my echo, my shadow and me...

My Little Wonders - I

2011-07-29T14:15:00.006+05:30

I grew up rolling and strolling with a handful of little wonders. The biggest of them were the fireflies, the winged beetles that used to light up the dark lanes of the city suburb where I grew up. It was more of a village far away from the city's electricity distribution network and reach of city lights. I have fresh memories of rolling and playing on the grass covered streets watching random flights of fireflies on moonlight nights. Excitement would touch heights when you wake up in the middle of the night to find one or two of them inside the house, killing the darkness with their random luminescence. For some time transparent polythene bags stuffed with caught fireflies used to be our torch lights. But we decided to give up the enjoyment of stuffing them in polythene bags after somehow we realized that we were making them to suffer a lot. It was probably after an elderly man sprinkled wired the thought in our minds, "Just imagine how your mother will feel if someone stuffs you in a polythene packet like that!"

Many years later in high school I came to know secretes of these seemingly innocent, flying glow lights. Sitting in science class one day I learnt that 'the glowing wonder' was in fact a 'conspicuous crepuscular use of bioluminescence to attract mates or prey'. However this knowledge no way diminished the sense of wonder about fireflies I have been nourishing from my childhood.

On my hometown visits I try to find any traces of those 'darkness softened by moonlight and random firefly glows'. After three decades the city now has expanded its tentacles gobbling the suburb that I grew up in. Those dark grass covered lanes have become parts of the busy city lanes. The growing concrete jungle has killed all the bushes that used to house my little wonders. The halogen bulbs that flood the streets now a day has gone the last mile to disarm them from their means of existence, 'the conspicuous crepuscular use of bioluminescence to attract mates or prey'. My imagination comes back with only two options, either they have been crushed under the iron wheels of the construction machineries or they have opted to vacate their homes looking for places that still houses that soft darkness of moonlight nights far away from the my city lights…I can feel the emptiness grow bigger and bigger with the thought of the lost wonders.

The list of wonders is not a very long one, but its growing, and the last addition to it is my little child. More than half a year back she crept into our lives and flooded us with excitement. I am sequencing my thoughts and words to depict this wonder that has killed all possible reasons for silence and emptiness…

With Eyes Wide Shut!

2011-07-22T12:20:00.002+05:30

The Sunset Point

2011-07-22T12:03:00.000+05:30

Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

The dream is gone!

2010-01-30T16:53:00.007+05:30

It often makes me wake up with a jerk. “Had a dream of the big rat again?” asks wife with tone of absolute certainty. She has got used to it. I dream myself in sleep when a big rat hits rushing from the other side of the bed and I roll down the bed to be dropped on the floor. I can feel the momentous but immense feeling of weightlessness, while on the free fall, till I hit the floor.

Display intercom flashed “Boss calling”. “Can you come to my room?”…I found Vivek was also in the room. “Close the door”. While following his instructions, a felt the big question mark that popped up somewhere in my mind. This is something he hardly does, closing the door while talking to his “team“. I took the seat next to Vivek. “You must be wondering why boss has called both us together today!” A dramatic pause! Vivek and I looked at each other’s face with extreme curiosity. “Why???” I felt the question mark growing bigger and bigger, as if to explode out of my head and almost shrank to zero when boss’s voice broke the momentous but immense silence. “I have decided to move on”. I felt my look moving away from Boss’s face to the blank wall on the left, with a jerk. There was the same feeling, the feeling of a free fall…as if someone removed the floor below my chair…emptiness that grew fast somewhere inside the heart…”my decision will not have any significant impact on your positions or career...don’t worry”. While I heard what boss was saying with a complete mum, I could feel the question mark inside taking different shape and size at different points. “Am I worried?”…I am not. But I am sad, sad about losing the nearness of one whom you feel proud of calling “Boss”. This is second time I am seeing him saying bye while he vanishes into the dense fog of uncertainty, making everyone in his sphere of influence share the emptiness that has grown into my heart.

Slowly my heart will accept the hardness of the reality...the emptiness will shrink...it will be the start of a new walk…sometimes smiling, remembering the good times that passed by…sometimes smiling, imagining the paths meeting somewhere again…

Meeting is parting…

Lonely...!!!

2010-01-18T18:24:00.001+05:30

Thousands of miles away, yet...

2009-04-05T10:57:00.004+05:30

I do not remember what it was that made me realise, 'I am moving too fast'. I pulled in the breaks to a jerking halt.

I looked back to check how far I have travelled...the meter says I did travel a lot. But how can I still see the 'square one' clearly with my naked eyes? And where's the trace of 'me' that I am looking for? Why can't I see even the vague impression when I look forward? Was my journey like a wind mill? ' Running fast, but travel no far'?

It was some twenty years back. Just like many others, I asked the simple three word question ' Who am I?...Finding no one around to answer, I started my journey on foot. A search, for an identity...

And now when I glance back, sitting still on the corner of the tranqil lake, I can recollect answers to many questions that I have gathered during the journey so far...I know what I am, I know what I can do, I know what I can't...I know what I have gathered, what I had gathered and lost while running fast; some of them knowingly, some of them unknowing; but I still don't know myself...I'm yet to test the answer to that simple question...perhaps I need to be back to the square one and start the journey again, on a new way!

On the way back...

2008-07-04T09:52:00.010+05:30

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”
Lao Tzu

Don’t know whether we were good travelers, but seemed to be a little bit of it. We left home with the idea of exploring the enchanting land of Palampur, without knowing what plans the almighty had for us.

While negotiating with the Taxi operators in the Pathankot railway station, we ended up charting out a plan to first visit places in McLoad Ganj and Dharamshala (the land of Buddhist monks) and explore the vast green lands of Palampur on the way back. Though we maintained this travel plan till the end, the tit bits were changed many times in between with many omissions and additions. And at the end of the journey, when we were back to square one, there was consensus amongst us, it was a journey well made.

“I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.” Rosalia de Castro

Travelling on the misty roads to Mcload Ganj, I realized the saying, ‘the journey, not the arrival that matters’. The suns playing ‘hide and seek’ among the trees in the foggy forests on both the sides of the road, touch of the ‘seemingly chilled but no not so cold’ fog on the face, rain drops lashing…it was a path to rejuvenation. Every moment I kept struggling to keep content my heart seeking to jump out and to vanish in the other side of the white vile of fog. The time was short and we had “milesto go before…”

On the way back, I made a promise to the misty land. “I’ll talk about you a lot. I’ll nourish you in the coziness of my heart. I’ll come back to you again.”

Sayonara!!!

Rays of hope...

2007-07-21T15:04:00.000+05:30

These days,
I can hear my heart saying
its time
you confront your life,
its time
you nourish dreams
fill some colours
to the grey grey world

And I followed it, added a colour, a crimson colour full of life. I can feel the spaces inside my heart getting filled with sight and smell of rose and sounds of echoing laughter. I can feel it growing fonder, quieter, warmer then ever. I am struggling for words to paint my heart. There are thousands of them.As it usually happens, in these moments I find it difficult to choose the best of them...all of them dearer, all of them nearer...I am sitting quite till they grow strong enough to break the barricade erected long time back. I am waiting for the day they unfold their wings again, to touch the vast blueness above.

These days, I can hear my heart saying the day is not far...

Prelude to change...

2007-06-14T20:35:00.000+05:30

So many times it happens. Standing at crossroads, you try to decide whether you follow your heart or your head.

After hours of deliberation, you arrive at a decision, assure yourself that you will stand by yourself on any eventuality. You take the turn and enter the wonderland of Alice.

Life is never the same again.

While in transition somehow the bitterness, that drove you to the decisive turn, goes to the posterior. You try to recollect the smiling faces and the echoing laughters and wish they were a part of the newness around you. Can't avoid the painful realization that these wishes can never be true...

With time you too manage to change yourself, at least to fit yourself into the new world.

But some how, even after traveling thousands of miles, you find you are not far away from the turn you have taken. As if you are traveling on a circle, with no starting point defined and no end too.

Quest

2007-05-20T21:19:00.000+05:30

He tossed the coin in air, waited till it comes back to his hands, checked the result and tossed it again...I saw him repeating the same for several times.

"What's that for?"

"I'm in a dilemma."

"So, you are trying to solve it by tossing!"

He nodded positively in reply.

"But how many times do you toss to arrive at a decision? Don't you think it's foolish to let a metal coin decide things for you?"

"Yes, even I also feel that way. That's why I'll be tossing till I get the decision right, the decision that is mine, till the toss takes me to that. At times first toss takes me there. Today it's taking time. I have tossed some thirty times till now," there was an oblique smile in his face. He resumed tossing...

Lexicon of Mind...

2007-05-17T23:03:00.000+05:30

I am trying to be silent. But the words bubbling in my mind never let that happen. Words that the processor somewhere in my brain is producing incessantly and tirelessly. Good words, bad words, cold words, warm words...There is no dearth of reasons; there is no dearth of occasions and stimuli.

I have seen smiles, butterflies and fireflies getting transformed into words; words that will fuel your the journey ahead through miles of roughness. Chirruping of the morning birds, sound of creeper leaves in the breeze and rain drops take the shape of words, musical words that will flood you with emotions, keep you warm in chilling winter nights.

There were thousands of occasions when I failed to stop the processor from converting the silences in between the conversations, blank spaces in between the lines into words, words that made me fret and sulk and pursue unwarranted turns on the paths. At times I put-up efforts to generate anti-words to fight with these, at times just take them for granted, let them rule...

There are times when I succeed in managing time and spirit to capture them in black and white. Most of the time they get lost ; die out after struggling for hours to see the light (just like the echo).

At times I get tired of them but they never...

Incomplete...

2007-05-14T01:20:00.000+05:30

I got curious and peeped out of the window to check what was happening on the lane out side. The little girl was crying her heart out stumping her feet on the ground. That she was crying despite being alone ( there were no one to pacify her) made me feel she was really upset about something.

I usually find her playing with her playmates in the evening but never had any chance or reason for interaction.

"Hey, what happened?"
It seemed my question fueled her grieves and she started crying even lauder. " What happened? Why are you crying? May be I can help you out?" My second question succeeded in generating some response from her. " I am trying to collect the marbles in my hands," she said maintaining her sobbing. "But every time some of them slip out of my hand". That's when I noticed the collection of some twenty marbles she was struggling with. She had palms too small to accommodate more than five marbles at a time. Even if she managed to pick up one more, another slipped out. She was struggling for a quite some time and got frustrated with the slipping off...there was no one around to help her out and started crying.

The innocence amazed me. "Why don't you put some of them in your pockets. Then you take away the rest in your hands," I suggested. But that made no effect on the sobbing of the girl. "Look, even it is not possible for me to take all of them in my hands at the same time." I made a demonstration of what I said, collected a hand full of marbles in the right palm and when I tried to put some more with them, deliberately slipped some of those already in my hand. The girl watched the demo, maintaining her sob. But she was not convinced by what ever I did and started crying again,"No, I need to collect them in my hands only." This time I really did have no idea what to do.

At that point, one of her playmates appeared in the scene. "What happened Ritu?" I noticed some light in the face of the girl. She explained him her cause of grief as she did earlier. " What's there to cry about? Let me put some of them in your pockets. Keep the rest in your hands. It is ok?" He did wait for her consent and started putting the marbles in her pockets. As the pockets too were not big enough, he put some of the marbles in his pocket and there were some eight marbles left to be accommodated in the hands of the girl. By the time he finished all these arrangements, the girl calmed down and stopped sobbing. In a few moments they left the spot, in search of other playmates. I found myself wondering "why?"
"Why it was that the girl resisted the idea that I gave her, but readily accepted the same idea when it came from her playmate?"

I was not a friend, the little boy was.

Yes, friends have been remaining a fascination for me.

They come silently, like cool breeze on a hot summer afternoon. Each of them with a unique bunch of enrichments. You know not when they enter your lives, capture the empty spaces inside and gives meanings to all your struggles. When you try to imagine your days minus them, you can feel the empty spaces within. You are a changed man now. They reign on you until one day the uncertainties of life drift you apart. They go as silently as them come. But never leave...

sound of music...

2007-05-04T21:49:00.000+05:30

And finally...

2007-05-02T14:58:00.000+05:30

And there's the smell, the soothing scent of earth first time touched by the heavenly drops, the drops of rain. Yes, finally here's the first rain of the season, pulling me to the roof top...to watch the mixture of reactions of the surroundings.

The morning birds were excited by the sudden change and started flying here and there randomly as if to express the fact that they were as happy as I am. The doves that were busy in their search for food took refuse in groups under whatever little shed they found.

The leaves of the grapevine creeping on the wall waved with the mild wind, as if they were shying away from the first rain. However, soon with rain getting harder they will give up their efforts. In fact they will be the last ones to hold back rain water that will drip down in drops after the rain stops.

The squirrels, usually fighting for food, got irritated by sudden disturbance. One of them started screaming at the unwarranted disruption that was created. But he was not sure as to whom he should curse for this. So he made some screeching sound looking towards the clouded sky. But soon he too got tired, became silent and disappeared looking for some shed.

Some of the kids playing in the lane in front jumped back into their homes...some of them were called back home by their parents...some others, inside otherwise, jumped out to the lane skipping and jumping like the sparrows, celebrating rain, the first drops.

I don't have to go out today, there's no appointment, no client service to be done. I reassured my That means I can enjoy the rain at its best. I was happy. While I watched all these, the chords in my mind kept on repeating the tune and words of the song the film, "Life in a Metro" that has crept into my mind some days back

just a while ago
you were here with me

but don’t know how and when
stepped ahead of me
slowly and silently
without letting know the complaints
not even listening to requests
do know how
you said good bye

now here’s
we too are saying good bye
good bye to those arms,
those charming shadows
for which life was going on
till tomorrow
we too are saying good bye...

"Hey man, its not healthy getting wet in the first rain...it carries a lot of dust and germs," screamed one standing in the window of the opposite building.

His suggestion put me into a dilemma. He was a stranger to me. But that is no reason why I should ignore the suggestions of a well-wisher.

Shall I continue enjoying the rain drops or shall I get into the sheds?

A way of being happy!

2007-05-01T18:00:00.000+05:30

"Why do you write?"

"For chocolates! As per an agreement, for every post I write, I earn a chocolate."
"Wao, that's amazing. I have heard people getting paid for blogs. First time I am hearing some one earning chocolates through blog posts."
I knew my interviewer was not convinced by my answer, thought I was just kidding. Even I was not sure what was it that made me write for. Perhaps there was no specific reason, when I started writing. But now there's one...

"Can you promise something?"
"What’s that ?"
"Can you promise that you will always be happy, what ever you are doing, where ever you are?"
"I can't assure. But I’ll try my best."
"No, trying best will not do. You have to promise that you will. You are a writer. You have strong imagination. You can do anything if you want. Just imagine yourself to be happy. You will."

Yes, you are true. I can do anything and everything I wish.

I open my eyes in the morning to be wakened by the chirruping of the sparrows...my imaginations inspire me to think all these musical noises are just to wake me up...in the animated world of my imaginations, the family of squirrels near Vinod's tea stall inquires me about their new gears...I assure them, they look stunning...I can feel the sun getting tired of the day's journey and taking refuge in the bosom of the river, to gather energy for the next day's journey...I can find patches of silence, standing at the crowded South-Ex market after the sunset...I can hear the silences of the room screaming at half past mid night...I can listen to the music in the falling leaves and be amazed by the rain drops lashing my face, dew drops turning into diamonds to sprinkle the morning sun rays...

Then why not be happy?

"Dust is a funny thing. It's everywhere all at once, like a teeny, tiny snowstorm, in every ray of light. Even the moon is just a big dust ball. But you know, it's all in the way you look at it. Not this way or that way, not forways or backways. Just believe before you look. The man in the moon has a magic all his own."

The Dust Factory

"And one more promise!"
"What's that agian?"
"You will never stop writing. For every post you write, you will earn a chocolate from me."

She exploits each and every chance she gets to pester me to write, "Write something new, something light, something happy happy type". When that does not work, there comes the reminder of the promise of chocolates attached with a warning,"you are taking too long a break". Alarmed, I brush up the components of my imagination drive; force them out from the inertia, the inertia of rest, to spawn some ideas that slowly take the form of a post. Some time they make sense...some times even I find it difficult what all that I wrote mean...but I feel happy

I wait for the next idea to strike some chord in my mind...

temptations...

2007-04-23T20:33:00.000+05:30

"Just imagine smashing the window panes of the car one by one...How nice it will feel to hear the sound of the glasses crashing and getting scattered here and there! You'll say she's gone mad...but that's a temptation I have been nourishing from my childhood." I saw her eyes flashing with imagination while speaking out. "I know that's something I'll never do. But I can't stop myself from being delighted, imagining following the temptation," she smiled.

Yes, this or that, perhaps we all are nourishing some of the wild temptations. Just like the wooden fences that tempt me. Every time I find myself surrounded by wooden fences, no matter what ever the height, I get the urge to jump over it, rather than getting out thorough the designated gate.

The cricket ground was surrounded by houses with wooden fencing. Every time some out went for a full flanged over boundary, the ball used to land inside one of those boundaries. Hundreds of time, I resisted myself from jumping inside the boundaries to get the ball out.

But once, I decided not to deny myself the pleasure of following the heart. So after throwing the ball back to the field, I took some steps back calculating in mind the momentum I’ll have to generate in order to jump over a 3 ½ ft fence. Jimu knew what going was in my mind. When I was speeding towards the fence, I heard him screaming, "Come on, you will do it...you will do it."

In a moment there I was, crossing the fence some ½ ft above its height. My heart leapt with joy, seeing the pointed top of the fence far bellow for the flash of a second.

I successfully landed on the road, but failed to keep myself away from the pebbles that I ignored while doing all the strategic calculations. Perhaps I was too focused in my attempt to ignore the fact that Mama was just passing. She watched with wide open eyes my entire dare devil. And I landed almost in front of Mama, hurting the left foot.

Though furious, she took charge of the moment and took me back home with a little help from others. My cuts were treated and I spent the rest of the evening resting, and awfully waiting for the meeting we were going to have at dinner. Finally the moment came. Papa made the dreaded but not unexpected proclamation. "This day onwards you will not go out to cricket field in the evening." There was no way to undo what ever happened.

However after staying away from the cricket field for four days I succeeded in pursuing Papa repeal the ban that was imposed on me. Condition applied, there would be no more attempt to foster temptations. Hundreds of times there after, I have resisted the temptation to repeat that feat again. Now concrete walls have replaced those fences...and the temptations!

Yes there's a new one…to toss myself, up in the air, without bothering about the 'head' or the 'tail'. I need a reason, a reason to believe, a reason to...

I am hundred...

2007-02-25T20:06:00.000+05:30

One more post and I will be hundred. I noticed it the other day, from the numbers in the archive section of the side bar. It was beyond my imagination, that I will be able to make it so far, when I started blogging back in the summer of 2005 inspired by Soumyadip. That was just as an experiment.

I had never tried writing anything more than the dry dead news reports before. The biggest question was 'Can I write?' I was a bit scared, a bit hesitant...but with time it evaporated and I slogged it to the century. Can this be a reason to celebrate? Is this an excuse big enough to gobble some bottles of beer and talk nonsense?

"Tum ladko ko peene ke alawa celebrate karneka koi achha tareeka nehi choojhta kya? Bus bahan chahiye..." ("Can’t you guys think of a better way to celebrate? Always looking for excuses to drink?")

No, hundred posts in a span of two years is not at all impressive. But, why these land marks? Why reaching hundred so important for you? Why do we run so much after numbers, big numbers? Why do we give so much of importance to these numbers? The researcher's (so called) mind started working again with its analysis, until the lines from ‘The Bridges of Madison County’ placed a big full stop in front of the queue of queries...

“Analysis destroys the wholes. Some things, magic things, are meant to stay whole. If you look at their pieces they go away.”

Yes, there are thousands of such things I tried to analyze, at some point of time, only to reach the conclusion that they were beyond explanation. That it was better let them be as they are without questioning why...

Just like the unexplainable seclusion I used to find myself in, every time I heard Keteki (that’s the local name of the bird, failed to get the English or scientific name) singing in some far corner of nearby hills, every silent summer night, "I am Keteki, it's me here, It's me Keteeeeki" . Her voice echoed, being bounced by hills on the other side, tearing apart the silences of the night reining in the valley. It appeared as if she was in search of someone, she have lost, in the wilderness. I struggled to cover my ears with pillows to stop the interminate solitude from creeping into me but never succeeded. "Why it’s so?" I would ask myself but never got the answer. Last time I was home in summers; I stayed awake to listen to her.But she did not turn up. Perhaps her search has come to an end. Perhaps she has found the one she has lost. Or, might be she has given up...

Just like unexplainable warmth you develop for some people you meet on the walks of life, let them rein on your life without asking the reason why and keep on struggling to keep the warmth alive...you do not know why...at times you try to figure it out, only to give it up later

Or, like the dreams that wake you up, with a smile on your face. You go back to sleep again with the idea of continue it, to feel the coyness again. You know it's just a dream, a dream that is miles away from the possibility of being a reality. Even then you nourish it and you do not know why...

"The old dreams were good dreams, they did not work out, but I am glad that I had them..."

PS:
It's drizzling out side. As usual an instinctive urge is pushing me hard to go out and walk in the rain.But, I am resisting. Do not know why!

We three...

2007-01-18T21:23:00.000+05:30

My echo...

Slowly the cracking sounds of the dry leaves died out and I got a feel of the rocky ground I was walking on...only sounds remained were that of wind and the last rays of the setting sun getting reflected after striking on the sharp edges of the uneven rocks...

"Is there any one around? Can any one hear me?"...ear me?...r me?...r me?...me...e?...e?...e?” Words kept on bouncing till they lost all their energy in the roughness of the rocks and died out.

My shadow...

I saw him standing in front of the mirror with the same old tool box.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Can't you see? Trying to fix a smile!"

"What a big job that is?"

"Why don't you help me out? I have been trying for past one hour. But some how none of the smiles are looking good on my face?"

I got busy with the screw driver...fixing different curves on the face, to fix the smile that looks perfect...after struggling for one hour more I also realised, it's not as simple as it seems...now it was time for me to be irritated, "But why do you want to fix it at all?"

"I need to do it."

"But why?"

"I need to be happy?"

He threw me a look that meant "No more questions" and got busy again...

and me...

a sudden surge of light, as if I was under a spot light...warmth that formed a blanket sheltering me from the piercing winter chill...I dozed off...

I woke up, shivering in the cold, to realise it was gone...left no trace except for the bright flash that I caught through the mind's eyes and the sensation of coziness...

What was that?

A UFO perhaps!

Now waiting for the time my eyes gets adjusted to the darkness around...

2006-12-28T11:07:00.000+05:30

Smiles About(III)

2006-12-26T17:31:00.000+05:30

There was a small stream flowing just outside of the school boundary, running parallel to it. There was a small bridge over the stream but we hardly cared for it as the stream was too small. But a year ago, last time a year ago when I had to cross it there was no way to avoid the huge concrete bride over it. The stream has grown into a river...

It was a Friday and as usual there was excitement as there will be an hour long lunch break which we are going to invest in the game of cricket. That also mean's there are chances that the lunch will be sacrificed in the name of cricket.

It was ensured that the bats and wickets were in perfect conditions. The moment the bell announces the lunch break, Nupur will rush to the nearby market to buy a ball. And everything happened as per the plan.

The problem came when Ratul choose to hammer hard a full-toss ball with a full flung bat resulting into an 'over boundary'. The ground was not 'that big'. As per the rules of the game (amended to match the 'ground realities'), Latu (the umpire) awarded Ratul with an 'out' for his out-standing performance. As a momentary reaction the rest of us leaped with joy. The budding 'Kapil Dev', and the greatest challenge for us has to loose his wicket so early today! (Otherwise we used to spend 75 percent of our time either balling, wicket keeping or fielding against him)

But as William Wordsworth wrote, 'In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind'...

All our euphoria got over the next moment when we realized either we have lost the ball in the stream or in the bush on the other side. And even otherwise, we will have to spend quite a big amount of time in searching the ball. As we had spent all our pocket money in the ball we did not have the option of rushing for the market (something we did with a lot of pride only fifteen minutes back!).

So, with smile on the left and gloom other half of the fasces, the five of us, Ratul, Pankaj, Rupam, Latu and I crossed over the boundary to perform the search. After spending more than 20 minutes searching for the ball, we realized we were 'just westin our time'. So, disheartened we decided to wind up the search...we were to be back to school boundary when Pankaj noticed the auto-rikshwa parked on the bank of the stream a little away. The driver must have plans to clean the vehicle in the stream.

"Hey, it's Ram Lal's auto. Last week he took away the ball as it hit his vehicle and did not return even after we said sorry, " yelled Ratul. There was apparent anger on his face. I noticed his anger of getting out on an excellent over boundary getting converted into hatred against the past week's loss.

"Hey the ass is not anywhere near," Pankaj yelled, his voice was smelling revenge. "Let's push the vehicle into water. We need to show him that we are not that vulnerable."

"No, that will not be ok," I tried to resist the idea. "He will kill all of us if he comes to know." The horrible face of the Ram Lal flashed in my mind. The bunch of curled moustache under Ram Lal's nose was a great source of repulsion and terror for almost all of us.

"Shut-up you timid. It's time you think and act like a grown up. Every time you play the spoilsport," Ratul yelled as a matter of consent to Pankaj's idea. I felt he scored a hundred in front of Latu (the only girl among us) by proving me timid. "Chance like this will not come again. No one will know and we will be able to punish him for his mistakes also."

Next moment I saw the matured trio (Ratul, Pankaj, Rupam) approaching the vehicle. And they started pushing it towards the stream. In the first attempt, they succeeded creating only a slight movement in the vehicle. "Hey, you timid, what are you looking at." I heard Rupam's voice this time. I failed to resist me joining them when I saw Latu too joined hands with the heros.

That obviously was a too big a challenge for me. "If I do not take the call, I will have to repent and remain lowered head in front of these throughout my life," I heard some one inside saying me. And there we five were pushing the rikshwa. And in the next moment we crossed the resistance of the static vehicle so. We needed to push it just to the slope and the rest journey was done by the vehicle itself to reach the waters. "Yaahhoooo," the four cheered at their feat. "Now run away, before any one see us here."

Everything was going fine till now. But it seemed the almighty had different plans for us. As we were speeding towards the school boundary, we heard a harsh voice screaming, "Hey you rascals, why have you done this? I will spare none of you..."

After reaching the boundary, we looked back and saw Ram Lal was not after us. He must have got busy in pulling back the vehicle to the bank again.

"Its better we do not enter school now. He has seen us and definitely will be coming to school to report this." There was terror in Ratul's face. So was with the others. After a little thought, the innovator of the idea, Pankaj declared, "We are not going school. Let's run away and hide some where." Ratul's house was the furthest. So there was a unanimous decision to hide at his place. We managed to enter the back yard unnoticed and found a hide in the storeroom.

The store room being unused for a long time was full of rates and so we had to put a lot of effort to keep Latu silent, that rats will not harm us.

There was silence around except for the sounds of cooking utensils in the kitchen. After a while there was only sound of hearts pounding. Latu's eyes got moist.

After some time we heard Ratul's elder brother screaming, "Maa, is Ratul back home?"...He sounded breathless, must have been running all the way to home from school as we did. He explained what had happened in a single breath. "Now, Ram Lal is searching from all of them everywhere. He has a chopper in his hand. He has gone to Aklanta's house now. He will be coming here also if they are not there. I saw them running away. But no idea where they are now."

"O my God," it was Aunty's turn this time. "Let them come home. I will give them the worst punishment they'll never forget,"

Here we were now between the devil and the deep blue sea. In a while we heard Aunty locking the doors and there was silence again. "Ram Lal will be here in a while. Let's move out of this place," Ratul was extremely terrified this time. Latu failed to resist the temptation to cry.

There's a small hill nearby. The main road leads to the hill. "Let's go to the hill," I suggested. "I will not go, I am scared," Latu started crying even louder.

"Don't worry; we are with you, I have been to that road only last Saturday and it's completely safe. Over and above that we will be able to see what's happening here from up there. But no one will see us," I tried to encourage her, even though I was myself scared.

But my suggestions convinced all. So we headed towards the hill through the main road. We were half running at first and slowed down a little when there was a turn which made us out of vision...My feet muscles were aching. After some time we reached the road on the hill and the point from where we can see what's happening in the ground bellow. The height presented us a bird's eye view of the locality below. Unlike my proposition, the people on the lanes bellow looked like ants and it was not easy for us to track Ram Lal and his movements. But we were assured that no one will be able to guess our hide now.

We sat on a rock under the shadow of a tree. I can feel each and every muscle straining, heart bumping like the saw-mill. None of us were looking at each other. Perhaps a feeling of guilt had gripped us. Latu broke the silence, "We should have listened to Aklanta." I looked straight at Ratul and Pankaj. They lowered eyes. I was also feeling the guilt. "I am hungry, my feet and stomach are aching." Latu started crying lauder. No one tried to stop her crying. There was no one to hear us!

Perhaps we sat there for an hour. As time passed by the sounds of birds and creepers started getting louder. Latu become silent after crying for a while. The boys were trying their best to stop crying, "Boys do not cry." That too in front of a girl, no way! But all these failed to stop their eyes getting moist. And after some time Pankaj broke down, "I am the culprit. I should not have come up with such a shitty idea." Then Ratul played his part, followed by Rupam. I tried to read my feelings, there were definite guilt for not doing something to resist them and also that I too was involved.

"Let's go home and face the music"...

All the five families were gathered in Ratul's house . Ram Lal was also there.

But contrary to our expectations, every one there was calm. Even Ram Lal was calm too. They made all of us sit at stools placed in the centre and as if it was long planned, no one said anything to us. "Whey no one's cursing us? Why they are not punishing us for the mistake we have made?"

All these hospitalities were becoming unbearable for us. And in a while Ratul broke his silence pleading guilty for what we did and that we were sorry. Pankaj took a step forward saying sorry to Ram Lal and we joined saying we will not repeat this again ever. Ratul's mother got busy in pacifying Latu crying like anything (none of her parent's were there). And after some time Pankaj's father delivered the note of conclusion that since the kids has accepted the mistake they have been excused this time. Ram Lal too nodded and some how he looked sober than ever and his moustache was not that terrifying.

On our way back home we were silent.

In the evening, at tea table mamma reported the day's happenings to papa after which I was called for. "I was not expecting anything from you like this. However, I am happy that you people gathered courage to say sorry to Ram Lal for what you did. Take care that nothing like this happens again," papa was short, crisp and definite.

After talking to papa I was saying myself; I'll try my best to avoid such nuisance after this and if even after that some thing happens, I will not shy away from taking responsibility. I will face the music. There was peace from inside and I thought it was over.

But it did not as there were repercussions of this next day, on December 27th.

At school after the prayers, the class captain announced the five musketeers were invited by the Principal for a discussion...we looked at each other...just like me, they too were calm...there were no fear in their faces and I knew they were also decided to face the consequences of their deed.

He made us sit in chairs in front of him for a while and got engaged with some papers. But I have the gut feeling that he was not in midst of something but just observing our reactions. After a while he wrapped up the file and looked at us...

"So kids, I have come to know the incident that took place yesterday. And I also know what you did after that. The calm at your face says, you have had your share of repentance for your misdeeds. So I am not punishing you for what you did outside. I know you are not going to repeat again. But the school protocol says you have to be punished for breaking school discipline."

"Yes sir," we all sounded as if we were trained cadets.

Our punishment was proclaimed...we have to spank one another. That means one has to serve five spanks to each of the four others. Just after the announcement the boys turned to the Principal. "Please sir, exempt Latu from this. In stead you serve us more spanks to be served."

After thinking for a while, he said, "Ok, at your request I am exempting her from the drill." But she has to watch her friends being punished, that's her punishment.

Ratul exploited the opportunity, to take revenge of the full toss ball that I delivered tempting him to hit hard. He spanked me as hard as he can.

Tomorrow it's December 27th again. Tomorrow I will recall those spanks...tomorrow I will miss all four of you.

But even then I'll smile. In your company, I collected some of most valuable gems of my life...I will keep my words to face the music.

Smiles about (II)

2006-12-24T22:16:00.000+05:30

Sneaking in through
the white fog screen
the morning sun presented a new face
a smile
warm enough to fuel my walk
thousands of miles and more...

'Smile today-tomorrow is going to be worst'

If you are inspired by Murphy's philosophy, you will find yourself trying to abstract each and every ounce of reasons to put on a smile, a genuine smile and yes, there'll be no dearth of reasons when you seek...

You will not be able to keep yourself from smiling when you find the squirrels and house sparrows getting into a mild fight around the issue of possession of the flatted rice you have spread on the roof top. It will definitely be difficult for you to resist feeling the bliss when in a few moments you find both the squirrel and the sparrow have given up the fight and sharing the grains like affable neighbours...one of the sparrows even dared to sit on the head of the senior most of the squirrels, and the squirrel, usually restless, choose to remain still as a host...all these forced me on the flight of my mind to recall the pleasure in releasing the sparrows trapped in deceptive nets...you can't experience the joy of flying but you can feel it seeing them enjoying the regained freedom...flapping of their free wings sounds like music...

And music, which Aldous Huxley said is the only thing that comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible...that's perhaps behind the incredible joy that you get in listening music and songs...letting them sneak into your heart and rule over it...there's an innocent heavenly pleasure, of the kind you feel when a kid smile at you forcing you to smile back 'a huge smile', a smile from deep inside...you feel like living whole of your life around these moments...

but...

Photo courtesy: www.tn3-1.deviantart.com

smiles about...

2006-12-10T18:01:00.000+05:30

As if the winter has infused fresh blood into everything...the house sparrows seemed extremely happy as they skipped and jumped on the branches of the creeper in the front grill...the squirrels were unusually noisy. Adding to these happy music were the magpie and the fighter bulbuls...all these produced a musically noisy Saturday morning, forcing me to leave my bed earlier than usual...and I was happy with no particular reason...

"What it is that you are happy about?" I tossed a question towards the man inside. But there were no answers, a silence inside that did not sound unnatural. So I tried rephrasing the question, (something I have been doing professionally through the past four years) in order to extract an indirect answer..."What makes you happy?"

Ahoy! It did the trick...The biological search engine turned up with thousands of random answers in response and in a few moments I found my mind stuck in a thought-jam. Now the task in hand was to assort these in a sequence.

It's here the problem started...which one to put first, which ones after that? An impasse that usually occurs whenever I start arranging my room and the many things I have collected over time. On a daily basis; you collect things that do not have immediate use (but might come to your rescue some day!). You collect things that you know you will never use, but because attached to them are certain memories that you want to preserve for good. You keep on collecting them as you keep weaving the world of memories and one day when you sit down to recollect and re-arrange your world; you do not know what to do with them...you rebel against the idea of letting them go into the dark corners of the cupboard, but you need to create spaces for the future that's fast becoming present...

After spending more than an hour in and around this deadlock, I gave up the idea of finding an order of the things...perhaps it's not always possible to arrange our preference of the four dimensional world in a two dimensional scale.

So I started picking up the answers at random...some of them were distinct, some of them with so minute differences that sounded the same at the first look...the most prominent ones had a theme 'in being able to what I am'. Yes, the most memorable moments are the ones when I was at the shortest distance from myself, in the face that is really mine, with no added colours...the moments in which I met with the strongest me and also when I was crippled by the sight of the weaknesses that I usually ignore...the moments that led me to the light inside which again exposed the dark spots I choose to keep hidden from myself...

Not necessarily I was happy all these moments. But what resulted were moments of bliss that I will cherish...most of these moments were witnessed by one or the other, people who cared to nourish the man in me, appreciated me for the strengths and in the same time accepted me with the humanly failings and limitations...And the happiest moments were those when I succeeded in picking up words to express the feelings of gratitude from inside, or to say that I was sorry for the mistakes I have made...The most happy ones, when I succeed in forming sentences that are nearest to express what they mean to me...

PS: You'll find me smiling infinitely to be answered back, "Subhe se koi nehi mila, banane ke liye?" (You found no one else to fool from the morning?)

B for Boss

2006-11-15T00:23:00.001+05:30

"In the morning I had to drive with him to the tax office. Through out the way he lectured me on value addition, increasing knowledge bla bla bla...it was such a torture..."

“You have had to listen to him only for an hour. I have to sit just next to him and listen to all these crap all through the day...”

"Hey I have heard he was to be transferred to another position. But till now there's no symptom of that happening. If he remains in the department for a little more, is sure I am going to switch over...I just can't bear him any more."

Sitting among the three I decided my next post will be something about the species called 'Boss' and the unique relationship between the bosses and their subordinates (we will be calling subs hereafter), well presented by the joke

The assistant makes a mistake. Irritated, boss open fires at
him...
Boss: Kabhi Gadha Dakhe ho? (Have you ever seen an ass?)
Assistant:
(With lowered eyes) No Sir.
Boss: Niche kya dekh rahe ho? Idhar dekho, (What
are you looking down for? Look at me).

Till now I have seen only one side of the coin, what subs feel about their bosses. But perhaps it will not be a mistake if I say there's hardly any one who does not enjoy bitching about their bosses. The most enjoyable part is the pseudo names the subordinates generate while bitching abut their bosses. Yes it's not necessary that you will be able to find perfect reasons to establish the names in their right perspective.

It's a matter of coincidence that my first boss and one of the current bosses share the same pseudo name, Pappu. I can’t find any resemblance among the two on the basis of which they can have the same name. My X-boss was one who has had extremely high regards abut his abilities (!). He enjoyed keeping everything running under his fingertips. His search for solution to each and every problem that arises used to start with the ritual of scoffing at his subordinates. Most of the time it failed to proceeded beyond that. No doubt Hitler was considered a synonym to Pappu.

Working in a Multi-Boss-Environment now, everyday I am getting the chances of testing 'mixed-vegetable' dishes.

The present Pappu has a unique approach towards solving problems, code named by his immediate subs as the LD approach ("let’s discuss"). His initiatives start with delegation of the tasks to his subordinates without spending an ounce of his mind in it. What follows is a series of meeting at regular intervals seemingly for strategy making. However internal information say, thanks to Big B's LD approach, the team has to invest 75% of the project time in reviewing the progress of the project backed up by the rest 25 % time spent in implementation.

The next one is Munna Mobile. All the day Munna remains extremely busy on his cell phone. So he also has adopted an approach that to some extent matches the LD approach evolved by Pappu. His approach has a blend of LD and Divide and Rule policy. By presenting different versions to the different subs he manages to keep the group from getting united. Hence no threats to his reign so far.

It's easy to see working with Hitler is of tremendous pain. However you will hear similar complains from subs whose Boss is of 'chicken-boneless' type. Ones who seem to have no stand on the issues. They are the ones who believe in avoiding problems or tackling in shoddy manner. You feel like living in a house without roofs.

In spite of all these, it will not be fair to generalize my experiences (that can at most be counted for duration of three years only) to draw some kind of bitterness in this subs and boss relation.

We should not try to arrive at some conclusion that there exists some kind of a necessary revulsion among the two species…most of the time it's just a matter of feel good that is involved, generated out of efforts to outsmart each other.
I have specific reason for that, which I discovered when one of my bosses left the organisation recently.

He was not my immediate boss and hence there were not much scope for interaction with him. But I feel I will remember the little chance I got to work with him. In each of these he allowed me enough freedom to take steps at my own and to make mistakes, was patient enough to find out the mistakes with possible corrections. He was there to instruct on the way out when ever I found myself at an impasse. These do not mean that he did not yell at me at times…but what I will remember is the pats-on-head I got after completion of his assignments.

And I found myself I struggling to reach office from the meeting I was attending, on the day we bed him farewell. The air around was heavy when he officially stepped out of the company for the last time.

I felt really great when he took two steps forward to shake hands with me, just before the last glance at his past. All of us waited there till his vehicle vanished in the darkness of the road.

"It was nice meeting you boss…"

2006-11-12T00:53:00.000+05:30

colours...

2006-11-11T16:19:00.000+05:30

Blankets of fog on both sides of the road showed winter is making inroads into Delhi. For the next few months, the city will be a pleasant stay.

Lazy traffic movement on the road added to the deserted morning cityscape. As if being forced to leave the pleasant winter morning sleep, disgusted, the vehicles were moving on snooze.

All these including the smooth movement of the vehicle, the road side trees running backwards produced a mirror with a hazy reflection of me in it...with time passing by it became clearer, to the extent where I can see the tiles of different colours that I am made up of...some of them with throbbing colours, some of them faded with layers of dust gathered over time...I found myself following the instinct, got busy dusting the tiles...

Perhaps I was too consumed in restoring the fading colors and realised it only when the vehicle came to an abrupt halt, tossing me out of my place...

"Mere colour, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways."
Oscar Wilde

In one of the moments I was groundless, I saw the orange colour in one of the tiles glowing bright...a colour that denies accepting words of gratitude for what it has added, a colour that refuses to accept any mistakes made...a colour that melted the crust I was in... I found myself standing stark under the sun...

"Orange is the happiest colour"
Frank Sinatra

PS.

"Why black, white and Grey are invariably the dominant colours in anything and everything you design?" The other day my designer friend yelled at me.

" Don't even you remember there are some colours called blue, red and yellow? Try using some of them. That will enhance the feel and look of what ever you create."

What followed was an hour-long class on how to add colours to different layouts, matching with the purpose and the message you want to convey...

" I know the combination of black and white gives a gorgeous look. They are simple, minus exaggeration. But the fact that they are not the only colours, and that the creator has provided us with so many of them, try using them..."

"I have improved the way in which I paint. The colours are cleaner and there is more energy in the brush work."
John Dyer

2006-10-23T18:44:00.000+05:30

For most of the people from the part of the country I come from, Diwali is just an occasion to burst crackers. It was not much different for me too.

The very thought of Diwali was scary (!) for me. My poor lungs were too weak to bear the amount of pollution in the air, thanks to the tons of crackers burnt. As the days closed in to Diwali and people around start count down, I would be crippled by the images of me, sitting in a corner of my bed, struggling for breath. I have had sufficient reasons to hate the festival.

Even then there were certain things I liked about the festival.

I was scared of it but waited for it...waited eagerly to watch the lines of diays that maa (mamma) would put around the house, making it look like a heavenly abode...I longed for the day when there will be silence all around; I would sit on a chair and watch the flames dancing with air waves.

Sight of diyas struggling to keep themselves alive when air movements became too ruthless evoked countless thoughts in my mind. Amidst the banging sound of crackers I would struggle to read them one by one...

Why is it like that?
Why do you take the pain?
burn your bossom
to illuminate the obscurities
of my path
and never demand anything
in return...

I loved watching maa lighting up diays and putting them in line all arround the house, killing the patches of darkness. Lit up with the radiance of the diyas she's set alight, she appeared the guardian angel from the Aesop’s stories. In one such Diwali evening I came to the conclusion that maa and diyas are just synonyms to each other...

This Diwali made me realize the distance I have traveled, away from her...despite all efforts, I failed to recall a day when I expressed in raw words how much I love her and miss her...suddenly I found myself longing to be near her...now you will find me doing a count down, of the day I will be home again...

This Diwali, I felt there was more light...silence of diyas were more pervading than the tons of bursting crackers...

NB: In this post you will definitely find an impression of this useless piece...

Let there be light!

2006-10-20T13:15:00.000+05:30

Till then...

2006-10-16T00:16:00.000+05:30

How tough can making chapatti be?

If you are a natural cook, you will frown,"Making chapatti tough?"
Ask me, I have been trying to learn that for the past four years.Just to add to the variety of food a bachelor can have at his own auspices. Even then I am miles away from proficiency.

Demonstration of my imperfection starts right from the stage of preparing the atta dough. Either it will be too hard or too soft , as if to create problems at the time of rolling the dough into a disc. There will be no dearth of reason for the discs to be uneven, at times taking the shape of the map of India.As I was never good at drawing, a map of India used to take "more or less" the shape of a disc. Now, the chapatti discs I roll take more or less the shape of a map.

The major disaster happens at the last and final stage, browning the discs. My teachers say chapatti can never be called well-prepared until and unless it puffs while browning. I have never seen that happening with chapatti I have made so far. It also never happens that the discs are evenly browned. So when finally I declare that the chapattis are being made, others wonder what kind of a chapatti I have prepared.

Even after that my sympathizers risk consuming a piece or two of the chapattis I prepare, perhaps just to keep my mind. I am sure while struggling to crush the pieces inside their mouth; they pray the almighty to be a bit sympathetic about my cooking skill, at least considering the amount of effort involved (both in preparation and consumption).

And just to express gratitude towards them, for the understanding, I have been continuing my amateur endeavor. I am sure one day I'll be able to improve upon the skills, I have attained so far !

2006-07-26T16:49:00.000+05:30

Photo courtsey: www.robi-bobi.net

SAYONARA!

2006-07-12T17:59:00.000+05:30

"Yuji San! Are you happy?" asks Frank. (San is the Japanese equivalent of Mr.). Yuji looks at the space in front in a meditative mood (as if he is trying to work out whether he is happy or not). Then he draws a typical big Japanese smile on his face that reflects extreme happiness and shake head heavily, "Yes, Yes"(the second yes to confirm the first yes). This would set all five of us into a roaring laughter.

This was the second time I met with Frank. He is 67 and a manager of a European auto giant. He works till 2 O'clock in the night (!) and gets up at 6 in the morning. In spite of that I have never seen him dozing off on a ride as long as four hours. I also have never heard him raising his voice to express dissatisfaction. His silence was enough to set all of us into motion to correct what ever mistake made or occurred. However his voice shakes everything around when he is happy, when he laughs.

Yuji is an engineer. As it happens with almost all Japanese, Yuji's English is not so appreciable. But he is simple and it is not difficult reading his face for his remarks or feelings. Almost every time you ask Yuji a question, he would first work out the answer in his mind, construct the equivalent English sentences and shoot. The whole process takes him a long time. But that was not at all a problem for the team members. They can have a look at the changing curves on his face and read what was going inside. No one had to wait for him to speak out. Even I started reading him from the second half of the day.

After spending a week with this British-Japanese combo, I am convinced having a common language is not a necessary and sufficient condition for communication. What is important is willingness to share, willingness to express and willingness to see things from the perspective of the other one.

Friday was the last day of our journey. "Yuji san, so you are happy that you are going back to home?" As usual, Yuji took his time to think whether he is happy or not and shaking hands with me, he projected an unusually longer sentence. "Yes, yes...I am happy going back to home...but I liked India and...and that you accompanied us in the trip...thank you very much...I hope we will meet again."

Yes Yuji san, I also enjoyed your company and the simplicity with which you have accepted the world around. Sayonara!

2006-07-12T09:30:00.000+05:30

a prayer for those who have lost their lives in the mumbai blasts on 11th of July, 2006...an also for those who is suffering because of this brutal act...

photo courtsey www.lapster.smugmug.com

SQUARE ONE...

2006-07-08T16:37:00.000+05:30

After fretting for a long time about the sameness of the days it was time to have a taste of the other side of the coin.

At the end of a week long race against time and spaces, I am physically exhausted but mentally prepared to live n number of weeks like this. There were hundreds of occasions that made me aware of my limits. But there also were multiple of hundreds of factors that inspired me to strive to defy these limits.

The three hour journey from Mumbai to Silvassa was a picturesque ride among the lush green hills, charged by the touch of monsoon. Watching them with wide open eyes, I struggled for words to appreciate the beauty. But somehow I failed to enjoy the sight. Open eyes does not necessarily mean sight. To enjoy beauty you need to have imaginative eyes, need to integrate the inputs from eyes with the imaginations of the mind. But the later was busy in searching ways to manage the loss that Mumbai rains have caused, messing up all our plans.

Trapped for hours on the Mumbai-Ahmedabad highway, I realised no matter how well planned you are, when it comes to nature's furry nothing can stop you from going haywire. "Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong".

The amusing weather of Bangalore made me wish our days were elastic, expandable according to our wishes. But the moments passed by like anything to become pleasant memories, reviving the self-conviction once I have lost in wilderness.

While traveling through the length and breadth of Chennai, from Chengalpattu to Chennai port, I tried to click glimpses of the city through my mind's eyes. But my subconscious was again busy planning and rearranging the next two days' schedules for Delhi. I know hurdles need not to be big to mess-up all my planning. Even then I have to plan.

We are spending our moments preparing for a 'better future' that one day eventually will be loaded into our past. The transitions are so silent that we do not even realize when we invested them in planning and preparations for another 'better future', without enjoying the results of the past planning and preparations. An irony!

ALL ABOUT MY TRYST WITH HINDI (WITH NO MALICE ...)

2006-06-26T20:07:00.000+05:30

Do you have any language preference for your thoughts?
I mean to ask do you think in any specific language. Not un-usual, until a few years back I used to think in my mother tongue. There was a sudden change when I had to shift to Bhopal in search of a career. In order to adjust with the changed language environment I have had to change the language preferences for my thought process.

Then only I realised what difference it can make to you, thinking in your mother tongue and language that you have acquired. It was some kind of a jerk and my mind waves, thoughts often stumbled making me feel helpless. You search for your vocabulary for the perfect word and it comes up with a blank screen, forcing you to go mute in between conversations. The only option is to use a word that somehow resemble. You use that option. At times the one in conversation with you either feels offended or burst into laughter.

I have got the chance of becoming "a laughing stalk" numerous times so far. At times I open my mouth and there are many more open mouths (a roaring laughter!). Now I deliberately use the wrong combination of words to tickle friends.

For the past four years I have been struggling with my Hindi. When classmates and seniors tried to extract each and every ounce of amusement from my fractured Hindi, Ruchi and Brajendra decided to bear the pain of teaching me the right way. I got two teachers who would go to the extent of slapping or boxing my ears whenever I repeated mistakes. Thanks to their sweating, slowly my senses started recognizing the differences of the four different sounds of 'd', four different sounds of 't' and 's', 'sh', 'ch'...but I still confuse and mix-up everything.

The next hurdle in getting the head and tail of Hindi was my "gender sense" (you better read it my gender non-sense!). The language that hosted my thoughts for more than two decades does not recognize gender of non-living things. And sentence formations does not change depending on gender of subject or object, as it happens in Hindi. It took me lots of time to assimilate the different forms "vo bolta hai"("he talks") Vs "vo bolti hai" ("she talks") into my language system.

I still have thousands of questions regarding the gender classification of the non living beings. Why, one non living being is masculine while the other is feminine? Every time I faced a new noun I was at fuss. No reference to support my decision.

When ever I turned to my teachers whether XYZ is masculine or feminine, they would refer to a sentence from their store and on the basis of that they would declare the gender. In the reverse process, if I ask them formation of this sentence is 'this' or 'that'; they would refer to gender of the subject or object and declare the sentence structure. They have had a vast stock of sentences and conventional information that back up their gender quarries. But how will one like me decide gender of newer nouns?

At times irritated by my questions, Ruchi would say, "Yaar you ask a lot of questions. All most all the nouns that end with the sound 'ee' or 'e' are feminine." Than I would ask, "What about 'pani' (water, which according to Hindi grammer is masculine).

Once Brajendra came up with another convention,"everything that is big is masculine, and the petite ones are masculine. Like 'bus' is feminine and aero plane is masculine." He had to face the question "How big it should be so that you can call it masculine? What about a 'train'?"(According to Hindi grammar it's feminine). How can one not loose ones calm in front of questions like these?

Once Deepu suggested, everything that is fragile, delicate are feminine, like ankhe (eyes)..."What about Maan (mind!)?". At another point of irritation she proclaimed, "jo bhi achhi hai woh 'hoti' hai, jo acha nehi hai woh 'hota' hai" (those things that are good are feminine, and that are bad are masculine). I would ask what about 'dimag' (brain!).

Divya says,"Are mujhe woh sab maat pucho. I do not know why things are like that, I just know that they are."

Vikrant, another teacher of Hindi for me suggested, "Stop questioning grammar. Just accept it. Just like your heart, grammar knows no reason."

After this entire study, I realised; no matter how hard I try, I will have to remain 'An English man in New York'.

SCARED OF LIGHT!

2006-06-15T18:22:00.000+05:30

I usually don't peep into the affairs of others around me. But I failed to avoid noticing that the girl (in her early twenties) sitting next to me was dozing off with a book open in her hands. Allan Pease's "Body Language: How to Read Others' Thoughts by Their Gestures"...I felt the curves on my face taking the shape of a big smile.

Perhaps it's the period of life when almost everyone craves for a peep into the life of the people around.

I too tried my best to acquire the magic power of reading one without letting know that I was doing that. It started with my reading of a piece of Allan Pease's article in the magazine Competition Success Review about the importance of the ability to read body language of people, how mastering it can make things different for one, improve communication skills etc etc...inspired deep into my heart, I tried to grasp everything I can get on the topic.

In the same process I came in terms with the art of analysing handwritings, something I tried to master too. As far as my memory supports, there were no significant advancement made in both the fields...I do not even remember when I winded up my scuttle for the 'third eye'.

I can't say it's the result of my sweating of those days that I can (to some extent) read people. At times, mostly unintentional, I make some reading of human behaviour, to find them coming true later. But most of the times I follow my nature of going against my instinct and ignore them. While they make me wonder whether I have got that magic power once I starved for, I can't ignore the fact that there are an equal number of cases when my interpretations went wrong.

Whatever it is, I struggle a lot to keep my mind shut now. Else, it would come up with logic and counter-logic for or against every message that my senses capture, cook them up and in a matter of seconds produce various possible versions the message.

And I know for sure, the best way to happiness is to be able to stop reading between the lines and listening to the silences. Just imagine, you have got an x-ray vision and you have the power to see deep inside. Do you think you will be able to fall in love with someone in this condition (when you will be seeing his /her skeleton when ever you look at) ? You were true, at times things are better when kept in darkness.

Yes, there are only a handful in whose presence of my mind remains silent. I can think aloud. (You will find this usually silent man turning into a chatter box with them!)

It's because of their presence, the world is a better place for me and I'm better man.

TODAY IS...

2006-06-14T09:35:00.000+05:30

Let's celebrate...
Thanks Motivated Motions

AS I KNOW ME...

2006-06-12T22:46:00.000+05:30

The other day, Rita posted a comment on my blog, "You've been tagged. Check my blog."

The tag was to list six of my wired habits! Hey what about the scale to measure the amount of weirdness? I do not know whether the habits I am listing are wired or not...but just following my mind...

1. I like to believe people. I like to be able to have faith on people around me. I believe, except for a few who have the habit of making phony statements, people generally do not fake or trick. Back in my university days, once I was in a long queue in my bank to deposit ten thousand bucks. I was in a hurry and the bank security person offered to deposit that on my behalf. One moment and the man inside me said, "Yes". My friends said it was foolishness on my part. Even I thought so. But I was not surprised that he did not tarnish my faith.

2. I have a heart weaker than my brain. Cause, I have used my heart thousands of times more than my brain so far. And I know for sure, it pains in your heart, not in your brain.

3. I like to pamper those I love (at times to the extent of irritation).

4. I have some kind of obsession with the word Pakhi. In Assamese it is means 'the wing'.

5. I usually misplace things and irritate everyone asking, "Have you seen that?"

6. I can and usually do repeatedly listen to songs that I like numerous times and not get bored.

Carrying forward the tradition, I am tagging

I thought of tagging Jac also. But stopped as he do not like being tagged, still...

CAUGHT IN NUMBERS...

2006-06-09T18:39:00.000+05:30

"It's not figures, but the trend that is important."

"Mere millions and billions mean nothing. Weigh them against one another. Compare the present with the past, read gaps and find a projection for the future...you need to predict what might be the status after five or ten years. So my son, go back to work and redo the slides. You have eight more hours...”

My biological ALU gave a stark reaction to the instructions. I have to deconstruct the rigor of past seven days and reconstruct in one day!

In the next eight hours, I would be struggling to crack the millions and billions, extracting growth rates and compounded growth rates...it was a race with the second's hand of the clock...it seemed all of the hands of the clock were competing among them, running at a rate higher than sixty seconds per minute...

As I was crack my head to find the trends to project everything to the year 2010, some of my wicked brain cells infused one of the most meaningless and cliched questions, "Where do you see yourself ten years down the line?"

After seeing this question invariably featuring in the each and every celebrity interview you must have felt by heart that minus this question interviews just can not be complete. In many occasions I too have tried to convince myself the inexorableness of the question. But even after producing the craziest logic, I can ever think out, I have failed to convince myself.

In spite of all that what if I decide to calculate my personal growth? What all should be the comparables?

Only four months back it was all news tapes, time codes, in points-out points, sound bytes-cutaways that dominated my days. There's no trace of them now. Growth rates, FDI cap, pie charts, bar diagrams and power point presentations have replaced them.

What if I can't find any comparable (and consequently no trend)? Will that mean I have not grown? What if my CTC is the only comparable? If you find a positive trend in my CTC does that mean I have grown? Does that also imply I will continue to grow?

Do these statistics, figures and trends deserve the importance that we give?

WHY DO WE ASK QUESTIONS?

2006-06-05T23:31:00.000+05:30

The idea of writing this post came to me, the other day, during our lunch time nonsense-talks. Our usual lunch itinerary at 'Village Food Court' says you place an order and wait at least for 40 minutes, for the food to be served.

To utilize this interval, we start something you name leg-pulling. Luckily Neeraj never minds being the target of all the activities in these sessions and consume all the bullets fired on him with his usual baffled calmness.

Vikas had a presentation at the FMC that day which I missed (!).

"I was all prepared to give Neeraj proper answer for the questions he asks. But I was surprised that he did not come up with a single question today. Probably it was a good day for him," said Vikas in jest. Neeraj is famous (dreaded!) for the questions he usually asks during presentations and lectures.

As they went on with the pastime, actively participated by Keshav, Naveen and Amar, I started processing the question in my mind. "Why do we ask questions?"

Here's an account of the findings of my mind-churning (!) research on this topic.

Type I: Because you actually want to know something you do not know.

You usually have to face this type of questions when ever you are with a kid. "Where have you got my brother from?" They ask because they have a curiosity to know and you do not know what to answer.

Type II: Because you feel that you should be asking questions.

Your are in a (forced )conversation with one in a topic that does not interest you. But you want (or forced by the situation) to show that you are hearing with interest. You ask questions (and do not care to hear what the other replied!).

Type III: Because you are bound to ask questions.

You must by now have accepted the fact that there's nothing to be surprised when a TV news reporter interviewing a survivor of a bomb-blast throws a question like this, "So how do you feel (after you have lost your limbs!)?"

Type IV: Because you want to show that you understand what the other is saying.

Often during an interactive lecture or at a seminar, you find intellectuals asking questions of this category (a part of their effort to get better, in-depth understanding of the subject.) They are usually the ones who keep nodding their head (in "I am getting your point" sense) most during the lecture.

Type V: Because you want people to know that you know

Babu Bhai, one of my university mates, used to set the best samples of this type . He seemed to have information (better said, knowledge or wisdom) about everything under the sun. In one seminar on "Role of Media on nation building", he interrupted the honored guest to ask a five to seven minute long question (a Guinness Record!). At one point our guest interrupted him and asked, "All of what you are saying is right, but where's your question?"

Type VI: Because you have something to say

Just like the one with which I started my post. The sense of this type of question usually is, "Do you feel the same way as I do, on this issue ?"

Do not know how this type differs from the previous one. But I feel they are different. Perhaps there's a hairline difference, perhaps not.

What do you think?

INSPIRED BY WRITINGS OF I am useless

Photo courtesy

www.puzzlepress.co.uk
www.aruncc.org.uk
www.chass.ncsu.edu
www.jesus-is-savior

STAINS TO LIVE WITH (II)

2006-06-01T02:02:00.000+05:30

After a long time, I noticed the scar on my right elbow again. A one and half inch cut mark, almost fading away. You will not be able to identify it until and unless I tell you beforehand...

I was just preparing to leave for school when Latu came running. "There's a wounded Neelkanth lying under that Sal tree. She is struggling for breath. Come fast." I saw tears in her eyes. Next moment we were running in the direction of the tree.

Often I used to get information of wounded birds from my friends or the elder ones who knew my craze for these winged creatures. Most of them were catapulted by the tribal children and left to die.

I would struggle to keep them alive with the little primary aid skills I have had...most of them did not respond to my treatment and died.

Every time a bird died in my hands I would promise myself not to treat wounded birds any more. It's painful seeing them dying. But next time I'm informed I would just rush like a fire brigade. Most of these operations were assisted by Latu.

When we reached the spot, the Neelkanth was making feeble sounds, beaks wide open. Her left wing was badly fractured. "She has no chance," I told Latu.

We took the bird home and washed the wounded wing with antiseptic lotion and bandaged after applying some medicine (that we human usually apply in the similar conditions...we were not vets). I tried to put some water in her mouth. But water just spilled off.

Putting the bird in a safe cage, we left for school. But concentrating in the class was a tough job...now and then just the face of the bird kept coming to my mind. I left school at the lunch break saying I was not well.

She showed some improvement by the evening as she started moving her head a bit. We tried to catch some grasshoppers, "Just in case she feels hungry," said Latu. We named her Pakhi.

Latu woke me up early next morning to give me the good news. "Pakhi is trying to sit with the help of the right wing. She is watching the bandage from all possible directions."

That day I did not have to bunk classes. Checked how Pakhi was doing in the lunch break and offered her a grasshopper caught on the way. She was not still in a position to eat anything.

Next day I offered an insect and she gobbled it at once. We caught some more insects for her.

Pakhi was moving inside her cage next day, supported by her right wing. We still have no idea how the wounds were now. Just hopped it was getting right. So I decided to remove the bandage and redo it.

But the moment I took her out of the cage, she attacked on my elbow with her beak. I never thought the beaks of the small bird will be so sharp. It pealed off the muscles and I was bleeding. But I was surprised, she did not attack when I tried again. She must have realised that I was not an enemy and just surrendered to my treatments.

In the evening after giving me a piece of his mind papa took me to a doc who dressed my wounds. On the way back papa told me to free the bird as soon as possible.

"But she is not cured yet!"

"I do not care, next time you are wounded, I'll not take you to doc again." I was not at all frightened.

Problem started again when Pakhi started making her natural sound. From a distance it appeared as if someone was striking a wooden log with a fork. But as she was staying in our house, it was very sharp for us and no one had a sleep that night.

She was silent in the day, but started singing (that's the way she sings!) with the nightfall. I had to shift her to a room in the back-yard.

Latu had no bound to her joy when I removed the bandage at the end of the week. Pakhi has recovered a lot. She was trying to use her wounded wing with some success.

But the wound in my hand worsened. In spite of all the efforts the wound increased and the doc had to redress it many times.

On the tenth day, I saw Pakhi looking at the trees outside.

"Shall we let her go?"

"Hmmmm, Yes," Latu respondend, not-so-willingly.

Next morning, before going to school we decided to say bye to Pakhi.

She jumped into the hands of Latu when we opened the doors of the cage. We took her outside and Latu softly threw her on the air. For the first time in past eleven days Pakhi, used her both wings properly and landed on a tree in front. In the next moment, she made the next move and flew away to the nearby forest.

Inspite of all my efforts to pacify her, Latu wept whole the day. But, boys don't cry...in the night when we heard some Neelkanth singing in the faraway jungle, Latu came to me, "Is that Pakhi?" I failed to resist my tears...

It took another week for the wounds on my elbow to heal. When I removed the bandage, there was that one and half inch distinct mark in the form of a scar. I wished it would remain with me till my senses...it pained seeing it fading away...daag ache hain!

Photo Courtesy : www.nickgarbutt.com

SPIRAL...

2006-05-29T02:03:00.000+05:30

Lightening that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright…

PB Shelly, Mutability

Her questions stripped off, one by one, the faces I was wearing, and here I was facing the reflection. "Damn it!" I screamed, frightened by the sight of real me, perhaps first time after decades. The escapist, in hibernation, who has forgotten how to stand the rays of the summer sun.

I have been here before,
But when or how I can not tell:
I know the gross beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,

Sudden Light, Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Yes, but I never bothered to peep into, beyond the reach of the sunrays. I never thought there can be so much of darkness hiding in each and every corner of the rusted inside.

I sat in my cold stone room
Choosing tough words, granite, flint,

to break the ice.

Demeter, Carol Ann Duffy

Now, I am sitting with the old rusted tool box. As the keys have denied moving inside the lock, I have to hammer it down...to dismantle each and every part of the face I am wearing now, dust and rinse inside and reassemble it again. I have the tough task of proving that I care for what she cares...

No body but me has this memory. This
memory has no body but me.

The Host, Roy Fisher

JUST ANOHTER...

2006-05-27T18:30:00.000+05:30

part I

"Have you heard the songs of Fanaa? Chand Shifaris and Mere Haath Main are lovely. Get them, you will love them too," Deepu suggested, back in April.

After a little search I found them.Yes they are marvelous. As it usually happens, I missed no chance of listening to them. "This is going to be another film I am going to avoid," I told myself.

part II

One of my colleagues found it difficult to consume my logic. "What the heck yaar! It's the height of absurdity."

Yes, it might appear absurd. But it happened many times. I stopped myself from seeing a movie because I loved its songs in the first place. ?:))

Irrespective of the picturisition or role in the storyline of a film, a song has got its own existence, appeal. You hear a song and it clicks you somewhere in your heart. You do not know why. You record it in your memory; integrate with your i-Drive (Imagination Drive!) and drool over it. You will be getting different tastes, matching your mood, situation you are in etc etc.

Once you watch the movie, the same song gets caught in the storyline. Your i-drive denies lending its wings, charm of the songs is gone.

part III

But the almighty has had different scheme for me this time. On the first day of the week, the office Recreation Club chair declared, "We are going to watch the first day second show of Fanaa." I have already bunked many RC activities, it will not be good if I repeat that this time also...so in spite of my reservations, I reached 3Cs to watch 'Fanaa' with colleagues.

After spending the two and half hours, I wished I was not there. The best three things about the movie were the songs, the way Kajol carried her through the movie (not in a big way of course!), and Master Ali Haji. Rest you can summerise the moral of the story in the form of a pair of Q&A.

"What happens when a Kashmiri freedom fighter falls in love with a simple Kashmiri girl?"

"He looses his focus and gets killed in the hands of his lover (who also loves him like anything)." Why can't we stop referring to the same ol' formula book to make movies?

You'll say love is at the root of everything on the earth and that you can not avoid it. Why can't we go beyond these cliche conflicts in love situations? Why can not we make films on simple expressions of love that you come across every day in your life? Do not say they'll not sale...

Yes, I accept it's easy said than done...but that's why you are Yash Chopra, you are Kunal Kohli, I am not...

TDL

2006-05-26T01:30:00.000+05:30

Here's a spur-of-the-moment struggling to live an organized life. Perhaps it's like a creeper trying to standalone, imitating a tree.

Suddenly I realized everything was going out of control. You have ten things to do, all of them having nearly the same dead-line. My gut feeling was that I have to rearrange my mind-set and upgrade it to 'multi tasking enabled' mode.

And I started using an organiser...get the habit of preparing ' To-Do-List'. Preparation of TDL before start working became a daily ritual. At times I have had to drag myself an extra bit to meet the self commitment. But the results of doing so in the first few days really satisfied me...

It does not take long for the nuptial to be over. I found myself revising and rearranging the TDL many time a day to meet the demand. No matter how hard I tried, there were left-over of the day's TDL, for the next day. TDLs started piling up.

Now I am a silent helpless spectator, of the TDL getting elongated every day. Feeling as if I am back to square one, back to the days when I was 'all spontaneous'. But I have not given up my race. I still religiously maintain my TDL. Don't know why!

NB: Just the moment I typed the final exclamation, the old Indian Railways joke about flashed in my mind...Don't know why, but it goes like...

After hearing the 'arrival delayed' announcement for the third time, our passenger waiting at a railway platform became furious.

Subsequently he went to the station master and exploded, "If you people can not maintain the train times, why the hell you prepare these time schedules?"

The Station Master maintaining all his indifferences replied, "Otherwise, how will you know how many hours the train has been delayed?"

MOMENTS...

2006-05-24T01:13:00.000+05:30

thanks a ton Divya...

SHADES OF BLACK...

2006-05-22T03:14:00.000+05:30

The Expression...

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood-

Theodore Roethke

The Question...
What's the colour of darkness?

The Realisation...
Finally the idea of changing layout of blog bugged me also. I decided to change the colour scheme. "I need to do away with the striking black dominating the layout."

But after exploring various colour combination and permutations, nearly for a week, I became aware of the fact that my inclination towards black is inherent to my 'colour sense'.

Although I came up with many impressive templates, minus black, when it came to using them I failed to convince myself.

I also realised none of the colours can produce the contrast as black does. How can I do without it?

The Question Re-phrased...

Is darkness black?

TO FADE OUT...

2006-05-17T10:02:00.000+05:30

It rained again last night. Second rain of this season...

Yet another pleasant, clean and green morning...an indication, there are going to be abundance of mornings like this, in the coming days...

Someone whispered into my ear,"A few more showers and they will loose their significance. Perhaps it's time you stop keeping track of them..."

image courtesy www.treklens.com

CELEBRATING RAIN...

2006-05-15T21:18:00.000+05:30

Creepers on the metal grill appeared extraordinarily happy when I wake up this morning. The sparrows, the squirrels were too more playful. Who ever I faced smiled at me and I smilled back in return...

Yes, what can be more soothing than the first summer rain and how can my blog miss such an important celebration of nature!

I struggled all the day to steal some time out of the schedule to type a few words, to put down the feelings that last night's downpour created in my heart and mind...that I resisted the temptation to go out in the rain, thinking of the grueling week ahead...but as ill luck would have it, there was hardly any time and now it was too late to write anything.

But these entire quandaries just evaporated when I read what my new found blog mate wrote about the rains last night…Dilli me Barsaat

"The city is rocking. And the first real rains of this season have come in style. I just came back from a ritual I have been doing as long as I can remember. Had a great time getting wet in the rains..."

My agitated heat settled down after reading the whole expression. I liked it. At least for me there's nothing more remained to be said of the rain...

Hats off Pi

Photo courtsey 7art-screensavers.com

Me too...

2006-05-14T23:35:00.000+05:30

thanks Soumyadip

POLYMER MIND...!

2006-05-14T04:31:00.000+05:30

Our Italian researcher was surprised to find that radiator fans blades in almost all Indian vehicles are either of nylon or polypropylene, not aluminum.

"Why it's so?"

"Because aluminum does not have memory property," replied the auto component manufacturer.

"Memory property, that's an interesting term! What does that mean?"

I was also curious. Even more enthusiastic was our teacher, in his late fifties, to share his wisdom. How can one resist speaking with two attentive listeners in front?

He twisted the polymer fan blade in his hands and released it. The blade reverted to it original shape. Than he picked up an aluminum sheet and applied same twist. The sheet remained deformed after being released.

"What have you noticed?"

I was to answer, "An example of elasticity," but stopped myself. Every time a question is asked does not necessarily mean that it was done expecting answers to it.) Our silence made the teacher even more fervent.

"Look its the memory property of Polypropylene that allowed it to retain its original shape and integrity after physical manipulation." Then he started explaining how a distorted fan blade can harm the radiator etc. etc.

Through out the rest of the day, the phrase 'memory property' kept reverberating in the cells of my mind. How peaceful lives would have been, had homo-sapiens been with 'memory property'!

All of us have strong 'memory power'. We can remember hundreds of phone numbers, big big passwords and many more things. We can even remember the state before deformation. But we can never revert to it.

"We are, programmed to receive,
You can check out anytime you like...
but you can never leave..."

hotel california

BACK TO MY LIFE...

2006-05-08T02:54:00.000+05:30

Sounds of quarrelling squirrels, chirruping house sparrows and warm rays of the morning sun whispered into my ears, "Hey wake up, it's a new day at a new place."

While struggling to set myself in tune with Delhi, I have almost stopped expecting this type of natural greetings. It's a bonus for us with the new house we have rented.

The new environment forced me to flashback into the times when twittering of house sparrow; magpie robin, bulbul and the signature tune of All India Radio (everyday sharp at 5:55 in the morning) were synonyms to our mornings.

It was mandatory for us to leave bed with these. So they were integral to our day-breaks, sometimes to the point of exasperation. I wished I could set aside those obligations. Integration poses binding. Compulsion at times brings bitterness...

Now only after they are back into my life I realized how much I missed them, right from the time I left home.

I'll have to rewrite many notions I have shaped about this city. They say,"Mirror never lies"...

FINALLY I TOUCHED THE GROUND...

2006-05-05T18:25:00.000+05:30

What happens when one almost always on walk goes on a ride?

From the spread of headlights I guessed it was a strait long drive ahead. But it was not long when I realized mistake I have done and there I was, at a dead end.

"There's no time and use of pulling the breaks," I told myself. At the blink of an eye I was on my free fall, a 6000 feet downward journey.

I decided to utilize the remaining moments and tried to get a feel of the good old saying, "A rolling stone...no moss!"

Pull of the mother earth and the feel of air striking on my face took me back to the college Physics class, drawings on the black board and the day when Professor Sharma was trying to make us understand the concept of terminal velocity .

"The terminal velocity of an object falling towards the ground, in non-vacuum, is the speed at which the gravitational force pulling it downwards is equal and opposite to the atmospheric drag (also called air resistance) pushing it upwards. At this speed, the object ceases to accelerate downwards and falls at constant speed..."

By now I must have traveled some two thousand feet. Probably I have balanced the air resistance and attained that constant speed. Now it's time to wait for the moment I touch the ground. It’s time to be ready to see myself splitting apart into pieces.

But why am I not terrified?
Why I am not crippled with fear?

My eco,my shadow and me...

2006-03-30T16:33:00.000+05:30

Firefly Syndrome!

2006-03-24T17:53:00.000+05:30

Friday March 24, 2006

Reminder alert of the cell phone dragged me out of sleep at 5:30 in the morning. The screen flashed FMC...FMC...FMC

"Friday Morning Class? Oh shit!"

(It's one of the hundreds of things; I am trying to absorb either into my daily or weekly schedule thanks to my new profile in a KPO.)

That means I will have to reach office 45 minutes earlier than a normal day, sit patiently in the conference room, either listening to the lifeless preaching of an unmotivated 'motivation expert' (something I hate from the bottom of my heart) or struggle to make sense out of a presentation by a Chartered Accountant or an MBA on some topic of their interest. I am the odd man out in such classes. But attending them is mandatory.

While concepts of management always tickle my senses, I feel awkward listening to CAs. The Topics they discuss hardly make any sense to me. So I have find out various ways of utilizing the time I feel I am wasting. When there's no other option available, I try to recreate the slides, contents and layout "had it been created by me, I would not have done this, I would not have done that...."

Oh Shit! Today it's the term of a CA again. It's going to be a double punishment!

Perhaps that's what happens when you are forced to be somewhere you do not want to be...after struggling with the terminologies Prateet was using in his presentation about "investigative audit", I found myself drooling over the things that are keeping me engrossed through out the past week...issues that I have buried many times (under the loads of official responsibilities), only to dig them out at the silent moments...

"Does anyone of you know what 'Firefly syndrome' is?" Prateet's raised voice dragged me back to the conference room. Pin-drop-silence prevailing in the room indicated no one knew it. I scanned my biological data bank for answer. But the response came" No reference found"

"If any one of you has got the chance to play with the fireflies, you must have ignored this interesting piece of information. If you keep fireflies enclosed for some time, say in a glass container, you will find them making all kind of movements to get out of it. But what is interesting is that even if after sometime, you set the container open, you will find the fireflies making the same movements, sticking to the earlier limits of their movement. They will not cross over the limits to leave the enclosure, they will not realise the fact that they are free to move out...."

After a few words Prateet resumed his speech full of technical jargons and I took repudiated to my world with excitements added by the information about a syndrome new to me.

Though the concept was not all total new to me, it touched a chord of my heart to generate some feelings, I am struggling to figure them out to put them in black and white...till I succeed!

I AM ALIVE!

2006-03-04T17:10:00.000+05:30

Every time I looked at the calendar I was happy, seeing the weekend coming closer. Two consecutive off days! There were so many things pending.

Though I was expecting my new work profile to be consuming, but I never thought it would be so overriding. In spite of all my efforts throughout the past fortnight, I failed to manage time to blog.

So, first thing I would do is to visit my favourite blogs and if possible post something, I decided. There were two tags from Jac and Aquamarine pending (almost for a month). I managed to sit and finished writing thems. But, thanks to many technical difficulties posting them remained to be a reality.

Here comes another weekend and with a little time to spare, trying to post them.

Here's the tag from Jac

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Busy cracking formulas and theories of mathematics.

Five snacks you enjoy
Potato chips, Aloo Bhujia, rusk, peanuts and samosas.

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics

Summer of 69, Best of Me, Everything I Do (Bryan Adams), Hotel California(Eagles), Seasons in the Sun

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire
Millionire! Wow. What can a self-concerned man like me usually do when he has money to spend? Fulfill all personal needs like buying gadgets that supposedly make life efficient, easire and comfortable.

Five things you like doing
Listening to people I love, watching sunset, listen to music, blog

Five favorite toys
Computer, portable FM Radio receiver, my mobile handset and flute

And the nine quartets from Aquamarine

Four jobs I have had
Private Tutor
Writer (honerary) for students of a blind school in our locality (during my secondary school days).
Reporter cum Assistant Producer of TV Current Affairs Programme
News Correspondent

Four movies I could watch over and over
Forest Gump
Munna Bhai MBBS
Dil Chahta Hain
Hera Pheri

Four places I've lived
Guwahati
Bhopal
Itanagar
Kohima

TV shows I love to watch
MTV Graveyard Shift
Sarabhai Vs Sarabhai
Dil Kya Chahta Hain
Great Indian Laughter Champions

Four places I've been to on vacation
Shillong
Cherrapunji
Khajuraho
Panchmari

Four of my favorite foods
All varieties of Pitha (a typical Assamese dish prepared from Coconut and griended rice)
Poha (a dish specific to Madhya Pradesh prepared from flatted rice)
Jalebi.

Four places I'd rather be right now
Tokyo
Beijing
Guwahati (though once I hated the city and left it)
Kohima.

Four sites I visit daily
Google
Online Economic Times
Online Business Standard
Online Financial Express
(I was a frequent visitor of my own blog and the facourite ones in the sidebar. But as ill luck would have it, I can not say that now. Hope one day they will make it to the list again.)

vicissitude..!

2006-02-17T19:25:00.000+05:30

The tree...

That was the tallest tree in the locality and as a child I used question myself why it was not one of the greatest wonders of the world.

Every day on returning from school taking an hour nap was a must. Lying down on bed I used to scan each and every part of the tree visible through the window. "How it would be to climb its top and look down?" That dream never became a reality.

That was a stormy summer night. I had to struggle a lot to sleep under the roaring sound of hailstones striking the ispat roofing. At the midnight a deafening sound wake us up. As if the sky had broken down on our house. "Lightening must have struck something nearby," said Papa while trying to quiet down shocked younger brother.

Next time when I opened my eyes, there was a beautiful morning waiting outside. Mighty rain had washed everything.

"Where's the tree gone?" Every one rushed to the front side hearing my scream. There, in place of my 'wonder', was a piece of burnt wooden log. "Lightening must have struck it last night since it was the highest thing in the area," papa explained.

In the afternoon I saw a woodcutter chopping the remaining part of the burnt tree. Every time he axed the tree, I felt pain somewhere inside me. My evenings changed after that...

change again...

"You will miss it, as I do. The day I resigned I was really happy. But on my way back home that day I wept, thinking about the things I will miss about. I liked the work place; I was leaving people I liked so much. For a long time you will also be drooling on the floors, foot steps on the stare cases reverberating in your mind..."

Tapes, Feeds, time code, sound bytes, cut aways...I can add so many things to that list, that I will miss.

and the excuse...

Yes, I have Giuseppe di Lamedosa to stand by me with an excuse for the change...

"If you want things to stay as they are, things will have to change."

YOU AND I...in this beautiful world!

2006-02-09T10:59:00.000+05:30

BLOG WORM? O' NO !

2006-02-03T11:58:00.000+05:30

My blog was infected by this worm when I visited Suresh's blog today...please H E L P !

Keep your blog away from this and say thanks to me for the alert.

ADDING COLOURS TO LIFE!

2006-02-02T15:11:00.000+05:30

High Low

THE FATHER...

2006-01-30T13:51:00.000+05:30

JANUARY 30, 1987

I still remember the excitement.

Through out the last week of January our National Broadcaster 'Doordarshan' was running promos of Richard Attenborough's Oscar winner "Gandhi".

National premier of the movie on the 30th, on the occasion of the Martyr's Day.

Right from the morning we heard elders discussing the movie, adding spice to our excitements. Though it was not a holiday, classes were dismissed after 12 O' clock.

Parents were also back from their work. Mama took all possible steps to ensure that we finished our lunch by 1 O' clock. Something that delighted everyone, our neighbour arranged an electricity generator so that unprecedented power-cuts do not disrupt our viewing.

From 2 O' clock onwards there was a virtual stand still, all glued to the TV set for the next four and half- hours. After the movie we were hardly talking to each other. There was some kind of heaviness on the air. I was sad that 'Bapu' was no more.

OCTOBER 2, 2005

While surfing through the cable channels on, we found DD was re telecasting Gandhi, carrying forward its tradition. This time it was on the occasion of Bapu's Birthday celebrations.

Another chance to re-visit the life of the father of the nation and I did it. No wonder it was a totally different experience, everything changes with time.

But what struck me was the transformation that I felt, 'receptive me' putting up the cloths of a 'critical me' and "Gandhi" appeared a fable to me. Perhaps whatever I have seen, experienced in these years have washed away all the guilelessness needed to accept the character and works of the apostle of Ahimsha (non-violence).

JANUARY 30, 2006

It’s time we recall him again. The way he had led the country through the ages of British repression to breath the air of freedom.

News reports are pouring in about various organisations, political parties observing the 58th martyrdom of Bapu.

My skeptic mind has came up with the ugly question. "Do we really care about Bapu. If yes, why can't we see his impressions anywhere other than the stamps?"

REMOTE REPUBLIC!

2006-01-28T11:19:00.000+05:30

Three days after we celebrated our 57th Republic Day, we are settling down to normalcy.

National flags dismounted and songs that infuse the sense of patriotism in us are dying out.

We are readying ourselves for our day-to-day struggles.

I will be able to steal a little time out of my schedule to complete the post, before there is another scam or another controversy breaks out and we get busy in digging them out. (I started writing this on 22nd of January, with the idea of publishing on 26th, the RD Day but failed to do so...Better late than never!)

26th of January, 2004. I spent the day at a remote village in the "remote North East Indian State of Nagaland". It happende to be the only Republic Day so far I have spent without once hearing the National Anthem and seeing single National Flag waving on the sky. Yet, it’s a day I’ll recall on every Republic day I celebrate.

Distance between the district head quarter of Zunheboto and the state capital Kohima is about 150 kilometers. A Jeep running at a speed of 50 to 60 km/h should not take more than two and half-hours to cover that. Thanks to the bumpy roads spiraling around the hills you can hardly think of covering that distance in less than five hours.

After spending three days at the district headquarters, cameraperson Priyadarshan (PD) and I set out for the Akhakhu Village, some twenty-five kilometers from the HQ. Our mission was to produce a video report about rural life of Nagas.

The village schoolteacher whom we met at District Collector’s office volunteered to be our guide. But our communications were minimal. "Might be he is not comfortable talking in English or might be reluctant to speak," I thought.

Travelling on the bumpy road for three hours we reached the village at about 8:30 in the morning. Our guide led us to the school ground," We will find the people there."

We were delighted to see the crowd male and female, children and the old; all in their traditional attire. A group of boys and girls dancing on drum beats at the centre.

"Republic Day celebrations?"

Our guide Tulume, choose not to answer my question to keep me wondering.

In a few moments we found ourselves at the center of all the activities. Villagers gathered around the vehicle and gave us a grand welcome. Having no idea of what to do, we decided follow what ever takes place there.

Luckily after some moments of confusion the village-head approached us and I was relieved that his command over English was good enough to express his feelings and understand me.

We were surprised to know that all the arrangements in the field were to just to welcome us.

"Nothing to do with the RD," the village head asserted.
"How do you know that we are coming?"
"After you discussed your trip with Tulume yesterday, he sent his friend to inform us. Please do not mind if we miss something in serving you." It was time for me to be mesmerized by simplicity and warmth of hospitality.

Excitement of the villagers reached the peak when I explained objective of our visit. Youths resumed their dance and the villagers started joining them on by one. PD got busy in capturing these moments.

I continued my discussion with the village-head. When asked him about Republic Day Celebrations, he turned to me with a blank look (just as Tulume did).

"That is not a part of our tradition. What difference does becoming a republic make to us? Can’t you see how "remotes" we are from the republic you are talking about? You are the first media team to visit this village ask us about our lives, our problems."

"I am really grateful that you are here to know about us. Yes, we have problems and we are needy. We do not have single concrete building in our village. But please do not go back with the idea that we are poor or downtrodden."

I tried to speak something to fill up the long silence after this. But failed to generate a sequence of words.

"But don’t think these people are cheering up at your arrival because you are from media. That makes no difference to them. There’s only one television set in the village, which is also defective. Newspapers hardly reach here. Most of the people hardly have any idea of media. We welcome each and every visitor in this way only."

"We are happy here. We know how to tackle the problems of our lives. We have learnt how to live with all the limitations..."

"You must be hungry. Lets have something."

Drums stopped beating. We were led inside the school where about twenty traditional Naga dishes were waiting for us. Chicken, Mutton, Pork and Beef, all kind of non-vegetarian dishes cooked in Naga way.

Problem occurred when we found all the preprations, starting from Chicken to Beef, were being served with the same wooden spoon.

I choose to ignore this fact but PD was dead against having anything beyond Chicken.

And there were some hundred and fifty villagers waiting for us to have our first byte. Villagers will take food only after their guests start…do not ask how we managed things...

The Sun was moving fast towards the west horizon. As per the instructions of the District Collector we were supposed to reach the district Head quarters before it was dark. So it was time to say bye. Most of the village walked with us till the boundary of the village.

Just before saying us a final bye the villagers offered prayer to their deity "to ensure a safe back journey for you."

We saw them standing at the same spot till we were out of view.

HEAVEN ON FIRE! LET IT RAIN...

2006-01-27T12:11:00.000+05:30

FINALLY...

2006-01-22T17:18:00.000+05:30

This time I was double tagged by AFJ and Dwaipayan.

These are the rules...

(1) Write a 100-to-200-word entry using the following words: I, me, blow job, grapes, random, power, loneliness, water, robot and blue;
(2) use these words once and only once; and of course
(3) the entry should make sense.

And here's what I produced after hours of discontinuous tap tap tap...

Vivek decided to go for a random walk. "At times you need to do some out-of-the-routine things to assert yourselves that you are not a robot. Specially, after six days of rigor."

This is when Vivek misses the cool breeze on the banks of the river and the mighty water current that used to infuse power drops in his blood vessels.

"There can never be fatigue or loneliness when the river is around," his father used to say. Now there's only the vast blue sky to gaze into.

"Stop following me!" Shrill voice of a woman in rugs forced Vivek to a Holt. She was trying to drive away a group of street children jeering her "Insane, insane..."

The woman turned violent when one of them snatch her bag spliting it apart. She speeded after the boy. "Come on F**k you all...I give you a blow-job."

In a moment the group vanished leaving the woman crying and cursing as she collects her belongings, plastic bottles, few slices of bread, a few sour grapes and bananas.

"I should have acted quickly to stop these." Vivek's share of guilt!

I am carrying forward the rituals of tagging to Jac (sorry boss!), Che, Mindinside, and Greta. But yes, it's no obligation to be carried out without will.

ANY ANSWER?

2006-01-19T13:21:00.000+05:30

Clemenceau… The ship that died. But didn’t stop killing.

Imagine you're the State of France. What do you do with a 27,000-tonne warship full of asbestos, PCBs, lead, mercury, and other toxic chemicals, which you don't want and no European country is willing or able to scrap for you?

Why, you send it off to India to be broken up by hand in a scrapyard where impoverished workers are injured and die every day?

GREENPEACE, india

!!!

2006-01-17T15:43:00.000+05:30

TAGGED LOVE!

2006-01-16T10:05:00.000+05:30

And the pull exerted by Rita reached me. Here are the rules of the game that I have done ^C and ^V from her post:

1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. Need to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.

"Eight points! OMG!"

That was how my mind reacted when I read Rita's post. I do not have that many parameters for my perfect love. That will be a really mind crunching task.

Still I am giving a try...
Target: Female

My perfect lover should be

1.Cute (with a beautiful mind)
2.Accept me as I am (with all my limitations)
3.Always demanding (to give me hard time struggling to fulfill them)
4.A chatter box!
5.Not always asking for explanations of the things I do (excepting for crucial matters).
6.Ready to accept that there can be different views.
7.Cooks delicious food (of course I am ready to be a helping hand)
8.A little bit suspicious about me (I enjoy being tracked!)

Hey, that's not as tough as it thought it to be. So I am going to make you all victims

Che
Jac
Greta
Anang
Suresh
Mindinside

do not say no. Ok...

AND IT PASSED BY!

2006-01-14T16:10:00.000+05:30

IT'S A NEW DAY!

2006-01-14T09:45:00.000+05:30

LONELY LONELY PLANET!

2006-01-12T17:51:00.000+05:30

The one-kilometer stretch from Connaught place to Gole Market is one-way for the traffic. Once in a month I have to make a trip between these two places and I love the walk back.

In spite of being at the heart of the national capital New Delhi, traffic on this way is scanty and the well-defined footpath (it's hardly so in most part of the city).

My latest walk back on this road was at about 11 o'clock last Monday. The morning TV news bulletin said it was going to be one of the coldest days with the possibility of mercury touching the ZERO mark! I was enjoying sunrays playing hide and seek through the road side tree leaves.

" Can you tell me the way to Baba Kharak Sing Marg?"
" What are you looking for?"
" The state government emporiums."
" A little ahead on the way, but we have to take a right byline. I am on that way only."

Paul Bremer was from Sydney. This was his second visit to India and first time in New Delhi. He was in Kerala two years back.

Amidst conversations Paul turned to his Lonely Planet traveler guide. I was trying to help him to crack our location on the map when a voice behind us suggested that we were not on the right way.

Paul looked back and yelled, "I have been saying, I do not need your guidance. Thanx. You be on your way." Irritation apparent on his face showed he was trying to avoid the follower (must be a commission agent) for a long time.

But after a few steps only our follower crossed over us and stood in front as a hurdle, this time the target was I. Talking to me in Hindi he warned me that I was driving away his customer and it will be dangerous for me. When he found me unmoved by his threats, he turned on his best English jargon and tried to convey the message that I was just another commission agent trying to mislead the traveler.

Paul turned to me with suspicious eyes. It was time for me to be baffled. "It's too much," I read my mind waves.

"Look Paul, it's up to you to decide whom you wanted to believe. I have no interest and time to be caught in these. If you think you need my help you are welcome."

I took to my way. After a little heated up arguments I heard Paul's heavy footsteps behind me. We were walking again.

I was overwhelmed and have no idea how to say that I was feeling sorry about the whole episode.

"I faced situations like these last time also when I was here. The best thing about traveling is that you get the power to judge people after you travel a lot. Adverse situations teach you so much that you look at one's face and you can make out the man inside. I am confident now that no one can fool me. Things becomes a little easier when you have a guide like Lonely Planet with you," Paul was talking as if he was feeling sorry for the situation that was created.

I was curious to know what Lonely Planet says about my country. But we were there in front of the government run state emporiums that sell products from the various states all over the country.

On reaching office, I checked the onlineLonely Planet to know its view of India.

"Nothing in the country is ever quite predictable; the only thing to expect is the unexpected, which comes in many forms and will always want to sit next to you. India is a litmus test for many travellers - some are only too happy to leave, while others stay for a lifetime."

In the next few days Paul is going to face more incidents like this that will just make him one of the takers of Lonely Planet's claim.

But is that all about India?

Who were you in your last life?

2006-01-09T12:11:00.000+05:30

Do you believe in "afterlife"?
Do you believe in the predications you come across now and than?

I think I am a non-believer of the both without any specific reason for my non-belief.

It's just one of the thousands of beliefs I believe that neither our past nor our future is scripted.

But today I discovered, irrespective of my reservations about the abilities to read one's life, that I enjoy these predications. While googling the net I came across a site that claimed to give a BIG VIEW about life.

Along with Big Views on Mind and Consiousness, Tao Te Ching, Greek Philosophy, Buddhism and Space and Time the site generates information about your past life.

Here's what it says about my past life...

I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation. You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Tibet around the year 1550.Your profession was that of a banker, usurer, moneylender or judge.

Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
Bohemian personality, mysterious, highly gifted, capable to understand ancient books. With a magician's abilities, you could have been a servant of dark forces.

The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
The timid, lonely and self-confident people are everywhere, and your task is to overcome these tendencies in yourself and then to help other people.

Do you remember now?

Sorry, I have no recollection of those days of my past life. But some how I enjoyed it and the rest of the site too.

I also enjoyed these predications by some of the greatest scientific minds that I found at the trivia page of coolquiz.com.

"The energy produced by the breaking down of the atom is a very poor kind of thing. Anyone who expects a source of power from the transformation of the atom is talking moonshine."- British Physicist Lord Ernest Rutherford after the first experimental splitting of the atom, 1933, from the New York Herald Tribune, September 12, 1933.

"There is no reason for any individual to have a computer in their home."- Ken Olsen president of Digital Equipment, 1977.

There are thousands more in the site if...

DAWN?

2006-01-07T10:58:00.000+05:30

"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers." M. Scott Peck

IT'S TIME...

2005-12-31T10:45:00.000+05:30

there's an ugre to repeat those words of Faraj Bou al-Isha

Wait
do not leave yet.
Let me rearrange the world
for you.

feeling like holding the breath,
grabbing the moments passing by...

but how can we deny the excitement of digging into the uncertainities
the fourth dimension will bring

while on the walk...

So let's enter the future...

Mindless Musings of an Unmindful Mind: Where Have All the Young Girls Gone?

2005-12-27T11:38:00.000+05:30

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BLOGXIMITY!

2005-12-23T16:29:00.000+05:30

ONE...

Once when I was trying to crack the theories of Mass Communication I came in terms with the idea of PROXIMITY .

It's your physical proximity that makes you curious about the daily affairs of your locality, state, country and the neighborhood. The diameters tend to shrink or expand depending upon the nature of the incident (or accident). You tend to be inquisitive about the affairs of far away places because they affects some one who is psychologically nearer to you (simply your relatives or friends). It's your psychological proximity in action now.

TWO...

"Why do you blog?" one of my non-blogger friends queried. (The sense was "Why do you spend your time in doing that?")

" Because I have something to say and I want to express myself at times."

" But you have so many friends to lend an ear to you! Why do you need those blogwallahs whom you hardly know and who hardly know you?"

" Yes you are true. But I know I shall be practical enough to accept the fact that being my friend is in now an obligation of being ready to listen to me all the time or be interested in what I have to say."

" Then why do you expect them to do that?’

"Never, yes I want to express. But I never expect them to go through my posts as an obligation. You are in a mood to read me! You are welcome. You read it till the end or leave after the first paragraph or before, you are welcome! You like it, hate it you are welcome to tag your comments in it. No one pushes me to anything, as I do not." I took a long breath after I finished my statement.

THREE...

Yes, the blogsphere is a different closure of mine, with many paradoxes!

In spite of the fact that most of us are putting in masks of anonymity, are we really anonymous (like an Internet chat room!)? I have in my mind images of the bloggers in my closure that evolves with each post, comments or a non-comment.

How is it that we tend to depend on the suggestions of a fellow blogger more than that of a neighbourhood vendor!

I have seen fellows screaming "do not do that for long" when Abaniko declared a haitus one-day. Jac got the same treatment when he was missing for a long time after telling how he landed in Africa.

Everyone got busy in pulling Soumyadip out when he found himself under a hazy shade of winter .

Have you noticed how everyone reacted when all of a sudden Rita said Goodbye! and also the celebrations of AFJ's Blog Birthday in Bloggers’ way. Rain in Tamil Nadu was not so much a matter of concern for me before I have them in my blogsphere.

I know I should not be worried when often links to Dove's blog in my blogroll goes dead, but I can’t stop worrying untill one day she reappears with a new identity. I can not stop myself from being amazed by the zeal of Greta, exploring and bringing the best of Iceland and the web through The m mouse...

Yes, stepping into the blogsphere, I have experienced a different Proximity. It's a reality we have created on a virtual domain. Shall we term it B L O G X I M I T Y...!

PS: Suddenly without any apparent reason, I found my biological server performing below par. Result, I was just loosing around without updating my blog for quite some time.
Jac stopped me on the way this morning "No updates??"...

So, credit for the above stream of thoughts goes completely to Jac.

Thanx

BETER LATE THAN NEVER...

2005-12-19T17:20:00.000+05:30

YET ANOTHER...

2005-12-18T13:57:00.000+05:30

Life was
Just hit and run.

Standing at the twilight zone,
all of a sudden
I became conscious
of the time,

flying out of my hands

60 secs/min
60 mins/hr
24 hrs/day...

tick tick tick tick tick
in step with the hands of the clock...

12 months/year

DESTINATION ???

2005-12-15T14:25:00.000+05:30

SUNSET POINTS...

2005-12-11T16:39:00.000+05:30

"Don't you think you are a bit more enthusiastic about sunset? That shows you are a sadist," my friend yelled after looking at one of the snaps I took recently.

"Yes, perhaps you are true."
"There's nothing like perhaps in it."

Sun sets every day in Delhi . It also sets in Guwahati. It sets everywhere, everyday (except for those elongated days in Antarctica ) But following the setting sun on lanes and streets of Delhi, I realised not all sunsets are alluring.

"How can you expect the sun setting behind the concrete jungle of a metro make you feel the same as the one setting in the bosom of Brahmaputra ?"

Yes, I have it fresh in my memory, first time I crossed the Brahmaputra on a ferry. My senses were not ready to accept that the mighty river will not gobble the ferry when it reaches mid waters.

In spite of repeated assurance from my father that there will be no problem, my eyes were glued to the whirlpools appearing and disappearing around the ferry, tracking the movements of each one of them.

I have crossed the river many times after that; at times on a motor boat that swing like anything when sudden waves strike. You have safer options to cross the river; you can take a bus that passes over the bridge of Saraighat . (Buses moving at a speed of 40km/hour takes 8 minutes to cross the river.) Even ferries that run at regular intervals are safer options. But if you enjoy the fears within you, motorboats will definitely allure you.

At the end of the day, the banks of the mighty Brahmaputra turns into a heaven.

Stand at one of the sunset points of the river; look at the fireball loosing its glare while spreading its crimson grains in the western sky, setting it on fire.

You will definitely forget to wink. You're breathing slow and your heart heavier. The oval sun sneaks into your heart through the eyes; burns all the pain piled inside and leaves silently to settle down into the darkness of the night.

When you inhale deep, you will feel the enlarged spaces within you for the fresh air from the riverside.

"Why am I felling like weeping?" I asked papa during one such evenings at a sunset point. (He was the person responsible for instilling the craze within me for such sunsets on the banks of the Luit as the river is loving named in the region)

"Listen to the sun, you will get the answer." I did not get what he meant then. But now I know.

PS: Someone said. "Irrespective of your expertise, you will never be able to describe a sunset in words. So you better not to try and kill it."

I also believe it but failed to resist the temptation.

TIWILIGHT ZONE...

2005-12-09T17:11:00.000+05:30

INDIA CALLING(UNLOADED)

2005-12-05T16:42:00.000+05:30

" Can you do one thing for me?"

"What's that?"

"I have to air this programme in another fifteen minutes. Can you just receive my calls and say I am out for a while. Of course don' t say that to BOSS."

"OK. As long as I am here."

Our arrangement kept him away from the landline and intercom calls. But it was not long when his mobile started ringing.

"Hello"

"$#% ! @#$%^ !^&*$ %^&(*$"

"I am not interested and busy now."

"^%@ !@#$%%&%#^*$ @#$!@"

"How can I say when I will be free? Is it not sufficient to say that I am busy now? Where have you got my number? Don't you know I can sue you for making unsolicited calls at my personal number?"

" @&amp;amp;amp;%$@()$#%^&@$"

He resumed work after unloading all the bitterness of the day at a single breath...

"I try to be as sober as I can. But they are just not ready to accept that one can be busier than they can think of. This was the fourth call I received since I entered office."

I n d i a C a l l i n g!!!

INDIA CALLING!!!

2005-12-04T16:26:00.000+05:30

It was during the US Presidential Elections in 2000. I remember reading media reports about George Bush Junior’s campaigns. One report became the starting point of a huge confusion in the Indian media.

With an idea of comparing GK of Bush Junior with competitor Al Gore, the report informed "Junior" have had no idea who the Prime Minister of India was then (though I am not certain about the authenticity of the report).

Same confusion resurfaced when the same Bush Junior gave a Red carpet welcome to the Indian Prime Minster Manmohan Singh when he reached Washington early this year. First time Junior did the same to any country head. India Calling!!!

I have never heard of any survey done to make an assessment of the percentage of world population that knows India or about India. If I have to do some guess work (with possible backing from my notions and worldview!), my answer will be, "Nine percent, I think!"

Now here's Tehelka reporting... CURRYING FAVOURS

Restaurants in London serving, Curry that has by now became England’s national dish, orders routed through call centres in India. "Our fax machine can go non-stop with orders from India requesting London lunches, yet we’re so close we can drop most orders off by foot."

Just for fun, I imagined ones hands getting instructions from ones brain routed through a call centre somewhere in India.

If this continues to be the trend, I wonder, it's not long when there will hardly be any one who never has heard form any Indian. Thanks to Indian call centres.

India Calling !!!

SQUARE ROOT OF TWO...

2005-12-02T13:20:00.000+05:30

So here's another incident, I was a part of, on my way to office. As usual I was trying to find some meaning out of the headlines of The Indian Express.

Once when I raised my head I found one of my fellow passengers, an elderly gentleman standing by my side. "He needs the seat more than you," the man in me suggested and I followed it even though not so willingly.

He occupied the seat with thanks and also my newspaper.

After a while another fellow passenger sitting on the left row came out to be an acquaintance of our gentleman (let's say Mr X for our convenience). So, I have had to do a little favour of shifting a little back from my position, to facilitate their discussions. Eye-to-eye contact is an important part of any inter-personnel communication.

Incidentally we were at Mr X's destination, before mine. So he returned my newspaper with one more thanks. "Now perhaps I will be able to finish my paper, there's fifteen more minutes to go."

But, as if to give me a " mild surprise" , Mr X invited his friend Mr Y to take the seat he is going to vacate, (as Mr Y was occupying a seat reserved for ladies passengers and he might have to leave it any time). Mr X took all the precautions to ensure that Mr Y is in safe seat.

All those who were watching the current affairs looked at me with critical smiles on their faces. " You fool!"

I was embarrassed and as usual somewhat slow microprocessor inside me took some time to generating a proper response to the situation at hand.

Now I was sitting on another seat and trying to go through the headlines as before. But I failed to concentrate as I was feeling my ear pans heated up.

"They must be looking like a piece of iron out of furnace!"

Tag...

"The adventure is not in arriving, it's the on-the-way experience. It is not the expected, it's the surprise. You are not choosing what you shall see in the world, but are giving the world an even chance to see you."

Ruskin Bond, All About My Walkabouts

I AM WATCHING YOU...

2005-11-29T16:47:00.000+05:30

It's the talk of the office now. We are uneasy, working under the ever-inspecting eyes of the cameras installed at the corners of the office floors. Bloody intruders!

“What they are trying to convey?"

"Simply that you are under scanner. So you are to ensure that you are maintaining the decorum of the office."

"But was that not the way things were going in the office before? I have never heard some one doing something unwarranted in the office space."

"Why have you forgotten that walls elevators were converted to graffiti boards?"
"Some one with a freaky mind must have done that but that does not mean that you will indict every one for that incident."

"Why do not you just ignore them? If you are doing nothing that is questionable, why should you bother about those cameras? You will just get familiar to it in a few days."

Logically it's true. Unless you are not wrong, you need not worry about the laws and restrictions. But how can I ignore the fact that these mechanical intruders have tremendously narrow view. That "to see is to believe" is not applicable for the cameras as they present a sallow view of the things.

Dimensions can be filtered out by a deliberate selection of the angle, something the visual media utilize to spice up and increase the commercial value of the product. Now it's my turn to taste spice.

WAITING FOR GODOT...

2005-11-27T16:39:00.000+05:30

I thought it was a crazy idea of a crazy man. But after surfing the site for a while, insanity got induced into me perhaps, as I decided to be the 7008th wacky in the network. After some time I found myself with the addresses of five wired fellows mailed to me by the site. Now it was for me to leave the comforts of the virtual world and perform the analogue part, mailing introductory postcards to "the first five".

And there I was at the nearby post office enquiring how to send a postcard to an overseas destination. The elderly postman engrossed in assortment of the collected mails gave up task at hand to have a look at the enquirer.

"Where are you sending them to?"

"Brazil, Portugal, Finland and...," I tried to recall the location of the rest two.

"We do not have official international postcards. But you can go for some picture postcards. You'll get them in a stationary shop. You will have to stick stamps of Rupees eight each," he resumed his "Mission Assortment" again.

I took out forty bucks. "Give me ten four- rupee stamps."

While counting the stamps from the bunch he looked up at me again. "Don't you use e-mail? I have never used them but I have heard you can type letter on the computer and send them through internet. My son who is in college, communicates with a lot of people abroad that way every day. He says he gets reply in not more than a minute or so. You can take help of any one of the cyber cafe owners on that line," he handed me over the stamps.

" Thanks!"

That day, on my way back to office, I dropped in at a stationary shop looking for picture post cards. The owner took the pain to clean the bundle of postcards dumped at one corner of the store.

"I have not sold a single one of them in the past two years."

The first thing I did in the morning yesterday was to drop the cards at the postbox near the office. One of my colleagues saw them and was astonished! "Does any body use them now- a-days also?"

"Crazy ones like me!"

Statistics posted on the site says, "The slowest postcard so far took 114 days to arrive while the average postcard trip time is 13 days."

So it's now time for me to wait and see. However I feel it is not only the idea that is crazy but also each one of us who are in the network.

THROUGH MIND'S EYE...

2005-11-24T10:17:00.000+05:30

A day's off, after six days of rigorous sameness at work. On the workday that follows (for me usually a Wednesday), you tend to be more receptive to the impulses from the surroundings.

I find it difficult to stop myself from going into an imaginative mood, when the bus heading to my work place moves smoothly on the Diplomatic Avenue, embassies and high commissions of various countries on both sides of the road still in sleep.

You have options, how you want to utilise the time, rather than sitting idle on the moving vehicle and reassuring yourself the authenticity of Newton's laws of inertia, inertia of rest and motion.

You can try to remember the National flags of different countries. You read the name of the embassy on the gate and jump eyes to the flag on top of the building. I believe the subconscious mind will record the two in two related memory cells in your brain. Remembering them will not help much in living your life. But it can save you from many embarrassing situations, especially when you are spending time with a quiz-kid who has decided to test you GK...

Or you can add to your prejudices about the countries by reading the features of the embassy structure. Embassies are the symbols of pride of the respective nations.

The US embassy is the most guarded one...there are chances that the first timers will mistake the Pakistan High Commission, thinking it a mosque...you can find the longest queue of Visa applicants with the maximum number of Sardar in front of the Canadian embassy...miniature world tour...

"I need to go to Belgian embassy, which stop do I have to get down?"

"I do not have any idea. I am also a newcomer."

The conversation dragged my senses back inside. I tried to recall the position of the embassy of Belgium.
That's the last embassy on the right side of the road; it took some time to work it out.

But before I could respond, an assurance came from the elderly man sitting parallel to me, in the other row.
"Do not worry, I will tell you when it comes." It was not a difficult guess that he was blind ("visually impaired"?), he was wearing a pair of black goggles (on a winter morning) and holding a foldable stick.

I became curious. But proving my suspicions false, he delivered a proper instruction to the enquirer to progress towards the exit just before we reached the embassy. "You will have just to cross the road, it's on the right side of the road," the blind man emphasised.

The whole episode refreshed a question I have been fostering in my mind for a long time. "How can one who does not have sight be so precise?"

I tried to be polite enough to ensure that my question does not hurt him. He turned to me with a big smile.
"I can understand what you want to ask. My son let me assure you that having eyes is not a necessary and sufficient condition for being able to see."

After pausing for a while, as if to arrange the words he said," If you have a strong desire to see, you can do that
even without your eyes."

"Do not mind, but are you sure you sighted ones see everything in front of your eyes?" That was really a big question mark to push me back into "please wait, request in process" mode.

Do we???

NONSENSE FEAR OF BEING CAUGHT IN A FEAR DIVIDE

2005-11-20T10:07:00.000+05:30

I was trying to go through the daily paper while minimising the shaking produced by the uneven movement of the bus. It's a difficult process but you tend to master things with a little practice...that is specially so when a headline like this catches your imagination...

"Removing A Single Gene Turns Rodent Into Fearless Explorer, Top-Notch Team Finds"...

This discovery may well prove applicable to humans, the report added...

So in near future we can expect this revelation to lead us to some gene therapy that will put the word fear and its synonyms "no more in use", showing them way to "museum of words".

But that's not so simple; cells in the "left" hemisphere of my brain contradicted the "right". Just imagine, the therapy becoming a reality. No doubt it will be a costly affair, affordable only to the privileged ones of the society.

As a result in a few days there will be segregated between the "fearless rich" and "timid poor"...the chances of Marx's dream of "rule of a proletariat" will become even more distant, more distant than that of the pole star...

I was enjoying, playing with weird thoughts...smiled silently, observing my brainwaves entangled in a debate with some funny logic...

"Don't you think the researchers will have to get the approval of the governments to continue this type of studies on human beings?"

I tried to continue the string...

"There will be protests, demonstrations against such studies, making it difficult for the governments to allow these activities."

After running after "senses" for hours, days and months, at times non-senses can give you a good respite, at least till you reach office and start mingling with the developments (?) related to "Volcker Report", "Bird flu", "Abu Salem"...

INSTANT READ!

2005-11-18T11:51:00.000+05:30

It's long time since I have visited a library...in fact the hustle and bustles of life have almost sucked out of me the power of continuous reading. Now I hardly read more than a page at a stretch. I have got the habit of looking for the five W's and one H in everything I read and get irritated when these are not in the first paragraph.

So, rather than reading books now I try to content myself by reading reviews and excerpts...at times you too can try this...for example, here's a line excerpted from Silent Extras by Arnon Grunberg

"...I had my whole life ahead of me, and there was nothing to do about it..."

I have no idea what led the writer (character!) to this point. But I think Grunberg will have nothing to object if I use my I-drive (imagination drive) to fill the dots at the beginning and the end of the sentence.

Of course he will be happy if, in this process, I can amass enough momentum to get out of the "inertia of rest" and turn to the book to know actually situation.

You can also give a similar treatment to short poems, like this one by Wendy Cope

Faster and faster
they vanished into darkness,
our years together...

Crazy Idea!...

ROME! STILL FAR AWAY...

2005-11-15T15:23:00.000+05:30

Reuters reported from Rome,

"A stunned Italian actor had to stub out the cigarette he had lit up on stage after a spectator complained, forcing the theater to change the script of an Arthur Miller play to make it smoke-free...After a 15-minute suspension, the performance resumed with a modified script and a non-smoking protagonist."

The report also said Italy has banned lighting up in all enclosed public places since January this year.

Just reminded me of the odd scene that arrised the day before when I suggested two of my fellow passengers to stop smoking inside the public bus we were travelling. One of them threw the cigerrate with a polite sorry, but the other, rather young energetic and arrogant defiyed saying I can get down from the bus if I was having problem.

When I reminded him the law that prohibits smoking on public places, there were dozens of his collegemates to laugh at me. " Look who's talking".

I was the only one that have a problem with smoking in the bus packed with not less than thirty people. The policeman sitting next to me suggested I should change my position, out of reach of the cigerrate smoke.

But I reached my destination before I decided on my next move. I got down from the bus, but I am not out of the agony yet...

DYNAMICS OF MEMORY

2005-11-14T11:00:00.000+05:30

What do you do when you find yourself at an impasse? How do you get out of it?

Once I read somewhere, one's mind waves usually do not get stuck when on the move. So the best way, it said was to keep moving.

I too have experienced it while travelling by train. The objects running on the opposite direction keeps your thoughts moving. If you are moving alone and your compartment mates are not disturbing much then you can rewind and forward your life many times on a train journey, without the danger of getting caught on the odds.

But to apply this hypothesis in your day to day life you need a little free space, with minimum obstacle. Because unlike the train, you will not be moving on an assigned track and you will be thinking. That's something rare in cities.

I found an alternative to it. Taking up some thing that can be done with less of thinking...rearranging the room...Slowly I clean things with a duster while working on the bottleneck in the mind on the background. The physical rearrangements definitely help the rearrangement of the thoughts waves...

Today while trying something like that I recovered one of the many incomplete note books. Once I bought it to note down the excerpts of the books I read, sequences of words that touched some chord inside me...

The first selection was from Samuel Beckett's The Expelled...

"...Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don't there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little. That is to say, you must think of them for a while, a good while every day several times a day until they sink for ever in the mud. That's an order..."

I continued reading the excerpts till I reached at a blank page. Then only I recalled, I have yet to clean a big portion of the room. I started working again. It was not long when I realised the logjam in my mind was gone...

DEATH SMELLT FROM POINT BLANK

2005-11-11T12:11:00.000+05:30

I have reported many deaths but I was never so close to it. Just fractions of a second and I escaped (!) (yet I have no reason for rejoicing the fact...)

It's early winter here in Delhi. As usual I have to force myself out of warmth of the blanket, for the day's work. After I crossed the busy (somewhat) heart of the city, Connught Place, the traffic became scanty and slow moving.

By the time we reached the wide streets passing through the head quarters of the Ministry of Defence, the bus was nearly empty with only two of us as passengers.

Bus passing through the sunrays sneaking in through the leaves of the trees covering both sides the of the street, the FM radio playing recent chartbuster Hindi song, defence personnels rushing in clusters on the foot path...

I was trying to enhance enjoyment by adding some more colours to the milieu with the brushes of my imagination.

I was brought back to realities when the bus came to a sudden halt. The driver and his assistant tried to restart it but all their efforts were fruitless.

The conductor approached us with a sorry and refunded the rest of the ticket. The next stoppage was just a few steps away. We proceeded towards it.

"Can I get a direct bus to South Ex.?"

"I do not think so. You'll have to change a bus at Moti Baag," I replied.

I tried to utilise the moments of wait by observing the hurried movements of the armed force personnels in between the office. Even their indiscipline has a pattern, a discipline.

A screeching sound brought me back again to reality. Something skidded from the street and slammed my fellow who was standing not more than two feet away from me.

Some reflexes of my nerves and I stepped back from my position. It was a biker that somehow lost its balance and...I felt my body parts became just as rigid as a corpse...by the moment I regained my breath, the armed force personnels came into action...war footing...ambulance, nurse, doctor, police...the two bodies were laid on stretchers on the side of the road, covered head to toe...how can that be? The one that just talked to me was lying motionless...It could have been me too!

I pulled myself back to actuality and unlocked the cell to call News Coordinators in the office.

"How many died?"
"Two"
"Any one injured?"
"No"
"Kya yaar, you are telling us to report an accident in which only two died? Who will be interested in it (Who will buy it?). Just because you are there, you are becoming emotional. Forget all these and come to office."

Yes, we reporters are not supposed to be emotional. We are not supposed to be shaken by "mere two deaths". That's not so hot. They do not excite people, they do not add up to the TRP (Television Rating Point)...

MOMENTS WITH THE CREATURES OF THE NIGHT...

2005-11-05T16:13:00.000+05:30

It's one in the night now. Elvis is doing Jailhouse Rock on MTV...It must be colder outside.

Standing on my third floor balcony one can have a dominant view of the front lane bellow. I love it. Everything looks smaller than what they are. You can feel superior (!)...

The locality (cluster of reinforced concrete structures) is in deep sleep now, except for the milkman at the end of the lane, preparing for his next morning. I can see him (appearing to be a dark point, from where I am standing) moving in and out of his shop and hear the him washing the huge milk containers.

Tomorrow sharp at 6 in the morning, I'll find him at the window with a smile (which will force me to smile back at him). I can never think of maintaining a smile like that with mere three hours of sleep. Has he got any sleep concentrate?

The night watch man made his entry from behind the darkness on the other end of the lane (you can call it a corridor), striking the asphalt road with his long wooden stick. Music director of the night! His shadow growing with each step he is taking...it will be reversed once he crosses the light post near me...

"Jaagte Raho...ooooo!!!" (Keep awake!) The night man screamed with his shrill voice, stretching the words as long as he can. Why the hell we hired you? To kill the tranquil night?

Two men appeared from the milkman's end, stumbling on their steps...stopping each other from falling down as they walked...while they discussed something with the night man I tried to calculate the approximate time they will take to disappear in the darkness on the other end of the lane. Will they reach home today? But why should I bother?

I retracted into the warmness of my room. U2 singing in their inimitable style "I still have not found, what I am looking for"...

EID RAMBLINGS...

2005-11-04T16:10:00.000+05:30

I have had never heard my parents expressing reservations against the fact that one in my core group at the school was a Muslim.

That hardly mattered in the affair of the "Group of Five" in my class of which I was a member. We never had to bother about the differences of being Hindus and Muslims except for when we studied them in the class books.

But even than have had no idea how my parents, especially Maa (we call mother as), would react to Alam's presence in our house.

But will she accept the fact that I invited Aalam too to my house? It's something never happened. At least to my knowledge, never one from the Muslim community paid a visit to our family before this (even though there were no restrictions in our locality).

But numerous stories I have read in the news papers and magazines about people from a community treating visitors from the other communities in ways different from the normal were just striking me.

Adding to my anxiety was the humiliation I had passed through once when I was a child. An upper caste family I visited was not hospitable enough to allow me drink a glass of water inside their house.

I knew nothing like that will happen in our family. "But I will not be able to bear any incidence that will make him feel a fraction of the humiliation I went through."

With mind busy in finding ways to stop anything unwanted, I failed to concentrate on whatever studies we were doing...

Finally there was the dreaded moment. Maa returned home and the first thing I have to do was to introduce my friends (about whom she has heard a lot earlier). Against all my fears and worries there was no deflection on her face when I introduced Aalam.

"Maa, he is Shah Aalam, science wizard of the class." She had a common discussion with all about the warm weather outside and left us with our studies. Much more relaxed, still I was preparing myself for anything worst.

After sometimes Maa appeared with cold drinks and all of us were sharing chips from the same plate (something we do not have to worry about earlier and luckily today too).

Even lunchtime was no different, as if to assure me that all the indignations I was having was just a creation of my mind. That I never heard parents talking about the differences of being Hindus and Muslims as they too do not bother about them...

And it was perhaps not merely a coincidence that the next Eid was a huge celebration for us, the “Group of Five”. Especially for me...

TELLING LIES, SELLING LIES!

2005-10-30T15:51:00.000+05:30

It was going to be just another weekend I spent at the news room, things moving slower than the weekdays.

But God said "No"!

The clock stuck 6 and there was panic in the room. Television monitors fitted on the walls beaming various channels started disseminating the "panic words".

Blasts, one after another rocked Indian national capital New Delhi. The news room came alive. Suddenly from nowhere hustle and bustle started in the nearly empty room.

Visuals of shattered stalls, charred bodies started pouring in along with "official bytes" and statements of panic stricken eyewitness. As time passed by, panicked channels first reporting four simultaneous blasts at different parts of the capital "confirmed three".

Amidst all these reports about declaration of "Red alert" and "security tightened up" started pouring in. Statements of the police officials were there to substantiate them.

When I stepped out of the office, one of my colleagues prescribed me to look for an "office cab" and to avoid the public transport system. "It's not safe now". One of the blast sites comes on my way to home. But my instinct pushed me to take the public bus either.

"I will get a chance to look at the actual situation. "

I prepared myself to pass through the many security checks, answer to questions of the security personnels, to get caught in panic jam and even to be an eye witness ( or may be one of the victims!) of another blast that might take place.

But in contrast to what I reported, roads were empty just like it happens on any weekend. I saw people strolling in the parks just like...I did not have to pass through a single security check and consequently not to answer a single question from the alerted security personnels. In fact there were not single security personnel seen except for those in the blast site.

Except that Police stopped me from going near the dreaded spot (I did not feel like using my identity card to force an entry). But in spite of the terror strike, there was no trace of terror anywhere. And also no one to stop or prevent any attempt that there can be later.

When I reached home, I found the news channels beaming the terror words which I failed to trace on the streets of the national capital.

I choose to switch over to a movie channel.

"I am also a part of the MST (MACHINE SELLING TERROR)."

STUCKED IN THE BLUE!

2005-10-29T16:04:00.000+05:30

I did not declare a hiatus. But I persuaded myself to go for one when I found the blank page on the word processor still blank (with two stray lines of discrete words) after an hour of struggle. It perhaps was time ripe to go for a break.

The first and last option was to be to go for, Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code" which my relocated friend prescribed and left for me to read. "I should utlise this opportunity," I thought.

But I was mistaken. Despite spending a voluminous time, trying to read the book for four days, I found myself at the 20th page only.

I realised, I am stuck somewhere! Just like the gramophone recorder at my uncle's place (the second wonder I faced in the world!).

Every day after coming back from office uncle used to sit with the collection of records and a cup of tea. Sipping at the cup of tea he would listen to His Master's Voice. After tea, there's the daily paper to accompany him throughout the rest of his musical journey. This would continue till there's aunty calling for dinner.

This was something that made my summer vacations at school exciting. With July coming closer my excitement would grow and I would wait eagerly the day we get the vacation and reach uncle's place.

But merely reaching uncle's place was not enough as I would have to wait till uncle returns from office and start his routine musical evenings. He would get a third company for the next few days.

But he never expected an appreciation regarding the collection of rare records he had collected over the years from me. He knew what called my attraction was not his collection but the source of sound. I used to examine each and every visible part of the wonder, scanning through my naked eyes with the hope of one day finding the one singing and playing inside it.

At time I would approach him with the queries in my mind, but he never bothered to answer.

I would stare at the rotating record, needle and the cone until either the record finishes or (most of the time) the needle gets stuck at one of the tracks to start repeating the same line.

The silence or repetition that resulted would bring uncle back to action and he would either change the record or help the needle progress further lifting it to the next track. I start my search again until it again gets stuck. I would resume staring at...

All these excitements ended when one day my science teacher revealed the secrets of recording and reproduction of sounds. I was one of the enlightened lots. But my summer vacations were no more exciting...

That was also when the first wonder in my life ceased to be so, lost its luster. Incidentally the first one was also an audio instrument, the PHILIPS radio receiver my papa had. Something that waked us up every morning sharp at 5:55 with the signature tune of All India Radio until one day I operated on it to find the sound source. The operation was successful but the patient was dead...

CONFESSIONS OF A CONFUSED SCRIBE…

2005-10-22T17:44:00.000+05:30

The day I stepped into my first college, I was virtually crippled under the fear of being ragged by seniors. But somehow that was not as notorious as I expected. Perhaps I sneaked through, being with not so striking appearance.

Now here's a similar demon in the blogsphere, with a t in place of r…tagging…Abaniko tagged Soumyadip who in turn tagged people within his sphere.

First I thought it would not be that much of a problem. What I would have to do is to go through the posts and find some information about me listed. But when browsed through my earlier posts what all of them reflected were my confusions (something that is nothing new)…now after three days of sweating here are some lines that can be about me…

1. I love seeing the sun setting down into the darkness…

2. As a child I dreamt of being a "scientist" with heavily reamed glasses which changed to be a "physician" by the time I passed out of college, to be a "mathematician" by graduation and now a "struggling scribe" …rolling stone?

3. I wondered why my father stopped me from reading Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment when I was at the eighth standard. I managed to read it (at times with a torch light, under the blanket) five times in the next two years.

4. Monsoon rains make me go crazy.

5. I always find it difficult to believe that I can type without looking at the keyboard.

6. Once tried to form a musical band with four of my friends. It turned out to be a Summer of '69.

7. I envy the music composer AR Rehman and anyone who can play flute to hearts content.

8. I used to be a diary hopper before I started blogging. Every time I felt like writing my mind down I used to buy a new diary.

9. Given a chance I would like to be born Forest Gump…

10. I am a non believer of astrology.

11. Astronomy mesmerizes me specially after I came to know that by looking at the stars in the sky at night, we can have a look at the times we call our past. (Because the light we see at the moment actually had left the stars many years before. In some cases they have to travel thousands of years to reach us)

12. I am struggling to get out of my tendency to give up at the 99th hit.

Ask any one of the seniors " Why do you rag the newcomers?" The response most of the time will perhaps be "Because we were ragged by our seniors". I am having the urge to use this opportunity to tag Che, Pritha and Jac who have not be tagged till now. I hope the response will not be discouraging…

A LIFELINE ON THE TIMELINE

2005-10-20T14:04:00.000+05:30

SEVEN
"Why don't you accept that you are not happy? Why do you pretend to be happy when you are not?" she demanded.

After a pause I succumbed "Yes"...She is one of the few who pull my inside out, forces me to "think aloud".

MINUS ONE
One day when I had a scuffle with her(one year back) at office on the issue of a news-tape, it was really unimaginable that one day I would find myself struggling for words to express the emptiness I am feeling from the time I sensed she is going to be even far-off.

I can not recall when and how after that we settled down the differences and started behaving as amicable colleagues. Perhaps there was no individual bitterness in that.

Still we hardly have had communicated, except for smiles exchanged at times and at times jeering each other.

ZERO
In fact I came to know that she has crept into my life only after one day she called up to say she will not be attending the same office again. Perhaps Simon Weil was not wrong when she said, "Every separation is a link"

ONE
" One day if u need us frnd and there are 100 steps b/w us u take da first step 2 get near me I will take all the 99 steps 2b there 4 U! Trust Me!"

And I found myself messaging, talking and sharing about small little things in life, ups and downs. She became one in the comfort zone in the small sphere of influence I have.

FIVE
"I am little scared of going to new places. I do not know how the people there will be. You know I can't just mix up with anyone and every one."

"Since you have never stayed away from home, I think you should not give up this chance. It's really a different experience, staying at you own. The world changes completely," I suggested.

I am also scared of changes.

I did have fears when I left home four years back. Shall I be able to mix up with people there? I have had fears about my ability to communicate with the people with the command (?) of the Languages of the region I am going to be. But look how comfortable I am with you all.

NINE

"Will you miss me? Will you call me up? "
" No"
" You are so mean."
"Yes. I am "

Do not believe me...I will not promise(I am not good at keeping them). But I know I will have to struggle to adjust with the change that are inevitable...you made the world a better place for me...

TURBULENCE OF...

2005-10-16T15:36:00.000+05:30

It was difficult to resist the temptation. I followed the instruction. There was the six letter word in bold Arial Black font

S I L E N C E.

Yes, a good break fast for my mind, I thought .

The question and its answer kept on reverberating in my mind for next an hour.

Every one I met in office during that asked " Hey what happened? What are you thinking?" I tried my best to avoid answering back, to stop another silence from being killed.

It was not long when my cynic mind came up with a counter question. Is the relation between "Silence" and "opening of mouth" symmetrical? Is the reverse also true? Will you be generating a SILENCE by keeping your mouth shut?

If the answer is yes, they why even switching off all those noisy gadgets and closing the door does not help me in finding out a little space where I can sit quite and listen to my own mind waves?

Why it is that I found myself struggling for silence even when the whole world around sleep?

IS EVERYTHING FINE, IVANA?

2005-10-13T17:24:00.000+05:30

"I am at cross roads. Khalid asked me to marry him. I want to say him yes. But for that I will have to change my religion and obey the strict rules of Islam. That's something I am not thrilled about. Shall I follow my heart or the reasoning? Please show me the right direction to go.

---Ivana"

It was time for me to be in dilemma. It's merely six months that I was introduced to Ivana, through the listings of Names Database. As it usually happens, you do not take the communications through the internet too seriously.

She was working at a local TV channel in Zagreb city of Georgia . She wrote about the problems the country is facing, embarrassing situations she faced while reporting events, quarried about the country I am living in. But I was not expecting her to seek suggestion from me in a matter as serious like this.

I was not sure what to suggest. She was facing a conflict between her mind and conscience about something that was going to decide the future curse of her life.

It was about marrying a person she loved. I remember in her second mail she wrote she choose to work, giving up studies because she needed money to visit Iraq. Khalid, whom she loved, was abducted by secret Iraqi police while he was reporting the events in Baghdad. She planned to save money out of her salary and go searching for Khalid. Silly idea, I thought, but touched by her love for Khalid.

One month later there was the mail, full of joy, Khalid was released and he was back to Jordan. Now the same man proposed to marry her, but she will have to change her religion. Will it be wrong to reject him for the fact that she will have to change her religion? Will she be able to carry on with the set of faith; she is accepting not willingly, otherwise?

I choose to suggest, "Had it been me". I would have followed my conscience, even if it was a hard decision wrote. Right and wrong are only relative to faith. I believe things became right or wrong depending upon the way we carry it after the implementation. If you are confident enough to face the consequences of the decision you have taken, then you are always right, no matter what ever it is.

That was the last correspondence with Ivana, all my mails there after remaining unanswered. Even though I know there's hardly anything I can do to make things easier for her, owing to the distance (virtually shortened, thanks to Internet), I am worried about her. Accept for sending a "Is everything fine?" mail.

Hope there will be a reply one day saying "Yes, I am fine" with some excuses for not mailing for long.

LIVING WITH ZEROS AND ONES...

2005-10-09T10:34:00.000+05:30

Living in a world ruled by zeros and ones, just as invisible as God. You can’t touch them; you can’t even see them. But you can feel them if you wish.

These zeros and ones (Z&Os, we will say hereafter) remain awake in your alarm clock to wake you up in morning, ensure that there’s no disruption in the metro (or tube) that you travel to reach office on time (until and unless there’s something like London!). When you start your work, you are totally at the mercy of these Z&Os. But they are loyal enough to make you feel comforted. You never think about them, express your gratitude to them. In fact you do not have time enough to do that and in fact they never demand also.

All these thoughts went through my mind when I found in the newspaper that it was World Post Day today. I started wondering what these Z&Os have done to our lives. You just give your commands and just like the good old faithful doggy, these otherwise invisible sequences of zeros and ones start working. You think of any place on the surface of the earth and you are there.

I still remember the days some twelve years to fifteen years back when I used to post letters to different destinations across the world and maintain a registrar to keep track of them. Because I knew by the time I receive the reply I would have forgotten what the reply was about.

And now there’s the miracle called e-mail (thanks to the Z&Os revolution). Every day we do hundreds of mails and reply hundreds of them without much effort. Yes it’s true; I do not feel the same pleasure (on receiving an e-mail) as I used to feel after receiving a letter that brought dust of hundreds of countries, which it must have traveled through. But that’s a different dimension of the story.

LEGAL ALIENS

2005-10-07T14:36:00.000+05:30

My first encounter with the word was in Bhopal, when I reached there for higher studies some four years back.
"Hey why don't you look like Chinkis?" The first person I met with yelled after I introduced myself. I did have no Idea what does Chinki mean. I produced a questioning face. Next moment threw a flat smile as if I knew what he tried to know but not interested in answering.

Next time it was from my classmate I met with first…I decided to give up hesitations and ask what it means…I felt some kind of current passing through my spine when he enriched my knowledge saying " that is how people from North East (NE), especially the youths"
"Why is it so?"

"Their look, their dressing, and the way they carry themselves around. When we heard that a boy from Guwahati has joined our class, we were expecting just some one with big swollen eyes, in jeans and Tees, with an awkward haircut, and a damn care look…. But you are so different!"

I felt disgraced. I felt pity about the knowledge most of the people from the "Hindi belt" keep regarding the Northeastern parts of the country for whom the eight states of Northeast are just as unicolour as the Sahara desert...

Even though they accept the geographical inclusion of the NE states in the same country they are living, not ready to accept the inhabitants. Everyday I meet with people who find it difficult to consume that the youth from NE more comfortable with English than that of Hindi. They find it difficult to accept that when it comes to the status of man and woman, most of the societies in NE are far more flexible than the main land India...so there's the pseudo caste...Chinkis...

When I joined rest of my classmates, I have to face the same question many times, in different forms. For most of them I was a big surprise as after seeing me only they came to know that there are non tribes also in the NE states. There are people whose features match to some extent to them.

I should have been happy, the fact that I was not considered one of the Chinks...but whenever I hear some one I felt blood passing through my veins reaching their boiling point

New Delhi

September 16, 2005

Publication inspired by The Unknown Indians of Mindless Musings

GOING AGAINST THE GENES...

2005-10-05T18:26:00.000+05:30

AT times you strive to, tend to be like the ones you admire. "That's obvious as you admire those with when you can identify your expectations, your hopes and dreams."

Yes, but what about the ones whom " whether you admire or not", you tend to follow and act like instinctively. Your actions, reactions match with theirs'. So much so, at times you feel the things about you were predetermined. The way you will be, the way you think...No I am not talking about those stars above us that are supposed to 'outsource' the decisions that ultimately give shape to our lives. I do not believe them.

I am talking about the permutation and combinations of those 36 million genes, reasons behind my existence which science books say are unique to me. Alas, even then they fail to make me some one different from "Deuta" (as we call father)

From my child hood I have heard relatives and people saying "He has gone to his father". That made no sense to me till I started feeling the influence of the invisible strings with which they control my brainwaves and my movements, the genes I have inherited from my father.

They push me to be indifferent to everything around me...push me to be interested in everything under the sun, but crazy about nothing...inspire me to be without any preferences, without any choices...lead me to be at dilemma every time I have to choose between this or that...inject into me everything that is my father's, one whom I love so much but hardly want to be like...

UNMASKING OF ME...

2005-10-03T16:28:00.000+05:30

This is not the first time I have become aware of the many faces, I keep on changing with time and space.

But perhaps for the first time I have decided to spend some time in reviewing skill I have acquired over time without any conscious effort.

Something, I have learnt beyond textbooks. What I found stunned me, the proficiency and I was really stunned by the proficiency I have achieved in it.

What if I stop using these skills?

What if I tear them apart?

What if I put on the face that is really mine?

Will the people in my sphere of influence accept me as it is now?

Will the relations I have now remain intact?

Or will my life be formatted like a floppy drive?

But which one of these thousands of faces is mine?