dreaming to be a Roger Federer is more often than not, laughed at. We are asked to be practical – not dreamers. There is a reason the film fare awards in India go to the most romantic movies and the Oscars always has had a soft corner for the underdogs who make it big in life . We emphasize way too much on heart and less on mental strength.

Well, things are moving ahead, India is shining, but the thing is almost all developed countries are 10 years ahead of us in terms of development. We take pride in the fact that the Mittals, Tatas, Ambanis and Birlas have an Indian passport, but from whatever I could come up with after thinking about this for a while, the Nooyis and Kidwais and Murthys and Permjis are more of exceptions than trends.

For now, Indian team will soon be on a flight home and we will still be discussing what went wrong and people will still be dying of hunger, poverty and diseases daily in India. Well, all that can wait, what we really need to know is how can Sachin ever get out for a duck and how much are the sponsors losing? Dhoni is playing with my emotions for God sakes!!! Sad but ttrue, when will we display such a passion for a better life? Only time will tell.

True...

Men were thought to apologise for their weaknesses, women for their strengths.

~Lois Wyse

Disconnected

Things have changed. Forever I think. Never to go back to the way they used to be.

Efforts appear cursory and go wasted. Emotions have been stoic for quite a while now. The past fails to put a smile on my face. In fact, it fails to affect me in any way any longer. It’s as though the past never existed. All that exists in every sense is this moment and those that lie beyond – waiting to be lived and experienced. This isolation from the past is an alien feeling. At first, I did not know how to react to it – it felt as though an unwelcome stranger had suddenly entered my life – unwanted – uninvited - but now, I have become friends with this very stranger – it’s a comfortable zone, this one.

At times, a shadow looms somewhere beyond the darkness – a ripple travels across the still waters – a whiff of air fills the milieu – a memory comes back to remind me of it’s existence – and then – it disappears – just like that – giving me no time to react. It does not even leave an impact now, as I fail to recognize it. A sense of isolation has enveloped me and it’s becoming my comfort zone – slowly – surely.

Things have changed. Forever I think. And I am surprised that I like this disconnect from times gone by.

The truth of the matter is...

Circa 2001: Yes, they did!!!

Circa 2005: No, they did not!!!

Which version would you believe (or rather like to believe)?

Gurugiri v/s Gandhigiri

Gurubhai gurubhai aavye che
Dhoom dhadaaka karenge che

A villager. A visionary. A winner. Impressive tagline for a much more impressive movie. Watching movies, especially in a theatre, is an ordeal for me – but Guru was different – I enjoyed it – all of it – the exquisite architecture of Turkey – the fantastic music by Rehman – the coyness of Aishwarya – the dare of Abhishek – the dignity of Mithun – the Gujarati slang – the intricacies of Licence Raj – the tactics of Guru Bhai.

I found only one aberration in this otherwise sensible piece of moving art – towards the end, Guru Bhai, through a vehement, heart-wrenching, emotional speech, smartly manages to make the government seem like the real culprit, which literally dragged an otherwise innocent Gurukant Desai into the sleazy world of corruption – and what more – he manages to evoke a huge applause from the people in the court room (and the audience in the theatres). His speech made it seem as if the movie was trying to justify all the shady deals of Guru Bhai – albeit subtly. I feel that if the traders were unhappy with the over-regulation of trade during those times, FBT and high corporate taxes give them sleepless nights these days. The government was the villain then – it continues to remain the spoilsport now. If things were to proceed according to the whims of the traders and corporates, laissez faire would be prevalent in India within a blink of the eye. Fortunately for people and unfortunately for the traders, that can never be the case out here – but that makes a case for a totally different post.

Anyway, Guru reminded me of another movie released in 2006, which also managed to create a similar buzz – Lage Raho Munnabhai. Gandhigiri became the buzzword in 2006. Truth and non-violence were supposed to be in. Gurugiri seems to be the buzzword in 2007 till date. Gurukant stands for everything that Gandhi was against. For Gurubhai, profit is the only motive. The means to achieve the motive do not really matter. As Guru himself explicitly states in the film – ‘main koi bapu nahin’. But, Guru has managed to create his own fan club, amongst the youth, which could not stop raving about Gandhi, last year. So, the question that intrigues me after watching Guru – which line of thought do you choose?

The fundamentalists would jump right away and say that Gandhigiri rules and that Gurugiri can be safely forgotten. The pragmatists would think a while and then candidly confess that while Gandhigiri mostly made sense in ideology, only applying a little bit of Gurugiri could make you successful in the real world out there. The diplomats would prefer to stay away from the debate.

This brings me to the real question behind the question – do you have to categorize yourself into one of these three slots? Is there only a black and a white to this debate? Are there no shades of grey to this question? Can Gandhigiri and Gurugiri cross paths? If yes, what would be the fundamental doctrine of the hybrid line of thought? If no, would you label the line of thought of the current society as conservationist? Is it a simple choice? Which one would you pick?

Off the map

Don't listen to what they say. Go see.

I shed my inhibitions. My fears. I travelled light.

The world is a book, those who do not travel read only one page.

I traded my stock options for a Lonely Planet.
My cell phone for a compass.
My briefcase for a backpack.
I took off.

Who lives sees much. Who travels sees more.

I wandered in the company of tourists, travellers and a guitar as old as me.
I learned that people are good. Strangers are fascinating.
And that every journey reveals another.

Look at the stars lighting up the sky: no one of them stays in the same place.

I have lost track of time. And perhaps, my job - my apartment - my fiance.
But I have my compass and I know it's pointing me in the right direction.

Go forth on your path, as it exists only through your walking.

*A beautifully written passage by some one for whom travel is a metaphysical project - a dream - a meditation - a sermon*

At random

Well, it only makes sense to loose a little bit of your emotional factor as you go higher up the ladder, because you need to be viewing the picture on a larger scale. The concerns of your sub-ordinates should matter, but only as long as it doesn’t affect the work or the turnovers. If it’s a matter of a day or two, you shouldn't unnecessarily loose your cool about it, but then a prolonged absence or diversion from work is not exactly welcome at the top levels.

Let’s face it, if you are in the top management, your immediate sub-ordinates are people who can't afford to stay away from business for too long – too many things depend on them. Neither will those sub-ordinates be the kind of people who will let their private life affect their work. Huge pay packets come attached with an equally huge responsibility. As Nooyi also mentioned in her recent interview, being a CEO (or for that matter, occupying any top management position) is not a job, it’s a calling - you have to love wot you do - you have to put ur head, heart & hands into it, else its not worth it. At the end of the day, I guess it’s a choice between being sensitive and being practical. To cite an example, on the new years eve, when the entire world was busy partying the night away, the lights at the PMO were on, all night. There is a reason why Manmohan has a 18*7 work schedule. It is very truly said that to be doing nothing, you need to sitting at the very top - and that saying also just reflects an illusion - reality bites.

To keep it simple – you are in a business – you should be aware that you are there to make profits - you are not there for PR. Its not personal - it's just business – and a business needs a head - having a heart is just an unwanted bonus.

Is that really me speaking my mind there??? When did I start thinking that way? Being way too practical - boon or bane - yet to figure that out.

Lost in transition

My thoughts – they are in a state of flux. I can’t seem to catch hold of them of late. Either I am thinking too fast or am not thinking at all. Life has gotten busy lately. That’s good – no time to think about anything unless required. That’s bad – it means I don’t connect with myself as often as I used to, in the past.

Things that used to make me smile before evoke no reaction these days. I have started finding F.R.I.E.N.D.S boring (and I though that would never happen in my lifetime), reading for pleasure has become a thing of the past and I don’t miss it all that much (!!!),. I have been suffering from the writer’s block lately, I check out wikipedia and moneycontrol more often than orkut, people – their presence – their absence – doesn’t matter any more. I am at peace sometimes. I get fidgety sometimes. The desire to learn something new about everything is at an all time high. 24 hours seem less. I wish more often that there were two me’s – maybe I could be more efficient at things – try and stuff a little more into my days. I am more bothered than ever before about the grammar and phrasing of my sentences and jump with excitement any time I come across a new idion (what is that abt???). Things going wrong – people trying to hurt me – motivation to transform reality – nothing more – nothing less. There are times I don't recognise myself. My reactions to certain things and events surprise me these days.

Things – thoughts – words stand still. Or maybe they are all moving at such a high speed that they all seem still to me – all an illusion – all a reality. Whatever be the case – I think I like the status quo. Selective awareness of the past – contentment with the present – working towards the future. I don’t know when and where this transition will end. The only thing I am apprehensive about is that when the stability sets in, I am not very sure I will be the same person any more. Well, I will let time be the judge for that one.

Love makes the world spin

How do you know it's love?
I don't know, but it lasts forever.

Smiled so hard after a long time. Shed a tear after a long time. To A and B - one of the sweetest couples I have ever come across. To love and all the beauty and happiness that accompanies it.

Karle Karle

Karle karle – tu ek sawaal
Karle karle – tu ek dhamaal
Aisa sawaal jo zindagi badal de

He came – Agreed. He saw – yep. He conquered – No comments. That’s how people reacted to Sharukh Khan when he came on the television screen after a real long hiatus as the host of Kaun Banega Crorepati 3. This was an eagerly anticipated season of KBC. Comparing Sharukh and Amitabh – weighing their pros and cons – perfect entertainment (?????) – if you say so. Witty jokes - mundane quips - frequent puns – interesting questions - that’s what KBC promised to be in its first episode of the third season. Whether the show lives up to the promise or not – that’s something only time can tell.

Sholay ka thakur nahata kaise hoga?
Doctor ke kaam ko practice kyon kehte hai?

I remember watching the first episode of KBC on 3 July 2001. Amitabh Bachchan – eloquent hindi – Computer Jee – popular guests – everything about the show became an instant hit. KBC had an entire generation quipping "Lock kar diya jaye" at the drop of a hat. GK became the buzzword. Knowing when the Battle of Buxar took place and where the Brabourne Stadium is, made one a cool kid on the block. The roads used to get deserted and people used to discuss a particular question from a particular show even after several days. KBC was magic for viewers, magic for sponsors and magic for Amitabh Bachchan’s career.

Table tennis ko hindi mein kya kehte hai?
Is a cool chic hot or a hot chic cool?
Mere angane mein tumhara kya kaam hai?

Come KBC 3 – Computer Jee became Compaq Da – "Lock kar diya jaye" became "Freeze it" and Sharukh replaced Amitabh. Sharukh – ho…hum…not as good as Big B – I watched an episode for 10 minutes and he could not hold my interest for long. His jokes seem forced, the effort to entertain people comes across way too blatantly and the spontaneity is not in sight anywhere. I can be very rightly blamed for acting like the president of the "I hate Sharukh" club (a post which I would love to accept – any time –any day – any where) but all prejudices apart, Sharukh is just no match to Big B. He can pull off a Don and take up all the endorsements, from ICICI to Dabur, but KBC – a different ball game.

Sharukh might find his niche audience, who will watch him do just about anything – sense or nonsense ignored - but the show is not the same anymore – the magic has disappeared – the audience is bored – the cult is fast disappearing. Amitabh was the USP of the show and without him, it’s just not the same. To put it succinctly, people simply prefer Sharukh crooning away in the Alps to a romantic number. Sharukh – the quizmaster – a tad bit too much to handle.

Meanwhile, karle karle - tu ek sawaal - karle karle - tu ek dhamaal - aisa sawaal jo zindagi badal de.

One of a kind

She was not my type - nor was I her type. We were poles apart. I could not be friends with her. She was the cool kid. I was the big nerd. She was the best dancer I knew. I had two left feet. She was caring and crazy and weird - in her own, sweet way. I do not know when we became the best of friends. She was my companion when we had to sit through the boring classes. She made me believe in the theory - the more unhygenic the food, the tastier it gets. She laughed the hardest at the most pathetic jokes of mine. She was with me all through school. Then, she stepped aside for a while - no proper goodbyes - no hugs - no tears. I missed her - sometimes. Her thought made me smile, thinking of all the fun we've had.

She made a comeback - in style. She slapped me - got away with it - only to get a slap right back. We did not meet for quite a while. We met again - thank God for that. Today, things are not the same - they are only better. She loves to listen to music while driving - I hate it. She loves to bargain - I hate it. She loves Subway burger - I hate it. We are different. We are same. We are crazy. We are sane. We are fun. We are dullards. She is truly one of a kind - a gem of a person. She is a friend for life - some one who can be counted on - any time - any day. I am sure I can never come across a person who is as sensible, as crazy and as chilled out as her - all at the same time.

Only the birthdays of some very special people can lift off my writer's block, which has been there for quite some time now - she is one of those people. Happy birthday Sannjit - to sweet memories - to good times ahead - to smiles - to friendship.

Naturally

Reality came around and without so much as a mere touch
Cut me into little pieces...leaving me to doubt
Alone again, naturally.

One word that psyches me out of late- future.

To think that only yesterday I was cheerful, bright and gay
Looking forward to, who wouldnt do?
The role I was about to play?

They say I should learn to give up on my dreams- the sad thing is I have started to listen -not continued to ignore.

It seems to me that there are more hearts
Broken in the world that cant be mended...left unattended.
Alone again, naturally.

Love - always within reach - always elusive. Wonder when one stops enjoying the chase?

In a little while from now
If Im not feeling any less sour
I promise myself to treat myself

Moonlight. Words. Thoughts. Coffee. Probability. Grammar. Daze. Constellations. Tranquility. Just another Friday evening. Alone again, naturally.

Impossible is nothing

Impossible is just a big word used by small men who find it easier to live in the world given to them than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.

Adidas Store – Banjara Hills - David Beckham poster – witty blurb – one word – awesome.

Gracias

It was just another hectic weekday morning. I was checking my mails before I left for office and I was surprised to find a mail from a friend - the mail had a few pleasant sounding adjectives used to describe my blog. I was very happy. First things first, a sincere thank you. I just put down my thoughts, which more than often are provoked by conversations I have with various people around me – nothing more - nothing less. Glad that you find my confusions worth a read :) Jokes apart, it was a very thoughtful act, which made my day.

Words have always kept me company - I used to write poems as a kid, but as time passed by, other things became a priority. Writing remained a forgotten art until this blog happened. For me, blogging started out as an experiment and turned out to be a revelation. I have discovered myself – I have surprised myself – I have been enjoying the whole journey - all of it. If you have been keeping me company all through this time and have enjoyed reading my sometimes silly, sometimes sensible, sometimes funny and sometimes inane posts, all I can say is – touched, honoured and blessed (@people who know me pretty well: I know, I know - that’s my cliched statement, but had to say it guys :) )

The very same day I got the mail, I read my first post on the blog when I got the time. I found a confused person in those words. Then, I read my latest post – I found an even more confused person in these words :) Anyway, 50 posts, 10000 odd words and a million thoughts later, I can undoubtedly claim that am none the wiser and I can cheekily confess that I like it that way :)

Why?

Friday evening. In front of a computer. Mind numb after 11 hours of non-stop work. Alone with my thoughts for the first time in the day. Looking at some old photographs. Spontaneous smiles – mischievous twinkle in the eyes – forgotten friendships – affection and love in each photograph.

Times don’t remain the same always though. Times change. People change. Circumstances change. People make mistakes. Fool you – while you continue to trust them with a blind faith. People refuse to accept that they might be wrong – instead they question your integrity about certain issues. Finally, a closure – in the form of truth.

Things going back to normal – you hope for it – but that’s where it stops – hoping. Life goes on. What remains – old photographs - spontaneous smiles – mischievous twinkle in the eyes – forgotten friendships. All you are left with at the end of it all – a why – with, perhaps, no answer.

The time is now

There are two India’s in this country -one India is straining at the leash, eager to spring forth and live up to all the adjectives that the world has been recently showering upon us. The other India is the leash. One India says give me a chance and I will prove myself. The other India says prove yourself first and maybe then u will have a chance. One India lives in the optimism of our hearts. The other India lurks in the skepticism of our minds. One India wants. The other India hopes. One India leads. The other India follows.

These conversions are on the rise. With each passing day more and more people from the other India are coming over to this side and quietly, while the world is not looking, a pulsating, dynamic new India is emerging. An India, whose faith in success is far greater than its fear of failure. An India that no longer boycotts foreign made goods, but buys out the companies that makes them instead. History, they say, is a bad motorist. It rarely ever signals its intentions, when it’s taking a turn. This is that rarely ever moment - history is turning a page. For over half a century, our nation has sprung, stumbled, run, fallen, rolled over, got up and dusted herself and cantered - sometimes lugged on.

But now, in our sixtieth year as a free nation, the ride has brought us to the edge of time's great precipice, and one India - a tiny little voice at the back of the head - is looking down at the bottom of the rive and hesitating. The other India is looking up at the sky and saying - it's time to fly.

~ A public message, featuring Amitabh Bachchan, standing on the banks of Arabian Sea in Mumbai, India, released by Times Now and Times of India group on the eve of the sixtieth year of Indian independence.

To new beginnings

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!)

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.