Amputated!!

God! I realise now how painful it would be when you lose a limb. It hurts like hell. There is nothing left but a ghost of a limb. You search frantically for it, only to despair over its absence. You miss it sorely. When it was there, you take it for granted. You abuse your limb like anything. It takes its revenge by leaving you. Oh! What I would give to get my limb back!

Yeah! I had to separate from my mobile. I am on a short term visit outside India and had to part with my dearest and most beloved. My mobile! And it has left a void in me. No people I can call. No person I can yak-yak to. I wail out loud. At Delhi airport itself, I feel the absence sorely. It makes me frustrated. I feel like hitting a wall. Impotent rage, as I can do nothing and international roaming is not an option for a guy eking out his per diem. Hmm.......

Let's see how I survive the next three months.
Maybe I actually miss my family of friends whom I reach out through my mobile. And maybe the mobile is just a metaphor.

P.S: I find that net cafes are not a rage in the U.S and till I buy/set up my system, my blogging too might suffer. At a time when I find so much to blog about!!

After the deluge

I had to come to Mumbai, yesterday.With a bit of trepidation, I started on the journey. I was wondering how the city is coping up after the downpour somedays back. And the heavy rains were enacting a sequel too, during the past week. On the way to the hotel, what I see! people from all walks of life, celebrating Ganesh Visarjan, with joy. And I mean by people from all walks of life. Pillayars (Ganeshas) were everywhere and on all modes of transport except his mouse! Pillayars were on bullock carts, push carts, trunks of Cars, and what else! Girls were dancing in front of such processions, tiny and huge. One could never tell that these were the same people who were inundated in their own sink of a city. Night, as I lay in bed, rain poured in torrents and the roof of the hotel amplified its force. I was wondering whether I could get my work done. Came morning and the streets were clear. Not a cesspool in sight. The city was wet though. It came alive like a wet dog shaking off the water from its fur. I got my job done, much to my relief. The hotel said that if i were to vacate by noon, it won't charge more than a day's rent. i was told that the checkout time is 12 o'clock noon! Irrespective of the check-in time. Nice way to steal. I told them that was unfair, checking out all the same. Saved my company a good amount of money! Went to a high-end showroom. Found that instead of purchasing there, I could've very well stayed at the hotel and saved money. Then ambled across to Crossword, the book-shop. Spent time, chatted on phone with my manager who was off to take PMP. We congatulated each other on our achievements. I managed to purchase books, even though I am yet to finish the ones, I purchased previously. Or should I say, booklets, the ones Penguin has brought out on its seventieth anniversary. I purchased three, already finished one, waiting for my flight. Spied a netcafe and here I am blogging. Two air hostesses came around. Which airline I won't reveal as one would understand, from what I am to tell. They came, looked around, saw that all the machines were occupied. Then they plead with the person manning the counter who shrug helplessly. They look around and then come to me, plead with me to lend my machine for just 2 minutes for they have an urgent mail to check. Gallant as I am(no sniggers please), I rise and give them my machine, carefully instructing them not to close the minimised screen, where I am blogging. They keep to their word, and give the machine back in precisely two minutes. But they forgot to close their screen. And what I see. Naukri.com!! lol. If rushing to their work, they beg to check about any new openings, I could imagine the state of their airline. Thanking that it is not the one I am about to travel, I continue to wait for my further delayed flight. It's been a good day today!!

Beckham of our Bungalow!!

My roommate is having the latest fashionable haircut. Lol. It was not the result of any planned effort, though. He didn't ape any actor for his zany haircut. All he did was to go to the saloon when Indian team was playing. ROFL. The barber was holding the knife to my roommate's nape, when, fourth wicket fell with a paltry score on the board. Kaboom! The barber became agitated and the knife went swishing high above where it was supposed to be! lol. I find it difficult to type when convulsing with laughter.To compensate the unintended cut high above, the barber came down an everything below that line. lol. And my poor room mate came, with his neck going up all the way to the top of his head. lol. lol. lol. :-)))). Now his scalp looks like a bald rabbi's cap, with pate sorrounding it on all sides. lol. I'll stop here, to finish my laughing and to prevent my hovering room mate from deleting it.

Bursting at the seams

People have not taken my philosophical outbursts kindly. My roommates slam me on the face. Other fellow bloggers, are a bit suave in their comments. All the same, giving fundas puts people off. Therefore I'll stop such drivel for now. I'll concentrate on more mundane things.
I am not fat. I am neither skinny. With such a frame, I've managed to develop a slight tummy. All time at desk and no physical exercise contributed to that. A fondness for cheese, paneer and cream of milk has aggravated this. These days my problem, deformation, rather, has assumed huge proportions with everybody taking potshots. I am bemused at this. Isn't everybody entitled to a slight bulge? Mine is not yet a case of "Tummytoe"(no, not a misspelt vegetable!). For the uninformed, that's a physical complication where a standing person will not be able to see his/her toes due to a tummy that impedes the view. Policemen are prone to develop it. Honest, mine's slight and I can still see my toes, when I stand and look down.
These days I can't have a meal in peace, without somebody commenting on the amount I eat. I feel, for a healthy body, healthy appetite is necessary. The girlish ways of snipping at morsels of food are not for me! Even men have taken to such habits, calling themselves metrosexuals. I prefer to be a retro. True, I should exercise. But when lying in the bed, twisting and turning, the blanket going under and pillow on top, does anybody in his/her right mind would think of getting up and strain their body?? For me sloth is bliss.

With due apologies to Frost,
When the woods are lovely, dark and deep,
Why should I travel miles before I sleep?
By sitting at a place, when I'm getting fed
Why should I trod, getting bled?

Getting back to my tummy, all the pinpricks about that have got to me. I am going mad these days thinking of ways to reduce it. Any method, which is devoid of exercise and doesn't advocate food abstinence, is most welcome. I plead fellow bloggers to tell me such ways.

I hesitantly tried some exercise too. I give below the prescription I found, in a newspaper.
"The following bicycle exercise, which targets all of the abdominal layers, will help make your six-pack pop. Lie face up and pull your knees in towards your chest. Place your hands behind your head and curl your head and shoulders off the floor, keeping your neck relaxed and elbows wide. Extend your left leg as you exhale and turn your left shoulder towards your right knee.
Exhale again as you switch legs and turn toward the other side. Try to keep both shoulders off the floor throughout the movements, and avoid tucking your chin in toward your chest. Stretch your legs long as you alternate them, keeping your tailbone on the floor and your hips as steady as possible. Perform five to ten repetitions, or as many as you can do before compromising your form or straining to continue."

I tried this, for a day. I am not able to continue to do this daily. And I am getting ribbed about this tummy of mine. Hope I don't develop a case of tummytoe. Meanwhile I'm sick of the PJs about rice shortages and about the fate of friends inviting me for dinner.

P.S: For all the nubile things out there reading this. This is just my stab at humour. Actually I am a macho hunk with washboard waist and biceps like cast iron pillars. Check me out! :-))

Point I ponder!!

How extremely different emotions create the same wish, I wonder!
When deepest despair hits, when it seems that there is nothing and no one left to live for, Death wish takes over.
The strange irony is when happiness seeps and pervades the soul, when not just joy and laughter, but peace and happiness takes over your being, the same death wish takes over. Since that zenith of sublime nirvana, the mind transcends, can never be repeated (or that is what we believe at that point in time), it is better to shuffle our mortal coil then, than hitting the lows after, is what your heart and soul lead you to believe.
I wonder!
I wonder why!!

The after taste!

*
Today was a different Monday. I didn't go to office, today. My mother left for Chennai today. The train was at 4, and I had to drop her at the station. I took the entire day off. Morning I got up late, lazed about afterwards. Had to do minor shopping for mom. Did that. Had a third
or fourth coffee, I don't remember, and slept.
Woke up at 2, took bath and slowly got ready to see my mother off. She wanted to stay a bit longer here, but that couldn't be. We went to the station, she in an auto, me escorting in a bike. We reached the station. I parked hurriedly in a no parking zone, for the auto used a different entrance and I had to rush there to pick up the luggages and pay the driver off. The station was a madhouse, with three important trains leaving around the same time. We trundled along slowly, climbed up the stairs, and got down on a platform hemmed by two trains, only to realise that we are on the wrong'un. I asked to mom to rest awhile. We had plenty of time on our side. I was tinged with worry about entering the station without a platform ticket and having parked the bike in a wrong place too. She was fretting over getting on the correct platform and on to her seat at the earliest. I was a bit irrascible trying to hide my concerns regarding bike and platform ticket from her. Otherwise, she'd fret more and that through her entire long journey too. I didn't want that. Then we again moved platforms, this time to the correct one. I made my mother sit at her reserved berth.
I started watching the crowd. It was fascinating. People hanging on to the person whom they have come to see off! It was all senti, pally-pally and smoochey stuff. I idly thought whether the odd bunch talking to the odd traveller, fond and fast, would've shown the same emotions till then. It seems that the train, the threat of departure it holds seems to evoke strange emotions in people. Maybe, every departure is like a temporary death, and hence affects us very much. My mom, held my hand, talking the take care of your health and such other stuff, that usually moms speak. The train was a bit empty and mom was a bit worried about travelling all alone. I could do nothing to that. Just commented not to take anything offered by strangers. I got down and stood by the glass window.
The train was already late by 10-15 minutes and so I didn't want to be in. We tried some sign language through the thick plexi-glass window. To no avail. I started observing how different groups having come to send off different persons, behave. It was truly
revealing. Though a few people looked disinterested, generally all were caught in their own whirlpool of sending-off emotions. People must have been together for quite some time. Yet they had so much to speak at the last moment! They had to exchange important phone numbers which God only knows why, they didn't do earlier. My mom was trying to say something and I couldn't make out any. The train showed no signs of movement. I was getting a bit tired, my mind already in "what would have happened to my bike" and "will they fine me for not buying platform ticket" mode. My mom meanwhile was just looking at me throught the glass window, being not able to tell something. Then again she wanted to talk something. I couldn't make out and just shrugged.
The delay, meanwhile, was telling on everybody at the station. People ran out of words to speak. Nobody can spout sugary stuff all the time, I guess. And high intensive outpouring drains people, I suppose. I idly thought whether the info my mom failed
to convey through the window glass was something important. The thought nagged on me. I may meet my mother again maybe next year. So why not be all ears now to her, my conscience pricked. The ticket examiners were chatting on the platform. I decided that it would be a long time before the train would start. The entrance nearest to my mom's seat was blocked by a
crowd looking on to their traveller standing at the door. I ran to the farthest entrance, hopped on, and raced through, to my mom's seat. I asked her what's it. She swept it off, said nothing, just drinking me in through her eyes. "Take care" tumbled through my lips. The train as if waiting for those words made a move.
Immediately my mom asked me to get off. I jumped down through the nearest exit, pushing aside the traveller still waving to her audience. I with a slight trepidation walked towards the entrance eyes on the look out for ticket checkers. Two of them were chatting ignoring the people. I managed safely across. One more hurdle to cross. I was a bit
nonplussed when I didn't find my bike in the position I parked in, but a bit skewed. Some other car wallah had managed to squeeze in abutting my bike. I walked nonchalantly and with a prayer on my lips, swung my leg across the bike. I heard a shout and looked up to see a cop beckoning me. My heart sunk. When bad luck comes in threes, why good luck shuns fellow company? I cursed at myself. I then launched into an innocent role. I claimed that I was new to the area and with a piteous expression wondered that whether it was a no parking area. Ofcourse all my histrionics didn't save me and my 100 rupees from being separated.
I was dejected that I had to unnecessarily pay that unofficial fine. I moved my bike and slowly came out of the station. I drove slowly and came to an area in shade and stopped there. I felt that I had to talk to someone. I called my friend C, at Delhi, and told her how I had to pay the policeman. My heart was heavy. Though, a niggling inside told me that being caught by the policeman was not the reason.

* - My mom, roommates and friends after a sumptous dinner.

Mom's the word!

My stomach is happy. It's having a gala time this week. It's tasting all varieties of home cooked food. Yeaaah, My mother is here, with me. My flatmates, friends and I are having a gala time this week. In the evenings, I look forward to start from office, for a change. I don't worry about where to have food. Yippeee! My mom, who doesn't know a syllable in Hindi, managed to come this far to the Hindi heartland. I should thank my office for not granting me any leave even when not giving me enough work! Frustrated, as anyone would be, I asked my sis to book tickets on tatkaal, and lo and behold! My friends at Chennai bundled off my mom on the train. I offloaded her, here, and brought her home.
Two days, Monday and Tuesday, she managed to sit alone all through the day, while I yawned at office for the whole of each day. Wednesday, I had to arrange a shopping trip. Sari shopping trip! Today, the fourth day since she's been here, I think she'd start missing her Sun TV. She generally awakes with the Sun TV and goes to sleep after all those umpteen senti/tear-jerking/supposed-to-be-thriller serials. Those serial killers are my Mom's life line. Hopefully, the cable wallah will give our home a connection. Atleast I won't have to regret for ever for taking my Mom away from her world of serials for a long time.
Meanwhile my mom is playing dumb charades with the servant maid. Mom talks in tamil, maid speaks in god-only-knows, some dialect of Hindi, and they both get along!
Today I brought my team lead home for dinner. The flamboyant bengali, enjoyed my mom's sambar rice. Had a second helping too, which my mom liked. he stayed for just 15 min, had dinner, touched my mom's feet and left.
Just two more full days of Mom! :-(

What does it take to be an URI?

I recently had the privilege of getting to know the characteristics of an U.S returned Indian. Let me list out them here, meanwhile referring to him as URI, in short.

1. Suitcases would be strewn around the house with his history, , geographical location, travel itenary and all such details except his horoscope, pasted on them in big block letters. And tags! yeah.

2. URI'll miraculously remember all the distantest relatives, call them on the phone and letting it slip by that he has a few goodies for them, meanwhile seriously enquiring about their well being.Then URI'd drown out their formal protests assuring them that bringing Hershey's kisses is his duty.

3. URI'd talk of cleanliness in the US, nonchalantly leaving the dropped shorts in as-is-where-is condition on the floor.

4. For a 30-40 min travel, URI'd bring his CD man along. URI has to relieve his boredom during the short trip. Three friends accompanying him can't match his CD man. More than that, URI has to attach himself to his Sony CD man even while sleeping.

5. And it's not worth living if the traffic at U.S. is not talked about. The speed of traffic, the roads, the yellow pedestrian crossings where whizzing cars creak to a stop...blah..blah...

6. Voila! New sneakers! Suddenly the house shoe rack will see new sneakers. The usual formal black shoes which would have received avuncular attention a short time back in India, would be discarded on the floor.Yes, avuncular! I had never seen a person daily caressing his shoes at the end of every day with spittle and cloth, before this guy came along. But that's history.

7. The guy who refused to do as much as open his eyelids when the milk man literally broke down the door everyday before, would now miraculously wake up early morning. Oh, we realise. It's the jet lag. And URI's room mates'd get preached about the virtues of rising early in the morning.

Heartfelt thanks for my room mate B, who offered himself as an unwitting specimen for this study. And continues to offer himself, I have to add.

If I am left alive by B, after he reads this, I'll continue posting. Bye for now.

P.S: B! Take this in a sportive spirit. Nevertheless, please clean up after you. ;-)

Living on a prayer

Last week, when during an idle chit-chat (Is there ever a official chit chat? OK..ok..they are called meetings), my friend asked me, "when do you reach office and what you do in the mornings? I said, "I come to office at around 9 0'clock +/- 30 mins".
She: "What time do you get up?"
Me: "I get up around 6.30."
She: "Then how does the whole 2.5/3 hours go?"
Me: "I brew coffee,and with coffee go thro' the two morning newspapers leisurely. Then morning ablutions(thinking meanwhile, "are there evening ones?"), prayer and finally donning office wear patting pockets for wallet, ID card, kerchief, bike key etc.. and off".
She said, ""Prayer! Wow! what will you do? Light deepak and then? prayer for how long?"
Me: "around 10 mins"
She: "What will you pray?"
Me: "Just something (thinking meanwhile, "asking the god this and that")" She left it at that and there ended the conversation.
But my conscience didn't leave it at that. It started asking me, "What is the use of your prayer if you utilise that for presenting a fresh charter of demands daily?"
Me: "Then whom to tell my grievances if not my creator?"
Conscience: "Have you ever to tried to realise the God in you?"
Me: "No. Sorry! That's beyond my scope"
Conscience: "Atleast, have you ever thanked God since there are billions in the country who are less fortunate than you"
Me: "Then what makes a person less or more fortunate? Karma?" Conscience: "Don't divert the topic.Have you not become His manager setting him targets for the day and cribbing when the day turns out to be less than what you anticipated?"
Me: "Then what should go for prayer?".
I couldn't get a satisfactory answer. I thought and thought. If god is omnipotent and omniscient, then why does he let us suffer, Him being the benevolent one? When I ride my bike along the road, what more good things than I did and how, than a person who walks along, being poor to afford a bike? Or what the guy zipping around in a car past me has done enough to satisfy God to bestow him with riches? Why is material wealth not distributed uniformly? Or for that matter why only a rare few are in possession of wisdom? If God wants everyone in His powers (and that should include EVERYONE) to lead a better life, why didn't he make one and all, a saint and a rich person, at the same time? Or why does God allow the piteous misery that many people suffer through their life? Why the heck does God allow rape, pillage and plunder in the land? Are there two areas to everyone's life, one that is controlled by God and one that is decided by every individual's actions? Could be. Like depending on your actions in the areas under your control, God decides on the area He controls!! How is this? There might be several bands of fortune. Here fortune means the sum total of your material wealth, knowledge, love, wisdom and other endowments. One may lack in something, be showered with some other thing, a la Stephen Hawking. So, He will study how you behave in the areas you can decide (like writing this blog) and decide on the area He rules over (like the band you fall in next time). This way the next time you get a better or worse band and given some area where He just watches you and doesn't interfere in your actions. If you are going to torture and harass a person, not only does it mean that your such actions aren't controlled by God, it also means that the victim has fallen into a worst band this lifetime as a result of very poor performance last time. Sounds like performance appraisal in office? Pretty much is. If this sounds like crock, answer this: can't He straightaway control and eradicate our bad thoughts and deeds? Looks like He is pretty diffident about this. I get one more question here. Say, all behave in an exemplary manner, in their present lifetime. Who'll torture a guy who has to suffer now, because of his misdeeds the last time? So God himself might mete out some kind of punishment like maiming. Then, it makes God a mere dispenser of Justice. I don't believe that. Then can't He really pardon a person who has sinned and give him a good life, all his x remaining lives? Are we all mere characters of a giant video game? And is the kid with the joy stick the God? I am going nowhere with my hypotheses.
Sometimes I, during my prayers, could connect to Him. Not that He provides answers. Just that I get the feeling He listens. Many a time I also have felt His protective Hand around me. Hmmm....I am reminded of a stanza studied long ago, nevertheless imprinted in my mind,
"Dhukh mein sumiran sab karai
Sukh mein karai na koi
Jo sukh mein sumiran karai
Dhukh kahe ko hoi"
Translated, it'd mean something like this,
"Everyone thinks of Him when in sorrow
Nobody does when being happy
For whom remembers Him in joy
there is no sorrow as such" .
Seems that's the way the cookies crumble!

Valuing our Independence

I saw "Mangal Pandey - The Rising" today.




Went without expectations and that helped. Everybody knows the story so it is the treatment, that was to look forward to.

I liked the timing of the movie, releasing the weekend before Independence day. It helps to some extent in telling the present Indian populace how our Independence was hard earned one.I could not understand all the dialogues in their entirety, since, I have only a passing acquaintance with Hindi. But I could very much grasp the narrative.

There was polite applause when the protagonist takes on the enemy. And when he gets beaten, there were a few stray shouts too. But in general, the audience viewed as a entertainer, and some more. That's all.

Coming to the film as such, it is a balanced portrayal of events which shows East India Company's opium trade as well as Mangal Pandey firing at his own countrymen when it warranted. But it seems that Aamir Khan has had some doubts regarding the amount of interest that our First war for Independence would hold for the masses as a screenplay. So he resorts to Rani Mukherjee and Amisha Patel as a backup. And that affects the could have been taut storyline. Rani with her cleavage and expressions swings between erotica and glamour. Not at all needed in this kind of a movie. A.R.Rahman is good in both BGM as well as songs, but whether he is authentic as to the music of the land and time, only our North Indian brethren can tell.Overall, I could not but feel shades of Kamal Hassan in Aamir Khan. Be it the method acting or the portrayal of women (Amisha gets lip-kissed, though not by Aamir) in the movie, Kamal could be seen in him.

But this movie which has undercurrents of Hindu-Muslim unity in these times of religious intolerance, is a powerful reminder of the oppression and humiliation that pre-Independence Indians had to face, and the struggles and courage with which they overcame them.Now, when we celebrate Independence Day by watching special latest movies in TV, this is good. For this, I salute Aamir Khan.

And, India, my country, I am proud of you and your glorious history!

"I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love........
...most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
we may not count her armies, we may not see her King;
her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;
and soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,
and her ways are ways of gentleness and all her paths are peace."
- Cecil Spring-Rice