SNtially AJ...

Winter Shaayri

2011-12-27T17:25:00.000+05:30

Dekho in waadiyon ne
Ghane kohre ka naqaab pehna hua hai,
Jab dhund ka parda hata,
Toh maaloom hua,
Dilli ke koochon ne
Waadiyon ka mukhauta pehna hua hai…

Translation (not word to word)

Look, the valley
Is engulfed in the veil of thick fog,
And when this curtain of fog was lifted,
One realized that,
The lanes of Delhi,
Had worn the mask of a valley...

(c) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

Anil Kapoor and MI 4

2011-12-22T12:37:00.002+05:30

A friend, talking about Anil Kapoor afer watching MI4, "Pehle slumdog millionaire mein isne India ke gareebon ki izzat ke saath khela, ab is film ke baad, ameeron ki izzat loot lee.."

Delhi Trivia again

2011-12-13T14:29:00.002+05:30

Overheard by a cousin during Navaratra time in Delhi- A very pious Delhiite giving instructions to the thelawala- "Oye, navratre chal rahe hain. Omlette mein pyaaz mat daaliyo!!"

Delhi Trivia

2011-12-10T13:45:00.001+05:30

Delhi Trivia- Out there in the heart of north campus is the Vice Regal Lodge. They say that Lord Mountbatten proposed to Edwina here. And guess what, just outside this building is a forlorn looking bust of... you guessed right... Pt. Nehru!!!!

Dev gave us a lot of Anand

2011-12-05T10:46:00.001+05:30

I woke up yesterday to the news of Dev Anand's demise. Unbelievable, for more than evergreen, I've always perceived him as eternal.

Dev Anand and his movies have influenced more than one generation. I know a lot of people from Dad's generation who sported a puff in their hairstyle some decades back. I know a lot of us who still sing songs from his different films at different occasions. More than anything else, I have been highly inspired by the spirit he has shown in life. He cared two hoots on whether people watched his movies- he just made them for himself. People may say he was full of himself and oblivious to public feedback... To me, he represents the pinnacle of an internal locus of control. To me, he represents a group of people who kept himself relevant for so long as he walked the earth... A true Hero indeed.

I have some very fond memories associated with his songs. I remember, years back, in D School, I sang this song for a girl- during a class where the teacher (the ever elegant Mr. Gera) wanted a break and asked any of us to sing a song. I sang tere mere sapne and till date have never heard any song that expresses love so beautifully. Watch the video if you haven't and you shall know what I am saying.

During those same college days, during times of frustration (with specific people or just in general), I remember going to Parived's room to listen to dum maaro dum. The line "Duniye ne humko dia kya, duniya se humne lia kya" was a favourite with both of us. Parived and I were the most graceless dancers in the batch and could not dance to save our lives. But banging our heads to this song is a special part of my memories of college. That song was a cult song in the 70's and it was a cult song in the 2000's.

That immortal song "Maen zindagi ka saath nibhaata chala gaya" represents the legend so beautifully. His times can be most aptly summed up in that line. Lines from that song "har fiqr ko dhuey mein udaata chala gaya" was relevant in the 60's and remains relevant now and shall be so a thousand times later. Life's philosophy can't be more beautifully explained- "Gham aur khushi mein farq na mehsoos ho jahaan, maen dil ko us maqaam pe laata chala gaya". And every time there was a heartbreak, I tried telling the heart- barbaadiyon ka jashn manaata chala gaya...

Whenever in self doubt or whenever I have felt like one selfish being, I have taken great inspiration from Dev Anand's potrayal of Raju Guide... The novel was a classic... but Dev Anand gave it a life beyond the Guide in the book (and mind you, i am a big big fan of R K Narayan)... The transition from being an ordinary man to a man who does something great in life is so beautiful in that movie...

Last week my fiancee was in town. She was leaving the next morning and I dropped her back at her room the previous night. I was driving back home when the radio played Abhi na jaao chhodkar and i remember smiling to myself saying "Apt".

There are many such memories where Dev Anand may not be a direct player in the scene in our lives, but something related to him or his movies just add charm to the scene.

The world is a lot less charming today. As the Times of India put it, "India just lost its youngest star"... For making Indian films more beautiful...for making life more beautiful... a big Thank You to Dev Anand....

She and me...

2011-11-28T09:34:00.001+05:30

When she first stepped into the car, Rumi's words were playing on audio... :-)

Coincidence???

Na!!!!

Consulting Rules #1

2011-10-29T11:34:00.000+05:30

The real risk in consulting is not if your clients are relevant for you. The question is, how relevant are you for your clients?"

#conversations-with-mentors

Metaphorically Yours...

2011-10-27T09:48:00.000+05:30

Maybe you should open up more...", I tell a friend.

"You should help yourself first...", the friend replies.

I chuckle.

I think to myself. I am holed up inside a fortress. I dig a hole inside, bury myself deep and close my eyes.

Its worth a chuckle :-D Indeed!

(c) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

kaise bataaoon

2011-10-25T13:22:00.000+05:30

It is exactly a year now.

Standing inside Subway, I listen to Kailash Kher's rendition of "Kaise bataaoon". Serendipity- its the same song.

There is a smile on my lips now :-)

(C) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

Goa, Dosti etc...

2011-10-24T12:44:00.001+05:30

Ma’am, take this please- just 50 rupees. You take it and I will be happy and I will go away.” This kid was probably 10 years old. She carried with her a whole lot of women’s accessories- the arbit things women wear around their neck and their ankles, I guess.

My friend, with the gentlest smile on her face told her that she was not interested.

The kid persisted- “only 50 rupees, you take it and I go away”- the most innocent of tones, but still persistent and determined.

The innocence of childhood and the street-smartness of a childhood lost.

“Do you go to a school?”- My friend asked. The kid nodded in the negative and almost appeared indifferent to the question.

My friend took one accessory, put it on and gave her a 50 rupee note.

“No ma’am, I can’t give you this for Rs. 50. This is much bigger than the others”.

“I don’t want this- I was taking it just for you”, my friend said to the kid.

No impact.

Some negotiations later, the kid and my friend settled at a price, the kid walked away and my friend had this “thing” around the neck.

This scene on the shores of the Baga beach would remain one of my most cherished memories from my visit to Goa.

Goa- the land of those beaches and bikini clad women sun bathing on the sea shores, of those immensely stylish looking locals, of bikes and gypsies, of sea food and feni, of discs, alcohol and chillum, and most importantly of lethargy and relaxation. I have never felt a more relaxed air in a long time.

So we arrived on Thursday for this offsite of the company. For a 50 day old baby in the company that I was, on Thursday, this was almost a slightly deferred induction. I have heard somewhere that people may or may not remember the content of an experience, but never ever forget how they felt during an experience.

Never is it truer than during the banter and the chatter that one does during such times. One may or not remember the jokes that one cracked, but one shall not forget the way one laughed at such times. The butt of jokes would change, the laughter was consistent though.

There is something about such sessions. People you have hardly known for a day or sometimes, an hour, appear as though you have known them forever.

Conversations… there is something about them- especially by the seaside. On a starry night (sadly, minus the moon), when you sing around with friends, it is a very nice feeling- especially when you have at least one sureeli singer amidst us besure. The icing on the cake is the pulling of legs- attributing songs to people, mimicking people and their styles…

Driving around in Goa… visiting a desolate fort late in the night… sitting in the shacks by the sea, watching the tides, uninhibited conversations… shaking legs at a shady disc…lazing around at a mast Café by the creek… super experiences…

As I sign off… this entry is dedicated to some new friends…

This person with a deadly combo-an amazing sense of humour and super high maturity and clarity... This classic character who reminds me of my college days in Delhi University- fulltoo fun and masti… This “wall” of a friend who so reminds me of myself- confused, clear and unadulterated fun- all at the same time (yeah peoples, I know- I know you don’t associate unadulterated fun with me)… And yes, I instinctively like it when somebody is from Trivandrum and if I actually connect with the person- that’s sone pe suhaaga- never enjoyed ES’ing and IS’ing more with anybody in quite some time now…

Cheers to friendship!!! 

Closing this with these immortal lines- Kaheen toh ye dil kabhi mil nahi paate, kaheen se nikal aaye janmon ke naate...

woh jo kal guzar gaya, ajnabee na thha..

2011-10-12T00:17:00.002+05:30

On the 3rd of September, i.e., a few weeks back, my friend Sonal and I had a rare honour of watching Jagjit Singh and Ghulam Ali together. To the Ghazal connoisseur, it cannot get better. Well, so it was that evening too- a concert we will never forget.

When Jagjit sang "Hoshwalon ko", I remember thinking to myself that once Renjini moves to Delhi, we should go to a live performance of Jagjit together. That live performance again, alas, will never be.

Yesterday, the world woke up less melodious than ever (as a friend puts it). As another puts it, alcohol won't be the same, heartbreaks won't be the same.

Jagjit Singh- I got introduced to his music through a friend in KMC. Tolerance to ghazals turned into curiosity and then into admiration and at one stage, even addiction. When I heard his rendition of Ghalib's "Hazaron Khwahishein", I thought I had heard the most complete song ever- I hold on this thought even today.

The memories are many. And many of them flashed back in front of my eyes y'day when I heard of his death. When I was driving back, I heard his "Chitthi na koi sandes" on FM. I was in tears. That song has always brought tears to my eyes, but my heart was never as heavy as y'day. The tragedy was well reflected in this tweet- "zamaana bade shauk se sun raha tha.. Jagjit so gaye daastan kahte kahte!"

The ultimate heartbreak song, "Baat niklegi toh door talak jaayegi" gives me goosebumps everytime I listen to it. The last few lines of the jilted one, and I present them here-

Log Zaalim Hain Har Ek Baat Kaa Taanaa Denge
Baaton Baaton Mein Meraa Zikr Bhee Le Aayenge
Unkee Baaton Kaa Zaraa Saa Bhee Asar Mat Lenaa
Warnaa Chehre Ke Taasur Se Samajh Jaayenge
Chaahe Kuchh Bhi Ho... Sawaalaat Naa Karnaa Unse
Mere Baare Mein Koi Baat Na Karnaa Unse
Baat Nikalegii To Phir Door Talak Jaayegee

No other voice could reflect the pain as well. Same goes for the song "Mitthi da bawa", the song of the childless woman who makes a baby from sand/ soil and complains that the baby doesn't speak to her or respond to her.

Sing a "Tera chehra kitna suhaana lagta hai" to a woman and see her reaction. That Amar song, "Honthon se chho lo tum" or a "Tumko Dekha toh yeh khayaal aaya". The repository of Jagjit's love songs is a treasure-house.

That all time song that makes you drown in nostalgia- "Woh kaagaz ki kashti". Or the emotions in "Hum toh hain pardes mein, des mein nikla hoga chaand".

That naughtiness while singing "Kal chaudhvi ki raat tthi"...

The transition from one ghazal to another during live performances and then coming back to the 1st ghazal. The unwillingness to wait for the applause to end while starting to sing a new ghazal. The contemplation in "kya khoya kya paaya jag mein"...

Those conversations with friends around which of these was his best...or just around a ghazal apt to a situation...those will continue...

The voice will continue to live on... Hope you have a great next life, Jagjit Singh...

Afterglow: This appeared on the net. Somebody remarking about Steve Jobs' death followed by Jagjit- "Pehle ooparwale ke mann mein iPod ki chaah samaayi... ab woh usme ghazal sun-na chaahta hai"...

A rewind button...Pranayam aftermath

2011-09-08T08:53:00.001+05:30

There is this climax scene in a classic Malayalam film called Meghamalhar – Two much married couples in their 50’s bump into each other outside a hotel. The guy in one of the couples says a polite “Hello” to the lady in the other couple. She nods back and says hello too. And they move on…

These two, as the film reveals in the reels before the climax, had an affair in their younger days and eventually fate forces them to split. To me, this is one of the best ever meeting scenes between any We-loved-each-other-but-could-not-marry-each-other couples in Indian cinema.
There have been many films that have dealt with triangles and love failures. I was expecting Pranayam to be one such film.

To connoisseurs of Indian cinema, a Blessy movie is an event in itself. As with other Indians world over, Malayalees in particular, yours truly too has been deeply touched and moved by Blessy movies like Kaazhcha and Thanmatra. You probably already know the theme of the movie. The characters played by Anupam Kher and Jayaprada love each other, elope and get married and have a baby. A turn of events makes them separate, legally. She gets married to the character played by Mohan Lal and has a child. He stays single and the child grows up with him.

In the autumn of their lives, the ex-husband-wife duo bump into each other. A friendship is renewed and this also includes the husband of the ex-wife. It is typically a difficult meeting- meeting the husband of an ex-wife/girlfriend/flame- difficult for all the parties I guess. Amongst the best scenes in the movie is when the two men meet each other for the first time- one of them who is recovering from a second heart attack and the other, a semi paralysed man confined to his wheel chair.

The dialogues are superb and the performances are superlative. The background music is apt and the photography and art are superb. This may not be Blessy’s best, but ranks amongst the best Malayalam films I’ve seen in the last couple of years.

Let me highlight to the readers a few scenes that touched me. As with most languages, there are some words that leave an impact only in one particular language. Translation cannot do any justice, for example, Ghalib’s “..Mat pooch ki kya haal hai mera tere peechhe, tu dekh ki kya rang hai tera mere aage…” … No point in writing the dialogues here…

There is this scene… the setting is a small platform on the Arabian sea shores of Kochi… The character played by Anupam Kher throws a stone into the sea and then, another. The second one travels a greater distance than its predecessor. He then compares this as an analogy with second innings in life, about men and women having a second chance to relive certain moments/ situations or just living life anew- again. I guess all of us go through such moments in life when we feel, “…if only I had done that differently…”. That feeling can be quite depressing if not addressed in its budding stages… We often end up wishing if the lord-up-above-the-world-so-high had given us that rewind button… Isn’t it?

What I like best about all the characters is the maturity with which they accept the present and act without malice or grudge.

What I also like is the complete trust between the characters played by Mohan Lal and Jayaprada… the husband and wife have 100% trust…not an iota of distrust. That scene…when Mohan Lal sings “I am your man”…sitting on a wheel chair in a lounge bar is superb…
So is the climax… na I’m not giving you what that is…

I only wish Malayalm films that release in the north release with subtitles. I sincerely wish some of my friends who do not understand Malayalam could see the film.

Blessy begins his film with a rather controversial statement- “One always returns to one’s first love”. I am not sure if that is correct and am certainly not sure if that is good. As I said earlier, Blessy movies are an event and here he certainly does not disappoint. If you have the time, do watch Pranayam.

aaj rang hai..

2011-07-15T01:01:00.001+05:30

The moon shines in all its glory tonight- it is a special full moon- it is Guru Poornima today.

The Qawwaal, his back towards the Dargah of Aamir Khusro , front facing the Dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin, sings the eternal “Aaj Rang Hai...”.

A power cut.

Just the moonlit night, the dargah and the divine song.

Heaven.

ghanan ghanan

2011-07-07T15:49:00.001+05:30

"The sky over Delhi is in a state of continued labour. It is pregnant with clouds, but not delivering the rains..."

(c) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

Of happiness and barking dogs

2011-07-06T16:09:00.001+05:30

"Unhappiness remains; causes change" #ConversationswithHP

So..once there was this conference of dogs and big...handsome...well-fed American dog meets this skinny, poorly-fed dog from India...

The Indian dog looks with envy at the American counterpart and says..."wow, what a life you seem to have...great food...great life...you have all that I aspire for...you can do all that I can only dream of...wow"...

The American dog takes in a deep breath and says, "well, you can still do something I really wish I could do, but I never can do"...

Perplexion in the expression..."What is it?"...

"You can bark as much as you like, any time...any where.."

#Grassisalwaysgreenerontheotherside
#ConversationswiththeSages

Life Rules #2

2011-06-23T09:54:00.002+05:30

The Mentor looks with amusement at the Confused taking a pill for headache and says, “When I have a headache, I don’t take a pill or apply a balm.”
“So what do you do?”, asks the Confused, almost as if he doesn’t really care about the answer.
A pause... and a deep breath later comes the reply.... “I go through the pain.”

#DialogueswithARA

(c) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

life rules#1

2011-06-12T08:54:00.001+05:30

"It is good to be idealistic. But do not remain a prisoner of your own ideologies."
# conversationswithforefathers
(c) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

sentimental... na... kilomental

2011-04-20T12:59:00.000+05:30

I distinctly remember my first day at Oxford school. I stood outside classroom VIII-A, saying "may I come in" to the lady who was my class teacher. She did not hear me. I remember the boy sitting in the first bench saying something to me. I could read the lips- "zor se bol". The looks were enough to confirm that this guy was south Indian. For somebody from the south who'd moved to the north, this was a very very comforting factor.

I think what brought me close to him in the initial years was the south-India-familiarity factor. We grew closer in the days ahead for reasons beyond sharing Tamil as our mother tongue.

We were both entering our teens when we first met. Our friendship was not without its share of skirmishes. He was and has always been an embodiment of all that is conventional and I have been at the other end of the spectrum. He was the perennial front bencher and I was the proverbial last bencher. Our teachers often wondered how we stuck to each other. Our friend- Scientist (Mridul) completed our gang.

When I look back at my life@Vikaspuri, I always have a smile- primarily due to this gang. Our regular visits to Rathore for the chaat, our half yearly vists to Satyam, the very regular sessions at Arjun park, visiting each others' places regularly and definitely on Diwali... And girls are a definitive factor in the life of all teenaged guys... and in adult life of course...

These 2 friends have always been there- to share the happy and not-so-happy moments in life... to share happily that I cleared this entrance test...or to complain that my love interest is marrying somebody else... To happily share that I got my dream job... or to happily reminisce at this that I was at a place we visited together.... These were amongst the first few people who I informed from the Thiruvananthapuram airport that I finally got hitched :-)

I will always thank God that he has always brought some wonderful human beings into my life.

As I stood clapping watching you go on your knees and put that ring on to Radhika's finger, I knew that my next entry on the blog was for you ;-)
This is for you, Gautam... I wish you and Radhika a very happy life together.

This is for you, Scientist. You suprise me hamesha... As I type this, my eyes are moist... You are absolutely mast... Your strength is an inspiration...

This is for you, Anusha... Kid, I want you to know that you are the only reason I have ever envied Gautam for...

18th of June

2010-06-18T18:07:00.004+05:30

This date holds a lot of significance in my life.

Exactly 15 years ago, on this day, I landed in Delhi. I was a reluctant resident here- forced out of my comfortable stay in Thiruvananthapuram, thanks to Dad getting transferred here.

When the flight took off that day from Thiruvananthapuram,I was emotional. The last teardrop that day rolled out of my eyes as the plane turned left showing me the city from up above the world so high.

Delhi was a new world altogether. The culture was different. The food was different. The climate and the environs were different.

Except my parents, none of my favourite people were here.

But this is where I've Lived my life. This is where life is for me. This is where I met my best friends. This is where I first fell in love. This is where I first earned my cheque. This is where... I learned to love life!!

Moving into Delhi was a life changing experience. In retrospect, God has been very very kind!!

On this day, exactly 10 years ago, the results for my entrance exam for B.I.T. in the University of Delhi came out. Thanks to the result, it was confirmed that I would not be required to leave for Chennai and pursue my Engineering in one of those colleges there. Had I gone for my engineering to Chennai, I would still have been in first year :-)

18th of June changed all that. The best of my friends in my life have been from my B.I.T. days. But for how I fared academically, I could not have asked for a better life. God had been very very kind.

On this day, exactly 8 years back, I went through the most difficult phase of my life. Dad had his heart attack while we were on a vacation in Port Blair. The person who was my biggest support system was suddenly on the bed. Well, God was kind; in a few months, life was back on track.

This life changing phase also made me realise, further, the worth of friends and relatives. All the well wishers I had known made every effort to make life less difficult for Mom and me. God had been very kind even when he put us through a difficult situation.

On this I day I remember each of you who has made life as beautiful as it has been...in Delhi and otherwise. This one is to each of you who have made my life special and who, at each juncture have made me feel that God has been kind- for he brought you into my life :-)

Tribute to Bar

2010-06-10T17:12:00.000+05:30

Friend to me, "Teri sabse badee problem ye hai ki tu ek novel ka character banke reh gaya hai...tu kabhi insaan nahi ban paaya"

I agree

ek aur station...ek aur train

2010-05-18T22:33:00.005+05:30

"... Jab aankhein khuli toh aisa laga ki jaise kuch galat sa hua hai...kuch galat sa ho raha hai....Jaise koi train chhoot rahee ho!!

Aankhein bharee hui thhi...shaayad....pata nahi...

Aur fir yaad aaye woh kissa...

What do I call the protagonist...Bunny??? Mowgli??? Baba???

Alright... so Bunny Bechara, in his dreams one night, speaks to God. God is showing Bunny the entire sequence of his (Bunny's) life...Metaphorically...Bunny's footprints are there wherever he went...and wherever Bunny goes...there is an extra set of footprints near his own.

Bunny: Whose footprints are these?

God: Those are mine. I was always beside you.

Bunny smiles, a li'l bemused, somewhat embarrassed and grateful bahut zyaada.

And then come those sequences when Bunny had the worst times of his life. In all those sequences, there was just one set of footprints.

Bunny: Why did you do that?

God: Do what?

Bunny: You left me whenever I needed you most.

God: Why?

Bunny: See, there is just one set of footprints during those worst times.

God: Those, my son, are mine...when I carried you in my arms :-)

Aankhein fir khuli...aisa laga jaise station naya thha...duur kahin se us announcer wali aunty ki aawaaz sunaayi di...ek aur train aa rahee hai....ek alag destination ke liye...

Aisa laga jaise ki yahi shaayad theek hai...Pocket mein dekha toh ticket pada hua tha... kya isee train mein chadhna tha mujhko...kahaan tak jaana hai mujhe....

Well as always...aankhein band karke wohi kia jo hamesha se kia...train ka intezaar :-)

Ek gaana background mein suna...Tu Bin bataaye, mujhe le chal kahin :-)... "

(C) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

That priceless question

2010-05-13T22:15:00.005+05:30

"... there I was, faced with the unenviable task of having to say a 'yes' or 'no', well, almost immediately.

If I said 'no', it would destroy my future as I had envisaged it to be... Those dreams would be over...finished...khatam...with that one word- 'No'.

If I said 'Yes', it would destroy the very essence of my life thus far!

I tried asking the intellect. It shut its doors and played deaf.

I sought suggestion, then, from the heart. It stood there- as a meek mute spectator.

I closed my eyes and did the only thing I had the power to do. I trusted God with my future uncertain, opened my eyes, and said.... 'No'..."

(C) Chala Denominator, Numerator Ban-ne

Ghalib...

2010-05-11T14:38:00.001+05:30

Seems Ghalib is whispering into my ears again...
khudaayaa! jazba-e-dil ki magar taseer ulti hai...ke jitna kheenchta hoon aur khinchta jaaye hai, mujh se!!

Dilli (6)- part 2

2010-01-24T00:18:00.007+05:30

"I asked my soul: What is Delhi?/ She replied: The world is the body and Delhi its life."

This one is attributed to Ghalib- have never been able to find the original words in Hindustani, though.

Well, a visit was long due- to the erstwhile Shahjahanabad. They say, when an epidemic broke out in the 1700s, the local hakims advised the people to eat loads of herbs and chillies as a precaution. Thus was born "Chaat"- here- in Shahjahanabad.

The most prominent area within this place is a place ShahJahan's daughter (Jahan Ara) designed- its called Chandni Chowk. Well, technically speaking, I guess, the road from Lahori gate to Masjid Fatehpuri is called that. Some say, its a reference to the junction which was once adorned by a beautiful pool that reflected the moonlight.

Well, been to this place plenty of times. Today, however, was a tribute to the food of Dilli 6. Thanks to Ajesh who suggested this visit.

We stepped out of the chandni chowk metro station and headed straight to Nai Sarak. Well, years back, while I was still in college, visited this road often- for academic books (that my friends were interested in) and some arbit chaat (that I was interested in). This was my first visit though, structured visit, meant only for food- there was no pressure on helping my friends find the right bookshops.

As usual, such places can get me on to the flash-back mode easily. I walked along with Ajesh into nai sarak, toggling between my past and present, the din providing the most apt background score. There, outside the saree shop, stood a cyclist selling malaai makkhan. "Ye kya hai", I'd asked Juhi who seemed a veteran at relishing that dish. "Tu khaake dekh, tere ko achcha lagega", she'd said. Today there was no cyclist there- just the crowd and the din and Ajesh and me making our ways through.

And btw, I loved malaai makkhan.

We walked ahead, and there was the tikki shop of Katra Mahesh- there was a rush there- we decided this one had to be authentic- tried the aloo tikki- mast tha...the chutni was much tangier than what one would typically find in Delhi...but we seemed to agree that woh purani-dilli-waala-wow was missing in the tikki.

As we walked ahead, further into nai sarak, as the saree shops gave way to book shops, my past walked alongside, tugging at my heart more strongly than ever- that shop which sold magazines and books which were as old as the times when, hmm...probably Sadhna's hairstyle and bell bottoms were the most fashionable things in town...

I remember Buzz going to the shopkeeper and asking "compilers ki book hai kya?" and the shopkeeper giving that kahaan-kahaan-se-aa-jaate-hain look. And then he said, "haan sab hain". Buzz gave him the nikal-jaa-mere-aage-se look.

I guess the shopkeeper probably thought Buzz was asking "kum paise ki book hai kya".

Well, this time there was no Buzz and I dont even remember what compilers were. Ajesh asked the same shopkeeper, "George Orwell ki 1984 hai kya?". He said "na".

I guess, had Ajesh asked, "1984 ki filmfare issues hain kya", he may have said "haan".

As we moved on, I was searching for one answer...woh patli waali gali kahaan hai...the gali is so patli that only 1 person can go in through at a time between the two buildings..and that too...at an angle of ..hmm... 45 degrees...slight tilt ke saath...and uske baad there would be more book shops...

I was unable to locate the gali, but, that did not prevent my memory from showing me glimpses, naa, poore scenes from the past...walking in...with Buzz and Pankoo, even one Hugdeep sassurjee...with a thrill...they, at the prospect of finding the books on compilers and more...and me at the prospect of going throught that thrilling gali.

I asked a rickshaw-wala about the gali and he said, 50 dukaan pehle chhod aaye aap. Well, the chaats were waiting for us. So we moved ahead.

The next stop was Shyam sweets and its located where nai sarak intersects chawri bazaar. The kachoris there were yummmm.. now dilli 6 was talking ;-)

The samosas (with gobhi fillings and mutter fillings) were awesome too... Orgasmic burps and satisfied smiles later, we confessed that this visit was definitely worth it :-)

Our next stop was Jugal Kishor Ramji Lal's chaat shop where we had Kuliye. 15 years in Delhi and this was the first time I was having this dish- shame on me who prides on being a foodie. Kuliye bante kaise hain? Take 1 aloo, 1 shakargandi, 1 kela, 1 saeb, 1 amrood, 1 tamatar...shave off their tops...when they are lidless, scoop off the interiors...stuff the vacant spaces with chickpea, lightly fried...add the masala and the lemon juice...and the imli chatni...replace the lid...serve...awesome...mast...and heavy...

The guy who made it said "medium masala lagaaya hai"...well well well...was it spicy...huffffff...mazaa aagaya...

Out next stop "Daulat ki chaat" outside the chawri bazaar metro chowk... hmmm...the yummy malaai makkhan brought back very fond memories of some once-very-close friends...Ajesh commented at the dish..."and to think ki yeh milk froth se banta hai"...some small chat with the seller and he-giving-us-his-visiting-card later, we proceeded toward kake-di-hatti...

As we walked through the crowds in gali lohe wali in Ballimaran, I realised how my body is getting old. I was feeling full...maybe a more-than-stomachful of a heavy late luch, just a couple of hours back was the reason...but still...

We walked past Chaina Ram near Masjid Fatehpuri...marvelled at the namkeen shops nearby and the variety and the quantum of stuff they sold...stood at the chowk there near khari baoli to recoup ourselves... and then strode into Kake-di-hatti for an aloo-pyaaz naan and kadaai paneer...I was reluctant...Ajesh was interested... khaaya humne wahaan bhi...I was glad I could eat atleast some portion of it...

More orgasmic burps later (this time, it was almost like main-machine-thode-hee-hun wala feel)...we walked to Pt. Ved Prakash's lemon corner for the lemon banta...as we placed the glases back, smiled and said "dhanyawaad" to panditjee...he smiled back warmly, folded his hands and said thanks :-) Ajesh echoed my feelings on that one, somehow the best banta I ever had!!!!

We then walked...slowly...tired, but with a sense of purpose to Hauz Qazi to have the dessert for the evening...Bade Mian's kheer... and wow...that was heaven...just awesome...too bad.. I could not finish my plate...was too full for that...

As we stepped out of the shop...the namaz had just started in the masjid...As we walked back to the metro station, couldn't help but feel that this was the perfect end to an awesome evening.....As we heard the sounds of "Allah-hu-Akbar"...I was just thanking God for having created such a beautiful city and such a beautiful place within the city and for letting me experience this creation of his...

This entry is dedicated to my friend Ajesh- one of the most gentle people I've ever met...somebody who can enjoy life so subtly...somebody who can make the time you spend with him so wonderful...

And to my friends, who made the flash-backs look so-so beautiful.

And to the wonderful people like bade mian who make Dilli 6 such a delight.

And to Delhi Metro which has made the place a lot more accessible than it ever was :-)

Dilli 6 rocks...

Dilli- part 1

2009-12-26T13:07:00.001+05:30

Kaun jaayega Zauq , par Dilli ki galiyaan chhodkar!!!

When Sheikh Ibrahim Zauq was asked of his plans to go back home to Agra, he responded by saying this. Well, I, like Zauq, am an immigrant who’s almost made Delhi his home- don’t think I’m leaving this place for some time. I may not have Zauq’s poetic skills though- thought I’ll scribble down some words though-

Ye roads, ye galiyaan
Aur unme woh sexy kudiyaan,
Chala main in roads pe,
Sang apne doston ke,
Kabhi hansa, kabhi kabhi roya,
Yaheen apne ambitions ko sanjoya,
Jab poore huey toh “oh-yea”,
Jab nahi toh “sab tha moh-maya”.
College gaya, chai piya,
Propose kiya, Reject kiya,
Accept hua, reject hua, ditch hua,
Achcha hua, kabhi shaayad bura hua,
Kabhi hansta raha, kabhi sab saha,
Job kiya, resign kiya,
Aur fir job kiya, aur fir resign kiya,
Kabhi paidal chala, kabhi blue line pe,
Kabhi chetak pe, kabhi Santro pe,
Kabhi main baja, jaise concert mein tabla,
Kabhi ghussa hua, jaise anda ho ubla,
kabhi achcha laga, kabhi bura laga,
Fir bhi ye shehar sabse pyaara laga.
Dilli badla, par fir bhi na badla,
Aakhir kaun jaaye yaar,
Dilli ki galiyaan chhodkar!!

I might complete this one someday- this was just a summary.

Something that makes Delhi so special is the food here. This section today is dedicated to the food stalls in Qutb institutional area.

I first went to these dhabas in the winter of 2002. Went to Laxman da dhaba opposite IIFT (I thought it was Indian Institute of Fashion Technology). Was bowled over by the Gobhi Parathas and the Tibetan red chilly pickled sauce. I still am. Spent plenty of evenings and nights there…with friends… Every time somebody comes to Delhi for the 1st time, I take him/ her to this gali. There is something about it- the ridge beside the food area, the energy of the students , the romance in the air…kuch toh hai…

While I’ve been out with many a friends to this place, the cake is reserved for one friend of mine (he will also appear in the blog entry when I write about Andhra bhawan)- Simran Shekhar Singh, athva Triple S.

Triple S and I first went there in the summer of 2006. We were regulars there- almost every evening after citi- sometimes traveled on his bullet, sometimes on my chetak 4 stroke… I shall remember that as the place which cemented our friendship.

While I dedicate this series of blogs to the city and its parts, I shall dedicate this to also some great people who made it special for me.

This is dedicated to Triple S, the genuine gentle giant, great friend and partner in travel in many a Delhi adventures..

Aall izz well!!!

2009-12-25T22:48:00.002+05:30

Long since I wrote any stuff on films here.

Saw a few in the last few days- Rocket Singh was a waste of time, De Dana Dan was worth watching for about 20 minutes of laughter, Paa made me realise that Amitabh Bachchan the superstar often makes us forget the super actor Amitabh Bachchan- definitely a thumbs up for this movie.

The top prize is shared by 3 movies actually- Let me talk about (in brief) about the 2 mallu movies in the list. Mammootty reminds us yet again why he is simply the BEST in the country right now. In the title role of Pazhassi Raja Kerala Varma, he excels. The film is a class apart- a period drama set in the 1790’s. The direction, editing, screenplay, music and the performances- all superb; and guess what!!! Surprise surprise, Sarath Kumar can actually act.

Don’t be surprised if this is India’s official entry to the Oscars next year. That scene in the song Aadi Ushas-sandhya where all the fighters raise up their mashaals and the king walks into the formation (shot in the dark- natural light of only the mashaals) is perhaps the best scene on the Indian screens since the mirror scene in Mughal E Azam (remember pyaar kiya toh darna kya).

Mammootty also excels as the private detective in Paleri Manikyam- Oru Pathirakkolapathakathinte Katha. This perhaps is one of the best suspense films I’ve ever seen.

The Icing on the cake was thanks to the best film experience I’ve had in a long time. 3 Idiots is undoubtedly the most entertaining film of the year- perhaps, the decade. The intentions of the film are absolutely noble and serious. The treatment is noble and entertaining. The film gets you involved right from scene 1. Well, I doubt if there is any way in which my words here can quite translate my joy of having watched the film. It’s not a doubt- I know I can’t.

I like the way the director has pulled a few legs without resorting to mockery; for e.g., the Hindi spoken by the south Indian character or the poverty scene in one family. The lyrics and the dialogues are superb. The screenplay is the finest I’ve seen since RDB. One of Aamir Khan’s best films; and this is Rajkumar Hirani’s best film yet.

As I walked out of the show, I kept singing the lines from one of the songs- and that is exactly how I felt-

“Give me some Sunshine, give me some rain; Give me another chance, I wanna grow up once again...”

PariWedding

2009-11-11T11:02:00.001+05:30

“Main kunwara hoon, Brahmachari nahi”- This quote is attributed to Atal Behari Vajpayee.

I smiled to myself as I sat amidst the hustle and bustle of colourfully turbaned men and (more) colourfully clothed women in a moderately busy bus terminal in Chittaurgarh. This was the time I had to myself to look back at the last three days- fast paced, colourful and mast.

My classmate and friend from MHROD- Parived, the Bhatnagar, was going to become PariWed.

Once more this winter, that flag was at half-mast; that flag that symbolizes freedom and liberty ultimate- the flag of bachelorhood.

Parived was about to walk the path of victimhood by tying the knot.

My train to Udaipur, the site of martyrdom of Parived’s bachelorhood, arrived on time. The martyr’s cousin was there at the station to receive me.

I arrived at the guest house, met the groom’s father- I was surprised pleasantly that he remembered our earlier meeting at Rajasthan house three and a half years ago. The groom came out- dressed in a colourful kurta pyjama- signs of make-up from the previous evening still fresh on his face. We hugged warmly and I was just about to articulate the following thoughts into words- kya tu wohi parived hai jo shaam ko uthke good morning bolta tha- subah ko 8 baje tu uth bhi gaya aur fresh bhi ho gaya…waah…. Before I could articulate these thoughts into words, he said, “Tu jaa, fresh ho le… main abhi abhi utha hun, brush bhi nahi kiya hai.”

Haan, ye wohi Parived hai.

We later had breakfast together and we were eagerly awaiting the arrival of our friend Nish- a.k.a, Nishith Upadhyaya. Nish promptly called to say that he had arrived at Udaipur too (from Mumbai). Parived and I decided to pick him from where he was. Even as Parived drove us both through the Udaipur roads, Nish sent me an SMS- “If Parived is driving, may I suggest you stay back”. Too late- I was already in the car and the drive showed me why Nish was so alarmed.

Driving through Udaipur, Parived mentioned that if anybody could lose his way in Udaipur, it would have to be Nish. I argued saying that Nish had given us clear instructions saying that he stood right opposite State Bank of Bikaner and Jaipur (SBBJ).

In 5 minutes, Parived was proved to be correct. Nish indeed was untraceable. Nobody in Udaipur seemed to know about the existence of SBBJ.

Nish was lost- repeated calls to him and he would say “I’m standing in front of SBBJ”. Pari and I even checked if he had gotten down at Udaipur or elsewhere.

Haan, ye wohi Nishith hai.

We did trace him- there indeed was an SBBJ- the name tucked away amidst huge other signboards that Nish clearly forgot to mention. (to give you an idea, if SBBJ was written in font size 10, the next building signboard- Bank of Maharashtra was written in font size 40. To give you further idea, Pari and I were standing in front of the building and the signboard was so small we missed it. Salutes to Nish’s attention for detail.).

A couple of games of cricket, a few laughs over some ultra milds (naa- I didn’t touch them) and it was time to pull each other’s legs. We gave the event many names- PariWed…Pari (ved) weds Pari (Hindi for angel)…We reminisced about past affairs, talked about birds, bees and women and Nish and I mocked at Parived’s surrender into martyrdom- scheduled for later in the evening.

Love is blind, they say. Love makes one stubborn too. Pari simply refused to accept he was going to be a shaheed later in the evening.

The beautiful evening began. I realized I’d forgotten my tie in Delhi- was forced to wear a suit minus the tie (we actually tried to buy one in the nearest possible place we could have found one- Big Bazar- for the first time since its inception, somebody asked for a tie at Big Bazar. What he showed us for ties resembled the colours of Govinda’s shirt in the “Tum toh dhokhebaaz ho” song – Colourful Rajasthan I thought).

Nish was dressed like he would break into a Ghazal any moment. As we strode royally to the place where the Baaraat was to assemble, Nish, in his niche style, walked upto an arbit pair of uncle-aunty and said “you must be Parived’s parents!!!”

They politely nodded in the negative.

Parived came out- dressed like Shah Jahaan would have been- totally unable to control his happiness that oozed out of his face like milk would from a pan left to boil without turning off the gas. His ghodi was aptly named ******* (name withheld for obvious reasons). I promptly asked if the surname of the ghodi was ******. Pari blushed and brushed away my question.

Throughout the procession of the baaraat, the shaheed was beaming- even when the baarat lost its way- the people leading the baaraat didn’t know where the venue was ;-)

We met another baaraat on the way- watched people dance- ate heartily at the wedding- that Achaari Rajasthani Beans (forget the name- aam ka achaar + beans in a subzi) was out of the world.

Parived ki shaadi pe police na band bajaaya- aur fir army ne.

There was a police orchestra and an army orchestra- and they promptly played “saare Jahaan se Achcha” as Pari tied the knot with Pari. No kidding- they actually played this song- I was missing the song “ye desh hai veer jawaanon ka”.

Now that Pari was tied in the knots, Nish and I congratulated him- still beaming. We walked back to Dream Palace- where we were staying- dream palace.

In my dream that night I saw this friend of mine who long years back was The Special One. Now much married (obviously, to somebody else), she hit me on head and said, “tu mat galati kariyo ye”. I jumped up- only to see Nish snoring in the other half of the queen-bed we were both occupying.

I did not have the opportunity to ask her “Kaun si galati”.

In between attending the wedding, Nish and I also managed to get a dekko of the city of Udaipur and areas around- Kumbalgarh, Haldighati and Ranakpur.

As a fitting climax to the trip, we went to Chittaurgarh. After taking a round of the fort, we came back to the bus-stand and hugged each other to say goodbye. Nish was going back to Udaipur to catch a train and I had to take a bus back to Delhi.

After saying goodbye, I smiled to myself as I sat amidst the hustle and bustle of colourfully turbaned men and (more) colourfully clothed women in the moderately busy bus terminal. The last three days were fast paced, colourful and mast.

I wrote an SMS to Nish (that never reached him btw)- “Years down the line, we shall smile as we talk about the story of Parived’s wedding to my grandchildren, your grandchildren and Parived’s grandchildren. Geet humaari dosti ke, doharaayengi jawaaniyan!! Main na rahunga, tum na rahoge, phir bhi rahegi ye dastaan.”

This blog is dedicated to my wonderful friend Parived and his beautiful wife Surabhi. I wish them both all the very best. May the happiness stay on forever. Amen!!!

The blog is my token of affection for my wonder-friend Nish.

This blog is also a dedication to my friends Sinha and Thaplee- who, had they come, would have completed that picture- of my first few “friends” at MHROD.

Afterglow: Nish took the bus from Chittaurgarh to Udaipur. His bags were packed and he was all set to leave for the railway station when Pari’s dad asked- “ye aaj kaise jaayega- ye jis train ki baat kar raha hai wo Friday ko nahi chalta”.

Pari’s dad was right- Nish got the dates wrong- his train was not for that night, but for the next.

Long live Nishisms- Jai ho!!!

In good faith, I do!!!

2009-10-15T14:43:00.000+05:30

Presenting two arbit lines of thought of mine here- these may be inter connected or discrete- I would not know.

Often I wonder, what is it that makes me value somebody or something so much today and makes that very person/ thing irrelevant over a period of time. I ask myself if this is ungratefulness or mere mood instability.

Somebody very close says that the value one attaches to things and people that one values changes over a period of time. I agree.

Yet another very close somebody says that all that is human must retrograde if it does not advance.

Let us explore this further. That Tobu cycle that I used as a kid remains invaluable to me; those clothes I may have used then seem useless. My scooter… a black beauty- a Chetak 4 stroke… was the most precious thing to me, until I bought my car. And then, the black beauty ceased to be as important. I shed many a tears while leaving Thiruvananthapuram; now, I’m not sure if I can ever stay there for over 10 days at a stretch. Some of my very good friends, while I was a kid and then a teenager, are no more than acquaintances now.

These thoughts have been in mind for some days now.

I also realize that I hate any kind of change while the change is yet to happen and expected to materialize.

I also wonder why is it that we so very much are resistant to change. Or anything that is uncertain. A very close somebody tells me, “for once at least, can you trust God?”. What this person leaves unsaid is why is it that we need to be in control all the time. “Why do you want everything to go according to your plan all the time?”…LoL

This thing of not knowing what’s in store for me gets me worried- as a child, before getting the report card; as a teenager, having to decide the career of choice; as a young adult, making a decision on sticking to the same career and shifting to another; as an adult on what I need to do my job or what if my relationship with this girl doesn’t work out;

Agar mere 90% nahi aaye toh main kya karoon; Agar main pass nahi hua toh main kya karoon; Agar is entrance ko maine clear nahi kia toh main kya karoon; Agar is company mein mera placement nahi hua toh main kya karoon; Agar is baar mera promotion nahi hota toh main kya karoon…and the list is endless.

Unhappiness remains, causes differ- says the same very close somebody.

Each time the “agar” came true- there was a jhatka- but life never stopped. There was always a direction and a way that I would earlier not have seen or chosen not to see.

And when I look at that, I am tempted to say yes to that question- for once at least, can you trust God?

Those of you who “know” me “know” why I am writing these two seemingly discrete views in a single blog.

Well well well… I’m leaving it to God this time.

In good faith I do!!!

ek diwana sheher mein

2009-08-04T16:26:00.004+05:30

All right, its been long. To those you who have been asking me when my next blog shall be released, here it is.

The writer's block seems to be a thing of the past- for now.

The last 2-3 months have been pretty eventful. Some happy, and some distressing. This one is going to look more like a diary in brief.

I have finally shifted to Dwarka- my parents are likely to join me in the next 10-15 days. Also was on tour to Ladakh.

The last few weeks have shown me some deaths- 2 of my friends lost their fathers while yet another lost his mother. It is in these moments that one feels helpless- so helpless that words fail to come out of the mouth. One stands there- by the side of the one who has lost- and feels helpless- What do I say and What can I say to assauge the loss? However, in these moments, one also tends to forget any negative emotions that one has nursed against the other. Both the ones become one in such times.

Even as I write this, I also remember those words my Dad quoted to me in Malayalam a few years back- "The death of a relationship can be more painful than the death of a relation himself/ herself". During a rather low juncture in life some years back, I thought this made a lot of sense...

I sense and fear the end of yet another beautiful relationship around the corner. I wonder when would I be able to get over the petty constraints of ego, attachment and expectation?

There are those other life giving factors that have made life interesting- a trip to the Triveni Sangam where the Ganga and the Yamuna meet- explicitly and the Saraswati joins them as the Antarvahini (making me philosophize how many times do we tend to ignore/ overlook the Antarvahinis in our lives) and a trip to Ladakh with close friends. (More on these in other travelogues).

Anna got engaged. Parived got engaged and so did Shilpa. Feel very happy for these people.

Some very close friends left Delhi in the last few weeks- to places as varied as Hyderabad and Bangalore and Canada. As usual, it was not easy to say Goodbye.

Life is like that. It is like a river that meanders through different curves- some that you expect and some that you don't- this suspense making life more exciting.

Even as I write all this, there is a part from my past that beckons me- my heart says, listen to the call. If I follow my heart, my life shall see yet another turn that I shall not have expected- even 2 days ago.

Somebody very special in my life often quotes a shloka which talks of the almighty as "Sarvamangala Sadgatiprada" (roughly translated, giver of things that will be good for you and will happen only at the right/ good pace). For once, let me also try and follow something else this person tells me-

"I shall seek not; I shall avoid not..."

Oh Kolkata!!

2009-04-29T11:42:00.002+05:30

There is this path marked with artificial footprints that marks the route Netaji Subhash Bose took- to escape from his house (from Brit Custody) way back in the 40’s. I stood there- in his study- spent a few quiet minutes for I was the only visitor at the Netaji memorial at Elgyn road in Kolkata. These minutes marked the defining moments in this trip of mine to Kolkata.

Etmad, Ittefaaq and Qurbani so remarkably define the spirit that Netaji lived for and died for. I left the place with a choke in my throat.

May I request you to go through this before you read the subsequent paragraphs. Maybe the lines in the referred blog will tell you about my love for Bengal- and anything/ anybody related to Bengal.

I landed on a lazy hot afternoon in Kolkata. Kolkata was still sulking from the insult meted out to Ganguly by Kolkata Knight Riders. The cab driver had plenty of nice words for Saa-Rooq-Kaahn.

This was my opportunity to try out the dancing-coffee at Udupi hotel near Esplanade. This one is at CR avenue. The experience was more wonderful than was described by very dear friend- RawBean dada, a most wonderful Bongo-bondhu from Kolkata.

Once the snack of special sada dosa (ney-roast) was over, I proceeded to visit the bhurld-phamose K.Shi. Das at the Esplanade junction, a stone’s throw from Udupi. The rosogullas were good- but a trifle lower than my expectations. I would strongly recommend the dahi wada there- never had better dahi wada anywhere and the Roso-Moloncho and the Malpua- ekdOm mOst hOi.

I had planned my evening out- a repeat trip to Dokkhineswar and Belur Math. The experience was as lovely as I’ve mentioned in my other blog. Standing at Vivekananda’s samadhi-sthal can give you goosebumps.

To those of you traveling for the phorst taim too Kolkata, I would recommend that you take a tram ride- from nobhere in porticulor to nobhere in porticulor. I did Esplanade to Dalhousie Square and I was the only one on the tram besides the driver and the conductor. Delightful!!

The next day began early with a visit to Kalighat. The pandits can get on to your nerves here too. The temple may be jam packed on holidays- or so I was told. The streets or Saranis around the tame-pal are bustling with flower sellers and sellers of Puja materials. One does run into the occasional vegetable seller. A walk trip around the area is highly recommended.

I move on to Victoria memorial. I am going there after 19 long years.

As I saw a child walking around there with a straw hat, I had a sense of déjà vu. My parents had gotten me one such hat there and I’d gleefully forgotten the hat in the train on the way back to Kerala. Very vivid memories also of the white pebbles in the complex.

The memorial has a wonderful collection of Angrezon ke zamaane ki artifacts. My personal favourites were the paintings of the Jantar Mantar and Jama Masjid in Delhi in the early 1700’s. The paintings are both very descriptive and it is hard to imagine the surrounding areas minus the modern day Connaught Place and the sights of Purani Dilli.i closed my eyes visualizing Jantar Mantar without CP around- I failed. Another interesting one was a snap of Pt. Nehru and the family of Chiang Kai Shek enjoying a Bengali Thali sitting on the floor. A very recommended drink is the masala cola (and the masala shikanji) sold outside the complex.

The MP Birla planetarium is a 5 minute walk away; the taramondal show there is a major let down though. It is interesting to watch the kids play football in the sprawling Moidan in the area. The jhaal muri sold outside the planetarium along with masala soda is highly recommended.

Bengal has a rich history of art and sciences. The Birla technology museum serves to enhance the scientific awareness in children. A visit to the mock coal mines and the 3D theatre is recommended- even for adults.

There is this place called Kew Pees at Elgyn road- my friend Suhrid (pronounced as Shu-hh-wreed) calls it famous. (Lonely Planet agrees with him) He called it an awesome place. The expectations were high- the food is good, but a trifle overrated and very over-priced. The place serves authentic Bong Phhood. All said and done, worth a visit.

As I leave Kolkata to come back to Delhi, I come back with plenty of beautiful memories- again. Kolkata beckons me again… I shall come back soon again.

This one is dedicated to all the wonder bongs in my life.

dheere dheere chal...

2009-03-23T14:05:00.002+05:30

Aye Musafir dheere chal, manzil toh aa hee jaayegi”

This one keeps screaming at you every half an hour on the Rishikesh-Badrinath road.

Aye musafir dheere chal… dheere chal… have I been walking a trifle too fast? A very special friend recently asked me where my nonsense of humour, that perhaps never existed, has disappeared. I had resolved that that which never perhaps existed, would be rediscovered. Shubhasya Sheegram!! The earlier, the merrier.

Every time it rained in Delhi, during those unexpected months; or it poured in those usual months, I’d send an sms to some select special friends- “its raining; go out, get wet, enjoy…”
I still have this one stored in the “drafts” of my old cell phone.

Its been long since I sent that out to people.

Yesterday morning, I woke up to the sight of snowfall outside my room in Garhwal; a light drizzle followed. And like the K serials, it just went on…on… and on!!

Have you seen those pretty ladies
As your eyes meet theirs, they shy away.
For a moment the eyes meet,
And then they look astray.

These mountains today displayed a glow- head to toe, covered with snow; veiled, sometimes, behind the clouds moving slow- forming their own nice shapes. The dancing stream behind me lent music to make the beautiful morning beaoootiful.

Yesterday had to be good. Just as day before yesterday was. Was traveling on the route after exactly 5 years and 8 months. The sight and sound of Ganga, in her various avatars, all along the route through Rishikesh to Devaprayag to Rudraprayag to Karnaprayag to Nandprayag and eventually to Vishnuprayag. Ganga looks most beautiful on this route. The water is pristine blue-green. The sound is pure magic.

As I drove on this road day-before-yesterday, Vairamuthu’s words played on in my mind- “nadiye nadiye!! Kaadal nadiye, neeyum penn thane…”. In the entire song he compares the river with a woman. Amazing song- set to tune by Rehman himself; do listen if you can lay your hands on it. It is from a film called “Rhythm”.

Yesterday was good too. After the amazing morning view and a decent workshop and an amazing lunch, I was chatting with this very good friend who has a special knack for poetry in Hindi/ Urdu. She writes-

Na koi dost hai na kareeb hai,
Tera shehar kitna ajeeb hai,
Kiska chehra padhoon main,
Yahaan kaun itna kareeb hai.

I was in a mood for poetry too- I modified this and massacred it.

Kiska chehra padhoon main,
Dikh nahi raha hai mujhko kuch yahaan,
Mera chashma hai kahaan?
Dhoondh liya maine saara jahaan,
Par chashma nahi hai mera yahaan,
Aur chashma nahi hai mera wahaan,
Kahaan hai mera chashma, kahaan?

And more such nonsense-

Kitne ajeeb hain ye raaste,
Kabhi seedhe hain ye jaate,
Kabhi daayein,
Kabhi baayein!!!

And more and more!!

My friend pleaded that I stop. She said she had not seen me in such a nonsensical mood for long. She was frustrated to see this mood back. (The sadist smile is back on my face folks)

Maybe the snow had had the effect.

Its not just the poetry. Had a snap clicked of mine- arms outstretched against the mountains- as if flying. Spent an evening with the Vedapathashaala kids at the Shankara-Mutt in Joshimath. Walked the slippery slopes in the village barefoot singing aloud. Enjoyed the rains drenching me. Enjoyed my feet grow numb with cold. My body crying for want of a sweater/ jacket (that I gleefully forgot in my Gurgaon room)- was now prancing along those meandering slopes- like Shammi Kapoor in Junglee.

Suhaana safar aur ye mausam haseen; hume dar hai hum kho na jaaye kahin.

Only that, kho jaane ka dar nahi laga.

Garhwal-especially Rishikesh was a place I visited every quarter- well, almost; except for these last 12 months. I visited this place for I felt it rejuvenated me each time. I guess the snow and Garhwal have had their effect on me- rejuvenated that nonsense within me.

The beautiful mountains, the beautiful rivers, the beautiful trees, the beautiful people. Garhwal truly is beautiful…

AJ… is back, peoples!! The nonsense that some (actually quite a few) of you had gladly come to accept as dead- is back.
Here’s one to celebrate guys…

Mujhe fiqr ki ab kya fiqr hai padee,
Wo kahaani yaad hai na of the legendary dandee,
Kahin Khadi, kahin padi aur kahin gadhee.

NB- Gadhee is not she-donkey here. Gadhee is something that lies buried..

The last week musings

2009-02-27T09:35:00.005+05:30

Picture this- a new moon day, rather night; the sky is filled with stars- wherever the eyes can see; it is pitch dark outside. I'm driving a bolero and mine is the only vehicle on the road for a good 80-90 minutes. There is absolutely no vegetation outside- but for a few shrubs here and there.

Welcome to Kachchh- again. (For the lucky uninititated ones- here's the link http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/08/earth-is-flat.html )

Never before have I witnessed silence so beautiful. Was humming Jagjit Singh's "soona" as I was driving. I remember, in one of his concerts, Jagjit Singh, while singing this, gave us his own take on soona-pan. He talked of physical soona-pan, mental and emotional as well.

This place is truly lonely.

I was also fortunate to visit Ahmedabad during this trip; I managed a visit to the Gandhi Ashram at Sabarmati- thanks to my friend Nidhi. The place is absolutely peaceful. Consider myself blessed to have visited this place- so close to Gandhiji's heart and of course, a result of his own heart. We saw a stream of school kids visit the place- excited and bubbly and following in tow was the teacher who had the unenvious task of bursting the bubble once in a while.

I guess, when one is a child and takes in whatever is taught in the schools, one tends to believe that Gandhiji is God himself- as he is portrayed in our books. As one grows up, Gandhiji may become Gandhi and by the time one is in the teens, one may totally dismiss the views and philosophies of Gandhi. And then, maybe, one does come across certain events in life wherein Gandhi becomes Gandhiji- again.

I guess, I'm living phase #3.

Back to the drive- even as I was humming soona... these words were playing on in my mind... Godwilling, this will be complete some day and the song shall be sung- someday....

Under these shining stars,
Amidst the marshlands that surround me,
I can hear a melody.

I drive on- on this lonely road,
No trees around, no people to see,
The melody I can hear and it overwhelms me.

After a few minutes I reached the railway station in Bhuj- back to the "civilized" world. Hopefully, the song shall be sung someday.

The Melody lingers on,
The rhythm has set in,
The song remains unsung...

Inspirational Aspirations...

2009-02-16T12:26:00.009+05:30

Till y'day you were my aspiration. Today, you are my inspiration."

So says one of K Balachander's characters in a yesteryear movie when he realises that he cannot marry the girl of his choice.

A couple of days back, I had the privilege of listening to some elevating music in Delhi. My good friend-Ajesh had taken me along to Siri Fort where some jazz legends were playing in the evening. He said it would be a good opportunity for me to get introduced to Jazz.

We went there without the passes and were lucky enough to get some spare passes from some DUdes (dudes from DU).

The pass mentioned something about commemorating the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King's visit to India. As we stepped into the hall, we saw some celebs there- one could make out that it was an "important" concert.

Recorded music was being played. Ajesh enlightened me that these were black gospel songs. Then they played the speech... i mean THE speech...

... I have a dream... that one day, man shall not be judged by the colour of his skin, but by the content of his character... i have a dream today... i still have a dream....

This was one hair raising experience... What power...and what amazing articulation of dreams...

Fittingly, the concert began with a rendition of "We shall overcome" by Dee Dee Bridgewater and Chaka Khan. Martin Luther King III, who was present in the hall commented that to a large extent, we have overcome.

Then came the masters- Ustad Zakir Hussain himself... George Duke and Herbie Hancock. Ajesh says (I now know this also from the internet) that Herbie Hancock is a living legend...

I could sense why this is so true- during the 120-150 odd minutes.... Those moments, I cannot describe... those feelings i cannot describe... and when they finally played Raghupati Raghava Raja Ram, my eyes were moist...

A visit to the Russian market for a Tibetan dinner acted as icing on the cake (or sauce on the chowmein).

The theme for the evening was obviously dreams...and realizing dreams.

Incidentally, I've been reading this book- "the last lecture" and somewhere the theme in the book is rather similar.

All of us know our time here in this Janma is limited. But, if we knew that "X" is the number of years, months and days we have left to live, would we continue to lead our lives the way we do today? If we were asked what proportion of our aspirations have been fulfilled to our heart's content, would we have an answer? And what are we doing about these aspirations?? What am I doing about mine...

That dream to do this and this dream to do that...bahut nikle mere armaan... lekin fir bhi kum nikle.

Paush says, irrespective of whether we attain a dream or fail in the attempt, the attempt itself changes us for the good. I completely agree.

Well well well... I'll sign off on these thoughts. Have a concert to catch up with today at Nehru Park- Ust. Zakir Hussain and Pt. Shivkumar Sharma...

I still have a dream...

An when I'm grey and rocking in my chair...

2009-02-08T16:16:00.002+05:30

For those of you reading this- would request that you read

http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2007/08/e-pank-bar-and-dil-chahta-hai.html
http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2007/08/breaking-news-e-ngaged.html

These would help you get a better context.

“Kal phir aayenge… kya mast thi aaj ki shaam”

One of them said this, as the 5 of them, hand in each others’ hands, slowly and steadily walked down the slope at the entry/ exit point of Puraana qila- supporting each other so that none of them slipped down.

The people in question were all at least 70 years old. Bodies frail, voices trembling- with age and the cold, faces smiling after an enlivening evening enjoying Hariprasad Chaurasia and Shiv Kumar Sharma create magic in the ramparts of Delhi’s old fort.

Seeing their camaraderie I was reminded of that old poem, “…. And when I’m grey and rocking in my chair…”. The context of the poem was love between a man and his lady; I thought it fit the bill for this situation as well.

The last few weeks have been a celebration of friendship for me. First, a visit to Kasauli with some very close friends- having the time of our lives doing nothing. They say familiarity breeds contempt; sometimes familiarity also gives you a sense that you are not really as familiar with somebody as you would have imagined. There are aspects of the person that you were completely unaware of; and you set off on yet another voyage of discovering the other person. I may have subconsciously known this- but this thought crystallized post my visit to Kasauli with my friends. I guess that is what makes friendship so special. I guess this is what makes the friendship between those 70 year olds so young.

The next was a visit to E’s house to celebrate E’s 1st wedding anniversary. Spent about 3-4 hours recounting the same old jokes, pulling the same legs- the same way as it has been these 9 years. Nothing has changed. Those anecdotes from our past seem to gain some new spice each time they get spoken about. Buzz, the grand old one remains as old as ever, E remains as infantile as ever, Doctor remains as Harsh as ever, Pank still can’t bend his knees, Bihar remains…well… Bihar.

Nothing has changed. Touché’.

This blog is dedicated to Sheetal and Vibha, the most recently inducted members of the bit@kmc family. This blog is also dedicated to my friend Doctor cha…

Some questions on friendship have crossed my mind at different times. I wonder, for example, can a man and a woman be intimate friends- just intimate friends? Maybe I’ll write a blog on this sometime…

Yet Another Big Fat Punju Wedding

2008-12-04T23:14:00.004+05:30

Have you ever driven to a marriage where the only person you really know is the groom. Not too many common friends, just a couple of old old acquaintances that you had met long years back- who you don’t know if are attending the marriage. You don’t even know if you can recognize them after these years and vice versa. But, when the friend has been so good, there is no way you can just walk into his marriage, say hi, wish him all the best and just move out.

As with most Punjabi marriages, there’s always this pleasure of watching some very pretty girls and some trying to look pretty. But, the fun gets lost somewhere in the absence of friends to engage in serious ornithological discussions. Despite being alone, I chose to pursue my favourite activity.

While scanning through the hall- bright with the light, rocking with the music, fragrant with the choicest of perfumes and of course, beautiful with the beautiful people around, my eyes stopped at this gorgeous lady with a charming smile. I’d seen her somewhere… (or is this the feeling that one gets after conducting Development centers and individual discussions with loads and loads of PYTs in different BPOs)…

This lady was my senior at school. Probably 2 or 3 years my senior. I think I was in 8th or 9th standard. To a boy from the (literally and culturally) distant Thiruvananthapuram, this lady was no less than an angel. This is typically an age in a boy's life when he really starts wanting/ trying to impress girls or just wants them to get impressed- just like that.

Shy that I was (scared, actually), never really mustered the courage to ever go and talk to her. Even as these memories were coming back to me, and amusing me, the bride entered the hall. In typical filmi style, the right songs were being played. The lights were dimmed in the hall, the bright light focusing only on the bride entering the hall, flanked by her folks, and the groom eagerly and impatiently waiting for his girl- passing on flying kisses in the air- for added impact. As my friend held out his hand to help his bride on to the stage, the DJ played “mere haath mein tera haath ho”. To the quintessential south Indian reader, all this may sound exaggerated and loud. I can imagine the scandal it would create if any of my cousins or friends in the community (or even me sometime in the times ahead) were to break into an impromptu jig before garlanding the bride- as my friend did.

Even the groom and bride settled down for the photo sessions, my eyes started scanning the attendees again. The lady was missing. (I couldn’t meet her through the rest of the evening/ night). I’d missed the chance to ask her name at least. I console myself saying that such memories feel sweeter when a name is not associated with the memory and the face.

Eddy, my friend- the groom, had warned me, that the principal of my college for undergrad studies might come in. And I ran in to him at the wedding.

It was like…old sparks flew… lightning struck… thunder bolted…

His eyes looked at mine and mine into his.

Circa November 2000. The time is one- one thirty in the wee hours of midnight. A bunch of students have gheraoed the Vice Chancellor’s office in Delhi University over an issue close to their hearts (and pockets). The passions are running high.

The professors and the powers that be, trapped in the office are desperately trying to use their rapport with their students to let them out. Out comes the princi, looks at me and beckons me to come to him. Here’s the conversation as I remember it.

“Humko ghar jaane do. Humaare bachhe humaara wait kar rahe hain”

“Sir, humaari baat maan jaaiye aur phir hum aapko ghar jaane denge”

“Gharwaale wait kar rahe hain”

“Sir, humaare bhi”

“Beta hum ghar jaayenge. Rok sako toh rok lo.”

“Sir, main toh aapko rokoonga nahi. Par jo mere saath hain, unka mood zara theek nahi hai. Wo shaayad jaane na de”

I smile at him… like Nana Patekar smiles at Manisha Koirala in Agnisaakshi.

He looks around and senses the anger and beats a retreat.

I smile triumphantly at my mates like Kapil Dev did after lifting the world cup.

We had plenty of such showdowns over the next three and a half years.

Circa, yesterday.

I could guess he remembered the same moment as I did.

Two to three uncomfortable seconds of silence later, I touched his feet, shook hands. He said he was happy to see me. Thankfully, he didn’t know/ remember my name.

My next brush was with an ex-boss of mine. To his credit, he still remains in touch and is as courteous and friendly as anybody I have seen. It was a real pleasure meeting him and spent some very nice minutes with him. Also, thanks to him, I had company for dinner ( I had thought that aaj toh akele hee dinner karna hoga). More so, for he had friends there and he could sense I was alone.

To the quintessential southie, the biggest difference between our kinda marriages and the ones that happen here is that ours happen in the mornings. Here, but for a few select sects, they have it from evening to late in the night. Also, in south, typically the food comes to you- typically in my community, it is served on banana leaves. Here, it is a buffet. There is a different charm about each of the systems I suppose.

As I stepped out of the wedding yesterday night, that scene from the film- “Gandhi” flashed before my eyes- where Kasturba and the Mahatma enact the saptapadi (saat phere) to their English friend and explain to him the significance of each of these.

This one is dedicated to my good friend Eddy and his lovely wife, Nidhi who got married yesterday. I have known Eddy as a gem of a guy- gentle, intelligent, sensible and sensitive. I pray you have a great life together Eddy and Nidhi.

This one is also dedicated to all my other chums who lose their bachelorhood/ spinsterhood this month.

Amongst others, to Varsha, my friend since class 11th, who gets married later next week. I’ve known Varsha as a very simple, yet elegant lady; very modern, yet with a bharatiya naari touch. Wish her a great married life.

And to my friend Shefali who is getting married in a few days from now. One of the more mature individuals I met at D-school, Shefali also happens to be one of the most sincere people I’ve known and a person of extraordinary emotional strength. Wish her a great married life.

PS- The definition of a spouse as my friend says “She, who stands by you through all the trouble which would never have happened, but for her”

Saurav long live

2008-11-26T12:27:00.002+05:30

It was July 2002. My dad had just had his bypass surgery. The previous month had been extremely stressful for me.

And then on 13th July, the epic Natwest final happened. I still vividly remember the scenes in Vikaspuri after that. People bursting crackers everywhere, dancing in joy. I remember being overjoyed too, for some moments, forgetting the stress at home. I felt extremely extremely good when dada did a salman khan that day.

Somebody who visited my dad the next day in hospital told me that one of the first questions he asked was what happened of the Indo-English match.

Now, these are moments in the life of an Indian cricket fan that one cannot quantify. Statistics will reveal that India won by two wickets with 3 balls to spare. Nothing on earth can quite reveal the joy Dada’s men provided us that day.

There have been multiple such moments where Dada has brought us infinite joy. Quite a lot of us actually believed that we could win the 2003 world cup. With Tendulkar- God himself- blessed be his name, Dada formed the most destructive opening pair in the late 90’s and the early 2000’s. We finally had our own (better version of) Haynes and Greenidge.

Lets go back further into history. Remember the Sahara cup in Canada, India v/s Pakistan. Wow what a series it was. One of first times I remember seeing India rout Pakistan so mercilessly. Dada was man of the match in 4 out of 5 matches. He excelled with the bat and the ball.

Remember Lords, 1996, Dada scoring that century on debut.

Remember that century at Brisbane.

Remember Steve Waugh’s last match when the Aussies were literally fighting to save their ***.

Remember those clean lofted hits over long on and long off…straight into the stands.

Dada would always be remembered as that guy who taught the Indian team to fight and win.

And then remember all those brickbats thrown at him. When that stupid egotic, Greg Chappell did whatever he did, we, as a nation, instead of standing by Dada, chose to speak Chappell’s language.

Remember those who said Dada’s career is over when he was dropped. The epitome of yellow journalism in India, the TOI, wrote a headline “has this man played his last match” with a snap of Dada walking back to the pavilion.

Remember that pepsi ad when Dada came and asked us if we still remembered him.

Remember the way he came back into the team and scored that 50 against South Africa. To me, that would remain the best ever knock he played. It is not easy to perform so well when so many question marks hover around your neck.

He scored so so so many runs after coming back. And yet, he was dropped. No cricketing reasons for sure.

What is it that made him Indian cricket’s favourite whipping boy?

Lets look at this further. There are people in our classrooms, in our offices, in our neighbourhood that we love to hate. Some for reasons genuine, and some, purely because of some insecurity we get by seeing them. Was this the case of Dada as well?

They say perceptions are hard to make and harder to break. My sense is that it is these perceptions that made Dada the favourite whipping boy. Some people just probably felt insecure with him around.

Can any sane person stand up and say that Dada’s cricketing days were genuinely over?

Dada and Tendulkar- God himself- blessed be his fame, are still better than any Tom Dick or Harry in the team. I aint getting into rhetoric. If you wanna debate around the stats or non-stats, welcome.

As a cricket fan, I feel I have been robbed off at least 18-24 months of Dada’s cricketing days.

I shall await the IPL season the next year to watch Dada in action again, thought it wont be half as good as watching him play for India.

When the history books on Indian cricket shall be written, Dada shall stand tall amongst the mortals. There will be only Tendulkar-God himself- blessed be his game, above him in this era.

Was a pleasure watching you play Dada. Privileged to have grown up in an era where you did all that you did.

This blog is dedicated to my good friend, philosopher and guide- my role model- Sir TP, the other Dada fan that I know. One sms of Sir TP sums up the spirit of the quintessential Dada fan. Once when Dada got out, Sir TP sent me an sms- “Dada has just sacrificed his wicket for the nation”.

Jiyo Dada!! Thanks for those amazing memories.

Khayaal-e-Kashmir

2008-11-14T16:08:00.012+05:30

Its 11.30 in the night. I'm walking on a dark lonely road. This is one of the militancy hit places in the country. I can't think of anything more adventurous to do than take this late night walk. The clear night sky looks beautiful. There are twinkling stars strewn around- some randomly and some in constellations. And then there are some hiding behind the tall mountains, black in the night. And then there are those handful of houses on these mountains, their lights forming a pattern not different from the stars in the sky. Given the height of these mountains, it takes a while to differentiate between the stars and the light-bulbs. The river, blue-green in the morning, black-silver and mirror-like in the night, flows by silently. The cold wind caresses my hair, stings my face making me numb on the nose and the cheeks.

And then, for a moment, the lights go off. In the silence that pervades the night, I suddenly hear Aamir Khusro's words-

Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast,
Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast.

Welcome to Jammu & Kashmir.

My long awaited tour to Baglihar got over yesterday. There are some sights of J & K that words cannot do justice to.... for eg., the 15 minutes before the flight lands in Srinagar, the first sight of Chenab, standing quietly at Patnitop, the trek up Vaishno Devi....

For an outsider, it can be quite scary. You see army convoys everywhere. And you see bearded civilians in pathani suits everywhere. No offence meant to the followers of any religion, but it can be scary.

I spoke to quite a lot of locals there. They are very warm and cordial. They express surprise when a Keralite quotes Urdu couplets ("Thats India for you my friend"- a thought I did not verbalise)

A muezzin I met there best summed up the feelings- "Chayn se nahi jeene dete- na yeh na woh". I'd been warned by friends to not talk of the Indo-Pak issues with the locals. I could not resist the temptation. I asked the gentleman, "Hindustan se kya problem hai aapko". He replied "kya saab", smiled sarcastically, looked up towards the sky. I did not press further.

A Kashmiri Pandit, now at Baglihar, said, "Sab saale aurangzeb ki galti hai. Aur ab humaari sarkar bhi toh napunsak hai. Hum sab ko ghar se nikaal diya saab".

I'll probably not go deeper on this issue here.

As I drove back to the airport, I had memories aplenty to carry back. As I reflected back on the ironies of the day, Rumis' gem played in my ears- strangely, made popular in the modern times by Pandit Nehru and Sheikh Abdullah who jointly quoted this at Lal Bagh in Srinagar-

Mun tu shudam tu mun shudi,mun tun shudam tu jaan shudi
Taakas na guyaad baad azeen, mun deegaram tu deegari

(I've become you and you me,I am the body and you the soul
Now no one can say from now on,that you're someone and me someone else)

Afterthought: My good friend tells me that this post would be incomplete without this song that I quote often- "ye kaun chitrakaar hai" ... this i learnt from a very a special friend and senior.

For this good friend, and for you...here go the lyrix
http://www.musicindiaonline.com/lr/17/1139/

Bismillah would have smiled

2008-10-28T13:40:00.004+05:30

As I was about to enter the temple, I placed my hands on the temple wall and closed my eyes.

I could see Bismillah smile. I could hear the melancholy of his Shehnai. I could see him seated there- on the podium in the vice regal lodge at North Campus (where I first attended his concert). I could hear him say “roz subah” and chuckling.

"… Roz subah hum jaate the… aankh band karke mandir ke deewar pe haath rakhte the… aur fir riyaaz shuru karte the…roz subah”. An then he would choke and break into a child-like chuckle and then would re-emphasize “roz subah”.

He (Late Ust. Bismillah Khan) would say this at every concert of his (and I’ve attended/ helped organize quite a few). He would speak of his days in Kashi (Benaras) where he spent his entire life and the influence of Vishwanath temple in his life. During his concerts, I would seat myself as much in the front rows as possible, and as soon as his eyes would meet mine (or so I thought), I would say “Salaam” to him with the traditional gesture. He would acknowledge and smile back.

I was there at Benaras earlier this week, the world’s oldest town. That the town is old, hits you even as you enter the town. Or maybe its an emotional bias. I entered the town listening to Kumar Gandharva sing “Ud jaa- jaa, hans akela”, written by Kabir. These streets here have been graced by so many greats- some known to us and plenty unknown.
Adi Sankara himself stayed here for some time. Ramanujacharya, Buddha, Bharathiyaar were all here. Kabir lived his life here on these streets. Tulasidas wrote the Ramcharitmanas here. This was Lal Bahadur Shastri’s Kashi. So so so many greats... I was blessed to be here.

You need to have some sense of history or emotional association to like this place. The place is crowded and noisy. The shrieky cycle bells and the hoarse horns of vehicles can tear apart any iota of peace a traveler/ pilgrim seeks. The traffic here is bumper to bumper or rikshaw front wheel to rikshaw rear.

My friend Rosy and I set out on a rick to the Vishwanath temple- one of the 12 Jyotirlingas. The journey from where our car was parked- to the temple gate took us about 25 minutes- a distance of 1.5 kilometers. Rosy remarked “ye mandir yahin benaras mein hai na??”

We stepped down from the rick and were immediately approached by a self-styled Pandit who promptly gave us instructions on what to do and where to go (with him). I have never felt so ashamed of Brahmins ever. Being born into a Brahmin family myself, I’m ashamed that such characters exist. A Brahmin has always lived for others, not lived on others. The Brahmin was never a parasite. Especially somebody who proudly proclaimed, “hum mandir ke Brahman hai- aapko line mein khade hone ki zarurat nahi hai. Humaare saath chaliye”. These fleecers are a blot on the great sect.

Everyday, when I look at my sacred thread, I ask myself if this makes me Brahmin. Everyday, when I perform my Japas or the Sandhi-Aavandanam (the thrice-a-day prayer prescribed for those that wear the sacred thread), I ask myself if I am Brahmin. Do I become a Brahmin by abstaining from eating non vegetarian food?

Well, I may not be closer to the answer, but having looked at the behaviour of the self-styled Pandits at Kashi, I know why some look with great disdain at Pandits.

Rosy and I first went to the Dasha-ashwamedh Ghat, one of the the most pious ghats at Kashi- maybe due to its proximity to the temple. Each inch possible has been taken up by the Pandits, ever willing to perform Pujas. The water is much cleaner than I had imagined- only that the place is cramped. Dipping my feet into the Ganga river (Gangajee- as she is referred to here) was a pleasant experience. The water was cool; plus the feeling that so many greats had dipped their feet in the same famed ghat added to the experience. A few chants later, I was walking towards the temple. It is a different world altogether.

My friend and senior, Dr. Mohit ,often says that Benaras is one place where, irrespective of which part of the town one stays in, “aadmi subah ko mandir ke ghanti ki aawaaz se hee uthta hai”. When one looks around and sees the number of temples, one can know why Dr. Mohit says this.

The queue to see Baba (as Kashi Vishwanath is referred to here) was long- extremely long. The self styled Pandits attempted to fleece us here too. The decay runs deep. Even if you have to keep your chappals at a safe place, you are forced to take services of the Pandit associated with that place. The police sit by hopelessly. Instead of peace, it was anger that was pervading me outside the temple. The length of the queue was testing my patience too.

As the queue moved ahead, and we moved closer to the temple, I could envision all those greats treading the same path. Strangely, during these moments, the anger just vanished. In fact, I do not have any recollection of any negative feeling during these moments right outside the temple.

As I was about to enter the temple, I placed my hands on the temple wall and closed my eyes.

Bismillah would have certainly smiled.

Epilogue: Thanks to the long minutes in the queue, Rosy and I could not visit Sarnath that we so wanted to visit. This entry is dedicated to my friend Rosy with a promise to go to Sarnath the next time.

musafir aur murphy

2008-09-16T20:19:00.001+05:30

The longest blog I’ve written.

9th of July, 2007 was a landmark day in my life. I had my breakfast at Kolkata, lunch in Delhi and dinner @ Mumbai. Never ever felt as Musafirous in my life…

… until, yesterday.

Was to travel by the Kingfisher morning flight to Mumbai and from there to Bhuj. Missed the flight. A gut feeling told me that Bhagwan Murphy had decided to place his hand on my head for the day.

Took the ticket for the same route on Jet. The flight to Mumbai was delayed, and we landed at 12.35 PM in Mumbai. My transit flight (the last one to Bhuj) was to take off at 12.40 PM. But, with Bhagwan Murphy by my side, how could I take the flight. Along with about 6-7 others, I got stranded in Mumbai.

Jet offered us a 7 PM flight to Rajkot and offered to drop us at Bhuj on a car ( 4-5 hours). Now, the place I needed to get to is about 150 KMs from Bhuj. With no other option, I had to take the option they gave me.

Never ever have I felt like a bigger piece of sh**.

Guess, my boss could sense that. On the phone, amongst other things, he said, “it must be more difficult for you coz you are alone on this”. Never in my life had I seen empathy better at display. I cannot describe in words how light I felt after hearing this. If ever I grow big enough to write an autobiography, this bit would be written in bold capitals.

A couple of days back, I’d met some good friends from my college at IHC. While talking to them, I remember quoting to them an oft-quoted philosophy- “Worry about, and think of changing things that are in your control”. Some very senior mentors in my life have quoted this to me and also to distinguish between things in my control and things that are not.

I smiled inside my mind. This conversation with the friends and the one with my boss ensured that any worry that remained inside me was off loaded. But I had to reach my destination before tomorrow morning.

In the time I had, before boarding the Rajkot flight, caught up with some special friends in Mumbai.

Reached Rajkot half-an-hour late. Took the car… an Innova… good car…great Rafi-Mukesh-Kishore-Hemant Kumar songs playing… lashing rains… cold winds…. Moonlit night… Exotic deserted roads… driving by the river….

But for the fact that there was no girl alongside, this would have been the most romantic evening of my life.

And then Bhagwan Murphy smiled again. The headlights of the car went off. Still drove on. Missed hitting a truck, driving into a ditch and colliding against a bus- all by a whisker. While contemplating on whether to continue driving or not, the ultimate comico-tragedy happened. One of the tyres burst.

And then, more adventure… try helping out somebody trying to change a tyre in the midst of a heavy downpour… you’ll know what I’m talking about. And no street lights around- only the light of vehicles passing by (and the moon) to spot the tyre.

Guess, had had enough of adventure… ventured around…woke up a few dhabawalas fast asleep…tried asking them if I could get a taxi… A couple of them replied in expletives I cannot quote… another did not reply and yet another laughed his heart out. I could still hear him laugh as I walked back to the innova. I could almost hear him mouth “pata nahi kahaan kahaan se aa jate hain”

“Saab, abhi toh theek nahi hoga… aap doosri gaadi le lo”, said the innova driver as I reached back.

Tried stopping a few cars that raced past- they wouldn’t stop. Lifting my wet jeans up to my knees would not have helped me either. I aint Pooja Bhatt of Dil hai ki manta nahi.

Drenched… helpless… I stood there by the innova…. Mukesh singing, “duniya banaane wale, kya tere mann mein samaayee…”…

And then luck smiled. A kind truck driver stopped (if I remember right, his name was Balram). Hitched with him till a place very near Bhuj (he was not getting into the town- was going to Mundra). As I was getting out of the truck, handed the driver a 100 rupee note. He smiled, said, “kya saab” and looked away. He took it after a great deal of persuation.

Thanks to the truckwala, got a cab from where he dropped me who took me into Bhuj. My phone network started working again… got in touch with the company car driver who was kind enough to pick the call and help drop me at the company guest house at Bhuj. It was 2.45 AM.

Woke up at 5.30 today morning… and drove down to Sewagram/ Vayor where I’m writing this.

Something every touching happened on the drive. We had stopped over at a road side stall for tea. This tea was the first thing I was having since my snack on the Rajkot flight.

The tea for my driver and me cost 6 bucks. I gave the stall vendor (a teenaged boy) a 10 rupee note. He didn’t have the balance to pay me back. I was okay with it. He was not. After a lot of struggle, he found a 5-rupee coin and he asked if I had a rupee on me so that he could give me the fiver. I had a 2-rupee coin and felt it was no big deal at all if he took the extra rupee… he would have none of it… he said, “zyaada kaise le sakta hoon saab…”

This guy was wearing a very torn trouser…and an even more torn shirt…. I could sense from his utensils…and his appearance and his thela that he struggled to meet his basic needs.

As I drove past, I felt I had seen a very different world in the last few hours since yesterday morning.

This time, as I saw this world, my eyes were misty.

The Earth is Flat...

2008-08-29T12:31:00.003+05:30

... or so you'd believe if you just came back from a trip to Kachchh.

One can't but miss the remnants of tragedy in the air. We've just landed in Bhuj. One of the most exquisitely built airports- in true Kachchhi style. Expecting to find ruins from a most devastating earthquake, we step out- my friends from ECS and me.

I'm surprised. There are no ruins that I see. The town is neat- at least in the areas we drive through. The road is very well made. The driver tells me that this is an area of NRIs.

Our destination is still over a 100 kms away. We drive through some hamlets for some time. Something unique about this place that we drive through, is that one gets this feeling that there was "something" years back where there is "nothing" now. This region has borne the brunt of many an earthquakes- some very severe.

As one drives into kachchh, one can't miss the desolation of the region. Na kuch hai, na koi hai. A couple of very small hamlets do appear along the highway. You do spot the odd coconut groves.

We drive further into Kachchh. We don't see any trees around. We see shrubs around. The area is so flat that you may actually believe that as far as you see is all that there is...on earth. We were also privileged to see a few drops of the rain of kachchh. It lasted about 20 seconds. I'm told, the area is very rain deprived.

We reach our destination soon. Its been about 2.5 hours since we left Bhuj. We stayed there for about a week. One of the hallmarks of my trips was a late evening trek in the ruins of an old fort. Was an experience of a lifetime, though in the conventional sense, there is nothing to see. Snakes are plenty in this region. You see a lot of mongoose too- some dead, a lot more alive. I've shown some of you the video I shot there.

Incidentally, the water supply, food and other stuff comes to this village/ township from another village about 60 kms away.

One of the evenings, we also visited a lonely beach, an hour away from the last street light. Having a hot cup of tea on a lonely rocky beach, enjoying the night sky and the very strong breeze is a feeling I cannot describe in words. As an icing on the cake, we visited the Pingleswar temple (near the sea shore) during the evening Aarti with the temple bell tongs in full masti. Elevating experience.

The couple of nights I can never forget there were when the night sky was crystal clear- black, specked with stars all over. Stars, twinkling stars everywhere in the sky.

On the way back, we stopped over for a couple of hours at Bhuj- enjoying a Gujarati thali and visiting the under construction Swami Narayan temple. Also visited the Kachchh museum, which I'm told is Gujarat's oldest. An entry fee of Rs. 2 is all it takes for you to view Kachchhi artifacts and Harappan seals. There are some medieval inscripted stones and rocks as well on the display.

I'm back in Gurgaon now. I have fond memories of this exotic location. For the record, I went there for work- on a project.

I've shared with some of you some of the goods and not-so-goods of a consultant's life. If adventure and travel drives you, this is a career you can think of, as an alternative to a stint with National Geographic.

This one is dedicated to my friend Osho...who was just another colleague until a few weeks back.

Himalayan Days

2008-08-14T19:02:00.002+05:30

Driving along a hilly-mountainous road on a rainy day, you see a huge tree uprooted and lying flat across the road- a Tata Indica and its driver saved the wrath of the falling tree by a whisker- call it God’s grace, call it fate or rationalize it by saying he was able to apply the brakes at the right time.

A group of villagers take turns to use the only axe they possess to cut the tree into two and maybe, try and push it over the cliff. It rains harder, and the men try harder too- to cut the tree.

Expectedly, the traffic on both sides of the tree comes to a standstill. Expectedly, a large group of onlookers gather around the fallen tree.

One can see traces of sand and stones having rolled down the mountain. One can see a trail about 20 feet up the mountain. The climb up appears treacherous- a broken beer bottle lying on the ground where the climb begins. No proper places to keep your feet either- anywhere on the climb-path.

What better opportunity for a consultant to indulge in some adventure. More so, when the consultant is wearing his slippers- not even his shoes. Thanks to an equally adventurous boss, the consultant, with the help of the shoe-wearing boss try and attempt the climb the height and walk the trail.

On a routine day in a routine place, the climb would be routine. But this is neither a routine day nor a routine place. Believe me, the Himalayas, near the Indo-Tibet/ China border in Himachal can be treacherous when it is raining. (We actually saw a calf literally slipping off the cliff and falling into the deep valley below. Can never forget the sight of the helpless mother-cow running here and there- pleading to nobody in particular to rescue her kid).

We attempted the climb- my boss slipped and almost fell off a few times. I almost emulated his frequency of slipping.

Half way through, we realized, it “wasn’t worth the effort”. Prudence prevailed and we just about managed to come back safely.

The last 4-5 days have been different. We were in the Kinnaur district of Himachal as a part of a project. The village where we stayed lay right in the middle of a beautiful valley- the river Satluj with all its youthful might flowing right through the village. It is an interesting sight. The river is gushing in with all its fury. On its way it encounters rocks, striking them with great speed and forcefully slowing down in its advent towards God-knows-where; changing routes, dancing against the mightier rocks- jumping, twisting and twirling, dancing again and gracefully flowing along. And while it flows, water from different streams join in the river’s quest- some water, milky from the fresh snow that has melted and some, muddied by the rains.

The river absorbs all of this as it flows along.

Standing atop a bridge across the river, I think of the similarity of this river and its path, and the lives we live.

My visits to this bridge happened regularly through the days we stayed there. My regularly companion during these times was the moon, shyly gazing at me from behind the dark clouds.

There is something about the sound of water (river flow/ sound of waves/ rain drops) that has a soothing influence on one’s mind. At least I have felt this often.

I go back now, to “my regular world”- back in Gurgaon. The music of the river, its twists and twirls are still fresh in my mind. As I write this, the moon is still gazing at me. I can see its face now- it no longer is hiding behind the clouds.

To those of you who are making a trip to the mountains anywhere near the river- ensure that your windows are rolled down as you drive, else you may miss out on the music. Also, don’t miss the Dal served in these villages. Doesn’t taste better anywhere else.

Next week I’m likely to Rann off to Kucch. Diametrically opposite to the terrains I’ve just been to.

Watch this space for more.

Bahut nikle mere armaan...

2008-05-08T11:05:00.000+05:30

You say that the day USSR collapsed, communism died its inevitable death. I ask, hypothetically, if the Taj Mahal were to collapse tomorrow, would you say that Love has died its death? The answer would be an obvious resounding "NO". Why? Coz Taj Mahal is not Love itself, only a symbol of Love.

Similarly, communism is a feeling- like Love.

I've taken out this by paraphrasing a scene from Kamal Hassan's Anbe Sivam, arguably amongst his best ever.

Let me also quote Che here- "Let me say, with the risk of appearing ridiculous,that the true revolutionary is guided by the spirit of Love. It is impossible to think of an authentic revolutionary without this quality."

Why do I write this today?

A few days back, I was at the launch of the Habitat Film Fest, which is showcasing this time, a retro of Sudhir Mishra's films. It began with Hazaron Khwaishein Aisi, the only cult film that I can think of- in my college days, besides Rang De Basanti. Those of us who saw this film loved it- for different reasons.

Siddharth Tyabji (Kaykay) is one of the protagonists in the film. A young man from a well-to-do family, driven by the leftist ideology, seeking to a create a difference in the society. Geeta Rao (Chitrangada Singh), a young lady driven by Love for her man and his ideology she adopts and eventually lives. Vikram Malhotra (Shiney Ahuja), the son of a middle class Gandhian, who is driven by thoughts of power, and the lady he loves (who loves another man).

A story through a decade from 1969, which sees these three go through different surprises in life- which sees them doing what they want to do and also living the collaterals they would never have imagined. It is also a story about Love. Love is a theme that plays in the background of the movie through its reels.

There are those times when I do watch movies purely for timepass. I guess most of us (the serious cinema lovers) relate to a movie/ story when we either relate to the characters or when we see the protagonists do what we wish we could do.

This film takes me back to a few years back. The Afghan war had just begun. In my own li'l way I was involved with a group of people who staged street plays urging people to wake up against American imperialism. We urged people to stop drinking Pepsi-Coke, stop wearing Nike/ Reebok... and disassociate themselves from anything American. Each time a new mind was indoctrinated, my mind rejoiced. And frustration set in each time I saw someone not convinced. We all believed things will change. We all believed that doing what we were doing would "awaken" a dormant society.

Days passed on, weeks flew by and winters gave way to summer that gave way to the rains... to autumn and to the winters.

My very close friend of those days used to call me Ajithations (the etymology of the name had nothing to do with the Afghan war. It came from the legendary BitBis dharna).

The idealism associated with anti-imperialism gave way to a realization that if I needed to do anything that was socially accepted as "worthwhile", I would have to rid myself of these ideas. This eventually made me slowly give up on certain views of mine. Was it a realization that the ideas would never reach their logical conclusion? Was it an awakening that the hopes would never be realized? I do not think so.

Pure selfishness :-)

I remember sitting in the last bench of route no. 816, boarding the bus after downing a bottle of coke- after long months of renunciation. It was my moment of truth at that time. This must have been 2003.

I have seen the film Hazaaron khwahishein aisi.. about 5-10 times now. Each time, I have seen new meanings in the film. Each time my mind takes a new route altogether.
I have nothing against films like "Partner", "Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna" and the likes. But, it is sad that such films as Hazaron don't have a large audience.

Lemme end this one by quoting Ghalib...

Hazaaron Khwahishein aisi, ki har khwahish pe dum nikle.
Bahut nikle mere armaan...lekin...fir bhi kam nikle....

Khuda ke liye...

2008-04-11T09:20:00.000+05:30

Ajeetbhaai, aap toh samajhdaar ho. Agli baar jab mulaaqaat hogi, toh ummeed hai ki Inshallah aapne islam ko kabool kar liya hoga. Quran-e-kareem padhiye, aur sochiye. Allah Hafeez"
These were the parting words of my driver in Dubai- Abdul Qadir, from Peshawar in Pakistan.

After coming back from Dubai, I've watched two movies. Race was good. The other one I saw was this film called "Khuda Ke Liye"- a Pakistani production.

The film shows the two sides of current day Islam beautifully. One, the more tolerant and liberal face, and the other, the conservative and even medieval face.

The film tracks the story of two brothers- one drawn to radical Islam (he even gives up music, his greatest passion, in the name of Islam) and the other who goes on to study music in Chicago.

The film highlights beautifully the impact of misinterpretation and misunderstanding of the religion both by the followers of the faith and others. The one side, which highlights the radical practice by the followers shows how much of a problem it can create. One has to see the film to understand what I'm saying here. My friend who came with me to watch the film asked me if such implications could be true. I had and have no doubt in mind that this is absolutely true.

The other side highlights the impact of ignorance by the others, viz, the west. The typical American who is both stupid and ignorant, and high on arrogance, combined with a low IQ has been shown beautifully- as also the price the rest of us have to pay for American stupidity.

Go watch the film- it is a must see.

American studpidity and the compulsive American behaviour that dictates every decision they make to be linked to monetary benefits can be linked to what they are are saying, rather, not saying in Tibet. Heavy stakes in the olympics mean that their usual tomtomming of democracy and human rights does not apply to Tibet.

Why America, even India acts with impotency when it comes to Tibet. As a culture, we have always stood up for what is correct- the path of Dharma. There is a school of thought that if we openly advocate Tibetan freedom, it will adversely impact our case on Kashmir.

Incorrect...

The contexts are entirely different.

The elaborations are reserved for some other time.

Don't know why, but this song is playing in my mind as I write this... "Vidai kodu engal naade".

gElf diaries- 5- Khallaasss

2008-04-09T13:21:00.001+05:30

If you are reading this, please read the following before reading this-

1) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html
2) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-2-arabian-night.html
3) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-3-zimble-myoozings.html
4) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-4-yet-not-yet.html

(This was written on 6-April at the airport. This is being Published from Delhi on 9-April.)

Finally, here I am- sitting in the airport waiting to board the aircraft.

Some of you have been asking me what the professional experience here has been like. I will probably take that up in some other context. Maybe, it is out of scope for this blog.

Visited Jumeirah beach yesterday and man!!! I simply love the Indian beaches.

Not a single hawker in the beach. Woh feel nahi aayi…

Met a couple of old friends and acquaintances- some by design and some coincidentally.

Dubai seemed more like a neater and more crowded version of Bombay inhabited by Malayalees.

Feeling sleepy… very sleepy…

Excitedly looking forward to Delhi.

This series of gElf diaries is dedicated to the ECS team in Dubai- in particular 2 Abu Sheikh (erstwhile Abhishek), my flatmate in Dubai and now friend.

I shall write one more blog on my interactions here with the blue collared Expats- especially those from the subcontinent.

That’s it from me in the gElf. Khallas!!!
Inshallah, there shall be another such series!!!

gElf Diaries 4- Yet, Not yet!!!

2008-04-01T00:55:00.001+05:30

If you are reading this, please read the following before reading this-

1) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html
2) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-2-arabian-night.html
3) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-3-zimble-myoozings.html

Exceedingly pretty eyes she had,
Piercing, misty and green.
They reflected something sad,
But beautiful they were,
As beautiful as can be.

I was sitting sipping my latte in Starbucks when I noticed this beautiful girl. I’ve just described to you the eyes. My cuzin sis who was sitting with me mentioned that her cheeks resembled a “thakkaali” (tomato in tamil). I could not stop staring at the girl.

Usually, when I see a beautiful girl, I try not to make the ogling obvious. This has been more prominent in the Middle East. Yahaan toh dar lagta hai kisi bandi se aankh milaane mein.

But in this case, I cared not for (my self imposed) Middle Eastern norms. She was pretty and there to be seen. She knew it too, through a sixth sense that only womenfolk have, that there was a pair of Indian eyes looking into hers. For a few seconds, or probably a fraction, our eyes met.

Most of the Middle Eastern girls have amazingly good-looking features. Only that they seem to be using layers and layers of make-up. Also this entire city smells of perfumes- inside the lifts, inside the malls, inside the office, just about everywhere.

Something intriguing about the girls though is that most of them are shrouded in a black gown.

The best thing about Dubai is that women can roam around freely here- without an iota of fear of eve teasing.

I’m now counting my days in Dubai. I’m likely to be back in India anytime now. Acquaintances do not seem to understand- there is a unique relief that pervades me when I think of coming back to India.. Friends will know.

I’d mentioned in my previous blogs about me going where destiny takes me. Looks like I’m going back to Gurgaon for now. Par Kal ka kya hai, kisne dekha….

I got a hang of the city’s enormity yesterday. A night drive on Sheikh Zayed road, skyscrapers on the left and the right, a massive highway and the badi badi gaadiyaan… tez tez chalti hui… from one traffic jam to another.

The Mall of Emirates would be a treat for a shopping freak. I guess I am not one.

My eyes long for roads lined with trees,
This place is filled with luxuries,
I see cranes, I see buildings,
I see cars and I see roads wide.
Yet I know not when I shall find my peace,
But, I do know when I shall see those roads,
Potholed and narrow, yet lined with trees,
This longing shall cease.

gElf diaries 3- zimble Myoozings

2008-03-29T21:24:00.001+05:30

If you are reading this, please read the following before reading this-

1) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html
2) http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-2-arabian-night.html

My second weekend is just about to get over. I was chatting with my good friend VP Singh on gtalk; his status quoted a line-

“It is 12.10 and it is now..Tomorrow at 3:00, it will be now. On my deathbed it will still be now...Since it will always be now, learning to respond to 'now' is the only thing there is to learn !!!”

This is so relevant in my life today… now.

I still do not know if my stay in Dubai will continue for a few more days, months or weeks. I’m dealing now with ‘now’.

Last few days have made me quite senti. My good friend and sis Shilpi says I’m a guy who lives in the past. She is right- even literally. I’m 90 minutes behind IST.

The ECS team here has been extremely friendly and supportive- much more than I would ever have thought. It is amazing to have good friends in colleagues. Touch wood!!

Social networking is very difficult here. Orkut is banned. I guess it will take time before you get to befriend people outside one’s official circle. I wonder if I’m gonna be in Dubai that long!!!

We stay in luxury. The hotel apartment is damn decent!! The first day we met, my flatmate Abhishek and I were discussing that even if we spent our time working for the next few years, we would not able to own a 2 BHK half as luxurious as this. Nobody has a small car here. A Camry seems to be the base car and that too, used as a taxi. The roads are big and perennially in a state of jam…or so it seems. Badi badi gaadiyaan… badi badi imaaratein…

There are as many taxis here as there are buses in gurgaon… ppl say, jannat naseeb ho jaati hai, par taxi nahi… there are as many buses here as there are helicopters in delhi…there are as many plants and trees here as there are buildings taller than 20 floors in delhi…

Still wonder if there is a motivator besides money for a man to come here voluntarily.

Its amazing though how these guys have created a city out of nothing…

Let us see what d future has in store…watch this space for more…

PS- My closest of friends have been telling me that this experience will do some good to make me stronger and wiser…
Even as I write this… an evergreen Dev Anand number plays in my mind…

Jo mil gaya usee ko muqaddar samajh liya… jo kho gaya main usko bhulaata chala gaya…
gham aur khushi mein farq na mahsoos ho jahaan… main dil ko us maqaam pe laata chala gaya….

I wish I could!!!

PPS- This one is dedicated 2 VP and Shilpi…

gElf diaries 2- Arabian night

2008-03-21T12:12:00.001+05:30

If you are reading this, please read http://ajithessence.blogspot.com/2008/03/gelf-diaries-part-1.html before reading this-

Its been a week now. Don’t’ know how long more it is going to be here- days/ weeks or months.

Started on a hectic note with work beginning from day-one. A long weekend made life easier for me.

I’m not yet able to digest the fact that Friday and Saturday would be weekend for me. I still find it difficult to cross roads- the thought that vehicles are coming in from my right has not yet registered in my mind. So I’m extra careful while crossing. The last days, I’ve had pulao for lunch. Nothing else is veg. One day I had to eat steamed rice and lettuce leaf.

I went on an overnight desert safari this weekend. Was amazing fun!! The safari began around 5 in the evening.

Started with a stunt ride on a land cruiser over the desert sands and the dunes. This lasted an hour. Was good fun, but a li’l over hyped.

The fun started after that. A model mehfil has been made in the desert, something like our own chokhi dhaani. You get to do some modern stuff like sand biking (which is exciting, yet, could be dangerous, as my friend and flatmate Abhishek learnt the hard way- his skin from his left thigh to the heel got burnt under the tyre). You also get to do some camel riding.

The loser that I’ve often been branded by friends often- I did neither. Took a walk around the desert- went to a no man’s land. I wondered what life would have been like- here in the desert a thousand years back. For some time, I felt like the protagonist in The Alchemist- wandering through the desert. As evening gave way to dusk and dusk to the night, I came back to the mehfil.

If you enjoy a few pegs- you get some stuff at a steep price. For the rest of us teetotalers, dates, Soft Drinks, food and tea were on the house. There were close to 150 tourists like me, under the open sky, a bright moonlit night and some catchy Arabic music.

The best part of the evening was reserved for the belly dance. The initial moments of the belly dance brought within me a sense of deep disgust at myself- here was a girl dancing in front of so many people- the sole aim seemed to be titillating the libido of spectators like me. A few minutes of self disdain (at watching the dance) later, I realized I was actually enjoying it. Before you take me otherwise, I think belly dance is an amazing art form. The costume may look scanty when you compare it with… say a Bharatnatyam. Besides the flexibility of the danseuse’ body, the grace of her movements and her ability to keep the audience engaged was beautiful.

Post the dance and the dinner (surprisingly, there is enough vegetarian fare for people like me), the crowd dispersed, ready to be taken back to their places of residence. 8 of us stayed put for the overnight experience. Four of us from ECS, a Norwegian couple and a Brit couple. The Arab music played on. The Norwegian couple joined us for a chat. It was fun.

The night was cold. The desert was lonely. The sky was beautiful. A faint sound of music from a distant camp added to the mysticism of the night. An interesting attendant by the name of Allah Bachaaya only added to the medieval feel.

Thanks to the two sleeping bags these guys had provided, my night in the tent was quite comfortable.

Sometime, I’ll visit the desert again- I may not go for the landcruiser ride though.

The night I spent there was one of contemplation for me. I was with friends and yet I was alone. I was alone and yet I could connect with so many near and dear ones I have known. It is an awesome experience walking in the desert a few minutes before sunrise.

One song that plays in my mind when I think of that night… Jagjit Singhing… Kal chaudhvi ki raat thi…. Na… I’ll not say more!!!

gElf diaries 1- ahlan Dubai

2008-03-18T23:50:00.000+05:30

My first day away from the country…

Often I’ve asked myself if a man is driven by his destiny or if he creates his own destiny. In the more emotional and religious moods, I’ve gone by the former and in the more rhetoric times, I’ve gone with the latter.

The events in the last week again raised this question in my mind. This time, the answer seems clear.

I had great plans for this weekend- a rafting trip in Rishikesh, a visit to Siliserh in Rajasthan and was all set to travel to Hissar in Haryana next week.

I’m writing this sitting in a room in Dubai. I landed last night. The trip was not too very exciting. After the busy last 4 days trying to vacate my room, I was tired- and my body acting in mechanic motions. My mind has been rather blank and it has been as if I’m playing somebody else’s character in a play. Also, to anyone who is flying into Dubai, I strongly strongly recommend that you avoid Indian Airlines. Pathetic is an understatement.

Most of the significant happenings in my life- the good, bad and ugly , have happened without my asking for it. After a heartbreak, I was sitting with a mentor cum good friend and he quoted Ghalib and said, “Ishq par zor nahi, hai ye wo aatish Ghalib… jo jalaaye na jale, jo bujhaaye na bujhe”. I remember him also mentioning that that this is true not just of ishq, but of life in general. The more I think about it, the more I agree… and the more I think.

Since morning, the song, “ye jo des hai tera” has been playing in my mind and I know that I’m obviously not here to settle down; I am here only for a few months- and am not indulging in brain drain that I have been critical of through these 25 years. Nevertheless it is a strange feeling. I don’t know if my friends and readers will agree with me or understand me as I write this. But, “strange” is exactly how I feel.

I was just beginning to get used to Gurgaon. I was beginning to get used to the thought of having my dinner in a new outlet in a different mall every night. I was now getting used to sitting on the terrace every night, sipping a hot cuppa milk… looking into the night sky… singing a few songs… listening to some… chatting on the phone…

Gurgaon aint as bad a place to stay as I’ve been portraying to some of you. It has its spots which are worth living.

I’m more contemplative than usual today- the excitement of an overseas project indulging n a game of see-saw with the emotion of leaving India- more specifically, my beloved Delhi/ NCR.

In the days to come, I may write more of these musings from the Gulf. When I landed in dubai, I remembered the title music in a 70’s Sukumaran movie- it shows him landing in Dubai. It has amazing Arabic beats in the background.

This blog is dedicated to a friend I was having conversation with- till a few seconds before I boarded the aircraft. She once again told me, as she had in the past, that jo ek baar gaya videsh, wo fir waapas aane ka naam nahi leta.

This is also dedicated to the guy standing next to me in the loo at the Dubai airport, who asked me something, after which I lost all the anxiety of landing in a foreign land.

He asked, “saare, samayam ethra aayi?”

Cheers to the gElf Malayalee!!!

Sach is life...

2008-03-03T10:58:00.000+05:30

...Jab tu bada hoga na, tab bhi tere saath khel raha hoga woh...." And he laughed.

Y'day evening, after watching Sachin do what he did to the Aussies, I was taking a walk in the neighbourhood park. A kid was playing cricket with his brother and his Dad. I was in a mesmerized state y'day. I stood by to watch the family play. Once the game was over, the kid asked his Dad, "papa, tendu-laker world ka best batsman hai na...". This is when the Dad said, "Jab tu bada hoga na, tab bhi tere saath khel raha hoga woh...." And he laughed.

Circa late 80's and early 90's.

There was a boy who played cricket in a small non-descript village in Kerala. His dad often told him that when he grew up to be a cricketer, Sachin would be his captain. The boy could never fulfill his dream of being a cricketer; he went on to get into HR. But, Sachin was a name that spelt magic for him. And still spells magic for him.

What is it that makes Sachin Tendulkar the phenomenon that he is? What is it about that makes his nations, other cricket loving nations and even opponents drool over him? What makes Sachin... Sachin...

I'm sure, for those of us who grew up in the late 80's and 90's, Indian cricket has been synonymous with Sachin. Interestingly, for even the kids of this century, Sachin is still Indian cricket.

People say that cricket is their religion and Sachin their God. Each time he walks on to the field and each time he walks off it, look at the hysteria that is generated across the cricket loving public. Look at the way commentators struggle to find words of appreciation that justify his talent. I remember Ian Chappell was a person who was a fierce critic of his- not so long back, even suggesting that he should retire. Y'day he said, "A lot of us say a lot of things about him- the journalists, the experts and commentators. He doesn't bother about all that. He has his targets set and he has his standards. He would be his worst critic if he doesn't meet these standards."

There are many things that separate him from the rest of us mortals. In spite of all his achievements, his feet seem firmly on the ground. The ability to say, "I learn a lot of things from these juniors" speaks a lot about his persona. The way he let Rohit sharma bloom while batting with him exemplifies that that these are not merely high thoughts, but, he manifests these in his behaviours. The ability to adapt and change with changing times speaks so highly of him. He has been able to discern opportunities while the rest of the world perceived obstacles. There is Sachin, and there are the rest.

Look at the way he handled the aftermath of Lee's beamer y'day. Beautiful!!!

Not just a great sportsman, but a great human being and an ideal role model.

They say, commit your crimes when Sachin is batting. For when he bats, even the Lords would do nothing but watch him play...

Some time, like Kapil Dev, like Gavaskar and Lara, he too will retire. There will be a time, when for the kids growing up, Indian cricket may not be synonymous with Sachin. There will be a time when our future generations will ask us if we saw Sachin playing.

But, there shall never be a generation now when kids shall ask, "Sachin- who?". In the generations to come, the best batsman shall always be faced with the ominous possibility of being compared with HIM.

To the noblest cricketer that ever walked the earth, to the guy who made me feel even greater to be Indian... to the guy who repeatedly makes me realise that the greater you grow, the humbler you become... to the guy who's given me and a billion others, so many reasons to smile.... to the guy who has been the role model to so many many kids like me... Long Live Sachin... Long Live your Legend!!!

Katha parayumbol...

2008-02-10T15:16:00.000+05:30

"Balandemakkal" (Balan's children), says AshokRaj(Mammootty's character) as he hugs the children of Balan (Srinivasan). And then, with misty eyes, looks up at Balan.
This is one of the last scenes in this awesome movie called Katha Parayumbol which I chanced to see in a hall@Bangalore. This film was just one more of those things which makes me take even greater pride in being a Keralite.
I can bet that the same scene in any other language would have stretched much much longer with some flowery dialogues and melodramatic moments.
Hmm, what did I like about the movie? Plenty.
To start with, I was watching the movie with a cousin who I have begun to discover as an individual, only over the last 2-3 years in spite of knowing each other since the last 25 years. Second, watching a Malayalam movie in Bangalore was something I had not hoped for in this trip. Third, it came at a time when I was wondering if Malayalam films are taking the same familiar masala route taken by movies in other languages.
The movie is set in rural Kerala- the scenic beauty of Kerala has been beautifully captured- you know why it is God's own country. The settings are so natural- the local chaayakkada (tea shop) serving as the centre for village gossip and general banter (one amazing scene is when the local communist politician says why the prices for hair cuts have gone up coz of globalization). One has to have some experience of Kerala to appreciate these scenes. The different characters presented in the movie look like they've been plucked out of a story book.
The relationship between the father (played by Srinivasan) and his children (and with his wife) are beautifully depicted. In particular, 2 scenes come to my mind- one, when the father asks the daughter what she wants to become...and she says that she wants to be the daughter of a father who can pay her school fees. And second, when her dad does not fulfil her wish of getting her to meet the superstar, the royal ignore she gives him.
I liked the way in which some nice nigs have been taken on the politicians of Kerala- especially the union leaders. (have u heard this- 1 mallu is an innovator, 2 mallus= 2 political parties, 3= 1 trade union, 4= 2 trade unions). Something unique about the movies of Sreenivasan (and Sathyan Anthikkadu) is that the protagonist will make you smile and laugh- however, he is himself going through very troubled times. The protagonist, like the proverbial clown, can see the brighter side of things.
The film also highlights another aspect of human relationships- one of the beautiful aspects of friendship is that in spite of not having met a good friend in years, the relationship still can remain as beautiful, or even more beautiful; as strong or even stronger.
The blog will be incomplete without a mention of Mammootty- one of the greatest actors the country has ever seen, in an extended guest appearance. This will go down as one of his best roles ever.
This undoubtedly is amongst Srinivasan's best yet- I would place it almost on par with Sandesham. The experience of watching this movie reaffirmed my pride in being a Keralite- we Keralites still can laugh at ourselves better than anybody else; we still are much more "aware" than anybody else. Also, my respect for Malayalam films as opposed to films in other languages, stands, as strong as ever. I love sounding like a regional fanatic/ chauvnist.
This one is dedicated to my cousin, who I've begun to know and understand only recently. This process of trying to know him would remain extremely special to me.
This one is also a tribute to my dear friend- "neela bukkett", who stays across the office; someone who I see as the best Mallu in the making.
The one song whose lines have been playing in mind as I write all this is... Ende Keralam, Ethra Sundaram....

a year and 200 times later...

2008-02-06T10:15:00.000+05:30

I remember doing it for the first time in February last year. I was nervous. It was my first time, so there was no experience I could rely on. I did not know what were her expectations of me. I did not know if I was capable of satisfying her expectations.
Everybody had a view on it; people who had done it for years now and those who had started doing it just a few months, weeks or days back. I was still in a mood to learn. I was open to most inputs- even if they sounded contrary.
Some said that the act of context setting and foreplay was the most important part during the entire session. Some said, to hell with context, the act of getting her to talk is most important. Some felt that it was a divine opportunity to touch another life.
Some said that time does not matter. Some felt 45 minutes was too much. Some claimed to finish it in under 20 minutes. Some actually said that it depended on the money the "client" was willing to pay.
Everybody said that a session would leave you exhausted. Six is the upper limit you could do in a day. People had claimed to have done it 8 and even 12 times in a day. But they felt it was a little too much for a human being- specially when you have it back to back.
Most of them felt that I should prepare for it, if not a day in advance, atleast a few hours in advance. I actually tried practising it front of the mirror. (Even after a year of doing it the first time, over 200 times later, I still try to practise before the actual act begins).
I wondered if it would be a humiliating experience for the other person. The experienced ones said that it all depends on me and how comfortable I let the other person feel. Some were even generous enough to let me sit through in sessions when they were doing it- of course without letting the other person know about it.
And when it started, she was nervous. So was I. Only that she did not know why I was nervous. I tried to set a context, but I guess, messed it up. Nevertheless, the show went on for the next 60 minutes. She smiled at times. I thought those were the moments her expectations were satisfied. (over 200 times later, I now know and realise that a smile does not indicate satisfaction and a frown/ sounds and words of disapproval does not indicate a lack of satisfaction).
That was the first developmental dialogue with a person where I had to deliver a feedback. It was tough then. I still feel uncomfortable delivering the feedback at times. I've just come back after a session that I felt very difficult to complete.
Thought I'll pen down these thoughts...

PS-- dedicated to all the experienced friends who've helped me through these days in the act of delivering feedback

nostalgia...

2008-01-23T14:41:00.000+05:30

Yaaron, dosti- badi hee haseen hai,
Ye na ho toh kya fir...... bolo yeh zindagi hai”

Am sure all of us have heard this immortal number by KK.

Has it ever happened to you that you receive a message, mail/ SMS or just anything at all from a friend that leaves you so touched that your eyes get moist- even in the midst of 10 others? Has it happened to you that in the most unusual of circumstances, from the most unexpected quarter, you come to know something very good about a friend long lost?

Well, both happened to me- in a span of 2 days, between yesterday and today;
And that has triggered this blog.

Very many friends have shown me the beauty of friendship- at different times, in varied ways.
I may or not have expressed my feelings back. I do not know.

The earliest memories I have are of friends I used to play cricket and football with. My friends were friends as long as I was not out while batting. The moment I got out, I would say that the bat is mine and go home. The guy who owned the ball would also do something similar.

The next set of friends were those who sat next to me in class- the ones with whom the pencil sharpener and the ever elusive eraser were shared with.

Then came those with whom I chose to have my lunch at school- when I first started having my own groups. The key word here is “chose”.

I do not remember if there was an interim stage between the two preceding stages.

Then came the set of friends with whom I would prefer to hang around- after school hours. As my school was in the close vicinity of where we all lived, the people I would hang around with were those that I chose to spend my lunch hours at school with.

After 10th, when the friends group was split into the different streams- arts, science and commerce, there were new friends. Some of the old friends were still there, the rest got pushed into oblivion- some immediately, some slowly and steadily.

Then there were those that I shared my interests with- and my aspirations as well. So there were friends just because they enjoyed my kinda movies and books; some because they too wanted to get into the armed forces.

When the school gates closed and the college gates opened, there were again a whole lot of new friends. Some of the old friends remained close and eventually became closer; some of them became acquaintances. The key word here is “close”.

Graduation brought with it some rosy days- eating bhelpuri outside Arts Fac, Chhole bhathure at Malka Ganj, Momos in Kamla nagar and having Banta outside KMC; watching movies in the front row at Priyas,and of course at Batra, Alpana and Amba. (Anybody who ever studied in North Campus can understand all this). Some of the adventures also included sitting on a dharna together- day and night for a good two weeks over issues close to the heart; jumping out of a running bus together and even together going on a “well-planned” trip outside Delhi. Then there were those dark hours. The same set of friends still were there then.

Graduation gave way to Post graduation. I was now right across the road. (for the uninitiated, D’school is on one side of the road; on the other is KMC where I graduated from). There were again a new set of friends. Some of the old ones still remained.

Kipling wrote,
"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;"

The context was different when he wrote this. However, college taught me (especially post grad) that in difficult situations, with friends, the element of doubt never existed. Probably they trusted you more that you believed in yourself. The key word here is "Trust".

Then there always other friends- at tuition, in the neighbourhood, at work, in the lift and so on... or the teetotaler, who like me, visits pubs alone only to enjoy the live music and the lemonade or the odd mocktail... and those beautiful moments of solitude.

I guess the recipe that built up these relationships over the years have been the tripod of Affinity, Respect and Trust. Outside of the immediate family, it is friends who have had maximum impact on my life.

Then there were those odd broken friendships; reminding me that the death of a relationship is often as painful as the death of the relation himself/ herself. One such friend (its been long since we last spoke) is getting married within a couple of months. I got to know this in the most unusual of circumstances- from a person I was meeting for the first time, and pehaps, would never again meet.

This blog is a tribute to this little lady who once was my closest friend.

This blog is also a tribute to the Big Boy, who, yesterday, sent me one of the most touching messages I’ve ever received.

Even as I conclude this, I can remember the old song from Anand- a couple of lines from the song-
“…kaheen toh ye dil kabhi mil nahi paate,
kaheen se nikal aaye, janmon ke naate…

dekho inhe- ye hain oas ki boondein

2008-01-06T11:19:00.000+05:30

It was a warm noon when the four of us- Ajesh, Kunal, Vaibhav and me stopped over at a non-descript village called Bhabhroo near Alwar. The mission was simple- we saw a temple up in the hill; we just wanted to trek there.
The walk from the highway to the foot of the hill was interesting. Toddling through the narrow alleys in the village, avoiding a stream of sewage water here and animal dung there, we scrambled through the village. We were quite a sight for the villagers. Four young men, wearing clothes that were urban, wearing shades and speaking in English; this would be a rare sight in their village- I’m sure.
One moment that remains frozen in my memory was when we passed by a school. Yes, a school where, children- about 9-10 years old, were sitting on the floor and, in a chorus were repeating what their teacher was saying.
Now, my friend Vaibhav has an interesting personality. He is much more urbane than any sophistication you could have ever seen. You could mistake him for a resident NRI ;-)
Naturally, the children were excited upon seeing such a rare guest. Their excitement was palpable- some of them cheering him and peeping through the grills of the window that separated them from us. Vaibhav acknowledged this attention and eventually had to wave back (just like the Dreamy girl in Om Shanti Om).
The other three of us, like the valets of a celebrity smiled and walked behind :-)

This was one of the few instances that I could recollect from my past as I made my way through the exit after seeing Taare Zameen Par.

The end titles of Taare Zameen Par are special for more than a single reason. Each person associated with the movie has been acknowledged- the titles don’t seem to rush past. While reading each name, you also get to see a documentary footage of children of different races, regions and in different moods. It is certainly rare that you are watching a movie for the third time and you still remain glued to your seat till that last film of the climatic titles. When you get out of the hall, you are moved- your heart filled with emotion- of joy and sorrow; when you are numb reflecting upon the experience you have been through in the hall; when you thank God for the wonderful life you have been blessed with.

Rarely do you see movies that entertain and enlighten. Hats off to the team of Taare Zameen Par for making such a movie.
The movie is like a beautiful poem you are reading on celluloid; it is like a beautiful painting you want to savour…

How’s this for the lyrics of a song in the background- “akela nahi main, khuli aankhon se neend mein chalta, girta zyada kam sambhalta, phir bhi na koi shaq na shubha, niklega phir se- sooraj jo dooba, hairat ho sabko aisa, ajooba hai mera jahaan”. This one is written by Amole Gupte and is perhaps, Adnan Sami’s best song yet.

There are facets of our life that we take- as a way of life; like the Chhotus who clean our dining tables in restaurants and dhabas; like Kakes who make the thela wala chaai… like the unclad, dirty-nosed infant-kids wandering near your homes that make you sigh in disgust, like the teenager who still can’t eat himself or do those basic things that you and I do easily as a part of our routines. How’s this for the lyrics of a song- “Duniya sajee, tere liye, khud ko zara pechchaan tu. Tu dhoop hai, jham se bikhar, tu hai nadi, oh bekhabar. Beh chal kahin, ud chal kahin, dil khush jahaan, teri toh manzil hai wahi”

I wonder how many of us actually get to “jham se bikhar”.

I do not know the long term impact this film will have. But I’m sure, anybody who liked the movie would pause for at least that fraction of a second the next time he/she sees these scenes of a childhood lost.

The characters in the film are well etched out. Simple scenes like Aamir getting out of the front seat of the taxi convey a lot about the character. In the animated sequence (3*9=3), the child shows an awareness of Jupiter being much larger than earth or the ring around Saturn clearly showing that he is not dumb.

The interactions between the Aamir’s character and the child’s father are beautifully made. Look at the body language of the father when he tells Aamir that he and wife know all about dyslexia and care for the child; and eventually when he leaves the campus. Look at the scene when the parents hear the words of appreciation for the child; unable to take it, just as a man coming out of a dark room into the sunny day would stand with eyes tightly closed for some time.

The most appealing scene was towards the end when the child realizes that it is him that Aamir has painted. The way the protagonists look at each other is truly amazing.

I have seen this film with my parents, then alone and then again with a childhood friend who remains very special. In all probability I shall see it again. The tagline of the film says, “Every child is special”. So is the film.

This blog is dedicated to a friend who I have known for 8 years. All these years, dear and close that he has been, I’ve always considered him one of those guys who lives in an I-Me-Myself mould. I’ve often told him that he is incapable of human emotions ;-)
This New Year’s eve, I accidentally discovered that he has been inspired by Steve Waugh and is involved in his own way with Udayan, an institution in Kolkata. I was touched.

This one is for you Dr. Harsh Jagnani.

khoya khoya ...

2007-12-13T14:21:00.000+05:30

Am Back...after a hiatus...

The last few weeks have been hectic, yet not interesting. I've, with some difficulty, managed to catch up on almost all the films that are playing in town. Some of them were utter trash- 10 kahaaniyaan and Om Shanti Om.

Goal was okay. So was Saawariya. Khoya Khoya Chand was good. Kingdom was interesting. Aaja Nachle is worth a repeat watch.

10 kahaaniyaan is a movie that should not have released. Except the story of Amrita Singh & Minisha Lamba, and the one with Mandira Bedi, no other story was worth watching. This film is not even a remedy for an insomniac.

Om Shanti Om was crap. Deepika Padukone looks deadly and the scene of SRK imitating Rajnikant was good. Otherwise, it was bad. Getting some stars to come in for guest appearances does not act as a camouflage for flawed direction. Recognising the crew in the climax, however, was a good idea.

Goal was a time-pass. Bipasha Basu has been under utilized. The "Billo Rani" song is mast.

Saawariya was okay, and not as bad as people say it is. It is slow, but, the effort to make each scene aesthetically appealing shows. It no doubt, is the best music album of the year. The new comers are both good.

Khoya Khoya Chand takes you straight to the 50's and 60's. Sheer indulgence of a director who brings that era in front of your eyes. I found it to be a more complex story than Zubeida, but its equally lovable. Contrary to what people say, I think Shiney Ahuja and Soha were both good in the movie. The character of Vinay Pathak reminded me strongly of a classmate from my post grad days ;-)

Kingdom was a good time pass... Amazing editing and screenplay... I liked the climax of the film...when Fox reveals what he tells the heroine when he sees her crying...

The pick of these was definitely Aaja Nachle... Madhuri Dixit can still electrify a screen after all these years and a couple of kids... The film has a very positive feel about it...The song "Oh re Piya" keeps playing in my mind...amazing song...The one dialogue I loved is when Madhuri tells Konkona.. "agar kaam samajhke karo, toh mushkil hai... agar pyar samjhke karo, toh... kuch bhi nahi...

D'zires UnLtd.

2007-09-04T09:40:00.000+05:30

Woh Kehte hain na...jo hota hai, achche ke liye hota hai...

As a child I remember having wanted to be many things- Astronaut, Mathematician, cricketer, Pilot, etc etc..

I took my first blow when realization dawned on me that I neither had the talent or the physical build to be a cricketer. One of the most painful sights from my childhood remains the sight of the first ball i bowled (during the selection for the "under-14" Thiruvananthapuram district team). The ball did not reach the batsman. People around me laughed. My heart knew the dream was over. The eternal optimist that I am, I went on to bowl 5 more balls, 3 of which never reached the batsman and the other two were whacked. I never bothered to see how far the ball went.

Planes always fascinated me. And so did Spacecrafts. One of my Mom's friends used to and still refers to me as "Rakesh Sharma", after India's first cosmonaut. As childhood gave way to teens, and the ideals of nationalism began to creep in, plus with India's 50th year of independence around the corner, the desire to become an astronaut got channelized into a desire to fly fighter planes. I knew I wanted to be a pilot in the Indian Air Force.

I was convinced that my very purpose in life was to fly planes and bomb India's enemies. However, there was a major obstacle- na, not one, but more than one. I was afraid of heights- big time. I remember climbing up the stairs of district center Janakpuri (those days it used to be absolutely deserted) and gazing down from up above the ground to break the fear. It took time, but, I was no longer afraid of heights. The next big problem was my own physical stamina which was pathetic. I started walking- mornings and evenings. And eventually started running- daily.

Kargil happened in 1999. That only added fuel to my dreams. I witnessed the funeral procession of a war-hero... also the scene on TV where a widow saluted the casket of her husband... I have never remembered moments when I was more pumped up.

My dream... my desire to get into the Air-Force only grew stronger. I was now running 14 kilometres a day. I nursed no fear. Every night I slept with dreams of wearing the blue uniform. Every morning I opened my eyes inside the cockpit.

I eventually went on to clear the written exam to get through National Defence Academy (NDA). I eventually went for the Assessment Center to Air Force Selection Board (AFSB), Mysore, in May 2000. It is a 5-6 day process and by the 3rd day I was convinced that I had focused on everything but for mental/ emotional strength. Staying away from parents in tough conditions was something I had never prepared myself for. I always knew that it would be tough, but my attachment to my dream was so overpowering that I thought nothing of such an eventuality where I may not be emotionally prepared to go through the rigour.

In the next 2-3 days I saw my dream land (not to be confused with dreamland). The landing was gentle, but, the impact was shattering. Zor ka jhatka, dheere se laga. I was stripped off my desired blue uniform.

I came back to Delhi, and went on to graduate in IT...During my years of graduation, I remember waking in the middle of the night expecting myself in cockpit of a fighter plane.

I remember a family friend mentioning during a discussion that, you don't have to fight for your country to prove your patriotism. It took time, but I eventually internalized it. These days, I make it a point to donate blood at the Armed forces transfusion centre thrice a year.

Looking back, it was good that I did not get through the Air-Force. The Air-Forced deserved better candidates and I deserved a different career.

My next big desire was to get into XLRI to pursue my MBA in HR. I cracked the written exam. I was all pumped for the interview. One of the most painful days from my days of young adulthood remains the day when I had the interview. In six minutes, I was slaughtered. It was deja-vu. I saw another dream land. And this time, zor ka jhatka, zor se laga.

XLRI eventually rejected my candidature. However, it is a tribute to the great institute that, even the letter of rejection is so beautifully drafted that I still preserve it.

I eventually "settled" for MHROD. The two years were absolutely beautiful. The 2 years wiped any remains of the debris left of any of my crash lands.

In retrospect, I would trade those 2 years@MHROD for nothing in the world. And I believe this is not empty rhetoric.

As a believer in destiny and a power up above the world so high.... each of these blows has helped me evolve... I guess people are right when they say what fun would a road be without detours and speed-breakers.

My good friend and Senior, Navnit, was talking to me about this theme...in a different context... We were discussing heart breaks when he said " Never make a person a priority in your life, when you are just an option in his/ her life"... I liked the sentence...

Quite a lot of my desires have met a successful end. I always rejoiced at the triumphs.

Some desires have gone incomplete and in hindsight I thank God for the same.

Woh Kehte hain na...jo hota hai, achche ke liye hota hai...
Sahi kehte hain....

Breaking news- E-ngaged

2007-08-20T09:56:00.000+05:30

E got Pre-rokaad yday night...
E's marriage scheduled for 1st Feb... LOL

E, Pank, Bar and Dil Chahta hai...

2007-08-18T22:11:00.000+05:30

I remember having watched DCH 12 times in the hall. I was a student then@KMC... I remember having taken the Rs. 20 tickets at Batra/ Alpana and having watched the movie with different people at different times.

I also remember having watched the movie with Dad. I guess he enjoyed the movie too.

In the movie, there is a sequence when, at Goa, one of the friends tells the other two that they should, together, visit Goa at least once a year. The character played by Akshaye Khanna tells them that...saal mein ek baar toh chhodo, dus saal mein shaayad ek baar bhi mil nahi paayenge...

The end of graduation brought with it mixed feelings... the excitement@joining an MBA...and the disappointment at my friends leaving for different places...

Pank (Pankaj) joined IIM-Indore, however was spotted in Delhi every quarter. E (Abhinav) joined NITIE-Mumbai... Doctor (Harsh) joined MDI-Gurgaon and was never ever seen in Delhi again... Bihar (Sidharth) left for IIT-Chennai... Paul joined IMT-Ghaziabad, steadfastly refusing to come out of his campus...Bar (Luvkesh) joined Fore and we used to meet at the oddest of hours once in 3-4 months...Proole and Buzz left Delhi to join Infy@Bangalore... And none of us knows where Anand vanished...

I joined D-skool...back in north campus... every single visit to my new college filling me with nostalgia and emotion for the 4 preceding years in North Campus.

Only a person who has lived his life (mind u- "lived", not "existed") in North Campus can appreciate these emotions.

Slowly, there were new friends in my life...

I kept meeting my old friends once in a while, however, we have never met- together..all of us... Trust it would be somewhat difficult now...

But I guess they were "there" all the time... be it to chitchat online...on the phone... or to meet up over those Sweet Nothings... or even to counsel me after each of my heartbreaks (with the same girl ;-) )... or to sit by me when I was crying a couple of hours after my MHROD farewell ended....or by "being there" silently... I'm sure all of us realize that after a point in every relationship, we do not need "words" to communicate...

I kept meeting Pank almost every quarter; After passing out, he joined UTI bank in Mumbai. Bihar joined ICICI bank...in Mumbai. Doctor joined Deutche Bank... in Mumbai... Paul joined Citigroup... in Mumbai...E joined ICICI bank...in Mumbai...
Everytime, I was in Mumbai, I met atleast 2 of them...

Proole got married and is now in Mumbai..

Bar joined Citigroup too... in Coimbatore... Now I call him Madrasi...

Buzz eventually moved on to Germany and is now in the US of A... every time he is here, thanks to the proximity of his residence from where I stay, we get to meet...

Sometime back, Bar called to say that he's quit his job with Citi and was shifting to join another organization in Delhi. Pank called to say that he has been transferred to Delhi. On Independence day, the three of us met...and together we had a ball...

Doctor, it seems, is looking forward to a Delhi shift soon.

Sometime soon, I'm sure, we will all meet together- seems difficult, but am sure it will happen.

This one is dedicated to our friend Anand. None of us knows where he is. But I'm sure, wherever he is, he is doing well for himself.

Even as I get sentimental over all this, I'm reminded of an old song...
"Zindagi Ke Safar Mein Guzar Jaate Hain Jo Makaam, Woh Phir Nahin Aate, Woh Phir Nahin Aate.... "

Pata nahi... But,I wish they do....

Watch this space for more on this...

chak de...

2007-08-15T11:10:00.000+05:30

I don't want my blog to look like a film review station. But, having been a person so influenced by films and books, I wouldn't be surprised if it tastes like one.

I've been fortunate to see quite a few awesome films over the last month. It started with the OSIANs film fest followed by the one at IHC. Some great films released in theatres too. I've already talked about Gandhi- my Father.

I also saw Rush Hour-3. It is a thorough entertainer, though not a patch on the 1st part. Wonder if Jackie Chan is made of rubber...

Blue Umbrella is one of the sweetest films I've seen. The innocence of pahaadi village life that is so beautifully depicted in the stories of Ruskin Bond has been translated on to celluloid without an ounce of the beauty spilling over. The performance of Pankaj Kapur shows why he is amongst the most under-utilised actors in the country.

The pick of the week was Chak De...India- An amazingly well made sports drama with generous doses of subtle nationalism. The cliched theme of the victory of the underdogs has been given a new life.

Remember Lakshya... remember Lagaan.... and remember the positive energy that one comes out of the hall with. Similar is the experience after Chak De.

All of us know the story right...how Shah Rukh Khan helps the women's hockey team win the world cup. I'm sure there are doubting Thomas' like me who typically choose to give SRK movies a slip. Surprisingly, you don't see SRK on screen... you see Kabir Khan... just as you saw Mohan Bhargava in Swades.

Kabir Khan, the coach makes it clear- "is team mein sirf ek goonda hai aur woh main hoon"... Awesome... See the confidence that oozes out of him as he speaks these lines... witness the conviction...

"Mujhe sirf ek naam sunaai deta hai- I-N-D-I-A"... when he says he can't hear the names of different states...

The tongue-in-cheek remarks when he speaks with the chief of the hockey federation... or the one about the white man hoisting the Indian Tricolour are masterpieces.

Look at the scene after the men v/s women hockey match when the men raise their hockey sticks in salute of the women's performance... witness the scene in the begining when at the registration table, the gentleman welcomes the girls from north-east as "mehmaan" and the girls innocently saying, "aapko kaisa lagega apne hee desh mein mehmaan banke"...

Look at the power in the "sattar minute" dialogue...

The scenes in the women's room... the bickerings... the bullying... and the eventual camaraderie are all well shot!!!

The song, "teeja tera rang tha main toh...maula mere le le meri jaan" plays in the backdrop at the most apt of times...

The scene of the redemption for Kabir Khan at the end of the world cup (watch the tricolour strategically placed) is amongst the best in the movie.

The cake however is reserved for two scenes... one... in the begining of the movie...after the moments of shame...kabir khan leaves his ancestral home with his mom... and a kid saying "gaddaar ko dekhna hai".... And eventually in the scene of his ultimate redemption at the end when he comes back with his mom to the same home after 7 years...and gets a hero's welcome.... and a kid rubbing of the "gaddaar" written on the walls...and kabir handing over a hockey stick to the kid... I think Shah Rukh Khan has excelled in the scene...

I cannot recollect any aspect of the movie that i did not like... The background score is damn good...the editing and screnplay are both tight...the film is beautifully shot... the performances are all superb... in particular the girl who plays Komal Chautala, the haryanvi girl in the movie...see the energy she exudes...

(I've heard the girl who plays the role is actually a garhwali... was wondering if all short garhwaali girls exude the same kind of energy...experience says- affirmative...)

Full marks to Shimit Amin the director...

Dont chuck Chak De...its worth a watch and even more...
Its an experience....again

main shaayar toh nahi...

2007-08-11T23:53:00.000+05:30

My good friend Jeetu quoted something sometime back-
"Waqt Rehta Nahi kabhi tik kar...waqt rehta nahi kabhi tik kar... uski fitrat bhi aadmi see hai..."
I was impressed by the shaer (i actually put that on my gtalk status).
I love calling myself a poet and a musafir... I've tried my hand at poetry over the last few years... most of what I've written have been trashed by my ever-loving readers... Some of them I've trashed too... With some, in the past, I've made a couple of girls cry, nay, weep. (I don't know what made them do that.... me or my poem...)
My mind raced back to when I started enjoying poetry. Couldnt recollect when- but certainly not during those days when we had to mug up poems... no better way 2 ruin a child's interest in poems...
Some poems that have captured my interest through the years have been Kipling's IF and Hunt's Abou Ben Adhem. Recently my friend-mentor-senior Himanshu showed me a poem on wind... I'll put that up here soon... That was almost as interesting as the other two I've mentioned.
KMC exposed me to the world of urdu poetry... and ghazals... 7 years back, forget if i had heard ghulam Ali, I had not even heard of Ghulam Ali....
Of late, thanks to my friends- Himanshu and another friend-mentor-senior Doctorsaab, my latest fascination is for Kabir ke dohe and songs sung by Abida Parveen...
I'll go back to my frnd...Jeetu whose quote inspired this blog... he is one of those characters jiske har andaaz mein kuch poetic hai... u almost hear background voices/ noises of "arz hai" and "waah waah" when u meet him....Its his b'day later this month... And to him is dedicated the following lines from an old hindi song...
"oh mere humraahi...mere baah thaame chalna,
badle duniya saari, tum na badalna..."

Gandhi- My Father

2007-08-04T00:26:00.000+05:30

"Ab hum use Harilal bulaayein ya Abdullah, pyaara toh utna hee rahega na", says Gandhi to Kasturba when he hears of his son's conversion to Islam.

There are films- some that entertain, some that bore you...there are some that touch you... and then there are those great works of art that transcend just being films and become an experience that remain glued firmly with the viewer, even after (s)he comes out of the hall. "Gandhi- My Father", undoubtedly belongs to the latter genre.

Does it create an impact like an RDB or Lage Raho. Maybe not... Does it bring the viewer closer to Gandhi as was the case with Lage Raho. Maybe not... But, it shows facets of Gandhi- the father, the human being, the family man which was hitherto never shown in films. And it does not paint him black.

The film talks of the tribulations of Harilal Gandhi, Mohandas Gandhi and Kasturba Gandhi and the tumultuous relationship between the father and the son. Isn't it intriguing that the Mahatma's eldest son died as a virtual unknown... as a beggar on the streets somewhere in India.

Its an interesting story. A well educated, well respected gentleman, Barrister of Law from England, and a prisoner of truth and his own principles.... wanting his sons to toe the same line as he... and a son who craves for foreign education, forced to remain a prisoner of his father's principles... unable to cope with the high standards, eventually seeking refuge in rebellion and escapism... swaying repeatedly between good and deceit... desperately seeking to reform self and being unable to do so... " bahut baar bhavishya badalna chaaha maine apna, par ateet peechha hee nahi chhodta..." says the son...

And caught in between the stubborn father and the rebellious son is a helpless mother. I've often felt that Kasturba's role has been underrated in history.

A few scenes in the movie appealed to me. The scene where the father tends the wound (in the knee) of the son. In the process he also informs the son that it is not Harilal, but a nephew of the Mahatma who would be sent on a scholarship (meant for Harilal) to England to study law. Watch the son saying "main theek hoon" and limping away.

The scene in the train bogey, when after the discussion, when the father, mother and son are looking in different directions. How metaphorical!!!

The scene where the father and the son have a long discussion through the night which culminates with the son saying, "mehrbaani karke mujhe akela chhod deejiye".

I've always felt that the father-son relationship is extremely special. From the times as a child, when my attitude was "my daddy strongest" (i still believe that)... to times of conflicting opinion during teens... to times when I've understood him better as a young adult...

The hallmark of the film that I saw shall remain the beauty with which the father-son relationship has been depicted. Watch the scene where Harilal is massaging the feet of his father... or when the father is tending to the wound of his son...or when the father instructs his secretary to arrange for the immediate arrival of his daughter-in-law in south africa... the father and son having the long conversation from evening to night...the father asking "karna kya chaahte ho" (does this ring a bell )... or telling the son... "mujhe tumhaari awaaz sun-ne mein der hui...maaf kar dena mujhe".... Beautiful!!!!

I'm overcome by an urge to read Gandhi's autobiography again. There is so much that the man had to go through. The beauty of his story is...he wasn't born Mahatma... as shyam Benegal would put it- The Making of the Mahatma... It is an extraordinary story of an ordinary man who rose from ordinary to extraordinary... and the collaterals that happened on the way...

Go watch the movie. It released yesterday and there were barely 30 people in the hall including my Dad and me... It would be a shame if this movie flops... Feroz Abbas Khan and Anil Kapoor deserve kudos for the effort... So do Akshaye Khanna (Harilal) and Darshan Jariwala (Mohandas Gandhi) and the rest of the team....

Thank you Dr. Kalam...

2007-07-25T14:53:00.001+05:30

I'm teary eyed today. APJ Abdul Kalam remits office as the first citizen of the country today.
Kalam came in as a whiff of fresh air in the otherwise gloomy and stagnant spectrum of Indian politics. He was (and is) certainly not a politician. A scientist, academician and a wonderful human being- revered by one and all. He brought with him a 4 letter word that one could not associate with too many in public life- HOPE. A perennial aura of optimism seems to revolve around him, isn't it?
I've admired him for a variety of reasons- prominent among them being his ability to stay rooted to the ground and his ability to connect with people across age, race and religion. Those who watched him on TV at the RamNath Goenka memorial debate would agree with me.
He is a visionary. The question we need ask ourselves is if we are worthy of his vision. He sees India growing "happy together". What a thought!!!
Can we think of any politician, any where in the world, in modern times, who can talk of "values" as a building block in a country's growth. Maybe, it is because he is not a politician that he can speak like this.
History shall recount Dr. Kalam as a great scientist, an unparalleled visionary and an amazing human being. It is the country's misfortune that the ruling political confusion/ coalition chose not to renominate Dr. Kalam for president.
The consolation however is that, Kalam the academic is back.... maybe thats the place he would be most happy...

Shonaar Bangaal...

2007-07-20T13:53:00.001+05:30

More on other trips later, Kolkata takes the cake.

Bengal- the land of Vivekananda and Yogananda... the land of Tagore... Netaji... of Ray and Ghatak... of Saurav Ganguly and Leander Paes...
Bengal of Dokkhineswar (Thats how Dakshineswar is pronounced...right??) .... mayapur... Hughli... Howrah...
Bengal of Bipasha Basu... of Rosogullas... of Sondesh.....
Bengal of Devdas...

My heart swelled with emotion and joy as I landed in the city of Joy from Ranchi. I had last come here as a kid. I could hear in the corner of my mind a statement somebody made... I could not recollect who the somebody was...nevertheless... the statement was "What Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow"...

I had been long anticipating this trip. The first evening was rather uneventful. It was cloudy and I was tired after a gruelling 6 hours in the car and a couple later in the aircraft.

The city is most beautiful in the evening/ night. The buildings are old... The ambience is of an era gone by... Even the taxis that operate are Ambassador cars...

I've always believed that the character of a city can be determined by how safe its women are... And that is best characterised by the number of women you see on the streets in the dark... I think Kolkata scores heavily there...

Bong women have always fascinated me. Interestingly, though not unexpectedly, none of my female Bong friends found me fascinating.

I was fortunate enough to get a Sunday in Kolkata before my work began on Monday.

I had an awesome breakfast of Singhada-Jolebi- Rosogulla- Sondesh- 1 more Singhada, and followed that up with much wanted Tamil meals for lunch at Madras tiffin house right next to Metro Cinema near Esplanade.

My first stopover was Thakurbaari...where Robindranath Tagore was born and eventually breathed his last. Bengalis have not just been extraordinary thinkers, but have been great patrons of art... Who better than Tagore himself could be testimony to this...

As I stepped into the compound of Tagore's house, I could hear in a corner of my mind, the immortal lines- "jadi tor daak shune keu naa aashe tabe ekla chalo re tabe ekla chalo, ekla chalo, ekla chalo...."

Ekla chalo is perhaps one of the powerful songs I have heard... What a poem!!!

I hired a cab and we drove to the Kali temple at Dakshineswar.

I got down at the temple and walked first towards Yogoda Satsanga Society founded by Paramhansa Yogananda himself. The place, as expected was serene and beautiful. Situated on the bank of Hooghli, there is a quiet peace one experiences as one enters the premises. The friendly nature of people touches the visitor- right from the security guard to the people in the library to the gentleman in the meditation room. The few minutes I spent in the meditation room there would be amongst the most cherished moments in the trip.

The beautiful evening had just begun. I walked back to the Kali temple. The moments inside were awesome. It was crowded, and strangely, I could still find peace there. (Typically I find it difficult to find peace in a group/ when there are people around)

One of the lines written on the wall outside the Sanctum Sanctorum in the temple was a line from a scripture- "Ya Devi Sarva Bhootheshu, Maatri RoopeNa Samsthitha... Namasthasyi Namasthasyi Namo Namaha"... I love this line.

Amongst the most memorable moments in the evening was spending a few quiet seconds in the room where Ramakrishna Paramahamsa himself lived. Following this up with a visit to Belur math was icing on the cake.

It is an interesting boat ride to Belur Math that lasts about 15-20 minutes. One forgets that this is one of India's metros. In fact, I think, this is precisely the USP of Kolkata.

Once you get off the jetty near the Math, it is a 2 minute walk to the premises of the math. There are different structures/ temples inside the premises.

In particular, I found peace at the temple which stands at the spot where the Samadhi of Swami Vivekananda is. Standing nearby is a tree, under which, as legend goes, the Swami spent a lot of his evenings meditating. Whether one is a devotee, agnostic or atheist, the powerful vibrations there are hard to miss.

The main structure is a temple devoted to Ramakrishna Paramahamsa himself. As the bells tong before the aarti, all the people in the premises assemble at this temple. The Aarti was elaborate with hymns being sung by the large audience assembled (For the record, the temple hall is huge and can seat hundreds of people at a time and it was not just overcrowded, there were people not just on the threshold, but also outside the hall). I do not quite recollect what my emotions were during the minutes when the hymns were sung. I know for a fact that the music and ambience transported me to a different plane and all that I remember is when the Aarti got over, my eyes were moist.

The journey back by boat takes one almost 40-45 minutes.

Kolkata did not end there; the following evening, my friends (from ECS) and I went to Flurries@Park Street... We also spent a good 30-45 minutes in a pub inside Park Hotel. I fail to recollect the name of the live band that was performing- but they were awesome.

The next two days were tense as we were caught in floods, eventually having to cancel one day of work. I shall not speak much about those two days where even finding food was an ordeal. I shall soon upload the snaps and the pictures shall speak.

Let me mention here for the record that until the aircraft actually took off, we were not sure when we would be able to escape the flood-wrath in Kolkata.

I look back now at the trip, specially the sunday there as amongst bthe best days of life. I would love to go back to Kolkata soon... I may not like to be a resident there... There are flipsides which I choose not to mention...

Nevertheless... the land of Tagore and vivekananda.... beckons me again...
Kolkata- I shall come back...

Rajni- The Boss

2007-06-24T14:59:00.000+05:30

I've never been crazy about any film hero/super hero. I've liked most movies of Mammootty, Kamal Haasan, Aamir Khan and Amitabh Bachchan. However, I've always failed to grasp the God-like aura that is associated with some southern superstars, thanks to which they are placed at a pedestal that mere mortals can possibly never attain.

All this, until I saw Sivaji- The Boss.

It's been over a week since the movie released, and in the essentially Hindi speaking Delhi, I could not get a ticket for any of the shows on Sunday and had to be content with a 11.00 PM show on Saturday (yesterday) at one of the multiplexes.

The movie began with a tribute to 60 "golden" years of AVM, followed by the graphics which read "SUPERSTAR" followed by a pause and then... "R-A-J-N-I". The shouts of "Rajni" then drowned whatever sound/ music came off the Dolby speakers over the next few minutes. All this- at night in a Punjabi dominated locale.

The next few minutes were crazy- whenever HE was on screen, the crowd went just crazy. There is a dialogue in the movie, when HE is lodged in a jail, and HIS neighbours asks him if HE had been jailed for murder, dacoity or rape... The Boss replies in the negative... The neighbour asks, "then why?".... The Boss says "Naattukku Nalladu Senjaen" (I did something good for the nation)... There...the crowd goes into a frenzy again...

In the later minutes, I saw how Rajni beats up a 100 goons single handedly (THIS FIGURE OF 100 IS NOT AN EXAGERRATION, BUT AN UNDERSTATEMENT)... and then visits them all at the Royapettah hospital with a basket of fruits and horlicks for each of them...

I saw how he turns barren land into green pastures, and gives a sense of direction to misguided youth... How he builds hospitals and schools where treatment/ education is free... how he converts thatched huts into concrete structures... untarred roads into tarred ones....

The concretization of a zillion dreams on celluloid....

The erstwhile beedi/ cigarette that he used to so stylishly throw into his mouth has now been replaced by a centerfresh. The punchlines are very much there, though he lets his sidekick mouth them for him at times (eg. chennaiya thaandna Katpaadi - Sivaji adicha nee dead body.... Sachin adicha sixer- Sivaji adicha nee puncher)

The slow motions shots are very much there.

For a nation starved of real life heroes (ah! i know thats a cliched quote), what people see on screen is a manifestation of things as people would like them to be... a man fighting against a corrupt system... And Winning... a state where there is visible progress... where evil dare not raise its hood.....

And the person who makes it all happen is none other than the Boss himself. When I walked out of the theatre, I was somewhere disappointed in Shankar's skills as a director for he gives so simplistic solutions to so complex problems. But I now know why Rajni is worshipped in Tamil Nadu and a few other places. To all of you who read this, you may or not be convinced of Rajni's powers. But go watch it- you may or not like the movie, but its an experience not worth missing.

PS- As I walked out of the hall, my mind raced back to my 4th standard days. I could hear my Malayalam teacher recite "Maaveli naadu vaaNeedum kaalam...."....
Only that "Maaveli" was replaced by "Rajni".