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!!!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
gElf diaries 1- ahlan Dubai
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!!!
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!!!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Sach is life...
...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!!!
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!!!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Katha parayumbol...
"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....
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....
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
a year and 200 times later...
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
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
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
nostalgia...
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…
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…
Sunday, January 6, 2008
dekho inhe- ye hain oas ki boondein
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.
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.
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